Undertaker Sara Tattoo Novels & Stories

He was a famous professional wrestler aliased as Undertaker. “Rebonded Undertaker,” she thought to herself. “Why we sittin’ here, playin’ then?” asked Fakey as he eyed Undertaker. “Shouldn’t we start movin’ ‘em goods?” “You retarded, kid?” Undertaker glared at him. “Who the fuck ships ‘em goddamn goods in broad daylight, huh?” A woman standing behind Fakey smacked his head. “We movin’ tonight, stupid rookie.” “Ow!” Fakey scratched his head.

She pressed herself against the wall, peeking through the gap. Father Zerus stood with his back to her, his cassock already on the floor, his broad shoulders bare. He was reaching for a clean shirt when she saw it—the tattoo that covered his left shoulder blade. It is a serpent, coiled around a dagger, its scales , its eyes burning with an inner fire. The dagger was stained with drops of blood, and beneath it, a single word was etched in elegant script: Sosa. Krystal's blood turned to ice. The club. The night she had been so drunk she could barely stand. The man she had walked into, the man whose hand she had grabbed, dragging him through the crowd. The man she had kissed before he had pushe

“Urghh!” I grumbled out of frustration as I watch the tattooed stranger drive out of my street. The jerk made me beg him for sex only to turn me down, apparently he had a child to take care of and couldn’t stay but still didn’t make any attempt to ask for my number or even give his, such a jerk. I hissed and headed inside my tiny apartment, the emptiness welcomed me once again. It’s always been just me ever since Henry got hospitalized, we lived together after my graduation.

When I cut my wrists, I sent the undertaker I hired my exact location. [It’s 304, Unit 1, Garden Road. Don’t get it wrong now. [Be sure to come two hours later.] Half a month ago, I learned that I had cancer, so I went online to hire an undertaker and asked him to provide the full service. I also asked him to come whenever I asked him to. The older generation always said that you had to be properly buried, or you would not be able to rest in peace, and I believed it.

Nate's hold on my hand tightens into a grip. Gosh, Killer is so massive. The side of his forehead is plastered with a bandage dotted with a large red stain, which is obviously blood. His upper lip is split, the bruise now swollen with a purple colouration. A long straight scar runs from the left side of his mouth up towards his earlobe. He is shirtless, his black tattoos covering every inch of the skin of his neck and chest and shoulders and abdomen. His tattoos make me wonder why Nate doesn't have even one. I thought it is like a formal tradition for all fighters to have at least two or more tattoos on their bodies. But damn, this guy's tattoos are like legions of dark ink crawling all over

She had reached her goal and was now the Bellator champion. An arm encircled her waist with a familiar hand pulling her into his side. Instinctively, Taz reached down and touched the tattoo on his outer wrist. A small bill of sale declaring that his body, heart and soul had been sold to the Devil herself. Linking her fingers with his, she played with his titanium wedding band. Running through the center was a rainbow in support of his daughter. Beneath the ring, in the style of her trademark rainbow braids, TAZ was tattooed on his ring finger.

Is he naturally built like this? Sasha steps backward to give me the full picture. I see stars on his knees that match his shoulders. He twists, showing the rugged expanse of his back. I was right: it's a church inscribed over his shoulder blades and spine. It's lovely, but above it is the terrifying image of a spider. "Ulyana told me about the tattoos in the Bratva," I say. Inching off the desk, I approach him. He remains where he is, watching me over his shoulder. My hand touches one of the stars. "What do these all mean?"

“That tattoo on your neck was the same as hers. The exact same, no difference. I would remember that tattoo even if I was dead.” I stared, still not knowing what else to say. I had never felt strongly about anything as I’d felt about this. But where was the evidence to prove I might have not been responsible for Zara’s death? And the same tattoo? No one had my tattoo. No one. It was the inking of me as an angel dressed in black and wielding a gun and a knife, and next to it was a star. The word ‘death’ was inked on one of the wings while black stars were inked dripping like tears from the other wing.

Sara frowned as she followed the smell, her senses sharp and her body ready, however, instead of a body, she found the strangest of things. Symbols on the wall, all drawn in blood, demonic blood, but that wasn’t the part that shocked her, it was the familiar symbols that took the form of a large circle with a dote in the middle, they were the same she saw tattooed on the faces of those of who attacked Nara long ago, one of them being her brother.

The bitch is supporting his son and the others in doing this so he can go to hell for all I care. "The decorated one." Shade says nodding to the stencil in Rux's right hand. Mr. Rux beams and hands the stencil over to the tattoo artist. The bald man with a bushy beard is covered in tattoos and seems to in his fifties. He doesn't spare the chains around my wrist a glance as he grabs my forearm and twists it so that the underside of it faces upwards. All business, he shaves and cleans where the tattoo will be. He places the stencil so it begins right beneath the crease between my forearm and arm. I stay still. If this is going to happen then I at least don't want it to be a shitty tattoo. It'l