Archive of Our Own

Paintbrush felt anxiety bubbling in them as they stepped into the cool autumn night outside. It wasn’t a bad anxiety, no, it was excitement and anticipation more than anything; the type of anxiety an actor might get right before they go on stage for the opening night of a play. 

‘Just treat it like a late night stroll.’ They reminded themself, taking a deep breath before walking as casually as they could. It looked quite stiff and fake at first, beginning to march down the path to the woods like they were a soldier. They shivered at the cold breeze, their tank top with its crop and window doing little to protect their body from the cooling weather of late October. Goosebumps rose across their skin. They wrapped their arms around themself. They felt like they were being watched. Scratch that, they knew they were being watched.

They really were already so on edge…

He hadn’t told them everything, just pitching them this basic idea over text with a lot of apologizing and repeated warnings that he might get ‘a little bit intense’, his words. They had reassured him of their interest in his roleplay, driven by curiosity and, strangely, flattery that he would want to do something like that to them. They never knew something like this would appeal to them but they were discovering as of late that they really liked ‘intense’. They were sick of people acting like they were a fragile bomb about to go off at any moment if handled the wrong way, they were fed up with people pretending to be reserved as if they weren’t liked or cared for. They wanted it hard and passionate, so much so that it could be concerningly extreme. Just like they were as a person. And they were strong, they could take it! They liked feeling wanted, they liked feeling LOVED.

‘I can’t believe I thought I was vanilla.’ They mused to themself, a tiny smile pulling at their lips at the little joke that distracted them.

Over time, they eventually managed to start acting more natural, and almost even relaxed a bit. Almost. They would walk for a minute, enjoying the cool breeze and sound of crickets, able to relax under the light of the stars peeking through the branches— until something would catch in the corner of their eye, and they’d gasp or curse, turning in a panic only to see it was just a tree or bush. It felt silly, but relieving, and even slightly disappointing each time there was nothing there. They would scoff, laugh, roll their eyes, shake their head, or even flip off the empty darkness, and yet they could never shake the steadily-rising anxiety inside them, though it came in peaks and valleys.  

Well, it was certainly the setting to be in if they were looking for trouble. That’s what this was, wasn’t it? They were just looking for trouble, always finding trouble, all because of those crazy, weird partners of theirs that they trusted way too much. Trouble. 

When was trouble going to finally show his smiling little face? 

It was beginning to grow harder to act like this was ‘just a late night stroll’ as doubt and confusion festered in them. Was this the wrong time? Had he changed his mind? Fallen asleep, forgotten? Was he lost? Was this a stupid prank? Shit, if it was, they were going to kill him! This wasn’t funny at all!

Were they doing this right? Were they being good… prey, as he had said?

Oh, they liked that word a little too much. Concerning.

Just when they started to feel a little less scared and a lot more flustered and frustrated, because it was cold and they felt like they had walked and walked for quite some time and still nothing had happened and they were getting so lost in their thoughts, they heard a sound. It was a different sound than the peaceful emptiness of everything else they had heard on their walk, it was distinctly the out of place sound of leaves crunching under shoes. For a moment, they thought maybe it was their own footsteps, trying to rationalize with the nauseous pit in their stomach. But when they stopped, they continued to hear it, for just a brief moment. They might have been able to ignore it if they weren’t already looking out for a sign that someone WAS following them.

The person stalking behind them had realized when they stopped, and tried to stop suddenly too, but was simply not fast enough to react without them noticing. Someone observant, but clumsy.

“Hello?” They didn’t turn around, calling out without thinking, before mentally hitting themself at how cliché it felt and trying to correct it, “Is someone there?”

They cringed at themself. It sounded like dialogue right out of a generic horror movie, the kind that they, themself, would always judge the characters for and call them stupid. They weren’t stupid, of course they weren’t, why were they acting like this? Why wasn’t their head working right! For just a flash, they felt like the pretty dumb blonde about to be the first kill of the night. Despite their rational mind, their irrational feelings were stronger, and their nerves sparked excitedly at that fleeting thought. They both hated and loved the electrifying sensation.

They heard nothing after a minute of waiting, but they couldn’t find the courage in themself to just keep walking like nothing had happened. They felt frozen, prickles of anxiety still running down their spine, holding their breath to be as quiet as possible and to see if they could hear anything at all.

There was nothing.

It’s nothing. Why were they so worked up?

No, it was not at all relaxing for nothing to be there. Because Paintbrush knew better. They still knew someone was supposed to be there, and it was more alarming to not have confirmation. It was alarming to not know. That’s where fear comes from, after all: Not knowing.

Finally willing themself to keep moving, they found it hard to walk, so they broke into a jog, and then— when that only made their primal panic grow even more— a run. They sprinted as fast as they could for a short distance, glancing over their shoulder and seeing absolutely nothing. But they could hear it. Loud, ungraceful, quick footsteps stomping behind them, the sound of heavy breathing getting further away telling them that their now-revealed pursuer, wherever he was, had been way too close.

“WHO’S THERE?! STOP FOLLOWING ME!” They shouted stupidly, looking for an answer yet not wanting to hear a response, “LEAVE ME ALONE!”

Startled by their newfound lack of control and desperately needing to do something, anything they could to regain it, they added on: “I HAVE A WEAPON!”

Though it was a bluff, it was a good one, they thought! It was only very clearly contrasted by the way they continued to flee like a scared deer.

“I CAN FUCK YOU UP!”

When they started to approach a clearing, now a little more well-lit with the open sky and able to see if a threat were coming from that direction, they slowed down to try and catch their breath. They stopped right at the edge of the woods and whipped fully around to finally face their pursuer— and still only found themself seemingly alone.

Their eyes darted around as they gulped down air into their burning lungs, shadows playing tricks on them as they desperately tried to spot him in the dark forest.

“I can… mess you up…” They panted as they looked between the trees, until they couldn’t stop themself from blurting out their stalker’s known identity.

“Fan!”

Paintbrush knew it went against the scene but they felt too compelled to say it in their attempts to regulate themself, saying it out loud was the only thing that helped them feel less scared. They reminded themself that this was just their boyfriend, Fan.

”Alright, Fan, that’s enough, no more, okay?! You don’t have to keep pretending! I know it’s you!”

Could he even keep up with them when they took off running? Paintbrush was much bigger and stronger than Fan, they could easily overpower him or lose him if they wanted to. They hadn’t really meant to, but their reaction was so real that they had forgotten to slow down for him. 

“Fan!”

It was just Fan. Right. They knew it was Fan. They KNEW Fan. Fan wasn’t scary, they were stronger than Fan. That thought spurred a brief rush of strength in them.

“Would you knock it off, asshole! It’s not funny!”

That moment of strength was swiftly cut short. They thought they saw him for a second, out of the corner of their eye, they gasped and flinched to face him only for it to be a red leaf that had fallen from the autumn trees. Then, they heard a rustle in the other direction, making a strangled yell and sharply turned to look that way instead.

“STOP TRYING TO SCARE ME, YOU LITTLE JERK! IT’S NOT EVEN WORKING!” They yelled into the darkness, looking around wildly, their anger rising in them in response to the growing fear. Their face started to heat up, mostly in embarrassment at their uncollected behavior and their fury at being messed with, but undeniably from an underlying arousal, too. The blooming warmth in them contrasted the cool air, the breeze stung their burning ears. He should’ve come out by now, they could clearly tell he was there, they knew it was him without a shadow of a doubt… why wasn’t he listening to them? 

“Can you come out already?! Please, I— I’m being serious!”

…What if it wasn’t him? And if it wasn’t him, then what WAS it?

“I’M SERIOUS, I DON’T LIKE THIS! FAN!!” Paintbrush shouted as loud as they could, their threatening voice roaring through the woods. 

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

They were only a few more seconds of silence away from showing how serious they were by saying the safeword, when—

Suddenly, something, or someone, grabbed hold of their long hair from behind their shoulder. They were caught off guard by the surprise attack and yanked off balance before they could prepare themself. In a blind panic, they broke out screaming and swung to punch the attacker, but made contact with nothing but the air. Two metal prongs dug into the bare sliver of skin on their lower back, and an electrical current ripped through them. They collapsed to the forest floor, their muscles spasming as they lost control of their limbs. 

The artist couldn’t talk, they couldn’t move. Their brain desperately panicked trying to get their body to do something, anything, but they could only stare up at the night sky peaking through the spotty fall canopy, not even able to look around and confirm that their attacker was who they expected it to be. 

Then, they heard the sound of duct tape. They could feel their body being shifted, they could feel a heavy weight sitting on their torso, likely to help keep them in place as they twitched and jerked wildly. The electricity still buzzing in their muscles made it hard to tell where exactly they were being touched— it was a strange sensation, they could feel pressure but they couldn’t feel contact, like there was a layer of cloth encasing their whole body— but they heard the sound of tape ripping clear as ever, like it was held right next to their ear on purpose. 

Finally, a voice cut through the tense air. And it sounded quite frantic and out of breath.

“Got you— finally— you wore the right clothes—”

Paintbrush relaxed immediately when they finally heard who was behind this, and everything was thankfully as expected. For what was probably the first time in their life, they thought to themself: ‘thank god it’s Fan.’

“Your outfit from season two—” Fan continued on, gasping out his words and grunting as he wrestled to hold down their shoulders. Paintbrush felt their arms getting pinned to their sides, layers of tape constricting them, all while they couldn’t move to stop it. 

“Oh, you look so perfect!” He exclaimed excitedly, thoughts spilling out of him like they were too intense to be kept inside of him, “I’ve always loved that flattering black top on you, you look so strong and confident, and those overalls are so iconic, it’s my favorite outfit of yours!”

“FA—AN—!” Paintbrush tried to manage his name through the paralysis, struggling to get their mouth to work. They could feel the buzzing slowly dying down, a strange numbness still in their limbs— but they could wiggle their fingers. They found their arms and torso were wrapped in nearly half a roll of duct tape, mostly around their shoulders and stomach, with their chest concerningly left exposed.

“Oops, gotta hurry! It’s already wearing off, wow, you really are strong! I mean, heh, I knew that already, but still! It impresses me!” He talked very quickly, and started to laugh like this was all some silly game that the two were playing, clamoring off their hips to begin wrestling with their legs now. Paintbrush was beginning to get feeling back in their feet, able to flex their toes in their hiking boots. A few seconds of great effort later, they could roll their ankles. Fan was still busy struggling with his second roll of tape, this one fresh unlike the last, as well as simultaneously trying to hold down their jerking knees. 

“Stupid— thing!” He grumbled in frustration as he couldn’t find where the roll started, “Oh, there it—!”

Paintbrush found the power to swing their leg at him, their boot kicking him square in the cheek and knocking him over, his glasses flying off with it. He made a horrible screech like a dying crow, and began to immediately clamor on the ground in a blind search for his glasses. Meanwhile, Paintbrush was trying to find the strength to just stand up when their limbs still felt like wobbling jello. Using all the energy they could, they only managed to rolled onto their stomach. 

“Oh, you, you, you—!” They heard Fan’s voice behind them, the fanboy laughing and trying to playfully chastise them to mask his flicker of anger, “You knew I expected a good fight from you, Paintbrush!” 

They didn’t respond, their lips still felt too numb and tingly, their words wouldn’t work right. They were unnerved by the way they could hear the sick smile in the voice behind them. Even though they couldn’t see his face, they could tell he was grinning like a madman. 

“AHA!” Fan suddenly exclaimed, “Here we go!”

They only got more desperate as they realized he had already found his glasses. In a panic as they still couldn’t get their legs to work well enough to stand, and not caring for how stupid it looked if it meant getting away from their attacker, Paintbrush started to try shimmying on the ground.

“Oh, look at that! You got a good few feet!” Fan seemed genuinely impressed.

They were about to attempt cussing him out when they felt hands grab them by the ankles and yank them back, and the only sound that escaped them was an involuntary yell of fear.

Paintbrush felt the fanboy starting to wrestle their legs together, and they hit him with another square kick to the jaw before he could attempt to bind them. They managed to get out of his grasp once more, this time with enough movement to pull their knees under themself.

If they could get to their feet, that’d be it. They were home free, they won; They could outrun Fan easily. He asked for a fight, they were going to give him a real fight. Like hell they were losing to FAN!

At least, they would have outran him if their legs were working right. Although Paintbrush had managed to get themself onto one knee, and finally hauled themself up to their feet to quickly try and take off running, they only made it one step before their sleeping legs gave out on them again. 

They staggered for a moment, swaying and fighting to stay standing on wobbling legs— and then tumbled right back into the dirt. They could only scream, arms pinned uselessly to their sides as they crashed into the ground like a useless rag doll. 

“Okay okay, you almost had me there again!” Fan still, somehow, didn’t sound fazed, keeping that same whimsical passion and excitement, as if Paintbrush wasn’t fighting like their life was on the line, “Good job, I mean it! You’re doing AMAZING! This is exactly what I wanted, no holding back!”

“HOW ABOUT I KILL YOU THEN, YOU SICK FUCK—!” The artist managed to yell out before Fan dodged another kick, snatched their leg, and dug the paralyzer into their lower calf. He unleashed a second dose of the electricity onto them, cutting off their empty threat with another low, strangled scream.

“Aha, you’re not pulling another fast one on me, Paintbrush!”

They laid there, twitching helplessly as Fan finally managed to pin their ankles together and started wrapping them up.

“Gosh, you gave me a real workout, and a real good beating too, HA! Totally worth it. I am never washing my face AGAIN! I actually got kicked in the face by PAINTBRUSH II! By the same boots you wore in the competition!”

Even when he was being dominant, he was still so excited about getting stomped on. What was wrong with this freak?! Was he serious?! Was it just because he liked being hit, or was he genuinely that obsessed with them? And why did that thought make them feel all giddy and warm?

They almost forgot that this was their long-time friend, roommate, and partner. It's not like they didn’t know about this side of him, hell, they knew about this side before they knew anything else about him! The image of Fan as an obsessive weirdo fanboy who treated them like a celebrity formed the first memories Paintbrush had of him— and yet the two had grown so much from that, over several years now, forming a much healthier and more equal bond. It felt like getting dunked in ice water to be back on the receiving end of Fan’s, well, crazed fan tendencies, and at a level the fanboy had never gone to ever before. 

In a little over a minute, Fan finally had Paintbrush fully restrained. Their legs were bound tightly, mummified up past their knees. Fan popped his head into their field of view as he leaned over them, “Okay, now try moving for me?”

Paintbrush would’ve spat at him if they could. Instead, even with great trouble due to their involuntary twitching, they managed to twist their face enough to give him a dirty look.

Fan was not at all dissuaded by this; in fact, he seemed to only grow more excited by it, his huge grin somehow stretching even bigger. Closer up but still quite faint in the dark, they could make out dirt smudged around his face, blood running from his nose, and a black eye forming around where they kicked him. If they weren’t the one tied up on the ground, it would’ve looked like HE was the victim of an attack, not the other way around.

When they didn’t adhere to his request, he moved them on his own, grabbing them by the shoulders and rolling them onto their back again.

“What are you doing?!” Paintbrush finally managed to force their words out though it wasn’t much more than an aggressive, hissing whisper. They were already trying to start struggling again as feeling was slowly returning to their body.

“Oh! Oh, you CAN talk again! That’s great!”

“Of course I can talk, I’m just not listening to you! You’re gonna listen to ME! What the hell is this?!” They snapped at him, gnashing their teeth intimidatingly. There was little they could do to otherwise look like a real threat, given they were completely immobilized. It was all so real it hardly felt like they were acting— save for the lack of any smoke coming off of them that would indicate real fury.

“Okay, look, I’m sorry that I was a little rough with you, but! In all fairness, you messed me up pretty good too, so I’d call it even.”

They thrashed violently, “LIKE HELL IT IS, LET ME GO, WHAT ARE YOU DOING, YOU—!”

“Hey, hey, calm down! Caaaaalm. I’m not gonna hurt you!” Fan said, wrestling to hold them down. When he had them pinned, one hand pressing down on the center of their chest, he started petting their hair with the other like that would help them relax. It only made them feel more uncomfortable, especially because they highly doubted his hands were clean. “Oh wow, that is… oh, that IS soft!”

He suddenly leaned down to them. They turned their head away, thinking he was going to try kissing them— instead, Fan lifted a chunk of their hair to his nose and inhaled deeply. 

“Ohhh, I’ve always wanted to do that!” He sounded unreasonably satisfied, “I thought it’d smell warm, like vanilla or cookies or something, but it's pleasantly floral!” Paintbrush felt disgust and arousal mixing around inside them, barely able to stop themself from head-butting the fanboy as a last resort to getting away from him. What would that solve? Even if they could somehow knock him out, how could they get out of this? They would never make it back to the hotel!

Beneath that instinctive panic, they knew they didn’t really want to get out of this. They didn’t want to truly escape. They were loving the attention way too much, they could feel sparks of excitement running down their back and between their thighs. They were already so turned on. 

“Ew! Wh… what is your PROBLEM?!” The artist shouted at him, trying to free their arms just so they could shove him away, “Shut up! Get— off of me— HELP! SOMEBODY HELP M— MM!”

Fan clamped a hand over their mouth to shut them up, “Shhh sh sh, there’s no reason to do that, you know no one's gonna hear you. But don’t worry, I’m gonna take super good care of you! I mean, it is an HONOR to finally have you like this, here, with me! Aha!”

He sounded totally out of his mind, and it startled Paintbrush enough that their muffled screaming fell into silence. They could only stare in shock at him now. He grinned back, then he snatched his hand back off their mouth and shot up to his feet. He stepped around them, grabbing their bound ankles and lifting their legs up off the ground.

“Hey, wait! What— what are you doing now?!”

“Oh, did you really think we were gonna do this outside? Don’t be silly, Paintbrush! I’d never do that to you! Outdoors? Oof, no way!” He answered, giving them a good tug as he started pulling them, though it was with very great difficulty for him.

“You are NOT dragging me back to the hotel!” They felt terrible at the idea of being dragged like this through the dirt all the way back the way they came, it wasn’t a short distance, it would ruin their hair, and their clothes, not to mention if someone saw them like this! Letting themself be defeated by FAN of all people?! 

“Pssshh, with these arms? Yeah, not a chance!” Fan joked, but Paintbrush only continued to stare at him furiously, “I was— ugh!” He grunted as he pulled with all his strength,”—waiting for you to walk right here for a reason! You took a while, so I had to chase you here, sorry about that. But hey, you— you ended up right where I wanted you to go! It was really convenient, thank you!”

“Oh, go fuck yourself!” They barked at him, only getting angrier when he didn’t react and just kept merrily pulling them along. They only scoffed and rolled their eyes, “If you wanted me to come here, then why didn’t you just tell me that in the first place?”

“Well, I didn’t want to give everything away, it’s less fun if you knew exactly when or where I’d be. I wanted you to be as…” He thought about his words for a beat, the enthusiasm in his voice nearing a depraved fascination, “—natural as possible. I wanted it to be all you!”

“Uh-huh, and how was I then! Did I scream enough for you? Do you like when I scream?” They shot back at him. They were completely floored by his open excitement for this. Fan really, truly wanted this to feel genuine. That should’ve concerned them, it really should’ve, and yet…

“Oh my goodness, YES! You’ve been incredible so far! You’re somehow more perfect than I imagined you’d be! I didn’t think you’d be so into this!”

God, Fan was so weird, and so shameless, and so shameless about how weird he was! Paintbrush found it infuriatingly attractive.

“That was sarcasm, are you dense?! I AM NOT INTO THIS!” They shouted at him, voice raising an octave. They only internally noted how good it felt to hear that reassurance that they were doing this right. 

“But you’re so perfect for it!” Fan cheerily insisted.

“I am not into this, you freak! This was your idea! You’re the one getting off on— OW! Oh, how dare you— you gross little— SHIT! Oh my god, WOULD IT KILL YOU TO BE A LITTLE MORE GENTLE!” Getting dragged like this was far from pleasant, their head and shoulder blades feeling every imperfection of the ground, and Fan wasn’t exactly known for having grace or a delicate touch.

“Sorry, sorry! You’re a lot heavier than I accounted for in my plans!” Fan replied sheepishly, “I mean not that you’re a bad weight at all! You’re nice and fit! Just, very tall, and I’m sure those muscles—”

Paintbrush grumbled under their breath as Fan rambled about their body, their cheeks beginning to feel just as hot as their ears. His plans… they tossed that wording around in their head. He must have fantasized about this quite a lot, perhaps even thinking about it nonstop since they had agreed to it just a few days ago. Wow…

In the dark, it was hard to tell where Fan was even taking them, all these trees and patches of grass looked the same. All vaguely familiar, but indiscernible. It was just a background to their racing thoughts, like a screensaver, filtered out visual garbage as their horny mind tried to imagine what Fan was planning for them. 

Until they heard the distinct hum of a vending machine, and noticed a very out-of-place white glow in the middle of the field that fit like a puzzle piece with the faint buzzing noise. When Fan dropped their ankles, the scenery quickly clicked into place. They knew exactly where this was.

He was taking them to the lab? Why was he taking them to the lab?! Surely they would’ve known if Test Tube was in on this!

What the hell was this guy plotting?

“Wait— Fan!” 

“Yeah?” Fan looked down at them, hand hovering right over the keypad of the vending machine.

The artist paused, trying to think of what they could say to change his mind if they didn’t have the safeword. Their rational instincts obviously didn’t like the idea of being tossed down a steep slide into an underground bunker, certainly not while they were immobilized! Everything about this screamed dangerous.

“T— Test Tube is gonna be so mad at you if she finds out you’re doing this shit in her lab!” They eventually landed on that as an excuse.

“Test Tube? Actually, she said I could!” He grinned enthusiastically, an ever childish, tonally-wrong excitement in his voice.

Paintbrush felt their heart drop for a moment, like a bunny hop on a roller coaster. Even though they knew that they weren’t really out of control, and that Fan at least wouldn’t endanger them on purpose— maybe, hopefully. They were starting to trust him less by the second— it was hard to reason with the natural reactions in their body.

It was their word against his actions, they could only pray that nothing bad would happen and that Fan knew what he was doing, because they could not protect themself right now. 

All that to say this: Despite Fan’s hopefully good intentions, this was all, reasonably, very scary for Paintbrush. Scary in a very good way, but still scary in a way that required them to be aware of it and willingly allow it.

The few seconds of silence, while they racked their brain for anything that would save them aside from their one working panic button, were unbearably tense. 

“Well— and— does she know what you’re using it for?!” They attempted to double down, with spectacular failure.

Fan only laughed at them, his attention turned back to the machine, glancing between the notes app on his phone and the keypad as he punched in the excessively long combination.

“Fan?” They questioned a little more timidly.

“Don’t you worry your pretty head, Paintbrush, I’ve got it all under control!” Fan waved them off.

“I— I don’t believe you!” They stammered back.

“Aha, well, believe me or not, I do!”

The hidden door in the machine opened with a hiss, revealing the secret tunnel that served as an entrance to the underground lab. Another wave of panic crashed into Paintbrush because they realized that, like it or not, they WERE going down there. They began wiggling on the ground trying to inch away again. 

“Hang on, Fan— Fan! Do not drop me down there like— FAN, PLEASE!!” Despite their pleading and weak struggling, Fan seemed to completely ignore them, grunting as he struggled to lift them up. He somehow managed to chuck them towards the machine, their back slamming into it, before he hauled them up into the chute. They screamed going down as they couldn’t control their landing. For the fourth time already, their stomach churned like they were going to throw up, their brain was frantically panicking for any semblance of control, and they could do nothing but scream like screaming would help them in any way, shape, or form. 

They crash-landed— thankfully not hitting their head, only tumbling over their shoulder and skidding to a stop on their side, unharmed aside from some likely bruises— into the laboratory. It was uncharacteristically dark. Paintbrush was used to and had expected the bright, buzzing fluorescent lights and busy activity of whatever Test Tube was working on, but no one was here right now. Test Tube was not here, and the space felt extremely wrong because of it. As far as they knew, they were simply bound on the cold tile floor of a pitch black room.

Freezing terror surged through them, they wanted to move but couldn’t see anywhere to go. They had never felt this out of control, ever. Being tied up was one thing, they could handle that, they could handle being submissive, they could even handle being tossed around a little, they ENJOYED it. This was a whole new level of powerlessness— Fan was acting completely crazy!

It felt so real. Like they really had been kidnapped by an obsessive and unpredictable fan.

It WAS real, that WAS exactly what happened, just as they were told it would, just as they wanted it to. 

And sure enough, they found that they did enjoyed this, illogically so. They felt thrilled when they heard Fan laughing madly as he barreled down the slide, they felt excitement at not knowing what was in store for them, they felt flattery knowing how badly Fan wanted them that he was willing to do… THIS.

It felt electric. It was so intense, it was just nearly, almost too much for them, and that was exciting! And, if it ever did dip into actually being too much, they knew what to say to stop it. Paintbrush knew that they had control, they knew that, but it was so temptingly easy to get lost in sensation when they were strung up so titillatingly on that fence between wanting it to stop and needing it to get even worse. 

They were pulled from their racing thoughts when they heard Fan fly into the room, clearly not sticking the landing either, despite him actually having all of his limbs free. They heard him crash into and rattle something with an ‘OOF!’ His giddy laughter proceeded to die down as he stumbled to his feet in the dark. 

“Wasn’t that fun?” Fan asked with sheer innocent glee the second he regained his footing, “It’s so cool that Test Tube has a slide—!”

“YOU’RE INSANE!” Paintbrush shouted over him, voice echoing in the open room and wavering like they were about to start crying, “T— TURN THE DAMN LIGHTS ON!”

“Awww, is the big mean Paintbrush afraid of the dark?” Fan was delighting in their panic, or at least oblivious to it, like he was learning a fun little trivia fact about them. 

“N— no! I am not! I want to see where I am!” They shot back.

“Oh, I figured you’d be familiar enough.” Fan turned on a desk lamp, one on the counter in the center of the room. The small light did little to illuminate the large laboratory, darkness still surrounding them outside of the lamp’s dim radius, but Paintbrush could at least finally see him properly. Fan was dressed in all black, with baggy jeans and a hoodie. When he pulled his hood off, they could see his tied-back dye-damaged hair was coming loose with flyaways going wild in all directions, his face was beat up terribly yet also completely flushed a deep shade of red, he seemed drenched in sweat, as well as dirt and blood being dragged across his face, hands, and pants. He looked like a trainwreck.

They didn’t want to even think about how disheveled their own appearance was. 

“Happy now? Yeah?” He asked.

Paintbrush squinted at him judgmentally, “No, ugh, I meant the ACTUAL light!”

“Ahaha, as opposed to what, a fake one? This is an actual light.” He replied pointedly.

“DON’T GET SMART WITH ME, OH MY GOD, YOU KNOW WHAT THE FUCK I MEAN!” They snapped. In normal circumstances, they would’ve felt bad for what would be considered an overreaction, but this was not normal circumstances, and that was not an overreaction as far as they were concerned.

Fan went silent. He smiled as he started to casually walk towards them, beat-up red and black tennis shoes echoing threateningly on the sterile white tile as he sauntered unstoppably their way. Paintbrush tried to back away from him, pathetically pushing themself off with their heels as they inched back, until they let out a cry of surprise when their back suddenly hit another counter off to the side of the lab. They retreated like a scared animal, curling in on themself as they turned in towards the cabinet, shrinking and cowering. Fan easily reached them, towering over them with that same god damn smile that they KNEW was there but was just so barely visible in the darkness that hid his face, his body silhouetted by the light.

Paintbrush would never before in their life ever describe Fan’s short, round build as ‘intimidating’, but the perspective they had now could only be described with that word. Fan looked intimidating. They pressed their shoulder to the cabinet door as hard as they could, like they would magically phase through it and find protection from their capturer’s mere presence.

“G— get away from me.” Paintbrush shakily tried to command, fight dying in them at the unnerving behavior, failing to predict what he’d do next. Not knowing what to do, they continued to get into their role, “I still don’t know why you’re doing this to me! What’s going on?”

Fan’s eyes were scanning over them, difficult to see behind his glasses and in the shadows that masked him. He was simply observing them with a tilt of his head. Though they couldn’t see where he was looking, they could feel it. They tried not to tremble, they tried to look strong and defiant as they huddled to the side. They had never seen Fan so high above them before. It was shocking if not terrifying, being the one looking up at him for once, being the one helpless at his feet.

They never thought they would enjoy this reversal of their roles as much as they truly were. Is this how they made Fan feel when they got rough with him and threw him to the ground? No wonder he acted addicted to it.

They asked again, weaker than ever before, “Fan?”

Finally, Fan found his way out from whatever perverse thoughts he was lost in, sucking in through his teeth like he was slurping drool back into his mouth, “I have waited… SO long to do this. It was hard to control myself, but I did it! Oh, it was so worth it to see you like this. I just needed to make sure that it would all go perfectly!”

“To do WHAT?!” They interrupted his rambling with their desperate need to know, to hear it from him.

“To have you.” Fan answered quickly, breathless in excitement, “To just… have you here? All for me… And now, I do!”

“That doesn’t… to… have… why— why me?” The artist pressed on with continued confusion. Inside, they knew the answer, they knew exactly what Fan’s idea was, but they wanted to hear it again. They wanted to hear him repeat the reason they were so tempted into this in the first place.

Fan laughed, ”Why you? Oh, be serious Paintbrush, how could you even ask that!” He sharply turned away, starting to pace around excitedly, “Why you, why you?! Because, you are a star, you’re my idol!” He pivoted back to them, “I’ve been your biggest fan for, like, ever! Ever since the first line you spoke, why, I LOVE you, that’s why! I wanted you, only you, more than anyone else! I just HAD to do this!”

Paintbrush felt so special, so important, so loved in such a strong way. The idea that someone was this infatuated with them made them unreasonably giddy. They blushed, turning their head towards the floor to bashfully hide their face. They hoped it looked more like they were cowering in fear to Fan, but they just couldn’t help the sweet butterflies they felt at those words. Oh, it was so hard to stay in the scene when he was talking like that!

“This is how you show your love?” They tried to sound bitter and judgmental to mask their fluster.

“Well, not this specifically, no, this was just an unfortunately necessary step! But— but— I promise I’ll make it up to you!”

“…What are you going to do to me?” They spoke quietly, cautious and ashamed.

“Well, I don’t wanna ruin the surprise! All I’ll say is I have quite some fun things planned!” Fan replied.

“TELL. ME.” Paintbrush seethed, hissing out smoke through the gaps in their sharp gritted teeth. Their demands and display of anger, once again, did not seem to intimidate Fan in the slightest. He actually laughed at them.

“Or what?” It was infuriatingly casual, just like they had told him a funny joke, “I don’t think you’re gonna do, well, anything really.”

They scowled with no rebuttal. Fan happily ignored the nasty look like he didn’t even see it and kneeled down next to them on the floor.

“Hey, you don’t need to be so scared. I’m not gonna hurt you! I wouldn’t dream of it!” He reached for them, and they tensed away, staring at his hand like they were going to bite it off.

“You attacked me.” Paintbrush said flatly. They did not trust his kind words. They dramatically flinched away when he reached to cup their face. His thumb gently caressed their cheek, running tenderly over their warm skin. Fan was studying them. He looked over every little feature like it was his first time seeing them this close. He traced his thumb over the beauty mark on the side of their face. All the while, they avoided his gaze like it would turn them to stone.

“I already told you, that was just a necessary part of the process. It won’t happen again, don’t you worry! You don’t have to act all tough and scary anymore, I know you want this too, that’s okay! Let me take care of you. I know just what you need.” He sounded so pure, so delighted and playful, so tempting to give into— it didn’t match the situation at all.

“Let…  just let me go…” They huffed in defeat, hair falling over their face as they turned their head away again, trying to fight against Fan’s hand on their cheek. He didn’t let them look away, forcefully grabbing their face.

“But then you’ll run away! We can’t be having that!” Fan almost sounded like a whining child rather than a kidnapper. 

“That’s because I don’t want to be here! You’re delusional if you think I like this!” They shot back, finally managing the courage to shoot a glare directly at him. It felt so silly, to be this scared of Fan, but when they met his shadowed gaze again they could hardly help the urge to scream. 

“I bet I can make you change your mind on that. I know you better than you know yourself…” 

“You don’t know shit!”

“Ahaha, ohhh, don’t doubt my love— I know everything when it comes to Inanimate Insanity!” 

Paintbrush wanted to continue arguing but realized the two were just going in circles. Instead of snapping back, they screwed their eyes shut and let their head fall back against the cabinet. They made a loud groan in frustration. It really was like dealing with Fan all the way back at the start— the times when they truly wanted his annoying ass dead. His innate ability to get such a rise out of them drove them completely mad. 

They realized Fan had been oddly quiet. Then, they felt him start messing with their hair again, and their eyes snapped open.

“Don’t touch that.”

“I just want to get the leaves—”

“If you don’t get your dirty hands off my hair—!”

“I SWEAR, I'm not gonna mess it up!” Fan insisted. He didn’t listen to them despite them baring their fangs. He pulled them away from the cabinet, sliding them to lay down with their head in his lap and continued to lovingly— frustratingly, disgustingly gently— fix their hair. He kept one arm wrapped under their head to keep them from jerking away, a sweet smile on his face as he pulled out the leaves and twigs that had snagged during all the commotion.

“I would never do anything to mess your gorgeous hair up, never!” Fan continued on. He almost sounded offended at the mere implication, “I wouldn’t even cut the slightest bit off! I could never risk messing it up… even if… I really want a piece…”

Paintbrush found themself genuinely terrified. Cut their hair?! They reminded themself what the safeword was. ‘Red’, they told themself, ‘I can say red if I need to. I’m safe. I’m safe.’

“I— I didn’t bring up cutting it, Fan.” Was what they actually said out loud. 

Fan didn’t reply as he twirled their hair in his fingers, his hand starting to shake. An impulse possessed the fanboy, one he could barely fight, the urge to rip a strand of their beautiful golden hair from their head. Paintbrush tensed underneath him, still in a state of alarm by his words and the sudden change in his behavior. But he very quickly continued on with the same tender movements as before.

Eventually, they gave up their fight. Tired from struggling, they went limp and resigned with great annoyance to letting Fan run his fingers through their hair as he got them all sorted out. They supposed he wasn’t doing anything too harmful. He patted their cheek, smile only growing, “See, it’s not so bad! I’m being nice and gentle here, I just want you to look your best!”

“I’ll tear you apart.” It was a whisper of a threat at best.

“D’aw, come on. I know you’ll get tired out eventually.” He was eager to get under their skin, to wear them down and see them as raw as he could.

“I can do this all night.” They huffed back.

“And I can’t wait! I love how you fight, I expected no less!” Fan had finished picking out the forest clutter from their hair, now repeatedly running his fingers through it to comb out the few little knots. Mostly for his own satisfaction.

When Paintbrush didn't dignify him with a response, he began thinking out loud again.

“Goodness, I’ve always wondered what this would feel like. You’d think it’d catch, but the tangles come right out! It’s like silk.” 

“…Are you done with that?” They spat, trying to ignore him and vent their frustration.

“Not yet. This— this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance, I’m…” Fan trailed off, voice dropping, “I’m not gonna rush it.”

Paintbrush breathed heavily underneath him. The petting and playing with their hair WAS becoming relaxing, literally forcing their body to relax, their brain commanded them to feel good against their will and better judgment. Fan was toying with that switch he knew well about and evilly using the information he had against them: They liked getting their hair played with. It was tonally dissonant, incorrect, it felt overwhelming, like they were collapsing in on themself because their systems were experiencing a catastrophic error— all despite the unfairly low effort Fan was putting in. This was NOTHING for him, he was casually having FUN, while they were twitching and trembling and melting apart in his lap. The pleasurable tingling his hands gave as he played with their hair was maddening. The artist felt the same brewing anticipation they had felt in the woods. Almost uncomfortable, yet so arousing, leaving them needy for absolutely anything, desperate to know where this was going. And getting nothing.

They flinched, hissing in a moment of pain when Fan suddenly yanked on a few strands of their precious hair, plucking it from their head while they were vulnerable. Ironically, the sting was a moment of relief from the rhythmic petting that had been driving them crazy.

“Oops—! Sorry, haha, I just couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

Paintbrush looked furious, tears pricking the corners of their eyes, “YOU SAID YOU WOULDN’T FUCK IT UP!”

”I didn’t! It’s just a tiny piece, you won’t even notice it’s gone!” He said as he pocketed it in his jeans.

”DON’T RIP MY HAIR OUT!” They yelled.

”Well, I only needed to do it once—”

”Wuh— WHY DO IT AT ALL?!”

“It’s a keepsake, Paintbrush.” The fanboy explained, “A piece of you that means something special… even if you won’t notice it’s missing, it means the world to me.”

”…of my… my hair?” The artist stared at him, too bewildered and concerned to even keep up their rage.

”Of your hair! Especially your hair, heh.” Fan confirmed.

“Well— well, it hurt! You said you wouldn’t hurt me, don’t do that again!” They demanded in spite of, shamefully, their continued flattery, as if this was a compliment. They were very proud of their hair after all. Someone else loving their hair so much that he wanted to keep it felt good. 

”Oh, I’m so sorry, Paintbrush.” The fanboy apologized, leaning down to kiss the crown of their head, “I won’t do it again… hopefully!”

Eventually, after an awkward, uncomfortably relaxing few more minutes of him staring at them and petting them like he was in a trance, his movements did stop. He stilled, hand pausing in the air as his gaze traveled down.

“Oh great, did you finally get bored?” The artist sarcastically asked.

Fan continued to be silent. Compelled with a desperate need to get even a hint at what was going on in Fan’s head, Paintbrush followed his eyes, realizing he was blatantly ogling the window in their keyhole top. Their chest wasn’t particularly full, they were mostly flat and didn’t have any real cleavage, yet it still felt dirty from the way Fan was treating it.

Humiliation and flustered rage surged through them, and they would have slapped him across the face if their hands were free. The embarrassment was only made worse by the fact that they couldn’t hit him away, Paintbrush had no power to stop him, they couldn’t do anything besides hope he would just decide to take mercy on them and look somewhere else. Otherwise, they were at the mercy of his prying eyes and wherever he chose to stare.

“Hey, don’t look there! Stop acting like such a creep!” They yelled at him, energy returning to them again as they struggled in their binds, “Would you get your eyes off of me?!”

“Sorry, sorry! I just can’t stop myself!” Despite his apology, he couldn’t bring himself to look away. They looked so delicious as they wiggled, muscles flexing as they strained against the tape, chest emphasized as they arched and curved their back. He loved watching them struggle. Staring at their breasts was an added bonus.

“Then why don’t you stop looking now, weirdo!”

“How could I… you’re too gorgeous to not be stared at! It’s not my fault!”

They squirmed shamefully. Finally getting out of his lap, they rolled away from him onto their side and tried to curl in on themself to escape his leering gaze, almost angry at themself now from how flattered everything was making them feel, “Shu— shut up! Is that really your best excuse to be such a damn pervert?!”

“I’m just being honest!” Fan argued, climbing on his hands and knees over them again. He took hold of their shoulders, forcing them towards him and pinning them on their back. He stared only more intensely down at their body again, licking the salty sweat and metallic blood on his upper lip as he did.

Paintbrush really had an attractive body to him, he had always thought that. Lean, strong, with broad shoulders and a nice waist, their warm brown skin complimented by the art permanently tattooed on them. They were the image of beauty to him, much different from his sloppy self, with his greasy, messy hair and reddened, agitated, acne-ridden skin. They dressed so well too, so stylish, how he LOVED this signature outfit on them, and it was so contrasting to the disheveled boy. The disparity only added to his fantasy. Fan thought they looked like a model, or a movie star, or even an angel. Yeah, a golden angel, really. They were too beautiful to be mortal. How could someone be this beautiful?

The artist glared up at him, “You disgust me.”

All their insults and threats still did nothing to dissuade Fan, he was clearly enjoying being degraded by them. That only pissed them off further, in turn making them lean even harder into berating him to try and relieve the burning pressure inside them, because there was nothing else they could do to fight back besides chastise him. And, of course, they wanted to do what they could to pleasure him, too.

“Did you not hear me?!” They shouted angrily, “I called you fucking disgusting! You say you ‘love me’ then you lure me into the woods, use your— your— underhanded tactics to attack me, all so you can, what? Just—?? Sit there and look at my b— boobs?!”

“I mean, that’s… one way to describe it, I guess, if you wanted to make it sound bad! None of that means that I don’t love you.” Fan said slowly, giving them little to chew on. Despite the lack of reaction, he continued to thrive in their cruel words and aggression. 

“You’re unbelievable! Of course it’s bad, do I really have to explain that to you?! Have you no morals?! There’s no NICE way to put this, you really get off on stalking and kidnapping people! You should be ashamed of yourself!” They laid into him. Daring to glance down for even a second, Paintbrush’s eyes flicked to his crotch, and of course there was a very visible bulge in his jeans.

How into this was he?! Did they really look that attractive to him right now?!

“EW— oh my god, are you— are you SERIOUS?! You really are— what is wrong with you! Do you like being a little stalker that much?!”

“Not just anyone, I don’t— I just— I— I can’t help it, you looked too good! You were asking for it! You were so scared and— and it was just so easy, I had to take the opportunity! This is the best moment of my life, okay? Don’t judge me for it!!” He stammered vague excuses for himself again.

“Don’t JUDGE YOU?! Get away from me!” They repeated themself despite knowing it would do nothing, at a loss for any other words.

“But you don’t really want that! I know you don’t!” Fan finally blurted out, “If you did, you would’ve used our safeword! I know you like this too!”

Paintbrush went red hot, silent and fuming as they stared intensely at him. They didn’t want to be reminded of the power they still had, nor the fact that they were willingly giving it up. It felt humiliating to be called out on the fact they were enjoying this.

“Don’t— don’t bring that up! Shut up!”

“But it’s true!” Fan started laughing again. It was almost villainous, a sadistic and maniacal laugh as he had them cornered mentally as well as physically. 

“It’s not true!” They argued, stubborn as ever.

“Then make me stop!” He replied, “If you don’t like it, make me stop, Paintbrush!”

“I HATE YOU!” Was all Paintbrush had to answer with. 

Fan leaned over them, hands resting on the cabinet behind them, pinning them down with his shadow getting closer and only further blocking out the little light in the room.

“You like iiiitt…” He teased playfully. He glanced down, leaned back, eyes and hands starting to wander again. He began to undo the exposed buttons of their overalls, gently pulling the flap down and reveal their tight black shirt underneath. Then he paused, frozen in place with his hands in claws over their chest. Paintbrush’s glare broke as they glanced quickly between the fanboy’s hungry face and the shaking hands reaching for them.

“No…” Their breath shuddered, holding back a whimper as they tried to brace themself for him to grab them, but it didn’t come. He continued to torturously, intentionally or not, draw it out, each second taking an eternity and leaving them waiting in overwhelming anxiety.

Drool was actually dripping from Fan’s chin as he watched them helplessly frozen underneath him. He was apprehensive to touch them. They looked so perfect, he feared he might somehow break or ruin them with his unworthy hands.

“Don’t… don’t you dare.” The artist managed to choke the words out of their throat, their voice cracking with it.

“Shhh, it’s okay, it’s gonna feel good. I’m gonna make you feel good.” Fan told them. Like a spell was broken at their words, his hands finally pressed onto their chest. Paintbrush clenched their jaw, holding back a frustrated whine as he gently squeezed their small breasts. Fan only continued to praise them, “This is… oh my goodness… you feel so incredible, even through your clothes. Your body is absurd.”

“Stopppp… uuugghhhh…” They groaned. His sickeningly sweet, slightly cringey words mixed oddly pleasurably with the weird— though not immediately a bad or unwelcome kind of weird— sensation of him groping their chest. 

“You’re so soft and warm.” Fan’s voice was hardly above a whisper. He took a deep, shaky breath, then let out a heavy sigh, “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

Paintbrush tried to say something, anything, but all that came out was a weak mumble that might have been a ‘huh?’

“I can’t believe I’m touching you right now, like this, and how good you feel! You’re even better than I ever dreamed of. I mean, is this even real life? I am so unbelievably lucky to have you like this. So many people would kill to be me right now, you know that, right? But I’m the one lucky fan.” Fan made some dorky chuckle, like he was acting all cute and shy now.

“You’re—!” They paused to gasp, “You’re—!”

“Crazy, I know!” Fan finished for them. He slowly got more confident with his touches as he continued to play with them, squeezing more deliberately and being rewarded with more delicious gasps and groans from Paintbrush.

His muttering became more fragmented, giggling to himself, “No one else but me… I’m the winner… I caught you… all mine to cherish…”

Fan progressively situated himself closer and closer because he needed more and more of them, until he was sitting on their waist. He hunched over them as he continued to pet and squeeze them. Paintbrush only writhed weakly. The artist could feel his clothed erection pressing against their lower stomach. They felt so… objectified— but not in a careless or disrespected way, they noted, rather like they were a beloved doll or favorite plushie getting played with and loved on. Fan was all but clinging to them, breathing heavily with need as he felt them up.

“Fan…” Paintbrush moaned, interrupted by the fanboy’s shocked squawk in response to the sound of them moaning his name. After a beat, they continued, “Fan, please.”

“Yes? What is it, Paintbrush?” He eagerly urged them on.

“Ghh— I can’t… fuck, I can’t take this. Stop, stop with the— the touching, and the staring, it’s so— it’s—!” Too much? Not enough?

“Oh, but I know you can handle it! Just a little more… I might never get to do this to you again.” He ignored their demands to continue following his selfish desires. They found it finally sinking in just how much they were left frustratingly powerless. 

Paintbrush made an egregiously offended gasp when Fan’s hands slid into their shirt window, his cold palms finally making direct contact with the soft skin beneath the fabric. The fanboy’s mouth was right by their ear as he leaned over them; they could hear him sucking through his teeth to try and stop the drooling, they could feel every shaky, hot breath he made, they heard every loving sigh, every giddy giggle, every whispered praise and note he made about how good their breasts felt because he just couldn’t keep his fucking thoughts to himself or maybe he knew the effect it was having and was doing it on purpose because he’s fucking evil.

It was all so much, so strong and so close. This was their entire world right now, it was all they could think about, all they could focus on. They were the center of everything. They were bolted in and being dragged along on this ride for as long as they could remember and for as far forward as forever.

They were unbelievably turned on, more than they had ever been in their entire life. They could feel their slick soaking their panties.

Fan suddenly started needfully, frantically fumbling with their crop top, managing to yank the stretchy fabric free from under the tape and pull it up to finally partially expose Paintbrush, revealing their perky tits and more of the tattoos going from their chest to their ribs. Fan was devouring everything, he never stopped staring, never stopped watching, they didn’t even know if he had blinked.

“Faaann!” They moaned thoughtlessly, his name tumbling from their mouth despite all rational thought when he pinched at their sensitive nipples. His hands gripped onto them in response to their voice like he was trying to ground himself.

“Hhhh— oh, oh my ghh— goodness, please keep doing that!” He said through smiling, gritted teeth. His hips started to rut against them, his clothed erection grinding against their clit through their overalls and sending a wave of pleasure through them. “Say it again, please please, say my name—!”

“Ssstop— ah!” Paintbrush moaned out again. They naturally played into his request but tried not to make it too obvious, “Fan!”

Fan laughed breathlessly, “Just… just a little more— oh my goodness, please!”

He was actually humping them. Fan kept rutting against them like they were a pillow, continuing to fondle them and muttering his crazed rambles of praises all the while. 

“My name sounds SO good coming from you, oh, it’s the best sound I’ve ever heard, it’s so good, you’re so wonderful! Please, say it again, keep doing that, pleeeease, please please please please—” He whispered on and on until his breath hitched. They watched his eyes roll back, his hands clawing at their shirt as he finally stopped fucking groping them and instead clung tightly to the rolled-up fabric.

”FAN— W— WAIT, I’M—!”

And just as their own pleasure almost tipped over the edge, just before that burning hot coil winding inside them snapped, it all came to a screeching halt as Fan cut himself off. He gritted his teeth, then slumped forward panting, tongue hanging from his mouth, his drool dripping down and pooling on the tape over their stomach like he was a hungry dog.

He had stopped before either of them could cum. 

Paintbrush groaned loudly, yelling in frustration as they tried uselessly to buck their hips against him, struggling with the little wiggle room they had to chase the stimulation. But the pleasure was dissipating, leaving them unsatisfied and twice as needy as they were before.

“I didn’t— mean to do that yet— no no no, not yet, hah!” Fan said, pausing to wipe his chin with his hoodie sleeve, “I almost couldn’t wait anymore!”

“Why… why are you torturing me?!” Paintbrush cried out at their ruined orgasm.

“It’s not thaaaat baaad. I took it too! And you don’t hear me whining, no! I’m really trying to be gentle, Paintbrush.” Fan lazily drew his words out, laying on top of them to rest as he caught his breath.  

“I don’t care! If you’re gonna do this to me, can you at least GIVE ME SOMETHING?! Listen, if this is you being ‘gentle’ then maybe I don’t want you to be gentle anymore!” They begged. They tried to shake him off of them to express their frustration, but the chubby geek was heavy despite his shorter height, and they had no leverage when they were mummified like this. They really were going to be used like a body pillow for as long as the fanboy on top of them decided to. They were going to get whatever he gave them, they were going to do whatever he made them do. The only action they could make that affected them in any way at all was rubbing their thighs together and grinding against the rough seam of their pants, for what very little, useless stimulation that gave them.  

“Okay, soooo, you don’t want gentle? Sure, I can do that too!” Fan assured them in a tone that made them regret their rage-blinded choice of words, “I promise I will! Now, I know patience isn’t your strong suit, so if you’ll just bear with me here—!”

Fan sat up. He was still hard, physically nowhere near finished with his plans. Of course he wasn’t, of course not. How long had it been already?

“I— I want to see you pleasured, too!” He continued, a twisted, lopsided smile on his face. He glanced at their exposed chest again. He seemed unable to take his eyes off of them even now, “I want to see… all of you.”

He steadied their face with both his hands before leaning in, and even though they tried to push their head back into the floor, they couldn't escape him planting a wet kiss on their forehead. Then, he went for their lips, forcing his tongue into their mouth despite their muffled protests. Their face scrunched angrily when they felt him smiling against their mouth. He was wholeheartedly getting off on their disgust for him.

Fan pulled away in only a few seconds, grinning ear to ear, “I kissed you!” He exclaimed, just like it was the first time they had ever kissed. “I really kissed Paintbrush!”

“Congratulations?! Would you quit fucking around!” They shouted at him, “How much longer are you gonna—”  

“Ah ah ah, what did I just say about patience?”

That so perfectly struck just the wrong chord in them.

“I AM SICK OF BEING FUCKING PATI— MNH— FOR YOU— MMMF!”

In the few seconds that their hair began to spark, Fan cut them off by forcibly kissing them again. He pressed down on them even harder against them than before, like he was trying to force himself through their body, or perhaps into them. His braces scraped against their teeth and nearly caught on their lips, but thankfully never quite snagged. The primal urge to hit him off of them couldn’t be satiated no matter how hard they pulled at the countless layers of tape, so Paintbrush resorted to letting out their anger by fighting him with their tongue.

They groaned into the kiss as Fan’s hand tangled into their hair, his other hand still holding their jaw as he practically shoved his tongue down their throat. This time, he wasn’t letting up. It felt like they were being suffocated. Panicked, they started yelling, and then they panicked more at how muffled and unintelligible they sounded and that Fan was just ignoring it when they were trying to communicate ‘you have to stop, I’m dying’, struggling to breathe as a familiar burning feeling filled their lungs.

When Fan finally managed to tear himself off of them after the lack of oxygen started to hurt too much, a thin strand of saliva stayed connected between the two’s mouths. They both caught their breaths.

”What… was that…” Paintbrush panted, “You’re trying to kill me.”

“You kissed back.” Fan’s voice was tight and high-pitched, a delighted glint in his eyes.

“I was trying to stop you from killing me!” Paintbrush responded with no hesitation.

“You’re starting to like it.” Fan continued to blatantly ignore them, “Or else you would’ve stopped me now. I knew it. It’s just as I predicted. Heh, pretty soon you’ll be begging for me to be inside you.” 

“You—! I don’t want your gross little thing anywhere close to me! Like I’d ever beg for you!” They snapped. They couldn’t let it show how much they loved that idea, how badly they did need him.

“Ohhh, don’t say that!” The fanboy laughed, “You might hurt my feelings!”

“I couldn’t care less! Oh, boo-hoo, your poor little ego is hurt ‘cause your torture victim said you had a small dick!”

“Stop calling it torture, this is far from torture! I think I'm giving you a phenomenal time, you’re the one making this so difficult!”

“Are you SERIOUS?!” They yelled in his face.

“Well if you would have just worked with me in the first place, maybe we could’ve done this the normal way, I wouldn’t have to tie you up or bring you here, we could make real love! But I KNEW you’d never listen to my perspective first! You were soooo high above me, Paintbrush, I HAD to MAKE you see!” Fan said, manic voice tipping into startling anger. Paintbrush was confused at first, until they realized it was another part of his roleplay. They were never supposed to have had sex before this point. This was supposed to be like how the pair were during early season two on the show.

“I don’t whore myself to my fans! Especially not to the creepy, ugly losers like you!” The artist shot back. Fan looked genuinely caught off guard at first, eyes wide and startled, just like how they had reacted to his outburst too. They worried for a second that they actually offended him.

“Wh— what?! No! No, no, never, that is not what I was implying, no! You are worth so much more than that! I actually meant, you know… just for me. If you would just pleeeease hear me out— I want you all for me, I could never share you with a lesser fan, they’re not worthy of your body!”

“AND YOU ARE?! You are out of your MIND!”

“Don’t be so shallow, of course I am! As your biggest fan, I’m perfect to be your lover, I know everything about y—!”

“I don’t love you! I hardly know you! How is that shallow?! I think I’ve made it pretty clear that I HATE you! And if I didn’t before, you sure as hell made me hate you now! How would this ever have convinced me?! You’re sick!” The words were spat from their mouth before they could stop it. It felt like they were going too far, but Fan ate it right up. 

He sighed, “Oh well, it’s a good thing I have enough love for the both of us! You’ll feel it soon, I know you will, Paintbrush. You’re gonna love it eventually. You’ve got a soft side, I know it, I know it!”

Paintbrush merely looked away again, frustrated beyond words yet not wanting to push further out of fear for accidentally saying something too extreme and cruel. Like before, he cupped their cheek to turn their head towards him. This time, his dirty thumb lingered at the corner of their lips, threatening to press inside. 

“I’ll find it. I will finally take you apart.”

They kept their mouth firmly shut, wanting to tell him to stop it but knowing better than to give him any entry.

“Oh, come ooonnnn… you’re still not working with meee…” Fan prodded at their mouth.

They wanted to call him gross for the hundredth time, to remind him that his hands were covered in dirt and his own blood, but they could only jerk their head away with a ‘hmph!’ of disapproval. 

“Fine, you don’t want the easy route, you don’t want me to be gentle— that is fine by me.” He muttered. They wanted to be relieved when he finally pulled himself off of them and took pressure off their needy clit, but it was a short-lived reprieve when they realized he was only repositioning to kneel over their head. They grimaced and recoiled as much as they could to get away from the tent in his jeans that was inches from their face. They heard him unzipping his fly.

“Oh, no, no no no, please—” It was a weak protest in comparison to their other fighting. Internally, this progression excited them! They just needed him to hurry up and fuck them! At least this was a step closer to that!

“Why not?” Fan paused to ask them.

“I don’t— you’re—” Paintbrush stammered for a reason to justify their rejection, Fan obviously picking for any falter in their performance that revealed their true feelings, “I said I don’t want your little dick near me!”

“Well I gave you another option, and you didn’t take it!” He said it like it was a matter of fact, like he was forced to do this now. His hard-on was freed, a little below-average but still more than enough to make Paintbrush feel prickles down their spine, dread and need fighting inside them. Their captor probably could’ve pulled out anything at this point and it would manage to scare the life out of them. Fan sounded exasperated, “So now! You’re taking this!”

“Oh, fucking— give me a real challenge—!” Paintbrush scowled, unable to help the snark. Fan wasted no time grabbing them by the hair, and he forced his way into their mouth to cut them off. They had to really resist the intrusive thoughts telling them to bite off his cock.

“A challenge? Aaahaha… d— don’t you test me.” Fan laughed breathily. He pushed until he reached their throat, pressing them to the base as they tried not to gag on it. They continue to look at him with teary, blurry eyes, trying their hardest to maintain a glare as their lungs started to burn for oxygen. They broke when they couldn’t hold their breath anymore, and started gagging on the intrusion blocking their throat.

Mercifully, Fan pulled back after only a few seconds of their suffering. He slid back out of their mouth as their saliva now coated his length, shimmering strings of spit connecting it to their tongue. Paintbrush felt a slimy mess around their lips. They were greedily gasping for air through their wet coughing, as drool and tears started to roll down the sides of their face. 

“See, it’s not that small! Is my point proven?” He said smugly.

They didn’t reply as they were still trying to calm down from their choking fit.

“Ugh, you’re not even fighting like you mean it anymore!” Fan suddenly exclaimed, beginning to slowly rock his hips back into their mouth. They made a muffled yell of frustration in reply. Having the energy to fight back the whole time when he kept taking his sweet time with them was hard! They knew he’d be savoring this, but damn, give them a break!

“I like— ah! When you fight me!” He admitted to them as he continued to move in and out, “I like when you’re mean to me, and scared, and angry, and disgusted! Call me a sick freak again, try and get away, aha, I need it so baaaad, oh!”

As he rambled, Paintbrush absentmindedly swirled their tongue around, trying their best to suck Fan off despite him doing most of the work. Their hips bucked as they moaned around his cock, and they gagged again as his tip hit the back of their throat. They felt so used, no regard for their pleasure or comfort, despite Fan’s sweet words saying other wise. He wasn’t even having them truly suck his dick, he wasn’t even giving them that agency; he was just treating their mouth like a fleshlight.

“Ohhh, goodness, your mouth is heavenly, Paintbrush! I’ve never felt this before!” In no time at all, Fan lost all sense of control. It was like he couldn’t hold back anymore, he couldn’t keep drawing this out because he was just too excited. He was messily fucking their mouth, begging for them, telling them how good it felt between his whines and moans.

Was pretending to still be a virgin part of his fantasy too? What a strange guy…

Paintbrush heard his breath already getting short again, even quicker than the last time he was about to orgasm. This time, though, he showed no signs of stopping. With a few more whines and sloppy thrusts, he came in their mouth, holding them down with his cock as deep as it would go while his semen was forced down their throat. They gagged hard, body lurching as it rejected the sensation. They never did have a good gag reflex, but they especially had never been handled this way before. They needed to be roughed up like this more often. Fan pulled out thankfully without making them swallow the whole load— only for some of the sticky mess to spill across their face.

“EW EW EW!” As soon as they could speak, they loudly objected to the few short ropes that drizzled “decoratively” over their face. They might actually throw up at this point. Their throat felt like it was coated from the inside and their stomach was so upset from all the gagging.

“Ohhh, you look so gooood…” Fan’s sniveling little voice praised.

“How much stamina do you have?!” They snapped.

“Hah… ah… Well, I know I’m a quick shot, b— but I can go a few rounds!”

“How much longer are you going to do this?” Paintbrush sounded whiny with desperation, like they were barely disguising that their real question was ‘when is it going to be over?’

“You said you could do this all night!” Fan repeated their words to them.

They were silent, as he had them caught once again. They responded as steadily as they could, “So, is that all this is? You dragged me here just to use me as your sex toy?”

“Not in the slightest. Let me go get the surprise!” He hopped off of them and disappeared into the darkness, giving them a moment to situate themself once more. From everything that had happened, they had somehow ended up closer to the center of the room again. Their back was getting sore from the hard tile of the floor. They struggled lightly, the little they could manage to bring themself to.

“Okay, now close your eyyyyes!” Fan’s voice rang out in the darkness.

“Wh… what is it?” They disobeyed him to squint where they thought they heard him, barely able to make out his shadowy form standing unmoving. It looked like a shot right out of a horror movie, a blink-and-you’d-miss-it moment of the monster standing in the dark, blurry corner of a scene.

“Close your eyes and I’ll tell you!”

“N— no.” Paintbrush told him. They couldn’t even bring themself to blink, petrified like Fan was a weeping angel and would strike the moment they lost sight of him, “No, what is it? Tell me right now.”

“Work. With. Me.” Fan turned menacing as they heard him hissing through gritted teeth, his mounting frustration with them not listening slipping through the cracks. Despite all sense of survival, despite the way their brain screamed not to look away, Paintbrush recoiled, giving in and forcing themself to shut their eyes. 

“Great, thank you! And don't peek.”

“I’m not! Just be fast. Please.”

They hated not being able to see him. It made everything so much worse, they had no idea what was happening, and they were helpless on the floor with cum on their face and their breasts exposed, and they couldn’t get enough of it but they wanted it to stop so bad because being so out of control was so scary for them but that’s exactly why they didn’t ever want it to stop because it felt so good and they loved being so free to be scared.

Paintbrush spiraled in anxiety, fighting with themself to keep their eyes closed. Then they heard a camera shutter, and they lost that fight as their eyes shot open to be immediately met with a bright flash of light.

Fan had his trusty cellphone’s camera pointed at them. He also looked very irritated that they didn’t keep their eyes shut.

“Hey, I said to—!”

“FAN!” Paintbrush exclaimed, pushing themself to sit up for the first time in a while. They instinctively tried to turn away and cover themself, and of course, they obviously couldn’t.

“What?! I needed to document this! This can’t just live in my memory!”

“DELETE THAT THIS INSTANT!”

“But you look so good, I won’t post it, never! I’d never let anyone else see! it’s just for me!”

“I don’t TRUST YOU! Why would I ever trust you! Please, Fan, please delete it! THIS ISN’T FAIR!”

“No one is gonna see it but me!”

“Fan!” It was a desperate cry at this point, but no safeword came from them, so Fan did not listen.

“Hold still, close your eyes again, can I get just one more? I’m just gonna—!”

They were powerless to stop him as he took another photo on his phone. Their face burned so badly they wanted to start crying. How humiliating this was, how unfair it was. How badly it made them ache with need. How good it felt to be the center of attention. They always did love getting their picture taken.

When they worked up the courage to finally look back at Fan, they realized that the fanboy was holding something else too: a black vibrator wand. The unreasonably proud face he was wearing when their shocked eyes darted to him almost drove them into a complete frenzy right then and there. It felt like their mind was breaking. If they had even the slightest bit more willpower right now, had they not been so worn out and belittled, they likely would have burst into flames. Instead, though, they could only gawk at him.

“Where— where did you…” Paintbrush trailed off as they recognized the toy. That was THEIRS. Their own personal, private item. They thought Fan didn’t even know about its existence.

“Oh, this? Hah, yeah, keeping it in your sock drawer, I gotta hand it to you, that’s a good hiding spot! Can’t keep me out though!”

“How did you find that?!” They cried.

“I was… well, I was looking for your underwear.” He admitted.

His answer only made it ten times worse. They could only stare at him like they had seen a ghost.

They swallowed hard, “I’ve never… you’ve never seen… but you…”

“As far as you know.” Fan somehow knew what they were thinking.

“What?” Their voice cracked. They didn’t even know if they could believe it. They hoped they knew what he was going to say. They were so far past humiliated they couldn’t even express it in their anger.

“I’ve never seen you use it, as far as you know.” He clarified.

Yup. There it was. Oh, god, they felt so ALIVE at just the thought. 

“Fan…” Paintbrush started weakly, gears turning in their head, something clicking subconsciously inside them. If he really had watched them masturbate, that had to have been before they had agreed to doing this, unless this was just another part of his roleplay. But, no, that really was theirs, that was really their real personal life, “…How long have you been watching me.”

“Um, in what sense of the word ‘watching’ ?”

“Stalking.” They said bluntly, “I mean stalking me.”

“Don’t get mad.” 

“Fan.” They repeated. They were rushed with a sick feeling, sort of feverish. Somehow both hot and cold, a blazing chill running through them. They don’t know why they had assumed this was a new thing that he wanted to try out or something. Of course he had a thing for this all along, of course he did.

“I’ve never hid anything from you!” Fan answered carefully. He seemed to grow slightly anxious, “Mostly. Nothing on purpose, I mean. I would have told you if you asked! Come on, I’ve been openly…  uhhhh, I suppose you could say ‘curious’ from the start. But I didn’t do anything THIS invasive until after we started dating, I promise!” He was really trying to spin it like he was innocent, like it was somehow their fault, although he implied it lightly. Maybe his words did hold some truth, too. Maybe they should have taken it more seriously. 

Was this still part of the scene or not?

“I’ve just never…” Their head spun, the real weight of Fan’s more questionable actions over the years— always excused as jokes or exaggerations, as ‘he’s just like that’, as meaningless, unserious, nothing— crashing into them. It felt…

Oh, it felt good.

Wow, that felt really good. It felt incredibly flattering. This wasn’t just him playing a character for a scene, not fully, on some level he was still genuinely infatuated with them as a fan. He genuinely was their fan still. Oh, what was wrong with them, to feel so flustered at having an honest-to-god stalker.

Ugh. They were just as awful as Fan was, to be as aroused by this as they were, they couldn’t even fake a moral outrage. A real match made in hell between the artist and their fanboy.

“What, did you think I was joking all this time?” Fan raised an eyebrow as he asked them, cutting into their swirling thoughts.

“I never considered it was that serious. No one ever took it seriously.” Paintbrush’s voice was quiet and calm as they tried to think this through.

“No, I… I really do watch you, all of you, everyone, I mean! Especially my partners, like you! I thought everyone knew that!” The fanboy made a big gesture, throwing his arms out wildly, “No one said they were upset about it! I swear I wouldn’t have done anything extreme if you seriously told me not to, I swear!”

His logic was truly absurd. Paintbrush actually laughed, “I mean, I told you I hated you for it! I hit you across the face and screamed at you!”

“And then you started dating me?! I figured you liked it and were just being tsundere, obviously!”

“Oh my god.” They said breathlessly, smiling despite themself. They had no response. They had nothing to defend themself with. Fan was entirely correct, and he said it in the stupidest way possible. They hated when Fan was right. Stupid, annoying Fan.

“Do— do you not like it?!” Fan’s smile turned forced, teeth grinding together, sudden panic seizing him. It wasn’t like he didn’t know it was wrong! But had he really made such a huge mistake? This couldn’t be that big of a deal right?!

Then, Fan stopped.

He looked down at Paintbrush still wrapped up on the floor with all they had let him do to them, at the scenario they had consented to, at the kink they were willingly indulging in— and he thought about everything else he knew about them, too. The words ‘attention whore’ very briefly, cruelly, popped into his mind. He didn’t like using such a mean term for Paintbrush, but it… wasn’t inaccurate.

“If… if you really don’t like it…” He started, confidence returning to him as he reminded both Paintbrush and himself of the situation, his dark look slowly melting back into that signature grin of his. His tone lightened, glee returning to him, “Then you know what to say to get me to stop!”

Paintbrush was silent, their shameful, telling stare looking distantly into the dark void surrounding them.

“You do like it, see? Oh, I knew it all along, I was right again! You always did seek out the spotlight!” Fan affirmed. He started walking back over to them, their head flinching up to watch him, their doe-like expression not changing.

“That’s something I loved about you from the start, you know. You really fought to be seen.” They could tell he was beginning one of his passionate rants. At first, they thought he was talking about when the two met in person, but it became quickly clear he was talking about season one of the show, of watching them on tv.

He continued, kneeling beside them, “You were a great competitor, like you were actually my top pick to be the winner of season one, I was so mad when you were eliminated. You deserved it. You had real fire in you, hah, ambitions to make it as a star. You were so unique, and strong, a real hard-worker… a— and… highly attractive, in my opinion. But I think a lot of fans would agree, too! You are so, so special!”

His words all but incapacitated them, he knew just what to say to make them putty in his hands, even when they should be rightfully mad at him. A big, shy smile was stretched across their face.

“It’s what had me hooked the second I heard I’d get to not only meet you in person, but compete alongside you! I had to know your limits, how your mind worked, how you were so— so— unstoppable! And I know we got off on the wrong foot, but, we’re here, now…”

His hand worked its way in between their bound thighs, squeezing the bit of softness on their muscular legs. He slid his hand up, making light contact with their groin through their overalls. 

“Pleeeeease, let me make you feel special.” 

“Aha, geez, you’re— you’re making it really hard to stay in the scene, Fan.” They tried to laugh off his passionate monologue, though their subconscious ate up every word and tucked it safely in their memories to replay over and over again.

“Sorry.” He said, and it sounded genuine this time, “I’m trying to get back into it. Is it working?”

“A little. Um, actually a lot. I’m still really feeling it. Oh my god, I can’t believe how bad you’ve got me.” Paintbrush found the usual heavy filter for their thoughts was slightly busted, surprised at their own words tumbling from them. How did Fan always do this to them, by making them so bothered that their brain breaks? What was so special about him that just set them off? They liked being in his evil clutches. Could he keep doing it forever? They were really gonna kill him one of these days. Or he was gonna kill them. Either, or. Yeah.

“I know you didn’t say yellow, but I just had to check in, you had me worried for a second!” Fan exclaimed.

”I scared YOU?!” They laughed.

”Well, you know I obviously don’t want you to actually not like this. I like this because you like it too. That’s why I… Just… yeah, haha.” He seemed so caring and awkward now, he was the Fan they loved and were familiar with. He had been the whole time, except now his untrustworthy aura was completely gone.

“Glad to know you wouldn’t kidnap me without my permission?” 

“Of course not! I mean, I really tried not to. I thought about it briefly. Like as an intrusive thoughts thing. Y’know, just being honest. But I never did it, like, I would never!”

Paintbrush rolled their eyes and shook their head, so comedically unsurprised by what should’ve been a terrifying confession, “You really are crazy. Like, okay, not even acting, you’re actually crazy.”

“You, uh, seem to attract that type. The crazies.”

“That’s because EVERYONE here is crazy! I don’t exactly have OPTIONS! And then! You all drove me crazy too! Ohhh… shut it.” Paintbrush looked away. He was right about this being the types of people they always seemed to surround themself with, and they didn’t want to think about how that reflected on them.

“Ahhhh, there it is.” Fan said fondly, “See, total tsundere.”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not one of your stupid anime girls. Ugh, I hate you.” The artist said weakly. There was no real fire behind it, but they were taking the opportunity to get the scene rolling again.

“Oh, you always say that.” He sighed so lovingly.

“Because I really, really hate you!”

“You should turn that into a catchphrase. You could make it part of your brand at this point!” Fan said, not taking them seriously in the slightest, “It’s certainly one of the phrases I associate with you the most!

“I hate you! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you—” Paintbrush repeated, voice fading until it was nothing more than a trembling whisper, as Fan stripped away the power that their hate and anger gave them and left them without their primary way of finding control, “I hate you, I hate you.”

They continued to say it until they were silently mouthing it, eyes closed as they couldn’t resist Fan starting to work on getting their overalls down. Getting the fabric unstuck from the tape on their stomach proved difficult, only drawing it out further as he struggled, much to both of their frustration. But eventually, Fan somehow managed— he always manages to get just what he wants, doesn’t he— and rolled their pants down as far the tape around their legs would allow.

“Are these your underwear from the show too?”

“I hate you!” Was the first response that came to Paintbrush’s mind.

“Pleeeease, just tell me this one thiiiinnng!”

“Fine, yes, they are! It’s the whole damn outfit, just like you wanted, does that really get you off?!” The artist snapped in a high, shaky voice.

“Oh, SO much.” He hooked his fingers under the waistband of their silky brown panties, “This is a big moment you know! Let’s finally see what you’ve got… one of the biggest II mysteries is about to be revealed!"

“Ugh, don’t— don’t talk about me that way—! Please…” They weakly combated, the fight practically all drained out of them at this point.

“In threee… twooooo…”

Paintbrush decided with certainty that they were going to actually kill him when they were out of these restraints.

“One!” Fan eagerly slid their underwear down, revealing their larger clit and soaking heat. They were glistening with their need, thin strings of their slick parting as the fluids clung to the wet spot on the crotch of the fabric. God, they were beautiful.

“Oh… wow…” Was all he mumbled while he ogled them, “Fascinating, you are so… fascinating.”

“Don’t look at that!” Paintbrush cried out.

Fan gently pressed their knees down, crawling over top of them only to stare at them more. He just looked down at them blankly. They couldn’t read his face. He just kept staring. That’s all he did. He just kept staring, and staring, his eyes burned on their skin. 

“PLEASE SAY SOMETHING ALREADY!” The artist shouted. It sounded more fearful than mad, like a plea for mercy.

He swallowed thickly, his gaze unabashedly locked onto their most private parts as he finally whispered, “You’re so wet.”

“So what…” 

“You’re so wet, just for me… You really love this!” His volume rose as did his delight.

“It doesn’t mean anything! I can’t control my body!” They tried to justify what they logically knew was an involuntary reaction.

“Au contraire! See, you can act all tough and mean, but your body language gives it all away to me. I told you, I said I knew what you wanted more than you even knew yourself. And now, why, just look at you… so are you excited for this, too?” He held up their toy for them to see.

“I— I don’t know. Whatever. Hurry up.” They didn’t answer his question, at least not directly, “Just… just get it over with.”

“Paintbrush, please, I want to pleasure you, to— to repay you, for all you’ve done for me. Not just for tonight, I mean you haven’t exactly been in the best mood, I understand, but since the moment I saw you, you brought me so much joy! I think you deserve a reward for once, I think it’s fair after all, I just wanna make you feel good!” Fan replied. Every time he said or did something that was so incredibly, maddeningly infuriating to them, he seemed to follow it up with something that made them feel so unbelievably good, he toyed with their sensitive emotions so seamlessly. They were going to go insane, they really were. How. HOW could he make this feel so wonderful?

Then, Fan’s expression saddened dramatically, or at least he tried to make it look that way, but he couldn’t stop smiling to save his life.

“But I guess if you still don’t want it!”

“Wait!” Their head snapped to him. Paintbrush ached with need and was brought to near panic at the thought they might not get to cum at all.

He looked at them expectantly, smug with glee.

“… I want it. I… wanna feel good.” They admitted shamefully.

“What was that?” He cupped his ear playfully. There he goes again, hitting that chord at just the right angle, like their anger was just his instrument to make sing.

“UGH, I DON’T CARE HOW YOU DO IT, JUST LET ME CUM ALREADY, YOU EVIL LITTLE TWERP!”

Fan grinned maniacally, overly satisfied at the violent response, “THERE WE GO! Now let’s see, how am I… hm…” One of his hands absentmindedly squeezed their thigh as he tapped the vibrator to his chin, caught up in his thoughts until he finally went, “Well, nothing that can’t be secured with a little more duct tape!”

“More tape? For what?!”

“More tape! And it’s for, well, you’ll see in about a minute! I almost wanna cover your mouth too!” Fan leaned to reach somewhere on the ground and picked up what was left of his tape roll. It must have fallen out of his hoodie pocket at some point. 

The artist immediately perked up with a mild alarm, “DON’T! Actually don’t! Then I won’t be able to say the safeword!”

“I know, I won’t, I won’t!” Fan assured them, “And besides, I wanna hear every noise you’re gonna make.”

They made an embarrassed whine while he ripped off more of that silver duct tape. He slid the vibrator between Paintbrush’s legs, holding it against the inside of their thigh as he positioned the head so it was pressed right against their clit. They could only chew their lip in anticipation as his plan came together for them. The tape was tightly wrapped around their bare thighs as Fan firmly secured the toy.

“There we go, all set up!” He pulled his hands back to make sure it would stay. They watched him fumble with the handle of the wand. And after a moment, it whirred to life, the immediate rush of pleasure making their body go stiff. The vibration started off low, but Fan rapidly pressed the ON button a few more times until the toy was at its maximum setting. 

Paintbrush expected him to stay right next to them, but as soon as they were all set, he popped back onto his feet and retreated back to stand against the counter. He grabbed the desk light, twisting it to point right at them, making it almost impossible to see him, like the shadow of an audience from the view of a stage. They felt like they were under a spotlight.

“Oh— ah, even— even now? Seriously? You’re still just gonna watch me like a little creep?!” They shouted at him. Fan only continued to silently stare down at them. The answer was yes, of course, of course it was. The fanboy could stand there and watch them all day, counting every breath they took, analyzing every little twitch they made, devouring every detail.

He nodded though they couldn’t see it, only continuing to stand there and watch as the vibrations rapidly dragged Paintbrush towards a much-needed orgasm. It was almost awkward, Paintbrush felt like they should be doing something, like they had to be performing for him in some way. But there was nothing they could do except for lay there and take the pleasure. They couldn’t get away from Fan’s watchful eyes. Despite him being cloaked in shadow, they could still sure-as-ever feel that fanboy’s relentless stare. Paintbrush could hear him pulling out his phone again without even needing to look down at it. They could hear him start recording, they could see the camera light, like Fan had turned on the sound and the flash just so Paintbrush would know they were being filmed. Not to warn them, but to scare them. And it worked. They tried to resist and turn away, but the stimulation was already seizing priority in their brain. It felt so good, so tempting to just let it feel good, making their body react involuntarily even though they didn’t want Fan to catch them losing control.

“You’re doing so well.” Fan finally spoke up to praise them more. “You’re absolutely perfect, you look so good!”

“Don’t— oh fuck, don’t record! Stop filming this— you freak—!”

“And forget this work of art? No can do, Paintbrush, I need to preserve this!”

“You and that damn phone—!”

They thrived under the attention of his eyes and camera, body positively alight from it. It only made everything more intense, more pleasurable. They made a loud moan as they finally, finally started to tip over the edge, the climax that they had waited so long for feeling overwhelmingly incredible as pleasure flooded their brain and body, possibly finishing harder than they ever had before. For a moment, they felt nothing but satisfaction and relief, arching their back and happily moaning in a state of bliss.

But then it kept going. They stayed tensed up as the stimulation continued steadily. They cried out, gasping, starting to thrash around again. It was suddenly far too sensitive, too much. They felt like they couldn’t control their body at all, muscles tensing and feet flexing as they hopelessly fought against the vibrator.

“There’s that fight, I knew it was still there! I knew it!” Fan cheered, “Come on, Paintbrush, struggle, fight! Try as hard as you can to get out!”

“Faaaaan—! Okay, turn it— AH, turn it— OFF!”

“Not quiiiiite yet! You can do a little more!”

Paintbrush felt like nothing but entertainment to the fanboy. He was enjoying their suffering so much, treating their fight to escape the torture like it was a show. They gasped for air, their hips stuttering, shifting all around in hopes they would find an angle that freed them from the non-stop buzzing on their clit. There was no way to get relief, the only change being the pressure getting WORSE when they bent their knees up, making them squeak by mistake. They didn’t even know their voice could go that high. Oh, they felt like they were making a complete fool of themself but they physically couldn’t stop their squirming and vocalizations. 

And it was all being recorded, too. Wonderful.

“Ff— FAAAN! FUU—HUCK, OH—! GODDDD!”

“I’m not hearing a safeword!” He happily reminded them, “Can we do one more? Just once more! Come on, you’re the strong one, you can finish a second time!”

“I hate— I haaaate thiiissss— MAKE IT STOP—!!”

“It’s not stopping ‘til I get what I want. Just let it happen already. It might speed things up, you know if you REALLY wanna get out,”

Willingly or not, the pressure inside them was starting to slowly build again. There was no way— they couldn’t cum again, not like this, not on camera, not in a way that make them look so stupid and useless. Their body burned, every nerve lit on fire from Fan’s endless stare on them. They balled their hands into fists, their eyelids twitched, their eyes rolled back in their head. It was uncontrollable.

“PLEASE— FAN—! I’M SORRY— PLEASE— HELP ME!!”

Not so tough at all, are you now?

The knot inside them pulled taught, being stretched thinner and thinner. And then, the rope snapped as they finished for a second time, even more violently than the first as the heels of their boots slammed down and dug into the ground. They practically screamed as they rode out the orgasm.

The artist broke down sobbing and wailing as the vibrations still didn’t immediately stop. Fan took his sweet fucking time walking over to them to finally end those five minutes of pleasure-turned-torment. They did not stop crying even when he reached them and turned the wand off with a simple little click of a button. They curled in on themself, heaving in exhaustion. They could feel their pulse pounding with the lingering buzzing on their cunt.

“That was so so good, you did so good.” Fan coaxed, petting them, “Incredible! I mean it, I got some incredible footage.”

“This… is torture…” They managed through breathless pants.

“STOP CALLING IT TORTURE!” The fanboy immediately snapped and seized hold of their hair, changing his comforting tone in the blink of an eye, “You wanted to finish, I let you finish!”

They made a deep gasp, only managing two broken words as they choked on their breath, “Too much— too much!”

Neither ’yellow’ nor ‘red’ ever came from their mouth.

“You don’t like it, OH, you don’t like it, it’s too much, it’s not enough, ‘stop torturing meee’, you hate everything I try to do for you!” Fan mocked them. His hand shot to their genitalia, dragging a strangled cry from them as he cruelly ground two fingers against the still-sensitive bud, “But look at that, you’re soaking wet! And you know what I still haven’t heard?! A REAL, actual ‘stop’ from you! You haven’t convinced me to stop because YOU DON'T WANT ME TO STOP!”

Paintbrush was stunned silent for a beat before they continued to cry even more hysterically, their eyeliner and mascara melting down the sides of their face. Fan relaxed his hold on their hair as if he actually, miraculously felt bad for once. He had never seen them act like this before. Paintbrush never cried, and that made him feel so, so special, he guiltily enjoyed seeing them so destroyed like this.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to get snappy. I know, I know, you don’t like being vulnerable…” He started to explain. “I know it’s hard for you to express your feelings, and you say things you don’t mean, but I’m not gonna judge you! I mean, I’m sure you understand my side of this, right? It’s frustrating for ME when you keep lying.”

They wanted to start shrieking like a banshee and smacking their hands against him, endlessly aggravated at how completely delusional and tone-deaf Fan was acting. So frustrated, and lost and confused because it still felt so good to freely be so upset, that they couldn’t find their words— and, unable to release the stress physically with mindlessly stomping their feet or pulling at their hair, they could do nothing but ball up their fists and cry on and on.

“Just be honest. Let your guard down for me. Let me inside. You want me inside of you. I know it.”

His words were so, so tempting. They made another choked sob and shook their head ‘no’, trying to mouth the words. They knew if they attempted to say their answer properly, the sound they made would be ‘yes’; it was getting impossible for them to pretend anymore.

“You’re a terrible liar, Paintbrush.” It was blunt, but it was the hard truth he was forcing them to face. He always saw right through them. He leaned over, sliding on the floor next to them until he was lying on his side, head propped up with one hand. He started picking at the tape around the vibrator, “Now, I need to remove this. It might sting a little.” He told them. 

“Do it.” They sniffled pathetically, “Just— just do it.” Paintbrush so pitifully said. They expected him to rip it off quickly, but just like with everything else, he pulled it off painfully slowly. Literally painfully slowly. They grimaced, sucking through their teeth as he methodically peeled off each layer.

He was blatantly enjoying how their tear-stained face scrunched in pain as the pieces of sticky tape tore away from their flesh.

“You really like this…” The artist shakily whispered in between sobs and pained sounds. 

“I do!” He replied shamelessly as he peeled back the final piece. 

It was so damn hot to them. They knew Fan was dangerously masochistic, they never thought he could be such a sadist, too.

Fan gently set the toy on the ground beside them.

“The grand finale…” He started to say, his breath bated as his twitchy fingers grazed over their thigh, “I’ve wanted to do this for such a long time.”

“How long?” They sounded so small and weak. Their crying seemed to be dying down, and they were left exhausted and desperate to be filled. Their head felt so empty, their body felt so weak. It was so easy to finally just give in and fully relinquish all their power to their loving fan.

“Years. Since the first few weeks that I saw you on tv.” His voice lowered, “I would… touch myself to photos of you.”

“You would?” It was hopeful.

Fan chuckled, soft and low, “I would. And— videos, too.”

The fanboy was cuddling up to them now. He held them gently, starting to rub away the lingering pain and remnants of adhesive on their reddened thigh.

“I’m not pretending.” He insisted on it, “I really did that.”

“It’s hard to tell what’s part of the scene, and what’s real.” Paintbrush cracked a light smile, “Can we… can we start to calm down a little now?” They asked.

“Is this a yellow thing?” Fan clarified.

“Yeah, yellow. Not red. But, yellow.”

“Oh, yeah, of course we can! Are you sure you don’t want to stop?” 

The care he showed them contrasted so heavily with the treatment he was giving them minutes ago. He wiped a tear from their face, a nice sentiment although it left a dark smudge of ruined makeup and dirt.

“No, no, please don’t stop. I don’t want it to end yet. I still need… you know…”

He nodded, “Tell me you want it. Tell me, and I promise, I’ll give it to you.”

Fan wrapped his arms around their waist, face pressing into their back as he shifted to spoon them. Then, his cock slowly, slowly pressed between their tight thighs.

Paintbrush exhaled a faint, “Oh my god—”.  

“I want you to want it.” 

They only whined in response. He wanted this because they wanted this, he loved this because he loved them.

“Gosh, you’re so wet, I might accidentally slip in.” Fan joked. 

“Aren’t— aren’t you going to use protection?” They ignored his banter with a genuine question.

“Of course not, don’t be so silly. I want you to feel every little bit of me. I wanna… wanna finish inside you. I’m gonna make you all mine… j— just like I’m all yours…”

“God.” They breathlessly repeated.

They felt his length slide against their clit, drawing a high moan from them. They closed their eyes as the fanboy nuzzled into their hair. Even now, he was still blatantly inhaling their scent as much as he could, his hands gently sliding up on their torso and fondling their chest again. He was taking every part of them. Paintbrush couldn’t help the long, low moan that escaped them. Even laying on the cold hard floor, they could stay like this forever, as long as Fan kept holding them and using them just like that. After a few lazy thrusts between their legs, unintentionally but extremely teasingly grinding against their crotch, Fan perked up again.

“You wanna know something, Paintbrush?” 

They didn’t reply. They stared straight ahead into the darkness with half-lidded eyes, any semblance of words coming out of them as unintelligible whimpering. Fan continued on regardless. He squeezed them close.

“I’m gonna be giving you my virginity. You’re my first time. Don’t you feel so special?”

Oh, he really WAS going that route.

It did make them feel special. Though it was fake, it was incredibly arousing to think about in this context— usually, they wouldn’t care, but it was being used by Fan as just one more way for him to show his endless devotion to them. That did things to them, very egotistical, selfish things. 

They realized he was waiting for an actual response this time.

“Yes.” They managed to choke out, “You make me feel special.”

“I’m so happy. Oh, this is heaven. I wouldn’t want anyone to have it but you.” His voice shook as he whispered it in their ear.

“Fan…” They whispered back. They couldn’t take it anymore. If he teased them for one more minute, their mind might break and leave them permanently insane. 

“Paintbrush.” He sounded so, so sweet. It made them feel free, irresistibly so, to speak their mind.

They succumbed.

Need overtook their ability to retain any semblance of character. Despite Fan still committing to the scene, they couldn’t do it. They came apart. Finally, they came undone for him.

“Fan, please, I need you to fuck me so bad.”

“I knew it.” Fan quickly said, like this really was his master plan all along. Maybe it was. “I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

“Please, Fan.”

Their pleas were finally acknowledged and Fan granted them his mercy. How could he resist when they asked so politely? He finally slid his length into them, his arms tightly grabbing their waist as he moaned into their back. They rumbled with their own groan of satisfaction. Finally full. Fan moved stiffly, awkwardly, like he was trying not to immediately go too fast.

“You’re… incredible, inside and out.” He managed to say.

“Go faster.” Paintbrush wasted no time demanding more with their last bit of energy, “I need this so, so much, oh my god, I can’t take it anymore! I’m begging you! Uuuse meeee!”

“A— a— as you wish!” Fan answered them, a breathless tone of astonishment and delight in his voice. His pace shifted right away, beginning to fuck them almost as roughly as he had been fucking their mouth before. Paintbrush rewarded him with a satisfied moan at the first deep thrust. This is what they had needed for so long, it felt almost too good to finally have Fan filling that aching, gaping hole inside them so perfectly.

Fan let go of their stomach with one arm, reaching over them to just barely be able to grab the vibrator. Paintbrush didn’t even seem to notice or hear, they didn’t acknowledge anything as long as he kept moving inside them like that.

“Hold on! You’re gonna like this!” Was the only warning they gave. He pressed the vibrator to their clit and turned it on low, just enough to add another sweet layer of constant pleasure alongside his messy thrusts.

Staying just like that, with Fan spooning and fucking them, everything hitting just the right spots, and the overwhelming amount of love they felt from all of that: they couldn’t think. Especially when Fan turned the wand up a setting and only fucked them deeper as they instinctively curled in on themself. The added stimulation only further clouded their mind, fully filling their usually level head with nothing but a buzzing of static. They felt so helpless and braindead— while also feeling so loved and taken care of that they didn’t have to worry about that lack of control, Fan would just make them feel good while they could do nothing but take it, they didn’t have to do any work because they couldn’t do anything at all. And their fanboy would be so pleased and overjoyed with them no matter what. They could just feel like a happy, perfect doll. In the bliss, they could hardly hear the teasing from Fan.

“Goshhhh, I kinda wanna leave you— like this! Or like, be— before, with this, y’know, taped up to you!” Fan’s words were vague and it sounded like he was forcing them out with great difficulty. Despite how airy and slurred his speech was, they at least kind of understood him, it was still enough to cut into Paintbrush’s mental noise when he spoke right next to their ear, “It’d be… sssso hot! You rolling all around in a pitch black room, u— until your toy dies and someone finds you—!”

“No, don’t leave!” It was short and choppy as it seemed to slip from their subconscious. They didn’t want to be left, they wanted to be held close and cherished like this forever.

“You’re right! Y—y— you’re so right, you’re always right! I’d be missing so much if I left! I can’t leave you, m— maybe I should just watch you all night!”

Paintbrush could only manage a whining moan. Maybe it was an attempt at saying Fan’s name, but it came out as nothing more than a jumbled string of pleasured sounds.

“Oh, Paaah… P— Paintbrush! I love you!” Fan cried out. It was so contrastingly wholesome to everything else, yet the three little words had an unfair amount of effect on them. Maybe Fan was right, this was heaven. They silently begged that he would say it again, and somehow he must have read their mind because he repeated it with even more purpose and intensity. 

“I love you!”

He continued to repeat it; “I love you, I love you, I love you—” even as it became nearly impossible for him to keep talking, even as he buried his face in their shoulder. It was muffled and slurred and mixed in with his whining, they could feel his spit on their skin, but all the intent behind his words was clear as day. They didn’t have anything to reply with. They just moaned for him, trying to gasp out his name. Then he let go of their waist just to take the opportunity to slide his dirty fingers into their mouth. The taste of metal, salt, and dirt cut them off, yet they couldn’t even find it in them to be mad. Somehow, even that felt good, just another way they felt so full and used.

“I love you so— much—!” There was his breath hitching again, such a telltale sign. Paintbrush felt so close too. They gagged on his fingers as their eyes rolled back, their hands balled into fists— and they wished they were free for just a moment only so that they could’ve been hugging Fan back. The fanboy continuing to lovingly praise them just brought them so much closer. 

“I love you— I’m gonna make you mine! All mine! Yes—!”

“FAN!” They managed to cry in a gagged response as, with one more deep thrust, Fan buried himself inside and released into them. It was too much for Paintbrush, and they tipped over their edge too. Their hips jerked and twitched as they came for the third time that night.

Fan still couldn’t help himself. He stayed pressed to their back, one arm locked back around their waist, cock deep inside, and kept the vibrator torturously against their clit even as both their orgasms started to fade. But with the way they were clenching around him and with their frantic squirming, he was getting too oversensitive as well. Bullying Paintbrush for as long as possible was simply more important than his own discomfort, he must have decided.

The only sounds were lewd moaning, grunts, and high whines, the vibrator’s endless whirring, and Fan’s breathless laughter in between it all. Neither of the pair could get any sensical words out as they both struggled for just a moment longer, Fan clinging onto them and trying to force himself to stay inside as long as possible just to make Paintbrush fight him off one last time, while Paintbrush was trying relentlessly to escape from the overstimulation that was almost growing painful on their overworked body. 

Finally, Fan let it go, and managed to tear himself away from them. He flopped over onto his back, limbs splayed out as the adrenaline faded and exhaustion overtook him. 

“Aha—! aaahahaaa… Whew! How was… how was that? Fun, right?” He breathlessly asked. There was a remarkably light and comedic tone to his voice.

Paintbrush didn’t move either, also very tired out and needing of rest, significantly more-so than Fan. They only dignified him with a warbling groan as they felt his cum slowly beginning to trickle out of them, running down the back of their thigh and onto the floor. 

They felt so wonderfully spent.

“That good?” Fan lazily rolled his head to look at them. He could only see their backside, but he was more than content to watch their shoulders shakily rise and fall, listening to their deep breaths as they tried to find their words. 

Eventually, Paintbrush managed something reminiscent of an answer.

“You’ve got something wrong with you.”

Fan furrowed his brow in confusion and concern, “Did you… did you really not enjoy that?” Before he smiled, “Or are you still being shyyyy?”

Oh, they had enjoyed it unreasonably so. They did way more than they could’ve ever imagined. They never thought they’d ever be into something like this, yet it was the best they had ever felt. 

“Ugh… of course I enjoyed it. So what? Looks like I’ve got something wrong with me too, great. Th— that doesn’t make you any less weird! Weirdo. Weird, stupid… idiot…”

“Eh, that’s fair.”

“Great, now can you untie me.”

“Uhhh… hmmmm…”

“Fan.”

“Ahh, in a minute. Let me have this.”

“I hate you.”

“Oh, I love you too!”