Jesus Crucifixion Tattoo Novels & Stories

"You are still the same, zoning out when relaxed." Ambrosius chuckles as I trail patterns on his chest with my fingers. He got a tattoo of an angel riding a ferociously looking black vampire on his chest. I absolutely love it, especially the vampire. I know it is him because of the golden eyes. And the angel is me. It brought me to tears when I saw it for the first time. Ambrosius said he had to have something that would stay with him for the rest of his life, that reminded him of me. "And you can still tell when it happens."

"Theory deciphers 666 as Neon Qsr, that's either Greek, latin? Nero caecer however. The mark refares to nero's persecution of the early christians, another theory claims it warns about the prophet Muhammad, the founding Islamic prophet who was known as a false prophet in the middle ages. " "Why do you wear the tattoo, Adulf? " "Me? "He said"I'm trying to get in contact with this darker energy. I want to practise all things occultic. If there's a satan, he'll visit me. God failed me, I guess he's always been a failure. " her eyes were wet. "What happened? Adulf, really, I should know, "she said"its not God's will sara was--. " "Its not the rape, idiot. "He frowned"I've been through far worse

His finger strokes down my neck and over the tattoo. “So, why this?” Jax’s words are whispered into my ear. “That night of the hunt, I mentioned that it was a pity it wouldn’t scar. I liked the idea of having something permanent on me to show I belonged to you. Then I remembered the bite and thought that would be perfect.” It was perfect at that moment. “And the symbol?” I smile. “If you look close enough, it’s the letters D, B, J, and C combined.” I feel him shift, and he exhales heavily.

She pressed herself against the wall, peeking through the gap. Father Zerus stood with his back to her, his cassock already on the floor, his broad shoulders bare. He was reaching for a clean shirt when she saw it—the tattoo that covered his left shoulder blade. It is a serpent, coiled around a dagger, its scales , its eyes burning with an inner fire. The dagger was stained with drops of blood, and beneath it, a single word was etched in elegant script: Sosa. Krystal's blood turned to ice. The club. The night she had been so drunk she could barely stand. The man she had walked into, the man whose hand she had grabbed, dragging him through the crowd. The man she had kissed before he had pushe

Sticky? I pushed myself up on my elbows and looked down. “Jesus fucking Christ!” There was a tattoo on my chest. Right over my heart. Black ink in elegant script: “property of Lorenzo King.” Small, precise letters framed by a tiny heart at the end. Dry cum flaked around the edges like obscene sealant. I collapsed back onto the pillows and stared up at the ceiling mirror. The reflection showed the same words staring back at me. Mocking me. Claiming me. “Oh god…”

Murphy invited all his friends and relations round to his house to see the ad. The ad came on and the camera zoomed in on a grassy field and there was lovely background music. The camera then moved over the grass and up the side of a hill. At the top of the hill it came to the bottom of a cross. It slowly moved up the cross... to reveal Jesus on the cross. It moved out to his hands to show the nails driven through the hands. A voice then said: "Always use Murphy's nails".

The man whimpered, blood running from his nose “I was just paid to drop it—” I straightened and looked at Mateo. “Show me.” Mateo nodded, then walked behind the man and yanked up his shirt. Scrawled between his shoulder blades was a black ink tattoo, crudely done but clear as day. “J.S.” Judas Stone. My fingers twitched at my sides. “You expect me to believe you have never met him, but you branded yourself with his initials?” “I didn’t know—” I clenched my fist and drove it into his gut.

The weight of the moment was palpable, heightened by the realization that the priest standing beside me was none other than Krystallo, the infamous mafia priest known for his merciless acts. My eyes inadvertently drifted towards the cross-shaped tattoo, intertwined with a viper, adorning Krystallo's neck. The intricate design served as a chilling reminder of the countless lives he had taken and the blood that stained his hands. It was a symbol of power and ruthlessness, one that sent shivers down the spines of even the most hardened criminals.

His outfit was completed with sneakers that matched the colour of his jeans. I could see the ink that covered his right arm. It was from his wrist leading up to the length of his arm and disappearing under the sleeve of his shirt. I could make out some of the images. I saw a rose with a name scribbled on the stem, Jesus Christ with his hands clasped, and some teardrops flowing from his eyes. I never thought about tattoos being sexy, but looking at his, I got an uneasy feeling in my stomach.

The once beautiful canvas of his phoenix tattoo is now topped with another set of prints that aren’t part of the art I admired. With blurry eyes, I tumbled out of bed and kneeled between his legs. There, a heartbreaking sight of bullet and knife scars met my gaze. On his right chest, the Outlaws’ insignia was marked with an X. I’m sure a knife did it from the smooth edge of the scar. And on his left side were two bullet wounds, barely missing his liver. But below his left breast, the words ‘corazón para la muñeca’ were written in cursive writing. [heart for the doll]