Pitch Black Skin Novels & Stories

That did nothing in calming my quivering body. Squinting my eyes, I did the last once-over then revered in my reflection. I had straight ebony black hairs in layers, even in braid they fell past my breast reaching my ribs, with contrast to my pale skin and cherry tints by the lack of sun exposure. Russia had less of those sunny days.

I was trapped. A low chuckle echoed from the darkest corner. The woman stepped forward. Tall, unnaturally thin, wearing the same black coat. Her skin was deathly pale, stretched tight over sharp bones. Her eyes were completely black—endless voids. Her smile stretched too wide, revealing needle-thin teeth.

It was Damon—but it wasn't him anymore. His jaw was unhinged, hanging at an unnatural, broken angle that allowed a thick, tar-like black fluid to seep down his chin and stain his bare chest. His veins weren't green or blue; they were thick, pulsing ropes of obsidian that crawled up his neck and spilled into his eyes, turning his sclera completely pitch-black. A pale, sickening violet flame flickered behind his pupils, dancing with a cold, mocking intelligence that did not belong to a pack wolf.

Purple and black, layered on top of layers. Skin that pale was almost translucent. The cracks in my fingernails were still there. Where some had been ripped off, the new skin underneath was no longer pink. The blood had drained from it. It had turned wax-pale. Almost see-through. He reached out and touched my face. I could feel him shaking. His whole body was shaking. Cold. The cold of a body that's finally stopped trying to hold its own warmth. My skin didn't give under his fingers. The curve of my mouth was set hard.

My mom, Desiree, is half-black and half-white. Her skin is silky smooth and the color is a magnificent mahogany. She is the shapeliest woman I know. She has a sweet full ass, a slim waist and all natural 36C breasts that stand firm and full. I have seen her in so many states of dress and undress. She always wears thongs and is so proud of her ass that she shows it off as much as she can get away with it. She has no problem being naked or near naked in front of me. And I am always wowed at the sight of her body. I am so happy that mine will look like hers. Her eyes are gray and her smile is a perfect ten. Her hair is straight, thick, and jet black. Her physical appearance, her character and h

Impossible to ignore. The black-eyed soldier possessed olive-toned skin and an intimidating presence with rough edges. The gray-eyed man was different. His skin was the rich color of dark chocolate, making those silver-gray eyes seem almost unnatural. Long dark hair had been tied into a half-bun. Strong shoulders and a powerful physique are visible even beneath his clothing.

ALPHA GREY I had stared at this other man for a long time. He did not look anything like I was supposed to be. His hair was not the black that had belonged to Jack, but a white color that rode from the roots, leaving no space for any other colors. His skin was not smooth, but a rough mass of scar that felt thick and burdensome. His face was ghostly in its appearance with how it looked like that living face of a skull. He looked to be a different man from who I was altogether.

he shouted back. Yellow boy. His bright blonde hair stood out very well in a city of dark haired people. Sol has a disease called albinism where his skin has little to no pigment as well as his hair. His eyes were the color of the sky, skin as white as snow and hair as yellow as the sunflower. Doctors said it is very rare. He thinks it is the reason his parents gave him up, he is weird, not normal. But of course, the sisters told him otherwise.

ADA “Ada, get back,” Dad yelled as he pulled me behind him. The eerie silence that lingered in the compound was broken by the sudden intrusion of the Xiray. Its skin, an inky shade of black, was the very embodiment of darkness. Its eyes were like deep, empty pits, within which swirled an otherworldly energy that sent shivers down my spine.

I shuffled myself close enough to see his face in the moonlight, and what I saw stopped me. His skin was gray. Not pale — gray, the gray of a body that was shutting down non-essential functions to preserve the core. His lips had a bluish tinge. His breathing was rapid, shallow, irregular — the breathing of a body that was struggling to oxygenate, that was working harder than it should have been for air that wasn't coming.