Ouji Fashion Male นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Then, Logan suddenly heard a voice exclaim excitedly, "A battle is gonna happen here tonight? It's gonna be wild!" He froze. Turning toward its direction, he saw a young man appearing with a young woman in tow. The man was wearing an urban down jacket fresh out of Miran's fashion week. It boasted a chromatic cascade from blue to gold as one's eyes traced its top to bottom. Matching his sartorial drip was a pair of dazzling golden work boots. He was like a model ready for a walk on the runway. Next to him was a shapely young woman, her gaze a little down cast to the floor, her hands stuck into her pocket. Unlike the man next to her, she looked like a cool rebel.

“Please tell this girl what that outfit says!’ Javi gives Ollie an annoyed look, especially since Ollie has him by the collar of his shirt. “Ollie, for real dude? This is a new shirt. I’m sure that Fati looks – “ His words cut off as he looks at me, taking in my outfit form head to foot. He swallows before his eyes come back to mine. “Fati looks great.” “Mmm-hmm,” Ollie says, pursing their lips like their point has just been made.

"You know Giovanni will kill you if he finds out you're Benjamin, right?" "Like I care," he said. He leaned back further, swinging his legs up and resting them on the table. On the actual table like he owned the place. His suit was sharp and perfectly tailored, a deep blue that screamed money. Louboutin shoes. A diamond-studded watch. A ring that looked suspiciously like an engagement band even though I knew he wasn’t engaged. And that scent? Tom Ford’s Oud Wood. This wasn’t the fake Beta Carlo I’d seen around the Pack.

With one hand holding Kon, he gently pushed the students out of his way until he was standing right in front of them. "Oh, my God." A gasp escaped his throat when he saw Osy. Today, Osy wore a dark red suit with black geometric designs. His hair was slicked to the side, giving him a rugged look. And paired with the sunglasses he was putting on, he looked like he had just stepped out of a fashion magazine. The sight of him leaning on the car was enough to drive all the girls crazy. Their squeals were loud enough to burst a person's eardrums.

He is outfitted in two simple fabrics: fitted camouflaged pants pulled a couple of inches above his ankles and a fitted plain long-sleeve T-shirt that punctuates every muscle of his trunk. Damn, he is sexy. And yes, he has accessories today, jet sunglasses that suit him well and a leather wristwatch. We appear to be wearing the same brand of shoe, and from his stance, he holds an outstanding body posture. Hair so fine, it could get an innocent girl drooling. He lowers the sunglasses a little, and our eyes meet. Nervously, I study how his lips spread into a delightful grin. It gives me goosebumps I have no control over.

He didn't stop until we were seated at our table above, watching the club from our elevated spot. I took another deep breath and felt a growing irritation as I saw women preparing to approach Jigo. Everyone thought he was still single. And why wouldn't they want to be near him? Jigo was irresistible. He looked stunning in his very light pink shirt—almost beige—with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a few buttons open at the chest. He wore a long white gold necklace with his wedding band on it, just like mine, hidden under his clothes. His shirt was tucked into belted maroon pants, and he wore luxury black leather shoes with no socks. His outfit fit perfectly, highlighting his tall, chi

He was different from the other two, who carried the air of businessmen; this guy carried the air of a Playboy instead, and I felt wary of him immediately. Playboys do not have a good name in my diary. He has short black hair too like the second guy who was also dressed in suits but instead of grey orbs like the other two, he had blue instead, and that insanely made him look attractive, especially with the way he was continuously biting his lips while throwing the girls around who were worshipping him with coquettish looks. He looked more like a rock star with his denim jeans which had Gucci written all over them, black T-shirt, and black Jacket. I tried moving closer to have a better glimps

Oriaga said as he kept his hands in his pants pockets, standing by the door. "Yes, sir. I'll inform Dean about this." "Thank you." Zayn stepped aside, Oriaga left the door open because he remembered that Grandma Gloria would bring hot tea here. The man changed his footwear, took off his sweater, and put his suitcase away in the special room with his clothes and other paraphernalia such as ties, watches, perfume, shoes, and many other expensive accouterments of Oriaga's appearance. Pausing in front of a glass cabinet containing a row of luxurious suits, the man stared at the ring on the ring finger of his right hand.

A young man’s voice could be heard from behind. Georgie and Henry turned to look at the man at the same time. This person was a young man who looked to be in his early twenties. He was dressed from head to toe in LV’s global, limited-edition outfit. When the man saw Georgie, he nodded politely at her. Georgie nodded back at him. After that, the man walked up to them and carefully scanned Georgie up and down. His eyes were filled with a look of admiration and one of a pleasant surprise.

A tall man strolled gaily through the motor park; oblivious of the stares he was provoking, his cloths was the object of their stares. It was as if he had bought a variety of clothings both native and western and had decided to try them all on. He had a denim hat perched on top a dog eared style native cap the Yoruba called abetí ajá, the pointy dog ears sticking out like bat wings, a monkey jacket on a babariga robe, a pair of Jordan sneakers on a native hunters knee sized dogo shorts, he looked absolutely ridiculous in his bastardized outfit that the passerby’s concluded he was either at the early stage of lunacy or he had recently escaped from a mental home.