Deku Punching Novels & Stories

The first time Kodjo fired a kick above knee height, Duke grabbed his leg, jerked him off his feet, and slammed his head into the ground. Duke pinned him and tore one arm off as his face hardened into an expression of extreme pain. Kodjo’s hisses evolved into desperate squeals as Duke crushed his jugular, ripping his cervical esophagus out. Kodjo stilled as his fingers slightly twitched, blood stained the beige sand once again. “Took you long enough,” Raj taunted Duke, which was something that Blayne would do. Duke gave a sad smile and then looked at his son. Devin straightened his posture and returned a curt nod. Then all attention swung to the werelion king.

*punch* "Stop, you're hurting him," Amara screamed, her hands shaking as shuffled from one foot to another. "No." *punch* "One." *punch* "Please stop, Dalton. That's enough," Amara cried, begging me to stop. "Touches." *punch* "My wife." *punch* "Like that." *punch* "And." *punch* "Gets." *punch* "Away." *punch* "With it." *punch*

The sound of Gasper's hand coming into contact with Polo Dew's face was loud and crisp. Blood flowed out from Polo Dew's mouth, carrying bits of broken teeth. His bloated body spun around a couple of times before collapsing onto the floor. "You are.... you are looking for trouble boy! I have thirty years of martial arts training under my belt..." Polo Dew peeled himself off the floor and rolled up his sleeves getting ready to pick a fight with Gasper. However, before he could even get into position, Gasper had already sent a flying kick into his chest. His overweight body went flying through the air like a bomb shell, landing with a loud thump on the table that sent it toppling over. He stru

"No, it can't be, it just can't. Dukes of War are rare, and you can't be one of them!" Blaine ground his teeth in a frenzy, "Alexander, I held back before, you're not my equal. Years of grueling training won't be bested by you... Eat my fist!" His punch exploded with his full might, his fist cloaked in a sheen of red, turbulent energy. It was as if he had tapped into a hidden well of strength. In the blink of an eye, a shockwave like a mini explosion tore through the air, hurtling toward Alexander's chest at an incredible speed.

Luca By morning, the fight was everywhere. I woke up to forty-seven missed calls and a text from my publicist that was mostly capital letters. The clip had been viewed eleven million times before midnight. Sports analysts were doing frame-by-frame breakdowns of the moment I dropped my gloves. Commentators were calling it a meltdown, a loss of composure, a side of Luca Devereaux nobody had seen in a decade. One panel show ran a fifteen-minute segment titled The Captain Cracks and used photographs of my face mid-fight that I had not known existed until that morning.

The impact of his punch was so heavy and strong that it landed straight in Derek’s abdomen with a sickening crunch, causing his rips to break against the powerful punch. “How dare you touch my wife?!” Killian roared, his voice a thunderous growl. that made everyone shiver including his men. He raised his fists at Derek again and struck him right across his face, each blow landing with bone-crushing force. Derek became helped and his body became a bloody mess under Killian's punches.

Keeping his head low and his elbows close together, he dove inside his opponent’s guard, shoved both hands up and out to drive the creature’s arms wide and delivered a head-butt that was rewarded with a satisfying crack as his hairline rammed under the thing’s chin, snapping its head back and toppling it. He leapt over his rival, swept the chopper nearly beheading a second attacker. Dewey was on the lock slashing and shoving his way through the crowd with his two-handed staff. Quincy sheathed his knife, grabbed Newt’s staff and followed, thrusting and kicking, covering the big man’s back as they progressed.

Then he rushed forward, the moment was like a rain storm, a punch run through like thunder and lightning, the wind force shook terrifying people. The punch has not come, the wind has come, this one punch is to claim the life without doubt. Derek Alexender does not dare to slow late, hands up to support, the body stands. The mysterioud killer one punch as if to break cracked the air, the sound emitted like bullet cannon explosion, like heaven and earth vibration, smoke and dust roll become a group. Derek Alexender's body slides to the back, two pieces of shoe soles friction almost flash light, the skin of the feet is hot.

They begged. "Second chance you say? You two should have died as well. Why live when my investments got swept off in the sea?!" He asked and kicked the same guy he bruised in the stomach, turning to the second one he raised the club to a great height and struck it straight to his shoulder, head, ribs, anywhere his arms could reach over and over until the poor man fell on his hunches as excruciating pains engulfed him. Deucalion didn't stop at that, he was actually burning out some steam as he enjoyed the cracking sounds of his acromion and clavicle tearing apart.

I swish it around, enjoying the cold but spit it off to the side. When the bell rings again we run at each other, full fucking speed. We both crouch low at the last second before contact, and I’ve got my right hook ready. I hit him square in the ribs as his knee hits my shoulder. He screams from the crack I feel under my knuckles as I hear my shoulder pop right out. *Damn it Punch,* Mick scolds. *Had worse old boy,* I say, as we both move away from each other. The crowd boos and I decide they need some blood. Dozer wants them to have a show and we have to please our Alpha don’t we?