Ignorant Style Tattoo Flash นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Nikolai stood in the doorway shirtless, in loose dark pants hanging low at his hips, a cigarette between two fingers. For one stunned second I forgot to breathe. The moon caught over the sharp planes of his body, over the black ink curling along his skin. I noticed the koi tattoo on the side of his chest, and some mask tattoo on his shoulder and looked away so quickly my face burned. “S-sorry,” I stammered, rising too fast. “I couldn’t sleep. I was just… looking around.” His expression gave nothing away and I started toward the door. “I’ll leave now.”

“I need the ink.” “What colors?” He asked. “Each pile gets a black. The second one gets three.” Alec did as I asked. “The fourth is a water color tattoo so I need one pink, purple, blue, green and yellow. This one is red and orange.” “Four tattoos today?” Alex asked. “Yeah, they are all big tattoos and not much pain tolerance.” “Mine is itching like crazy.” “Turn around and lift your shirt up.” I said rolling my eyes. Grabbing the numbing lotion, I put it on his back. He even keeled for me but I caught him looking at me in the mirror.

I grinned knowingly. "Are you okay?"I asked trying to hide my victorious smile. She turned to look at me with tired eyes. "I feel numb" she confessed. "Should I kiss and make it all better"I asked as I watched her put on her bra contraption. I frowned. "Where did you get that tattoo?"I asked. She looked down at it,smiling wistfully. "I had this tattoo done when I was young and stupid in high school.It was the first real rebellious act that I had done." she reminisced.

“Do you even know who I am?” I roll my eyes. “If you’re not the Moon Goddess, I don’t give a fuck who you are,” I spit. “You could be the Alpha King himself and I still wouldn’t kiss your damn boots."

“You just forgot we exist. Which, again, is incredibly rude.” Keyu gave his usual quiet, judgmental nod. Yael offered a small, easy wave. Norio just wore that smirk of his, like he was privy to the whole plot twist. “So they moved closer, huh?” Yael observed, slipping his gun into his holster. “Thought they’d stay tucked away in Palawan. Convenient for us, though and shorter travel time.” Igor snapped his fingers loudly, successfully drawing our scattered attention back to him. His face was hard, burning with fury that simmered just beneath the surface. “Everyone remember this, they have a tattoo on their neck. That’s their signature.”

I approached their weak-ass leader and pulled him by the collar. "Remember my face and this tattoo you dummy, cause this day forward I will be your master. You and your useless gangmates will be my slave. You understand?" I said, looking hard at him. I grabbed his jaw and took a dagger that I always hid inside my boots. I carved a letter 'V' on his face. It stands for Violet. I tap the wound I made. "Aarrgghh!" He cried out in pain. Oh, my, my. Music to my ears.

He thought again, "sinuous, dangerous and supremely sexual." One tattoo in particular was prominent and drew the eye; it was a bright red "slut stamp" very low on her lower back that was repeated low on her belly, just above the pubic mound. It said, in both locations, "Candy Slut to Paulo Zero." The words of the tattoo were in a pre-Columbian language that Barnes would never have a hint of. In addition, like a Bay area poster from the psychedelic era the tat's lettering was very stylized, even if it was in English it would be near impossible to read. Some English word fragments were visible in the edging and lines of the distorted shapes. Incorporated into the tat were sexual images and tri

“Whoever it is sure has a style.” I scoffed. “His style is not smiling or wearing shoes, you know how the Russians are,” I replied, simply to annoy Mikhail. I knew how exasperated Russians get at that misconception, though I knew the shoe one was a lie. But I kind of believed the smiling one because the living evidence of it was standing in front of me while the other had fucked me last night. Which was the reason why I chose a tattoo of thorns and roses with smiling skeleton heads. I wondered how Nikolai would react to it.

With a snort, I said, “No way in hell will I ever get a High Cliff tattoo.” Her eyebrows lifted over my judgmental tone. “Fine,” she said, notching up her chin loftily. “If you need proof you can see with your own ignorant, unmarked eyes, I’ll give you proof.” She pointed toward her temple. “Tap it five times. Only my soul mate and I can make the mark respond.” I eased a step back, eyeing the tattoo untrustingly. “Respond how?” A smile lit her face, transforming her irritated features into one of pure beauty and reassurance. “Don’t worry, my love. It won’t hurt you.”

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