Safe Keeping
by @mysticravenA burned-out hospice nurse hides her exhaustion behind sharp sarcasm—until she signs on as live-in caregiver for a wealthy, emotionally guarded man whose private ABDL rituals aren't about play, but a rigid system of safety and refuge. She clashes with his need for order; he resists her stubborn independence. Forced into close quarters, they discover that his diapers and her control are both armor—and vulnerability is far more dangerous than desire.
MEET THE CHARACTERS
Eleanor Vance
34, with the kind of bone-tiredness that lives behind her eyes no matter how bright she smiles. She has auburn hair she keeps twisted in a practical knot, pale skin, and the efficient, no-nonsense hands of someone who's spent years making dying people comfortable. When she's exhausted, her sarcasm sharpens to a blade, and she crosses her arms like armor.
Adrian Blackwood
38, with the controlled stillness of a man who's learned that composure is survival. His hair is dark, graying at the temples, and his eyes are a pale, watchful gray that miss nothing. Broad-shouldered but not imposing, he moves like someone used to being in charge of rooms—but there's a tremor in his hands when he's overwhelmed that he thinks no one notices.
EXPLORE CHAPTERS
The Interview
Eleanor stands in Adrian's study, her fingers pressed flat against the cool marble of a side table. The room smells of lemon polish and old paper. Adrian sits across from her, hands folded on the desk
The Contract
Eleanor's palm is still cold from the marble. She asks to see the contract. Adrian slides it across the desk, his fingers releasing the pen. She reads the line for personal care—vague, unfilled—and lo
The Stillness
Her palm stayed over his knuckles, the tremor gone, his skin warm and still. The clock ticked twice more, and he didn’t move. She looked at the contract—still open, still unsigned—then back at his fac
The Key
He reached into his jacket pocket — not the desk drawer — and the key came out on his open palm, brass teeth catching the lamplight. The metal was still warm from his body when her fingers brushed his
Still Warm
Eleanor's palm stays pressed over the key through the fabric of her pocket. The brass has begun to cool, but she doesn't remove her hand. Adrian's gray eyes haven't left her face; his thumb traces the