Small Inner Bicep Tattoo Novels & Stories

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.

"The wheel helps you turn and stay on the lane" I wasn't really listening to all he was saying. I was paying attention to the tiny tattoo on his bicep that kept peeking out from his black shirt as he moved his arms and I could see the piercing on his right ear, but I do not know if he's got one on the other one. I zoomed in on his ear, I could tell he doesn't wear his earrings often or the hole wouldn't be so tiny and almost unnoticeable. I love how he is not too lousy when it comes to fashion. He's got everything in minimals and that even makes him hotter.

she said with a sigh, taking a sip from her straw. Lilly had the face of an angel adorned with tattoos. There was one just above her eyebrow and several scattered along her arms. She had honey blonde hair, dark brown eyes, a mole above her lip, a septum piercing, and multiple piercings in her earlobe. Leah had shoulder-length red hair and caramel-brown skin that matched her eyes. Zeek had dark brown hair and eyebrows, with a small patch of white on his hand that he had turned into an art piece. I noticed he had vitiligo, which fascinated me.

I approached their weak-ass leader and pulled him by the collar. "Remember my face and this tattoo you dummy, cause this day forward I will be your master. You and your useless gangmates will be my slave. You understand?" I said, looking hard at him. I grabbed his jaw and took a dagger that I always hid inside my boots. I carved a letter 'V' on his face. It stands for Violet. I tap the wound I made. "Aarrgghh!" He cried out in pain. Oh, my, my. Music to my ears.

My gaze drifted unconsciously to his collarbone. There was a new tattoo there. Red, still swollen from being freshly inked, but unmistakable. It was my name. The characters were rendered in the most ancient, wild cursive form of script, like an old, binding sigil. My fingers trembled as I touched it. “When did you… get this?” Henry caught my hand and rubbed it gently against his palm. “Last night, after you fell asleep.” “Did it hurt?” “It was better that it hurt.” His eyes darkened, and a satisfied smile curved his lips.

he smirks. “I had a good teacher” I said against his skin, kissing the crook of his neck. I release my hand that was in his hair and start buttoning his shirt clumsily. I pressed my hand flat over his hard chest, feeling the rapid beating of his heart while kissing from his shoulder over to his chest. I spotted a small Italic tattoo right under his breastbone, and my eyes widened in surprise. Nathan with a tattoo is unbelievable. I trail my index finger over the words that were written in a language that I did not understand.

I really did not want to feel weak ever again. My parents totally thought I was crazy when I decided to get a few tattoos. I had a big one slung over my shoulder that reached down to my bicep—our crew's tribal symbol. I also had another large one on my back and a warrior symbol on my inner bicep, courtesy of Gaspar. But my favorite was a cool tattoo guys get when they find their match. It sat just below my waistband, right in the middle of my stomach. A symbol that looked like this: ∞.

And that is when I see it. She turns slightly as she reaches past me to flip the small light by the entrance. A casual movement. Natural. And the light catches the back of her ear. A tattoo. Small. Precise. The kind of marking that takes a specific kind of needle and a specific kind of intention. Not decorative — not the ornamental kind that people choose because they like the design. Numbers. A sequence of them. Fine lined. Old enough to have settled completely into the skin. I have seen markings like this before.

His voice broke the silence, and I froze in my tracks. He turned his head slightly, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “You can touch it. It doesn’t sting.” I hesitated, my fingers twitching at my sides. “Can I?” I asked softly. “Of course,” he replied, his tone calm and inviting. My hand moved almost on its own, reaching out to trace the lines of the tattoo. His skin was warm under my fingertips, and I couldn’t help but marvel at the artistry. But then, my eyes caught something else—a tiny inscription running down his spine vertically, just below the scorpion.

Gianna gazed down at her wrist, looking at the small tattoo she got in her teenage years. It was a dandelion, some of the seeds scattered as if blown by the wind, forming a small musical note. Nothing about the drawing was unique, as surely, a lot of women already had the same tattoo as hers now. She had been thinking about erasing it many times over but decided not to. The black ink looked good in her milky skin, but she would rather it stayed hidden.