3 Headed Doberman Tattoo Novels & Stories

There is a tattoo near the spot, like a tattoo as a sign that I also have near my neck. "Is this a scratch scar? Does it hurt? "I asked. Dori shook her head "this is not a deep wound. After all, all of that was defeated with the pleasure that Abigail gave me," said Dori, smiling brightly. "It's different from Dori, my mark is on my right back, Albern gave a bite mark there. look," said Jasmine and asked me to look at her back. I tried to shift a little of the clothes that covered Jasmine's end. There were indeed scars from the fangs and covered in tattoos.

He scoffed, taking off his trousers, and I looked away. A wave of dread washed over me, not sure what to expect next. Fear rose in my chest as I curled my fingers into the bedspread. By the time I looked back up, he was fully undressed, but he had his back facing me. I felt a drool escape my lip as my eyes traveled over his body—broad shoulders, his muscular back adorned with a large crest tattoo, identical to his brother's, except he was larger, taking up the entire top left side of his back. The tattoo depicted a shield with two swords crossed above it. Two lions stood on their hind legs, pulling the shield from both sides. Below the shield, a banner displays the name "Dontrell." The desig

Doughy from good living and laziness. Drakon is carved from granite. His chest is a landscape of muscle and violence. A jagged white scar runs from his collarbone to his ribs—a knife wound, old and deep. Another scar, a bullet graze, marks his side. But it’s the ink that holds me. A massive tattoo covers his torso. Wolves. A pack of them, snarling, fighting, running. They wrap around his ribs and disappear onto his back. It’s a masterpiece of shadow and ink.

For the most part, the packs got along but there was still always a sense of authority that was tested. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you look good. Can’t be representing our pack badly.” Jacob was getting our Crest tattooed on his chest. It was the head of a wolf with its teeth showing and blue blood dripping from the fangs. Kind of spot on for whoever designed it but whatever.

Sasha gives me back complete control. “Hello, Ari, or did Sasha not give you back control?” The one head in the middle talks. I’m too dumbfounded as I stare at the largest fucking three-headed dog I’ve ever seen. I mean, it’s the only one, but fuck, if I weren’t afraid of Cerberus, I’d think he was badass looking. Cerberus has dark greasy gray fair with streaks of black running through it. He’s massive, like the size of a dozen Dire wolves. His eyes aren’t just red; they are literally fire. His mouth is skeletal-like, and I can see every fucking sharp and long tooth individually. Black goo drips from his jaws. He’s menacing, and I don't want to fight him.

" Devon was still in disbelief, his eyes as wide as they could be. The fact that Bienley had gone and gotten himself a tattoo was mind-blowing enough, but it was no ordinary tattoo. There, on Bienley's back, was a masterpiece. Their names, "Bienley" and "Devon", were intricately etched, as if they were part of a beautiful, ethereal story. And woven around them was a delicate string of feathers, each one seemingly fluttering in a gentle breeze, as if carrying their love on its wings.

"Woof, woof!" A thought struck Ding Hao. Did this little fellow find something? According to the legend, the "Three-headed Heavenly Hound" had magical power in treasure hunting and could see through the Nine Serenities. Although the black puppy lost its bloodline power due to premature birth, it inherited the Power of the Origin from its mother. Moreover, the black puppy itself was a little strange. Did it really activate some of its inherent abilities this time?

The man struggles to his feet, bowing his head to the hooded one like a violent dog submitting to its master. Then the bald man shrugs off his jacket, wiping the blood from his face. When he turns his back, I see it—a curious tattoo, inked across his skin: the three-headed dog. “Are you insane?!” Camile screams behind me. “Why did you lie to the police?!” “I fucked up…” her brother admits. “Bernardo, for God’s sake, start talking and tell me what the hell is going on here before I lose it!” “You know Dad’s medicine was expensive as hell. We didn’t have the money, Camile! He just kept getting worse and worse, and I… damn it, I had to do something.”

"Affirmative." A man in dark blue wash jeans, a brown leather jacket, a white t-shirts and black boots, walked up to the car and yanked the door open to see a woman hanging upsidedown, unconscious. His brown hair was cut short, showing of the red rose tattoos on the side of his neck. Though what really caught the eyes of everyone else that day was the death symbol tattooed on the back of his head. A skull and two bones forming a cross with fire burning through them.

I am thankful he let me listen to that song. “Thank you… I almost forgot about those important details.” I bluntly said. He moves closer messing my hair making me grunt and gesture my hand, sliding it vertically to my neck. It’s a warning not to mess with my hair. “Oh… the tiger is now back.” I never mind what he was saying. I just focus on my drawing; maybe it will help me to find them. I picture out the tattoo I see on that bastard's left chest. It’s the only thing I can hold to find that tattoo. I draw a wolf eating the full moon looking up…maybe to praise the Moon Goddess or the opposite meaning? Devouring?