Bottom Scaramouche Novels & Stories

She asked curiously but something doesn't add up. I mean I have asked him about the scars and he insinuated that it was BDSM gone wrong and honestly I didn't think much of it because that was when we just lost our parents and he was a little rebellious at that point but I still think she got the wrong guy... I mean now I understand why she fled immediately she saw him shirtless but anyone could have a similar scar, right?

Some screams came from the back followed by loud grunts, and I didn’t bother to look because I knew Scar had them all in control. “I got his minion sir.” He announced bringing forward a little guy who didn’t look to be more than 25. He had dirty blonde, bedroom hair with a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt, and he looked as frail in the arms of Scar as he held him down by his neck. Turning to him, I nodded to Scar to release and after he did, he looked up to me with the most petrified look that I even felt like a monster. “What has the old man been up to?” I asked nodding back to Liam who was still suffering from the aftershocks of the pen, plus the heroine numbed him and made him heavy ever

Beneath The Scars We have marks that tell a story , Stories of who we are , when we climbed through the rocky mountain and fell with our faces on the solid rock , Those marks that thought us never to give up , Those marks that lay beneath the skin . Those marks that always remind us of where we came from and where we have reached. Synopsis

His eyes turned red, but he refused to let the tears fall. Bang. The door was kicked open. Several unfamiliar men stood at the entrance. The leader wore a black jacket. A scar ran from his brow to his cheekbone. Three burly men stood behind him like a wall. “Who are you?” My father’s voice turned sharp. “What do you want?” The scarred man grinned, showing yellowed teeth stained with smoke. “Someone told us to take you somewhere fun, sir.” His gaze slid from my father to me. It made my skin crawl.

The Sons of Satan Territory Monday, July 4th 19:23 THE JOURNEY TO THE OTHER SIDE "In fact, there weren't many things Scar didn't hate." SCAR GROANED IN DISAPPROVAL at one of the clubs whores climbing onto his lap. Trying to get his attention, she shamelessly began showering light but sloppy kisses on his neck. He was not in the mood - not one bit. Scar was visibly tense, his lips pulled back in a tight, nasty scowl. He wished to lock himself in his room with a bottle of whisky and drink it until he passed out.

- Scott mutters, looking away to the ground and scratching his neck. Damn Scott. -I had an accident- He crosses his arms and looks at me defiantly. -What do I guess? You tripped over a stone and broke your leg and arm. - I let out sarcastically. -Do not. My leg is not broken- he says, pulling up his tracksuit. I can see a scabbed wound and dried blood and I cover my eyes with my hand. -What the hell is that?- I make a sound of disgust and disgust- think I'm going to throw up.

“Another?” “Hell, yes.” Scars grabbed the whiskey from the kitchen counter, poured the shots, kept the bottle on the coffee table this time. He stretched his long, jean-clad legs out in front of him and surveyed his kid brother. Sam looked like shit, and Scars knew that he didn’t need more than one guess to know why. He sighed. “Positive for a match?” Scars asked. “Positive for a match.” “Fuck.” “Fuck indeed.” Both men threw their drinks back. Scars sighed again.

💔Hidden Scars💔 (Pain within😭) . ✏Written by Authoress Kamara✏ . Episode 3👍👍👍 . 🌹Natasha🌹 Mr. Stephen stood up angrily. "Which of you miscreant did this?". As he said that cheese fell on him at once splattering all over his books and desk. A loud laughter could be heard from the back and I knew it was Reece.

I looked up at him just to found myself laughing my *ss off. “What the hell? Why are you laughing?” “Nothing, hahaha! It’s just that… hahahahaha… sorry! I mean, you look horrible!” “What the f*ck, Agatha Tatiana!” “Why? Truth hurts, Caleb Nicolo! I mean, you look like a mummy! You’re wrapped in a white bandages. From your head, to your hands and to your feet.” “It’s because of you.” “What? No! It’s not!”