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lord-explosion-baku · 4 years

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Yandere!Shinsou x reader

Warnings: yandere, adult themes, bordering Stockholm syndrome, hints of dubious consent

A/N: here’s another fic I posted and deleted a bit ago, but I edited it and revamped it a bit. I was in a weird place when I wrote this, but it’s content! Gonna stop impulsively deleting shit😂

“Are you in love with me?”

What a pathetic question. You know it is, but it’s been on your mind all damn day. That, amongst other things. Insecurities have been bombarding your brain and consuming your thoughts. They’re the kind that you’ve managed to repress for years, but today, while bored of all the nothing you had to do while Shinsou was away, they came at you full force, as if they were paying you back for forgetting about them.

Before Shinsou took you, happiness had been perpetually evasive. Some days you could pretend like it had been there, but that had just been a trick of the mind—a phantom emotion that muzzled how you’d actually been feeling.

The truth is, your friends—your family—everyone you know has always simply tolerated you. You could go to them when you were feeling down, but they never really wanted to hear your qualms. They’d always tell you anything you needed to hear to get you to stop whining. There’d been an art to ignoring how they grimaced at your attempted humor and hope for you to stop trying. They never wanted to hear about your interests or aspirations, either—most of them were too big for you anyways—but they would smile and wait for you to finish prattling on, then exhale with relief when it was over.

So, it hadn’t been like you could tell them how you felt, lest you wanted to risk being a ceaseless nuisance.

Some days you’d wondered if they wouldn’t mind if you just disappeared. Now you find yourself wondering what they think now that you have.

It’s fine. Rather, it had been fine when you were around them. However, the more time you’re forced to spend with Shinsou, the more you realize how unhappy you used to be.

You can’t say you’re happy now, either. With the reality of your situation, you’d actually have to be insane to say that you’re happy. A caged bird could never thrive if he couldn't fly. But Shinsou has been the first person that wanted to hear you talk about anything and everything. He wants to know you—to be there for you. He actually asks about your likes and dislikes, how you’re feeling, what he can do to make things better, while you’ve always been reluctant to answer him.

Still, you want to know. You want to be sure. You can assume that he does love you. Afterall, he’s taking care of you right now.

Earlier, he sensed that you were stressed and offered to give you a massage. Normally you would slink away from his touch, but you were feeling weak, so you said yes. You have to admit that having him touch you is... nice.

A deep groan escapes your chest when he presses on a particularly tense spot in your back, so he rubs the area more, making sure to massage all of your anxieties away. He leans down low to press his lips against the shell of your ear. You can feel the curl of his mouth when he says, “that’s a stupid question.”

I know. You want to tell him that, but you won’t. You won’t open up to him. You know he’d like that too much. It’s ironic, really. The one person who wants you to open up to them and it’s the last person on earth you’d want to tell anything too personal to.

“I wouldn’t have asked it if I didn’t need to hear the answer.”

“You wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t in love with you,” he counters.

Touché, asshole.

“So the moment you fall out of love with me, you’re going to let me go.”

You very nearly say ‘you’re going to kick me out,’ but it’s not like you’re simply visiting with him. You’re there against your will. He's your captor, you’re his prisoner.

“That’s not going to happen.”

“But if it does-“

“It won’t.” Shinsou begins kissing down your spine. “Getting you here was a drag, but I won’t be letting you go under any circumstances.”

“Why?”

Darks skepticism envelopes his timbre when he asks, “why, what?”

You can't blame him. There’s been plenty of one-sided conversation where you’ve practically begged to be released, only to have Shinsou give you the cold shoulder. This won’t be another one of those discussions. You couldn’t bear it.

“Why do you like me?”

“Why do I like you, or why am I in love with you?”

You think about it for a second and decide to hell with it. You threw your dignity out the window the second you asked your first question. You hide your face in the pillow and mutter, “both.”

Shinsou hums against your back, pretending to consider the question while he squeezes your hips, pressing his thumbs into either side of your tailbone.

“Oh, god,” you sigh, pushing your ass up so he presses deeper on you, “that feels so good.”

“Reason one as to why I like you-“ Shinsou moves his hands down to your ass. He kneads your muscles, partly because he knows you want it, but mostly because he loves handling your ass- “you sound like that when you moan.”

“Be serious!” You bark back half-heartedly, because he seriously knows how to give a good massage, and you can’t stay annoyed when he’s touching you like that.

“I’m being plenty serious. It’s hot.” He squeezes your bottom, adding just the right amount of pressure to get you to moan again. He chuckles and thumbs the side of your underwear, letting it snap back to your skin pap! “So hot.”

“So, you like me because I’m hot?” You exhale when he squeezes more lotion onto your back, the cool sensation making goosebumps rise on your skin.

“Well-“ there’s a shrug in his voice when he makes his way back up to your spine-“it’s one of the reasons.”

Shinsou begins listing things he likes about you: the curl of your hair, the dip in your hips, the curve of your ass, the way your nose scrunches up when you smell something you think is going to be nice, but is actually unappealing, and that “cute little mole in that one place,” he suggests, “you know, the one I like to kiss…”

It’s all almost nice to hear, except they all have one thing in common: they’re all physical. You won’t always look like what you do now. You don’t think that Shinsou is so superficial that he only judges you on your appearance, but you can’t stop the swelling in your chest.

“And I especially like your neck,” he whispers at the column of your throat, right before licking a stripe up to your earlobe. You shudder when he smiles against you. “So sensitive…”

“So that’s it?”

You’re being negative, demanding even, and you shouldn’t feel bad about it because it’s with Shinsou, but you do. You need to hear more. You need to feel like you matter.

“There’s loads more, but this is what I’m focusing on right now. My partner’s half naked in front of me and I’m only human.”

You turn to face him, maneuvering the pillow your head was on to the front of you, hiding Shinsou’s eyes both from your chest, and from the tears you’ve left behind.

“What about when I change?” You ask, squeezing your fluffy shield against your stomach.

“What do you mean?”

“Like-“ you bow your head, fiddling with the fringes on the pillow- “I don’t know. If I’m gonna be stuck here forever, then obviously I’m gonna age.”

Shinsou frowns. “So?”

“So...I won’t always be-“ you make a flippant gesture at him-“your version of hot!”

He snorts. “My version of hot? What’s that?”

“You tell me!”

He shakes his head, laughing as he brings his hand to the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “You’re my version of hot...it won’t matter if your hair turns silver, your skin wrinkles, you get all saggy and crinkly-“ he chuckles- “same thing’s gonna happen to me, only with my job, I might end up losing an arm or—heaven forbid—I get a scar over an eye.”

You dismiss that. “Scars can be hot.”

“Duly noted.” He smirks. “I might have to be extra reckless on my next mission. See how you react to my battle wounds.”

“Please don’t,” you say immediately. You gaze up at him to see that his usual sleep-ridden eyes have softened. Geez, he’s acting as if you said something nice to him.

“What’s going on with you?” Shinsou asks as his hand falls over your pillow shield. He tugs on it to move, but you keep it clawed to your chest. “C’mon...let me in.”

It’s hard because you want to. You want to let him in, and you’re stupid for it. At least you have the mind to shake your head at him.

“Alright then,” he says, “what do you like about me? Or should I say, do you like me?”

“No.” That part is easy enough to say. Even if it's a lie, which you aren’t sure if it is or not, you know it’s what you should say every time. Regardless of what he makes you feel, what he does for you, how he takes care of you, you’re still there against your will.

You don’t get a moment to feel guilty about saying it either, because as soon as the answer rolls off of your tongue, you freeze, unable to move or speak. Immediately you want to rebuke, tell him off, scream at him, but your body disobeys every single one of your furious demands. Shinsou hasn’t used his mind control on you too much lately, and you let yourself forget that he has it. You’re absolutely seething.

Bastard.

“I’m sorry, darlin’. I’m a slave to my own whims.” Shinsou takes the pillow away from your body. His eyes scan over your torso appreciatively before finding the dark dots stained from your tears on the fabric of your pillow. He flexes his jaw, then places the pillow back behind you.

“Lay back,” he commands, and you’re helpless to oblige.

For a moment, the two of you are still. Shinsou’s staring at you, but not in a way that’s weird...er than normal. He’s seen you naked plenty of times, so he’s not being entirely a pervert. It’s only when he rolls down to level his face with yours, you see that there’s mist in his eyes.

“You’re intelligent,” he says, placing a hand over your navel, “and not in a way that’s annoying. You can hold stimulating conversations, and you think...differently, but you’re also interested in listening to divergent viewpoints.”

Shinsou starts moving his hand in circles, using his fingertips to draw intricate designs across your skin.

“You don’t know how to make a proper playlist, so when you listen to music, the weirdest shit comes on, and you sing along to all of it. And you’re so bad at singing, but you belt that shit out like you don’t even care.”

You kinda wanna hit him. You kinda wanna laugh. You kinda don’t wanna accept that you've gotten comfortable enough around Shinsou to actually sing around him, even if it’s in the goofy voice that you use.

“You’re kind to animals, you laugh in your sleep, you yell at inanimate objects, and you always read the last page of a novel once you’re halfway through it, which is infuriating, but it’s because you get so excited that you can’t stand not knowing what’s going to happen.”

Shinsou brings his hand up to cup your face. “You piss me off. You challenge me. You’re stubborn and defiant and abrasive and I-“ he pauses, sighing- “and I love it. I love every part of you—vexing vices and valorous virtues.”

He leans down so that his lips are a hair away from yours. His voice is tight, raspy from something he’s holding back, but still, he speaks. “I know I’m fucked up for this. I know you hate it here, but there’s no way in hell I’d ever let anyone else have you. You’re so fucking weird, and beautiful, and angry. You’re precious to me, and I know without a shadow of a doubt that I’ll always be in love with you. And that means damning you to me. I would say that I’m sorry, but I’m not. At least, not for keeping you. You’re the only thing I've ever wanted—the only sin I don’t regret.”

Your brain is ocean fog when his lips meet yours. He kisses you softly, because he doesn’t want to bring you out of your stupor just yet. His fingers travel down your sides, resting at the waistband of your panties. He pulls back and eyes you deviously.

“And if you don’t like me yet, I guess I’ll have to deal, but that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna keep gunning for your affection.” He smirks, hooking his thumbs around the sides of your briefs. Your entire body flushes in direct reaction to him, anticipating what comes next. It doesn’t go unnoticed.

With a devilish glint in his indigo eyes, he smirks up at you and says, “at least I know some things you love about me”

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