Badass Forearm Tattoo Novels & Stories

“Leni, you sure you want a tattoo that size on your forearm? It’s pretty big.” “I’m sorry, you’re questioning the size of ANYONE’S tattoos?” I growl. “Okay, okay!” He holds his hands up in surrender. “You’re in excellent hands. Cason, mindlink me when you get a minute.” “Sure thing, Alpha. I’ll look at my schedule.” Cason says, but he doesn’t look up. He is already drawing on my arm. His face is full of concentration. Three hours later, I admire the stunning tattoo. Justice is already healing it. It looks like when a dragon sheds its scales.

His left arm was carved with symbols and shapes and the right arm was totally clear, not a single tattoo was visible. The most beautiful art was a Greek mythological dragon's head on his left chest that trailed down on the left arm then mixed with other tattoos, and a black rose just between the joint of his neck and shoulder. A shiny gold chain was hanging on his chest that made him look more sexy and delicious. It hurts to look at this marvelous man who is rotten and dangerous from the inside and kidnapped me and then tortured me every day. "Like what you see baby?" He smirked devilishly and leaned forward.

The whole thing left very little to imagination and absolutely nothing to question. The spotlight found the cherry red of her hair first, then the pale stretch of her throat, then the rest of her. The full curves of her chest pressed against the bralette's cups, the soft weight of her stomach, the flare of her hips, all of it moving in that first slow circle around the pole with the unhurried confidence of someone who had never once been ashamed of the space she occupied. The tattoos caught the light in pieces as she moved. A flash of thorns. The curve of a petal. Three letters on her left forearm that read ART in ink so dark it almost disappeared against the shadows.

It took us so long to get her back, I was dreading losing her, but I wouldn’t keep her in the dark about it. Walk into the room and see Joker with a new tattoo on his forearm; it appears to be a symbol and a pattern of something ancient. Something you would think a warrior would choose for himself for protection. All of his tattoos made no sense to anyone but Joker. I doubt anyone would be brave enough to question him. Glancing over at Queenie, I see her left forearm has black lace starting to connect the empty spaces to complete her sleeve. It looked so real, like you could pick it up off her skin.

"I'll be enjoying every moment of it." My cheeks are steaming red and glancing over at Galina, she is also blushing with her gaze downcast. She proffers me her hand and I wordlessly take it as I'm burning with fury inside over the dastard. My eyes catch sight of the tattoo on his muscled upper arm. The black ink of the Christian Cross encircled by a fierce Dragon, made a dramatic striking contrast against his fair skin. Some girls would think it was bad of a guy, however, to me it was bad news about a guy.

Emmeline's fingers trembled as she pushed his off, finally exposing his muscular chest and torso to her eager gaze. Her eyes hungrily drank in the sight of his toned pectorals and defined abdominal muscles. Trailing further down, she took in the sharp V-lines that disappeared tantalizingly beneath his waistband. Her breath caught in her throat as she let her eyes roam back up, tracing the intricate tattoo designs that adorned his powerful arms. The ink swirled in mesmerizing patterns, running from his wrists up to his broad shoulders in a striking display. The artwork seemed to accentuate the curves and ridges of muscle, making his physique even more imposing.

My gaze drops back down his torso, and that's when I notice the tattoos. Five aligned stars on the side of his torso, near his ribs—the largest closest to the center, the others decreasing toward his back. They look like marks of conquest, as if each represents something only he knows. And on his right arm, a thin, precise line, slightly above the elbow, minimalist and geometric, like a discreet reminder that even a man like him has secrets etched into his skin. Holy shit. He's not just attractive — he's dangerous. This guy is pure testosterone.

I’d always wondered why I had brown hair and not blonde. A small smile curved my lips as I turned slightly, letting the light catch the new tattoos on my skin. One traced the edge of my collarbone, curling into an elegant design that looked like inked fire. Another danced down my forearm, bold but beautiful. I loved the way they looked,the way they made me feel,fierce,untouchable,I felt like I was in my badass mode. Like I had become the version of myself that I used to imagine but never dared to be. Matteo had done this for me.

said Tucker, his black plaits hanging down his rippling back. “I will,” offered the tattooed Hayden. Removing his jacket, the delicate inking down his arms was on full display. His forearms were a menagerie of every animal and bird, all gently entwined in delicate ivy and branches. “Oh thank you so much!” Naomi simpered before putting her fists up and bouncing so her tits jiggled. /Unfair advantage right there/ Rush complained remembering how easily we were fooled as teens. Repeatedly.

The love of my life. Silvy The day after Goof proposed and claimed me he took me to Tank's tattoo shop to get my mark. Was I nervous? Hell yes. I was nervous about the entire process. Tank, bless the gentle giant, let me bring Ant in with us. Ant was a hit at the shop. I was a little worried the receptionist might not give him back. It took Tank forty five minutes to finish the work on my shoulder. According to Goof that is the least sexy part of my body. Did it burn? Sure. But not as bad as I thought it would be. I wanted to see what it looked like. Tank stood me in front of his mirror. It was amazing. It looked my the Renegades emblem with a motorcycle driving through the middle of it. A