Blackbook Tattoos Novels & Stories

"Oh? You recognized me?" Steven sneered evilly. Sebastian laughed and said, "Isn't the black star tattoo on your hand a mark of a Blacklister?" There was indeed a tattoo of a black star on Steven's arm. It was the symbol of the Blacklist. Every member had to carry this tattoo. The Blacklist was the country's chart of worst outlaws. Everyone on the list was an outlaw who committed all kinds of evil deeds. Among them were internationally wanted criminals, traitors of martial sects, and murderous demons.

She wanted to remember. Thick steel ring through her septum. A heavy tattoo gun buzzed right above her cunt: “PROPERTY OF DAMIEN BLACK” in big black letters with arrows pointing straight down to her pierced, ruined holes. Then the permanent collar—thick steel, welded shut around her neck forever. A metal plate bolted on that read “Black’s Prize Pony – Do Not Return.” Damien fucked her slow and deep on the table right after, staring into her empty eyes while she whispered broken “thank you Owner” between sobs and orgasms.

Esmeray held her forearm up, examining the intricate tattoo that adorned her skin. The tattoo depicted a majestic wolf, its eyes fierce and determined, surrounded by swirling patterns that seemed to dance with a life of their own. The lines were bold and precise, giving the impression of strength and resilience. “This tattoo is so unique,” Esmeray remarked, tracing her fingers over the contours of the design. “I’ve always felt a connection to it, but I never knew why.”

she grumbles. Opening her locker, she reaches down to grab the books she took home out of her bag, the locker door slamming shut above her as a hand slams against it. She follows the large black Celtic style tattoo carved into his skin, only making out the bottom of the tattoo under his rolled up shirt sleeve. It doesn't look like a simple symbol like she has seen on a few other people, there are multiple symbols and designs within the base design, she can't get a clear enough look. "You really like checking me out, don't you?"

are inked between the bird’s wings. “Blackbird,” I say, naming the Beatles song. “Yeah,” she sighs out. “It’s my favorite song. Means a lot to me. The colors all stand for my survivor status. Green for mental health. Purple for domestic abuse. Teal for sexual abuse.” Without knowing what I’m doing, I step forward and my fingers trace down one of the bird’s wings. I feel her take in a shuddering breath and she leans into my touch. I’m lost in the beauty of her tattoo.

I jump when I see him. Prime Alpha Nikolai Blackwell. And he looks grim. Deadly eyes of his rolls down to size me up, face flat and expressionless, and his hair covers a large part of his forehead. And he's shirtless. He's sweating. He must have been exercising. I swallow a large lump that hurts my throat. My thoughts spiral. He's exquisite, wearing a grey pant that reveals his packed bulge. His bare chest carries a dark ink, spreading from his chest down to his spine and to his back. A large tattoo of a wolf!

I realized how much I missed him, more than I had admitted to myself. “You really love tattoos,” I remarked as he casually removed his shirt. His back was covered in intricate black and gray tattoos—half a skull, half the face of a crying woman. His shoulders and arms were adorned with shading, letters, and flowers that had intertwined over time. I noticed the names of my parents, mine, and his pack etched on a cross. My dad would have had a fit if I had even a single tattoo.

She boldly bent to kiss my neck, and her lips slid along my shoulder, pushing black silk out of the way. She undid the buttons slowly, her lips following along as she did so. She bared my chest, smooth and hard, with a few tattoos I no longer paid any attention to. One was a skull that Id had done when I was a teenager and full of anger. Another, a slash down my right side, was a black panther stretched out along the slim expanse. Yet another, on my left pec, was a revolver, another stupid choice of a teenager. Id have them covered when I could be bothered.

"Like? No, I love it. These three figurines are just everything. I've always wanted to have them in my room, they have so much significance that I... I don't know what to say anymore. Where did you get these?" "At an antique boutique in Hawaii." "Awww, you thought about this day while you were back there. That's so kind of you." "Mum, what are those? Monkeys?" Ace curiously inquired. "Sculpted monkeys with a lot of significance: this one says see no evil, this one says say no evil, and this says talk no evil." She explained. Ace grumbled and left. "I guess he thought it was a new toy." She shook her head.

He hadn't noticed I was awake yet as he turned towards his desk and picked his phone. Just as Ares had his back turned to me I finally had a glimpse to where the red glow had been coming from. At his back was a tattoo, no, a mark instead? It was a black round circle that ran from his shoulder to his lower back. It had weird markings and writings around it. But as usual I couldn't read them. Infact this didn't look like the letters I had seen in any of Jax's books. But what shocked me was what was inside the black circle. It was two wolves' heads, they were both inverted so that none of them faced each other.