General Grievous Tattoo Novels & Stories

The side of his hand struck my face, and I tasted blood as my teeth clashed against his skin, the coppery taste flooding my mouth. “Fucking bitch,” he spat, slapping my face harder. The room spun. He pulled a thick tape from his pocket and slapped it over my mouth with cold efficiency, making my pulse race. He shoved me to the floor, my hands bound in front of me. I could barely move, barely breathe—the pain was suffocating. He walked to the door and locked it from the inside. Then he removed his white coat, revealing a tight-fitting black shirt. His arms were covered in tattoos, including one on his hand that read "GDL." The letters seemed to mock me. His body was full of ink, each design d

Loreen raised her eyes to glance at him, and a deep sigh left her lips. "Just... cover it with nice tattoos, so it won't be noticeable." She lowered her head and fiddled with her fingers. The tattooist nodded, with a slightly pessimistic expression on his face. He walked over to stand behind her, and deep confusion couldn't help but reflect in his eyes. Who could have done such a horrid thing to a young girl like this? He had never witnessed such a thing before. Well, he has, but it wasn't as inhumane as this was. He shook his head, and his eyes fluttered in pity. The scars were just so deep and horrid.

“Geez, you look like you’re about to murder someone. You have to relax, bro. I know you have a crush on him and all, but he’s not stripping for the class. He’s just existing. Violently existing.” The guy sitting two seats over leaned across the aisle like they were all in on the same conspiracy. “That’s actually not normal tattoos, guys. That’s mafia ink,” he said, his voice slow and smug. “I’ve seen those before. A dagger-and-rosary combo is classic mafia. The guy’s probably got a rap sheet and a body count. I bet he’s got a private plane parked somewhere with blood money in the cargo hold.” Archer snorted. “You watch too much N*****x, bro.”

He can’t spare me, no matter how compliant I am. He stands from the bed and removes every piece of clothing from his body. The tattoos expand from his chest to his stomach, down to his strong torso. Black ink against his tanned skin. There are so many things written in Russian. But one particular thing catches my eye, it’s on his left torso, big and clear, “ To forgive is to sin.” The words send shivers racing down my spine. Who on earth writes something like that on their body? Not just write, but brand it into their skin permanently.

What does he mean that’s for later? Cutting off the straps of my thong as well, he takes a step backward and removes his bowtie, which was already loose and hanging around his neck. As he gets to work unbuttoning his shirt, his eyes do not leave mine and even as they’re filled to the brim with anger, I can see the hunger. I was right about his body being covered in tattoos, but in this case, only his back and sides, save for one tattoo over his left pectoral, right over his heart. It is a black heart with a dagger with the words SANGUE PER SANGUE.

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

“I knew it was just for fun, but she made it sound quite convincing. We had a nice conversation about it.” Gildeon could only shake his head at Arah advertising the Clover Wish tattoo, oblivious to its real effect. It was a good thing she’d stopped using it lately, saying it just reminded her of Plumber Paul. But with eleven people already inked, and a few of them dead, that tattoo was just putting a target on the backs of those still alive. “Did it work?” Gildeon asked casually, his gaze drifting to the inns and shops lining the road. “Your wish.”

"They stopped suddenly, too, as if he thought we were a...lost cause." Tristan's gaze met hers. "Was there anything else you can recall about the man tonight?" She went to shake her head, but then something flickered to mind. "He had a tattoo on his left pec, over his heart. It was about three inches long." She straightened, making Brady shift his hand to her hip. "I need something to draw on." Ceara stood and went to a shelf, bringing back a pad of paper and pen.

--- **Story 6: Cursed Ink** **Chapter 1** Aria Vale had always loved tattoos. At twenty-seven, her body was already a canvas — delicate floral pieces on her ribs, a fierce serpent wrapping her left thigh, and a small crescent moon behind her ear. Each one told a story. Each one made her feel powerful. But the new shop she found tucked away in the old district promised something different. The artist was an older woman with sharp eyes and ink-stained fingers. “These aren’t ordinary tattoos,” she warned as Aria flipped through the strange, hypnotic designs. “They carry… energy. Make sure you really want them.”