{𝑀𝐼𝒩𝐸} Yandere! X Reader One-Shots

Photographer

A/N: Expecting to be called out for my translating bs but still this was a lot of fun to write! French is the stereotypical "love language" but it was a lot of fun to research and mess around with.

Photographer! Male Yandere X Exchange Student! GN Reader

Synopsis: You're a foreign exchange student who's been captured by one of your classmates as his 'model.'

TW: possessive behavior, kidnapping, forceful touching, yandere themes.

Word count: 1200

"Just stay right there. Sit still."

He danced on his feet with precision, evading fallen petals and the sheets on the floor. You strained to keep the upright pose he demanded you stay in.

"Beautiful...Don't move."

You turned away as he came foward, taking a picture of your face that was far too close for comfort.

"Don't look away..." He said softly.

You turned back to look at him, the photographer snapping a picture as soon as you turned.

You squinted your eyes at the bright flash.

"Yves... I really am not... comfortable with this. I've been sitting here for 2 hours." You groaned.

"I know I know. Just a few pictures."

That's exactly what he said last time. 'A few more pictures.' 'just a little longer.'

But things have changed since last time. For one, you were now bound with your hands behind you and your legs tied together. He had never tried to bind you up like this. It was... unsettling, to say the least. But you focused on thinking they were for the shoot.

You hated and adored being in his photos. Yves always knew how to make you feel like the most beautiful thing in the world. But there was always something lurking under his compliments; a smile that was a bit more than friendly.

You didn't want to be here in the first place. But Yves had... "invited" you. To call it kidnapping would be wrong. You could never call your best friend a kidnapper. Even if that was... technically what he was. But you were in another country! Maybe people "kidnap" each other all the time here... right?

You weren't too knowledgeable on the country's laws but you hoped maybe this was common. Perhaps you just had to tell him you needed to go...one more time?

"Yves, I really need to go home; I've been here for days," you shifted uncomfortably under the sheets which hardly covered you. "And I don't understand why the restraints are necessary."

"It is to uhh," Yves looked for the rights words. "Keep in the shot you know?"

"Keep in the shot?"

"Yes, you know," Yves mumbled some words you couldn't understand, repeating himself despite your confused expression. "keep in the shot. You know."

"Yves..." you sighed. You still weren't very good at understanding the language yet, and Yves wasn't the best at english.

Rubbing your hands back and forth you felt the duck tape on your wrists dig deeper. Your feet had already gone numb, and the makeup on your face was beginning to melt from the softbox's light.

Yves continued to mumble to himself as he took shots from every angle, moving low and high in order to get the best pictures of you. You were just glad that the sticky red paint he covered you in was finally dry; it had made your skin itch. He had been subjecting you to photo sessions every day ever since he brought you back to his apartment.

Yves was supposed to be watching over you as part of the international student committee. But instead of showing you around the campus or helping you tour the city, you were stuck in his apartment. You were stupid enough to let him "take care of you" after a night of too many drinks while exploring the area. That was several days ago, and soon it'd be weeks if you let him keep you like this.

But he always knew how to get you; whether it was with his sweet accent and convincing words, or his evading answers in the language he knew you couldn't understand, he always knew how to keep you for just a bit longer. Even though you were starting to miss classes, and he was starting to become too suffocating.

At this point, you'd take being stranded on the street if it meant you'd be out of Yves' tiny studio apartment. He wouldn't even let you open a window to get some air; there was always some excuse, and you believed him every time. After all, he was born here; you were just a foreigner trying not to get lost.

"Hey hey," Yves noticed your solemn face. "Mon amour, what is the matter?"

You didn't answer, still struggling with the tape on your limbs. It had loosened just a bit in the past several minutes as you continued to sweat under the light.

"Why do you look so sad?" He grabbed your chin gently, setting the camera down.

"I'm tired." You responded, refusing to make eye contact. Yves rubbed your back and mumbled words of sympathy.

"When can I go home?"

"Soon Mon chéri soon. But I have many shots to take. You are making it take longer."

He kissed your cheek over and over again, pulling you close as you went limp against him. You've learned not to refuse his affections anymore. If you did, he'd make you partake in a nude photo session again, just like the last time you refused. The humiliation wasn't worth saving your pride.

"Kiss me." He demanded, watching you through hooded eyes.

You bit your tongue. He watched you scoot back unconsciously, nervous at his closeness still.

"Ne sois pas difficile.... my love just do as I say ." He grabbed your hands from behind, squeezing the tender flesh making you wince. "I'm not mean... do not make me mean.."

You closed the gap between your lips with his, giving a quick and chaste kiss. But from the touch of his hands, you knew he wanted more.

As you tried to leave his lips Yves held the back of your head. The photographer only let an inch pass between your lips before he closed the gap once again. You were used to this; used to him doing as he pleased. But at least you weren't treated entirely like an item. Sometimes he'd beg for you to reciprocate, often in his native tongue.

"Ne t'arrête pas, amour... kiss me..."

You did as he asked. Hesitantly, you opened your mouth to let Yves' tongue slide against yours. Your makeup began to smudge as he enveloped you with affection. He gripped the tape around your arms, seemingly trying to tear it off. You wiggled your hands to get them free.

You even tried to kiss Yves a bit more, hoping it would mean he would continue to help remove your restraints.

"No... no.." Yves pulled back. His mouth separated from yours with a slick pop; a string of saliva still connected you with him.

You wiped your mouth on your shoulder as Yves readjusted your restrained hands.

"We got off topic," Yves' accent got thicker with his labored breath. "Get back in place."

Your face was hot as you fixed yourself. The numbing in your fingers helped distract from Yves' lips and his saliva in your mouth. He picked up his camera and stepped back from you, covering his face. You could see from under his hand he was red.

Yves wiped his mouth and bent down to fix a bit of your smudged makeup with his finger. Standing back up, he readied his camera, calming his breath.

You did the same, trying to look away. The red paint on your skin began to itch again-- but it felt better to focus on that than the way Yves was eyeing you.

"Almost done..." Yves set the camera up to his eye, ready to snap another shot. "And after, we can go to bed."

You gulped at the sound of that.