Scary Bedtime Stories Adults の小説・ストーリー

Jennifer: Shrug emoji. I decided to take a different tack. This time, rather than pick safe, general stories, I chose a bunch of different categories and sent my favorites from each. One was romantic, about a couple falling in love. The next was about a wife who sleeps with another man. Another had a husband bringing in his best friend for a threesome. I chose one that had some bondage (not my thing, but I picked a story that was highly rated). I sent a Lesbian story and a Gay male one (again, I relied on the ratings). I linked a story about watching two people have sex in the woods, and one about a girl riding a sybian for the first time. I skipped two categories: nonconsent and incest. As

"You know the rules. Bedtime is bedtime. And besides, they probably want to have some grown-up talk." "What do grown-ups talk about?" I think for a second, then grin down at him. "Taxes," I say. "And their boring, boring jobs." Brandon wrinkles his nose in distaste. "Ugh." "Yeah, it's terrible," I say with a mock sigh, "but you have to do it, when you're a grown-up. Luckily for you, you're still a kid. So we don't have to talk about mortgages, and instead, I get to tell you a bedtime story. How's that sound?"

“What else have you heard?” Too much. Too much poison dressed up as bedtime stories. Garrett Monroe—my father, the only family I had left—used to slur those horror tales into my ears whenever he was drunk. Stories about sharp-toothed beasts who dragged children from their beds and devoured them whole. Creatures who wore human skin by day but hunted by moonlight. At the time, I thought he was warning me. Trying to protect me in his own twisted, broken way. But now? Now I don’t know.

he commented as he took a step forward. Shoving every single thought that was crossing my mind to the farthest place, and swallowing any comment that I could have made about his appearance, I cleared my thoughts. "That's because that's exactly what is going to happen. I'm going to read you a bedtime story,” I said confidently. However, I realized how absurd that sounded as soon as I said it. Can you believe it? The Night Reaper, in his pajamas, having a bedtime story being read to him. The universe would have had to gamble some of the ozone layer just for those words to even be placed in that order.

It coiled my nerves and spine, weighing in the air like something tangible. I remembered Mom telling me stories when I was younger. Some were just simple bedtime stories to help me sleep, but others were scary ghost stories goaded on by Leo. Wanting to be brave like my older brother, I begged for them too. She was a silver-tongued narrator. Whether it was Goldilocks and the Three Bears or an old Italian ghost story, Mom painted pictures so vividly it was as if she’d experienced them firsthand. And I knew what she was about to tell me was a firsthand experience, and she was going to weave an image that would likely keep me up at night wondering if Mattia was going to appear standing over my b

The sounds of the night—crickets chirping, owls hooting, and leaves rustling—seemed to harmonize with his words, creating an eerie ambiance that sent tingles down my spine. One by one, the pack members took turns sharing their ghost stories. Each tale was filled with chilling twists and turns, evoking gasps and laughter from the listeners. As the stories got scarier, I noticed a few of the younger pack members huddling closer to their parents, seeking comfort and reassurance.

I darted my eyes away quickly-- "You promised," Al said all of a sudden. "What?" I paused in surprise. "No question asked," Al smirked, holding out his hand to me. I was grateful that he didn't ask into it. Night fell. So the thing about horror stories is that-- The fear kicks in only at dark nights when you are alone, not when you are at the crowded theater or on the bright street. Meaning-- I couldn't fall asleep that night. Turns out it's a bit hard to fall asleep when you don't close your eyes because you feel the need to stare at everything with alert.

I don't want her to ask too many questions. "It's four, I don't think I can sleep anymore" She followed me upstairs. Later in the evening, I rushed out of the house to the river and waited until Jordan showed up. "What do you want?" He asked with an irritation on his face. "I just wanted to tell you that I can easily shift now" I happily said but he wasn't the least excited. "So?" "So, I can meet the wolves?" I grinned but he chuckled. How wicked. "Shifting doesn't make you a wolf"

by the time the sun shimmers at the horizon behind me and the crescent moon dips below the horizon before me, I have thought of every word I know of to describe really, really, really boring walking. There is absolutely nothing here. I think of the stories we told each other when we were pups. About wraiths that lived beneath the sand of the Barren that would pull you down into their nests. They would paralyze you and then their grubs would feed off you, slowly eating you alive. That was a favorite. There are the roaming packs of wilder-scorpions, creatures that are half beast, half scorpion. Where the beast's tail should be is a scorpion's sting that will cause your skin to turn black and t

I nodded moving over to their bookshelf. "Not from there. Mommy already read them to us." Nicholai told me. "How about a story my mother used to tell me? It's a bit scary though." Big smiles made their way on their faces. "We love scary stories!" Ana told me excitedly as I took a seat on her bed, even though Nicholai was still tired he moved off his bed going to Ana's so he could be next to us. I picked him up and placed him beside her. "Thank you."