Tosaphine
Story Crafter
About me
- Gender
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- Birthday
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- Location
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- Homepage
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Get to know me better
- When I'm not writing erotica I like to
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- When I'm not reading erotica I like to read
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- My favorite word for "penis" is
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- My favorite word for "vagina" is
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- I write erotica because
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- In conclusion, I am
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Goblin
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Pick a Door
You can't call them dreams. You've had vivid dreams before. These are something else. You just don't know what to call them. They stay when you wake. The pain carries over. The exhaustion lingers. Your body remembers everything. The scratches from pursuits through dense forests. The claw marks left by things with glowing eyes... And the growls from beasts without an earthly name that threatened to leave you without a body to wake up to if caught... You've crossed deserts. Sailed open seas. Dragged yourself through filth and darkness. Starved. Hid. Ran. Survived. Every time. And it was all so very real. "What for? Why me? When will it end?" Every trial another question out of you. You've finally reached your limit. And whatever is behind this... knows it. For the first time, you're being given a choice.
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Mother Fucker
Relationships are fleeting. Everyone is emotionally disconnected and nothing feels personal. Conversations don't click like they used to. Until you met them. The mundane things they talk about are fun to listen to. Their wrinkled smiles flutter something inside of you. You've been looking in the wrong places.
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Monster (S)layer
You’ve been discharged. It wasn't lack of skill. Your sword lost purpose. The drive to swing had died the day your parents did. Now you're back in the mud where you started, lost and without family. No legacy. No glory. Just a shack, a sword, and a shitty patch of rocky soil that grows more weeds than food. Of course, you can't cry about it forever. There are so other many things you could do. That you could be. Or maybe you’ll fuck those up too.
