Chrysanthemum Hand Tattoo Novels & Stories

He looked at me before pulling out what was inside the bag. It was a box. He opened it. I gasped as my eyes stayed focused on the matching bracelet with tulips engraved on it on every side. My cheeks heated up. He grabbed my wrist and lifted it in front of him. I stared at him as he fixed one of them around my wrist. I stared at him as he did so. I smiled. He looked up after he was done. He handed me his and placed his hand in front of me. I smiled as I opened the lock. Fixed it around his hand. He already has a tulip tattoo on his wrist.

My fingers ached to explore the sculpted lines, the subtle indentations, to trace the hidden contours of his body, to delve into the unspoken depths of his soul. I reached out, my hand drawn as if by an invisible force, my fingertips lightly tracing the intricate tattoo that adorned his right bicep. The inked design, a complex tapestry of swirling lines and ancient symbols, stood out in stark relief against the rich, bronze tone of his skin. He shivered slightly at the delicate touch, a subtle, involuntary response that sent a thrilling jolt of awareness coursing through me, a tangible sign of the power I held over him. I lingered on the intricate pattern, following the sweeping lines and in

Her mesmerizing and radiant beauty and the graceful curve of her figure, a captivating silhouette, drew his gaze like a moth to a flame. Her eyes, akin to liquid emerald pools, shimmered in the light, and he found himself ensnared in her eyes – where he felt the intoxicating pull of drowning within their captivating depths. Yet, it was the way she ogled at him that stole his breath away. Her eyes fixated on his tattoos, drawn to the intricate details inked into his skin. On his left arm, the Celtic Knot work with Fangs unfolded a captivating narrative, where fangs seamlessly blended with ancient Celtic motifs. The Veins and Blood tattoo, like a river of life, traced mesmerizing paths within

Chills ran down my spine because that smell was familiar, and my eyes dropped on the small table by my bed. My breath hitched seeing a single chrysanthemum. This time, the color was purple. Its petals gleamed from the dawn light, the stem looked like it was freshly cut, and on it, there was a note tied. I immediately clenched my hands after locking the door. How on earth was he able to get into my quarters and always bestow me with my single flower with a different hidden color meaning? Chrysanthemum was supposed to elevate my feelings because it was my favorite flower, but this stalker always made me feel like I must start to hate it.

" 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

’ And immediately, even though, to my surprise, I want him to kiss me, I pressed my palms even harder against his chest before he could kiss me, and whispered, “F-Felix….I have; I need to ask you something.” He paused, but did not look alarmed. My eyes glanced from his deeply piercing silvery grey eyes, before moving back to the tattoos around his chest. Some of them are names, embedded in what looks like my favorite flowers. Right on the one drawn to his left breast, I can see the words, Hazel eyes, drawn intricately into a dahlia bud. My fingers traced the artwork slowly, like it’s a map, before it stops directly on his beating heart. I can feel the organ beat powerfully against my fingers

Almost as if he styled it that way. The delicate tattoos that wrap around his wrist then spread down the backside of his hands. This is only the second time I've really noticed them. I grabbed his wrist and his purr stopped. I twisted his hand so I could see the back side of it. My eyes raked over the delicate tattoo. It was almost as if he was wearing a bracelet, it wrapped around his whole wrist. It was gorgeous and beautiful. Not manly, the lines weren't thick, no extravagant filled in areas. Just thin light swirls and lines around his wrist then down the top of his hand and onto the first knuckle of each finger.

His hair was wet, and he had nothing but boxers on. I had a vivid view of his tattoos. Adorning his back was a fierce-looking wolf, jaws agape and poised to seize its prey. On his chest, a heart ensnared in thorny vines bled profusely, the tendrils winding their way to a blossoming rose, seemingly coloured by the lifeblood drawn from the heart. Positioned on the left side of his chest was a strikingly fierce yet captivating eagle. Additional intricate designs adorned his arms, crafted with bold strokes of black ink. The well-defined muscles accentuated the synergy between his movements and the artistic lines. I found myself pondering about the talented artist behind these captivating creatio

Sick sick sick Morana, so sick. ‘Oh but we’re not sick. Just look at him.’ My wolf purred along my dirty thought. Running my gaze through the tattoos drew on him, that beautified his manly appearance, my mouth watered at the sight. At his upper trunk around his neck was a crossed feathery tattoo, with the word “Pure” written and carved underneath. Visible from the sides of his shoulder was the bottom of a rose flower that was drawn up his broad shoulder. His arms, the both of them were covered in different tattoos, ones my eyes could caught. There was a splitted dagger among the drawings, a broken heart, a crescent moon, marks I have no idea what it represents.

“It’ll come back when you’re ready.” “Maybe,” she said. Then, as if remembering something, her eyes widened a little. “Actually, there’s one thing.” He straightened instantly. “What is it?” Naomi frowned in concentration, her brows knitting. “A tattoo. I remember seeing it. On their hand, I think. Or their wrist.” Damon’s chest went tight. “A tattoo?” “Yes.” She bit her lip, trying to recall. “It was small… maybe a butterfly? Blue wings. The light hit it just before I fell.”