Obsession Clothes Novels & Stories

And on her face, that same satisfied smirk. The bottom right picture was her in what was probably her apartment, standing in front of a mirror. She looked perfectly coiffed and styled, her face turned into a wicked looking kiss, but her outfit was absolutely filth. A trashy looking tight blue tank top, the spaghetti straps digging into her shoulders due to the stress caused by her mammoth rack. Her top was molded to her large breasts, showing off their perfectly smooth, round shape, and there were clear indents caused by her throbbing nipples. Her midriff was exposed, leaving her fit belly bare. Down lower, she wore a tiny, denim skirt, cut way too short, barely covering her nether-regions.

Just like she wears. All of these things crept her even more. She never thought he had given this much attention to her everything. She once heard that too much obsession can be lethal and seeing all of the things he has been doing made her believe those words. His feelings, his possessiveness, his obsession. Everything is lethal for her. Wearing a beautiful light purple colored ankle-length dress she brushed her wet hair leaving them open. She wore the simple sandal and walked down the stairs to have breakfast. It’s not like she wants to accept all of this but she has no other option.

He then held the hem of my dress and slowly parted my legs. “My dress…” My words were cut short when I heard the fabric being ripped apart, allowing him to spread my legs wider. “I’ll buy you a new one… In different colors.” “You will run out of money if you keep buying me expensive dresses.” “I just need to work harder then. Maybe start more business transactions to keep up with the expenses because my Luna seems to have an obsession with dresses.” “Me?” My eyes widened as I anchored my elbows on the mattress and lifted my upper body so I could meet his eyes. “You’re the one destroying these beautiful dresses. You’re the one with the obsession ripping them apart.”

I smooth my palms down the front of my tight black dress, fingering the folds in the fabric as I go. The expensive black fabric wraps tight around my body and clings high on my thighs. The tiny, thin straps hold the dress over my bra-less breasts, but the neckline dips deep. It's the only dress of its kind I own. Long forgotten, I found this impulse buy hidden far in the back of my wardrobe and away from Blade's prying eyes. It still had the price tag on it and Blade hated when I spent money on expensive clothes. So, I hid it to avoid conflict. Wearing it reminds me why I bought it. It was breathtaking on the mannequin and when I tried it on I felt sexy. Good to know time hasn't changed that

I braced myself for nothing but found something completely unexpected. The cabinet was packed—full of clothes, all women’s clothes. Dresses. Dozens of them, neatly hung, mostly summer styles: flowing maxi dresses, light fabrics perfect for warm days. They looked expensive, too. I caught my breath. Whose could these be? My mind jumped to the obvious guess.

"I'll go, but I'll wear something comfortable." "Okay, at least I got you to go," he smiled, "what will you wear?" He took the right to open my closet and search. I had tidied up my clothes today and was a little annoyed that Piper messed them up. I suffered from OCD and what I did caused me anxiety. "I'll just wear a dress." I hurriedly pulled out a cute flowery dress that reached above my knees. -Are you sure? He asked me not so convinced. I could see it in the expressions on his face.

Three hundred fucking dollars The Ladies’ Shop was bigger on the inside than it looked from the outside. Racks of clothes stood like towers—silks, satins, tiny dresses that looked like they belonged to models on magazine covers, and then more casual pieces that still looked better than anything I had ever worn in my life. Carlson stopped right in front of a rack of crop tops. He folded his arms, tilted his head, and then looked at me with the same expression doctors used when they were about to tell you your test results.

Late nights of mediocre pasta and salad at my office have made me forget what genuine ingredients of basil, fresh tomatoes and soft carrots taste like, especially when they're thrown together into a soup dish. I open my door and slump my shoulders when I see the unpacked bags lying open on my bed. Hours of work undone and a few more at dinner with Loretta made me forget I actually have clothes to unpack. Despite the tiredness pulling at my eyes, I push through and begin unpacking-underwear, socks and bras in the top drawer-separate, shirts in the second, bottoms in the third, and so forth. I spend an extra ten minutes making sure the fabric of each piece of clothing doesn't touch each other.

"They’re limited edition! Do you know how rare this is?" I nod absently, watching as she moves on to another shelf, her eyes glittering with excitement as she picks up a designer coat. "This would look so chic in my next interview, right?" she asks, posing in front of the mirror. Before I can answer, she’s already signaling a sales associate to ring it up. She doesn’t even check the price tag. Just swipes my card, again and again, like it’s a bottomless well. Something about it feels off. It’s not just indulgence; it’s obsession.