Your Stuck On Me Like A Tattoo の小説・ストーリー

Jane had been staring at the tattoo artist since she walked in. He was tall, covered in tattoos himself, and he had a smirk that told her he had seen and done things that would make her blush. Unlike her, who decided to get a tattoo just tk rebel against her parents. They had caught her at a club and embarrassed her two days ago. She was twenty two for fuck sake. She could club if she wanted to. Well now she wasn't just going clubbing, she would get a tattoo too and maybe even fuck the tattoo artist if he was up for it.

It was now or never and the only way to find out. "I love you too," I closed my eyes and waited for the burn searing in my tattoo. There, a slight burn, quite faint but it ended all too quickly, seared on my left chest. Was that a bad sign or a good sign? I casted my eyes downward to my left chest, to where my tattoo was. I checked surreptitiously to see if it glowed and thankfully, my button up shirt was three buttons undone so my chest was still visible. I frowned when it flickered weakly, like a busted light bulb. Was that supposed to happen? Was that supposed to glow like that? Did the curse break that confession?

The icy blast would’ve made anyone else recoil, but Dante stood there, solid and unmoving, like he was made of stone. His back was a canvas of ink, just like his front. The artwork was nothing short of breathtaking. Spanning across his entire back was a massive, detailed tattoo—an angel, powerful and divine, standing within the ruins of an ancient temple. The wings spread wide across his shoulder blades, reaching toward his arms, while crumbling pillars surrounded the figure in dramatic grayscale contrast. It wasn’t just a tattoo; it was a story, a testament, a work of devotion etched forever into his flesh. It was absolutely beautiful—mesmerizing, even.

"And I already know you are a stubborn one. You should be getting used to it." I roll my eyes to the back of my head simply. "Take me out of here already." Nico chuckles, the sound sending a chill down my spine. "As you wish." He signals to his men, and they quickly pull me from the chair. As we exit the tattoo parlor, I can't help but glance down at the bold, permanent mark on my skin. It's gonna be a constant reminder of my captivity, of Nico's stupid claim over me. I hate him, I hate this situation, and I hate myself for the way my body reacts to his touch.

My eyes dropped before I could stop them. To his back. And that was when my stomach flipped. A tattoo stretched across his shoulder blade, dark against his skin. Not small. Not decorative. It wasn’t something you’d forget once you saw it. The shape wasn’t perfectly clear in the dim light, but the placement was unmistakable. My mind latched onto it immediately. The club. The low lighting. The bodies are half-hidden in shadow. That same broad back. That same build. I had told myself it was impossible. That memory could be unreliable. That desire and fear blurred things together.

The deep velvety of his voice pulled me out of my thoughts, and he stalked closer to me just as I turned off the machine, and got off. “Do you have something else in mind?” “If you're up for it now, we can get that tattoo you want,” For a moment, I was overwhelmed because he remembered, and I'd always wanted to get the tattoo done for a while now. Every time I saw Tymon's name carved into my skin, it was still a constant reminder that I would never be free. “We can do it later if you—” He started but I cut him off. “No, it's fine. I want to do it now,” I sucked in some air.

“What happened to ‘I’ll never stain my skin’?” “Just shut up and do it.” “What do you want inked?” I tugged my pants down. “Whoa, whoa!” “Relax. It’s just my hip.” I met her eyes, voice dropping. “Tattoo the nail print.”

she softly replied, holding him tightly still, not overthinking her actions, putting the time on hold. . . . When she flipped her laptop open, she saw herself on the black screen. Before turning the device on, she halted, looking at the twinkling star on her neck. She had already decided to never take it off. It was too beautiful to be anywhere else. On any other day, she wouldn't have minded for the piece of jewelry, disregarding its beauty for its artificiality and discomfort. But for this star she knew, it would never be looked at nonchalantly. It would sit exactly where he wanted it, until the day she died.

she grinds on her teeth, trying so much not to cry. "those hands, that I always feel secure in are the same hands that gave me the worse experience, the same hands that curse through my skin sending chills of electric sparks now piercing deep into my skin, sending chills of pain all over my being. And even when I beg, and cry and call out for it to stop, it doesn't"

My orgasm crashing through me like wildfire. We collapsed together on the chair. His hand stroked the new tattoo. And I knew it wasn’t just a mark. It was a vow.