Hate Obsession Novels & Stories

Nedan questioned, voice showing worries and anxiety. "I just want to make trouble. You worthless humans don't deserve to be King except the werewolves. We are the superior ones, and I am the most invincible of them all" Verin growled so loudly. Nedan turned to his carriage where Nayla was, he saw the fear and sadness in her eyes.

Sharply said to him "Don't you dare talk shit with my boss" Ethan calmly said but I could sense anger in his voice, he truly had Mafia DNA in his blood, how he could say those words and still look composed as if nothing happened, his words did not affect me, I couldn't be so afraid just as I was years ago, like an antidote to cure a virus, his calm and rude tone didn't jerk me off my seat, I suddenly sighted a young lady my age selling used clothes in a kiosk

"Your hatred is the fuel for my obsession. The more you despise me, the more I crave to break you—until you have nothing left but my name on your lips when you finally reach your breaking point." He didn't want my soul; he wanted my absolute submission. My mind rebelled, screaming at me to push him away, to find a weapon, to run—but my body was betraying me. The proximity of him was like a narcotic, a lethal, addictive pull that made my knees feel like water. I hated how much I wanted him to stop, yet simultaneously, I craved this ruin. I craved the intensity because, in a world where I had been discarded and killed, his obsession—however toxic—was the only thing that felt real.

He wanted to see her blue eyes so closely. He had missed her. He so wanted to hug her badly. After almost loosing her, he vowed to never let her out of his sight. He vowed to protect her and put his life on the line for her. That's how much he loved her. He could be kind for her, he could kill for her. His love had madness in it. It had both passion and Obsession in it.

Then he rolled me under him, looked me dead in the eyes, and pushed back inside my cum-slick hole with a slow, deep thrust. “Yeah,” he said, voice low and serious. “We are. And I’m not stopping.” He fucked me slow and deep until we both came again, sealed together like we couldn’t bear even an inch of separation. The hate was almost gone. What replaced it felt a lot like obsession. And I was starting to think I never wanted to be free of it.

I wanted to hold her like this forever. But I also wanted to hear her say she wanted me again, when she was clear in her head, awake, and strong. Not broken, not trembling. I brushed a strand of hair from her face and whispered, “I hope you don’t hate me when you wake up.” Because I didn’t hate her. I liked her. I loved her. I was fucking obsessed with her. And maybe that was the real danger. Because love and obsession were never safe for people like me.

If I keep pushing Andrew away, it won’t hurt as much when I finally let myself fall into Dontrell’s arms. God, what am I doing? What am I becoming? This isn’t love anymore. It's an obsession—dark, relentless, clawing at me, making me crave what I shouldn’t. I’ve ruined everything between us. But at least I’m not lying to myself. I crave him also—yes. But if I don’t make him hate me, he’ll never stop. He’ll never let me go. And if he knew the truth—that I’m only doing this to kill the idea of us—he’d never forgive me.

Not because he was monstrous. Because he was human. Painfully human. Scars cut across pale skin like old memories carved into flesh. Some faded. Some fresh. His jaw flexed tightly, veins visible beneath his neck, and the hatred radiating from him felt so intense it almost seemed alive. This wasn’t simple anger. It was an obsession. The kind that had lived inside someone for years, feeding on bitterness until it became the only thing keeping them alive. Malder didn’t just want Carlino dead. He wanted to destroy everything connected to him. His empire. His name. His peace. Maybe even the people he loved.

“Why are you relieved? Aren’t you the one trying to kill your brothers all the time?” “That’s the thing, Nes! I want to kill him. He can’t die before I assassinate him. In fact, none of my brothers can die before I kill them or it would ruin everything. I have OCD, you know? Obsessive-Compulsive Desire to be the one who takes them down — no one can outdo me, not even death.” “Hmm. Makes sense,” Nesryn said with a shrug.

The smell of incense and burning ozone filled the air, a holy funeral for a profane love. “I would burn every generation of Moretti to ashes before I let them touch a single hair on your head,” he hissed, his face inches from hers. “You think this is about them? It’s only ever been about you. My obsession isn't a flaw in the architecture, Ivy. It is the architecture.”