Master Frown Novels & Stories

He then glared at Zephyr. Zephyr was right, it was the Master of the Masters. He was angry. Truly, truly enraged. “Hmph, Zephyr Khan! You’re bold! How dare you come to the palace, causing trouble!” the Master exclaimed. When he looked at his armless partner once more, his anger had further intensified. He was an Agile of level five, a treasured personnel of the Dynasty. Not even the princes’ was as important as he. How could he not be enraged?

Master threw me on the bed, and I bounced on it, almost falling to the ground at the force he threw me with. “Mas — Master?” I glanced up at him. His face was cloudy, and his eyes blood-red. He looked like he was ready to kill someone. And that caused my heart to skip a beat as I tried to think of what might have angered master. Could it be—? Shit! I'm in deep trouble. “Was she that good that you had to moan like a slut?”

"If you want to be goofy, at least do it the right way and you can start by learning from the master." Maria frowned a little, confused at his words as she didn't quite follow. "Master? What do you mean by.." she ended her question real quick, as Jayden's countenance already messaged her and her downwardly turned lips loosened into a smile which eventually exploded into a laugh. "You are the master? I agree though. Stop it, you are killing me." Her statement were barely audible considering the waving of her laughter overpowering her words. It wasn't her fault she was crackling like a drain, blame it on his bizarre face.

I´ve not seen that look for too long, but now it has returned, and I smile. "Yes, Master."

It wasn't intentional either, it just couldn't contain its surprise. "Okay let's go." "Hey! Who let you pat my head!!!!" "Why is the young master too short?" "I'll get taller then I'll crush you." Kito laughed and quickly chased after him, his young master is really cute. Every time he gets angry, he will puff his cheeks and pucker his lips in displeasure. Oh! I want to trample that face so badly. "Looking at your face right now, I want to punch you." "I'm sorry."

"You are aware and understand that I ordered you to do that, but when something goes wrong with your job, you report it to me instead." The master stepped closer to his confidant, then calmly clutched his neck. However, as quickly as the grip tightened, as quickly as it loosened. The master sneered with a low "tch" sound. He released his grip on the confidant roughly and then, in one swift motion, his fingers clawed at the confidant's cheek. The confidant took a sharp breath in surprise, but he remained silent. The four scratches on his cheek immediately gushed out blood and it ran down his neck.

Her tears fell faster, and though she didn’t make a sound, her shoulders quivered with every suppressed sob. Gray’s gaze darted to Clark, hoping for support, but Clark avoided his eyes, his own panic keeping him frozen in place. Master’s face twisted into a grimace of utter disdain. His cold, calculating eyes scanned their expressions—Gray’s terror, Clark’s feigned ignorance, and Matt’s poorly disguised guilt. The realization that none of them had answers only stoked the flames of his anger further.

Breath still held. Eyes on the door. "Turn around. face me, I want to look into your eyes." Damon did as was told, turned, and faced his Master. At twenty-four, a strong warrior and a fighter. Damon is always nothing but jelly in the presence, voice, or arms of his Master. His eyes were misty, he needed air but he refused to breathe. Maybe it's today he finally dies, why bother the men who would behead him, when he could just take his own life. Damon felt tears burn at the back of his eyes, but he refused to let them free.

“Only, this will definitely offend the First Fortress Master, right?” Nash frowned after thinking about it.

He took an agitated puff of the Cao Gold cigar in his hand and exhaled it out slowly as he ran his fingers through his glossy honey-blond tresses. The person he was speaking to rolled his eyes in irritation. He hated being pressured into doing things. He preferred doing things at his own pace and in his own time. "Why wouldn't I be quiet when you have been complaining non-stop for over twenty minutes, Adryan?" Master Faizar asked as he rubbed his temples. Master Faizar was a handsome and brooding man in his early sixties. Shrewd and cunning, he evoked a certain command that made Adryan bow his head in respect almost instinctively as he spoke in a reverberating, though exasperated voice.