Draco Gun Tattoo Novels & Stories

So we killed more than one person who was involved with the Damned Forsaken. Now I have a Ravager's tattoo of a skull with a zombie raven atop of it wearing a crown, a pistol leaning against the blood-splattered skull. The zombie raven is for the Ravager while the skull with the pistol was my Damned Forsaken tattoo, and the crown is for the Death Kings. I put my spin on it so that it’s unique and easily identifiable as a crew tattoo. I didn’t mind letting the man who trained Lachlan be the one to do the work. Plus that Drogo is a Death King and the Vice President for the Death Riders MC.

Their top halves were bare, leaving every inch of carved muscle and porcelain skin on display. Azrael’s shifting tattoos stood out brightly against his skin. As for Draco and Orion, they had soft whorls of silver painted along their broad chests and shoulders. Pushing all the lovely, terrible things I wanted to do to them aside, I forced my lips into a pout. “How come they don’t have to wear silk thongs?” Azrael pulled me into his chest with a lopsided grin, “Just say the word, little wolf. We both know my ass would look phenomenal in a thong.”

Honestly, I needed the money at that time. I was going to break off the engagement anyway. I was never following his orders. Draco glanced at me once. Whether he believed his brother or not. Whether he was disappointed in me or not. None of it showed in his expression. Before he returned his gaze to Dickson, his eyes fell on something else. “Bring that gun.” One of his bodyguards acted promptly and picked up the gun Dickson had used to torture Herman Sy with. “Give him.” At Draco’s instruction, the bodyguard placed the gun in Dickson’s hand.

Draco was not just consumed by resentment—he also possessed two rare Protection Shields. One came from himself, a defense born out of his past experiences, and the other was granted by a spirit who had sacrificed all their remaining fortune to create it for him. Aria hadn't noticed the shield before due to the presence of the Soul Suppression Plaque, but now she paused, observing the faint golden glow that emanated from his resentment. "Were you a soldier before?" she asked. Draco's eyes burned with fury. "So what if I was? They never treated us like humans. They deserve to die! All of them who bullied my daughter should die!" His anger boiled over as the Soul Suppression Plaque gleamed, fee

Lucas aimed his gun at Draco. "Draco, many more would die at your hands if you live," he said. "You will die. Today." Draco burst out laughing as he raised his gun and rested the nozzle against his chest. "Even if I do, I will never die at your hands." With that, he pulled the trigger. The bullet penetrated his chest, and he fell. Draco was finally gone. Lucas felt as though he was relieved of an enormous, suffocating burden. His clothes were stained red, drenched with blood that he didn't know belonged to him or another.

It was the ink. A dragon, winding up from his chest, the tail curling along his ribs, the head climbing over his collarbone and stretching up the length of his left arm, almost entirely sleeved in intricate black and gray tattoo work. Scales, smoke, fire—details that felt as much like armor as art. This wasn't some impulsive drunken mistake. This was deliberate, meaningful. A story etched upon his skin. His throat, too, was fully covered in inked. And then—

he muttered slowly to himself, with the kind of tone that could lure someone closer even as it promised eventual danger. He got up from the bed, rising in all his predatory glory, with scars from too many bloody battles boldly visible across his shoulders and chest, each one telling a story that no one lived long enough to hear. He reached for his cigarette case on the nightstand, drawing one out reverently before lighting it with a customized silver lighter engraved with the initials DG. The flame briefly lit up his sharp features… the same features his twin carried, although Damon’s eyes had once been hardened by control while Draco’s blazed with pure, unfiltered madness.

"Y—You actually possess such immense, divine power!" My lips curl into a mocking smirk as the completely shredded remains of my shirt fall away from my upper body, revealing my heavily muscled, bare physique to the entire room. A dark, terrifyingly majestic tattoo of a black dragon with glowing red eyes is coiled tightly across my chest, its primal design incredibly vivid and lifelike against my skin.

Every now and then, the occasional nurse shark would break the surface, their fins slowly gliding over the water. “Where exactly are you taking me?” she looked up at Drago, who had a protective arm around her shoulders. “You will see, little girl,” His emerald eyes sparkled in the sunlight. He was truly a vision with his jet black hair pulled up in a man bun, and his exotic features.he bent down, planting a kiss on her lips as the boat motored along.

He thought for a while, “From now till I leave your name is Raisel” Her eyebrows shot up at his unusual request, “Raisel?” “Yes, Raisel”. *** They both lay side by side on the large bed not saying a word to each other, Dragomir was casually draped in a linen shirt and trousers, Raisel had on linen shirts and leather pants, her knives tucked in her boots. “Do we have to go?”, she turned to face Dragomir. “I hate to say this but yes” “Finding a dragon has to be one of the hardest things ever”