Trafalgar Law Tattoos Novels & Stories

The fiery burn lingered in my throat. "Nothing's wrong with being a gentleman, but pretending to be one just to impress women doesn't make you one." I smirked, taking another swig of whiskey. I surveyed his outfit, taking in every detail. He wore a vivid red shirt left open to showcase a muscular chest inked with a roaring lion whose fiery orange mane seemed to reach beyond his skin. Leonardo. Lion-hearted. That tattoo made perfect sense. A golden cross lay nestled atop the lion's mane, glinting in the light like a beacon of faith. It was clear that Leonardo wore his heart on his sleeve. His was a tattooed visual representation of his inner fire.

Somehow, I see him having a problem with authority. He slips off his leather jacket, sets it down beside him, and sticks his left arm back. The tattoo I noticed when first meeting him is now clearly visible this close up. It's a golden eagle with wide-spread wings standing on top of an anchor, with the words Semper Fidelis above it, and US Marines beneath it in the same flowing script. "You were seriously a Marine?" Tobe asks, staring at his tattoo in awe. "That's so...hot." We all stare at her in surprise. Tobe rarely offers her own opinion, and she certainly doesn't call a man hot. She usually just sits in quiet thought, waiting for the shots to be made without her. She's a follower, but t

“Revenge? That would be tempting Erik, but I prefer not. However, I do would like to forgive you if you answer my question earlier.” He raised a brow for a moment and then something dawned on him. “You sly vixen,” his stated playfully, “You want me to talk about my tattoo?” I nodded while keeping my mouth zipped, trying to give him puppy-dog eyes. I wasn’t sure if it was intentional but he heaved a deep, really deep breath before started answering me. “This tattoo shows my rank in my father’s Bratva. It shows that I am family and basically his eventual successor if I hadn’t escaped.”

At his back was a symbol that they were all familiar with. Ah, it's not just a symbol that caught their attention, at the side of him was a proudly standing flag that symbolizes their country. A familiar thirteen horizontal stripes, seven red alternating with white, and countless stars that seems to represent a new constellations. One of them, stunned and awestruck, can't help but exclaim in a form of a whisper, "What the… isn't that?" ["Thank you for your participation, officers of the Vyseni's and PSIA's most cherished squad, SPADE, and especially to you, Archilles Callisto, commander-in-chief. My name is Stanley Laurel II."]

Xander snarls, rejecting her explanation, too angry to see beyond it. “The Order of Three, but those that know about it call it the order.” She unzips her jacket, and her friends match her movements, moving in unison. Together, they pull their collar away from their necks, revealing a tattoo where a mate mark should sit. A triple moon is etched into the skin with black ink. The center moon has a key and arrow crossed with a paw sitting in the center, holding the components in place.

His pecs, sharp shoulder blades, and overbearing biceps look like a drawing of the perfect specimen of a man. I no longer think he got the body he has from lifting weights in the state pen, or whatever prison he came from—not that I know any ex-cons. Alessio's body looks more like an athlete's. His muscles are too defined to belong to someone who only loves working out. His tattoos are just as captivating. On his left arm is a swirl of roses, perfect for a wedding bouquet. His pec on the same side has the tattoo of the Scarfoni family crest. It's a Viking-style sea dragon with the sword of Myrridin going down the center. Myrridin was their Viking ancestor and one of the twelve founding Knigh

She looked down, and her face turned red when she realized that they both were lying naked, wrapped in the sheets. She looked above and found Raf was sleeping peacefully while embracing her in his muscular arms. She kept admiring his calm expressions, and suddenly, while doing that, her gaze fell over his mark. “Wow,” a word escaped from her mouth when she found a beautiful mark on the right side of his collarbone. She bends forward and examines the tattoo. It was a beautiful mark with a silver outline. In between the tattoo, a wolf was standing with a crown over his head. At the bottom, Royal Blackthorn Clan written with their names (Rafael and Saraya) engraved at the end. Saraya took her f

I whispered, “You were amazing.” He pulled back and beamed at me. “Did you see my roll? And—and how I dodged and flipped him?” “I did! I don’t even think I could have done that,” I laughed, brushing his hair from his face. He puffed his chest. “The warriors say I’m strong. That I’m brave.” I kissed his forehead. “You are. You always have been.” He held up his arm, showing me a fresh tattoo inked onto his forearm. A beautiful phoenix with its wings spread in mid-flight as it stood in flames.

My gaze drifted unconsciously to his collarbone. There was a new tattoo there. Red, still swollen from being freshly inked, but unmistakable. It was my name. The characters were rendered in the most ancient, wild cursive form of script, like an old, binding sigil. My fingers trembled as I touched it. “When did you… get this?” Henry caught my hand and rubbed it gently against his palm. “Last night, after you fell asleep.” “Did it hurt?” “It was better that it hurt.” His eyes darkened, and a satisfied smile curved his lips.

He took a deep breath, his chest rising slowly. When he was finally naked, the contrast between his refined aura and the body marked by maritime tattoos became impossible to miss. Across his chest, a map intertwined with a compass; on his left arm, an anchor plunging into rough seas, wrapped in a ribbon that read “Mother” at the top and a date engraved beneath; on his other arm, an old-style ship, as if lifted straight from pirate tales. Symbols of direction, loss, and belonging—ones few people knew how to read.