Dabi Scars Full Body Mga Nobela at Kwento

I hear Grayson call out behind me. I turn around -Holy fuck. Standing beside Grayson is this petite goddess. Waves of auburn hair cascade down onto her creamy skin. Big green eyes pop in contrast to her scattered freckles. I take her all in. Her defined arms and snatched little body are on display in a black shimmery bodycon dress that hits mid-thigh. I see a small scar cutting through her eyebrow, which intrigues me more. Shifter healing is fast enough that scarring does not occur unless the injury is really bad.

Saadiya had suffered a cut to her left arm but it wasn't anything serious, Parvina was attending to her. She looked at Omar and tried to steady her heavy breathing, he had ripped off his throbe and now left with a loose and very transparent under shirt which was no longer white but red and it perfectly outlined his very built muscles, his perspiration having soaked through them, Mariam stared at him for a while until he gave her a thumbs up and she blinked rapidly to clear her head. Focus Mariam, she told herself. He smiled at her and she smiled back but he couldn't clearly see her smile from the distance between them because of the cloth that hid her lower face so she nodded.

he asked. "Throw them?" I smirk, " I'll bring them back to their parents tomorrow," I said. The little girl starts crying, "No! please don't!" the girl cries. The youngest buried his face in Nate's neck while the other boy stay silent, but he looks frightened. "Please don't bring us back! I'm begging," for a young age, the little girl started to beg. "Why?" Nate didn't control himself and asked. "Our dad is trying to sell us! he keeps hurting me and my brothers!" My eyes sharpen, so that's where they get their scars and bruise.

The doctor leaves and Vivian couldn't help, throw aside the comforter and rush towards a mirror in the corner. The throbbing in her head, no longer bothering her. As a new fear has shaken her insides. Her eyes widen as she stared at herself. Her fingers trembling as they traced her reflection in the mirror. The scar It was looking like new, raw and visible without any veils of foundation. She couldn't stop the tears, that leave her eyes. Closing them, she couldn't hide it any longer now.

Amara stared back, trying to project a semblance of stillness, refusing to betray the sheer terror gripping her. ​Emiliano stared at her for a long, silent moment, his expression unreadable. He seemed to be assessing her, her fear, her presence in his bed. He slowly walked around the bed, stopping on his side. ​He reached up, pulling his undershirt over his head in one fluid motion, tossing it onto a nearby chair. Amara couldn't breathe. Her gaze involuntarily dropped, taking in the powerful breadth of his chest, the taut lines of his abdomen, and the faint, intricate scars—silent trophies of a violent life—that crisscrossed his left shoulder.

Then he's bare from the waist up, and I finally see what I've only felt through the bond. He's beautiful. Not in the way pretty boys are beautiful. In the way predators are beautiful. Broad shoulders. Muscled chest. A trail of dark hair disappearing beneath his waistband. Scars scattered across his ribs—some old and faded, some newer. The body of a man who has fought for everything he has. I reach up and trace one of the scars. A thin white line curving over his ribs. "Where did you get this?" "Knife fight. I was nineteen."

"Sorry, did I scare you? I promise, you'll never see scum like that around here again." To thank him, I accepted his invitation to an art exhibition at his private estate that weekend. On Saturday night, Dorian had a gift box delivered. Inside was a deep purple velvet gown. It was exquisitely tailored, with a high neck and long sleeves that perfectly concealed the old, fading scars on my body, while still accentuating my waist. I stroked the soft fabric, my eyes welling up. Gavin had traced my scars with sadness, but he was never this thoughtful. I never dared tell him how much they bothered me. It was a weakness the Godfather’s wife wasn't allowed to have.

Her fingers trembled as she undid the last button, pushing the fabric aside to reveal my skin. "Greedy little virgin," I teased, but I shrugged off my shirt, exposing my tattooed chest—rippling muscles, scars from my rough past, all symbols of the darkness she was embracing. The ink swirled in intricate patterns: a snarling wolf on my pec, vines of thorns wrapping around my abs, each one a story of conquest and pain. Her eyes widened, fingers tracing the ink, sending shivers down my spine as her nails scraped lightly over a scar. "Touch all you want. But remember, this body is your master now. Every ridge, every scar—it's yours to worship, but only because I allow it."

Erin forced a small smile despite the concern in Abby’s voice. “I forgot,” Erin admitted faintly. “It’s just… it’s been so long since I bathed properly.” Abby sighed, helping her stand. As Erin rose, naked before her, Abby gasped quietly. Erin knew what she must have seen: the scars, the half-healed wounds, and the dark bruises staining her fragile skin. Erin flinched when Abby’s fingers brushed lightly against them, her body instinctively recoiling from touch, but she endured it, reminding herself that Abby was only trying to help.

Hot showers are so relaxing. Holding my towel loosely at my hips, I stood in front of my mirror and examined my broken body. My wet hair, long and knotted, hung down just past my shoulders, so black it looked to have a purple hue to it. My pale clammy skin was spotted with new pinkish purple bruises and old yellowing bruises. Some are the size of a small coin, others inches across. My gold lifeless eyes sat above dark purple circles, with bushy dark brows that spread all the way out to my temples. My small and perky breasts hung slightly to the sides. My thin waist and stomach accentuated my ribcage, with my hip and collar bones protruding out. The pale skin was splattered with dark pink sca