#and both of their lungs are decaying slowly because neither wants to stop the dance they're parading around each other

[fishbloc]

the trees still wither, with or without you

[kuuderekweenfics]

Dabi is Not a Liar

Hello everyone,

This is it. I’ve fallen off the precipice of...what exactly? Sanity? Or, perhaps, lack of shame? Who knows. But this was a fun little piece I wrote about a month ago. I put it up on AO3, but I thought I’d create a Tumblr for future fics since this is a bit more social.

Please keep in mind that I am shaking the dust off my writing and so it may not be the most polished piece of work. Go easy on me. But I hope you enjoy it regardless!

Explicit Warning: non consent or extremely dubious consent.

Fingernails carve into the the filthy brick of the abandoned building nestled by the sea. The pier moaned, it’s cold breath wrapping around your body and reeking sourly of fish and decay. 

Your head hangs low between your hollow arms. How you got yourself into this position is due to several reasons, of course. One, your brain is swollen twofold in your skull, pounding with the weight of lead. Two, shame caresses every part of your body far more thoroughly than the man who currently has you trapped between him and the wall. Three, and most likely the most crucial reason, Dabi, ‘the Cremator’ as he was so often called, has been railing you senseless for the past hour.

You cried yourself dry after about ten minutes. He came quickly the first time, unabashedly getting off on your whimpers and pleas. Where he dug up the stamina to keep his cock hard for another three rounds was a dull ache for your mind, and pussy, to ponder over. 

The strength in your knees escaped long ago. His fingers gripping your bare ass as he currently pounds himself into you, deeper and deeper each time, is the only support you have against gravity. 

He attempts some foreplay occasionally, killing the space between the two of you as he whispers into your ear threats of what is to come and reaches under you to thrash at your clit rough and carelessly. This is, you figured out, more to his benefit than yours; he had to get you more motivated to continue the little game he set for the both of you somehow. You mewl softly when he does, cursing your needy body for betraying your wants.

Because this isn’t what you want. No, no, no. Not even if his thick, veiny cock fills you to the brim and sometimes hits a spot in your core that makes you see stars and silently beg, much to your humiliation, for more.

What you want is to go pro. You just started working for a small agency start up only a week ago. You’ve dedicated to becoming a top ten hero, even if your quirk isn’t the most convenient. But if a guy who’s power was to do laundry could make it to the top, so can you and your absurdly comical gacha quirk. You are able to generate capsules from your hands, ranging anywhere between the size of a tennis ball to a beach ball, but the contents inside are always random. This little inconvenience made your quirk almost entirely useless. Despite it all, you trained hard and got a once in a lifetime opportunity at this agency. Your task today was to survey the pier for any suspicious activity called in by a concerned citizen. You were strictly told not to engage and call for back up as soon as you surveyed something worthwhile. But you immediately ran in, all too confident in your ability at hand-to-hand combat, as if you had something to prove. You crouched behind stacked crates and fumbled through your creations: a teddy bear, a toaster, a tennis racket. Before you could generate another capsule, you heard his whistle behind you. He was crouched, hands lazily in his pockets and looking over your shoulder with a deadpan expression that plainly said you were in over your head. 

But you knew you were quick. The tennis racket sped toward its target only to be crumbled to ash as his hand stopped it an inch from the side of his head. He smiled at you then, not quite reaching his eyes but eerie and menacing all the same. And before you could even fathom throwing the toaster, he pinned your neck to the wall. Your feet kicked helplessly against the brick, unable to find purchase on the floor a inches below. One of your hands pried at his arm while the other reached for his face or his neck or anything you could grab hold of that could cause enough pain to lot weaken his grip. Your breaths came up short, your lungs screamed for a sip of air. 

“It looks like a little mousy lost her way,” he chuckled. “Now whatever am I going to do with you?”

Drool leaked from your mouth as you fought against your restraint and blurred vision. Your mind clawed for consciousness, your body begged for survival. You had come to terms that one day you could potentially meet your end at the hands of a villain, as does any hero in this field of work, but you hadn’t expected it to be so soon. 

You felt the obstruction in your mouth before you saw it. The thumb of his free hand pressed on your dancing tongue, drool pooling where he held it down firm. If the look in his eyes scared you before, now they were wild and carnal and more terrifying. 

He first has his way with you with his hand still around your throat. He let up on his grip and was so gracious enough to let you wrap your legs around him while he impales you without a second thought. 

He grunts. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

You are no longer a virgin, but you’re sure you never experienced cock of this size, all the while without some form of foreplay. Granted, he used your drool to lubricate himself before sheathing himself deep in your gummy walls, the friction elicits a gasp of pain while from you as he moans and nips at your neck. Not long after he begins to thrust do you start sobbing, and soon after that he shoots inside of you, his cock twitching to unload what feels like everything he had. You hope it is over then. He would either kill you or leave you there broken physically and mentally. You find out soon enough it is neither.

“I’m gonna fuck you until your voice is gone from screaming my name, little mousy,” He gasps into your shoulder as the twitching finally ebbs and his release oozes down your thigh. “I’m gonna fill you with my cum until I am sure that when I leave you in this shithole, you will have a little part of me with you for the rest of your miserable life.”

And if there is one thing you can call Dabi, among the million curses and names you can conjure, you aren’t sure if you can call him a liar. For true to his word, albeit only partially, he comes into you, hard and relentless, two more times before starting once more. You are absolutely positive this goes against all modern male biology. But you guess, in a world with bizarre quirks, anything is possible.

Halfway through round four, you feels his fingers weave into your hair and, for a moment, you think Dabi just may capable of being passionate. Or, at the very minimum, maybe he thinks more of you than just a bucket for him to shoot his load in. This moment, you find, is fleeting as he yanks your head back and pulls you up until your back lies flat against his chest. He slowly pulls the zipper of your shirt down and grabs your breast callously, pinching your nipple hard until you cry out. 

You can only imagine that he’s grown bored of your silence and complacency because his other hand reaches around until his fingers find your clit, exposed and hungry for some well-deserved stimulation. His fingers rub small circles against it, and you feel nauseated as you let out a moan, your pussy clenching desperately around him in newly kindled desire.

He hisses at your reaction, an obvious stamp of approval and continues flicking your bundle of nerves as he pumps in and out of you. “Say my name.”

Your mind, which, up until this point, had been lost in a sea of fog, finally breaks the surface. And it is pleading with you to not give in. He speeds up, each thrust hitting the right spot and oh no, oh no, it feels so fucking good.

“Say my name, little mouse.”

Your core coils tight with stimulation, the spring on the precipice of release with the pressure of his calloused fingers. The ache you had felt up until then is replaced with an immense pleasure that you haven’t felt in, let’s face it, ever. You stand on your toes to give him a better angle. Your hands searched for something to anchor onto. One mindlessly reaches above to grab onto his hair as he licks you, hot breath warming your already flush neck, the other latches onto your ignored breast.

“Say it.”

You bucked against him, almost there, almost there, so very close....

Until he becomes utterly and completely still. 

“No, no. Please, Dabi! I need it. Fuck me, please Dabi!” You sob. 

And with that, you feel a smirk form against your neck. He pulls out of you and before you can so much as whimper, he shoves you back onto a large crate. He grabs one leg and forces it up and over his shoulder as he penetrates you, holding your waist to keep you steady as he pumps in fast and hard. His hip bumps into your overstimulated clit with each thrusts and it nearly obliterates you. In this new position, his cock kisses your cervix and, if you ever had any semblance of control since being pounded into, it has all but disappeared.

“Dabi! I’m going to...Ah, shit, I’m gonna...”

As you begin convulsing, you hear his name, loud, hot and heavy, escape from your lips. Your release sends him over the edge, and he ruts into you. 

Just as quickly, he slides out of you, places himself back into his pants and walks out with his hands in his pockets without a word before the cum can so much as leak out of you. You lay still and let the world refocus before you get up and go home. You come to realize that he didn’t so much as care if you came or not, and that the fact that you had was a happy coincidence on your part. What he was really aiming for was you to scream his name, just as he said you would. How little regard villains had felt about others left you in awe. Can you really go head to head against him or any other villain again? 

You submit your resignation the next day.

And two months later, as you stand wide-eyed and frozen over the test exposing itself to you on the bathroom sink, you can finally confirm that Dabi is, in no way shape or form, a liar.

[opheliamblackwood]

Refraction: Chapter 3: Human Error

There was no point to anything it seemed. I woke the next day thinking that it’d all been some fucked up, horrible dream. But, as I sat up I realized that it hadn’t been. Reaching for dad’s hand, I could feel my fingers trembling. His hand is as cold as a winter night. Fuck.

“Fuck!Fuck…fuck! This isn’t real. This isn’t…it can’t…Dad! Dad, wake up!” I screamed shaking him. Dad’s head moved over to the side, but his eyes didn’t open.

I fell back and slumped against the wall, arms resting lazily across my knees, drawn up to my chest. Tears slid down my face, but I couldn’t make a sound. I’ll have to inform the Elders and they’d have to send him above or below, whichever I choose. It’d be more merciful to send him below, to where he’d give himself back to the earth. If he went above….well, there were things, monstrosities that couldn’t be imagined. The Elders always had observers and scouts on board. The observers lived closer to the surface and constantly kept an eye on things above surface using something like a telescope. They told everyone that the lands were barren. Trees were decayed if not ashes and anything that tried to grow, couldn’t. Corpses littered the ground and animals, the ones that survived, were misshapen, broken somehow. The scientists wanted to study them, but they couldn’t run the risk of bringing them below ground and contaminating everything. They’d worked too hard to keep the shreds of humanity safe. There were only a few thousand of Humans left and that was scary to think about. Oftentimes, I think that maybe it’d be better off if the human race died off. Then again, most wouldn’t consider me human. I would never be that again and I don’t know what to consider myself either. I’m an in-between. Not fully mutant, not fully human. I am both and neither all at once. The Elders liked to keep tabs on their Metas and what our powers are so they could study us. It was their belief that we are what the human race needed to survive. Nature had granted us a gift and our only chance at renewing the human race is because of people like me.

Staring at my hands, I watched them tremble. My heart is pounding and the silence is louder than the blood rushing to my ears. I’m trying to breathe, but I can’t. I keep trying to take big gulps of air and force my lungs to work, but my body won’t listen to me. No, instead, spots are dancing in my vision and I feel weightless. I’m swimming in black and there are the faintest sounds in the distance. I’m starting to come to.

Someone is searching for me. I can hear so many voices. I can’t open my eyes, as much as I try to. I see his eyes, twins to my own. He doesn’t speak but I can…feel his voice. It doesn’t make sense, but in a way, it does. I feel what he’s saying more than hear it. I feel overwhelming sadness pouring from him, but not for himself. It’s for me. Somehow, he knows. He knows about Dad, he knows about me. He reached out to gently touch the side of my face as if trying to determine whether or not I’m real or an illusion. But, the moment his fingertips brush the side of my cheek, his face crumples up in pain and he falls to his knees. When I reach for him, he fades. I don’t even know his name.

Bria is shaking me awake.

I’m groggy as I growl out what I say.

“What the fuck..?” I manage, while rubbing the side of my head which is now throbbing.

Tears are pooling in Bria’s eyes. She’s eye-level with me, crouched down.

“Rory….I’m so sorry. “ she says, gently placing her hand on my shoulder.

I struggle to get up, using the wall for support.

“For what?” I ask, finally able to stand.

“You dad…I found him. I called the Elders and they’re sending someone out here.” Bria said, steadying me by holding my elbow and she guides me over to a chair in the corner of the room.

“When you didn’t come to work, I tried calling you. I must have called twenty five times. When you didn’t answer, I took a sick day and decided to come and check on you. I realized that I never knew where you actually lived. But with a lot of sneaking around, I managed to find out via the systems. I booked it over here and the door was locked. So, I may have wiggled a window open and snuck inside. I found you and your dad here…” Bria said while leaning against the wall.

She looked shaken as she looked over to Dad’s corpse. The reality set in and I was stone inside. I couldn’t feel. I wouldn’t feel. Especially not with someone on the way to come get Dad.

“ I got home and I thought he was just out cold, but when I realized he wasn’t breathing…I couldn’t handle it. It was too much. I can’t…I can’t do this.” I said, my voice barely above a whisper as I focused on a spot on the floor.

Bria came over and wrapped her arms around me.

“Oh Rory. I’m here, love. I’m not going anywhere. You will make it through this. It may hurt like Hell, but you will. And you’ve got this amazing girl as your friend so, you know, that helps.” Bria said, winking at me.

I appreciated what she was trying to do and I couldn’t be mad at her for it. She was always there and I’d always been such a shitty friend. Dad had always asked me why I never had Bria over to hang out. I guess, I just expected the whole world-what was left of it, to hate me. I didn’t want to get close to anything other than my Dad, because it’d hurt that much more when it was ripped away from me. I wasn’t ignorant to the fact that being Meta would eventually make my life difficult. It was always just a matter of time.

                                                         ---

I feel the shift of something inside of me. It moves in degrees, fractions. Increments of the dregs of a slowly rising darkness are bleeding through me.  The things I loved are becoming dull and useless. I don’t have much of an appetite these days. The liveliness I used to feel is transforming into a sadness that makes my limbs feel as if they’re made of wood. Sometimes I come home from work and just sleep. No matter how much I sleep, I still wake up tired.  Good old Depression, my friend. For the past week or so since my Dad died, I’ve been dreaming of the man I saw in the lab that day. Only, he speaks to me too. I can never make out what he’s saying because it’s always garbled. But, he seems adamant that I hear what he’s saying. It’s never any use. Sometimes, I walk up to the glass and put my hand on it in my dreams and just as he’s reaching for the glass to rest his hand against it, I wake up. His eyes always widen, like he’s never ready for me to be yanked away from him. Dreams are weird. 

I am listless, a ship that lost its trajectory, crashing into a bottomless pool with no hope of rescue. Perhaps this is what it means; to feel so utterly lost and pointless. I’m like a comma in a sentence. No one really pays attention to it, but it still has a purpose. What’s the point? If no one cares about my existence?

It's different. It's different when your parents or your siblings care versus someone who doesn't have a direct tie to you, no familial obligation to love you. Perhaps this is what my life will become now, an empty bottle. It was once full of something, but now it’s empty. Here I am believing that I’m meant to be one of a small race of people that adapted to the poison of the world so that I could  help save it. But, maybe they were wrong. Maybe I’m wrong.

How can you save the world when you can't save what makes up your world? What sort of promise does that make you feel like you have? None. I still have Bria, but it isn’t the same. I’m an orphan now. Unwanted, unloved, broken and lost.

Get up...

I feel something tugging at the farthest corners of my mind.  What? Was that a man’s voice I heard?  

In my sleep, I’m sinking. I’m always drifting in this pool. The water is black, murky and I can barely see anything but this faint blue glow on the surface. There’s this feeling of peace that I can’t fully explain. I just know what when I’m feeling it, it’s the most comforting feeling in the world and nothing matters. There is no fear, no pain, no feeling other than it. I just want to submerge, stay there forever if it means I can stop feeling all of the things I’ve been feeling when I’m awake. But, something tugs, reaches for me in the water. I’m ready to give up, but it won’t let me. An arm reaches down, starts pulling me to the surface and right when I get to the surface, I wake up. I never see who the arm belongs to, but it’s strong. 

                                                           ---

My head is pounding when I wake up. It’s probably my blood sugar due to the face that I barely eat anymore. I sit up in bed and rub my arms. I’ve got goosebumps. The dreams do that to me now too. Throwing my legs over the side of the bed, I glance around the room. Yep, still the same shitty situation in the same shitty place in the same shitty world. Great. Well, guess I should get something to eat.

Standing up, I think about the taste of coffee with a little bit of cream and sugar and that really gets my appetite going. This is weird. My stomach grumbles and I glance down at my stomach. Rubbing my stomach, I walk over to the fridge. My robe with unicorns on it makes me think of my last birthday, when my dad got it for me. Stupid shit like this usually makes me start tearing up, so I distract myself while staring in horror at the disgusting innards of my fridge. 

“Alright Rory, get your shit together. This fridge isn’t gonna clean itself.” I say to myself as I start pulling questionable containers out of the fridge-spoiled milking being among them. I crinkle my nose as I shove everything into a trash bag and tie it up to put in the corner of the kitchen. I place my robe on the back of one of the kitchen chairs as I get a small container, fill it up with dish liquid and a sponge. I spend the next half hour scrubbing the mess out of the inside of the fridge. Somehow, cleaning always makes me feel better. So, when I finally dry everything in the fridge and put what isn’t spoiled back inside of it, I feel somewhat accomplished. 

Turning the coffee pot on, I start on the few dishes in the sink and clean up the rest of the kitchen. When I’m done, I glance around me and smile to myself. Time to get my reward-beautiful coffee, the ambrosia of the gods. There’s a little light on my phone that keeps blinking red on and off, so I pick it up and unlock it. I’ve got several text messages from Bria. Sighing, I open up my messages and read them one by one. 

“ Hey Ror, just checking in. Feeling any better at all today?”

“ Do you want me to bring you dinner? I know you don’t eat much these days.”

“ Do you want me to come over? I don’t mind. We can have a girls night. I’ll bring pizza.” 

Girl’s night? Are you serious Bria? Do I look like a Girl’s night kind of girl? The next text is what makes my heart leap in my chest.

“ Dude. Some wild shit happened down at the lab today. Apparently, I overheard Singleton talking to another higher up and one of their Meta’s got loose. Apparently, he’s not just any meta, but he’s pretty fucking dangerous. Wild, right? Please be careful. Who knows where this guy could be. Lock your doors.”

That gets a response from me: “ Are you serious?! Did they say anything else about it? Has the Meta been found? I’ll be at work tomorrow.”

A Meta on the loose that is dangerous. Hm. This isn’t gonna go well. Makes me really excited to go to work tomorrow. I wait a few more minutes to see if I get a response and decide to give up. Time to shower and pull my head out of my ass. This sulking shit is only cool for so long. I’ve always been the type that just needs space and time to be moody and sullen before I come out of it. It’s like living in a fog for a bit. Depression sucks ass.