Small Inner Bicep Tattoo Novels & Stories

Stamp ejaculated as soon as he viewed what Mahiriko just got to drawn on his skin. Mahiriko frown and punched Stamp's hand when he touches his chest. "D*mn you, Stamp. It's not a f*cking pussy, it's a tarantula, you sh*tty sh*t." He corrected and study the tattoo at his reflection at the mirror. Stamp laughed his ass out and shows his Betty Boop tattoo on his back. "You see this, man? This is the real tattoo." He even let out his laugh like a wheezing animal.

Then he gestured his hand towards our back. "I'm Thunder." Then she leaned on the wall. "I'm Boston." I took a glance at the guy who talked to Rhyme earlier. A tattooed man. He shifted his position, then he pointed his shoulder. He shoved his black shirt to show me his BRIT tattoo, the fifth that I saw in his skin based on my quick count as I scanned his arms. I was stunned after realizing that Rhyme also had that on his wrist. But the guy named Boston had it in his right arm and it was bigger. I nodded to myself.

CINNAMON He stood shirtless in the cabin's warm light, and I couldn't stop staring. There was a freaking tattoo of my face, inked slightly left, centered over his heart. Not some generic artistic interpretation, my actual face. The artist had captured the slope of my nose, the curve of my lips, even my thin eyebrows. Below it, my name was written in my own handwriting. The looping C, the way my n's always tilted slightly right, the flourish on the final n that I'd developed in high school and never lost, all accurately inked.

The face stayed hidden under the hood the whole time, but when the person reached out to place something, a clear tattoo became visible on the inside of their wrist. It was a small, familiar design. One we had all seen before. Everyone standing there went completely still.

She was playing with a small wooden toy, her giggles filling the space. “Good morning, little one,” I said, crouching down in front of her. Her big eyes lit up, and she let out a delighted squeal, reaching out to grab my finger with her tiny hand. I chuckled softly, but the moment was short-lived. A sharp sting shot through my hand. “Ow,” I muttered, pulling back slightly. My eyes fell on my wrist. A half-moon tattoo had appeared, faint but distinct, as if burned into my skin. I froze, my mind racing.

Her reason had already evaporated. That was when Belle’s half-lidded gaze caught something on Bastian’s left hip. The skin there was still red and irritated, where the tattoo artist had just injected fresh black ink. A small silhouette was etched there. A sparrow with its wings spread. Belle’s breath caught in her throat. Her eyes widened as she stared at the new tattoo, then lifted her gaze back to Bastian with stunned disbelief. “You… tattooed that?” she whispered. Her finger trembled as she pointed toward Bastian’s hip without daring to touch it. “On your body?”

On the front he had written: for Elena in his handwriting, exact and slightly compressed. Inside, in the center, were two small handprints. Twin A's on the left and Twin B's on the right, done in blue paint, the specific shade of blue that came from the twins' art supplies, and they were not evenly spaced and they were not the same size because Twin B's were slightly larger and Twin A had pressed harder on one side than the other so his right print was cleaner than his left. Below the prints, in his handwriting: they are ready to be three.

A tattoo—small but intricate—etched just below my skin. The infinity symbol, its delicate lines looping and intertwining seamlessly, radiated a sense of endless continuity. It was beautiful but haunting. A chill ran down my spine as I lightly traced the design with my fingers. My skin tingled at the touch, as if the mark carried some latent energy.

At least he had a shirt on that day. Then something caught my eye. On his left pec, near his heart, there was now a tattoo. Unconsciously I stepped forward so I could get a closer, better look at the newly designed tattoo. It was the name 'Baby B' in cursive italics. Under the name were two red roses in the form of an 'x'. My fingers were itching to touch the newly done tattoo but I knew better.

Zoey “What’s this about?” Bri asked, sitting back in her chair. She wore Wyatt’s shirt open with only a thin low-cut bralette beneath. The new tattoo she’d had Issac drill into her skin was simple and elegant as it rested on her sternum just below her breasts. Up the center of her chest, the water lily bloom birthed a crescent moon, a series of lines and dots indicating its glow in a circle around it, and above that a dainty fleur de lis. It paired with the twin Hyacinth Bean vines that now wrapped around her biceps and snaked down her arms and around each ring finger all in elegant black and grey. She and Issac had this thing about being in each other's company in companionable silence. The