Obsession Reviews Novels & Stories

Damn, I didn't ask to play! I am stashed behind the kitchen curtains, and I watch the show, and I like what I see. A beautiful woman that beauty has not left by the side of the road. She is wearing a yellow dress. Excess of coquetry? Need to be seen and admired over and over again? It seems like it is working just fine. I see her. She reminds me of femininity, and chills run through down my spine without being able to refrain them. They go too fast for me, just like my thoughts. I find it hard to focus on anything other than this woman. I do not know her. She doesn't see me from the top of the third floor, and yet I spy on her like a teenager would observe a classmate from the corner of his

Gage “Do we have to go out?” Aubrey asks again, a slight whine in her voice. I spank her ass in warning. “I already told you, yes. I’m taking you out on a proper date.” “But I’d rather stay here…” Her eyes flick toward the bedroom and I know exactly what my horny girl wants. We spent the afternoon cuddled on the couch watching reruns of Highway Thru Hell. I was shocked when Aubrey picked the show; I figured she’d want to watch some kind of trashy reality TV show or sitcom. She shyly admitted she’s a reality TV junky, but that she prefers things like Hoarders and Ice Road Truckers.

9Maya. I’d never been like this before. Not with anyone. Not with myself. Obsession felt like a sickness, something I couldn’t shake, something that turned my days into endless waiting, my nights into hours spent staring at the ceiling, aching and empty and full of wild, helpless want.

He licked the corner of his lips and moaned. "She tastes incredible," he pushed as he slid a finger into her. “ Fuck, and very tight.” My fists clenched. "I said enough." He stood slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "You okay, man?" No. I wasn't okay. Because this hadn't worked. This hadn't made me want her less. It had made everything worse. I wanted to throw him out instantly and have Aria pinned against the wall. Have her reminded of who exactly she belonged to. But I couldn't. Because that would mean admitting the truth. That I was obsessed with her. And that was the most dangerous thing of all.

Obsession isn’t something you choose. It chooses you. Wraps around your soul like a vice, squeezing until there’s nothing left but the sickness of wanting. It seeps into your blood, replacing logic, making you something… else. Something monstrous. And fuck… I like it the more I watch her.

UNKNOWN Smack..."If I can't have her, then no other person will get her." Obsession is misunderstood by most people; some think it’s chaotic. Messy. Uncontrolled. It’s not. Not when it’s done right. When it’s real and it’s precise. Careful. Patient. It watches. Learns. Waits and most importantly It chooses.

Ezrene swallowed down her saliva, trying to think about her answer and then with a sigh, she finally opened her mouth. “Obsession is that emotion of a human which ruins and harms every other feeling of a person when it collides with it whether with love or hate. Obsession destroyed everything because in obsession, the obsessor refuses to see the boundaries of right, wrong, moral, immoral, sane, insanity so if it entangles with love, it destroys the sacrificing selfless beauty of love because an obsession can never be considered as love no matter what,” Ezrene gave her answer which made the professor gave her an impressed smile.

Except he wasn’t untouchable anymore. Lance had touched every guarded part of him. And now he wanted more. All of it. Every side. Every secret. Every ugly thing and every soft thing Ragnar tried to hide. That was when Lance finally understood. This wasn’t a crush. Wasn’t infatuation. Wasn’t even love in the clean sense of the word. It was obsession. Real, deep, ugly obsession. The kind that rewired your habits and disguised itself as affection. The kind that made someone else feel essential.

“I am aware that you hate any kind of obsession. However, to speak truthfully, it possesses a certain charm. Women like me will agree.” Ms. Beth's sentiment resonates deeply with me. This man might hate obsessions, but his hatred towards it doesn't make it disgusting. He's so rude I can't. “Obsessions are unhealthy. The obsessed one doesn't have a world of his own.” Arguing back, he extended the blazer to her with a poker face before adding, “You get obsessed with a thing, then somehow, you lose it, and you get lost too. It's...”

“Yes.” “You knew I was going to research you and prepare to betray you.” “Yes.” “And you hired me anyway.” “Because you’re the only person I’ve ever met who doesn’t need me to survive. You’d survive without me. You’d survive without anyone.” He reached up and touched her face like he was remembering what skin felt like. “And the moment I realized that, I understood I was going to lose my mind if you left.” She understood, in that moment, what obsession actually meant. It wasn’t passion. It wasn’t love in any traditional sense. It was the recognition that someone could exist without you and choosing to make them your reason to exist anyway.