Death Moth Throat Tattoo Novels & Stories

“I’ve never really looked at you this way. But now, it’s all starting to make sense. The date on your forearm…” I let my gaze drift lower, tracing the sharp lines of his torso. There were other tattoos scattered across his skin—fragments of a story only he knew. A Latin phrase curved along his collarbone, the ink bold and deliberate, “Memento Mori”—remember you must die. “Hayden?” He whimpered in his sleep. And groaned. I lifted my gaze to his face. Hayden whimpered softly, tossing in his sleep. Tears ran down his temples. Pain was written all over his face, frozen somewhere beneath a nightmare and a cursed reality he couldn’t escape from.

He is so happy because he will finally be able to escape this chaotic world and they will be able to fulfill the simple dream of Akira and his as a normal couple. When he arrived at the condo, he immediately took a shower first to be able to clean and to make sure if he hadn't been scratched before. As the water flows through his body you can see the blood of his victims clinging to him gradually flowing into the sink. Azrael’s body is full of scars from his wounds from his previous missions and on his back is a large tattoo— “Deus Mortis” which in Latin means “God of death” is what the organization called him because of the number of impossible missions he has accomplished.

He nudged the unconscious man, pushing him to his stomach and just as expected, a black moon tattoo was carved onto the skin of his neck. A Darkmooner “Blow the horn”

I bent over the dead soldier, my heart heavy as I realized that the same tattoo adorned his neck as well. he design was unlike anything I had seen before, yet there was an unsettling familiarity about it, a memory tugging at the edges of my mind. The tattoo depicted a flying demon, its wings outstretched, eyes aglow with an otherworldly luminescence. The level of detail was astonishing, every line and curve capturing the essence of the creature in a way that was both mesmerizing and disconcerting. The artistry was undeniable, but there was an underlying malevolence that sent shivers down my spine.

The doors to the heaven close behind. And a name gets engraved on it. Joining the list of other gods of heaven. Entry no 777 Death Wolf/ Thaneos - The god of Death. .............. The End.................

The echo of harm that ripples outward even at death. When I take it, the pain is instant. My tattoos ignite. Not their usual slow burn, but a furious, living red that crawls across my skin as if the evil itself wants to be seen. The marks coil down my arms, over my ribs, up my throat, vivid and angry. The soul resists, not with strength, but with malice that lingers even at the threshold of its end. I carry it through anyway, absorbing what must not return to the living world.

Qui velit, ut vivat in aeternum. “What does it mean?” She asks curiously. My breath hitches at the feel of her warm fingers, making my voice sound husky when I respond. “It says, “Who wants to live forever?” She chuckles as she considers my morbid message. Before she can ask me another question, I take a deep breath and place my hand over hers. “Do you have any?” Sage smiles shyly as she sits up on the bed to lift her shirt’s hem, showing me the small tattoo decorating her hip. It’s a heart with rose thorns wrapped around it. My breath hitches at the sight of her firm stomach and concave belly button and the way her skin glows like a shining pearl in the moonlight. Biting back a groan, I run

‘’Yes,’’ I answered sheepishly. Apart from his beautiful features, I get to admire some ink of his that are visibly available for my eyes. There was this one quote that caught my attention though, it’s written in Cyrillic script. ‘Life is nothing more than a nightmare, but death, the longing sleep dreams of life.’ The letters are in cursive writing tattooed on his neck, barely noticeable because it was being toppled over by a few stronger marks. A tail of a dragon was creatively cloaking the script, I’ve seen that dragon ink once, in that bathroom incident. I averted my gaze from him as soon as I realized I was staring too long. Scolding myself for being stupid. I shouldn’t be admiring him.

I approach the covered painting board and try to look under it. " WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" Shouts a male voice. His voice invades in me chills, warm chills and when I turn to look at the person who shouted of anger, I realize it is still him. Zack Torneur, with a tower attached around his waist, living his naked well-sculptured chest seen with his wings tattoo. When I analyze him more deeply, apart from his curly hair and his light brown eyes, he has a light stubble beard. On his forarm the word GO in very big capital letters had been tattooed, on his biceps a big moon tattoo and on his thorax a rose surrounded by thorns. All this tattoo? What for? It seems he has other tattoos, but right n

She asked and he nodded his head. “One of the dead bodies had a crescent moon tattoo on his chest, Alba. It was the same tattoo as mine, and the same one as the buff guy during that night…” his voice began to tremble out of anger, “the same tattoo as the man who killed and tortured my brother that night.”