Killmonger Shirtless Novels & Stories

The paying crowd had completed their transformation into a violent mod, demanding payback for every match they had ever lost money on. WIth the only ladder into the pit ripped from the wall I was relatively safe. Nobody was coming charging towards me in the terracotta Cage. Mainly because I was hauled myself back up to standing, bare-chested in just fighting shorts, bleeding from my shoulder with nothing to rob. Also the mob stayed away because I could have killed any of them. I still dwarfed these regular shifters with my muscular form and height. I stood tall, hands on my hips, calmly surveying the situation as Kohl made a reappearance.

Standing at 6'3", Damon was the epitome of physical perfection, his broad shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist, every muscle sculpted as if by an artist's hand. Damon's hair was cropped close to his head, emphasizing the sharp lines of his features. The sun glinted off his skin, highlighting the definition of his muscles beneath the fitted t-shirt he wore, which clung to his chest and arms in a way that showcased his physique without being overly tight. His jeans were well-worn and fit him perfectly, completing the look of effortless cool.

“And let’s get out there some time recently somebody comes slamming on the entryway and catches you with your pants hanging open.” “Ach. We’re wolves, Bronaugh. They see my uncovered arse all the time.” “Yeah, but they’ll moreover be seeing my uncovered tits.” She nearly snickered at the speed at which he dropped her and gotten up her shirt from where it had fallen to the floor. He bobbled with it until she took it from him and pulled it back over her head. She was still braless, but the shirt was Marc’s and hence colossal on her. It seem for all intents and purposes be a dress. But it was thick sufficient and dull sufficient to cover her, and he’d guaranteed her they’d get a few modern dres

I quickly wipe out the threatening tears try to escape. "Reese , "he says my name in his deep raspy voice that makes me melt all the time. "Yes , "I reply looking at him with a smile on my face. He folds his arms tightly and his muscles bulge even though he is wearing a long sleeved shirt . Knox never likes to move around shirtless. He might be the only alpha I know who would prefer moving with a shirt no matter what weather or situation it is . This speaks a lot about him because we werewolves move around naked like it's a normal thing.

Asap. I can still skip the race. “Enervoltz and Honda placed bets again,” Mark adds. “So one of you better win.” Not money. Never money. Humiliation. Mark and the other team leaders make these bets — or rather … ugly, humiliating dares. Great. We need to win. But the winner can’t slip away. And I need to talk to Mel. Decisions decisions. Absentmindedly, I pull on my gear. Black. Plastered with logos from all our sponsors. Reaper skull and Monster on my sleeves. Stamped on my helmet. My surname across my chest. Etched in lime green on my back are our team name and my number.

It seemed Jessica was satisfied with her assistant's report, but before she could give her the next order, someone approached her, causing her to pause what she was about to say. It was none other than her husband's boyfriend, and the artificial lights installed around the place allowed her to observe his appearance from head to toe. The black-haired man was wearing a short-sleeved shirt. The color of the shirt was a bright red gradient at the bottom, then faded at the top, and because the front of the shirt was unbuttoned, Jessica could see a simple white t-shirt under his shirt. On the front of the white t-shirt, there was a large print of the side profile of a lion's head. The red shirt w

Is it often passerbys would come in lacking foot coverage? “No shirt. No service.” She nodded at the back wall where there was a handful of shirts hanging on a rusted old Z rack. He found one men’s large it was the only one that wasn’t pink. The shirt was black and had the shape of North Carolina on it and it read Come on and Raise up. Well then. This is it I guess. He turned to the clerk grinned and put the shirt on. It was a tad snug on his biceps and he felt ridiculous. He looked in the reflection of the drink cooler and he looked like something from a wrestling poster.

he murmured as Bash slides the glass door that led to where he was seated. "Hey cutie, "he greeted with a charming smile, he was wearing a long-sleeve buttonless shirt that exposed his well-chiseled abs and a pair of white shorts. The way he positioned that is, with his legs crossed and one of his hands holding a glass of mojito, he looked like he was on set ready for a shot.

Nessia eyed my bulge appreciatively. Monroe, in a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and black dress pants, wore a black belt around his waist minus shoes and socks. He's over six foot tall maybe an inch under my own height. He carries a wiry muscle whereas mine is bulkier. It doesn't matter. I've seen this man in deadly action. He would win the physical battle if we had one.

Although I did get in a lot of trouble before since it wasn’t easy for me to wake up to the alarm set for me in the beginning, but besides that, I think I’m doing great so far. I took a quick shower and wore my usual attire—just a plain white oversized shirt that fell until my mid-thighs. As if the collar wasn’t enough, human slaves are also usually dressed as basic as possible, the bare minimum being a shirt and underwear. Luckily for me, even for a human, I was pretty petite, so the shirt given to me covered me up nicely.