Romans & histoires Dark Evil Neck Tattoos

"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.

"Yeah, have it?" Skoteinó chuckled and removed his white smiley mask that revealed the tattoos on his face. The tattoo that attracts Raverine the most is the official insignia of Die Dark — a smiling skull with a bloody fang. The tattoos were all over his dark-toned face. He also had piercings on his nose and lip — a typical look of an outlaw.

Until I was pasted against the wall with my hands tied on my back. “Ouch… you are hurting me. Leave me.” I protested. “The world already has an impression of me. I don’t give a heck about it anymore. However, you need to be aware that I don’t like to hear excuses, yet you are lucky to be granted this opportunity twice.” His hot breath fell into my ears, as if someone from hell was downcasted and he was surely one. A devil. An inferno with a tattoo of a weird and unrecognizable symbol on the side of his neck, which I noticed when he flipped me around.

Good for him. My eyes drifted up, catching on something I hadn’t noticed before: a tattoo peeking just above the collar of his jacket. A serpent—coiled, detailed, the scales inked in deep black and subtle greens. It curled around the side of his neck, the tail disappearing under his ear, the head resting near his Adam’s apple like it was about to strike. I tilted my head. “New ink?” His hand flew to his neck instantly, fingers pressing the collar higher to cover it. His frown was immediate and for a second he looked almost startled, like I’d caught him doing something wrong.

he replies. He’s an odd looking person, as I take a proper step back to look at him. His hair is a dark, woodish brown hair and his eyes are a striking close to black colour. But what hits me as his most shocking feature is the tattoos in some kind of patterned dialectic creeping up his neck from below the collar of shirt, up to his jawline, where it creeps slightly to his cheekbones. I’ve never seen anything like it.

Both cobras faced each other in their defense position on his midriff, their fangs in display, and their forked tongues stuck out. She didn't see the whole tattoos as his towel covered them; she knew the cobras extended to his crotch. At least she completely saw the diabolic tattoo of a furious wolf on his right breast. Beads of water trickled from his damp hair down to his face. Strands of his wet hair fell over his forehead, as his hair was unkempt. Steams erupted from his body like he doused himself in a boiling tub.

''So let's start. ''Yeah, let's.......'' We spoke the whole of the afternoon mainly about unnecessary things like between white shelled eggs and brown shelled eggs which produce the cutest chicks. By evening, we were done and he made his way out. As he attempted to grab his jacket off the stand rack I noticed a tattoo stapled at the back of his neck. It looked like a face but half of its face was that of a human with long fangs and the other part morphed into a deadly looking wolf.

"Affirmative." A man in dark blue wash jeans, a brown leather jacket, a white t-shirts and black boots, walked up to the car and yanked the door open to see a woman hanging upsidedown, unconscious. His brown hair was cut short, showing of the red rose tattoos on the side of his neck. Though what really caught the eyes of everyone else that day was the death symbol tattooed on the back of his head. A skull and two bones forming a cross with fire burning through them.

Nobody trusts anyone until you shove proof into their face. I sighed and lifted the hem of my shirt, revealing the black dragon tattoo inked deep into my skin—the symbol of The Ghost. The mark that made nations tremble. The emblem that ensured every enemy took their final breath in fear. The man’s eyes widened in shock. The room gasped collectively. “I—I’m s-sorry,” he stuttered. I smiled sweetly, stepped closer, and before he could blink— CRACK. His neck snapped between my fingers like it was made of thin wood.

Arnold paused before exiting and leaned down, tapping the gun to my forehead: “Stay put.” I caught it then. A flash of skin above his collar — his turtle neck had slipped down slightly. There, beneath it, was a tattoo, inked deep into the side of his neck. A pattern of overlapping scales, stylized like… ‘Is that a snake?’ I thought. It looked familiar. ‘Where have I seen that before?’ I was so lost in thought I almost missed when they actually stepped out. And then I was alone again. The room seemed quieter now. But the silence wasn’t comforting.