Cross Stitch Tattoo Novels & Stories

When we’d gotten back, Justin had gotten a tattoo of a barn owl on his left bicep, and he’d had them weave in the letter S on its wing. Leaning in closer, I slide the sleeve of his t-shirt up so I can see it, making him laugh around his forkful of casserole. Every time I see it, it makes my heart skip a beat. The muscled bicep certainly doesn’t hurt. I trace my finger along the S and feel his body still next to mine.

I went downstairs and grabbed beers from the fridge and a fruit juice for me because intoxicating things are a huge no-no for me. When I came to the door, I paused. “Come on, baby. You don’t remember me? You should. Your work is right here.” The girl turned around and sat up on her elbows, spreading her legs. She revealed a tattoo of butterfly wings on both sides of her inner thighs. “I remember the work. I don’t remember you.” Croix said, his face so neutral and tone so cold like a girl with her legs spread isn’t in front of him right now. “Do you want me to finish this fucking tattoo or not?”

This is one of those moments where she just has to do this all by herself. The machine buzzes, the small needle whirring, as Zia hovers it above Emma's wrist. The sting when it touches her skin is a lot like the burn, with heat flooding his veins and centered on one spot. Zia glides the needle across her skin, slow, careful, and precise. Every now and then it pierces, and Emma gasps, low and under her breath. The first time it happens, Zia freezes, only continuing once Emma has reassured her she's fine. What neither of them sees is the single scent spark that flies from Lucus. The tattoo isn't that long or extensive, merely three words, and so by the time Emma becomes used to the sting and t

A pretty love tattoo that looked embroidered with red and green flowers adorned one and bloomed right after each other seated on one of her laps. Without thought, which was extremely unlike me, I reached out to touch the flower. Goosebumps sprouted on her skin along the path of my dragging fingertips. She was as soft as she looked, like a soft moist cream. “Perfect__love them,” I murmured. “Th-thank you.” She said, exhaling a jagged breath when I moved to the other leg, trailing my fingers along the star flower tattoo that looked like they were made of thread, a brilliant illusion created from ink. “They were done by an artist that works close to a club, I met with her a couple of times.”

"What the fu-" "The tattoos." I push the mass of doctors away from her and turn my gaze to her ribcage. There are several small tattoos, but each one is easily distinguishable from the others. The first in the line is a wolf's head with a number eight between the eyes. Next is an arrow, a dagger, two crossed arrows, a gun, and a target symbol.

Zoey “What’s this about?” Bri asked, sitting back in her chair. She wore Wyatt’s shirt open with only a thin low-cut bralette beneath. The new tattoo she’d had Issac drill into her skin was simple and elegant as it rested on her sternum just below her breasts. Up the center of her chest, the water lily bloom birthed a crescent moon, a series of lines and dots indicating its glow in a circle around it, and above that a dainty fleur de lis. It paired with the twin Hyacinth Bean vines that now wrapped around her biceps and snaked down her arms and around each ring finger all in elegant black and grey. She and Issac had this thing about being in each other's company in companionable silence. The

She's already taken as many as her fingers could pick up. "I don't have a boyfriend, and even if I do, I'm telling you nothing." She smiles, "You want to know where I've been? Then I'll tell you. I used to belong to a gang, I told you..." She rolls up the sleeves of the hoodie she's putting on and besides obvious needle marks, there's a small tattoo on her left wrist. It's shaped like a cross. Like a cross turned upside down. Where have I seen this tattoo before? "How did you join a gang? You're so young!" I gasp.

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.

He laid me down gently and kissed the spot just above my hip bone, hidden from the world. “This cross will mark you as mine,” he whispered. “Small enough to hide. Deep enough that you’ll feel it every time you move.” The needle buzzed. The pain was sharp but sweet as he tattooed a simple, elegant cross right where only he would see it when I was naked. Every sting made my spent cock twitch. By the time he finished and wiped the blood away, I was hard again. He smiled, proud. “Beautiful,” he murmured. Then he poured holy oil over the fresh ink and over his cock, and slid back inside me right there on the table. Slow. Tender. Possessive.

Her eyes were blue colored and she had full kissable lips she painted over with some clear lip gloss. She had a large watercolor tattoo of a Phoenix on her left side in red orange and many other colors. On her thigh was a watercolor tattoo of a wolf howling to the moon. What bothered her the most was the three most personal tattoos she had. One was on her right forearm it was a watercolor tattoo of a Celtic Love knot the read “Love is real”, Rhys has the same one that read “Real is Love”. Another one was the was of their fingerprints that came together and formed the shape of an heart, Rhys also had the same thing. And the last was the obvious one, It was and eternal love tattoo right above