Xxxtentacion Dreads Novels & Stories

I waved the thought off my mind, afterall I didn't care to know. "What do you want Xavier?" I turned to ask him, noticing he had dyed his black hair red, and surprisingly, he looked hot. "Just answer me." He licked his lower pink lips and I noticed a piercing on it. 'Fuck!' I cursed within as I also noticed the tattoos sneaking up his arms. Did this dude have a makeover or what? I was a sucker for men with tattoos and piercings. Damian planned to get one once he got accepted into Nevermore.

Kacey Today was going to be the hardest and toughest day for all of us, especially Warren and Maulvy. They had been telling us stories of their youth and how they had both been friends with dreads since they were five. They all grew up together and got into drugs at twelve they'd started their own haulage company so no one would ever suspect them carrying the drugs across the borders. Dreads was well now through the underground as the most terrifying drug lord the Greens had dealings with. As long as nothing illegal went through the Greens territory it was fine.

She watched as he fiddled with his headphones, sliding the little black wires through his fingers to separate them. "Drake?" she repeated. This time he turned to her with a heavy sigh. "What?" he grunted. "I need your help with something. Please. I'll pay you," Dailey blurted. Anger and hatred seemed to radiate from him in waves. Maybe it was just his aura—as Eddy mentioned picking up a similar vibe—but Dailey got the feeling this guy would sooner slit her throat than talk to her. He had a 'Jeff the Killer' vibe, with long dark hair covering his pale face.

Drake was waiting. He stood on the threshold, backlit by the soft, controlled lighting of the house’s interior. He was still in his tuxedo, but the jacket was gone, the tie yanked loose, and his shirt was partially unbuttoned, exposing a sliver of that powerful, scarred chest. He looked less like a corporate titan and more like a captured beast. The moment the car door closed, muffling the sound, his eyes locked onto mine. There was no greeting. No small talk. Only raw, concentrated possession.

smitten by his appearance. Oh my goodness, he looked stunning. He was wearing a ripped black T-shirt, that showed glimpses of his chest tattoos. His silver chain hung low, reaching his chest with a big Medusa pendant. A nice fitting, Fendi Blouson Wool jacket hugged his shoulders, and below, he was wearing ripped black jeans with 'Nike Air Jordan's Retro I' black and white, on his feet. I blinked. I couldn't tell if I was looking at Drake or Chris Brown.

she trailed off when Dre suddenly growled. “No, you don’t,” Dre growled furiously. “You wont dare to complete that, Joy Alien Stone. Now excuse my mate and me but we are needed somewhere else, especially away from Ms Nasty Butt right now,” he glared at Joy before grabbing an unwilling Xeon’s hand to go away. “Tat ? You have a tattoo ? Why did I never see it ?” Xeon frowned. “Maybe you were too busy staring at his small prick,” that was naughty, kickass girl- Joy.

That night, in particular, she wanted to be fatal in a different way. Drake entered the bathroom, already dressed in his black tuxedo, ready for the last night of the most important week of his life. He took with him a dress inside a protective cover. Through the transparent plastic, it was possible to see the shine of the piece shine. He smiled when he saw his friend almost ready, with her wavy red strands falling down her back, her feline blue eyes and her lips shining. She wore a jewel in her hair, a dragonfly hairpin in the same color as her eyes, which made the sight very ornate.

Trust me, in LA, this isn’t the strangest thing anyone has seen, not by a long shot. Wyatt on the other hand is his usual androgynous self. He also looks like he should be walking down a catwalk but of an entirely different fashion show. He’s wearing white, grunge boots, white, tight-fitted cargo pants and a white, long-sleeved hooded tunic made of gauze, and has sprayed his afro-curls with silver glitter hairspray for that hint of bling while completing the look with a bit of grunge makeup. He’s giving very high fashion meets Dune, and it works for him. The music is electric as everyone dances to a remix of Ricki-Lee Coulter’s song ‘Raining Diamonds’, which tells me even the music is going

After half an hour, I finally arrived at the mall, ready for some shopping. Stepping out of the car, I gazed at the magnificent entrance. Perhaps, once Sierra became Luna, I would bring her here and let her choose whatever her heart desired. Just as I was about to enter the mall, I froze upon hearing a familiar voice—a voice I had hoped never to hear again. "Hey, Dean, old friend, it's been a while." I turned around and came face to face with Drake. He hadn't changed a bit. His dark blue eyes and gray hair intrigued me, as I wondered about his fondness for that color.

I dug through my drawer until I found the dress I’d bought on a dare last summer, black, stretchy, cut so low in the front it barely qualified as clothing and so short it was basically a suggestion. I slid it on. No bra. No panties. Just skin and attitude because I was home alone anyway. I was twisting my hair into a messy knot when the guest room door creaked open down the hall. He stepped out like he owned the place. Tall, same six three Adrian carries like a threat. Hair wet, dyed a deep violet that caught the light, dripping onto shoulders cut from the same blueprint as my stepdad’s. Abs stacked tight, a faint scar snaking over one rib. Towel slung low on his hips, another in his hand sc