As Written In The Lewd Notebook Novels & Stories

There was a silence that did not last more than an instant between them. Outside, the wind howled at the ivy. But in? Leya was already calling the storm. --- Leya's Room – Midnight She sat at her desk, quill and ink, candle flame flickering on the page. Her notebook is open. But no scratch marks any longer. It was a map. A log. A chronicle of war. Times. Faces. Lies. Motives. And now, at last— Allies. Clara. Juliet. Nathaniel?

⸻ “Author’s Note Hi, readers I hope you’re enjoying No Saint here so far. If you’re loving the tension between Abaddon and Aurelia, then you should definitely check out their full story on GoodNovel. Just search “Abaddon’s Girl” to dive deeper into their world. I promise you, it’s filled with intense passion, forbidden love, and all the dark, addictive tension you’re getting here… and even more. Go take a look. you won’t regret it”

Levi stood right in front of me, his body tall and solid, blocking the soft glow from the lamp on his nightstand, which threw shadows across his face and made his eyes look even darker. He held the small leather notebook that I had hidden under my mattress for months, the one full of all my secret thoughts about him, and he turned the pages slowly, like he was savoring every word. His other hand rested on the Hitachi vibrator that he had taped right against my clit, the low buzzing already making my pussy throb and leak wetness down my inner thighs. The metal clamps on my nipples pinched hard, sending sharp stings through my breasts with every breath I took, and I pressed my lips together to

🕊️ Here’s Part 43—the chapter where a single page from the “Lessons on Staying” notebook sparks something deeper. Sometimes the words we write aren’t just reflections—they’re invitations. And in this chapter, one entry becomes a door someone didn’t know they were allowed to open. The notebook grew heavier—not with weight, but with meaning. Yam flipped through it one quiet morning, tracing pencil marks like fingerprints, each line an echo of someone’s inner world. The pages rustled softly, like whispers of confessions left behind. One entry caught his eye, written in tidy, deliberate handwriting:

He was sleeping. It's not like he would be able to do anything. After that accident, he became useless. He can't even speak. However, he has something that can help me. Someone rather. I opened his safe box and I pulled the leather-bound notebook from Edward’s safe, my fingers trembling as though the book itself radiated the weight of every sin it contained. It was heavier than I remembered, smelling faintly of dust and old ink, Edward never let anyone touch it. The lock on the cover clicked open with a soft snap. I flipped through page after page of cramped handwriting, faded numbers. I quickly found what I was looking for. series of numbers scrawled in a corner. It had one name, just a let

Elena read the final lines aloud. The future cannot be entrusted to people who seek certainty above truth. Begin with the notebook. Nothing more. No signature. No explanation. Just quiet confidence. She carefully returned the letter to its envelope before reaching for the notebook. The leather cover bore no title. Only a small compass rose had been pressed into the front, so faint with age that it almost disappeared into the worn brown surface. She opened the first page. Rather than journal entries or confessions, she found short observations written over many years.

To make me his. I started writing these fantasies in a hidden notebook. Passages like: "He grabs me by the waist, pushes two fingers in, and makes me lick them afterward." "He cums on my face and calls me a slut." "He pins my arms behind my back and fucks me with anger." Writing that made me cum. And cumming made me want more. Caio found the notebook. One day, by accident. Or maybe on purpose. He came to my room with it in his hands.

“Shut up, Alec. Stop milking my desperation.” His expression shifted, amusement fading into something colder. “You can walk out of here and pretend yesterday never happened,” he said. “But you’ll still wake up tomorrow as the woman who got replaced by her best friend. Or…” His gaze darkened. “You can stay, and rewrite your story…with me.” I hesitated, and my heart raced, torn between fear and temptation. But when I realized I had nothing left to lose, and everything to gain, I breathed out, “Fuck it.”

The candles burned lower, wax dripping onto the stone like tears of the damned. I came again, clenching around him, and his name a blasphemy on my tongue—“Luca, fuck, God—” He followed, spilling inside me, hot and endless, and marking me from the inside out, his growl echoing off the high ceiling like a demon released. We stayed locked, breathing hard, sweat mixing, and the crypt air thick with sex and smoke. Then the twist. A panel in the wall—right behind the picture—slid open with a grinding of stone on stone.

Lila's POV I stand in my dark room, the scents of herbs and candles thick in the air. Finn kneels before me,. I was naked skin smooth, pale, curved inviting. My breasts are firm, nipples already hard from the anticipation. Tonight I dominate him with it. My lover is strong, eager, yet now mine to command. I raise my hands and my fingers trace symbols in the air. The spell's words leave my lips in a low chant. Energy gathers in my core,