Bible Verse Tattoos For Guys Novels & Stories

But it wasn't the new wound that caught her attention. “Is that…me?” She inquired about the tattoo beneath the right side of my ribs that showed the silhouette of a girl reading a book. It was a simple collection of lines without detail but we both knew without the specific attributes that it was her. Why the ribs? Because if the Bible speaks true then one was sacrificed to make her possible. “Why were you so cold to me?” She asked while staring at the other tattoos around that one, unable to connect at this moment as they were to do with her.

Then the black tee. Elena watched, mesmerized. Without the suit or the hoodie, the full extent of his ink was visible. A massive vulture was tattooed across his back, its wings stretching to his shoulders. Scars—some from blades, some from bullets—marred his bronze skin like a map of a violent life. "You're staring again, sweetheart," Julian said, stepping toward her. He looked like a pagan god of war. "I've never seen so much of you," she whispered.

Another tattoo: ‘Darkness is real, and it’s the best place to be’ Why would that be the best place to be? “Why are your tattoos sad?” I question, kneading his precious spinous process. “They’re not all sad. Different seasons of my life…” “Were you sad in the past?” He shrugs, a leisurely smile playing on his lips. Another tattoo beneath his neck: ‘Psalm 139:14’ “You’ve got a Bible scripture,” I note out loud. “See. Not all of them are sad. I’ve got two of those.”

He won’t know what’s coming for him. “Peace I leave with you,” my voice boomed into the mic, quieting down the whispers going around the hall. I eyed the paper set in front of me and realised that this was my speech. Skimming through it, I decided against it, pushing it aside before meeting the world in the eyes. “My peace I give to you. Not as the world…giveth; give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither…let it be afraid.” I see the pope nodding his head with a smile of his own, no doubt recognising the script. “John 14;27. My mother’s all-time favourite verse in the Bible,” I bring my hand to my chest, right where my heart is. Above the chain tattoo, I’d tattooed the very same

Feeling even more confident, I moved my hand to the russian script tattooed high on his chest, my fingers brushing against the hard muscle there. "What does it mean?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. He was quiet for a moment, his eyes watching my face. Then he spoke, the Russian words rolling off his tongue with a dark, beautiful grace. Before Axel, I never believed that Russian was the hottest language a man could speak, but in this position I couldn’t agree more. He translated, his voice a low rumble. "Tame the devil. Charge the beast. Don't take your eyes off the angel."

I wanted to caress that ink on his bicep and his sinewy forearms. “Join me.” I licked my lips and swallowed hard. My gaze dropped to what was peeking through his boxers—his tattoo. I moved forward so he could sink in behind me. “The tattoo you have there is interesting.” “It’s inked out of fun.” “What does it mean?” I knew it was written in Japanese. “Keizoku w* chikara nari. Something like, don’t give up.” “I like it.” “Thanks. You’re killing me, you know,” he said with a groan as he joined me. He settled himself in, stretching his legs out on either side of me. He then wrapped his arms around me.

He holds his hands up and backs off. Lola pouts. “Being a girl suck sometimes.” Ryland strips down right in front of me. My gaze lingers on his bare chest. I swallow hard—he’s stunning. The tattoo etched on his stomach catches my eye, pulling my focus away from his sculpted body. It reads ‘Keep fighting.’ Words have never hit me quite as hard as those ones tattooed on his skin. I wonder why those words. What is the meaning behind them? I finally lift my head and look at his face.

He motions towards my tears then to the tiny diamond ring lying on the napkin. "I'm okay," I slowly assure the stranger. My words do not sound believable. I turn away, wiping more tears from my cheeks. Thoughts of John enter my mind. His sandy blonde hair pulled into a man-bun on top and freshly shaven on the sides and back. Him shirtless as he loved others to witness the rewards of his hard work at the gym. Him proudly crossing his arms across his chest, drawing attention to the dragon with skull tattoo and full sleeves as he strides toward me. His washboard abs flexing, drawing attention to his low-riding jeans. With each step, his abdominal tattoo, ‘Take No Prisoners,’ flashing like a neo

My mouth began going down from kissing his neck to that strong broad chest, my eyes were closed but then I looked up to catch his expression after he held back a groan in his throat, but my eyes landed on his chest who welcome me with a new tattoo, I brushed my fingers on the ink, This tattoo was a combination of words which I knew was Spanish, those words were completing a circle and huge deadly snake was printed between them, starting from Amor (Love), Escapar (Escape), Desamor (Heartbreak), Venganza (Revenge), Misión (Mission), I could few words of it. “What is this, Armando,” I examined the details of that horrific tattoo, my eyes couldn’t move from it, It was obvious from some words tha

“Your tattoos are beautiful.” I look at the tattoo of a skull surrounded by black flames. My whole right arm is decorated with tattoos from shoulder to wrist. My skin prickles with every caress of her fingers, but I don’t stop her from touching me. The tattoo sleeve has several tribal symbols, and there are a seal trident and a frogman tattoo on my shoulder. Each tattoo represents something in my life. The skull represents my status as an Assassin, and the cross is a play on my name. Her finger moves down the line of my intricate cross, then to the inside of my rib cage, where I have an inscription. Qui velit, ut vivat in aeternum.