Post Malone Oblivion Tattoo Novels & Stories

I was so speechless, I just jumped on him and he winced, the tattoo was still hurting a bit. My fingers traced another ink one on his shoulder, he got this one after his dad died, in memory of him. "Do you always do this when I'm asleep" Bryne's husky voice jolts me back and I quickly remove my hand from his chest. He frowns and sits up, resting his back on the headboard. He yawns and stretches. I gulp, watching his thick muscle extends and flexes. "Come here" I nod and crawl to his arms obediently. He draws circles on my back and hums an inaudible tune.

Somehow, I had arrived back here. He stood, annoyed. “I am sorry, but no autographs right now,” he snapped. “The security guards should have told you. This is my private time. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to prepare.” With a guttural roar, I leapt right for his throat. I felt my incisor teeth expanding. The pain was horrible. But the hunger was worse. I sank my teeth in deeply. He screamed. But too late. My teeth sank deep into his veins. I drank.

It was the first time I saw the tattoo that covered his entire back. I’d never seen it before. It was a highly detailed skull that was realistic and somewhat menacing, with deep, dark eye sockets and a wide, toothy grin. The shading and depth gave it a three-dimensional effect, making it appear almost lifelike. The design extended from his lower back up to his shoulders, creating a striking and impactful visual. It was certainly a work of art and my favorite tattoo of his. My second favorite were the words written on his fingers. They spelt out ‘il migliore’ which was Italian for his nickname ‘The Beast’, a title he wore with pride.

I really did not want to feel weak ever again. My parents totally thought I was crazy when I decided to get a few tattoos. I had a big one slung over my shoulder that reached down to my bicep—our crew's tribal symbol. I also had another large one on my back and a warrior symbol on my inner bicep, courtesy of Gaspar. But my favorite was a cool tattoo guys get when they find their match. It sat just below my waistband, right in the middle of my stomach. A symbol that looked like this: ∞.

She wondered if Denis might take Racher Art away from Manila one day to Cebu, for example, both metropolitan cities in the Philippines, right? The jet-black needle continues to pierce the left arm of a male client who asks for a symbol of Carpe Diem, Latin for 'seize the day.' The hand repeatedly takes turns touching the black ink and the client's skin to forget the pain. Denis likes to invite them to chat even though the pain of the needle piercing the skin only really attacks when the tattoo session ends. "If I were you, I wouldn't dare to ink my skin with these things," says Denis, standing to the right of his client, who sits on the surface of the execution mat.

I whispered into her ears as she signaled a man to lead us through a door. “Tattoos won’t take long. Don’t you worry, Kieran, she’s fine.” Alpha Malone’s words left everyone amused. She pulled out the picture from her bag and gave it to the artist. “I want these exact tattoos on the right parts. Don’t skip a line; pretty work is what I need.” “As Your Majesty demands, what you want is what you’ll have.” He bowed before her and asked me to sit while Olivia stood watching. “Then we’re doing this one together. It’s for sisters in this kingdom.” She showed me, and I agreed to it instantly because it was going to be on my chest, and I’d be able to remember her once I stared at the mirror.

Dustin sneered. “Certainly not. If you tell me, I can leave one person alive, but if you don’t, I’m going to annihilate your entire family.” Brennan’s face turned grim, but in the end, he could only sigh. Then, he whispered, “I can tell you that the person who gave the orders that day was someone with a red spider lily tattoo on the back of his hand.” Dustin’s face froze. Some organizations used tattoos to mark their members. That was a very common thing.

Hatch, who came every Tuesday with three garbage bags of laundry and always fell asleep in the plastic chair had one eye open. "Fine," Sera said. "Muscle cramp." He closed his eye again. She waited until his breathing went slow and even. Then she pulled the collar of her long-sleeve shirt aside and looked. The mark was already there. Fully formed, like it had always been under her skin and the burning had just been it waking up. A rune … angular at the edges but curved at the center, like all the others. It sat directly below her collarbone and glowed faintly silver in the bad fluorescent light.

Malachi stepped forward and took his jacket off, pulled his tie loose and then started unbuttoning his shirt. “Whoa man, we ain’t like that, okay I believe you, put your damn clothes back on,” Josh said as Malachi walked right up to me. Malachi ignored Josh and focused on me. “We have identical Alpha tattoos, because you’re my son, you wear my mark,” he said and turned around. I looked at the tattoo on his back that looked exactly like the one I had except for the two names underneath mine. I looked at his tattoo for a long time and I knew what I had to do next.

“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.