Female Small Sternum Tattoo Novels & Stories

At least he had a shirt on that day. Then something caught my eye. On his left pec, near his heart, there was now a tattoo. Unconsciously I stepped forward so I could get a closer, better look at the newly designed tattoo. It was the name 'Baby B' in cursive italics. Under the name were two red roses in the form of an 'x'. My fingers were itching to touch the newly done tattoo but I knew better.

It’s like a really faint tattoo without the ink. I shut the water off so I can look at it closely. It’s an infinity mark with a single vertical band running around the middle, and two dots on both ends of the band.

But here… everything was perfect, incredible! I actually liked the design. It consisted of a beautiful, intricate ornament intertwined with flexible stems of some plants and flowers. Although there were no actual flowers—only closed buds, one of which stood out especially large. Looking myself over more carefully, I discovered another tattoo at the very bottom of my stomach, starting just below my belly button and trailing downward, crossing over my pubic area and… oh gods! Down there! What a scandal! And those buds again! Though honestly, in the overall design, it was actually quite pretty.

Gianna gazed down at her wrist, looking at the small tattoo she got in her teenage years. It was a dandelion, some of the seeds scattered as if blown by the wind, forming a small musical note. Nothing about the drawing was unique, as surely, a lot of women already had the same tattoo as hers now. She had been thinking about erasing it many times over but decided not to. The black ink looked good in her milky skin, but she would rather it stayed hidden.

But then again, is there even an age limit for it? James' hands trail down her waist to rest on her hips, over the strings of her red bikini bottom... And is that a tattoo? Just below the string on her left hip is a distorted drawing. I squirm my eyes to try and make it out. From this distance, it looks like an arrow piercing through a heart. Sandra or is it, Samantha, rocks her hip into mine, taking my attention away from Celestine and James. "I want you," she whispers. "Let's go up to your room."

Then her eyes landed on a very small cursive writing on the left side of his chest. She squinted her eyes so she could see it clearly. Then her eyes widened. 'ARIEON' was written on it with little hearts and a small sun. Why would he tattoo my name to his body? Especially on his left chest?, she thought as she looked back at him. He looked so beautiful and innocent while he slept. She couldn't believe she was still in love with him. I'll still love you even if you'll never love me, a tear slipped down her cheek as she traced the tattoo with her fingers.

When she finally stepped out, droplets sliding down her thighs, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were still flushed, her lips slightly swollen from biting them too hard. Her eyes were glassy with something unspoken. And when she turned, she saw it again — the mark on her left hip. A tattoo - like crest. Etched into her skin like a brand. It shimmered faintly in the light, elegant yet powerful. A circular sigil framed by olive leaves and ancient runes, with an owl perched atop a spear pointed downward, its wings wrapped protectively around the circle.

When we’d gotten back, Justin had gotten a tattoo of a barn owl on his left bicep, and he’d had them weave in the letter S on its wing. Leaning in closer, I slide the sleeve of his t-shirt up so I can see it, making him laugh around his forkful of casserole. Every time I see it, it makes my heart skip a beat. The muscled bicep certainly doesn’t hurt. I trace my finger along the S and feel his body still next to mine.

I whispered. Tristan was quiet for a long moment. “Neither did I,” he said. The silence returned, but again, it wasn’t hollow. When she finished, Demi handed me a smaller mirror. The butterfly sat right above my shoulder blade, wings open and reaching upward. The initials that were nestled in the center were almost delicate, like a whisper. A quiet tribute to a soul that never took a breath but would always live inside me. “It’s perfect,” I whispered. Tristan leaned closer, brushing a kiss just below the tattoo. “They would’ve been perfect, too.”

As in steaming-mounth-watering-panty dropping eyes popping out of my head-hot. Ryder's tattoos are on display. The viper wrapping itself around his right forearm is detailed and absolutely stunning. I can't see the word I know is tattooed above his right knee. Nor do I see the same word under Jem's collar bone when his back is too me. I absently trace the word on the left side of my ribcage the "A" starting right where my breast ends. My fingers pass over the cursive and four stars spread out around the letters. I was the only one who got the stars the others complaining it was too feminine for them. Huffing out a breath I take the last steps and head to the kitchen isle slipping onto a bars