Forearm Japanese Cloud Tattoo Novels & Stories

confused way. Like he was seeing something impossible. His voice was low. Careful. “Your shoulder,” he said. “What about it?” I snapped. He leaned in slightly. Whispered, "That mark. The white one. It’s real." I blinked. "What?" He looked around. Nervous. His voice dropped even lower. "That’s a kitsune birthmark. From the old bloodlines. Japanese clan. You’re not supposed to exist." He shoved clothes into my hands. "Get dressed. Quick."

I twist a little to the side so I can see it clearly—the mark. It's truly red, like a bold, fearless tattoo shaped like a sun with sharp pointed rays stretching out in all directions. At the center, there is a large crescent moon cradling a five-pointed star, as if the crescent moon is protecting the star. Around the moon and star, there are small dots growing bigger with each next dot, and below the crescent moon, there is a bigger dot and even more dots that trail down in a straight line, leading into two sharp triangles pointing downwards. How did this mark end up on my body?

He moves closer, stopping when he is nestled between my legs, his rock hard cock poking at my entrance deliciously. Softly, I run my fingers over his muscled shoulders, down his rock hard biceps, over his forearms, and back up. When I reach his shoulders once again I run my hands down over his chest, taking in every muscled ridge of his body. My fingers falter when I notice the tattoo placed lovingly over his heart. Okami. I place a kiss over the tattoo, receiving a groan of approval from Kenji. “I got this tattoo to remember our time in your parent’s garden.” He whispers in my ear, sending shivers of awareness through me.

I wasn't ready to move on, not yet. I walk out of my room, hugging my clothes, and at the same time, Ares, my brother, comes out of the bathroom while steam from inside is smoking out. His short black hair is damped and loose, and his five o'clock shadow has been shaved as the towel wrapped around his waist reveals his torso with tattoos of the Filipino sun on his right chest and a Japanese design covering his whole right arm. He has another one on his back with the Greek words agape, pistis, and theos.

Marcus continued slowly. “He said when she handed him candy, her wrist was exposed for a moment. On it was a very unusual tattoo.” Marcus took out another photo. It was a child’s drawing. A twisted pumpkin face, its mouth split all the way to the ears, its eyes hollow spirals. “This kind of gothic-style tattoo… a lot of people have them…” My voice grew quieter and quieter. Marcus said nothing. He simply placed a third photo in the center of the table. The background was a beach and the open sea.

he replied. “What does the mark look like?” I asked curiously, eyebrows furrowed deeply. “A tattoo of a trident on their arm. It is usually inscribed on their right forearm,” he explained. I slowly rubbed my jaw, taking a wall down memory lane. “I might have seen that mark somewhere, but I can't seem to recall.” “Don't be so hard on yourself. We're almost there anyway,” he said, pointing towards a hill right before us. The top appeared foggy from below, making it hard to believe that life existed up there.

I see the Kanji symbol, its line is like the sun on his back. "That's the tattoo? Seriously? I don't want it." I said and shook my head I don't want that tattoo because it's so ugly! "Me too, I don't want it." Augustin said as he touched the symbol on Hideo's back. "That's all Daddy Morfeo!" Hideo said as he faced us again.

Grey eyes, jagged black tattoos and sandy blonde hair crammed into a tight black shirt and pants. “Don’t attack! I’m White Forest, I’m White Forest!”

The skin around the gash was red and puffy, and it stung fiercely as the maid dabbed at it with a new, clean cloth. She then gathered a spool of pristine white linen bandages from her basket of supplies and placed it on the vanity. She reached back to the basket, this time choosing a small earthenware jar, and the sleeve of her dress rode up slightly to reveal a strange white tattoo. The symbol was like nothing I had ever seen before. It consisted of a series of moons, each in a different phase and arranged in a circle to complete the cycle. White script in a language that I couldn’t read looped around the edge of the moons, spiraling inwards towards the center of the cycle.

Esmeray held her forearm up, examining the intricate tattoo that adorned her skin. The tattoo depicted a majestic wolf, its eyes fierce and determined, surrounded by swirling patterns that seemed to dance with a life of their own. The lines were bold and precise, giving the impression of strength and resilience. “This tattoo is so unique,” Esmeray remarked, tracing her fingers over the contours of the design. “I’ve always felt a connection to it, but I never knew why.”