Pot Of Greed Tattoo นิยาย & เรื่องราว

He paused his ministrations on my neck and with one flick he stripped of his tee. "There, touch me." He groaned and I didn't want any further persuasion. My hands glided over his toned chest, running over the dragon tattoo. "Why is this for?" I asked, my fingertips grazing over the fire tattooed on his abdomen. He bit his lip. "It represents power and victory over bad. I had it engraved when I couldn't take any more of my step-mother's false accusations and controlling nature. I was feeling weak and I needed to feel something. I went to a party and got dunk and somehow landed up in a tattoo parlor. He decided to draw this a sign that I am powerful and can rise from ashes." He paused and grin

She was shy away and hid her in my chest. I placed her in a hot shower, pressing her back to me and kissed her neck. I was stunned when I opened my eyes. There was an old Italian tribal tattoo on her neck. What is it doing here? It was an arrow design with a crown holding double letter A. It was a symbol of the deity of death.

he replied. His scent filled the space between us..cleaner than anything in this rotting dungeon. It made something deep in my chest twist. I didn’t trust it. I didn’t trust him. But I wanted to. He leaned back just enough to look at me fully, hood falling away from his face. A tattoo peeked from the side of his neck…two crescent marks overlapping. Purplemoon. Old-blood. Rare. I stared before I could stop myself. Before I could ask. Before I could breathe.

The weight of the moment was palpable, heightened by the realization that the priest standing beside me was none other than Krystallo, the infamous mafia priest known for his merciless acts. My eyes inadvertently drifted towards the cross-shaped tattoo, intertwined with a viper, adorning Krystallo's neck. The intricate design served as a chilling reminder of the countless lives he had taken and the blood that stained his hands. It was a symbol of power and ruthlessness, one that sent shivers down the spines of even the most hardened criminals.

I smiled, though my body trembled slightly with unease. He smirked, his eyes darkening as he sauntered towards me. Slowly, he reached out, invading my space. My gaze drifted to his chest, where intricate tattoos sprawled across his skin, half of his left chest completely inked. There was a large python coiled menacingly, its fangs bared as if ready to strike. Surrounding it were other symbols—a bleeding dagger, an intricate skull wrapped in thorns, and a blood moon rising behind them all. The ink seemed almost alive, dark and haunting, like it held secrets too dangerous to reveal. I had seen something like this before. The imagery was disturbing, almost as if he were part of some secretive c

Douglas vowed. “I am counting on your words. Make sure you keep them!” Douglas nod his head at me and touch the tattoo on his shoulder. The tattoo which is the drawing of an axe with a small handle and letters XXX written under it is a sign that represents our Mafia organization. Every member and worker of our Mafia has the tattoo on either their right hand arm or the back of their neck or on the upper part of their back for those that don’t want the tattoo to be seen. By touching the tattoo, Douglas pledges his loyalty to the organization.

“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.

“Not Ferrero’s crest. Not the family I was born into. Yours.” Her lips trembled. “That’s permanent.” “Exactly,” he said, his grin erratic, hungry. “So every time I bleed, every time I fight, it’s your name the world will see.” The tattooist looked nervous, his hands trembling as he approached. Alessio stood behind him, arms crossed, gaze sharp. “Don’t shake. If you falter, you won’t have hands left to work with.” The man swallowed, steadied, and began.

They looked at the upper side of his chest and they could see a tattoo of a Horse drawn in it. The second man knelt on the floor and placed a hand on the tatto as he examined it carefully. “Eden, this could smell danger” he said as he raised his head to look at Eden who was staring at them impatiently “The only danger i can see here is you beating around the bush” he said with a strong tone “I’ve been a gangster for the past twenty five years and i can tell where this tattoo came from” he said “Spill it!” he yelled impatiently

I simply barge in, equipped with goodies that can make a bent man straight. Goodies that keep every fucking person in the shop still. My fucking goodies are being hawked like a cheap toy. “I need a tattoo.” I step a heel on the chair, wide enough for them to get a good hint of my wet cunt. “All over,” my voice is a reckless moan. “And no, not with your pen.” The nasty smile starts creeping along my cheek. “With your rumored fat, dirty cock.”