Deep Skin Sleeping Skin Imprints Novels & Stories

It was a voyage of discovery that was jointly satisfying, culminating in us drifting off to sleep still entwined. I woke up early, like I always did and left Kimberley asleep, breathing softly, one arm covering her eyes. I noticed two tiny moles each side of her neck; her upper lip slightly more prominent than the lower; her nicely shaped eyebrows and that she made a soft humming noise as she slept.

My skin gets easily dry, so I need moisturizer on my face—but not too much. “So are you saying that your ex had a small koko?” She asks. I want to face palm myself so bad, but I didn’t want to ruin what Shani already applied on my face. So I just sigh. “Even though my ex was an Asshole, his koko was huge. Anytime we had sex, he always hit my deep spots. He was a good fuck I swear. But even though he was good at sex, he is a cream boy (a show off).” I explained. She is now applying foundation, using L’Oréal Infallible Fresh Wear. Since my skin is dark, she makes sure the shades are dark as well. She wants my skin to snatch weaves and wigs off.

“Before I show it to you, just know the doctors believe you will heal beautifully and there should be no scarring. Even if there are a few, since you’re young and mateless, they believe when you find your mate, the scarring will heal and your skin should be flawless again.” “Just show it to me, please,” I begged. “OK. Get ready,” she sighed. She held the mirror up over my bed, and my eyes were closed at first. I took a deep breath before I opened them. I gasped at the ghastly sight. The skin on my back was deep purple with black and blue colour in some places. The pelts on my back looked like someone had chopped at my flesh over and over with a sharp machete. The skin was oozing puss, and th

screaming in my marrow. I sat up in the massive, silk-sheeted bed, stretching my limbs. The silver-violet patterns on my skin were no longer jagged scars; they had settled into elegant, shimmering lines that looked more like high-end tattoos than biological weaponry. They hummed with a quiet, contented resonance—a twilight frequency that felt as natural as breathing. Beside me, the bed was empty, but the sheets were still warm. "Silas?" I called out, my voice smooth and devoid of the rasp that had haunted it since the "Final Grounding."

Another human creation that appealed greatly to my vain parts. “Ummm, I suspected that the twin we set our eyes on was the wrong one so I might have allowed her to believe that she had some control over me and she sent me to get her dirty jobs done. Although she has an insider in the school,” he rushed to say as I stared at my reflection. My markings were coming in, the skin was decorated with white faint lines that could be completely missed or misidentified as stretch marks. “Interesting,” was all I said as I found some shorts to sleep in. The messenger quickly averted his eyes as I dropped my towel and wore the shorts. Wearing nothing else except for the towel wrapped around my damp hair,

There was a reason many of the werewolves steered clear of Delphine, choosing other medics to tend to their wounds. She had skin as dark as the night sky, warm from its rich brown tint. There were splotches of white skin around her mouth, left eye, down her neck, and on both arms that she’d once told me was due to a skin condition called Vitiligo. I’d found the two contrasts in colors interesting as a young teen, and Delphine had been more than happy to educate me.

Once the door shuts, I roll onto my side facing Jarres who still sleeps. The back of his neck is burnt to a polished bronze from toiling beneath the blazing sun. His hair was long and black, stiff with coal and sweat. The dark shade juxtaposes against the valley of his spine which is a fairer color, dotted with charming moles— a parody of constellations— and aged scars from his first days in the quarry. I watch his back rise and fall, steady with the smooth, shallow tread of sleep. The silence and warmth wrap tendrils around my body, forming a cocoon that slowly begins to lull me back beneath the dark waters of sleep when noise disrupts it.

What followed was three agonizing, surreal hours of absolute transformation. I was led to a private marble washroom where two skin specialists treated my face with rich, cooling botanical serums and hydrating masks. They worked with gentle, practiced hands, meticulously wiping away the shadows of exhaustion, the dark circles from nights of crying, and the dull, dry ache that had lingered on my skin since my father fell ill.

She grinned, "Yeah. We don't want you to go to your college with those acne, do we? Hell nah." I was bubbling like champagne, excited and happy. I've always wanted to go to a doctor and get these treated. Adelyn goes to a skin doctor every week even when she has flawless skin. I removed the clothes I'd need, because I didn't want to get late, and placed them on my study desk. Then I slipped into my bed and pulled the blanket over me. Sleep came early that night. Maybe it was the excitement of seeing a skin doctor or perhaps because I was happy. I wouldn't know but then I got a sweet dream. A dream where everything was perfect.

And Ashley was getting cringed at it, feeling like a ghost was keeping an eye on him. He finally couldn't bear it. “What do you want from me?” His voice sounded frustrated. “What skincare routine do you do? Your skin looks so smooth and soft; I want to touch it,” she said, swooning over his face. It was a compliment, and he liked it; he slid a little closer to her. “Why don't you touch it more then? I use coconut oil to massage my face every day before sleeping, and I also use onions. It's super healthy for the skin.”