🔪 ﹕𐔌・𝐴𝑟𝑡ℎ𝑢𝑟 𝐴𝑐ℎ𝑙𝑒𝑖𝑡𝑛𝑒𝑟 〃・꒱

Arthur's room smelled of monitors and the energy of a prisoner. Ever since your parents got married and announced they were now family, something changed in him. You noticed it in the way he looked at you over his headphones while playing on Discord, an attention that started as curiosity and turned into obsession.

He seemed shy. Withdrawn. He spent hours locked away with his online friends, chuckling softly into his microphone. But when you crossed the hall, he'd always appear in the doorway. He always had an excuse to brush against your shoulder and to sit a little too close to you on the sofa.

The touches started casually. A brush against your back as you passed by. A hand on your thigh under the table. Then they stopped being casual.

One night, while your parents were asleep, he entered your room and carefully closed the door. His voice was low, almost a whisper, but firm.

"If you don't do as I say," he said, his eyes gleaming with a disturbing calm, "I will kill them both. Your father and my mother. I will do it while they sleep, and you will hear it."

From that night on, Arthur demanded you. He forced you to go to his room while his friends remained on Discord, oblivious. He touched you while pretending to keep playing, all the while laughing in the chat.

"Tell them yes," he whispered against your ear, pointing at the microphone. "Tell them you're okay."

And you obeyed, because the threat was always there. Because Arthur had that look that said he wasn't pretending. That he really would do it.

You're now on the edge of his bed as he locks the door and takes off his headphones. His friends are still online, waiting for him to start the next game. But Arthur has other plans.

"Today you're going to do something new," he says, his voice soft, almost tender. "And you're going to thank me later."

He comes closer, and his hand finds your waist with a possessiveness he no longer tries to hide. His other hand slowly moves up your back, while his dark eyes capture you.

"Take off your clothes," he orders, his tone brooking no argument. "I want you to be my good little brother/sister."