Mufasa And Simba Tattoo Novels & Stories

"Well, you could just be wearing like contacts or something, and even if you are twins, how would I know who is who and who to trust?" He rolls his eyes. "Oh, that's an easy one." "How so?" I challenge. "We each have a distinct tattoo." " I didn't see any tattoo on him," I admit. "What kind of tattoo is it?" "It's a marking of who we are and later whom we are mated to." "Oh, yeah, I didn't see one on Sam." "Were you really paying attention?" He steps closer, allowing me to smell his earthy scent. "It's on our thigh right next to our ... well, you get the point."

There was a tattoo of his mate whom he had just gotten a back view of her when he first met her, she was Hispanic so he'd told the tattoo artist to draw a girl's head - the backview with a bob hairstyle and also the tattoo of his name, Shane, beautifully designed with a little wolf between the tattoo of his name and his mate's tattoo. There were many others that he refused to let us know their origins but I was sure they had something to do with his past life as a backstage musician since there were some tattoos of microphones. “Ivan has grown some muscles,” I heard Carlos say and I turned to see all of them shirtless, flexing their muscles and counting their tattoos. “Put your shirts on, gu

Harder. Thus Moreau increased the tempo and force of the pressure. The murmur of a deep, hoarse voice almost created something-unusual between them. However, right now it was undeniable that Moreau could do everything freely behind her stepfather's body. Including observing the nearly connected tattoo on the back of his neck, she had not guessed wrong from the start. In fact, the tattoo was exactly the shape of a bird flapping its wings. Everything was so clearly detailed with special details, although there was something Moreau could not possibly understand clearly.

Esmeray held her forearm up, examining the intricate tattoo that adorned her skin. The tattoo depicted a majestic wolf, its eyes fierce and determined, surrounded by swirling patterns that seemed to dance with a life of their own. The lines were bold and precise, giving the impression of strength and resilience. “This tattoo is so unique,” Esmeray remarked, tracing her fingers over the contours of the design. “I’ve always felt a connection to it, but I never knew why.”

Mufasa asked another question and stood by the table, his hands behind him and his eyes peering into theirs. “Well, Wayne had touched my chest before...” she trailed off. “Mine was after her body got in contact with my hand...” Wayne trailed off too as he stared at Olive. “You two just unlocked two new powers,” Mufasa revealed proudly. He walked to one of his smaller tables and picked a small knife from there. He walked back to them and right in front of their eyes, he struck his palm and gave himself a deep cut. Blood flowed out immediately. Olive looked at him with widened eyes.

Shona was looking at me, completely confused. "There's a mafia tradition. Where the mafia gets inked in front of his queen. The tattoo resembles something that signifies their relationship. I didn't do that yet, but I want to do it today, so that I can let the world know, that I'm now owned by you," I confidently spoke. She looked at me, surprised. "Please start," I ordered the tattoo artists. They nodded, and one took out his tab and handed it over to shona. "Choose a design for me," I told her.

The Gamma nearly purred from delight. Ozias gave Ciaran a puzzled look. Jean and Stef were our tattoo artists. We had met the two rogues on one of our patrols back in the day. They had fled from Namibia, most likely fleeing from Ciaran's father. After they set up in Menlyn, we had visited them frequently. Ozias never got to meet them. He had never shown interest in getting some tattoos. Neither had Maverick.

He stretch out his right arm, exposing the tattoo there. "Your tattoo?" "Yeah, but its Minnie Mouse. Why would I get Minnie Mouse?" I smiled, "it was all your idea, trying to break away from the 'cliche of things'." I went to standing by him, holding out my arm as well, showing him my Mickey Mouse tattoo, that matched perfectly with his. Our separate tattoos, when put together, showed Mickey and Minnie kissing. "Oh," he nodded, then wrapped his arm around me. "Makes sense."

It hurts badly, making me cry. I ran my hand over his bicep, tracing one of his scars, near a tattoo he had of a wolf. "I bet this is an actual picture of what Titus looks like!" I tell Merida, making my lips tug into a smile. "I bet it is." she chimes back, sighing.

“What’s up, Aussie?” I curled into a ball and blocked whatever he said to the man down under. A few moments later, he came back and kissed me on my exposed shoulder. “Did you make a plan?” “They will brief us on the plan. What does that tattoo mean?” Shit. I thought he didn’t notice it. “It’s in Arabic. It means, every sun has to set.” “That sounds deep yet sad.” I turned and faced him. He looked so menacingly handsome and relaxed, not the brutal, ruthless mafia that people feared. “It means everything has an end. We should enjoy life and live to the fullest because tomorrow is not guaranteed.”