Ruddy Skin Novels & Stories

Many women dream of this kind of body. But not the kind like me. I never dreamed. I don’t and I don’t like this kind of body and life I have. I will admit I am smooth, without even any blemishes, no cellulite, pinkish hidden ones. And the skin becomes reddish or pinkish when exposed to sunlight. My hair is naturally colored like corn silk which I dye it change the color that will not stay the permanent corn silk color and will have another color.

Massimo saw his partner's skin turn red because it was exposed to the sun so that anxiety also burst into his mind. “Wifey, your skin becomes red. You better decide right away, so we can go there immediately.” The man who got good looks from his biological father also tries to remind his life partner. Abby's lips returned to normal. A woman who has a mole on her right cheek feels the truth from her husband's words, plus her stomach growls.

“He is bone god, god of all and only lets heroes enter into halls of eternity for drinking and hunting if have enough good skin marks.” “What about the red mark across your face?” Rex asked, seeing the difference in markings, he had originally thought it may have been a tribal marking of some kind. This assumption changed at seeing how the question seemed to make Grub’s smile fade quickly, turning to a scowl, then to contemplation, and then hesitation in such a short time, Rex thought he had maybe offended the constantly jovial man. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.” “Grub not have offence,” he replied, his scowl returning, “If Grub tells you, wonky leg cannot tell anyone else until Grub

I could've. Then all their names appeared on my skin. Reuben on my wrist, Raymond on my shoulder, all the names of the late appeared. My skin started burning beneath the towel as I moved places, scrubbing and scratching it away. My hands discarded the towel and started scratching all over, my skin was irritated and itchy. I'd never felt this way before.

I heard Viktor say, turning my gaze to his direction I gasped in shock at the now horrific sight of the famous CEO of Edgar Drills Caspian Edgar, who looked as dead and rough as a corpse The man's skin bore the disgraced markings of brutal violence. Deep, mottled bruises sprawled across his face and body. The bruised flesh took on an ominous hue, veering from sickly purples and blues to ominous blacks, vividly illustrating the brutality to which he had fallen victim.

He really thinks I’m gorgeous? Raising an eyebrow because Randy is totally out of my league, I do what I do best when backed in a corner and respond with sarcasm. He’s tall, athletic and muscular, with short dirty blond hair and golden wind-tanned skin from working on fishing boats with his father. “How do you know I don’t spend two hours in front of the mirror every morning?” I bantered at him.

"I actually feel... umm... tender now. It kind of stings." Ryder's gaze dropped to her lap. "Did you get your fingers wet first?" "Wet?" "Lubricated, Ruthie," he said, his voice thick. "You have to be slippery. It helps with the friction so the skin doesn't get inflamed. If you're going to be a little voyeur, you have to learn how to take care of yourself." "Noted," she breathed, her heart hammering.

“Put it on your face, your nose and cheeks are kinda pinkish. If your face burns, your skin will most probably start peeling off and hurting.” “I knew that,” she huffed quietly and Ramsay smirked, watching how she pressed her eyes shut and rubbed the white lotion into her facial skin. “What about you?” she asked after handing it back to him, Ramsay already packing it back into his bag. “If you haven’t noticed, my skin is a bit different.” Emmie frowned, eyeing his olive skin and the way his face was even tanner than his arms. “Oh… You don’t burn?” Smiling, Ramsay looked back at his book. “I tan really fast. When you see me tomorrow, you’ll probably notice.”

Exelle/Xiellenna My skin, once radiant, now bears the haunting marks of my suffering—bruises marring its pale surface. I stand before the mirror, a sorrowful weight pressing upon my heart. As I gaze at my reflection, the red and swollen eyes that stare back at me mirror the anguish within. My lips, wounded and adorned with dried blood in the corners, remain tightly pursed, withholding the words that long to be spoken.