Web Of Wyrd Tattoo Novels & Stories

“Gosh.. I can not take your torcher any more. Fuck me or lick me or bite my whole body, just make me cum! Please!” But those women were not there to take her request or order. They were here to complete the ritual that had been in the pack since the existence of werewolves. They knew exactly what they wanted to do. "Aaa ahh.. aahh agghhh.. aaaaaahhhh. God fucking damn it!" Continuous screams left Maya’s mouth as fingers continued to fuck her asshole and her cock hungry pussy hole while at the same time rubbing her clit. When she was on the edge for the fifth time and her body had been drained of all its divine energy, when she was exhausted to the tips of her limbs and felt like she was goin

"Don't worry about it. I'm used to being naked around other werewolves. Although we don't have any female warriors in my pack, so I guess this is a little new for me." I blinked, baffled by the situation. "Sorry, guess I should have knocked." "Guess I should've locked the door." He winked at me. "Your tattoo," I said, seeing it properly now in the light. "Wow, it's really cool." "You like it?" He pushed his shoulder forward to give me a better look.

She tells me. When, is the only word I hold onto. She thinks this will continue to be bad, she doesn’t think I can become accustomed to this new life. This new quiet life. They leave, we make it home with no problems, but I still can’t feel anything. Colt lays me down in the bed, then they huddle somewhere, soft mumbling coming from somewhere over there. I slowly turn my head, looking at the hand that the witch used to create the block. A tattoo covers my palm moving down to my wrist. A fierce wolf stands, its eyes glowering at the world around her, black as night, flames shooting off her fur in a pattern of sorts circling my palm.

Her slender fingers grasping it even more tightly, the Witch made a motion as if stabbing herself with the thin rod into the back of her shoulder. In obvious agony and shaking violently from the pain, Chiri fell to her knees shortly afterward. Preserving in carrying out the entirety of this brutal ritual, she pressed it into her skin until the wand crumbled way in her hands. Leaving a deep aggravated burn etched onto her left shoulder. The mark was one Allen had seen before; it was in the shape of an ‘X’. Arrows and circles surrounding the intersected lines, they resembled two crossed arrows.

He closed his eyes, his jaw slackening as I scrubbed his scalp. A comfortable silence soon settled between us. As I leaned forward to rinse the shampoo from his hair, my eyes caught the tattoo inked across his back and upper arm. The design was bold against his skin, curling like claws and wings. Black flames wrapped around a serpent swallowing its own tail. "What does it mean?" I asked, my fingers lightly brushing the ink. He didn't answer at first. "It's a symbol of resurrection. Power earned through suffering." I traced the outer edge. "You got it before or after everything?"

These are the words bouncing through my innermost vision and thoughts. There are so many loose dots to fix. Maybe it’s my pity for Rain that pushes me to start checking up on Rain's mother, Yulia. In one of the pictures she took on the town’s beach with her bikini, I see a tattoo drawn on her ass, just a little above the valley of her ass with the name Wolfer. That name again? What the hell does it mean? Yulia's bio shows she's a good mythology researcher. I see some of her published works on supernaturals like Wendigos, vampires, and…

he breathed, grasping his Alpha’s arm and turning it to study the intricate design pulsing with otherworldly light. Magnus gazed down at the mark—taking in every detail with a newfound sense of awe. The intertwined hearts, adorned with Celtic knots that symbolized eternal love, throbbed in time with his own heartbeat. A subtle curved line—resembling a bite mark—connected the hearts, representing the intimate bond between mates. Within the design, a small, minimalist representation of a wolf’s head or a pair of wolf’s eyes was discreetly integrated, signifying the werewolf mate who had bestowed this gift upon him.

Thor killed his third attacker and stepped back toward me. “How many?” he asked. I did not answer. Because I was counting differently. Not how many remained. But how many were designed to die. That was when I saw it. On the wrist of one of the fallen wolves, partially exposed beneath torn fabric. A mark. A tattoo. Recognizable. I froze for a fraction of a second longer than I should have. Thor noticed immediately. “What is it?” I knelt slowly, pulling the wrist closer. The symbol was burned into skin with deliberate precision.

His hair was wet, and he had nothing but boxers on. I had a vivid view of his tattoos. Adorning his back was a fierce-looking wolf, jaws agape and poised to seize its prey. On his chest, a heart ensnared in thorny vines bled profusely, the tendrils winding their way to a blossoming rose, seemingly coloured by the lifeblood drawn from the heart. Positioned on the left side of his chest was a strikingly fierce yet captivating eagle. Additional intricate designs adorned his arms, crafted with bold strokes of black ink. The well-defined muscles accentuated the synergy between his movements and the artistic lines. I found myself pondering about the talented artist behind these captivating creatio

the wizard’s voice cut through his thoughts. He looked up, blinking like he'd just returned from another planet entirely. The wizard followed his gaze to Ren, then back at him. His brows lifted, but then he said nothing. “Yes?” Wayne answered, taking a step forward. The wizard dipped two fingers into a bowl of bloodroot and whatever else Wayne couldn't name, then gently dragged a line down his forehead. “This is the seal of Lilith,” the wizard started, his voice low and every bit ritualistic. “It binds your soul to the call. If your wolf still sleeps, the mark will scorch it awake. And if your wolf is dead...”