Roman Numeral Tattoos Novels & Stories

I risk a glance at the man again, and I almost drop dead when I see the Roman numeral seven tattooed on the back of his neck. It’s the same number. From my visions!

“I need the ink.” “What colors?” He asked. “Each pile gets a black. The second one gets three.” Alec did as I asked. “The fourth is a water color tattoo so I need one pink, purple, blue, green and yellow. This one is red and orange.” “Four tattoos today?” Alex asked. “Yeah, they are all big tattoos and not much pain tolerance.” “Mine is itching like crazy.” “Turn around and lift your shirt up.” I said rolling my eyes. Grabbing the numbing lotion, I put it on his back. He even keeled for me but I caught him looking at me in the mirror.

The Roman numeral tattoo on my chest stood out against my wet skin. No bitch is worth my emotions. Only my cock. That was my truth. Emotions made alphas weak, and I refused to be weak. Later that afternoon, in my downtown office, the hunger had already returned. Two new women waited for me on the couch. I didn’t waste time with conversation. I unzipped my trousers, pulled out my hard cock, and tore open another condom packet. I rolled it on while they watched with hungry eyes.

“I plan to tattoo a Koru on you. It’s a sort of spiral that’s part of Māori culture, and in New Zealand, it means new life, growth, strength, and peace. They made bone sculptures with this symbol that were used as pendants for necklaces. The bone, when worn, changes color. And for the Māori, it meant that a part of a person's spirit entered the pendant. Sometimes it was given to another person, as if to transmit a part of one's happiness.” James takes off his shirt and shows me his right shoulder. “I had it done by Sky last week. Mine is a way to transmit my happiness and love to you.” He puts his shirt back on—what a shame—and turns back to me. “And also a bit of bad luck, since you manage

He has a full sleeve bear tattoo inked on his right shoulder that continues till his right hand and connects to it climbing a tree to chest inked on his right shoulder. I wander why he chose a bear. The rest of his chest is covered in a red dragon blowing fire, it has complicated black outlines. It's gorgeous. I take a stand and inch closer to Roman. My fingers trace the patterns and swirls of the dragon. It's a much different style as compared to the others and unique. I wonder why he got it? I meet his gaze. "It's a Waborri tattoo.The Japanese see dragons as benefactors and protectors of mankind. Dragon tattoos symbolise bravery, wisdom, and strength. Black dragons are associated with expe

Holding it there for ten seconds before peeling it back slowly. I smile as the letters in Latin sit perfectly on his skin. “That’s permanent, Still time to panic if you’re having second thoughts” I say to him giving him an out. “I won’t.”He grunts and Our eyes lock again and he watches me in silence. I smile as I turn to wheel my machine over. Today I’m using a rotary pen machine, it’s Smooth, consistent with Less vibration than a coil. I load the 5RL cartridge round liner, with its tight grouping since it’s perfect for script tattoos like this.

Em looked at Mickey as she spoke. “Helll to the yeahhh!” Mickey shouted. She jumped out the of the car then turned and looked at the girls. “Y’all comin or what?” An hour later the friends emerged from the tattoo place, Em sporting a bandage on her rib cage right under her previous tattoo, and another one on her wrist… which matched the ones on her three best friends. They’d all decided to get matching ones. Nothing big.. just a little Roman number IV. Symbolizing the four of them and how much they meant to each other. And then the one on Em’s rib cage, under her hummingbird which read: ‘Made to Endure’.

I lay in his arms, eyes half-closed but not quite asleep. Marco's hand was on my back, and I had my arm over his chest. We were covered with just the duvet, too tired to care about clothes. "What’s your tattoo mean?" I asked, noticing his Roman numeral v-line tattoo on his chest. "II XXIX? Like 2 and 29? Does it mean something?" I looked up at him, hoping he’d tell me. Marco’s eyes opened, and I waited for him to explain, but after staring at me for a while, he grinned. I sat up, eager to hear him, and reached up to touch his cheek. But when I looked at him again, the grin was gone.

“Saturday?” The doctor made a hmm noise, apparently not impressed with this man helping me. No surprise. Doctors were no fun. “How many fingers amI holding up?” Ronan translated. I stared at his other hand resting on his knee, at the tattoos on his fingers in between the first and second knuckles. One was a cross, another a raven. The third, a king of hearts playing card. Ink and déjà vu. I didn’t know what was wrong with me, but I couldn’t stop myself from touching him, from drawing an index finger down the tattooed raven. The whispered words were pushed from my depths by an irresistible force.

“If I did, I wouldn’t have fallen in love with you.” He grins, leans in and kisses my lips and when he pulls away, his hand, fondle my left breast, making my legs go weak. “Most of my tattoos I used to cover up my scar so they don’t have any meaning, while others like the write up have a few meanings.” “What does this say, then?” I ask, my hand dropping to the part under his chest having a foreign language. “It’s not in English,” I add. He chuckles, plucking at my nipple in his hand. “It’s not.” he agrees, and eyes then drop to where my hand is, “It says whatever it takes. It’s in Latin, and that’s why you can’t read it.”