How To Draw Stretch Marks Novels & Stories

According to the Winslow family's rules that are passed down for generations, anyone who wants to marry into the family must draw a tarot card. But I have drawn 99 times, and every single card is a bad one. Before the 100th draw, I see Clara Winslow replace all the Lovers cards in the deck. She says, "No matter how many times he tries, he will only draw the worst cards." I finally realize that she does not love me at all. That is fine because I no longer want to marry her either. I toss the cards aside and call my parents. "I accept the arranged marriage with the Shaws."

In my previous life, everything I do to care for myself somehow ends up benefiting my new housekeeper instead. I apply expensive skincare, yet dark spots and fine lines spread across my face, whereas the 45-year-old housekeeper's face becomes silkier. I jog every morning, yet my body only grows heavier and bulkier, while hers becomes slender and toned. When my husband notices the stretch marks on my abdomen, his face twists with disgust, and he never touches me again. "I genuinely can't bring myself to touch you. How can you look worse than Mirabelle when you take such good care of yourself?" My housekeeper looks at me with a sinister smile. A chill crawls up my spine, and the strange feeling makes me fire her on the spot. Yet, as soon as she leaves, I start aging at lightning speed, entering menopause 20 years early and developing diabetes and high blood pressure. I see every doctor I can, but after hanging on for a week, I die from a stroke. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day she first reports to work. This time, I push away the royal jelly she sets in front of me with a pleasant smile. "I've been avoiding certain foods lately. You can have it instead."

In the third year of chasing the famously untouchable Hayden Lane, I still hadn't managed to marry him. The Lane family had an old rule. Any woman who wanted to marry into the family had to personally draw a fortune stick and receive a supreme blessing. I tried ninety-nine times. Every single time, the result was the worst possible omen. Before my hundredth draw, I personally saw Hayden replacing every fortune stick inside the cylinder. "No matter how many times she tries, she can only draw the worst omen." At that moment, I finally understood that he truly didn't love me. But that was fine. I didn't want to marry him anymore either. I tossed the fortune cylinder aside and turned away. Then I called my parents. "I accept the marriage alliance with the York family."

The Adoration and lust that intially marks the love between the two, drifts a sudden deviation in destiny. However the fate brings them together in the laters where the couple work to build a better relationship. The novel explores on how It's truly devastating that we yearn for something, only when its no where near us.

On my eighteenth birthday, the boy I'd secretly loved for years kissed me first. After a night of passion, I traced the marks on my skin and thought it was all a dream. I was ready to make it official. But the next day, my nude photos were plastered across the entire school. When I confronted him, Damien Ashford laughed with bloodshot eyes: "Blame your mother. If she hadn't turned a blind eye while those girls destroyed Rosalie, Rosalie would never have killed herself." "Now let's see — when her own daughter becomes the school whore, will she still just sit back and watch?" That was the moment I understood. Every tender word from the night before had been a weapon. In the end, my mother slapped me hard across the face and dragged me away. Years later, we met again. He had become the Don — the most powerful man in the underworld. And I was a dealer in his brand-new casino. He offered me up like a chip for other men's amusement, then claimed me himself after the game — the winner taking his prize. I didn't resist. Didn't struggle. Obedient as a puppet. But he froze. His eyes locked onto the stretch mark across my stomach.

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NINA “My wife will ride you for her org-sm and for your come to fill her, so she can do her duty as Mrs. Sokolov.” Jeremiah’s fingers flexed around my throat. “Go on, little wh-re. Climb over him. I know you want to.”   I crawled over Lachlan, curling my fingers around his thick c-ck, and wondered — how big was Jeremiah? How long? How thick? Lachlan hissed, “Kitten, stop playing or I’ll come all over your hand.”   Jeremiah growled, “We can’t have that. All his come belongs in your c-nt, wife. So get on with it.” His lips brushed my ear. “Don’t stretch this out. I have something else that needs stretching.” Shuddering, I got to my knees. As I aligned Lachlan’s c-ck with my entrance, another hand wrapped around mine — larger, slick with oil. Jeremiah.   A moan escaped as my husband guided his lover’s c-ck to my core. I sank down slowly, the stretch burning until I took every inch. “F-ck,” Lachlan groaned. “You’re perfect around me.” “You too,” I moaned, pressed against his chest, lips tangled in a kiss.   Then, without warning, Jeremiah pushed in two fingers — into my other h-le.   I gasped as he stretched my untouched muscles. He didn’t stop. Not until I was full. Everywhere.   Lachlan groaned. “I can feel you.”   “I know,” Jeremiah said, his fingers thrusting deep. “Move.” Lachlan obeyed, lifting me until just his tip stretched me, then pushed me back down. I whimpered. My hips jerked. Lachlan cursed.   “You like that, wife?” Jeremiah’s voice rasped in my ear. “Being used by both of us?”   _ This is a twisted, dark MMF mafia romance where love is savage, hate burns deep, and survival comes at a deadly cost. Read-TW!!!! MF-MM-MFM-Dark-Twisted-Betrayal-Amnesia-Revenge-NonCon-Mafia-Humiliation-Dominated-Controlling-Ruthless-Mystery-Thriller-READ-Trigger-Warnings

After transmigrating through three novels in a row, the hardest thing I ever suffer through is drinking iced long black. But when I open my eyes again, I somehow become the pathetic simp side character in a trashy romance novel. Just as I debate whether to file a complaint against the system, the trembling system hurriedly explains something to me. Although this is a trashy romance novel, it is also an unfinished abandoned novel. I ask, "So you're saying I decide how the story develops?" The system replied, "Yes. Everything is completely under your control." Satisfied, I lazily stretch and begin checking the original Jacob's background. He has a trillionaire father and a billionaire mother. On top of that, he has seven rich and beautiful older sisters. With such a ridiculously overpowered setup, how can he go around simping for a broke college girl with no money? What a complete waste!

I have the potential to win the championship of the math competition, and yet I hand in a blank answer sheet during the exam. In my previous lifetime, I was known as the math prodigy. But no matter which competition I participated in, my boyfriend's childhood friend, Alyssa Ford, would always score an extra 20 marks more than my score. I refused to believe that Alyssa could best me all the time, so I performed extraordinarily well in the math competition. Just as I thought I'd come out as the champion, Alyssa still scored 20 marks more than my current score. Thanks to her outstanding results, she stole the title that was supposed to be mine. Since I couldn't become the champion, I lost the prize money the school had promised to give me. Naturally, I broke down emotionally because I planned on using the money on my parents' life-saving surgery for their cancer. My parents ended up dying in the end. Unable to handle the blow, I took my life shortly afterward. Even when I breathed my last, I could never figure out why Alyssa could score 20 marks more than my scores no matter how hard I tried. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day before the math competition is to take place.

On Christmas Day, eight months pregnant, I struggled through the kitchen,cooking for my husband and his secretary. When I finally sat down, hoping to taste a piece of turkey I didn’t even get during Thanksgiving, my husband shoved me aside like I was nothing. He slid the turkey in front of his secretary instead. “Alison,you’re already so fat. Stop eating. Let Daisy have it—she deserves to enjoy your cooking.” Daisy，chewing on the turkey I had painstakingly prepared, had the audacity to mock me under the guise of playing truth or dare with my child. “So, what do you think your mom looks like?” “Mommy looks like a fat pig on a farm!” “Her stretch marks? They’re like disgusting worms crawling all over her. Even Santa would run for his life!” Their laughter erupted like daggers piercing me from all sides. Humiliation and rage burned through me as my dignity was stripped bare. I demanded an apology from that vile woman, but my husband—my husband!—turned his cold, cruel face toward me and said, “Get out of here.” Pregnant, exhausted, and humiliated, I stood there in shock. Then I snapped. I grabbed the Christmas cake and turkey and threw them in the trash. I walked out without looking back. This wretched family doesn’t deserve a second of my effort or a single ounce of my love!