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[tinyterror333]

marathon. redraw of this

[tinyterror333]

HOO writing Eden gives brain rot

content warning. noncon/dubcon. predator/prey, bondage kinda, rough eden, oral + forced oral.

Another way to be caught by the lovely forest man is to not notice the hunting traps laid by the cabin when you're quite deep in the forest. One wrong step and you hear something snap, the rough sound of rope against bark before your world gets turned upside down, hanging by your ankle from the tree branch, rope tight around your foot and suspended over the earth.

You flail and try to pull yourself up to try and get your foot loose but the shadow coming closer from between the trees gives you pause. Its a large, hulking figure that steps out, shaggy hair and gun by its side and you shake in fear.

The hunter circles you a few times, surprised they caught such a sweet prize before stopping in front of you.

Wearing a skirt? A coarse hand slides from one thigh, over your crotch to the other thigh a few times, almost admiring the skin before pausing over your groin and giving your genitals a squeeze.

Wearing trousers? Unsheathes his hunting knife and cuts at the fabric, letting it flutter down in front of your face until he can see your underwear, or lack of.

He will give a slow lick of your genitals, tongue flicking against the rim of your ass before properly giving you head.

Now, depending on how tall your character is, he might be rough. Small-Medium? Pushes his trousers down so his cock can spring free and presses it against your face. Better willingly take it in your mouth, if not he grabs your jaw and shoves his dick in roughly.

Any taller, and he first grips the back of your neck and bends you in an uncomfortable angle until your face is properly in his crotch, rubbing his balls against you. The action is rash, just needing some cute thing's face rubbing against him.

When he cums, he cuts you down and you can try to fight and run, but he's stronger and odds are he's going to drag you back home, proud of his catch of the day.

[tinyterror333]

Patreon Post: Bitching an Alpha. (Eden)

content warning. A/B/O, heat, alpha turned into omega, HEAVY scent kink, limited smut

You have been feeling weird for weeks now. Well, you hadn’t been feeling completely tickety-boo ever since you had been living with Eden. The four walls, a roof, food, clean water and keeping busy wasn’t too bad. It felt… Nice? To not worry about scraping up money to give to Bailey and try to survive another week. But you weren’t the most agreeable… “House spouse” that Eden obviously wanted you to be. You bit, you refused to cook for him, and the sessions in bed? Forget it. Some days you wondered when he was going to bury you in the back garden to fertilise the flowers, or throw you out in the middle of the night to be chased down by the wolves and various… Dexterous, overly friendly flora.

Eden didn’t have a lot of patience. It was lucky if you two managed to get through a day without some biting, fighting, or the big guy staring at you before attempting to lunge for you each time you refused him, neglecting your “chores”. Days dragged on with fights and snarky comments, none of which the Alpha appreciated, even if you did think you were being particularly witty with a few of your zingers.

It was strange. You would have left. You should have left. Eden is dangerous. But you were here, fighting with the overgrown knot head daily, but it was far better than the Town. Why was it better than the town? Not that you would ever tell him that. House spouse or not, you were an alpha, and a lippy one at that. You knew others… Liked it. But Eden didn’t. He really didn’t.

Things reached a boiling point quickly. It ended with you quietly patching up a hole in the wall as Eden watched you, staring at the bruising blossoming over your bicep. The silence was straining at the fragile peace, a particularly heavy weight weighing on a sheet of glass. The only sounds are you patching up the splintered wood and Eden’s heavy breathing.

You expected the collar to come out. The cage. Anything.

You didn’t expect a warm mug being thrust into your face as you slowly woke up. Steam curled delightfully off the top, promising something warming in your stomach for once, other than Eden’s cum, half of which you sputter out anyway. You glanced at him and Eden refused to look at you, just looking at the floor. Is this his apology?

Taking the mug, you begin to sip at it as Eden watches you, dark eyes simmering before turning away and heading back to the kitchen, where two plates sit. He doesn't try to tug you into his lap like usual, just hands off your food to you. He was giving you space… It was… Sweet?

You half expected everything to go back to usual after a bit but it didn’t. Eden gave you space, cooked for you. You still had to do the chores and… Tend to him… But not in the usual way. Just wash his back and cook for him. He seemed to be uninterested in sex…. Seemed to be. You’ve woken up to the sound of him grumbling as he jerked his cock, the head squished between your thighs. But what else could you do? Everything else was cut down, to the point that life was practically easy now.

Except… Like you mentioned, you felt weird.

Your usual knot stopped being so noticeable. The skin became softer, less ruddy in colour and it didn’t look… Deflated, like it usually did. It just seemed… Not all together there. There was also the issue of your teeth. Built to pierce and claim, yours were nothing on Eden’s thick teeth. But yours was still a thing of beauty. Thinner but sharp, ones anyone would be jealous of… To the point you’ve woken up with Kylar’s tongue desperately dragging against them, the stupid beta.

But now?

They seemed… Dull. Unable to break skin if need be.

Worst of all, Eden had started to smell… Really good to you.

Alphas had always smelt… Earthy to you. The way it worked was that your instincts sought out the ripe scent of an omega, sweet and soft, like fresh fruit. Alphas smelt less appealing. Dirt and pinecones and bark, but now? He smelled good. Not omega good… But… Better. Musky… Pungent. Normally you’d worry about being out of your fucking mind if you thought that smelt good. But it did. The more you tried to think back to the omega scents you adored, Sydney’s scent, something that reminded you of biting into a peach and chasing the juice with your tongue down your wrist. Robin, rolling a plump grape along your teeth, and with just enough pressure from your tongue, it bursts and coats your tongue in a sweet, refreshing taste.

But as you try to recall them all, something in your stomach twists, as if sickened. The fruit is overripe, squishy to the touch and there’s fruit flies scuttling all over the drooping skin. It’s disgusting now, tainted.

Not like Eden. You began to seek out his scent. Musky, sweaty. Some days you swear you could smell his cock as he came in from hunting, unwashed and filthy. You could feel drool pool on your tongue at the thought of cleaning his balls, suffocating in the scent.

Meanwhile Eden was satisfied. You were ripening into the perfect little omega he knew all along was hiding behind those disgustingly big teeth and useless piece of flabby skin you called a knot. Smooth and soft and you didn’t smell like the forest after a thunderstorm anymore. Just sweet apples, with the juices dripping over his tongue as he bites into it, licking his teeth to catch every stray droplet. All he had to do was wait. He knew he could stop cumming into your food and drinks soon, all done to suffocate your alpha hormones under his own, more powerful ones.

And he couldn’t wait to taste you properly.

[tinyterror333]

It's stupid hot here so uhhh

Lazy sex with Bailey.

Outside its scorching, it's that humid heat that has everyone either at the beach, at the park or the lake. Not you two. You two are one of the smart ones.

His room, blinds down low with a fan on, but it's not helping, just pushing more hot air around the room.

Still morning, but the heat had you already waking up sticky and uncomfortable. No one in their right mind would ever want to get more sweaty, right?

Bailey's not really thrusting into you, you two are just lazily rocking into each other, your leg hooked over his hip so his cock can rock into you. It's not fiery, angry like sex usually is, it's just about simmering with passion, your hips grinding against each other while you kiss. Bailey can't work up the energy to do anything else, just press into you while you two slow mouth at each other, feeling sweat run down his back as you to lay on your sides, loosely pressed together.

The heat beating down, the snug, wet warmth of you, not to mention your lips, salty with sweat and wet, has his brain sluggish. He should be getting up, he should drink something, get going, but his mind's numb, static. All Bailey knows is the additive pull back into you, swollen and sloppy, and those soft noises you make against his chapped lips. You're just making him more sweaty, more gross, and he should push you off and tell you to fuck off and have a shower. He should, but he won't. Even the sounds of the brats shrieking and jumping into the spring is muffled, distant, compared to your sighs, the weary beating of the fan, his own heartbeat.

Even when he cums, even after a lazily cigarette, uncharacteristically shared with you, whether you smoked or not, after an ice cold shower, he feels like he's carrying the morning sex with him. Bailey feels unclean, like he should take more showers, scrub at his skin, but for once, he loves the feeling of filth on his skin, clinging to his cock, hips, his lips as he sits at his desk, running an ice cube over your spine as you squirm beside his chair, forbidden to leave his side for the day.

[tinyterror333]

... Bailey has a blood kink. Huge fuckin blood kink. The worst.

Content warning. Big ole blood kink. Physical violence. Mentions of nonconsensual blood play and anal. Bailey jerks it to your beaten up face. Pearl necklace? More like... Bailey cums on your face.

So when Whitney busts your face open, and you retaliate in kind, Bailey is distracted. Standing there in Leighton's musty smelling office, as the man he used to punch in the gut and steal money from tells him that you are suspended from school for a week. That delightful red stain, slowly drying on your face holds his attention far more than Leighton ever could. It's starting to look cracked and dry, so it's gonna be a bitch to wash off, splattered along your mouth and still seeping from the split skin across your nose.

He should be pissed. He is pissed. This draws the kind of attention he's going to have to buy off. That and because of your dumbass, he has to be here.

So the moment you two get back, he's hauling you into his office. Bailey starts off good, fucking tearing you a new one but he struggles to keep his train of thought, until it drifts off completely.

Your split lip had started bleeding again.

The scarlet droplets rolled down your chin, hitting the collar of your pristine white school shirt.

It looked good.

You noticed his silence, of course. Blinking slowly, as if trying to figure out if he was giving your cue to get the fuck out of his office or not. You started to rise from the chair when Bailey suddenly stood up, stalking his way over to you until he towered over you, dark hair falling into his strangely bright eyes. Usually flat and dark, like a stone, now gleaming.

His hands, lax at his sides, slowly curl, the leather of his gloves straining, before his deft fingers slowly hook into his belt. His thumb slowly loosening the garment. You sat, frozen. You were familiar with this sight, countless belts unbuckled and zippers pulled down, hasty, desperate as you waited. Waited for them to slip out their cock and jam it into your mouth.

Just not from Bailey. Untouchable, unmovable Bailey.

Your expectations didn't stop him from slipping his fat, drooling cock out though. Swollen, almost painful looking, with precum forming at the slit.

Bailey wasn't going to put it in your mouth, even if it would be easy to drag it along your cut lip and shove it down that throat. Open you up in more ways than one, and enjoy the blood streaking along his cock as he fucked your face.

No. That would be too much. Giving you a proper taste of him would go against his own rules, especially towards his charges.

No, no. He just wanted to see his cum streaking your face, mingling with the blood. That's all he needed.

Bailey's own grip on his cock was punishing. Too tight, too rushed, almost violent as he stared down at you. Gaze full of silent accusations, blaming you for his own actions, for the blood running down from your lip and nose. Fuck. Looked so good. In his youth, there was nothing better than bloodying up a pretty face and then watching their tears slip down and dilute the red, all the while he has his cock down their throat. Sometimes up their unprepared ass, streaking his erection with dark blood.

He hasn't indulged in so long. So, so long.

You fucking bitch.

With anyone else, he'd take his time, enjoy himself. You, though? The little thorn, stuck under the nail of his thumb? He wasn't going to allow himself this, not in the way he wanted.

Just force you to watch him jerk his cock, roughly and punishing, as the head became ruddy and wet. Precum rolling down the skin. All the while staring at your beaten face.

He came too soon. Your tongue had darted out, the soft pink touching your cut up lip, red blooming across the wet glistenening tip. That's all it took. Bailey came all over your face, his full balls emptying just for you, decorating your skin in hot, white streaks. The slippery blood turned a dark pink as his cum merged with it. Maybe you were pretty in his eyes.

Bailey said nothing as he tucked his flaccid cock away. Just dragged his gloved hand through his strands with a sigh.

"Fuck off, would you?"

[tinyterror333]

Patreon Post: Daddy Dearest (Bailey the Caretaker)

content warning. mentioned rape of the reader, slut shaming, Incest, Somnophilia, Dubcon. 

Your father was a very particular man. Selective. An asshole in layman’s terms. That’s also true in your terms. He was always distant, treated you like any of the others in the orphanage, as if he hadn’t fucking sired you himself. You did know for a fact that he made sure to get a vasectomy afterwards, so no surprise children would land on his doorstep, claiming to be his. But you, sadly, were too obviously his, so he couldn’t even deny it.

You never got preferential treatment growing up. You weren’t one but you were treated as an orphan. You had slightly better clothes, you actually went to the doctor when you were sick instead of being told to tough it out, but there was no bond between you two of any significance. Bailey was doing his parental duties of keeping you alive but nothing more. It wasn’t a good upbringing. Not with the people that your father had around him that wouldn’t even hide their admiration of their… Friend’s child, even in front of him. He didn’t care.

You were an accident and he never let you forget it.

This man was meticulous, counting his notes and checking his calendar and always busy. Accidents weren’t permissible. Yet there you were, his biggest damn mistake.

Yet, despite you being his mistake, you were also his in your entirety. Bailey didn’t own much, so he wouldn’t lose much. So, fuck.

Worst of all, Bailey himself didn’t know how he ended up like this. No, not stuck as a single father with a kid who now was paying rent like every other orphan. No, how the fuck did he end up as fucked up at this? You never felt like his kid, not in the way he saw how others interacted with their children. He knew in his gut that you were his, and it brought some feelings, but it all changed when you started… Going out to work.

He raised a fucking whore. Not really, he barely kept a roof over your head, but he still knew it, deep in his bones, he did this to you. His “friends” would snidely ask about his kid, while both of them knew that they had seen more of you lately, than he had. On your knees, on your back, fucked open and whored out. A father should never know about any of this, not about their child, but you are barely his fucking kid. He had to put up with disgusting stories from people he fucking grew up with, photos shared around, even the odd video being sent to him. He was surrounded by disgusting people, but deep down he knew he was one of them. A disgusting pervert who needed a release when the long evenings just wouldn’t end, and felt like they’d only release him from the hell if he finally clicked on his deleted emails bin on his computer.

He didn’t get lube, no foreplay, nothing. This wasn’t pleasure, this was a need. Watching you awkwardly bob on a cock was the first video. Came in seconds. Then the second eternal evening, he watched you struggle to take a fat cock up your ass. Third, Fourth, Fifth, a pussy on your face, zoom in shot of your hole being fingered, a fat dog bot knot pressing deeper into you as you moaned. Fuck, everything from your first time onwards was documented, no doubt because the town wanted to watch Bailey’s kid be ruined. They couldn’t touch him but fuck, they could touch you all over.

It stopped being a nagging thought, for him to watch you. It was a routine now. He had a lot of videos left over when he got them out of the bin, and before too long, he was desperately jerking his cock to anything he could of you. Gangbangs, rape, even a brief period of you with little cow ears, being mounted by multiple dog boys. He did wonder where you had gotten in that time.

But, no matter how many hundreds of videos of you he had, they were always going to run thin before dissipating altogether. Now where the fuck would he get his fix?

By being the most disgusting man in town.

As bad as Morgan, no, the new Morgan.

It took a lot of liquid courage. A lot. Finished a whole bottle of something strong smelling before he started making his way upstairs, feet instinctively finding the spots in the stairs that made no creaking noises. You had his old room. He didn’t know if he did it on purpose, not anymore. Keeping what was his in all the same place. The door didn’t even make a noise as it swung open and he saw… You.

Sprawled out on your bed, sleep shorts riding up, blind to the danger slowly making his way inside, breath reeking of booze. He didn’t know when exactly he started getting this pavlovian response to you, but as per usual, his cock immediately stood to attention at the sight of his child’s face.

Sitting down on the bed, he only hesitates a moment before greedily dragging his coarse hands over your back, his usual gloves left downstairs.

His hand greedily played with your ass, squeezing the soft mounds before roughly parting them, pulling the fabric taut against your hole, spitting against the garment to make it cling against your hole. Drags his thumb against your rim, before turning you on your back properly, his breath coming quickly.

He was terrible. Bailey was a bad fucking dad anyway, but… But now his hands were slipping under your sleep shirt, squeezing at your chest, pinching those cute little nipples. He was molesting you. Molesting his kid. Dabbing his index and middle finger against his tongue, he rubbed them against your sleep shirt, right where your nipples had started to pebble underneath all the attention.

This is all he needs. Just to play with you a bit. This would be enough…

Maybe something more. Like taking your hand and cupping your smaller fingers to take his dripping cock in hand, making you jerk him as you sighed softly. Bailey didn’t care if you woke up. In fact, if you did, he’d enjoy it. He’d throw his long term plan out the window, of taking his time to touch and experiment with you, and would force you down on his cock.

But what he didn’t expect was the little whine you gave, before your fingers tightened a bit around his cock.

“... Daddy…. “ You sighed.

He knows you don’t mean him. You mean Eden, who likes splitting his childhood best friend’s hole open on his cock, demanding you call him uncle. You mean Avery, who picks you up to fuck you in the car after a date. Leighton, who takes out all of his pent up anger at Bailey from their school days, on you. It’s Harper, it’s Briar, it’s Remy.

But fuck.

Yes, jerk your daddy’s fat cock. Bailey’s pace kicked up, enjoying the feeling of your softer hand against his erection. Call out for your daddy, the one man whose supposed to love you unconditionally, and earn that fucking love. Become his whore, his flesh and blood forced to take his cock. He’ll cut your rent in half for a rough fuck with that cute body, to tear that ass roughly.

Bailey ends up grunting and standing up to cum all over your face. White fluid leaking down your face, sinking into the lining of your mouth. Your father’s love all over you.

With a grunt, he tucks his cock away, before pausing. He leans down and presses a lingering, low, hungry kiss to your tainted lips before straightening up. Next time, he was going to fuck your thighs. Then your mouth. Then your hole. Doesn’t matter if you’re awake or not.

[tinyterror333]

the pipes had burst. Right over your fucking room. Of course.

The stench of mold and mildew permeated your room and Bailey just shrugged, saying it would cost money to fix, so cough some up and he'll get on it. Fucker. No, until you got to your amount due, you were staying with Robin in their room. It was a bit of a tight fit but they didn't seem to mind, in fact, they seem to treasure having some one they trust right there with them.

content warning. kinda somnophilia, asshole, drunk bailey. masturbation kinda, poor Robin man.

shout out to @necros-writing-stuff for giving me the idea for somno bailey from an amazing scene she wrote for the game which sad sadly snipped =A= we are lesser for it

It might have led to them... Gazing at you as you slept. Gooey eyed and smiling, just basking in the safety of their bed and their best friend snoozing softly next to them. It was the only reason they were awake that night.

They simply didn't want to sleep just yet. Marveling at how safe you made them feel, even defenseless in bed in this ruinous orphanage, they felt like they could withstand anything, even Bailey, even the town. Robin barely just managed to notice the soft click of their doorhandle turning and dived under their covers, fabric pulled up to rest under their eyes. Scrunching their eyes shut, they could hear the footsteps padding further into the room, the dip of the bed as someone sat on the edge. Then silence.

Long enough for Robin's curiosity to fight through, to slowly open their eyelids. Hazy shapes, barely able to make the fuzzy lines sharpen into actual figure.

Robin's heart froze. Then their skin crawled. Their eyes could be bugging out of their eyes right now, about to pop out and rolling down the covers.

Bailey. Smelling similar to how you did when you came back late and forced to scoop cum out of you for hours in the bathroom. Of booze and smoke and something that they are way too innocent to know about.

Bailey, ruffled clothes, stained collar askew, shirt open by too many buttons, showing off the scarring on his chest, the dark ink of a slithering tattoo.

Bailey, addled with drugs and booze and god knows what else, his gloved fingers gripping the pillow by your head, as he dragged the tip of his tongue over your lips as you slept. His breathing uneven, with one hand fumbling with his zipper to paw at the growing bulge in his trousers.

His breathing kicked up a notch when he prised your lips apart with his sluggish tongue, trying to press it in-between your teeth. The moment Bailey gets a taste of your minty breath, clean brushed teeth against his drunken tongue, soaked in vodka, he gives a low groan. Precum ebbing through the material of his boxers, glinting in the light shining in from the ajar door.

"Fuck." Hoarse, strained... Weak, you could say, if the idea that Bailey was anything close to that didn't make Robin's teeth itch.

The saliva of his tongue landed against your soft bottom lip, sliding down your skin. Maybe that was it. The lips they sometimes gazed at longingly, now stained with your bastard caretaker's taste, seeping into your pores. That had them break their silent, wide eyed stare.

The squeak that left their throat was choked up, small, but it shattered the tense quiet of the room. Bailey's eyes snapped open and he pulled away, his tongue disappearing behind his thin lips. His cold stare met Robin's fearful eyes, and stared them down in silence.

Robin should have sat up. Yelled. Hit him. Anything. Instead they pulled the covers up more and turned in their side. The bed rose with Bailey as he got up and left, the door shutting securely.

They guess they never really ruminated on how... You weren't safe, even when they felt it with you.

[tinyterror333]

Aight it's 4am, round 315.

Except it's less horny. Mainly because I LOVE revenge stories. Legit watched and read the count of Monte Cristo a thousand times. Love a revenge. And I just wanna wind up and smack these lads. Also I live on spite, I love being petty, I do recommend it.

content warning. Avery being kind of a dick, annoyed avery, and lastly, pining avery.

Avery dropped you a year or two after you graduated. Not going to lie, you expected that, but not the twist in your stomach when he started picking up one of the other orphans, their uniform ruffled the same way yours was after Avery dropped them off from school.

He probably didn't see the harm in dropping you. Didn't actually see what an actual go getter you were. His old sugar babies barely scratched the surface of the socialite world, but you had been different. Not to pull a I'm not like other hoes, but it was the truth. The wealthy looked down at low cost whores despite being frequent users, but they love a high cost courtesan, and if they left Doren's class with a goddamn Distinction in English? HOO. When no one was looking, you had risen through the ranks so far that Quinn would buy your time just to have you on her arm at parties. Everyone loves a beloved... Accountant.

So, let's just say that neither Avery nor his date expected to see you at one of Quinn's do's. You didn't really go out for dinners, Briar liked treating his favourite worker and Briar wouldn't be seen dead at a restaurant Business Majors would deem popular. The parties Avery was invited to had changed somewhat. He no longer had the town's favourite orphan on his arm so while his invitation didn't get lost, they did happen to be a bit more sparse than they used to be. Hotel rooms? Well, people certainly did pay you enough to share one with them.

An old friend of Avery's had invited him and while his date wasn't immaculately dressed, he overlooked it for the fact that there were going to be noticeable faces at this get together.

Horrifically, there was no one more noticeable than his old date. While you and Avery didn't see each others as exes, or former romantic partners in any capacity, others evidently did, given how you two were never seen together anymore. Avery might ha expected to be held in somewhat high esteem for discovering you, but let's be real, who ever cared about people who found stars in the first place.

He felt his skin start to prickle as he and his date got drinks and he could just see you out of the corner of his eye. Using the techniques that Avery had drilled into you. Drinking your date's preferred poison, for your and Quinn's case, wine. Being charming, but obviously more interested in whom's arm you were clasping. Letting them tug you around the room, drinking in the attention paid to you. Most of all, never turning down a dance they asked you for.

Something he also thought he taught you, was to look at him. You knew he was there. Yet not a single smile was given to him, not even a fucking glance. A far cry from how you used to hang off him, eager to strip for him, hot little mouth always parted for his kisses.

Avery led his date over to you and your own. This was no longer a Quinn focused endeavour. He did admit... Right now he struggled to remember why he dropped you. You didn't look tired or over worked as an proper adult, free from your school uniform. There was something horrifically attractive about the new way you held yourself too. Or maybe it was the form fitting clothes that Quinn probably pawed you into.

You didn't even fucking acknowledge him. Too busy admiring Quinn, who greeted Avery in a Luke warm manner. It was fake, of course. You were just too good at your job, looking infatuated. It stirred something in his stomach. Made him want to grind his teeth.

The ride home was mainly silent, Avery not even requesting the kiss or strip before handing over the money. He did give the orphanage a lingering look. You probably didn't even live there anymore, so why was he staring hard at the door like past you was going to float out, dressed to the nines and looking so cutely up at him.

With the image of how you used to see him, Avery's resolve collapsed.

The next Saturday, he didn't drive into town to keep an eye out as he usually did. No, he walked into the brothel, thick wad of notes in his pocket. Avery just needed to have you, his little flaunty, whore, his sunshine, under him once again.

Masterlist

AO3

Kofi

[tinyterror333]

oh yeah i promise Stepdad Avery a while ago, right?

content warning. Stepcest, pseudocest, step dad avery, cheating, exhibitionism, party boy avery rears his head again, prolific daddy kink.

Right so, this man would marry for image, not for love. Duh.

So he meets the right person, the person who'd boost his image quite a bit, has funds, has the looks, has the charm. Male or Female, who cares. Gets points for being out and proud or raising a traditional family, and anyway, Molesterville is filled with all sorts of couples. Anyway, it does go two ways if this person is actually in love with him or they're also in it for the image.

If they're actually in love, then its more like an annoyance on some days for Avery. He doesn't mind the way they fawn over him but they want him to love on them the same way they do to him. Wants to intrude on his private time, because "it doesn't matter, we're together and should spend time together". The way he responds to their soft love confessions become automatic, absent minded "Love You Too" fired off the moment they say it. Avery doesn't hate it, some days he does need the loving kisses pressed to his face as he wakes up, but he feels stifled.

If not actually in love, he loves it. They both married for appearances, and quite happily spends time apart. Separate bedrooms even! Maybe they'll catch each other at breakfast, give each other greetings kisses, pecking the air by their cheek before leaving again. Avery likes the fact its more like having a room mate you never see, and only has to take them out for events and dinners, and they're all god.

Anyway, onto the reason yall are here.

Your parent did mention you in passing when the two of them started seeing each other, but as they mentioned, you were largely independent, having your own apartment. You were away for their wedding too, though you did send your parent a gift, that seemed to be an inside joke. Avery tried to hide his frown as they chuckled at a private memory and pressed the gift to their chest. Didn't you know you were supposed to be giving them something as a couple?

Anyway, a few months in, your parent tell Avery the very sad news that your block of flats was going to be torn down and they had offered you a place to stay with them. Avery just grinds his teeth as he raises his cup of coffee to his lips. No need to disturb the peace of the morning with a quarrel.

So you move in, arriving as dusk sets in. Tired, with a few boxes and some of your stuff stuffed into an old rucksack. Your parent happily peppers your face in kisses and leads you to a freshly emptied out room, just for you. Avery decides to tackle the You problem in the morning except it seems fate decided to not check his decision first.

Not when he makes his way downstairs, seeking out a glass of water before bed, and passes your room, the door slightly ajar. Music plays softly and Avery can't help but glance in.

Oh... Oh my.

You, still sorting through your boxes, only in underwear and an oversized shirt, picking through your belongings carefully. Now, isn't that the most darling thing he's seen in a long long time. Avery couldn't help but lean against your doorframe as you hummed a bit to the song that was playing. He bet you were a bouncy thing, given how pretty you were, he could just imagine the hungry looks you attracted. Hopefully, you would give into as many as possible. He raised his knuckles and knocked on your door, your head snapping over your shoulder to look, deer-in-the-headlights look making you all the more alluring.

"Settling in alright?"

You blinked and tugged on your shirt, trying to cover your bare thighs.

"Mister Avery?" You asked, trying not to show your embarrassment.

"Hmh."

"Thank you for letting me stay, Mister Avery-"

"C'mon now. We're family now. Call me dad." He fought down a smirk at the look on your face. "Or just Avery."

Before you could answer, he pushed off of the doorframe and wandered off, quietly mulling over how much of a disaster you shall be on his marriage. Before his vows, if he had seen you trotting around town, he'd have no issue making himself known to you, entice you into his car and into dinner, maybe a party, maybe a hotel room.

Now, whose to say he couldn't treat his step-child to a nice meal, or some dancing, but maybe it would be best to keep hotel... Activities to the house.

Avery will at first try to keep everything friendly, nice and sweet, between the two of you. Just the best stepdad anyone could ask for, not exactly seeking you out, but hopefully being the preferred married adult in the house you would seek out. He knew the other adult was your biological parent, but still.

He shall spoil you. No excessively, but just off handedly gets you presents and an allowance, even if you have your own job. Your parent brought up that they might quit their job but Avery insisted they both keep dual incoming it, but you? Despite your offer to contribute some rent money, Avery instead insists that you quit your job, enjoy not having to pay for room and board while you can.

However, deep down, Avery has the urge to keep pretty things near, to treat them, to play with them, and can't help but escalate your interactions. Offers you a lift somewhere, and rests his hand on your thigh as you fidget. Makes sure to come out of the bathroom just to bump into you, still in his towel. Invites you to have a night cap with him in the evening, something your parent was never invited to.

Takes you out with his spouse now, maybe to their chagrin, if they are utterly besotted with Avery, or to their relief, if it was a business marriage and they want to actually have fun going out. To dinners and parties, Avery wants you to be exposed to his life, the way his world works, and maybe a possible future.

Anyway, Avery shall have you get used to his too friendly touches, even an idly finger dragging over your side while you're sitting with your parent.

One day, shall get you a present. New outfit, not exactly your style, but clearly something he's been wanting to see you in. Except, when you tug the clothes out of their giftbox, your eyes fall to the lingerie underneath. In your size perfect.

Fem!Presenting, has a pretty lacey bralette, maybe in a soft color, like baby pink or blue, soft white. The darkest shade he'd pick out would be a deep red, or dark pink. Surprisingly, high waisted underwear, but its embroidered and see through. Garters and stockings as well, matching with the underwear. Pretty... Soft... Dolled up for him.

Masc!Presenting, to your surprise has a corset, one than only goes around your torso, made to amplify your chest. Also neatly folded sling stockings with suspenders, the type to rest on your hips... With no underwear. He obviously wanted to have your all prettied up, to show off the parts of you that you hid from prying eyes.

A note on the giftbox reminds you that he'll want to see your new outfit. His hot touches were brief, but held a promise, and it led up to this. Guilt in your stomach, and arousal in your gut. Forbidden, secret, and something Avery obviously wanted.

So you get dressed.

Avery spends his evening in his office, sipping his usual evening drink, the one you were invited to, without your parent.

He drags his finger along the rim of his glass as you slip in, feeling like a thief, snatching something that belonged to someone you loved, someone sleeping upstairs right now.

Avery just tilts his head slightly and motions for you to show off, to do a spin for him.

You do, slowly, so he can admire it all. He clears his throat.

"Come here. Want to see you close up." Avery swallows down his drink, enjoying the burn in his throat as you made your way over.

He pushes away from the desk, admiring his own good taste, on your tasty body. Smiles at you, sliding his hands over your arms, appreciating the outfit.

"What do you say now?" He murmured, keeping eye contact as his thumbs swept over your knuckles.

"Thank you, Dad." You whispered, knowing the word he always sought from you.

"You're welcome. Now, show daddy everything he bought for you."

There would be no going back from this, not as you obediently opened your shirt, lingerie snug against your skin.

AMAB, he wants to admire your cock, whether pressed against pretty underwear, or hard and bared to the world, even if it lay in-between some very pretty sling stockings. Grips your cock, pumping it in his hand as he leers at you, enjoying your squirming.

"Daddy needs to treat your pretty cock, doesn't he? Say you want me to treat it, daddy doesn't do this for everyone."

"T-Thank you daddy." You stammered, already dizzy as his other hand crept behind you, running across your ass.

Avery hummed and ducked his head, sucking your cockhead, still pumping the shaft as you struggle not to let moans slips out. Enjoys the hitch in your breath as he pushes a finger into your ass, the way you tighten up around him.

He lets your cockhead pop free from his mouth, smirking up at you.

"Should have let your daddy know you have such a delicious cock, hm? I would have spoiled you like this long ago if you had. Apologize to daddy."

"S-Sorry, daddy." You whine out and he hums in satisfaction, pressing another finger into you before mouthing at your stomach.

AFAB, he makes you part your thighs for him, dragging a knuckle through your folds, enjoying the way you tense up.

"I always knew your pussy would be this pretty. Ever since the first night. You wanted daddy to play with you like this from day one, didn't you?"

He waits for your response, but you could just breath erratically, his cruel fingers just barely skimming your clit. With your lack of an answer, he finally touches it, flicking it. You jump but don't move away.

"Answer daddy."

"S-Sorry daddy." You whisper and he goes back to dragging one finger over your cunt. "I wanted to b-bend over and have you play with my cunt since I ever saw you."

Avery smirks, slipping a finger into you as you moan, rocking against the digit.

"Bet you played with yourself, played with this pretty pussy after we met. Needed your daddy to pound you into your mattress. Cock hungry little thing."

Wants to fuck you on his desk, all spread out. Keeps an ear out for feet on the stairs, but shall fully indulge himself that evening. Will have you over the ottoman at one point, hips smacking against your ass as he sips his drink. Grips the back of your neck to pull you against his chest, just to tip some of the whiskey down your throat, not helping your cock-drunk state. Pushes you back down and continues his lazy thrusts.

Loves the secret. Sits next to you on the couch just to finger you, takes you out for the day and shall greedily stuff you in a changing room. If the relationship wasn't forbidden, he'd never do this, but its such a rush, he can't help it.

Avery will take you to the one type of party he'd never take your parent to. The ones with people's hands down each other's trousers, doing coke off the table, waiters and waitresses being bent over and fucked, no matter how reluctant. People get a kick out of Avery being there with his step kid, loves glancing over to catch him fingering you, his cock in your mouth, maybe even making you ride him on one of the couches.

Will be times that he does want your parent to be gone, wants to take you to dinner, to the hotels, to the parties, to dance with you, but can't. Public image is different form his reputation in the secret parties, the events he lets Quinn feel up his step child and congratulate him on having such a hot thing ready to mount at anytime in his own house.

Will have your face immediately buried in his lap the moment your parent heads to bed, feet still going up the stairs as you bob on his cock. Loves cumming on your face, but will kiss your forehead as he sends you to bed. Only to seek you out a few hours later, slipping in next to you, hands and teeth hungry for more.

It is still up to you to figure out if the squeeze he gives your thigh at the table in the morning, after you've been fucked and filled, is one of lust or genuine fondness.

You'll have to correctly settle on the fact that its a mixture of both.

AO3

Masterlist

Kofi

[tinyterror333]

🔞Can Avery put a dog collar on me so that people know who to return my dumb bitch ass to if I get lost? They seem like the type to actually be responsible to find their lost doggie.🔞

[tinyterror333]

🔞The current thought is Avery finding his next sugarbaby by looking through his kid's friend group. College is hard and expensive and they need money real bad. He knows they're quality because they come around the house often enough. He definitely bought their first time for a pretty penny. They buy a lot of their time. Come to hang out with their friend? Avery answered the door and he gets to feel their mouth around his cock before they go see his kid. Time for them to go home? He offers to drive them home and makes them touch themselves the whole way until they're begging for his hand instead. Maybe they should ask to stop by a nice hotel on the way back~🔞

[tinyterror333]

With the ask where the PC shrank can you do some more headcannons for the School Trio + Remy, Eden, and Bailey. Bonus if you do Leighton and Harper. That ask had me laughing non-stop

Bailey

Honestly, they’re pretty likely to just sell you off to Harper or some weirdo with a lot of money and a very niche fetish, since it’s unlikely you’ll be able to make money in your current state.

If they were to keep you, you’re being thrown in the cheapest enclosure they can find (which will be added to your debt). On the bright side, feeding and clothing you is much cheaper than before.

Bailey probably won’t do anything sexual, with how tiny you are, it’s not like you can bring them any pleasure. They will certainly threaten to split you in half with something far too big for your body, though.

Eden

They’re pissed. What the fuck did you do for this to happen? Was it one of those plants in the forest they told you to never touch!? They’ll care for you, of course, you’re still their spouse, but they want answers.

It’s too dangerous to wander around the cabin, so they build you a simple, miniature version of the cabin. It’s not the most comfortable, but they clearly tried. Just know that Eden wants you to continue your duties.

The least you could do is repay them for all the effort they’ve gone to. C’mon, you could at least rub yourself against their cock/clit, don’t you love them enough to try? What’s the point of being their spouse if you won’t act like it?

Harper

Probably one of the worst people you could be left with. They're determined to study you, to find out just how you ended up being shrunken, to see if there's any comparison between you and naturally small animals.

You spend most of your day in a small, sterile enclosure, feeling like a zoo animal. Harper has taken it upon themself to handle most of your needs; feeding, cleaning, clothing... testing.

Have your sexual or reproductive facilities been affected? That's extremely important to know! Don't worry, all of Harper's tools are sterile, they just need to see if it can fit. It's all in the name of science.

Leighton

The other worst person you could be left with. They buy you a little cage, one too small to even be used as a hamster’s transport cage, and leave you in their desk drawer for most of the day, occasionally checking that you’re still alive.

You get the crumbs of their lunch and a bottlecap of water if you’re well-behaved, otherwise you’re shit out of luck, unless you beg for their cum/slick to sate your thirst, of course.

They take periodic breaks to use you; making you rub yourself against their sex, threatening to ‘forget’ you at school if you don’t make them cum quick enough. Leighton may even try shoving a finger inside, just to test your limits.

Remy

Another person who’s pretty likely to just sell you off to Harper. It’s not like they can get any milk from you, nor can they breed you. The only way you’re staying is if you’ve somehow gotten into their good graces.

In that case, you certainly can’t stay with the other livestock, those beasts could crush you, they’ll have to let you stay in their estate for now, just until someone can figure out how to reverse your shrinkage and get you back into the field.

Any sexual stimulation is done under the guise of keeping your milk production from atrophying. Remy’s gentle, of course, they wouldn’t want to damage their prized cow, not if you’re being obedient.

[tinyterror333]

How would Kylar, Robin, and Eden react to making their s/o squirt for the first time?

Eden gets smug, very smug. To think, you were so stubborn when they first brought you home, but now you're squirting all over your owner's hand like a good little pet. It only encourages them to be even rougher, delighting in the lewd noises your gushing pussy makes as they slip another calloused finger inside, the rough pads of their digits rubbing against your walls. You've created a monster, one that'll fuck you brainless.

Kylar can't stop staring, eyes owlishly wide and lips parted, chest heaving as they pant and moan. You'd almost think they were the one being hit hard and fast with an orgasm. Your slick runs over their thighs and groin, though they don't seem bothered by the mess. In fact, they seem overjoyed that your essence is staining their flesh. From that point onward, they're determined to make it happen again and again and again.

When liquid floods Robin's mouth, they flinch back, slick dripping down their chin. Unlike Eden or Kylar, they don't have previous experience nor a crippling porn addiction to fall back on, therefore they have no idea what's going on. Once you explain that nothing's wrong and that you just feel really, really good, Robin feels pride blossom in their chest. They waste no time in diving back between your thighs to savor their hard word.

[tinyterror333]

A request - wren netotares his cousin(whitney) and steals his gf away because she is into bad guys but she also likes when those guys are nice to her

Wren can see it in her face, even from across the room; she would rather be anywhere else than at Whitney's side, but Whitney doesn't seem all that willing to allow it, going off the tight, bruising grip he has on her arm.

His opportunity comes when some of the more persistent aunts and uncles rope him into some family bonding time—pointedly not including their nephew's 'delinquent girlfriend'.

Within seconds, Wren is sliding up to her under the guise of wanting to get to know her—his little cousin's girlfriend.

She's hesitant at first, but before long she's ranting about how mean Whitney is, how he insults her and demeans her and she wishes she had a nice boyfriend!

"I wanted to dump him, but he told me sluts don't decide that shit."

Wren plays the part of a concerned, caring relative, hanging onto her every word. Internally, however, he's wondering if she's wearing underwear, and if he could possibly get away with teasing her pussy under the table.

"Whit's always been an arse, even when we were kids. Hey, wanna go cool down upstairs?"

"He'll get mad."

"Ah, he won't even realize, aunt Gladys' stories can go on for hours!"

She dries her tears, giggling, and obediently follows Wren to one of the upstairs bedrooms, though not before Wren snags a couple sizable bottles of strong alcohol.

Things get really interesting when he pulls out the pack of cards he carries everywhere—almost like a good luck charm, not that he needs it.

He doesn't jump straight into asking her to strip, of course. She may have a wild streak—if her taste in men is any indication—but he doesn't want to scare her off, not yet.

Instead, he turns it into a drinking game; whoever loses a round has to take a shot.

Turns out, Whitney's (ex)girlfriend is a very affectionate drunk.

"Harder! Harder! Wren! Pleeeeeease ruin my pussy!"

Not to mention loud, even with her face pressed into a pillow, her moans and cries are still clear-as-day.

Wren rubs at her clit, grinning as she squirms and trembles under his skilled fingers.

Girls like her are his favorite; girls with a weakness for bad boys, but who can't handle having their fragile little feelings hurt. They're so easy to influence, offering up their pretty little pussies for any tough-looking man who shows them a scrap of kindness.

Men like Wren.

[tinyterror333]

Self-indulgent and of dubious morality, but could I get something about m!Alex being sent to Remy's farm and tamed? I want this farmboy to be a bullboy, it'd be a long period of training but I want him submissive and milkable

Alex is knocked unconscious before being muzzled and restrain, Remy knows their rival well enough to be cautious around the stubborn farm boy. They wouldn't put it past Alex to act like a rabid dog, like something that should be put down.

He looks good like this, dazed from the drugs, not yet realizing just what shit he's gotten himself into. Oh... breaking Alex is going to be fun.

The first thing Alex does is charge at the person nearest to him. Even on wobbly legs and with blurred vision he manages to land an impressive (and painful-sounding) headbutt.

Good thing Remy likes a bit of a challenge.

He's no less defiant in the field. Even stripped of clothes and bright red with embarrassment, Alex tries rallying up the other cow-people. The ones who've been there longer shake their heads and mutter warnings. Others flicker their gaze between Alex and Remy's employees, who are leaning on the fence and watching this whole spectacle.

Remy’s goons try to avoid directly confronting Alex. Every time they do, it goes one of two ways; Alex pummels them until they bleed, or he pins them down and fucks their ass in full view of the other cattle—never their pussy and rarely their mouth, he wants it to hurt.

His proudest moment was staring that bastard Remy in the eyes while one of their best workers sobbed beneath him.

Almost made the ensuing beating, tazing, and branding worth it. The tied wrists and muzzle are a bitch to deal with, though.

But still, Remy is determined. They don’t let their annoyance show—that’d just be letting Alex win—so instead they keep a calm, emotionless expression, even as they strike the younger man with their fists and crops and whips.

Every time Alex so much as thinks about being defiant, he receives a beating. It doesn’t matter if he wasn’t actually going to do anything. Consider it payback for all the hell he put Remy through.

If he’d just sold that failing farm, Remy wouldn’t have been forced to do this, do you realize that, Alex? Your parents and siblings are all grieving their son and brother because you were too stubborn to realize what a failure you are. The littlest ones probably don’t even understand why their big brother is gone.

Alex is determined, bull-headed, and always raring for a fight...

...but he’s also human.

He’ll crack, sooner or later,

and Remy will have one prime bull on their hands.

[tinyterror333]

heyhey so u h- imagine overstimming Wren,nursing the tables and making him squirm and beg instead -🌸

You're always full of surprises, huh?

Wren grabs at your ass and hips in an attempt to take back control and set his own pace, but you roll your hips in just the right way to push him over the edge. He lets out a hiss as you milk him for all he's worth.

Every other time, you'd slip off his lap after one round and stumble away with cum dripping down your thighs. Now you're three rounds in and don't seem any worse for wear.

Is this his punishment for teasing you? Are you some kind of succubus? 

It certainly feels like you are, with the devilish way you grind against him.

His friends are simply in awe, its been a long time since anyone’s turned the tables on the smuggler. Some of them are leaning over for a better look. Wren hopes they can’t see how flushed and wanton his expression is. Maybe he can play it off as him letting you have your fun.

“God, fuck!”

Wren swears his vision blacks out momentarily as you fuck him through his fourth orgasm—or was it his fifth? He’s lost count now.

What’s worse is the realization that his brief voice crack would’ve alerted everyone present as to who was really in charge.

And you're aware of that.

You grin and pull Wren into a sloppy, heated kiss before moving towards his ear.

“Aw, looks like all your little friends know what a whore you are, Wren.”

With a brief nip, your pace picks up again. Wren lets his head rest on your shoulder, whispering in the hopes to avoid further embarrassment.

“Please, please please, it’s too fucking much.”

He looks so cute when he begs.

Not cute enough to stop, though.

[tinyterror333]

The ramblings of the sinister, or an earnest request... why not both, together as one? I appreciate what you do, after all. I would greatly enjoy seeing your work, were you to entertain my plea.

Wasn’t expecting the resident eldritch being to make a request, but I’m gonna roll with it!

Alex

Strange things happen in the countryside, that’s just a fact of life. They’ve learned to ignore the odd sounds during the night, they’re unbothered when the radio refuses to play anything but whispery static.

But the figures beyond the fence worry them. Alex knows that they aren’t Remy’s henchmen, no sane human could stand in the same place for hours—sometimes days—at a time. Not the mention how blurry they are. It’s not an issue with Alex’s eyes, everything surrounding the figures is clear as day. Even at night.

Alex wants to ignore them, blame it all on an optical illusion or too much time in the lab—they don’t fully understand just what those drugs are capable of, after all—but it’s impossible not to notice their increasing encroachment.

They never see the figures move closer. One day Alex just realized that a figure that’d been right next to an old oak tree was now several feet in front of it. Several feet closer to the farm. Several feet closer to the cottage.

Several feet closer to Alex.

The loud chirping of insects used to get on their nerves at times, but now the ever present noise is a comfort, a sign that they—it?—haven’t gotten too close, that Alex still has a fighting chance.

Sure, they could abandon the farm, but that’d be cowardly. Alex has always had more fight than sense. Whatever those things are, Alex hopes they aren’t immune to axes or saws.

Avery

Everything has a reasonable explanation. Avery considers themself a person of reason and logic, far more grounded than some of the fools they’re forced to share oxygen with.

That’s what they tell themself, at least. It’s easier than admitting that something unnatural has found its way to Rapechestershire. Most of their business partners act like nothing is wrong, and Avery follows their lead. Others, however, mutter under their breath and seem distant.

It’s getting harder and harder to ignore what’s going on. Sometimes Avery sees vibrant tendrils reach up from storm grates, flinging viscous slime with every twitch. No-one else reacts. Avery keeps their gaze ahead.

They want to talk about it with someone, but who? Avery’s not entirely sure if they’re actually seeing what they think they see. They know that their peers would accuse them of being crazy or on drugs.

Their reputation is all they have.

So they pretend that everything is perfectly normal. The slime on their shoes didn’t come from tentacles, that’s ridiculous! Avery must’ve just stepped in something while walking, this is why they prefer to drive everywhere!

Behind that veneer of denial and disbelief, Avery is terrified. How are they supposed to keep this up when their newest co-worker, whose name no-one seems to know, doesn’t have a shadow.

Black Wolf

The wolves have long grown used to the forest’s oddities; plants that seem to move on their own, leaky purple tendrils, the cloaked humans, that lonely hunter, it’s simply part of life for the wolf pack.

Black Wolf is beginning to grow antsy. Something is wrong and the alpha wolf can sense it. They’re on edge during hunts, looking for something that isn’t there, but it is there. It’s always there. It’s malicious, an entity capable of destroying the entire pack if it really wanted to.

The alpha refuses to relocate the pack. They didn’t leave when that hunter appeared, they certainly aren’t abandoning their cave just because a new presence has appeared.

Some of the pack members accuse Black Wolf of being stubborn, of putting everyone in danger for the sake of their pride. There are pups at risk, for goodness sake!

But they stay.

They tell the pack to keep a watch out and maul anyone or anything that comes close, no questions. Nothing is to be trusted, not when there’s such an intense disturbance in the forest.

The wolf pack do not roll over and let intruders do as they please, they fight tooth and nail. They fight to the death if needed. Black Wolf doesn’t care what their opponent is.

Eden

They’re used to encountering strange, unnatural things; red-veined lemons that only appear during the blood moon, temple members protecting their anonymity with cloaks, it barely even phases Eden anymore.

But sometimes the forest manages to baffle them in entirely new ways. It’s not unusual to find the remains of deer slaughtered by bears or those damn wolves, but is is unusual for the carcass to be several feet up a tree, dripping rotten viscera all over the grass.

It gets worse when the deer’s head appears on their doorstep in the morning, blood trailing from its empty gums. They find out what happened to the teeth the day after, scattered over their mattress.

Not much can put Eden on edge, but realizing that someone—or something—was in their home, by their bed, with full access to their weapons, all without Eden even stirring leaves them shaken.

Their security system needs upgrading, clearly.

Eden refuses to let whatever bastard’s doing this walk all over them; they set up traps, hidden alarm systems, do routine patrols around the cabin’s perimeter, and stock up on ammo.

They find a bear skull next, freshly cleaned, going by the stains and remnants of flesh. What the fuck. Eden stays up the entire night after that incident, crouched in their house, gun pointed at the woods, and finger on the trigger.

Great Hawk

The tentacles couldn’t reach the harpy in the crumbling tower they called home, though the mere sight of the wriggling masses was more than enough to put them on edge.

Sometimes they see lights in the distance, almost like the lights those land-walkers have on their metal machines, but these lights are high in the sky. Sometimes they go still and blink in odd patterns that Great Hawk can’t even begin to decipher.

They try to not let it bother them. It’s strange, but the lights seem to keep their distance from the harpy. Great Hawk chooses to view it as a sign of respect, a way of keeping the peace.

That is, until, the lights begin to wander closer and closer to their home. Great Hawk calls out, attempting to gage their intentions. They receive a response; a horrid metallic screech that leaves the harpy with a crippling migraine.

The lights aren’t friendly, that much is obvious.

Great Hawk has always been the predator, rarely ever the prey. None of the moor’s inhabitants have been foolish enough to challenge The Terror. Not until now, at least.

Kylar

They’ve seen things before; tendrils slithering out of the sewer, figures appearing and disappearing within crowds, people with missing shadows and too many teeth. It’s really nothing new to Kylar.

But now other people are noticing the same things they do, that’s what concerns them. For the longest time, Kylar assumed they were just hallucinating, a side-effect of prolonged chemical exposure or perhaps something hereditary that they hadn’t been told about.

Kylar feels both deeply vindicated but also horrified. They’re not crazy, but the world they live in is as dangerous as they’d feared. It’s all real, and it can hurt them.

Their paranoia is at an all-time high, so they do what they always do; shut themself off from the awfulness that is humanity. Kylar throws themself into their artwork, but over time their subjects warp.

What once would’ve been a life-like human portrait is now something distinctly wrong.

Despite their better instincts, Kylar becomes obsessed. Their mind swirls with theories and possibilities. It occupies their every waking moment to the point that they often forget to eat or drink or sleep.

Robin

They’ve been overworking themself lately, going out much earlier and coming back much later in a desperate attempt to meet Bailey’s ever-increasing demands. They’re even thinking of selling their beloved console.

That must be why they’re seeing things, right? Some of the other orphans claim to see ghostly figures, purple tendrils, talking animals, all sorts of wild things! Actually, maybe there’s something in the water supply? Robin doubts Bailey spends much on maintenance for the orphanage.

A root wraps around Robin’s ankle as they tend the garden and they just shake it off, really, they should pay more attention to where they’re stepping. Another orphan is swept right off their feet by the same vine once Robin heads inside.

It’s not until the newest stray dog found by some of the younger orphans stares Robin down with eyes far more human than any dog should have, its jaw opening, looking almost dislocated, that it really hits Robin.

Something is horribly wrong in Rapechestershire, and it’s something far worse than Bailey.

Robin tries to keep up a strong front for their fellow orphans, but behind closed doors they spend a lot of time silently sobbing. What are they supposed to do!?

They can’t even stand up to Bailey, how can they even hope to go up against things beyond their comprehension!?

Whitney

They’re not some fuckin’ kid who still believes in the monster under the bed or Bloody Mary appearing in the mirror, Whitney doesn’t give a shit what any of their dumbass friends have claimed to see.

Those whispers they hear outside their window are probably some asshole druggies who couldn’t find anywhere better to shoot up. The weird shadows moving in the corner of their room? That shithead pot dealer must’ve given Whitney something laced!

That hallway shouldn’t lead to their kitchen. In fact, Whitney isn’t sure that hallway was there before. Shut up you fuckin’ idiot, you’re just high and paranoid, stop being a little bitch.

Whitney has never felt as ease around the temple, but recently it’s been worse than usual. Something about the old stone building just feels...wrong, unnatural, even.

A nun watches Whitney. Impressive, considering she doesn’t have a fucking face. 

Most people notice that Whitney is more edgy than usual, everyone notices when they throw another student to the ground, demanding to know why they don’t have a shadow.