Odell Beckham Jr Gif Novels & Stories

jerky to Hawk Gary Moose. Like Beckham, Hawk was just so Hawk. You didn’t know what to do with him and all his weird ways. But in the end, you’d just find yourself loving him in all his weirdness. Not like I was saying I loved him. I mean, I did love him as a friend, but not like I loved him that kind of lovey love. Ok, even in my head, that didn’t make sense. What was wrong with me? Thankfully, I was brought back to reality when I heard my friends laughing to what Beckham said. “I know, right? It’d be so weird. If at all we do, it’ll go something like: ‘Hawk is such a jerk, he listened to me talk about the problem with fashion these days,’” Juliette chirped. “Yeah, I never liked him,

A hammerhead shark the size of a Labrador swam toward us, its body undulating in the sea. We walked in silence, with Ophois keeping a respectful distance, his hands clasped behind his back. Some of the strain around my muscles eased at the lack of contact, and I bit down on my bottom lip. Beki tilted her head to the side and whined. “I’d always thought I would travel the world with Griff.” She nodded, seeming to remember all the stories he had told us of his overseas exploits. They had been so exciting and vivid and were probably some of his many lies.

Jack look super ready and prepared in his sport shorts and shirt and his blue Beck sports shoes, he's also sweating and I figure it's probably because he has been running. "Good morning sunshine." Jack beams at me, his hair sticking roughly on his sweaty head and he just shrugs it off. "Good morning Jack." I smile warmly at him, "how are you?" He smirks wickedly at my question. "After making out with the hottest member of the Gates family last night, I think I'm gonna be the most energetic runner on the field today."

I was dressed in a tee-shirt that said BlaCK and a jean ripped on both knees and two little rips on the back thighs and that was all. I was pretty dressed up but I was so fire! He moved over to my side and sunk his hand into mine. ‘oof’, one of his friends said. ‘she’s a sweet one, dude is she yours? Or can?’, the guy was really fine, obviously mixed; he was dark-skinned with beautiful grey eyes reminds me of Beck. ‘hands-off, Jer’, he said and laughed. ‘this is OB’, he said and smiled at me. I looked up at him and smiled shyly. ‘now move away you fools you are crowding”, he said with finality and they moved away so we could pass.

Dick wall? What the hell? They have a name for it? But it’s true because the Beckhams are lined up now, cocks jutting proudly at ninety degree angles, just waiting to taste my sweet twat. I juice involuntarily, going wet inside. Oh god, oh god, I’m here to fuck the dick wall. My eyes go wide with stunned shock, and yet I want it so bad.

And at the center of it all, unmistakable even in the poor lighting, was Beck Ryder. My stomach dropped. Not again. I kept talking. Something about affordable housing, about student rights. My voice sounded normal. Steady. Like my hands weren't shaking. Like I wasn't watching the video loop again, and again, and again. Beck's face contorted with rage, his fist raised, another student-athlete crumpling against the concrete.

The gym was loud with music and the rhythmic thud of feet hitting the mat. Jared stood in front of them like a drill instructor, arms crossed, expression deadly serious. “Again,” he ordered. “Come on, Oakley!" Jared barked, his voice sounding less like a partner and more like the drill sergeant he once was. “You’re supposed to be encouraging the weak, Jay,” Beck grumbled, dropping for another burpee. Myla collapsed onto her back, panting, completely spent. Jared stood over her, grinning.

and Damon was half-asleep on the recliner with his hood up. Beck, as usual, couldn’t keep still. He tapped my water bottle and grinned. “Seriously, Cal? You look like some old grandpa who can’t survive five minutes without hydration therapy.” I sighed, closing my journal. My lips were dry, my mouth bitter. I didn’t owe him an explanation for why I kept that bottle close lately. Before I could reply, Damon swung his arm from the chair and smacked Beck on the head—hard enough that the soda almost spilled.

But then Beck came out third from the front, and I stood up before I even realized it. I couldn't help it. He was in full gear, which somehow made him look even bigger than he did in normal life, his number twelve jersey bright under the lights. He jogged onto the field confidently, shaking hands with two of his teammates without breaking stride, and pointing at someone in the crowd and grinning. "Oh, that's him," Solimar said beside me, not even pretending to be subtle. "That's definitely him." "Eat your popcorn," I said.