Possessiveness Novels & Stories

My breathing is ragged,pissed off that he stopped. “You can’t fully claim me as yours” “You act as if that’s gonna stop me.I think you underestimate just how far I’ll go to prove that you’re mine now.” I just wanted him to continue so I gave in. “I’m…yours”. “Damn right.Mine.Now and always Tiana.” The way he says it feels less like possession and more like a vow.

As now came the right time to claim her truly in all senses. When she considered himself nothing but a possession of his.

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."

From the beast inside me she had somehow—unleashed. Possessiveness clawed through me. I’d never felt it before. A brutal, consuming need to make her mine in every possible way. I didn’t want her lips on another man’s cock. I didn’t want her moaning anyone else’s name. I didn’t even want her looking at another man. I’d kill any man who even thought of touching her. She would belong to me. Mine to claim. Mine to ruin. Mine to worship. Mine to fuck until she forgot her own name.

** I swear, if she asks me, I will kill these people who want to take her away from me, and if she has a lover, then I will kill him so that she only looks at me ** After these thoughts, he was short of breath wondering where he got such possessiveness towards a young woman he met a few hours ago. Then he thought about it and came to the conclusion that it must be a natural reflex linked to his too-long solitude and the sudden loss of those who were dear to him. He has become possessive and obsessive because of it, to the point where anything he feels belongs to him is not allowed to leave him. And since he made Luxiana his servant, she, therefore, has no righ

Not just guilt, though a faint, unwelcome echo of it brushed the edges of my consciousness. No. It was something far more potent, more insidious. Possessiveness. A fierce, territorial claim over this broken thing I had made. The desire to gather her close, to shield her, to brand her even further as mine. And a cold, unyielding rage that anyone, anyone, could have made her whisper those damning words about another man. I stood up abruptly, unable to remain still, dragging a hand over my face, needing to move before I did something else, something worse, something I might truly regret. The air in the room felt thick, oppressive.

Or maybe it was just him drinking to forget something. After taking a big gulp of the drink, he turned toward me and sat down in an armchair across from me. He placed the glass on the coffee table and leaned forward slightly. I couldn't quite decipher his features because they were too dark. His expression was blank yet stern at the same time. "I don't want you to get drunk," he finally said. "But you drink," I argued. "Not for fun," he answered. "Not for pleasure. It just feels good to let loose sometimes. Besides, I can't afford to lose any control tonight."

With his hand around my throat and my wrists bound, I’m completely at his mercy right now again. “Look at who owns you, Little mouse, " he said and if it was in the past, I would have told him he is wrong but right now, I didn't have time for an argument. “Look at how your body submits to me as if it were made for me. You are mine and you will always be fucking mine.” Liam said and I want to admit that he is actually jealous of the male friends around me. What level of possessiveness is this? “ You’ll never belong to anyone else but me, little mouse.”

Why keep hurting her without even realizing it? The thoughts circled endlessly in my head, one after another, until they became almost impossible to ignore. Every question only fueled the possessiveness rising inside me. Without realizing it, I clenched my fists even tighter by my sides, my nails pressing hard against my palms. The only desire I had now was to claim my mate for myself. Nothing else mattered anymore. And honestly, I no longer cared what method would be necessary to make that happen. The possessiveness inside me had grown far beyond reason already. The thought of Ann belonging to someone else irritated me in ways

I am becoming possessive. The idea pounds against my temples, heavy and true. It's no longer mere pleasure. It's appropriation. When she looks elsewhere, when her mind seems to fly away from me, even for an instant, a cold rage twists my guts. When another man's eyes rest on her too long, my fingers clench. The idea that she might one day walk out that door, toward a life where I would not be, is no longer a simple logical conclusion of a bargain. It is an intolerable thought. An anticipated tearing apart. She is no longer a fleeting moment. She has become the moment. The only one.