Archie's Self Insert Stash

Taglist: @strigiform-titan @whats-my-hyperfixation @negativefoursanity @everythingismadeofchaos @t0nystank @greenlalianime @my-cat-can-slay-dragons @gardenavenue @whore-msc @goslingcore @rivercattail @ambertiger5 @starsbelongtotheworld @emmyishere77 @wayward-avenging @rocktthehouse @unabashednightmarepizza @lowbudgetdoll @lastminutescience @anixszci @lov3lanuage @hailholyground

he tries to keep his composure, but you let him sit in his lust, backing your hips against him in your own little rhythm that makes him pull his lips from yours. it’s hard for him to focus as you pull groans from him, quivering inside of you as you cast a spell on him with your stare. his jaw hangs open ever so slightly, feeling your lips beg for him. he wants to function like a normal man and kiss you back, but you ride him so well, he swears he’s malfunctioning. he does lap your lips into a sloppy kiss eventually, breaking it before he even seals it.

“you keep moving on me like that we’re not leaving,” leon warns. his chest rises and falls against your back, meshing with each effortless roll of his body that sends him deeper into you.  

there’s something you say that sends electricity down leon's spine. smirking, your hips slow down, squeezing around him. “old man can’t handle quickies anymore, huh?” you whisper against his lips. “too old to fuck me?”

he swears you light him up right there, feeling the flames engulf him. the grip of his arm around your neck tightens from the tease. leon disapproves, shaking his head. leaning in and placing a gentle kiss to your now messy lips, he quickly snaps his hips into yours once again. “being between me and the dresser is not the best time to be a smartass, sugar.” he relishes in your whine, though it’s replaced by amusement once you speak again.

“if you didn’t want a smartass, you wouldn't have married someone twenty years younger than you, isn't that right?” 

leon couldn't deny that, but it still could’ve been something you said after you were dressed. instead, the consequence has you doubling over as his fingers work into your clit faster, fluttering around his weeping shaft. he hears your cries, slow thrusts quickening. he leaves your body to fall limp over the dresser, toes curling as his arms leave your neck to slip his hand on his back for support. “i hear you joking, but i don't hear you laughing.”

he stares at you through the mirror, hair messy,  makeup ruined and he swears he can feel the urge to fill you up growing. you wriggle so much against him as you fight an incoming orgasm, trying to keep it in so you can cum with your husband. you try with everything in you; breathing, digging your nails in the palms of your hands, but if anything, those techniques pushed you closer to the edge. 

“oh fuck— i’m gonna cum,” you start, hand hovering over leon’s that works in between your though before he stops. 

the growl that leaves you sends leon into a frenzy. he can’t let you have your cake and eat it too, especially after that little quip you made. “what do you think?” he grumbles, leaning in to take in the scent of your hair. “should this old man make you cum?” 

you nod your head quickly, your free hand reaching behind you and cupping the back of his neck. “y-es. yes please,” you caress his nape, fingernails digging into his flesh. he sits with the option in his hand, circling his fingers back on your clit, pushing your hips deeper into the dresser. there’s a hum of gratification from your whimper, feeling the tip of his tongue drag down your neck, soon taking a gentle bite at your skin.

feeling you lose balance in his hold, the older man helps keep you up, picking up on your eyes rolling through the mirror. “you cum, we stay home. got it?”

“g–ot it,” you slur, head resting on his chest, fingers curling over his working hand. 

“hands off,” he demands, ripping his hand away from you again. your gasp doesn’t move him, the tip of his nose running up your cheek prior to biting your ear lobe. “my pussy, ya hear me?” he growls. “you don’t get to tell me how to touch you right now." as he bullies you into obedience, he can feel his body cracking under pressure. a familiar buzz runs over his body, tingling in his fingertips, wrecking his pattern. he almost forgets to continue his movement with his fingers, but he follows through. 

he underestimates how close you actually are, whines being pulled from you like he can’t survive without them. with each stroke he spreads you open, you feel the buildup in your stomach, body twitching under his intensity. your cunt kisses around him the more you hear his breath shake, grumbling swears under his breath like he can’t take it. and maybe he can’t. 

how could he when he feels you attempt to empty him clean? tight around him, begging for him with those cute little moans. the helpless one is him. your moans erupt for him, feeling your climax wave over you, grabbing onto any part of him that you can. leon of course lets you. but not because he wants to, but because he can’t tease you anymore now that he’s spilling into you, mentally begging for mercy. he doesn't mean to fill you up so much, but he can feel the pushback around him that he almost slips out. his head falls back, fingers attacking your swollen little clit. on the rare chance you two come at the same time, you both treat it like it’s the olympics. but sometimes, leon likes to go for gold. with his head coming back up, he sees you writhe under his hold, whining without properly begging for him to stop.

so he doesn’t. in fact, he keeps on working your body. “leon– fuck– leon please.” his hips have slowed down by now but the second he actually pulls out of you, his ring and middle finger take you over. it’s all about you now. you try to speak by saying something, anything. you can't even look your husband’s way without having to spill all over his hands. leon lives for it. he pops a tired smile on his lips as he watches you shudder under his fingers, attacking that spongy part inside of you, curling his fingers. he stays firm while you fight against him, placing his arm back over your neck so you can hold onto him. 

you look at your husband through the mirror, watching his muscles flex, quiver in his lip and the way his lips are parted feels like he’s mocking you. his fingers push everything he released back into you, leaning in and kissing your temple. “what do you think? i still got it?” his digits fight with your slick walls contracting around him, but he doesn't let up.

before you can answer, you don’t fight the wave that leaves you, spilling down your legs. you don’t whine or swear, but release broken sobs, too stimulated to function. your body vibrates in his arms, losing balance feeling him keep you up against his chest. 

your husband is hasty with slipping his fingers out of you, spinning your dizzy body around to see your fucked out expression. he wants to check in, but the low eyed glare you're giving him tells him all he needs to know. he smiles, “hey, you alright?” he asks, chuckling while you nod. 

“yes–” you whisper, not worrying if the man hears you or not.

“i’m sorry,” leon starts, cupping your cheek and pressing a soft kiss on your puffy, smudged lips. “i’m sorry we missed dinner.” 

you don’t want to hear it. the man is amused as a finger lifts up to his lips, watching you shake your head. “rescedule it,” falling into his arms, you’re satisfied with the quick nod he gives you. 

You were chatting away about nothing important when you looked over at you boyfriend who had gotten suspiciously quiet. Just in time to watch him stare at a particularly steep descent and watch as his face paled from a nice tanned color to a sickly white. “You can back out, you know.” There was nothing teasing in your voice, Ryland appreciated that as he smiled sweetly at you.

“No, no.” Ryland managed to squeak out as he brought his eyes down to look into yours again. He couldn’t tell anymore if the heavy beating of his heart was due to the adrenaline and nerves or if you just made him feel like that. It was probably both. That made him feel a bit better. “I-I’m good.”

By the time the safety bar and restrains are clicked into place, you could see the regret forming behind his semi-controlled expression. He was quiet, more afraid of speaking as it could cause him to be sick, as the ride lurched forward slowly, beginning the long climb upwards. His hands tightened around the metal bar inch by painful inch, his knuckles turning white from over-exertion. 

Without a second thought, your hand disappeared entirely because Ryland had grasped at it, crushing it between both of his as he drew it into his lap like an anchor. Your fingers became trapped between his in a full panic grasp, you couldn’t even squeeze to reassure him. There was no backing out. “You okay?” You asked over the mechanical whirling with a small giggle. 

Ryland couldn’t even bring himself to look over at you. He was staring straight ahead like a Man moments away from seeing God. “F-Fantastic----”

The drop came out of nowhere. 

And Ryland screamed. 

Not a cool scream, either. Not one of those deep rollercoaster shouts people did for fun. This was a sharp and startled noise, completely genuine, ripped right out of his lungs the second gravity disappeared beneath you and you were left falling.

You were laughing so hard you were nearly crying as the coaster whipped around another turn, Ryland’s glasses, - which he should have taken off!! - shifted crookedly down his nose. The wind was blasting through his hair while he clung to your hand with every ounce of strength in his body, eyes squeezed shut. 

“Oh my God!” He gasped somewhere beside you. By the third turn, Ryland was muttering what sounded suspiciously like a prayer mixed with Molecular terminology. The next  and final drop was worse. Ryland made a nose you were fairly certain no adult man had ever made before. A full-on terrified, high-pitched and scientifically distressed scream that got snatched away by the wind.

And that was it. The cart rolled back into the station like nothing had happened at all, and you spared him a glance as the restraints hissed and unlocked, the attendant making the rounds to lift them. Ryland looked utterly devastated.

Hair completely ruined, face pale, breathing shallow like he’d just survived a near-death experience instead of a two minute amusement park ride. You stifled a giggle as you unlocked your buckle, managing to get your hand out from his grasp to do so before tucking your fingers into his lap to unbuckle it. 

Ryland stood slowly. Carefully, like his legs were no longer his and he was just a marionette. He did help you, hand reaching out to lift you out of the cart, his arm shaky and palm incredibly sweaty as you grasped his hip to keep him slightly steady as you hopped off the platform. You had the energy of a kid in the candy store, while Ryland… Had the energy of a war survivor returning home from battle as he pointed weakly towards a bench nearby. 

“I need…” He said faintly, in desperate need of something to lubricate his throat. “Six to eight business days.”

You bit at your bottom lip and helped him to the bench where he dramatically collapsed, his long limbs bending so he could press his elbows against his knees, staring blankly at the ground below. It was speckled with dried gum and something sticky, but Ryland couldn’t bear to think about what it was as you sat down next to him. 

“I… lied to appear more attractive.” He admitted shamefully as a group of little kids sprinted past the two of you towards the exact ride that had nearly ended him. 

“You didn't need to lie, Ryland.” You smiled at the sweet nature of his confession. “I don’t think your inability to handle a rollercoaster is the make it or break it here.” You bit your bottom lip. “And well… If you’re so worried… You were screaming like a guinea pig five minutes ago and I still find you very… cute.”

Ryland blinked once. Twice. His plump mouth opened slightly before shutting again as his face went from sheet white to bright pink right in front of you. “You think I’m cute?” He repeated weakly. 

“Yes, Ryland." you leaned your shoulder against his arm a bit more intentionally. Ryland shuffled his feet together. “Very cute… actually…” “You---” He swallowed hard, suddenly finding the peeling paint on the bench extremely interesting as he put all his focus on that to collect his thoughts. “Even after… that?” The blonde motioned vaguely back towards Event Horizon with a wobbly hand. Somewhere in the distance, another cart went flying down the first drop and you could see Ryland visibly flinch in response. “Especially after that.” “I was screaming.” “Yeah, you were.” You nodded. 

“I’m pretty sure I cried at one point.” “Can confirm the presence of tears.” You whispered teasingly. 

Ryland only groaned softly and dropped his face into his hands. “Oh, God.”

The sound of your laughter drew into a quieter tone as you reached over, carefully tugging one of Ryland’s hands away from his face and into your lap instead. His palm was still embarrassingly sweaty from the ride, his fingers shaky as you laced yours through them anyway without hesitation. It was tender, contradicting the way he had yours grasped on the coaster. And beneath the heavy heartrate and nausea hitting the back of his throat, Ryland could feel the warmth blooming against his chest, the kind that had nothing to do with human perception in times of overdosed adrenaline.

“You went on Event Horizon for me.” You concluded after a moment.

“I feared for my life on Event Horizon.”

“But you still went on it. For me.”

Ryland opened his mouth to argue before immediately deflating because, unfortunately, you were right. He had done it for you. Every miserable, terrifying second of it. Because you’d looked excited, and Ryland had already discovered he’d do almost anything to keep that look on your face.

“…Okay, Yeah...” 

Your smile softened instantly. “That’s sweet.”

“No, it’s concerning. I ignored several biological warning signs.”

Something about the earnest nature of his voice tugged softness to the surface of your face as you reached out to fix his golden rimmed glasses, Ryland’s breath hitching in the hollow of his throat. Your fingers brushed the side of his face gently before pushing them up the bridge of his nose.

Ryland went still beneath your touch, all dramatic complaining cut off mid-thought as he watched you. And it was almost funny, how fast he folded. One second he was recovering from his near death experience and the next, his eyes were full of wonder staring at you like you’d hung the moon specifically for him. “Are you sure you’re okay?” You asked, softer this time and everything around the two of you disappeared. It was quiet, just a moment for the two of you. The teasing was gone, just enough for Ryland to take notice. He always noticed. Even this early on, he paid attention to every tiny shift you made because it mattered more than he cared to admit. 

Ryland drew a shuddering breath in, exhaling quietly as his shoulders loosened just a fraction. “I’m… okay.” That was said cautiously. “Just temporarily reorganizing my internal organs.”

You smiled at him, wrinkling your nose as you did but the sharp, self-deprecating humor didn't break the moment. Not this time, not like Ryland must have been hoping as he was not susceptible to emotional vulnerability.

With your hand still resting in his, fingers loosely tangled like they belonged with his, Ryland seemed to notice that fact all over again like it was brand new information. He drew his thumb slightly against yours, hesitant, then more certain when you didn't move away, like he was testing whether this was real or just another thing his brain would over-analyize and panic about. 

“You’re really hot.” He said suddenly, not clocking how the phrasing must have sounded to you as you chortled. “I m-mean warm! Your skin! It’s warm…”

“T-that’s your takeaway right now?” “I’m observant under stress.” Ryland replied meekly, his voice just a notch above a whisper. Then, even gentler, almost like he didn't mean to say it out loud, he admitted, “It’s… grounding.” Ryland’s azure gaze flicked up to your face again, admiring the softened expression of admiration you for him as your thumb traced his skin slowly. This time, he couldn’t bring himself to look away. There were no jokes to be made, no deflection. Just… Ryland. Still a little winded, glasses finally straight again, glancing at you like the noise of the entire park had dimmed just enough to make room for only you. 

“I meant what I said earlier.” He told you.

“About surviving the rollercoaster?” You tilted your head curiously.

A vaguely embarrassed huff of laughter escaped his parted lips, “No--- Well, also yes. But not just that.”

His grip on your hand tightened a little, but not in a panicked frenzy. Ryland knew what he was doing before his mind could catch up and cause more humiliation. “I didn't go on it because I thought I’d enjoy it.” Ryland swallowed hard, the lump in his throat heady with the urge to not confess. But he needed to. He wanted to. “I went because you looked happy when you pointed at it. And… I wanted to be there with you.”

The honesty of it sat between you, quiet and unguarded as you felt a swell of emotion hit your mind and chest. It was your turn to shuffle on the bench, teetering your body weight back and forth as you looked down at your locked hands. And for a second, you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. No teasing. You just… Looked at Ryland like he’d done something far braver than go on a rollercoaster. “And,” He added quickly, voice cracking back into something slightly more familiar, “I would like to formally state that I regret every life choice leading up to that decision, but I do not regret you. Just… the Physics.”

“You’re impossible, Ryland Grace.” “I’ve been told that.” He joked, earning himself a smile. He watched it tug onto your face as a grin took over his, a small blush curling around up to his ears. Then he spoke again, more tentative this time and more reserved. “Is that… bad?”

Instead of answering right away, your free hand came up again, slower this time, more shy and brushed a stray piece of hair back from his forehead. His blue eyes fluttered shut behind the glare of his glasses for a split second at the uncontrolled affection. And when he opened them again, he was closer to you than before like his body decided on its own to seek comfort from yours. Nothing about it was rushed, nothing about it was uncertain. Ryland felt like he was… Allowed in your space. “It’s not bad.” You promised feeling the shattering exhale Ryland let out, like he had been holding his breath since the first drop of the ride. He shifted closer to you without fully thinking about it. Body decided what it wanted before his brain could object and rationalize. “It’s cute, Ryland.”

“Don’t look at me like that.” He murmured, glancing at your lips, then back up to your eyes in a bid to ask permission without using words. “Like what?” You teased lightly, your eyes following his motion. From his smooth mouth, the coarser hair of his beard tripped neatly around them, back up to his blue irises. 

“Like I didn't just experience emotional and gravitational collapse.”

A small giggle left your mouth, under your breath. “You sorta… did…” “Fair enough…”

You leaned in first, just slightly. That was all it took. Ryland met you halfway like it was the most natural thing in the world while surrounded by man-man unnatural contraptions. Like he hadn’t just been screaming his way through a metal death loop ten minutes ago. The kiss was soft and unsure by the way his lips trembled against yours from overconsumption of adrenaline. But it seemed to steady quickly when your hand stayed in place, squeezing his fingers and Ryland realized you weren’t going anywhere.

The cute blonde made a small sound against your lips, almost disbelieving like his brain had stopped generating thoughts entirely. The first contact was just a gentle press of his lips to yours, still slightly chapped from the wind whipping against your face.

You could taste the faint mint of the emergency ration he kept in his car, the one he chomped on before coming into the park as Ryland moved his mouth with a curiosity that caused your eyelids to flutter shut. And when he had enough courage to actually pull away, he wasn’t moving far. Just enough to look at you, slightly cross-eyed from proximity.

“W-wow…” Ryland sputtered, still a little dazed as the sound of the park and chaos came crashing back in. “O-okay.” “Okay?” You chuckled, still feeling the tingle of the kiss against your lips, still so close to him that your breath brushed his words.

Ryland nodded, only once. Very slowly. Very deliberately. “I thi-think I’d go on that ride again if I can ensure this result every time.”

“I think you’re fibbing, Grace.”

“I am most certainly not.” He gasped grammatically, his ears turning a darker shade of pink. “Well, okay maybe. But I would still do it. Just to see…Replicating results is important in a scientific study…” You hummed quietly, leaning in and pressing a small kiss to his sharp cheekbone. “Do you want to try a different ride?”

“Is there one that… Preferably stay on the ground?”

“The carousel.” That was a peace offering of sorts, your voice tugged into minor amusement as Ryland leaned back in contemplation. “But it still spins.”

Ryland closed his eyes for a second and huffed. “Right, of course it does. Think if we run over we can get the two-seater? I don’t think I can sit on one of the horses without falling off.”

“I think I’d pay money to see that.” You joked, standing up and dragging the tall man with you. More confidently this time, Ryland let himself walk side by side with you towards the aforementioned ride, the promise of another kiss right on the horizon. “I won’t let you fall, I promise.”

Taglist: @strigiform-titan @whats-my-hyperfixation @negativefoursanity @everythingismadeofchaos @t0nystank @greenlalianime @my-cat-can-slay-dragons @gardenavenue @whore-msc @goslingcore @rivercattail @ambertiger5 @starsbelongtotheworld @emmyishere77 @wayward-avenging @rocktthehouse @unabashednightmarepizza @lowbudgetdoll @lastminutescience @anixszci @lov3lanuage @hailholyground

Often too tired for long make out sessions

Covers his daughter's eyes when he kisses you, he loves heating her laugh and when she gets bigger the two of you always kiss her cheeks to show that you love her too

Lifts you up in his arms and spins you around as he kisses you if he's been gone for a while

There are a lot of pictures that he took exactly when you kissed

Embarrassed when someone points out the lipstick on his neck or the collar of his shirt

Chuckles when you put your leg up while kissing him

Kisses you while swinging in between buildings too, he just couldn't wait to get to your designated date spot

Steals kisses from you whenever he can

Handsy while kissing you

Doesn't like quick kisses, he wants to savor every kiss for a long time

Made a dedicated make out playlist

Favorite place to kiss you is on a rooftop while listening to a concert playing down below

Loves to kiss you in front of his friends to show off what a lovely, amazing partner he has

Targets your weak spots with his lips

Could kiss you for hours and still have the energy to go on for more

Almost competitive with his kisses

Never gets flustered even if he is surprised by some kisses from you or it happens in what would be an embarrassing situation

Keeps score of how many times he kissed you in a day

Hides behind his hat when he kisses you unless you have complete privacy

Will lock his office if you're in there because he will want to kiss you and he knows you'll distract him

A perfect gentleman, always kisses your hand when you meet up or he has to leave

Starts off with slow kisses, chaste kisses

It's up to you if you want to deepen the kiss and if you do he won't mind in the slightest, he's not even mad if it happen on the clock

The only way he would mind is if it's in front of a client, he's not very into kissing in public

Claims he doesn't have a weak spot but if you kiss him directly below the jaw his knees will buckle slightly

Not a huge fan of sloppy kisses

Fiddles with the edge of your clothes while kissing you, he needs to keep his hands busy

Very passionate kisses, almost never stops at just a single kiss even if he's falling over

Your kisses recharge his batteries better than a good night of sleep

Loves to lift you up and hold you against him while you kiss

Uses his height and muscle mass to get an advantage when he kisses

But at the same time he loves it when you're on top of him, sitting on his lap, or laying on top of him while you kiss until you're both too tired to keep going

Will become a flustered mess if you kiss him in front of his teammates

Pays you back for that later when you're alone

Sometimes he kisses you like it's the last time he'll ever see you, but he will always give it his all to make sure it's not the last time

Enjoys pinning you against any flat surface and feel you rock against him

You’re gearing up to throw it in his face and stomp off when the platform finally stops as near to floor level as it gets and he…holds out his hand. Miguel’s expression is still pinched, and the set of his shoulders still high, but he takes the plush from you (mindful of his talons), hums and makes a remark about it not being as accurate as he thought considering there’s claws on the toy instead of what he actually has. Miguel meets your gaze when he says thank you.

For a moment all you do is blink over at him as he starts back up muttering to himself over whatever data he’s reviewing. It isn’t until he turns back to cut you a look that you remember yourself and fall back to earth, smiling big big up at him and then finally rushing away while heat flushes your face and you struggle to bite down on the urge to cheer while still in front of your hotheaded boss.

A few hours later you stop by his floating overcompensation platform office to deliver some information from Jess and you catch sight of the little plush leant up against the corner of one of his monitors. You keep your smugness to yourself, though, not heckling Miggy lest he get too embarrassed and hide the plush away.

Lyla blitzes excitedly around the plush when she first catches sight of it. And, unlike you, she teases Miguel about it so bad the vein at his temple starts to show. You’re eating lunch at one point in the dining hall when she appears sitting criss-cross over your tray and yaps all about how she’s caught Miguel holding the plush. How he rubs the pad of his thumb carefully over the red stitched detailing of its itty bitty mask, his face stern with focus.

Apparently Spider-Plush (the spider society member, not the inanimate object) is very disquieted and a little insulted by the appearance of the toy. His voiceless horror and displeasure was decipherable enough that Miguel started blushing as he stammered out a choppy explanation, and then an apology, all while trying to find some place to hide his mini-me before just settling on holding the stuffing filled version of him behind his back, fangs glinting as he smiled fleetingly at Spider-Plush before starting to save face.

At some point while you're griping about some universe he wants you to check out you watch him turn to the plush leant back against his monitor and go: “Right, Miguelito? You agree, don’t you?” after he feels he’s got you beat— and in a way he does because for the rest of the day you can’t catch nary a glimpse of him without breaking out into laughter so hard it has you turning in circles and coughing.

The smirk he gives your dark, flushed face every time starts making sense by the end of the day once you realize he still got you to agree with him. Even if it was by omission.

HOBIE BROWN | SPIDER-PUNK

Hobie thinks it’s adorable and immediately starts cooing over the plush when you brandish it to him.

He starts cooing over you too but that’s to be expected. You’re his partner, of course he makes a production out of telling you thanks; sweeping you off your feet into a hug and “obnoxiously” peppering kisses all over the brown planes of your face until you're laughing so hard your stomach hurts.

After his initial reaction he does get concerned about the origins of the plush, though. He’s not letting Norman’s estate or any other billionaire twat pull that Spider-Man copyright shit on him (ala that time where Peter found out Otto had trademarked the Spider-Man moniker and that the Spider-Man name and likeness was copyrighted). When you tell him it’s homemade and that you got it from a vendor at a showcase he makes a promise to visit the artist so he can give his thanks personally, grin turning mischievous.

Hobie takes to carrying the little plush around in a web sling. He treats it like his baby, dropping Lil’ Spidey off for you to “babysit” and everything.

Hobes walks in on you oiling your scalp and doing up your kinky hair or re-twisting your locs after a successful wash day — all while singing and dancing for your audience of one: that being the chibi “Itsy Bitsy” plush of him that you’ve leant up against the mirror in front of you — and is instantly so taken by you that he doesn’t even leave the ceiling before pulling his mask up past his nose and urging you into an upside down kiss, no matter that he startles the fuck out of you at first.

He likes making the plush give you little pecks on the cheek from him too, especially when he’s Spider-Man and you two are too easy to view from the rooftops or distance by the civilian them for him to be as affectionate as he’d like.

There’s multiple occasions where you meet him up on a roof to grab a bite together or find him curled up on your ceiling or under your covers while he sews Itsy Bitsy back together and/or replaces his stuffing.

He gets incredibly incensed when goons target his plush lookalike cause there ain’t no need for all that, Boss Man.

It’s not just Hobie liking the plush and loving that it’s a gift from you either, Lil’ Spidey is also incredibly useful when he’s dealing with panicking kids (and adults even). The plush is a cute calming presence and he gets very good at using it to his advantage when he’s got to corral people or convince kids he’s safe enough to let him carry them to safety.

At some point you do have to talk Hobie out of commissioning the artist who made the initial Spider-Man plush into making a similar plush of him in the suit with his mask off and wicks out and cotton stuffed recreations of his piercings on display. “Are you forgetting you have a whole ass secret identity?” “We don’t know if they’re not trustworthy,” he volleys, voice going nearly reedy as he rubs bashfully at his neck. “We don’t know if they’re trustworthy either, Hobie. Chill, Babe.”

Hobie lets himself see sense eventually, but not before his disappointed pout almost makes you cave.

Hobie will absolutely serenade you and the Spider-Punk plushie with his crude vocals whenever he feels like playing on his downtime or is working on a new song. The clear upside is that he’s got only eyes for you in the moment— and that he’s always been a delight to hear when he’s playing his guitar. He tries to keep the vibe acoustic and mostly succeeds.

PETER B PARKER | SPIDER-MAN

— featuring MJ!Variant!Reader & Biracial!Mayday

“Oh hey! Now this? This is one attractive little guy!”

Peter loves Spider-Man merch as much as the next guy, honestly, so he’s pretty excited when you first show him the plush.

Hell, he’s got a small collection of his own merch that’s been gifted to him by people around New York over the years mounted on a shelf above the tv in your bedroom.

—

“Aw man! They even got the differences in the spiders on my chest and back correct!” Peter twists the thing around in his hands, lighter brown eyes wide with wonder as he looks for a misprint that he’s apparently not finding. “This thing is surprisingly detailed.”

“Mm, I mean they are missing one key feature,” you murmur, eyeing Peter heavily for a second before meeting the brown of his eyes once more.

Peter blinks up at you, expression owlish, but doesn’t object when you press into him. One of his arms comes up like second nature to wrap around your waist and pull you closer. “I mean where? I guess maybe the kind of reflective — pearlescent? — lenses could be what’s throwing you off, but it’s easy enough to overlook…”

Your husband trails off as he keeps looking for whatever objection you could have for the aesthetics of the Spider-Man plushie.

He’s still missing the mark on all fronts when you reach up to lower the hand he’s holding the toy with. Immediately, Peter meets your eyes over the plush’s tiny head and you smile at him. He recognizes the coy lilt to it if the way he goes liquid and malleable for you is any indication, his body pulling into yours easily when you tug at his hips despite all that super strength and his ability to stick that would absolutely stop you from moving him if he didn’t want to be moved.

When you drop your hand over his hip Peter doesn’t stop you, moves to meet your mouth when you move to kiss him too. Which, kiss him you do, moving to cup one hand over his cheek while your other trails from his waist to rest against the soft bulge of his stomach.

“He’s missing your belly,” you say, the tilt of your plush lips wry and your big hazel eyes glittering.

Peter smiles back at you like you’ve hung the moon.

“Oh,” he snorts then, and thankfully it’s not as self-deprecating as it used to be. “I don’t mind, not a lot of people like their heroes pudgy.”

“Well I like mine that way, Tiger,” you purr, reaching your hand around to tug at the shorter hair towards the back of his head and rubbing your thumb softly over his stomach. “So now what?”

“I— god,” Peter stammers, blushing like crazy. You chuckle, moving to squeeze lightly at his side and making his flush travel even more over his face until his ears are beet red and he’s ducking his head to rest against your shoulder.

Eventually he lets out a rush of sigh, shoulders slumping, and admits defeat.

“Flatterer,” he mumbles into your neck, tone playfully accusing, before pressing a kiss to the dewy umber skin at his disposal and wrapping both arms around you despite the plushie still clutched in his other hand.

“Guilty,” you hum, voice low as you run the tip of your broader nose across the pale overheated skin over his jawline.

And then Mayday starts to babble in the distance — clearly over her nap — and you and Pete have to pull apart.

Not before he sweeps you into one more lingering kiss, though. One of his hands tightening around your waist while the other fists into the thick naturally red curls atop your head as he practically dips you. It’s the type of kiss that leaves your dark two-toned lips tingling and has you panting lightly as Peter walks away to go retrieve your child with a wink in your direction and such a cheeky grin splitting his lips that you have to laugh.

—

Mayday gets her hands on the thing in minutes. You can’t be upset at her chewing on the plush’s little hands when she was clearly so excited to see the tiny version of her daddy though.

At one point she does hand it back to you so you can see her dad too. You tell her she’s lucky she’s so cute as you accept the slobber soaked plushie by pinching it between two fingers— this is where a nice set of acrylics can come in handy as some very cute and very impromptu tweezers.

The impromptu tweezer is a familiar tool used in you and Peter’s household btw.

The little chibi-esq Spidey plush, and Mayday’s fascination with it, becomes a spectacular way to keep her from whining and twisting all over the place whenever you sit her down to put in her hairstyle for the rest of the week on Sundays. With the plush held tight in her pudgy hands and her preoccupied by either you and Peter engaging her in conversation the entire time or a slew of Gracie’s Corner videos Mayday is practically a saint as you put anything from Bantu knots to afro puffs to cornrows in her big poof of red hair. Hell, sometimes you even take to letting her hang upside down while you comb out the tangles from her hair and apply any product to her looser coils while she hugs the plush tight to her chest.

Bath time and wash days for Mayday are still absolutely a hassle though considering you won’t allow her to take the Spider-Man plushie into the water. Thankfully that’s Peter’s appointed cuhruckle to deal with; giving you a break to do your own hair and relax a bit.

Peter takes to using the Spider-Man plush as a learning tool pretty quickly too. Showing Mayday how to watch her enhanced strength with demonstrations he puppets the toy to show her how to behave. How she has to be gentle and careful when she touches people or things, and etc.

The plush makes the lessons easier on them both, especially as more of Mayday’s powers manifest that you guys can’t procrastinate on dealing with. The lessons being made easier, too, fights back that little bit of guilt you know Peter still carries for passing on his spider powers to her. Win win, then.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!!

Hopefully everyone’s characterizations weren’t too off because I haven’t seen ATSV in a hot minute, but yeah! This was just a cute little thing to do. And you can pry mj!variant black!reader from my cold dead hands; her eyes are hazel bcs they’re a cross between my typical black!reader-insert’s brown, and MJ’s usual green.