Intimate Ink Novels & Stories

RED INK EP 16: A road to Convergence ~~Lorin's Point Of View~~ She perceived an aroma in the air, it smelt like pepper soup. She squeezed her eyes, squinting at her environment, the first thing she notice was the nude coloured couch she was lying face down on, then the cream drapes hanging on the walls...this was her home. She sat up, her face smudged with makeup that was unwashed. Her hand moved around her body touching the furry textured material on her body...she was changed. Aurora.

Has he been blind to the pain he caused? Arthur’s thoughts are chaotic, one moment consumed by rage, the next by guilt. He doesn’t want to admit it, but Jeremy’s words make him feel like he’s staring into a mirror—and he doesn’t like what he sees. He gets up, pacing the room. His eyes land on the scattered remnants of Madin’s belongings: a forgotten scarf on the bed, a worn notebook tucked under a pillow. Arthur grabs the notebook, opening it with trembling fingers. Inside are sketches and notes—small, fleeting pieces of Madin’s thoughts. Some pages hold quick drawings of the palace gardens, others are covered in fragments of poetry. But one page catches Arthur’s eye.

Ashley whimpers and her hands move to the small of my back, pushing my body against her and I raise one hand over her head to hold my weight off her. "A lot of things turns me on, baby. " She whispers, pushing the jacket off my body before her fingers hooks around the hem of my shirt and she yanks the clothing over my head, her hands moving across my chest and I see the way her eyes widens when she catches sight of it. "Sinclair—" she mumbles, her eyes drawn to slits as they meet mine and I smile at her, holding my hand over hers and tracking her fingers over the two inked words just below my heart: Little Greene.

His fingers then moved toward the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one with practiced ease. "W... What are you..." Jane instinctively stopped speaking. The shirt slipped from his shoulders before falling away, exposing his broad back beneath the sunlight filtering through the gaps of the window. The warm golden rays traced the defined lines of his muscles, illuminating the smooth pale skin stretched over them. Yet that was not what caught her attention. Near his left shoulder... There was ink. Dark. Permanent. It resembled letters. Not a drawing. Not a crest. Words. Her eyes instinctively narrowed, trying to make out what had been written there.

This was him… the man whispered about in dark corners, the one known for crimes no one could prove, yet everyone feared. Her eyes dropped, unable to help themselves. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing smooth, toned skin and just beneath his collarbone was a faint line of ink and her heart skipped. There was handwriting there. She couldn’t make out the words, but the sight of it only stirred her curiosity more. It was intimate and strange and dangerously attractive. Her hands suddenly felt clammy, and warmth crawled up her neck as her breath turned shallow. She shifted slightly on her feet, almost forgetting how to stand still. Then her gaze slowly returned to his face, and h

“Wow… a few minutes ago you didn’t want to hear about us fucking and now you want to watch us kiss.” I shrug. They lean toward each other. Lips brushing, then pressing harder, excruciatingly slow like they’re trying to consume each other’s faces. I’m part horrified, part mesmerized, every nerve begging for more when I know I should be disgusted. “That’s enough,” I finally murmur, cheeks burning. Inker smirks like she’s won a little game with me. Stan starts to move but Inker stops him. “I want to spin again,” she says, playful yet commanding. He shrugs and lets her. She spins deliberately… and the bottle points at me.

"I know I realised my feelings late, but can you accept Mr. Perfect's tiny flaw? I like you, Tang Xue." What I was looking for, I saw in his eyes today. He put his hands around my cheeks and cupped them. Slowly, he leaned closer to me as I closed my eyes. My lips curled into a tiny grin when his lips kissed my forehead. Even if I expected him to kiss my lips, I love how intimate a forehead kiss could feel. .................................................. Xingyue's POV Holding a glass of red wine in one hand, I was enjoying the view with a bouquet in the other.

It was a mechanical proof-roller, its heavy steel cylinder dripping with a thick, viscous black ink that hummed with a terrifying, low-frequency magnetic charge. ​"Julian!" Elara screamed, her left hand still pinned to the gurney as she scrambled backward against the mattress, her spine hitting the chrome headboard with a hard, metallic rattle. ​The black ink on the floor suddenly convulsed. ​The midnight-blue stream that had sprayed from her torn wrist didn't mix with the Printer’s black tide; it cut through it like a scalpel. A massive, vertical ridge of indigo fluid erupted from the linoleum, hardening into a solid, jagged wall of text that intercepted the Printer's first step. Spelled ou

Glancing towards King Zahir, I observed his focused demeanor, his attention still fixed on the documents before him. Time seemed to blur as I immersed myself in the rhythmic motion of grinding, the repetitive strokes soothing my senses. The act of grinding ink was a silent art, a dance between tradition and precision. With each stroke, I marveled at the transformation of the inkstick, its solid form slowly disintegrating into a pool of rich, dark ink.

I said trying to keep my cool “Well sir, we woke up to seeing a lot of articles and news of you”she said “That’s no news” I smirked “Sir they all say that you’ve not had any woman scandal neither do you have a child so you’re uh-uh-uh gay” she muttered looking down at the floor “What?????” I yelled “But I’ve asked publishing companies to take down the articles and news but it’s gone round already” she said I was fuming with anger and irritation at this point because why can’t my day go smoothly without any gibberish from the media, my family, workers and the world in a whole.