Forbidden Fruit Tattoo Novels & Stories

The fruit's inner fire moved into her palm and through her hand and up her arm and she felt it find the silver fire and the Tree's power and the echo of Lilith's ruins and all of it, all of it, recognize each other and settle into a new configuration that had been waiting for exactly this final element. _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> She felt herself, in that moment of contact before she had even brought the fruit toward her lips, already changing. _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> Not what she had been told change would feel like. She had been given a story about this moment, absorbed from the air of Eden the way you absorbed things that were simply present without ever being directly taught, a story about transgre

Let’s give up all that we’ve worked so hard to get and start a life together…. I chuckled dryly inside. All that works only in fiction. And I’m not living one. I removed my hand and slumped back into my seat, staring ahead at the unknown, fearing the worst, grabbing the end of the noose around my neck. Hunter Black is a forbidden fruit. And the thing about forbidden fruits is: the more you can’t have it, the more you want it. Even if it means death. “So how are we doing this?” I sounded surprisingly calm. “Are we going to meet in a secret place and fuck? How many times a week?”

I blinked back the sting behind my eyes. “But,” he added, offering a lopsided smile, “I’m honored that you want to be my friend. That means something to me. So if you ever need to talk, I’m here. If you need someone to go to war with, I’m your guy. If you need a partner in crime—I’m already planning our matching prison tattoos.” I laughed, a real one this time, the tension in my chest finally loosening. “You’re ridiculous.” “Ridiculously charming,” he corrected.

That night, Henry finally let go of all restraint. The room lay in shadow, and he pressed me against the floor-to-ceiling window, the lights of Riverton flickering like stars beyond the glass. “Claire…” “Yes?” “I want to get another tattoo.” “Where?” He gripped my hand and pressed it to his lower back, mirroring the spot that corresponded to mine. There, with each of his breaths, a faint outline of a feral totem emerged. “I want to tattoo your image. I want to carve you into my bones forever.”

She was upset that I didn't recognize her, and seemed deeply upset when I pushed her arms away and stared at her. Despite the simple black dress, the neckline was deep enough for the tattoo of his capital sin to be quite significant and easy to decipher. In the center of the small trunk was the image of a fat badger with his mouth wide open, where a small man fell into it. Around the animal, crosses, tombstones and flames spiralled over the woman's pale skin. The rest of the drawing was not noticeable enough for me to lose more than a few seconds staring, so I looked away when she also looked.

Frank nods, I saw that and felt like telling the truth. Of cause I can't, I wouldn't want to be labeled the son that sent his mom to a coma. Mom walks back to her room with Nina. I got a call from the catering company and they asked if the cake should be just chocolate or vanilla. They wanted me to choose. Mom loves chocolate cake whereas Dad loved vanilla. So why can't they mix both? I asked them to. The call gets disconnected. I turned around and Frank was standing behind my back. "Bro, can we talk?"

However, I realize that I don’t regret it. “All done,” the woman announces, scooting back in her chair and waiting until I sit up. “Do you want to see it?” “Please.” Nodding, the woman hands me a small hand mirror and then leads me to a full body mirror, which I face my back towards. Eyes widening, I let myself take in the large phoenix tattoo that has been intricately inked onto my skin, covering every inch of the horrible scar that I desperately tried to avoid seeing for the past five years.