Bratva Tattoo Novels & Stories

His shirt was wrinkled, his hair messy, and the anger rolling off him felt familiar enough to make Sofia’s chest tighten. “There you are,” he muttered. She didn’t answer. Silence was safer. His gaze dropped briefly to the faint bruise along her wrist, the one he had left there two nights ago when she tried to pull away from him. The mark had started turning yellow now, fading slowly but not fast enough. “You’re quiet tonight,” he said with a rough laugh. Sofia kept her arms folded across herself, her fingers pressing into her sleeves. Something about the way he looked at her made unease crawl along her skin.

I half expected it to be tattooed, as well. Brian's blonde followed after him, undressing in the same languid way. Her small, thin boobs were capped by nipples that were so light pink I could barely see them. The left had a barbell piercing in it and the metal glinted in the early sun. Her pussy was completely shaved. I noticed a tiny turquoise butterfly tattoo floating right above her mons. The two of them slipped into the hot tub, wordlessly. Brian knew better than to try sitting with Scarlett. Instead, he slunk across the tub, and settled between me and Carlos. He fixed his sunglasses as he sat down. His girl sat next to him on his far side.

"I understand. I'm yours, Draken...I've only ever been yours..." My words came out soft, hoarse and needy for him and him alone. And they seemed to spur him into action as he took off his shirt with one hand, dropping it to the floor before he reared up to unbutton his jeans. I watched speechlessly as he undressed, taking stock of his multiple tattoos, each of which seemed to tell a story. I knew many of them were the markings of the Bratva but one instantly stood out, making my heartbeat stutter in my chest as my eyes brimmed with emotion.

She had reached her goal and was now the Bellator champion. An arm encircled her waist with a familiar hand pulling her into his side. Instinctively, Taz reached down and touched the tattoo on his outer wrist. A small bill of sale declaring that his body, heart and soul had been sold to the Devil herself. Linking her fingers with his, she played with his titanium wedding band. Running through the center was a rainbow in support of his daughter. Beneath the ring, in the style of her trademark rainbow braids, TAZ was tattooed on his ring finger.

The buttons near her collar had come undone—revealing the faint outline of a black tattoo. Briella’s eyes narrowed. That tattoo… ***

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.”

Cute, almost, with her dark hair and broad smile. Bray was next. Scruffy dark hair, just like his brothers, his T-shirt stretched across toned shoulders, revealing the tattoos decorating his arms. And if you didn’t know better, another Bray followed after him. Of course, that was Titus, his twin, and even though they completely ignored the cameras, it was plain to see that they were identical. Except for the tattoos—it was the easiest way to tell them apart now. From Bray’s almost iconic stopwatch on the inside of his left bicep to the trees that crawl up Titus’s forearm from his wrist.

As Vor, I bear the weighty responsibility of maintaining order and ensuring strict adherence to the Bratva’s unwavering code of conduct. The Russian Bratva has gained infamy for its ruthless tactics and wide-ranging criminal operations, encompassing illicit activities such as drug trafficking, arms smuggling, money laundering, and extortion. Employing a combination of violence and intimidation, we stop at nothing to accomplish our objectives, often leaving a trail of high-profile assassinations and bombings in our wake. It comes as no surprise that governments across the globe regard us with apprehension and trepidation.

The four types of tattoos were the Alpha tattoo, the Beta tattoo, the Zeta tattoo, and the member tattoo. My tattoo had seven moons at the top of my back with two versions of the Helm of Awe on each shoulder blade. In the middle of my back was Yggdrasil, the tree of life with a wolf head coming out of the roots. Finally, below the wolf and running down my spine was my name in Old Norse. In the middle of Yggdrasil’s branches, the Alpha sign of our pack was cleverly blended in.

I said as he pulled me closer and hugged me, slapping me on the back. “Let’s get you branded,” he said proudly and smiled at me. “Any specific request for your Alpha tattoo?” Rory, the pack’s tattooist and a Zeta, asked me. “Lightning,” I said and he smiled as he looked at my arm when I took my jacket and shirt off.