Patriotic Arm Tattoos Novels & Stories

Smith said and Diana scoffed and they both sat on rocks. " Whatever! I just want him to bind me with that spirit beast he has, I really love them and besides Smith i am noticing something's about you, What is that Mark on your back and your hand, I am really shocked right now " Diana asked and Smith smirked. " Well The tattoo at my back is what I don't really know, This tattoo on my hand is what they call the mark of Amargeedon, I am a seed of Armageddon and it is said that once a seed of Armageddon is marked... Then there is a great war approaching while the wolf tattoo on my back is what I was born with and I don't know what it signifies at all " Smith said taking of his Shirt and revealin

If I wouldn’t have listened to him, he would have tightened his arm more and I would have ended up with shattered bones. His warmth was heartwarming and it gave me the courage to run my finger along his muscled tattooed arm and I made small circles along the lines of his tattoo. He had this artistic tattoo of a warrior on his forearm, wearing armor and he was looking up at the constellation and that moon that was inked in Romeo’s biceps skin. And I wondered what that tattoo was about.

His outfit was completed with sneakers that matched the colour of his jeans. I could see the ink that covered his right arm. It was from his wrist leading up to the length of his arm and disappearing under the sleeve of his shirt. I could make out some of the images. I saw a rose with a name scribbled on the stem, Jesus Christ with his hands clasped, and some teardrops flowing from his eyes. I never thought about tattoos being sexy, but looking at his, I got an uneasy feeling in my stomach.

He mutters ‘love you, bambino’ almost silently under his breath and I melt. I let my fingers trail his muscular arm, the light feathering of hair across that perfect olive skin, surprisingly light considering his dark hair and Italian coloring, but then he is overall not a particularly hairy man and the amount of time he spends in the sun probably bleaches away most of the darkness. I trace my fingers over the symbols tattooed along his arm almost reaching his wrist. A long straight row of black ink, possibly Arabic, maybe Buddhist and wonder at what they mean in the early dusk light. I have never asked him about his tattoos or the meaning of each, or why such a weakness for symbols and trib

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.”

Nikolai is a god among men, and I am fortunate to be embraced by his presence. Nikolai’s tattoos are sexy, and I find myself unable to resist tracing them with my finger. The stars inked on both his shoulders catch my attention, making me curious about their meaning. However, it’s the eagle tattooed on his chest that truly captivates me. The majestic bird exudes power and strength, its wings spread wide as if poised for flight. The intricate details of the tattoo come alive on his skin, and I can’t help but admire its beauty. The eagle symbolizes freedom, and in that moment, I feel as if I am soaring alongside it.

Except Alexei didn’t have a hairy chest, and the intricate tattoos on his arms were quite a sight when he removed his suit jacket. They were both full-sleeved tattoos on both arms, covering him from the wrists all the way to his shoulders. They were all in black ink, with some designs more prominent than others. A wolf’s head covered most of his right bicep, while something of an archangel covered the other. A snake wrapped around the entirety of his left forearm. The rest were too small for her to discern from where she sat. “No, you go home with your father, after this whole storm clears,” he replied, folding his jacket. “It’s not my style to keep girls hostage. Your father and I will keep

I couldn’t focus on what he was saying at all, my attention completely stolen by his bare chest. I couldn’t help but notice the armband tattoo on his left arm. The word “Moretti” was inked in a beautiful Old English font, with detailed lines making it look even cooler. His tattoos just added to that tough, masculine vibe he had going on. Then I saw the tattoo on his back. A raven, placed right in the middle of his back, near his shoulders and neck. It was so well done, I couldn’t stop staring at it, totally impressed.

Running down his spine was a tattoo of a dagger, flanked by two cobras coiled around its blade, each poised to strike the other. The crossguard was shaped into a Trinacria—its eyes hollow and haunting, its hair a wild tangle of serpents. On its three bent legs were the words etched in a stark, gothic script: Famiglia, Orgoglioso, Patria. The ink stretched over the planes of his back like a warning—Family, Pride and Homeland. He stood up, and my suspicions were confirmed—completely naked, without a hint of shame. He slept next to me completely naked—fucking naked. But before I could even start to argue or throw some biting comment his way, something else pulled my focus—his ass.

They rippled slightly as the tattoo gun continued it's work. Deft gloved hands drew and colored the skin. A quick swipe removed excess ink. Heavily tattooed arms moved with each stroke, the artwork colorful and bright with splotches of pinks, blues, purples, and greens. She marveled at those arms, strong, tight, and remarkably hairless. The artist wore a black sleeveless shirt, cut to resemble a tank top with wide cut underarms. A faded yellow batman logo was printed on the front. The artist wore tight blue jeans, revealing wide hips and a round ass. Grey boxes poked out of the back as she hunched over her work.