Posesión De La Muñeca De Algodón Del Maníaco Obsesivo の小説・ストーリー

The server almost ran away from him. Suddenly a sharp pain hit my thighs..He squeezed so hard making me gasp in pain and shock..His eyes showed rage making me panic..What the hell ..He changed so sudden that I don't understand anything..Is he bipolar or what ..I tried freeing myself from the pain.but no! His strong hands made it tough and he squeezed even more harder.. "Please !" I said hating me for being so weak. He looked straight in my eyes."How dare you smile at him like that ?" He asked stressing every word..

A soft French folk song hums under my breath as my fingers guide the needle through pale ivory fabric. It's calming. Predictable. Unlike the rest of my life lately. Because every time my mind goes quiet—it returns to him. His voice. His eyes. The way he said my name last night. Goodnight, Céline. I stab the needle a little harder than necessary. Focus. Thread. Fabric. Precision. This is something I understand. The door creaks open softly. "Ines?" I glance up. She stands in the doorway wearing an oversized sweater, her dark curls tied loosely at the back of her neck. She watches me for a moment before stepping inside.

"Eliza, I'm almost home. Wait for me, babe." Just then, I came across a post on his friend's social media from their gathering. Though Heather's face wasn't visible, I recognized the moonstone bracelet I'd given her on her wrist, glinting coldly under the lights. I touched my belly and spoke to my pup growing inside me. "You'll live with Mommy from now on, okay?" Then, I turned and walked into the kitchen. I grabbed a bottle of alcohol and poured it over every corner of the house.

He has been sitting here for over an hour turning things over in the specific way he turns things over, which is directly and without softening the edges, because that is how he thinks about everything and he is not going to stop doing it because the thing he's thinking about is uncomfortable. He has known obsession since before he had a name for it. He had looked at it early and called it what it was and never flinched from the truth of it. He was obsessed with her. That had been clear and simple. He'd filed it correctly and kept going. He had known possession the same way. She was his. He'd been certain of that before he had any reasonable basis to act on it, before she had any reason to a

"Everything in this house belongs to me. I decide what happens. And that includes you!" When the realization struck me that Winona would never listen no matter what I said, I wrenched free of her grasp, desperate to retrieve my grandfather's watch. But before I could reach it, Winona snatched it from Hendrick's hand and hurled it to the floor. "How dare you still fight for it? Then nobody gets it!" "No!" The scream tore from my throat as I threw myself forward. But the watch broke at my feet with a sharp crack, the glass face shattering on impact.

CHAPTER 25 – CLAIMED AGAINST THE WALL ANITA'S POV Yeah. As far as I’m concerned, there is only one conclusion I can draw: this man is possessed—terribly, hellishly possessed—beyond anything I could ever imagine. Goodness. What in the living hell is the meaning of this? The thought cuts through me with a heavy frown as I push against his chest, trying to free myself, but his grip is unyielding. “Stop being so ridiculous,” he growls, his voice laced with mock patience. “I’m trying to be soft with you, but it seems like you want it the hard way. It seems like you love it the hard way, huh?”

Alli could practically feel the woman's resentment radiat-ing acrossthe room like a furnace. Alli tried to focus, tried to lose herself in the familiar rhythm of her work—wiping down the sticky bar with a damp rag, stacking glasses with a practiced hand, the clinking sound a fragile shield against the tension that !lled the air, checking the register to make sure the numbers lined up, a futile attempt to impose order on thechaos churning inside her. But her body betrayed her, every nerve ending on high alert, remembering how he'd touched her the night

Angioletto's Pov It is considered a deformity to be fixated on a particular person or object. It is a deformity to be narrow minded. It is a deformity to only find psychological fulfillment from just one person. My therapist had so many words to describe my obsessive tendencies. But right now, all I want is to live with that deformity for the rest of my life. My new obsession. A beauty to behold. From the moment I set eyes on her, from dusk to dawn, every day since I’ve had her under my care, she has been imprinted in my DNA.

she used her hand to demonstrate. I walked closer to her. Madam Kay brought out the gum from her mouth and put it on my hair, "Get out, go get ready, your customer is already set." I balled my hand into a fist, I wanted my fist to land on her nose but it couldn't, Madam Kay had the habit of bullying people at the club, "Why are you still here? Do you want something?" Madam Kay raised her eyebrows.

*Never again. She repeated it like a mantra while showering, while dressing in a conservative cream blouse and high-waisted skirt that hid the faint fingerprints on her hips. She spent the day locked in her room, sketching furiously—dark, stormy pieces that looked suspiciously like a certain grey-eyed devil. When the staff knocked for dinner, her stomach twisted.