Holy Post Podcast Novels & Stories

For five years, I was married to the heir of the Romano family, Italy's biggest crime family. Every night, he'd hold me and whisper, "Just give me an heir, and I'll give him the entire Romano empire." But I never got pregnant, and the Don's disappointment in me grew with every passing month. Until I found out my husband had been secretly swapping my folic acid for birth control pills. I was still reeling from the fury when I saw a post from his ex-girlfriend: an ultrasound photo. Her caption was sweet and smug: “Ten weeks along. Vincent said he can’t wait to meet the baby.” Seeing the flood of congratulations, my mind was made up. I found the contact info for my ex-boyfriend—the one who’d spent the last five years trying to get me back. I sent him a single text. 【Give me one month. Then I’m coming with you.】

I was nine months pregnant when the Wolf Council sent a resource report to the Luna’s quarters. It listed my mate’s monthly distributions. For two years straight, my husband—the pack’s Alpha—had been secretly providing the same female wolf with territory access, protection, and supplies. Without missing a single month. The first record dated back to two years ago. The same month I lost my first pup. A notification appeared—A contact request. The note read: “A woman kept by an Alpha.” I was strangely calm, one hand rested on my swollen belly as I accepted. She messaged immediately. “You saw the report, didn’t you?” I didn’t reply, I opened her feed instead. The earliest post was dated April 21st, two years ago. A female wolf leaned against an Alpha’s chest. His face was cropped out—but the mark on his shoulder was clear. I recognized it instantly. My mate’s Alpha mark. The caption read: “Thank you for choosing me on my coming-of-age night.” April 21st. That was the night I lay bleeding in the healing room, losing my unborn pup. He had told me he was away on pack business. I kept scrolling. She trained freely in Alpha-only areas. Used resources reserved for the Luna. Was guarded as if she already belonged at his side. Every post carried the same message: He chose her. Pinned at the top was a medical report—She was pregnant—With the Alpha’s pup. I put the device down and returned to our bedroom. Then I received it—Photos. Videos. She sent them to me on purpose— to flaunt that the love I had once been so proud of had already rotted beyond repair. I sat down slowly, my pup shifting inside me, pain spreading through my chest. Only then did I understand—He had betrayed me completely. This kind of love—I don’t want it. This pack—I won’t stay in it. When my pup is born, I will leave—And I will take his heir with me. Let the Alpha search every territory, scour every border, tear the pack apart in regret— he will never find us.

In the third year of my marriage, I endure a full day of painful labor to give birth to my first child. However, my husband steals the baby to give to his true love. I try my damnedest to stop him, but all I get is a barrage of insults. "It's just a baby! I'm the one who planted the seed, so I get to decide who gets the fruit!" I'm overwhelmed by grief as I watch my husband leave. However, he shares a happy post on his social media. "Mother and daughter are safe." His true love comments, "Thank you for giving me a child, Jaspie. I'll be the happiest woman in the world with you two by my side." Clueless friends bless them and wish them well. I silently comment, "Give me back my child." All I get is another round of insults. Then, I'm blocked. I don't want to endure this anymore. I hire a lawyer to draft divorce papers before making a police report. "Officer, I want to report my husband for child trafficking."

I happen to come across a popular post regarding a company's finance department on social media. "Seriously, that person in the sales department is such an idiot! All I wanted was to claim reimbursement under her name for the bag I bought, and yet she still refused! "Since she doesn't want me to reimburse my bag, then she can forget about reimbursing everything! This time, I'll teach her a lesson about what happens when she offends a member of the finance department!" There are many bashing comments in the comment section, but the original poster doesn't care at all. She continues adopting a haughty tone. "What am I scared of? The finance department is extremely vital to the company! I refuse to believe that the boss has the courage to offend me, the most important person alive, just to stand up for a sales employee who's easily replaceable!" As I stare at the familiar profile picture belonging to the original poster, I can't help but mentally sneer. She wants to suspend all of my reimbursements, huh? Go ahead, then! This time, I'd like to see what the consequences are for offending a member of the finance department!

My best friend’s dad taught me how to ride a bike. Now, he wants to teach me things that aren’t innocent. He’s twice my age, my first safe place, and the one man I should never want. But the way he looks at me? Like I’m his to ruin, his to worship… his to keep. I should run. He should resist. But when his control finally snaps, I’m pinned against the wall with his mouth claiming forbidden places. His voice breaking as he calls me his Goddess. If we’re found out, we’ll be shamed and exiled. By family, friends and business. He could lose everything he’s built- and I could lose the only man who’s ever made me feel safe. But I don’t care. I want him to ruin me. Because when he touches me, the risk doesn’t matter. Some sins feel holy when it’s him.

I had been married to Natasha Bates for ten years, and not once did she ever join me for our family's Independence Day cookout. This year, on the night before the celebration, I finally gathered the courage to ask if she wanted to come. She scoffed and said, "What are you, stuck in the past? Who even celebrates the Fourth with a family dinner anymore?" Yet that very evening, I saw a social media post of Natasha with her male best friend, Stanley Rogers. They were quite intimate in the picture, and the caption read: [True happiness is celebrating Independence Day with your bestie!] I commented back: [Hope you two lovebirds make it official soon.] Stanley did not hold back. He messaged me a bunch of intimate photos of the two of them. Then, he added, [You're just a leech living off his wife. What right do you have to question anything about Nattie?] Everyone always thought I was a gold-digger living off Natasha's success. However, they all forgot that I was the sole major shareholder of the company. This time, I’m done staying silent.

When Eric Sutton—my charming CEO husband—found out I handed a million-dollar project to his assistant Vivien Cheney, he figured his three months of radio silence had finally broken me. Suddenly, he's all, "Let's go to Iceland for our honeymoon!" Vivien heard and threw a fit. Threatened to quit. Classic. Eric, who treated her like royalty, freaked out. After three days of begging, he bailed on the trip—said it was for "work"—then handed her my ticket. Later, he shrugged it off. "Romance's petty. Work comes first. You're my wife. You get it, right?" Right. I just stared at Vivien's new post: a couples selfie—cheek to cheek, hands shaped like a heart. I didn't say a word. Just nodded. Eric thought I was finally playing the role: calm, supportive, mature. Promised an even better honeymoon when he got back. Too bad I'd already quit. Too bad he'd already signed the divorce papers. We were done.

I gave Evan Cole six years. I changed my name, walked away from the Moretti family, and became the kind of woman he could handle: quiet, useful, easy to overlook. I paid the bills, fixed his proposals, opened doors he thought had opened by luck, and waited every time he said we were almost ready. Then Maracame back. His first love. The woman he swore he hated until the second she needed him again. After that, I became the problem. Too jealous. Too dramatic. Too hard to please. Evan thought I would break down and beg for my place. While he played house with Mara, I saved every receipt, every post, every lie. Then I cut off the money behind his perfect little life and called my family. On Christmas Eve, he asked if I would wait. I smiled and let him believe Leah was still waiting. By the time he learned my real name, Alessia Moretti was already gone, and the mafia princess he never knew had finally chosen herself.

18+ Extremely Explicit Content, Reader Discretion Heavily Advised Content Warnings: This collection contains Graphic sex, dubious consent, significant age gaps, taboo relationships, religious blasphemy/roleplay, rough and degrading scenes, morally corrupt characters, filthy language, and intense psychological edges. If dark, controversial, or morally twisted themes bother you, walk away now. Some hungers stay buried in the shadows. Others are so wrong, so deliciously depraved, they burn to be spoken. Wicked Hunger delivers raw, no holds barred erotic stories where every rule is made to be shattered. Step into a haze of temptation where guilt only makes the pleasure sharper. From holy men who break their sacred vows to men who should never touch their best friend’s little sister, each tale drags you into a slow, aching descent into sin. They’re dangerous. They’re off-limits. And they’re exactly what your body has been begging for. Indulge the cravings you were never supposed to have. These cravings that don't go away when you close your eyes. They get louder.

(Mature contents for 18 years old or more) "I am not the holy woman that a man wants to marry. Too many men’s hands have touched me. I am dirty and unworthy to be beside you, much less to bear your child. I think the entire world will be against this. Sorry, I turn it down. Thank you for your offer, sir,” I replied in a trembling voice. It took just one day for Jennifer Swan to take a hundred and eighty degrees turn towards disaster. Her aunt sold her to a ruthless billionaire to make money for them and pay for her uncle’s cancer operation. But that evil billionaire put her in his famous brothel to be an escort. Several years later, she became a star and high-class escort that not all men can book without her will. One day, fate lead her to a new journey. A disabled billionaire came into her life, changed everything, and offer her a contract marriage. Since then, her life has turned three hundred and sixty degrees. Who is that disabled billionaire? Why he wants Jennifer so badly? How will Jennifer live next?