Sukuna Black Novels & Stories

To have separate lives away from each other. "What does your friend looks like?" Lancelot asked. "Lucia is fifteen years old lady, bit shorter than me. Long straight black hair and has porcelain skin. She has big brown eyes, and she is very beautiful," I said. "Wait. What are those things?" Lancelot asked while pointing at the man-structured smokes hopping from one corner to another, searching. "That was done by my friend Lucia. She is a white snake summoner that is why she can produce men of white snake. She told them to go and search for his cousin. Remember Orion? The one I told you who just disappeared when there was a mist and a humming voice."

World 01: Modern Martial World. Pitiful shou versus two scum gongs. NOTE: Shou = Uke/bottom and Gongo = Seme/top (In case anyone asks the terms) (...) The light from the flourishing lamps illuminated the private room of the exclusive restaurant that the new rich frequented like little ants that find the sweet. The private room was beautifully decorated and looked very comfortable, with long, soft sofas, which gave a rather tempting suggestion for doing other things besides resting comfortably.

I ended up turning feverishly towards the man behind me, mentally prepared to rattle him out of his drunkenness when I suddenly and unexpectedly stopped abruptly and just could not utter a single phrase. There he was, nonchalantly tilting against the bar. He seemed to have dark eyes and dreamy dark brown hair. His skin was tanned, while he had a sleeve of body art on his upper forearm. He had also been decked in a simple black shirt that accentuated his muscled body. I was absolutely dumbfounded when I saw how good-looking he had been.

The runes ignited, threads of light weaving up her arms and into the Mark. The air thickened. The ground trembled. And from the shadows at the edge of the room, something stirred — not an Echo, but something worse. Figures began to form — twisted silhouettes of men and beasts, remnants of those the Black Moon had touched. They moved like smoke and screamed like memory. Zevran’s blade flashed. “Here we go again.” He fought without hesitation, cutting through shadows that reformed as fast as he struck them. Each one that fell fed the light around Kaelira’s spell, fueling her strength.

“The Moonshade didn’t merely conceal her, it refined her. Tempered her in the womb, like silver set in a crucible. Your mate accomplished something remarkable, Blackwood.” A beat, then. “She gave birth to an extraordinary gift. One that was never meant to belong to you alone… but to me.” The darkest corner of the hall convulsed. Shadows thickened, twisted, then knit themselves into shape. A figure stepped forward, tall, emaciated, cloaked in rags that drank what little light remained. Silas. His skin was stretched parchment over bone, veins black beneath the surface like spilled ink. His eyes burned violet, pupils slit like a cat’s in torchlight, and when he smiled, the teeth were too long,

Nothing, no scent, no sound, no sign that anyone had entered. A shaky breath escaped my lips as I clutched my pounding head. I staggered to my feet, guided only by the pale moonlight spilling through the window. My body felt like lead, weak, empty, and starving, my throat burned with dryness. I stumbled into the kitchen and drank water. I set the cup down, and that’s when it happened. A sharp, agonizing crack split through my bones, my knees buckled. No. Not again. I screamed as the shift overtook me, my bones twisting, reshaping, skin tearing. The black wolf emerged, ruthless and wild, trapping my soul behind its eyes.

Black. He had black eyes. Those previously dark brown eyes of his had turned completely black. There was no sclera around them. No iris. Just...black. Completely black. Devoid of any light. Any soul. And his mouth...it wasn't normal anymore. His lips weren't looking that appealing anymore. Because there were sharp, jagged teeth protruding from in between them. Making him look like the most frightening demon that she had ever seen.

When they struggled, it became even tighter, making their situations even more difficult. Luna simply calls this type of her power, black thread. It is formed because of all the accumulated power that she has as she molds it into objects that she wants it to be. It can be shaped into a lot of objects as long as she wants it. It can be considered a normal leash but can also be used as a killing tool if she wants to sharpen it. It is strong as if a diamond and only the person with stronger magic than her will be able to break it using magic as well.

The predator did not wait for the sun to rise. Kelvin Blackwood moved with a lethal efficiency that made the air in the master suite feel thin. He stood by the window, his silhouette cutting a sharp, obsidian figure against the moonlight filtering through the heavy drapes. The phone in his hand was no longer a device for communication; it was a tracking beacon.

Sszazzul glides like a black shadow across the city, along the walls, on the asphalt, on any surface, at the same speed. Here is an antique shop, the back entrance on the wall is quaint shadows from an old lantern. He approaches one of the shadows, runs his hand over it, the wall begins to deform, twisting into a spiral, a black hole with a diameter of half a meter is formed, Ssazzul, gets lost in this hole, it immediately disappears. A smooth wall covered with small stone, and running shadows from a lantern.