Post Malone Oblivion Tattoo Novels & Stories

It was filled with hers and Jonathan's pictures and videos. “I haven't been able to come here ever since I sent them all here,” she mumbled sadly. Olive looked at her sullen face and sighed. “Can I please use the computer?” she asked politely and Dolly nodded before handing over the computer to her. Olive looked over some pictures and finally found the one she was looking for which was a picture with his arms uncovered. She gulped painfully as she saw the tattoo right over the scar on his shoulder. She zoomed it and it was really the exact tattoo. A scar gotten from a silver knife and a tattoo of a knife over it.

But just as I raised my hand to knock on the bathroom door again, I caught sight of him through the gap between the door and the frame. The sight made me freeze. Because there was a tattoo on his right shoulder that I recognized. It was the symbol for the surname “Stone” — a name and tattoo that my parents had warned me to stay away from. Because it was the mark of one of the most ruthless and dangerous members of the underground pack of mafia — Maverick Death. Needless to say, I left without finding my cell phone — and without caring whether he heard me leave or not. ***** “You've got to be kidding me.”

The spot was right above where he always grabbed me. I was dazed until the tattoo gun buzzed loud. Before I could protest, it was right on my skin and goddamnit did It hurt more than I thought. I kept feeling sharp little stings over and over. Damon sat next to me holding my hand. Every time I winced he rubbed his thumb on my palm. Almost gentle like a caring boyfriend he was definitely not cut out for. “Almost done,” he cooed softly. “Looks good.” When it was finished the artist covered it with some plastic. Damon paid and then we left. In the truck I lifted my shirt and looked. Small dark letters. “D.K.” was stuck right on my skin. Permanently. Forever.

Monic dropped to her knees right there on the cool concrete floor of the private room, her freshly tattooed skin still tingling from the long session and the intense orgasm that had ripped through her only minutes earlier. The colorful roses and twisting thorns now bloomed vividly across her lower back and curved seductively over her hip bone, a permanent mark that Maven had carved into her body with his hands and his filthy words. She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, her cheeks flushed and her lips parted. His cock strained heavily against the front of his jeans, the thick bulge begging to be freed. She could see the outline of it clearly, long and heavy, and the sight made her mou

In his right hand, he held the familiar silver dagger, its blade gleaming dangerously. But as the rebel assassin took a step toward my bed, his left hand reached up to his own collar. With a slow, deliberate motion, he pulled the fabric down, exposing his spine to the mirror on the wall behind him. My breath completely trapped itself in my throat, and my heart stopped dead in my chest. There, seared into the skin of the ruthless Omega rebel's back, was a glowing, crimson brand. A perfect, permanent tattoo of my own true initials. MW.

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

My blood ran cold. That totem was identical to the unique mark on Rocco's chest, the one that represented our eternal Mate Bond. Only true mates received such a mark—a symbol of blended souls, a lifelong promise. And now, she had tattooed it onto her own skin. And Rocco had allowed it. I put down my phone and called the pack's tattoo artist. "Luna Caterina? It's so late. Is everything alright?" Samuel, the artist, sounded exhausted. "Samuel, I need to book an appointment for a tattoo removal."

Proud to be. I smirk slightly, looking down at his cock again, it makes my wrist look fucking small. My eyes blaze as I peel his boxers off and the sight in front of me makes me lick my lips. He’s perfectly groomed, the tip of his cock a smooth rounded tip and it’s shining with a few drops of precum. He has a tattoo just over his pubic bone, to the right side, a simple word but it looks so fucking hot. ‘Loyalty.’

“Sh!t, what’s happening?!” “My back,” I rasped, teeth clenched so tight they might snap. “Something’s wrong with the mate tattoo. Look. Look at it!” He rushed behind me, lifting my shirt with shaking hands. I felt his breath freeze “Kael… The tattoo…” My chest heaved. “What about it?” “It’s vanishing.” The world tilted. No. No, no, no. The mate mark, the delicate silhouette of a female wolf, etched into my flesh since the day the Moon bonded us, her mark burned on my skin—alive. But now, it is fading. Disappearing like ink in water.

“I need the ink.” “What colors?” He asked. “Each pile gets a black. The second one gets three.” Alec did as I asked. “The fourth is a water color tattoo so I need one pink, purple, blue, green and yellow. This one is red and orange.” “Four tattoos today?” Alex asked. “Yeah, they are all big tattoos and not much pain tolerance.” “Mine is itching like crazy.” “Turn around and lift your shirt up.” I said rolling my eyes. Grabbing the numbing lotion, I put it on his back. He even keeled for me but I caught him looking at me in the mirror.