Delicate C Section Scar Tattoo Novels & Stories

I asked what he wanted to show me but he said it was a surprise. I followed him until he brought me to a certain seat. “Just place your hand here,” he said, elevating and guiding my hand to a higher position. He took out a machine and with my heads up, engraved a tattoo. It was intricate, elegant, designed to overlay the scar on my wrist. I swallowed. “Thank you.” I watched as the scar disappeared beneath art. For the first time in years, my scar was replaced by something gorgeous. Erasing permanently the memory from my wrist.

Tattoos are usually an expression of oneself. She hesitates for a moment; I can see the turmoil in her eyes but eventually she nods. CJ comes closer to me and turns around. I grab the back of the tank top and lift it over her head while her arms are crossed in her front. The realistic tattoo is a full-colored piece with an intricate golden bird cage in the center with a wolf’s head howling at the moon, an owl with its wings open, and portraits of a bear, fox and mouse intermingled with beautiful wildflowers. I run my fingers over the tattoo. Tingles touch my fingertips sending pleasure through me, but what gets me more are the scars I feel and not just a few but many scars. Now that I think

Esmeray held her forearm up, examining the intricate tattoo that adorned her skin. The tattoo depicted a majestic wolf, its eyes fierce and determined, surrounded by swirling patterns that seemed to dance with a life of their own. The lines were bold and precise, giving the impression of strength and resilience. “This tattoo is so unique,” Esmeray remarked, tracing her fingers over the contours of the design. “I’ve always felt a connection to it, but I never knew why.”

It was because she acted unbothered about the scar by not asking what it was and by not looking curious that she left it be and let her resume styling her up. If it was up to her, right there and then, she would have asked what that scar was. Appendix surgery would not leave such a scar. Only a Cesarean section looked like that according to her research so far. The length was about four to six inches long and it was a slightly curved flat shape. She took her lower lips in her mouth and then searched on the internet what a cesarean scar looked like. After her doubts were half cleared, she breathed out and swept her hair to the back.

He was getting riled up. Scarlett could feel Griffin's immense erection pressing into her back. She was relieved that she still tempted him. "Your breasts are so large..." Griffin kissed the nape of her neck, pressing himself against her. "I love it." "You do?" "Yes, I love the rest of you too—you're so sexy." A blush swept over Scarlett's features. "You won't dislike me after I've had a c-section, right? There will be a scar..." "Stretchmarks and scars are beautiful signs of motherhood," Griffin whispered huskily into her ear. "And I would care about your appearance? You're already younger than me and far more beautiful."

“I’ve never counted. At least three.” Her hand glides over my chest, slow and grounding, drifting downward — anchoring me to the present, to being alive, to her. And for the first time in a long while, the demons hesitate. “Is this where the iron went through you?” she asks after a while, her voice barely louder than a breath. Her fingers trace the tattoo on my hip, slow and reverent, following the ink that hides the scar beneath it. Two laurel branches — a symbol for her name — curve like angel wings, delicate yet strong at the same time. And a tiny heart.

Mom whispered with a knowing smile as I left. Back at home, the house was quiet. I took my time getting ready. I bathed slowly, shaving every inch of my legs and more, letting the warm water soothe my still-healing body. I dried off and slipped into the deep emerald green lingerie set Alex had always loved the color that made his eyes darken with desire. The lace cupped my breasts gently, and the matching thong sat low on my hips. I looked at myself in the mirror and felt a flutter of insecurity. The C-section scar was still pink and prominent across my lower stomach. It wasn’t pretty. It was a reminder of the emergency, the loss, the pain. I traced it with my fingers, breathing through the

Not after everything mum had told me. When Alpha Colt returns, he doesn’t even look at me. He strips off his shirt as he moves to the ensuite, tossing it in the laundry basket. Just as the door closes, I see the large tattoo on his muscly back. It covered his entire back, I couldn’t quite work out what it was and wondered if it had hurt. There was also scarring up his left side. Running from his rib cage downwards. His joggers blocked me from seeing anymore and I briefly wondered what had happened. How had he gotten the scar,

Her hips are curvy, her small perky boobs are round and firm, her abs are defined and her waist is trim. Never in my wildest dream have I dreamt of having such a nice figure. With a hair of fiery red, bright blue eyes, a few freckles on my cheeks, long eyelashes and full lips, I look cute and sexy at the same time. It feels unreal. I turn around to get a view of my new back through the mirror. I let out a gasp, my eyes wide. There's a huge butterfly tattoo right there and beaneath it are scars. So many scars. The sight of them makes me sob. It must have hurt so bad.

Her clothes were torn and there were claw marks and bite wounds all over her, the worst of which was a claw mark that traveled from her left collarbone to her right hip. Luckily it didn’t appear too deep, and someone had soaked it with a herb poultice, as if to help it heal. " I will help you." Scar said as she muttered some words placing her hand on the wound , she looked at it but her chants weren't doing justice. She repeated again and again before Hazel told her to stop