Dean Winchester has me in a chokehold. 

My books are just smut delivery systems and my bed is my one true love. 

If there's no tension, no filth, and no absolutely devastating Dean-related sin, then what am I even doing? 

Writing without smut? Couldn't be me. 

My search history is a crime scene, my bed is both my workspace and my sanctuary, and if you came here looking for something wholesome, I sincerely hope you enjoy disappointment.