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Like Coming

He Comes At Night

Rose stood defiantly, eyes locked onto his golden ones as she lifted the hem of her small top, exposing the smooth expanse of her stomach before peeling the fabric over her head. The red glittering bra shimmering under moonlight as if made for this very moment. She ignored the tremor of anticipation curling in her gut. None of that mattered. Not even the reckless haze of drugs clouding her thoughts. Tonight, she was in control. This was a mission. A mission to keep his attention solely on her so could save her friend from his curse. Her fingers hooked into the waistband of her shorts, her breath steadying when she saw him go rigid. Shoulders squared. Posture tensed. Not in fear. Not in disgust. But in something far sinister. His Interest. “Yes… feast your depraved little eyes and filthy mind on this,” she whispered, smirking as the shorts fell away, pooling at her ankles. The silky red thong clung to her hips, the moonlight accentuating every curve of her body. She flicked the discarded clothing aside, shifting her weight slightly as she let her nightly visitor drink in the sight of her naked glory. His posture no longer that of boredom. Good. That was exactly what she wanted. More like, what intoxicated, irrational Rose wanted. She twirled, giving him a deliberate view, rolling her hips just enough to torment. “Since you’ve made my life a living hell, I might as well return the favor.” She cast a wicked smile over her shoulder. “Consider this my gift to you—one you’ll never get to touch.” By the time she turned back, her stomach plummeted. He had moved. No longer a distant silhouette in the meadow—he now stood at the edge of her patio. Much closer and so much real. The thrill that had fueled her was fading slowly. Had she just made a mistake playing this game with her stalker? Swallowing hard, she lowered herself onto the chair, parting her bare legs wide and letting the wooden cross dangle before her barely covered cherry, in a taunt. A silent challenge. His fingers curled around the wooden rail, veins standing taut against the black ink of his tattoos. His chest rose and fell, controlled but heavier, as though restraining something barely contained beneath his skin. "Want a taste, my dear stalker?" Rose whispers She had him pinned. Or so she thought. Her shadowy visitor moves. Slow, deliberate steps leading closer. Panic slammed into her. No. Rose bolted upright, pressing the cross against the glass door separating them. “Stay back!” Her voice wavered a bit. “I swear, I’ll burn your stalking ass right where you stand!” He stilled. A beat of silence. Then— A low, quiet chuckle rumbled through the night air, reaching her ears like smoke. Deep and Dark. Her stomach twisted. The sound was foreign, yet eerily familiar. As if she had always known this was how he would sound. His hands rose in mock surrender, his hooded head tilting slightly, as if entertained by her little performance. Then, as effortlessly as he had closed the distance, he stepped back. Rose’s breath fastened. She was playing with fire, willingly, by provoking the one who comes out at night and remain in shadows. And he was enjoying it.   == In the embrace of her ancestral town, Rose seeks refuge from the echoes of her past. Little does she know, her return to her roots will awaken dormant shadows, shattering ordinary her existence. For when the darkness falls over the town, from the pitch black rises a shadowy figure that haunt her nights. In the darkness he sweeps her off the ground in terrible fear and the allure of sinister intrigue. And once the sun comes, a man with a god awful attitude, haunts her in the broad day light. Causing her to swell with pure disdain. With each passing night, it draws closer to Rose, casting a chilling spell that both terrifies and exhilarates her. Thrust into a labyrinth of mysteries can she navigate the treacherous path laid before her, or will her nightly visitor consume her whole?
AkumaQuil · 31.6K Views

They're Not Like Us

In a world shattered by humanity's own ambition, survival comes at a cost. Decades ago, experiments to create bioengineered soldiers spiraled out of control, fusing alien DNA with human genetics. The result was The Others—monstrous beings that decimated the human population, driving the survivors into hiding. Leah Carter is one of those survivors, struggling to find her place in a fractured group that includes Elias, her unwavering ally; Thompson, a man haunted by the past; Jonah, whose fear breeds mistrust; and Maren, whose quiet strength hides a mysterious past. When a revelation about The Others' origins emerges, Leah discovers a disturbing connection to the creatures—one that could either save humanity or doom it. As the group searches for a long-abandoned military research facility rumored to hold the key to defeating The Others, Leah faces a growing divide within her team. Jonah’s suspicion and the group's unease threaten to tear them apart just when they need each other most. Amidst the chaos, Leah uncovers a shocking ability to communicate with The Others, forcing her to confront the possibility that she may be more connected to the enemy than she ever imagined. With the weight of humanity’s survival on her shoulders, Leah must navigate betrayal, fear, and her own inner turmoil. Can she and her group uncover the truth and find a way to fight back against The Others before it’s too late? Or will humanity’s final hope crumble under the weight of secrets and mistrust? "They Are Not Like Us" is a gripping apocalyptic thriller that explores the fragile bonds of trust, the cost of survival, and the enduring question: What makes us human?
Stacy_Ihemelandu · 5.5K Views

Coming Soon (Dark Romance Sory)

Jack? This world knows a few Jacks. You might know Jack Dawson. Yeah, the beautiful Jack from Titanic. Jack Dawson, that guy had a sincere love for Rose, a free spirit, and a captivating presence—oh, and he was poor. Well, except for the captivating presence, that guy's clearly not me. Poor? Hell no, I've had everything since birth that you’d struggle for decades to get. A free spirit? No, I've lived by schedules and rules since I was five. Sincere love? No, I don’t think so; the love I have is obsession. Lady Daisy, a ballerina. The first time I saw her, she was a cute little girl running around in pink ballet shoes. Who knew she’d grow into such a captivating woman? Wavy ash-grey hair cascading down, shining green eyes, light skin, and a perfect body. After a long time, I saw her again. when she came to the hospital where I work with her coach; her leg was injured, badly. When I saw her as a kid, I admired her, she was so beautiful, with her bouncing ponytail, like a real-life Barbie. But now I understand, I’m not just admiring her; I’m addicted. Since she became my patient, I can’t stop thinking about her, searching for her, finding her. When she’s away, I’ll do anything to find her again, like a drug. Ahh… and would Jack Dawson die for Rose? We’re very different, huh? I’m not. I won’t die for her; in this vast world, only I deserve to be with her. I won't die until she ends up with someone else. Instead, I’ll kill for her, oh… I did. Because I’m the opposite of that Jack. I’m Jack Knight.
Ms_Acasa · 10 Views
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