Homestuck Tattoos Novels & Stories

His eyes, a startling shade of amber, held a stillness that felt ancient. “I need a cover-up,” he said, his voice a low rumble. He shrugged off his leather jacket and revealed an old, poorly done tattoo on his left pectoral, right over his heart. It was a mess of faded lines, but beneath the jumbled ink, Sloane could see the faint, elegant shape of a Celtic knot. “Something to bind it. To make it permanent.”

“Right there. Your name and music notes on either side. Maybe some little butterflies.” “Are you serious, Reb? That’s permanent, you know.” “I know. You don’t want me to?” She traced a tattoo on his forearm with one finger. It showed a dagger through a skull. It was a beautiful piece of art, but masculine. “Would you rather I get one that matches yours?” “I would love my name permanently etched on your sexy little back. I could stare at it while…” He lifted her shirt and took a peek at the area in question. “Damn…” he said breathlessly and gave himself a little shake. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”

Sam twitched. "You let me get a tattoo, well, we agreed on getting one. I wanted one more, this one. It's the Chinese symbol for father. I put it next to my pussy because this is where you belong. We were still pretending that we didn't want to consummate our love, so I kept it hidden. The artist was a woman, a mom in her forties, attractive. The vibration, her fingers, I got so fucking wet. She propositioned me. I'd never had sex with a woman. We went back to her place. I loved it.

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.

The tattoo took almost an hour to be done and then, I got a chance to see it, it was a drawing of my messy hair that I haven't been able to clean up and stretch at the hair salon. "I'm finally convinced. You're crazy to put this on your body, Hunter. I thought tattoos should mean something to you not just ordinary things you see sometimes." I bluntly called him out. "You're so mean, Sheldon. You know this is permanent. You can't expect me to clean it up right now. What's done is done. All you gotta do is just love it as it is." He grumbled. "Fine, it's not so bad for an artist who paints about his sexual fantasies in nightclubs and then paints about love and harmony at the mall. Not bad at a

she smiled, rotating both her arms. “I wouldn't even know what to get done,” I muttered. “Do you have interests, or hobbies other than the two Sparks brothers,” she teased. Shaking my head I scrunched my nose and sighed in thought. My dead father had a lovely tattoo that I recalled vividly. I could honor him by getting something similar. “A Gothic moon and sun combination would be cool,” I offered and Reese gave me a thumbs up as she started to sketch. Resting my chin on my upturned hand I watch her pencil move across the sheet of paper.

Not only did I want to get a belly ring but also wanted to get a tattoo, but I know either of those my father would never agree too. “I was wondering if we could go to Aart Accent Tattoos & Piercings.” “Why would you want to go there, baby girl?” “Well, I’ve always wanted to get a tattoo, but my father would never agree for me to do something like that.” “And what type of tattoo does my baby girl wants?” I brought out my phone to pull up the picture a drew to show Asmodeus the moon that I want as my tattoo. It’s a blue crescent moon, with blue roses, and white leaves around the roses. He takes my phone and smiles as he hands it back to me.

When we’d gotten back, Justin had gotten a tattoo of a barn owl on his left bicep, and he’d had them weave in the letter S on its wing. Leaning in closer, I slide the sleeve of his t-shirt up so I can see it, making him laugh around his forkful of casserole. Every time I see it, it makes my heart skip a beat. The muscled bicep certainly doesn’t hurt. I trace my finger along the S and feel his body still next to mine.

“Come back soon, okay?” “Okay,” she hung up then. “I’m going to town. Am I needed for anything?” I asked Mr Stark when he walked in. My eyes were glued to the tattoos littered all over his upper body. His left sleeve looked like a forest scenery of some sort. Right at the back, he had numbers, a date, with a tiny baby handprint. I wondered what they meant. “You can go,” he said his back to me. ***** | Emmanuel Stark |

Nikolai is a god among men, and I am fortunate to be embraced by his presence. Nikolai’s tattoos are sexy, and I find myself unable to resist tracing them with my finger. The stars inked on both his shoulders catch my attention, making me curious about their meaning. However, it’s the eagle tattooed on his chest that truly captivates me. The majestic bird exudes power and strength, its wings spread wide as if poised for flight. The intricate details of the tattoo come alive on his skin, and I can’t help but admire its beauty. The eagle symbolizes freedom, and in that moment, I feel as if I am soaring alongside it.