Risk Taker Tattoo Novels & Stories

“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.

Damn this man. "You need more than that, okay where was I?," He cleared his throat, like he was about to unravel some big secret. She leaned in closer. Her eyes shimmering, okay, what was with women and gossip? "The tattoo in his nape represents the dragon club. It's a really dangerous club involving violence." She seemed interested, which was weird, because he never thought that Nicole Hart would want to get herself involved in all his family shit. He breathed in, stroking his hands.

“I plan to tattoo a Koru on you. It’s a sort of spiral that’s part of Māori culture, and in New Zealand, it means new life, growth, strength, and peace. They made bone sculptures with this symbol that were used as pendants for necklaces. The bone, when worn, changes color. And for the Māori, it meant that a part of a person's spirit entered the pendant. Sometimes it was given to another person, as if to transmit a part of one's happiness.” James takes off his shirt and shows me his right shoulder. “I had it done by Sky last week. Mine is a way to transmit my happiness and love to you.” He puts his shirt back on—what a shame—and turns back to me. “And also a bit of bad luck, since you manage

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: ∞.

“Your tattoos are beautiful.” I look at the tattoo of a skull surrounded by black flames. My whole right arm is decorated with tattoos from shoulder to wrist. My skin prickles with every caress of her fingers, but I don’t stop her from touching me. The tattoo sleeve has several tribal symbols, and there are a seal trident and a frogman tattoo on my shoulder. Each tattoo represents something in my life. The skull represents my status as an Assassin, and the cross is a play on my name. Her finger moves down the line of my intricate cross, then to the inside of my rib cage, where I have an inscription. Qui velit, ut vivat in aeternum.

Nikolai is a god among men, and I am fortunate to be embraced by his presence. Nikolai’s tattoos are sexy, and I find myself unable to resist tracing them with my finger. The stars inked on both his shoulders catch my attention, making me curious about their meaning. However, it’s the eagle tattooed on his chest that truly captivates me. The majestic bird exudes power and strength, its wings spread wide as if poised for flight. The intricate details of the tattoo come alive on his skin, and I can’t help but admire its beauty. The eagle symbolizes freedom, and in that moment, I feel as if I am soaring alongside it.

Terry himself pulled away and, the shirt tore away. As he turned to face the crowd, whose eyes were wide watching the unexpected action unfold, his bare torso was on display. On the right side of his body, along his ribs, was a tattoo of an upside down wolf skull. Someone gasped. A few of the candidates covered their mouths. I glanced at Nicholas for explanation. He was stunned speechless for a moment. Then he spoke, “The upside down wolf skull is a symbol of the underground organization. I didn’t know someone would… tattoo themselves with it.”

But she was always hiding in the closet. He held her close and listened, occasionally reminding her that she was safe. Rubbing his hand up and down her arm, he encouraged her to continue. Chance wondered if he could find these men. Anyone who would attack a child should die. These men tried to rape her. They should die at his hand. Her finger lightly traced the same tattoo that his brothers also had. A tribal stag and underneath his had the Roman number five. Mia recently got a tribal doe with the Roman number four.

On the screen, I saw the same bird tattoo boldly drawn. "Yes, that's it! That's the tattoo I was referring to," I exclaimed. Camara looked at me and bowed her head. "This tattoo belongs to a gang leader in Texas," she revealed in a low tone. "His name is Fabian, a gang of assassins. He's usually used by powerful men to end the life of their greatest enemy at any time," Camara explained. I was confused, and my face showed it. "But who could be using him to attack Juliet now?" I wondered aloud.

Very attractive. Yet again, he's always been fine. So fucking much that I lost my senses and agreed to go out with him after highschool. So fucking fine. And that was then. Imagine what he was now. Probably 10 times more appealing? 20? About 100 times more?? More trouble than peace...more eye-catching, nerve wrecking, dangerous and totally not good news with all those serpent and raven tattoos running through his shoulder blades down to his abdomen. Both on front and back.