Porco Rosso Tattoo Novels & Stories

He was looking at Leonor like she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and that was a damned turn on. Armando stared at her body and said, "You're beautiful, Leonor," and started kissing her down her neck once again, only this time she didn't stay idle by and helped him out of his shirt, revealing his very sexy tattoo on his right arm. The tattoo was that of an eagle with open wings, with designs crossing over its beautiful feathers. She had always felt intrigued by that tattoo but it added to his hotness.

But what's the worst that can happen? "Urgh! Someone, get this thing off me!" Scarlette cried, reminding me of our present predicament. I took a step forward by instinct, but someone beat me to it. A man grabbed the wolf by its snout and yanked him away from Scarlette. He had the sleeve of his cool black shirt rolled over his thick forearms, his rosewood skin smooth and soft looking. Dark golden brown hair covered his head, somehow highlighting the cross-stars tattoo he had on his neck. I could tell it wasn't a marking, just a regular tattoo. Somehow, I found his appearance rather appealing. Well, I'm not blind to good-looking men.

And that was it. He stood up, tossing the cigarette aside with a glass filled whiskey in his hand. She watched as his muscles flexed beneath all that movement. She shouldn't stare—but God, it was impossible not to. Her eyes traced the ink that lived on his skin like an art—a warning. On his right shoulder there was a black serpent coiled up towards his collarbone. It looked like it meant something. Across his chest, was a simple line of text in Italian, ‘Perdona, ma non dimenticare’

From the path ahead, his eyes got settled on the tattoo etched on his right backhand glowing at his fullest indicating that the power coursing in his veins got activated and showed up to beat the curse of death that the forest is known for. It was a blue colored tattoo of the growling wolf, showing off his fangs whose eyes revealed the cut-throat rage that was buried in them. Inside the blue outlined growling werewolf was a human skeleton head and the upper body that glowed golden in color. On the inner border of the blue colored outline of the wolf, something was written in capital format inked in red color. The capital words spelled RED RIVER. All the three elements, the wolf outline, the

I left his lips and moved my lips to his throat while my hands felt his sculpted abs,like he was carved out of the finest marble. I grazed my finger on his tattoo he had just below his right nipple. "It's a symbol from Roman mythology which signifies bravery and readiness for sacrifice for a good cause."He explained me about the beautiful tattoo.There were many on his back and biceps,most of them inked to hide his scars from old fights.I dropped a wet kiss on it and then trailed downwarda whereas my hand moved to his awakening member.

"A little information. There's an invisible tattoo that lights up on her arm. Or if I had to say, the tattoo I'm referring to reacted when it matched the location of Zever's heart." That was right when Theo's rage nearly destroyed Verasco. He was already helpless, but the faint flashes of conspicuousness pulled Verasco back to consciousness. As he recalled, on Rose's left arm there was a tattoo of a rose blending in with the color of her skin, which came to the surface, even as each line of the red petals glowed gold. Verasco would not have seen any of that had Rose not tried to prevent and restrain Theo by clinging to the man from behind—a touch on the chest. Unfortunately at the same time

“What are you talking about?” Instead of answering, she rolls up the sleeve of her shirt. My blood runs cold. A tattoo. The La Rosa crest stares back at me from her forearm. My father’s crest. “What the…” My voice falters as I step closer, inspecting it. But there’s something different about this one. Inside the rose crest, etched within the intricate design, is a single letter. An I. My breath catches in my throat. The La Rosa crest was reserved only for my father’s children. Every one of us had it, each tattooed with a letter corresponding to our names. Mine had a C for Cara. Agata had an A. Roberto, Alejandro, Massimo, Paulo Jr., Loretta…

I screamed, “Hey!” Ricardo stood in front of me, wearing only pyjama pants, his chest bare. On his lift arm was the same tattoo all three of my foster brothers had—a hawk. It was the mark of their pure blood in the La Cosa Nostra. Every family in La Cosa Nostra had its own unique tattoo. He wrapped his arm around my neck and yanked my head down, pressing the crook of his arm against my skull. I tried to push him away and yelled, “Ricardo, stop! This is not funny.”

“Do I make you unhappy?” I swallowed, shaking my head. “No,” He kissed me deep and slowly before he pulled me apart, and I rested my head back on his chest, running the tip of my finger through every fascinating masterpiece on his chest. His torso was covered in black and white tattoos, from a Madonna and child on his stomach to a dagger weaving through his collarbone from shoulder to shoulder. A cross on one of his pecs and a rose on the other. A domed church on his side. A lighthouse on his left arm and on his right arm, below his bullet wound, was a familiar tattoo in red. I'd seen it on Savio's arm as well.

The hoodie draped loosely over his head, obscuring his face, but the flicker of city lights occasionally illuminated the sharp lines of his jaw and the hints of a sinister smirk playing on his lips. The wind picked up, a fierce breeze whipping across the rooftop and causing the hood to flutter. As the fabric shifted, it revealed a chiseled, muscular torso adorned with intricate tattoos, each line telling a story of violence, power, and mystery. Prominently displayed on the left side of his chest was a large, bold tattoo—the words *Nosce Hostem* inked in a jagged, menacing script that seemed almost to pulse with life against his skin. The tattoo, a clear message, spoke of a deep connection to