Twisted Obsession [Yandere! Izaya x Reader]

Twelve

WARNING: DARKER CONTENT. TRIGGERS. SOME EXPLICIT CONTENT. NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART

You despise the way he is conversing with you. It reminds you of Celty and you loathe how her method of communication is being used to torture you. It makes you wonder how well you would know his voice if he decided to speak.

A swish and flick resonate before he loops an arm around your shoulders, and lifts. Stubbornly, you attempt to wrench yourself from him, but you cease this action when you feel an unpleasant, cold, sting. A blade is inauspiciously positioned at the base of your throat. You are unable to even turn your head without inflicting damage to flesh. Now that you are amenable, he pulls you to him. Kneeling behind you, he draws you between his thighs and settles you onto his lap; your back is placed up against his chest. Your own chest is heaving heavily as he nuzzles the side of your face; his loose tendrils tickle your cheek. His other spider-like hand creeps about, and you weep as it wanders easily over the silk that hugged your body snuggly. He is skidding dangerously close to your breast, and you shut your eyes, mentally trying to block out his unwelcome touch.

The appendage withdraws, and when you reopen your eyes the dim-screen is present. The attacker arranges the device at a particular angle, the light distance a ways from revealing his face.

'You're Pathetic.'

It wasn't a message for you. It was a message from you. The time and date are at the top. You feel no surprise, just the unbearable regret. He was basically taunting you, as if to say plainly 'you brought this on yourself.' Showing you the reason why you're being punished.

Then he swipes the screen and this time you are surprised.

It is a picture of you smiling, standing in front of Shizuo Heiwajima, his large hand gently placed on your head. Heart is swelling with panic in the confines of your chest, cold perspiration drips. You remember all too well what happened the last time he was jealous, and automatically you worry for Shizuo's safety. Seemingly reading your mind, the blade presses inwards, drawing out a thin trail of blood along with an inaudible yelp.

He doesn't want you to even think of the other man.

You want to see how far I'll go don't you? Why else would you keep pushing me like this? You want to see so badly how deep my love for you really is. If that's what you want then I'll show you...

The screen is only gone for a moment, but when it comes back a video is in play. You blinked, bewildered and fretful at what this video entails. It is unfocused at first; soon it zooms out to a pair of black combat boots. The crunching of gravel is heard as the boots tread forward. Finally, the camera pans up, and you squint to see a very familiar house. Though it is nightfall in the video, you elusively distinguish a daffodil painted two-story exterior. It is a homely looking, brick chimney at the roof, a white picket fence built around the house, greenery cultivating from the ground. A massive oak tree rests near the house, a makeshift swing swaying in the nights-

Newfound realization dawns and your insides churn icily. It is your house. This is a live feed. The dread you are experiencing is cutting you deeper than your stalker's knife ever could. Eager lips are caressing the bare skin of your shoulder, but you are unaware. Solely, you focus on the screen as the view switches, and it captures the images of your parents. They are sitting by the fireplace; your mother is serenely reading a book while your father is attempting to fix a toaster that he is adamant about not replacing. Whoever is holding the camera revolves and there is a second masked-man carrying a hefty gun. A cold wash splashes down your back. Your statue-like state abruptly ends, and you scream behind the tape. Vehemently, you fight against your restraints, heedlessly wriggling in your stalker's grasp. He actually has to lessen the pressure of the blade to avoid a deep cut.