Cthulhu Tattoos Novels & Stories

That night, Henry finally let go of all restraint. The room lay in shadow, and he pressed me against the floor-to-ceiling window, the lights of Riverton flickering like stars beyond the glass. “Claire…” “Yes?” “I want to get another tattoo.” “Where?” He gripped my hand and pressed it to his lower back, mirroring the spot that corresponded to mine. There, with each of his breaths, a faint outline of a feral totem emerged. “I want to tattoo your image. I want to carve you into my bones forever.”

sagot ni Nena at nagpatuloy sa pagbibigay ng kaaliwan. Sa ilalim ng dim na ilaw ng isang tattoo parlour sa eskinita, umupo si Xandro Chavit sa upuan matapos magpagupit, iniisa-isa ang mga disenyo ng tattoo nang may nakapokus na kalmadong anyo. Huminto siya sa isang dragon na nakapulupot sa apoy, perpekto para sa kanyang likod, saka tinapik ang isang phoenix para sa kanyang kaliwang braso. "Pareho," utos niya, kalmado at matatag ang boses.

“No. Someone was watching over him, over them.” Avril arched his brows in a question. “Look,” Anaztasia continued. “This tattoo. It’s a Celtic symbol. It seems that before they were turned from a mere mortal to a Death Summoner, they were marked by the Heathens in order to control them and at the same time silenced them in desperate times…such as this.” “Desperate times?” He queried again. “Times when the heathens needed to kill one of them in order to protect their secret—their brethren.”

She wondered what he was trying to do. All he had on was a pair of brown pants, his upper body was rendered bare in front of her, and she could now clearly see the tattoo on his chest, it was a scaly figure that seemed to wrap around his slender frame with its head extending right over his right shoulder to his chest. Its mouth was wide open with sharp canines popping out of it. A tattoo of a mythical serpent-like creature, a Chinese dragon, not the kind of tattoo a respectable businessman would have on him. A thug, perhaps, or even the yakuza.

“Your tattoos are beautiful.” I look at the tattoo of a skull surrounded by black flames. My whole right arm is decorated with tattoos from shoulder to wrist. My skin prickles with every caress of her fingers, but I don’t stop her from touching me. The tattoo sleeve has several tribal symbols, and there are a seal trident and a frogman tattoo on my shoulder. Each tattoo represents something in my life. The skull represents my status as an Assassin, and the cross is a play on my name. Her finger moves down the line of my intricate cross, then to the inside of my rib cage, where I have an inscription. Qui velit, ut vivat in aeternum.

I am thankful he let me listen to that song. “Thank you… I almost forgot about those important details.” I bluntly said. He moves closer messing my hair making me grunt and gesture my hand, sliding it vertically to my neck. It’s a warning not to mess with my hair. “Oh… the tiger is now back.” I never mind what he was saying. I just focus on my drawing; maybe it will help me to find them. I picture out the tattoo I see on that bastard's left chest. It’s the only thing I can hold to find that tattoo. I draw a wolf eating the full moon looking up…maybe to praise the Moon Goddess or the opposite meaning? Devouring?

The next morning, Chloe woke with determination burning in her chest. She wasn’t going to waste another second. If her human days were numbered, she’d mark them into permanence. “Get up,” she said, tugging at Valerius’s sleeve where he sat in the living room, reading with infuriating calm. His eyes slid up lazily. “And why would I?” “Because we’re getting tattoos,” she declared. “Matching ones.” A slow blink. “Tattoos?”

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.

Her fingers trembled as she undid the last button, pushing the fabric aside to reveal my skin. "Greedy little virgin," I teased, but I shrugged off my shirt, exposing my tattooed chest—rippling muscles, scars from my rough past, all symbols of the darkness she was embracing. The ink swirled in intricate patterns: a snarling wolf on my pec, vines of thorns wrapping around my abs, each one a story of conquest and pain. Her eyes widened, fingers tracing the ink, sending shivers down my spine as her nails scraped lightly over a scar. "Touch all you want. But remember, this body is your master now. Every ridge, every scar—it's yours to worship, but only because I allow it."

“Did you hear me, Raid? You are still a living being.” “Let me be, Chyra,” I muttered under my breath. I had just stumbled on the ancient runes of the mundane witches, and I recognized one of them. It was a tattoo on Khang’s body. I had taken a close look during our last ‘meetup’. “What good is living if you know life is going to be short-lived?” “That’s where you get it wrong,” she answered as she walked into the study. Her loud footsteps disrupted my focus, and I knew she wasn’t leaving until I gave her what she wanted.