A Spotted Mind
WARNINGS: yandere, abuse of power, possessiveness, nsfw, smut, non-consensual implications, implied kidnapping
A/N: i'm not sure how i feel about this, but it took me longer than it should've, so i'm posting it. ^^
read at your own discretion.
yandere ! SHINSO HITOSHI X READER
“Look, I know it isn’t exactly fair, but–”
“No. I mean, I don’t understand.” Calloused hands ran through purple locks, pulling, tugging, anything to alleviate the building frustration.
“Years. Years risking my life, years saving lives, years doing everything a hero is supposed to fucking do.” There was a humourless laugh cutting through the words.
This couldn’t be fucking happening. He started pacing, hands unsure, clenching and unclenching their fists, rubbing down his face.
“And where does that get me? Back in elementary school apparently, where everyone’s scared of the freak with the villain’s quirk.” His eyes hardened, flashing with memories he thought he’d long buried, fears he had long killed.
“Stop.” His former mentor’s voice, monotonous as ever, made him pause; he turned to meet his eyes–well eye and eye patch. “Those are the terms, like it or not. And while I, personally, err on the side of not, that won’t get us anywhere.”
“So what? I don’t have any choice? Let the Hero Commission fuck about with my life all they want, or give up my hero license? You can’t be serious.”
The black haired man sighed, “Things are a little different than in my day, kid. Even underground heroes have to appeal to the public now–”
He scoffed, “I’d hardly say I’m the most unlikeable hero. Or did they happen to forget the guy who explodes buildings and yells at reporters like it’s a sport? Oh, but he’s number two, and makes tween girls wet, so fuck me, I guess.”
“You can sit here throwing a pity party for yourself, if that’s what you want. But you have a choice to make: give up the dream you’ve worked so hard to achieve, the dream you’ve bled for, the dream people have died for…” Uncrossing his arms, his mentor pushed off the wall.
“Or,” He headed for the door, hand catching on the frame, “Go to therapy.”
He paused, turning; a sly smile played at his lips, “Who knows, you might actually like it.”