Draco Malfoy Tattoo Novels & Stories

However, his body size and his face filled with dark scars and scary tattoos did not look that friendly, and he too knew it. Nevertheless, he liked the tattoos on his body and the fact that people were scared of him because of that. “Mr, Zacob, hello,” Roy answered with a rather polite smile. He immediately cut off the call, but that too did not look suspicious. Malfoy knew there was something suspicious about that phone call but he had nothing to point it out to. There was no evidence that he could use to catch the man red-handed. ‘His men are simply too good!’ Malfoy chuckled inwardly but said nothing as he maintained the usual neutral expression on his face. He had known that the four men

Even at that, they still kept watch throughout the ride home, occasionally glancing around to make sure they weren't followed. Draco looked around the house making mental notes and last minute preparation for dinner, while trying to make sure Tyler didn't get half the food into his stomach before the guests even arrive. He had always loved cooking even as a young boy. His grandma had thought him everything he knew about the art of preparing food, she shared all her secret recipes with him and they bonded over meals. He really missed her, funny how she was the reason he was in this mess in the first place. Maybe it was his greed or he just loved the danger, but deep down he knew this was just

Scarlett’s POV Draco rose early these days, always before me and always bare chested, moving slowly around the room like he was putting up a show for me. At first, I tried not to, I stayed still with my eyes half closed in a fake sleep. But I watched him anyway, every morning. There was something about the way his muscles shifted beneath his skin as he stretched, the scars on his back that I wanted to trace with my fingertips. The tattoo ink that curled along his spine like a serpent, the way he usually stood at the window looking at the grounds.

Draco was there, sitting on a big rock. He wore a black shirt and jeans that held snugly to his muscular body, with boots that had a couple of tiny grass sticking to the soles. He immediately spotted Kyra, and a smile crossed his face, a ray of sunlight hitting his face in a way that made his brown eyes look golden.

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.”

I inquired, my voice barely above a whisper. Draco's expression shifted, a hint of mischief playing in his gaze. "They are no longer a threat," he said cryptically. "I turned them into reptiles and banished them to the depths of the underworld." A gasp escaped my lips, my astonishment mingled with a touch of trepidation. The power that Draco possessed, the ability to transform and banish his adversaries, both fascinated and frightened me. I had never witnessed such otherworldly magic before, and it made me crave such strength.

I retract my claw and slowly back away from him "Now answer my questions. Who the fuck are you and what the fuck do you want from me?" I forcefully ask again, trying so hard to keep my anger in check. He collects the handkerchief his friend extends toward him. Taking his time, he carefully wipes the trail of blood away from his neck before pressing the handkerchief to the back of his head to stop the bleeding. "My name is Draco..." He says after he's done cleaning himself up. 'Draco!?... What the fuck kind of name is Draco? Draco means dragon or serpent. Who named their child that?...' I wonder to myself as he continues talking

Unfortunately, it only managed to make things worse. On his eighteenth birthday, he was gifted with a large back tattoo. It was a dragon. It took up his entire back and one of the mythical creature’s claws extended on the back of his neck. He loved it. It was powerful and sexy, and he felt as mythical and untouchable as that dragon himself. His father told him that it was the symbol of their family. He didn’t understand what that meant then. And what it would mean for him in the future. ***

The kind of room that had no purpose and therefore no softness. Draco was on the far side of it. I registered him in pieces, the way you registered things when your body was already reacting before your mind had fully caught up. The shirt on the floor somewhere behind him. The shirtless back turned toward me broad and defined and covered, across the left shoulder and down the spine, with a tattoo that was not decorative. A dragon, rendered in black ink so detailed and so large that for a moment I simply looked at it the scales, the wingspan, the specific quality of something that had been inked not as art but as record. A testimony. This happened to me and I survived it and here is the mark

Deeper. León's breath caught at the sound of the voice in his head. “A tattoo?” Draco tilted his head, and a flicker of something like amusement crossed his features. He gestured again and waited. The choice hung in the air. The others had marked him with teeth and claws and seed. Draco was offering something permanent, something that would last beyond the aches and the bruises. León looked at the needle, then the ink before he looked into those silver eyes that held no pressure.