Jon Bernthal Tattoos Novels & Stories

Finding his gaze unnerving, she instantly flickered her gaze down. Her cheeks flushed when she realized he wasn’t wearing any shirt. His rugged body resembled a canvas. A number of tattoos spread across his tanned chest. There was a tattoo of a serpent designed on his upper left chest and the other side had roman numbers written on it. Her eyes traveled down his bulging biceps and paused at a tattoo that caused her a tinge of discomfort. Her eyes widened slightly when she noticed the evil symbol, a sigil of Baphomet branded on his bicep. Being a devotee of god, the discovery scandalised her. Why would anyone get that? Not a moment later, she realized it wasn’t the only one, he also had an un

Holding the phone to his face, I said, “What do you have to say?” His brow creased slightly. “Helena,” he called her name in a beastly growl, his gaze fixed back to mine before he pulled his collar down slightly, showing me the viper tattoo on his left neck. “The guy in the pictures doesn’t have this. The fuck did you not notice?” His voice was hard as he tossed the phone back to me. I caught it and stared at the picture. He was right—the man didn’t have the viper tattoo on the left part of his neck.

Deciding not to interrupt, I rest my weight on one knee and fold my arms across my chest, my eyes ravaging his half naked body. The tattoos along his arms flex and relax with each repetition, ink stretching, contracting and settling again. Ryat, unlike his father and brother, is the type to get tattoos on a whim, so there's a lot of them, mumbled and jumbled, all fighting for the spotlight. The entirety of his back is sprayed with ink ranging from wild animals, to reptiles, to random objects. The most prominent on his back is a crowned lion sitting on the left side of his shoulder blade. There are scales running along his skin like he'd hoped to be a serpent but instead got molded him into m

he fretted. “Your Mark, where is it?” Azrael queried again. Carter nodded as if he finally gets what the siblings were talking about, “You think I’m an immortal?” “You think you’re not?” Ouriel retorted back quickly with sardonic sentiment. “I’m not, really.” Carter replied, he put his hands up to his arm. Instead of a Mark, Azrael saw a dragon tattoo in his inner left bicep. “Look kid, you need to stop lying.” Ouriel demanded. Azrael glances at him.

Aarya “Wow! It’s exquisite!” I marveled at the stunning neck tattoo that adorned my best friend Lea’s skin. My fingers traced the lines of the intricate design as I asked her, “I want one too, but I’m such a wimp thinking about the pain. Did it hurt?” Nestled at the base of her neck, where the curve of her neck met her shoulder, was a beautifully detailed wolf outline tattoo. Below the tattoo were Steven's initials, symbolizing their connection. It looks amazing.

I set the basket down, crossed to the window to pull the curtains back, then turned toward the bed to strip the sheets. And froze. Leon was still there shirtless, lying on his back, one arm flung above his head, the other resting low across his stomach. The sheet had slipped down to his hips, low enough that the deep V of muscle disappeared beneath it. He had tattoos of thorny vines, intricate crosses and ravens curling over his chest, ribs, down his sides, stopping just above the waistband of whatever he was (or wasn’t) wearing under there. The same viper tattoo Silas and Law had coiled low on his abdomen, tail vanishing beneath the sheet.

Is he naturally built like this? Asher steps backward to give me the full picture. I see stars on his knees that match his shoulders. He twists, showing the rugged expanse of his back. I was right: it’s a church inscribed over his shoulder blades and spine. It’s lovely, but above it is the terrifying image of a spider. “Layla told me about the tattoos in the Bratva,” I say. Inching off the desk, I approach him. He remains where he is, watching me over his shoulder. My hand touches one of the stars. “What do these all mean?”

A typical hybrid social club. Among the occupants who were awake, a light chatter filled the place, and no one seemed bothered by the visitor who infiltrated their midst. Ben reached the bar and took a seat. He removed his hat and fixed the collar of his shirt, instantly displaying a unique tattoo of a wolf's paw on the right side of his neck. The bartender, a tall Caucasian man, with a round beer belly and dull brown hair, which resembled a toupee on his circular skull approached Ben while wiping his thick meaty hands on a dirt-drenched apron, which Ben was free to assume was once white.

Jerald was in front of me and I looked at his trouser. “Seriously? You look like pervert,” Jerald said and I looked at him in the face, is he serious? “Come on,” He said. He gave me his hand and helped me to stand. We walked into another room, and believe it or not… it was Kalona, the famous tattooist. She is best known for a phoenix tattoo she done on a celebrity here. “Boss and bosslady! Sorry to keep you waiting, come on in.” She said, I smiled and looked at Jerald who just raised his eyebrows.

It’s pathetic, I know, but in my mind, I’ve always been his and to be with someone else just felt wrong. I run my fingers over his newest tattoo. It’s a beautiful tattoo on his forearm of a Quetzal with long vibrant tail feathers. Every trip he goes on that he really enjoys, he gets a tattoo to commemorate it. This latest one was from his trip to Costa Rica where he went bungee jumping. My favorite is the one from our trip. He took me with him to a ski lodge last year and taught me how to snowboard. There had been this beautiful barn owl that seemed to follow us around. He’d perch on the branch of a tree and watch as I mostly fell on my ass. When we’d gotten back, Justin had gotten a tattoo