SUMMARY; Teaching the first grade wasn’t the ideal lifestyle for love, what with all the early mornings and lesson planning–but Y/N couldn’t help her hopeless crush on Mr. Parker, the father of her favourite pupil. She’s been keeping it a secret for as long as she’s known him, but Y/N isn’t the only one with secrets.
PAIRING; dad!peter x teacher!reader
WORDS; 2425
WARNING; swearing,
ii. secrets
Three weeks passed since that day in the parking lot, and every time Mr. Parker came to pick his daughter up, you smiled at him softly–gave a short report about Daisy’s day, and let him leave.
Every morning you’d rehearse what you could say, things like “I’ll keep your secret,” or “be careful which cars you pick up,” and more of the sort–but nothing was ever said between you–nothing more than the usual, professional, back and forth between teacher and parent.
Today, for no reason other than you woke up a little earlier, you made an extra effort with your look. That always felt futile, considering it wouldn’t be an hour before you got some sort of stain on your jeans–ranging somewhere between bodily fluid and paint–and it wouldn’t be long before you were running around after children and your hair would be a mess, but still. It felt nice to put an effort in, even if it was just for work.
SUMMARY: Harrison and Y/N have been together for three years–and that’s all she knew. Then Harrison broke it off and left her all alone, crying at her cousin’s wedding. But the alcohol and the heartache led her right to his flat, right back to him.
PAIRING; Ex!Harrison Osterfield x Reader
WORDS; 6194
WARNINGS; swearing, angst
Three years. Three years of being Harrison’s girlfriend, three years of getting to know every last quirk and facial expression in his arsenal, three years of him knowing your cousins and your second cousins and your third cousins and your family and your friends and three years of you joining pub nights with his boys talking about golf and football and things you didn’t know much about.
Three fucking years.
And then one day it all went to shit and now here you were–at your cousin’s wedding, with no date for the first time in forty eight months.
Reading this was an absolute blessing! I absolutely love it!! You're writing is so fucking amazing Lilly! You blow me away every time!! THANK YOU FOR BEING AN AMAZING WRITER!!!!
words — 1223
pairing — harrison osterfield x reader
warnings — smut!!!, fingering, praising, & swearing.
commissioned by @hotforharrison
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You and Harrison spent all afternoon watching Netflix and eating ice cream and relaxing. It was beautiful and calm and there was nothing more you needed from that day–but Harrison seemed to have different things in mind.
“What?” You laughed as you felt his eyes boring into your face him.
Harrison simply shook his head and pulled you in for a kiss.
There’s just something about Tom Holland that makes your blood boil. He walks around like he owns the world, always with an unhelpful quip or irritating smirk on hand. You can’t stand him, and your feud has burned hard and bright for three years.
Everything changes following an explosive evening at the Oscars, when a questionable encounter with the paparazzi lands you in some hot water with PR. The only way to save your shattered public image is to agree to the unthinkable: Tom will be your boyfriend, and you will be his girlfriend - and this might just be your hardest performance to date. Actor!Y/N x Tom Holland; fake dating au; enemies to lovers.
Okay, for the soulmate blurbs, maybe a cute little blurb about Harrison and reader having known eachother all their life, and her having had a huge ass crush on him forever, and her and everyone around them thought her and harrison had to be soulmates, and like the day she decides to tell him she has feelings for him he comes home with a girl/guy (whatever you feel like) and introduces them as his soulmate...
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It wasn’t until one turned 18 that they knew who their soulmate was. Until then, it was a waiting game--one most people didn’t wait for.
Everyone got crushes, and everyone kissed those crushes or maybe more. It was just how things were--you’d know your soulmate when it was time and until then you were free. Or that’s how people acted--but there’s nothing free about being in love with someone that doesn’t see you that way.
And you were practically a prisoner.
You knew Harrison all your life, since you were both too small to even walk. You’ve known him since before you could talk and he knew you so well you almost didn’t have to. The pair of you just understood each other.
A part of you believed in the romance, believed that you could somehow end up with Harrison as your soulmate after all this time together. The classic tale of two best friends who were always destined for more.
There were more than enough novels about that, movies, fairytales, songs. It happened to a lot of people and it could happen to you.
Your friends saw right through you too. Everyone knew about your crush on Harrison. You promised yourself you weren’t that obvious, and Tom even tried to agree with you, but he knew it was pointless. You were completely transparent to everyone. Well, everyone but Harrison.
He was painfully oblivious--putting his hand over your shoulders and joking with you and doing all sorts of things that caused your heart to ache. Most things did that, but nothing more than thinking about Harrison’s birthday coming up--knowing that any chance you had of ever telling him the truth would have to be before he found out.
How would he choose you when he had a soulmate to think about. That was your only option, then, to tell Harrison while he was still in the dark. Had no loyalties to someone else.
You were sure that whoever your soulmate was, you wouldn’t care. That you’d pick Harrison over them. Their eyes wouldn’t be as blue as Harrison, and their laugh wouldn’t be as light and comforting, and their heart couldn’t be as pure. Whoever they were--they wouldn’t be Harrison.
But you never had the guts to do it. You didn’t want to say it with other people present, and it was rare that the two of you were alone. One day you even asked Tom for help and he made sure no one bothered you that afternoon--but then, you just couldn’t get the words out.
It was hopeless. You tried writing a letter but you ended up flushing it down the toilet. You wanted to leave a message and change your number but your hand shook too hard whenever you tried unlocking your phone.
You never did it.
Then Harrison’s birthday came around and he got an image in his mind of his soulmate, and then he knew who they were. Harrison didn’t say a thing since the second he turned 18, and stayed quiet throughout the whole party.
Then he didn’t speak with any of his friends for two days.
All you wanted was to talk to him, maybe he’d tell you that the image in his mind that night was you, maybe you two were soulmates. He just needed time to adjust.
“It’s probably you and he’s too scared,” Tom said on day three. “He’s too much of a pussy to face you so he’s avoiding all of us. Just go to him.”
“Do what, sorry?” You gasped.
“Go talk to him. I mean it has to be you, right?” You felt your stomach drop and your cheeks heat and the smallest sense of hope dropped to the bottom of your throat. It could be you.
“Okay. Fuck. I’ll tell him,” you sighed, chuckling slightly as Tom did his best to hype you up towards the task. And just as the pair of you stood up to make your way towards Harrison’s, someone knocked on the door.
Tom went over to get it, and smiled widely when he saw his best friend standing on the other side of the door.
“Haz! Finally you show up, mate,” he joked, and his smile still sat on his face. Until it didn’t. “Who’s this?”
“My soulmate!” Harrison said, pushing past Tom and walking in--to be greeted by you.
“What did you say, Haz?”
“I’m so glad you’re here, too!” He grinned, “this is my soulmate, Adam.”
Tom invited Adam instead, and the four of you talked all afternoon. You wanted to run away and hide and cry, but you had to be there for your best friend. He just found his soulmate, and all he wanted to introduce him to the people he cared about.
You just had to sit there while Harrison and Adam hugged and laughed and held hands. Tom tried sending you a comforting look--but you ignored them. When Adam and his soulmate finally left, you let yourself cry.
Hey if you're still writing soulmate blurbs (and haven't gotten this one already) I would love if you could do the one where the world is in black and white, until you meet your soulmate then it just bursts with color. I think this is the cutest concept, for our cutest boy Peter. I love you're writing and hope you're having a good day!
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You always wished you could see colour. One day, your friends promised you, one day you’d be able to see all the shades and hues in the world--but for now, you were subjected to grey nothingness. You didn’t know what the sunset looked like, or how magical the sea seemed when the waves were crashing in. It all looked like a white blanket.
You wanted to know why people wrote songs about rainbows and why people associated red with so many things. You wanted to know why everyone seemed so obsessed with their partner’s eyes. All you could see was black circles, sometimes grey. You couldn’t tell what the different was between the black ones and the grey ones--but you knew for certain that it was magical.
You heard a whole album once about a boy with blue eyes. You wondered what blue looked like. Your mother told you it was the colour of the sky and the colour of your bag, but you couldn’t tell what that meant. It was all just grey.
You walked home one day after school, still thinking about what your teacher taught you--why planets were green. She kept going on and on about the whole process but all you could think about was green. What did green look like?
Your mother told you your coat was green, and that scrunchie you always wore to school was green too. Maybe green was your favourite colour and you didn’t even know it yet?
You sighed. You were so caught up in your own thoughts that you didn’t even realise you reaching a crossing, and you didn’t even see the great black light that said ‘stop’ below it. You didn’t notice as you walked right into the middle of a busy New York City road.
“Watch out!” Someone yelled, and in one swift movement you were pulled back to the sidewalk.
You looked around you, still catching your breath, when you realised everything looked different now. The taxis were all.... yellow. Yellow? You could see it!
You could see the colours!
You laughed, amazed at everything around you--at the shade of your skin and that scrunchie you wore. It was green. Green was so beautiful and peaceful and bright. You loved it. Green was your favourite colour.
And then you understood that the person next to you--they caused the whole world to burst into colour, and they saved your life. Looking behind you, you saw the infamous Spider-Man.
“You okay there, ma’am?” He asked his voice slightly unsteady. He must’ve realised what happened, too.
“Your suit!” Was all you could say, as the colours overcame it--turning every piece of fibre into a beautiful shade. The best way to describe that colour, was it reminded you of love. That must’ve been red.
“It’s red,” he said slowly, as he looked down on himself. “Mr. Stark told me it was red I just never--” then his words caught in his throat and he looked up at you, his white eyes gaping.
“It’s red!” He exclaimed. The pair of you laughed, and Spider-Man offered to walk you home, the whole while the two of you pointed at anything and everything you could see, proclaiming it’s colour proudly.
dude, soulmate sunday sounds bomb af!! okay, so, can i request a soulmate au where your soulmate’s feelings about you is written on your body? it’s no problem if you can’t do it! thank you, lilly!💗
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At first, you didn’t have any words on your body. Gradually more and more came on, hiding in the plainest of places; by your ankle, or your leg, or your stomach. Places people couldn’t see, usually.
Even if the words could be seen, you were thankful they were at least normal. Writings that read ‘excited to meet you’ or ‘soulmate’ or ‘destiny’ weren’t too bad to have, and your soulmate seemed nice, even when going through that inevitable phase of hating soulmates--the words on your skin never turned malice.
One day, however, you had ‘danger’ written all over you, and the day after it read ‘you’d be in danger’ in that same spot. You didn’t know what to make of that but you were sure somewhere on their skin it read ‘confusing’.
When you met your soulmate, the words changed. The very first time you laid eyes on each other, in a football game your schools both participated in, a huge ‘B’ appeared on your hand. You moved the sleeve of your jumper up and saw an ‘E’ then ‘A’ then ‘U’ and the pair of you blushed so hard as you found it impossible to look at Peter.
You noticed his neck now had the word ‘adorable’ written on it, but were far too shy to point it out. He’ll see it soon, you were sure, or his friends would tease him about it. Either way, you were grateful the giant letters--that covered your whole skin--couldn’t be seen with your jumper on.
Words usually disappeared after a few hours, until your soulmate was no longer thinking them. But Peter couldn’t get the thought of you out of his head, and he kept thinking about your face--and your nose, and your smile, and your eyes. He knew that the banner like compliment he gave you would still be on your skin. He doubted it would ever come off.
And it never did. Every single day you checked your arm, and it always read ‘BEAUTIFUL’. You tried covering it with makeup once, but it was far too tedious and rubbed off in the middle of the day--so you opted for long sleeves. Which was fine, but today was far too warm to even attempt it.
“I don’t get why you’re embarrassed by it,” your best friend said with a roll of their eyes.
“It looks like I wrote it or something, and I don’t want people to think I’m that self centered.”
“It looks like a soulmate tattoo,” they said, “and I think it’s adorable that he thinks that way of you.”
You blushed.
On the other side of town, Ned started laughing mid-sentence, pointing at Peter.
“What, what is it?” Peter rolled his eyes, looking down at himself to check for anything that Ned might’ve spotted.
“Your neck again, bro,” Ned said, and Betty quickly pulled out a mirror.
Peter looked down at his neck, and slowly read the letters through the mirror. Why is she thinking that now? He wondered to himself, as he saw his cheeks grow pink in his reflection.
As you were sat with your friends during lunch, a new word appeared of the inside of your wrist, cute. You giggled.
"you and your soulmate can communicate with thoughts and your soulmate happens to be a math major and you really need help with this test right now."
So, imagine peter in the middle of fighting crime just getting bombarded with math questions
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Hearing your soulmate’s thoughts was the only connection you had to them, and although it felt creepy at times (some even considered it disturbing) you were grateful for the connection.
You never met your soulmate, but you talked almost every night--through your thoughts. It was nice, and often on the bus you’d let your mind wander places, wander deep into a daydream--one that he could hear, too.
His daydreams were sometimes confusing, and involved a lot of spiders--and it only took you three days to figure out exactly who your soulmate was. However, that wasn’t the most exciting part about your soulmate. It was how incredibly smart he was.
So much so, that when you didn’t study enough for a chemistry test--he helped you get an A. You thought very hard about the questions and him the answers and you got a perfect mark.
You didn’t want to use him again in that way, didn’t want him to feel like you were taking advantage of the connection you had with him--and so you never did it again. Until you got to class one morning and the teacher announced a pop quiz in math, your worst subject.
Peter! You yelled into your brain.
Not just now, I’m, holy fuck-- I’m in the middle of something!! His voice came out loud and high pitched in your mind, causing you to believe he was under an immediate threat. You couldn’t ask for help now, but you were totally fucked if you failed this test and then the school won’t let you go to prom and then--
Why would you miss prom? His voice asked. You didn’t even mean to think about that, but he saw the thoughts in your head clearly. He always did.
Sorry, I’ll just get back to my test. You get back to your thing.
Wait, Y/N! I can hear the questions you’re reading over anyway. Let me help. He offered, and once he wanted to help you with something there wasn’t a chance of stopping him. So you looked over the question again and again until Peter told you the answer.
Right, so if you divide x by 5 you’ll--danger! You grimaced. When Peter’s sense went off, warning him of danger, it did so in a very high pitched voice--one that you always heard too. It was unsettling especially because the sense never worked for you, you were just bound to hear random warnings meant for someone else.
Peter, what’s up with the tingle today? It’s all over the place.
Like I told you, I’m in the middle of something.
Dude are you fighting someone right now?
Kinda... Then you saw images in your head of a tall man with an electric glove. Shocker, that was the name Peter was thinking of all week--and now stronger than ever.
Maybe focus on your thing then, Spider.
Okay. You divide the x by 5 and multiply the sum by y. I’ll kick this guy’s ass and then i’m all yours, bub.
Deal. You smiled to yourself, blushing slightly at the nickname he started thinking about more and more.
“No soulmate communications during the test, Miss Y/N!” Your teacher said loudly, and you did your best to nod and hide your blush. You were always so obvious about it when you were talking to Peter.
Somehow just having him in your thoughts made you blush.
Sorry that I got you in trouble again! Now focus on the test.
I've been thinking thought, imagine being ab actress and together with Tom and you have to pretend that you're not together but you're filming a movie together and there's a sex scene in it and you're in bed and u der blankets and all and everyone thinks that you're just pretending to have sex but, well.
oooooooft this is...hot.
nsfw! 18+ thank you :)) extended warnings beneath the cut but this is pretty filthy...
warnings: unprotected mxf sex, public sex, sex tape (...? kinda. you’ll see lmao)
-----
When the director had asked for a convincing performance, you’re sure they hadn’t envisioned this:
You and Tom, tangled up in the sheets, cameras whirring around the two of you as you actually have sex.
He’s lodged in you deep, your fingers clasped together above your head, held there by one of his strong hands. Tom’s other arm is beside your head, supporting his weight as he comes down on you, again and again, thrusting quickly and with purpose. Strands of his messy hair stick to your skin, hot from exertion, and you’re moaning loudly.
“So good for me,” he says, enunciating clearly. His voice is tilted with an American accent. “So responsive, baby.”
You throw your head back, as scripted, but you’re glad for the release. You can feel a climax tickling your lower stomach, slowly being coaxed to the surface, and whilst you’d normally be all for it, the circumstances just now are different. Usually, when you’re getting fucked into the mattress by your doting boyfriend, it’s on your terms. Today you just so happen to be on-set, filming a sex scene in character, surrounded by cameras and stage lights. It’s a closed-set, so there aren’t many people around, but they’re still there, and if you were to cast your eyes away from Tom, you’d see them, watching you.
It was his idea, the cheeky fucker. You’ve already run through the scene five times, and in the break between the fourth and fifth, Tom had whispered a few dirty words that’d made you aroused beyond reproach:
“Should we do it for real? Hmm? They’re not going to know, darling… Can just be our little secret.”
He’d sealed the deal with a kiss, and then you’d both discreetly ditched the underwear you’d been dry humping in. Before the cameras had started rolling, he’d opened you up with a few fingers, and by the time the director had yelled Action!, Tom was in you, for real. And it’s filthy.
The fact that you could both be caught at any moment sets you on edge in the best way possible. You know logically that there’s no way anyone could know - there’s at least two layers of sheets and several metres between you and the crew - but that doesn’t stop you from imagining it - especially when Tom drops his voice down low and whispers into your ear,
“Such an eager little thing, aren’t you? Letting me fuck you in front of all of these people.”
You bite back a moan, gnawing over your lower lip as you shift on the bed, back threatening to arch. Thankfully your line follows your inner dialogue, and you rasp out a loud, concise, “No one fucks me like you.”
Tom chuckles, and his hand presses your fingers further into the bed. Your entire body is on fire, covered in a hot slick of sweat that only comes after several long, intense minutes of feeling him in you. You can’t imagine what it’s like for Tom. He’s been slightly more erratic in his thrusts for ages now, gritting his teeth, face flushed, and you know him well enough to recognise the changes in his pace indicate he’s repeatedly been edging closer and closer. The idea of him cumming into you - shooting his shot and painting your walls white on film makes you cling to him harder.
“Perfect, you two. Let’s just run through the climax one final time,” calls the director.
Tom stops rocking into you, stilling with his cock lodged deep inside your passage. You whimper as he alters the position, compliant with the script. He releases your hands, and you eagerly bring them down to wrap around his chest.
“Can’t fucking wait to cum in you,” he mutters, voice low and raspy. His eyes are blown wide, wild and intense, raging with arousal. Tom strokes a few fingers over your cheek, still whispering so the microphone above you doesn’t pick up the words. “Cunt’s feeling so fucking snug around me, love.”
You shiver, and you feel your walls clench around him.
“Action!”
He’s a man on a mission, Tom’s grip on your face becoming slippery as he urges you towards the finishing line. He’d been teasing you between scenes - rolling his fingers over your clit, rubbing you to edge after edge - and that’s wound you up to the point where you’re on the verge of climax, just from his length thrusting into you, his pelvis rubbing briefly against your bud. The contact is light, but it’s enough.
You can’t remember your lines, but you can vaguely grasp at the tone, and decide to roll with it.
“Fill me up,” you whine. Your eyes are shut, and you can feel him everywhere, the tip of his flushed cock hard against your g-spot, his shaft stimulating your passage. The pressure on your clit, his lips on your neck. “Ruin me.”
Tom’s face falls to the crook of your neck, and you feel his teeth dig into the skin of your shoulder as he shudders. You feel him pulse inside you, shooting his load into you, and the action of him climaxing with such low, breathless groans makes you follow suit, your back arching up against him as you spasm. You moan softly, your fists grabbing at his back as you wind down together, feeling his cock pressing his seed deeper into you until you’re whimpering.
“And cut! Wow, you two. That was convincing.”
Tom looks up to meet your eyes, and he shoots you a wink.
“We’re very good actors,” he calls back, a cocky smirk on his face. You chuckle, nodding in agreement.
“Method actors, now,” you add, quietly. Tom squeezes your cheek and leans up to kiss your nose.
“Don’t know how we’re going to explain the stained sheets, though.”
Can you do a petey blurb (aged up of course) where he finds out you have a praise kink??
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Peter always did everything he could to make sure you were comfortable when the pair of you were intimate with each other. Whether it was turning the lights off to your request, putting on music, letting you face away from him. Whatever it is you asked for--Peter would be honoured to do it for you, if it meant you would be happier with him.
But Peter was sometimes scared. He knew what turned him on in the bedroom, and was quick to share that with you. He knew if he told you--you’d do it for him, and so it wasn’t hard at all. Sure, that first conversation was rather awkward--but the night you spent together was mind blowing, and Peter always made sure to tell you when you did something he particularly liked.
The only problem was, evidently, you didn’t have any kinks at all. Whenever Peter asked you’d just shrug and say, “I dunno,” while Peter groaned. Was there nothing he could do to turn you on more?
He tried, and he succeed a lot of the time--but it wasn’t because he did anything special, anything you could classify as a kink. It was just because it was Peter and you were happy to be with him regardless of anything else.
Until one night, when the pair of you took advantage of the fact Peter’s roommate was studying until late into the night--and you’d have the whole dorm room for yourself. You were kissing (you couldn’t get enough of kissing Peter Parker) and you were partly naked, and Peter kept planting kisses around your neck and jaw.
“I’m glad we had tonight, Pete,” you said sweetly.
“Yeah, I missed you,” he smiled back, before he realised that was a waste of the precious time the pair of you had together--and he brought his hand between your legs.
He ran his index finger over your underwear--giggled lightly when he felt the warm wet patch--and kissed your shoulders.
“You’re going to be loud for me?” He smirked, knowing you loved making as much noise as you could--and only rarely were you two granted that kind of opportunity.
You smiled at him, nodded softly as you brought your hands around his back--burying them in his hair. Peter pressed his finger harder on your body, turned your lips into his favourite ‘o’ shape as he started drawing small circles.
“Can you take off your bra?” He asked, seeing as his hands were busy with something else, “wanna see your beautiful tits.”
You chuckled at that, unclasping your bra quickly and throwing it to the edge of the room. Peter wasn’t usually this talkative when the pair of you were fooling around, and there was something new and very exciting about hearing his voice--low and in charge.
“Your tits are so incredible,” he said, leaning down to pepper kisses all around your chest. You felt your walls clenching slightly as he said it--and Peter felt it, too. “So, so beautiful,” he said again, now testing the waters.
“My girl always looks so good, doesn’t she?” You nodded, your eyes big and eager as you looked at him. You were perfect--and Peter always knew that, but he realised he never actually said it, and from the way your wetness had now soaked through the underwear and was coating his hand--Peter realised you really liked hearing it.
“You look so good when I rub your pussy,” he mumbled--and you groaned as Peter pushed your underwear to the side, teasing your entrance with his fingers. “Your perfect pussy,” he went on, basking in the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he dipped his index finger into your core. “And it tastes so good, too. Can I taste it?”
He asked it so innocently, but the pair of you were already sweaty and breathing heavily. You tugged at his hair lightly, shaking your head.
“No, Peter. I want you to keep talking,” you urged him, “please, just keep talking.”
It all happened so fast. You had your hands down Tom’s pants, and one thing led to another--the pair of you were naked on your bed, kissing and biting and moaning at each other.
You climbed on top of him, slid your tongue past his mouth, and started moving your exposed center over his naked lap. Tom kept groaning. Saying things like, “you’re so perfect right now,” and more praises--mumbling them against your lips.
“I need you inside me, baby,” you moaned, as the teasing got all too much for you and you were desperate for some kind of release.
At that, Tom smirked at you--his brown eyes shining at your requests.
“Whatever you need, princess,” he said, rubbing himself once or twice before he positioned his cock at your entrance. After a nod from you, Tom brought his spare hand to your hip--guiding you.
Slowly, you sunk down his whole length--his tip nudging your most sensitive spot all too casually.
“Is this what you wanted?” He asked, his voice low and exciting. You nodded fiercely, as you leaned on your knees--moving yourself up and down desperately.
“Shh,” Tom said suddenly, grabbing your hips and stilling your movements.
“What?”
“I didn’t say you could move--”
“--but, Tommy--”
“--but nothing,” he said darkly. “You said you needed me inside you, you didn’t say you needed me to fuck you.”
“Tom, I need you to fu--”
“No, princess,” he said, bringing a hand behind you--grabbing a fistful of your ass, “it’s too late for that.”
You nodded obediently, stopped your movements and just waited for him to make the next move. But it was clear, from the smirk that lit up his whole face, Tom had no plans to make any move whatsoever. He wanted you just like this, keeping him warm.
“I think I need to make a few phone calls,” he said, looking over at his phone to check the time. “Think you can stay nice and quite while you keep my cock wet?”
“Fuck,” you let out, as the mere thought of what was going to happen sent a small shiver right down your back. “I can do that.”
“Good girl,” he smirked, before he leaned down to kiss the skin between your breasts--making a point of never once breaking eye contact with you. Then he kissed your lips twice before he picked up his phone and started dialing. “Now behave.”
You were waiting all night for Harrison to come home. He promised you a proper night in, movie and some take-out, to make up for all the nights he had to cancel on you because of a job. Sometimes his dealers were stupid, reckless, called him at ungodly hours to help get them out of trouble. Sometimes, it was paperwork. Sometimes, according to Harrison, it was someone just trying to be difficult.
Whatever the excuse was, it meant Harrison was working most of the day and then most of the night--and you didn’t have as much alone time as you’d hope. Harrison promised to remedy that, promised that tonight would be about the pair of you and not about the London mob.
But that was supposed to be three hours ago, and Harrison still hasn’t shown. You tried not to get worried, but it was hard to ignore the fear that one day--when he leaves for work--he just might not come back.
You didn’t have time to let yourself spiral, as the door opened and slammed shut behind him. Harrison came back, and you were finally relieved--a weight pulled off your chest--until Harrison came into view; nose bloody, matching the red smears staining his white button-up shirt.
“What happened?” You let out in a rush, moving towards your boyfriend.
Harrison simply huffed, stripped himself of his blazer and hung it neatly by the door.
“Nothing happened,” he shook his head, “except the fact that I was late for date night. Again.”
“Harrison, don’t think about that,” you said softly, “you’re all bruised.” Harrison rolled his eyes. “Who did this?”
“It was nothing,” he assured you again, before pushing past you and making his way towards the sofa--where he sat down with a huff. You walked over to the kitchen, grabbed a cloth and some ice and made your way next to him. As you sat down, you pressed the ice to his brow--where a small cut was shining through--and used the cloth to clean around his nose.
“Honestly, babe,” you sighed, “you look like a mess. Do I need to beat someone up?”
“Beating people up is my job, in case you’ve forgotten that,” he chuckled, wincing slightly at the cold against his warm bruise.
You giggled at him, made a face suggesting perhaps he wasn’t all that good at his job--and Harrison brought his hands to your hips, moving up and down your back as you worked.
“Thanks for cleaning me up,” he mumbled, after you placed the cloth on the table. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours slightly with a smile.
“Is there anything else I can do for you, love?” You asked sweetly, kissing his cheeks tenderly as your hand made its way to his hair, combing lightly through the strands.
“Come here,” he said, patting his lap in such a way--it was clear he was used to ordering people around.
You complied, let the butterflies in your stomach move you onto his lap--and Harrison wrapped his hands around your back. “Let me make it up to you,” he said, wasting no time before he started planting kisses around your neck.
You giggled as he kissed from your jawline to your collarbone, giggled as he started kissing your breasts lightly.
“How are you gonna make it up to me, Hazzy?” You asked innocently, even though you both knew what Harrison was going to do. Whenever he had a bad day at work, he would use your body as a stress reliever--a job you very much liked doing.
“Gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk tomorrow,” he said casually, as he brought his hands in front of you body--cupped your breasts in his palms effortlessly. “And then, you’ll have to spend all tomorrow cuddling your boyfriend.”
“A horrible punishment,” you teased, but it was short lived as Harrison caught both your nipples in his fingers and pinched them--urging a shaky moan from your lips. He chuckled to himself, repeated his action once or twice before grabbing your chin.
“Don’t be a smartass,” he warned darkly, his blue eyes melting into yours, “or I’ll have to make sure we put that mouth to better use.” To prove his intentions, Harrison moved his thumb over your lip slowly--as if evaluating what use your mouth could have for him, causing excitement to rush all over your skin in small goosebumps.
To prove your intentions, you opened your mouth slightly, bringing your tongue out to meet his fingers--wrapping your lips around his thumb. All the while your eyes were stuck on him, making the most innocent face you could master--feeling Harrison twitch underneath you.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groaned, before he caught your hair from behind your neck and pulled you closer to him--kissing you fiercely as he started undoing his belt.
to distract myself from writing my novel, im gonna write fanfics!!! and i haven’t done a blurb night (during the day) since forever, so please send in some blurb ideas 💛
i write for:
tom holland, shawn mendes, harrison osterfield, sam holland, harry holland, peter parker, arvin russell, zuko, mj, steve harrington
i write almost every au, but if you wanna double check with me feel free
all blurbs will be tagged under #lillyblurbs if you wanna block it!
i will start posting in a few hours, so keep them coming!
you can use this list or come up with your own concepts!
SUMMARY; Y/N spent her whole freshman year of college running into a brown haired boy, convincing herself it wasn’t more than just some on-going college fling. Until she arrived at her second year, and she finds out his name–and that he’s her TA for the whole year. commission by @matcatlove 💛
PAIRING; Uni!Peter x Reader
WORDS; 6084
WARNING; swearing, references to smut throughout
A party was all you needed today, after studying for your exam for three weeks and finally taking it this morning–all you needed was to get out and go to the nearest club on campus. It was riddled with college students, kids just like you who just needed a break from it all.
It was the first test of the year, of your whole degree, and you couldn’t even tell if you did a good job or not. All you cared about, really, was that it was behind you–but there were three more on their way before the semester would be over. For now, you just needed a drink, and your friend was quick to get you one.
“Drink up, babe,” she said with a wink, as the pair of you downed your cocktails in a hurry, eager to get out onto the dance floor.
Holy fucking shit I love thissss 😭😭😭 THIS IS SO AMAZINGGGGG!! HOW THEY KEEP RUNNING INTO EACHOTHER, AND HOW HE ENDS UP BEING HER TA!! I LOVE ITTTT!! YOU WRITE COCKY!PETER SO WELL, AND I FUCKING! LOVE! IT!!! Please never stop writing bc you are truly so fucking tallented, everything you write blows me away, and I absolutely adore you and your writing style! Your style is so different from everything I've seen and it really makes me want to read more... Only to be disappointed you didn't write everything....
