Twisted Obsession [Yandere! Izaya x Reader]

Twenty

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

Less than favorable emotions streamed in and out of you. Horror, fear, hopelessness and utter confusion mixing together like sordid oils, prominently bleeding into the already tainted waters.

With a gleeful smile, Izaya affectionately plants his lips on your forehead, murmuring, "I knew you'd be pleased~."

Your eyes were wide, nearly popping out of their sockets. This couldn't be happening. Wishes you had made when you were sixteen, childish wishes that you still had secretly hoped would come true in the future, were being smeared in your face. Your wants, now used as insidious manipulation by this maniac for some sort of warped, romantic gesture.
He had made you a prisoner in your own "dream" house.

Your mind, driven by sensational panic, was at work at again. There was absolutely no way he was keeping you in Chiba. Not to say it wasn't completely impossible, but considering the fairly lengthy distance, it wasn't likely either. However, if that theory is true, then where could he possibly have you?

'Are we still in Shinjuku? Or one of the bordering districts? If we're in a house then surely we have neighbors close by, right? If I can catch him off guard then maybe I could try and -'

"I'd offer you the full tour, but our dinner awaits ~. We'll have to find the time afterwards." He promises, tossing your journal onto a nearby accent chair.

Immediately, you attempt to reclaim it, only to be barred by a firm grip on your wrist – still very much sore and tender from the course ropes. There is a small squeeze; a wordless warning that he wanted you to be on your best behavior.

"This way [Name]-chan ~!" he instructs, insistently tugging you into his desired direction.

Reluctantly, you obey his command. As you follow, your heels clack against polished hardwood floors, emitting an echo throughout the house, the hollow sound mimicking each of your shuddering heartbeats. Its tempo is interrupted once Izaya successfully leads you into a new segment of the house. Shadows danced and wavered along white walls, enticed by a red glow emanating from the candles that sat atop a rounded table. The table itself wasn't exactly proportionate to the commodious room, but that detail was easily missed given its impressive presentation. It was draped in a stark white cloth, drawing one's eye to several pieces of fine, cerise pottery that held steaming rice, colorful vegetables, noodles, and raw meat. A portly sized silver pot was settled to the center right of the table with an electric burner boiling the water inside. You recognize the ingredients for that of Shabu Shabu.

'Hotpot? We're barely in the Fall...'

Next to the dinnerware were tall and proud wine glasses, teemed with some sort of translucent liquid. A loop of tea-light candles took refuge inside smooth-edged holders, providing a sensual ambiance as well as decreeing attention to the center piece in the middle; a bouquet of Easter lilies nestled in a crystal vase. The candlelight revered their presence, modestly supplying a radiating glow that flaunted grace from each lustrous leaf.
Upon seeing the flowers, you are lulled into a trance, enchanted not only by their magnificent beauty, but the sense of familiarity they carry. Together you and your mother would cultivate a wide-range of different types of florae; however, the Easter lilies were a personal favorite...