Heartless Neck Tattoo Novels & Stories

The hoodie draped loosely over his head, obscuring his face, but the flicker of city lights occasionally illuminated the sharp lines of his jaw and the hints of a sinister smirk playing on his lips. The wind picked up, a fierce breeze whipping across the rooftop and causing the hood to flutter. As the fabric shifted, it revealed a chiseled, muscular torso adorned with intricate tattoos, each line telling a story of violence, power, and mystery. Prominently displayed on the left side of his chest was a large, bold tattoo—the words *Nosce Hostem* inked in a jagged, menacing script that seemed almost to pulse with life against his skin. The tattoo, a clear message, spoke of a deep connection to

I look at him and I feel like I'm going crazy. With a trembling hand, I touch the tattoos on his left hand. I feel hypnotized by them. There are thorns surrounded by roses. The drawing climbs on the cloth to the shoulder and then descends slightly on the back and chest. It's a great drawing. I follow it lightly with my fingers feeling tingling as I walk my finger over the tattoo. Something is written between thorns and roses near the heart. A name. "My Forever Elle". I put my hand to my mouth and sigh. What the fuck is this? Is this a bad joke?

I looked nothing like my usual self. I couldn't help but blush as I remembered that Casper had seen me this way. My mind drifted to the mark on my neck, and I reached up to touch it. I was surprised to feel that it had already healed. In its place was a tattoo of a full moon, surrounded by a ring of stars. “This is beautiful!” My fingers danced around the mate mark. I adjusted the shirt on my body to give me a full view of my neck, when I saw the series of hickeys on my collarbone, which made me scream.

I sprang from my bed, adrenaline pumping as I prepared to confront the intruder. My stance quickly relaxed, however, and a frown crossed my face when I saw who it was—Hayes Hawthorne, standing in my room shirtless. My breath caught in my throat. Holy. Fucking. Hell. Every inch of his body was sculpted like a Greek god, with sharp lines and rigid definition. A large tattoo sprawled across his upper chest and onto his left shoulder, dark and bold, forming a series of interconnected shapes that were both intricate and slightly thorny.

"You can say that to Carson." Carson, I didn't know he was that much of a psychopath if it was Nelson I wouldn't be that surprise but him, the guy who is unbothered and fucking rude. "Other than piercings, do you have tattoos?" I asked and he nodded showing off his back. I know that he has one on his left arm, the drawing is a racing car with his name on it and flames around the car, on his abdomen, there is a drawing of angels wing with a rose on the middle. And finally, on the back, there is a large phoenix with a cursive name on the top.

My mind was everywhere as I wash my body because jack never told me what happened at the end of everything and I was fucking dying of curiosity and my mind was doubting if he did the right thing. As I stepped out of the shower, my eyes caught to the second mark on my skin in the fogged-up mirror and I almost gasp at the sight of almost a tattoo, it was ten times bigger than the first. I wiped away the condensation that blocks my view and stares at the large rose above the two wolves on the base of my neck, it was beautiful.

"Are you a billionaire?" He looked surprised, then tipped his head back and barked with laughter. She grinned as his Adam's apple bobbed and the tattoos on his neck stood out stark against his pale skin. Despite their harsh origins and the depictions of death, she loved them, particularly the rose peeking from the top of his chest. When he was shirtless, the rose extended down, across his heart, crisscrossing with the Koba family crest. Her name was written in cursive across the top of the rose, which was only partially open, its petals peeking out in delicate supplication.

My lips parted and an estranged scream tore out of me, “But some men will pay millions, maybe more for a taste of Adriano Vitale’s wife.” My stomach churned, acid rising up I my esophagus as I heaved. "Stop it!" “You’re getting a tattoo.” My eyes snapped open and my head jerked in his direction. “Around your neck.” He spoke, staring into my eyes but his fingers were wrapped around my neck. “Like a collar.” He paused, “My collar.” ***

Aria ~ The room was bathed in dim red light like blood pooling on the walls. Damien stood shirtless in the center, belt unbuckled, eyes glinting with something feral. The bed had black silk restraints tied to all four corners. On the table: vibrator wand, lube, blindfold, ball gag, "PROPERTY" paddle. My eyes bulged. My knees gave out. This wasn't punishment. This was destruction.

She looked ruined. And she couldn’t stop. The next morning she returned to the tattoo shop once again. The old artist didn’t even ask questions this time. She simply nodded and prepared her station. “The heart piece,” Aria said, voice husky. “I want something that ties them all together.” The artist chose a stunning, dark design — a blooming obsidian rose with thorny vines that would sit right above her heart, with tendrils reaching toward her breasts and down toward her pussy like living roots.