Tattoo Science Fiction Novels & Stories

I left his lips and moved my lips to his throat while my hands felt his sculpted abs,like he was carved out of the finest marble. I grazed my finger on his tattoo he had just below his right nipple. "It's a symbol from Roman mythology which signifies bravery and readiness for sacrifice for a good cause."He explained me about the beautiful tattoo.There were many on his back and biceps,most of them inked to hide his scars from old fights.I dropped a wet kiss on it and then trailed downwarda whereas my hand moved to his awakening member.

“Since the tattoo is a surprise, can you at least tell me where you’ll do it?” “On the lower part of your back.” After a little while, he comes back to me and starts tattooing me. “For having a needle on my skin, I don’t feel any pain.” “That’s because I’m amazing.” After half an hour, he announces that he’s finished. “Already?” I ask, bewildered. James nods, a strange smile on his face. “Look at yourself in the mirror.” I do and am shocked. “James… Why is there a tattoo on my back of you and the nun from The Conjuring hugging each other?”

His tongue followed the lines with exquisite precision, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. "They're not—" I began, my voice catching as he moved lower, "—they're not secrets. Just art." Nico hummed against my skin, the vibration sending sparks through my body. "Everything's a secret," he murmured, "if you look closely enough." His exploration continued, mapping the contours of my body with lips and tongue. Each tattoo became a new discovery, a landscape to be thoroughly explored. I arched into his touch, my fingers tangling in his hair as he ventured lower still.

Skeletal branches reached skyward, and bats hung in eerie stillness, painting a haunting scene that captured Dexter's supernatural essence. However, in the spaces where the serpent's dance couldn't reach, a captivating addition emerged – 3D hexagons. Meticulously detailed, these hexagons adorned the gaps between serpentine coils, each bearing a hypnotic depth as if opening gateways to unseen dimensions. Astrid marveled at the Byzantine canvas that adorned Dexter's skin, each tattoo weaving a tale of his mystique. The unequivocal talent of Dexter's tattoo artist shone through the baroque details and captivating designs inked on his skin. It was evident that the person behind those masterpiece

“As I did before.” The white puppets from outside hurtled toward Stringmaster, gathering around her. Footsteps echoed outside, as if the inmates all stepped toward the cell at once. “Do not test me, sylph.” “I’ll fight back,” she said, holding her ground. “I won’t feel guilty hurting your current human shields.” Her eyes swept over the big man beside her, noticing the tattoos covering his skin. At first glance, the inkwork seemed chaotic—a mishmash of poorly shaded lines and jagged outlines. Sloppy work, she thought. But the more she looked, the more deliberate it seemed. Hidden within the mess were grotesque images—women in chains, women with animals…

I sent a few to Venus although she hasn't responded yet. I looked across the room and smiled as I watched Jupiter wince in pain. The tattoo artist was inking his left arm and I'm assuming that the design was a lot bigger than the ones I have on my wrist. He refused to tell me what it is since it's supposed to be a surprise, as he said. Half an hour later, he waved at me and flashed a thumbs up, to let me know that the tattoo is done. I dropped the book and excitedly sauntered towards them so I can have a look on his little surprise.

What reason would they have for treating our research facility like a military compound in a war zone? “What did you mean by all they’ve done?” I ask finally. “You know those cells you told me about?” “Yes…” “Did they ever tell you the source?” My gut tightens as I brace myself for his revelation. He’s going to say something crazy, like aliens. Or superhumans. He flips his right forearm over to show me his tattoos. No—I look closer. The tattoos are there to cover scars. Track after track, like a junkie’s —and burns, too.

“Yeah? Maybe once my ass is healed you can turn the puncture wound into one of them cool, fake bullet holes you see on motorcycles and pickup tailgates.” “Please. I’m an artiste. I have something way better in mind. Something hip-fun-sexy-cool.” Suspicion clouded Colt’s face. “I already told you. You ain’t tattooing the area around my nipples. Ever.” “But this new pattern is so awesome. Turquoise and orange outlined in black and red, that looks like flames—” “No way, no how.” “Just hear me out.” “Dammit, Indy, I said no. Why are you so dang fired up about doin’ this?”

Vanessa’s POV Stepping into my tattoo shop felt like entering another world, a world where I was in control and the master of my own destiny. Here, no one could order me around or intimidate me. The familiar sights and sounds of the shop enveloped me, filling me with nostalgia. The walls painted my favorite color, pink, and the scent of ink and antiseptic mingled with the buzzing tattoo machines and low hum of conversation. This was the world I had missed dearly during my time away, a place where I could freely express myself and create art without constraint.

Weird. He rarely sends messages, let alone attachments. Probably a mistake, I thought until I opened it. It wasn’t a mistake. A full HD picture of the nymph tattoo above his groin filled my screen. The image was still loading, but I didn’t rush. My gaze lingered on the tattoo, it looked healed now, perfect, meant for my eyes only. “Nymph,” in red italics, a small peach beside it. I zoomed in, ignoring the rest of the class, every nerve in my body lighting up. Then I scrolled lower.