Novel & Cerita Dabi Scars Full Body

Daisy said. “Anyway, he’s a slim and tall guy. He stands at about 190 centimeters tall, and he has long, gray hair that reaches his shoulders… “Oh, right. There’s a terrifying scar on his neck. It seemed almost as if someone had peeled the skin off his neck. The scar was dark, red, and very long. It was around ten centimeters…” Daisy added. Using Daisy’s descriptions, Xyla quickly opened her phone’s drawing software to draw a full-body picture of Yaksha.

he said and grinned. I want to scream and punch his face, but he moved away from my hand and hold it instead, I feel electricity rush all over my body when he start intertwining our hands together, he smiled at me and the next thing he do that made my face look like a tomato is when he planted a kiss on my hand. "Darling..." My eyes widened and pull my hand off him, Shock is written all over my face-- I have trauma when someone tries to kiss my skin! "Jerk! what are you doing?!" I hissed and throw him a punch that he catches by instinct, people around us start to look in our direction and put out their phones, and start recording.

Ethan just nods, going towards Vivian as Robert exclaims from behind him in excitement. "They are gonna look perfect!" .................................................. She can't help it. She hopes the pictures don't capture her fears,for she was scared shitless right now. Everytime the wave, hits the rock to touch her feet. She can't help feel conscious. Her hands were ice cold as she gulps and tries to pose again. "Smile naturally girl! You are doing great!" Not only the water,her fears of her makeup skills failing to not hide her scar in the camera , were making anxiety to hit her insides.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” Elena nodded as she made her way out of the sick bay. Her steps were slow, as she hoped to not see June in the hallway. She successfully got out of the school’s building, not meeting June or anybody she knew. She spotted Daniel waving his hands, leaning on his car. He was wearing a white hoodie with the words ‘the moon is beautiful’ written in italics printed on it. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his dark jeans, one leg extended showing off the matching sneakers he and Elena were wearing.

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.

“You told me once you were addicted to my face. Said it was your drug. Well… it’s gone now. Just scars. So please—go find someone whole.” “I’m so sorry, Jake…” Ariana choked out. “Sorry?” I laughed bitterly, my head shaking. “I wish sorry could fix it.” And then—something warm touched me. A hand. Small. Soft. Real. It was Liz. I knew how her hands felt. “Jake…” Her voice was soft, trembling. Her eyes were dripping with tears, but she didn’t look away. She wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t disgusted. She was just… there. She touched my scars like they were nothing, tracing them without being disgusted.

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.

“Not just good – amazing.” “One hundred percent amazing,” Jo said solemnly. “Thought so.” Scars held out a huge hand and she took it, felt the raised skin there. Without even looking, Jo knew that he had more scars on his hands and briefly wondered what he must look like under his jeans and blue t-shirt and cut: she’d heard from Jinx that the fire had burned Scars so badly, he’d needed reconstructive skin grafting on his back and legs. “It’s a pleasure, Jo.”