Vegeta Gt Mustache Novels & Stories

Goddess he is a piece of art. He stood at a height of 6'3 with a strong build, I could see the outline of each muscle through his fitted shirt. He had a millitary buzz cut which gave out a 'don't mess with me' aura. He had sharp features but what stood out the most were his narrowed moss green eyes under his bushy eyebrows. His lips which weren't too think nor too thin were stretched in a straight line. He is my mate. My true mate. "Celeste!" A soft push on my shoulder jolted me out of my thoughts, I turn to my left to find Theo staring at me with a frown.

He’s too big to miss, but there was no way he was standing there when I crawled over. I am frozen as he saunters, at least I think that’s what he is trying to accomplish, towards me. I just stand and stare at this cartoonish looking, arrogant asshole. He is huge, way bigger than my guys, with long, stringy hair the same midnight black shade as Mike’s and the same hazel eyes. Those are the only family traits though. Vincent’s shoulders have got to be as wide as I am tall, but his waist is tiny, like him and I probably could wear the same belt tiny. It gives him a top heavy look. The muscles in his shoulders and chest are puffed up like balloons and he has no neck. I think this would be

The guy keeps yelling and his yelling is getting louder and louder, but everyone keeps ignoring him. That guy has bushy hair and a thin beard and he only wears brown pants, brown leather shoes and a black cowboy hat. 2 ammo chain tattoos are crossing from his right shoulder and left shoulder to his waist drawing X on his front and back. No wonder everyone considers him like trash. You must think so by just a glimpse of his look. Alfi and Kartika run towards him. “Hey, did you mean Waku-waku? A group of polka dot cloaked folks who are about to invade this town?” Alfi asked agitatedly.

Then she walks past me with tears in her eyes. The man is absolutely disgusting, and I know that no woman in her right mind would have sex with him, he has greasy hair pulled to the side covering his bald patch on the top of his head, his mustache has seen better days, and his enormous stomach flaps over his pants leaving a small gap between the buttons showing his skin.

His brows were thick, his nose was big, and his lips were thick. Nate, on the other hand, looked ugly as well—according to him. Although both Mav and Jackson agreed he looked the most presentable. He had gray hair, and since he was pale and his veins were naturally visible, he didn’t wear silicone on his face just on his body to make him look a little fat. He just had to copy the look that was given to them through prosthetics. He made himself look just a little bit older. The only thing that made him look a little off was the piercing on his left ear.

Did you see my recent post? His posts, that’s what I fucking live for. I can’t remember a video of his that doesn’t replay in my mind every damn time. And I’m about to hop to his profile to see the new update before he sends another text. (General Yosvolec: I took it for you. *Video file*) The thumbnail has his addictive smile—a smile that tends to weaken my knees. He wore a black eye patch over his right eye. And even though he often sets plans to groom his beard, he never actually does.

The man never passes up on a chance to brand your ass with his signature then bottoming out, making sure you can't quite function for the next week. "Go upstairs and get ready. I'm going to clean up and then I'll be in the garage, okay?" He pushes loose strands of hair behind my ears, caressing my cheek with his thumb before letting me go and smacking me on the ass. There it is, I grin. Alex Dupont in the shape of a handprint. Sign, sealed, delivered. I walk out of the kitchen, hearing him yell out and add, "Oh, and put on a skirt!"

I turned my gaze back to the sports car. Suddenly, the door opened. Mustapha stepped out, looking ghastly. His all-black outfit made him appear as if he had just come from a funeral. His black obsidian hair was slicked back, save for a few bangs that hung over his forehead. His face was exceptionally pale, and heavy bags under his eyes made him look like a walking ghost. He was smoking a regular cigar while holding a gun and a knife. Truth be told, Mustapha was the most dangerously handsome among Martello's men, despite his bored demeanor. Although his average height made me look like a fragile man, he was a total freak. A fucking maniac that they called him.

It led to many questioning gazes. Vincent ignored all of the stares and beelined his way to the mech. An advanced hover bot with zillions of safety features already waited for him near the feet of the mech. As he climbed in the air, he passed by the codpiece. The thick, stubby triangular piece of decoration was larger than his body. Proportionally, it looked hefty on the modified Marc Antony's frame, but it did not exaggerate its prowess too much.

followed by an eggplant emoji. Ava raised an unimpressed brow. “Classy.” She opened the message thread. Babe: I’m in position. Ava scrolled up. The picture attached to the contact showed a wiry man in his mid-thirties, dark hair slicked back, faint scar above his eyebrow, leaning cockily against a motorcycle. Tattoo of a snake wrapping his neck. No mention of their target. No instructions. She frowned as she typed back: Any update? Sent. She watched the screen, counting seconds under her breath.