Black Mammoth Tattoo & Piercing Novels & Stories

The icy blast would’ve made anyone else recoil, but Dante stood there, solid and unmoving, like he was made of stone. His back was a canvas of ink, just like his front. The artwork was nothing short of breathtaking. Spanning across his entire back was a massive, detailed tattoo—an angel, powerful and divine, standing within the ruins of an ancient temple. The wings spread wide across his shoulder blades, reaching toward his arms, while crumbling pillars surrounded the figure in dramatic grayscale contrast. It wasn’t just a tattoo; it was a story, a testament, a work of devotion etched forever into his flesh. It was absolutely beautiful—mesmerizing, even.

My eyes caught the Jaguar tattoo on his back as he turned to pick up his machete. Jaguar tattoo means only one thing, the Bratva has different gangs and they have symbols to differentiate themselves, if it were a Volk then it would be a Black Mamba but if it's a Jaguar that means it's... How? Did he know I was coming? There was another loud creak indicating that someone was coming, I swallowed a hard lump in my throat as I watched like an idiot as three men walked in. Now I see it, they all have those Russian features, including the machete guy.

“You got another tattoo??” Em didn’t like the way he said it. Quinn was covered in tattoos. He had a huge wolf on his shoulder, several arrows and symbols all over his arms and chest and neck. He had a huge tattoo on his back that reminded her of their town. It was a lake and a mountain surrounded by trees. She thought it was beautiful, even though she had never seen it up close.

Giving us one of her usual glares, she walks inside the resort, leaving us to check-in. ************************************************************************ The door to my right opens, revealing Samuel only in his sweatpants. Coming out of the bathroom, he dries off his hair with a small towel wrapped around his neck. I can't stop myself from gawking at his lean but defined body. My eyes roam over his tattoo, which covers his entire left arm and the left pectoral. This is the first time I have actually seen his tattoo on full display. The tattoo design, which seems to be inspired by a tribal tiger tattoo design, looks magnificent on him.

chest rising in a calm rhythm like he was meditating, not surrounded by criminals. Speaking of his tattoos, he's got the weirdest tats I have seen on any guy. His back bore the most outrageous tattoos in the history of tattoos. His back looked like someone had lost a wrestling match with a possessed octopus holding a tattoo gun. From shoulder to shoulder, the ink sprawled like a chaotic crime scene—tribal swirls, demonic curls, and angry squiggles that might’ve once meant something, but now just screamed, “I don’t pay taxes and I bite.”

Having both marks make our mating and bonding come in full circle. Kayleigh moans while caged inside my embrace. I suck the warm trickle of blood coming from the piercings on her skin. She pushes her shuddering body against mine as she whimpers. Her moans show that she is feeling a surplus of pleasure from my bite. I pull my teeth out from her skin but keep my cock inside her tight slit. I lick the spot I bit before completely moving my head away from her shoulder. The new bite singes for a few seconds and then leaves a tattoo-looking mark, shaped like a moon with two wolves in a yin and yang position inside it.

I spotted Magenta’s cell phone on the nightstand beside her bed and quickly dialed Nikoa’s number. Although I didn’t say anything, I was already starting to feel the effects of the Blood Moon, and Magenta was right. As the night wears on, the urge to mate will only get worse... until I claim Brenna as my Mate and Queen. “I’m calling Nikoa. You stay here and rest.” “Nikoa Blaise speaking,” he answered on the first ring. “Nikoa, it’s me… Adan.” “Adan!” It sounded as if he was walking as he shifted ears. “To what do I owe the honor of a phone call on the first night of the Blood Moon?”

The beast who almost managed to entice me into a lap dance that would have been appropriate for a Turkish Nights fantasy. The one with eyes that are as dark as the night sky and as blue as midnight. The black, bleeding ink of his tattoos is almost as stunning as the tattoos themselves. These vivid fever eyes of his are closed, and I wish that they remain closed for the foreseeable future. It is not necessary for them to question me in order for me to comprehend the full and terrifying significance of what has occurred here. His tattoos are quite effective. I immediately identify the American flag that is tattooed on his arm, as well as the fierce eagle that is tattooed on his breast.

His abs looked perfect and dreamy, and his broad chest was to die for. 'Malek wished he looked like this,' I thought. "What do you want to do?" I asked as I saw him trying to get up. I removed my eyes as I saw the 555 and beast head tattoo drawn on his back. And I immediately moved to support him, by allowing him to lean on my breasts.

Immediately, I jerked my eyes upward. Too late. Those butt cheeks can’t leave my head, not for a very long time. I hated that my face was getting hot. Then I noticed the tattoos. A black raven stretched across his back, its wings half-spread on the back of his shoulders as though caught between flight and stillness. On his right shoulder was a black serpent curled over his left pec, glaring at the raven with so much intensity while the raven looked lonely and, worse, sad. More ink trailed across his back. Script. Symbols. Lines disappearing beneath fabric.