Initial D Tattoo Novels & Stories

“The material for this tattoo is a new product that I just developed. No matter what chemical cleaner you use, it won’t come off. It’ll take at least three years before the color fades a little. Mr. Wynters also personally designed the shape of the letter. Once the swelling goes down, it will definitely make your collarbone sexier and more attractive.” Dush! Duke lifted his leg and gave the doctor a kick. After that, he stepped on the doctor’s wrist. “Do you think you can stay out of this?” The doctor glared at him in horror and fear. “I’m working for Mr. Wynters. If you harm me, he won’t spare you!” “Ha!” Duke’s eyes were filled with disdain. Did Earley tattoo an “N” on Adina’s collarbone b

𝑮𝒐𝒅 𝒏𝒐! There was a tattoo on the top side of my pussy, an initial of K but it’s curved on the edges. I was right; his name was Kian, and he did this to me. He tied me, so he would brand me or whatever messed-up ritual this was supposed to be.

Apprentice. Ryder’s eyes found mine first. Dark. Hungry. “You’re early,” he said. Voice like gravel dragged over silk. I didn’t answer. Just locked the door behind me, walked to the table, and climbed on. Pushed my skirt up. Spread my legs. The tattoo—*Unleashed*—was right there, black and bold above my swollen pussy. Already glistening. Already dripping.

Getting this tattoo must have burned like a mother. Zane’s penis lurched out so hard it felt like it was burning too. His hands seemed to find their own way onto Trey’s thighs, stroking the hairy muscles there. He swallowed, more turned on than he knew how to describe. “It’s not complete yet,” Trey said, his voice softened by shyness. “I could only stand to have one color done for the first session. You’ll see the letters more clearly once the green and red are there.” There were letters? Trey’s erection cast a shadow from the light on the end table. Zane pushed his shaft gently to the side so he could see better. He was panting and couldn’t seem to stop. Somehow, he thought Trey would forgi

Five Years Earlier. Rex watched in awe as the ink penetrated Isabella's skin. She didn't even flinch. Tattoo artists almost always refuse to do a rib tat for a first-timer, but Isabella was adamant she could handle it. She didn't even want to watch Rex get the tattoo first. She went in, guns blazing, ready to go. And damn could she handle it. No one had ever been sexier in Rex's eyes. "Alright, hop off and let me know what you think," the artist said, a guy tatted from stem to stern with big silver gauges in his ears.

A body made for war. "Let’s start from the back," he said, turning. I dragged my gaze over the designs. He started with the skull, the first tattoo he ever got—at eleven—after his first kill. It was massive, covering most of his upper back, though other ink had been added over time. "The woman’s face over the skull, to the left," he pointed, "that’s my mother. And the dove beneath it signifies her demise." His voice was detached, but I felt the weight of it.

My panties were ruined, and I still had more than half the tattoo left. I tried to stay professional, but my hands were shaking worse now. I rested my free hand lower on his abs, feeling the hard muscle flex under my touch. His skin was smooth, tattooed in places, but these ribs were all mine to mark. “You’re my first,” I admitted quietly. “I know,” he replied, voice dark. “First solo client… and maybe more?”

"But I'm prepared to let it go." "Oh really?" I studied the fingernails on my right hand, knowing he'd never report it, not when I could counter with his very forward greeting when we first met. Yeah, I might get a reprimand, but so would he. Holy, my cuticles were a mess. I really had to stop biting them. "Stay away from my initiates." Darin straightened, one hand falling on each of my friend's shoulders. Something dark flashed on his wrist. "Nice tattoo," I said. "Not obvious or anything. Idiot."

He lead her into the shop and in a few minutes, a middle-aged man with an intricate imperial dragon etched around his right arm approached them. "So? Who's gonna get inked today?" "Both of us," the guy said and pressed her hand tenderly. "Do you have a particular design in mind?" "I want a custom-made ambigram with our initials on it. And I want our tattoos to match when I hold my girl's hand." "Ladies and Gentlemen, we have arrived in Victoria City." Her mind suddenly returned to the present after hearing the announcement of the flight attendant. She quickly got up from her seat, put on her black coat, grabbed all of her belongings, and made her exit to the aircraft.

He bent his head and tongued the tattoo on her right butt cheek. India sucked in a quick breath. Then he turned his head and tongued the tattoo on her left butt cheek. Another hissing intake of air. Colt flattened his tongue and dragged it up and down her spine, over the infinity symbol—two long, twisted black lines—a tattoo that started above her butt and ended at the gigantic butterfly spread between her shoulder blades. No traditional tramp stamp for his India. Her skin was a canvas; every marking on her was a work of art.