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My Hero Academia: Vigilantes Series 1-4 Books Collection Set

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Hideyuki Furuhashi

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“The date rape drug he’d intended to give me has knocked him out so hard he’s barely even flinched, despite being dragged to the top of a twelve-storey building, stripped naked and bound to a post. His head lolls towards his chest. I stand back to admire him, taking in his slumped frame as he wilts against the pressure of his rope bindings. He looks Christ-like, vulnerable. His skin is grey in the murky moonlight. His body is incredible. Hardly surprising, since he seems to spend half his life at the gym. His stomach is taut, rippled with abs. His pecs are straight from a swimwear ad, his broad shoulders and ripped arms are built like a boxer’s. His biceps are strong, lined with veins that will soon cease to pump blood. He has the kind of arms that could pin you down so tightly you wouldn’t be able to move a muscle. His hands are large – the least attractive part of him: dry, thick, stubby. They’re the type of hands that could grip your wrists and stifle screams. Hands that could have killed me tonight. Hands that would have hurt me. Hands that would have held me in place while he raped me. I let my eyes wander down to his cock, which would probably have been pounding away inside me around now if things had gone his way. I could tell pretty early into our date that he was a predator. Perhaps it takes one to know one, but I could see it in his dark eyes and sly glances, the hungry way he took in my body, the type of questions he asked, his eagerness to buy me drinks. He probably didn’t think I had it in me to notice. Of course he didn’t. He just saw my shiny, sweeping hair, my lashes, my clothes, my smile. He saw what everybody else sees: my mask.”

“She dared to move further into the apartment. She crept closer to the open bathroom door. This Percy fellow was kneeling in the bathtub, fully clothed, hot water cascading over him. He appeared to be praying, as well he should. Percy Augustus Willoughby had had a very bad night, that was evidently true. She watched a second longer, and then crept back to the living room sofa.”

“Her gaze fell upon the bottle sitting on the coffee table directly in front of her. The label declared it to be something called cinnamon whiskey. The bottle was half full. She unscrewed the top, and took a long pull. The fire went directly to her sphincter. Recovery was slow. She couldn’t believe the little man presently busy praying in the bathroom couldn’t hear her gasping for air. She replaced the cap and studied the bottle’s label. What the hell is cinnamon whiskey anyway? Whoever this little prick is, he is definitely tougher than he looks.”