Obsessive 소설 & 이야기

"Why do you keep coming back?" I managed to whisper as I stared into his intense forest green eyes. As much as I wanted to escape his presence, I yearned terribly for him. "Because I want you back, Eve." His deep sultry voice replied and he bit his bottom lip as though he could consume me any moment from now. "I don't know what you've done to me but I have not been able to get the thoughts of you off my head." "You should forget about me, Stefan. I am your ex wife. You have another woman..." "I want you, Eve. I want only you and all of you." My lips quivered, caught in between my uncontrollable lust and hatred for him. "You put me through so much pains. You caused my heart to bleed until it couldn't feel any emotion no more" "What about now?" He slowly closed the distance between us. "Did I manage to revive your heart again? Does your heart still beat for me like it did eight years ago?" ................ When Lycan Stefan crosses paths with his poor omega mate whom he had once rejected and cheated on, he is shocked to discover that she is now the Luna of another pack and a powerful figure. He finds himself falling for her no matter how much he tries to fight it. Would Eve accept him back into her life and give him a second chance again or would she fight a never ending battle with her emotions? With the real identity of her son's biological father a secret, Stefan's obsessive Luna and the rogue son of Eve's late Alpha, the future doesn't seem all rosy for Eve anymore. Would Stefan be her saviour this time if she lets him?

He was a psychologist. One day, a new patient walked into his office. His name was Aiden-young, handsome-and he claimed to suffer from "obsessive-compulsive disorder." "What kind of obsession?" he asked calmly. "I can't stop myself from stalking someone," Aiden said. "Watching everything about him. Wanting to know all his secrets." "And who is this person?" Aiden lifted his head and met his gaze without blinking. "You." He froze. "I saw you once at a café three months ago," Aiden went on, as casually as if he were talking about the weather. "You ordered an Americano. Two packets of sugar. From that day on, I started following you. I know you wake up at 6:30 every morning. You like whole-grain toast with fried eggs. I know your ex-girlfriend's name is Leah. You broke up three months ago because she cheated." His hands began to tremble. "You need treatment-" "I know," Aiden said with a smile. "That's why I'm here. So, Doctor... how are you going to treat me?" A few weeks later, he realized someone had been in his apartment. Things were slightly out of place, yet nothing was missing. At the next session, Aiden said calmly, "Your bed is very comfortable. I lay on it for a while last night." "You broke into my home?" "Not broke in," Aiden corrected gently. "By the way-those black underwear you changed into last night? I really liked them." *** Aiden, a young man presents himself as a patient to a psychologist doctor for treatment against his obsessive compulsion disorder. He claims has an obsession to stalking someone. Then, he reveals this person is Darrel. Aiden been stalking/observing Darrel for the past six months and now that he has made Darrel aware of his presence, Aiden doesn't intend to just stop there.

I thought about him again today. God, I'm so fucked up. I want my brother to ruin me. I want his hands on my body, his mouth on my skin, his name the only word I can remember when he's done with me. I want him to push me against a wall and take everything I've been begging him for in the dark. The worst part? He's not even really my brother. I found out the night I came home, hospital mix-up, swapped at birth, the daughter they raised isn't the daughter they made. Which means Damien Nightbane, the man who's haunted my dirtiest fantasies since I was eighteen, the man whose touch makes me wet and desperate and insane... he's not off-limits anymore. Except he is. Because he raised me. Protected me. Watched me grow up. And I spent two years running from the way his eyes follow me, from the tension that crackles between us, from desires so shameful I can only confess them to a stranger online. A stranger who knows exactly what I want. A stranger who tells me my fantasies aren't wrong. A stranger who makes me feel seen in ways no one else ever has. I should have known better. Should have realized that the man who whispers dark promises through a screen and the man who grips my shoulders too tight in hallways might be the same person. But by the time I figured it out, his hands were already on me. And Damien Nightbane doesn't let go of what's his. Warning: This is a dark, explicit romance featuring a possessive, obsessive billionaire and the woman he's been waiting years to claim. Contains mature themes, explicit content, and a "brother" who's definitely NOT playing nice.

I've been mated to Alpha Alaric Goremane for five years, and I'm still a virgin. On the night he claims me, I stand before him, naked. With my heart pounding against my chest, I muster the courage to step forward and wrap my arms around him. But he pulls away, and then comes the words that lingered in my head for years like a devil's whisper. "I'm sorry, Kyna. I have severe germaphobia and can't handle physical intimacy. Please give me some time." In that moment, my heart plunges into the abyss. But when I see the torment in his eyes, I convince myself that he doesn't love me any less. He's just sick, and all I have to do is wait. So, I wait for five long years. On our fifth mating anniversary, I cross thousands of miles in a raging storm just to see the look of delight on his face when I surprise him. Sure enough, I see the warmth in his eyes and gentleness in his expression. But what a pity… it isn't for me. The Alpha, who claims to be an obsessive clean freak, is on one knee before his childhood sweetheart. He gently slips off her rain-soaked heels, dries her feet, and warms her cold toes with the heat of his palm. It's as if that's the most natural thing in the world, and as if his world holds no one else. He sighs. "Serene, how many times have I told you that you'll catch a cold? What would you do without me?" In that instant, the last of my delusions shatters. I finally realize that his germaphobia is selective, and I'm simply the one he can't bear to touch. Instead of making a fuss, I slip off the ring I've worn for five years and walk into the storm without looking back. Later, I hear he tries to win me back with the most expensive roses in the city. But the Kyna Lupen who loves him is long gone.

“Shh, little girl,” he growled, teeth catching my bottom lip. I fought the moan, but he circled my clit, my hips jerked helplessly against his hand. Then he pushed my panties aside and sank two thick fingers inside me. I soaked his palm, knees buckling as tremors wracked me. “That’s it, cum for me,” he whispered against my ear. I did. Waves crashed through me while he held me up, stroking gently, murmuring filthy praise that made it sweeter, deeper, more shattering than anything I’d ever felt with a woman. I’m a lesbian. I’ve always known it, claimed it shamelessly. I’ve mapped women’s bodies with my mouth, hands, loving every touch and gasp. My best friend’s tongue between my legs has made me come countless times. The only man I tried, my ex, was awkward, unsatisfying. I swore off them forever. I love women. I love my best friend. So why does this man, her father, the one I should never want make me wetter with one stroke than she ever has? Why am I aching for his cock, pushed inside me, thrusting relentlessly, filling me, ruining me in ways no woman could? Why does bending over his desk for him feel like the right thing to do? One forbidden touch. One devastating truth: I might never want another woman again. When I rejected the vice chancellor's advances, my best friend's obsessive aunt, she threatened expulsion. My friend took me to her father, the college owner. One look at his body and I was lost. That night in their home, hiding in the kitchen while watching him cook, I touched myself, craving what is forbidden. Will my best friend discover my sudden addiction to her father? Will her aunt ever stop wanting me?

I have always had an almost pathological sense of paranoia. Ever since I was a child, I was convinced that the people around me were out to get me. Back in elementary school, when everyone was lining up for their student ID photos, I flatly refused to have mine taken. I insisted that the district office was going to use my picture for identity theft. The situation escalated so badly that the principal had to personally sit me down and spend half an hour trying to convince me otherwise. Then, there was the fingerprint registration system in middle school. The school required every student to submit their fingerprints to access the campus buildings. I was so terrified that someone would steal my biometric data that I literally rubbed the skin off all ten fingertips to make them unreadable. Even when my fingers were bleeding, I kept shouting that they were trying to steal my identity. I would rather climb over the school fence every day than cooperate. Every relative I had called me crazy. My parents were so fed up that they seriously considered having me admitted to a psychiatric hospital. I did not care. I guarded my privacy with obsessive determination, gritting my teeth and holding my ground all the way up to the eve of the final exams. Then came the day before the exam. That afternoon, our homeroom teacher, Tracy Collins, walked into the classroom carrying a metal lockbox. A warm, motherly smile spread across her face as she set it down on the desk. "Everyone," she said, "to make sure nobody forgets their documents tomorrow, I'd like you to hand over your IDs and exam admission slips for safekeeping tonight." She patted the lockbox reassuringly. "Tomorrow morning, I'll personally return them to each of you outside the testing center. This way, there's absolutely nothing that can go wrong." The class was deeply moved by her thoughtfulness. Some students even looked close to tears as they eagerly pulled out their documents and lined up to hand them over. Everyone except me. My hand clamped down over my pocket so tightly that my knuckles turned white. Cold sweat poured down my back. A sharp alarm bell was ringing in my head. Trying not to attract attention, I fished out a spare flip phone from my bag, ducked beneath my desk, and dialed emergency services. As soon as the call connected, I lowered my voice and spoke into the receiver. "Hello. I'd like to report a crime. My name is Charles. "I believe a teacher at St. Alden High is working with an identity-fraud ring and is planning a large-scale operation tonight involving examination fraud and identity theft."