Fiction Tattoo Novels & Stories

My hips bucked involuntarily, trying to jerk away, but he pressed down harder with his free hand, pinning my thigh to the table. Cristian didn't even look up at first, his face a mask of bored concentration, sweat beading on his forehead under the harsh fluorescent light. The tattoo gun whirred on, dipping into a pot of black ink before plunging back into my skin. “Relax, little bird,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly, laced with that mocking edge he always had. “I'm just marking my territory. The next bastard who gets his hands on you—or should I say, his cock in you—will know you were mine first. See this? It's my signature, right on your dick. A little reminder that I broke you in.

"It's just needles, Cheryl." "Yeah, absolutely not. I have a phobia of needles," I said, gripping my arm. "It won’t hurt that much, I promise. You’ll barely feel it," she assured me. After a ridiculous amount of back and forth, I finally decided to face my fears. I held onto Anna for dear life through the hardest thirty minutes of my existence while the tattoo artist inked Miles Jun-ho Han onto my skin, right above my ribs, with a small purple butterfly beside it—a symbol of how he made me feel.

The hope vanished as fast as it came. "How do you know his one of Wood's?" I asked him basically ignoring the hurt I was feeling. "He had a tattoo on his purlicue. It's customary to get it when you join the gang. He even changed the kind of tattoo that would symbolise you're in his gang." "Oh," I nodded my head in understanding. “Do you have it?” “I covered it up with a new tattoo when I got out,” he said and he opened my door and held out his hand for me to take.

He was afraid that his sharp fangs would hurt his fragile, delicate mate. Lilly saw that the tattoo was on Declan's chest, right where his beating heart was. It’s as big as Lilly’s palm and looks like a Ylang flower and a crescent moon in a circle, surrounded by lines that look like some tree vines. Meanwhile, Luca got the tattoo on his right, lower stomach, just on his sexy hips. And Finn has it on his right shoulder. The color of it is also different for the three of them. Declan is blue, Luca is white, and Finn is purple.

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 led us toward a private dressing room, the place smelled of expensive perfume and leather. Dante entered the dressing room first, and I waited for Laurent to hand me the first aid kit. As soon as I stepped inside, the breath left my lungs. Dante had taken off his shirt, with his back to me. His back…not to exaggerate…was beautiful, with toned muscles and ink. He had a roaring tiger with its fangs bared tattooed across his entire back. I knew the Tiger Fang gang was known for having tiger tattoos somewhere on their bodies, but this…it was his whole back and it looked so damn good.

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

Sam twitched. "You let me get a tattoo, well, we agreed on getting one. I wanted one more, this one. It's the Chinese symbol for father. I put it next to my pussy because this is where you belong. We were still pretending that we didn't want to consummate our love, so I kept it hidden. The artist was a woman, a mom in her forties, attractive. The vibration, her fingers, I got so fucking wet. She propositioned me. I'd never had sex with a woman. We went back to her place. I loved it.

The bell above the tattoo shop door jingled as I pushed it open, my heart hammering against my ribs. I’d been thinking about this for months — finally getting ink on my breasts, something delicate and feminine to reclaim my body after a shitty breakup. The shop was called Ink & Skin, tucked into a quiet corner of the city with blacked-out windows and neon signs that hummed faintly. It was late afternoon, and the place was empty except for the artist behind the counter.

An artist from the wrong side of the river who didn't belong here. _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> "A tattoo artist," he said. "That explains the ink. May I?" _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> He gestured to my arm, and I extended it without thinking. _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> His fingers wrapped around my wrist, cool and precise, turning my arm to examine the tattoos. A geometric mandala on my inner forearm. Script in Sanskrit along the outer edge. A phoenix rising from ashes near my elbow.