Goku Shirtless Novels & Stories

“An Alpha walking barefoot, and half naked?” “Well, I've never been one to give a damn about what people have to say.” “Whatever!” He rolled his eyes. The moonlight caught the sheen of sweat on his human form. He was wearing a thin singlet and ‘miraculously’ a crumpled shirt still clung to his arm. With a sigh, he peeled off the shirt.

I choke on my words. "Yes or no?" He asks, holding out the shirt he had worn today in his hands. A smile is playing on his lips. I contemplate. I'm wearing a hoodie and some skinny jeans. Would a shirt be better than choking to death on the hood of my top? Yes. "Yeah." I say softly. I'm wearing underwear, so it's not like I'll be naked. Plus, he's a lot bigger than me. Ramon grins, and tosses he shirt my way. I sit frozen when he unbuttons his jeans and kicks them off leaving him in only his underwear.

He frantically shook his head, trying not to remember it. "Kai." Manik placed a shirt on his shoulder from behind him, grabbing his attention. "Change into this." "Oh, than-" his words were replaced by a frown when his eyes fell on the shirt. It was a 3D muscle printed skin toned shirt that he had gifted Manik on his last birthday just to mock him for being such a body building freak. "No I am not wearing this!" "I only have that shirt in the car." Manik shrugged. "And c'mon it would look good on you. You know with those fake abs on display you wouldn't need to worry about real ones"

I assured him. “I’m here at a souvenir shop. Will that be enough?” “Hmm, you have to tell me the color of your shirt so that he can recognize you right away,” I told him. “I am shirtless and just wearing a board short and a slipper. Black cap and black sunglass.” Did he have to include the fact that he was shirtless? I took a deep breath while trying not to imagine his overall appearance at the moment, but I could sense from his voice that he was handsome.

He had just one tattoo drawing, on his heart area, like a comic parody of — is that Cat Woman? And more than that, he emitted a darker aura than the other two. For the love of God, are those abs even real? They were all so fucking ripped, like those men who give hardcore BDSM fucks in those p**n videos I watch with Gilda. Oh gosh! Was this the sex suite? The one sitting seemed ripped, as his shirt fit him like a glove, stretching out his muscles, and also the one standing with a phone, he was fucking ripped. But the one dressed in black and had a shirt on his shoulder? He was fucking shredded. A buff fellow, my God!

Leaning casually against the wall near the kitchen entrance, smirking with that dark, demonic intensity that always steals the ground from under my feet. God. He looks like a god. Not metaphorically—literally. Power radiates off him like he commands mortals and immortals alike. His golden eyes glow, and he looks sculpted out of someone’s wildest forbidden fantasy. He’s completely shirtless, his godlike torso on full display, wearing only shorts that sit above his knees. My eyes widen. He chuckles. “Don’t worry about my look, okay? This is how I am at home. I just had to get over here quickly so we could have the best night of our lives.”

"Oh! Sorry, Miles! It seems like you're shirt didn't make the cross. I'll fix that bug later!" "Woah, dead eyes... you have six-pack?! You're skinny, but you have a solid body build. How are you so weak?! "Hahaha! Miles is shirtless in the middle of the city!" I'm shirtless! Don't tell me... The only shirt I brought from the previous world is gone?! "Ishigami! What happened to my shirt?!" "It probably disintegrated." "What?!" Forget about it! That isn't the worse thing these brats have done to me! I don't mind being shirtless cause damn! Do I have a sexy body!

the announcer says, and the crowd begins to chant as the men come onto the field from the left of us. I find Modok quickly and blush when I see his chest and stomach on display. The only clothes he has on are a pair of red pants that look as if they were made to be fought in. The male Kea holds his hand in the air to get the crowd back under control and the arena goes silent again as if he yelled.

If simply unbuttoning his shirt does this much to me, then how am I supposed to survive this? He pulls off his shirt and lets it fall to the ground with a quiet thud. He stands tall, smirking proudly, and his chest is…bare. His chest is bare. Oh my god. “Do you want to touch me, Sorahiko?”. It's a slow drawl, meant to sound seductive— and it does. It’s a bit too seductive for me. What should I say? What should I do? How am I supposed to answer this? What is the right way to—

dressing me in tight black leather pants and a cropped tank that showed the fresh bandage on my ribs from the warehouse. A thin silver chain from his pocket now circled my throat like a subtle collar. “Stay close,” he’d ordered earlier. “And watch what your man can do.” I hated how those words made my stomach flip. The announcer’s voice boomed over the speakers. “Tonight, undefeated champion — The Ghost!” Kai stripped off his shirt at the edge of the cage, revealing the hard planes of muscle scarred from years of underground warfare. His tattoos — dark ink depicting knives, chains, and a coiled serpent — gleamed under the lights. At thirty-six, he moved with lethal confidence, rolling his sh