Romans & histoires Male Sternum Tattoo

“Just look at him, Hermione!” I follow her finger, squinting because the orange evening sun keeps hitting my eyes. I catch a huge figure of a man under a canopy boldly covered with the text ‘BLUEDAVE MARINA GRILLS’. Of course she's pointing at a man, she doesn't ever give it a rest. He's bare-chested. His skin is golden, abs well ripped. Tattoos designing his left chest. His shoulders look heavy, like he was built to fight a war. The smoke from the grill rises around him and only makes him look hotter.

Celeste seemed to be confused at the tattoo on my chest. She had been glaring at the few girls and even a guy or two who stared at me when I took my shirt off but now she was staring at the tattoo that was placed close to my heart on my chest. She reached out and gently ran her finger across the ink, sending sparks through my body.

was Hurai’s immediate reply, staring at Kal as she watched him lean closer to her body with his own, even as he gently took off his black top. He did it in seconds, tossing his top to the side, even as Hurai watched him do it. Marveling at the lean and tight muscle underneath it, she stared at his chest, spotting the half-moon tattoo surrounded by stars which he had on his forehead, to also be in the center of his chest close to his heart.

“Right there. Your name and music notes on either side. Maybe some little butterflies.” “Are you serious, Reb? That’s permanent, you know.” “I know. You don’t want me to?” She traced a tattoo on his forearm with one finger. It showed a dagger through a skull. It was a beautiful piece of art, but masculine. “Would you rather I get one that matches yours?” “I would love my name permanently etched on your sexy little back. I could stare at it while…” He lifted her shirt and took a peek at the area in question. “Damn…” he said breathlessly and gave himself a little shake. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”

He walked over to where the men gathered and cleared his throat, getting their attention. They all raised their head to stare at him, one by one, a look he had gotten familiar with in their eyes. A look of admiration. He wasn't dressed in a shirt so his heavily tattoed chest and abdominal area were exposed. He had gotten another tattoo after Angelo's death. An eagle on his back and Angelo's name written under it, in Angelo's memory. ***

He was drop dead gorgeous, oozing power and strength. The man lived up to his name. Sebastian Longstorm. The name tasted like thunder and forbidden fruit on my tongue. His deep red robes, ceremonial yet slightly undone, fell open into a V at the chest, revealing a flash of smooth, golden skin. An intricate circular inked royal tattoo, stark black against muscle that rippled with every breath was any sculpture’s chiselled delight. Veins curved like art down his arms, and his back. I remembered it too well. Sculpted, corded with strength, and marked with my name like a secret meant only for the gods.

My eyes drifted down to his torso, and my breath caught. God must have enlisted his finest artist to carve Killian Knight. The tattoo, a haunting web of thorned vines, began at his right hip and sprawled across his torso. Its black branches reached his heart, with another branch peeking over his left shoulder and spreading down his arm to his elbow. The intricate design, hidden beneath his clothes, was now fully exposed.

"Can you give me the honor of a dance?” He wore a tunic of light fabric and the same shade of gold as me, with some open buttons, revealing the muscular and tattooed chest. Right in the center of the chest, there was an eagle with its mouth and wings open, it was large and proved to be very sure of itself on its flight. Descending through the abdomen the symbols of crosses stained the golden skin.

MARTHA: Mr. Weston smiled and entered the room where I had spent the night. His woody scent surrounded me like a warm blanket as he replied, "It's a tribal tattoo." "Does Doctor Tina have it too?" I asked, shocked, and he nodded. "Yes, but women's tattoos are on their backs. They are meant to carry the pack on their backs, while we carry ours from the front," he replied proudly, and my jaw dropped. I was still looking at him in shock.

I bow my head, pretend to focus on the screen. "You were staring," he says in a low, amused voice. He leans against my desk, arms crossed, towering over me. "My tattoos interest you?" I shake my head, too quickly. "No, I… it's nothing." He chuckles softly. "Liar." He pulls up the left sleeve of his t‑shirt, revealing more of the raven and other symbols: a miniature cathedral, eight‑pointed stars, Cyrillic numbers. "Every design has a story. The raven… it's for memory. For those we've lost, but never forget. The stars are rank. The cathedral… the faith you keep even when everything else goes to hell."