Gangsta Prison Art Tattoos Novels & Stories

I chuckle and turn around. " Yeah , yeah , i get it. Kennedy gift it to me on my last birthday. I sorta liked it." He smiles and turns around. There's a ghetto like picture at the back. It's just a head shot and he's got Arabic tattoos on his neck and a stick of cigarette on his mouth. Carter is spelt on top of the picture. Its beautiful and I bet that picture is kinda Gray. Gray turns around and shrugs. " She's a psycho." He says.

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.

Just after the two soldiers left to report what happened, they were giving each other a meaningful look, a signal that they should start doing it now. Arms and neck filled with tattoos, Ayyah, stood up first as she cracked her knuckles, ready to kick anyone. She was a convicted with multiple murders, a most wanted thief and ran an illegal drug business. Her right hand person, Gleyah followed her who was also jailed for the same reason. Both of them may be women but they have a strong physique of a man in addition with their vicious faces.

he pauses, "but it just wouldn't work out for a guy like me, not now anyway" "you mean the whole 'i'm involved with a gang, you just happen to be on the most wanted list" I say to him, curious about him and the life he has in a gang. Nathan strides over to me from his 'work station' that he has his medical supplies on, "yeah that." However my curious questions are cut short when Nathan puts the cold, damp towel against my head, making flinch in response to the burning bruises on my head

He motions towards my tears then to the tiny diamond ring lying on the napkin. "I'm okay," I slowly assure the stranger. My words do not sound believable. I turn away, wiping more tears from my cheeks. Thoughts of John enter my mind. His sandy blonde hair pulled into a man-bun on top and freshly shaven on the sides and back. Him shirtless as he loved others to witness the rewards of his hard work at the gym. Him proudly crossing his arms across his chest, drawing attention to the dragon with skull tattoo and full sleeves as he strides toward me. His washboard abs flexing, drawing attention to his low-riding jeans. With each step, his abdominal tattoo, ‘Take No Prisoners,’ flashing like a neo

Iker ran a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated. "What makes you believe in his protection after his own men almost killed you?" Lizzy hugged herself, and her voice cracked. "The contract..." "Lizzy, do you really think Greed will keep his end of the deal? You must remember that he's a gangster, and not just any gangster, but the leader of the most powerful mafia in New York. Trusting him wholeheartedly, based solely on a contract that he could break at any moment, is complete madness." And she knew it. It was complete madness to trust someone so dangerous. But even if he broke his word, she wouldn't break hers to protect herself and her child.

Marcus ordered. I did. Hand trembling, but I signed. The pen felt heavier than the collar around my neck. “Good girl.” Vesper took the papers and smiled. “Now the tattoos.” They laid me on the table. The artist they brought in was one of their own — silent, efficient, needles buzzing. First came the big one right over the brand: bold black letters spelling “COLLECTIVE CUM QUEEN” arched above my pussy. Then smaller marks on my inner thighs — “Free Use” on the left, “Breed Hole” on the right. A crown dripping cum right between my tits.

The jailer opened her cell door, he has four scars on his face running from the eyebrow to the cheek. From the man's build he seems to be a strong fighter with a large physical appearance and bulging muscles. The tattoo on his shoulder caught her attention. A crescent moon stabbed with a knife. She's definitely inside a rogue territory. She backed away to the corner when he entered, a disgustingly creepy smile plastered on his face.

I also had a few buttons undone on my bottom shirt to show off some of my tattoos and my sculpted muscles. I have a lot of tattoos on my body they each mean something. The one on my bicep is in Latin 'Obsidian est vita mea' which means My life is obsidian. On my back, chest, and stomach I have some tattoos related to my family, my inner gang, and to my gang. I have some on my hands but they represent me and some of the ones on my arm. I leave my room to find my inner gang. I find all of them in the living room drinking some of my very expansive bourbon.

He responded. “What?” I asked, confused, what the hell is going on? “They are called the tiger gang and all their members have the same tattoo. They are mostly involved in drug trafficking and robbery. I'm surprised they are involved in blackmail. It's not in their Modus Operandi. There must be more to this than we thought.” He explained, and I heard the sound of books ruffling in the background. “And you’re sure he knew about the video?” I pinched the bridge of my nose, anger bubbling to the surface.