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#freaky fun
freedomfireflies · 6 months
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A-Mazing*
Summary: An extra for 404*
The one where you and Harry find yourselves lost in a corn maze together.
Word Count: 7.5k
Content Warning: 18+, smut, exhibitionism, size kink, Daddy kink, enemies dynamic, Harry being a little bitch 🫶
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“Oh, absolutely not.”
Harry smirks as he turns to you, hands sliding into his hoodie pocket. “Gee, thanks.”
“No, I’m serious, I’m not getting stuck with you,” you argue, glancing toward the rest of the group that’s already heading inside the corn maze. “Seriously, please. Anybody else. I will take literally anybody else.”
“Well, you don’t get anybody else,” Harry snorts, much too smug for your liking. “You were late.”
“Yeah, and I was late because I was fixing your mistake,” you remind him. “It took me three hours to recode that sequence. And I’m still not finished—"
“Right, because it wasn’t a fucking mistake, Princess. The way I designed it was going to help it run three times more efficiently than the way Prescott suggested. And you just fucking undid it—"
“You weren’t asked to make it more efficient. You were told to do it the way the client wanted—”
“Well, the way the client wanted it was slow and stupid—”
“And you would be the authority on slow and stupid.”
Harry’s eyes narrow while his lips press into a thin line, looking quite incensed. “Very mature. Are we going in or what?”
“Fine,” you agree through a heavy exhale, shoving past him to head toward the entrance.
You have no idea why you even agreed to come in the first place. Sure, the idea of getting a few coworkers together for some fall fun was sweet, but truth be told, you don’t really care about any of these people outside of the office. You don’t care to see them, or get to know them, or hang out with them.
And the one person you do know happens to also be the one person you can’t stand.
Corn mazes are fun. Even pairing up to do them together is kind of exciting.
But with him? You’d rather get lost.
“All right, here’s your map,” the kind, older woman at the table says, handing you a piece of paper. “Answer the questions at each fork and follow the path according to your answer.”
You nod your understanding and offer a quick thank you before slipping past the tent and toward the beginning of the maze. The setting sun casts shadows across the field as you both make your way through the stocks.
You feel a sense of adventure as you make your way to the first checkpoint. Taking in the lingering scent of kettle corn somewhere off in the distance, and the excited chatter of the other people inside the maze. It’s exhilarating, and you feel a sense of purpose as you stride forward. Spurred on by a need to win – to do better than him.
And you hear Harry subtly huff from somewhere behind you, clearly annoyed with the way you’ve left him behind. “Real fucking mature,” he scoffs, and you can practically hear his eyes roll. “We’re supposed to be a team, Tinkerbell. You know, work together.”
“Well, I don’t want to be on a team with you,” you retort. “And we’ve never worked well together. As is evident by your complete lack of common sense and understanding of the system we’re trying to design.”
“Oh, this shit again—"
“Yes, this shit again. You’re costing us time and money by trying to prove you’re so much better than everyone else—”
“Well, I can’t exactly help it if I am, now, can I?”
You feel your expression fall as you spin on your heel to face him. “You’re fucking annoying, is what you are. It’s not my job to clean up after you. Okay, I’m not your mother, I’m not your babysitter. I am your equal. And it’s about fucking time you start treating me like it.”
Even in the dark, murky space, you can see a certain glimmer in his eye. One that challenges the frown on his face.
He studies you for a moment, eyes searching for a response. “Careful what you wish for, Princess.”
With that, he shoves past you and forges ahead into the maze. Leaving you to stare at his back with a glower.
You’re both silent as you approach the first fork, offering nothing more than looks of indignation and huffs of apathy as you raise your map and scan the question. 
“What does WWW stand for in a website browser?” you read aloud before snorting. “World Wide Web. C.”
An easy question. You both know the answer, and there's no way he can argue with you.
So, instead, he says nothing. Merely glancing over the paper almost skeptically before heading toward the third row.
Pocketing the trivia questions, you chase after him. “So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh? The silent treatment?”
Harry’s back stays to you as he slips between the stocks. “I’m not giving you the fucking silent treatment; I’m not twelve.”
“Then why aren’t you talking to me?”
“Because you’re a fucking brat.”
The vicious way he sneers the word sends a certain reaction down your spine, but you brush it away just as quickly as it appeared. “I thought I was your teammate.”
“You said it yourself, we’re not a team,” he retorts. “You’re not my babysitter, and you’re not my mother. Unless what you were really trying to say is that you want me to call you Mommy.”
You feel yourself hesitate, confused, and slightly startled by the suggestion. “Ew. Why would I want that?”
You see his shoulder lift and fall in a shrug. “I don’t know. You’ve always been a kinky little thing. Maybe it gets you off.”
“Oh, fuck you, I don’t have a mommy kink. Especially not with you.”
“Fine, a daddy kink then. Don’t think I forgot how eager you were to say it last time—”
“That was for you,” you hiss, once again glaring at his hooded back. “Okay, I was trying to see if you liked it, and you did—”
“Of course I did. It’s hot.”
“Sure, yeah. But I’m the kinky one?”
“I never said I wasn’t. I’m just saying, if you want me to call you mommy…all you have to do is ask.”
You come to the second fork, forcing the conversation to a halt as you feel your heart hammer in your chest. “Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”
“Fine.”
You unfold the map and search for the next question. “What is cynophobia?”
“Easy. Fear of cats.”
“That’s ailurophobia, you dipshit. Cynophobia is a fear of dogs.”
“Dipshit. Classy. No, that’s real nice, Tink. Very romantic.”
“Well, it’s true. Look it up.”
“Can’t,” he says calmly. Confidently. “There’s no service in here.”
“Oh, yeah? And how do you know?”
“Cause I’ve done this before. Many times.”
Your eyes narrow. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“…why?”
There’s a brief pause before he says, “She used to love it here.”
Your heart instantly drops into your toes, grimace untwisting as you glance toward the ground. “Oh.”
Another shrug. “Point is, I can’t look it up. So…pick whichever. I don’t care.”
Swallowing thickly, you gesture toward the second exit. “B. The answer is dogs. My brother used to have it when he was younger.”
And for the first time all evening, it’s Harry’s turn to look surprised as he nudges his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “You have a brother?”
“Yeah. Didn’t you learn that from my file?” you tease, and you notice his lips twitch up into a smirk.
“Not exactly.”
“Yeah, well…I don’t really talk about him. He doesn’t live here, he lives back home. After my dad left, he stuck around to take care of our mom.”
You see a flash of sympathy streak across his expression, but you’re brushing him off before he can comment.
“Anyway, it’s B,” you repeat, walking toward the middle row. “If you don’t believe me, then go your own way.”
For a moment, Harry hesitates, almost as though considering it. Then, he sighs, and begrudgingly follows your lead.
This time around, you’re both quiet. Listening to the sounds of everyone else further on in the maze laughing, or talking, or squealing with excitement.
A few scattered lamps help guide you through the dark labyrinth. You can see the wind move through the corn stocks. The way they rustle as they sway with the breeze, adding an element of eeriness to the already spooky scene.
Furthermore, the night air is beginning to grow cold. The fall chill nipping at your skin and reminding you once more that it’s no longer summer as you shiver and pull your jacket further around your body. 
“Should have brought a real coat,” Harry comments, almost haughtily, and it makes your eyes roll. “It’s October, Princess. Can’t wear booty shorts and flip flops anymore.”
Despite the fact that you’re wearing neither of those, you still feel the need to scoff, “Well, of course it’s not cold to you. You’re already dead inside.”
“Ooo, ouch. You got me. Sick burn, Tink. Real sick.”
His flippant response makes your skin crawl. “You are so fucking annoying, do you know that?”
“And you’re a fucking brat, do you know that?”
“I’m not a brat, I’m just right.”
“Sure. Whatever you say.”
“Yeah, it is whatever I say, actually. I’m the one with the fucking map.”
To prove your point, you wave the paper in the air before stopping beside the next checkpoint.
“What are the names of the four women on the show, The Golden Girls?” you read, eyebrows furrowing in thought. “Uh…I know Rose is one of them.”
“And Betty White,” Harry adds.
“No, her character. Not her,” you huff. “And I’m pretty sure Betty played Rose, so that’s only one.”
“Well, excuse me for trying to help,” he scoffs before glancing over the multiple-choice answers. “Then it’s probably A or C. Those are the only ones with Rose in them.”
“Well, we have to pick one. Okay, we can’t do both—”
“Yes, I fucking know that, Tinkerbell. I’m just narrowing it down—”
“Well, maybe be less condescending about it.”
“Fine,” he nearly snaps, angrily stabbing at the map with his finger. “A. Dorothy, Rose, Blanch, and Samantha.”
“No, that doesn’t sound right. I don’t think they had a Samantha. It was…it was something else. Either Sophia or Sarah.”
“Well, you have to pick one. You can’t have both,” he repeats mockingly, and you begin to glare. “Besides, statistically, it’s more likely they switch up the letters with each guess. We’ve already done B and C. Next should be A.”
“Really? That’s your reasoning?”
“That’s my reasoning. Take it or leave it.”
And you don’t like it. You don’t feel convinced by it. But you decide – just this once – to put your faith in his incessant need to be right. To trust him and his judgment.
You nod once. A curt gesture of good will as he sighs gratefully and takes off toward the first row. 
An eerie feeling follows you as you trail behind. Perhaps an ominous warning to turn around. That something is about to go wrong.
At first, you shake it away. Equating it with your distaste for the man before you.
But soon…you see the real reason why.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you groan when you’re both forced to a stop by a dead end. “See? What did I tell you?”
“Fuck off, you didn’t tell me shit, Princess. It’s a dead end, not death,” he huffs. “We’ll turn around and try again.”
“Can we? We passed like two other rows and now I can’t remember which way we came.”
“Well, that’s not my fault.”
“Oh, bite me, Harold.”
“Just tell me where.”
You feel your heart race beneath your chest. Spurred on by adrenaline, slight fear, and the brisk cold air. “Can you please stop being so infuriating?”
“Can you please stop being such a bitch?” he replies cooly before his eyes flick down toward your shivering frame. “You’re shaking.”
“Yes, I know,” you grit through clenched, chattering teeth. “It’s cold. And don’t you dare make another joke about flip flops. I don’t have the energy to slap you.”
That arrogant smirk returns. “Cute. Told you, you should have brought a coat.”
“Well, I didn’t,” you hiss. “So can we please just get the fuck out of here before I freeze to death?”
Harry’s eyes roll, but you notice his grin grow as he sighs and lifts a hand toward the collar of his hoodie.
In one fluid motion, he’s slipping the sweatshirt up his torso and over his head to hand to you. Dangling the dark fabric between your bodies as you stare at it incredulously.
“Take it,” he grumbles, waving the material in your direction. “And don’t fucking say I’m never nice to you.”
Stunned, you blink quickly. “What…are you doing?”
“Just put it on,” he huffs, gesturing toward you again. “Cause, if you die out here, I’m not dragging your body back.”
Your eyelids narrow into small slits while you cautiously reach for the hoodie. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” Once you’ve taken it, he uses his knuckle to shove his glasses back into position. “Like you said, I can’t get cold. I’m dead inside.”
You smile at this before pulling the cozy jacket over your head. It smells…good. It smells like him. Radiating heat and the faint scent of his cologne. 
Truth be told, it feels like a warm hug. Something you can’t imagine Harry ever giving you on his own. And a part of you feels…relieved. Relaxed and almost…enamored. Perhaps even grateful.
“Thanks,” you murmur, snuggling against the fabric before slipping your hands into the pocket. “You didn’t…have to. I know being nice isn’t your thing.”
He snorts, turning now toward the tall lookout platform just beside the dead end. “Whatever. Maybe we should go up and see if we can see the exit.”
“Okay.”
With that, he turns toward the stairs and begins the trek up. You rush after him, trying hard to see the steps without much light, and thankfully making it to the top in one piece as you begin to look around. 
It’s beautiful. Absolutely stunning, the design lit up by the soft glow of the moon. An almost romantic touch, although you shake the thought away. You can see a few groups spread out throughout the rest of the maze, but most of them are already making their way out. Having figured out the riddles much quicker than the two have seemed to.
You pout. “Nuts.”
“Yeah,” he agrees in a low grumble. “Okay, we’ll…we’ll turn around. Maybe you were right. Maybe it was C. We can try that next.”
It’s strange to hear him admit you could have been correct, and you can’t help but smirk as you nod. “Okay.”
You follow Harry down the other side, focusing your attention on your footing as you take each step one at a time.
But once you’re toward the bottom, your tennis shoe suddenly catches on a rogue nail, and you begin to stumble. Body falling forward before you can even reach for the railing.
Instantly, Harry – who’s already made it back to the ground – reaches out for your arms, slipping his hands beneath your elbows to help steady you and catch you just in the nick of time. Sparing you from a rather embarrassing fall.
You gasp as you’re flung forward, allowing yourself to settle in his embrace for support while you work on your balance and place your feet back where they need to be.
And once you’re sure you’re sturdy, you take a deep breath, and straighten up.
“Shit,” you whisper, lashes fluttering from the rush of adrenaline, and the feel of his touch. “I hate these shoes.”
You expect a snarky quip, but instead, you see his expression twist from behind his glasses as he glances over your face. Hands still glued to your arms. “Are you all right?”
A bit stunned by the soft and rather gentle tone of voice, you nod once. “Yeah. Sorry, I’m…sorry. I should have been looking.”
He seems confused by your apology but chooses to ignore it, instead watching you closely as if monitoring your reaction. “If you wanted me to hold you, Tinkerbell, you could have just said so.”
Despite yourself, you laugh, cheeks growing warm as you push yourself out of his arms. “Fuck off.”
“Fuck off? Or fuck me?”
“Ha. Very funny.”
“Maybe I’m not being funny,” he argues. “Maybe I mean it.”
“Oh, really?”
“Really.”
You snort. “Harry, come on. This would be the last place to fuck.”
“Why?”
“Why?”
“Yeah, why. What’s wrong with it? It’s dark. Secluded. There’s the element of getting caught, which I know you like.”
“Harry,” you repeat, almost doubtfully. “We…there’s no place to even do it. It’s way too exposed, and cold, and dangerous. We’d be better off just fucking in my car.”
“If we can even find our way back to your car,” he retorts teasingly. “Besides, I thought you liked danger.”
You gaze at him with suspicion, feeling that odd racing return to your chest. “You’re not being serious, are you?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe. I wasn’t at first, but…it’s not a bad idea.”
“Please. You can’t be that horny that you have to fuck me every time we see each other.”
“Okay, well, I’m not and I don’t,” he scoffs. “It’s just…different.”
“Oh, really? Why?”
Another shrug, but this time, he’s stepping closer. Those soft, green eyes dancing down your body as if drinking you in. Indulging in the sight of you. “I don’t know,” he repeats, a bit quieter. Thicker. “There’s just…something about you, in my clothes. It’s…it’s good. You look good.”
The look in his eye is primal. Breeding a new sense of desire deep within the pit of your stomach. You shift under his lustful gaze, fingers curling into your fist from inside the pocket.
“Thanks, I guess,” you manage to say, noticing the way he continues to move closer. “It is comfy.”
“Good,” he mumbles, still studying your stance before dragging his attention back up to your face. “And you’re warm?”
“Getting there.”
A short nod. “You know…there are other ways of heating you up.”
The sneaky remarks are back, and even though you can feel your legs squeezing together from the suggestive tone of voice, you grin. “Yeah?”
“Mhm.” He finally reaches you, fingers outstretching for the front of his hoodie. Moving up your chest almost innocently before slipping around the back of your neck. “Want me to keep you warm, Tink?”
And you want to tease him a little longer, make him wait. Suffer.
But he’s too good. He’s always been too good at catching you off guard and luring you into submission. The way he speaks, the way he looks at you, the way he pulls you closer with the palm of his hand. You can practically taste him. Can smell him everywhere. Feel him in places he’s not even touching you.
And you need it. You need him, you want him. Right now, more than anything.
“Yes,” you exhale, almost shakily. “Yes, please—”
He surges forward, lips connecting with yours almost violently. Stealing the rest of your plea before you can make it.
You can’t breathe. Can’t do anything but whimper as he sucks on your tongue and presses his fingers harder against your head. Trapping you against his mouth until you feel dizzy. 
And he’s so warm. A stark contrast to the brisk, autumn air. And he’s soft in a way you hadn’t anticipated. Inviting. As though he’s been waiting his whole life to lay his mouth to yours.
“Har—” you gasp when he pulls back to nip at your bottom lip. “Har, please—”
You sound deranged. Wounded, almost, and so goddamn pitiful. You’re tugging on his shirt, trying to yank him impossibly closer. Tilting to the left for a deeper angle and raising up onto your toes in order to taste him fully.
“Easy,” he whispers, and it’s so very strained. Like he’s using what little strength he still has to speak to you. “Easy, Princess. S’okay, I’ve got you.”
It’s possessive the way he talks to you. Commanding you to listen. Insisting that your pleasure is his. That your wellbeing is in his hands.
He’s not a caring man by nature. At least not to you. But in moments like this, his dominance takes control. Turning him into a desperate man eager to care for you. To protect you and keep you safe.
Perhaps it’s a more caveman mindset. The idea that he needs to look after you. That you’re his to keep and care for.
But right now…you adore it. Feel safe in the idea of submitting to him.
“Please,” you try again, breathless and desperate as you cling to his strong frame and beg him for something only he can give you. “Harry, please…hurts.”
There’s a teasing glimmer in his eye, brightened by the reflection of his glasses. “Yeah? Is it achy, Tink?”
You nod quickly, grabbing onto his other hand to slide it down your stomach. Right toward where you need him most.
And he lets himself be moved, watching with intrigue at the way his fingers are dragged toward your thighs. Smirking rather sadistically while pressing his palm against your pussy with fervor.
You whine at the subtle friction, already attempting to grind down against the heel of his hand as he meets your pace with soft strokes of his own. 
“There you go,” he murmurs, watching your hips before returning his attention to your face. “Feels good, baby, yeah? Like to use me, don’t you?”
Another quick nod, and you sigh contently when he presses his lips to your cheek. Placing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck.
“Har,” you try again, nuzzling closer. “Har, they’re…they’re gonna see. Can’t…can’t do it here—”
“Yes we can,” he replies calmly. And the soft, secure tone of voice instantly turns your insides to jelly. “Promise I won’t let them see, okay? Gonna keep you to myself.”
He removes his hand from your pussy to place it on your hip. Guiding you back until you feel your body connect with something hard. You glance around just long enough to find that it’s the wooden frame of the lookout. And he keeps you trapped there as he hides you both beneath the structure, tucking you away from any prying eyes that might pass.
“There,” he says, grinning to himself at the eager look on your face. “Now Daddy can see just how wet you really are, hm?”
You can tell he’s using the nickname sparingly. Tentative of your reaction as he waits to see how you might feel about it.
And truthfully, you hadn’t anticipated liking it as much as you do. Especially in this moment, when he’s giving you everything you’ve ever wanted. It’s like music to your ears, orgasmic just to listen to.
You swallow thickly and nudge your nose against his cheek. “Yes, Daddy.”
He tenses beneath your touch, cursing against the shell of your ear before he whispers, “Show me.”
He returns his hand to yours, allowing your fingers to interlock as you shakily guide him toward your jeans. 
After a bit of maneuvering, you get the zipper down, and help slip his hand inside your underwear. Straight down to your cunt as his fingers glide through your folds until he can find what he’s looking for. 
“Oh, Tink,” he coos almost sympathetically. Stroking your pussy as you move to grip his wrist excitedly. “S’all wet, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Daddy,” you mumble, leaning your head back against the wooden board for stability. “Hurts.”
“I bet,” he tsks, sliding his middle finger toward your hole. Circling it once before glancing over your expression. “Need something to fill you up, hm? Get you warm again?”
You hum your agreement, tugging his touch further into you as he chuckles and steps closer. “Please…”
“What, baby? What do you need?”
You whimper again and roll your hips against his fingers. Needing the friction of his thumb against your clit which he refuses to give you.
“What do you want, hm?” he mumbles, dipping down to ghost his lips across yours. “Just ask…and Daddy will give you anything you want.”
And in this moment, you know he means it.
“Want you…to fuck me,” you exhale, reaching now for the curls lying against the back of his neck. “Please, Har. Need you to fuck me. Make it better. Make it go away.”
“Is that right?” He slips a finger inside, and you feel your insides twist as you gasp and squirm against the pleasurable touch. “Need something bigger, yeah?”
“Yes…yeah. Please. Please, Daddy.”
He smiles again before slipping his hand from inside your jeans to help tug them down your legs. Yanking almost furiously until they’re settled near your ankles. Allowing him just enough room to slip between.
And once your cunt is on display for him, he stares at it with a certain mesmerized admiration. Allowing himself to enjoy you before he reaches for his own belt and tugs it free.
Once he’s managed to pull his cock out, he reaches again for your hips. Squeezing them once before turning you around.
His arm slips around your middle to keep you secure and you grin lazily as you rest yourself against his chest.
“Gonna hold you, just like this,” he whispers against your cheek, and you feel the tip of his cock trailing against the curve of your ass. “Keep you warm.”
The hand against your ribcage is gentle. Keeping you steady as he attempts to hold you close.
“Deep breath, Tink, okay?” he instructs next, nudging the crown against your dripping hole. Warning you of his next step. “Know it’s a lot, but you always take me so well, don’t you? Gonna take me again?”
You grab onto his arm, nails scraping down his skin as you whine, “Yes. Yes, I’ll take you. Just need it, Har, please—"
“Okay, all right,” he shushes, nudging his cheek against your temple. “Need you to relax, okay? Are you relaxed, baby?”
And you think you are. Mentally, anyway. You’ve never felt so comfortable in someone’s arms. Under their influence and control. Even despite the cold air nipping at your thighs and the outside threat of getting caught, you feel at ease. Adrenaline coursing through your veins as the sounds of people somewhere else in the maze float toward you. Reminding you of where you are. What could happen.
“Tink,” he warns, sliding his cock through your folds in wait. “I need you to relax for me, okay? I really don’t want to hurt you.”
“No?” you manage to retort, and you catch his smile out of your peripheral. “Thought you liked to hurt me.”
 “I do,” he agrees, lips following the shell of your ear. “But not like this. Don’t wanna split you in half.”
“Maybe I want you to,” you breathe, reaching back for his neck. “Maybe I need it, Daddy.”
He chuckles almost darkly before pressing his mouth against your heated skin. “I’ll remember that.”
With that, he drops his hand down to your cunt, circling his fingers around your clit until he feels your body unwind. Allowing him just enough room to begin pushing his cock in.
“There you go,” he sighs, both of you groaning when you feel how easily he slips in. “So fucking good. Take me so well, don’t you? Always do, I know. Relax, baby. It’s okay, I’ve got you.”
The burn is almost overwhelming. Demanding your focus and attention as you feel him stretch you open, forcing your walls to accommodate his size.
“Hey,” you hear him murmur, his palm coming up to cup your jaw. Thumb sweeping across your parted lips. “Are you breathing? Gotta breathe, Tink, come on. You know better—”
“I know,” you gasp, sucking in a greedy gasp for air before you suck in his finger. “I know, Daddy, m’sorry.”
He hums his approval before allowing himself to sit inside your warm mouth. “It’s okay, know it feels good, hm?”
“Mhm,” you agree around the large digit, allowing your tongue to settle him on your tastebuds. “More.”
“More?” he repeats, using his other hand to squeeze your hip. “Want more, greedy girl?”
“Please…”
“Please," he echoes thoughtfully. "Greedy Girl has manners, how precious.”
There’s a slight air of condescension and teasing to his response, and you feel yourself flutter around his length.
His grin grows. “You like that, baby?”
You manage one more weak nod as you press yourself against his body, squirming in his hold while his cock pushes in to the hilt.
“There,” he exhales, groaning some before falling still. Allowing your body to adjust to his size. “You okay?”
“Yes…yes, m’okay. Please move, please…please, Daddy—”
“Okay, all right,” he agrees coarsely, readjusting his stance before returning his arm to your stomach. Just beneath your chest. “Need you to be good, okay? Just listen to Daddy’s voice and do what I say.”
“I will. I will, I promise.”
“Good.” He begins to pull back. Dragging his cock through your quivering hole as you moan his name.
But such a loud noise isn’t quite what he had in mind, his other palm reaching up to smack across your mouth to silence you.
“Uh-uh,” he grunts, pausing the rhythm of his hips until he’s sure you’ll obey. “None of that. M’keeping you for myself, remember? Can’t let them know.”
You make an incoherent noise against his hand before writhing back against his cock. Needing more friction and movement that he refuses to give you.
“Unless that’s what you want, Greedy Girl,” he whispers into your neck. “Want them to see what I do to you. The way I make you fall apart…the way you beg for my cock. Even when you hate me.”
The idea sends a shiver down your spine as you groan his name and claw at his wrist.
“Is that what you want?” he murmurs between sharp thrusts. “S’it why you keep this pretty pussy so nice and tight for me? Cause you want them to know that it’s only me? That everything…everything…you do is because of me?”
Your eyes roll back, either from annoyance or pleasure. But it’s blissful, this feeling. This hard fuck, this angry connection. 
And yet, this infuriating man is oddly tender with you. Holding you close and helping you find your release, despite the way he goads you.
“Do you, Tink?” he asks again. “Do you want Lucas to see? Want them all to fucking see what you do to me?”
His nails are scraping down your ribcage, pulling you taut against his chest as he drives his cock as deep as it’ll go. Hips meeting your ass as he releases your mouth to hold onto you again, keeping you still.
“Tell me,” he says between deep breaths. “Tell me you’re mine. Tell me you only cum for me—”
“Har—”
“My greedy little whore. My dirty fucking princess.” His tone is angry. Dissolving into something feral as he begins to pound into you with a harder force. Nearly knocking the wind from your lungs. “Not his. Mine. Always mine—”
“Yours,” you repeat between soft whines. “Yours, Harry, you know that—”
“Yeah?” He holds you tighter, allowing you no room to squirm as he nears his release. His pace becomes faster and sloppier the closer he gets. Allowing your warmth to soak him, draw him in. Using you as nothing more than a toy. A means to his end. “Then prove it.”
Even without much extra stimulation, you can feel yourself getting closer to the brink. Harry has always had this innate ability to get you there without much more than a few pumps of his cock. Perhaps it’s his size or his technique. The way he knows exactly where to thrust in order to hit the right spot and make you see stars. 
And maybe there’s a part of you – albeit small – that enjoys the idea of being good for him. Of coming on his cock (or his tongue or his fingers) just so he can watch. So he can feel what he does to you.
Maybe…you just want to be good for him. At least in moments like this. To know that you’ve earned his approval, his praise. That such a brilliant man has devoted his time and attention and body just to you. 
That you’re worthy of his time.
Worthy of him.
It’s almost degrading to think about and yet…it makes you clench. Pussy clamping down on his beautifully thick cock until he groans and nuzzles his nose against your neck.  
“Shit,” he hisses, rhythm stuttering as a shot of pleasure rolls through him. “Tink, if you’re gonna do that, I’m gonna cum.”
“Good,” you answer instantaneously. “Want you to. Need you to, Daddy, please—”
“No,” he huffs, and he stills for only a moment as if attempting to refrain from falling apart. “No, need you to cum first. Daddy needs to feel you cum first, okay? Come on, baby, gotta give it to me—”
You mewl helplessly, drowning out the rest of his instruction. You’re close, and you know it won’t be much longer until it overwhelms you.
And there’s some part of you that feels…disappointed. Saddened by the idea of things going back to how they normally are. That he’ll take himself from you – take his cock from you – and return to the maddening man you can hardly tolerate.
Maybe subconsciously, you try to hold off. Keep your orgasm at bay so you can keep him just a little longer. So you can appreciate the caring man behind you and the way he’s so desperate to put you first.
He’s quite wonderful when he’s not being an ass.
“Tink,” he grunts, hand moving up toward your jaw. You feel his palm press to your throat, and you swallow thickly against his skin. “Baby, I want you to cum. Wanna feel you. What do you need? Hm? Wanna play with your pretty button for me?”
You nod pitifully and allow your own fingers to move down toward your cunt. It’s wet and achy and swollen so much it almost hurts to touch. But you release a strained breath, nevertheless, appreciating the sting of overstimulation as you writhe in his hold.
You can feel your body beginning to overheat the closer you get. Helping warm you up from the October chill still biting at your skin. And the sounds of your friends aren’t far behind. Perhaps looking for you, waiting for you both to exit the maze and continue on with your evening.
But you don’t give a damn about anybody else right now. Just him.
Something you never thought you’d say.
“Getting closer, yeah?” he hums against your ear, fingers tightening around your neck. “I know. Fucking shaking, baby, you’re okay. I got you. Just let it happen, let go.”
There’s something about his voice. About the feel of his glasses against your temple. About the way he makes you feel safe and secure. The way he effortlessly brings you to the edge and promises to catch you when you fall.
You know he hates you. And yet you also know that despite this loathing you share, you’re still his priority. That he’ll put your pleasure first, no matter what. That he wants to be good.
“Har,” you whimper through a high-pitched whine. “Shit, please—”
“You close? Gonna give it to me? Make Daddy happy?”
The reminder of the nickname makes you moan, a bit softer than before, but still rather lewd. And Harry tsks from behind you, once again sliding his palm up to your mouth.
“Dirty fucking princess,” he grits before he’s suddenly slamming himself into you. “Can’t ever do what she’s told, hm? Just loves to disobey me. Wants to get caught. Wants to be my greedy little girl—”
My greedy little girl.
That’s what does it for you. His possession, his mark, his claim. Reducing you to nothing more than this thing he uses for his pleasure. An object to be had.
In any other moment, you’d chastise him for it.
Right now, it’s everything you need to hear.
You cum on his cock without much choice. Pleasure unfurling like the petals of a flower in spring. For a moment, the overpowering sensation is all you can comprehend. Just ecstasy, a weightless euphoria. Lifting you up and dropping you back down.
He curses when he feels it, offering you quick murmurs of praise before he’s grabbing onto your hips with both hands and yanking you back. Using this leverage to drive his cock in in sharp thrusts before he’s following. Releasing himself into you with a groan as you gasp and grab onto one of the beams for support.
Thirty seconds pass of heavy breathing and lingering whimpers before you both fall quiet, chests heaving and legs still shaking.
He doesn’t pull out for at least a moment or two, merely holding onto your waist as he works to gather himself together.
“Shit,” he finally whispers, and you feel the subtle stroking of his thumb against your tender skin. Right over the bruises you’re sure to find tomorrow. “You okay?”
“Mhm,” you hum weakly, nodding once. “Really good, actually.”
“Yeah? Good. You needed it.”
You feel your lips pull back into a smile. “Oh, did I?”
“You really did.”
“Right. Even though you’re the one that fucks me every time you see me.”
You hear him scoff as he finally – and slowly – pulls out. Allowing your muscles to unwind as you release a deep breath. “I’m doing you a favor,” is his reply. And it’s laced with a condescension and haughtiness that you know all too well.
“Oh, is that what you’re doing?”
“Yes.” He tucks himself back into his briefs before crouching down to reach for your jeans. Pulling them back up your legs with a strange amount of care, despite his snarky attitude. “I do a lot of favors for you.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
You turn around while he steps back and readjusts his glasses. “Was getting us lost one of those favors?”
A strange, almost sadistic kind of grin begins to stretch across his face. “Maybe.”
You hesitate. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shrugs once before backing out of the lookout as you rezip your jeans. “It means…maybe I knew this was the wrong way.”
“…I’m sorry?”
His hands shove into his pockets while his sly smile seems to mirror his satisfaction. “I just figured it wouldn’t hurt to do some…exploring.”
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” you nearly gasp, striding after him so you can swat your hand across his chest. “Are you fucking serious? You got us lost on purpose?”
“We were never lost, Tinkerbell. I knew exactly where we were."
"Yeah? And where are we?"
"Taking a detour."
“I cannot believe you,” you murmur, staring at him rather incredulously. “God, you are so fucking horny, it’s insane.”
“Oh, relax,” he snorts. “I didn’t take you back here to fuck you. I just thought you’d wanna see the top of the maze.”
“And you couldn’t have just asked?”
“Would you have agreed?”
You consider this. “…all right, maybe not. But you’re still a fucking ass.”
“Yeah,” he agrees coyly. “I know.”
You keep your stern glare, but your grin is playful. “Whatever. Does this mean you know the way out?”
“I do,” he says. “There’s a shortcut. Cassie and I used to cheat and use it all the time.”
The revelation of her name makes your breath catch. You hadn’t expected him to reveal something so personal, and there’s a part of you that isn’t quite sure what to do with it.
You can tell he hasn’t realized his slip, because he’s still smiling at you like he’s waiting for you to get the joke. To laugh with him.
But there’s something else in his eye – something beautiful and reminiscent. Excited. Like the mere mention of her name has calmed him. Reminded him of a better time. A happier place. 
Reminded him of someone who isn’t you.
“I see,” you manage, choking the words out as you glance toward the dirt beneath your sneakers. Avoiding his eye. “Well…great. Get me the hell out of here, please.”
He studies you for a moment. You can feel his eyes boring into your profile, as though attempting to work out just what changed in your demeanor.
Then, he runs his tongue over his bottom lip, and says, “Yeah. This way.”
With that, he maneuvers back through the large stocks of corn and leads you through the intricate labyrinth. Weaving his way along the path and bypassing each checkpoint with ease, almost as if he’s done this a hundred times.
You imagine he has.
You reach the exit in only a few minutes, and relief washes over you as you catch sight of your car in the distance. Your means of escape and your excuse to leave him behind. 
“Thank God,” you mumble as you both slip out from the corn and back into the light. “That was…excruciating.”
“Oh, was it?” he teases. “Really? All of it?”
“Yes, all of it,” you snort, but you feel rather amused as you glance over his expression. “Let’s never get stuck in a corn maze together again, agreed?”
“Agreed,” he replies, but there’s a certain playful glimmer in his eye. “We can just fuck the old-fashioned way. In your car.”
“Gee, great.”
You both fall silent as your quippy remarks die down. Looking at each other like you’re waiting for someone to break the spell. To return you both to your anger and your rivalry. To poke fun at the few moments of intimacy and understanding you shared and release you from this strange yearning.
You decide to be the first, clearing your throat as quietly as you can while reaching for the collar of the hoodie to slip it off. “Uh, well…thanks again. For letting me borrow this.”
He blinks, momentarily puzzled – or perhaps…disappointed? – as he watches you pull it from your body. “Yeah. No problem. Just bring a fucking coat next time.”
“There won’t be a next time, remember?” you retort, tossing it over. 
He catches it with one hand, and smiles. “Right. And thank God for that.”
“Exactly.”
Another lull, the two of you continuing to stand in the dimly lit parking lot as you wait for him to say goodbye.
And suddenly, you realize…you don’t want to go. You don’t want to say goodbye. That you feel…safer when he’s around. More relaxed and at ease. Even when you’re griping with him or resisting the urge to put his head through a wall, he’s still…comforting. A forceful and reassuring presence that you otherwise feel lost without. 
Because you remember who he was before…Cassie. You remember his kindness and his ability to make you laugh.
And you know that he’s still that person. He’s still trying to take care of the people he feels closest to, even when he doesn’t mean to. Even when he doesn’t realize.
You know why he pushed you away. You know why he’s created such a vast, unyielding distance. And you can’t exactly blame him.
But the version of him that automatically thinks to care for you…that’s the version you’re drawn to. That’s the version you don’t want to say goodbye to.
“What?” he asks, grinning again as his head cocks. Seeming to notice the shift in your expression. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
You hesitate, lashes fluttering as you work out a response. Wondering just how much you can share…and how much of it is real. “Nothing, I…this was just…”
He waits, brow raised. 
Your lips clamp. “Nothing. I’m just thinking about all the fucking work I have to do when I go in tomorrow, thanks to you.”
And you can see he’s unconvinced, eyes flicking between yours as if looking for the real answer. But he waits a beat before his smile fades and he asks, “Why did you really come tonight?”
A bit caught off-guard by the question, you blink. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you could have partnered with anyone else. If you really wanted,” he explains, slowly stepping closer. Forcing a hitch in your throat. “Could have left me behind. Gone ahead. But you didn’t. Why?”
And there it is. That hint – that almost undetectable trace – of vulnerability behind the usual arrogance. He’s giving you the chance, offering you an opportunity for truth.
And maybe you want to take it. Maybe you want to confess and unburden yourself of this weight that’s settled on your shoulders. 
The truth teases the tip of your tongue, laden with consequences.
But just before you can offer him the real answer, there’s a distant laugh from one of the groups back in the maze. Interrupting the moment and stealing what little courage you had left.
Your lashes flutter quickly as if shaking yourself from a daze, and you step back. Forcing distance between your bodies in an attempt to find clarity. 
Harry watches you go, expression hard and etched with frustration, while you swallow thickly and spin on your heel. 
He doesn’t call after you as you race to your car. Doesn’t insist on an answer or try to make you stay.
He merely stands there beneath the warm hue of the streetlamp, allowing you to run away, and disappear into your car before fleeing the scene.
Leaving him behind. 
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Previous Part:
~ Always*
~ 404 Masterlist
~ Freaky Fun Masterlist
~ Main Masterlist
~ Blurb Masterlist
Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞
Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @daphnesutton @love-letters-to-uranus @kirstiea05 @lovrave @princessprongs @nuggetdean @scndsofsummer @theofficialprongs
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teaboot · 1 month
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Not to be absolutely unhinged but I think that if I buy enough tiny plastic tubs to continue breaking down every possession I own into discrete categories then eventually I will live in a home where I don't constantly have a large pile of completely miscellaneous nicknacks in the middle of the floor constantly and forever until I die
Current box count is 56
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fishofthewoods · 7 days
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I see a lot of people clowning on the people of Pelican Town for not repairing the community center themselves or clowning on Lewis for embezzling and. like. Those criticisms aren't entirely unfair. But I think instead of coming at it from a perspective of "why can't the townspeople do this" we should be asking "why and how can the farmer do this?"
Like. Think about it. The farmer arrives in Stardew Valley on the first day of spring. By the first day they're obviously different. By day five the spirits of the forest who haven't been seen by the townsfolk in years or generations are speaking to them. By the second week they've developed a rapport with the wizard that lives outside town.
In the spring they go foraging and find more than even Linus, who's spent so many years learning the ways of the valley. Maybe he knows, when he sees them walking back home. Maybe he looks at them and understands that they're different, chosen somehow.
In the summer they fish in the lakes and the ocean for hours on end, catching fish that even Willy's only ever heard of, fish that he thought were the stuff of legend. They pull up giants from the deep and mutated monstrosities from the sewers.
In the fall, their crops grow incredibly immense; pumpkins twice as tall as a person, big enough that someone could live inside. The farmer cuts it down with an axe without even batting an eye. Does Lewis wonder, when he checks the collection bin that night and finds it full to the brim with pumpkin flesh? What does he think? Does he even leave the money? Does he have the funds to pay the farmer millions of dollars for the massive amounts of wine they sell? Or is it someone--something--else entirely?
In the winter, the farmer delves into the mines. No one in Pelican Town has been down there in decades. No one in living memory has been to the bottom. The farmer gets there within the season. They return to the surface with stories of dwarven ruins and shadow people, stories they only tell to Vincent and Jas, whose retellings will be dismissed by the adults as flights of fancy. People walking by the entrance to the mines sometimes hear the farmer in there, speaking in a language no one can understand. Something speaks back.
The farmer speaks to the the wizard. They speak to the spirit of a bear inside a centuries-old stone. They speak to the shadow people and the dwarves, ancient enemies, and they try to mend the rift. They speak to the Junimos, ancient spirits of the forest and the river and the mountain. They taste the nectar of the stardrops and speak to the valley itself. They change Pelican Town, and they change the valley. Things are waking up.
And what does Evelyn think? She's the oldest person in the valley; she was here when the farmer's grandfather was young. (How old *is* she, anyway? She never seems to age. She doesn't remember the year she was born.) Does she see the farmer and think of their grandfather? Does she try to remember if he was like this too, strange and wild and given the gifts of the forest?
And does their grandfather haunt the valley? He haunts the farm, still there even after his death; his body died somewhere else, but his spirit could never stay away for long. Does Abigail, using her ouija board on a stormy night, almost drop the planchette when she realizes it's moving on its own? Does Shane, walking to work long before anyone else leaves their house, catch glimpses of a wispy figure floating through the town? Does the farmer know their grandfather came back to the place they both love so much?
Mr. Qi takes interest in the farmer. He's different, too; in a different way, maybe, but the principles are the same. They're both exceptional, and no matter what Qi says about it being hard work and dedication, they both know the truth: the world bends around the both of them, changing to fit their needs. Most people aren't visited by fairies or witches. Most people don't have meteorites crash in their yard. Most people couldn't chop down trees all day without a break or speak to bears and mice and frogs.
The farmer is different. The rules of the world don't work for them the way they work for everyone else. The farmer goes fishing and finds the stuff of fairy tales. The farmer goes mining and fights shadow beasts and flying snakes. The farmer looks at paths the townspeople walk every day and finds buried in the dirt relics of lost civilizations.
The farmer is a violent, irrepressible miracle, chosen by the valley and destined to return to it someday. Even if they'd never received the letter, they would've come home.
They always come home eventually.
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wasyago · 3 months
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welp, didn't manage to get everything out before season 10 started, but i gotta post it one way or another so here we go! heard there was a fandom swap game going on, wanted to do a couple promts of my own :D
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nell0-0 · 2 months
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Shout-out to Tatl, the one who taught Mask how to swear (my HC)
Tatl "Link! What are you doing here?!"
Mask "Me? What are YOU doing here?"
Mask "Oh. That ain't good"
Tatl "No shit"
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crimson-nail · 3 months
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girl who definitely has a podcast about climate change
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ratajota · 8 months
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a simple pet portrait 🌷
comm info here!
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waymond-wang · 10 months
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FREAKY (2020) dir. Christopher Landon ↳ So you're saying if I don't stab him with the Dola by midnight, I'm gonna be stuck in this body forever? - Yep. - That's in, like, nine hours!
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mycoblogg · 9 months
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Tell me a shroom fact please
a recently-found amber fossil (dating to ~100 million years ago) suggests that dinosaurs ingested psychotropic fungi !!
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in this fossil, we see some of the earliest recorded evidence of grass. atop the grass? a fungal parasite. in comparison with our fungi today, this fungus is most similar to ergot - fungi that grow on rye & produce alkaloids. ergot has been used as a medicine, a poison & a hallucinogen by humans for thousand of years.
"there’s no doubt in my mind that it would have been eaten by sauropod dinosaurs, although we can’t know what exact effect it had on them." - george poinar jr, of the oregon state university's college of science.
the small chance that dinosaurs tripped on psychedelics keeps me going, tbh.
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t0bey · 10 days
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OK SO back in December i got too sop deprived after elon nuked the old aesop twitter bot i followed so i made my own aesop bot and like doing milestone drawings for it (this was for it hitting 500 followers!)
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freedomfireflies · 7 months
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American Psycho*
Summary: Part of Halloween Kinktober, Freaky Fun, and One for the Money*
The one where you and your boss, Mr. Styles, have a little bit too much fun at the office Halloween party.
Can be read as standalone!
Word Count: 4.6k
*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*
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“What…are you wearing?”
Mr. Styles glances down at his dark suit, brow cocked upward. “What does it look like?”
“Har,” you huff, although you’re smiling as you toss your makeup bag aside and move closer, “I thought you were putting on a costume. It’s a Halloween party, you’re supposed to dress up.”
“I am,” he argues. “I’m dressed as a guy that doesn’t want to fucking go.”
You laugh. “Come on, be fun for a change.”
“I’m the boss. I’m not supposed to be fun.”
“Well, they’re throwing this party for you,” you remind him. “Nadia’s been talking about it all week.”
“Right, instead of working. Which is not what I pay her to do.”
“Harry,” you repeat, shooting him a pointed look. “Seriously, why don’t you put on a little fake blood or something? You could go as Patrick Bateman!”
“And why would I do that when I could just not go at all?”
Pushing your pink, painted lips into a pout, you straighten up onto your tiptoes, and snake your arms around his neck. “Please, Sir? Just this once? For me?”
He begins to frown, but you feel his hands find your hips, expression stern but amused. “Peach…”
“I won’t ever ask for anything ever again,” you murmur, letting your mouth ghost atop his teasingly. “Swear. And I’ll behave all night. Be so good for you.”
He likes this idea, studying you carefully as his grip tightens. “Is that so?”
“Incredibly so. Just want to have fun with you, Sir.”
“I know,” he sighs, now cupping his palm against your cheek. “But you know the rule, honey. We can’t be seen together, not at the office.”
“I know,” you echo. “But we can still go. Even if we can’t exactly hold hands and dance in front of everybody, we can have fun. And I want that for you. You never take the stick out of your ass.”
Pinching your jaw playfully, he snorts. “And I thought you were gonna be good.”
“Once you agree, yeah. Until then, I make no promises.”
With a smirk, he grasps onto your chin, and tugs you to him. Smashing his lips to yours until you exhale gratefully and melt into his touch.
“Besides,” you mumble, “if you don’t come with me, then I’ll have to go in my slutty costume all by myself.”
Now you have his attention, his eyes narrowing sternly as he leans back to see you. “Oh, really?”
You nod. “Yup. Thought I’d use some of the lingerie you got me and go as a Playboy bunny.”
You can feel his heart racing beneath your fingertips – even through his nice dress shirt – and it makes you chuckle.
“Did you?” He doesn’t seem to have much else to offer, but you can see his walls beginning to crumble.
“Mhm. Equipped with a fuzzy little tail and ears.”
He swallows thickly before clearing his throat in an effort to appear nonchalant. “Well, let’s see it then.”
“Only if you agree to go.”
“Peach,” he warns, frowning again but you’re quick to shake your head.
“That’s my deal, Sir. Take it or leave it.”
And while you can tell he wants to be cross with you, he begins to smile, clearly amused with your negotiation tactics. Perhaps even a little proud.
“Fine,” he finally concedes, making you grin. “But I’m not putting on any makeup.”
“No, just a little fake blood,” you suggest, immediately rushing toward your bag to retrieve the bottle. “It won’t stain, and it washes right out.”
He eyes you carefully while you scurry across his apartment. “And I suppose you’d like me to carry an ax, too.”
“I mean…it would sell the part,” you tease. “But let’s start with the blood. Go wait in the bathroom and I’ll go change really quick.”
“No, don’t,” he calls, almost firmly before you can slip from the room. “Not yet.”
You hesitate. “Okay…why? What’s wrong?”
His tongue runs over his bottom lip while his head cocks deviously to the side. “Because if you do…then we aren’t ever leaving this apartment.”
And you can’t help but grin.
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“Let me guess…Edward Cullen?”
Even from a few feet away, you can see Harry’s expression fall. “Funny.”
“What?” Nadia smiles. “Come on, you look just like him. The blood and the suit and everything. It’s good.”
“Great,” he grumbles but you can tell he’s amused.
She laughs. “Patrick Bateman is a good look for you, boss. I like it. Feels…fitting.”
“Is that so?”
“It is. But in a sexy, fun kind of way.”
He snorts before his eyes trail over to you. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
You wink.
The party is relaxed but enjoyable. Everyone is mingling, drinking, and dancing to the upbeat, spooky playlist. The usually boring, gray interior of the office floor is decorated with orange lights, carved pumpkins, and an array of ghostly décor. And nearly everyone came in costume, making it feel that much more like Halloween.
And despite the fact that you and Mr. Styles are forced to remain distant, you find yourself admiring him from across the room almost all evening. Happy that he seems to have finally begun to unwind, relax, and even enjoy himself. 
You watch as he engages in chatter with some of the other men in the finance department. You catch his eye while you’re grabbing a drink of the festive punch. And you feel him stare as you and Nadia head to the middle of the floor to dance to Somebody’s Watching Me.
Truth be told, you find it hard to be away from him after so many nights together. And even though it’s what you both agreed on, you feel a certain sort of longing for the handsome man in the corner of the room. 
However, neither of you are quite ready to tell the office you’re dating yet or deal with the potential fallout. At least not right now, when things are so new. Special. You suppose that could change in the future, but at least for tonight, he’s your dirty little secret.
So you resort to exchanging sneaky glances from time to time as you enjoy the party. Like now, when you catch his subtle but devious smile from behind the shadows while his hand casually slips into his suit jacket pocket. 
It’s a nonchalant motion. Relaxed enough that you barely catch on as you and Nadia continue swaying back and forth to the rhythm. Enjoying the heavy bass and eerie tune. 
And then, suddenly…you feel it. The first, gentle vibration from the toy sitting snugly inside your pussy. 
Your breath hitches.
And now you understand his look of amusement and the disappearance of his hand. He’s testing out the toy, warning you of his intentions even from the other side of the room. 
Just like he promised.
After all, that was his only condition. He’d dress up, he’d play nice, he’d be a good boss.
But if he wasn’t allowed to touch you all night, he at least wanted to have some fun. And remind you that he is still the one you belong to.
A reminder he gleefully gives you now, turning up the strength on the small bullet inside your cunt while he continues chatting with Alex from IT.
He’s not looking at you anymore – something you almost despise – but it’s obvious that he’s entertained. Fighting against a wry grin as he nods along in conversation. 
You, on the other hand, are beginning to feel the effects of the teasing. A sharp, pleasurable chill running down your legs while you falter in place and swallow a gasp.
Confused, Nadia eyes you carefully. “You okay?” she calls over the music, leaning closer. “You look a little woozy.”
“I’m…no, I’m…I’m good,” you manage to stammer, forcing a nod before you continue with your dance. “S’just hot in here, I guess.”
“God, you’re telling me,” she snorts, running a knuckle under her eye to catch some smeared makeup. “Last time I commit to the leather pants.”
Exhaling a laugh, you slowly pull your thighs together, hoping to lessen the vibrations currently traveling through your pussy. “Well, you look great.”
“Thanks,” she laughs before gesturing up and down at your costume. “What about you, hm? This is the sexiest corset I’ve ever seen.”
“Thanks, it’s quite hard to breathe in,” you retort playfully, glancing over the pink silk on your torso. “This will also be the last time I commit to lingerie in public.”
“Fair enough. But that’s what Halloween is for, right? So you can be your true, slutty self just for one night.”
You chuckle again before slowly looking over to catch a glimpse of your sadistic boyfriend. However, you find that the smug bastard is now nowhere to be found. Having disappeared from the room, leaving you to struggle without him.
And then, you feel the strength increase.
It’s becoming increasingly harder to ignore the pleasure building in your stomach or the sharp rushes of ecstasy that echo across your clit. Which you suppose is his goal, although you aren’t sure why he’s so determined to make you fall apart under so many obvious eyes.
But you imagine that’s part of the fun. The idea that even though he can’t be with you, he can control your pleasure.
And you have to admit…you adore him for it.
With a shaky exhale, you nod your head toward the exit. “I’m, uh…I’m gonna go get some fresh air for a bit. I’ll be right back.”
Nadia nods. “No problem. I’ll be here.”
Leaving her with a smile, you begin to search for where he might have gone. You imagine his office, although you aren’t quite sure how you’re meant to meet him when so many people are watching.
Sure, more than half the room is drunk or otherwise occupied, but you don’t want to taunt fate. Especially after begging him to come in the first place.
But the painful pleasure in your cunt is beginning to worsen and you realize rather quickly that there’s only one solution.
Him.
So, you take a deep breath and slip into the adjoining hall, traveling through the darkness until you find his door.
You take a deep breath and knock twice, calling a soft but hopeful, “Mr. Styles? Are you in there?”
The sound of a lock turning nearly makes you shiver, and you can’t help but grin giddily as the door swings open, and a hand outstretches for you.
You’re yanked inside before you can even offer a greeting, tossed mercilessly toward his desk while he slams the door shut, and turns to face you.
And he’s stunning. So effortlessly beautiful, even with the blood dripping down his face. You wonder if you should be worried you find this so attractive, but you don’t exactly have it in you to care. Because the way his disheveled suit hugs his broad frame is sinfully delicious and the ruby droplets smeared across his jaw makes your cunt clench around the toy.
He strides toward you, drinking you in like he’s dying of thirst. Eyes dark and clouded with salacious intentions. 
He takes hold of your face between strong palms and crashes his mouth to yours. Hips pushing you back until you collide with the wooden table just behind you. Trapping you there while you gasp for air and tangle your fingers in his messy curls.
He groans in response, nipping at your bottom lip until you can’t breathe. “Gonna fucking kill me, Peach. Walking around in this slutty little costume. Almost came in my pants when you bent over.”
You smirk lazily as his kisses move down your neck. “Good, that was my plan.”
He makes another animalistic noise before shoving at your waist a bit harder. 
One hand disappears back into his pocket while the other travels up your fishnet stockings and settles against your cunt. The heel of his palm pressing against your covered clit as his harsh kisses dance beneath your ear.
“Shit, Har—” you gasp before you feel him tug your skin between his teeth. “Sir. Please…need…”
“I know,” he grunts, increasing the power of the toy until you’re both moaning. “Can feel it, Peach. Feels good, hm? Feels so fucking good. Bet you’re gonna cum in your pretty, little panties before I even touch you, yeah?”
You make another incoherent noise as his hand pushes the toy further into your pussy. The electric vibrations reverberate across his palm, doubling the sensation until your head just about drops back. Making the bunny ears slip to the ground, forgotten. 
“Good,” he hums, and you feel a bit of his fake blood smear across your neck. “S’a good girl, honey. Already close, aren’t you? What a pathetic little thing. Always fall apart so fast when I use a toy to play with you.”
You nod quickly in agreement. After all, he’s right. Vibrators have you coming faster than almost anything else – besides his cock.
And his mouth.
This is a fact he utilizes now, nudging the vibrator further into you until your legs begin to shake. You can feel it in your stomach, the first unraveling as it becomes stronger, and louder, and faster.
You fling an arm around his shoulders for stability before you’re disintegrating beneath him. Writhing and squirming and panting as he sees you through. 
“There you go,” he whispers, mouth brushing over yours. Wanting to taste your moans as you come down. “You’re all right, my love. Doing so good, hm? Gonna give me another?”
You nod faintly and he smirks before reaching beneath your corset top to find the decorative panties attached to your costume. 
He shoves them aside without pause before ripping the delicate fabric of the stockings almost fiercely. And far too easily for your liking.
He then retrieves the small toy from inside your cunt – smiling when he feels how soaked the silicone has become – before he’s dragging it up to your clit. Pressing the stimulating tip into your sensitive and swollen nerves as you suddenly gasp and go reeling.
“Shh,” he hushes, glancing over your face. “Can’t be too loud, hm? Y’know I love it when you scream for me, but we can’t let me hear, can we?”
“It’s…it’s Halloween,” you counter. “They’re used to screams.”
But Mr. Styles merely smirks. “Be that as it may…I don’t want to share your screams with anyone else. Not tonight.”
You feel your head grow fuzzier as he dips down to take your lips with his.
“Tonight…your screams belong to me,” he exhales against your tongue before he’s pressing the vibrator harder against your cunt.
You’re a mess. Soaking his hand, your outfit, the toy. Shaking almost pitifully while he finally releases the remote to press his palm to the back of your neck. Forcing your faces together until neither one of you can breathe without the other.
He was right, you are pathetic. So goddamn tragic as you begin to shake beneath the bullet. Already close to your second orgasm of the evening before he’s even had a chance to tease you.
But you don’t think he minds. He collects your orgasms like Pokémon cards. Wearing the number proudly until you’re nothing but a pile of limbs in his arms.
Two is only a start. And you know as long as he has this toy, he plans to force you into many more.
“Fucking shit, Peach,” he groans, forehead resting against yours as he glances down at where his hand is settled between your thighs. “Oh, that’s my girl. Always behave so well for me. Knew you would, yeah? Just like you promised.”
Again, you can do nothing but nod weakly. Still clinging to his body like a lifeline while he strokes you through the aftershocks.
“Okay,” he finally sighs, removing the toy and swiping his thumb across your clit. Collecting the arousal waiting for him just to bring it up to his lips. “Okay, honey, turn around. Bend over the desk for me.”
You whimper at the way he takes his body from you and from the very idea of what comes next. You hate that you won’t be able to see his face, but you adore this position. Especially because of the way he manhandles you.
Like now as his hands suddenly grasp onto your hips to fling you around so you’re facing his large, floor to ceiling windows.
The city is beautiful at night. Lit up like a prize, vast and seemingly endless. It’s one of your favorite things about his office and you smile to yourself as you take in the view.
But you aren’t afforded the chance to daydream long before he’s weaving his fingers through your roots and pushing you down until your chest meets his desk. Keeping you bent and pliable as he undoes his leather belt.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, squeezing your scalp as though to reward you. “Gonna fuck you quick. Can’t have Nadia come looking for you, can we?”
You whimper a response before you hear his pants fall to the floor, followed by a snapping of elastic as he pulls his cock from his briefs. 
“Let me have a look at you,” he grits, releasing your head so he can stand back and admire your dripping pussy. Pulling back the costume until your cunt is on display for his hungry eyes. “So fucking cute, Peach. S’all pretty and red. Just weeping for me, hm?”
“Sir—”
“Get all sensitive when I make you cum a lot, don’t you?” he asks, even though he already knows the answer. “Your puffy little clit gets all swollen and achy, hm?”
“Yes…yes, Sir, please—”
“Just one more for now, yeah? Just one. And then I’ll take you home and do it right.”
There’s a racing in your chest that can’t be contained. A sharp thrill that lives beneath your skin. He’s everything. His voice, his touch, his intentions. Even his mind. It’s wickedly beautiful and you adore him more than anything in the world.
You feel his fingers smooth through your folds. Teasing you for only a moment before you feel his cock come into play. Repeating the action of pressing and slipping through the wetness that awaits him.
“Can’t tell you what this costume does to me,” he whispers, groping your side with one hand. Preparing you. “You, and this tight, little fucking top, and these goddamn tights. Everybody was staring when you came in. Fucking everybody and I could’ve killed them.”
You moan something akin to his name, but he’s not listening. He’s lost on you. On your body and the way it looks, spread out before him.
“Even this fucking bunny tail,” he snorts, and you feel him pinch the fuzzy ball on your ass playfully. “Sits so pretty on you, y’know. Just like that plug I got you.”
“Shit,” you mumble, stomach clenching at the memory. “Har—”
His hand comes down in a sharp strike to your left ass cheek as you jolt. “Uh-uh. What’s my name?”
“Sir,” you correct, eyes squeezing shut. “Sir, please…please fuck me. Need you so bad—”
“Do you, hm?” He lands another spank before smoothing over the area with calmer motions.
You nod. “You look so good, Sir. Can’t…can’t stand it.”
Even without being able to see him, you can picture his smirk. “Do I?”
“Yes,” you exhale, almost groaning from the thought. “Covered in blood, wearing my favorite suit. Even the way you did your hair. S’been so hard to keep my hands off you tonight.”
You hear a dark, rather sadistic chuckle. “You like the blood, do you?”
You whimper. “Know I shouldn’t, but…it makes you look so fucking hot, Sir.”
Another harsh smack to your ass. Louder this time. “You know how I feel about your cussing, Peach.”
“M’sorry, Sir. But it’s true. You’re so fucking hot like this.”
He spanks you a fourth time but he’s still chuckling. “I’ll remember that,” he murmurs, kneading the tender flesh in his palm. “Never thought my precious peach would have such dirty fantasies.”
“I don’t, Sir. Only when it’s you.”
And he seems to like this idea, cursing in the back of his throat before nudging the tip of his cock against your clit. Making you both gasp until he finds your hole.
The first push in is delicious. Slow enough to prepare you and ease you open, but it’s everything. Scratching an itch that makes your brain turn to mush. Until you’re nearly collapsing onto his desk with anxious whimpers. 
“Good,” he breathes from behind you. “Good girl. That’s it, my love. Let me in, just like that. You all right?”
Another faint motion of your head. One that almost concerns him as he laces his fingers back through your roots.
“Peach,” he grunts. “Know I need your words. And you will give them to me when I ask for them. So what’s your color?”
“Green,” you whisper, nails curling into the wooden table beneath. “M’sorry, Sir, I’m green. Just feels so good. Wanted…to focus. To feel you.”
You hear him sigh before he’s pushing in a bit further. “Then fucking feel me.”
He sits inside your cunt like he was always meant to be there. Warm and thick and the perfect stretch. Making the stars return to your eyes as you begin to cry out his name.
However, he releases your scalp only to reach around and smack his palm against your lips. Keeping you quiet as he begins his thrusts.
“Uh-uh,” he warns. “Be a good little bunny and stay quiet.”
The pace is slow at first. Just enough to drive you absolutely mad and you imagine the scariest thing about tonight is how easily you’ve become such a blubbering mess.
“Like it when Daddy’s mean, don’t you?” he calls, returning both hands to your hips. “Like it when I treat you like you’re nothing.”
You can feel the sticky substance of the fake blood smearing across your hips. Probably staining your clothes – an obvious mark of his touch. A mark you’d proudly wear for the rest of your life if he’d let you.
“So fucking wet, honey,” he hisses. “S’just drowning my cock, isn’t it?”
You offer a garbled noise.
“Yeah. Just dripping down me, baby. Begging me to do something about it. Begging me to fucking take you.”
Your entire body is shaking. Along with the desk and an assortment of papers and pens that become scattered with every sharp drive of his hips. 
And you can hear it. Can hear the sound of his cock slipping in and out of your pussy and echoing between the walls of his large office. Wet, and lewd, and almost pornographic in nature. It’s obvious how needy you are for him. How unhinged your body has become. Soaking him exactly the way he loves as he fucks himself into you.
You can feel the sweat beading at your hairline. Can hear your pulse thumping in your ears – in time to the music in the other room and the thrusting of his hips. Leaving you to do nothing but lay across his desk and take it. Take him, exactly the way he wanted.
“How about another, hm?” He squeezes your sides harshly before one hand leaves you. “Gonna give me another, my love?”
Nodding tiredly, you allow your lashes to flutter shut. Focusing instead on the sound of his voice and the rough touch of his fingertips. You can feel it building. Can practically taste the beginnings of a third orgasm. You’re powerless to the pleasure. Undone by the man behind you as he readjusts his stance and angles his cock up.
It’s wicked. The immense, overwhelming, and unfathomable coursing of lust between each joint, and muscle, and fiber. You can’t escape it, can’t fight it. Can’t even understand it.
That’s what you needed. That spot, that attention. Over and over and over, and he’s so good at hitting it just right. Only to drag his cock back out and leave you empty and wilted.
“Relax,” he orders firmly before a familiar buzzing reverberates between your ears. “Relax, Peach. It’s okay, honey. Just want one more.”
The bullet is snaked around your hip before it’s pressing firmly to your clit. Forcing the sensitive and swollen bud to succumb to the vibrations and bring you that much closer.
You cry out for a second time, hands scratching down his desk, but he only curses through gritted teeth.
“There you go,” he exhales, and it’s thick. “S’okay, I’ve got you.”
He’s a mad man. Deranged and borderline animalistic with the way he demands your body bend to his will.
“Sir—” You suck in a large gasp for air, but it’s useless. “Har, please—”
His large palm spanks down on your ass as punishment, but he doesn’t comment on your slip.  “I know. Almost there. Know you’re almost there, can feel you clenching, baby. Keep going. Feels so fucking good—”
“Can’t…can’t—”
“Yes, you can. Know it hurts, but you can do it. You’ll do it, come on.”
And you want to, you do. More than anything, but it’s almost too good. You can’t think properly, can’t seem to relax long enough to let the orgasm overtake you.
Then, he’s wrangling you up. Pulling you until your back is pressed against his chest while he nudges his nose against your cheek. Inhaling you with a groan before he trails a few open-mouthed kisses along your neck. 
And in the reflection of his office windows, you see your silhouettes.
You, in your stunning Playboy costume, tits bouncing up out of the corset with each thrust, fake blood painted across your face and neck.
And him.
The devastatingly wonderful man behind you. Dressed in the sexiest suit you’ve ever seen, gelled curls gone askew, and that same blood dripping down almost every inch of him.
And he’s pounding his cock into your cunt like there’s no tomorrow. Trapping you against his body, your heaving chest in one hand, and the vibrating toy in the other. 
“So good, Peach,” he whispers. “So fucking good. Need you to cum, baby, please. Right now. Cum.”
And you do.
You don’t expect it. Have no time to prepare for it. Don’t even understand it’s happening until that white-hot explosion is dancing down your spine and expanding through your stomach. All the way into your toes as you whimper his name and wither in his touch. 
He does his best to hold you up while maintaining the pace he set. Faster and harder until he’s spilling inside of you with a moan. Mumbling your name while a hundred praises follow suit.
The aftershocks of this one seem to drag on longer than most. But you both indulge in the floaty feeling as you work to catch your breath. Syncopating to each other’s inhales until your heartbeats become one. 
“Did so good,” he sighs, nuzzling his cheek to yours. “God, so fucking good. Feel like heaven, you know that?”
You smile lazily and settle into his arms, allowing your weight to rest atop his. “Well…it’s easy when you look like this.”
He chuckles softly and kisses your temple. “You really do have a blood kink, hm?”
“No, I have a you-covered-in-blood kink. I don’t care when it’s anybody else.”
Now, he reaches out to slide his finger under your chin and turn your face to his. Staring at you for only a moment before he kisses you. Hard and yet filled with an emotion you just might recognize.
“Want you to do something for me, Peach,” he mumbles against your lips.
You nod quickly.
“Want you to fix your little panties…go down to my car…and wait for me.” 
You feel your breath hitch.
He smiles.
“We’ve got some videotapes to make.”
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~ One for the Money Masterlist
~ Freaky Fun Masterlist
~ Main Masterlist
~ Blurb Masterlist
Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞
Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @kathb59 @iamjustaholeforyousir @buckyssbestgirl @harrystylesfan2686 @cherryluvhobi @caynonmoondreams @daphnesutton @uniquesexything @amateurduck @ilovec0lbybr0ck @winterrays @milfrrynation @definegirlfriendsx @allthelovehes @amiets2 @nega-omega @sucker-4-angst @hsgucci94 @gills-lounge @kennedy-brooke @avasversion @stylesfever @saturnheartz @scndsofsummer @theofficialprongs
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sumirerin · 2 months
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No es la locura, 🎶 It's not madness,
En realidad es el amor! 🎶 in reality it is love!
Also thank u tumblr for decimating the quality 💀
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kotaki · 5 months
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"Boredom Tip: I pull out a good book of brain-teasers. Exercising my grey matter easily alleviates any symptoms of idleness. (Translation: as long as I'm thinking, I'm never bored.")
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venbetta · 11 months
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Freaky Friday AU
Chapter 2, Part 1
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pixiestein · 7 months
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at the end of freaky fusion when frankie fucking dies & the ghouls are like omg we gotta bring our friend back to life!!!!!!! but actually wait let’s give her a makeover first,,, & they were so real for that
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reddje · 2 months
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can we get another IT adaptation please i just need a little series from someone who read the book and just wants the losers to have a good time
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