Diary Of An Oxygen Thief Novels & Stories

“Oh, you guys are not going to believe this. Our little spy is a massive freak.” I adjusted my posture, holding the diary up to the ambient light of the limo. “‘If he pushed me against the bookshelves, I wouldn’t even fight back,’” I read, my voice dripping with dark amusement. “‘I want him to take control. I want him to rip this stupid sweater off me. I can practically feel his hands gripping my thighs, bruising my skin, pushing his huge dick inside my tight and wet aching pussy while he whispers my name…’”

Dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, Oliver crouched beside me with a small notebook in hand and solemnly read aloud his thought report from the night before. "...In summary, when my owner blasted weird, loud, and annoying noises on the outdoor dancer speaker yesterday, she profoundly expressed her unique insight into postmodern deconstructive art. Her uniquely independent spirit deeply captivated me. "I love her so much that I'm drawn to her like a moth to a flame." He finished reading and looked at me expectantly. "My owner, did I use that phrase correctly?" "Half correct," I said, mixing paint without looking up. "You're definitely the moth, but I'm not the flame; I'm an electric bug zap

"Each time, it grows sweeter. Each time, your husband’s love seasons the meat. You are a exquisite vintage, my little bird. And I am so very thirsty." With a sudden, violent shove, the entity threw me forward. I hit the floor hard, my palms scraping against the loose floorboards I had just pried open. The diary—my precious lifeline—skidded across the stone and disappeared under the heavy wardrobe. I gasped for air, the oxygen burning my lungs like fire. I scrambled to my feet, spinning around to face the room. It was empty. The sunlight was streaming through the high windows, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. The shattered vase of lilies lay on the floor, the water soaking into

O’er cliff and cave, through mist and gloom, She carries life back to the womb. A phantom swift, a breath, a sigh, The thief who makes the dragons cry. Skylar I jolt awake, disoriented because of the very real dream I was having where a golden dragon was talking to me. I shake my head. Okay, maybe that wasn’t a dream. Maybe that was real. Or was it? “My lady! My lady, you have to get up. The thief stole the egg! King Augustus is furious!” one of my maids says.

He whispered, taunting. I rubbed my legs together, needing some friction there. “Keep those legs apart, ruby. Spread them wider.” “Please,... Doctor, I… please…” I tried to keep them apart, my body squirming uncontrollably like a worm laced with salt. I rubbed my thighs together, but it wasn't enough. I needed penetration to release the pressure. “Please what ruby? You think I don't notice how you stare at me all day at book club? “Mmmm.” I whimpered like a pathetic slut.

She doesn't even get a chance to open her bag or write in her diary before the lecturer screams at them to open their books. So, she takes her favourite therapy method and disguises it inside her book. She randomly starts doodling. There are so many things to write. Dear Diary… The way he looked at her last night. He genuinely stared. And the things he said. She starts scratching his name again. Over and over, filling the margin until the ink runs thick. D.O.R.I.A.N Then, the glowing eyes… The way he could track her pulse… There’s the enemy complication. So many intricate puzzles to solve. So little time.

But now I could see the torment in his eyes. He ran a hand through his curls and sat down slowly, motioning for me to do the same. There was a small fire burning in a metal bowl on the table. Beside it, a leather-bound journal sat, its pages partially torn. “I didn’t know who else to call,” he began. “You’re the only person I trust now.” I didn’t speak. I only nodded, urging him to speak on. By now, I was restless, the air around us was tensed.

Grace- I went inside my room; I know I’m hoping groundlessly however I still opened my wardrobe to see dresses aligned, coded by colors. Of course, the money isn’t there… nonetheless I rummaged through the clothes and found nothing. I sat down on my bed sighing at my foolishness. And then… my eyes landed on a diary, with a huge ‘Stefan’s high’ written on it. I stood up and grabbed it instantly. What is my diary doing here? P---Phoenix… is he here? I heard a knock on my window, I was not wrong. I rushed to lock the main door as Phoenix entered inside my room.

I took a deep breath inhaling all the dust that had been stagnating in the room. 'The watchman has become blind ', I thought as I decided to lock the door again when I noticed something. A diary. I walked in and picked it up. Pink I'm colour, had to be a girl's diary. I walked out with it turning off the lights and locking the door again. I opened it. This Diary belongs to Akansha Goenka. The first sentence I read after opening it in fine cursive handwriting. It belonged to Akansha. Not that bad either.

🖱️Victor🖱️ The diary sat in my hand like it was alive, breathing, watching me, judging me, and the blue fire wrapped around my fingers didn’t burn anymore, it just existed like it belonged there, like it had always been waiting for me to notice it. I stared at it for a long time, longer than I should have, my thoughts drifting somewhere I had been trying very hard not to go. Jayden.