Tattoos That Wrap Around Arm Novels & Stories

He never really mentioned her much, but they had issues. LuciferessX: Let’s not get ahead of ourselves… Reign707: I’ll try not to Lol. You owe me a picture, remember? Of your new tattoo? Oh yeah! I look down at my right shoulder. I had a tattoo of vines, with small thorns and red roses that spread from my shoulder down the right side of my breast and to my waist, as well as the full sleeve of my right arm. Well, if he wants a picture…

"I'll be enjoying every moment of it." My cheeks are steaming red and glancing over at Galina, she is also blushing with her gaze downcast. She proffers me her hand and I wordlessly take it as I'm burning with fury inside over the dastard. My eyes catch sight of the tattoo on his muscled upper arm. The black ink of the Christian Cross encircled by a fierce Dragon, made a dramatic striking contrast against his fair skin. Some girls would think it was bad of a guy, however, to me it was bad news about a guy.

I stopped. The tattoos I'd been catching fragments of for weeks were finally visible in their entirety, and they were — extensive. Dark ink covering both arms nearly to the wrists, climbing his chest and shoulders, wrapping around his back in patterns I couldn't fully read from here. A skull on his forearm, a snake threading through the eye socket, dark red and black. Words in Russian across his ribs — I could see them but not read them at this distance. On his chest, above his heart, a single phrase in Cyrillic I could just make out:

Muscles bulged all over their bare backs, tattoos twisted and snaked around over their shoulders, necks, and probably further down their chest. One had a high and messy braid that went from his forehead and all the way down his neck. The sides were skinned. Snake-shaped tattoos decorated one of the sides of his head. The other had a little lighter hair, darker brown. The sides of his head were also shaved down to the skin, but his hair was twisted and formed with leather bands all the way to the middle of his back.

Every breath pulled against them wrong, sharp and shallow, like my body refused to expand fully without reminding me of the damage. One rib was broken or at least one and maybe more. I didn’t check. I could feel it. My tattoo sat just above the bandages, the wolf paw inked over my chest, the initials beneath it completely hidden by bruising.. My left arm was wrapped too, the fabric tight from shoulder to forearm. I flexed it slightly, testing the movement, and immediately regretted it when a dull ache shot up through the muscle. My right arm was fine. Of course it was.

His hair was wet, and he had nothing but boxers on. I had a vivid view of his tattoos. Adorning his back was a fierce-looking wolf, jaws agape and poised to seize its prey. On his chest, a heart ensnared in thorny vines bled profusely, the tendrils winding their way to a blossoming rose, seemingly coloured by the lifeblood drawn from the heart. Positioned on the left side of his chest was a strikingly fierce yet captivating eagle. Additional intricate designs adorned his arms, crafted with bold strokes of black ink. The well-defined muscles accentuated the synergy between his movements and the artistic lines. I found myself pondering about the talented artist behind these captivating creatio

He whispered back. He smiled again, and my hand flew to my eye again. Thentos took one of the young elves' shields and held in front of my face. I could see the light blue, silver tattoo that started at the corner of my right eye and swirled down in a beautiful, intricate design. It looked like a vine crawling out of my eye down to my cheekbone and the other half over my eye towards the corner of my eyebrow. I removed the crown and placed it around my neck instead, like a choker.

I shake my head at him and look away. He's sitting with his knees pulled up and his arms draped lazily over them, giving me a view of his arm and hand tattoos. He has 'love' and 'pain' tattooed across his knuckles; on his right hand, he has a rose, and on the left, he has a skull. My eyes follow up his arms looking at the artwork on them for a second before I rip them away and return my glare to him.

It was the ink. A dragon, winding up from his chest, the tail curling along his ribs, the head climbing over his collarbone and stretching up the length of his left arm, almost entirely sleeved in intricate black and gray tattoo work. Scales, smoke, fire—details that felt as much like armor as art. This wasn't some impulsive drunken mistake. This was deliberate, meaningful. A story etched upon his skin. His throat, too, was fully covered in inked. And then—

ARAH The tentacles wrapped around her arms and legs, but not before she managed to release her owls and wind tattoo from her skin. A foul secretion oozed from the slick, rubbery coils, burning wherever it touched her. The suction cups latched on hard, pulling at her flesh until her skin ached beneath the pressure. She groaned, straining to wrench herself free. But the more she fought, the tighter the grip became—like a vice of living muscle.