The Exorcist Tattoo Novels & Stories

Pure, unholy sin. My hands moved on their own, sliding up his chest, tracing the tight lines of muscle beneath his warm olive skin. My fingers brushed the tattoo inked into his ribs, the Italian cross, the Latin carved beneath it. Mors tua, vita mea. Your death, my life. His grip tightened on my waist. He pushed me back, and my spine met the cold marble wall with a gasp. The contrast between his heat and the chill behind me sent a shiver all the way down to my toes. Zach’s lips left mine and dropped to my neck, kissing, biting, branding me with sins no holy water could ever cleanse.

It is starting to feel like I am married to Reverend Fathers; I mean isn't there a beautiful nun like Alex that will explain all this nonsense to me? If God could push beautiful nuns possibly prettier than Alex my way then I would take up this retarded job with pride. I will even have Exorcist tattooed on my ass—yeah, I said it; on my ass, because I have a beautiful booty. Let's go hear what Reverend Father Frank has to say

Huffing out the sand from his mouth, he gnashed his teeth, worried about her welfare to the bone. ‘No, I will not go down like this!’ he expressed, the thunder in his heart beginning to form a storm. ‘I am an exorcist priest! And I will not be controlled by a demon!’ Marcus’ eyes suddenly changed from a smoky brown to a golden amber shade. His arms showed an odd occurrence where the surface crystallized and enveloped the tattoo. The burn immediately dissipated and the augmented vines flattened. Marcus found the coolness of his skin soothing, but not only that, he actually felt entirely better now... much better, like he had just been reborn.

His hands held the railing as he leaned on it, putting some of his weight on his hands and looking at the ocean. I was relieved to find him there. Standing behind, I looked at his back and for the first time, I actually looked at the tattoo on his back, near his torso right in the middle, where his spinal cord was. It was an inverted cross with snakes wrapping around it. It was demonic. He was demonic. I mean who gets an inverted cross tattooed on their body? I walk to him and stand a few feet behind. “Why are we still here?” I ask looking at his broad back, scrunching my eyes due to the bright sun.

As long as it wouldn't hurt anyone. I got Max's call after a few minutes. Walking away from the men who were mopping the floor, I took the call. “Any news?” “Yes, my alpha. The tattoo belonged to the men of the Scorpion Syndicate. That's their symbol mark. It's of a skull being pierced by an axe and an arrow prodding from its left eye. I can't be wrong about that.” “I see.”

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 hoodie draped loosely over his head, obscuring his face, but the flicker of city lights occasionally illuminated the sharp lines of his jaw and the hints of a sinister smirk playing on his lips. The wind picked up, a fierce breeze whipping across the rooftop and causing the hood to flutter. As the fabric shifted, it revealed a chiseled, muscular torso adorned with intricate tattoos, each line telling a story of violence, power, and mystery. Prominently displayed on the left side of his chest was a large, bold tattoo—the words *Nosce Hostem* inked in a jagged, menacing script that seemed almost to pulse with life against his skin. The tattoo, a clear message, spoke of a deep connection to

The click of the seatbelt seems to seal me into his control. He slams the door shut with a deafening clap, his powerful frame filling the car as he starts the engine. My eyes are drawn to the intricate symbol tattoos adorning his bulging muscles, and I cannot help but feel both intimidated and mesmerised by them as they start to writhe and twist, moving across his skin as if alive. “Why do your tattoos move?” I whisper, my face unconsciously inching closer to his. His dark eyes meet mine, sending a shiver down my spine. “They’re ruins,” he answers gravely. “Tobin cast them to ward off dark magic.” I can’t tear my gaze away from the pulsating marks on his skin. “But why do they move?” I wonde

"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.

Is he naturally built like this? Sasha steps backward to give me the full picture. I see stars on his knees that match his shoulders. He twists, showing the rugged expanse of his back. I was right: it's a church inscribed over his shoulder blades and spine. It's lovely, but above it is the terrifying image of a spider. "Ulyana told me about the tattoos in the Bratva," I say. Inching off the desk, I approach him. He remains where he is, watching me over his shoulder. My hand touches one of the stars. "What do these all mean?"