Novel & Cerita Sternum Between Breast Tattoos

He said with a genuine smile as he raised his head to look at her. There was a tattoo of her name just below his nape, between his shoulders— written in bold and unmistakably placed inside a heart. Tbc... The visuals of tattoo will be found on my I G;)

“Fine, then. Let’s get them now.” An hour later, we were back in the cabin and Bobbie was excited to see how it looked. I got the words ‘Make it’ on the middle right of my ribs while she has the words ‘With you’ just below her left breast. We stood side by side in front of a mirror, our tattoos linked to make our song. The smile on my girl’s face was my undoing. I’m so in love with her, it hurts not to be around her anymore. ~~

The remnants of pain were still trying to occupy a place on the sensitive reactions in the nerves in her body, like they were causing an electric shock. Moreau's arm moved tentatively to greet the mirror that Abihirt brought closer. She quickly adjusted her sitting position. She was transfixed by the reflection of the nipple clamps on her breasts. There was no clue what Abihirt would do in the future, but Moreau tried not to think too far ahead this time. Immediately drew attention to the new tattoo—a small one under the chest. Beautiful. The sketch of a rose seen in the studio earlier, with budding petals and covered by a stem that was only half, as the rest was on Abihirt's new tattoo. Rig

The icy blast would’ve made anyone else recoil, but Dante stood there, solid and unmoving, like he was made of stone. His back was a canvas of ink, just like his front. The artwork was nothing short of breathtaking. Spanning across his entire back was a massive, detailed tattoo—an angel, powerful and divine, standing within the ruins of an ancient temple. The wings spread wide across his shoulder blades, reaching toward his arms, while crumbling pillars surrounded the figure in dramatic grayscale contrast. It wasn’t just a tattoo; it was a story, a testament, a work of devotion etched forever into his flesh. It was absolutely beautiful—mesmerizing, even.

But he was still anticipating seeing what would be his next move. Carson just placed his hand right over the blanket covering his hard rock dick. He had his one leg was stretched straight and other was bent inside... He was looking no less than a sexy model. Displaying his tattoos. Only Carson among the three had tattoos on his body. His arm had a black band; his right leg had an ANCHOR right above his ankle and not to forget the DEVIL TRYING TO CATCH HIS NIPPLE. Well it was a devil printed on his chest above his left nipple extending his hand as in to grab his nipple.

I carry my face from his chest slowly and carefully, not to wake him up I roll over and lie on my side. I admire his sinful beauty, if I can just touch it once more. That's right I can touch it, after all he's sleeping. I flatten my palm on his chest and feel each rhythmic movement his chest makes when he breathes. I outline his body with my hands, over the six divisions on his belly to the tattoo on his chest. I remember when he got that, I came back tired from the classes I had and he came into my house grinning like he just won a lottery. He made me close my eyes, trust me I still cheated, opening my eyes slightly to try to take peaks of whatever surprise he was bringing up. When I opened

SERA The room was quiet, dimly lit, with nothing but the sound of our breathing filling the space. I lay next to him, staring at the ceiling, trying to catch my breath. But my eyes kept drifting to him—to that tattoo-covered body lounging lazily against the headboard. My hand moved on its own, tracing my fingers over the ink—lines so intricate, so mesmerizing. My fingers stopped at the wolf howling at a full moon, beautifully etched across his chest, covering most of his left side and stretching to his shoulder. “A wolf,” I murmured, my voice softer than usual. “Like your name.”

My face heated up instantly. I looked away for half a second, but of course my eyes betrayed me and went right back. That was when I noticed the tattoo. It was on the left side of his chest, close to his heart. Black ink, clean lines, bold letters. It looked like Latin or something old and important. I had no idea what it meant, but the way it sat there—right over the place where his heartbeat was—it felt… private. Like it wasn’t just a tattoo but a memory someone had carved into him.

I stopped breathing. The silver scar across his collarbone was longer than I had imagined, raised and pale against the rest of him. It cut diagonally from the base of his throat toward his shoulder like a permanent reminder of a blade that had not been careful. Below it the hard planes of his chest and stomach were marked with older evidence. Faded lines. The faint map of healed breaks along his ribs. His arms flexed as he dropped the shirt, and the wrist tattoos shifted over bone and tendon that had clearly been damaged once and forced to heal wrong.

“Relax, that’s a temporary tattoo. And you didn’t feel any pain because I drew it with special markers, not with a needle.” I look at him, wide-eyed. “I’m leaving you.” He comes to hug me. “You could never do that. And anyway, I really intend to give you a tattoo. Specifically, on your left shoulder. The one before was just a joke.” “You won’t get near my skin until you tell me what you plan to tattoo on me,” I say, firmly. I almost had a heart attack before.