Degrees Of Lewdity Fic - Tumblr Posts

how the LIs come

18+

pure!sydney buries his face into your chest, lapping at your nipple with a warm tongue. "you're beautiful," he breathes, eyes filled with adoration as he watches you roll your hips. you take him so well and yet, he is taken by you. when you place your hand around his throat, his eyes widen. "beloved," sydney gasps, clutching you as he fills you with the warmth of his worship.

"wonderful." corrupt!sydney's breath is warm against your ear as he rocks his hips into you. one of his hands is busy stroking you, coaxing breathy moans as you fuck yourself against him. your hand braces against the shelf. there are students milling around in the distance. "i can feel you clenching around me," he whispers, pushing himself in deeper. there's a note of fanaticism to his voice, an obsessiveness in his embrace that threatens to drive you over the edge. it takes all of your strength not to keen. thankfully, his fingers, so soft and smooth, slip into your mouth. "but we wouldn't want the others to know that, do we?"

"so fucking whiney," whitney curses, taking your hair in his fist as he fucks you against the desk. "you've been waiting for this, haven't you?" he sinks his teeth into your skin, rakes his nails across your hips as he comes. whitney is selfish, but his marks burn in a way you can't resist. he doesn't wait for you to adjust yourself and pulls up his trousers. you hear him fasten his belt. "better clean yourself up before the break's over."

kylar whines. he can't help it. all week, he's been saving himself for you, palming his groin whenever it got too unbearable, all because he wanted to fill you up once you were back in his arms. "you look so beautiful like this," he gasps against your neck, rutting into you with jerky, desperate thrusts. "you'll, hah, take everything that i can give you, right?"

there's a grumble that builds within eden's throat - part growl, part rolling of thunder as his hips meet yours. "you're mine," he says gruffly, his tongue licking a hot stripe along your neck. the hunter has you pinned. his massive body cages you in while he thrusts, cock twitching inside of you as he smashes his mouth against yours to swallow your moans. when he pulls away, he licks his teeth, admiring your sweat-slicked skin as his release leaks out of you. what a sight he is, your hunter. what a feast you are, his prey. "don't you ever forget that."

"we have to be quiet," robin muffles his moans by pressing his mouth against yours. he's got you in his lap, arms wrapped around your body as he thrusts. just a few minutes ago, he had been playing video games. now, his hands are occupied, sculpting your sides. your back. when you tangle your fingers in his hair and pull, he lets out a needy whine that you silence by taking his lips between your teeth.

ivory wraith hums, a sonorous thrum that vibrates the very marrow of your bones. when his pleasure crests, it is the surge of the current. the coiling of a great and powerful tide that washes over you, drowning you as he swells. "droplet," he sighs, pressing a cold kiss to your temple. the specter's embrace is gentle yet possessive, his caress carrying the promise of adoring you during this lifetime and a thousand more. "may we never part again."

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”

Random DoL drabble because I’m bored… I just imagined what if Jordan was a LI with the same corruption stat as Sydney. So here it is lol~

CW- Religious themes, it’s sfw but mildly suggestive

Jordan The Priest x GN PC

You are in the Temple. Your hands are loaded with gardening tools as you move in and out of the garden. Your habit is covered in patches of dirt, stray leaves stick to your head and other places. You can feel sweat on your body with the amount of exercise you are getting |++strength +fatigue

As you enter the temple, your shoulder roughly collides with someone making you fall flat on your butt. You feel a sharp twinge of pain, as everything in your grasp is scattered around you |+stress +pain

You look up to see a familiar face loom over you. “I am so sorry, my child” Jordan mutters softly as he bends down and helps you up, lifting you by your arms. “I wasn’t watching where I was going” His long golden hair, slips from the sides of his cowl and tickles your nose. He frantically moves about gathering your scattered items as you dust yourself off.

Jordan smiles at you apologetically as he hands over the items to you, “I apologize again. I see you’re hard at work.” He gives you the items. Your fingers brush slightly. You smirk a little and hold his hand yanking him close to your face. His eyes widen as he stares at you, your faces inches apart, “Thank You” you mutter huskily making his breath hitch |+Arousal +Jordan’s Corruption

“Do-don’t mention it” a flush rises to his face, he stutters as he hastily picks up his book from the ground and walks quickly towards the pews without glancing back.

Its evening. You are at the orphanage at Domus street. You are wrapped in a towel as you move about your room, looking for your journal. After an hour long of futile search, your eyes land on a book with a brown leather binding.

It’s similar to yours, but when you flip it open, the name, “Jordan” rests on the page in neat and elegant cursive handwriting.

A curiosity fills you, and you sit on your bed and begin reading through the pages. Most of it is just mundane stuff, their schedule for everyday, some bookkeeping of temple allowances, and even regular musings. You mindlessly flip the pages, almost in a bored fashion when your eyes land on a very recent entry.

“I don’t understand what is happening these days. I find myself facing a deep precipice. This is wrong. So very wrong. In vain have I tried to cleanse myself of these thoughts. These vice like feelings are eating away at my mind. I can sense it. This darkness is slowly sweeping me in its corrupt hands, and I am willingly walking into its embrace.

I should’ve known you were trouble the moment I saw you drag Sydney into the depths of depravity. Yet I crave for you. I want you to look at me the way you look at them. I want to feel those emotions that feel so foreign to me. I feel alive in so very long a time. I have begun to look forward to the time you sneak up on me when you think I’m not looking. Those fleeting moments have ignited a flame of sorts. So Lord forgive me for I think I have sinned. Because I want to be loved by the sin incarnate”

Your mind swims with possibilities. This is a surprise. You never expected Jordan to reciprocate those feelings. Your heart thuds wildly as you realize something with a start. If you have Jordan’s journal right now, it means that your journal is currently in Jordan’s possession. And it has much more graphic and detailed entries inside it. Your own personal confessional of sorts that always begin with, “Forgive me Jordan, for I have sinned”

It holds several anecdotes about your little crush on the priest. Long paragraphs about the things you’d like to do with him |++ Arousal ++Jordan’s corruption

A lewd warmth fills you, as you think about running into Jordan tomorrow. You feel excited about the situation but it’s too tame to remove the cloud over your mind |-stress

[Silly bonus lols]- You are in the temple garden watering the flowers. You hear some footsteps approaching. It’s Jordan. He doesn’t look you in the eye, as he silently hands you over your journal. You can see his hands trembling a little. A wild tinge of red dusting his cheeks. When you think he’ll leave, he reaches inside his robe and pulls out a bottle. He uncorks it and just like that pours the entire contents all over your head. It seeps through your clothes making you shudder slightly as your habit clings to your body.

“It’s holy water” he mumbles, “You need it”. He leaves you alone in the garden, shivering as he walks back inside |++ Jordan’s corruption

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

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.