Booktok Tattoos Novels & Stories

It was a testament to his unwavering dedication to all aspects of his physical fitness. One of the most striking features on Logan's left arm was the anchor tattoo, a symbol known to represent strength and stability, perhaps even serving as a connection to his time in the marine. Yet, what made this tattoo particularly intriguing was an unexpected addition. Just below the anchor, a smaller, seemingly incongruous tattoo came into view. This tattoo was a depiction of a little girl holding a toy, a charming but puzzling image etched onto his skin. It seemed to tell a story of its own, one that didn't readily align with the symbolism of the anchor.

She offered a polite nod to the librarian and slipped into a quiet, secluded corner. He sat alone, a man with close-cropped hair, his lean frame casually draped in a fitted gray shirt. His tattoos caught her eye first, intricate designs winding up his arms. Her fingers twitched with the urge to trace the patterns, to feel the texture of his skin beneath. His focus was locked on a book, and from the cover, it was about body painting, "for dummies." Cute, she thought. She considered leaving, unwilling to intrude on what appeared to be an almost zen moment. But then, her gaze caught a glimmer of silver: a name etched on an ID tag clipped to his book.

She gazes at me in a hazy pleasure of confusion. “We can’t fuck with clothes on. They might get in the way. Undress, Princess.” I command as I begin to remove my own clothes. Toni nods her head as she makes haste to remove her clothes. Her eyes soak me up as she studies my tattoos with her eyes. Leo, Trey, Shane, and Igor all have an obsession with tattoos. I have full sleeves, my chest, ribs, and a couple on my legs. I notice Toni has a thigh tattoo. It’s a ribbon of lace that wraps around her thing, but on the other thigh there is a gun holstered in the lace thigh strap. I know she has a cupcake on the back of her left thigh that she and Lucy got when they opened their bake shop.

books that weren't about architecture or history, but about the world they had run away from. He pulled a heavy, leather-bound volume book from the bottom shelf. The cover was dusty, the pages yellowed from how old the book seemed. He flipped through it frantically, his heart hammering against his ribs, until he found what he was looking for. He slammed the book down on the table, pointing to a hand-drawn illustration. It was the broken wing. "Look," Theo whispered. "Tell me that's a random tattoo." Mia looked down, her face going pale as she read the inscription beneath the drawing. Her voice was a mere breath. "Hunters of the Silver Moon."

Pronounced jaws. And the tattoos. The tattoos couldn't be ignored. Black ink decorated every part of his neck, trailing down to his back that held the mark of the Order while his chest held the one he treasured the most. Some part of the tattoo even showed as the first three buttons of his shirt were off, his black waistcoat hugging his perfect figure. Paride looked like the Angel of Death. Slowly, he placed the book with the name 'A Thousand Ways to Torture A Person While Keeping Them Awake.' and waved a hand in the air, causing a man that stood in the corner of his office walk towards the blond one, a poker expression on his face.

The click of the seatbelt seems to seal me into his control. He slams the door shut with a deafening clap, his powerful frame filling the car as he starts the engine. My eyes are drawn to the intricate symbol tattoos adorning his bulging muscles, and I cannot help but feel both intimidated and mesmerised by them as they start to writhe and twist, moving across his skin as if alive. “Why do your tattoos move?” I whisper, my face unconsciously inching closer to his. His dark eyes meet mine, sending a shiver down my spine. “They’re ruins,” he answers gravely. “Tobin cast them to ward off dark magic.” I can’t tear my gaze away from the pulsating marks on his skin. “But why do they move?” I wonde

I couldn't believe my ears. "No. Not you. I was talking to my friend Bat." I told him. "Where is that friend of yours." "My tattoo is my friend. You can't believe it's a magical one. It can talk to me whenever it wants to." I praised it before him. "Really. Can you show me. Am curious I need to have a look at that magical tattoo of yours." He said tilting his head to one side. Proudly, I removed my long black hair from my neck and back to show him.

D Fox The story Nathan talks about when he explains his tattoos is Sakura Gari (The Hunt for Cherry Blossoms) by the brilliant Yuu Watase. He was the character I was most hesitant about when writing, just because Nathan is the ‘misunderstood’ one; the one even I couldn’t always understand.