Boku No Hero Academia One Shots [Book 2]

Tomura Shigaraki - Lemon

Requested by: ViolinQueenTwo

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Tartarus...is that where they sent dad? It's just not fair, the way heroes can treat villains so appallingly. In the end, who does it really save? The numbers of villains keep rising, and soon they'll only be harder to catch. Oh, I wish mum wasn't pushing me to pursue this path...I could have worked in a bookshop or an aquarium.

The dimming sunlight bounced off your sea-foam locks, tied up in a messy bun, and reflected off the glasses partially-veiling your striking ocean eyes. They served to, above anything, shade the deep darkness buried within. You ghosted across the park, stopping intermittently to glance at the gorgeous fountains. Reaching a hand towards it, you scooped up some of the slippery substance, trying to imprison it between your fingertips. A sigh pierced the quiet, and it took a moment to realise that you had released it. You didn't want to go as far as to say you boasted a dysfunctional family, but in essence, this was the truth. Your mother, a professional hero, was hardly ever around, and your father, a villain, was currently occupying the high-security prison named after a famous Greek legend. Three siblings, two mischievous brothers and a carefree sister, did little to help around the house. So, piled atop your hero training, was also the responsibility of caring for them. However, in spite of all their trouble, they were family, and being the kind-hearted, caring person you were, you never failed duties.

As you paraded under the streetlights, blissfully oblivious to the looming danger, a strange man, clad in a grey hoodie, entangled your figure in his sights. This infamous, and somewhat elusive, stranger had been contemplating the events of the day - a disastrous attack on UA's newest additions and failure to incinerate All Might, caused boundless frustration. When he noticed your unassuming form, wandering around alone, he decided to act. Whatever happened next, it surely couldn't be as bad as getting his ass handed to him by a bunch of professionals. You might have been a hero-in-training (although this he didn't know), with an impressive quirk (he was unaware of this, too), but he was agitated, and needed to vent.

Just, he didn't exactly want to talk. Though, if he was to gain your trust, he would have to. Once he had you within his four-fingered clutch (he didn't wish to kill you, as of yet), he would use your body to pleasure himself, evaporating all the worry and anger.

"Hey," He began, noticing by the way you flinched that he had caught you off-guard. You turned, politely addressing him, so he continued. 

"What's a pretty thing like you doing out here, all by yourself, at this time?" He gestured to the ever-falling sun, ready to retire for the night.

A devil-may-care attitude struck him as odd, but it seemed that, if you could see his face, you weren't perturbed by it. "Well, mister, it's a really nice evening." Your shoulders moved up and down. "I'm just thinking, I suppose. I like being close to the plants and the water."

"They are nice. What were you thinking about?" He questioned, curious but also burning with desire.

"Oh..." You laughed, heartily. "About my family. I have three siblings, you know? And a mum who's never home, so I was just thinking that it can be pretty difficult...it feels like I'm raising them on my own, even though they're all old enough."

He shuffled his feet, opting to stand closer to you. "It must be nice, though, having a family."

With a gasp, you asked, "You don't?"

"No, and I can't remember them either. I've never had anyone special, well, not until I saw you from over there." He jerked his head, to show where he had been standing.

A blush rose to your cheeks. "Thanks, but...I don't know your name? Mine's (Y/n). (Y/n) (L/n)."

"Tomura Shigaraki." He replied, eyes slightly downcast.

"Hm? Shigaraki? Haven't I heard that name before? Wait a minute - aren't you the one who orchestrated the USJ attack, earlier today?" The words seemed to echo as they lingered in the air. For a moment, you thought he might try to kill you.

Shaking off the hood, he revealed that pale visage, complete with cascading cyan tresses. Those alarmingly charming crimson orbs bore into your very skin, and you found yourself unable to look away. A twisted grin latched on to the sides of his mouth, pulling them upwards. Although...something was wrong. A mirror might have provided a clearer picture, for it was almost as though the villain was endeavouring to be genuine. You couldn't deny that you had believed his words, and the flirtatious comments sounded authentic (although you could have simply been hopeful). Still, a twang of pity played at your heartstrings - you actually felt sorry for him. It was understandable, of course, given your stance on villains, but definitely unpardonable by societal standards. Something deep inside your gut screamed to run away, not to let him any closer, but it was already too late. When he pleaded with you to follow, you did so without question. When he locked the door behind you, there was nothing to indicate that you were uncomfortable.

Clothes trickled on to the floor, and bodies collided on a small, tattered bed in the corner of the room. There were no sounds of objection, only pleasantries, moans and mewls. Dirty words filled your ears, and the older man caressed you as gently as if you were a china vase. His chapped lips melted into yours, and his tongue explored your wet cavern with odd expertise. When he discovered your lack of panties, he grinned, to which you could only counter with: "They're all in the wash."

Without lubrication, the experience was far more painful than you would have liked. He plunged a single finger deep within, stirring up your insides and brushing against your walls experimentally. He feigned innocence (as much as an S-rank villain could), asking if he could add another. A throaty moan abandoned you, as you yelled for him. His name passed through your lips many a time, until his was the only name you could remember. A second finger joined the first, ramming into your womanhood with force. They danced together inside you, first the Tango and then a Charleston. He was skilled, despite his lack of experience. In all his years, he had never possessed such a beauty, nor anyone to call his own. He was still unaware of your affiliation to the hero school, but he would gather information on your background later. For now, he chose to drown himself in pleasure, listening to the high-pitched pants, and the pleading for his cock.

You were desperate - just as desperate as him - and your orgasm was now well and truly overdue. 

[Word Count: 1141]