Bedtimes Stories Novels & Stories

It was late autumn when they arrived — the trees skeletal, the air thick with a kind of oppressive stillness that seemed to hum beneath the surface of the world. Emily Carter, a graduate student in folklore and urban legends, had heard the whispers about WildWood all her life. She had grown up just a few towns over and had spent years gathering the old stories: tales of the “vanishing patients,” the “howling trees,” and the “night doctors” said to stalk the forest paths. Determined to separate fact from myth, Emily organized an expedition for her thesis, enlisting a few brave companions:

Especially Benjamin, he loved her a little more every day. "Alright, Hannah, it's time for us to rest." Amanda smiled and stood up holding her daughter. This little girl seemed to be getting fatter every day, her arms ached from carrying her. Benjamin followed, standing up, "Wife, I'll take Hannah to sleep and tell her a bedtime story while I'm at it. You rest here." Amanda handed her daughter to him, "Okay, it's easier for you to coax Hannah to sleep." Hannah smiled sweetly, "Mommy, when Daddy tells stories, his expressions become more and more expressive. Daddy tells the story of the Little White Rabbit the most vividly. Daddy's voice is so nice to listen to. I'm purely lulled to sleep by

“Oopsies!” She chuckled and shook her head, before looking up at the clock. It was near Anna’s bedtime. Quickly, after dinner, she helped the young one prepare for nighttime. She did her routine to her for two years; showering off all the dust from the playground, brushing her teeth, combing her hair, changing her into her favorite pair of Doc Mcstuffins pajamas, and long sleeves. “Which bedtime story do you wanna hear tonight, my love?” Lying in their bed, Anna was safely tucked in her blanket and ready to doze off. All that’s left is to make her sleepy with her stories every night. This was the last part of the night routine with Anna, one that she’ll never get tired of doing.

"I want to stay with you now. I miss you so much." "I know, sweetheart. How about Mommy tells you a really fun story? You get some sleep, and when you wake up, I promise I'll stay a few extra hours with you. How does that sound?" "You promise?" "Pinky swear!" I cross my fingers and kiss them. "Okay." I help him get comfortable in bed and sit in a chair to start telling him the story. "I want the story of The Girl with the Red Hood." "Oh wow, that's not exactly a bedtime story, Alex!" I grumble. "How about something more…"

“I’ll tell you lots of stories until you fall asleep.” Her little nod nestled into the crook of my neck. And just like that, my world stopped spinning. I tucked her into bed beside me, wrapping the covers around her small frame. She curled into the pillow with expectant eyes, and I began to speak—spinning a tale about brave princesses who conquered beasts with the power of kindness, about noble knights who protected those who couldn’t protect themselves. As I spoke, her eyelids began to droop. Her breathing slowed. The weight of the day finally began to lift from my shoulders, replaced by the soft, rhythmic rise and fall of her chest beside me.

Diane was still out of the room and I wasn’t sure when she would be back. Once Enid was back in bed, I settled on a small stool by her side. I told her a bedtime story – a simple fairy tale about a brave wolf pup who found courage even when in trouble. My voice was barely a whisper, cracked at times, but each word seemed to soothe her. Her eyelids grew heavy, and after a few minutes, she was curled under the covers, eyes closed in peaceful sleep. I pressed a kiss to her forehead and stroked her hair. “Sleep well, baby. Mama loves you so much,” I whispered, turning off the light. The small room was plunged into darkness except for the pale slivers of moonlight drifting through the light curta

he murmured, writing it like it was a mission objective. She watched him. Focused. Serious. Intent. Like a determined father trying to memorize a world he had missed. “And he likes stories before sleeping,” she added softly. Reid paused at that. “What kind?” “Adventures. Brave heroes. Silly monsters. Anything where someone protects someone else.” He nodded slowly and wrote: Bedtime stories – protective theme. The room felt different now. Not heavy. Not tense. But quiet. “You already had lists for me too?” she asked after a moment.

He sat on the edge of the bed and kissed the top of her head. “My princess... always smelling wonderful.” He ran a hand through her hair. “What story would you like tonight?” Luna’s face lit up. The Little Mouse, the Red Ripe Strawberry, and the Big Hungry Bear. Edgar picked up the book and read it slowly, changing his voice for each character, just as he always did. When he finished, he closed the book, said a prayer with her, kissed her forehead again, and tucked the blanket around her. “Sleep well, my princess.”

But there was no guilt, no shame. We had moved past it… at least he had. For me, it became all I could think about. Every night, as soon as the lights went off, I thought about sneaking into his room again, and instead of walking away, I fantasized about getting filled with his big cock. I thought about what it would feel like to have him buried deep inside me with his fingers curling around my hair.

"Serena, Mr. Prescott said you misunderstood." She bit her lip and held the book out to me. "This is the book he reads to me every day. If you're not comfortable with it, you can listen in too." I looked at her and didn't take it. Her voice dropped lower. "Mr. Prescott is really tired, you know. Could you stop pressuring him?" I smiled. "Ms. Hayes, do you know what I'm best at?" "I'm best at making people cough up everything they've swallowed, with interest."