Possessive Series Novels & Stories

Erwin was no less annoyed that his young master's possessiveness seemed to be increasing day by day. Especially after hearing Arnold's return. This morning when he just got home, he had to report Azkia's activities every hour. "Why is he waiting for me, not that he is working." "How do I know, Young master likes to do what he wants," Erwin replied indifferently. "Of course because of his possessive nature, where has he been willing to let you be with other people? His great sense of pride makes people not know how possessive he is towards you. Maybe you don't even realize he makes a lot of rules because he hates you," Erwin continued to himself.

| ALESSIO | ⚘⚘ I'VE ALWAYS HAD an unexplainable obsession with puzzles. Letting my gaze run all over the puzzles I've solved and gathered over the passing years, my gaze settles on the most recent one. Thousands of tiny pieces were put neatly where they belonged to form an enrapturing black hole. Took me three days—the longest ever—but it's all worth it because nothing satisfies my quench of a worthy challenge, or stimulation, unlike these puzzles.

"I live in your house; I don't know if that counts. Besides, how can that hurt you? I'm a free girl." "In that you are mine alone! From this moment on, I forbid you to be seen with this man or anyone else. Do you understand?" he asked in a domineering tone, and she opened her eyes wide in the face of this attack of possessiveness. To have been not to possess. You can have what you don't want. Possession is having and enjoying what you have. José Saramago.

Oh. "There's no need to be jealous," I assured him. "I'm not jealous," he said smirking. " Jealous is when you want something someone else has." "Then what are you?" I asked. "Possessive," he answered. "I want what's already mine." My mouth went dry hearing this. Damn, that shouldn't have been as sexy as it was. I finally found my voice. "I'm not a possession," I said shakily. He smiled. "Not yet. You'll come to be mine the same way I am already yours."

"Does my possessiveness really bother you that much? Is hearing that you’re mine so bad?" Andriel’s questions came between kisses along Taylor’s neck, his touches unraveling Taylor’s focus. "No, it’s not," Taylor replied, a faint moan escaping as Andriel’s hand gripped his ass. "Then understand this and burn it into your mind: you’re mine, Taylor, only mine," Andriel said, his voice a possessive growl. A soft bite on Taylor’s shoulder followed, pulling a moan from his lips. The earlier argument had been rough, but hearing Andriel whisper his possessiveness in his ear sent a fresh wave of arousal through Taylor.

/Bach…Bach…/ This lascivious slurping sound is so sad, he rubs my underside with one hand and rubs my nipples with one hand. “N… No, don't do both at the same time.” Jay Park like turning into a beast while making love, he didn't answer but kept stabbing me deep inside. “um~…”

He announced Possessive much? "So that I don't escape?" "With me, You wouldn't want to go anyway… moreover you have nowhere to go, darling.".

"Is this some kind of game to you?" Kalmin’s lips curled into a sly, arrogant grin. "You’ve yet to learn what’s mine," he said, his voice thick with possessiveness. It wasn’t the answer she was expecting, and it hit her in the chest harder than she cared to admit. “I’m not yours,” she hissed. He stepped forward. No rush. Just a deliberate closing of space. Her breath caught. He didn’t touch her—but it felt like he had. Every inch between them buzzed, taut with pressure. “You keep saying that,” he said, “but you’re still here.”

To anchor herself. "I'll destroy everything for you," I whispered darkly, my forehead pressed to hers. "Every man who's ever looked at you, spoken to you, breathed near you—I'll burn them to ash." I pressed a kiss to her cheek. Her jaw. Her neck. Each one a vow. A brand. "I'll fucking tattoo my name on every part of you, just so you remember who you belong to." I moved to my name and kissed there softly. My lips found hers again—this time slower, messier, possessive in a way that was more claiming than kissing. My tongue dominated hers, devouring every inch of her mouth like I could breathe her in and survive off it.

"And everything inside this shirt ... also belongs to me. Got it?" "I got it ... Arka ... ahh ...." Bima surrendered completely. He didn't care if another member of the basketball team walked in. He didn't care if Radit suddenly appeared. In his head, there was only Arka, the overwhelming scent of this swapped shirt, and a passion that had already reached its boiling point. Arka showed his protective side in the most primitive way, marking every single inch of Bima’s skin that had previously been covered by his threads. Every touch, every heavy squeeze of a thigh, and every hoarse, dominant whisper in Bima’s ear was a permanent seal of ownership. Arka didn't just want his shirt back; he want