Bible Verse Forearm Tattoos Novels & Stories

Realizing that she shouldn't push Abihirt, when she knew there was a wet stitch wound there—still visibly reddened, probably causing her husband pain and needing more serious time to calm down. "Didn't I tell you to rest at home?" While taking a position right next to Abihirt. Barbara never left her husband's body. When the man's right arm bent to just touch the wound on the shoulder, the tightly packed muscles stood out firmly. There was another purpose, however, in which Barbara was a little curious about the meaning of her husband's new tattoo. Just a petal—less and thorny sprig, which could be interpreted literally to mean a rose.

"Do you know that this is the second life I've lived? In my previous life, Katherine died. You had thugs break my legs, locked Adrian and me in the basement, and even let wild dogs tear at Adrian's body. In the end, you tortured both Adrian and me to death. "Now I've been reborn. Since fate has given me a second chance at life, it clearly didn't intend for me to repeat the same mistakes. Don't worry, I'll make you pay back every bit of the suffering I endured in my past life, step by step." After hearing my words, Gabriel suddenly felt a sharp pain in his head. He writhed on the ground, clutching his head in agony. When the convulsions finally stopped and he regained consciousness, he looked

Written in Greek scripture were the words "If I must be owned, at least chain me to someone who will let me fly free." Adrastus took in a sharp breath, his nose flaring, all sense of humor wiped from his face as he looked intensely at her. "What.did.you.say?" And April realized she must have spoken out loud, her brow furrowed in confusion as she thought to herself ' know how to translate Greek scripture?' "The tattoo, on your neck, it says If I must be owned, at least chain me to someone who will let me fly free." Adrastus' pale blue eyes seemed to get swallowed up in a dark black storm as his body trembled, heat pulsing from him like a raging fire.

His outfit was completed with sneakers that matched the colour of his jeans. I could see the ink that covered his right arm. It was from his wrist leading up to the length of his arm and disappearing under the sleeve of his shirt. I could make out some of the images. I saw a rose with a name scribbled on the stem, Jesus Christ with his hands clasped, and some teardrops flowing from his eyes. I never thought about tattoos being sexy, but looking at his, I got an uneasy feeling in my stomach.

“The one I cut on the back?” I blinked at her. “You mean the little asswipe with the shitty tattoo who wanted to fuck up my pretty face with his brass knuckles? Yeah, I’m fairly positive I don’t care if he’s okay. But from the way he lit out of there like his tail was on fire, I’d say he’s just fine.” “It wasn’t a shitty tattoo,” she mumbled. “It was the eye of Horus. Some thought it was a symbol to ward off evil, but it’s actually supposed to symbolize healing.”

I took my hand back and muttered a sorry. Let him hold her today. I thought. The moon was shinning brilliantly through the curtains of the cloud and the light was falling on Damien's right arm which was completely tattooed. I don't know if he has tattoos on his back and chest but as much I have seen only his right arm is tattooed and his left arm is free of them.

“Right there. Your name and music notes on either side. Maybe some little butterflies.” “Are you serious, Reb? That’s permanent, you know.” “I know. You don’t want me to?” She traced a tattoo on his forearm with one finger. It showed a dagger through a skull. It was a beautiful piece of art, but masculine. “Would you rather I get one that matches yours?” “I would love my name permanently etched on your sexy little back. I could stare at it while…” He lifted her shirt and took a peek at the area in question. “Damn…” he said breathlessly and gave himself a little shake. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”

A few faint bruises lingered along my ribs from the gym, reminders that I didn’t know how to pull punches, even with myself. Across my left shoulder blade ran a thick scar, pale and uneven, slashing diagonally down toward my spine. I traced it absently with my fingertips, the skin raised but familiar. Eight years old, I thought, remembering the crash. The burning metal. The sound of my mother’s voice before everything went white. It never fully healed right, but it had stopped hurting long ago. Tattoos covered much of what the scar didn’t, black ink coiling down my arms in deliberate, measured symmetry. Script in Latin along one forearm read Vincit qui se vincit, He conquers who conquers him

Finding his gaze unnerving, she instantly flickered her gaze down. Her cheeks flushed when she realized he wasn’t wearing any shirt. His rugged body resembled a canvas. A number of tattoos spread across his tanned chest. There was a tattoo of a serpent designed on his upper left chest and the other side had roman numbers written on it. Her eyes traveled down his bulging biceps and paused at a tattoo that caused her a tinge of discomfort. Her eyes widened slightly when she noticed the evil symbol, a sigil of Baphomet branded on his bicep. Being a devotee of god, the discovery scandalised her. Why would anyone get that? Not a moment later, she realized it wasn’t the only one, he also had an un

It's breathtaking. Cass stirs behind me. He pulls me tighter against him and groans as he slowly moves his hips against me, his c-ck semi-hard already. I make the mistake of looking down at his arm where he holds me only to catch sight of the tattoo on my forearm saying 'wh-re'. I tense and whimper as I have a flash back to the tattoo being applied. Cass quickly rolls me onto my back and hovers over me. He wipes away the tear that escaped and asks, "What's wrong, angel? How can I help?"