Panther With Wings Tattoo Novels & Stories

My jerremy coiled out, wrapping around his butterfly tattoo again, when its purple wings nipped with magic. “Your ink,” I asked, “is that what’s controlling your nature?” “Do you like it? Such a clever tattoo with magic woven into it that hides my Curse, when appearing nothing more than the mark of the Alpha Empire, where the Purple King butterfly is our national emblem,” King spat out, flinching as I reached to touch the tattoo. I instantly pulled back. “I’m sorry, it’s just so…”

I said. He grabbed his iPad and turned it on, swiped a few times, and handed it over to me. This was it. It was exactly the kind of tattoo I saw. A dragon, a rather small one, was curled up weirdly and he seemed to have three wings and three legs and it was spitting fire. “This is it. It is exactly what I saw.” I said.

The icy blast would’ve made anyone else recoil, but Dante stood there, solid and unmoving, like he was made of stone. His back was a canvas of ink, just like his front. The artwork was nothing short of breathtaking. Spanning across his entire back was a massive, detailed tattoo—an angel, powerful and divine, standing within the ruins of an ancient temple. The wings spread wide across his shoulder blades, reaching toward his arms, while crumbling pillars surrounded the figure in dramatic grayscale contrast. It wasn’t just a tattoo; it was a story, a testament, a work of devotion etched forever into his flesh. It was absolutely beautiful—mesmerizing, even.

That was when I noticed the tattoos. His back was adorned with an intricate design of large black wings, streaked with delicate gold traces that shimmered faintly in the low light. The wings spanned across his shoulders and down his back, a masterpiece that was both beautiful and intimidating. They exuded a silent warning, a "do not mess with me" aura that fit him perfectly. Yet, despite their commanding presence, I felt no fear. This was Alessandro. The man who had carried me, who had stood by me even when I pushed him away. He wasn’t a threat—he was my protector.

I stared behind him and the mats gradually grew bigger when I saw what his tattoo was. I held you gently, I even felt him flinch because of that, but he let me go. I noticed the slight tilt of his face as if trying to see me. "Y-you, have the faction's tattoo." I whispered. The symbol of this faction is the fire burning a sword with the wings of a bat. "Like you..." It was almost like a breath. His voice was hoarse as he said that before gently facing me. "Why did you choose that tattoo..." "I want to be the fire that burns the sword of evilness and fear, I want to be brave to protect the person I want. I want to be fearless to face the truth... and I want to have it, to be different ...."

Perhaps the recent events were showing her a rather depressing answer. She just smiled down at the eagle tattoo that she had on her right wrist. It had the savanna skyline wrapped around like the band, while the eagle head was in the center. The lion tattoo on Gryphon’s arm did survive long enough for it to show properly, and she hoped for it to stay as long as it would. Ten years more… and perhaps, along with their wedding vows, they could retouch their wedding tattoos.

His hair was wet, and he had nothing but boxers on. I had a vivid view of his tattoos. Adorning his back was a fierce-looking wolf, jaws agape and poised to seize its prey. On his chest, a heart ensnared in thorny vines bled profusely, the tendrils winding their way to a blossoming rose, seemingly coloured by the lifeblood drawn from the heart. Positioned on the left side of his chest was a strikingly fierce yet captivating eagle. Additional intricate designs adorned his arms, crafted with bold strokes of black ink. The well-defined muscles accentuated the synergy between his movements and the artistic lines. I found myself pondering about the talented artist behind these captivating creatio

“I’m worshipping. There’s a difference.” Kai’s breath hitched as Damien’s thumb dragged over the phoenix’s head, right above his left nipple. The tattoo was intricate—flames curling in shades of red, orange, and deep black ink that seemed to flicker in the low light. It stretched from just below his collarbones down to the bottom of his ribs, wings wrapping around his sides. Geometric patterns from his full sleeves connected to it, making the entire piece feel alive on his lean-muscled swimmer’s build.

And more than anything in the world I want her lips to be there on my neck instead of her eyes. She can see it! That’s just a drop in the ocean! My entire torso and arms are covered with works of art. If she has a tattoo, then she’s into that kind of thing and will appreciate it. Another plus point! “Why a panther?” I ask, and the girl thinks for a moment. “Well, when Kirill’s father left us, I got this tattoo as a reminder that I’m alone in this world now and have to stand on my own.” “But you’re not alone. You have a wonderful son,” I look at the beauty gently.

’ I asked myself. ‘Not those blue gems,’ Melora answered. They finally agreed. I had already seen Ian’s tattoo but Cannon’s own changed the game. It was a lion, with its mane spreading out and gem-like eyes shining. Its jaw and teeth were profound—looked like it was roaring—and the design was similar to Ian’s but unique in its way. Then there was Kane. I’m not a zoologist but I knew that was a Black Panther. It had blue eyes like its brothers and was fierce. Its whiskers were lowered and it looked like it was ready to bite someone.