Chicano Back Tattoo Lettering Novels & Stories

, I stammer and try to protect myself from him. I, then feel, him lift me and move toward the bedroom. "No. Please. Don't touch me". I plead as I shiver under his hard gaze. He put me on the couch. My eyes land on the blooded bedsheet which reminds me of being cursed and dirty. He returns to the bed and suddenly my eyes widen at the sight of his back. He has a big alphabetical tattoo on his back too, not exactly on his back but on his spinal cord. He moves around the bed then I catch the letters. It is my name.

Her completely naked body was now facing her man’s view. “What’s the matter, baby?” She eyed him carefully up and down and her gaze stopped on his muscular chest. She starred at that part for a few minutes. On his chest had appeared a new black tattoo in the shape of the letter ‘S’. It was surrounded by nine different greek characters.

He nods. Once i get the ice pack from the kitchen, i head to my room. There i see a shirtless Dalon facing his back to the door. Damn he has a sexy back, focus Summer. I clear my thoat and walk towards him. He sees me and he allows me to put the ice pack on his back.(that rhymes :p sorry) I place the pack which he winces but later sighs. I noticed he had a tattoo on the left side of his back saying ‘hope’. They say tattoos have a secret to it. I wonder what secret is behind ‘hope’. After i was done it was time for us to get ready to goto the party. Dalon went back to his house while i started to get ready and hopefully not trip myself again.

Miguel eyed the pair and grinned. "He better treat you well, sis," he said firmly, joining me in getting a cup of coffee. I noticed that he kept trying to itch his back. I bumped into his side and asked him what was going on. "My back is burning all over, it started in the shower," he said in irritation. "Turn around I'll take a look for you," I told him as I turned him to face away from me. I dipped my fingers into his waistband and pulled his t-shirt up over his back. My eyes widened at the white tree of life designed tattoo covering his entire brown back.

“No.” I said firmly. “I must insist. Yo-” the doctor stepped forward “You touch me with that needle and I won’t be the only one with a concussion.” I threatened. “I saw your tattoo. You can’t be afraid of needles.” Janine said. Damn, I had a massive tattoo of my wolf on my back. She was pure white, which is a symbol of royalty. “What is your tattoo of?” Axel asked.

Light spilling out. I move closer, staying in the shadows. And then I see him. Dante is at a sink, washing blood off his hands. His hair is wet—he must have showered. Water droplets are running down his bare back. His scarred back. With FARFALLA tattooed down his spine in elegant script. My name. My nickname. Permanently etched into his skin. I swallow hard, my eyes tracing the letters. Tracing the scars around them. Evidence of everything he survived. Everything he endured.

It had been a month since Katleah surprised him. Tonight, it was Marco’s turn to return the favor. Earlier that week, he’d gotten a tattoo inked over his left chest; etched in elegant cursive, the words read, Till Death Do Us Part, My Katleah.

" Yes of course." " Okay, get ready cause is long..." He said why putting down his food. " Okay firstly, I have one on my chest a wing tattoo which signifies liberty for me. On my forearm, the word GO is written in capital letters cause I love traveling. On my right bicep a big moon representing darkness, on my thorax a rose surrounded with thorns representing the lovely but difficult relationship with my mom. Here,( showing me his left hand) three birds on the back of my left hand representing freedom of choice. On my left-right arm my name written in Chinese, this one, I have done it in Japan during one of my trips. On my left palm a roaring lion representing power. On my right middle fing

The icy blast would’ve made anyone else recoil, but Dante stood there, solid and unmoving, like he was made of stone. His back was a canvas of ink, just like his front. The artwork was nothing short of breathtaking. Spanning across his entire back was a massive, detailed tattoo—an angel, powerful and divine, standing within the ruins of an ancient temple. The wings spread wide across his shoulder blades, reaching toward his arms, while crumbling pillars surrounded the figure in dramatic grayscale contrast. It wasn’t just a tattoo; it was a story, a testament, a work of devotion etched forever into his flesh. It was absolutely beautiful—mesmerizing, even.

“Your turn.” “I’m not getting a tattoo.” He shrugged. “Didn’t think you would.” “Oh, fuck you. Fine.” I settled for two small tattoos. One of a pair of cherries with a bite mark above my right breast. “Those yours?” He smirked. “Because I’d bite harder.” I rolled my eyes at him but the tattoo artist found it funny. I got another one. “𝒮𝒾𝓃” on my side, under my left breast.