Leaves from His Journal

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Crow

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Jan 31, 2020
ABOUT ME
► I'm concise, but I write what the idea needs (200 - 1000+)​
► Threads or DMs; I'll default to threads if you've no preference​
I work from 3PM - 11PM MST Monday - Friday; expect 2-3 posts a week​
I enjoy smut, but tension & plot hold my attention​
Ons: character development
Hard Limits: toilet play, poor hygiene, vore, gratuitous gore
Genres: contemporary, paranormal, science fiction, fantasy, crime noir, slice of life
Face-claims aren't needed with me, but I'll find them if you need visuals
Crow​

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WINE IN HER CHALICE
GLADIATOR x NEMESIS (f but can be any)
“Nemesis, goddess of revenge and retribution, has made herself human in order to exact justice against a gladiator champion who refuses to die in the arena. He’s a godless man who spits at the Greek pantheon despite having been blessed with near-inhuman strength, luck, cunning, and charm. The pantheon has sent lions, fighters, and disease in attempts to humble him to no avail. Nemesis is taking matters into her own hands by becoming a sponsor of the champion. He will either learn to worship or he will die a heathen.”​

BLOOD FROM HER VEINS
VAMPIRE x SACRIFICE (any)
“The vampire lord Jasper Radiant has terrorized the land of Corwell for centuries. None knew his fury more than the villagers of Hemlock. 75 years ago, the people of Hemlock designed a treaty to protect the population from the vampire’s wrath. Each year a pure soul would be sacrificed to spare the village and earn the vampire’s favor. The time has come for another sacrifice to be made, and the vampire lord looks on in cold silence.”​

RINGS ON HER NIGHTSTAND
PRINCE x PRINCESS (m)
“The Kingdoms of Altaris and Valland have been at war for 40 years. When an ancient band of cultists attempts to destabilize both civilizations, the King of Altaris and the King of Valland draw up a truce and vow to defeat their common foe. Part of the deal: an arranged marriage between the princess of Altaris and the crown prince of Valland. The Kingdom of Altaris harbors a secret, though. Their princess is really a prince.”​

INK FROM HER QUILL
NEIGHBOR x GENTLEWOMAN (f)
"The Gentlewoman and her Husband are the spitting image of Victorian romance. They met in childhood and were engaged after only a few months of courtship. The Neighbor is a middle-aged man who may lack a prestigious pedigree, but has gained enormous wealth through industry and trade. When the Gentlewoman's Husband leaves the country to secure assets abroad, the Neighbor is the first person he turns to for help maintaining his estate. Little does the Husband know, an undeniable chemistry boils between the Gentlewoman and the Neighbor."​
 
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Crow

Member
Joined
Jan 31, 2020
AMARA
In the Prince's Chambers​

A melancholy cry ripped through the prince’s bedchambers only to be trapped by stained glass windows, smothered by the dead of night. Tears wet the sleeping prince’s alabaster skin as the shadow of a woman hunched over him. Her head drooped low between her bloodstained shoulders as her hands balled into white-knuckled fists. Ten uninterrupted minutes of lament went by as she shed her heart, her dreams, her hope. She made herself raw before the stranger, weeping every thought and disappointment as they came without care or fear of startling him. When she was through, all that was left to keep her spirit stitched together were black threads of resentment. Reality sank in and the woman fell silent.

Ten months ago, Amara left her home on Emerald Island to search of a cure for her ‘illness’. She traveled half the world seeking an audience with a priestess only to be told that her condition couldn’t be saved. The priestess determined that Amara was cursed because she was a huntress: her choice to work and kill like a man cursed her to live and breed like one. Next, she risked her life gathering rare ingredients for black magic potions that had no effect. The dark mage she spoke with determined that her condition was magical in nature. She was cursed by an ancient, arcane magic too strong for ordinary methods to break. When those things failed, she found hope in the rumors of a slumbering prince who would grant one wish to whomever could wake him with a kiss. Her newest search took her to abandoned catacombs and mountain caverns, where she fought grizzlies and thieves. Squads of kingsguardsmen and their wolves awaited her when she arrived at this place, and it would seem despair would be her only reward.

Amara cast a sideways glance at the sleeping prince. The peaceful look on his face offended her. Weeks had passed since she had any kind of rest. If nightmares of her plight weren’t making her restless, her libido was. Amara couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge her curse: the penis between her legs. She weathered her urges when she woke up aroused and avoided any men and women she knew would tempt her. Life had been full of pain and self-restraint, so seeing the royal prince slumber without a care felt like a taunt.

"Liar," Amara whispered. It felt good to say. "Fuck all of you."

She looked like an animal when she paced the room. Long, disheveled black hair and bloodied clothes. Soft tan skin muddied by scars and dirt. Amara the Hunter's dark brown eyes were fixed on the prince as she pondered how to get even. All she wanted was to take from him, just as his lie had stolen away time she'd never get back. The sword he clutched between his hands seemed like a good place to start. It took half of her weight to wrench it from him and drag it away from the mattress. Amara scanned his clothing, his pockets, and his hands for gold, rings and anything valuable. That's when she felt it.

A shiver ran down her spine and warmed her inner thighs. Was the heat of the moment getting to her? Was it the adrenaline rush? She looked at his sleeping face. The prince was not at all ugly and his skin seemed perfectly preserved. Not a wrinkle or a blemish or a stray hair to speak of. Amara's gaze turned to her hands as they rested on his chest and stomach. She could feel that he had muscles beneath his royal regalia--enough to handle the sword she struggled with. She smoothed her hand over his navel, then his belt. Her next actions took only a matter of moments.

Amara undid the buttons and buckles that fastened his pants and pulled them down over his knees. She removed her own pants and climbed over him to straddle his lap. All eight inches of her cock stood erect. Her bottom was warm and soft against him as she reached down to ease his flaccid length between her folds. If Amara couldn't get what she wanted from this prince, then at least he would wake up knowing his castle, his men, and his body had all been utterly conquered.
 
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Crow

Member
Joined
Jan 31, 2020
It had been another long day of video conferences and store walks for the visual merchandising director. Ever since the group appointed its new vice president, it was all hands on deck for the business partners as the VP marched his way through every district and every store to acquaint himself. Michaela wouldn’t have minded the extra time spent traveling were it not for the fact that she had to dress for the occasion. The impact of visual appeal on sales dollars was her only concern. She got paid big bucks to care about looks and signing, mannequins and trends. Naturally, she felt compelled to dress stylish whenever she accompanied the VP on store walks. Her mantra: lead by example; practice what you preach. But there was only so long a girl could wear heels before she needed Crocs and a foot rub.

Michaela was exhausted. She shut her apartment door, kicked off her heels, and went straight to the bathroom to run a bath. She set the water to medium-hot and tossed a handful of her favorite bath salts to ease her aches. Her eyes wandered to the window as the tub filled. It was a beautiful evening. The waxing moon shone bright in the black sky and there wasn’t a cloud in sight. It would have been the perfect night for stargazing. She might have loved to lay on the roof and count the stars, but lately there was something-or someone-else she enjoyed gazing at. The man across the street. She didn’t know his name or his profession. She didn’t know if he was rich or poor, married or single. All she knew was that he was hot. And, honestly, that’s all she needed to know.

Her attention drifted to his window. His lights were on. Was he awake? Michaela stepped closer to see what he was up to. He seemed focused tonight. She couldn’t see his hand, but she could guess where it was. Her cheeks flushed red at the sight of him
 
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