Romans & histoires Small Matching Sister Tattoos

This one was as deep as a chasm. He wouldn't take the risk and look again, but he didn't need to; the image had already been burned into his brain. The image of his sister's 30D breasts absolutely crammed in that small top. Her bikini was out of this word. A matching set, colored in rich cream, sprinkled with small brown dots evenly. The colors meshed so well and really accentuated her pale complexion and silky, light-brown hair.

After being pressured into drinking until I was tipsy, I checked my phone and saw an Instagram post from my younger sister, Daphne. The private room was clouded with cigarette smoke. My client, Mr. Wallace, a bald man, slapped me hard between the shoulder blades. “Lina, you can really hold your liquor. A girl like you is a definite friend for life. Next time, you bet I’m bringing this deal to you first.” I swallowed hard against the bile rising in my throat and managed to stretch my lips into a stiff, professional smile.

she sniffled and nodded "yeah she's really cool" "well I gotta go, aye whats your name I don't want to get you confused with the other one" "I'm Tamara" she lefted her wrist and showed my a tiny tattoo of a semicolon "for Lisa, no one even knows I have it; but its one thing me and my sister don't have in common. A way to tell us apart" I nodded my head and got into my car "thanks for telling me and sorry for your loss" "thank you and thanks for listening"

"Don't get me wrong, all your tattoos are amazing—but I can stare at those three for hours, I just love looking at them." "Good to know since I drew those as well as the rocket on my right thigh..." Fun fact, her rocket ship one was the tattoo that Green Ranger had a mini version of on her left ribs. "My sister might've changed a few things, but all things considered, those four are still 'my mind vomit.'" "You're brilliant." She grinned. "Hm, you know what? Fuck it, I can have favorites, too. So, yeah, it's a tie between the one on my back, and Scylla and Charybdis."

Precious did not think any guy is attractive if he is below thirty, and the guy in the pink shirt was obviously about our age. Lily looked at the corner, "there are two of them. Twins, I mean." "Let's go say hello!" I jumped up, fumbled in my bag, found the towel I brought and used it to dry my body. "Abeg go alone. I do not go to men, men come to men." Precious removes her sunglasses from her bag and wears them. "Suit yourself," I laughed. "Puppet, come be your sister's wing woman." Lily took the hand I held out to her and stood up. She let me dry her arms, thighs and face that had identical freckles as mine on her nose, cheeks and at the corner of her left eye.

My second favourite is his sleeve tattoo, it is a tribute to his sisters. I love how all his tattoos have meaning, unlike mine. I have two tattoos, the first one I ever got was a matching tattoo with Talitha. We found her Dad's gun and decided to explore with it, we had seen him work a few times so we gave it a go. I was the first to tattoo half a heart on her wrist with "spice" engraved in tiny cursive writing.

“I’m happy to set up appointments for you when you get back.” “Really?” Les’s eyes light up. “Sure.” Bronx shrugs. “With as many pack members as we have getting tattoos, I put him on salary.” “That would be great, Bronx. Thank you.” Les bows slightly. “I’ll let the girls know.” “One thing though…” Bronx puts a finger in the air. “The tattoo you already have. The rose and dagger. My sister had the same one. Like, exactly the same, except hers was larger than yours. I was wondering how you ended up with that design?”

On the dressing table, a photo captured a joyful moment of her, Jacob, and Karina at a leisure park, Jacob’s arms around them as they all smiled at the camera. Beside it lay another photograph featuring her family: her father, mother, and younger sister. Unlike Arda, who had brown hair, her sister had dark locks like their parents, and while Arda’s eyes were light brown, her sister’s mirrored their father’s striking blue. Arda’s skin was darker than her family’s, often leading strangers to remark on her different appearance, but at least she shared her mother’s eye color. As she finished brushing her hair, her fingers grazed the tattoo mark on her inner wrist—a full moon design.

I say, impressed with her bad-ass attitude. “Well, I prefer to do these kinds of things alone,” she says. Without explaining further, I know exactly what she means. I notice her tattoo sleeve. It’s a collection of skulls and roses. I mark a ghostly trail along her arm, watching her flesh immediately erupt in goosebumps. I have her right where I want her, and she doesn’t even know. “Cool ink,” I say, tracing the dark shapes with my finger. “Does it mean anything?” She laughs nervously. “Nah, I just like the design. And I know it irritates the shit out of my brother—that’s why I got it.”

She straightened, adjusting the hem of her short dress, and looked at me with a mix of amusement and defiance. “This,” she said, pointing at the screen, “is my twin sister, Mr. Damien. She’s always been the one getting into trouble. She disappears for weeks, changes her look, and somehow I’m the one who pays for it.” Her tone softened, but her eyes stayed sharp. “If you look closely, she has a tattoo on her neck. And her hair’s lighter. So unless I’m living two lives without knowing it” she smirked, “you’ve got the wrong girl.”