Feminine Black Widow Tattoo Novels & Stories

Looking down, I saw four golden paws, almost the same color as my hair, just shinier somehow. I looked over at Nadia, or should I say Midnight. It is extremely rare that a female wolf is black, but Midnight is, more or less. The Midnight blue was so dark it looked like black with a silver glow. She looked amazing. Then I heard her. “My children. Finally, you find your true form. I am proud of you both.” The Moon Goddess told Dawn and Midnight, who both bowed. The moon goddess then laid a hand on each of our heads, and then she disappeared. And before I got to think of it, I felt my body cracking, and I stood on my two feet.

I pause in front of one depicting the founding of Ordan, fascinated by the artistic style. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” I turn to find a glamorous werewolf woman in a red dress examining the painting beside me. Her jet black hair is swept up in an elaborate style, diamonds glittering at her throat. “Very,” I agree. “I love the brushwork. You can almost feel the movement in the scene.” She gives me an appraising look. “You must be the human everyone’s talking about. I’m Countess Vivienne Blackthorn.” “Iris,” I say, extending my hand. “Just… Iris.”

“Yannick saw the kids born from those women as assets. The boys would go on to become his boeviki, and the girls … Well, we had other uses.” We? Did she just say we? My eyes widen as I hold my breath. She straightens up, advancing on me with purpose. I start to stand, but she’s faster. She kneels in front of me, ripping open her jacket and shirt to expose the skin on her right shoulder. Pressed into it is a tattoo of a fox sitting on its haunches. Its black body is surrounded by thick, detailed chains. One look, and I can tell that the tattoo has been there for a long time.

Esmeray held her forearm up, examining the intricate tattoo that adorned her skin. The tattoo depicted a majestic wolf, its eyes fierce and determined, surrounded by swirling patterns that seemed to dance with a life of their own. The lines were bold and precise, giving the impression of strength and resilience. “This tattoo is so unique,” Esmeray remarked, tracing her fingers over the contours of the design. “I’ve always felt a connection to it, but I never knew why.”

That wretched scream, and laughter, soft feminine, terrible voice. A woman emerged from the haze. Her dress flickered like shadow and flame. Her hair fell in a thick and tangled way around her shoulders, strands silver as black as nightmares. Zaira Blackthorn. I did not know how I knew her name, but I knew. The same way, I knew that she was a witch. "Such chaos," she whispered, voice like smoke and poison. "So much effort to protect something you were destined to lose." Behind her floated symbols drawn in blood, pulsing with sickly green light. I tried to run forward, to throw myself at her, to stop her, but my body would not move. My feet were rooted. My throat locked.

She flexes her hand, giving us a glimpse of the tattoo on her ring finger. “What is it?” I ask, more than curious about the strange symbol she’ll wear on her skin in place of a wedding ring. “A hammer and a knitting needle,” she says proudly. “For his forge, and my skills with textiles, of course.” I glance at Aviva. “Do we get to choose?” Aviva shakes her head with a sly smile and motions to the absolutely ancient woman currently torturing my friend. “She’s a seer. She decides on the tattoo.”

"Why are you using spilled blood instead of thick blood as you had done before?" His grandfather laughed at him with plunged eyes. "Spilled blood is what I want to show you and not thick blood," his grandfather said then twisted the leaves and showed him. "Where did all the blood in these leaves come from?" "A hen," his grandfather said, "but it does not signify the blood of a hen, it represents the blood of a four men and a woman." "Why are they four men and only one woman?" "Because women are the weaker link among the two genders. Take a look at the leaves," his grandfather said and showed him the five leaves. Four of them were rich with nutrients and were dark green while the other was la

I folded my arms to my chest and smirked. I was right earlier on, It was a female vampire. There was a deep richness to her black skin; a typical example of an ebony beauty. She has on leather spandex that hugged her wide hips graciously and gave her that dangerous, edgy look. Her hair was cut short and it curled like that of a new born' hair. Her brown iris gave out the mild anger she felt from inside. Warm, yet dangerous. A large tattoo covered her entire arm and back and a nose ring sat comfortably on her nose.

By the time I was 16, I had already hacked, stolen, killed, and destroyed a few people’s lives. “This is why he nicknamed me ‘Black Widow’. I could get in, infect, and disappear without anyone knowing until it was too late.” I whisper, avoiding looking at Lia. “Granted, it wasn’t something I was entirely comfortable with, except for a few like Angelo’s father. They deserved it, but ultimately it was all just to so-called ’help’ my uncle, the boss, cover his ass due to his gambling and whatever other bullshit he was doing.” She runs her hands through her head, careful not to mess it up too much or her perfectly made-up face, heaving a heavy sigh.

By evening, she was back at the tattoo shop before she could talk herself out of it. The old artist raised an eyebrow when Aria walked in. “Third one already? Most girls wait longer.” “I need it,” Aria said, voice low. She chose a bold design this time — a intricate black and crimson serpent that would coil around her right thigh and disappear between her legs, its head ending teasingly close to her clit. The pain during the session was intense, but Aria welcomed it. Every prick of the needle made her wetter. When it was finished, the serpent looked alive, scales shimmering with dangerous beauty.