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mountainsandmayhem · 2 months

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BDSMaid - Chapter 3

Pairing: Millionaire!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Rating: E, 18+, Minors dni

Series Summary: After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

Chapter Summary: You decide it's time to put yourself on Joel's radar.

CW: Age gap (Joel 45, Reader 22), dual POV. Specific warnings in small red below the cut, do not read to avoid spoilers.

WC: 10k. Sorry, grab a snack!

AN: I'm continuously surprised by the love, excitement and joy that this story brings anyone but me. That probably doesn't even make sense, I'm just lost for words, tbh. Forehead kisses to @mermaidgirl30, @littlevenicebitch69, @joelmillerisapunk, and @milla-frenchy for screaming with me or pre reading this for me. @lotusbxtch gets a forehead kiss and a tip of the nose kiss for deep dive beta reading this, she's solely responsible for every semi colon.

Series Masterlist || My Masterist

I no longer have a tag list, please follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates to be alerted for future chapters.

Content Warnings: Flirty, alcohol consumption, mentions of sexual acts, kissing, mutual pining, reader being pinned against a wall, sexual tension, touching. Reader does have some description so may be considered more of an OFC.

The week after Joel removed you from his club goes by in a well-scheduled blur. You work your usual three days, cleaning mansions of people who don’t tip as well as Mister Miller. You pour yourself over LSAT study guides, practicing insane logic questions. You enjoy a coffee date with Jamie who asks you what happened the night at the poker game. You tell her a practiced lie that feels like acid on your tongue as it leaves your lips. You hate lying to your friends, especially her. You can feel that lie sitting heavily on the top of your stomach the entire time you’re with her, but you simply cannot afford to get fired with three years of law school on the horizon. You spend an evening with your roommate, Odette, watching Netflix and eating dumplings from her favourite spot, the only spot in Austin that has those little white paper boxes with the red writing.

If you decide not to lie to yourself, on top of everyone else, you also spend at least an hour a day watching videos of women tied up and dominated, thinking of Joel goddamn Miller the entire time. Since learning his full name, and the name of his club, the Google searches you swore you’d stop doing have been much more productive. You’ve found multiple blogs and Reddit posts, not just about kink, but also about Joel. It turns out that he’s well-known in the kink and BDSM communities around the world, but is essentially changing the face of kink in Austin.

One night, you get lost in a Reddit wormhole of women in Texas, and one in Paris, who have been a submissive for a man that sounds a lot like Joel. They don’t actually mention him by name but there’s advice on what he likes and doesn’t like, and how he never actually has sex with any of his submissives. It also sounds like some of these women pay him to be their dom, and, based on the conversations in the comments of one thread, it seems like he has a few submissives at the moment, and majority of their interactions happen at the club.

The club. Fuck, Jamie wasn’t kidding when she said JMK was exclusive. Anyone can join, assuming you can pay the yearly membership fees that, according to Reddit, are around $80,000 per year. From the minimal, cryptic information you find, Joel Miller is the main owner and he has two business partners. One you assume is his brother that you served the other night, but the third you are unable to find any information about.

Since everything you find online is up to interpretation, it’s hard to say what is and isn’t true. According to one disgruntled poster, once you become a member at JMKink, there are a lot of rules to follow. Everyone has to get tested monthly; it’s highly recommended that women are on birth control; and even if you’re married to the guest you bring, men must wear condoms. You can’t just bring anyone in with you: every member and their guest has an app, and the only way to get that app is from a QR code and an assigned activation code. According to another poster, the app is full of waivers and consent forms. You can’t stop the shy smile that crosses your face when you remember how concerned Joel was with your consent the first time you met.

The Monday before your usual every-other-Tuesday shift at Joel’s, you find a blog post about becoming a submissive, and it’s like it was written just for you. The writer explains how she had a hard time shutting off her brain and how, by the end of the day, she was so exhausted from making decisions that all she wanted was someone to tell her what to do for once. This led to her and her husband exploring a sub/dom partnership. Now, she feels lighter and freer; they’ve both discovered new ways to get pleasure outside of the idea of sex that society feeds us. Being a submissive isn’t always about orgasms or pleasure; it’s helped her build confidence, and she’s found that as they progress, that little voice that tells her she isn't good enough has stopped being so loud.

After reading through the post a few times, you shut your rose gold laptop and stare at the wall behind your desk. You feel seen, heard even though you didn’t speak. At first, you found yourself feeling ashamed of getting off to these videos, like there was something wrong with you for being turned on by it, but it’s really that ability to let go of control that you crave, the feeling of someone else making the decisions for once. You want that, but more so, you think you need that, and badly.

As a firm believer of ‘everything happens for a reason,’ it all comes together for you. You aren’t even nervous as the thought consumes you. If Joel shows up at his house, tomorrow I’m going to ask him to teach me.

On Tuesday, you do as you always do, following Joel’s instructions to a tee while listening to a podcast. However, today you only wear one AirPod in hopes of hearing that familiar and comforting engine rev that signals him either coming or going. Every creak or pop of the house causes your heart to flutter, but it’s never him. Much to your chagrin, Joel doesn’t come home.

Inside the envelope is that expensive matte black paper again, ‘Thanks -JM’ neatly written along it.

Great, you think to yourself sarcastically, we are on initial terms again.

Twelve hundred dollars is tucked into the envelope this time, you roll your eyes after thumbing the crisp green bills. The first tip you ever got from him felt sincere, but after walking in on him, and everything since then, it’s feeling more and more like apology money. You shouldn’t complain; people would kill to make this kind of money, but everything would be so much easier if he’d just fucking talk to you.

Your fingers run along the thick, rich paper that he uses as company letterhead. You can’t explain it, but the paper feels like Joel. It’s rough and thick, yet has a vulnerability to it, like you could easily destroy it with just a pinch of your fingers and a flick of your wrist. Your mind flashes back to his club the other night. He was literally begging you to leave, you can still hear it, the pleading in his voice as he said, “I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me”. Your fingers trail across the golden ink of his neat handwriting and then open the paper the rest of the way. At the very bottom of the page, in shiny black print similar to the JMK logo at the top, is a phone number. Your heart slams against your ribcage as your eyes scan across the numbers.

When you get home, you unfold the note on your kitchen counter and pace the three or four steps it takes to walk the length of your small kitchen, never taking your eyes off the paper, looking at it like it’s a live bomb or like it’s going to disappear if you let it out of your sight. This is it: you could call the office, make an appointment or something. You’d probably have to lie, but you just need to see him; you need to make a case for yourself. Your stomach lurches, throat tightening at the thought of being in the club with him again. You open the freezer and grab the bottle of tequila, taking a big swig right from the bottle. It’s a cold burn and you clench your eyes as you swallow it down. Your body shivers involuntarily.

You dial before you can talk yourself out of it and before you know it you have an appointment under a fake name to speak to Joel tomorrow afternoon before your study group meets. You take two more large gulps of tequila after hanging up the phone.

Fuck, this is really happening. You take another large sip of the frozen tequila for good measure, your nose scrunching up at the taste.

Joel’s office isn’t attached to the club, it’s in a smaller building across the street and that has seemed to tamp some of the nerves that are vibrating your very core. Still, you can stop from nervously smoothing the wrinkles that have formed on the short, flowing skirt of your white sundress as you sit on the red velvet couch across from Joel’s receptionist. She is a small woman with a chin length bob, she’s probably in her late fifties and you wonder if her kids or grandkids know that she works for the owner of a kink club, or maybe she’s part of the community too. You’ve done copious amounts of research; kink isn’t just for young people, and you suppose Joel isn’t exactly young either. For all you know, she very well could be a dominatrix in her spare time.

She says your fake name in a soothing tone as she stands and walks towards the tall black door, pulling it open effortlessly. “Go on in, sweetheart. Joel’s ready for you.”

You smile at her sweetly, tucking your hair behind your ear nervously as you walk over the threshold to try to convince the millionaire whose home you clean to dominate you. The air in his large, bright office feels heavy and thick. Blood rushes through your ears as he looks up at you from his seat. He slips off his 1950’s style black horn rimmed glasses and places them on his desk. A muscle in his jaw ticks as he assesses you. Your heart lurches, knees trembling as you take a few nervous steps towards his desk. As his eyes meet yours you feel it again, that exposed and naked feeling that only his gaze seems to be able to cast. Maybe you shouldn’t have worn such a short dress, but it’s an unseasonably warm March day and even before leaving your apartment you were sweating in a mix of nervousness and excitement.

You see his lips move, but you can’t hear him over the pounding of your heart. You stop just past the door, then hear it click shut behind you. Joel’s silky lips move again and this time you hear your name followed by a calm, “What’re you doin’ here?”

The words come out before you even think about them, you practically yell them at him, “I want you to teach me.”

His hand waves to the chairs across his desk. When you don’t move he harshly says, “Sit.”

You rush across his expansive office, the plush carpet feels luxurious under your shoes. When you reach the black leather chair you sit on the very edge of the seat, your knee nervously bouncing up and down in time with your heart.

“You want me to do what?” He asks hesitantly, leaning forward in his chair. He looks absolutely beautiful in the late afternoon sun - orange hues reflecting off his tanned skin, the few greys along his temples glistening like the moon on the ocean. He’s in a black dress shirt again, his sleeves rolled to his elbows. You noticed today that he’s wearing a black watch and a gold ring on his right ring finger. Between his accessories and the veins that line his toned forearms your mouth goes dry.

“I - umm, I want you to teach me.”

The last word has barely passed your lips when he scoffs out, “No.”

Your face falls, “Joel, please. I’ve been doing research and I’ve decided that, well, that I want to be…that.”

He places his large palms on the desk, the square black diamond in his ring glittering in the sun, and pushes himself up. You crane your neck to look at him as he slips his hands into his pockets, his eyes already locked on yours. His intense eye contact wraps you up in a weighted blanket of safety and comfort, which is a dangerous and vulnerable place, a place that has the ability to rip you in half, much like you could do with that company letterhead he left you. He walks slowly to the other side of his desk. Once in front of you, he leans back onto it, keeping his hands in the pockets of his perfectly tailored black dress pants.

“You can’t even say it.” He challenges.

You furrow your brows, ready to confront him like you always seem to do. In the few interactions you’ve had with Joel, more often than not, it’s been him trying to tell you what to do, you fighting him over it, and then him ultimately winning. It’s infuriating, but not this time. No, this time you’re going to win. You have valid reasons to want this, and they’re all backed up by your research. You are leaving this office as his submissive.

“I can too!”

He shrugs his broad shoulders nonchalantly, “Say it then. You wanna learn how to do what, sweetheart?”

You sit up tall on the edge of the chair, crossing your arms under your breasts, praying your cheeks don’t flush as you finally admit it out loud. “I want to learn how to be a submissive.”

“No.” One of his meaty hands comes out of his pocket, waving you off as he says it again.

“Please!” You plead, “I want to learn how to be a sub.”

Joel actually squirms at the sound of you being so needy. He lets out a harsh ‘fuck’ under his breath and then whispers your name, “I can’t do this with you.”

Got him, you think to yourself, failing to fight the smirk as you lower your voice and sweetly beg, “Please, Mister Miller?”

Joel ‘Your-Consent-is-Most-Important’ Miller is not a small man: his broad shoulders take up almost an entire door frame and he’s easily nearing six foot four, but at the sound of you calling him the one name he’s asked you not to, he moves faster than your brain can comprehend. You gasp as he lunges towards you, his hands landing on the arms of the chair, his wide shoulders pushing you back as he cages you in. Your exposed back hits the back of the chair, your short skirt riding up your thighs slightly. He is practically on top of you and for a second you can imagine that this is what having sex with him would look like. His knuckles blanch from gripping the arms of the chair so tightly, his eyes are practically black, and that familiar flush he gets when you challenge him paints his neck and cheeks.

His voice is deeper, thick with arousal, rattling your bones as he speaks slowly, “I said not to call me that. You can’t even…You can’t.” He shuts his eyes and takes a slow breath in through his nose. His tone softens as he opens his eyes, “No, I ain’t doin’ this with you, sweet girl.”

You practically writhe in your chair. Sweet girl. He’s terrifying and commanding and so fucking beautiful like this. He obviously has a soft spot for when you beg, so you soften your eyes and stick out your velvety smooth bottom lip enticingly before whispering, “Please, Joel.”

He lets out a groan as he pushes himself off the chair and walks towards the large wall of windows behind his desk, his hands resting on his tapered waist. He avoids your gaze as you sit up, squeezing your thighs together tightly to calm the need at your core. “Lemme set ya up with someone else. My brother Tommy. You were gettin’ him a drink at that poker game.”

“I remember,” you mumble, looking down at your hands like you always do when your lack of confidence gets the best of you. You can’t let that self-doubt creep in now, not when you’re this close. You look back towards his broad back. “But I really don’t want anyone else.”

“Why?” He spins towards you, the lighting behind him gives him an almost ethereal glow. There’s absolutely no denying it, Joel Miller is the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen.

You tuck your hands under your legs, simply stating, “I trust you.”

“You don’t even know me. I could be a horrible guy.”

You let out a sad laugh, shaking your head at him. He’s right, you don’t know him, but you have a feeling about him and you consider yourself pretty good at reading people. “You’ve never given me reason to think I couldn’t trust you. Even that first day. You were so calm and apologetic.”

Joel presses his lips in a thin line, eyes raking over you. You subconsciously slip your bottom lip between your teeth, and a muscle in his jaw flexes. “How old are you?”

“Twenty two,” you immediately regret lying; the avenue of trust is of utmost importance between a submissive and their dominant, so you quickly add, “Almost, I turn twenty two on Friday.”

“I can’t do this.” He croaks and you can’t help but feel a little bad. You’ve put him in an uncomfortable position and his voice sounds defeated.

“Please. I always felt I needed more but,” you stand up and take a few slow steps in his direction. “But…I didn’t know what more was and I - I think it’s this.” You audibly swallow pleading, “Please. I need you to help me. I want you to help me. Teach me.”

He holds his hands up and steps back as you inch closer. A silent call that signals you to stop or that he doesn’t trust himself, not here, not with you. “Jus’ let me set ya up with Tommy. You’re his type.”

Your heart sinks and an acidic taste lines your tongue. Of course. You aren’t that tall, slender icy blonde girl he had strapped to his desk. No, you have curves, and stretch marks along your hips, your boobs are a B cup on a good day. He can get whatever woman he wants, why would it be you? You look down at your hands, pushing back the nonexistent cuticle on your right thumb. This nervous habit of yours used to drive your mom crazy, ‘you’re going to have no skin left soon’ she’d lecture, but you can’t help it. The immediate result of the nail bed looking clean and perfect is like a dopamine hit. It leaves you with a feeling of accomplishment. The problem is, the initial confidence you had about this decision on Monday night has dwindled and you’ve been so anxious about this meeting that every single finger has a nicely pushed back cuticle.

It’s silent in the room for a while, you shut your eyes as you sheepishly ask, “Am I not attractive enough for you?”

“No!” He says insistently and without hesitation. His hand runs through his beard, a faint scratching sound fills the room drawing your eyes open and away from the skin of your thumb. As they land back on him you wonder what his patchy facial hair would feel like between your legs or along the soft skin of your stomach as he kissed you. His voice softens, “That’s not it. I just - I’m sorry. I jus’ can’t do this, sweetheart.”

You feel your chance to become the woman you want to be slipping through your fingers. Your plan is failing and for once in your life you don’t have a Plan B, this is the only plan that makes sense to you. Sadness creeps into your throat, “Why?”

“‘S not a good idea, sweet girl,” he answers, his soft brown sugar flecked eyes reaching out to yours.

His face and voice seem to be at war with his words. He’s saying no, but there’s a sadness in his eyes and a caring undertone to his voice. You’re not sure how you know it, but him calling you sweet girl means something to him. “Because I’m not your type?”

He shakes his head, that same curl falling into his eyes as it did in his foyer the other day. “That’s the problem, you’re exactly my type.”

Hearing that you’re this beautiful man's type should feel like you’ve won the lottery, but the way his shoulders slump as he says it only builds that lump in your throat. As you swallow the sadness down, his eyes travel to your neck, watching as the muscles flex and relax with the motion. “I - then why?”

He lets out a long breath and as he walks to the door he says, “I ain’t havin’ this conversation. I said no. And someone who is cut out to be a submissive would just take that answer for what it is.”

“You’ve made it clear that I’m not a submissive,” you counter and walk towards the door. He cracks the door open and you step in close to him, unconsciously taking in his leather and ash scent before adding, “Have a nice night, Mister Miller.”

Joel

The door feels like a feather behind his hand as he slams it shut - your body, warm and already vibrating, trapped between him and the solid piece of wood that separates the two of you from his receptionist. He made himself a promise in his rear view mirror the other week; he had to cut this off, create distance. He needed you to be just his house cleaner. Because everytime he looks into your eyes he feels the same way he felt at seventeen when he met Tiffany in that garage. Everything about you oozes sweetness and innocence, his sweetheart, his sweet girl. He didn’t think he was capable of feeling that way again. And he definitely should not feel this way for someone who is younger than his own daughter.

His large frame looms behind you, forcing your chest and forehead to rest against the door. He uses his foot to spread your legs wide. A breathy gasp passes your lips as your hands scramble for purchase against the wood grain of the door. He keeps pushing your legs apart, wide enough for your short white skirt to ride up your creamy thighs. Thighs he’s imagined wrapped tightly around his head as he makes you scream.

Joel takes a small step forward, caging you completely, making it so you’re completely at his mercy. He can smell the sweet scent of your arousal growing between your thighs; he knows if he reaches a calloused finger to the gusset of your panties they’d be soaked through. His cock is hard as steel, pressing against the zipper of his pants and the small of your back. You’re practically panting and he fights to keep his breathing steady when really he wants to mirror the quick, uneven pace of your breath. This is much more serious and intimate than when he had you trapped in the chair. This is dangerous. This could lead to more.

His strong fingers wrap around your dainty wrists. He loves the way you don’t fight him as he pulls them above your head, gathering both your wrists in one of his hands, pinning them to the door roughly. His free hand draws a slow line down your arm, then along the sensitive skin of your neck, and down your spine. Goosebumps break out over your skin and you instinctively arch your back into him, a desperate whine passes from your lips between laboured breaths, and that sound nearly buckles his knees.

His lips come to the shell of your ear, his beard tickling you as he speaks in a slow and commanding tone. “Do you feel what you do to me when you call me that. I’ve asked you not to. Multiple times.”

Your mint and lavender scented shampoo fills his nose as he nudges at you to tilt open your throat to him. He revels in how easily you oblige, cocking your head to the side like the good little girl he knows you are. He continues, lips just a hair away from your pulse point; he’s sure if he pressed his lips to it he’d feel how hard your heart is racing. “But I don’t want you to stop. In fact, I fucking love that you haven’t stopped.”

Your soft skin is warm against his rough fingers as they continue their trail down your body, running over the firm globe of one of your ass cheeks. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down hard, distracting himself from the urge to spank you for calling him Mister Miller yet again. Finally, his fingers find a home on one of your thighs. He brushes lightly against your soft inner thighs, small little touches jumping from one leg to the other. The little involuntary twitches of your body and the needy little gasps of air you suck through your teeth has his cock straining painfully against his zipper. He’s aching for you in a way he hasn’t felt for years.

“You infuriate me with your insubordination and it makes me weak,” he mutters. “Makes me absolutely insane. I can’t stop fucking thinking about what’s underneath those clothes, and after seeing your perfect breasts and your little pink nipples… fuuuuck, baby. All I can think about is how good they’d look with my handprints tattooed on them after I slap them while you orgasm. Can’t stop thinking about how wet your little pussy must get. How tight she would be around my fingers as I claim her as mine. How fucking delicious she must taste. How goddamn sexy your cries of pain and pleasure would sound.”

Your whole body shudders against his. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you and he knows he needs to stop before he crosses a line, but the way your body responds to him is precisely how he likes it: pliant and ready. His mind reels with all the naughty things he’d like to do to you. If he reaches just a little bit higher he could finally know how you sound when you come, how silky your cunt is, how you taste. He runs the tip of his hooked nose down your neck, the light citrus of your perfume replacing the scent of your shampoo.

“That what you wanna hear?” Joel continues. “How fucking weak you make me? How desperate? I can’t do this because once I start…I ain’t gonna be able to let you go. Ain’t gonna be able to stop. Never gonna be able to have any other little play thing. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. If I start this, this is it for me.”

Joel releases your wrists with a growl and walks away, carding his fingers through his curls and looking out at the cityscape as the sun begins to dip behind the tall buildings. He doesn’t look back, he can’t look back or he’ll fucking crack. He’ll haul you over his shoulder and take you into his club. He’ll show you everything right now and he won’t stop. His eyes flutter closed as he takes controlled breaths to slow his heart rate, the unmistakable sound of his office door opening and closing behind him.

You

You yank the door open and walk as fast as your legs will take you, your mind swirling, every emotion trying to win for first place. You’re painfully turned on, you can feel how soaked your panties are. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. It’s like it’s been carved into your brain. Only you. You jam at the elevator close button as your lungs scream for fresh air, and as you step out into the warm spring night you suck in breath for what feels like the first time since you made this appointment last night.

Your phone vibrates in the small purse you have across your body. He doesn’t have your number, you remind yourself as you reach for your phone. Jamie’s name across your slightly cracked screen. “Hey!”

“Are you ok?” her voice is thick with concern.

Your chest feels tight, “Ya, why?”

“You sound like you're out of breath.”

You laugh a little, “Oh. I was..” fuck, what was I doing. “I mean I am walking. Like on a walk.”

Even a toddler wouldn’t be convinced by your lie, and Jamie isn’t either as she gasps loudly on the other end before whispering, “Were you having sex?”

“No! God no!” Your clit twitches at the thought of how close Joel was today. “I’m on the street, can’t you hear the cars.”

“Ok. You do need some sex though,” she laughs.

“Jamie,” you sigh, “I have to get to a study group. What’s up?”

She giggles devilishly. “Wellll - It’s your birthday weekend. I want to throw you a party at this really amazing club on Friday.”

“Umm, ya. Sure. Nothing too crazy though, right?”

“Promise you can keep your top on this time, prude.” She says teasingly and you laugh. “It’s called Mystique. The owner is an old family friend and she gave us a sweet VIP booth and bottle service, all completely free!”

You slide your key into the door of your SUV to unlock it, “Ok. Let’s do it.”

“Good, because I already invited the girls.” You sigh and your phone buzzes in your ear as Jamie’s computer dings on the other end. “Oh, weird. Your regular every other Tuesday clean just requested for you to go on Friday. Weren’t you just there yesterday?”

Joel. You say dreamily in your mind.

“That’s shitty,” Jamie continues, “That’s your birthday. The shift is only 4 hours, but I can offer it to someone else if you want.”

“No!” It comes out too eager and you remind yourself to chill the fuck out as you put her on speaker phone and open the app. “I mean, no, that’s ok. I need the money and my calendar shows 11 to 3, lots of time to get ready!”

“Text me when you’re done with your study group and we’ll hammer out the details for Friday night. We didn’t get to celebrate you turning twenty one with your insane schedule -”

“Hey!” You exclaim, pretending to be hurt.

“Ya ya, I know,” her voice an amused sarcasm as she continues, “The master plan to graduate early. Which you did. So can we please make this the best celebration yet?” Even without being able to see your best friend you know she’s dancing excitedly on the balls of her feet while giving big green doe eyes.

Friday rolls around quickly, and you aren’t sure what you’re looking forward to more; a much needed night out with your girlfriends or the possibility of Joel being home today. You’ve tried not to think about how his body felt against yours, but every few hours you found yourself with your hand between your legs, rubbing tight little circles on your clit until you came to thoughts of him, whispering Mister Miller like a church prayer.

Pulling up to his house today feels strange. He requested an extra clean this week just minutes after you asked him to teach you how to sub and after finding out that your birthday was today. You haul your stuff into his house, letting out a frustrated sigh when you find it quiet and empty. You click open your app and he’s asking you to dust and vacuum the basement, as well as wipe out the fridge. You look down at the app confused. He’s never asked you to clean the basement, and the fridge? He doesn’t cook. The eleven thousand dollar fridge is basically just a decoration to fill a gap in the countertops.

You pop in your airpods and head downstairs. The cozy white carpet of the stairs feels like plush clouds under your Keds. As you round the corner of the stairs you see everything that makes someone's house a home. So this is where he keeps it all, you think to yourself.

The short hallway from the stairs to the large open concept basement is covered in photos of Joel at all stages of his life. The first picture that catches your eye is a teenage baby faced Joel and a beautiful young woman sitting on a hospital bed, she’s smiling at the camera as Joel looks down at the tiny bundle of pink blankets in her arms. He looks so happy and soft, and it ignites a small flame of jealousy. Not at the woman, but at the happy little family.

As your eyes scan all the pictures you see that baby at all ages. There’s a picture of her holding a trophy as big as her with little cleats and shin guards on. In another, she and Joel are holding a big fish, her toothless smile bright and brilliant, while something in Joel’s eyes looks sad even though his plush lips are curved up in a sexy smile.

Another picture is of the little girl sitting on her mom’s lap; the woman doesn’t seem as vibrant in this picture. The next one to catch your eye is her holding a cupcake with a candle in the shape of the number sixteen, then him in a pressed black suit and her in her high school cap and gown. The last picture is similar, except it’s a college graduation photo.

As you peel yourself away from all the pictures you haven’t managed to look at yet, you face the main living area, a large open concept space. There’s a cozy grey sectional facing the big screen TV, shelves of DVDs surround it and you can only imagine all the movie nights the two of them had down here. There's a pool table along the far back right side of the room and to the left are a bunch of guitars, both acoustic and electric, hanging on the wall. You walk towards the guitars, there’s a stool and a small table beside the amp. An open notebook with lyrics lays on the table and as tempting as it is to read it, you look away. This space is who Joel is and he’s obviously trusting or testing you by sending you down here. He did tell you that you didn’t know him, and that he could be a bad guy, but everything here screams wholesome family man.

You dust and vacuum, then fluff the couch cushions and fold the blankets nicely. There’s an empty glass on the side table, so you grab that and wash it at the small wet bar before placing it with the other glasses. You take one last longing look at the notebook, it’s tempting but decide you are right to not read it. It’s none of your business what he writes and sings about. You picture him there, dressed casually in sweat pants and t-shirt, his large fingers plucking with a practiced finesse at the strings, you wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the floor with a cup of coffee and a book. The two of you being independently together on a Sunday morning.

Thoughts of the two of you like that are dangerous; being his submissive isn’t being his girlfriend. You’ve been very good at compartmentalizing, mostly as a coping mechanism to your past, so you find a metaphorical little box in the back of your mind to stuff all those feelings and thoughts into. As you gather your cleaning supplies, you take one last look around. maybe this was his way of showing you that you can’t have a future with him, that he’s done with the kids-and-marriage part of his life. None of that matters to you; you don’t want kids and marriage, you just want a partnership, and the support and comfort that comes with it. You want to become a lawyer, and eventually a judge, and one day sit on the supreme court and defend everyone's civil and human rights. That’s the goal, the only goal.

From this point on, any feelings for Joel Miller go in that box. If he ever changes his mind, he is my dominant and nothing else. You push the lid on the feelings box and run through your life plan as you head up the stairs. Law school and lawyer, then a relationship before judge and supreme court. That’s the plan, it’s always been the plan.

Once you’re in the kitchen, you pop open the fridge to see a single red rose. You lose a fighting battle with your face, smiling huge from ear to ear. You grab it and close the now empty fridge, bringing the rose to your nose to breathe in the sweet and powdery scent. The black and red envelope sits on the shiny marble countertop. You place the rose down and pop open the envelope. You pull out fifteen hundred dollars and a black business card. Your brows knit together as you inspect the card, flipping it over. A QR code for the JMK app, an activation code, and a note that says “Happy Birthday, sweetheart.”

You practically rip your phone from your back pocket and scan the QR code. You dance nervously on the balls of your feet as the app downloads. With shaky fingers you create a username and password, then type in the activation code. A bunch of permissions pop up, and while the baby lawyer inside of you screams that you need to read them, you’re too eager, so you hastily click accept on all of them. A profile with your newly appointed username splays across the screen. Right below your name it says “Beginner Submissive” and you roll your eyes. You upload the hottest selfie you can find of yourself to be your profile picture, smirking at what you imagine Joel’s reaction will be when he sees you in that tight fitting gold dress, a picture Jamie took of you on New Year’s Eve.

On the top right of your screen are 3 little lines, you open the menu and have two options. ‘Assigned Dominant’ and ‘Limits and Waivers’. You are eager to fill out whatever Joel wants on this app, but none of this will feel real to you until you see his name as your Dom. You giggle as you click the first menu. Holy shit, you think as the new window loads, this is going to happen, he’s going to do it.

Your heart freezes in your chest, and every ounce of excitement and happiness drains from you as you read ‘Assigned Dominant: Tommy Miller’.

When you get home, you open your JMK app again, looking at the assigned dominant screen in hopes you made a mistake. But there it is, clear as day, ‘Tommy Miller’. You lock your phone in frustration and toss it onto your unmade bed. Why would he do this? You’re sure that everything in the limits and waivers menu would have been a yes if Joel was your dom. But Tommy? Not that there’s anything physically wrong with Tommy. He’s definitely attractive, but he’s not Joel and you thought you made that perfectly clear.

After you shower you've decided you’ve cooled off enough to continue in the app. Tommy is still not Joel, but you want this for yourself, right? And it’s not about pleasure or attraction, it’s about the escape, and more importantly, it’s about having someone to push you and help you grow.

You click the ‘Limits and Waivers’ menu, a whole quiz comes up where you can rate your interest in different sexual and non sexual acts on a scale of one to five, and secondary checkmark if you’ve already done those things. You scroll through the list, this would be easy with Joel, all fives, all ‘highly interested’, or so you think. As you scroll through the list you get some real fetish level stuff - diapers, feet, scat play, being hung from hooks. You know enough not to kink shame anyone, but none of that interests you. As such, you rank them as a one, not at all interested.

You scroll back up to fill in all the stuff you’re more interested in.

Spanking, five.

Whips and Crops, five.

Paddles, five.

Nipple Clamps, five, fucking five hundred at this point.

Bondage, another five hundred. Vibrators, five.

Butt Plug, three - ya, that one surprised even yourself, but it’s Tommy, not Joel.

The little box to click if you’ve done those things remains unchecked. You aren’t a virgin, but the small handful of college boys you’ve entertained had the same two or three moves, all of which left you unsatisfied.

Odette bangs on your door, and you jump as your phone goes flying from your hand as she barges in. “Let’s get ready! Repeat twenty one, baby!”

You scramble off your bed to grab your phone before she does, one of your hands in a death grip on your towel, “Fuck, you scared the shit outta me.”

“Oh god, you were watching porn again weren’t you?” She laughs as your cheeks flush crimson. She wanders to your closet and opens the doors, “We gotta find you something real hot for tonight, you need to get laid.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” you sing nonchalantly, wandering to your vanity to run a brush through your wet hair.

A few hours later and you’re all ready to go. Jamie and Laren came over to pre-drink and do their hair and make up. The four of you blasted nineties Shania Twain while drinking rosé and doing shots of cheap tequila. You pick a floor length black dress with a slit that goes almost to your hip and drips low between your breasts and leaves your back bare. You leave your hair down, curling it loosely before applying minimal makeup, flirty false lashes and a vibrant matte red lipstick. The packaging says that it's guaranteed not to smudge for up to twelve hours.

“We’ll test that tonight on drinks and men,” Laren says as she steals it from your hand and puts it on her full, pouty lips.

Jamie surprises you with a limo. Before getting in you swipe your JMK app open and save your half-finished preferences. Tonight is not about Joel or Tommy; tonight is about you, and you deserve to be celebrated.

The table Jamie managed to secure for your birthday is perfect. You’re just off the dance floor, but raised up so that you can see the entire club. The music is loud and the room is dark, dimly lit with light pinks and purples. As you settle into the booth a young icy haired blonde girl in small black shorts and a lacy bra wanders in. “Hey babes! I’m Jade, let’s get these bottles going! Here’s the menu.”

Her eyes fall to you as she hands the bottle service menu and you both freeze. It’s her, the girl from Joel’s desk. The thump of the music fades and all you can hear is her moans and cries, the squelching of her pussy as Joel finger fucked her hard and deep. Shit, fuck, why me. She smiles at you, “Oh hey! Good to see you again.”

A chorus of, ‘again?’ and ‘how do you know each other?’ comes from your friends, all of their wide eyes staring at you.

“We don’t really,” you rush. “Just a mutual acquaintance really.”

Luckily, she gets the hint and just nods along. “What are we getting to drink ladies? I’ve heard it’s on the house so pick something expensive!”

You pick a bottle of Clase Azul tequila, Jade saying she can make different cocktails with it so you’re not all just doing shots. After a few rounds you find yourself alone in the booth while your friends go to the bathroom. Jade sits on the black leather seat beside you.

“Look, I just want to say that I’m sorry for what you saw the other week. Joel sort of forbade me from seeking you out, but if you’re in my section at the club I work at then I’m not really breaking any rules.” She’s even more beautiful up close, no fucking wonder Joel wants to give you to Tommy. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. But you see it now, why he’d pass you along. You can’t compete with a woman like her, and from the sounds of it Joel has more than one gorgeous, tall, slender blonde at his beck and call.

“No, it’s ok. I’m actually learning to be a sub soon.” You smile at her, trying to tamp down the jealousy that’s threatening to choke you.

“No way! Joel is amazing, I only see him like once a month now but you’re going to love it.” Suddenly your entire body feels like an open wound, and the lime and salt left on your hands from tequila shots burns through you. The back of your eyes burn, frustration and jealousy don’t mix well with Rosé and tequila. You blink a few times to stop the tears.

“He actually set me up with Tommy,” you croak, “Said I’m more his type.”

Just as she opens her perfect pink lips you hear the unmistakable opening to your all time favourite Shania Twain song, and as if your friends appeared from thin air the four of you yell, “Let’s go girls!”. The icy blonde pats the top of the table in your booth with one hand and holds her other hand out for yours. You climb up onto the table, your friends getting on the chairs.

Every insecurity dissipates from your body as you sing loudly with your friends, swaying your hips to the music. You surrender yourself to the genius that was Shania Twain and Mutt Lange. As you break into the chorus for a second time, a glint of silver across the club catches your eye. Standing on the other side of the dancefloor, leaning against the bar top, is Joel Miller.

His eyes are locked on yours; he’s wearing brown dress pants and a white short sleeved button up shirt, the top few buttons are left undone and it pulls at his biceps perfectly. He looks so sexy and casual, hair pushed back as he swirls the amber coloured whiskey around in its glass. He smiles devilishly, shaking his head jovially at you as you put on a show for him. As the song ends he crooks his pointer and middle fingers at you, silently calling you over. The simple motion of his fingers makes your pussy flutter, wetness slicking your thighs since you decided to forgo underwear tonight. Risky choice with the high slit of the skirt but suddenly it’s feeling like it’s the best decision you’ve ever made.

“I’ll be right back,” you whisper to your girlfriends as they help you off the table. They call for more shots and you refrain from all out sprinting to Joel.

“Quite the show you put on up there,” he says, grabbing your bicep like he did at the poker game and pulling you gently along with him.

“You didn’t seem to mind.” You twist your arm out of his grasp and stumble. You’re definitely well on your way to being drunk, but you don’t want him to know that.

He grabs for your waist to steady you. “Careful, you’re drunk.”

“I’m not. And even if I was, I’m celebrating, so I’m allowed to be drunk. Not allowed to be your sub, but allowed to be drunk.” His eyes darken and you know you’ve crossed some sort of undrawn line, but you’re at that reckless sass point in your tipsiness and you really don’t care. A saccharine sweet smile crosses your face as you plant your hands on your hips.

“You sure you wanna play this game, sweetheart?” He practically growls.

“I’m not your sweetheart, I’m Tommy’s,” it comes out poutier than you expect. You spin on the balls of your feet and head back to the dance floor. As always, you can feel his eyes on you as you walk away. When you approach the dance floor you see a handsome man about your age looking at you. A quick glance over your shoulder confirms Joel is watching, you grab the hand of the stranger and say, “Let’s dance.”

As all young, drunk boys do, he obliges. You spin and press your back in this body, grinding your ass into him and keeping your eyes locked on Joel. How did he find you here? Why would he be out at this particular club, unless of course he’s keeping an eye on the icy blonde woman. She confirmed they only see each other once a month though, so why? Is he following you somehow?

The boy's hands move to your hips, traveling up your abdomen. You wink at Joel, pulling your hair to the side and tilting your head so the boy behind you has access to the same spot on your neck that he had in his office. Just as his lips start to lower Joel snaps. Got him, you think. He takes a few long strides onto the dance floor, pulling you away like you’re some sort of toy, like he’s a caveman coming to take what’s his. You let him pull you, yelling an apology to the boy on the dance floor.

Even though you’re happy to go with him, you can’t let him know that. “Joel, stop it. You can’t kick me out of here too.”

He takes you down a quiet, dark hallway, barely illuminated by the red glow of the EXIT sign. “I own half this place, baby. So I can.”

You twist your arm free from his grip, “You’re the bane of my existence, Joel Miller.”

“Why haven’t you filled out your app yet?”

You scoff, anger and annoyance starting to replace the happy feeling you had when he pulled you from the dance floor. “Are you stalking me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. Doms can see where their subs are at all times if they accept the location tracker on the app.”

Shit, all those menus that you just clicked ‘Accept All’ to at the beginning. Of course your dom would be able to find you, depending on the relationship they can control everything you do. “You’re not my dom!” You state.

Joel rolls his eyes. “I know. Tommy told me you hadn’t filled it all out yet and where you were. So, why haven’t you filled out the app?”

You lean back on the railing along the wall and slide your feet from your heels, placing them on the cool tile of the floor to soothe the ache in your arches. Your hands come back to grip the railing. “It’s none of your business.”

“Sweet girl, in this case it literally is my business. The JM stands for Joel Miller.”

This time you roll your eyes and then mumble, “Because I don’t want Tommy. I don’t think I’m going to fill it out anymore.”

Joel leans back against the railing across the small hall from you, pinching the bridge of his noise in annoyance, “Please. For me, can you just fill it out?”

“For you? You made it clear you don't want me. I’m filling it out for Tommy.”

He crosses his arms, biceps bulging even more against the tight fabric of his short sleeved button up, if he’s not careful he’s going to go full incredible hulk on that shirt. Not that you’d mind.

“That’s not what I’m sayin’ and that’s also where you’re wrong. You’re fillin’ that out for you. If you’re fillin’ it out for anyone else, then you’re doing this for the wrong reasons.”

You let out an unimpressed sounding huff, “I’m not.”

His lips press into a tight line as he considers his words carefully; Joel is old enough to know not to argue with a twenty-one year old who’s had tequila. “Ok, you’re not. So then why do you want to be a sub?”

He watches as your whole body seems to deflate, there’s a shift, almost like desperation in your body. Sadness lines your eyes as they meet his and your voice comes out small and uncertain. “Because I’m exhausted, Joel. I - I spend all day making decisions, and studying, and learning about civil rights law. I’m always having to come up with a plan A, and B, all the way to plan Z sometimes. And then,” your head falls back to the wall as you continue speaking to the ceiling with your eyes closed, “Then I do it all over again the next day. I can’t shut it off, my brain. It just keeps going and going. It's so loud, so constant, so fucking overwhelming and there’s no escape.”

You fall silent and he steps forward, slipping his large hand behind your neck and bringing your gaze to his. You continue, fighting against the boulder that’s forming in your throat, “I don’t think I’m good enough. Or strong enough…Smart enough. I want to see for once that I am, want to see what I can overcome. For once,” you sigh heavily. “For once I just want someone to tell me how well I’m doing.”

Joel’s eyes fall to your lips, his voice a hoarse whisper, “Fill out the app.”

You take a deep breath. You feel lighter after finally getting to confessing all of that to him. That was your plan for his office the other day, but something about him flusters you and you were completely knocked off the rails by that special unknown thing Joel has over you. You whisper, “I don’t want to do this with Tommy. Please, Joel.”

Joel’s forehead comes to rest on yours, you can see the golden flecks in his dark eyes at this proximity. He smells like mint, and that same ash and leather from his office the other day. You should ask him right now why he let you in his basement today, but he speaks before you can. “Can you please, just for once, show me that you can listen?”

“Kiss me,” you hum, trailing your hands up his strong arms.

He stiffens under your touch. “What?” he asks dumbfoundedly.

“Kiss me and I’ll go home right now and fill out the app,” you whisper, inching your lips closer to his.

“You’ll go home, fill out the app, and you will not touch yourself.” It’s not a question, it’s a deep command.

Now it’s your turn to be confused as you say, “What?”

He crowds his body closer to yours, pulling his face back slightly so he can take you all in. You’ve never seen this expression before, that flash of darkness from the first time you called him Mister Miller in your car has permanently etched itself into your mind, but it’s almost like he’s transitioned into full dominant Mister Miller now. “If you want to convince me to be your dom, it’s not going to be through just a kiss. So prove to me that you can listen, prove to me that you can be a good girl. ”

The wetness between your legs starts to coat your thighs at the sound of him asking you to be a good girl. You clench your thighs together as his forehead meets yours again.

He continues, his voice just as commanding, “If I give you this kiss, you’ll go home alone, you will not touch that dripping little cunt, and you will fill out the app.”

Your pussy is throbbing with need. You should have known better than to sass him so hard tonight. Someone as competent and experienced as Joel would know exactly how to punish his sub when they were acting up. You nod your head and hum in agreement to his demands.

“Ask me nicely.” He murmurs.

“P-please…kiss me, Joel.” Butterflies assault the inside of your stomach.

You didn’t think it was possible, but he manages to crowd you even more, your entire body pressed firmly against his. Every skin cell is screaming for his attention, every nerve firing off signals making you hyper aware of anywhere he’s touching you.

“Ask me again using that name I told you not to call me,” He knows he’s playing with fire, but at this exact moment he doesn’t care, he fucking loves the way his preferred dom name sounds coming off your lips.

“Kiss me, Mister Miller. Please?” It’s airy and desperate, your knees feel weak below you and it feels as if you can’t get a full breath in. The anticipation is killing you.

“Why?” he growls. Growing up you were always afraid of dark spaces, but if there were any monsters in this hallway they’d be running scared at the timbre of his voice right now.

Your back arches instinctively into him. You’re safe here, Joel Miller is your safety. “Because I need you, Mister Miller. Please. Just one kiss…then I’ll do anything. I promise. P-please. I need to feel you on me, Mister Miller.”

Joel bends slightly, his hands come to the back of your thighs and he lifts you, slamming you against the wall. You squeal, arms flinging around his neck as your ankles hook around his waist. He pins you to the wall with his hips and lets go of your thighs. Both of you are practically panting, his cock is hard as steel, pressing against his zipper and your bare pussy. Your skirt is covering you from exposing yourself to him but something about the glint in his eye when your bodies connect makes you think he might know you don’t have any panties on.

His hands peel your arms from around his neck and he pins them with one hand above your head like he did in his office. You whimper and grind your hips against him. His free hand wraps around your throat, holding it gently.

“No,” he growls and it takes every ounce of self control you have to stop your hips. “Say it again.”

He watches your mouth hungrily as you lick your lips and you fight back a moan. He can feel your pulse firing rapidly under his calloused fingertips. A needy whisper passes your lips, filling the miniscule space left between your bodies. “I need you, Mister Miller. Please kiss me.”

With that he slams his lips against yours. It’s a desperate and heady mess of tongue and teeth, your moans being swallowed by his greedy mouth. You tilt your head to allow him in more. His tongue devours every inch that it can reach. He nips at your bottom lip before diving back in. He takes whatever he wants from you and you let him. For the first time in years your brain is quiet. No anxiety about the quickly approaching LSAT, no thinking of whatever practice question you’re stuck on. That nagging fear of being rejected from all the law schools you’ve applied to goes silent. The worrying voice that tells you you’re not good enough disappears. Everything you are is replaced by whatever Joel gives.

You grind down onto him as you flick your tongue against his; he’s so rough yet so very soft. His tongue tastes like mint and whiskey. You can feel your orgasm building, it’s going to happen embarrassingly fast at this rate. You feel light headed from lack of oxygen and the slight push of his fingers into the side of your throat. More, more, more, you yell in your head.

Joel breaks the kiss and puts you down on your feet, holding you steady as you find your legs again. His lips are puffy and even though it’s not the time to be thinking of this, you realize there isn’t a single drop of red lipstick on his face, so it really will last twelve hours without smudging.

His thumb comes to your face, swiping along your bottom lip gently, “Put your number in my phone, sweet girl.”

He holds his brand new iPhone Max out to you and you tap your number in with shaky fingers. He sends a quick text when you hand his phone back and then he kneels in front of you, helping you back into your heels. As he stands his hand trails from your ankle, all the way up the slit of your skirt to settle on your clothed hip. “Go get your stuff and go home now, baby. There’ll be a car waiting for you out front.”

He pats your bum gently as you walk on shaky legs back to your VIP booth. You feel like a newborn giraffe as you make your way to your table.

“Where have you been?” Jamie proclaims, holding up a tequila shot for you.

You wave her off, “I think I’ve had too much. I’m gonna go but I want you girls to stay. Enjoy your night for me.”

It takes a few minutes but you convince your friends to stay and that you’ll be fine and already have a ride arranged. As you exit the club there’s a gorgeous blacked out town car parked in front. An older gentleman in a suit looks at you and nods, “Good Evening, Miss. Are you the young lady Joel Miller has asked me to escort home?”

You nod back, trying to act like this is an everyday occurrence and not the most outrageous thing that’s ever happened to you. As soon as you get home you change into your most unflattering set of pajamas, hoping that if you feel unsexy then it’ll stop that insistent throb between your thighs. Joel was so fucking close again, and this time there was no underwear in his way.

You slide open the app, Tommy Miller is still set as your dom, but you go through the preferences carefully and answer as honestly as possible as to what you want. You try to focus on the questions even though you can still feel Joel's throbbing cock pushing against you, and his warm hands around your wrists and throat. You can still taste him on your lips. You shake the ghost of him off of you and remind yourself again what you want from this, aside from mind-blowing orgasms.

You fill out every section and then hit save. Just as you are about to lock your phone and try to fall asleep your phone vibrates, the JMK app as a notification.

‘Your Assigned Dominant has changed to Joel Miller’

Your heart pounds behind your rib cage as you stare at the notification, your head feels fuzzy, possibly from the booze, or that kiss, but you can’t believe your eyes. You close out of the app and go back in, staring at where Joel’s name has replaced Tommy’s. Just as it all starts to feel real you get a text message from a number you don’t have saved. You click on the message app.

“No coming until I say so, I know you weren’t wearing any panties tonight. Messy little pussy ruined my pants. Go to sleep now, my sweet girl.”

913 notes · View notes

singlecrow · 10 months

Text

I Have Reread Seven Murderbot Books In A Small Number Of Days, and Am Now Completely Insane About The Following Non-Exhaustive List Of Things (in no order)--

let's start with the fact the first book is almost ENTIRELY a letter from Murderbot to Mensah. it's 40,000 words. Murderbot, you are an emotionless robot for SURE.

Pin-Lee. Just in general. no, also, the main character of Sanctuary Moon is also a lawyer with increasingly bizarre problems. hello. (why did they take a LAWYER on a planetary survey??)

Amena tells ART and Murderbot, in case they didn't know, that they're having a baby. They didn't know.

AMENA. sixteen years old and whiny teenager who isn't like her annoying genius family who don't understand her NO ONE UNDERSTANDS. spends rest of book being brave and competent and mighty. whatever.

Amena's little sister! I wish we had a name for her but I like Murderbot calling her Small Human, also it shows her the video she wants to see but scrubs out all the gore and violence (it doesn't care though humans are stupid)

never wanted fanart of anything so much as Murderbot, upon hearing Mensah startled by a journalist and drop a bottle of almond milk, jump over Ratthi's head, run 100m down a corridor, scream at the journalist and catch the bottle of almond milk. (aside: that story breaks my heart. you see her from Murderbot's POV as a leader of men. compassionate and brilliant and a diamond under pressure. and from her own POV she's screaming and she can't stop.)

not that all cops are bastards, only that after a meeting with them Mensah tries to persuade her partners, kids and siblings that they should give up on humanity, move to an uninhabited continent and take up new careers in soil reclamation

ART, when its blorbos die in its shows. The bot equivalent of staring at the wall for seven and a half minutes. HI ART.

"I came for our mutual friend." jesus. It picks her up and saves her and lets her hug it. She tells it fear and anger are the enemy. (and then the crew freak out at the woman who stood down a homicidal killer robot by glaring at it.) (I love Mensah the most. no one knew this.)

Amena's parents are two probably normal people plus a planetary leader and a sentient killer robot

ART finds out Mensah is coming aboard and shouts at everyone to start cleaning (ART you're so neurotic)

ART and its sister Iris

ART and Murderbot are having a baby (I know I did that one already)

Round Here We Save The World Through The Power of Documentary Filmmaking

Mensah.

#murderbot #mensah #murderbot diaries

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alyrasturnz · 1 month

Note

pls write something ab matt having rly rly insane baby fever and so y/n does smth ab it

what i mean by that is she throws her birth control out and maybe she tells him that shes pregnant on his bday

BABY FEVER

❐ summary » matt's overwhelming desire to start a family becomes the central theme. his baby fever has been a constant, gentle pressure, a dream he's nurtured for what feels like forever.

❐ pairings » husband!matt x fem!reader

❐ warnings » pregnancy

❐ a/n && w/c » guys im lowkey slacking! • 1.72k

your fingers were delicately intertwined with matt's as you strolled down the sidewalk together, your head resting gently on his shoulder. his voice flowed like a soothing river, weaving through tales of dreams, aspirations, and the little wonders of life. the world around you seemed to blur, leaving only the warmth of his presence and the melody of his words.

but then he halted mid-sentence and came to an abrupt stop, his gaze shifting intently to his side. you lifted your head from his shoulder, confusion painting your features as you looked up at him with furrowed eyebrows, trying to decipher the sudden change in his demeanor.

"matt?" you murmur, your eyes darting around in search of the unseen. finally, your gaze follows his, and you discern what had captured his attention so profoundly.

toddler giggles echoed through the air, a symphony of youthful exuberance from the playground. they ran around with boundless energy, while matt stood there, silently observing them with a wistful smile.

you let out a soft chuckle, your laughter mingling with the gentle breeze, before continuing your walk. matt followed in your footsteps, his hand still entwined with yours, though he lingered slightly behind, as if lost in a moment of quiet reflection.

"matt, c’mon," you urged gently. his head remained turned towards the playground, where the toddlers' laughter and play held his attention captive.

he then looked at you and halted in his tracks once more, a pout forming on his lips. "but they’re so cute," he protested, his eyes pleading with a childlike innocence.

you giggled, a smile unfurling across your features as your thumb traced gentle circles over his knuckles, a tender gesture that spoke volumes without words.

"I know they are, but we have some errands to run!" you say, your tone a mix of understanding and urgency. matt lets out a groan, his shoulders slumping in reluctant acknowledgment.

"okay, fine," he says, drawing out the words with a hint of reluctance, as you continue to walk, the rhythm of your steps echoing in the quiet air.

»--•--«

"okay, so we just need eggs and—" you begin, abruptly stopping mid-sentence as you lower your list and glance around. "matt?" you call out, your voice tinged with confusion as you roll the shopping cart forward, scanning the aisles in search of him.

you then halt in your tracks, your gaze settling upon matt, who stands in the baby aisle, his attention captivated by the delicate array of baby clothes.

you stood and observed as he meticulously sorted through the baby clothes, a growing stack of tiny garments already cradled in his arms.

he turned his gaze and caught yours, a moment of silent understanding passing between you, before he immediately began walking towards you.

"baby, look!" he exclaimed with cheerful enthusiasm, his face illuminated by the brightest smile as he presented the tiny clothes to you. "these are absolutely adorable!"

you chuckled softly, shaking your head in mild amusement. "matt, we don't even have a baby yet," you reminded him gently, though a smile played on your lips, unable to resist his infectious enthusiasm.

he looked at you with wide, hopeful eyes filled with a childlike wonder. "but we could, right? i mean, just look at these!" he exclaimed, holding up a tiny onesie adorned with a playful pattern, his excitement practically tangible.

you sighed, a blend of amusement and affection washing over you. "okay, let's finish our shopping first," you said, taking his arm and gently guiding him back to the cart. "then we can discuss this baby fever you've got going on."

»--•--«

a month later..

you bit your lip, the weight of anticipation heavy as you anxiously awaited the result of the pregnancy test resting on the bathroom sink.

your eyes darted nervously toward your phone, your heart pounding with an intensity that seemed to echo in the silence.

matt has been consumed by an unrelenting baby fever for months on end now, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him.

your eyes then darted to the bin on the floor, where your birth control pills lay discarded, a silent testament to the choices you had made.

you didn't reveal to him that you had surreptitiously discarded your birth control pills, a secret kept close to your heart.

you have been experiencing signs and symptoms for the past two weeks, and to say you were petrified would be an understatement.

then, your phone alarm rang, abruptly shattering the trance that had momentarily enveloped you.

you exhaled a tremulous breath, your hand trembling as it reached for the pregnancy test, your gaze lifting with trepidation, dreading the revelation that awaited.

then, you cast your gaze downward, your eyes widening in astonishment as a gasp escaped your lips.

positive.

your eyes brimmed with tears of joy, your hand instinctively rising to cover your mouth in an attempt to stifle the overwhelming emotions.

"babe! you okay in there?" matt asked from the other side, his voice muffled yet filled with concern as he pressed his ear against the door, straining to catch any sound that might hint at your condition.

your eyes widened in astonishment, and with a swift motion, you wiped away your tears, hastily tucking the pregnancy test into your pocket in an attempt to conceal it.

he remained oblivious to the entirety of the situation, unaware of the unfolding events and the secrets they held.

you opened the door, revealing matt standing there with an empathetic expression etched across his face, his eyes searching yours for any sign of what lay hidden within.

“you’re still feeling unwell?” matt inquired, his voice laced with concern, as you responded with a solemn nod.

he frowned, drawing you into a tender embrace, his hand gently tracing soothing circles on your back.

“you should really get that checked out,” he said softly, his eyes narrowing with worry as he gently placed a hand on your shoulder, his touch both comforting and urging you to take care.

“yeah… i should,” you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper. you rested your chin on his shoulder, savoring the fleeting comfort before slowly extricating yourself from the embrace, your movements deliberate and lingering.

»--•--«

you had orchestrated this meticulously. it had been a few days since you discovered the news, and in that time, you had scoured every nook and cranny, searching high and low for the baby clothes matt had stumbled upon in the store.

they had just arrived today, a serendipitous timing that couldn't have been more perfect, as it coincided with his birthday.

you had meticulously wrapped it all up in a box—the baby clothes, the pregnancy test, everything. a delicate bow adorned the top, adding a touch of elegance to the carefully curated surprise.

you entered his room, where he sat ensconced in his chair, fingers dancing across the keyboard as he typed diligently in a google doc.

"you working?" you whisper softly, your voice barely a murmur that startled matt slightly, causing him to turn his gaze from the screen to look at you, curiosity and mild surprise etched on his face.

"yeah," he nodded. you closed the door behind you, and matt's eyes landed on the present in your hands. "that for me?" he asked, spinning his chair to face you, a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes.

"mhm," you hum, extending it towards him with a smile. "open it," you say, your voice brimming with joyful anticipation.

"you shouldn't have," matt chuckled, a soft laugh escaping his lips as a mixture of gratitude and amusement danced in his eyes.

"matttt!" you exclaim, extending the gift even further towards him, your voice filled with playful insistence and excitement.

"okay, okay," he says with a chuckle. matt took the box, curiosity lighting up his eyes. he carefully untied the bow and lifted the lid. his eyes widened in astonishment as he saw the tiny baby clothes nestled within, followed by the unmistakable sight of a positive pregnancy test.

"are you serious?" he whispered, his voice quivering with a mixture of disbelief and overwhelming emotion.

"i am," you replied, a warm smile spreading across your face, your eyes shimmering with the joy of the moment.

he looked up at you, tears brimming in his eyes, his voice trembling with confusion and wonder. "but i thought you were on birth control?"

you bit your lip, trying to contain your laughter. "i am. maybe it's fate," you said, a mischievous glint in your eye, fully aware that you'd discarded it because of his insatiable baby fever.

matt pulled you into his arms, his embrace warm and secure, holding you tight as if he never wanted to let go. "this is the best surprise ever," he murmured into your hair, his breath tickling your scalp.

he pulled back slightly, his hands gently cupping your face, and looked deep into your eyes with a mixture of awe and joy. "i can't believe it. we're going to be parents! i've longed for this moment for so long."

you smiled, feeling tears of joy welling up in your own eyes, the weight of the moment settling in your heart. "i know, matt. i know," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion, each word carrying the depth of your shared dreams and hopes.

he kissed you gently, his lips lingering with tenderness before pulling you back into his embrace, enveloping you in warmth and security. "i promise, i'm going to be the best dad," he vowed, his voice filled with earnest determination. "i'll take care of you both."

you rested your head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his love envelop you like a comforting blanket. "i have no doubt about that," you whispered softly, your voice barely audible yet filled with unwavering confidence and trust.

matt chuckled softly, his breath warm against your ear as he held you close. "i can't wait to start this journey with you," he murmured, his voice tinged with excitement and gratitude. "thank you for making my dream come true. you've given me a gift beyond words."

you closed your eyes, savoring the moment as it etched itself into your memory. "it's our dream, matt," you murmured, your voice filled with a quiet reverence. "and it's just the beginning.”

taglist — @imwetforyourmom @meatballzerz69 @pinkishpearls @bandanamatt @thedangerousalleyway @muchloveforhacker @frozenpeanutbutterr @jetaimevous @everleiqh @conspiracy-ash @ifwdominicfike @blahbel668 @slutforsturnioloss @realuvrrr @sturnobsessedwh0re @cerismo @zainabthescientist @sarosfilms

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acowardinmordor · 2 months

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I kinda want a fic where Eddie is straight. Strong Ally, totally safe, but the guy is straight. There's a few months after they successfully take down Vecna that he and Robin and Steve are all besties, living in each others' pockets. During that time, he makes a lot of jokes that Steve is going to make a great housewife someday, makes some comments that aren't quite jokes that he wishes Steve was a girl, and has some very much suppressed thoughts that the only thing stopping them is that Eddie isn't attracted to men.

Near the end of the summer, before Steve is going to follow Robin to Sarah Lawrence, Steve comes out as bi to the whole group, and Eddie, for the first time, unashamedly thinks, damn, if only I wasn't straight. Steve even gets brave a few days before they leave and broaches the topic of Steve having a crush on Eddie. Keeps saying that he's not going to hit on Eddie, but wanted to take the chance, just in case Eddie had ever thought about it.

"Sorry, Steve, I only date girls."

And the awkwardness isn't the only reason the three drift apart, but it doesn't help. They send letters and post cards between Chicago and New York, and try to call at least once a month, but they're all broke, and long distance is expensive. Two years out, and Eddie knows something weird is happening with Steve and Robin, but they don't want to talk about it. They still talk, they're still friends, they'd still die for each other, but there is something they're hiding from him. Three and a half years out, and the bureaucrats finally got their act together. 'Thanks for not telling anybody' checks get sent to everyone in the know. Very large checks.

Robin graduates, and she and Stevie have a comfortable cushion. They don't have to take horrible minimum wage jobs anymore, and some expensive things they've been saving up to do for a while can finally happen.

This is where the fic in my head actually starts.

Eddie hears all about Los Angeles from Robin, but she tells him that Stevie isn't feeling great after the trip, and that Eddie will get a letter soon.

Its four months later, almost exactly four years since the three last saw each other in person when they finally meet again. Robin got a job in Chicago, and Eddie is still there, now a full artist in a tattoo parlor, playing gigs for fun with random friends. Stevie, of course, follows Robin, and Eddie tries hard not to stay upset with the guy for the weirdness and the sometimes silence, and the very obvious distance that Steve put between them recently.

Then they see each other. Meeting up at what has to be the queerest bar in the city, and it takes Eddie way, way too long to put together what's waiting at a booth along the wall. He's an ally, he's heard all the terms and types and nodded along in supportive silence because he doesn't get it, but he's trying.

But there's Robin, sitting on the outside, with a brunette beside her, possibly the most beautiful woman Eddie has ever seen, strong, tall, long wavy chestnut hair, and a spattering of very distinct moles. The little bit of a smile she has when Eddie first comes over melts into something small and scared as Eddie stares in shock. It's Stevie, it has to be, and Robin's exclusive use of what was once only a nickname suddenly makes more sense. He knows he needs to make sure he's using the right name, pronouns, whatever she wants. He's friend of a friend with a couple trans people, and again, he doesn't get it, but he listened, and he cannot fuck this up, because it's Stevie and this must be what they were hiding, but the inside of his brain sounds like an endless loop of mic feedback for a solid sixty seconds.

Sixty seconds is an insanely long time.

Before his brain turns over and he can smile and reach the table, Stevie has shrunk into the corner, and Robin looks ready to launch herself at Eddie's throat in her soulmate's defense.

A whole list of intrusive thoughts hit Eddie all at once while his mouth runs on autopilot, asking the right questions, smiling encouragingly, introducing himself to, yes, Stevie Harrington, and dragging the mood to a happy place by sheer force of will. Stevie starts to uncurl, smiles a little brighter, sits up straight, laughs properly at Eddie's dumb stories about terrible tattoos, and leans closer as the night goes on.

He fixes the weirdness he started in his shock, because there is no way in hell he's not going to keep two of his best friends now that they live in the same city again.

But his head is stuck spiraling around a snarl of horrible, selfish, invasive thoughts. The worst of which: Stevie is now Stevie because Eddie told her that he only liked girls. And he knows thats stupid and isn't why Stevie made this choice, and he hates himself for thinking it, but the thought is still there. That Eddie wanted so badly that she's now Stevie. Another, only slightly less horrible thought, is that the immediate fairytale ending he imagined on first sight - might be ruined because Eddie is still straight, and he's just not sure about, you know, the details.

Eddie did a great job that first night, and they're back to hanging out all the time as soon as the last boxes are unpacked. It is not Stevie's fault that seeing her in a sports bra for the once confirmed that the payouts, the LA trip, and her new shirt size were related. It's not her fault that Eddie can't stop thinking about how hot she is.

It's absolutely not her fault that Eddie starts getting weird around her. He's trying, okay? He's trying so hard. But its weird for him. He likes her. That part he's certain of. Loves her, almost definitely. He thinks she's gorgeous, high confidence on that part too. He has a crush, but he knows, deeper than the rest, that Stevie isn't confident in herself yet. She acts it most of the time, but its under the surface, a thread of fear that she's not girl enough to count.

And Eddie has a crush. And Eddie can't tell her. Because Eddie won't put them in a situation where Stevie's pants come off, and Eddie suddenly can't see her as the woman she is. It would hurt Stevie so bad, and Eddie would never forgive himself.

It's not like he can ask her just how much surgery she got in LA so he can prepare. And honestly, he's not sure it would matter one way or the other. He's terrified that whatever her choice, Eddie will fuck up his reaction. The risk is unsolvable. Robin calls him out on his crush two months later, and since the other choice is even worse, Eddie lies, and says she's wrong. No crush. Nope. Not even a tiny one.

Eddie tries to will himself into becoming bisexual for an entire month, going so far as making out with a very feminine twink at a club - he thought he'd ease his way into this - but he's still decidedly straight. Rubbing against the twink's remarkably small dick wasn't repulsive, but it didn't do anything for him either. Sure, he learns there's all kinds of pleasurable things to try that he didn't know about, but he's still not into anyone but girls.

(I don't know if this is the right resolution bc Ive spun Eddie pretty tight here, but this is getting so long. )

Robin's girlfriend has a party at a gay bar for her birthday. Obviously, Eddie and Stevie are invited, and obviously, just like every other day on this earth, Stevie looks incredible. She has a sparkly dress and tall boots and glitter on her collarbones and Eddie wants to lick her. His lovelorn staring only gets worse as the night goes on. Stevie is dancing, and Eddie is drinking at the bar with a collection of purses and carabiners of keys slung around and clipped to him. It's obvious enough that a gay couple - Nick and Chris - starts teasing him about it, telling him to man up and ask the pretty girl to dance already.

Eddie is too drunk for this, and he for sure has a guilt trip later for it, but he just starts talking. All of his fears and all of his love, and how he can't ever say anything because he's tried, and he's straight anyway, and he loves Stevie too much to hurt her like that. It's an entire miracle that Eddie broke down in front of a decent pair of human beings, and not some assholes. They sweep him off to a quieter corner outside, help him calm down as he smokes, and feed him some fries.

Eddie is still wearing purses like bandoliers, is snotty and red eyed, is on his third cigarette and fourth whiskey, and resisting the need to runaway forever when the older of the couple calls over someone named Angel. A woman who, if Eddie was not hopelessly in love with Stevie, would be the source of an immediate new crush. She's older than he is, thin through the waist, thick thighs, bottle blonde hair in a ponytail, and has a few inches on Eddie with her heels. The primal part of his brain wants to climb her like a tree.

'Hi Chris. Oh, honey, you having a rough night?" Angel has a few words with Chris, then grins like the cat who caught the canary.

'You're gonna be my good karma for the month, cutie. You are attracted to me, no don't try, thats a cute blush but I can still see it behind your hair, you are. You're straight, right? Yeah, that's why you think I'm hot. Hey, Chris? Do you think I'm hot?"

"Not at all, babe. You know I only go for men."

Angel turns back to Eddie and leans close to explain. 'Chris is a bit of a man whore. Loooooves dick. Don't worry, he says it all the time. Favorite thing in the world, and I've heard he's great at sucking dick. Tragically, I never get to find out, because I'm not a guy.' She pushes the word a little. Then she steps even closer so she's pressed against his side.

Arousal sweeps through him because in love with Stevie or not, Angel is hot as hell. 'Wanna go fool around in the bathroom?' she whispers

Eddie is definitely tempted, already nodding, but doesn't get to speak. Angel rolls her hips. He feels -- A new bolt of arousal shoots down his spine. 'this change your mind at all?' Her voice drops two octaves, and Eddie's brain breaks.

Because, as it turns out, no. No, it does not change his mind. He's half hard, he still wants to climb her, and he's not entirely sure how to get her off, but he takes direction well.

'Aww, figure yourself out, already, honey? Or do you want to test run this a bit more before you go for it?' Angel is back to her real voice, a high alto. She has one hand on his chest, and Eddie can hear Nick laughing nearby. 'I won't lie, I know I won't get to keep you, but you look like we could have a real fun time as I teach you. Happy to get you trained up for her'

Eddie shakes his head, an insane mix of bubbly and numb.

'Ohhh, so you're gonna go get your girl?' She's teasing him.

Eddie nods, already moving, vaguely aware of more laughter and jokes about karma and saving lost lambs, but too fixated to listen. He's still carrying all the purses. He's not entirely sure where Stevie is in the bar. He has absolutely no idea what he's going to say when he finds her. Still not sure how to worship her properly. Extremely interested in following directions on the topic.

Eddie is still straight, but luckily, the girl of his dreams is dancing inside, and the rest of the details don't matter in the face of the possibility of finally asking her out.

When he finally chases her down at a high top with a cosmo, she laughs at how he looks, but he's never, ever seen her smile like she does when she agrees to a date with him.

This is sort of about a friend as they worked through realizing they weren't attracted to their wife after she transitioned, but that was sad, and this needed to not be. I guess I'm just thinking about the non-fanfic nature of life. Where it takes a guy a long while to figure himself out, because good intentions are separate from shifting how you think. Basically wanted Eddie in a situation where he has to reconcile the difference between gender and anatomy, and rewrite his own definitions of what he is and isn't attracted to. Robin had to go through a similar thing as she became attracted to Steve but only in the abstract. They're too platonic for gender to stop their bond

#steddie #my writing #sorta #this got so long #trans steve harrington #Eddie is confused #and straight

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feefivefoe · 2 months

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Tim likes to know things. Everybody is aware of that. Specifically, he likes to know things that interest him, a category that jumps around and is insanely inconsistent.

Until recently, it had never fallen to you. It really was a 50/50, and the dice just happened to fall the way they did. Either he would develop an interest in the person that both Bruce and Dick seemed to forget about at every turn for that reason alone, or he would follow their lead, and see the only non vigilante in the house as unremarkable, and unworthy of his attention.

You can see which route he took.

He gets a little irritated at Jason's blowup at the family, rolling his eyes as he eyes away at his phone. Sure, you aren't in the manor. Whatever. He'll just give the dude your location, and hopefully that'll get Jason to-

Huh. Since when did you get a new phone? Well fine, he'll look up your address by phone number. What was it again? Check his contacts...you aren't in there. Wow, he's really making it inconvenient for himself, huh?

Fine, go the long route. Through their family's phone provider, and boom bam, there you-

Aren't. You aren't under their provider. Did you change your number? Since when???

Now he's a little invested, more as a matter of pride than actually caring. A search of your name brings up nothing past your high school years. Accomplishments in extracurriculars, your name listed as a graduate, nothing about life plans...not even a planned college.

No social media profiles to scan through, at first glance. Anything he does find were abandoned not long after he was adopted.

Did you really not have any online presence???

Okay. So [Y/N] Wayne doesn't have anything. Maybe your mom's last name?

Sure, he doesn't know it. But there are articles talking about the incident that led you here that mention her. Score one for the tech nerd!

Nothing there, either.

By this point, he's sitting alone in the living room, scrolling and typing furiously on his phone while his brothers and father have abandoned their spaces to go handle the revelations they're now faced with.

Finally he gives up, standing up from his seat and darting towards his room. To his computer, where he has a more sophisticated way of gathering info than just internet searches.

Well, that's fine. He was needing a new topic to hyperfixate on, anyways.

#neglected batfam #neglectful batfam #yandere batboys #yandere batfam #yandere dc

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gojotojis · 4 months

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Butterfly pt.2

part one

this story will contain mentions of sexual assault, part one contains sexual assault please do not read if this will trigger you.

summary: gojo helps you heal from a traumatic sexual experience by showing you what consensual sex is like and just how good it can make you feel.

pairing: gojo satoru x fem reader

content MDNI: sexual assault mention, consensual sex, vaginal sex, oral (f receiving), praise kink, squirting, fingering, friends to loversish, healing, trauma, soft gojo, girl obsessed gojo, yearning, angst, protected sex

I am in no way romanticizing or gloryfing sexual assault, this is how I’m choosing to cope with my trauma. Any and all hate will be blcoked.

November

Gojo immediately regrets asking, he goes to wipe your tears but stops himself. The atmosphere has shifted, and he doesn’t know what to do or say. You have this strong urge to hug him and hope he hugs back, making you feel safe but that voice reminds you how horrid men can be.

“No,” you answer his question and you feel like heaving up the little bits of pizza you ate. You feel dirty and disgusting, wanting to crawl out of your own skin.

Before you can think, you’re climbing into his lap. You wrap your arms around him and rest your head against his chest, he’s stiff, completely taken by surprise as your inner conscience screams at you to get off him, to not let him touch you.

You should tense when his fingers trail up your spine, rubbing gently as his other hand holds the back of your head. It feels nice, to be held and treated so softly.

“You can talk to me, you can trust me,” he says, the urge to tell someone the truth I so strong but you’re scared he’ll think of you as disgusting or blame you for what happened.

His fingers thread through your hair until he’s massaging your scalp, and you sigh at the feeling. You’ve been craving physical touch for so long but it’s terrified you until now, until him.

You slowly look up at him, eyes locking with his through his glasses. You’re not sure if it’s depravation or desperation that makes you kiss his lips but you do.

Rejection hits you when he pulls you off of him, gently setting you beside him.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, looking at your lap. The only friendship you have, potentially ruined.

“It’s okay, I should probably go,” he says and you nod, following him to the door.

You cry yourself to sleep that night.

End of November

It’s been almost four weeks, since you’ve heard from him. He doesn’t text you, he doesn’t ask for a stupid little song even though you’ve made a list of them for everyday he’s missed.

You feel horribly sad, eyes lingering on the bottle of vodka sitting in front of you.

It also been four weeks since you’ve had a drink or touched drugs. A toxic cycle you’re trying to break, you’re not addicted to it. You like the numbness it brings, like an outlet or a cure to some sick disease festering inside of you.

Salem meows, making you look away. You crouch down and lift him up into your arms. He nuzzles against you, as you lay down on the couch.

You feel sick, utterly sick at how you managed to ruin the one good thing in your life. Why would he want to kiss you, someone so tainted and broken, someone so hideous.

The urge to break your lease and move away seems like the only reasonable option, even though deep down you know it’s insane.

How could you be so stupid? Why do you have to ruin everything?

Beginning of December Gojos Birthday.

The cold air nips at your skin, but you enjoy the walk home from work. Her Way by PartyNextDoor fills your ears, AirPods hidden under your black earmuffs.

You hiss as your ungloved hand reaches the freezing metal handle of the door to your building. You yank it open and rush inside, shivering.

Mrs. Tomioka stands by the mailboxes and smiles at you. You pause your music as her lips part.

“Oh dear, you need to layer up more,” she says staring at you dressed in nothing but leggings, a hoodie and fur boots. You simply nod, turning to walk away.

“How’s the cat?” she asks and your brows furrow.

“What?” You ask, she lives two floors above you and you’ve never mentioned Salem to her.

“The one your neighbor bought off me?” She asks.

“Gojo?”you ask and she nods.

“The little black cat he insisted I give to him. Someone had already bought him so he doubled it,” she says and your heart feels strange in your chest.

“You must have the wrong person, he said he found the kitten” you say and she shakes her head.

“No honey, it was him. The one with the blindfold, he said there was a girl in desperate need of a friend,” she says and you feel dizzy. You walk away from her, climbing up the stairs trying to process her words.

You find yourself walking to his door, hands gently knocking.

You feel a sense of euphoria when the door opens only it’s not Gojo. The woman you always see with him opens the door and stares at you. Your expression turns solem as she looks at you curiously.

“Is Gojo here?” You ask and she nods.

“He’s in the shower,” she says, your eyes catch the balloons with Happy Birthday written across them.

“It’s his birthday?” You ask and she nods.

“Thank you,” you say, walking toward your door and she closes his.

You pull out your phone and text him ‘Happy Birthday!’.

He doesn’t respond.

Mid December

The rooms dark as you curl into a ball, Salem nestled against your chest. Your anxiety’s so bad, you just want it to go away. Salems purring as your fingers run along his spine, grounding you. He’s the only thing keeping you afloat.

A light knock at your door has you blinking, you want to yell at them to go away but you’re drained of all energy.

The knocking continues, making Salem jump down from the bed. Annoyance fills you as you follow the kitten toward the front door, lifting him into your arms.

You don’t bother checking the peephole as you open it, so many feelings hit you as you stare at the man in front of you. Sadness, anger, confusion, yearning, it all hits you.

“Hi,” he says and your eyes sting. Salem fights to jump into his arms, so enthralled by the tall man.

You close the door and he doesn’t stop you.

“I just want to talk,” he says through the door as you set the cat down.

“I can explain,” he says but you don’t want to hear it. He’s like every man, they make you feel good until they don’t anymore.

He had promised not to hurt you and he lied, the organ beating in your chest hurts so badly because of him.

“Please go,” you whisper weakly, accepting that it’s over and he does.

December 22nd

Four messages hit your phone, Happy Birthday texts from your siblings, mom and grandma. You simply thank them with a heart emoji. You despise your birthday, another reminder of everything you’ve failed to accomplish in the previous year and how alone you are.

A knock at the door has you sighing, expecting the hideous daisies your grandma always sends you. You’re grateful and don’t have the heart to tell her how much you hate them.

The door swings open and you audibly gasp. Gojo stands there with his blindfold off and piercing blue irises stare into the depths of your soul. He’s beautiful, more so than you had conjured in your head.

“X & Y” he says and your head tilts, brows furrowing.

“What?” You ask.

“X & Y by Coldplay, that’s our song” he says, your chest tightens, you’ve heard it a million times.

I dive in at the deep end

You become my best friend

I want to love you but I don't know if I can

I know something is broken

And I'm trying to fix it

Trying to repair it

Any way I can

“It’s just a song,” you say and he shakes his head.

“Nothings just a song to you, it’s everything, it’s us” he says absolutely serious, blue eyes pinning yours.

“You kissed me and I couldn’t think, you’ve slowly become my bestfriend and that scared me. I had a bestfriend once, and he died… I thought I’d be sparing you from the horror that is my life because I don’t want to lose another friend, not you. But I saw you, hidden behind the music, spiraling and so scared. I saw you and never in my life have I wanted anything more,” he says, you stand there frozen trying to make sense of his words.

“You ignored me, made me feel unwanted, ashamed and so sad,”you whisper, eyes watering. His hand reaches out to caress your cheek against his palm.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, I’ve never done this. And I know you’re too good for me, a better person than I’ll ever deserve but I’m just a guy desperately wanting a girl, the girl, to talk to him again” he says . His words are so foreign to your ears, so full of adoration, need and genuinuity.

“You missed the songs,” you say as he steps closer.

“I’m sorry” he breathes looking down at you.

“You didn’t answer my texts” you whisper, as he enters the apartment.

“Hardest thing I ever did”.

“You lied to me about Salem,” you say and he shuts the door, your hearts beating so fast, too fast that you fear it’ll give out.

“You needed him,” he whispers, hands cupping your face and he kisses you.

This kiss sends shocks throughout your body, from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. The hairs on your arms stand up and your pupils dilate. His tongue prods against your lips and you open them, feeling his mouth hungrily lap at yours.

Your nails dig into the muscles of his arms, nipples hardening and core aching. Nothing but your mingled breaths, fill the apartment.

His hands slide down to your ass and you tense. You still against him and he stops, his forehead pressed against yours. His hands pin to your waist.

“I won’t hurt you, not ever,” he says and you nod, tears sliding down your cheeks. You want this to be real, to believe him.

“Pick a word. Any word, you use it and this all stops,” he says.

“Butterfly” you whisper, standing on the tips of your toes to kiss him. It’s sweet and gentle, this is Gojo, he won’t hurt you.

He pulls you down to the couch with him, straddling his waist. Nerves prickle at you, his fingers skimming the naked skin of your arms. You can feel the bulge underneath you and your eyes close.

“You’re safe,” he whispers in your ear, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I’ll never let anything bad happen to you,” he says, lips brushing your cheek. The safety net he’s created around you, creates warmth in your belly.

His lips brush against your neck, soft wet kisses trailing along the smooth column. You moan as he sucks at the skin, fingers gripping the wrist that hold your waist.

“Do you want me touch you?” he asks and you nod against him, you haven’t felt this kind of desire in your life, it outweighs your fear. You trust him.

“Show me where”he says and you redden, unsure of what he means. Your hand grabs his and he looks at you.

“Here” you say shyly, pressing his hand against your core. His hand moves against you, palm digging into your cloth covered pussy but the pressure feels so good. You bite your lip, face scrunching and it makes him painfully harder. He stops and you worry, but he fingers graze the waist band of your shorts.

“Is it okay if we take these off?” He asks and you nod, slowly standing up so he can slide them down you. You look down, nervous. The words fat, ugly, slut and whore resonate and your chest constricts. He kneels down infront of you, fingers grazing the hem of your tank top. He lifts it off and tosses it, leaving you in nothing but your panties. You fight the urge to cover yourself and hide.

“So beautiful,” he whispers looking up at you, and you sigh when his lips meet your belly. He peppers the flesh with kisses, every touch going to your core.

He gently moves you so you can sit back on the couch. Your chest heaves watching him kneeling before you. His fingers grip the edge of your panties, and you watch him slide them down. Your legs close and his large hands press against your thighs.

“Do you trust me?” He asks and you nod.

His eyes don’t leave yours as his hands pry you open. He looks at your pussy with lust and awe, fingers grazing through your folds and you buck against them.

His thumb grazes your clit and you cry, eyes locked on his.

“I’m gonna make you feel good, okay?” He asks and you nod, watching his thumb circle your clit and feel a long and thick finger, push inside of you. Your hands clutch at the couch cushions, desperate to claw at the flesh of his arms.

“Relax, gonna stretch you out” he whispers and you nod, trying your best to calm down despite the sensation inside of you. Your face morphs into discomfort when he adds a second finger, his movements slow down to let you adjust.

He leans down and presses a kiss to your clit for distraction and your eyes widen. Your fingers slide through his scalp and tug at the white silky strands when his tongue pokes your clit.

The feeling of his fingers become pleasurable and you grind against them, gasping when you feel his wet tongue drag across your pussy. It’s too much, you feel like you’re going to die.

His tongue flicks across your clit over and over until his mouth devours your pussy entirely, sucking it and lapping the juices that leak from you. You flush red as you grind against his face, chasing the end of what the knot in your stomach promises.

He groans against you and it vibrates your pussy making you cry out as you cum, his fingers speeding up their pace as he drags out your orgasm. Your legs shaking as your thighs try to close. He lazily licks at you, sending little aftershocks through you.

When he’s done, he presses several kisses to your cunt and then your inner thighs, to your belly and the valley between your breast until he’s kissing your lips. Everything about this is so erotic, you feel so high off of your release and how good he makes you feel.

He pulls back and his forehead presses against yours.

“Did you like it?” He asks and you nod, watching him grab your clothes. He chuckles as he slides your panties up and then your shorts. You raise your arms and he slides the tank top over you.

“Happy birthday” he whispers against your lips. You have no idea how he knows but you don’t care.

“Thank you,” you smile up at him.

“I have your gifts in my apartment,” he says making you feel tingly inside.

“You didn’t have to get me anything, “ you say, you feel horrible you didn’t get to see him on his birthday or even talk to him but that was his fault.

“I’ll be right back,” he says and walks out the front door. You rush to your room, and reach for the stupid thing you had made him. You feel doubt, he may hate it but it comes from your heart.

You sigh, looking at Salem curled into a ball on your bed and grab the cd. You close the door and see Gojo with several packages… you deflate. You’re actually the worst gift giver in the world.

“I know we didn’t get to see eachother for your birthday but I made you this which seems quite lame now. I know everything’s digital but I wanted you to have something physical,” you say handing him the blue wrapped gift.

He opens it and you swallow, as he stares at the cover. He laughs at the picture of Pearl with her pitchfork and turns it over to see the songs listed. His finger stills on track number seven.

“X & Y” he reads aloud and you nod.

“I told you we share the same brain” he says before kissing you, his arms circling your waist and lifting you off the ground. You smile against him.

You’re not use to this kind of affection, it feels overwhelming. It makes you want to just burst at the seams.

“I love it,” he says putting you down.

“Your turn,” he says gesturing toward the bigger box on the coffee table. You nervously touch the pink wrapping paper and rip it. You swallow roughly, staring at the white audio technica record player. You reach for the thinly stacked pile of gifts and open them revealing record after record of your favorite albums. Your throat feels raw, tears pricking your eyes and you look up at him.

Your arms wrap around him and squeeze him like if you let go he’ll be gone. Tears soak his shirt as his arms hug back, his lips press against the top of your head.

“Seemed like something you’d like” he said and you nodded. You wanted to collect vinyls but it’s such an expensive hobby, so you held off.

“Thank you, for everything”.

Beginning of January

Gojo: song ?

You: Coming Down, The Weeknd

Gojo: you’re freaky

You blush at the text.

You: aren’t you suppose to be working?

Gojo: I’d rather talk to you, let me see you

You hesitantly open your camera app, trying not to let the insecurities get to you as you snap a picture of you smiling and send it.

Gojo: so fucking pretty

Your insides stir at the compliment, you love the way he makes you feel. Fear tries to crawl its way up at the thought of this being taken away. It’s like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop because how could someone so beautiful be into you?

Mid January

Gojo wants to take you on a date but he’s aware of your anxiety, the way you hide behind your music when in public to avoid social interactions.

You love it just being the two of you, no expectations no pressure, just the two of you in this little bubble.

“Gojo?” You ask watching him eat his General tso on the couch and you eat your bourbon chicken across from him.

“What was your bestfriends name?” You ask and he stills. You hope you’re not crossing a line but you want to know everything about him, the good and the bad.

“Suguru Geto,” he says, his voice cracks and you look down at your lap.

“How’d he die?…” you ask, the room is silent as he thinks of what to say.

“Car accident” he lies to you, one day he’ll tell you the truth but he doesn’t want you to look at him differently, not now and not ever.

“I’m sorry, if you ever want to talk about it I’m here,” you say with sincerity, hand reaching to touch his. His fingers lace with yours and he stares at you, blue orbs in awe.

“Can I ask you something?” He asks and you nod, dreading what it is.

“What happened to you?”he asks, your fingers tremble as you look down at your lap. Your lips move and you speak, your ears block out every word, every detail that leaves you as tears roll down your cheeks. You avoid his reaction, you can’t bare for him to look at you differently.

When it’s done, your chest hurts like it’s being crushed.

You feel yourself being lifted, his hands gripping the back of your thighs as they wrap around his waist. Your arms fall over his shoulders and your head in the crook of his neck. You don’t realize you’re shaking against him as he presses kisses to your face.

“You’re safe now,” he whispers, trying to not think of you so scared and vulnerable. How someone could hurt you and be so cruel to you.

He carries you to his room and you fall asleep against his chest, his fingers grazing your back as he promises nothing bad will ever happen to you again.

Beginning of February

Your fingers grip the recliner, absolutely scared. You’ve never felt this scared from a movie but god it’s fucking brutal and you love it.

Gojo laughs as you jump from the chair in shock, he’s never seen you this animated.

“Christ…” you breathe watching the possessed girl stab her brother.

“It’s just a movie, baby” Gojo whispers, grateful he rented the movie theatre out. Even though he loves your reactions, popcorn would’ve been thrown at you by now.

“My stomach hurts” you whine.

“That’s anxiety,” he chuckles squeezing your hand. The jump scares are too much and you bury your face in his side. Your hands covers your face, eyes peeking through your fingers. You’re definitely sleeping at his place tonight, there’s no way you’re gonna be home alone after this.

Once the movies over, your hand grips his for dear life trying to process what the fuck you just watched.

“I assume you didn’t like it” he says.

“I loved it!” You answer, surprising him. Evil dead rise now easily one of the best horror movies you’ve seen in a long time.

He laughs as he holds your joined hands up to his lips. You both walk through the mall, stopping when Gojo sighs and you spot three teenagers staring at you with wide eyes and dropped jaws.

“Sensei!” A pink haired boy shouts running up to you.

“You have a girlfriend?” The spiky haired boy with him asks, looking to Gojo.

“She’s too pretty to be his girlfriend” the girl shakes her head.

“What are you three doing here?” He asks them.

“Following you,” the pink haired boy says like it’s the most normal answer.

“Yuji said you’ve been acting weird, so we decided to see for ourselves. Hi, I’m Nobara Kugisaki!” The girl says holding her hand out to you and you shake it.

“That’s Yuji, and that’s Megumi,” she says pointing to the boys beside her. Yuji smiles but Megumi simply looks bored. You instantly recognize them as Gojo’s students he had told you about.

“We were going to eat, did you want to join us?” You ask.

“No!” Gojo says.

“Yes!” Nobara and Yuji beam.

The five of you fall in step to the little pizza place inside the mall. Yuji and Nobara ask you a million questions while Gojo scowls beside Megumi.

You all find a table and order a half and half cheese and pepperoni pizza and then a Hawaiian pizza.

“He got you a cat?!” Nobara asks and you nod, pulling your phone out to show her pictures of Salem. She gushes, and smiles at Gojo.

“I wish someone would get me a cat?” She sighs taking a bite of her cheese pizza.

“The last thing you need is a cat” Gojo says and Megumis lips tug upward.

“How long have you guys been dating?” Yuji asks and your cheeks redden.

“Is this an interrogation?” Gojo asks and you chuckle, he seems annoyed by them but you can tell he loves them.

Gojo’s grateful when it’s over and you two are in his apartment after grabbing Salem from yours. Salem runs rampant around Gojo’s place.

“I love them” you say referring to his students and he smiles, pecking your lips.

“They’re a handful but they’re good kids, really good kids”.

March

You tense into Gojo’s side, his fingers gently grazing up and down your arm. It’s innocent but you feel it all around you. He hasn’t initiated anything since your birthday and you kind of wish he would.

The idea of sex doesn’t seem so scary since he made it enjoyable for you. He stares at the movie on the screen as you think about his head between your legs, his tongue licking at you. Your fingers dig into your thigh, and it’s like you can feel his fingers inside of you. A fire starts in your belly and you look up at him, he can feel your eyes on him and his brows furrow.

“What’s wrong?” He asks.

“Can you touch me?” you ask.

“I am,” he says, fingers tapping against your arm and you turn red.

“Down there” you whisper and feel him pull away from you. You fear you’ve ruined this routine you’ve fallen into but feel him lifting you up. You laugh as he tosses you over his shoulder and walks you to his room.

Your hearts in your ears, unsure of what will happen but you need to feel his skin against yours.

He sets you on the bed and you stare up at him with eager eyes.

“Safe word?” He asks.

“Butterfly” you say.

“Good girl” he says, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“I’m gonna undress you now” he says and you nod, standing up so he can take your clothes off. The rooms dark but the moonlight gives enough lighting for him to see your body. His hands glide up your sides, squeezing your hips.

Your fingers reach for the hem of his shirt, tugging on it to let him know you want it off. You desperately want to see him. He smiles and lifts it up and over his head. Your stomach clenches at the sight of his muscled body and abs but the trail of white hair leading down into his pants makes your toes curl into the carpet.

“Can I touch you?” You ask and his hand grabs yours, pressing it against his stomach. Your fingers burn under the heat of his skin, sliding over the toned ridges of his body. He’s so warm you want to feel him against you.

“You’re so pretty”you tell him and he kisses you, his tongue finding home in your mouth, devouring you entirely. You moan against him, feel his fingers touch your clit. He bites your lips, rubbing against the bud and your face scrunches. A gasp escapes you when you feel his finger enter you, gently pushing you down onto the bed.

His finger fucks into you at a gentle yet deep pace, he wants you to enjoy this despite how badly he wants to fuck you into the mattress. His thumb works circles into your clit and your hips push forward, taking him deeper in you.

He adds a second finger and you cry, his pace slightly increasing but the fullness has you gripping the comforter as you writhe against him.

“Cum baby, you can do it” he encourages and you do when his fingers push against this one spot that has your eyes rolling back. You twitch against him he withdraws his fingers, your nipples become painfully hard as he takes them in his mouth.

“The sweetest girl” he says licking at them. He grabs your clothes and you stop him, kneeling up on the bed.

“I want more” you say nervously.

“Are you sure?” He asks and you nod, your trembling fingers reach for his belt, eyes locked on his as you undo it. Your fingers drag his zipper down and stop, anxiety crawls up. You feel like you’re going to throw up, he sees it and presses his forehead against yours.

“It’s me and you, you control this. One word and it stops, I won’t do anything you don’t want to” he says and you nod, kissing his cheek.

“Can you do it?” You ask and he nods, pushing you back down. You stare at the ceiling, listening to him undress and your throat bobs.

It’s Gojo, he would never hurt you.

He grabs a condom from the bed side drawer and tears it open with his teeth. You don’t look down, scared you’ll want this to stop. He rolls the condom on and spreads your legs open. Your heart is beating inhumanly fast.

“Let me take care of you” he says before pressing kisses to your inner thighs, easing the tension out of you. You whimper when you feel him kiss your clit before he crawls on top of you.

“Ready?” He asks and you nod, feeling the head of his cock nudge at your opening. He feels too big as he tries to ease inside, and he see the panic in your eyes. He kisses your cheeks, hesitant to continue but you nod letting him know it’s okay. You want this, you want him.

The stretch is painful as he inches further inside of you, tears fall from your eyes and he feels so much guilt pressing kisses to every tear until he’s bottoming out inside of you.

You feel so full, but he doesn’t move, letting you adjust. His thumb circles your clit and you moan, squeezing around him. He groans at the feel of you choking the life out of his dick.

He hasn’t had sex in three years, something you don’t know and he doesn’t want to fuck this up by cumming before you do.

“You’re squeezing the life out of me baby, gotta relax” he says.

“I’m sorry” you squeak and he kisses you.

“It feels really good, but I gotta take care of you first” he assures you and you nod. Your mouth opens when he pulls out and slowly thrusts back in, he hits something deep inside of you and you tremble slightly.

He continues this slow thrusting, feeling your nails drag across his back. Milky white skin turning red.

He’s trying his best not to lose control but his thrusts become faster and you cry, feeling his hand press down on your stomach. He grunts with every thrust, sending heat to your pussy as you grip him like a vice.

“You’re doing so good baby,” he says knocking into your cervix and you both moan as his body crushes against yours, arms wrapping around you. He fucks into you over and over feeling you shake around him. You feel this strange sensation, like something is begging to release from you. He knocks into your cervix again and you sob, feeling yourself cum around him, liquid gushing out of you and you feel mortified.

“I’m sorry” you say as he stills inside of you, your thighs now wet.

“You squirted baby, it’s okay. Can you do it again?” He asks, you’re not sure but you nod and he moves inside of you, thrust harder and faster as he ruts into you, he grabs your hand and places it over your belly underneath his.

You feel the bulge he’s making inside of you, feel his cock moving inside of you under your skin and it sends you over the edge, cumming like your life depends on it and he grunts, fucking into you until he’s cumming too. He pulls out and rolls you over to lay on top of him.

“Are you okay?” He asks and you smile up at him.

“I think I love you” you say and he laughs.

“I know I love you,” he says back.

“You do?” You ask and he nods.

“I knew it the moment you saw Salem in my arms, like for the first time, there was something worth caring about,” he says, your fingers tracing circles into his chest.

“I think you’re healing me” you say.

“I think we’re healing eachother” he says pressing his lips to your temple.

“All I want is you. I want this everyday, forever, you, me and salem” he says, and you smile. You press a kiss to his sternum.

“You, me and Salem”.

I’ll do grammar check later, I was trying to get this out asap! thanks for reading! Also I didn’t mention it but it’s canon that gojo lied about needing eggs, milk and sugar just as an excuse to talk to her!

@kakashixhatakesxwhore @erensblackwife

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru #gojo smut #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #satoru gojo #jjk satoru #jujutsu kaisen smut #lucygojo

477 notes · View notes

vanilladove · 11 months

Text

❤︎ ₊ ⊹ get free (1/3)

pic creds luvpngs | gif creds akashi-tetsuki

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ pairing: asylum patient!nikolai x asylum attendant!fem!reader

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ genre: v suggestive w/ plot (yasssss); read at your own discretion

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ content warnings: unhealthy relationships, infidelity, slightly yandere(?) nikolai, dubious consent, nikolai himself is a warning lol, also sorry if the asylum! au is inaccurate

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ summary: reader is an asylum attendant and is assigned to their newest admit nikolai gogol. ALSO this fic is heavily inspired by @/cherikolya's fic she's the one i'm running with- pls check it out and support her! also i'm splitting this up into 2 parts bc watching the aot anime has been breaking me and consuming all my thoughts, but i still want to post:( ˚₊‧꒰ა read pt 2 & pt 3 & bonus (bad ending) ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ word count: 5.7k (oops...what can i say nikolai makes me delulu)

"Nikolai Gogol. Age 26. Male. Charged with terrorism, first-degree murder, and treason among other things, but he got off with an insanity plea. Look over his file before he comes in later." The man behind the desk tossed the neat file carelessly onto the acrylic surface, exhaling boredly after giving his monotone rundown.

"I'm being assigned to him? But I already have other patients to take care of!" You inquired, fists forming at your sides as you already imagined the overtime and exhaustion you were going to rack up.

"Attendants don't grow on trees, do they? Don't assume I'll give you special treatment. Besides, I'm handing your other patients off to the new girls, so you'll be able to focus on Gogol. He's high priority." The man butted back.

Tch. You sighed and grabbed the file, mumbling a "fine" and turning to leave his office.

"Goodbye, dear." He spat it out like venom with a forced smile. You glanced back once more at the man: your boss--or rather husband--before heading out the door. You two were simply a marriage of convenience--a business transaction. In exchange for funding to build a new asylum on par with Mersault to rehabilitate criminals, your father had offered your hand in marriage to his business partner's son, who had become entranced by your beauty after seeing you once in your father's office. He wasn't too bad of a man at first, and you both related over your occupation together, but your marriage started to go sour after he realized you weren't just a pretty face or obedient wife, and it worsened after his narcissism and egocentricity started to show. He was too traditional and trapped you in his cage of rules and regulations. Even sharing the same bed and having dinner together couldn't reignite the nonexistent spark between you.

You walked back to your office and closed the door behind you before making yourself some herbal tea to calm your nerves. Laying down on the plush couch in the middle of your room, you looked through your new patient's file, trying to memorize all the details.

Nikolai Gogol, huh? What kind of person are you? You shivered reading the list of his crimes, which seemed endless and cruel.

An hour or so had passed before you heard a soft knock at your door. "Miss?" Another attendant had come to fetch you. "Your patient is waiting for you in the white ward." The white ward was where "high priority" or more dangerous patients were kept.

"I'll be out in a moment!" You called out, getting up from the couch and tidying up the space before fixing your hair and pulling down your uniform. It was a black flowy dress with puffy bell sleeves and a white rounded collar. The dress itself was a bit too short, being designed and chosen by your gross and perverted lovely husband. You walked out the comfort of your office and followed the attendant to the white ward.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"Miss, this is your patient Nikolai Gogol". The attendant gestured to the tall man standing in the hallway outside of his room. He was strapped and held by two guards, with several others surrounding him holding special guns. He had a neutral smile on his face that turned upwards upon seeing you. You couldn't help but be momentarily mesmerized by the man in front of you. He wore a loose white button up and white linen pants--the standard male patient uniform--and his white hair was messily layered with a long, neat braid on his shoulder. His eyes were the most captivating to you, one emerald and full of life and the other a dull blue with a scar. Without the jester attire donned in his file pictures, he actually looked quite...handsome and prince-like?

You snapped yourself back to reality after remembering who you were dealing with and bowed slightly, just enough to stop your dress from riding up.

Observing the situation, you could sense the belligerence seething from everyone else. Not that you could blame them, the new patient was a dangerous anarchist. Your personal philosophy was always to treat the patient as humanely as possible in order to build trust and security, so you tried to not think about your new patient's file information. Just focus on diffusing the energy of the space and getting the jester to somewhat like you.

"Hello, Nikolai. I'm your attendant and will be taking care of you for the duration of your stay here," You looked back up and smiled gently at him, starkly contrasting the hostile glares from the other attendant and guards. "Let's get along, okay?"

Nikolai's eyes widened immediately and he tried to move closer to you. "Whaaaa! Nice to meet you, pretty miss! I can't believe such a beautiful girl is taking care of me!" The two guards forcibly stopped him from taking another step and the others pointed their guns at him.

Nikolai frowned and stopped squirming. "Hey! All I did was talk! Put those scary things away!" He giggled as the guards retracted their guns slowly and stuck his tongue out at the other attendant, who looked disgusted yet scared. He wasn't intimidated or scared at all. The guards then opened the door to Nikolai's room and placed him sitting down on his bed. Before you could follow to begin debriefing, the other attendant tugged on your arm lightly.

You turned back at looked at her. She had a fluffy blonde bob, light green eyes, and freckles. Lacey, one of the young new hires your husband mentioned earlier. "Um Miss, aren't we supposed to follow the script when interacting with patients? I thought smiling at them and speaking casually promoted unwanted feelings and was unprofessional?" You cringed, loathing that she sounded just like your husband when he was lecturing.

You shot her a fake sugary smile, "Oh, yes, I usually just take a softer approach with more unstable patients. Don't want them to stab you in the back immediately, do you?" You tried to answer lightheartedly, but your efforts clearly failed by the way Lacey had a horrified look on her face from your little joke, like it was the worst answer you could've said. You awkwardly coughed and put your hand on her shoulder.

"Right, thanks for reminding me, Lacey. It's great that you remembered the boss's words." Rolling your eyes once your back was turned to her, you stepped into Nikolai's room. You already dreaded Lacey telling your husband about you deviating from protocol and the long talk he would have with you at home.

"Four of us will be staying here to observe the debrief, Miss. This man is dangerous." You nodded as each of the four the guards stood in a corner of the room and the rest filed out of the room. You pulled up a stool and sat down, giving your new patient a run down of his daily schedule and how the asylum operated. The whole time, his eyes watched you excitedly like a puppy and he giggled and nodded frequently in between your sentences. It was strange and unsettling, but you were slightly relieved you didn't have to deal with an aggressive patient.

Scooting closer to Nikolai, you pulled out a small water bottle and a case of different pills. "These are your daily meds, Nikolai. I'll come to give these to you every morning at six before breakfast. I'll monitor your progress and adjust your dosage as time goes on." He nodded as you stood up and placed the water bottle on the stool, putting on a white latex glove and pouring the pills out into your hand. "I'm going to be administering them to you just for today. Open your mouth and don't close it until I'm done, okay?"

"Okay, missy! I'll be a good boy and try not to bite your pretty fingers off!" Nikolai perked up and giggled like a child getting candy. You mentally cringed and prepared yourself for the worst as you stepped towards him. What could you expect? This man was dangerous and had no reason to listen to you. The guards tensed up as you moved closer and pointed their guns at the jester's face. You swallowed as Nikolai opened his mouth, obnoxiously saying "ahhhhhhhh" and bouncing in his spot lightly.

Heartbeat increasing, you placed your free hand under Nikolai's jaw, thumb supporting his chin and lifted his face up slightly to you as you dropped the pills into his mouth. Mind racing and anxiousness clouding your vision, you missed the way he gaze softened. He closed his mouth and leaned into your touch more, nuzzling your delicate fingers. You swiftly pulled away, turning your head back to grab the water bottle behind you, attempting to hide the light rose that dusted your cheeks, unsure of whether it was from fear or embarrassment. Nikolai's eyes were still intently on you, so you secretly hoped he had missed that.

As you opened up the water bottle and stepped back towards Nikolai again, he shook his head. "I already swallowed them, I don't need any water, miss attendant." He opened his mouth again to show you proof before you sighed out an "okay" and tightened the cap back on. You grabbed the empty pill case before gesturing to the guards to put their guns down. They complied and two came over to slowly undo the restraints on his upper body, making sure to hold him back immediately after.

"Well, Nikolai, that's all for today. Thank you, and I--"

"Whoa, missy, you have a ring! Too bad you're already married!" Nikolai interrupted, his head poking up but quickly being pushed down by one of the guards. You cursed yourself silently as you froze in place. Since you had to move around a lot and constantly clean, you wore your wedding ring on a simple gold chain as a necklace instead. It was usually tucked under your uniform, but it must have slipped out when you were laying on your couch earlier. You cleared your throat awkwardly, tucking your necklace back into your uniform and trying to get rid of the instinctive frown on your face that appeared anytime your partner was mentioned.

"Yes, I'm married. Anyways--"

“But you held my face so lovingly just now. Won't your husband get mad? You're supposed to do that to him, not your new captive, right?"

You tightened your fists at that.

"That man…does he treat you well, pryntsesa?" Even though his head was held down, his dark gaze still cut into you, now not as innocent as it was before. You were sure the cheeky man was smirking too, taunting you with an otherwise harmless question.

You let out a fake laugh and an even faker wide smile in response, just eager to leave and go home now. Whatever charm you had your patient initially under had clearly faded away. "I'll see you tomorrow at six, Mr. Gogol." Nikolai's smirk turned down after hearing the name change, but quickly turned back up again followed by loud hysterical laughs--unbeknownst to you, who had already left his room.

"So the little ptashka wants to play games, does she?"

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"Thanks for dinner, dear." Your husband said, wiping his mouth with a neatly folded handkerchief.

Shocking. Is he being...nice?

"Of course, I've already packed your lunch for tomorrow, too." You replied, occupied washing dishes and organizing the kitchen again.

"So, how was your first encounter with Gogol?" He inquired, walking over to you to put his dishes into the sink and lean against the counter beside you. You stopped for a moment, surprised he was making conversation with you today, as he usually retreated back to your shared bedroom or went to the living room to watch the news.

You were about to start until you noticed his brows furrowed and his arms crossed. You took your rubber gloves off and placed them next to you.

Oh boy, he's about to lecture me, isn't he?

"What are you really trying to say?"

He exhaled. "Well, Lacey--"

That snitch. You couldn't believe her.

"Ahhh, Lacey. The sweet young new girl you hired as extra help. What about her?" Your spouse's eyes narrowed.

"Respect your coworkers, dear. Lacey told me about your unprofessional interaction with Gogol. Smiling at a murderer and treating patients as friends doesn't exactly align with the asylum's values, now does it?" He said sternly.

"I was just trying to immobilize him. You can't exactly make a patient trust you when everyone's just shooting daggers at them, y'know?" He didn't look convinced. "Besides, this has always been my approach since I started in this field, and it's never failed me. You more than anyone should know I have the most successful recoveries among all the staff."

"Fine. Just make sure your unorthodox tendencies don't rub off on the other staff." He looked down at your neck. "And don't tuck your necklace under your uniform anymore. Don't want all the delinquents getting the wrong idea. You're off the market now" He lifted the chain of your necklace and traced the outline of the ring before letting go and walking to grab his coat and a pack of cigarettes.

"Going outside for a smoke break. You should get to bed and get some sleep for the long day tomorrow" He replied before walking out the door, your eyes following him.

You didn't miss the way he swiftly grabbed the keys and fixed his hair before leaving.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"Good morning, dove!" Nikolai chirped upon you entering his room.

"Good morning, Nikolai. Did you sleep well?" You asked softly, taking his medication out and handing it to him, along with some Ukrainian candy.

"Mmhmm, yes I did! I had a sweet dream, too, doll, but I can't tell you what it was about!" He said excitedly. Used to his antics, you only laughed in response and watched as he took his pills--still without water for whatever reason and unwrapped the minky binky candy, popping it into his mouth.

Five weeks. That was how long it'd been since Nikolai was admitted to the asylum.

Despite your initial worries of dealing with a monster, you and Nikolai had gotten along quite well. He seemed to only listen to you, though, much to the dismay of the other attendants. It was beneficial for you though, since it meant you didn't have to work overtime seeing to other patients.

Nikolai had developed a habit of calling you by anything but your name, bestowing several different pet names on you--a new upgrade from "miss" and "missy".

He also became increasingly touchy with you as well: constantly holding your hand--intertwining his fingers with yours, braiding your hair, and hugging you when he felt "cold". Perhaps you were desensitized to it or just touch starved, but you rarely complained about it. You would rather keep him happy and easy to deal with, anyways.

"Look, pretty girl, I finished all my meds!" Nikolai exclaimed as he opened his mouth to show you proof that he swallowed them all.

You gave him a friendly smile. "You aren't having any bad side effects from your meds, are you?" You found it a bit odd that Nikolai's dosage never changed, since no one could pinpoint his exact condition. It made your job easy, though, so you tried not to think much about it.

"No ma'am. I had some trouble sleeping at first, but it's all gone now!" He stood up from his bed and watched as you straightened it up--simultaneously checking for anything suspicious. There never was anything somehow.

His hands loosely wrapped around your waist as he pressed himself against your bent back and rested his chin on your shoulder, causing you to push your hands into the sheets and wrinkle the thin blanket. You let out a surprised squeal when you felt his warm breath on your ear.

"Love, can we eat breakfast in the courtyard today?" He whispered softly, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. You felt yourself blushing as you turned around and pushed him away, his hands still remaining on your waist.

"Y-Yes, N-Nikolai, we can go to the courtyard today." You said, finally stepping away to be free of his touch just for him to hold your hand. He flashed a happy smile at you while skipping out the door, tugging you along with him.

"Yayyyy! Me and ptashka are going on a date~"

"...It's not a date, silly." You replied back, blush still faintly across your cheeks.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You inhaled the fresh courtyard air, still holding hands with Nikolai as you walked on the cobblestone path. His breakfast to-go box and your lunchbox were on the nearby bench; you both already ate, but Nikolai basically ate most of your food, claiming the dining hall food was "stale and dry" compared to the pillowy cream puffs you'd brought.

"Wahhhh! Look at the fishies, dove!" Nikolai exclaimed, waving his finger at the koi fish swimming in the fountain. They eagerly swam towards him, probably thinking he was going to feed them. He giggled, eyes focusing in on two of the fish.

"Don't those two look like us, love?" You were snapped out of your previous trance and looked down to see a black koi fish and a larger white koi fish together cuddling into each other.

"Oh, I guess they do. Because of our uniforms, right?" You looked back up to Nikolai to see him frowning and still staring at the fish.

"No, dove, because they're in love..." He said lowly, to the point where you almost couldn't hear him. His gaze softened as he looked back down at you and cupped your face gently.

In love? Us?

Eyes widened, you felt confused as you looked away, not sure how to respond or think. The sudden action caused Nikolai's hands to drop away from your face. You closed your eyes, not wanting to see his disappointed face as you stammered, "We're not in lo--"

Your eyes flew open again as you felt something hard in your hand.

A bouquet of lavender roses was in your hand, with Nikolai giving you a big grin with his hands behind his back. "Pretty flowers for my pretty girl." You blushed, forgetting about what had just happened. You had always loved roses and their romantic charm.

When was the last time your husband brought you flowers?

"Lavender roses symbolize delight and love at first sight. They remind me of you." Your eyes widened again as you looked up, Nikolai turning serious and gazing at you affectionately, like you were really lovers.

You found yourself getting lost in his heterochromatic eyes. Somehow, you felt peaceful like this. Even though he was a dangerous criminal. Even though your heart was already sworn to another man.

"Thank you, Nikolai. They're beautiful." You said smiling at him, this time being genuine and not passive. You were falling into a serene state, only able to focus on him. His action had somehow touched your conflicted heart and put you in a good mood.

He laughed happily in response, pleased by your reaction. "You look lovely when you smile like that, sweetheart." He pulled your other hand back to the bench so you could sit.

"Also, you should give me a nickname, too. I have so many, but you only call me Nikolai~" He pouted, scooting next to you on the bench.

"Hmmmm...What should I call you then? Niko? 'Lai? Nikolas...?" You pondered, both of you slightly cringing at all of the options, each one sounding worse than the previous one.

"I know!" Nikolai exclaimed, grabbing your hands--still holding the flower bouquet--and clasping them together, "Kolya. Call me Kolya. That's what my close friends and family would call me!"

Family? You mean the ones you murdered? You tried to shake the thought.

"Kol--Ahh!" You cried out as you felt a deep prick on your left ring finger. You pulled your hand away from Nikolai's and dropped the bouquet, watching the blood drip down your finger and down to your thigh.

Nikolai's eyes filled with concern, "Love! You're hurt!" He rushedly rummaged through his breakfast box and his pockets, trying to find a napkin to stop the bleeding. You tried to calm him down, telling him you were fine, but he wouldn't listen.

Suddenly, he seized your left hand and brought it to his mouth, closing his lips around your ring finger. Shivers ran down your spine as you felt him running his tongue over your finger, getting every last drop of blood and kissing the spot slowly when he finished.

Heat rushed into your cheeks as the air felt thick, no longer serene and peaceful. Nikolai's eyes darkened, and an unreadable expression fell on his face.

"There's still some there, dove." He gazed down at the blood that had dripped onto your thigh. Your stomach churned at the thought of what he would do next as he pushed you down onto the bench and brought his lips to your inner thigh, leaving soft kitten licks all over the spot and lightly groaning.

"Niko--Kolya, s-stop--" You tried suppressing the moan threatening to spill out from the contact on your sensitive skin. You tried to push him away softly, but he wouldn't stop, now pressing light kisses that travelled up your thigh to your sweet spot. He was getting close. Too close.

You pushed his head away, not trying to be soft anymore, and sat up again, moving to the far side of the bench. You pulled down your dress again to cover your now reddened thigh.

"W-We can't do this. It's wrong. You're my patient, and I'm your attendant. And..." You hesitated, regaining your composure, "...And I'm married." You said, biting your tongue. The gold necklace suddenly felt heavy around your neck, like it was pulling you down.

Nikolai laughed bitterly, "You don't love him though, myla. He's kept you trapped in a cage. Is that what you want, dove? Do you want to be trapped in his cage?"

"I--"

"Miss! Mr. Gogol! There you two are! We've been looking everywhere for you both. There's a group wellness activity starting for all the patients, and they're waiting on you." You turned around to hear a familiar high-pitched voice.

Lacey. The snitch new girl.

You put on a fake smile. "My apologies, I completely lost track of time. Lacey, you can escort Nikolai to the group's meeting spot. I'll be retiring to my office for the rest of the day." She nodded as you grabbed the bouquet and your lunchbox and took one last look at Nikolai before standing up from the bench and turning away, "I'll see you tomorrow, Nikolai." You didn't wait for a response back.

It felt too awkward. Everything felt confusing; you knew your place but you also wanted to be free. You liked Nikolai but you didn't know if those feelings could be considered love. You surely didn't love your husband...

All you could do was hold onto the roses and gaze up at a dove flying across the sky. For a moment, you wished to be like that dove. To be elegant, at peace, and loved.

You wished to be free.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to scan your access card and enter Nikolai's room. Today was a special day, after all.

"Good morn--"

"Love! You're finally here! I was waiting for you~" Nikolai exclaimed as he lunged towards you, burying his face into your neck. He wasn't wrong; The extra time you spent collecting your thoughts and debating going in or not made you two minutes late.

You lightly pushed Nikolai away--not before he caught your hands and intertwined them with his again--and tried to put a neutral smile on your face. "Nikolai, I have good news for you."

His face lit up as he clasped your hands and brought them towards his chest, "What is it, dove? Are you divorcing your husband and leaving him for me?" He shook your hands excitedly as you eyed him disappointingly. He really wasn't going to drop this lovesick act, was he?

You shook your head and cleared your throat, "No, as a reward for good behavior, you can choose a special place to visit and an item to keep in your room. Your options are the courtyard, the gy--"

"The library. I want a book to read." Nikolai stated, suddenly turning serious, taking you slightly aback; you didn't take him as the type to be able to sit still and read for a long time.

"Alright, the library it is then. Take your meds first, and then we can go, 'kay?" He nodded excitedly as you turned away from him to make his bed and do the usual check. Nothing suspicious, as usual.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The guard greeted you both as you approached the grand library doors. It was an old wooden room with tall glass windows that contrasted the relatively short bookshelves. It wasn't exactly a popular destination for patients, so the books were mostly dated and collecting dust. The natural light inside made it one of your favorite break spots during your trainee days, so it was a bit nostalgic for you.

"There are security cameras around the library, but radio in if anything happens." The guard explained sternly, looking over at Nikolai and then you, "Do you need assistance with your patient, or will you two be fine alone?"

You shifted your gaze over to Nikolai, who had a slightly mischievous smile on his face but maintained a serious expression. "We'll be fine alone. He'll behave." The guard nodded at you before opening the door and letting you two in. The door shut firmly and you tried to grab Nikolai's hand, but he dashed away from you towards the large stained glass window before turning to face you.

"It's so big in here, ptashka. I haven't been in a library in sooooooo long. I actually love to read, y'know?" He said, smiling and motioning for you to join him. The colorful stained glass reflected on his face, casting multicolored kaleidoscopes on his face.

You joined him, admiring his beauty momentarily before leaning against the window and crossing your arms. "I didn't know that, no. To be honest, I didn't think you were much of a reader.." You said lightly with a giggle.

Nikolai grinned back, "Heh. There's a lot you don't know about me, dove." He looked away, lowering his voice a bit, "But that's fine. You'll have plenty of time to learn everything later~" You looked at him confusedly, not quite catching what he said, but you remembered the reason you came and grabbed his hand again.

"Anyways, was there a particular book you were looking for? I know this place pretty well." He laughed in response.

"Ah, is that so? Well, I'm looking for The Overcoat. It's my favorite book." Nikolai said proudly, like he was trying to impress you with his literature selection.

"The books are sorted by last name. Do you know the author?" You asked, leading him towards the bookshelves. Nikolai just squeezed your hand and started skipping forward at a fast pace, practically dragging you behind him as he started giggling hysterically.

"Nope! Not a clue, hehe~" You paused and frowned at him. Who didn't even know the author of their "favorite" book? "The genre's fiction, though, if it helps~" Nikolai said giddily, turning towards you and swinging your arms from side to side. You sighed and slowly headed over to the fiction section. There were about 1,000 books to go through, so you weren't exactly too excited. Not that it bummed you out too much, though, since your husband had asked you to help the new girls clean if you finished early with patient duties. You supposed you'd rather spend your time with Nikolai finding his book.

You both agreed to search the shelves simultaneously, Nikolai looking on the higher shelves and you on the shorter ones. The space between shelves was quite narrow, making his chest rub against your back several times. He wasn't shy either, grabbing your hips to maneuver past you, causing you to jolt when he pressed himself behind you.

Starting to lose count of how many books and shelves you'd checked, you were falling into a tired daze until Nikolai's sudden shout woke you up. "I found it, dove! I'm the winner! Me, me, me!" You looked over to Nikolai, who now had his book in his hands, and shot him a relieved smile.

He hurriedly headed towards you as you gave him some congratulatory praise. "Guess our work's done here, then. Let's get some lunch and call it a da--"

He hugged you suddenly, making you yelp as he giggled and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your back against him. He leaned in by your ear, squeezing you tighter, inhaling your scent, "Say, dove, do you still have the roses I gave you from the courtyard?" You perked up toward him as he smiled, awaiting your response.

You did. You'd placed them in a small glass vase--trimming the thorns off--and put it on your dresser. Somehow, the sickly sweet smell was stronger in your room than it was in the courtyard. "Yeah," you smiled, "They're in a vase by my dresser. I couldn't bring myself to get rid of them because of how beautiful they were." Nikolai snickered at that, delighted that you'd cherished his little gift.

He slowly smirked, "Your husband doesn't give you flowers, does he?" You tensed up a bit under his arms but relaxed again, frowning and looking down.

"No, he doesn't. I think the last time was during our honeymoon." Nikolai cuddled into your neck after that, rubbing your sides like he was trying to comfort you.

"What a shame, love. You should leave him for me. He doesn't deserve you." Nikolai said, his teeth barely grazing your ear, sending shivers down your spine. Was the space always this narrow?

"I can't. It doesn't work like tha--"

"Why not, though? Leave him for me. I'm actually perfectly sane, y'know? I know how to make you happy, how to free you from his cage..." He paused, "How to touch you..." His hands on your waist trailed down, pushing your skirt up higher.

"H-hey!" You stammered, stopping his hands from going further with your own, "We can't do this. There are cameras here." You anxiously looked around, trying to find them, but Nikolai's hand grabbed your face and pulled it back down to him.

"Shhhhhh. Stop worrying, myla. This is a blind spot. It's covered by the light, see?" He tilted your face up slowly again toward the camera, which was in fact covered by a big, dusty lantern. How convenient.

He pushed your skirt up again and grinded himself on you, and you swore you could feel his bulge pressing up against you. "You've been driving me crazy, dove, since yesterday I've only been able to think about you," he grunted, slipping his hands into your loosened dress and under your lacy bra to palm and squeeze your breasts. "The sounds you made...I wanna hear them again."

Your head was screaming at you to run away and get the guard, but you couldn't ignore the wet spots on your matching lace panties from your arousal. To be honest, you didn't remember the last time you'd been this intimate with anyone, and your body was clearly craving touch. Your breath hitched as Nikolai kissed below your ear, working his way down to the crook of your neck. You were starting to feel lightheaded.

Becoming more desperate for a reaction, Nikolai suddenly pinched your sensitive nipples and bit down on your neck, causing you to yelp in pleasure. "A-ahh K-Kolya--" The sudden impact caused you to push back against his clothed member and grip onto the sturdy shelf in front of you for support. You could feel him grinning in satisfaction, letting out a low groan.

"Mmm there's the pretty noise I wanted to hear~" Nikolai replaced his lips with his tongue, trailing slowly up and down your neck as you kept bucking against him, needing more friction. "Dove," he heaved as you mewled upon feeling his tip brush against your clit through eachother's clothes. He couldn't handle seeing you start to lose yourself. "F-fuck, kiss me".

Nikolai grabbed your hips suddenly and turned you around, so your back was against the wooden shelf. You looked up at his face; he was panting heavily, eyes filled with lust, and a few strands loose from his usual kept braid. The sight of him made your cheeks flush and your panties even wetter. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in, bringing one hand to his lips and tracing his bottom lip with your thumb. You gazed intently at his lips. Just one kiss will be fine, right?

Both of your noses were practically rubbing against each other as Nikolai started to dip down. "Kolya, I--"

BAM!

You instinctively pulled away as you recognized the sound of the old library door being kicked down. As the stomping of the guards' boots grew closer, you pushed Nikolai off your body and fixed your dress. Nikolai shot you a surprised glance as the guards knocked down the heavy bookshelves to open up the space around the two of you, eliminating the narrow confines. You couldn't process what was happening as five guards circled around Nikolai, drawing their guns and pointing them at him as he put his hands up. Another guard was slowly approaching you, lifting the walkie talkie up to his mouth.

"06, copy. Patient Gogol has been surrounded and apprehended successfully. We're on our way to the interrogation room," He glanced over to you, still sitting down in shock, "His attendant's here, too. We'll bring her to you, Boss."

Boss? Your husband? Shit, had you been caught?

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't even notice Nikolai being handcuffed and pushed out the door--or the way he looked back at you--until the guard put his hand on your shoulder and called out your name. "Miss, we need to get going. We'll explain everything once we're with the boss again." He helped you up as you trailed slowly behind him with a churning stomach and The Overcoat clutched tightly in your arms.

˚₊‧꒰ა part 2 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

˚₊‧꒰ა part 3 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

#vanilladove #vanilladovebsd #bungo stray dogs #nikolai x reader #nikolai gogol x reader #nikolai smut #bsd smut #bungou stray dogs #bsd #nikolai gogol x reader smut #nikolai gogol #nikolai gogol smut #nikolai x reader smut #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #not me having to rewrite this twice bc tumblr didnt save properly #way too many words lol #splitting this up into 3 parts bc aot has been breaking me

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