Half Sleeve Tattoos Men Novels & Stories

I was standing infront of him as he gently cupped my cheek, I could see his tattooed strong arms peeking though his sleeves. I wonder if Harold also has tattoos in his whole body, probably every mafia has tattoos. I looked up at Harold as he was busy chewing his food. He was wearing a full sleeved black hoodie and I have never seen him in half sleeved t-shirts or shirtless and I don't even want to see him shirtless. Probably he'll have those strong abs and biceps... uhg. Think of a shirtless Dylan. He'll probably be like spicy meat without any shirt on.

The room fell silent for a moment, all eyes drawn to him as he stepped inside. Liam was dressed in a fitted navy blue t-shirt that hugged his muscular frame, accentuating his broad shoulders and well-defined arms. The sleeves of the shirt were slightly rolled up, showcasing his toned biceps, which seemed to ripple with every movement. He paired the shirt with dark jeans that fit him perfectly, neither too tight nor too loose, allowing for ease of movement while still looking effortlessly stylish.

He had a long sleeved shirt on since I had met him, so I had never noticed them before. He also had his name tattooed across his shoulder blades, and a date inscribed below it. His chest and arms were muscular, just like his brothers, and I couldn’t help but admire his form. I intended to look away but he caught me before I could. “You see something you like?” He chuckled. He sounded like Ramses right then and my heart skipped a beat. I sat back up in bed pulling the blanket over my chest. “I just never knew you had so much artwork.” I said. He looked down at his arms. “Oh these? I’ve had them for years. I tend to forget they are there, really.” He said. He then started taking his pants off.

He didn’t slack either. He wore a black silk shirt, sleeves rolled slightly, with sleek tailored pants that clung just enough to showcase his broad build. The shirt’s top buttons were buttoned to little above his chest, revealing just a glimpse of his tattooed chest and the faint chain that always hung there. It was subtle but dangerously attractive. Together, we looked like we were stepping out of a movie scene. If there were cameras around, we would've been the headline, you know but I know he didn't want all of that.

"Not everyone looking for me is as careless as Julian Vane. There are people out there who don't understand the concept of 'surrender.'" He approached me, and even though he walked with a slight limp, his presence was still overwhelming. He stopped in front of the stove, and the light from the fire illuminated the tattoos on his back once more. I was mesmerized by one in particular on his left shoulder blade: an ancient shield intertwined with thorns and an iron crown. It didn't look like the design of a common tattoo parlor; it had the symmetry of an official seal, of a coat of arms that demanded respect.

He had just one tattoo drawing, on his heart area, like a comic parody of — is that Cat Woman? And more than that, he emitted a darker aura than the other two. For the love of God, are those abs even real? They were all so fucking ripped, like those men who give hardcore BDSM fucks in those p**n videos I watch with Gilda. Oh gosh! Was this the sex suite? The one sitting seemed ripped, as his shirt fit him like a glove, stretching out his muscles, and also the one standing with a phone, he was fucking ripped. But the one dressed in black and had a shirt on his shoulder? He was fucking shredded. A buff fellow, my God!

he said with so much promise, so much confidence it made my heart stop beating for a moment. He straightened up and pulled out his shirt. I immediately saw the finest, ripped, mouth-watering male physique in the entire world, and no, I definitely wasn't exaggerating. He even has a tattoo on his left bicep; in black ink, a mixture of an artsy sun and moon. I find it surprisingly sexy. Looking at him like this, I thought: This is just half of his body. How much more if he gets all naked in front of me? Maybe I would have a cardiac arrest for sure.

He gestured his head to the magnificent back of Forrest, who was wearing a black shirt, sleeves were rolled up his elbows, showing off his flames tattooed that I found intriguing and sexy. I preferred a clean guy, but it just looked damn good on him. Sometimes I wondered if he had a few more tattoos underneath the dark shirt he was wearing. Did his abs or deep V covered with tattoos as well? Or did he have a piercing on his flagpole? Bad, bad girl, Meggie. I leisurely watched his biceps bulge as he busied himself mixing. “Nope.” “Your brother then?” I snapped my head and stared at the man for good seconds. I opened my mouth. Before I could speak, Forrest placed the drink in front of me.

His blazer is missing, revealing his huge biceps working on the buttons of his shirt. Each ab is unveiled as he makes his way down. After the final one, he strips the shirt off. I'm so fucking screwed. He may be shorter than Liam, but his muscles definitely have Liam beat. Besides just the size, the older age that adds definition to them. His abs aren't a perfect washboard, and that gives them character. His arms have colorful tattoos with parts spilling onto his smooth chest. When he starts to take off his shoes, I get up and walk to the ring. Afterwords I put on a pair of the gloves.

Old, nostalgic, and nice. Her eyes landed on a young man's physique. He's topless, sweat trickling profusely on well-sculpted abs, shimmering on the warm light of a torch. A double-edged sword is on his hand. He's swinging it making her biceps and triceps adorned with a circular arm tattoo displayed in a seductive manner. His brown eyes glinted along the light of torches, then, it suddenly squinted the moment he knew he was being watched.