#the deadly desert

[mystery-salad]

The world is safe now.

You tell yourself that as Zhaitan clings to a tower of decay, crumbling beneath its claws as the canons aim true. The shots hit, cheers raise as the dragon topples down. Falling from view through the miasma it created below. No one can hear it hit the ground over the relieved shouts of victory ringing across the airships. But everyone feels it in a resounding rumble that shouldn't have carried through the air like that. The celebrating falters, confusion rising but not fast enough to prepare for what follows. The shockwave hits like nothing you've ever felt. Everything goes dark as the screams begin.

The world is safe now, Orr is not.

You wake up in the rubble as survivors try to make sense of what happened. The dragon is dead, but no one accounted for where all the consumed magic had to go. No one planned for this despite generations of preparation. Perhaps there's a reason for the dragons, you hear murmurs through the tents. But you didn't come this far to call it quits, and one land riddled with a decaying radiation can't stop the mission. The contamination in your blood won't stop you.

The world is safe now. Orr is gone.

Mordremoth stares you down from within his mind. You're like a weed that won't die, small and foreign but resilient and ready to take everything. The odds are against you with the team sent away, you can't face the gaze of the dead like last time. They're safe at a distance, you have to hope they got far enough as you defy the odds and strike another dragon down.

The world is safe, but there's a catch.

Trahearne shudders as your mind returns to your body, as you look around in wonder that there isn't a shockwave like last time. He's so calm as he explains the truth of it, defying how terrified he is of dying, of asking a friend to do this and stand at ground zero once again. But you stand just as calm, picking up the blade and telling him to close his eyes. You hope he'll rest well, wherever his life takes him next. As the blade cuts through, you know it's real as the shockwave begins just like last time. You brace for impact as much as you can.

The world is safe now. The desert is gone.

It's almost tempting to let Balthazar handle the rest, let the god walk a path of destruction to each dragon, sparing yourself further damage. But his path leaves so much unnecessary devastation...so here you are alone with another dragon. Well, not completely alone now. You have Aurene, though you're still not sure if that's truly a blessing any more. The two of you corner Kralkatorrik, the perfect trap laid deep underground in old sunspear ruins.

The world is safe now, until the dragon takes a last stand.

Waking up in wreckage is becoming normal to you. When did that happen, when did the panic vanish? No time to think on it as new plans have to be laid out. You chase him down, you and your dragon, to kill her grandfather and save the world again. Setbacks are numerous. It's harder to work alone on this one, so many soldiers are ready to see it to the end with you. You tell them they don't know what they're asking for and send them away again. Aurene, still a child, fights the dragon's minions nearly overwhelmed as you get to his heart and strike. You've never seen the explosion from inside before. It's so bright.

The world is safe now. The island is gone.

Is it worth it all? It has to be, you tell yourself, as people celebrate your victories in a shrinking world. Refugees who have fled the fallout zones don't seem to agree, but at least they're alive right? And you know you're almost done. Jormag and Primordus, opposites and twins, rise together and somehow feel like childsplay after the last one. Perhaps it's because aurene is an equal to them now. You don't dare to think of the devastation that would be left if she were to die now. Thankfully you don't have to as the siblings tear each other apart.

The world is safe now. The mountains are gone.

No one has seen the final dragon in ages, hidden away deep underwater until you stumble into the truth while chasing a lesser threat. Soo Won was so gentle once, but the void ravages all. It feasts on the magic you released so willingly into the world, your devastations have paved the way for this chaos.

The world is safe now, for the void to reform.

You've survived so much despite the odds, held together by the very magic degrading your bones and poisoning your blood. The void pulls at those strings as it taunts you through the voice of the dragon who started it all. It's the hardest fight you've ever faced. As Aurene pumps you full of power to survive, you wonder if your death would bring destruction too in this moment. But it's left a mystery as Soo Won falls and the void fades. There's a moment of peacefulness you've never felt before, the grandmother hanging on long enough to comfort her granddaughter. But she can't prevent the state of her death. The jade sea shatters beneath your feet as she dies.

The world is safe now. But how much of it is left?

[cleocatrablossy]

Unfinished comic-y thing for day 4!

Prompts: Forehead Kiss/Reunion/Superhero

I saw forehead kiss and reunion and realized it was literally cannon to my pirate au. I’ll finish this eventually.

[notearsnora]

According to Variety magazine, some scenes of WICKED PART II were shot in the white desert national park, Egypt in late 2023.

[halloween-post-its]

Day 5 👺 Lead Wheeler - Return to OZ 🛞

[hellcatchvalley]

[slamming drinks down] im TIRED of the desert and YES this includes the moon desert

[yuuniee]

— 💓 Surprise!!

I feel like writing drabbles for my ships so... Send a voice line from a card of a character I ship with my ocs, and I’ll write a small thing, because until now, I had like one or two fics written for my other ships and I want to expand on them too... :(

Characters I ship with my ocs: Cater, Ruggie, Jack, Floyd, Jamil, Epel, Rook, Idia, Silver, Rollo

[bunninsula]

[danielleurbansblog]

Review: The Machine Murders

Synopsis: A Dubai balloon festival is attacked by the worst social engineering exploit the world has seen. A prime moment to be working for Interpol. Manos Manu, an Interpol data scientist, arrives in the United Arab Emirates to solve a series of impossible murders that have shaken the Middle East. Interpol’s Singapore back office has proven world-class, with a machine learning team of the…

[gottamusethemall]

Headcanons about XVI (Lotta spoilers)

Personal headcanons about XVI will be below the cut cause of length and spoilers. 

The first person that Ultima used as a puppet was none other than Anabella. Despite all her concern for Joshua and relative lack of concern for Clive, Anabella didn’t bother to ensure whether or not Joshua was alive. Joshua’s body was probably buried underneath the rubble, and he was presumed dead. Clive was only noticed because he was out in the open. There was no shortage of ways to get Branded Soldiers, so there wasn’t a particular need for Anabella to let Clive live, but Ultima ensured that Mythos survived. 

The connection between Anabella and Ultima would also explain the Masked Man’s appearance at Phoenix Gate during Clive’s initial awakening. The Masked Man is assumed to be Sleipnir, someone that is capable of moving around swiftly without drawing suspicion to their absence elsewhere. Cid probably served with Waloed during this time. 

Ironically, there is a point of similarity between all the dominants. They are all beings of remarkably strong will, though their goals differ. Joshua and Clive have the strongest wills, which is why they are the two fires that are the cornerstone, but Clive’s time as Joshua’s first shield makes his will stronger, which is why he is Ifrti’s Dominant. 

Clive is able to absorb the eikon from the other dominants when their wills are weak enough. Normally, a dominant is fiercely opposed to surrending their Eikon. However, when a Dominant’s will is broken, normally associated with a feeling of weakness that can be impressed or generated, then the Eikon can be withdrawn from them. 

It is assumed that Ultima can decide who will become a dominant. This is because the Eikons are all seen looking at Ultima, so he is of a higher power than the Eikons. Knowing that he will want as many Eikons as possible to ensure that Mythos will have as much power as possible. Therefore, Leviathan’s dominant is somewhere. 

While Ultima can choose who will be a dominant, he cannot keep track of where those dominants all are. This is presented when the masked man says ‘We have found you.’ For Leviathan, it would make sense that a group that is mostly unknown could hold the Dominant of Leviathan and Ultima wouldn’t be any the wiser. 

While Jote is my initial decision of the last Dominant, Mid is actually my second choice. Both are strong-willed and are not in the place where they are thought to be. Expecting that Mid may have been sent to Kanver while Cid was with Waloed, would make Ultima aware through Barnabas, which is why I believe it’s Jote. 

[unik0rnu]

Ulukita deadly fields but views are kinda nice...

[EU] Unikornu

[lillypad-monopoly]

Ren's POV of them is equally unhinged btw. It's unreliable narrator-ship at its finest on both sides

So I’m rewatching 3rd Life but this time Martyn’s POV and it’s KILLING ME how Desertduo in their own POV are like just some dudes wrecking a bit of chaos but in Martyn’s POV they look like some kind of evil codependent couple that are weird and live in far away lands that no one should enter.

And honestly I feel like Martyn’s POV is closer to the truth than Grian and Scar’s own POV

[susanneleist]

THE DESERTED MANSION

The mansion is dreary.One should be leeryof entering its gate.Better leave it to fate. Each room offers a viewof history for you.Beautifully furnished roomsswept clean by invisible brooms. “Who lives here?” you might askif you dare take him to the task.“Only I,” he might replywith a twinkle in his eye. He steps closer to me.His eyes are red I can see.Is he a creature of the night?My heart…

[yuuniee]

I’ve been having like several ship brainrots since forever so... AMA :)

❥ [ship list]

[xtruss]

Hikers are seen in the distance at the Mesquite Sand Dunes in Death Valley National Park, California. This rugged desert landscape holds the world's record for the hottest air temperature—134°F in 1913. Tourists still flock here to experience the blistering heat. Photograph By Raul Touzon, National Geographic Image Collection

How Did Death Valley 🏜️ Gets Its Name? Not From The Heat

In December 1849, a group of settlers seeking their fortunes stumbled upon this inhospitable valley. The few who made it out alive assigned the haunting moniker.

— By Erin Blakemore | July 25, 2023

As a heat wave continues to blanket the Northern Hemisphere, tourists are making pilgrimages to the hottest place on Earth—Death Valley, California—in hope of experiencing a new world-record high temperature. The valley already holds the record for hottest air temperature ever recorded, a whopping 134°F in 1913.

But if they think the valley was named after its scorching summer temps, they’re wrong—it actually got its name from a winter disaster. Here’s how Death Valley got its name, and why it continues to lure visitors with its extreme weather and barren landscape.

Photographing Death Valley’s starry skies shines a light on pollution. A national park artist-in-residence captures the fragility and beauty of the desert at night. August 20, 2020! As an artist-in-residence at Death Valley National Park, photographer Harun Mehmedinović captured images of its night skies and increasing light pollution. In this snowy shot, he caught both stars and, on the right, the glow of the city of Las Vegas. Photograph By Harun Mehmedinović

Inside A Desolate Desert

Located in southeastern California near the Nevada border, Death Valley is nestled in the northern Mojave Desert between four mountain ranges: the Panamint Range to the west, the Amargosa Range to the east, the Grapevine Mountains to the north, and the Owlshead Mountains to the south.

The area’s original inhabitants, the Timbisha Shoshone, lived in harmony with the valley for millennia. But when European settlers encountered it during their westward migration, they were flummoxed by the landscape. Though surrounded by mountain ranges, the valley is situated at the lowest elevation in the United States. The alkaline desert floor is bone dry and lacks vegetation, while the surrounding mountains trap the heat reflected by the sparse desert floor—making it blindingly hot in the summer and inhospitable even in winter.

Even before gold was discovered there in 1849, California attracted white settlers searching for a new life filled with natural riches. Many of these emigrants were completely unprepared for the arduous trip across both mountain and desert—and some fell victim to people who falsely claimed they knew the safest, fastest routes.

In one particularly famous case in 1846, a group of pioneers known as the Donner Party became snowbound after following the shortcut that a booster named Lansford Hastings had advertised. Stuck in the Sierra Nevadas, some of these pioneers eventually resorted to cannibalism and lost nearly half of their group to starvation and exposure.

Photographing Death Valley’s starry skies shines a light on pollution. A national park artist-in-residence captures the fragility and beauty of the desert at night. August 20, 2020! The Milky Way looks brighter above Death Valley’s Panamint Springs thanks to the dim lighting at this gas station. Mehmedinović says the image shows the benefit of cutting out excessive light around national parks. Photograph By Harun Mehmedinović

On The Trail To Death Valley

Despite the Donner Party disaster—and the fact that they lacked familiarity with the terrain—boosters and wagon train leaders still attempted to find shortcuts on their journeys to California, especially after gold was discovered there.

In October 1849, members of trail leader Jefferson Hunt’s Mojave San Joaquin Company wagon train grew impatient with Hunt’s pace and his preferred route, known as the Old Spanish Trail. Some worried they’d be stuck in the mountains during the winter like the Donner Party if they didn’t move more quickly. They briefly convinced Hunt to try an alternative route, but Hunt returned from a reconnaissance mission nearly dead of thirst and told them he’d keep to the Old Spanish Trail.

A subset of the party still thought they could find a path west across the Mojave Desert, however—and when they met up with another, smaller party on the trail, they were shown a hand-drawn map of a cutoff that was endorsed, they were told, by some of the region’s most experienced trappers and mountaineers. After Hunt refused to take the shortcut, which would shave 500 miles and potentially months off the journey, much of the party broke off to try out the supposedly superior route.

At first, it seemed like they’d made the right choice: travel was easy, and they made good time. But soon they encountered more and more inhospitable terrain, and increasing disputes about how to proceed. One group headed toward a nearby mountain in hopes of finding water. The other, a group of younger, unmarried men who called themselves “Jayhawkers,” broke off into their own party and attempted to press due west to find the mountaineers’ advertised trail—a route that, it turns out, didn’t really exist.

As both groups journeyed, water became harder to find, and many turned back in search of Hunt rather than face the coming winter in the deadly Sierras. “Grass there is scarce, wood there is none,” wrote Jayhawker Sheldon Young of the landscape. “It is a dubious looking country.”

Photographing Death Valley’s starry skies shines a light on pollution. A national park artist-in-residence captures the fragility and beauty of the desert at night. August 20, 2020! Light pollution from cities can encroach on rural areas. Here, in Mehmedinović’s photograph of Death Valley’s Racetrack Playa, the glow on the right comes from Las Vegas, more than 200 miles away. Photograph By Harun Mehmedinović

Disaster Strikes

Weak and exhausted, in December 1849 both groups eventually entered a massive valley filled with salt flats and surrounded by mountains on all sides. Water was scarce in the desert valley; they were only able to locate highly alkaline water sources.

The Jayhawkers slaughtered many of their own oxen to eat and walked across the valley, eventually finding a Native American who guided them to safety. The other party tried going the other direction. As they pressed onward, this time another group of men decided to strike out on their own, and would ultimately die of exposure along their preferred trail.

On the verge of dehydration, the remaining members of the original party were briefly saved by a snowstorm. But over time, oxen dropped dead from thirst and exhaustion, and several men died. Finally, all but a few of the men broke off find their way over the mountains. The others waited patiently at the bottom of the valley.

Finally, after more than a month, the remaining party members—mostly women and young children—were rescued by two young men they’d sent off to get supplies. As they made their final crossing of the Panamint Mountains, one of the party members is said to have turned toward the valley and said “Goodbye, Death Valley.” Overall, it took the shortcut seekers more than four months to find their way to the part of California they sought.

Photographing Death Valley’s starry skies shines a light on pollution. A national park artist-in-residence captures the fragility and beauty of the desert at night. August 20, 2020! "These images are meant to evoke a sense of wonder and curiosity,” says Mehmedinović. “I see images as a gateway to a discussion on the importance of the night sky and our impact on the environment.” Photograph By Harun Mehmedinović

The Highest Temperature Recorded on Earth?

The name stuck—and today, the valley is still known as one of the most barren and dangerous places in the United States. In 1913, the ambient air temperature reportedly rose to 134 degrees, still the world-record high air temperature.

Modern-day meteorologists dispute this reading, pointing out that the temperature was not in line with that of other nearby places and that even freak “hot spots” in the valley cannot account for those variations.

“It is possible to demonstrate that a temperature of 134°F in Death Valley on July 10, 1913, was essentially not possible from a meteorological perspective,” wrote meteorologist Christopher C. Burt in a 2016 analysis. However, the World Meteorological Organization, which validates world-record temperatures, still considers the reading a world record.

The group “is always willing to investigate any past extreme record when new credible evidence is presented,” the WMO wrote in a 2020 release, but to date the analysis has never been officially invalidated.

In the meantime, as a potential new extreme approaches, the organization says it’s ready to examine and validate any new records. Death Valley may not have gotten its name from a scorching summer’s day. But 174 years after it was named, the barren, salty valley is still as inhospitable as it was in 1849.

[aaaaaaaaaa-squirrel]

Humans and Deathworlds

Alright. so 'humans are weird' posts constantly say that Earth is a deathworld. I would just like to say.

Every single planet in the history of the universe is a deathworld.

Okay? Any planet will have something that's normal for the inhabitants but deadly to visitors. Every one. Because of course we'll get used to things that others haven't developed an immunity to.

However.

Earth is strange to other planets because it's a bunch of deathworlds stacked on top of each other. It has rainforests and oceans and mountains and deserts and no one can make sense of it. Planets with similar biomes will be tolerant to similar planets.

Earth is confusing because everyone in the universe can find something normal to them and something terrifying to them, usually quite close to each other.

[kira-dofc]

Mafia boss! Sukuna x Male reader

Notes- This was supposed to be a Gojo fic but Sukuna fitted this shit better its too dark for Gojo :(

Wc- 3055

Warnings: SMUT! NSFW, unprotected sex, dub-con, breeding, omegaverse, top/bottom, sub/dom, bottom male reader, overstimulation

Flashes of orange and yellow flames streaked past you, casting a fierce glow that punctuated the night with a hellish light. The deafening crack of gunshots shattered the eerie silence, bullets whizzing through the air like deadly fireflies. It was 10:00 p.m., and the city that never slept was now cloaked in an ominous stillness, save for the chaos erupting around you. Frantically, you ran, heart pounding like a war drum in your chest, fleeing from the world's most notorious mafia. For years, they had hunted down omegas with unrelenting ferocity, and tonight, you had become their latest target. As the last of your kind, you had been hiding from them for a long time. Unluckily, tonight marked the end of your concealment. You were unique, hailing from a wealthy lineage.

Your family had perished before your eyes, leaving you to carry on the bloodline. It was them. It had always been them. They murdered your family, your only family. And you had been too naive to do anything but hide, bearing all the responsibilities alone. But that was six years ago. Now, you needed to devise a way to throw them off your trail.

Bloodstains smeared almost your entire body. Your legs were limp, and one of your bones was broken. You fled toward the heart of the city, tears streaming down your cheeks as you sprinted away from the terrifying sounds of pursuit. The once-bustling metropolis had turned into a ghost town, its inhabitants cowering indoors, unwilling to risk becoming the mafia's next victim. The streets were deserted, the silence broken only by your ragged breathing and the distant echoes of violence.

Each step felt like an eternity as adrenaline surged through your veins. You could almost sense their presence behind you, a shadow of death closing in. It seemed they were tracking you by your scent. The sweet, floral fragrance that emanated from your body had made this escape even more challenging. Your sweet blood flowed through your veins, each drop hitting the ground and leaving a trail. You pressed your hands against your wounds, trying to stop the bleeding and prevent them from following your scent. Your mind raced, replaying the events that led to this desperate escape. It had begun with whispers, rumors of the mafia targeting omegas, and then the brutal reality struck as friends and acquaintances began to disappear, leaving only bloodstains and unanswered questions. Their actions were inexplicable: Why would they target people like you? You had witnessed countless deaths at their hands, many shot, others thrown into pits of fire. They burned all the bodies of their victims.

The neon lights of the city, once symbols of vibrancy and life, now cast eerie, elongated shadows that seemed to grasp at you. You rounded a corner, your feet slipping on the rain-slicked pavement. The distant wail of sirens was a cruel reminder that help would not come in time. You had to rely on your instincts and sheer will to survive.

Suddenly, a narrow alleyway caught your eye. Without thinking, you darted into it, hoping to lose your pursuers in the labyrinth of backstreets. But as you ran deeper, the walls seemed to close in, and the alley twisted into a nightmarish maze. The sound of footsteps grew louder, echoing off the brick walls, a relentless reminder that they were drawing closer.

Your frantic flight led you to a dead end, a towering brick wall blocking your path. Panic surged through you as you desperately tried to find a way over it, your fingers scrabbling at the rough surface. The wall loomed high above you, an insurmountable barrier that seemed to mock your desperation. You could hear their voices now, low and menacing, carried on the wind.

You turned to face them, your breath coming in short, terrified gasps. Shadows danced at the entrance of the alley, and then they emerged, dark silhouettes against the dim light. There was no escape. Your eyes darted around, seeking any possible way out, but there was none. The realization hit you like a tidal wave – you were trapped.

One of the men stepped forward, his face obscured by shadows, but the cold glint in his eyes was unmistakable. He raised his weapon, and in that split second, time seemed to slow. You braced yourself for the impact, expecting the searing pain of a bullet. Instead, there was a sharp sting, more like a needle prick than a gunshot.

Confusion mingled with the adrenaline, and a wave of dizziness washed over you. Your vision blurred, and your legs wobbled beneath you. You staggered, trying to stay upright, but your strength was failing. The world around you began to spin, the alleyway becoming a distorted swirl of colors and shadows.

With a final, desperate effort, you reached out to the wall, hoping to steady yourself, but it was too late. Your fingers brushed against the cold bricks before your legs gave way completely. You collapsed to the ground, the impact jarring but distant, as if it were happening to someone else. The cold, unforgiving pavement pressed against your cheek, and darkness crept in at the edges of your vision.

The last thing you saw before everything went black was the triumphant, merciless faces of your captors as they closed in around you. Their voices were muffled, distorted by the haze of unconsciousness, but the satisfaction in their tones was unmistakable. As the world faded away, one thought lingered in your mind – this was only the beginning of a nightmare that had no end in sight.

As the cold seeped into your bones, memories of happier times flickered in your mind like a fading film reel. You remembered your family's laughter, the warmth of your mother's embrace, and the security you felt in your father's presence. Those moments seemed like a lifetime ago, swallowed by the darkness of the present. The mafia had taken everything from you, and now they were about to take your freedom, perhaps even your life.

The darkness enveloped you completely, a void that swallowed all light and sound. Time lost its meaning as you drifted in and out of consciousness, your mind a whirlpool of fear and despair. When you finally awoke, you found yourself in a dimly lit room, the air thick with the smell of damp and decay. Your hands were bound, the rough ropes cutting into your wrists, and your body ached from the rough handling and the injuries sustained during your escape.

-

A single, flickering light bulb cast eerie shadows on the walls, and the faint sound of dripping water echoed in the background. The air was thick with the scent of mildew and something metallic—probably blood. You struggled to sit up, wincing at the pain that shot through your limbs with every small movement. Your captors had taken no chances, securing you tightly to a chair with heavy, rusted chains. The room was bare, save for a small table covered in ominous stains and a single door, which you guessed led to more horrors beyond.

The door creaked open, its sound amplified in the silence, and a figure stepped inside. It was the man who had shot you, his cold eyes glinting with cruel amusement. He approached slowly, savoring your fear, and knelt down to meet your gaze. His smile was a twisted parody of kindness, and his voice was soft, almost gentle, as he spoke.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," he said, his tone mocking. "You gave us quite the chase, but it seems the game is over now."

You glared at him, refusing to let him see the terror that gripped your heart. "What do you want from me?" you demanded, your voice hoarse from disuse and dry from lack of water.

The man chuckled, a low, chilling sound that echoed in the small room. "Oh, it's not me who wants something from you," he replied. He turned his head slightly towards the door, and with a simple, "Boss," he summoned another figure into the room.

A tall, hooded figure stepped in front of you. His eyes were as red as fire, and his hair was a lush cascade of pink, shimmering even in the dim light. His eyes furrowed as he looked down upon you, scrutinizing your scarred figure. His face etched into a grin that sent shivers down your spine. This was Sukuna, the infamous leader of the most feared mafia syndicate in the world.

Sukuna bowed down to your height, his intense gaze never leaving yours. He tilted his head slightly, scanning you as if you were a specimen in a lab. "Let me clear things up for you," he chuckled as he stood back up. "It's not about what we want. It's about what we need. You see, you are the last of your kind, and that makes you very valuable to us. And very valuable to me. Your blood, your lineage, your body."

You squinted your eyes, trying to understand what he was saying. It was hard to focus through the haze of pain and fear, but his words were starting to piece together a horrifying picture. They didn't just want to torture you; they wanted to exploit you, to use you for some nefarious purpose. The thought filled you with a renewed sense of defiance, and you vowed to fight them with every ounce of strength you had left.

Sukuna's voice dropped to a soft, almost affectionate tone. "I want you to be my mate," he said, his words causing a cold shiver to run down your spine. "Consider it a sacrifice; you'll be saving your race, your population. You can save them."

The words hit you like a physical blow. You struggled against your restraints, your mind racing. "Then why did you kill all of them?" you spat out, your voice trembling with rage and sorrow. "Why? Why do it if you just wanted someone? You could have just taken one and left the rest of us be."

Sukuna's grin widened, and there was a maddening glint in his eyes. "Why are you doing this?" you demanded, your voice breaking.

He leaned in close, so close you could feel his breath on your skin. "Oh, I only did this so I could finally get you," he said with a chilling calmness. "I wanted you, and you only. You managed to get away when we slaughtered your whole family. I only did this so I could be with you, my prince."

His words were a twisted declaration, and you could feel the bile rising in your throat. He chuckled as he whispered those words close to your ears, his breath hot and foul. He grazed his hand along your chin, lifting it to force you to look into his eyes.

"Clean him up, then bring him to my room," he ordered the man who had shot you. "I want him clean when I see him again." With a final smirk, Sukuna turned away from you and walked out of the room, leaving you with the chilling promise of what was to come.

The man who had shot you moved to obey Sukuna's orders. He released the chains that held you to the chair, though he left your hands bound behind your back. You were too weak to resist, too weak to do anything but stumble as he dragged you out of the room and down a long, dimly lit corridor.

The corridor seemed to stretch on forever, each step echoing off the cold, stone walls. The faint sound of dripping water followed you, a constant reminder of the dank, underground prison you found yourself in. You were led into another room, this one slightly less decrepit than the last. It had a small basin of water, a towel, and a change of clothes laid out on a table.

The man pushed you towards the basin. "Clean yourself up," he said gruffly. You stared at the water, the reflection of your battered face staring back at you. Every movement was painful, but you forced yourself to comply, knowing that any defiance now would only result in more pain.

You washed as best as you could with your hands still bound, the cold water stinging your wounds. When you were done, the man handed you the change of clothes—a simple, clean shirt and pants. He watched you closely as you struggled to dress yourself, his eyes never leaving you.

Once you were dressed, he grabbed your arm and led you out of the room again. You were taken to yet another corridor, this one even darker and more foreboding than the last. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the sound of your footsteps and the occasional distant echo of voices.

Finally, you were brought to a large, imposing door. The man knocked once, then pushed it open, revealing a lavishly decorated room. Rich tapestries adorned the walls, and expensive-looking furniture filled the space. It was a stark contrast to the squalor of the rest of the compound.

Sukuna was waiting for you inside, seated in an ornate chair. He looked up as you entered, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. "Ah, there you are," he said, his voice dripping with mock warmth. "You look much better now."

You stood there, your body tense and your mind racing. What was he planning? What did he want from you? The uncertainty was almost worse than the pain. Sukuna rose from his chair and approached you, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Come, sit with me," he said, gesturing to a chair opposite his. "We have much to discuss."

You hesitated, but the man behind you gave you a sharp shove, forcing you to comply. You sat down, your hands still bound, and glared at Sukuna. "What do you want from me?" you repeated, your voice filled with defiance.

Sukuna's smile widened. "I told you, didn't I? I want you to be my mate. Together, we can rebuild your race, your people. You are the key to everything."

His words were like a knife to your heart. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. "Why would I ever agree to that?" you demanded.

"Because you have no choice," Sukuna said simply. "Either you cooperate, or you watch as I destroy everything you hold dear. The choice is yours."

His words hung in the air, a chilling ultimatum that left you feeling more trapped than ever. You knew you had to find a way out, to escape this nightmare. But for now, all you could do was sit and listen, and wait for the right moment to strike.

-

"Leave," He ordered, "I want some privacy." The men in front of the door nodded and leaved in order. 

Sukuna walked around the table, his eyes never leaving yours. He leaned down, his face inches from yours. "I can see the defiance in your eyes," he murmured. "It's...exciting."

You turned your head away, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. But Sukuna grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. His grip was strong, almost painfully so. "Don't look away from me," he said softly. 

He pressed his lips to yours, the kiss rough and demanding. You tried to pull away, but his hand on your chin held you in place. His tongue forced its way into your mouth, claiming you in a way that left no room for doubt—he was in control.

When he finally pulled back, you were breathless, a mixture of anger and confusion swirling inside you. Sukuna's eyes glittered with satisfaction. "See? That wasn't so hard," he said, his voice mocking.

He reached down and began to unbutton your shirt, his fingers moving with a practiced ease. You tensed, every muscle in your body screaming at you to fight, to resist. But the man behind you had a firm grip on your shoulders, holding you in place.

Sukuna's hands roamed over your chest, his touch both gentle and possessive. "You're beautiful," he murmured, almost to himself. "So perfect."

You shuddered, a mixture of fear and unwanted arousal coursing through you. Sukuna's hands moved lower, unbuttoning your pants and sliding them down your legs. He knelt in front of you, his eyes dark with desire. "I want to taste you," he said softly, his breath hot against your skin.

A sudden tug was felt on your shirt, Sukuna lifted you up. Everything went by so fast, your were now on his bed. Your shirt and your pants was tossed to the ends of the bed leaving you bare with your underwear wet as your cock begging to spring out. Your face was flushed between your hands as Sukuna chuckled "You're too cute to handle, boy" He soon unbuttoned his polo, leaving his body bare for you to see. 

His body was toned, veins aching from every muscle. His jawline defined, his hands were scarred, veins and bones revealing themselves under the skin of his hands. He moved down to you as he whispered to your ears, "You're mine." 

Sukuna groaned as he held your hips with harsh and fast thrusts. Every thrust he makes make you squeal and let out moans. Your body now aching with love bites and hickeys as you left scratches on Sukuna's back. His fast thrusts soon slowed as he leaned on you, "Take all of my pups for me, yeah?" He groaned as he came, knotting your insides as you came on his stomach. Your moans shifted into breathless sighs.

One round turned into 20. Its been 1 hour and a half before his dick throbbed your insides. His shape now taking form of your hole, "Ugh...! N-no Ah..., more....." You moaned as you whispered in his ears. "You don't get to order me," He groaned as he whispered back to you, "Just one more darling. Raise all my pups inside you..." He leaned closer to your face as he planted a kiss on your forehead as he thrusts in and out of you. You hugged him tightly as you felt your climax. One final thrust, his cock spurted out his pups in you for the twentieth time. 

You breathed heavily, as your rested your head on the mattress. His hands trailed to your neck to your jaw, moving your head to face him. "I'm not done with you," He says as he kissed you on your neck, through your chin and on your lips. He groaned as he laid next to you. Your head facing his chest as his hands covered your waist.