Cobra Kai Hawk Tattoo Novels & Stories

A body made for war. "Let’s start from the back," he said, turning. I dragged my gaze over the designs. He started with the skull, the first tattoo he ever got—at eleven—after his first kill. It was massive, covering most of his upper back, though other ink had been added over time. "The woman’s face over the skull, to the left," he pointed, "that’s my mother. And the dove beneath it signifies her demise." His voice was detached, but I felt the weight of it.

I screamed, “Hey!” Ricardo stood in front of me, wearing only pyjama pants, his chest bare. On his lift arm was the same tattoo all three of my foster brothers had—a hawk. It was the mark of their pure blood in the La Cosa Nostra. Every family in La Cosa Nostra had its own unique tattoo. He wrapped his arm around my neck and yanked my head down, pressing the crook of his arm against my skull. I tried to push him away and yelled, “Ricardo, stop! This is not funny.”

"Is he... Black Hawk?" "Looks like it," Tyler said as he ripped off Black Hawk's mask, revealing a cold and shadowy face. He then pulled off the doctor's white coat and rolled up his sleeve, revealing a prominent eagle tattoo on his arm. Caitlin gasped in shock. "It’s really him!" There were so many questions she wanted to ask Black Hawk, but now was not the right time. Sebastian gave an order. "Take him away first!" "Understood!" Tyler said as he escorted Black Hawk out of the room.

She has no idea who she is dealing with. "Oh hey Cheska right?" I said, as if we'd met at the mall. I know she's the one who took pictures of me and posted them. I would really love to shave her hair. "W-who are you?" She asked, trying to calm herself down after her terrified expression. Playing brave I see. I removed my mask and looked at her with a smirk playing on my lips. Her eyes widened even more when she saw my tattoo. Something on her chest drew my attention: she had a tattoo of a mafia logo, layered V and S with flames in the background, Villa Samonte Mafia. Who would have guessed that this babe is a member of the mafia?

Like a goddamn statue! I hope he couldn't tell how aroused I was just by standing so close to him. He smelled like musk and pine, like he'd been walking through the forest, and his cool breath smelled like bourbon. He had to have been at least six feet tall with a dark olive skin tone covered in tattoos just visible at the base of his neck. I can't help but wonder what it's of. His cropped brown hair was the color of melted dark chocolate, and looked just the perfect length to weave my fingers through while tasting the bourbon on his tongue.

I don't tell her I'm enjoying the show just as much as she probably does right now. Oh my God! Get your head out of the clouds, Ava! I can't believe I'm freezing my ass off and yet all I could think about is his stupid abs. His stupid muscles. And his stupid tattoos covering his entire back. I definitely can't count how many times he went through all of them because they're too many, and he only has one back. Is it even legal to have so many tattoos imprinted on you in this age? The answer to that is beyond me. Yet at the same time I should have already reminded myself that Hunter Ysrael is privileged to do just about whatever he wants. His father known to be the most ruthless alpha ever kno

A tattoo of some kind of bird stretched across the back of his neck. He didn’t turn around when I walked in. “Kai,” he said. His voice was deep. Rough. Like gravel dragged across concrete. “You made it.” “Yeah. Moved in today.” He finally turned. Those eyes. Dark green. Sharp. They raked over me from head to toe in one slow sweep that made my skin prickle. Not friendly. Not curious. Something else. Something that felt like he was already deciding how much trouble I was going to be.

He watched us with an unreadable expression, we couldn't figure out if he saw potential, or failures. I hated the man before me, I despised everything he stood for, and yet, the second he crossed his arms, his muscles flexing over his black shirt, I gulped. Kai's all-black attire did nothing to hide the perfectly carved body beneath the clothing. Whoever had created him had to have spent three years doing it, maybe even earned a degree or two. There were tattoos on his right arm, a Celtic knot woven with thick lines on his upper arm, and abstract, wave-like spirals that extended down, right above his wrist.

’ I asked myself. ‘Not those blue gems,’ Melora answered. They finally agreed. I had already seen Ian’s tattoo but Cannon’s own changed the game. It was a lion, with its mane spreading out and gem-like eyes shining. Its jaw and teeth were profound—looked like it was roaring—and the design was similar to Ian’s but unique in its way. Then there was Kane. I’m not a zoologist but I knew that was a Black Panther. It had blue eyes like its brothers and was fierce. Its whiskers were lowered and it looked like it was ready to bite someone.

As he demanded, Athena made him a sandwich. By the time she was done cooking, he already came down, but without his shirt, he was only in his sweatpants, his tattoos visible to her. He had a cobra on his front and something that looked like a stork or a hawk in the back. She was figuring out why he got all of his skin covered in tattoos, “Stop ogling,” he yelled at her without a tiny bit of gentleness in his tone.