Dol Fanfic - Tumblr Posts

Male Kylar x Fem! Reader

TW: 18+ MDNI, Dub-con, BDSM, Anal, Pegging

Much to your annoyance, Kylar constantly begged you to fuck him. He'd hump against your leg like a dog in heat, with tears in his eyes he'd plead you for just a touch. For a taste of your body. He only wanted you just once he said, knowing that he was lying, but the painful ache in his pants couldn't be sated by his hands any longer. He promise he'd be good if you just let him put it inside you.

The day you finally decide to give him what he wants, he's over the moon. Kylar lays on your bed, naked with his dick twitching and hard. He's never leaked this much precum before, the entire tip of his cock looking wet and slick with the liquid. He's just waiting for you. You who said that you needed to step into the bathroom to freshen up.

He tries to hold back the shock he's feeling when you finally step into your bedroom. Your bare tits sitting beautifully has him panting, your waist, your stomach, but then his eyes fall on something else. The large pink strap-on cock that's on your body.

"Spread your legs,"

Out of fear, he'll do so immediately, knees pulling apart while trembling. You'll position yourself between them, grabbing his thighs to keep him spread open. A bottle of lube will be pulled from your bedside table, something he was certain was going to be used on you, but instead the slimy liquid drenches his asshole.

The fake, plastic cock pushes into his ass, making him see stars for a moment. His first time ever doing something like this is with you, which makes him happy, but the way you're mercilessly pounding into him is uncomfortable. He begs you to stop or slow down. Instead you grab his cock, using all that precum he had as lube as you stroke it at the same pace that you're fucking him.

He sobs that it's painful. That he doesn't want it. He starts those pathetic moans for a while, but after a few moments of you hitting his prostate with the tip of your cock, his sobs of pain turn to moans of pleasure.

"M-mo...more!" He manages to stutter out, causing you to smirk down at him.

And you give him more. Spreading his legs wider to give yourself access to that tight hole. He mewls while grabbing at your hips, trying to keep you as deep inside his ass as possible. He's drooling all over himself while taking it, little toes curling at each thrust.

He can't even announce that he's about to cum, all that leaves his lips is mumbled gibberish. But you feel it. The way his ass is squeezing your cock tells you enough.

He shivers a bit, green eyes clenched shut. His dick twitching in your hand, his balls tensing. His cum shoots from his cock. Shot after shot of the white liquid, as be practically screams out in pleasure. His face and chest are covered in his cum, a beautiful sight to behold.

You pull out from his ass and his body goes limp. He lays there on your bed, covered in his own semen, body shaking every so often. He falls asleep like this, without your permission. But as he snuggles into your bed, you find yourself unable to wake him.

He'll definitely ask you to fuck him again.

Wanting to write more Wolf boy! Whitney...

My god, I'm playing the newest update and him having an oral fixation too!! His long claws could be gripping your hair as he cums, the swell of his knot in your mouth making you leak drool and semen.

Wanting to write more Wolf boy! Whitney...

Still thinking about my pegging Kylar fic. Only nows he's addicted to taking the strap. You tell him you're tired and don't want to, but he insists that he'll do all the work, just lay back, he'll ride you, he swears. He's so committed to it, he even takes your bottoms off, and puts the plastic cock on your himself. While still down there on his knees, he'll start sucking at it, getting it wet with drool as his ass clenches, ready for it to split him apart.

Dol Sydney brain rot (R18)

—————-

Nothing but a pin drop can be heard throughout the church. The hall is empty, dark open to any sin that may want to come in to corrupt the innocent seeking sanctuary. Two people kneel at the front of it all. The statue looked down on them both, with a judging glare. Heavy breaths and soft moans are shared between the two sinners. Quiet and gentle, they basked in each other’s comfort. Feeling each other's warmth knowing they will face a greater heat when the depths of hell come to claim them both. “Oh.. please god.” The boy with long strawberry blond hair whimpers out, his slender fingers find their home in the hand of his lover. The one who made him starved for love and lust. For a moment he wonders if his God will ever forgive him, but it’s dismissed as soon as he feels his beloved's hands running through his messy strains of hair. His breaths come out hot as he prays into the skin of the most beloved person in heaven. Hoping that this moment lasts forever.

kylar is so gross </3 (18+)

Heavy pants and small gasps echo in the dark, old bedroom. The creepy orphanage is slowly coming to the end of the day, and the owner of the room, he is releasing his desires is gone. On the worn bed, he hugs the pillow closer to his head. It muffles the whines he lets out as a pair of his beloved panties are wrapped tightly around his throbbing pink cock. He ruts against the comfort with such force it makes the bed groan in pain. "oh.. pl-please please." his eyes are glued shut as his fantasies get the best of him. He imagines them on their knees in front of him, worshipping his cock, another of him shoving his cock in his love-breeding them for all their worth. More fantasy of his love begging- pleading with him to fill them up with his milky cum. His hips grow more fanatic as he reaches his breaking point, he breaths in the scent of his beloved's shampoo, as it only fills his need to cum. This is so gross all of it, sneaking into his obsessions room to jerk off in their bed with their underwear. but Kylar can't help it, it's their fault after all. They shouldn't have helped him back then

---------------------------------------------

a/n: this is proofread at all, I'm sorry for any spelling mistakes.

I’m stuck in a writers block soooooo my inbox thing should be open for stuff, I mainly write for JJK and dol so far as I’m in a fixed state for both those medias

You did Sydney and Kylar, so how about *flips coin* Robin with *throws dart* whipped cream or other food?

LMAO- Yes, I don’t really know how to write Robin but yes,

Also sitting in my math class while writing this •-•

Note: writing this with female aligned pc

—————————————

“Rob..Robin wait-“ she let out a choked gasp as the boy above her continued his relentless attack, her body moved up the cheap worn blanket lying on Robin’s bed. The iron grip on her hips increased as he dips his head down and laps up the remaining melted, sticky drink on her boobs. She rolls her eyes to the back of her head, as she arches off the bed. Maybe in a desperate attempt to get away from Robin, the overwhelming pleasure is heating the room to unbearable levels. It reeks of sex, sweat, and the forgotten milkshake. She wanted to share the sugary drink with her lovely boyfriend after he worked hard at his lemonade stand. How would she have known it would leave to this..? Oh well, not that she minds. Not when she gets to hear his pretty whimpering and moans directly in her ear.

———————-

A/n: math sucks btw

𝓖𝓻𝓪𝓫 𝓪 𝓬𝓸𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓪 𝓫𝓸𝓸𝓴, 𝓵𝓮𝓽'𝓼 𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓵 𝓾𝓹 𝓫𝔂 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮𝓹𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓮

(Keep scrolling for the master list) 𝑯𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒐 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑾𝒆𝒍𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒚 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒆 𝑨𝒔𝒉𝒆 ^^ 𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝑰 𝒕𝒆𝒎𝒑𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉…𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒑𝒐𝒆𝒎𝒔? 𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒔? 𝒐𝒓 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒔 𝒘𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈

"ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴡᴇʟʟ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ; ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ꜱʏʟʟᴀʙʟᴇ ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅʟʏ ɴᴀʀʀᴀᴛᴇꜱ ᴏᴜʀ ᴜɴɪᴏɴ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴠᴏᴡᴇʟꜱ ʙᴏᴡ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀɴɴᴏᴜɴᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇᴡ ʙᴇɢɪɴɴɪɴɢꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴏɴᴀɴᴛꜱ ꜱɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀʟʟᴀᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ"

𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏💜 [𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒐𝒌𝒂𝒚 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒔𝒖𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒈𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝒕𝒐𝒑𝒊𝒄𝒔]

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓑𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓯~

(updated on 13th Sep'24)

1) 𝑫𝒆𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒔 𝑶𝒇 𝑳𝒆𝒘𝒅𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝑭𝒊𝒄𝒔

2) 𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝑫𝒊𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔

3) 14 𝑫𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖

4) 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕

5) 𝑯𝒐𝒕 𝑲𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓 𝑩𝒂𝒃𝒆𝒔

6) 𝑨𝒔𝒌𝒔/ 𝑹𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒔

𝑰𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒇𝒂𝒓, 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒚. 𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒚, 𝑼𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝒏𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆~

Tag list-

#ashewrites📝 #mywords💜 #flâneur✨

#ashe’s mailbox📜 #tête à tête💜 #ashe’s journal🖌️

[ Side blog for reblogs- @flaneur002

All the follows will come from the main ]

Silent Confessions

[CW- themes of self hate, cursing/swearing, it’s sfw but mildly suggestive] Boyfriend Whitney x GN PC

His eyes opened by a fraction, blue orbs adjusting to the street light filtering in through the window in the small, stuffy room. He blinked rapidly, as if only now remembering how he ended up here. Whitney gently shifted in the small creaky bed, the worse for wear sheets covering your half naked body rode down with his movements.

You whined a little, flailing your arms around in an attempt to pull the boy closer, further entangling your limbs, under the sheets.

“Stop moving” you mumbled nosing along the crook of his neck. The sound of his steady pulse against your face gave you a sense of security, and a feeling of familiarity. A feeling that you were growing dangerously attached to, “l’m cold” you managed to whisper. Even half asleep you could practically see, no, feel him roll his eyes.

“You’re getting way too comfortable with me, aren’t you little one… ordering me around now, huh?” he murmured as he shifted in the cramped space, easily scooping you up and placing you atop him, as he pulled the old blanket over both of your forms. Despite his rough tone, his hands were gentle, like always. His chin came to rest on your head, strong arms holding your waist like a lifeline, and you found yourself unconsciously matching your breathing with his, secretly loving the way both of your chests touched when they rose and fell in tandem.

A beat of silence passed. Both of you said nothing, just listened to the sound of your combined breathing dancing in the dark. Whitney rubbed soothing circles on your back, slender fingers inching down to find the words written in black permanent marker near your left hip.

A small frown creased his forehead. His blue eyes caught the words emblazoned on your skin, reflected into the mirror of the dilapidated armoire. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he kept staring at the reflection transfixed.

He saw the way your legs wrapped around his waist, how your head rested on his chest, and those damned words that he himself wrote, sat there on your body, mocking him.It was all too intimate, and suddenly he regretted letting his guard down. Regretted letting you drag him to this dump of a place.

It was somewhere he had sworn not to enter. He had been here with his lackeys before. But he never stayed long. Those fleeting glimpses into your life were enough to sate his curiosity. Of this weird fixation he held about you. He hated that he was almost obsessed about knowing what you did after school, where you lived, whom you hung out with.

But when you finally humored his stupid request and took him to your crusty old orphanage, that small shy smile you wore when you showed him your bedroom, tore at his heart in a way that he simply couldn’t comprehend. He felt nauseated at the idea of defiling you in a place you felt safe in. Promising to himself that he will not ruin this little haven that you called home.

Yet here he was bathing in the after effects of his selfish decisions. No he wasn’t selfish. He was downright greedy. Eagerly taking everything that you so naively offered. That’s how your relationship had always been. Him taking incessantly and you giving immeasurably.

He heaved out a shuddering breath, willing his eyes to move from the reflection. He looked around the small quarters in a desperate attempt to divert his thoughts away from the dangerous chasm that they were leading him to.

You will never be enough for them

He clenched his eyes shut trying to drown out the annoying voice.

They are too kind for a pathetic human like you. You will simply drag them down.

“Shut.Up” he ground out, his grip tightening unconsciously around you. You winced in your sleep and Whitney blanched. He instantly loosened his grip and pressed a soft kiss to your hair as a silent apology.

He could hear the birds chirrup in the distance. Cold air found its way through a draft in the window to tickle his skin. The dawn was approaching. He gently rolled over and placed you in the centre of the bed, carefully tucking you in as he slipped out of the covers silently.

Despite his solemn mood, a small smile crept up his face at the beautifully disheveled state you presented. Hair all mussed up, lips swollen legs sticking out from underneath his white shirt that covered your chest. Unable to stop himself he leaned down and caught your lips in a soft kiss, tasting those feathery dreams that he dared not see with open eyes.

He roved a hand though his blond hair, moving the fringe aside to get a good look at your face.

“So trusting. Letting your guard down around me” he laughed bitterly. Unbidden his eyes flitted to the words on your left hip and he looked away quickly before he started thinking too deeply about it.

It was an impulse. Yes. That’s exactly what it was. You both were intoxicated and he was so lost in the way you pleasured him, that he simply didn’t think before he wrote.

He stood to his full height and walked towards the door of the small room. He better slip out before that shady bitch Bailey found him.

Hovering a little by the door, he hesitated before stalking to your desk and grabbing a sheet of paper. “Screw it” he whispered taking a pen and quickly scribbling a note before he could talk himself out of it.

“You can keep the shirt. It looks better on you ;)”

He folded the small note and placed it beside your head, proudly sauntering outside your room shirtless. He didn’t look back, as he left you slumbering. Leaving nothing but his shirt and the words behind that he was too afraid to say to you.

And surely, you were in for a surprise when you would wake up and see “I love you” resting on your hip in his messy penmanship instead of the usual “Whitney’s toy”

𝑫𝒆𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑳𝒆𝒘𝒅𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕-

𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚢 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙱𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢-

Silent confessions

Whitney Theory time

𝙹𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜𝚝-

Jordan's Corruption

𝙺𝚢𝚕𝚊𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙻𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚛-

The butterfly effect

𝙱𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚛-

Smoke and Mirrors

I need an angst fanfic of Kylar from DoL… Please? 🥺🥺

The Butterfly Effect

Kylar the loner writing request

Word count-1118 [CW- mentions of anxiety, and implied panic attack. Themes of hopelessness and angst. One-sided love]

It had been raining that day. Not the usual downcast marring the sky—no— pleasant breeze ruffled Kylar’s dark hair, making his keen emerald eyes peek through like twin jewels, as he glanced up at the sky.

Spring rain’s drizzle had lightly sprayed his pale skin as he trudged the shabby alleys of Domus street. It had been purely out of sheer boredom that Kylar had decided to take a longer route to the park only to somehow wind up lost.

He had halted in his tracks. Slender fingers had come to grip upon the hilt of the blade resting at his hip, tucked under the rumpling fabric of his oversized hoodie. His eyes sharply bounced in every direction as he figured out his way again. Really, one could never be cautious enough in that town.

His short legs had hurried along the narrow path, his skittish gait attracted several gazes. Kylar had felt a crippling wave of anxiety crawl long his spine under the many scrutinous eyes sizing him up. His movements had become urgent. Escaping from what? He didn’t know. And just when his heart had felt like it’d burst right through his chest, he saw you.

His tiny frame was shaking. Hands came to rest on his knees as he bent over, stopping, catching his labored breaths. Just then a cottonesque cloud shifted overhead, letting a sliver of sunlight paint your cheeks and he stared mesmerized.

Dressed in clothes not much shabbier than his, but wearing a smile not even the finest of riches could afford, there you were, watering away the colorful plants, lining the depressing gray walls of the orphanage.

Shining under the natural spotlight of the sun, that seemed partial to only you that day. You seemed to be so engrossed in a conversation with a boy, who was around your age, one hand holding the hose and the other gently guiding the spray of water over the various flora.

A lone butterfly had fluttered over to you, and mischievously perched atop your head, earning a peal of giggles from you and your companion.

All his earlier anxiety forgotten, Kylar had been unaware of a small smile slowly inching up his lips. He had stared, almost marveled at the way the butterfly hovered around you, as if it had found the most beautiful flower in the garden.

And surely, Kylar had agreed wholeheartedly. His heart beat in tandem with each flap of the butterfly’s wings.

Flap…thump Flap…thump

And just like that, he had fallen in love. 

He shouldn’t have…He Mustn’t have.

***

The sharp blare of the school bell broke him out of his reverie. With jerky movements, Kylar forced his desperate eyes away from your form and packed his belongings back into his rucksack.

He was quick. He had to be because he knew what was coming next. Teeth nibbling away at the flaky skin on his chapped bottom lip, he discreetly skirted around the crowds and crowds of sweaty students in the hallway. 

 Footsteps light as a feline’s he followed you to the park, your personal shadow. It wasn’t simply an urge anymore for Kylar. It had transformed into a need. 

He needed to watch you. Needed to keep you safe. From the lecherous eyes and hands of those creeps in the streets. And sometimes even yourself. For you didn’t know what was good for you. Or who for that matter.

The sky was grim, reflecting the inner turmoil that scratched and sank its claws in his ever declining psyche. 

Hands balled into fists at his sides, Kylar braved the first few drops of rain that wet his cheeks and gazed owlishly upon you, from behind the bark of a tree.

Nails digging crimson crescents on his palm, he watched your expression melt into a sweet smile as you approached the intimidating figure standing in front of a fountain holding an umbrella.

Kylar’s hand involuntarily reached for the handle of the umbrella peeking out of his rucksack, as he saw the blonde man, roughly pull you closer under the shade of his umbrella, neatly tucking you by his side, like some prized possession. 

Kylar’s heart clenched at the wistful words that died on his tongue. 

“We co-could’ve sh-shared this umbrella” he whispered to no one in particular 

The winds slowed down. The park was empty save for the couple standing statuesque in front of the fountain. A halo of smoke surrounded them like an invisible fortress. 

The humid atmosphere suddenly weighed heavy on his chest, when Kylar saw the bully ever so slightly lean in towards you.

‘What was it that you saw in him?

He was nothing but a bully, shoving you around, embarrassing you, using you like a pet and OH GOD KYLAR CAN BE SO MUCH BETTER AND—‘

A loud thunder, masked the deafening sound of Kylar’s heart breaking into a million pieces. He watched on, soaked to the bone and numb as your lips met Whitney’s over and over in a wild, passionate kiss.

‘My love would never…they do-don’t like it. Yes theydon’ttheycan’ttheysimplycannot’, the words rattled a mile a minute, stumbling around Kylar’s brain as he stared at Whitney sacrilege his God like a horrified devout.

But nothing could ever describe the pain that shot through him, when your small hand reached up and cupped the bully’s face, pulling him closer as you welcomed his intrusive kisses.

It was like Kylar never existed. The world could’ve ceased at that moment and you simply wouldn’t have noticed. So lost in his embrace. So keen for his touches. So in Lo—

Unable to take it anymore, his jealous green eyes flitted away in a flash of anger. Trying to focus on anything but that last thought.

Unbidden, the twin jewels zeroed in on a butterfly, hovering around a flower. It desperately flapped its wings, struggling against the harsh winds and the iresome pour of the rain.

It gently touched, and cradled the petals, fluttering about the flower as if in a pathetic attempt to grab its attention. The flower stood pretty and proud. Unfazed by the lovesick being, fulfilling its pilgrimage at her altar.

A few more frantic flaps, and the butterfly finally perched atop his lover. Kissing her lips, as the last scales of color shed from its wings.

With a cold blow of the wind, it fell, lifeless wings crumbled and lay still on the ground. The sky rumbled in the distance, the flower ever in its beauteous glory swayed like it was just another day. ‘So this is what it means to fall in love’, Kylar mused with a bitter laugh, suddenly very grateful for the rain as he let the tears fall freely down his cheeks. Without a glance back, he ran, homebound.

Smoke and Mirrors

Summary- The game mechanics have changed, you can no longer seduce Bailey. But do they succeed in making Bailey forget? Pairings- M!Bailey the caretaker x GN PC

CW- self aware Bailey, slightly nsfw, mentions of trauma

Bailey was harrowed. The last week itself felt like  a lifetime had passed. His usually stoic face now wore a slight grimace. Deep bags sat underneath dark eyes with a tired eclipse in them. 

He was so on edge that he would snap at the orphans millering around, at the barest of provocation. The orphans sensed his ire, steering clear of him. Not even a shadow dared linger near his office.

Inside the blinds were snapped shut, barring entry of any natural air or daylight. It was dank and suffocating. A heavy layer of smoke hung about his office, making the vicinity hard to see let alone sit in for hours on end, yet Bailey chose to do exactly that. Smoking like a chimney and stewing in seclusion during the lazy afternoon hours.

The gentle tic tic tic from the grandfather clock, set a hypnotic rhythm making Bailey’s head throb. Clenching his jaw, he let his head fall back, and hang over the back of the chair. He felt his eyelids droop with barely restrained exhaustion, threatening to take over.

And yet. 

And yet he refused to sleep.

The reason? Bailey scoffed

He was convinced that something was definitely wrong with him. If not, why else would he have these visions? Flashbacks? He didn’t even know if what he saw were actual memories or a sinister conjuring of his deceitful mind.

Bailey was no stranger to nightmares, having had his fair share of trauma in this debaucherous town. Trauma which was neatly packed and stowed away in some deep recess of his mind. Please and thank you. 

He didn’t need this pesky hindrance in his everyday routine. Bailey had far more pressing matters to attend to. But instead here he was isolating himself, all because he was too afraid to sleep.

The notion itself made him laugh out loud in incredulity. Why was this happening? What prompted it? Bailey had wracked his brain all night, when he leaned across the railing of his balcony, letting the midnight air cool his sweat slick body.

He still remembered that image. It was painfully sliced into his memory like a permanent scar. Bailey had jolted up in his bed, unable to breathe for a solid minute. One would think this visceral reaction was a result of him seeing some eldritch horror. It wasn’t. 

Bailey was terrified beyond wits to see a version of himself which felt too real to brush off as a nightmare. 

He knew that if he closed his eyes in that instant, he would see it. Clear as day.

Big hands bracketing the sides of a head. Broad chest enveloping a smaller body. Slaps and pants echoing in the very office he was sitting in. They were standing in front of a mirror. Its surface, all fogged up. Bailey would hear himself chuckle in that dream. Husky and low. And then, his hand would slide over the mirror.

“Look at yourself, wearing that lewd expression” he would whisper to the other person.

“Shouldn’t you thank me for making you feel that good? Such a freak” he would sneer and they would whimper, clenching around him hard in response.

And that’s when he would see it. His face. His own face, slack jawed, eyes crazed beyond sanity, and lips parted in a deep groan. His dark hair slicked back with beads of sweat rolling down his temples. All flushed and lost in pleasure.

Pleasure that he still felt like faint wisps of temptation licking away at his soul.

Pleasure that did not leave him even in consciousness. Pleasure that he knew was so potent that it would wreck him. 

Downgrade and dilute him, pushing him right alongside the filthy heathens he supplied to and made an income from.

Surely he was better than that? Bailey prided himself over his impeccable self control. No amount of luring would break his resolve, he was certain.

But the way that dream echoed in his mind made him doubt himself. That cloud of uncertainty loomed over his head like an oncoming storm. Because if that dream was just that, simply a dream, why did he still feel the touch of that unknown person burn on his skin? 

It was like his muscle memory begged him to remember something he didn’t. Or was it someone?

He grumbled. A soft knock at the door broke this frenzy of thoughts. Miffed, he grunted his assent, “Enter”

The door opened a crack, and you walked in. Bringing in a whoosh of air and a stream of light that made Bailey wince.

“What is it now?” He snipped, “Don’t waste my time” Bailey sat up straighter and stared at you. Dour and unblinking.

“It’s about the payment” you stuttered, “Is there any other way that I could pay?” You leaned over his desk, finger tracing its surface in a slow deliberate manner.

Bailey felt his head throb again, jaw clenched as he tracked the movement of your finger with slight intrigue.

He wasn’t foolish. Bailey understood what you were propositioning. He felt a mocking laugh bubble up his throat, at your sheer audacity.

Did you think him so weak? So pathetic that he would humor you?

“You can pay me with money” he sneered, “That’s what your body’s worth”

“Now scram” Bailey shooed you away, hands busy with lighting another smoke.

You trudged outside, defeated and head hung low. Tears brimming your eyes, you paused and looked over your shoulder, wanting to say a million things to that imposing man. All the frustrations that clawed inside your throat, made you choke out a whimper.

And the lighter slipped from his grasp. Eyes widened with mute horror as the memory of that sordid dream replayed in his mind. 

But this time, when he cleared the fog from the mirror, he saw the other person’s face alongside his. Face scrunched up in a whimper much alike the one you wore right now.

With shaky hands Bailey held the cigarette. A bead of sweat rolling down his spine as he realized something. 

That dream wasn’t simply a dream. It was a memory. A memory that very much took place right here in this office.

He stood up. Legs striding to the front of his desk. Fists balled at his sides, as he felt the echo of the familiar words itching at the tip of his tongue.

In some distant memory he heard himself say,

If it’ll shut you up, I’ll throw you a bone, as he practically pounced on you.

But not today. It was as if some unknown force glued him to the spot. Stopping him from grabbing that sweet sweet release that he seemed to find only in you.

The smoke overhead shifted, standing between you and him like a fragile barrier. You stalled, as if waiting for something to happen. He watched, bound by the rules of his own game.

With a hint of resignation you left, leaving Bailey a questioning, confused mess. He slumped back in his seat, unable to discern dreams from reality anymore.