It Always Hurts Tattoo 소설 & 이야기

“But it’s more painful to work over the spine. The shoulder would be more comfortable.” I chew on my lip, considering it. I mean, I’ve just spent two weeks being broken, drowned, electrocuted and poisoned. Surely, I can’t balk at a tattoo? “Can you draw it out in the size you think would look best, with the runes worked in, and then we can, see?” I ask. “Absolutely. Give me about ten minutes.”

—was gone. In its place was a lavish letter "I," wreathed in thorny roses. The skin around it was still red and raw. A sharp pang—physical, undeniable—lanced through my chest, an echo of a bond being desecrated. My phone buzzed. A DM from Damon. It was the high-res shot of the new tattoo. Below it, a single line of text: "Hurts, doesn't it?" I stared at the screen, my throat tight, then typed back:

I didn't know why but my cheeks heat heat up. "Are you sure? " I asked he nodded letting out another groan of pain. I stood up and asked him to lie down on his bed which he did, I climbed on the bed trying to lay on his bed without forcing my weight on him, my hand slowly reach to the stitch, I gently placed my palm on it and got a bit distracted by the tattoo on the left side of his abdomen inked with the image of a phoenix, I looked away from his tattoo slowly bracing my right palm on the scar. "Does it hurt? " I ask not sparing him a glance. "No..." he replied in a husky tone, I went at a steady pace faster than usual. "Let me know if it hurts.." I said going a bit faster until I heard a

He buttoned his shirt hurriedly. "You have a tattoo?" Liesel cocked an eyebrow. In truth, huge tattoos really hurt one's image.

Why did everything bad always land on her? Her hand reached for the shower knob but stopped. Her eyes caught sight of the tattoo etched low against her hip. She swallowed hard and looked away quickly, trying to ignore the surge of emotions clawing at her. She’d begged someone to remove it once. The tattoo artist had shaken his head, telling her the ink was different, permanent in a way normal ink wasn’t. Unless she burned her skin, it wouldn’t go away. But could she? Could she ever burn it off when she couldn’t even stand the thought of scratching it? No. She let it be. She pretended it wasn’t there, though it mocked her every time.

Although the pain is unbearable, I am quite satisfied that I no longer have that stupid tattoo caused by a bite. Feeling weak and drained, I slowly find my way back to the bed. Not wanting to faint, I force myself to keep sitting. My head is spinning, probably because of the blood loss but I refuse to embrace the ever-so-welcoming darkness. At the very least, I can live with an ugly scar rather than a ghastly tattoo. Just as I think I can no longer hold on, the door is pushed open. My mate walks in with the other guys. When he sees the bloody towel, he panics.

The tattoo in my chest was not still healed, but the pain inside is much pain and the needle in my tattoo. For the whole day, the pain that I feel doesn't go away and stays until I go back to my house. I immediately take off my clothes and go straight into the bathroom and after I finish taking a bath I throw my body into the bed and close my eyes. But I suddenly opened my eyes when my phone rang, I answered it without checking who was my caller.

Me staring at a naked guy for the second time in my damn life. My breath caught in my throat, trapped. I was trapped. My eyes completely rebelled against my brain's frantic commands to look the fuck away. Instead, they traced the dark, heavy ink of a tattoo etched across his upper shoulder blades. Three words, bold and unyielding: "Built Through Pain." The script wasn't flashy or arrogant. It felt heavy. It looked like a scar turned into art—a quiet testament to something survival-driven. A strange, unbidden ache blossomed in my chest just looking at it.

Her companion replied, equally impressed, "Yeah! Where did they find this model? He has a remarkable build and a gorgeous back!" At that, Annie's gaze landed on the red birthmark at my waist. She froze for a moment, then shook her head and scoffed. "He's okay. Compared to others, he's still far from perfect." With a sharp, mechanical buzz, Hudson started the machine. I was pinned firmly to the chair, paralyzed by terror. The sharp needles, without any ink, pressed directly into my back, performing a brutal dry-run "tattoo". My body convulsed in pain. This forbidden blood-tattoo technique was agonizing. The needles sliced through my skin at high speeds, using my own blood to trace the design.

” Eva’s brow ridged thickly, “What request do you speak of that is accompanied with pain? She queried anxiously and peered closer. I brought out a sizable photo of Brian where he smiled gorgeously, “I want to have my first tattoo. I have never been a fan of tattoo but right now I want to have one. I told the doctor about it and he chastised me, complai ning about the pain.” Eva settled her gaze on me, “Pain? If it is about the pain then he has got no reason. I have six tattoos on my body and when my tattooist planted them it was as painless as air sweeping across my skin. By the way what tattoo do you want?”