Black Mammoth Tattoo & Piercing Novels & Stories

His mouth was sinful in that lazy, careless way—full lower lip, sharper upper, currently pressed into a line that said nothing and everything all at once. And his eyes. They were not fully human. Too bright. Too intense. A colour that might have been amber in daylight, but here, in the half-dark, seemed to hold embers. No glow, not like the Beast. But the memory of that molten fire echoed in them. Something in their depths moved when he blinked, like banked coals shifting under ash. Her heart stuttered. No. Her gaze snagged on the ink. A swirling tattoo painted his right arm from shoulder to wrist—black sigils twisting over his bicep, winding down his forearm. It didn’t stop there. The marks

I can feel the smirk on his face pressing into my jaw. He had my back facing the mirror and I turn my head, my face smushed into his, cheek to cheek. I see a big ass bite mark on my back! It went from shoulder to shoulder and dips down in between my shoulder blades, like the bottom half of a circle. There was a big dark green toothprint on my right shoulder with three smaller tooth marks and some type of lavender angel figure in the middle? I'm not sure, followed by three small black marks and a large black toothprint on my left shoulder. It looks like a tricolor tattoo of a beastly bite mark and I kinda like it. It looks as if it's healing.

“Grandmother despises schemers. When she finds out you’re the reason I lost my inheritance, she will make you pay. I promise you that.” “I’m the reason?” I scoffed. “That’s rich, coming from you.” “At least I have true Moretti blood in my veins!” Dante suddenly thrashed, trying to get up. “You’re nothing! You’re just a cheap—” His words were cut short. In his violent struggle, he tore the sleeve of his hospital gown. I saw it then—a black tattoo on his forearm. The design was distinctive: a double-headed eagle with Cyrillic letters beneath it. My heart skipped a beat. That was a Bratva tattoo. The mark of the Russian mob.

Chills run down my spine, but I don't turn back because if I did, I would run like fucking hell. From the shadows, a tall man with short spiked black hair dressed in nothing more than a pair of black denim jeans hanging below his waistline and matching leather boots steps out with his back turned towards me. I cannot help but stare at the way the full moon dances against his grey skin. He tilts his nose up to the sky and sniffs the air. When he does, I catch sight of a tattoo trailing from the curve of his shoulder straight down his back. The tattoo seems realistic somehow, how the never-ending vines trail from a black rose and on the tips of the thorns, tiny crimson-red drops of blood trail

I asked. He nodded. “Yes, baby. I had almost finished.” I smiled. “Can I see?” “Sure.” I leaned off him, adjusting myself on the table. As he went to the sketch board, my gaze followed him. I noticed his tattoos again. The most outstanding was a knife seated in the middle of his back, surrounded by thorns. They were really different from Black’s. So much different. Black didn’t have a single tattoo on him. And maybe that was the rule—for him as an Alpha? To show discipline? Or what?

It was a black dragon with wings, surrounded by black roses. “You have a weird tattoo,” I commented out of the blue. He lowered his gaze to his forearm. “All members of the Anderson Mafia have this kind of tattoo. It serves as our identification.” I fell silent, staring at it intently. For some unknown reason, that symbol is familiar to me. I tried to dig into my memory to recall where I’d seen that tattoo before, but it only caused my head to ache, prompting me to rub my temples. Cole quickly attended to me.

The tattoos on both arms made Chloe smile. Yes the one on the outer right arm is an image of a black wolf with pointed teeth. While the other is in the inner left arm, close to the pulse. A square tattoo with ancient writing, I don't know what it means. Chloe doesn't know. Plus two piercings in both ears. One was like a cross earring and also a few on his left and right ear. "Are you satisfied looking at me Honey?" asked Mashii and. It made Chloe stumble.

" I nodded, knowing what was to come. The Mambanatok, the tribal tattoo artist, was called to the palace, and he arrived soon after, his instruments at the ready. The Mambanatok began to work on my skin, etching intricate designs and patterns onto my body. I felt the pain of every sharp object, every prick and jab, but I concealed it, determined to show no weakness. This was a rite of passage, a symbol of my pride and greatness as a warrior. As the Mambanatok worked, my parents looked on, their faces filled with pride and admiration. They knew the pain I was enduring, but they also knew that it was necessary, a test of my strength and courage.

I whisper hoarsely, my voice barely a breath against the overwhelming silence. The forest seems to close in on me, the once-comforting darkness now a suffocating void. I look up, hoping to see the familiar faces of my family, but instead, a low, menacing growl emerges from the depths of the woods. My heart pounds in my chest as a figure begins to materialize through the gloom. A large, black wolf steps into view, its eyes glowing a haunting blue. Its coat is sleek and glossy, a stark contrast against the dark backdrop of the woods. A white diamond-shaped tattoo gleams on its forehead, catching the faint light and casting eerie shadows.

“And didn’t I tell you to drop the formalities when we’re alone, darling?” I have heard of the Dread Moon pack wolves being tattooed, but I have never seen one in person before. His right arm and pectoral are adorned with black ink, and I spy his pack crest amidst some rose designs. It is actually quite a beautiful tapestry and something inside of me seems to pull me toward him.