Music Note Neck Tattoo Novelas e Histórias

“Yeah.” He walked over to some lockers by the wall and dug inside it as I glanced around at the various equipment and pretended not to care he was using me strictly for sex. He sauntered over to me, still shirtless, and his pants hung low on his waist. I stared at the various tattoos scattered across his body. There were animals and shapes, numbers and names on his arm. A large guitar was on his left forearm. A large rose was on his abdomen, along with a couple birds appearing to fly away from it. He had a heart, along with several musical notes on his chest. A part of me longed to find out what each one meant, and the story behind it.

Slowly the pain ebbed away and my neck felt numb with the occasional stinging. “Hazel? There is something on your neck?” Lorena stopped dabbing the wound and I felt my neck. The burn was gone but I couldn’t feel anything. Everyone was staring at me now and Cassie handed me a mirror from he purse. On my neck, was a freshly done tattoo, of a blood red eye next to a black crescent moon, intricately designed, with every detail standing out. I rubbed at it but it didn’t come off. Maybe the ritual did work.

People were drinking alcohol while sitting outside—the music from the place listening to Tupac music in the middle of the street. They were being new to the area. Neighbors were curious to know who these new people were and who had moved in. The guy had short hair, dark skin, and a scar and on the neck was a number written on his neck twenty-six and a dollar sign next to it. The other guy, about 5.4ft with dreads, wore Adidas greyish tracksuit pants with a white vest. He had a snake around the dragon tattoo; below that tattoo was another tattoo saying barely visible. "what ugly tattoo is that?'

He tilted his head eyeing me curiously like a cat cornering a mouse. I could only imagine that my now ruined Akasha costume was a wreck and god did I smell like death. My black skirt splattered on the end with shit, a medium-size splatter pattern across my stomach waist, and chest and I didn’t even want to imagine what my hair and crown looked like. I did a quick check to make sure my metal bustier had been still securely strapped in place, only to get a smear of feces on my hand. I sighed heavily in defeat I honestly haven’t the slightest idea as to how I haven’t puked yet. “So…I like your costume,” I say continuing to make small talk which at this point has made things increasingly more aw

Arnold paused before exiting and leaned down, tapping the gun to my forehead: “Stay put.” I caught it then. A flash of skin above his collar — his turtle neck had slipped down slightly. There, beneath it, was a tattoo, inked deep into the side of his neck. A pattern of overlapping scales, stylized like… ‘Is that a snake?’ I thought. It looked familiar. ‘Where have I seen that before?’ I was so lost in thought I almost missed when they actually stepped out. And then I was alone again. The room seemed quieter now. But the silence wasn’t comforting.

Gianna gazed down at her wrist, looking at the small tattoo she got in her teenage years. It was a dandelion, some of the seeds scattered as if blown by the wind, forming a small musical note. Nothing about the drawing was unique, as surely, a lot of women already had the same tattoo as hers now. She had been thinking about erasing it many times over but decided not to. The black ink looked good in her milky skin, but she would rather it stayed hidden.

he finally conceded "We could make a tattoo." I nodded and watched him bring a small instrument. I know tattoo hurts but it's better than having the mate mark on my neck. "Get on the bed." he ordered and I did as told. I gasped unexpectedly when his fingers brushed the skin on my neck. I relaxed when I found that he was only placing my hair back so he could see my neck properly. The machine started and I shut my eyes in fear until I heard my name. "Hazel," I opened my eyes.

I refilled it and she took a long sip off the top before handing it back. "I'm Nico," she volunteered as I took a drink. "Thomas," I said as she took the mug from my hands. A black widow tattoo decorated the inside of her left wrist and another tattoo, green vines twisting and choking a broken clockwork, adorned her right bicep. I counted at least nine different piercings in her ears and eyebrow. She was short, almost a foot shorter than me, with a slight build. At first glance she appeared frail but I noticed the way the cords stood out on her arms as she randomly plucked textbooks off my shelf and thumbed through them before replacing them in the wrong location. "Nico's a unique name," I s

“is just for fun.” Heat climbed up my neck. “And what’s the fun one supposed to mean?” “You’d have to find out for yourself.” His voice dipped low again, and I swore my heart skipped. One of his friends Ryan grin leaned in then, resting an elbow on the table. “You’re not the only one with ink worth showing off,” he said, tugging up his own sleeve. The tattoo was intricate, swirling with roses and blades, like beauty tangled with danger. The other two joined in, each showing me their designs a phoenix across one’s back that peeked over his collar, a serpent winding down another’s arm in precise, dangerous curves.

I don’t even know what’s real anymore, but one thing’s for sure—if Mike sees this, it’s over for me. I knew I shouldn’t have stepped out last night. How the hell did I get a tattoo on my neck? Not even something small or subtle, but a fucking handprint—like someone choking me. It’s not a design; it’s a mark, black ink spread across my skin like a warning. My stomach drops. Fuck. I’m finished.