Chicano Back Tattoo Lettering Novels & Stories

I resisted the urge to fan myself as my body temperature shot up. Other than bulky muscles, black ink marked his back with various tattoos. My brain had melted the moment I saw his hot, muscular body, so before I could think about it, I took a step in his direction and then a few more until I had a clear view of his tattoos. At a little distance down the neck, there was a tattoo that portrayed eight phases of the moon in a horizontal alignment. On the right side of his back, the anatomy of a wolf heart was tattooed with blood dripping down in drops. A date, 12-08-1994, was etched beneath the wolf's heart.

"This is my house, okay? I'm used to bathing and then just walking back to my room shirtless." His back faced me and that's when I saw a tattoo on his back. Right between the shoulders. It's a few words, but I can't really make it up. I think it's in Spanish. He took out a light blue shirt and smiled. "Well?" He turns around to look at me. "Go and bathe, you idiot." I roll my eyes before making my way to the toilet. I lifted the hem of my dress and managed to get it off after a few failed attempts.

“You’re the one that asked about my tattoos.” I swallowed, watching as he undid the rest of the buttons except the last two buttons. When he turned his back to me, I let out a gasp. His back was fully inked with a variety of tattoos. He let me soak it all in some more before letting out a breath. “Most of it I got after turning Alpha. If you look closer, you’d see some koi fish towards the base.” My mouth formed an ‘o’ as I inched closer. Sure enough, there were some orange koi fish curved around what seemed to be an inscription in Kanji.

Stamp ejaculated as soon as he viewed what Mahiriko just got to drawn on his skin. Mahiriko frown and punched Stamp's hand when he touches his chest. "D*mn you, Stamp. It's not a f*cking pussy, it's a tarantula, you sh*tty sh*t." He corrected and study the tattoo at his reflection at the mirror. Stamp laughed his ass out and shows his Betty Boop tattoo on his back. "You see this, man? This is the real tattoo." He even let out his laugh like a wheezing animal.

Deep sallow skin as though he’s mixed race or maybe Latino or Asian. His arms are littered with black tattoos of various designs, by the looks from here they seem to be of Aztec or tribal origin. Unusual artworks. I wait for him to turn but he doesn’t. Keeping mostly his body turned away with the occasional profile peeks as he turns to talk to his friends in a low husky voice with a very American accent. It seems a little urban city with an unusual dialect.

“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.

I watch him pass me and note the lettering on the back of his cut. Nightmare Warriors.

What does he mean that’s for later? Cutting off the straps of my thong as well, he takes a step backward and removes his bowtie, which was already loose and hanging around his neck. As he gets to work unbuttoning his shirt, his eyes do not leave mine and even as they’re filled to the brim with anger, I can see the hunger. I was right about his body being covered in tattoos, but in this case, only his back and sides, save for one tattoo over his left pectoral, right over his heart. It is a black heart with a dagger with the words SANGUE PER SANGUE.

chest rising in a calm rhythm like he was meditating, not surrounded by criminals. Speaking of his tattoos, he's got the weirdest tats I have seen on any guy. His back bore the most outrageous tattoos in the history of tattoos. His back looked like someone had lost a wrestling match with a possessed octopus holding a tattoo gun. From shoulder to shoulder, the ink sprawled like a chaotic crime scene—tribal swirls, demonic curls, and angry squiggles that might’ve once meant something, but now just screamed, “I don’t pay taxes and I bite.”

I couldn’t focus on what he was saying at all, my attention completely stolen by his bare chest. I couldn’t help but notice the armband tattoo on his left arm. The word “Moretti” was inked in a beautiful Old English font, with detailed lines making it look even cooler. His tattoos just added to that tough, masculine vibe he had going on. Then I saw the tattoo on his back. A raven, placed right in the middle of his back, near his shoulders and neck. It was so well done, I couldn’t stop staring at it, totally impressed.