Jalen Green Tattoo Novels & Stories

He looked enticing with his furrowed brows and serious pout. What the heck, girl?! I mentally pinched myself as I tried to avoid the fact that Jordan himself was wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. I tried my best not to look, but I couldn’t help but stare at the tattoo on his back. It was a full scale dragon - I noticed that the end of its tail could be found on the base of his nape, its body running down the length of his spine then going around his right hip, its head disappearing just beside his crotch.

Merigold and Ailee have those girls whipped into shape and they rarely cause any problems now. Two hours from the time Tank started he was wiping off Ailee’s tattoo removing any excess ink. I have been done for thirty minutes and have just been watching. Tank lets us get a good look before he wraps it up. The main part of the gauntlet is done in black with gold buckles that make it look strapped on. The top of the gauntlet had bright green ivy vines running up and down it with white magnolia blossom on them. Ailee says it was her mothers favorite. The trim of the flowers is what I believe is gun metal gray. The color of Ace and Ailee’s eyes. She did that for Ace.

Azrael and Hunter have the same matching tattoos. It is just an inscription in Greek. I begged my dad and after persuading him for months he allowed me have it. I replied the message. Guess I have a date this Saturday.

He say but I'm to focused on his tattooed body to care about anything he says right now. My fingers trace the inked skin. He has a huge tattoo of Kali, the goddess of destruction, on his front. Different designs litter his skin but my favourite has to be the flower on his neck. It is the only tattoo that has colour out of them all on his front. He has his nipples pierced and I never thought I would say this but it looks really sexy.

J. At the same time, Eleanor was startled after noticing something odd: there was a star-shaped tattoo on Mr. J’s right neck. Even Eleanor had to blink repeatedly to confirm that the tattoo was indeed a star symbol. Though eventually, that part of the tattoo was covered again by Mr. J's jacket. Eleanor was immediately stunned. The star symbol reminded her of someone Jonny had mentioned. For a few seconds as she stared at the tattoo, Mr. J released his grip and pushed Eleanor's face away.

Jostling his shirt to reveal the many tattoos under the grease-stained wife-beater. From his cuffed shirt, a dark but shaded sleeve of thorny roses, clocks, and crosses cover his right arm, while a spiralling black dragon travels around his left. Spine and scales shaded in, with burgundy lines that fade to a light crimson down its tail that hides below his classic wristwatch. Lucian Slater: Hey, bud. He crouches on one knee to greet his son's tight hug. Lucian Slater: I'm sorry I'm late. Gael Slater:

Jaela gasped. “What is it?” I panicked grabbing her shoulders. “Calm down son, show him your birthmark little one. I’m sure with his mind only on your romp in the sheets he never noticed it.” Jae rolled down the waist band of her yoga pants. There was an intricate tattoo of a lock surrounded by vines. “Your mate mark is that of vines without the lock” Tayen observed my neck. “Seeing as though you haven’t marked her, yet your mark is still incomplete.”

“No.” I said firmly. “I must insist. Yo-” the doctor stepped forward “You touch me with that needle and I won’t be the only one with a concussion.” I threatened. “I saw your tattoo. You can’t be afraid of needles.” Janine said. Damn, I had a massive tattoo of my wolf on my back. She was pure white, which is a symbol of royalty. “What is your tattoo of?” Axel asked.

The half tattoo is faded, but there’s just enough of it left that I’m able to make out the letters written in cursive and divided from the top half. J.A It doesn’t take me long enough to figure out that the words—or what’s left of it— are initials. One that once stood for Jey and Anthony. It’s that obvious. What I see on his once full finger is a ring. Branded into flesh. The kind you don’t slip on or off or lose—but bleed through. My hand trembles slightly as I reach for his. I gently trace the edge of the scar with my fingertip. Light and careful, like it might vanish if I touch it too hard.