#peter parker x reader insert

[thatboisus]

me logging onto tumblr after consuming a new piece of media

[uramakimochi]

me for the past week and i'm so fucking maddd

STOP👏TAGGING👏XREADER👏IF👏YOU👏USE👏AN👏OC👏NOBODY👏 FUCKING👏ASKED👏FOR👏THAT👏OKAY???

The wrong thing is not the fact that you write a story with an oc, no, that's not the real problem, really.

IT'S JUST THE FACT THAT YOU USE THE WRONG TAG SO YOU HOPE MORE PEOPLE READ YOUR STORY. BUT BELIEVE ME IT'S JUST FUCKING ANNOYING 'CAUSE WE AREN'T ABLE TO FIND THE RIGHT FICS IF YOU KEEP DOING THIS!!!

There are people who like to read more stories with ocs than reader inserts, so use the fucking right tag go reach that community and stop spamming your stories among ours.

I don't think you get it but, you know, the purpose of fanfics with reader insert is to make the reader imagine her/himself as the mc of the story. The best part of these fics is the fact that EVERYONE can be included in them.

SO WHY THE FUCK DO YOU HAVE TO RUIN THEM BY MAKING THE MC A PERSON THAT LOOKS COMPLETELY DIFFERENT FROM THE READER AND EVEN HAS A NAME THAT IS NOT THEIRS?

Not to be dramatic but i hate y'all.

And the fact that it's always the same fandoms and we all know who we're talking about...

[theshamelesssimp]

Me when I get to the part of a fanfic that has me giggling and kicking my feet

[chuulyssa]

being an x reader writer and trying to be inclusive of all readers makes me overthink so much like should i write about you having smth with milk in it? no no what if the reader is lactose-intolerant. about the reader being the big spoon? noo what if they wanna be cuddled like a little spoon. about fingers through your hair? noooo what if the person reading it is bald

[hanasnx]

“ BETTER FIND A MOP, IT’S GETTIN’ STICKY IN THIS BITCH ” — peter parker.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: marvel rivals chad peter parker w yuri lowenthal’s legendary voice. a recipe for success. also this wouldn't be possible without this anon. WARNINGS: fem reader ノ established relationship ノ dirty talk ノ explicit sexual content ノ p in v ノ finger sucking ノ biting ノ long cock peter agenda ノ suit + mask sex but mask comes off halfway thru so you can see his pretty face <3

“Yeah? Mmph—you like that—hm—baby?” PETER PARKER speaks between his sheathes, evidently getting lost in the feeling of you wrapped around him. So much so that dirty talk for this silver tongue is interrupted by his own unfocus. It blurs in and out from the overload of sensation between his legs. You can’t respond, brows furrowing as he wetly slithers in and out of you, the head of him brushing that spongy spot inside you every time he bottoms out.

You try your best, murmuring a weak yet eager, “Mhm, mhm,” Nodding your head even while his fingers are hooked on your lower jaw over your chin.

“Couldn’t wait, huh?” Peter asks rhetorically, a slight snicker sprinkled in as he watches you with as much awe as a mask can have. “Was like I was ambushed.” he muses, reminiscing over his entrance met with such welcoming open legs. His cock bucks in at the memory, and you cry out through your occupied mouth. The knuckles between your teeth get a squeeze, a nip, and he releases a burst of air. “Trying to bite me, honey?” The tone conveys a sense of disbelief but it’s pleasantly surprised, and his pace quickens. Choked moans shoot out of you as he fucks into you, his body weight pinning you down while your suspended legs bob from the movement. Your lips enclose apologetically over his gloved fingers, the wet felt fabric is foreign against your tongue when you circle around them. In a bout of curiosity, your tip traces the embossed texture of the web design around his knuckle, maintaining eye contact with his mask while you do it.

Your cheeks hollow out, sucking on his two fingers and he groans from low in his throat. It’s the kind of purr that sends a shudder down your spine, eyes rolling back as he slots in your lulling body. The sheer length of him causes an ache inside your core that arches your back, clutching onto the sheets for purchase as you brace the sharp pain for the brain-melting feeling of pulling out only to fuck back in. His other hand comes to hook under the hem of his mask, peeling it off of him, and his brown hair explodes out in an endearing mess. You can finally see that crooked grin.

He pivots your head for you by your mouth, resting his wrist on the mattress to hover over you properly. Faithfully, you keep those fingers in, and he rewards you by shoving them in deeper, the tips of them making you lurch with a gag. Once again, he reacts audibly in euphoric relief like he was waiting for you to do that. “Baby.” he says in that voice, and it’s like a prize. You erupt in full-body tingles, curling your toes as he openly mouths at your neck. The pad of his tongue flattens against your pulse point, and ends it in a hard bite, scraping his teeth against your skin. You keen, that coil in your belly going taut.

Drool seeps out of the corner of your mouth while you desperately suck his spit-soaked glove, pitiful whimperings spilling out of you while he fucks you into the mattress.

[luffyssa]

when the fic is good but uses first person pov

[moonstruckme]

MAAAAEEEEE I was wondering if I could request a Peter Parker fic where he just kind of adopts shy!reader without her consent like “yeah we’re friends now, we spend time together and also we’re probably gonna fall in love and date but why don’t we just start with me walking you home from class” or some such nonsense. Also wondering if you could keep his spidey-powers; I love that little mutant freak

I hate you for doing this to me

Ugh our mutant freak <3 Thanks for the request babe!

tasm!Peter Parker x shy!reader ♡ 920 words

You’re never alone on the way home from class anymore. You’re not sure what changed at the start of the spring semester, if you just started putting out helpless-pedestrian energy or if it was something else, but soon after the start of classes your walks home from your night class on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Friday began being accompanied by none other than Spider-Man. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, it’s Peter. 

You and Peter have molecular biology together. On the first day of class, he rushed in just as your professor started lecturing. Every seat was full except the one next to you, and when you offered it to him silently with a nod of your head, Peter looked so relieved you’d think you handed him an A in the class. He’s been glommed onto your ever since; some days he asks you to stop for coffee after class, some days he offers to study with you in the library, and he always walks you home. You don’t know what you did to deserve the company, but you appreciate it. 

“You ever been there?” Peter asks, nodding to a stand advertising New York City’s Best Vegan Hot-Dogs. 

“No,” you say.

“Well, seems like we’ve gotta try them at some point. I mean, they’re the best in New York.” 

A smile tugs at your lips. Peter’s always doing that. Making plans, saying we. It’s like the idea of you two hanging out beyond the end of your class is a foregone conclusion in his head. You haven’t been able to figure out if that’s just the way Peter talks or if he means it. You hope it’s the latter. 

“You think so?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Peter says with affected certainty. “I mean, why would you doubt the sign? Everyone knows you have to get things like that certified.” 

You glance up at Peter, but one look into his smiling eyes is too much for you. You have to turn your face away. “I’m pretty sure there are three #1 Indian Restaurants in my neighborhood.” 

“Oof. Must make for some brutal decisions when you’re craving Indian.” 

Two weeks ago, you offered to buy Spider-Man dinner for walking you home. It was stupid—he can’t eat through the mask, which he told you kindly and which you could have figured out if you thought about it for more than a second before opening your mouth—but you were feeling guilty about stopping to pick up takeout and indebted for all the time he spends walking you home instead of preventing mob activity or whatever Spider-Man does. He professed, upon smelling your takeout, that Indian food is one of his favorites, too. 

You haven’t told Peter about your vigilante escort. Spider-Man never comes to you while Peter’s around—presumably because you don’t need his help if you’ve already got a companion—and it’s the sort of ridiculous story you know will sound made up out loud. Why do you know that Spider-Man likes matar paneer? What makes you so special? They’re unanswerable questions, and you’d never be able to look at Peter again if he laughed at you. 

“Hey.” Peter bumps your hip with his. You go stiff at the contact. “You okay?” 

“Hm?” You look up, and he’s watching you with concern. “Yeah, sorry.” 

“You seem a little quiet,” he says. And when your face heats, “Well, quieter than usual.” 

“Sorry,” you say again, embarrassed. “I think I’m just tired.” 

“Oh, yeah? Class was a long one, huh?” 

“Yeah.” 

“That makes sense.” Peter sounds disappointed. You blink at him in confusion, and he almost winces. “I don’t suppose…I mean, if you just want to get home I get that, but I was wondering if you wanted to grab food? With me?” 

Your steps stutter. It’s not that you and Peter have never hung out before. Or even that all the time you’ve spent together centers wholly around class—there have been coffees, chats in the hallway, walks in the park near your university building—but it’s something about the way he asks, like it’s important this time, like it means something. You want for it to mean something. 

“I could still grab food.” You’re not quite looking at him, fiddling with the contents of your jacket pocket. Popping the lid to your chapstick on and off. 

“Yeah?” Peter asks hopefully. 

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Mhm.” 

His voice softens, a smile in it. “Could you look at me, maybe?” 

You glance up, regretting it instantly as always. Peter is resplendent. Dimples framing his smile like parenthesis, hair mussed by the wind that beats at you while crossing every street, he’s the sort of handsome that’s only just starting to figure out how handsome he is. You think you probably make it easier for him. To figure it out. 

“Do you really want to,” he asks in a sincere tone, “or are you just appeasing me? If you’re tired I can take you straight to your place.” 

Your heart thudders. If you have to look at him for much longer you worry you’ll melt into the cracks of the pavement. “I want to,” you say. “I’m sort of hungry, too.” 

“Okay, awesome.” He sounds happy again. You think if you were lucky, that’d be the only thing you were put on Earth to do, make Peter happy. “Maybe we could try one of those Indian places near yours? See who’s really number one.” 

“Sure.” You smile up at him, brain buzzing when Peter beams back. 

“Sick! I could really go for some matar paneer.” 

[corinthianism]

corinthianism's fic recs

here are my personal favorite fanfics! idk how often i'll update this, but i hope you like them as much as i do :) *indicates smut

last updated: march 26, 2024

MARVEL

loki laufeyson - from the void, with love — by whirlybirbs (my fav fanfic of all time!!! i think about this fic several times in a day bro) - riptide — by starks-hero - the tailor* (series) — by birdofhermes (ao3) - time after time (series) — by goldencherriess (ao3) - a friend from work — by cozy_the_overlord (ao3)

thor odinson - god of fertility* (request) — by charnelhouse - highway don't care (but i do, i do)* (part one, part two, part three) — by spacelabrathor

peter parker (andrew garfield) - agree to disagree — by delicate-dorothea - nerdy peter (request) — by webslingingslasher - good boy x bad girl trope (request) — by webslingingslasher - hold you here, my loveliest friend* — by p3mybeloved - your friendly neighborhood sensitive spider* — by jin0 - glad you're home — by withahappyrefrain - the mechanics of a soul — by irndad - 3 is the magic number* — by withahappyrefrain - crush — by ptersparkers - as it goes — by forever-rogue - here comes the sun (part one, part two, part three) — by withahappyrefrain - stability, reciprocity, and a romance for the ages (series) — by privateanxieties (ao3 - need an account to read)

steven grant (moon knight) - hold me close — by stormkobra-5 - gift of min* — by astroboots - puzzles* — by stormkobra-5 - first time* — by luvpedropascal - domestic adonis* — by peterman-spideyparker - where it starts — by silversweetpea - fallen from heaven, grown on earth* (series) — by davosmymaster (ao3) - call me poe* — by kittyfandom (ao3) - elemental — by batsingotham (ao3) - the boy with the thorn in his side — by eating_flowers (ao3)

marc spector (moon knight) - not him — by loud-mouth-loser - it's worth it, it's divine* — by the-archxr - i'm getting to know someone — by davosmymaster (ao3)

wade wilson (deadpool) - tea and sympathy (series) — by bucketsoffrogs (ao3)

SHERLOCK (BBC)

sherlock holmes - your hidden strength — by okay-j-hannah - sublime dexterity* (part one, part two) — by daydreamtofiction - literally everything by starks-hero

SUPERNATURAL

sam winchester - playing house (part one, part two) — by uncouth-the-fifth - baby i'll stay (heaven can wait) — by uncouth-the-fifth - move over.* — by ggwritesstuff - where's your head at?* — by beau55515 - birthdays: sam winchester style* — by karleekarma (ao3) - the comforts of home — by zepskies - under the hood* — by shawslut

dean winchester - whether you like it or not — by kbeautimous (ao3) - reading you wrong — by zepskies - cherished — by thatonewriter15 (ao3) - soft touch — by wearywinchester - i love her, that's why* — by kaleldobrev - drivin' me crazy* — by lis-likes-fics

castiel - salt n' lick* — by aperfectgrace (ao3) - a bite of apple pie (series) — by ac_deanc (ao3)

THE SANDMAN

the corinthian - bring me a dream* (series, ongoing) — by placeinthemiddleofnowhere - nihil — by lis-likes-fics

dream/morpheus - sweet dreams (are made of this) — by stranger-nightmare

CRIMINAL MINDS

aaron hotchner - from eden — by heliotropehotch - gold star — by honeypiehotchner - love, an abstract concept — by luveline - honeymoon phase* (series) — by hotchsbitch (ao3)

THE BOYS

soldier boy (he's absolutely horrible but so. so. hot.) - break me down* (series) — by zepskies (go read their other stuff too!) - talk to me — by zepskies

homelander (also absolutely horrible. would sleep with him.) - if i can't have you — by watchstarscollide - milky white* — by after-witch

GAME OF THRONES

jaime lannister - i'm not made by design — by ichorai (this legitimately changed my brain chemistry)

STAR WARS

obi-wan kenobi - like turning on the light* — by full-time-make-believer (deactivated acc) (this also changed the trajectory of my life) - where it wasn't* — by 221bshrlocked - your thoughts are loud — by spidersbane - empty me out* — by 221bshrlocked - house of memories* (series) — by meshlasolus - bad idea, right?* (series) — by mischiefling (ao3) - you make me feel like dancing — by saradika (ao3) - it's a wonderful lie — by firstofficerwiggles (ao3) - temptation's kiss — by karasong (ao3) - you make my dreams* — by wickedscribbles (ao3) - like a living mirage — by karasong (ao3) - broken drought* — by rosalindbeatrice (ao3) - never grow up — by doihavetoloseyoutoo (ao3) - never ending story — by kybercrystal (ao3) - volveré* — by kxnobi (ao3)

din djarin (the mandalorian) - the savior* (part one, part two, part three) — by dindjiarin - significant — by softlyspector - touching din — by archieimagines - uncharted territory* — by pedrito-friskito - creed* — by wheresarizona - home is wherever i'm with you* (part one, part two, part three) — by saradika

DRACULA (BBC)

count dracula - the székely* (series) — by theplumsoldier

LOTR/THE HOBBIT

thranduil oropherion - a boon* (series) — by inksplots (ao3) - beauty and the beast (series) — by tamurilofrivendell (ao3)

DOCTOR SLEEP

dan torrance - of monsters and men* — by helaintoloki & obitwo - domestic life (headcanons) — by thornsinmycrown - smut alphabet* — by daincrediblegg

[dangerousstrawberryshark]

Peter's New Obsession

🕷Pairing(s)🕷→ Peter Parker x male reader ⚠CW⚠→ throat-fucking, public blowjob, exhibitionist, constant blowjobs, ass rimming, Peter has an 8-inch cock, and Peter just loves getting head to the point that’s all he wants. 🕷Requested🕷→Yes 🕷Rating🕷→ Explicit

🕷Word Count🕷→ 738

🕷Summary🕷→Blowjobs are all he has wanted since you gave him head. He doesn’t care if it's in public, he wants it. Blowjobs are Peter’s new obsession.

Read before continuing: IF YOU ARE YOUNGER THAN 18 OR ANY OF THE WARNINGS MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE, DO NOT CONTINUE READING!

Blowjobs are Peter’s new obsession. 

Ever since you gave him a blowjob during your dates, he’s been obsessed. Your warm, wet mouth wrapped around his cock, tightening around his cock. He likes grabbing your hair and proceeding to throat-fuck you, eyes rolling back before he cums down your throat.

After that day, he often asks for a quickie. It does not matter if it's in his room, in public, or at another friend's house; he wants it. 

That’s how it leads to the situation you’re in. 

xxx

Both of you were currently inside a bathroom stall, Peter is sitting on the toilet seat with you on your knees, eagerly pulling down the man’s pants and underwear. The sight of Peter’s cock never fails to amaze you. It was massive, around 8’ inches, with the perfect amount of thickness, and heavy balls filled with delicious cum. 

It was already throbbing and oozing with precum– this always happens whenever you two engage in exhibitionism. A thrill rushes through your veins at the feeling of giving head in public and getting caught.

If someone walks into the bathroom and sees more than one set of legs inside the stall, and hears the sound of slobbering, gagging, and moans coming from the stall, they’ll know exactly what was going on.

Peter moans softly as your hot breath breezes against his throbbing cock. His chest is heaving as he looks down at you, seeing your signature grin and smiling up at him as you stroke his cock. His eyes roll back as your thumb stirs around his cockhead, gathering the beads of precum and lathering his cock.

Your thoughts were clouded by the overwhelming scent of Peter’s cock musk. It was a pleasant smell mixed with a manly musk. You pressed your face to the source of Peter’s scent and began flicking his balls with your tongue; the man’s sack felt heavy in your mouth.

Peter groans as he feels his balls being licked and sucked on. His breathing became heavier as he felt your tongue moving down; he just couldn’t hold back. His moans echoed through the bathroom as your tongue licked around his hole. Your hands stroke Peter’s cock faster, feeling the large piece of meat throbbing in your hands. You gave one last lick before pulling back, giving Peter that knowing look. Peter knows what’s gonna happen next.

You started sucking the precum straight from the tip, as Peter buried his hand into your hair. Your tongue rolled around, lapping at the undersides of Peter’s cock. After lathering the man’s cock with your slobber, you began taking Peter’s cock into your mouth.

Peter groans as you take him down to his base. His breathing hitches as the warmth of your mouth surrounds his large appendage. You pull down your pants and underwear, your aching cock leaking precum as you start stroking it while sucking Peter.

Tears begin forming around your eyes as Peter starts thrusting slowly into your mouth. Peter looks down to see your teary face causing him to groan softly. You could feel his balls tightening, breathing getting heavier before he gripped your head and pushed your head down to his pubic hair.

Your moans were muffled as jets of cum squirted into your mouth and down your throat. Peter was moaning wildly as more of his thick cum gushed out. At the same time, your cock painted the bathroom with cum.

You pull back after almost suffocating from the amount of cum down your throat, grinning devilishly at Peter, licking any remaining cum off his cock and around your lips.

It was then you both heard a knock on the stall door.

THE END

reblogs and comments are appreciated

A/N: Hello, my strawberries! I’m back after being sick for a week or two. Happy holidays, Merry Christmas, or whatever you celebrate! Special thanks to my proofreader: @sagethegaywitch

TAGLIST: @spnfanboy777 @hiddens-eden @meyocoko @buckyshusband0 @zamfam4272 @raspberryyuuki @maxxioislost

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡Instant Family｡⋆.

Bucky Barnes x plus size reader

+ platonic Peter Parker 

Somehow, you and Bucky have found yourselves parents to a rowdy teenager without you ever having been pregnant

Warnings: reader and Bucky are pretty much Peter’s parents, little bit of horny at the beginning, fluff, domesticity, talks of family planning, adoption WC: 1.2k A/N: The Hotch x reader x Joel fic is being worked on but it’s taking longer than I thought so hopefully this will hold you over till then 💚 Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Soft lips pressed against your neck as two strong arms wound around your plump waist, pulling you back from the stove and into the hard body behind you. Your lead lolled to the side, unable to resist the tender loving of your boyfriend.

“James.” You protested as his hand began to wander.

“Doll.” He responded against your skin, pushing his hips into your ass, letting you feel exactly what he wanted.

“I’m cooking dinner.” 

“Yeah and I’m looking to have a little snack.” His cold metal hand skirted up your plush belly to cup one of your tits over the thin fabric of your bralette. His teeth sank into your pulse, quickly presenting a very compelling argument as to why you should abandon the stew you had already spent hours on and join him in the bedroom.

“You’ll spoil your appetite.” You rocked back, making Bucky hiss through his teeth as you pressed against the hardness between his legs. His grip on you tightened and just as you were about to cave, with his fingers skillfully strumming at your pert nipple, the sound of the front door slamming open tore you apart.

“You will not believe the day I had!” A series of several heavy thumps had Bucky groaning in frustration.

“How many times have I told that kid to take off his shoes when he comes in?” He grumbled as he readjusted himself and leaned against the counter across from you.

“Obviously not nearly enough times.” 

“Did you hear me? Crazy day!” Peter’s overgrown curls were the first thing you saw as he bounced into the living room, dropping his backpack onto the couch, despite the hook by the front door that was designated for him. Bucky raised an eyebrow at you but you just smiled and walked to the fridge. 

“What kind of crazy are we talking about here, bugs?” You handed the teenager a cold bottle of water which he immediately chugged, just like you knew he would.

“Thanks.” He gasped after he was done. “Every one of my classes had a pop quiz, which I aced by the way, and then there was a burglary at the sandwich shop and MJ actually smiled at me today! Not like a ‘I’m grinning at you so you leave me alone’ smile but a real, genuine ‘I think you’re funny and/or cute’ one!” 

“I’m happy for you, kid.” Bucky’s hand clapped his shoulder, giving it a paternal squeeze and making Peter’s smile grow even wider.

“What’s for dinner?” He rose to his tiptoes to try and get a look at the pot from his place on the far end of the counter. Even a month ago, he would’ve tentatively asked if he could stay for dinner with the largest puppy eyes you had ever seen to support his case, but now, he knew you could never say no to him.

“Beef stew and mashed potatoes, Bucky’s favourite.” You answered, uncovering the second pot on the stove that currently housed the un-mashed potatoes. Peter’s nose scrunched just for a second, but Bucky still caught it.

“And what’s wrong with beef stew, young man?” 

“Nothing! Nothing! It’s just friday and we usually do pizza on fridays.” You would have laughed at the petrified expression on his face but thought better not to.

“You’re going to be with Tony all weekend, we need to get some actual food in you before he supplies you with too much caffeine and all the pizza you could ever want. Plus, Bucky is going on a mission tomorrow morning. I always cook your favourite before you go on yours.” You pointed out, replacing the lid in favour of cracking the oven door and letting the smell of baking brownies fill the small kitchen. “But it is your favourite dessert.”

“Thank-“ You quickly raised a hand, stopping him before he could start his excited tirade.

“But you have to get your homework done now and then after dinner, you can spar with Bucky.” That made the teen light up even more.

“Sweet! I’ll go do that now. Can I use your office?” He called over his shoulder, already gunning for the small room at the end of the hall where you worked, yanking his bag from the couch as he passed.

“I’ll be double checking your English homework tonight!” You called after him, getting a distant ‘okay!’ in return. You shook your head and made to turn back to the stove but you were stopped by Bucky’s arms wrapping around you again. You half-expected his lips to return to your neck or even fit against your own, but instead he gently kissed the top of your head.

“You’re so good with him.” He muttered, sighing happily as you snuggled into his arms. You pecked his throat, your palms spreading over his lower back.

“He makes it easy, he’s a great kid.” You stood there for a few moments, soaking in the warmth of your shared home as Peter’s music floated from the office. You would’ve never thought that this was your life, dating your soulmate, who happened to be an Avenger and caring for another one who had somehow become your sort-of kid after his aunt had to pick up a job that kept her away from home for long periods of time.

“How the hell did we end up with a teenager?” Bucky groaned into your hair as he finally let you go.

“You’re the one that offered to tutor him with history in the first place.” You reminded him. 

He scoffed and opened the fridge. “And you were the one that fed him.” His brows furrowed, blue eyes scanning over the contents of the shelves in front of him “We’ll need to pick up some more of those snack packs he likes, we’re running low.”

You popped your hip out and raised a brow at him. “Oh shut up, I’m keeping us stocked up for your sake, you know how whiny he gets when he’s hungry.” 

“I’ll take him shopping when I pick him up from school on Monday so he can pick up some stuff he likes.” Bucky fished a beer and a soda from the fridge before firmly shutting it while you stirred the stew, making sure the bottom didn’t burn. 

He popped the cap off the glass bottle, taking a small sip. “Have you thought about having some kids of our own?” 

“Yeah, I have.” You felt his eyes glue themselves to you. “I think you’d be a great dad James, you already are. Peter adores you, I adore you.”

You finally looked up to him. “Whenever you’re ready for them, then so am I.” A weight lifted from his broad shoulders, making him stand taller. You beamed at him before he kissed you gently.

“We do have that empty room upstairs next to Peter’s that’s waiting to be used.” 

You rolled your eyes and gave him a little shove towards the office. “Go help your boy with his homework and then we can talk, daddy.” He smirked and shot you a wink before strutting off to most-lilkely distract Peter with yet another story about Steve doing something stupid before they would inevitably find the adoption forms you had left out on your desk. 

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[thatboisus]

reading a good ass fanfic up until it said something that just makes you want to stop reading

[cece693]

MY JEALOUS GOD

pairing: loki laufeyson x gender neutral reader synopsis: You didn't anticipate falling into a relationship with Loki—who would?—yet while everybody knew he was the god of mischief, to you, he's your jealous god.

The first sign something is off is the smell of petrichor in the living-room. You’d left the windows shut, but there it is: the scent of rain on stone, the signature Loki’s magic often leaves behind when he appears or, more ominously, when he’s been brooding. You round the corner and find him lounging on your couch, boots on the cushions, one arm draped over the back like a cat who’s caught the red dot and now wonders what to do with it.

“Evening,” he purrs, voice all velvet knives. “Did you have fun at Stark’s little soirée?”

You shrug out of your jacket, the lining still warm from Stark Tower’s overheated ball-room, and drape it over the brocade armchair by the hearth. A faint metallic tang of repulsor exhaust still clings to the fabric—a souvenir of Tony’s annual “low-impact” fireworks display.

“Fun enough,” you say, massaging the crick in your neck. “Tony’s birthday parties feature far fewer homicidal drones these days—small mercies—but it would’ve been considerably more enjoyable if my favorite god hadn’t ghosted before dessert.”

Loki’s smile thins. “Your dance card appeared congested.”

The archaic phrasing is deliberate, a rapier flick from a prince raised on court formalities. You know exactly which name hides behind the euphemism: Peter Parker, cheeks redder than Stark’s armor, tugging at a too-tight bowtie while begging you for “just one dance.” When FRIDAY obligingly queued a crackling waltz from 1912, you’d accepted to save the poor kid from spontaneous combustion and to keep Natasha from collecting wagers on whether he’d faint.

“Peter’s pulse only spikes to dangerous levels when I’m near,” you remind Loki gently, toeing off your shoes. “Because he’s nineteen, Loki—”

“Twenty,” Loki interjects, tone glacial. “I checked the records.”

“—fine, twenty. He idolizes everyone with an Avengers passcode. Our waltz lasted 90 seconds and ended with him apologizing for stepping on my feet.”

“Yet long enough for you to laugh,” Loki murmurs, verdant eyes darkening. The words carry neither accusation nor injury—something colder, older, like frost creeping across glass. Outside the window lightning flickers, though the forecast promised clear skies.

You cross to him, letting your hand skim his shoulder until frost becomes warmth. “One laugh, one spin, no hearts stolen. You, darling, occupy all available real estate here.” You tap your sternum.

Loki’s lips curl in a silken crescent, but the flicker behind his lashes is anything but serene. Emerald irises catch the lamplight, bright as storm-lit seawater—an omen you’ve learned to read the way sailors read cloud fronts.

You plant your hands on your hips. “Loki,” you say, drawing out every syllable like a sharpening stone, “what did you do?”

He splays a hand across his chest in wounded theater. “Must you presume mischief every time I inhale?”

“Yes.”

A beat. His shoulders slump in an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. I may have redirected young Parker’s web-shooters.”

“Redirected how?”

“Up.”

“Loki!”

He waves a dismissive hand, as though you’ve merely noted the weather. “Midgardian gravity is pathetic. The boy dangled for what?—fifty two seconds before Rogers hauled him in. Perfectly safe.”

Your glare could etch glass. “And the glitter bomb that detonated on Clint?”

A flick of irritation crawls up Loki’s brow ridge—caught, again. You press on.

“I was having a perfectly calm chat with him about Lucky adjusting to farm life,” you remind him, tone sharpened to surgical steel. “Clint was mid-sentence—something about the dog finally not chasing tractors—when this puff of emerald smoke swallowed him whole. Next thing I know, he’s radioactive-pink from head to tactical boots.”

A half-smile curls Loki’s mouth, wicked as a fox in the henhouse. “Yes. I refined the pigment with bifrost dust—gives it that delightful day-glow sheen.”

“Which is now ground permanently into SHIELD-issue Kevlar.”

“An upgrade,” Loki counters. “Barton’s wardrobe needed flair.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “I leave you alone for two hours—”

“You left me alone with them.”

The soft snarl on “them” tells the truth: Loki never felt comfortable in the Avengers’ tower, tolerated largely because of you. Their wary stares scratch old wounds he pretends have healed. Tonight, seeing you laugh—actually laugh—with the people who once hunted him? Salt in the fracture.

You exhale and join him on the couch, prying his booted feet off the cushions. They thunk to the floor. “Talk.”

“Must we?” His gaze flicks to the ceiling, expression somewhere between tragic poet and sullen teenager. “You looked radiant. They ogled you like magpies. I grew irritated.”

“Jealous.”

He scoffs, but the word loosens him. “Yes. Jealous. There. I despise how it feels—like being chained again, only the shackles are inside my ribs.”

Your annoyance softens. You catch Loki’s chin, turning his face until emerald meets your gaze. “If you need reassurance, ask. Don’t rig equipment or hex people. Use your words.”

His lips quirk. “I have many words. Most of them sharp.”

“Then learn soft ones.” You brush your thumb across his lower lip. “Tell me the truth instead of setting glitter‐traps and letting innocent people hang from the ceiling.”

A silence stretches, broken only by the faint hum of Manhattan traffic. Finally, Loki exhales the breath he has been hoarding for pride.

“Very well. The truth: I watched you toss your head back laughing at Clint's joke and it felt like frostbite. I wanted that sound kept for me alone. I imagined Parker’s mask cracking under illusion spiders; I pictured Stark’s suit misfiring champagne across his face. I thought of a dozen vicious things, all because you smiled.”

You let the confession settle. His jealousy is a thunderstorm—beautiful from afar, dangerous when you’re underneath. But storms can be guided.

“You’re allowed to want,” you say slowly, “and I’m allowed friends. The line is harm, Loki. Pranks that bruise bodies or egos cross it.”

He leans in, voice low. “I will try. But understand: my nature is not serenity. It is wind and wildfire. I can shape it for you, but extinguish it? Never.”

You press a kiss to his forehead—just there, where the crown would sit if he still wore one. “I don’t want it extinguished. Just channeled.”

His shoulders relax, mischief dimming to ember. “Then give me a target suitable for such channeling.”

“I have one. The dishwasher’s broken again.” You gesture toward the kitchen. “If you must hex something, hex the water jets. Make them behave.”

It earns you a surprised laugh, warm and genuine. “Very well, my love. I will wage war upon domestic inconveniences.” Loki rises, cloak swirling into existence with theatrical flare. “But first—”

He snaps his fingers. A soft pop sounds behind you. You turn to see a potted hydrangea now placed in the middle of the coffee table. Petals the deepest green—the exact shade of his eyes. A peace offering formed from silent magic instead of spite.

“Soft words,” he murmurs, stepping close enough that his breath fans your ear. “And softer deeds.”

You twine your fingers with his. “Keep practicing, Mischief-Prince. I’m a patient teacher.”

He smirks. “And I, an attentive student—provided the lessons are interactive.” You roll your eyes but tug him toward the kitchen nonetheless. Behind you, the hydrangea’s petals shimmer, shedding a faint glitter that—mercifully—stays on the plant.

[lorimnnn]

i don't wanna be fucked like a slut and then discarded.

i wanna be fucked like you've never been loved before; i want to be used and folded and manhandled like i'm some sex doll you bought for cheap online. i want your eyes rolling back, your entire body flushed, tears pricking the surface of your eyes. i want you spent and overstimulated but unable to control yourself as your hips snap up into mine, because it feels so good, too good, and even though your vision is bordered in black, it's not enough to command your body to pull away.

you need it. you need it you need it you need it.

your thoughts are a mush in your head, melted into soup by the heat heavy in your cheeks. you can't string together a single coherent sentence. you barely know what's happening.

your mind is blank.

maybe you're even begging me to understand. "i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry. i'm so sorry. i'm sorry...."

see, if you fuck me like i'm a slut, the goal is to just get it out of your system. that can take five minutes. that's not enough for me.

i want to be fucked like you're the slut.

[agreeewrites]

Charlie doing that 'a boy who's jacked and kind' trend but gets distracted having y/n on his shoulder and ends up flipping her over and eating her out while the camera still rolls.

tysm for the request love!! hope you enjoy 🫶

pair with: Charlie Weasley, James Potter, George Weasley, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Peter Parker, Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, or whoever you want! (MDNI 18+)

a boy who's jacked and kind...

...can't find his ass to save my life.

You took a few steps back from your carefully arranged phone, ensuring your image in the frame was centered and the space around you didn't look too cluttered. You adjusted your sundress a little, dismissing the fleeting thought that maybe it was too short.

“Babe!” You called, and your boyfriend, always eager and with the recall of well-trained golden retriever, popped his head into the room.

“You called, love? Wait--are you recording?” He immediately clocked the angled phone, a smirk sharpening his sweet smile.

“Would you maybe want to try a trend with me?” You asked, batting your lashes. “You know that Sabrina Carpenter album I've been listening too?”

“With the coffee song?” He crossed the room, still hovering just outside of the cameras scope, clearly suspicious. “I'm working laaaaate, ‘cuz I'm a sinner—or something?”

“Singer,” you corrected, giggling. As if you haven't overheard him singing that very song on repeat in the shower. “There's a Tiktok trend going around for another one of her songs."

“And what exactly does this trend involve?” He asked, eyes skirting down your body, the stretch of your bare legs with open appreciation.

“It's this one lyric, ‘a boy who’s jacked and kind’, and one partner lifts the other onto their shoulder, like—hey!”

He swooped in mid-sentence, scooping you around the middle and tossing you over his shoulder like a sack of flour. Broad shoulder digging into your guts, driving the air from your lungs. Not that there was much air to lose—his strength always left you a little breathless.

“Like this?” He asked, bouncing you a little.

You couldn't see his expression, but you could hear the smug ass smile on his face.

“No! No,” you huffed. “I'm supposed to sit on your shoulder.”

“Really? I kind of like this.” His hand crept up the back of your bare leg, kneading the softness of your thighs before swatting your ass. “We can just do this, I'll let you keep recording—”

“Hey! Put me down and focus.” You squirmed until he set you down, his lower lip jutting out into a pout.

“Alright, alright. So I lift you up onto my shoulder so your sitting right here?” He patted the bulge of his trap. “For what reason, exactly?”

“To show the whole world how jacked and kind you are,” you replied, pecking his cheek, stroking his ego just enough to push him over the edge.

“Well, I do like that…let's do it.”

You squealed with excitement, kissing him again before rushing to start the recording.

🎶 A boy who’s jacked and kind…can't find his ass to save my life.

Three tries later, he finally got you up onto his shoulder at the exact right moment, making it look borderline effortless, the cheeky grin on his face lighting up the frame while he flexed his drool-worthy bicep.

Hm, maybe you shouldn't post this. He was so hot, this was turning into a bonafide thirst-trap—

“Yay! That was perfect, now you can—woah! What are you—”

He grabbed your thigh and lifted it over his head, shifting you so you were facing him, your thighs and pelvis practically smothering him, and you squeaked in surprise.

“Shh, honey,” he soothed, hucking you up another inch to nuzzle against your blooming heat, barely covered by the thin mesh of your panties. “You know I won't drop you.”

“But the camera—”

Something rumbled in his chest, a pleased sort of purr that had your toes curling against his back. “You wanted to put on a show, pretty girl.” He backed you against the wall, your head damn near brushing the ceiling, and laved his tongue over you.

“Oh, fuck,” you groaned, fisting his hair and resisting the cloying urge to squirm. You glanced at the camera, unsure of what you were hoping for, and saw that you were still very much in the shot, the red circle still glowing as it recorded everything. The realization sent a fresh curl of desire slithering down your spine, leaking out between your legs and into his seeking mouth.

“Good girl, stay just like that,” he murmured against you, a flick of his tongue sending your mind reeling. The heady thrum of your heart found harmony with his movements, symphonic, pleasure cresting higher and higher with every press, every pull.

The sound of your own cries echoed around your head, amplified by the proximity of the ceiling, and a distant part of you wondered if you'd sound pretty in the video.

His grip was bruising on your thighs, but he didn't shake, didn't tremble, solid as a statue beneath you. Resolute in his pursuit of your pleasure.

Jacked and kind, indeed.

He gasped when you yanked particularly hard on his hair, but instead of pulling back, he buried himself deeper, tipping into a ravenous frenzy.

“Fuck, I'm gonna—fuck, fuck!” Your pleasure ballooned, then burst, bliss scattering like glitter under your skin, sparkling and ephemeral and everywhere.

Relentless, and undoubtedly self-indulgent, he continued to lap at you, groaning in the back of his throat when you shuddered and twitched. No longer having the strength to hold yourself still.

Carefully, he lowered you back to the ground, dress bunching between your bodies, and kissed his way up until he finally caught your lips. Sticky and sweetened with your honey, you sighed against his mouth, clutching those heroic shoulders to keep yourself upright.

He glanced over at the camera, then smirked down at you. “You know, we could make a lot of money if we posted that somewhere other than TikTok—”

“No.”

“Ugh, fine.”

© agreeewrites 2025. do not copy, translate or claim my writing as your own.

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+

inviting PETER PARKER over as friends for a movie night on your laptop. you didn’t believe people actually gave a fuck about gray sweatpants and when you told pete to dress comfy you didn’t expect him to show up in a pair. your eyes glance down involuntarily, and he doesn’t visibly take note of it at first. it’s the second, or third time you accidentally make eye contact with something that the gears in his head start turning. innocent—albeit a little awkward—cuddling evolves. he gets a whiff of your hair, you feel the muscle under his fitting white t-shirt, he sees the cold perk your nipples through your pajama top, you swear there’s a halfie hiding between his legs. suddenly, your bodies start to gravitate towards one another a little more purposely, nudging each other while “adjusting” positions. soon, you’re not focused on the movie, you can’t stop staring at his rig through those damn gray sweatpants.

[m00ngirl777]

Can I request a oneshot with that trend where girlfriends go sit in their boyfriends laps while they're gaming or studying, it has so much potentiallllll for fluff and smut

If This Was a Movie

Peter Parker x reader

REQUEST

“Man, I can’t, I gotta study, I told you, I gotta do well on these midterms… I’ll hang out next time, have fun buddy,” With that he hanged up, and grabbed the stack of books, papers and his bag, when he heard a knock on his door. 

“Ugh!” He put everything back down and went to open the door, now a little frustrated, “Broke, what the he-” He rammed the door open and stood dead on his tracks when he saw you. 

Summary: Sitting on peters lap, he’s busy AF, college peter, you go visit him in Boston , he’s so happy to see you but it’s midterms week, but you haven’t seen each other so you can’t keep your hands off, so then you find yourself in this situation, in the library, he’s studying like crazy, coffee and food runs for your boy, sitting on his lap, and you can’t help but tease him until he’s had enough pent up frustration from all the stress of his first midterms and not seeing you, so he lets it out on you when he grabs your hand and drags you to the old literature section because no one in the engineering building is going near there, and fucks his frustrations out on you against the Jane Austen collection. Sue me babe.

A/N: hi so, as I was writing the summary, that scene from YOU, literally came to me, where joes like, youre not wearing a bra blahblahblah, if this was a movie id grab you and wed go a it at the stacks, or smth along that, hence the title, anyways enjoyyyyy. again I am sososososo very sorry I took nearly three months to answer this request, I don't know why I am the way I am, I sorry. anyways hope you love it, thxx for reading, love u, byeeee. xoxo. -N.

p.s. my requests are open my loves<333 but I might take three months to answer :( SORRY

TW: SMUT, RAW, NO PROETECION BABES.

WC: 2008

- - -

“Hey man…yeah…yeah… I-I know… but I gotta… g-uh…yes… mhm,” Peter really wanted to end the call, don’t get him wrong, for the first time in his life he felt like finally he fit in, even if he didn’t, college treated him different, he didn’t only matched, but surpassed the intelligence of his peers, accompanied by great humility which for the first time gained him respect instead of a shove, or a push, or a basketball to the head, or his lunch on the floor, the teachers encouraged him, as faithful as he was to you, and as uninterested as he was in in any other, he felt a little taller anytime a girl would smile, or giggle, or blush at him, something he had never known. He still had Ned at his side, but he was also very pleased at his new friends, the guys that were on football scholarships, that had urged him endlessly to join the Sigma Alpha Epsilon fraternity, and how they would, what felt to him, beg him to come to endless parties, and hang outs and so on. He was cool, he was respected, he was wanted, he was admired, and if he didn’t study for the upcoming midterms he would also be very fucked.

As wonderful a boy as Peter is, this type of attention can get to anyone's head, because for the first time in his life, people cared, not that he was Spider-Man, but that he was Peter Parker, he wasn’t failing, god knows hes too smart for that, he simply could not afford to fail anything or he would fail the course. 

“Man, I can’t, I gotta study, I told you, I gotta do well on these midterms… I’ll hang out next time, have fun buddy,” With that he hanged up, and grabbed the stack of books, papers and his bag, when he heard a knock on his door. 

“Ugh!” He put everything back down and went to open the door, now a little frustrated, “Broke, what the he-” He rammed the door open and stood dead on his tracks when he saw you. 

“Peter?” 

He pulled you in the tightest hardest hug you've ever felt, you instantly wrapped your arms around him, hands traveling to his, of course shaven head, it was an initiation ritual, it was more a buzzcut now anyway. 

“Miss me, baby?” He nodded hysterically, face buried in your neck, as he pulled you in the dorm, shutting the door, he couldn’t let go of you. 

He pulled away to kiss you, cupping your face, moving his lips against yours with a familiarity unmatched. You spent about five minutes against the door, Peter whispering the sweetest nothings into everywhere he kisses, I love you for your neck  neck and jaw, gorgeous and beautiful for your cheeks, I missed you into your mouth, and a combination of all for your ear, temple and forehead. You kept scratching the back of his head, caressing his neck, touching him, telling him with your hands everything he was saying with his words, your hand went down to his sweats, pulling on the waistband to reach for him, but before you could get a grip he gently pulled your wrist away and let out a soft groan, head on your shoulder.

“What’s wrong baby?” You cupped his face. 

“I gotta…study,”

“Awww, you gotta study baby?,” He nodded against your neck getting closer to your chest. 

“You… you can stay here… or,”

“No way, I’m studying with you,” It’s not that he didn’t want to, he just knew he’d get nothing done, still he couldn’t find it in himself to deny you, so here you were, in the mostly empty library, attempting to study. 

“Peter, why are you so stressed? You're probably the smartest guy here…like… I remember seeing a lesser version of this in highschool, and I was in none of the AP’s, you totally got it,” You were practically sitting on his lap, your hand caressing his neck. 

“I know… I really don’t want to fail,” He said, concentrated on the problem. 

“You won’t,” You kissed his cheek before getting up, grabbing your bag.

“Baby, where are you going?” Damn those puppy eyes. 

“I swore I saw a coffee shop just outside, want anything?”

“Coffee, just regular,”

“‘Kay, I’ll be back,” 

Soon you where back with a caramel latte, and a cold brew with cream. Peter thanked you and let you back in his lap, and in an attempt to adjust yourself you ended rubbing down on him. 

“Y/n,” He grasped at your hip to keep you from moving more, which led you to relax back into him, biting your lip softly when his thigh ended up being nuzzled between yours, slightly pressing on your core, just enough to want more. 

“Sorry,” Your cheeks flushed slightly as you sipped your coffee, feeling the cool bittersweetness aid the heat you were starting to feel. 

He nodded, and went back to concentrate on his problems, equation after equation, number after number, variable after variable, just never ending engineering stuff your history lit majoring brain didn’t even want to begin to understand. He kept mumbling the problems quietly, going over them as he wrote, it always turned you on how smart he is, even in highschool with way simpler material it impressed you, watching him know made your mouth dry. 

“Did you like your coffee?” You asked going to sip it.

“Yeah, its nice, thank you babe…” He answered in automatic, and it still made you giddy, very softly grinding down on his thigh with the excuse of adjusting yourself, you were really trying to cut him so much slack. It wasn’t his fault that you showed up unannounced in his midterms week, you’ve just missed him so much, and you needed him so bad, but he really needed to get this done, so you took deep breaths, and settled on sitting down on the cushioned booth, your thighs over Peter’s, leaning against him in a way that wasn’t too constricting, and your fingers playing with the very short hair at the back of his head, placing the softest kiss every other minute along his jaw, or neck, or face. 

Peter was trying to be grateful you were being understandingly loving, and tried to concentrate on studying, with your warm thighs over his, your arm around him, your hands on him, the combined natural scent you had, the smell of your growing slick, and your perfume, clouding him, he was really trying, but he was also excruciatingly hard. 

“Wanna see something?” Peter asked, a little fed up.

“Uh… sure, yeah,” You let him grab your hand and a little forcefully drag you into the book shelves, going through one after the other, until you were at a dark little corner, dust settled in a full collection of Jane Austen, the first, united edition, you were in between probably the only two shelfs of classic literature in this multiple story library. 

“Oh my god… how old are these copies? Is this what you wan-” He turned you around and shoved you against the shelves, kissing you with a sickening hunger, so different from the softer initial kiss you had shared, “You are… the only person… here… that gives… a crap… about those…” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence, jerking, as he grinded against your inner thigh, your hands would usually pull at his hair, but right now you could only scratch his scalp, which he still very much enjoyed. 

“Hmm, baby please… please,” He whined in your ear, as he rutted against your thigh, and how could you deny him, your needy, frustrated boy, that missed you so very much. 

“Shh, yes… yes whatever you want Peter… shh,” You didn’t know what you were about to do, but you knew you had to be quiet, you whispered in his ear as you cradled his head, he picked one of your legs up, and his other hand went between your legs under your skirt, rubbing your clit through your panties, as he kissed your jaw and neck, he pushed the panties to the side, and massaging your bud, wanting you to get as wet as possible, his mouth on yours, swallowing any moans that were a little too loud. 

Effortlessly, he lifted you up wrapping your legs around his torso, hands on his neck and shoulders, as he freed himself, giving a couple jerks before aligning his member to you, biting your sweater to prevent him from crying out, one of his hands went under your sweater, massaging your breast as he kissed your neck and whispered sweet nothings to you, perfectly still, letting you start to rock against him if you needed it.

“I love you so much baby, I’ve missed you so much,” Peter had dreamed for weeks of seeing you again, he’d figure you’d come visit, you’d never stay at a frat house, so of course you'd book the nearest lush hotel you could find, and he’d make love to you all night long, in a fresh big bed, he’d imagine that, and other scenarios very similar to that, sometimes he just asked for you to send him a voice note of your day and that along with the polaroids you had sneaked into his bag with a couple of your panties would be enough for him to satisfy himself in these two months he’s been in Boston. Never would’ve he imagined this scene, where he grabbed the shelves, fingertips and nail beds white as he started to drill into you, breathing hard, slam after slam, leaving you to do nothing but take it, as you clung to him, face on his neck, letting out the smallest of whimpers, that just fueled him to pistol even harder into you.

You felt everything, how his length reached the deepest inner most part of you, stimulating the nerve endings, making you feel the tingles all the way to your chest, his pelvis, lined with hairs not as kept as usual due to the lack of need, rubbing you with every thrust, his desperation and way he fucked you, like he’d die if he didn’t feel the walls of your pussy around him right this moment, feel how they clench around him when he makes you come, theres nothing he wanted more, but you were absolutely cockdumb, no words, no actions, no will in your body, you just felt your pussy and how it was being fucked raw.

He bit down harder on the sweater to stop himself from moaning and grunting in this library as he stilled inside you, very deep withing you, feeling how his warm spend pumped inside you, like gasoline, fuelling your quiet mewls, even more when he rubbed you until you came so he’d feel that perfect extra pressure as he finished coming, almost as soon as him, leaving you both breathless, shaking, and frozen.

“Peter…what the fuck…” You leaned your forehead o his shoulder, breathing hard, baffled by what you just did. 

“I know… I know…fuck,” He breath out softly as he pulled away, making you whine, he put you back down and readjusted your underware, then pushed himself back in his pants, “fuck, I’m sorry, I-I ju-”

“Shh, it’s okay…” You ran fingers through your hair, trying to re-adjust yourself, starting to feel soaked from your combined spends, knowing there was no way you could just go back and sit down to keep studying.

“I’m gonna go back to my hotel… you should finish studying and you can come by later… yeah?” You cupped his face placing a soft kiss on his mouth and cheek, he nodded, wanting to be around you, but knowing he needed to finish this. 

“Okay… yeah, I’ll just finish with the guide,” He said, but made no effort to move. 

“I love you, I’ll see you later, Pete,” You kissed his cheek, pushing him away gently to walk him back to his table. 

“Yeah, I love you too,”