Biblical Forearm Tattoos Novels & Stories

He was still asleep. I slipped back into the bed beside him. That’s when I realized—he was burning up. Sweat dampened his chest despite the cold. His bare chest glistened under the dim light. My fingers hovered over the black raven tattoo on his left breast, its wings spread wide, claws clutching a broken crown like it had conquered something… or lost everything. “What does it mean?” I asked myself in a hushed voice. “I’ve never really looked at you this way. But now, it’s all starting to make sense. The date on your forearm…”

Like the weird kind of staring that makes you feel like you have something on your face or something in your teeth. “What are you all staring at?” I query. Rian snaps out of whatever fucking trance he’s in and is by my side looking at me weird too. "Baby, when did you get a tattoo on your arm?" Huh? I look down to see what looks like a tattoo on my right forearm of what looks like a sword covered in vines. It's beautiful and intricately done. "Huh, well it looks like this is the blessing from the Goddesses," I murmur.

As he turned back toward her, something caught her eye. A mark on his left forearm, faint and partially hidden beneath the edge of his sleeve. When he lifted his arm, the fabric slipped just enough for the ink to show. A tattoo. Not decorative. Not artistic. Sharp lines. Clean angles. A symbol. Her breath stalled. She had seen that mark before, in Damon’s documents. The same emblem next to covert operatives assigned to missions with no civilian disclosure. She didn’t think so. She didn’t breathe. “Kai,” she whispered, her voice thin, “what is that?”

" Yes of course." " Okay, get ready cause is long..." He said why putting down his food. " Okay firstly, I have one on my chest a wing tattoo which signifies liberty for me. On my forearm, the word GO is written in capital letters cause I love traveling. On my right bicep a big moon representing darkness, on my thorax a rose surrounded with thorns representing the lovely but difficult relationship with my mom. Here,( showing me his left hand) three birds on the back of my left hand representing freedom of choice. On my left-right arm my name written in Chinese, this one, I have done it in Japan during one of my trips. On my left palm a roaring lion representing power. On my right middle fing

I wasn't sure whether it was cooking or spell-casting, but she seemed fairly busy with it. I pulled my right sleeve back and exposed my inner forearm. I already had two other marks there, one a circle, the other a square with runes and other symbols in them. I cleaned a bare area with rubbing alcohol then applied a bit of ointment. I twisted off the lid to the ink. I could smell the musky metallic scent of it. It was some creature's blood mixed with metal to help the tattoo settle. I dipped the needles in the ink then stabbed myself in the arm repeatedly.

I stopped. The tattoos I'd been catching fragments of for weeks were finally visible in their entirety, and they were — extensive. Dark ink covering both arms nearly to the wrists, climbing his chest and shoulders, wrapping around his back in patterns I couldn't fully read from here. A skull on his forearm, a snake threading through the eye socket, dark red and black. Words in Russian across his ribs — I could see them but not read them at this distance. On his chest, above his heart, a single phrase in Cyrillic I could just make out:

Smith said and Diana scoffed and they both sat on rocks. " Whatever! I just want him to bind me with that spirit beast he has, I really love them and besides Smith i am noticing something's about you, What is that Mark on your back and your hand, I am really shocked right now " Diana asked and Smith smirked. " Well The tattoo at my back is what I don't really know, This tattoo on my hand is what they call the mark of Amargeedon, I am a seed of Armageddon and it is said that once a seed of Armageddon is marked... Then there is a great war approaching while the wolf tattoo on my back is what I was born with and I don't know what it signifies at all " Smith said taking of his Shirt and revealin

"Drink." I drank. It burned. My eyes watered. "Oh my God." "You'll survive." He finally sat down. One stool away. Close enough that I could see the tattoos on his forearms properly now – a date inked in delicate script on the inside of his wrist, a constellation I didn't recognize on his inner forearm, something that looked like a woman's handwriting curling up toward his elbow. Stories written on skin. I wanted to read every single one.

Being claimed by an Alpha of his strength while my body was already weakened by the heat had left me more sore than I wanted to admit. As I stood there in the dim light of the corridor, my mind involuntarily flashed back to the first time I’d gone to Damon’s room for help. I remembered the ink on his skin. It had been mesmerizing—thorny vines wrapping around his neck, dark symbols on his forearms. But it was his back that haunted me. He had skeletal wings tattooed across his shoulder blades, intricate and macabre. And right down his spine, there was a line of cursive script. I hadn't been able to read it then, but the image of it was burned into my mind.

"But seriously, did you see his abs? Like, I've seen fit guys before but that was... that was art. That was a sculpture. That was…" "A religious experience," Veronica finished. "And don't even get me started on his arms. The definition, the veins, the way the tattoos seemed to move under those rolled up sleeves." "On his ribs. You could see them when he stretched. Some kind of tribal design going down his side." Veronica fanned herself dramatically. "I wanted to trace them with my tongue." I choked on air.