Strong Language Novels & Stories

She closed her eyes violently, hesitating with all her faith and complete confidence in the truth: "The devil is delusional in his strength and tyranny in front of the weak in faith and religion, the devil is weak in front of the strong in will and faith. The devil's weevil does not lead the righteous believers, and the devil's weevil is nothing but an illusion that lays a veil on the weak minds of Satan, who feeds on our weak minds. Souls of the weak without will and faith, I am not weak, I do not believe in Satan and his followers. He yelled at her, filling his throat, squeezing her neck so violently, holding her breath, "Stop, shut up, you damned, shut up, or I will rip out your tongue a

His touch burned, not with heat but with power, the kind that could crush me without effort. “Listen carefully, Aliyana.” His voice was a low growl, each word precise, sharp. “The weak die. The strong survive. That is the only law this world respects.” I jerked my head, but his grip only tightened, bruising my jaw. Tears burned hot in my eyes, not of fear, but fury. “You think strength is killing a man who never stood a chance against you?” I spat through clenched teeth. “That doesn’t make you strong. That makes you a coward.”

Dad always said a mafia don's daughter had to be strong, even in the middle of a gunfight. Our family had just been ambushed by a rival crime family. A stray bullet grazed my little sister's arm. Mom cradled her protectively while Dad frantically called for an ambulance. I was the one who'd stood at the front, covering their escape. Now I lay on the ground with three bullets in my body, and nobody even looked at me. "Dad, I... it hurts so much." "You've always been strong. They're just a few bullets, and nothing vital was hit. Stop making such a scene!" Mom glanced back at me, then quickly turned away. "If you can still cry and shout, you can't be hurt that badly. Your sister's already

The‌n he said, "You're s‍tronger than I thoug‍ht you​'d be." ​ "I d‌on'​t feel strong." "You ar‍e. Most people w​ould've broken by now​. But you're still fi‌ghting. Still demandin‍g answe‍rs. Still refusing t‍o just accept thi‌s." He smile‌d sl‌ightly. "It's i⁠mpressive⁠.‍ And terrifyi‍ng." "Why terrifyin⁠g?" ​ "B⁠ecause strong people are unp​redicta​ble​.‌ And unpred‍icta‌ble peo‍ple ar⁠e dangero‌us‌.⁠"

Strength is not the absence of pain. It is the ability to carry it. --- Until the weight becomes too much. --- Until something cracks. --- And even then— --- You keep going. --- Elena Voss had always been strong. --- Unbreakable, they called her. --- Relentless. --- Precise. --- Untouchable. --- But they had never seen her like this. --- Not as a leader. --- Not as a strategist. --- Not as a weapon.

The two of them had begun to fight constantly. In a video a friend sent me, Donovan kicked over a chair and snarled, "Amanda, didn't you say you could handle everything? Aren't you the big-shot businesswoman? Now we can't even afford a decent meal, and you've got me hiding in this dump eating pasta! I must have been cursed to believe you!"

Strength, give me strength! The sound of footsteps drew sudden and near, turning the corner and ringing on the stone like a grim, clattering instrument. Choking back a gasp, Liziwe hastily stuffed the cross back into the pouch, and with quivering hands forced the entire bulky thing back into her bodice. Rising swiftly, she turned, and stood tall: be it friend or foe, she would be strong, God help me!

the words repeat itself, while the blood is dripping on the floor when he made me punch a bag without gloves. “Pain will make you mad and strong.” I hit the bag, and it fell to the ground again. I pulled another one closer as the rage and anger and pain filled my body. “anger is like fire. Fire can be very useful if you use it right. Use the anger in you, Blake! See your bully!” my father yelled. He pushed me and I tripped and hit my head against the bag. “Control your emotions!” my father yelled again and kicked me. I remember how the rage took over, and I turned around and tried to punch him in the face, but who was I fooling? I tried to take on the best fighter in the world.

“Be careful, girl. I like you, but I won’t tolerate insolence.” My mouth goes off on its own again. “Tell me what you want from him…what will make you happy? Do you want him to sit back and watch the unfortunate ones get tortured? How is that a display strength?” He walks towards me, eyes narrow, lips set in a thin, angry line. “A strong wolf can stomach torture…a weak one can’t. If he’s strong, as you say he is, he would have let my punish the retard.”

I feel more more and more pressure and power being pushing against the door , how ever I stand my ground and push back. “Fucking hell…how fucking…strong are you?!” I hear one of the guys say , through grinded teeth. “ I am the strongest bitch you will ever know – now bring it on , I can do this all fucking night you pussy” I growl out to them. I feel them push even harder , yet I am still standing strong. I feel a sense of pride wash over me , yet I can not relish in it as I am trying my hardest to safe me. I feel the power that they put in to pushing the door , slowly begin to fade. I feel a relief as even I was getting a bit tired.