Half Sleeve Tattoos Forearm Female Novels & Stories

She sighs with relief and closes her eyes as I soap up her arms and legs. After a moment, she sits back and gazes into my eyes before she takes the sponge from me and slides her hand across my tattooed forearm. “You have tattoos?” She asks with fascination. Nodding my head, I slide my hand from under hers and lower the sleeves. It’s not that I’m embarrassed by them. I’m just not ready to reveal their intimate nature.

I also noticed his tattoos stretching from his wrist to his neck to his other wrist. It reminded me of Ace and how his sleeve stops near his shoulder where as this guy had both arms covered. "Do you like my tattoos?" he pulled up his sleeve, showing me more of the tattoos. "Yeah, they're cool" I commented, not trying to come off as flirty.

So she definitely goes to the gym and doesn’t sit on stupid diets. Devouring the beauty with my eyes, I suddenly notice an unexpected detail. “You have a tattoo?” I nod toward the brunette’s arm, and she immediately runs her other hand over it, as if checking whether the image is still there. On the inside of her forearm there was an image of a black panther, gracefully creeping forward, baring its teeth in a predatory stare. “Oh, yes,” Ann looks at me shyly, smiling. “I have tattoos too. A lot.” “I can see that,” the girl shifts her gaze to my neck and swallows strangely. And more than anything in the world I want her lips to be there on my neck instead of her eyes.

“Or am I not allowed to call you that anymore?” “Let’s work back to the nicknames. The indecisiveness you both have about being friends with me has given me emotional whiplash. The tattoos seem to be an addition to the spell, but only for you five. I got a matching one, too.” I hold up my wrist showing the cuff I now have with a crescent moon layer as the outer edges, quarter moon bands just inside that, then half moon bands with a full moon band in the center. As I look at mine, the moons get progressively bigger, like the full moons are closer to me. “None of the warriors got a tattoo to go with their protection bracelet.” “How many times have you done this spell?” “

The thing that made her different from the rest of the Sisters of Selene though, is not that a hood didn’t cover half of her face. No, what truly set her apart from the rest was the tattoo that was on her face. It was a bunch of lines, so dark that you could almost never tell what other features was left on her face. There were only a few empty spaces, just enough so I could tell that she had tanned skin. Oddly enough, as close as she got to me, and once she was seated on the egg chair, I could easily tell what the shapes the lines on her face were trying to form. By her chin was lines that looked like rays of the sun, pointing downwards. By her cheeks, squiggly lines that looked like whiske

A searing pain flared on my shoulder. I gasped, gripping the spot with trembling fingers. It burned—like fire licking beneath my skin, like being branded from the inside out. I tore off my sleeve in a panic. And stared. There, etched into my skin, was a tattoo I had never received. A moon—full and luminous, its edges swirling in a storm of blue ink that shimmered in the light. Beneath it, foreign script curved in delicate strokes, and on each side of the moon were two strange, symbolic markings I didn’t recognize.

But she also knew she wouldn’t regret it. She’d gotten a long tree branch, starting on her middle finger it went over the back of her hand, one part ran up her thumb as the rest went down the side of her arm and around it. Several mini branches poked out here and there.. and it was littered with maple leaves, successfully covering up her other tattoo.

A shiver, not of fear but of pure, unadulterated thrill, ran down my spine. It was in this moment, as I was still taking in the room, that I noticed him. He had taken off his suit jacket, folding the sleeves of his crisp white shirt to his elbows. My eyes were drawn to his forearms, the muscles corded and strong, and the intricate tattoo that snaked its way around his left arm, a complex pattern of sharp lines and shadows that made me feel things I couldn't understand. His shirt was unbuttoned, just enough to reveal a glimpse of his chiseled chest, a landscape of hard muscle and sun kissed skin.

Her tattoos peek from beneath the cuffs of her sleeves, curling down her fingers like inked armour. She looks... dangerous. Composed. Like she didn't just spend years in a cage. Like she clawed her way out of hell and decided to make it fashion. I immediately light up at the sight of my older sister. I don't mean to—but I do. So much for keeping myself composed.

“It goes away after a few weeks.” Her eyes lit up. “Can I get one too?” Rosa ruffled her hair. “Of course, princess.” We picked our designs—Rosa chose an intricate floral pattern for her wrist, while I opted for a delicate crescent moon on my ankle. Francesca, of course, insisted on butterflies on both hands. As the artist worked, Rosa smirked at me. “We should get real tattoos next time.” I scoffed. “I don’t think Alaric would be thrilled if I came home with a full sleeve.”