A Filthy Tales for Wicked Grown-Ups Story When a cursed prince with a submissive streak meets the infamous Lady Verity Thrustworthy—better known as the Viper of Veylthorne—his only hope of redemption lies in obedience. Add a magical golden vibrator with opinions of her own, and courtly manners don’t stand a chance. A bawdy, wickedly enchanted retelling of The Frog Prince where domination is destiny, and happily ever after comes with a bite.
A story in the Lesbian Romances Universe
Whispers in the Mist is a gripping tale set in foggy Silverridge, where Amy Harper, a 32-year-old bookstore owner scarred by past traumas, navigates a passionate love triangle with Suzanne, a 35-year-old enigma from the liminal Veil, and Alice, a vibrant African American painter rooted in hoodoo heritage. As they battle Veil hunters and unravel thin-place mysteries, intense romance and cultural depth intertwine, culminating in a choice that binds love and supernatural stakes in an eternal flame.
Sex Contents: Much Sex | Genre: Romance Tags: Fa/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Lesbian, BiSexual, Fiction, High Fantasy, Paranormal, Ghost, Demons, Black Female, White Female, First, Oral Sex, Petting, Squirting, Tit-Fucking, Big Breasts, Public Sex, Caution, Slow, Transformation, AI Generated Downloads: 368 Votes:* | Score:* Size: 64KB | 11,581 words |
Posted:
Was I in love? Yes. I was in love once with a savage, a vampire, an engine between my legs that guzzled gasoline as much as Gatorade and good, good times. I was in love with a man where the money was nothing in comparison to the time. I was in love with a vodka martini, stirred and with a twist. The problem? I was a Manhattan with extra cherries. I was simply a dog trying to lick the sweat between my lover’s toes. I was an animal. I was hunted… No, I wasn’t. I wasn’t.
The story revolves around four middle-aged men who have known each other since high school... What will these four main characters do in their respective destinies? The story begins with Tsai Wei-chia, one of the four main characters nicknamed "Canned" who attempts suicide by overdosing on pills in a motel.
In the bruised-purple bedroom, Harold (72) and Elena (54) kneel, rope-burned and paddle-marked. Braids, collar, sippy cup, duck blanket, Goodnight Moon surround them. “I’m only lovable when little,” she sobs. “When Daddy,” he chokes. Pull-ups, journal confessions: I’ll die mid-story. They make love—tears, Daddy, Harold braided. Aftercare: salve, shared sips, blanket-cape. Miso purrs. Tomorrow: burnt toast, crayons, rituals. They stay—leaky, creaky, little, big—choosing each other daily.
A story in the Lesbian Romances Universe
In a dim record shop, a dropout clerk and a brilliant pre-med junior orbit each other through jazz and snow for one winter, trading mixtapes and almosts until her hand finally slides into his (cool at the tips, then burning). Their first kiss tastes like cherry balm and tomorrow. But tomorrow ends in May, when her dream pulls her to Baltimore and his stays behind with a pair of green gloves and a mixtape titled “Almost, but not quite.” A tender, aching love letter to the ones that almost were.
A story in the Lesbian Romances Universe
Clarita owes the mountain her seventh daughter’s seventh daughter. Michelle breaks every salt line she finds. Hate becomes hunger, hunger becomes rope and brand and fist. To keep the witch in the walls fed, they pay with blood, welts, hot wax, and shattering squirt under the Mothman’s red eyes. Love here is a debt paid in screams and perfect surrender. The ridge claimed them. They claimed each other harder.
The world is ending in hellflame, and Lucifer has captured the love of her life; a man whose loyalty to his heavenly father might cost the demon everything she has sacrificed. Written as a love letter to all the masochists and sadists who kneeled before the altar of a hollow, ruthless god.
At a glittering yokai gala built on money and pretense, Jason Nishi arrives with one quiet purpose: her. One dance rekindles everything they tried to bury... and a single step into the shadows threatens to turn longing into something far more dangerous.