Tattoo Science Fiction Novels & Stories

The click of the seatbelt seems to seal me into his control. He slams the door shut with a deafening clap, his powerful frame filling the car as he starts the engine. My eyes are drawn to the intricate symbol tattoos adorning his bulging muscles, and I cannot help but feel both intimidated and mesmerised by them as they start to writhe and twist, moving across his skin as if alive. “Why do your tattoos move?” I whisper, my face unconsciously inching closer to his. His dark eyes meet mine, sending a shiver down my spine. “They’re ruins,” he answers gravely. “Tobin cast them to ward off dark magic.” I can’t tear my gaze away from the pulsating marks on his skin. “But why do they move?” I wonde

The lights flickered. “Do you feel that?” she whispered. Kian’s jaw tightened. “Keep going.” Her tattoos — the ones across her own arms — began to shimmer faintly through the gloves. The crescent on her wrist pulsed in sync with the design she was drawing on him. “Stop,” Kian said suddenly, voice rough. “That’s enough.” She lifted the needle. The symbol was unfinished, but it glowed faintly before fading into his skin. “What the hell was that?” she demanded.

He remained still and often engaged in a small chat with me to show that he was all right for I was a bit agitated as I scanned the way his skin bruised and bled. When she wipes away the excess drops of his blood in completion I examine the tattoo over his red puffed skin. It consists of a total of four elements beginning with a wide circle and inside the circle are two equally beautiful but distinct flowers and one crown. Perhaps from an outsider's view, it would seem like a feminine design one that females would prefer and definitely not Phobos. But he said there was a meaning behind it and I am utterly interested. "Thank you. I shall return in a few days to get the rest finished."

Here is the beginning of me, you, and our beloved child Here is the beginning of a new round of great love for you my princess I promise I will never abandon you I promise I will never make you sad I swear that I love you more than anything or anyone in this wide world And that I will keep my little family with love until the day I lose my soul in it Telling you that you are the only ones who fill my eyes, and who make me love the days I live more It's bad to make me so real..too bad. In the end, they realized the reason why tattoos did not appear from the beginning is that they cannot transform.. their tattoos will appear if they are tattooed just like omega wolves

A voice said. I looked up and saw someone with the same dark handsome look as Nicholas, however this particular person looked like a complete rebel. He was dressed in an expensive looking leather jacket and tight black jeans. He had this mischievous look in his eyes and a crooked smile. His hair was deep black and he had a tattoo from his bare neck down his neck line. He had rings on practically every finger and a necklace with a skull pendant. He was muscular and looked good, like he was concerned with his looks, however it didn't look like he was on good terms with Nicholas.

Then, I saw him standing by a door to a room, or somewhere. He had taken off his shirt. His upper body appeared bigger. They were tattoos all over his back, his trousers hung low on his waist, dangerously low. I could run my hands through this type of body all day without getting tired. He was receiving a phone call. He was immensely focused. I stood still, waiting for him to finish. His words didn’t make sense at first, until it got to the part where he said: “She doesn’t know a thing. I have it all under control… In the end everything will be mine.” His words made me tremble.

There, just like his brother and Taryk sported, was a new tattoo etching itself into his skin. Rushing over to Lukas, I reached down with one hand to steady myself against him as I leaned down to inspect Scarlet's upper chest. Instead of the heavy black lines that marked the guys, hers was almost delicate. Done in silvers and whites, it reminded me of an acid etched mirror. Her skin just happened to be the canvas. I looked over the room. Swallowed as something dawned on me. "Lukas, why are we the only ones who aren't still passed out?"

He thought again, "sinuous, dangerous and supremely sexual." One tattoo in particular was prominent and drew the eye; it was a bright red "slut stamp" very low on her lower back that was repeated low on her belly, just above the pubic mound. It said, in both locations, "Candy Slut to Paulo Zero." The words of the tattoo were in a pre-Columbian language that Barnes would never have a hint of. In addition, like a Bay area poster from the psychedelic era the tat's lettering was very stylized, even if it was in English it would be near impossible to read. Some English word fragments were visible in the edging and lines of the distorted shapes. Incorporated into the tat were sexual images and tri

My fingers ached to explore the sculpted lines, the subtle indentations, to trace the hidden contours of his body, to delve into the unspoken depths of his soul. I reached out, my hand drawn as if by an invisible force, my fingertips lightly tracing the intricate tattoo that adorned his right bicep. The inked design, a complex tapestry of swirling lines and ancient symbols, stood out in stark relief against the rich, bronze tone of his skin. He shivered slightly at the delicate touch, a subtle, involuntary response that sent a thrilling jolt of awareness coursing through me, a tangible sign of the power I held over him. I lingered on the intricate pattern, following the sweeping lines and in

There is no point in doing anything right now so I keep quiet. The whole place is filled with scary-looking tattoed dudes. Bored, I started noticing the scary guy's tattoos. It's a skull, a red skull with wings and a cross. The tattoo is bright and dull at the same time. The cross it clutches seems more like a trophy than a symbol of hope, stained with a history whispered only in faded scars. Bright and dull, a paradox mirroring the struggle between survival and surrender. Art sure is fascinating. Someone walked up to him just then. He looks me up and down, "who is this, chick."