Midnight Dweller Novels & Stories

I don’t do soft touches or polite requests. I do the kind of nights that start with your panties shoved in my pocket and end with you shaking, dripping, and begging me not to stop even when you can’t take another orgasm. The scholarship student who gets caught with a vibrator still buzzing in an empty lecture hall. The bodyguard assigned to protect the mafia princess who starts using her instead. The stepbrother who finally stops pretending the shared house is big enough for both of them. The surgeon who blackmails his favourite nurse into becoming his private after-hours addiction. The young secretary who learns that working late for her powerful female boss means far more th

The Midnight Hour As the clock struck twelve, May slipped out of the cabin, her heart pounding in her chest. She had on a dark hoodie and jeans, blending into the shadows as she moved silently through the woods. The moon was a faint glow behind a veil of clouds, casting an eerie pallor over the landscape. Every step felt heavier than the last, each crack of a twig beneath her feet echoing like a gunshot in the silence. She reached the outskirts of the old warehouse, a dilapidated structure long abandoned, its windows shattered and walls covered in peeling paint. The place looked like it hadn’t seen life in years, yet tonight, it seemed alive with secrets.

"They're cute. They look like little grumpy dwarves." The response sounded so childish, Midnight broke into a soft smile. Ryder looked at him from the corner of her eyes and felt satisfied with herself. The dim light coming from the light bulb was more than enough to see the young man's physique. He was wearing plain jeans, and a dark hoodie, the hood of which was thrown over his head hiding most of his face, only the fair skin of his jaw and a pair of pink lips could be seen. Over the hoodie, Midnight was wearing a dark jacket, his hands deep in his pockets. When he took the chips, Ryder saw the little mole on his thumb and unconsciously smiled.

He had in his office the scarce evidence, a few photographs of crime scenes, drawings and even vampire cartoons, of something he was completely sure, that was done by a human, and he was someone who knew where to attack, supernatural beings did not exist, The science that he loved so much made him doubt about those nocturnal creatures, this was a man who hated the female gender, and he would find it. The headlines read: STRIKE AGAIN! THE MIDNIGHT KILLER. Now they were two women who were presumably servants of the night, they woke up on the nearby dock, both with looks of terror and those marks made with a fine-edged weapon. A figure was walking along the pier, it was close to five in the mor

I feel so alive, oh I feel so free. Dancing in the moonlight , now you hold me close, your breath tickles my senses ..you boop my nose. All laughter fills the air, our faces lit up with impish glee... I want this to never end, for we are all just stardust. You and me. Forever yours, Meg

The safe house was different from the others. This one was a modest apartment in a quiet neighborhood, the kind of place where neighbors minded their own business and no one asked questions. Chloe had arranged it through Lena's contacts—people who specialized in making problems disappear. It wasn't luxurious, but it was safe. Secure. Untraceable. The kind of place where people came to disappear, to shed their old identities like snakes shedding skin, to become someone new.

"She doesn't know about our world. It's better this way." "She's so perfect. So fragile." His voice broke with agony. "If she finds out what kind of monster I really am, she'll be terrified." My heart almost stopped. Ryder... wasn't human? "Bullshit," one of his buddies jeered. "If you’re so tough, then stop whining on that encrypted forum every night. 'Midnight_Howler'... real creative." Midnight_Howler. I memorized the ID. I slipped back to my room and opened my laptop. I found the hidden forum called "The Den". With a few tricks, I registered and got in.

A breath of relief escaped my lips as I flicked on the small light. I couldn't sleep and decided to come to the sitting room. I struggled until I reached the TV and put it on, a rush of relief flooded through me. The cool, bright light dispelled the shadows of the dark sitting room, revealing the nearest couch. "Finally!" I whispered, grinning as I picked up the remote and navigated until I got to a station I liked. I sat on the couch watching the TV and the scenes were that of nude men and women. I imagined Liam coming to the sitting room to meet me and trying to get his fingers through my night dress. I shrugged my shoulders,

The truth never arrived clean. It split you open first. The safehouse Domenik chose wasn’t one of his glass-and-marble fortresses. No guards, no art, no trophies. Just steel bones, flickering lights, and the hum of old systems running on borrowed time. It was buried under Crown District—a place the city forgot. Perfect for opening the kind of message meant to destabilize a dynasty. Eirwen sat on a crate in the center, the Widow’s letter heavy in her hand. The seal—black wax, Cayde’s mark—promised nothing but consequence.

A wolf was a patient thing, but it was never asleep. She slipped her hands into her pockets as she crossed the quiet street leading out of downtown. Behind her, neon signs flickered through the fog—Open 24 Hours, Psychic Readings, Best Dumplings in the City. Ahead, the glow faded into darkness. A single streetlight buzzed above a cracked bike path, and beyond that: the forest. A black smudge at the city's edge, older than all its buildings, stubborn as bone. Most nights, Charlie shifted in her apartment or the warehouse she rented near the docks. But tonight something tugged at her—an instinctual itch beneath her ribs. A direction. A pull.