Cartel Tattoos Novels & Stories

As she unbuttoned his shirt, she noticed the tattoo of a horse on his neck which was mostly concealed by his shirt. "This is one of Christopher Stallion's men," she said. "What?" "Look at him," she said, pointing to the tattoo. "That is impossible," the governor incredulously. "My men are all trusted men." "But he has the tattoo of a horse on his neck. It would interest you to know that Stallion has a similar tattoo, and so does every member of his gang. Do you doubt it? I have a tattoo of a scorpion on my back because I am a Black Scorpion. All the members of the gangs have tattoos on their bodies."

“You are one funny kid. How could you even tell that?” My brows raised, “The guy shaking he was looking at those people up there,” my chin pointed to a huddle of people. “They are a cartel, right? If I wasn’t mistaken of the tattoos that elaborately adorn their bodies, there are from Santa Muertos. Which only means my guy owes them something and concludes my deduction but the way he was tapping his right foot.” I mimicked the motion the guy was doing. One Two. One. Two.One. Two. “Made it clearer, he’s someone's sister’s or daughter’s husband!” My tone hitched.

Then they tie their blouses beneath their firm breasts to show off their midriffs. And lower back. They have naughty tramp stamps tattooed on them. One twin has "Bareback Only" in cursive script. The other has, "Deposits Wanted" The two sluts are tarted out and ready to prowl the mall for the biggest dicks they can find. And none have bigger dicks than my daddy and big brother. When Daddy spots those sluts, he knows it's time to teach Carter how to fuck barely legal poon. It's a father's duty to make sure his son knows how to pound the skanks and give them the dicks they crave so much.

We come in peace; we were sent here by Carlo DeLuca) one of the men said, "Show me your mark," Marcello ordered not moving his gun for second away from the men, Carlo DeLuca was Marcello's closest ally. The deepest secrets they ever shared was the branding of the members of their cartel. Only they knew how to easily identify each other. Both men raised up their ring fingers which had been tattooed a snake swallowing it's own tail round. His gun dropped to his side. This was his help from a friend. Not a threat. There was a threat still though. And Marcello was hell bent on getting rid of it: for Jasmine and Mars. But first, he needed to get them away, keep them safe. So he called for help an

"Yeah, have it?" Skoteinó chuckled and removed his white smiley mask that revealed the tattoos on his face. The tattoo that attracts Raverine the most is the official insignia of Die Dark — a smiling skull with a bloody fang. The tattoos were all over his dark-toned face. He also had piercings on his nose and lip — a typical look of an outlaw.

Then yesterday we were told to open the back gates and set up a smokescreen to draw the Capo's attention away from the family. Jenson lowered his eyes and Rudi finished, ‘They said our daughters would be returned to us afterward but they gave us this instead. He handed Romero a photograph of two young women being gang-banged by a dozen men and to his sickened brain it appeared they were doing it willingly. He doubted it, he knew how the Cartel worked but he also knew the two Capos would never see their daughters again, he had seen the small tattoos on their thighs. They had already been sold as sex slaves, he doubted the Capos knew of the tattoo the Cartel inflicted on the women they sold a

Jesse asked. “Jesse, look at me, you can all be friends, they’ll have your back as long as you have theirs, their loyalty knows no end and trust me when I tell you, it’s better to walk out of here as friends rather than enemies,” I said to him. “There’s spray-paint in the storeroom at the end of that hall,” I said to one Zeta and he left to go get it. He brought the can back and I took it from him. I walked to the plastered wall and I began spraying the Garcia Cartel insignia on it.

They were in the middle of the Joshua Tree National Park and their favorite place to run free. Celeste’s eyes wandered over to the man with traditional black ink tattoos covering his body. When he came into his prime, the marks were placed around both biceps. By the time he was cast out of the pride, his arms and torso were completely covered. Slowly, he was covering the traditional marks of his Pride with tattoos that he chose. The marks that had traced his lineage back to the original pride of saber werecats, were now under roses and paw prints. Even the Marine Corps werewolf pack crest graced his upper left bicep.

I simply barge in, equipped with goodies that can make a bent man straight. Goodies that keep every fucking person in the shop still. My fucking goodies are being hawked like a cheap toy. “I need a tattoo.” I step a heel on the chair, wide enough for them to get a good hint of my wet cunt. “All over,” my voice is a reckless moan. “And no, not with your pen.” The nasty smile starts creeping along my cheek. “With your rumored fat, dirty cock.”

Everyone at Daxton plays a role. But only the Cartel decides the script. Sonia stared at the message on her desk like it was a match poised over a gas leak. “The Cartel meets again. Bring the photo. Don’t be late. North Clock Tower. Midnight.” No signature. No name. Just that ominous symbol again: Half a crown. Half a dagger. Now with a falcon in chains. She touched the image carefully, tracing the sharp lines like they might cut her fingers.