Scream Laughing Novels & Stories

Sweet warning, my darling sinner… These pages are dripping with the kind of temptation that will make your thighs clench and your prayers turn filthy. Once you start reading, you won’t want absolution—you’ll beg for more sin. Reader discretion is strongly advised. In shadowed confessionals and candlelit cathedrals, forbidden desire ignites again and again… She kneels in nothing but a sheer black lace nightdress that barely hides her hardened nipples, wrists bound in leather and silver chains. “Forgive me, Father,” she whispers, voice trembling as the cold rosary beads slip between her slick folds. His deep voice answers from the darkness: “No forgiveness tonight, little lamb… only my cock teaching you how to worship.” Another night, another altar. A different priest’s strong hand slides under her nightdress, fingers circling her swollen clit while his lips brush her ear: “You came here to confess your sins… but your dripping pussy already told me everything.” And in the moonlit sacristy, she’s bent over the holy table, nightdress hiked up, collar tight, as he growls against her neck, “Every time you moan my name, another angel loses its wings… now scream for me, baby girl.” Ten scorching stories. Ten powerful priests. One deliciously wicked collection of priest-sinner BDSM romance that will leave you wet, breathless, and aching to be ruined. Leather. Chains. Rosaries used in ways God never intended. Unholy pleasure has never felt so heavenly. **Indulge. Submit. Sin.** Ready to kneel for every single story? Turn the page… and let them all ruin you.

Everyone in Phantom Pack knew their Alpha, Riven Drake, was devoted to me — completely and without question. No matter how slammed he was, he always called to check in, right on time, every time. But the night before our marking ceremony, he vanished. No call, no word, nothing. I lost all sense of him through our mate bond, and my gut told me he was in danger. I was ready to drop everything and go find him — body wrecked as I was — when he finally walked through the door. He came in holding a woman who reeked of him, barely able to stand, and dropped to his knees in front of me. "Natasha, Helen got hurt saving my life. I can't just let her die." To atone for his sins before me, he stabbed himself with a silver dagger. Then, not even an hour after our marking ceremony ended, I heard his Beta laughing with him: "Alpha, that aphrodisiac must've been something else. Helen looked like she was about to pass out." Riven's voice had a satisfied edge to it. "Yeah, I'll have to go easier next time. Don't want her cutting me off." "Anyway — my little troublemaker's calling." It hit me like a punch to the chest. I picked up my phone and called my brother. "Cole. I want to come home to Starlight Pack. Can you send someone in five days?" He sounded surprised, then happy. "Of course. I'll have someone there in five days." Five days. I was giving myself five days. Giving Riven five days. He thought I was just another werewolf. Thought he had me completely figured out. He had no idea I was something else entirely — a descendant of the Dragon Clan, something out of legend. I was never his to control.

EXTRACT.... I felt a hand snuck behind my back and flicked my eyes open. Before I could realize it, I was sitting on Zain's lap facing him. How did I end up on his lap? I struggled to get down but he held my waist, making it hard for me to get up from his lap. "Zain, are you insane? Let me down." I screamed and he covered my mouth with his right hand. "Stop shouting, people will hear you." He said and I glared at him. He chuckled and pulled his hand away from my mouth. "I miss you, I have been thinking about you since morning." He said, his hot breath fanning my chest. I was not in for his game this midday so I struggled to get down but he would not let me. " Zain, I beg you let me go," I retorted to begging. "You did not hear what I said huh?" He asked, laughing at me with his eyes. "I heard you but please can you let me down, anyone can see you or your wife can even walk through at any moment," I tried to reason with him but it looked like his demons were at work. "You know, I am suddenly horny and I want to get you under me. That's the only way I can let you go. I want to have you right here right now." . . . Loving can be hard especially in cases where the person you are loving is unreachable. That's the situation Jenny Thompson found herself in, in love with her ex, Zain Zidat, who is now married to her sister, Susan. With both being under the same roof, can the heart stop going for what it wants? Find out in this story of love and betrayal. *BOOK 1*

(18+ | A Forbidden Reverse Harem ) “Who are we to you, Lily? ”Jaxon’s voice is low and dangerous, his billionaire fingers tangled in my hair, forcing my tear-streaked face up to his cold, commanding gaze.“Say it,” Dante growls into my ear, his surgeon’s precision turned filthy, his grip bruising my hips as he slams deeper, each thrust shaking me to my core.“You’re… you’re my alpha daddies,” I sob, the confession shattering as he drives harder, making my suspended body quake. “You’re my protectors! ”“That’s fucking right,” Elias snarls, the whip in his firefighter hand cracking across my ass cheeks hard enough to leave a burning mark.I whimper from the sharp sting, my body bracing harder against Dante while my chained hands grasp desperately at the links for something or anything to hold onto.“And who are you to us? ”Jaxon demands, the cage fighter in him making it an unbreakable order.“Your baby! ” I wail.“Louder, baby girl,” he commands, voice like steel wrapped in velvet. “Say every word we’ve taught you, every filthy truth we’ve waited years to hear fall from those pretty lips.”“I’m your Lily… your filthy little secret… I belong to all four of you and always have!” I scream as another orgasm tears through my chained body.“That’s a good little baby girl,” Elias praises, his rough hands tracing the fresh mark. ⚠️ EXTREME DARK TABOO FILTH ⚠️ Strictly 18+.

“You’ve spent seven years running from my scent, Madeline, but you’re still wearing the bruises I gave you like jewelry. Did you really think I’d let you come home without putting you back on your knees?” The North Reach is a kingdom of ice, iron, and ancient blood, where the weak are exiled and the strong are hunted. Seven years ago, Madeline Cruz was the disgrace of the pack—a girl with a sharp tongue and a wooden bat who broke the arm of the Alpha-heir and was cast into the sun-bleached purgatory of Los Angeles. She returns not as the girl they broke, but as a woman forged in fire, hiding scars that run deeper than any claw mark and carrying a family heirloom that marks her for a destiny she never asked for. But the Reach hasn't forgotten her. Harrison Cole, the boy she once leveled in the dirt, is now a man of lethal ambition and predatory grace. He is the future Alpha, a king-in-waiting who views Madeline’s return as a challenge to his crown—and a feast for his wolf. He doesn't just want her gone; he wants her ruined. He wants to hear her scream his name in the dark and watch her defiance shatter under the weight of his command. As the Cruz family’s dark secrets begin to bleed through the polished floors of their estate, Madeline finds herself caught between a father who sold her out and a lifelong enemy who tastes like woodsmoke and danger. In a world where wolfsbane and silver are the only laws, Maddie must decide if she’s back to reclaim her throne... or to burn the entire pack to the ground.

"You really want me to worship you? well guess what? When I get on my knees, spread your legs apart, and dive into your gushing core with my tongue, and you grab my hair from behind, screaming, oh God! That is worship!" Vlad bellowed. For the first time ever, Ivy went tongue-tied. Ivy Greene hates men. It's not just a phase, or a front. She actively hates them. All her life, she has lived, surrounded by women. Most importantly, her grandmother who taught her to hate men. So when she finds a man in her living room, and her grandmother tells her he is her betrothed, her first reaction is to faint. She wakes up in a wedding gown, all dolled up, with a note plastered on the mirror in the strange room. The moment she crosses through the door, her entire life changes as she steps into the world of Vladimir Bratva, the youngest, yet most feared mafia lord in the world. Vladimir is taken aback by her venomous tongue she wastes no time using to show him just how little she thinks of men. He's only used to men hating him, so she's an amusing development. Both strong-headed, they clash in every way. But the most explosive way is between sheets, where Vladimir shows Ivy the kind of results passionate hate can produce. Her perspective starts to shift. Because how can the same kind of person she has been groomed to hate, make her scream so much, and not in anger? Just when she begins to rethink her orientation, the ghost of their ancestral past, intertwined in the most toxic way, resurrects. Sending them on a ride that changes everything.

“Hold her mouth open, she’s too polite to ask for it.” A firm hand grips my jaw, keeping it wide, as another man groans above me, thick and pulsing, his cock sliding against my tongue with punishing rhythm. She was supposed to be a transaction. One night. A girl forced to sell herself for money, and three men who could offer more than she’d ever dreamed, for a price. But Harper isn’t like the others. When she steps into that hotel suite, fragile and brave all at once, she isn’t just agreeing to pleasure. She’s agreeing to surrender. And something about her, about the way she flinches, the way she obeys, the way she doesn’t ask for more, makes them all pause. They own a club built on power, discipline, and unshakable rules. But she doesn’t know any of that yet. All she knows is what it feels like to be touched like she matters, just once. When they ask if she wants more, she says the wrong thing. “I’d have to ask Mark.” What should’ve been a second arrangement turns into a revelation. Because they know what Mark is. And now they know what he’s been doing to her. Two days later, they offer her another night. Same price. Only this time… they don’t plan on letting her go back. “Good girls take it. All of it. Even when it hurts.” I scream into the pillow as one thrusts deeper, harder, while the other presses his weight against my back, whispering filth into my ear and slapping my thigh until I shake.

"I am your master, I own you. Until your father is able to pay me what he owes, you are just a body for me to fuck and dispose of as soon as you give me an heir" His grip on my chin grew more hurtful as he said those words to me. His menacing scowl made him look like he would want want nothing more than to kill me on the spot. "I am going to pay you back, Tell me how much he owes you right now and I'm going to pay everything back, YOU SON OF A BITCH!" I scream as hard as I can into his face. My hand balling into a fist. His head snapped back as he erupted into a wicked laughter, you think you can pay me what your father owes me?" He released my chin then moved to steps backward. His voice dropped to a whisper, vibrating with restrained anger as he continue to speak, "I dare you to try. Your father owes me half a million dollars, but since you have decided to take on this debt, I give you a month." Rue; Freedom was everything I have ever yearned for, a time when I can finally breathe a breath of relief, a time when I can finally be relieved of the burden of my alcoholic, selfish and gambling addicted father. Until my father sold me to the ruthless mafia Don, Alessandro Vanillin as a payment of five hundred thousand dollars. It was stupid of me to think I was better away from my father.

Before the contract was even signed, the client's representative casually said he was craving pancakes with maple syrup. I didn't hesitate. I texted my fiancé, Nigel Cross, and asked him to stand in line and grab some. He came back with the box, all proud of himself. The client took one bite, and within seconds, his face went red. Hives bloomed across his neck. He shot to his feet, furious, and called the whole deal off on the spot. Then he turned around and handed the million-dollar order to Olivia Field, the intern who had rushed to grab him allergy meds. Three months of grinding work were gone just like that. I stood there, my throat tight, trying not to fall apart. Nigel squeezed my shoulder, his voice soft as he said, "It was just bad luck. Don't beat yourself up." I nodded weakly, drained of energy. But the second I stepped away, I heard him laughing in the break room with his friend. "That guy's seriously allergic to mango. Good thing I added mango syrup to the pancakes. Olivia's about to score a huge year-end bonus. Enough for a down payment on her new apartment." His friend hesitated. "Melissa hasn't slept in a month over that deal. She was working while she was sick. She needed that money for her mom's surgery—" Nigel waved him off, already annoyed. "She has me. Isn't that enough? Olivia earned this." My hands curled into fists so tightly that my nails dug into my palms. Bad luck? Yeah, right. Nigel had planned every second of it. And now, he thought he could smooth it over by marrying me someday, toss me a few cheap words, and I would just swallow it. I was done with that disgusting man.

Years after graduation, someone suddenly tags me in the class group chat. "Mr. Warren is gravely ill, Mira. Aren't you going to do anything? You really are heartless!" I only realize what's going on when I click on the fundraising link in the chat. Our high school homeroom teacher, Joseph Warren, has late-stage cancer. Thus, Lyra Fairfield, the class belle, is leading a fundraiser and patient-donor matching process. "I'll donate ten thousand dollars. My husband is the director of Waverly General Hospital, and I've already asked him to arrange a VIP ward for Mr. Warren." Right after I send that message, the group pounces on me. "Mira, you contracted an STD back then and tried to pin it on Lyra. She didn't even hold it against you, and now you're trying to steal her thunder? You're unbelievable!" "I can't believe you're still lying through your teeth during such a serious situation. You never change, do you?" Lyra immediately defuses the tension. "Mira, I don't blame you for what happened in the past, but you really shouldn't impersonate the director's wife. I've already arranged the ward and surgery, and I'm donating another 100 thousand dollars to Mr. Warren!" I'm this close to laughing out of sheer anger. She's the one who scratched her name off the diagnosis report and framed me for having an STD all those years ago. I never even confronted her about it, and now she's playing the victim? Lyra soon posts a photo in the group chat, showing off her husband's car. Yet, when I see the man in the passenger seat, I guffaw. Isn't that my husband's driver? When did he start running a hospital?