Gangster Pitbull Tattoo Designs Novels & Stories

sagot ni Nena at nagpatuloy sa pagbibigay ng kaaliwan. Sa ilalim ng dim na ilaw ng isang tattoo parlour sa eskinita, umupo si Xandro Chavit sa upuan matapos magpagupit, iniisa-isa ang mga disenyo ng tattoo nang may nakapokus na kalmadong anyo. Huminto siya sa isang dragon na nakapulupot sa apoy, perpekto para sa kanyang likod, saka tinapik ang isang phoenix para sa kanyang kaliwang braso. "Pareho," utos niya, kalmado at matatag ang boses.

His heart skipped a beat as his gaze landed on a distinct tattoo on one of the approaching men's arms. The tattoo showed the profile of a Holt's helmet, visor closed, exuding silent authority. Adorned with a laurel wreath and backed by crossed swords, it marked victory, readiness for battle, and strength. A roaring lion at the base signified unmatched power. This was no ordinary mark—it was the insignia of a Mafia King, a symbol feared in the criminal underworld. Recognizing its significance, the guard's voice wavered, "Drop your weapons!" His partner looked at him in confusion, "What the hell are you talking about?"

After the near rape incident the first few months I was there, we had the tattoos done on our left arm to signify we were all one, part of the same group. A sigil of each pack combined into one tattoo. A wolf’s head with long fangs for Venom Fang, the crescent moon above its head for Crescent Moon Lucius’s pack, The forest behind it for the Black Forest pack that Johnny comes from, a red river at the bottom for Dex’s pack the Blood River Pack and the night sky, for the Dark Night Pack where Brent is from. They all have the same one. Heading out into the living room, I see them all sitting around chatting and laughing when they all look at me.

The wolf is ghastly pale and fit for his age. From where I sit, I can spot the head of a lion tattooed on his biceps. It covers the whole of his forearms too. The neck has something scribbled in a language I cannot comprehend. ‘Bhan, what would like to have?’ The blonde hottie beside him passes him the menu. It takes him less than a minute to determine and order. Then his attention is back on his friends again. He chuckles at something a hazelnut companion on the right says.

"Now you can put your hands wherever you want." I’m in a hurry to take him up on that offer, but my eyes snag on the black ink where there’s never been a tattoo before. Right cheek, exactly where my hand normally lands when I grab him. Capital letters, blocky and clean, with all the subtlety of a road sign, curving along the natural shape of his ass. PROPERTY OF DAX HOLT. Under the words there's a white wolf with amber eyes, head thrown back and howling. He put my wolf on his ass, and it's never coming off.

My eyes widened when I saw the wolf head tattoo on his chest and the several marks like claws and scars on his skin. Seeing my eyes glued to his chest, the formidable man smiled and said, "Admiring my tattoos, right?" "Yeah. Are you a warrior? Doesn't this big tattoo hurt?" I asked him, knowing that it was wrong to pry into a stranger's life. We were only having a night together, and I did not need to ask him who the fụck he was. "Yeah. It's a tribal tattoo. I'm from the Dark Mountain Pack," he replied, and I saw his eyes glow, and I didn't know if I was hallucinating at that moment.

A massive tattoo stretched across his back, dark, swirling lines that formed a wolf’s head surrounded by a crescent moon. Kieran stood at the counter, chopping vegetables with the precision of a surgeon. His long red hair fell over his shoulders in loose waves, and his tattoo was just as beautiful as Kai’s: a roaring dragon with flames curling down his spine, its tail disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans. Kylan, of course, was leaning against the fridge with a smirk that could melt steel. His tattoo was a constellation of stars and a running wolf, the design wrapping around his ribs and down his left side.

They had the same tiger tattoo on their biceps that represented the gang's strength and power. ''Boss-'' The member wanted to voice his concerns when his phone had started to ring. ''Hm, it is my future mate. What could he possibly want from me?'' Alexander sighed softly and picked up. Before he had the chance to speak, Amir was already whining to him through the phone, ''Are you coming or not, Misterr Gangster~? You made a deal with me, so where are you~?'' Amir’s loud whines could be heard everywhere in Alexander’s office, that even the other gang member that was with him felt startled.

He also loves showing off his tattoos – he has tribal tattoos all over his chest and arms. Tattoos aren’t fun at the best of times, but they’re more painful for us wolves. We heal too fast and don’t scar easily so the only way to get tattoos is to use a tattoo gun made with pure silver because any injury caused by silver once healed leaves a scar. Gamma James’ tattoos are basically a giant warning sign screaming ‘I’m dangerous and pain means nothing to me.’ “Just once I wish my old man would wear a shirt,” whispers a voice beside me and I have to stifle a chuckle.

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.”