Spider Tattoo Forearm の小説・ストーリー

He balanced himself on his toes and still had the watch in a countdown. He patted her head as she was on the floor shaking. “If you didn’t have too may drinks, this would have been slower” he said. “W-what are you talking about?” she asked softly. “Well poison that’s all” he patted her head again and then grabbed on and pulled her up, and put the timer in her face. “The venom of a Redback Spider causes all the symptoms you’re having now, and can kill a human under an hour. You ingested five to six doses and that could accelerate your death” he grinned.

His hair was wet, and he had nothing but boxers on. I had a vivid view of his tattoos. Adorning his back was a fierce-looking wolf, jaws agape and poised to seize its prey. On his chest, a heart ensnared in thorny vines bled profusely, the tendrils winding their way to a blossoming rose, seemingly coloured by the lifeblood drawn from the heart. Positioned on the left side of his chest was a strikingly fierce yet captivating eagle. Additional intricate designs adorned his arms, crafted with bold strokes of black ink. The well-defined muscles accentuated the synergy between his movements and the artistic lines. I found myself pondering about the talented artist behind these captivating creatio

"How many tattoos do I have in total?" "Four." And he goes on to explain what they are. “The Crow tattoo on the back of your left shoulder, the tribal tattoo on your spine, the lotus flower on the back of your neck, and my mark, right here.” He gently caressed his mark on my left collarbone, and immediately, I felt the pull and comfort towards him. I nodded. “Okay, you're Ryan, okay.” He glared at me and I laughed. “Say my name again.”

He is gorgeous to behold. He had a tattoo on his right pectoral of a wolf howling. That continued down his upper arm to a forest scene, with a dark-haired woman kneeling amongst a black wolf, two gray wolves, and a solid white wolf. The woman appeared familiar to me, but I didn’t get the best look. There was another tattoo below it that encased his forearm in a skull with an ornate feather headdress. There was a black tribal bracelet tattooed around his wrist, and on the top of each finger were unique wooden arrows. Not one arrow was the same. On his other hand was a dream catcher with various feathers on his fingers.

I'm eighteen and think Jeremy needs a tattoo date with me. "What do you want to get? I'm always down for a tattoo." Do I really want to get a tattoo? What should I get? "A sparrow. It would be in all black ink. I would get it on my right forearm." I point to my forearm and show Jeremy exactly how big I want my tattoo to be. "I think I would get a semi-colon. On my left wrist," Jeremy says.

My heart skipped a beat. It was new, I was sure of it. But for some reason, seeing it sent a shiver down my spine, a feeling of unease settling in the pit of my stomach. I couldn't shake the sensation that I'd seen that tattoo before, somewhere in the depths of my memory but I couldn't place it. It was like a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit, nagging at me with its familiarity yet remaining just out of reach. I found myself staring fixatedly at the tattoo. It was intricate, the spider’s legs stretching across his chest, its body curled in on itself in a menacing yet captivating pose. I became dizzy for a moment and my vision slightly blurry.

Fucking hot. His body was perfectly toned. He had a really broad chest and shoulders, and a solid six-pack. I don’t know, maybe it was an eight-pack, but it looked incredible. And there was a spider tattoo on the upper part of his right chest, right below his collarbone. I didn’t know he had a tattoo, but it made him look so sexy. “Why? Why?” he said, running his hands through his wet hair, which only made him look hotter. I bit my lip hard as I stared at him.

Long jagged lines that once ran from my shoulders down to my waist. I covered them eventually after overcoming my fear of riddles of course. The tattoo artist worked for nearly ten hours straight, weaving thick black ink over the damaged skin until the scars disappeared beneath the design of a massive spider spreading across my back. Its legs stretch outward over my shoulders, the body resting directly over my spine. The bell rings and my opponent steps forward. He is large, muscular, the type of fighter who relies on raw power rather than strategy. Normally I might enjoy testing him slowly, breaking him down piece by piece.

And then, without a word, he started to unbutton his white shirt. He did it slowly, methodically, each button a quiet pop. My eyes were glued to his hands. I hadn’t noticed before, too distracted by him cleaning, but an intricate tattoo of a black serpent wrapped around his wrist and forearm, its body coiling up towards his elbow. It was beautiful and so captivatingly dangerous.

At least, that is what I tell myself. Ryker doesn't answer me. Instead, he crouches low in front of me, his massive frame folding down like a predator that wants to toy with its prey. I catch the nasty manner with which his knuckles are bruised with scars, looking so rough like they have seen more than their fair share of fights. I also recognize the serpent tattoo coiling up his right forearm, with another tattoo that is a dead man’s skull circled by a crescent moon in blood-red ink right on his left bicep.