Deku Tattoo Novels & Stories

My eyes drifted down to his torso, and my breath caught. God must have enlisted his finest artist to carve Killian Knight. The tattoo, a haunting web of thorned vines, began at his right hip and sprawled across his torso. Its black branches reached his heart, with another branch peeking over his left shoulder and spreading down his arm to his elbow. The intricate design, hidden beneath his clothes, was now fully exposed.

The four types of tattoos were the Alpha tattoo, the Beta tattoo, the Zeta tattoo, and the member tattoo. My tattoo had seven moons at the top of my back with two versions of the Helm of Awe on each shoulder blade. In the middle of my back was Yggdrasil, the tree of life with a wolf head coming out of the roots. Finally, below the wolf and running down my spine was my name in Old Norse. In the middle of Yggdrasil’s branches, the Alpha sign of our pack was cleverly blended in.

I smiled, though my body trembled slightly with unease. He smirked, his eyes darkening as he sauntered towards me. Slowly, he reached out, invading my space. My gaze drifted to his chest, where intricate tattoos sprawled across his skin, half of his left chest completely inked. There was a large python coiled menacingly, its fangs bared as if ready to strike. Surrounding it were other symbols—a bleeding dagger, an intricate skull wrapped in thorns, and a blood moon rising behind them all. The ink seemed almost alive, dark and haunting, like it held secrets too dangerous to reveal. I had seen something like this before. The imagery was disturbing, almost as if he were part of some secretive c

She was shy away and hid her in my chest. I placed her in a hot shower, pressing her back to me and kissed her neck. I was stunned when I opened my eyes. There was an old Italian tribal tattoo on her neck. What is it doing here? It was an arrow design with a crown holding double letter A. It was a symbol of the deity of death.

The hoodie draped loosely over his head, obscuring his face, but the flicker of city lights occasionally illuminated the sharp lines of his jaw and the hints of a sinister smirk playing on his lips. The wind picked up, a fierce breeze whipping across the rooftop and causing the hood to flutter. As the fabric shifted, it revealed a chiseled, muscular torso adorned with intricate tattoos, each line telling a story of violence, power, and mystery. Prominently displayed on the left side of his chest was a large, bold tattoo—the words *Nosce Hostem* inked in a jagged, menacing script that seemed almost to pulse with life against his skin. The tattoo, a clear message, spoke of a deep connection to

“Okay, thanks for terrifying me again, I mumble uncomfortably, trying to soothe the rising panic in me. I'm frighten he will soon tire of me and kill me just for bothering him. He looks back down, scribbling something on the paper. He clearly doesn't want to be bothered, but I'm not done talking to him. “Is there something you want?” He sighs, turning a paper over. “What does your tattoo mean?” I gesture at his bicep. Keo has a few tattoo's, although most don't appear to elude to anything. But this striking piece on his arm does, made up of various objects, text and patterns. “It’s something that once meant a lot to me," he responds carefully.

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.

That came with a lot of danger, and part of me would always want to protect her even if I knew she was far more capable herself. “Perhaps we could explain a bit about what this means,” Kenzie suggested while biting her lip to stay focused. I pulled her onto my lap and pecked her nose because it never failed to make her smile. “My mark on your skin is a beautiful crown that is emblazoned with a saying underneath that translates to ‘Purity of the soul purifies all.’ Your mark on my neck is another crown that is emblazoned with a saying that translates to ‘Purity must have its fire.”

“Something exclusive.” “Exclusive? Sure. I’ll have him recommend some.” Soon a batch of designs came through. Forrest introduced them seriously. “Demon tattoo, also called a slave mark. Usually on the lower abdomen. You know what it means. But people who get this are usually women…” Forrest turned his head and saw Lorenzo studying the designs with full focus. A chill ran down his spine. “Bro, you are not thinking of doing this, right?” Lorenzo stubbed out his cigarette and said calmly, “She said she wanted to leave her exclusive mark on me.”

Marcus said. I lifted my head and looked at the bike again through tears. Now that I could see past the shock, I noticed the rest. The new paint was deep black with a subtle shimmer that only showed when the light hit it just right. Along the side of the tank, worked into the design so delicately I almost missed it, was a dagger. Behind it, a crown. Around both, the fine lines of a compass, woven together in the exact shape of our tattoo. My hand pressed against my chest.