Sinners Ink Novels & Stories

He didn’t even know it was me as I guided him gently through the crowd. Our bodies were so close together with his arm heavy on my shoulders. It was as if he couldn’t quite steady himself. That led me to suspect that there might be drugs running around in his system. It was a common occurrence here, spiking the drinks of unsuspecting men. He had fallen victim. Better to be a victim with me than with a stranger he knew nothing about. A smirk curved my lips. I liked this side of him, harsher, more desperate, but not in any way weak.

"Why don't you get started." He doesn't seem to mind the rain, which falls in sideways sheets against us. I can still see through the haze, although droplets bead against my lashes. It will be difficult to spar, which I imagine is part of the appeal to Edwin. He wants to embarrass me. I face him, shaking my limbs. Edwin has shed his shirt off, rain drenching his tattooed skin. He almost looks feral, although perhaps that's just what I can see in his eyes.

You?" Her voice was just above a whisper. He looked down at her, expressionless. "The vows," the priest handed each of them a piece of paper. Sinora looked at the paper in her hand, her eyes caught the words, "I promise to love and serve you forever. " she scoffed and used the paper to fan herself. What sort of joke was this? She looked around the empty church hall, before catching the Dark King's eyes again, but he wasn't looking at her. His eyes were fixated on the paper in his hands.

The heavy silver fountain pen felt weighted, like an anchor dragging her down into a lawless abyss. Agnes stared at the parchment laid out on the metal examination tray. The ink pooling at the nib wasn't standard black; it was a dark, iridescent crimson—synthetic blood-ink designed by the High Council to bind a fighter’s bio-metrics directly to a syndicate’s ledger. If she pressed her thumb to the glowing blue seal, Rhys Stormfang would legally own her athletic, professional, and public life for the next three hundred and sixty-five days. Her freedom would be liquidated to settle a ghost debt.

Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental. A Sinner's Redemption umitsaquarius. All Rights Reserved © 2021

“That’s… not appropriate.” “Is it a sin to notice beauty, Sister? God made you beautiful. Seems wasteful to hide it under all that black cloth.” Each session chipped away at her armor. Marcus was clever, articulate, and disarmingly honest about his past—violence born from a brutal childhood, choices that spiraled out of control. He didn’t ask for pity. He asked for understanding. And in return, he offered her something dangerous: undivided attention, raw masculinity, and words that lingered in her mind long after she returned to the quiet safety of the convent.

) sighs and scratches the back of his neck. "It's my ink. Every member of the Stanzolio filiation ink unique to it's body. The emergence of this mark appears when person and their partner copulates. A partner's demise or betrayal will result in the other partner's ink disappearing. This disappearance is accoumpanied with pain like no other. Mine first emerged when I laid with Christine. She bears one as well. The importance of the family ink is something you can never comprehend. They signify something greater than love," I take in Stan's words and process the absolute fuckery that is going on.

BEFORE YOU READ Bless me, Father, for I am about to sin. Themes: Forbidden Romance, Priest/Parishioner, Age Gap, Sacrilege. This story explores the fine line between salvation and damnation. If religious themes mixed with explicit erotica make you uncomfortable, this confessional isn't for you. (***) Serena The sound of my heels clicked with a sacrilegious echo in the void of the church. It was late, the sun had already set, and the only lights left burning were the candles casting long, dancing shadows over the ancient wooden pews.

The doors behind them slammed shut with a deafening boom. Everyone jumped. “What the fuck?” Damien shouted, running back to the doors. He pulled hard, but they wouldn’t budge. The windows sealed themselves with a grinding sound, metal shutters sliding down from nowhere. Panic rippled through the group. Then a deep, ancient voice echoed through the entire mansion, smooth and terrifying, coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. “Welcome, little sinners… to The House That Feeds On Sin.” The voice paused, letting the words sink in.

44. Sinful I don’t know when I slept but I woke up by 3:00am; I was exhausted and hungry, I felt weak to my bones like I was about to faint. I struggled to push myself out of bed and when I did, I saw a tray of covered dishes on the bedside table, and a note that read: Just rest A