Welcome to the hell, Slut.
I don't write stories. I write sins wrapped in spit, blood and the taste of your own tears. 
My mens will ruin you-and then fuck you for falling apart. 
You want comfort? Read fluff. You want to crawl, cry, beg and come so hard your soul cracks? Stay right here. 

I write moans between sobs, bruises as promises and hands that don't ask --they take. 

No heroes. No saviors. Just monsters who will keep you in cage and call it love. And baby, you will thank them for it. 



So bend over, open wide and turn the pages. 
Bitch got stories that will fuck your mind before anything else.