You swallow hard, the heat between your legs becoming unbearable. “Yes—yours.”​

Slap.​

“That’s right. My favorite little toy.”

​His fingers dig into the marks he’s painting across your skin. You can feel the sheer size of him beneath you—the hard, heavy length of him pressing against your hip. You grind down against him, just a little, desperate for a different kind of friction.​

He lets out a dark, strained groan. “You don’t get to tease me now,” he says, his voice dropping into a growl as he delivers another sharp slap. “Not when you’re the one laid out like a brat waiting to be used.”

​You moan, your body burning with a hunger that feels like it’s going to consume you. It isn't pain anymore; it’s a desperate, pulsing heat in your teeth and in the wet sound of your breath. He slaps you again—just once—harder than all the others, making your vision blur for a split second.

​Then, he stops. He lets his hand rest there, heavy and broad, pressing firmly over the sting.​

He leans in close, his voice heavy in your ear. “I could fuck you just like this,” he murmurs. “Arched. Spanked raw. Still squirming like you’re begging for more.”

​You shiver, your entire frame vibrating under his touch. He slides his fingers between your thighs, touching you once, a slow and deliberate stroke that makes you cry out. “Still so wet,” he teases, his voice dripping with arrogance. “Didn’t even need a reason to get you like this.”

​He pulls his hand away, and the sound of his belt shifting is the loudest thing in the room. You hear his breath catch as he prepares himself.​

“You want it?” he mutters.​

You nod, desperate and ready to break for him. “Please. God, please.”

​“Then keep still,” he commands, his voice turning cold and authoritative. “And don't you dare cum until I say so.”

​He doesn't give you a second to breathe. He flips you over, his hands rough and certain as they grab your hips. He bends you forward until your chest hits the mattress, leaving your ass high, aching, and completely exposed.​

“You look wrecked,” he mutters from behind you. You hear him adjusting himself, the sheer presence of him looming over you making the air feel thick. “Still twitching from the spanking and you’re already leaking for me.”

​You whimper into the sheets, your fingers clutching the fabric. You can feel him now—hard, heavy, and massive. He drags the head of his dick through the mess, the friction making your hips buck involuntarily.​

“Sloppy for me,” he rasps. “I’m gonna stretch you out so good.”​He grabs himself, stroking twice, and then he pushes in. There is no warning.

It is just pure, unyielding pressure and a deep, heavy stretch that makes your breath punch out of you. He is so much bigger than what you’re used to, filling every inch of your entrance until you feel like you’re going to split.​

“Fffuck, you’re so tight around me.”​

He bottoms out in one steady, relentless thrust. His hips press flush against yours, his full weight pinning you into the bed. One of his massive hands stays locked on your lower back, holding you in place while he grinds in deeper, seeking the very back of you.​

“Feel that?” he pants, his voice shaking with the effort of holding back. “That’s your spot. Right there.”

​You let out a broken scream, your head tossing back. ​“Oh my god,” you breathe out, the honesty of the pleasure finally breaking through your pride. “You’re so... you’re so big. It feels so good.”

​He let's out a low, mean chuckle that vibrates through your entire pelvis. He pulls back just enough to catch his breath before slamming back in, his dick angled so deep you see stars.​

“Yeah? You like being filled up like this?” he grunts, his pace beginning to pick up. “You clamp around me like you’re begging to be broken. Like you want to drown in it.”

​You try to speak, to tell him he's right, but all that comes out is a wrecked, wet moan. He leans over your back, his large hand finding a fistful of your hair. He pulls, forcing your head up so he can see your face in the mirror across the room.​

“Look at you,” he praises, his voice thick with lust. “Getting fucked dumb, bruised up, and still so damn greedy for more of me.”​

Then he starts moving in earnest. Hard. Heavy. Brutal.​

His dick hits that same spot again and again—that one place that makes your legs lock and your brain turn to liquid. He knows exactly what he’s doing. He knows the size of him is a weapon, and he’s using it to ruin you.​

And then—Smack.​

He spanks you again, his open palm landing on your raw skin with a sharp crack. You jolt forward, your muscles spasming violently around him, clamping down on his length in a frantic rhythm.

​“Oh yeah,” he groans, his own voice breaking. “You like that. You like being reminded who’s in control.”

​His free hand slides down your front, his rough, hot fingers finding the sensitive space between your thighs. He doesn't care about being gentle; he plays with you like he owns every nerve ending in your body. He strokes messy, heavy circles, his thumb applying a pressure that makes you cry out in a high-pitched wail.​

“Gonna make you cum just like this,” he mutters into your ear. “Fucked from behind, spanked raw, while I fill you from the inside.”

​You choke on your breath, trying to brace yourself, but it’s impossible. He’s too deep, his thrusts too relentless. Your whole body is bouncing with the force of him, your knees going weak as he continues to pound against that one spot.​

“There,” he grunts, his teeth gritting. “You feel that? That’s where I live now. That’s mine.”

​Another thrust. Another sharp spank. Your whole body seizes, the pleasure turning into something that borders on a physical overload.

​“You’re gonna cum,” he says, his voice a dark prophecy. “I know you are. Just a few more. Just like this, my pretty little slut.”​

His rhythm turns sharp and cruel. Every stroke punches against your center, his fingers working you at the same time, his voice a constant, filthy stream of praise and commands. “Cum for me. Give it all to me right now.”​

You do.​You shatter. Your back arches, your thighs clench, and everything in your world narrows down to the feeling of him inside you. You wail into the mattress, your release hitting you so hard your body convulses in waves, your walls tightening around him in a desperate, rhythmic plea.​

“God damn,” he grunts, his voice dropping into a guttural growl as he fucks you through the climax. He doesn't stop; he keeps spanking you between thrusts, riding the edge of your oversensitive twitching until he’s just as wrecked as you are.​

You’re trembling. Spent. Completely undone.​

And then he goes still.​

He buries himself as deep as he can go, a low curse escaping him. He cums inside you with a heavy, soul-deep groan, his dick pulsing thick and hot while his hand stays fisted in your hair. He stays there, his full weight pressing you into the bed, his chest heaving against your back.​

When he finally pulls out—slow, wet, and breathless—he grabs your ass one more time, his fingers digging into the marks he left.​

“Next time,” he pants, his voice still thick with the aftermath, “I tie you up first. So you really can’t move while I’m using you.”​

You would say yes. You would say anything he wanted. But you’re still twitching too hard to speak.​

You’re slumped forward, your cheek pressed to the damp mattress, your body still jumping in little aftershocks. You think he’d stop. You think that after making you sob and filling you up, he’d let you catch your breath.​

But he isn't finished with you.​

He grabs you by the hips, his hands large and unyielding as he spreads you open again. He pushes two fingers inside—slow, thick, and deep.​

You jolt, a choked sound leaving your throat.​

“Shhh,” he murmurs, his chest pressed to your back. “Don’t squirm now. We’re not done yet.”​

You whimper, the stretch of his fingers feeling massive after the intensity of his length. You're still slick, still sore, but he doesn't care about your comfort.​

“Gotta keep you full,” he mutters, curling his fingers just enough to make your hips twitch. “Can’t waste what I gave you.”

​His other hand rests on your lower back, heavy and grounding, reminding you that you aren't going anywhere.​

“You took me so good. Came all over yourself like you were starving for it.”​

His fingers start to move—slow, deliberate thrusts that drag against that same spot, making your thighs shake all over again. You moan and try to crawl forward, your body bucking against the renewed sensation.

​He presses your hips down, hard. “Where the fuck do you think you’re goin'?”​

You gasp, the air leaving your lungs. He leans over your back, his breath warm and humid against your shoulder.​

“I said we’re not done,” he croons, his voice low and dangerous. “You stay still, you take my fingers, and you say thank you.”

​You shake your head, your mind a buzzing mess of overstimulation. You can't even think, let alone speak.​

Smack.​

His palm lands on your sore ass again, sharp and final.​

“Try again.”​

You bite your lip, gasping the words through a throat that has gone raw from screaming. “Thank you.”​

He hums, the sound vibrating against your spine. He’s still moving inside you, deep and rhythmic.​

“Again.”​

You cry it now, the desperation taking over. “Thank you—ahmn—God, it feels so good...”​

“For what?” he asks, his fingers curling with a cruel precision.​You don’t answer fast enough.​

Another thrust. Deeper. He’s stretching you out, his thumb finding your center and applying that heavy, agonizing pressure.​

“Say it.”

​Your voice cracks. “F-for... fucking me. For filling me up. For making me—mghn—fuck—cum again...”​

He groans, his fingers working you perfectly. “Good toy,” he mutters, the praise making your heart swell even as your body breaks. “Took all of it. Gonna take more.”

​You tremble, your body reaching its limit, but he doesn't let up. He pulls his fingers out just enough to watch your entrance clench around nothing, then pushes them back in, grinding the heel of his palm against you with a heavy, crushing force.​

You cry out, a sound that is half-pleasure and half-overload.​“Gonna milk my fingers too, baby?” he asks, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You really that fuckin’ needy for me?”​

You don’t answer. You can’t. You’re panting too hard, your vision swimming. But your body is already there—twitching around him, dripping, clenching tight as another wave of release builds in your gut.

​He smirks. He can feel it.​

“Yeah. That’s it.” His voice drops low, nearly reverent, but still carrying that sharp edge of command. “Come on, baby. Make a mess for me. Let me see how good you break.”​

You do. ​Again.​ Your body locks up, your breath catching in your throat, as you come hard around his fingers. He works you through every single pulse, staying inside, holding you open, making sure you feel every bit of the ruin he’s caused.​

Finally, he stops. He pulls his hand away and lets you fall. He presses a lingering kiss to your spine, right between your shoulder blades.​

Then he leans in, his voice low and steady. “Mine,” he whispers. “Always mine.”​

And this time, you nod without a hesitation.

Star Divider by @uzmacchiato

Purple Heart Dividers @strangergraphics

the bell for lunch had just gone off and the halls were quickly filled with students dragging themselves to where they needed to be. some freshman's running between older groups of kids blocking half of the hallways up- you were standing just off to the side of your locker. books from your last class shoved into your locker as quickly as you left the classroom. looking around, you wait for your eyes to pick out a certain heffley to meet you by your locker.

it was a routine the two of you had started, ever since you two met your freshman year. you would wait by your locker, and he would meet you there, whether it be for lunch or to go home- unless he got himself detention. which wasn't rare. ironically though, your schedules hadn't changed much so the routine never really had to change either.

unlike that one time in the first half of junior year.

you pull the front of your jacket to loosen it from the front of your body and begin tapping your foot on the floor. you make note of how the halls have somewhat cleared out, except for a few couples making out in various corners and groups of jocks chatting it up about the upcoming games.

"boo!"

you flinch but you don't jump all the way. rolling your eyes, you turn your body around and see rodrick smirking at you as he leaned on the nearby lockers. "and before you try to deny it- i got you good, you totally jumped."

"yeah, yeah, whatever. what took you so long anyways?" you say as you playfully roll your eyes.

rodrick stands up fully now, his height not fully towering over you, but he still has a few inches on you. "well, it gets cold in school and i somehow couldn't find my jacket that i had brought this morning... but then i remembered-"

your heats begin to have a slight burning sensation as you look down at his jacket that he had let you wear that morning because you were cold.

"i meant to give it back i swear-"

he laughs and bumps his shoulder into yours. "oh c'mon you know i don't care. just messin' with you." he begins to walk towards the cafeteria. "besides, you seem more comfortable in my clothes anyways."

closing your eyes in slight embarrassment, you lightly scoff as you begin following behind him. you don't miss the way you can still smell the scent of him on... your jacket.

or the way a smile creeps up onto your face as you look at him.

-

later that week, you went home with him after school. his parents were both out at work that night and his little brother was over his friend's house so you two had it all to yourselves. the warm yellow lights filling the home as you two sit in the living room.

an open box of pizza and garlic knots sitting on top of two more pizza boxes. a random movie playing in the background as you two eat and talk about anything. "your music sounds great by the way." you blurt out.

he perks up at your compliment, and you can see the sparkle in those deep brown eyes. "you..."

"uh duh? why wouldn't i listen to the tape?" you laugh at his facial expression. you had been listening to him play for years now but he had given you a tape not too long ago. you still remember the way he shyly handed it to you with a 'don't mention it- it's a new song anyways'.

"got any more you wanna give me?" a beat passed, the sound of the tv filling the living room. then he practically flew up off of the couch and ran up the stairs towards his room. you quickly followed, setting your plate down on the coffee table and following him.

you find him in his room, shuffling around in his closet as he looks through one of his baskets. rodrick brings one of them out and sets it on his bed as you make your way to him.

after a bit you begin shuffling through the box as well, recognizing some of the tapes as his older songs he made in the garage. others not so much.

however, your eyes catch onto a tape off in the corner of the box under a couple of others. knocking the others to the side you bring grab the tape and begin to read the title. it read... your name?

with a hear-

"that'sss not for you." rodrick states as he snatches it out of your hand. "any of the others but not this one."

but you weren't one to back down from anything. especially when you can practically read the nervousness all over his face. "and why not?" you ask.

you don't let him answer before you two end up fighting over the tape. he holds his hand way above his head as you push up against him on your tiptoes trying to reach it. "let me see it!"

"no!" he slightly pushes you back and tries to make a dash out of his room but you had better ideas. mustering up all of your strength, you grab his arm and pull him close to you. then you push him backwards until he falls onto his bed and climb on top of him- grabbing the tape. "it has my name with a heart next to it- you're gonna explain this one."

the room went silent, save for both of you panting and your heartbeat banging in your ears.

it was only then that you realized his hands had taken place right on your hips and you were sitting flush against him. hips to hips. you both stared into each other's eyes for a moment before he looked away. almost like he was... ashamed?

"it's not what it looks like." he shyly whispers but his eyes don't waver from yours and you can feel his hands tighten around your hips. you lean down lower to his face, tape long forgotten somewhere on the bed. you bring your hands to either side of his face as your face is mere inches from his.

"then tell me what it does look like. cause... i don't know rodrick it seems like you have a lil' crush on me," you whisper, heart racing even faster than before.

his eyes flicker down your face to your lips but quickly go back to your eyes. you lean in and one of his hands on your hips move behind your neck to push you closer to him. "it's-"

"rodrick? (name)? you two up there?"

shit.

his mom's voice runs throughout the house and rodrick practically picks you up off of him and sits you down. he grabs the tape and throws it back in the box with the others and pushes everything back in his closet.

he turns around and sees you sitting there with shock all over his face. "go downstairs what are you doing?" he whisper-shouts and moves you towards his bedroom door.

your feet stumble over towards the door, and you both are met with his mom standing at the top of the steps. "oh there you guys are, everything alright? you left the tv on downstairs," she asks.

rodrick answers before you can though. "yeah everything's fine- right (name)?"

you look back at his mom and put on a smile. "right."

she looks between you two for a moment but quickly turns to go back downstairs. "alright you two, just clean up downstairs for me will you?"

rodrick didn't say much to you after that, he actually closed his door and brushed past you, walking down the stairs.

"i'll just head home."

he nods at you but not before he studies your face for a moment.

you tried to ignore how you felt about what just happened and a part of you wanted to go back in his room and take the tape with you. but you respected him too much to do that.

respected him so much, that you even decided to leave after you took off his jacket and hung it on his doorknob. even giving back the one in your bag. maybe it was the way rodrick's demeanor took a whole 180, or maybe it was the way he blatantly ignored you after... whatever happened in his room.

but what could you really do about it?

so, as you left out the door, and the cool air hit your face you partially regretted not bringing your own jacket with you.

but all you really wanted to do was get home and ignore the tears that began to slowly well in your eyes.

and ignore the thought, that maybe you took it too far with him.

𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂