The Body Remembers Where Desire Lives Last night, I dreamed of Nico’s hands. Not as I wrote them, but as I knew them. The kind of memory that clings like sweat after a long run, salt-stung and intimate. He wasn’t…
Female Ejaculate as Sacred Mess The first time it happened, I thought I’d broken her. My hands were soaked. The sheets beneath her hips, ruined. Her thighs slick and trembling like they were still confessing. I sat back, dazed, a…
Shame, Truth, and Rewriting Desire It starts before the first kiss.Before the first undoing of a belt.Before you even know what wanting is—this whisper you carry, silent as a bruise:Don’t be small. That myth, honeyed and hollow, presses itself into…
Writing a character with a small dick A love letter to the body that isn’t big—but is still enough Some characters arrive like storms.Loud. Demanding. All jawline and hunger.They don’t knock.They don’t wait.They just are—fully-formed—and dare you to catch up.…
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