The hot priest
- Reads 613
- Votes 19
- Parts 13
MatureOngoing1h 39m
Last published about 21 hours ago
Rome has fallen in love with its new saint.
The internet calls him The Hot Priest.
The Vatican calls him an asset.
Naples once called him Lu, the Devil's Horn.
But when one of Italy's oldest families hires a private investigator to look into a suspicious death, Father Gianluca Bianchi is forced to confront the life he thought he'd left behind.
From the confessional to the underworld and from the steps of Santa Maria della Pietà to the streets of Naples, Father Gianluca finds himself caught between an old lover, an Onlyfans model, and his greatest benefactor, only to discover his past has secrets even he didn't know about.
A dark erotic thriller about faith, redemption, survival, and the thin line between holiness and sin.
WARNING: Explicit content, religious & LGBTQ+ themes, depictions of emotional abuse. 18+
All Rights Reserved
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كود بـلو «الإنعاش القلبي»
الرواية منفصلة ولكنها مرتبطة بـ«أحفاد الخياط» رائحة المطه ّرات ، وصوت أجهزة قياس المؤشرات الحيوية ، رائحة الجوانتيات اللاتكس ، تألم مريض ، أدوية و مستلزمات طبية كئيبة ، بالأضافة إلى طعام خالٍ من الملح أو التوابل ، جدران بيضاء و زي موحد سواء كان طبيب أو ممرض أو صيدلي أو أخصائي . هؤلاء هم الجيش الأبيض الذين يواجهون كل هذا بمفردهم . _كود بلو
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Excerpt I got a peace offering. And Ice cream. The message popped up again. His Bhaiyu was making it hard to ignore. Darwaza khol, yaar. Mogambo uth jayenge. Ansh glared at the French windows. Even desperate his Bhaiyu would not quit the name calling. Shall I leave? Ansh did not respond. Okay! Leaving the ice-cream outside. Take it before it melts. Ansh did not respond, but his heart skipped a beat. He wanted to meet his Bhaiyu. He was even a little desperate, but he did not wish to give in so soon. So, he counted until 100 and then slowly made his way outside. Iris hopped down from the bed and followed behind him. Ansh opened the doors with a big heart only to find a basket filled with dumb yellow smile squishes and a big tub of ice-cream in between. A few CD's were tucked into the basket almost as an afterthought. The game CD's that Ansh wanted. Ansh glared at the basket. "Do minute nahi rukh saktey they kya?" He muttered under his breath. "You made me wait 17 minutes, kidoo" A voice whispered in his ears. Ansh almost screamed but Nirbhay's palm closed around his mouth before any sound could slip. Ansh's heart thudded in his chest. His Bahiyu had almost given him a heart attack. Nirabhay grabbed the basket and slipped inside with Ansh, and shut the door behind him.
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Riley doesn't remember the last time someone asked if she was okay. Not really asked. Not in the way that meant they were going to stay for the answer. She is seventeen years old and she has already learned the most important lesson this town has to offer - that people leave. They leave with promises folded neatly in their pockets, with good intentions they fully mean at the time, with duffel bags and bus tickets and fifteen days that turn into three years without a single word. They leave, and the ones left behind learn to stop waiting by the window. They learn to stop setting an extra plate. They learn to breathe around the absence until the absence just becomes the air. Riley works the late shift. She carries drinks to tables without being asked twice. She doesn't flinch at loud voices anymore. She doesn't cry at things that used to make her cry. She has become very good at being invisible in a room full of people - and even better at being invisible to herself. This is not the life she imagined. But it is the life she has. And she has made her peace with it, quietly, the way you make peace with things you never had a choice about. She is not waiting for anyone anymore. She stopped doing that a long time ago. Until the night a familiar face walks through the door - and three brothers who left her behind must now face what their absence built. Because blood doesn't forget. And neither does Riley.
جيتيني وأنا تايه وسط موج الحنين
ليست كل الحكايات تبدأ بابتسامة .. بعضها يولد من صمتٍ طويل من نظرة لم تُفهم أو من قرار صغير كان كافيًا ليقلب كل شي هنا لا تبحث عن أبطال خارقين ولا عن نهايات مثالية هنا ستجد القلوب كما هي ضعيفة عنيدة محطّمة لكنها تقاوم هذه الرواية ليست مجرد قصة بل مرآة وقد ترى نفسك بين السطور دون أن تنتبه مرحبًا بك في عالمٍ ل ا يشبه أحدًا لكنّه قد يشبهك
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GENERAL'S REBELLION | تَــمَــردُ جِــنِــرال
" الجزء الثاني من رواية لَـعْـبـَاتْـهَـا بالْـعـَافْـيَـة " 🚩✋🏼 ... إلى جمعات الاقدار بين أشخاص لعلاقة تاعهم معصية في معصية هوما بربعة خطر على بعهض بنات عائلة وحده و سمهم لادع حضورهم راسخ فكل لقطة ، ولكن هوما بضبط ذياب عارفين يلعبو بكلشي محركين قوم اسطول كامل على صبعهم وماذا إذ إجتم ع جنرال مقاول مع مافيوزي ماكر متسلط ولكن داك الهوس لي ارتاجع من وحشيتهم كان سبب في دمار على كل الاطراف .. شكون هادو ...؟ 《لـنَـقل أحفَــاد الـعمْـرانِي وَ نـصْمُـت》 ⛔️ لا احلل سرقة الأحداث أبداً أبداً و شكرا !!!!
الرواية منفصلة ولكنها مرتبطة بـ«أحفاد الخياط» رائحة المطهّرات ، وصوت أجهزة قياس المؤشرات الحيوية ، رائحة الجوانتيات اللاتكس ، تألم مريض ، أدوية و مستلزمات طبية كئيبة ، بالأضافة إلى طعام خالٍ من الملح أو التوابل ، جدران بيضاء و زي موحد سواء كان طبيب أو ممرض أو صيدلي أو أخصائي . هؤلاء هم الجيش الأبيض الذين يواجهون كل هذا بمفردهم . _كود بلو
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