Realistic Broken Clock Tattoo Novels & Stories

“Can’t wait to learn what happened, you asshole. Thanks so much for keeping us all in the dark.” I studied the tattoos on Brick’s arms. For some reason, that helped center and calm me. My gaze traced the most prominent feature on his forearm: a wolf face peering out from an ink splatter. The only colored part of the image were the wolf’s yellow-brown eyes that seemed to glow and stare right into me. I shuddered and turned my attention down to his wrist, where a silhouetted forest scene at night coated his skin with a full moon and a hooded figure walking among the trees. I could relate to that figure; it seemed totally lost and not sure where to go. “So, how long are we supposed to wait?” Br

Tattoos are usually an expression of oneself. She hesitates for a moment; I can see the turmoil in her eyes but eventually she nods. CJ comes closer to me and turns around. I grab the back of the tank top and lift it over her head while her arms are crossed in her front. The realistic tattoo is a full-colored piece with an intricate golden bird cage in the center with a wolf’s head howling at the moon, an owl with its wings open, and portraits of a bear, fox and mouse intermingled with beautiful wildflowers. I run my fingers over the tattoo. Tingles touch my fingertips sending pleasure through me, but what gets me more are the scars I feel and not just a few but many scars. Now that I think

I screamed as I came again, harder than ever. The tattoo came on what I think was day five. He numbed the skin near my pussy, just above my clit. The small, elegant “J” was inked permanently into my flesh. I watched it happen, strangely calm. When he finished, he kissed it tenderly. “This is forever,” he said. “Yes…” The word slipped out easily, whole heartedly. Resistance shattered that night. Left in total deprivation for hours, I hallucinated him everywhere, his scent, his touch, his voice. When he finally returned, I was a broken, sobbing mess.

Not until he get some clear results. They were taking a toll in the mall. Some shopping’s for girls. Some for Cyrus. As their anniversary was around the corner, he wanted to make it special for him. They were just walking through the shops when Denzel came across a tattoo studio. "Bright Win, how about i ink a tattoo? For Cyrus"? He suggested. Win wasn’t sure if Cyrus would like or not but Denzel was too excited so he nodded his head. Denzel opted a one wing Tattoo with M embossed into it. A memory for Nattasha that she would always be his wing to fly high. It was emotional but Denzel was happily taking the needles. It took him almost an hour to get free and now they were hungry.

"There is no us, Giulia. It's time your slow brain gets rewired to face that hard truth." He turned and started climbing the stairs. "And you have no idea what it's like to be constantly undermined and second-guessed by you!" I shot back, my voice trembling with rage. He paused on the steps and turned back to me. "Look at the wall behind you," he commanded. "What?" I turned and saw the big clock hanging there, so I turned back to him, wondering what exactly his point was. "Your time in this world is fast ticking. Don't push me to make it shorter."

We begin tomorrow night. I gasp awake in my bed at 4:47 a.m. The room is dark. My palm is burning. I turn on the lamp. There it is: a tiny, perfect symbol etched into my skin like a fresh tattoo, glowing soft crimson. It looks like a crooked river delta crossed with a wolf’s head. My phone is still in my hand from texting Remy goodnight. I stare at the symbol for a long time. Then I do exactly what she said:

Axen looked at me without a speck of emotion on his face and said. "I accept. Our bond is broken with the blessing of the Goddess.' Axen tried and failed to hold back another howl. In the end he let loose a loud heart breaking cry that felt like a dagger to my heart, then fell back hitting the hard Chapel floor with a thud.

He rolled up the first of his sleeves and stretched his hand out so it caught the light. His entire sleeve was a canvas of intricate tattoos, with a clock dominating the design, its inner gears showing and extending down to his wrists. Surrounding the clock was a blooming rose flower, its petals wilting. Delicate rose flowers bloomed around it, their petals hugging the clock, yet also wilting, as if succumbing to the passage of time. Dominating the top part of his hand was what I assumed was an angel, with a dark cloak over his body and a blade buried in his chest

"Pack tattoos, brands, anything." Silas didn't hesitate. He took his hunting knife and slit the intruder’s left sleeve from cuff to collar in one sharp, upward pull. The fabric parted, revealing a forearm scarred by burns and blade-nicks, but near the inside crook of his elbow, the skin was raised in thick, keloid ridges. Silas tore back the man's sleeve, and beneath it, faint but unmistakable, was a scar in the shape of a broken claw. The mark was ancient. The skin had been burned twice to ensure the jagged fracture across the center of the three-talon design remained raised, pale against his weathered skin.

He also did the same with his necklace pendant, which was a pearl ring. "I'm so sorry...." he murmured again and dipped the ring into my palm before standing off the bed, revealing his 6ft height and ripped body with a broad chest like a sculpture, The tattoos that ran along his arms and neck made him look so manly and pleasant to spend all day looking at. I could smell the earthy scent that swirled around him at that moment. The footsteps and voices of my parents were becoming louder as they climbed the stairs, making me feel very sad again. They will find out what I did today, and my life might never be the same again.