Chainsaw Man Power Tattoo Novels & Stories

“Do I make you unhappy?” I swallowed, shaking my head. “No,” He kissed me deep and slowly before he pulled me apart, and I rested my head back on his chest, running the tip of my finger through every fascinating masterpiece on his chest. His torso was covered in black and white tattoos, from a Madonna and child on his stomach to a dagger weaving through his collarbone from shoulder to shoulder. A cross on one of his pecs and a rose on the other. A domed church on his side. A lighthouse on his left arm and on his right arm, below his bullet wound, was a familiar tattoo in red. I'd seen it on Savio's arm as well.

I’m almost there when someone grabs me by the neck and pins me to a tree. “How dare you enter my territory?” This voice... “Answer me!” Two icy eyes try to see my face, he has a long tattoo of a lightning bolt on his left arm, and his hair is slightly longer than I remember. I turn his wrist, he lets go, he wants to punch me. I suck him, get down, kick him from the bottom up. He slams against the wall and I take advantage of it. I immobilize him and kiss him with impetus.

Relief settles for a heartbeat—my pack is safe. “Rhett,” Laura sighs. “Tell me already, what the hell is going on with you?” “I don’t want to talk about it.” I glare at her. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to be alone.” I turn and head for my apartment. Inside, I strip off my clothes. I’ve been holding back from checking the stabbing pain in my chest. I turn to the mirror— And freeze. A tattoo runs across my back, down into my chest. A river of blue light twists into a crescent moon. Inside the glow, faint outlines of wolves howl and run, their forms made of mist and stars. The whole thing pulses like a living vein under my skin.

It was silent except for the labored breathing of a man chained to a chair, his face unrecognizable from the pounding it had received. Across from him stood another man—silent, towering, and radiating a calm that was far more terrifying than rage. His black shirt was rolled to his elbows, revealing a full sleeve of intricate tattoos: snarling beasts, barbed wire, skulls with snakes twisting through their sockets. Every inch of ink was a story of blood, and none of them ended well. He adjusted his gloves, not because he was trying to stay clean, but because the soaked leather was beginning to stick. The man in the chair, his nose broken, his lips split, looked up with one eye barely open.

The sleeve of his T-shirt lifted, revealing a brightly colored tattoo on his biceps. “When’d you get that?” She pointed at the tat. He glanced down. “Last year.” “What is it?” “One of the four horseman of the apocalypse.” “Can I see it?” “Sure.” Colt rolled his sleeve to the top of his shoulder. “Whoa. That’s gorgeous. India did that?” “Yeah. She’s good, ain’t she?” Chassie squinted at the flames that swirled around the horse’s hooves. “Yep, although it don’t seem like something you’d pick, cuz.”

A loud commanding voice said, and I turned to see someone step into the garage. The man was tall and probably around the same age as Theo, and incredibly muscular. His dark hair was swept backwards, revealing fierce blue eyes. He was wearing a sleeveless shirt and running down his arms were tattoos, but a familiar tattoo stood out. It was a snake, a green snake looked like a cobra. It looks like the snake was climbing up a ladder, it's body wrapped around it. But that wasn't the only tattoo that stood out. There was a chain tattoo on his left cheekbone. His mouth turned to a friend as he stared angrily at I and Theo.

On the left side of his back, I saw a compass tattoo. But what piqued my curiosity the most was a lone tattoo at the left bottom of his back. There were two hands. One was big and bulky, indicating that it was of man's. The other was slim and slightly smaller in size, indicating that it was of a woman's. Both hands were at a little distance away from each other and were connected through the chains. They were facing away from each other as if trying to oppose the chains. Beneath the tattoo, I noticed some lettering.

A black chain was also looped three times around her right wrist from which a silver crescent moon pendant had the Roman numeral thirteen – XIII engraved on it. Everyone in the recreation room fell silent as the doors swung open, and a teen about eighteen or nineteen entered, with a solemn look on his face. His hair fell down around his face perfectly, just reaching the nape of his neck, and he was dressed in a white long-sleeved shirt with a black short-sleeved shirt worn over it, and black jeans with a pair of black Nike shoes on his feet. A black choker with a silver dagger-like pendant hung from around his neck. And a black butterfly tattoo appeared just above his collarbone on the left

The Chaos boy holding my hand is equally as confused as I am. My missing Chaos boy steals my breath away. He isn’t small anymore. His gaze is cutting and almost devoid of emotion. Two frozen ice-blue eyes. His razored hair comes just under his square jaw. His once inky-black hair has been dyed midnight blue. He has a septum piercing, each of his eyebrows has two piercings, his bottom lip has a spider bite, and his ear lobes are covered. He has a black leather collar on his throat and leather bands on his tattoo-covered arms. He is in all black. A deadly vibe comes off him in waves. My eyes are drawn to the tattoo on his neck. It’s of a blonde girl in cowboy boots sitting under a pecan tree c

Look at him believing what I said. "Aren't you hot now? I already drunk a lot. It's getting hotter.” He was taking off his polo shirt while I was just looking at his back until I could fully see the tattoo. Almost the same as the one who tried to kidnap Hades. The only difference is the part of their body where they put it. "You have a hot tattoo..." I said, stroking his back. "Of course, it is. It symbolizes power. With this, I can do everything," he said arrogantly so my eyebrows rose but I stroked them again.