Tattoo Science Fiction Novels & Stories

Raya felt a flush spread across her skin that had nothing to do with the needle’s sting. “Why a phoenix?” Tobi asked, changing the subject but keeping his voice intimate, as if they were sharing secrets. “Rebirth,” she answered simply. “I went through... a difficult time last year. This is my reminder that I rose from it.” He nodded, his expression softening. “The best tattoos always have stories. They’re not just decoration, they’re armor. History. Promise.” He leaned closer to work on a particularly delicate curve, his breath warm against her neck. Raya’s heart hammered against her ribs, and she was certain he could feel it through the contact points between their bodies.

"There. That's the Ava I remember. Smart. It wasn't a coincidence. I was definitely going to walk up to you... maybe ask you out. It was my chance. Because you have no idea how long I've searched for you... how I pictured you... Come. See this." He moves like a damn five years old swimming his pride as he waves his new toy to his friends, My instincts scream kick. But curiosity? Curiosity makes me follow. He drags me toward a corner of the room, and what I see makes my stomach twist. It's like an artist's studio, but the theme? Me..Paintings. Sketches. Photo prints. Different angles. Different expressions. My cheekbone. The tattoo on my back, there's a matching image of it, dissected and lab

He demanded. A bad omen? I had totally forgotten and well, that is because I did not believe that. I mean, humans have always had tattoos and it was really cool. In fact, the most successful ones among them were ones with a lot of tattoos and it made them famous. I have always admired it and there is no telling me otherwise. Besides, I had literally thought it was a case of cursing what you cannot have. It is no secret that we werewolves could not get tattoos. It was impossible because we always healed and once the needle pierces through the skin, well, that would definitely mean healing. But now, someone as smart as Maddox had finally found out a way to get the tattoo done and here we were

I carry my face from his chest slowly and carefully, not to wake him up I roll over and lie on my side. I admire his sinful beauty, if I can just touch it once more. That's right I can touch it, after all he's sleeping. I flatten my palm on his chest and feel each rhythmic movement his chest makes when he breathes. I outline his body with my hands, over the six divisions on his belly to the tattoo on his chest. I remember when he got that, I came back tired from the classes I had and he came into my house grinning like he just won a lottery. He made me close my eyes, trust me I still cheated, opening my eyes slightly to try to take peaks of whatever surprise he was bringing up. When I opened

That night, Henry finally let go of all restraint. The room lay in shadow, and he pressed me against the floor-to-ceiling window, the lights of Riverton flickering like stars beyond the glass. “Claire…” “Yes?” “I want to get another tattoo.” “Where?” He gripped my hand and pressed it to his lower back, mirroring the spot that corresponded to mine. There, with each of his breaths, a faint outline of a feral totem emerged. “I want to tattoo your image. I want to carve you into my bones forever.”

I couldn't believe my ears. "No. Not you. I was talking to my friend Bat." I told him. "Where is that friend of yours." "My tattoo is my friend. You can't believe it's a magical one. It can talk to me whenever it wants to." I praised it before him. "Really. Can you show me. Am curious I need to have a look at that magical tattoo of yours." He said tilting his head to one side. Proudly, I removed my long black hair from my neck and back to show him.

So many thoughts ran through my mind, and I just kept pushing them away. I did however, let my fingers run down his arm, tracing his tattoos. He took a sharp breath in at my touch, which made it harder for me to calm down. They were beautiful though, all in full color. He had scenery, outer space, the beach, the ocean, a city landscape, a sunset. It was all beautifully intertwined spanning the entire length of his arms. I wanted to ask him about them, why he had them, and what they meant. But I refrained.

Stirring my drink for a moment, I narrowed my eyes. “You could say I didn’t necessarily have a happy childhood, but I made the best of it. Then, I found myself in a lab filled with hunters. Men and woman with no regards for life because everything supernatural to them is a blight and not actually living.” My eyes looked at my left arm, covered in tattoos. At first glance, all you would see were the tattoos but underneath, the tattoos barely covered the ridiculous amount of scars that littered every body part that was left. “They removed them?”

“There are symbols that have been used for centuries to prevent possession.” “So you can tattoo my body and in return, Adron cannot possess me?” I clarified. “Correct.” “Can anyone tattoo these or only you?” “Anyone can tattoo it, but it has to be done with a certain ink.” “What’s in the ink?” I was more of less questioning her to see if she knew what she was talking about. If she would have come sooner, Jet wouldn’t be fighting for his life right now. “Different herbs and spices but hard metals like platinum, hafnium and thallium.”

His hands move to the towel's edge, fingers working the knot with casual confidence. "Wait," I breathe, but I don't mean it. I need this. Need to see him, need to remember what desire feels like when it's not clouded by pain or medical terminology. The terry cloth falls to the floor. My mouth goes dry. He's godlike. Tall and lean and powerfully built, his cock standing proud and thick. Tattoos cover his torso like a roadmap of violence and survival— Russian script across his ribs, geometric patterns down his arms, something that might be prison markings on his knuckles. Scars interrupt the ink in places, pale against bronze skin, telling stories of fights he's survived.