Uncategorized – Year of the Inner Goddess

What Pain Tried to Steal

“You claim the evening was a failure.” “It was.” “You just spent five minutes describing an event you clearly adore.” I opened my mouth. Then closed it again.

The Storm Without and Within

The first warning should have been Hades. The second was Zeus. The third arrived with the storm.

Dear Diary

And I am staring at this page as though it might decide for me where such a story ought to begin. Because this is not the first tale of its kind. That, perhaps, is the difficulty.

Cinema grants him arrows, swagger, rebellion, and impossible precision beneath moonlit branches. But none of those stories linger long enough upon the unnerving reality of standing before a man carved so thoroughly from myth that your own pulse forgets itself for a moment. This is the story I wish to tell. Not the legend. The…

The Sirens of Atlantis

Tiny bioluminescent reeflings gathered shamelessly near the palace windows whenever revelry grew too raucous, flickering back and forth like scandalized old matrons collecting gossip.

The Violence of a Starving God

Pain and pleasure collided catastrophically beneath her ribs as he buried himself fully inside her in one merciless thrust. She felt split apart around him, body straining helplessly to accommodate the sheer size of him, yet the ruthless thoroughness of his mouth moments earlier had left her drenched and aching enough to take him.

Treasures Best Remembered

Language fails at such moments. There are no proper words for them – at least, not ones inclined toward obedience. The Woodsman did not cease until I had cried out to the old gods and the new in a language I did not know.

An Unforgettable Affair

And so, like a kitten drawn to the hearth, I curled closer still, seeking the warmth of him, pressing in without thought for whether it offered him any relief at all. I only knew the instinct to remain near – to gather what heat lingered between us.

Caelithra’s Hunger

Caelithra’s fingers slid between her own legs, skimming the wetness she found there, teasing her folds, mirroring what she witnessed, tethered to the scene of debauchery.

The Overwhelm

After weeks without touch, even the smallest affection should unravel me. The gentlest hands should unlock something buried and waiting. Instead, I am tired. Bone-deep. Spirit-weary tired. Ever the caregiver. Even with him. And that is the most frustrating part – I cannot seem to arrive where he is.

Category: Uncategorized