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cherry wine

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It starts off with a harmless day dream about fighting a big bad with Mr Stark.


Really, it’s mostly Calculus 101’s fault. Peter’s supposed to have skipped all this boring first year stuff, but somebody in the office had lost the paperwork that announced him knowledgeable enough for him to go straight into second year papers, so he’s stuck in classes that he doesn’t even need because he knows it all anyway until they sort the mess out.


So, Peter’s not really paying attention to the equations and graphs on the projector screen, he’s staring somewhere off to the left of the girl’s ear in front of him, thinking about the next big alien invasion or Dr Doom incident and fighting alongside Iron Man. Wouldn’t it be cool if Mr Stark gave him a ride on his back so he could build up some velocity before he swung off, oh, oh, and he could totally bounce off of Cap’s shield and go swinging into a mass of evil robots, utilising the awesome web bomb that he’d been working on, and everybody would pat him on the back and give him hugs at the end of it for being able to work alongside everybody but also display his own cool powers and tech.


Black Widow gave the best hugs. Peter blushes bright red and looks down at his textbook that he doesn’t need to read because he knows all of it already. Yeah, her curves were awesome, don’t get Peter wrong, but she has all this strength that she wasn’t afraid to use to squeeze Peter to her body. Cap’s hugs were totally cool as well, Cap could never be bad at anything, but he was too conscious of his super soldier strength and delicate in his bear hugs. Mr Stark was, well, Mr Stark, and he mostly gave pats on the back, and when he did give hugs, they were special, not the kind you blushed at. Hawkeye gave good one armed squeezes, and Dr Banner wasn’t much for hugs.


Thor though, Thor gave the best hugs out of them all.


Peter shifts his gaze over to the clock on the beige wall, frowning as he watches the second hand tick. He’s never really thought in depth about why Thor’s hugs were the best, they just kind of were, but now that he really thinks about it, it might have something to do with the fact that Peter is generally breathless afterwards from being squeezed so hard he thinks something might pop.


Thor is super, duper strong. Like, could lift a building containing ten elephants and a country’s worth of steel. He’s definitely stronger than Peter, and Peter recons he could hold him down with one big, muscular arm like Peter was weaker than a kitten. He probably wouldn’t even bat an eyelash as Peter struggled to get out from under him, he would probably just get between Peter’s legs and pin him down with a huge hand around his throat and squeeze until Peter’s vision went fuzzy, and then when all the fight had gone from him and Peter was limp with surrender he would spread Peter’s thighs wide and fuck into him-






Where in the heck had that come from?


Flushing bright red, Peter pulls his book bag over his crotch and looks surreptitiously around to his seat neighbours. Thankfully nobody seems to have noticed his impromptu boner.


But, holy hell, what was that thought?


Clearing his throat, Peter puts his head down and pretends to be trying to puzzle out the equation the lecturer was currently droning on about. Thor would never choke him out, or, or, do that, ever! And he’s never thought about Thor that way! Or any of the Avengers for that matter, well, except for the occasional fantasy about Black Widow doing that awesome take down thing where she basically strangled you with her thighs, but who hadn’t thought about that?


Okay, okay, no need to panic. He didn’t have a big huge crush on Thor; he was a dude, and dudes had random sexual thoughts about people all the time. Hadn’t there been a study on it? And the choking- well, Peter had just saved someone from being mugged the other day, and saving someone from being choked while getting their wallet stolen would stick to anyone, right? Anyway, Peter should just forget about it, it would never happen again.


The lecturer begins to wrap up, and Peter gathers his pens, notebook and textbook, concentrating on not thinking about Thor and choking, and more on his next physics class.




Peter doesn’t forget about it.


In fact, Peter can’t stop thinking about it.


He’s so distracted about having a big crush on Thor that he almost gets decapitated by a huge flying bug with razor wings coming at him. The only things that saves him is Hawkeye firing an arrow into the things big green eyeball, popping the membrane and getting goopy green shit all over Peter as he jumps out of the way of it’s falling corpse.


“Hey, kid, pay attention! You’re not usually this out of it, what’s going on?”


Swinging up next to Clint, Peter fires out some webbing to tangle up another one of those weird razor winged bugs.


“Nothing, it’s nothing!”


“Uh huh,” Clint shoots three arrows in succession, felling three more bugs. “Is it about a giiiiirl? Oh, or a boy, not going to make an assumptions here, you could totally swing both ways, it’s all cool, you’re nineteen right, I don’t have to give you the talk about the birds and the bees do I?”


“No, no, you definitely don’t, and it’s not about a girl!”


“Oh, so it’s a guy, huh?”


Peter groans and grabs Hawkeye around the middle and swings them up to a higher building and better vantage point. The bugs are coming less and less now, it looks like Mr Stark’s plan to down the Mother Bug is working.


“Well, um, maybe? I don’t really know, I hadn’t even thought about him that way until a few days ago, and it totally caught me by surprise and it totally doesn’t even make any sense! Like, we’ve hardly ever spoken!”


Clint grabs him by the shoulder and pushes him sideways to shoot another bug coming for them. Peter uses the momentum to bounce off his hands and flip into the air, firing off a big web net to drop a whole lot of the suckers out of the air.


Clint whistles appreciatively as he lands back down. “Nice one, Spider-Boy. So, tell me what you like about this guy then? Is he hot?”


“Uuh,” Peter squints behind his mask, spotting a civilian in a sticky situation down below. “Yeah, I guess so?” Thor had a nice face, and he’d recently grown a beard. Beards were hot, right? He propels himself off the ledge and swings down, kicking a big pink worm off of the man. Eurgh, so many bugs.


“Thanks, Spider-Man! That thing was seriously grossing me out!”


Peter salutes the guy, “no problem, if something else starts to bug you, just yell! I’m always happy to help!” And swings back up to Clint, leaving the civilian groaning.


“So, if you don’t think he’s good looking, and you haven’t had enough conversations with the guy to know him properly, what do you like about him?”


Seeing no monster insects around for the time being, Peter stops to think. What did he like about Thor? Sure, the dude was nice, and funny in a dorky sort of way, and admittedly hot, but that wasn’t what got Peter going in his calc class.


It was his huge muscles, and the thought that he could hold Peter down with no problem, that had him popping a boner in the most boring lecture he’d ever attended.


“Oh,” Peter squeaks. He didn’t have a crush on Thor. He had a crush on the guy’s muscles.




The epiphany carries over to Peter sitting down on his bed in his dorm room, fresh from a shower to get all the bug gunk that had seeped through his suit off of him.


Mr Stark had managed to wrangle a single room for him, since having a roommate would totally cramp his Spidey style, so Peter doesn’t feel bad for pulling out his shitty laptop and opening up an incognito window of his browser. And then opens up Pornhub.


Wincing, with his face burning, he tries to ignore the massive amounts of vagina and breasts displayed in the ads and clicks on the search bar.


Muscular, he types, and then presses enter.


He clicks on the first search result and watches through his fingers as a muscle bound man pounds a curvy woman into her bed. The sounds are so embarrassing that he mutes his laptop, but he can’t help but watch the guy’s biceps bulge as he moves his body over hers. Okay, kind of hot.


But he isn’t having the reaction that he thought he would. Biting his lip, he goes back one page and clicks on another video. This one is just a naked lady who’s super ripped flexing at the camera and groping her naked body. Yep, not doing anything for him. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t just muscles that he liked?


He goes back to the search bar, adds choking and hits enter before he chickens out.


The first video is a girl getting fucked roughly by a big guy. Curious, Peter plugs his headphones in and listens to the sound. Along with the wet, sloppy sounds of his dick slamming into her are the sounds of her crying as she’s held down, and Peter pulls back in horror as the guy slaps her around the face and tells her to stop being a little bitch. He almost slams his laptop closed, but just before he does she lets out a loud moan; she’s enjoying this.


And something in him is enjoying it as well.


Eyes wide, he watches as the guy gets a big hand around her neck and starts to choke her, and after a while she convulses and has a pretty over the top orgasm, excessively screaming out her pleasure as the guy slaps her breasts bright red with his other hand. The entire time she’s pinned down and abused, and Peter shouldn’t be enjoying it, but he is.


He isn’t imagining being the guy however, he’s imagining being her. Being held down and fucked and slapped around the face. Just thinking about being in her place has him squirming.


The video ends with the money shot of the guy coming over her bright red breasts, and Peter does slam his laptop closed, hand over his mouth. He looks down as his dick, tenting up his pants and harder than he thinks it’s ever been, and is absolutely horrified at himself.


Who the fuck gets off thinking about being hurt like that?!




Peter’s pretty sure he’s had almost no sleep the past few nights. He just can’t get over the fact that there’s something wrong with him, that now all he can think about is someone holding him down and forcing into him as he screams and cries and only half tries to get away, because he doesn’t really want to escape as somebody hurts him as they fuck him, and that is so fucked up in so many ways.


Rape is a terrible, horrible, inhumane thing. It’s disgusting, and Peter would never ever wish it upon anybody, so why is he fantasizing about it happening to him? It’s happened to so many people out there, and they’ve been hurt in the worst way, they’re traumatised and will probably never be the same, and here he is, getting off to the thought of being raped by choice, and that is just so wrong.


“Peter, hey, are you alright?”


“Huh?” Peter looks up from staring into the depths of his stone cold coffee. MJ is staring at him from across the table, her face worried.


“You look way more tired than usual. Your usual bags have like, tenfolded in the last two days. What the hell is going on, you nerd? I know you haven’t been up late playing video games, otherwise Ned would be in the same state as you, and he’s as annoying chipper as always.”


Peter’s knee jerk reaction is to deny everything and anything. “Nothing’s wrong! Absolutely nothing! I’m completely normal, everything is normal, yep, super duper normal, nothing wrong with me at all.”


Of course, MJ doesn’t buy it. “Pete, I’m not an idiot. We’ve been friends for years now, even though you’re a complete loser and I don’t know why I still hang out with you, and the last time I saw you this freaked out is was when you realised that you liked dick as much as you liked pussy.”


Peter flushes bright red. MJ had been the one who he’d confided to, because he would die before he’d talk to Aunt May about this stuff, and Ned, Ned was a great friend, but not someone you talked to about liking dick more than vagina about. MJ had been super supportive and not weird about it at all, and she’d been the only thing that had stopped him from having a complete breakdown about it all. Looking back, he’d been so silly about it. Being bi wasn’t a huge deal, especially now a days with everybody being so open and supportive about it, but he’d been so busy freaking out about being different that he hadn’t thought about the fact that if one of his friends came out bi, he would be completely fine with it.


And he’s freaking out about this shit now. Like, really bad. Maybe talking about this stuff to MJ would help? She’s the most open minded person Peter has ever met, if he was going to talk to someone about the stuff going on in his head, she was the person to do it with.


“MJ… I think, I think there’s something seriously wrong with me,” he whispers, and they end up back at her dorm room, Peter’s face hidden in her pillow in shame as he confesses.


She’s silent for a moment, and Peter waits anxiously for her scathing words to come down on him like a tonne of bricks.


But all she does is put a hand on his shoulder. “Peter, there’s nothing wrong with you. People can have rape fantasies, it doesn’t mean that you actually want to get raped, and it doesn’t mean that you think real rape is okay, it just means that you like to get hurt while having sex, and maybe want to get into some heavy roleplaying. Peter- oh, Peter, don’t cry,” and then she’s hugging him as he sobs into her shoulder, and she pats his back and soothes his hair back and hands him some tissues when he finally pulls back.


“Sorry, I’m so sorry,” Peter sniffs, hiding his face in a tissue. “Fuck, I’m so weird.”


“No, you just have some pretty heavy kinks that I did not see coming, wow, what else are you hiding behind that pretty goody two shoes face and those tasteless nerdy slogan tees, huh?”


Peter gets busy wiping away the tears and snot on his face so he doesn’t have to answer that. In his state, he might just let his Spidey secret slip, and he is so not ready for that to come out just yet.


They talk about it a little more, and MJ does a lot to assuage his fears about it all. Peter starts feeling better about his weird affinity to being held down and hurt during sex, and stops thinking that he’d have to punch himself out next time he was Spider-Man.


Before he leaves, she gives him a couple links to a few websites and even a club that he might want to check out, winking as she does so. Blushing bright red, Peter stuffs the post it note into his pocket and flees down the hallway to the sound of her cackling.




The post-it note is unbelievably heavy in his pocket and refuses to be ignored.


Peter tries his hardest, getting through some readings for a second year bio engineering paper he’s actually excited about, but gives in that night, pulling out his laptop and putting his headphones in to listen to some calming music.


The websites are BDSM websites, and Peter thinks that his face is going to be permanently red for the rest of his life as he reads through it all. There’s talk about consent and contracts and safe words and lists of kinks and words like bondage and scat-play and sounding and it all boggles his mind and kind of freaks him out so completely that he ends up clicking out of them all and looking up the club MJ suggested instead.


It’s pretty far away from campus so there’s hopefully no chance of anybody recognising him, and as Peter scrolls through the site, seems pretty safe. It’s all anonymous, with a cover charge on weekends, and they have some pretty good security.


Biting his lip, Peter promises himself that he’ll go next week after handing in his physics project, even if he can already feel the nerves fluttering like butterflies in his stomach. He’ll just check it out, maybe just get a feel for the place, see if he actually likes it, before trying anything with anybody.


Mind made up, he clicks over to his email to see if his course coordinator has gotten back to him about being able to skip all his first year papers yet.


Things are looking up; there is an email from her. And apparently Peter isn’t a super freak, well, more of a super freak. Not a bad day, all in all.




“Dude, you’re Spider-Man, you can go into one stupid club.”


Peter’s fake ID is burning a hole in his wallet as he lingers across the street, eyeing up the discreet door below a discreet sign that reads cherry wine. He’s so nervous that he’s pretty sure people can hear the change jingling in his pocket from his leg twitching, and he’s wearing some pretty tight jeans.


The fake ID had come from Natasha of all people. It had only taken like two words from him lamenting about how he had to wait two more years to drink even though he was saving New York from big baddies alongside the Avengers and she’d hooked him right up. Peter probably had the most authentic fake ID in all of America.


She probably didn’t envision him using it to get into a kinky night club, however.


Taking a deep breath, Peter finally musters up the courage and steps out across the road. Slips in through the door and hands the bouncer his ID, smiling in what he hopes is a confident way as the bouncer peers at his photo, peers up at him, and then back down at the card.


“They look younger every fucking year,” the guy grunts and hands Peter’s fake ID back to him. He then opens the second door, this one dark red and lit up with dim lights.


The deep bass of the music washes over Peter as he steps through. He jumps a little as it slams closed behind him, feeling like it’s trapping him inside like a mouse in a cage, but he doesn’t lose his nerve and quickly moves away into the dim club.


Thankfully, it’s a Thursday night and early, and the place isn’t busy yet. There’s a few stages elevated from the main floor, but all of them are empty except for rack of instruments that Peter doesn’t look too closely at. There are some booths and couches along the wall, some of them occupied with people, and a small empty dance floor. He spots the bar, and for lack of anything else that he can think of doing, heads over.


The bartender is a tall blonde woman with a multitude of piercings in her ears. She’s wearing a leather corset that shows off the curve of her waist and makes her breasts bulge, but what really catches Peter’s eye is the thick black collar around her neck. A little flower charm hangs off of it, sitting in the hollow of her throat.


“What’ll it be, sugar?” She asks him.


Tearing his eyes away from the collar, Peter looks up at her face. “Um, a vodka and cranberry? Please?” Thank god he’d done some research on drinks before he’d done this.


She smiles at him. “Jeez, you’re a doll. Are you here with anybody?”


Peter smiles a little at her. She seems really nice. “No, just me. I haven’t really done this before, so I just thought I’d come and check things out.”


“Well, I hope you’re good at saying no, you’re going to be getting a lot of interest looking like you do in here.” She garnishes his drink with a slice of lime and places it on the bar. “That’ll be ten bucks.”


Peter gets out his wallet and pays, picking up his drink and taking a sip. It’s sweet, and not horrible at all. He hopes to chat with her a bit more, but she quickly moves off to serve another customer that’s popped up further down the bar.


Feeling a little lost, Peter clutches his drink to his chest and moves off to the end of the bar near the wall, perching up on a stool and keeping his back to the wall. And like any other millenial when they’re feeling uncomfortable and have nothing else to do with their hands, pulls out his phone.


Peter’s just scrolling through his twitter feed, feeling a little like an idiot being on his phone in the corner in a kink club of all places, when somebody leans up against the bar next to him.


“What’re you drinking?”


Peter looks up from his phone, blinking. The guy is tall, with dark hair sweeping over his forehead and stubble over his jaw. He’s handsome, in a in your face kind of way, and dressed in a dark green shirt with the top three buttons undone. His teeth shines in the dim light along with the expensive watch on his wrist.


“Um, a vodka and cranberry.”


“Sweet, just like you,” and the guy reaches out and twirls a lock of Peter’s hair around his finger. Honestly, Peter’s too in shock about the horrible pick up line and the fact that somebody is actually trying a pick up line on him, to pull away.


“Um,” he says.


“I’m Ethan, what’s your name, gorgeous?”


“Peter,” Peter is saved from having to say anything else as the bartender turns up again.


She taps the bar with a long fingernail. “Ethan, whaddya want?” Her tone is different from when she had been talking to Peter.


Ethan’s handsome face doesn’t drop his smile as he turns to her. “Rum and coke, light on the ice darling. And don’t give me shit again, give me at least El Dorado.”


“Right,” she turns to make his drink, flashing Peter a look as she does so. Confused, Peter takes a sip of his drink and freezes up as Ethan turns back to him and slips an arm around his waist.


“So, Peter, what brings you here tonight? No, wait, don’t answer that, I know already,” he leans closer, and even though Peter leans away, heart rate picking up in fright, manages to get his mouth right next to Peter’s ear. “You want a big strong Dom like me to take you into the back and fuck your pretty little brains out, don’t you?”


Is this how people normally acted in here? A little disgusted, not turned on at all and not sure how to respond, Peter tries to lean back more and bumps up against the wall. Ethan has him boxed in, and his cologne is overpoweringly strong in Peter’s sensitive nose.


A drink banging down on the bar brings Peter’s and Ethan’s attention up.


“Here, that’ll be seventeen,” the bartender says, hand held out expectantly. For the first time the pleasant expression on Ethan’s face twitches, and he pays her, grabbing his drink. His arm tightens around Peter’s waist and he practically pulls Peter from his stool, Peter’s drink sloshing as Peter struggles not to drop it.


“Come on, let’s go sit down somewhere where we won’t be interrupted,” Ethan sneers at the bartender, dragging Peter away from the bar. Apprehensive, Peter looks over his shoulder at the her, and she makes eye contact with him, looking worried, before Ethan is sitting him down in a out of the way booth and sliding in after him.


“Um, I don’t think-” Peter begins, but Ethan is already grabbing him around the waist again and pulling him up against his side.


“You don’t need to think, just feel,” the guy breathes into Peter’s ear, and his hand is creeping up under Peter’s shirt, the other feeling up his thigh.


“No, I don’t-” Peter tries pushing him away, but he’s too afraid of showing his Spidey-strength to properly make the guy let go of him. He only succeeds in making Ethan yank him closer, and the hand on his thigh moves to his arse and grabs tightly.


“Oh, you wanna play shy sub, huh? I can play tough Dom then.” Ethan moves his face closer, and Peter is seriously beginning to panic. This is definitely not what he wants.


“No, stop,” he tries, hands up against Ethan’s chest, but the guy is determined, groping him with rough hands and trapping him up against the side of the booth with his bigger body.


“Come on, warm up you little whore, if you didn’t want any you shouldn’t have come in here looking like a twink slut,” Ethan growls and forces his mouth down on Peter’s.


His lips make contact with Peter’s tightly closed lips for a second, Peter making a sound of distress, before he’s suddenly yanked away.


Peter falls backward and catches himself on the back of the booth, eyes wide as Ethan is dragged out across the seat by the back of his shirt and then lifted up by his collar.


“He said no, shitstain,” Peter’s rescuer grates out.


Ethan lifts up his hands. “Hey, some subs say no when they really mean yes, it’s not my fault if I get a little confused sometimes-”


He gets backhanded viciously for those words, and Peter jumps as the sound of flesh on flesh rings out.


“No means no, unless there’s a safeword worked out, and something tells me you didn’t bother to ask him, now get the fuck out of here before I make it so you can’t lay your stinking molesting hands on anybody else ever again, and by that I mean I’ll saw them off with a plastic spork and force feed them to you,” the guy growls low, and Peter has to strain to hear his words over the bass of the music.


Ethan stumbles as he’s let go, and he backs away, hand held up to his already bruising cheek. “Fuck, you’re a psycho man, you can have the little whore if that’s what you want so bad, fucking hell,” and he hurries away, leaving his drink behind.


Peter watches him go, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.


“Hey, you okay there?”


Blinking, Peter looks up at the guy who got rid of his would be molester, eyes trying to see under the drawn up black hood of his hoodie, but the clubs lighting is too dim. He’s a huge guy though, with wide shoulders, a massive chest and thick muscular thighs straining at the seams of his jeans. If Peter stood up to his full height, he’s pretty sure this guy would be almost a foot taller than him.


“Um, yeah, thank you-?”


“Wade, but I also answer to fuckhead, number one Golden Girls fan, the taco destroyer and saviour of twinks.”


Peter laughs a little. “I’m Peter. Um, thank you for that, he really wouldn’t go away.”


“Yeah, guy’s a massive dickwad. I’ve been waiting for an excuse to slap the shit out that sorry excuse for a Dom for a while now, but honestly I don’t think you could ever rid him of the sheer amount of shit he houses in his rat brain. But Debbie’s the one who sent me over, so you should probably thank her instead.” Wade throws a thumb over his shoulder at the bartender, who waves at Peter, looking relieved.


Peter waves back, smiling. She gives him a thumbs up and then goes back to serving a customer. The club has started to get a bit busier, and someone is setting up something on one of the stages.


“Did you want me to call somebody to come and get you?”


Peter shakes his head. “Nah, I’m cool, now that Mr Bad Touch is gone. I’ll buy you a drink, to say thanks.”


Wade sits down next to him and picks up Ethan’s abandoned drink, throwing it back in one go. Peter watches him with wide eyes. “No need, baby boy, I’ve got one right here. And anyway, you don’t look old enough to be buying anyone a drink, let alone be in here.”


“I’m twenty one! You can check my ID if you really want to,” Peter frowns.


“Uh huh, and I’m the god fearing white robe wearing bloody pope,” Wade says. “How old are you really?”


“Old enough,” Peter mutters, and Wade grabs his drink off him before Peter can grab it, and downs it in one go as well. Peter’s mouth drops open.


“Baby, you do not want to do that in here. Something unsavoury might fly into that pretty mouth of yours.”


Peter clicks his mouth shut, face burning, and Wade chuckles at him.


“Yeah, you don’t belong in here, baby boy. Come on, I’m getting you out of here.”


“No way,” Peter crosses his arms. “I can be in here if I want. You can’t make me leave.”


If Wade didn’t have his hood up, Peter’s pretty sure he would be seeing an eyebrow raise. “Oh, really? Well then, if you’re so keen to stay, how about we do a floor show? You sub, right? How about I warm up your cute butt with a little spanking before I get the good old cat ‘o nine tails out and whip you until you scream for your momma?”


Peter’s pretty sure his face can’t get any redder. “That’s not- I don’t-”


“Oh, you don’t sub? That’s cool, I switch every now and then. How about you put me over that breeding bench and stuff me full of those rainbow anal beads, they’ll look real pretty paired with my favourite cock cage.”


Okay, now Peter’s sure that his face can’t get any redder. “I only came in here to learn about this stuff, okay? My friend told me about this place, and it looked safe.”


“This isn’t a place that you come to with no experience, sweetcheeks,” Wade sighs. Peter eyes up the breath of his shoulders, the size of his hands on the table. Takes a deep breath, and bolsters up some courage. He’s come this far already.


“Well, will you teach me then?”




Peter clears his throat, and leans closer to Wade. Unlike Ethan, he doesn’t smell like expensive cologne, but like laundry detergent and something naturally deep. His fingers quiver a little as he lightly touches Wade’s arm, marvelling at the hardness underneath the cloth.


“Will you teach me? About how to- how to be a sub?”


Wade’s quiet for a second, and Peter’s sure he’s going to refuse.


“You don’t even know me,” Wade’s voice is quiet, and Peter has to lean in further to hear it. “And trust me, once you get to know me, you’ll be running for the hills, screaming bloody murder and trying to wash your eyes with bleach, it’s happened before, and I can’t have that, they’re far too pretty to be ruined by me.”


It’s Peter’s turn to say, “What? I don’t- I’m not going to do that. And I do know you enough. Your name is Wade, you’ll respect me if I say no, and I like you.” And my Spidey-senses aren’t going off, so I know you’re safe.


Wade’s hands tighten on the table in front of him, and then suddenly he’s pulling down his hood and staring Peter right in the face.


“How about now, huh? Still like me?”


He’s bald, and has no eyebrows. And from what Peter can see in the dim club lights, covered entirely in thick, twisted scars. But it’s not revolting, or even horrible. Sure, it’s not pretty, but to tell the truth, Peter doesn’t really mind. His bone structure is lovely, with a strong nose and jaw and high cheekbones, and his eyes are beautiful, brown, and full of certainty that Peter’s going to turn away in disgust.


Peter doesn’t.


He looks Wade right in the eye, and smiles. “Yeah, still like you.”


Wade physically reels back. “Are you- are you blind ? Can you see me properly in this shit awful light? I look like something a cat ate, shat out, ate again and then chucked up, and then shat on just for kicks.”


“I know what that looks like, and you look a lot better than that,” Peter says.


“Prove it,” Wade leans back, his face stony. “Kiss me, and don’t vomit. Then I’ll believe you.”


Face heating, but determined, Peter gets up on his knees and carefully brackets Wade’s face in his hands. His skin is textured and warm, not unpleasant at all, and his eyes are wide in shock as Peter leans in and presses his lips to Wade’s.


Peter’s kissed people before. He knows how to angle his face so their noses don’t bump, and when Wade doesn’t start to kiss back, playfully nips on Wade’s lower lip.


Wade makes a low sound in his chest and then he’s pulling Peter over and onto his lap, making Peter straddle his thighs as he opens his mouth and tangles his tongue with Peter’s. He kisses like a hurricane, powerful and unstoppable, and Peter whimpers into it, going pliant in Wade’s hold as the man grabs a handful of his hair to manipulate his head how he wants it.


The kiss lasts long enough for Peter’s lips and jaw to start feeling sore, but he doesn’t want it to end. It’s hot and wet and Wade’s so domineering, licking every nook and cranny in his mouth and biting at his lips until they’re swollen. The hand in Peter’s hair tugs lightly, and the small pain on his scalp makes Peter whine quietly in surprised desire.


But it has to end, and Wade reluctantly pulls away with a gasp, a line of saliva linking their mouths together for a second until it breaks. Peter whimpers helplessly, wavering forward, eyes locked on Wade’s wonderful lips.


But the hand in his hair doesn’t let him lean forward for another kiss, tugging his head backwards none too gently and making him lift his chin, baring his throat.


Peter stays relaxed in Wade’s hold, pulse racing. He looks down his nose at the man, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as he struggles to maintain eye contact with the angle Wade has forced him into. Wade’s solid and hot between his thighs, his other arm tight around Peter’s waist, caging him in. But Peter doesn’t feel trapped. He feels turned on beyond belief.


“Fuck,” Wade bites out. “You’re too fucking perfect to be true. What the hell was in those drinks? I must be higher than that time I got my icing sugar and cocaine mixed up and baked two dozen cupcakes and ate them all in an hour. Really hammered home the lesson to not store your baking supplies and your extracurriculars all on one shelf.”


“Pretty sure I’m not a hallucination,” Peter says. “Well, last time I checked, anyway.”


Wade huffs a laugh, and then kisses him again. Without hesitation Peter melts into it, but before things can get hot and heavy, Wade pulls back.


“Okay, before we do this, we have to get a few things straight. No lies, or you’re out of here like a bald man. How old are you, really?”


Peter pouts. “Nineteen. That’s the truth, I swear.”


Wade searches his eyes, then nods.


“Are you a virgin?”


Peter flushes bright red and tries to look away, but Wade grabs his chin and forces him to maintain eye contact. He raises an eyebrow, expectant.


Embarrassed, Peter nods.


“Words, Peter. If I ask a question, I expect you to answer with words, unless you have something else occupying your pretty mouth and you have to answer in other ways. Am I clear?”


His words are hard and send a fissure of desire down Peter’s spine. “Yes. To both of your questions.”


Wade takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second. “Goddamn, you’re going to kill me in the sweetest way I’ve ever gone, Odin take me now. Okay, do you have a safeword?”


“Nope,” Peter hopes it isn’t a deterrent, but Wade just takes it in stride.


“That’s fine, we can use the traffic light system. Green for go, orange for slow your roll, and red for back the fuck up and stop. Do you understand?”


Peter nods, catches himself, and says, “yes.”


“Repeat it, so I know you know. I ain’t taking no chances.”


“Green for go, orange for slow your roll, and red for back the fuck up and stop.” Peter parrots.


“Good boy,” Wade hums, and Peter shivers at how those words make him feel. He wants Wade to call him a good boy for forever and ever.


Wade pulls him closer, so Peter is plastered up against his chest and straddled over his crotch, and Peter can feel all his huge muscles and equally massive erection poking up into his butt.


“Oh,” he gasps, draping his arms around Wade’s neck and clinging. His own erection pushes against Wade’s rock hard stomach and he stops himself from rolling his hips into it.


“Any hard nos?”


“Um, nothing to do with excrement or blood, nothing to do with infant play, uh, nothing that will break my skin, scar or break bones, light bruises are fine, no blindfolds, and I’m not really sure about like, whips and toys and stuff, but maybe I want to try them?” Peter can’t think of anything else at the moment.


“That’s good enough for now, we can have a proper conversation about that shit later if you want to continue. And I won’t use any toys tonight, just me and maybe some constraints, if that’s okay? Something light and not too scary. Anything you really, really want to try?”


Peter bites his lip and is pleased when Wade’s eyes drop down to the action. He’s embarrassed to confess, but he’s basically said yes to a D/s relationship, at least for tonight, he should just go hard, because he’s not going to be going home. Well, at least not without Wade. Hopefully.


“Constraints are definitely okay. Um, I think I like to be held down, and, um, hurt, even if I say no,” he whispers, and it feels shameful but good to say it. Thankfully, Wade seems to have heard him.


“Uh huh,” Wade growls, “I could tell you liked how much bigger I am than you, you couldn’t stop staring at my shoulders and arms before. You like how I could hold you down even if you struggled with everything in your tight little body, huh? Slap you around and force you to open your legs for me even if you cried for me to stop?”


The words tug at his stomach like they have a direct line to his dick and Peter whimpers helplessly, hips stuttering. Oh god, he’s so turned on he could burst, and he’s currently in the back of a kink club on top of a guy’s lap that he’s just met, being whispered dirty things in full view of everybody in here.


“Please,” he gasps, “please, please, Wade-”


“Okay, yeah, we’re getting out of here, no way am I deflowering you in one of the back rooms, you deserve so much better than that baby boy, I’m gonna get you on my thousand thread count egyptian cotton sheets and treat you so fucking nicely, well, as fucking badly as you want me to, how does that sound?”


“God, yes, please,” Peter groans, and they kiss one more time, hot and wet and desperate, before Wade gets them out of the booth and walking towards the front door. The club is fuller now, bodies on the floor and up on the stages doing filthy acts, but Peter still manages to grab a glimpse of Debbie behind the bar throwing Wade a thumbs up and a saucy wink.


Wade keeps Peter tight to his side as they stumble out of the club, drawing his hood up as they hit the street, hand a hot brand around Peter’s wrist. It doesn’t take long for Wade to call up a taxi and for them to tumble into the backseat, and for Wade to give the driver, Dopinder, an address.


It’s almost torture for them to not touch, but Dopinder doesn’t seem to mind that they give up only a few minutes into the ride, Peter climbing into Wade’s lap again and kissing him desperately.


“I can tell you’re going to be a spoiled little brat already,” Wade growls into his mouth, and Peter wriggles naughtily in his lap. In retaliation Wade yanks his head back by his hair and attacks his throat with his mouth, but really, it’s more of a treat to Peter than a punishment as Wade greedily sucks dark marks into his skin.


Wade, weirdly enough, pays Dopinder with a crisp high five, and then they’re out of the cab and into an apartment building, making a beeline for the lift.


Peter tries to get back into Wade’s arms inside the lift, but Wade keeps him at an arms length, his hood still drawn up so Peter can’t see his face.


“No, baby boy, fuck knows I want to get my greedy little hands on your perfect bouncy little toosh, but I can’t get kicked out of this apartment building, it’s like the last nice place that will let me in, stay over there in the corner.”


And Peter doesn’t want to, but Wade wants him to, and that’s important. He wants to be good for Wade so bad.


He can almost hear Aunt May, or Mister Stark, yelling in his ear about how this is such a bad idea, going back to a stranger’s place to get slapped around and fucked in his bed, but Peter’s an adult now, and for fuck’s sake, he’s Spider-Man. He could probably overpower Wade if he really wanted to and escape if things go sideways, but his Spidey-senses are saying everything’s all good. And Peter’s not going to stop now just because of his imaginary parental figures yelling in his ear.


The ride up to Wade’s apartment is the longest lift ride Peter’s ever experienced, and he almost cries in relief when the bell dings and the doors open to the penthouse apartment. Wade directs him into the bedroom, and Peter doesn’t even have time to gawp at the view of the New York skyline or the massive room before Wade’s picking him up and laying him out across his sheets. The one detail that Peter notices however are the dark red ropes twined around the metal bars of Wade’s headboard.


Peter expects Wade to climb on top of him, but the man just steps back and stares at him, dropping his hood back down so Peter can see his face. His expression is lustful, but hard, his scars stark even in the dim light.


“Strip,” he commands.


Peter hesitates, suddenly unsure, but Wade barks out the word again, and Peter is suddenly in a rush to get naked, yanking his long sleeved shirt over his head, struggling out of his beat up vans and socks and wriggling out of his tight jeans. He sits for a second, thumbs on the waistband of his boxers, and looks up at Wade.


Wade stares right back, his brown eyes dark and liquid. “Go on, babydoll. I want to see you.”


Peter quivers at the pet name, and pulls his boxers off, throwing them off the side of the bed. Bare, he’s suddenly shy, curling around his nudity, but there’s something exciting in the fact that he’s naked and vulnerable while Wade is still fully clothed and watching him like a hawk. His dick drools up against his stomach, flushed red and swollen.


Wade’s aroused too, if the massive bulge at the front of his pants is any indication. He adjusts it absently as he watches Peter shiver quietly on the bed.


“Don’t hide all that pretty body, sweetling, lay back and spread your legs, arms above your head.”


Face burning, Peter quietly does as Wade bids him to, squeezing his eyes shut as he lies on his back, lifting his arms above his head and spreading his thighs for Wade to look at him.


Everything is quiet except for Wade’s and Peter’s heavy breathing, and Peter almost shuts his legs before the bed dips between them and fingers brush up his thighs.


Gasping, he opens his eyes, and there Wade is, still fully clothed and kneeling up between his thighs, looking at him hungrily.


“You’re so fucking beautiful, baby, look at you, all laid out like a Christmas dinner, I’m going to fucking devour you,” he brushes his fingers up over Peter’s stomach, and Peter squirms, licking his lips.


“Colour?” Wade asks.


“Green, so green,” Peter gasps out, and Wade grins like a shark.


“Good boy,” he purrs, and then he’s grabbing Peter and flipping him over onto his stomach, yanking his head back by his hair and grabbing one of his wrists, pinning his arm behind his back.


Surprised, Peter can’t help but yell out, and he struggles in Wade’s hold. “No, no-”


“Still green?” Wade breathes in his ear, and Peter nods, then cries out as Wade spanks him, “words, baby, words.”


“Yes, yes, green!” Peter cries out, and then shrieks as Wade knocks his thighs apart and gets between them, jamming his clothed dick up against Peter’s arse. He grinds there, holding Peter down, as Peter scrabbles for something to grab with his free hand.


“Please, please,” Peter’s begging, and Wade yanks on his hair even harder, making him whine from the delicious pain.


“Please what, baby? Don’t do this?” He grinds harder into Peter, making Peter yelp as his own erection is ground into the mattress below him harshly.


“No, please,” Peter cries, and then Wade is flipping him over again. Peter scrabbles at his arms, but Wade gets him by the throat and pins him down again, grabbing one of his wrists as he struggles. He wrestles Peter’s arm above his head and binds his wrist to the headboard with the rope already there.


Peter knows he could easily break out of the flimsy bond, but he doesn’t want to, even as he still wriggles madly in Wade’s hold, trying and failing to stop Wade from tying his other wrist above his head.


“Stop, please,” he begs as Wade yanks his head back and licks a hot, wet stripe down his already marked up neck. He tries to kick out with his legs, but Wade’s between his thighs and he can’t get his feet around to his chest to kick him off.


“Green?” Wade checks in again, pausing with his mouth above Peter’s nipple.


“Yes, yes, green,” Peter moans.


“Okay, I’m not going to ask again, baby boy, if something makes you uncomfortable you say orange, if you want me to stop, you say red, yeah?”


“Yeah,” Peter nods desperately, and then yells out as Wade bites down on his nipple, twisting the other nub with his gloved fingers. His other hand smoothes down Peter’s stomach and grabs at his drooling dick.


His grip is almost too tight, and Peter bucks his hips as he begins to cry, tears leaking down the sides of his face. “No, let me go, stop, please, it hurts!”


Wade pulls off his swollen nipple, blowing on it and making Peter squirm.


“You keep saying stop, but your pretty dick is telling a different story, isn’t it? Are you so much of a whore that your body says yes even if you don’t want me to fuck you?”


“I’m not a whore,” Peter sobs, and then arches as Wade strokes his dick once, twice, milking more precum from him. “Please, stop, oh god.”


“Go on, taste yourself, you little slut,” Wade holds up his wet glove to Peter’s mouth, and given the chance Peter gets his teeth around Wade’s fingers and bites, but not too hard.


Yelling in rage, Wade slaps him around the face, and Peter gasps, his dick jumping as he sees stars. In all honesty the hit is hardly enough to leave a red mark, but it’s the idea behind it that makes Peter whine quietly in delight.


“You little shit,” Wade grates out, “I’ll fucking teach you not to bite, you’ll be wishing you didn’t do that while I’m fucking the life out of you.”


Dazed, Peter can’t do much as Wade yanks his gloves off, revealing just as scarred hands, and grabs lube and a condom off of the night stand. He drops the condom packet onto the sheets, slicks three of his fingers with the lube, and reaches down between Peter’s thighs where nobody has ever been before.


At the first touch to his hole Peter cries out and renews his struggles, whimpering as more tears spill out over his eyelashes. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I won’t bite you again, please don’t, please don’t touch me there-”


Despite his pleading and struggling, Wade pins him down with a huge hand on his stomach and sinks the first finger into him.


Peter wails, arching his back at the intrusion, and tugs, futile, against the restains on his wrists. He gazes tearfully up at Wade, pleading with his eyes as Wade wriggles the finger around in him, loosening him up. It’s a weird feeling, but a good one, and then Wade crooks his finger and hits a spot and Peter gasps, stiff thighs going limp and falling open willingly as his dick jumps.


“There we go, the magic little sweet spot,” Wade grins, and goes for Peter’s bared neck again, sinking his teeth into Peter’s flesh as he gets another finger into Peter.


Eyes wide, Peter moans as he stretched further, Wade’s thick, scarred fingers brushing up against his insides. His whimpers are less in protest now and more in pleasure as Wade pumps in and out of him, and he even tilts his hips to help Wade’s third finger slip into him.


“Now you show your true colours, huh, baby? All reluctant before, but you get something in you and you go quiet, you really are a little slut,” Wade pulls his fingers out and unzips his pants, pulling his huge dick out.


Peter stares down at it, wide eyed, as Wade pulls the condom on and drizzles a huge amount of lube over himself, fisting his cock to spread the slick evenly. It’s massive and scarred as well, with a thick vein running down the underside that Peter kind of really wants to get his mouth on. But he’s also super apprehensive; there’s no way that that is going to fit inside of him. It’s thicker than his own damn wrist.


Wade starts to guide it between Peter’s thighs, and Peter freaks out, trying to twist away, “no, no, please don’t- I’ll do anything, please don’t fuck me-”


But really, he really, really wants Wade to force himself inside him, stretch Peter to his limit and ruin him for anything or anybody else.


In opposition to his earlier words, Wade asks, “colour?” again, and Peter doesn’t hesitate letting “green,” fall from his lips, even as his struggles increase.


Grunting, Wade hits him around the face again, and Peter cries out, tears splashing against the pillow. The hit sends white pleasure searing through his bloodstream, dazing him again for a short while, long enough for Wade to hitch his hips up and press the spongy head of his cock against Peter’s reluctant entrance.


“Here we go, maximum effort,” Wade thrusts sharply, and Peter’s eyes pop open, back arching as Wade forces his way into his body, toes curling at the mixture of pleasure and pain as inch and inch of Wade’s cock spreads him wide.


“No, no, stop,” he pants, and Wade does pause for a second, letting him get used to the intrusion, before beginning to roll his hips, forcing the last few inches of his cock into Peter’s small body.


Peter moans, and begins to roll his hips along with Wade’s, squeezing his eyes shut as Wade’s cock drags against his insides, sparking pleasure up his spine and across his skin. Peter throws his head back as Wade shifts and hits his prostate, keening high to the ceiling.


“Beautiful,” Wade breathes, grabbing his hips and keeping them at the angle best to jab his sweet spot over and over, and Peter’s begging, screaming for Wade to please let him come.


“If you come I’m not going to stop honey,” Wade places a hand over Peter’s stomach, pushing down and making Peter sob from the pressure, Wade’s dick taking up so much space inside of him. He feels like his internal organs are getting shoved out of the way, making room for Wade inside of him. “I’m going to keep fucking you even if you beg me not to, even if you’re sore and oversensitive and overstimulated. I’m going to push you to the edge, baby boy.”


Eyelids fluttering and toes curling, Peter doesn’t want anything less than that. “Please,” he manages to pant, and it’s all he can get out before Wade’s grabbing his dick and stripping it roughly.


His orgasm builds so quickly, winding tightly in his stomach and balls and making his fingers tingle, and all of a sudden Peter doesn’t want the feeling to end. “No, no, no,” he gasps out, but Wade leans down and pinches one of his nipples tightly.


“Come, now,” he commands in Peter’s ear, and Peter can’t do anything else but that.


Back arching, Peter yells soundlessly as he pulses cum over Wade’s palm. The man keeps fucking him through his orgasm, nailing his prostate and groaning quietly in Peter’s neck as the boy’s insides ripple around his cock.


It feels like it lasts an age, and when Peter finally collapses back into the sheets, boneless and exhausted, he whines and wriggles his hips weakly, trying to get away from the cock still spearing him.


“Nuh uh,” Wade pins him down so he can’t move and grabs his cheek, smearing Peter’s own cum over his face, mixing his seed with his tears. “You lie back and take it like a good boy, baby, let me have my fun.”


Wordless, Peter lets his eyes flutter closed, tearing still leaking, and bites his lip, letting his head fall back as Wade starts up his ruthless pace again, fucking into his loose and pliant body.


Peter’s wrists are sore from where they’re bound to the headboard, but he oddly doesn’t mind, and when Wade grabs his thighs and pushes his legs up over his shoulders he just crosses his ankles behind Wade’s neck and lets Wade do what he wants. He feels almost like a possession, something only for Wade to carelessly fuck and arrange how he pleases, but he likes it. It makes him feel secure and treasured and floaty, because Wade is going to take care of him, because he’s Wade’s.


If it’s even possible, Wade begins to thrust more roughly, pace stuttering, and Peter absently notes that the man’s breathing has gotten ragged. He’s going to come soon, Peter thinks, and he wants it so bad. He wants Wade to come inside him, to draw all the pleasure he can out of Peter’s body, no matter that Peter’s ruined and covered in his own cum and sweat and can’t even meet his thrusts with his hips.


“Baby, fuck,” Wade grits out between his teeth and places his hand over Peter’s throat, squeezing only lightly, not getting anywhere near cutting Peter’s air supply off. Peter bares his neck to him, small “uhs” falling from his lips as his body is jolted by the power of Wade’s thrusts. “You’re so good for me Peter, so fucking good,” and then Wade is coming.


His dick pulses in Peter’s body, spilling into the condom, and Peter manages to open his eyes a crack to watch Wade’s expression through his eyelashes as he orgasms. He looks almost pained, sweat shining on his twisted skin, and Peter is transfixed. He’s gorgeous.


Finally, Wade collapses down over Peter’s body. He’s heavy and almost unbearably hot even though his clothes, but Peter doesn’t mind. He smiles dopily and brushes a kiss over the shell of Wade’s ear.


The touch seems to bring Wade out of his stupor, and he quickly sits up, looking Peter in the eyes worriedly.


“Hey, are you alright?”


Smiling, Peter just nods, and then hisses a little when Wade shifts and his dick, only beginning to soften, moves inside his sore hole.


“Shit, sorry, I’m gonna try pull out as painlessly for you as possible.” And Wade eases out slowly, Peter making a face only from the strange feeling of emptiness he leaves. He’s sore, yeah, but nothing too bad.


Wade also unties his wrists from the headboard, massaging them to help with returning blood flow, murmuring praise as he does so. Peter just remains docile and quiet, not able to find words quite yet.


“You did so well, baby boy, so amazingly good, you were perfect for me.” The words wash over him as Wade carefully wipes the cum off his face and the lube from between his thighs with the corner of the sheets, checking quickly for blood and heaving a sigh of relief when he doesn’t find any. He then holds up a glass of water from the bedside table to Peter’s lips, urging him to drink. Peter’s not that thirsty, but he sips anyway because Wade wants him to, and he suddenly finds himself parched. He drinks the entire glass.


“Good boy,” Wade praises, and Peter’s eyelashes flutter in floaty pleasure. He wants Wade to call him that everyday of every week of every month of every year.


Only after Wade’s made sure Peter is comfortable and cosy does he pull off the condom and tie it, throwing it cleanly into the trash next to a big mahogany desk. He settles his big body down next to Peter, drawing him into his arms and carefully petting Peter’s hair until Peter manages to come out of his daze.


“Wade?” He croaks.


“Yeah, baby boy? What do you need? More water? Some food? More blankets? A soft toy? I can get you a plushie, just name it.”


“I kinda want a chocolate milkshake,” Peter says without thinking. “Oh, um, what I meant to say was thank you. That was- that was amazing.” The words don’t really do what Wade had just done to him justice. Peter had never felt so high on endorphins in his life, and that includes the first time he’d taken a dive off the Empire State building and swung up on a web moments before he hit the pavement.


“I can get you that. But no, really, thank you, Peter. You were perfect, you weren’t shy about what you wanted, you answered every one of my questions, you went down under my hands so fucking magically, you took everything I gave you so well, you’re a wonder, you’re so fucking beautiful, fuck, I just wanna keep you here with me in my bed forever.”


Flushing happily, Peter rubs his cheek into Wade’s neck. “Doesn’t sound too bad to me.”


Wade actually ends up ordering milkshakes and fries and gets them delivered to his door. He’s reluctant to leave Peter alone in his bed to collect the delivery, but Peter ushers him out and regrets it almost instantly, feeling cold and bereft even if it takes almost a mere thirty seconds for Wade to run to the door, pay the delivery boy and jump back into bed. Thank god he still had his clothes on, even though they must be sweaty as fuck, otherwise the poor guy would be getting an eyeful.


To make up for leaving Peter alone Wade feeds him perfectly greasy fries from his fingers and stares transfixed as Peter shyly licks them clean with his pink tongue.


“Stay the night?” Wade asks as Peter swallows the last of his milkshake.


Smiling, Peter nods, and offers his mouth up as Wade laughs happily and swoops down to kiss him.


Peter stays the night, most of the next day, and only leaves when it becomes absolutely necessary for him to. He walks out of Wade’s building with a huge smile on his face, a limp to his step, rope burns around his wrists, bite marks vivid on his neck and Wade’s number programmed into his phone.


He feels lighter than he’s ever felt before.


Chapter Text

“Ned, help me ,” Peter begs, holding up a shirt to his body and scrutinizing himself in the mirror.


Ned just crunches on another potato chip from his place on Peter’s bed. “I dunno what you want me to do, Peter. Look at me, do I look like a fashion icon?”


Making a face, Peter dumps the shirt on the floor. It joins a rather large, teetering pile of shirts and pants and socks and jackets already there. “You don’t have to be a fashion icon! You just have to have an opinion. I’m meeting Wade in an hour and I still don’t know what to wear! I don’t even know why I’m freaking out about this! I never freak out about clothes!” Honestly, he’s close to tearing his hair out.


Ned shrugs. “Uh. The blue one?”


“The blue what one? Half my clothes are blue, Ned!”


Another chip is crunched on. Peter eyes the bag of barbeque flavoured potato chips like he can eviscerate it. He wants to eviscerate it. He’s so stressed about this and Ned is just eating snacks like the world isn’t going to come down around his ears because Peter can’t decide what to wear because he wants to look good for Wade but he also doesn’t want to look like an idiot because he doesn’t understand what colours go with what and what shoes go with which style of pants!


“Uhhh, the nice one blue one?”


Peter throws his hands up. “That’s it, I’m calling MJ.”


MJ, when she arrives, just laughs in his face. Then hits Ned across the back of his head when he has the gall to laugh as well, rummages through Peter’s pile of clothes, squints hard at a few things and finally hands him a couple items of clothing.


“Here. Tight jeans to show off your butt, but a loose top so you don’t look like a hoe twink. Wear your converse, because that’s just who you are, and your BB-8 socks because he has to know you’re already a massive nerd and they’re endearing.”


Peter almost tears up in thankfulness. “MJ, you’re a goddess. Thank you .”


She just flips her hair and yanks the bag of potato chips out of Ned’s hands. “I know. Now go get changed so I can admire my masterpiece.”


Peter comes back into his dorm room from the bathrooms down the hall, tugging up the neckline of the loose long sleeved shirt. “MJ, I dunno, you can see- you can see bruises. ” His face is bright red. The marks Wade have left on him are stark and on display, dark against the paleness of his neck.


“That’s the point , duh , he’s obviously the kind of guy that likes seeing that shit,” MJ gets up and slaps his hands away. “Now, just-” she tucks in the front of his shirt, muttering, “French tuck, thank you Queer Eye,” and then messes his hair up, running her fingers through his curls. She steps back and cocks her head.


“Gimme one sec,” she goes to her bag and searches through it, pulling a little tube out triumphantly.


Peter eyes it dubiously. “MJ, I don’t know-”


“Trust me, Peter, it’ll work. Now hold still ,” she carefully smears gloss over his lips. It smells sweet and faintly fruity, and when she pulls back and Peter runs his tongue over it, curious, it tastes like cherries.


MJ steps back. “I’m a genius. Tell me I’m a genius, Ned.”


Ned looks up from his phone. “You’re a genius. Wait, why are you a genius- oh.” He blinks at Peter, who flushes. “Wow, Peter. You’re like, hot.”


“Uh,” Peter squeaks. It’s nice of Ned to say that, but it’s also kind of weird. Does he want his best friend to think he’s hot? Is Ned just being nice?


“Of course he’s hot, you idiot, look at him. Oh shit, you’re going to be late, come on,” she hands him a jacket and the tube of gloss as he stuffs his wallet into the pocket of his tight dark blue jeans.


“Thank you, MJ, I owe you one,” he says as he’s halfway out the door. “Bye, Ned!”


“See ya!” Ned shouts after him.


“Go get lucky, and I’ll consider your debt paid!” MJ cackles and Peter puts his burning face in his hands as he jogs down the hallway.




Peter practically sprints into the park, puffing as he checks his phone. He’s only seven minutes late, but it’s still late and not on time. Looking up, he peers frantically around for a familiar form, hoping that Wade is still around. Seven minutes isn’t that long to wait, right?


There. Sitting on a park bench looking down at his phone, is Wade. His hood is drawn up and he has some weird hawaiian flower cap on underneath, shadowing his face, but Peter can recognise those broad shoulders and thick, muscular thighs anywhere. Peter takes a second to drink him in, and then steps forward.


“Wade! I’m so sorry I’m late!”


Wade looks up, and the brightest smile stretches across the ruin of his lips. Peter almost goes weak at the knees; that man has no business looking as handsome as he does.


“Baby boy! Don’t worry ‘bout it, seven minutes in the rain ain’t too long to wait for a pretty ray of sunshine like you.” Wade stands and Peter’s not sure if he should go in for a hug or a kiss or like, a handshake or something? How does one greet the guy who’d taken him home from a kink club, tied Peter to his headboard, slapped him around and fucked him boneless?


“Are you wearing lipgloss?” Wade cups his cheek in a broad palm, his skin warm and dry up against Peter’s face. He’s not wearing gloves today, and Peter loves it.


Flushing pink, Peter nods. “Yeah, um, sorry?”


Wade touches the corner of his lips with a thumb, and his brown eyes are riveted to Peter’s mouth. When he speaks, his voice is like gravel, rough and dark as he leans in to speak into Peter’s ear. “Don’t apologise for art, princess. I can’t wait to see these pretty glossy lips wrapped around my dick. You’ll look so lovely choking and crying as I force it down your throat.”


Peter gulps, his fingers finding their way into the fabric of Wade’s coat. “Oh-” He’s never gotten harder faster before in his life, and he’s currently in a public park. Well, first time for everything, right?


Wade’s lips brush up against the shell of his ear, his thumb smearing Peter’s lipgloss down onto his chin. “And I was totes lying before. I’m going to take those seven minutes you made me wait out of your juicy little butt with my hand, and you’ll struggle and yell and beg me to stop, but you’ll still let me hit you, won’t you babydoll? You want me to hurt you.”


Peter nods, unable to say anything. His mouth has gone drier than the Sahara.


Wade draws back, and Peter whimpers, swaying after his touch.


“Words, Petey-pie, remember? Do you want me to take you back to mine and hurt you so good?”


Peter swallows, “Yes, Wade. Yes.”


Wade grins, but his eyes are still dark. “Good boy.”




Wade catches Peter’s shoulder as he steps past the taller man into his apartment. Blinking, Peter stops at the threshold and looks up at him. “Wade?”


“As soon as this door closes, baby boy, I’m going to start our scene. Is that okay?” Wade’s face, still in the shadow of his hood and cap, is relaxed but serious.


Peter nods slowly, feeling the prickle of anticipation on the back of his arms. His face is already flushing. “Yeah, more than okay, actually,” he smiles shyly.


“Booyah,” Wade grins back, and squeezes his shoulder with his big hand. Peter shivers quietly under the solid grip. “The list you sent me, of things that you’re good with, and things that are big no no’s, anything you want to change?”


Shaking his head, Peter bites his lip, mentally going over the emails they’d sent to each other. “I don’t think so. Some things though, I think I need to try before I really know. Uh, if that’s cool?”


“Of course it is, honey bun. That’s completely normal. Just so you know, we’ll keep this one a little light as well, just me and my hands and my dick. And remember that even if you’ve said yes to something before, you can always change your mind. I won’t get angry if you safeword out, yeah?”


Peter nods again, swaying further into Wade’s space. He wants so bad already, but he understands that this is something that they need to do, communicate everything beforehand so there are no unpleasant surprises. He likes Wade even more because of it. He feels safe, and cared for, like Wade considers his welfare something of utmost importance.


“Your list of things that you won’t do, it was really short,” Peter starts tentatively. “Um, mine was way longer. That’s not going to be, er, I mean, is it not going to annoy you, or anything?”


“Course not, baby boy,” Wade leans down and brushes a light kiss over Peter’s cheek. The touch sends lightning over Peter’s skin and he turns his head, offers his mouth up for a kiss, expectant. Wade chuckles and obliges, leaning down again and kissing him firmly. When he pulls away, his lips are lightly covered in gloss from Peter’s lips. “Just because I don’t mind doing certain things doesn’t mean that I want to do them all the time. I can live without a lot of things, sweetheart. Trust me.”


“I do,” Peter says readily. “I do trust you.”


Wade takes a deep breath, and Peter doesn’t know if the look in his eyes is wonder or disbelief. “Sure thing, Petey-pie,” he rumbles, “thank you.”


Peter smiles, and takes Wade’s hand in his. “Um, one last thing. We’re both, uh, clean. Does that mean we don’t have to use, um, protection?” His voice squeaks a little at the end, but in his defence, he’s still only nineteen. His voice is still deepening, okay!?


“If you don’t want to,” Wade squeezes his hand, and Peter is mildly distracted at how much bigger Wade’s hands are to his. They’re huge, with broad palms and strong, solid fingers. They practically dwarf Peter’s.


“Yeah,” Peter breathes, thinking of Wade filling him up without a condom on. “Yeah, um, I don’t mind if you don’t want to either.”


Wade’s eyes darken, and his smile is slow and predatory. When he speaks, his voice is deep and filthy, and Peter is so glad that the hallway is empty except for them. “I can’t wait to fuck you and fill you with my cum. Watch it drip out of you and push it back in with my tongue, keep it all inside you with a pretty pink butt plug, leave you all stretched out and slick so I can fuck you whenever I want.”


Peter’s mouth drops open, and his pants are suddenly very, very tight. “Oh my god,” he squeaks, tugging on Wade’s hand. “Come on, why are we waiting around out here for then?”


“Brat,” Wade rumbles, but follows Peter through the doorway. They stop just inside, and Wade turns to close the door behind them.


As soon as the lock clicks, Wade commands, “strip.”


Peter blinks at the broad back, and Wade turns around, leans back against the door, pushing his hood off his bald head and crossing his arms over his massive chest. Peter can’t help but eye his biceps as they bulge under his hoodie, feeling saliva gather in his mouth. Wow, he’s such a goner.


“Did you hear me? I said strip.”


Peter jumps at the harsh command and fumbles with his shirt, yanking it over his head and messing up his hair. “Where do I-,” he looks around for somewhere to put it.


“Drop it,” Wade says. “Come on, I don’t have all day.” He taps his foot.


Flushing, Peter drops it on the floor. He fumbles with his jeans as well, only remembering that he needs to take his shoes and socks off first when he gets them around his ankles. When he looks up, embarrassed, Wade is fighting back a fond smile with a stern expression.


Finally getting out of the mess he’s created of his clothes, Peter hooks his thumbs under his boxers and slips them down slowly, stepping out of them and standing naked in Wade’s entrance way. His dick is already at full attention, curving up towards his stomach and flushed rosy red.


After a second of looking him over and making Peter fidget, fighting the urge to cover himself, Wade pushes off from the door and stands in front of him. Peter has to tilt his head back to keep eye contact, and he reaches up for the taller man, making a quiet pleading noise in the back of his throat.


But before he can touch him, Wade grabs him by the throat, pushing him backwards and slamming him up against the wall. Peter gasps and scrabbles at his wrist, whimpering and feeling tears gathering in his eyes as his airflow is restricted.


“Did I say you could touch me?” Wade growls, tightening his grip. Peter shakes his head desperately, choking.


“No,” he manages to wheeze out. “No, I’m sorry-” He coughs weakly, heart beating fast in his chest. His cock twitches against his stomach.


“Yeah, you’re gonna be, Princess,” Wade hits him around the side of the face with an open palm and Peter’s vision goes a little dark, tears dripping down over his hot cheeks as his dick drools a little precum from the sweet pain. Holy shit, he feels like he’s about to come already, and Wade hasn’t even touched him below the waist yet. Wade tightens his grip and Peter whimpers, and just as he thinks he might pass out Wade lets go.


His knees give way and Peter slides down the wall onto the floor, gasping and coughing. A hand in his hair forces him to look up, yanking harshly at the strands and making his scalp sing with pain.


“No, please-” Peter sobs out, tugging at Wade’s wrist to try and make him let go, “stop, it hurts!”


“That’s the idea, baby,” Wade sneers out. “What, did you think that you walking around with makeup on and your neck all marked up wasn’t going to have consequences? If you’re gonna look like a whore, I’m going to treat you like one.”


“I’m- I’m not a whore. Please, stop, I’m sorry,” Peter hiccups.


“Show me how sorry you really are,” Wade undoes the buckle of his belt, unzipping his jeans and yanking his underwear down far enough to expose his erection. He’s just as massive and scarred up as Peter remembers him being, and wow, he can not wait to get his mouth on that. To be honest, he’s not sure if it’s actually going to fit, but damn, he’ll unhinge his fucking jaw if he has to.


“Open up, you little slut,” Wade jabs forward, and Peter plays like he doesn’t want to, turning his face away into the wall and whimpering. He wants Wade to force him. He really, really wants Wade to ruin him, to make him cry and beg and choke on the size of him.


Wade snarls in anger and grips the side of his his jaw, forcing his face back around and prying at his lips with his thumb, smearing cherry lip gloss over Peter’s chin.


“Come on, baby, don’t you want a little taste of daddy?” He growls out, and Peter can’t help but gasp a little at the word daddy . Wade takes the opportunity and yanks Peter’s mouth further open, shoving his hips forward and suddenly Peter has a mouthful of cock for the first time in his life.


Choking, Peter pushes helplessly at Wade’s hips, but the man is a whole lot bigger than him and Peter’s not going to be able to budge him without his Spidey strength. Not actually wanting to, Peter allows Wade to crowd him in against the wall, trapping his head and shoulders against it as he struggles to accommodate his mouth to Wade’s cock.


“Fuck,” Wade punches out, and Peter looks up at him, eyes wet and begging as his jaw starts to ache almost immediately from Wade’s girth. “Baby, okay, if you want me to stop, tap me twice on the thigh, like we agreed if you couldn’t talk, remember?”


Peter definitely remembers, but it’s nice that Wade’s checking in just in case. He nods the best he can with a dick spearing his face, and tries to push Wade away from him again, needing to breathe. But Wade just grabs one of his wrists in one giant hand and slams it up against the wall above his head, leaving the other one free to tap Wade on the thigh if he needs to. “You fucking bite, and you’ll never regret anything else in your life more,” the bigger man growls out, and then Wade grinds forward.


Peter chokes again immediately, tears leaking from his eyes and trying to twist his wrist out of Wade’s unrelenting grip, his other hand holding onto the loose waistband of Wade’s jeans for dear life. Wade just grabs him by the hair and forces Peter’s head still, pushes forward more, past Peter’s gag reflex and into Peter’s throat. Peter can’t do anything but swallow desperately around him, tears streaming down his cheeks.


The taste of Wade is bitter on his tongue, and Peter jaw feels like it will never be the same again, but fuck, does Peter love it. He loves that he’s on the floor on his knees, naked and in tears, and Wade is fully dressed and trapping him up against the wall with his bulk and fucking his face, uncaring if Peter can’t breath or not.


“Fuck, that’s hot,” Wade groans out, using him thumb to smear Peter’s gloss even further. He draws back, and then thrusts forward, banging Peter’s head against the wall and making him choke again, tears dripping down his flushed cheeks. Peter realises he’s not really doing much, and does his best to start sucking, his tongue useless underneath Wade’s dick.


Wade groans and hunches over a little, and Peter stares up at him with big wet eyes, watches his face flush from pleasure. “That’s it, babydoll, fuck, your mouth,” he gasps and starts to fuck Peter’s mouth fervently, and Peter can’t do anything but let him, choking and gasping for breath when he can. Saliva drips down his chin, stringing down onto the carpet between his legs.


The grip on Peter’s wrist gets tighter as Wade gets closer to orgasm, and Peter’s pretty sure he’s going to have a beautiful bruise when they’re done. He closes his eyes and concentrates on sucking and keeping his teeth tucked safely away, uncaring of his own weeping erection right at this moment. All he can think about is Wade’s dick in his mouth, filling him up and wrecking his throat so good.


Just as Peter’s jaw starts to go numb from the strain, Wade’s cock gives a twitch and he yanks out, spurting cum over Peter’s face. Peter gasps for air and whimpers as he feels it drip over the stinging of his slapped cheek and his somehow still glossy lips, and he collapses a little further down the wall. Holy shit, Wade coming on his face is his new favourite thing.


For a few seconds Wade catches his breath, and then he grips Peter’s chin and forces him to look up at him. Cheeks burning from both shame and arousal, Peter blinks his wet eyelashes open.


“You’re a mess, baby boy,” Wade grins toothfully down at him. Peter’s pretty sure he looks ruined, flushed face smeared with tears and cum and chin dripping with saliva from where he couldn’t swallow it. “Are you sorry now, huh?”


Whimpering, Peter nods. “Yes. Yes, Wade, please, no more, I’m sorry,” his voice is raspy and weak, and what he really means is, yes, more .


“I don’t think I’m done yet, you still haven’t gotten your punishment for being a tardy little slut,” Wade yanks his pants back up and zips them up, but leaves the belt undone.


Peter lets his eyes go wide, shakes his head, “no, no, I’m sorry, please stop, I don’t want anymore, I’m sorry!”


Uncaring, Wade yanks him up and pushes him down the hallway. Peter trips over his numb legs but manages to catch himself, and he half stumbles, half runs down the hallway into the lounge in a sorry attempt to get away.


Wade just follows him at a leisurely pace, and as Peter trips again and stumbles into the armrest of the huge leather couch, catches him by the back of the neck and roughly bends him in half over it.


“No!” Peter sobs, trying to kick out, but Wade’s between his thighs and he can’t get to him. He tries to get up on his hands and knees, crawl away, but then there’s an unrelenting hand in his hair, pulling upwards and making his back bow as he gives into the pressure.


“Stop fighting,” Wade grits out, “you deserve this, slut . Isn’t this what you wanted?”


“No,” Peter denies, struggling, scrabbling at the hand in his hair with his nails. “No, let me go, please!”


The only answer is a hard slap to his butt. Peter’s eyes go wide and he yelps, body jolting with the force of it. Wade takes advantage of his sudden shocked stillness and hits him again, even harder, and Peter can’t help the moan that falls from his lips as his arse jiggles with it.


“You like that, huh?” Wade chuckles, and Peter shakes his head, but he can’t deny the fact that his dick, trapped between his stomach and the armrest, is drooling steadily now.


“Please,” he sobs out, and even he doesn’t know if he means to say please more, or please stop, because Wade doesn’t give him a choice, just spanks him again, even harder .


Peter yeowls with the sound of Wade’s hand cracking against his arse, his fingers scrambling for purchase against the leather of Wade’s couch. His butt stings like crazy, and as Wade lays into him with the flat of his palm, holding him down by a hand on the small of his back, a deep ache starts up, something that curls around his balls and the base of his spine, pooling in his stomach and spreading a weird sort of numbness to his limbs. He doesn’t even realise that he stops fighting after a while, just goes limp, sobbing quietly into the leather and smearing tears and half dried cum everywhere.


The spanking stops after a while, Wade giving him one last mighty whack on the bottom curve of his butt. Peter wails with it, sobbing out a wobbly, “I’m sorry!”


A big hand rests on the small of his back, just above the hot aching sting of his freshly spanked arse. “Good boy,” Wade praises, “you took that so well.”


Peter can only sniff quietly in response, taking big, heaving wet breaths. His butt is on fire and his dick feels like it’s going to explode, but he feels almost like he’s floating, warm and pleased and settled from Wade saying that he’d been good for him. That’s all he wants, Wade’s approval.


“How’re you doing, babe? Colour?” Wade asks, and Peter manages to croak out a word.


“Green,” he whimpers, then, “please, please, I need to come. Please let me.”


“Hm,” Wade gently maneuvers him onto his back and slides him down so he’s properly lying on the couch, climbing on afterwards and settling between his thighs. Peter hisses in pain and delight as the sore, hot skin of his butt makes contact with the leather.


“Do you deserve to come?” Wade asks, sliding his hands up Peter’s legs and spreading them further, considering Peter’s painfully red erection and straining balls.


“I don’t- I don’t know,” Peter whines, wanting badly to reach out to Wade but keeping his hands limp beside his head. Wade hadn’t wanted him to touch him without permission. “Please, Wade, oh god, please . I’ll do whatever you want, just please let me come.”


“That’s a pretty dangerous promise, baby boy,” Wade rumbles, lifting Peter’s thighs up and hooking his legs over his shoulders. He pulls out a tube of lube from between the couch cushions, and Peter doesn’t even question it, just bites his lip in anticipation as Wade uncaps it and spreads slick over his fingers.


Wade sees him looking, and grins like a shark. “I already know you’d let me fuck you until you’re crying, sweetheart. What else would you let me do to you?” He sinks the first finger into Peter with no warning, and Peter takes a quick shallow breath, feeling his insides part easily around the digit. It twists inside him, loosening him up for the second finger, which slides in quickly. Wade’s knuckles bump up against the soreness of his butt, but the sensation just heightens the feeling of Wade stretching him out.


“Please,” Peter manages to keen as Wade doesn’t add another finger inside of him immediately. He wriggles his hips impatiently and in retaliation Wade pinches one of his nipples harshly, digging his nails into the delicate flesh. The pain sends a jolt right to his dick and Peter arches his back, squeezing his eyes shut as new frustrated tears form.


“Not so fast, let me take care of you gorgeous,” Wade admonishes. Peter whines but settles, pressing his lips together but unable to stop the twitching of his hips. Wade hasn’t even touched his dick yet. “Christ on a stick, you’re desperate for me, aren’t you?”


Nodding, Peter lets out a relieved moan as Wade finally pushes in another finger, twisting them around and stretching him roughly. When they’re pulled out he whimpers, hips chasing them, but then there’s something else pushing up against his entrance. His eyes pop open and he wriggles his hips, but this time in an effort to move away; Wade is huge .


“No,” he gasps, his fingers digging into his own palms, “Wade, please-”


But Wade just gets his hand around his throat and grunts, pushing into him further, making Peter feel like he’s being split in half, and oh god, the burn hurts but he doesn’t want it to stop.


Wade doesn’t even give him time to adjust, as he bottoms out he just pulls back and then thrusts back in, hitting Peter’s sweet spot dead on. “Fuck, how are you still so tight?”


The pleasure zaps straight up his spine, and Peter has to brace himself up against the armrest above his head, digging his fingers into the leather. “Wade, please,” he moans, toes tingling, clenching around the cock inside of him. He feels every scarred up inch and he’s so fucking glad that Wade isn’t wearing a condom.


“You can come, baby boy, but I’m not going to touch you.”


“No, no,” Peter keens, and then yelps as Wade fucks into him harder, tightening his grip around Peter’s neck. It’s not enough to cut off his air supply, not like before, but it’s a reassuring pressure, keeping Peter down and letting him know that Wade’s in control, that Wade’s got him.


“Yes,” Wade insists, thrusting harder, making Peter’s smaller body jolt with every movement of his hips, nailing his prostate with extreme prejudice everytime. Peter doesn’t have time to argue, all he can do it lie back and take it, gasping with pleasure and feeling tears streak through the mess on his face. Every thrust makes his balls tighten further, and he’s pretty sure there’s a pool of precome on his stomach, steadily growing bigger from the amount of precome his dick is drooling.


“Will you let me dress you up all pretty?” Wade grunts out, his expression one of concentration, his brows drawn together as sweat beads up on his ruined skin. “Get you in a pair of lacy panties, a frilly little dress? Wrap you up tight in a corset so you can hardly breathe, make your tiny waist even more itty bitty?”


Peter nods jerkily, whining in the back of his throat. He’s so close, fuck, he’s going to come without Wade even touching him, just from Wade fucking him ruthlessly, the zip of his jeans biting into the sting of his arse with every thrust.


“Make you daddy’s pretty little baby girl?”


Holy shit . And then Peter’s coming, his back arching and toes curling as he spurts come all over his stomach and chest, mouth dropping open in a silent howl. His fingers tighten on leather and he vaguely hears something rip.


“Fuck,” Wade groans out, “you’re amazing, Peter, fuck,” he swears, and starts slamming into him. The smaller male mewls as his overly sensitive insides are abused, but he just relaxes into the couch, body jolting with every thrust. He feels like he’s floating on a cloud made of endorphins, and he doesn’t want to come down, he just wants to lie under Wade’s body forever, feeling completely owned and taken care of, trusting the bigger man with his body.


Wade leans down, kisses him, and Peter obediently opens his mouth, lets Wade bite at his swollen lips and slide his tongue beside his, keens quietly and happily as Wade groans into his mouth, slams into him one last time and goes rigid.


The cock inside him pulses and Peter distantly feels Wade coming inside of him, slowly grinding his hips into him as he spills deep. Smiles dopily as Wade half collapses onto him, catching himself on his forearms so he doesn’t squish him.


After a few quiet moments a kiss is pressed into his neck, followed by a touch of teeth. Peter shivers, making a quiet noise as Wade sucks a deep mark into the side of his throat. His dick gives a valiant twitch.


Wade pulls off his neck with a pop of his lips unsealing from Peter’s skin. “Well fuck me sideways and call me Aunty Fanny, that was amazing baby boy, top fucking marks.”


At the praise Peter practically purrs, feeling Wade drop one last kiss on the surely massive hickey and then sit up, carefully pulling out of him. Peter doesn’t even feel sore at this point, all he feels is the aftershock, the left over pleasure of a frankly extraordinary orgasm. His limbs are all tingly, and he’s pretty sure if he tried to move, he wouldn’t do any better than a newborn kitten.


But he doesn’t have to. Wade picks him up carefully, and Peter’s kind of distantly aware of being carried into the bathroom, of Wade showering him with praise and petting his sweat dampened hair, wiping his face clean of cum and tears and lip gloss, cleaning his stomach and between his thighs. It’s when he puts Peter down on his stomach on his bed and rubs a soothing cream into the aching hot flesh of his butt that Peter finally figures out how to process things again.


Blinking, he looks over his shoulder at the man frowning down at the redness of his skin, gently rubbing another layer of cream into the warmth there. “Wade?” he murmurs.


Wade looks up and smiles at him. “There you are,” he presses a kiss to the small of Peter’s back. “That was gorgeous, Peter. You were so good for me.”


“You were pretty damn fantastic yourself,” Peter smiles back, and then hisses as Wade rubs a particularly sore spot underneath his left buttock. “Ow,” he mutters, “you have really hard hands, you know.”


“Oh shit, not too hard, I hope,” Wade asks, worried, and he honestly looks so scared that Peter instantly feels terrible.


“No, definitely the good kind of hard,” Peter says, “the best kind. I really like your hands. They’re really hot.”


“I have hot hands,” Wade laughs, but he’s relaxed again, “good to fucking know, ha.” Done with rubbing the cream into Peter’s butt, he crawls up the bed and opens his arms. Peter gratefully falls into them, pulling himself onto Wade’s body and snuggling in, tucking his head under Wade’s chin and quietly marvelling at all the muscles he’s currently lying on. Wow, talk about ripped . He can’t wait until Wade finally gets naked around him. Peter might actually just spontaneously combust.


“Do you want something to drink? Something to eat? I make some mean pancakes. How’s your cute little bubble butt doing? Do you need more cream?” Wade asks, pressing a kiss to the top of Peter’s head. Even if food does sound kind of good, Peter does not want to move at this point. Honestly, he still feels kind of useless, his limbs all loose and wobbly.


“I’m good,” he murmurs, closing his eyes and wriggling a little to get more comfortable. His arse is deliciously sore, inside and out. “And my butt is definitely all good. I’m just gonna lie here for a bit. Um, is there anything you need?”


Wade’s quiet for a second, but then a big hand is rubbing his back. “I’ve got all I need right here, sweetheart.”


Peter is a pile of goo. He sighs, feeling well used and sore and warm inside and out. “Me too.”




“Did you really mean that?” Peter blurts out over tacos later.


Blinking, Wade puts down his huge takeaway cup of Pepsi. “Mean what, baby doll?”


Face flaming, Peter plays with his napkin and looks away. “About making me your, uh, your baby girl .”


“Oh,” Wade clears his throat. “Um. If you want to.”


Biting his lip, Peter looks up from under his lashes. “Yeah. I mean, I kinda feel like we’ve been doing things I’ve wanted, and nothing that you’ve really wanted to do.”


“Believe me, there’s abso-fucking-lutely nothing that I haven’t enjoyed about our extracurricular sessions cupcake,” Wade says, reaching out for him and laying a hand on his knee. “Don’t feel like just because I brought it up and it made you cream your pants in the middle of a scene that you have to do it babe. I never want you to feel pressured, I would rather grate my face off with a cheesegrater.”


“Please don’t, I like your face the way it is.” Peter makes a face. “And I totally wasn’t wearing pants at that point.”


Wade laughs. “Touche, baby boy.”


“But yeah, er, I wouldn’t mind. Dressing up for you,” Peter clarifies, shifting a little in his seat. With his healing factor his butt definitely doesn’t hurt as much as before, but it’s still sore. To be honest, he almost wishes that his healing factor would take a bit of a vacation for a while. He wants to feel the reminder of Wade’s hands on him for a very long time. “I think- I think I kind of like the idea. I liked the lip gloss, anyway.”


“Hot damn, that lip gloss,” Wade looks to the ceiling of his kitchen, where they’re eating dinner at his breakfast bar, and mouths thank you to God. Peter’s still kind of in awe that Wade actually has a breakfast bar , and a penthouse apartment that is like, twenty six times bigger than Peter’s dorm room. He wonders what Wade does for a living, that he can afford a place like this, but then stiffles the question. Wade hasn’t asked anything about him, and he’s not really sure if this relationship kind of allows questions like that. They’re just fucking, they haven’t really discussed anything further than that, and Peter’s kind of afraid to broach the subject. He doesn’t want to face the idea that Wade is only interested in holding him down and fucking him, and not into, well, him.


That line of thought just depresses him, so Peter distracts himself by shoving a taco in his face.


“Next week then, how about Wednesday night? I’ll get everything ready, don’t worry your lovely head about it Petey-pie.”


Peter stops and thinks for a second. He’s got an assignment due Thursday, but he can bang it out and get it handed in early, he’s got nothing else due until the week after that. But Wednesday is four days away. He can’t help but pout. “Not earlier?”


Wade smiles, and he just looks so damn handsome that Peter feels his stomach twist.


“I wish, honey bun, but the gods have not smiled upon me this week, I’ve got some shit to sort out before it hits the fan and sprays it fucking everywhere. And goddamn, I’ve gotta talk to a real class A prick to do it with.”


Peter’s curious, but again, he’s not sure if he can ask. “Okay,” he says, “good luck with the sorting of your shit, I hope it doesn’t stink too much.”


Wade snorts. “Me too, baby boy, me too.”




As Peter leaves, and he’s hugging Wade goodbye at the door, he spots a hand gun shoved in the pot plant sitting just to the left.


He stares at it for a second over Wade’s shoulder, and then draws back, smiling up at Wade. It’s America, people can own guns if they want, it’s not weird that there’s a gun in that pot plant, nope.


“See ya,” he says, going up onto his tippy toes. Even so, Wade has to lean down and meet him halfway for the kiss.


“Bye, baby boy. Be good,” Wade says, stroking his cheek. He leans down again and whispers in Peter’s ear, “and don’t you dare touch yourself without asking me first. And don’t even think about sneaking one past me, pumpkin, I’ll know .”


Shivering, Peter nods obediently. “Yes, Wade, I’ll be good,” he says, almost lets a sir slip past his lips. Wonders if that is something Wade would want him to say, but then decides to bring it up later.


“Go on,” Wade draws back, his brown eyes still dark and full of promise. He slaps Peter lightly on the butt, where Peter’s still sore, and Peter yelps, jumping out the door.


“Meanie,” he sticks his tongue out, and Wade grins brightly at him, wriggling his fingers in goodbye.


“You like it, sweetums,” he says, and yeah, Peter kind of really does.




“Christ, kid, did you get into a fight with a vacuum cleaner or what?”


Peter slaps a hand over the love bite Wade had left on him yesterday night, going bright red. Instead of answering, he just says, “hi, Mr Stark.”


Tony peers at him over his sunglasses. “Well, I hope the vacuum cleaner bought you dinner.”


“Uh, yeah, we had tacos,” Peter mumbles.


“Mmhmm,” Tony grins, “Tacos, is that what the young-uns are calling it these days?”


“I’m not having this conversation with you,” Peter groans, standing up. “Come on, what’s going on? Why am I here? Just because you got a helicopter to bring me here doesn’t mean that I’m going to forgive you for pulling me out of class.”


“Don’t change the subject, young man,” but the billionaire leads Peter through the new Avenger’s facility into what seems like a massive lounge. Thor is sitting up in one of the couches reading what looks like a hair and fashion magazine, making strange faces at the pictures.


This is the first time Peter has been in this room and he gapes, looking up at the massive glass windows and the high ceilings and expensive looking sculptures that he can’t quite figure out what they’re meant to be of, but kind of make him think alien cabbages for some strange reason.


“Don’t drool over the carpet, I just had it cleaned from the big slushie incident, fucking Wilson and Barnes. Anyway, I brought you here because we’ve got a bit of a problem that’s been brought to my attention by a certain red condom.”


Peter looks over at Thor, making a questioning face. A red condom? What even? Thor looks up and grins widely. “Spider-boy!” He booms, standing and devouring the distance between them in three short strides, gathering Peter up in his massive arms and squeezing .


Peter squeaks, going red in the face. Just because he knows now that he doesn’t actually have a crush on Thor doesn’t make this any less embarrassing, and come on, Thor is hot. “Hi, Thor.”


“Put the poor boy down, he’s going to pop,” Tony sighs, collapsing down into one of the sleek couches. “Anyway, this problem requires a certain, um, finesse, that I don’t think our thundery friend here possesses. And before you ask, Natasha and Clint are currently somewhere off the coast of Cape Town, doing God knows what. And I don’t want to know what Steve and Mr Cool Robot arm are up to.”


“I can be sneaky,” Thor grumbles, finally putting Peter down and whacking a pot plant off a side table in the process with a big arm. The pot shatters and dirt goes everywhere.


“Whoops,” Thor says, and Tony puts his face in his hands.


“Exactly,” he says, and Peter makes an apologetic face at Thor, who doesn’t look sad at all to be honest. A little robot whizzes out from somewhere and starts to clean up the mess.


“So, Mr Stark, what can I do for you?” Peter says, excitedly. “I’m ready to kick some butt!”




It turns out that Peter needs to sneak into a high ranking General’s house, and he gets an awesome sleek black new suit to do it. They have to do it tonight, because this is the night when the over the top security system is getting updated, and it’ll be down for five minutes. Otherwise Tony will have to hack the system, and apparently there’s no way of doing that without being noticed, and Tony doesn’t not want anybody to know about what’s happening.


Honestly, sneaking in turns out to be a bit of a let down, he doesn’t get to punch any baddies, but Peter’s happy to help Mr Stark out in any way anyway.


He grabs the documents from the electronically locked drawers after a little bit of off the fly hacking, scans them quickly with one of Mr Stark’s cool tech thingies, and then puts the files back where he found them. He crawls back up the wall, heading towards the window. He only has two minutes before the security system comes back online, which Tony reminds him, again , with a worried few words in his ear.


Peter can’t reply, since he has to be super duper quiet, but he rolls his eyes in his suit.


I saw that!” Tony grumbles, “ you don’t have time to roll your eyes at me, you only have one minute and thirty two seconds on the clock, hurry it up,” and Peter smiles. What a worry wart. Nobody told him that Tony Stark, Iron Man and tech genius billionaire, was such a mum .




A safe distance away from the back online security system, Peter meets Tony in the forest out back. Man, rich people and their massive properties. What did you need a whole forest in your backyard for anyway?


Swinging down from a branch, Peter lands lightly in front of Tony in his Iron Man suit. “Hey, what’s in these documents? I think I should know, since you know, I stole them for you.”


“Nothing that concerns you, kid,” Tony says, snatching the scanner away from him. He stuffs it away in a handy dandy compartment in his suit. “Now come on, we gotta get out of here before-”




Peter blinks, turning around and spotting someone through the trees.


“Shit,” Tony swears, his mask coming back down over his face. “Come on Parker-”


“Hey, there you are Tin can, and oh my gawd , is that Spider-Man?


Something about the voice is familiar, but before Peter can place it Tony grabs him around the waist and takes off.


“Who was that?” Peter shouts over the noise of Tony’s propulsors and the cool night air rushing past. He squints down, and he can just spot a tiny red and black figure between the trees below, waving what looks like a sword up at them.


“Nobody you wanna know, trust me,” Tony says, and Peter pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. Nobody tells him nothing.




And Tony continues to tell him nothing, even when Peter nags and pushes and whines. He gets Peter dropped back off at his dorm at like three in the morning, and Peter falls into bed, grumbling about billionaires who have their heads up their arses.


He checks his phone, just in case, but Wade hasn’t texted him. Sighing, Peter rolls over onto his back, sticks his hand down his pants and thinks he’ll have a quick wank so he can get to sleep quickly, and then freezes before he can touch himself.


Don’t you dare touch yourself without asking me first.


The words reverberate through his head and Peter bites his lip. Pulls his hand out of his pants and rolls onto his stomach, hiding his flushing face in his pillow. Falls asleep thinking about the broadness of Wade’s shoulders, the strength of his hand around his neck, the tilt of his smile.




The first thing Peter thinks is that is a lot of black lace. The second thing is that he’s really glad that he had the forethought to shave everywhere. And he means everywhere . Peter has never scrutinized his balls that much in the mirror before.


He pulls out the dress from the expensive looking velvet bag, holding it up and biting his lip as he looks it over. Is it- is it even going to look good on him? Fuck, he’s going to look ridiculous in this.


There’s more in the bag. He pulls out a weird lacy belt thing with straps and little silver clasps attached to it, and sheer black thigh highs. A lacy sheer black panty follows, and yeah, Peter’s pretty sure his face resembles an overly ripe tomato right at this point.


There’s a knock on the bathroom door. “Do you need any helping hands, cupcake?” It’s Wade.


Jumping, Peter accidentally drops the panties. “No, nope, everything’s all good!” He squeaks.


“If you’re sure,” Wade says. “Take as long as you like, okay? And you really don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, baby boy. I won’t be mad.”


If anything, it makes Peter even more determined. “No, I want to. I won’t be long!”


But yeah, it takes him a while. He has no idea what to do with that weird belt thing, and finally figures it out after a frantic googling session. Turns out it’s a garter belt, and he gets it on over top the panties with a surprisingly small amount of fuss. He pulls on the sheer black thigh highs as well and clips them in, fiddling with the little black satin bows so they sit nicely on the straps.


Taking a deep breath, he looks at himself in the mirror.


“Oh,” he says. Okay, so Peter doesn’t have the best self esteem, and he thinks his body’s alright. He’s got muscle tone, but he’s small for a guy, hardly five foot seven, with slender shoulders and a small waist. The garter belt makes it look even smaller, cinching him in a little, and gives his hips the illusion of more curve. His, uh, package looks strange in the lacy black panties, but also kind of, er, erotic , and he’s even more glad that he’s shaved everywhere, because pubic hair does not belong under the material. The sheer thigh highs soften the muscle tone in his legs a bit, and make them look longer somehow. And all the black against the paleness of his skin makes him look even paler, if that’s possible, but it doesn’t look bad. Turning around in the mirror, he flushes a little at the effect the straps from the garter belt have against the bare skin of his butt; the panties are some weird style that shows off more skin than they cover.


Peter actually feels kind of sexy for the first time in his life. The thought makes the tips of his ears turn red.


“Okay,” he mutters, “easy. Now the dress.”


He pulls it down over his head, feeling the silky material settle easily against his skin. He shivers at the sensation, his nipples pebbling and skin goosebumping. It’s short, and hardly covers his butt, but at least it’s loose, falling around his body, the skirt floaty from sheer layers. Peter doesn’t know if he would be able to take a skin tight dress along with panties and stockings and a garter belt. But yeah, it’s kind of see through. You can definitely see the peaks of his nipples through it.


Looking in the mirror, he hardly recognises himself. He looks- he doesn’t really know. He likes the little red detailing on the hems of the dress, the little red bow around the waistline. Wade has good taste in dresses. Even if he’s in panties and a dress, he’s still undeniably a dude, with his short messy hair and adams apple and square hips. But honestly, the whole effect isn’t that bad.


After a few seconds of fiddling in the mirror Peter looks away, feeling more confident, and goes to the pile of his normal clothes on the floor. Pulls out his cherry lip gloss and another tube. MJ, after he’d admitted to liking the gloss, and Wade definitely liking the gloss, had given him some mascara. Had shown him how to apply it to his lashes, and Peter had only stabbed himself in the eye like five times. But in the end, he’s not going to lie, he doesn’t look half bad in makeup. He hopes Wade will like it.


Taking one final look in the mirror after applying his makeup and making sure that he hasn’t got any black smudges around his eyes, he goes to stand in front of the door. He feels anxious now, doubting whether or not he actually looks good. What if Wade laughs at him? Does he actually want to do this?


“Don’t be a chicken, Parker,” he mutters to himself, and before he can talk himself out of it, opens the door. “Wade?” He calls out tentatively into the bedroom.


“Right here baby-” Wade pops up in the doorway of the bedroom, and his jaw goes slack. He drops something from his hands onto the floor.


Peter goes bright red and tugs nervously at the bottom of the dress. All of a sudden he feels stupid, what the hell is he, a pasty little nerd, doing in lace panties and a dress? He must look ridiculous. He takes a step back into the bathroom, half hiding behind the door frame. “I- I look stupid, I know, I’m sorry-”


“No fucking way,” Wade croaks, and then he’s crossing the room in long strides, crowding into Peter’s space. Taking a shaky breath, Peter tilts his head to look up at him, eyes wide.


“You look-” Wade struggles for a second, gaze roving over Peter’s form greedily, “you look stunning , Peter. Miss Universe ain’t got nothing on you, baby boy, holy shit, I don’t- I can’t even-” His eyes are everywhere all at once, catching on the hemline of the dress that hardly brushes the top of Peter’s thighs, the gap of pale skin between it and his stockings, the little black satin bows that top the little silver clips that glint in the light, up further to the peaks of Peter’s nipples underneath the sheer black material of the dress to his shoulders where the thin straps of the dress have slipped down. “Look at you.”


Peter bites his lip, and Wade zeros in on them, then on his eyelashes, and yeah, if he didn’t look dazed before, he looks stupefied now. Wade licks his lips, clears his throat. “Are you wearing mascara?”


“Um, yeah,” Peter looks away. “Do you- do you like it?”


Wade makes a strangled noise, “do I fucking like it- I think I just came in my pants.”


“Oh,” Peter says, “well, that’s a little disappointing.”


Wade’s expression flits through surprised, amused, and then darkens into something that makes Peter’s stomach twist. “Oh, he’s snarky today, is he?”


“Um,” Peter says, and then squeaks as Wade grabs a handful of his butt and squeezes , tugging him up against his body. Peter stumbles and catches himself against the broad, hard planes of Wade’s chest before he face plants in it, and then yelps again as Wade picks him up with no effort at all. His dick gives an interesting twitch in their panties; Wade manhandling him never fails to get him going.


“Fucknuggets, baby, your arse is a gift from the gods, hot damn,” Wade groans, giving Peter’s butt another hard squeeze, “and in lace it’s like my birthday and christmas and halloween all at once, fucking fireworks going off in my pants like new years, I swear.”


Wade dumps him down on the bed, and Peter squeaks, sprawling out in a mess of lace and silk and bare skin. But Wade doesn’t climb on like Peter expects, just squeezes a stocking clad ankle and goes back and collects what he’d dropped before.


“I got you a gift,” Wade says, and holds out a strip of thick dark blue velvet, a little dark red jewel hanging off of it. “An offering of affection for my boo. It’s not a collar, we’ll get to that later if we get that far, but I couldn’t resist. I could hear it screaming to be wrapped around your pretty little neck all the way from the dildo isle.”


“Wade-” Peter says, mouth falling open. It looks stupid expensive. Is that a fucking ruby? And wow, his mind is tripping over the word collar falling from Wade’s lips.


“Sit up,” Wade says, and Peter scrambles up, lifting his chin so Wade can secure the choker around his neck. It fits perfectly, like everything else Wade had bought, and Peter can feel the little gem resting in the hollow of his throat, cool but steadily warming up to his body temperature.


“Perfect,” Wade breathes, pulling back. Peter makes a quiet noise at the praise, feeling his cheeks flush, and closes his eyes as Wade leans down and kisses him. It’s wet, and hot, and Wade bears down on him, a huge, muscular mass that presses him back into the sheets, gets between his thighs.


When Wade pulls back he’s breathing heavily, and his pupils are massive, the brown almost all swallowed up. There’s lip gloss smeared over his lips. Peter lays back and watches him under his blackened lashes, enjoying seeing Wade coming apart so easily.


Big palms settle on his thighs, and Wade looks down at his own hands, easily spanning the slenderness of Peter’s legs. He’s holding his breath as he slides his fingers up the smooth black stockings and the garter straps, and then he’s pushing up the hemline of Peter’s dress.


When he sees Peter all wrapped up in sheer lace and pretty satin bows, hairless under all the material and already hard, he lets out a groan and grabs at his straining cock in his jeans, squeezing himself painfully so he doesn’t cream his pants. “Holy fuck,” he whimpers, “you shaved.”


Peter feels powerful. Grinning, he wriggles his hips, grinds up against Wade. The bigger man makes another noise and grabs at his hips, forcing him still. “Don’t do that,” he gasps, “otherwise this isn’t going to last long at all .”


Peter pouts, hoping that his gloss still looks good. “But daddy ,” he whines, and yep, that does it.


Wade goes deathly still for one second, looking like his brain short circuited, and then he’s grabbing Peter by the hips, manhandling him onto his stomach and pulling Peter up onto his knees. When he sees Peter butt, all perfectly framed by lace and satin and bows he lets out a moan that sounds like a starving man seeing food after weeks of deprivation.


Wade doesn’t say anything, just pulls the panties aside, spreads Peter’s cheeks with his thumbs and licks a hot stripe of saliva over Peter’s entrance.


Peter keens, fingers tightening in the sheets, and buries his face in the pillow. “Oh- ohmygod,” he whimpers, and then his hips jolt as Wade licks around his hole and then sticks his tongue in him .


“Wade!” He yelps, then moans, pressing back against Wade’s face. Wade growls at him, wriggling his tongue around, jabbing it in and out of him, and Peter turns into a shaking, sobbing mess, pleading for Wade to please let him come.


After what seems like an age, Wade gives his rim one last nibble with his teeth that makes Peter jolt, and then sits up, wiping saliva from his chin with the back of his hand. Peter clenches around the emptiness inside him, whining. His cock has leaked precum through his panties, and he can feel Wade’s saliva dripping down his crack and over his balls.


“Better than candy,” Wade rumbles, and then he’s turning Peter over, kissing him, letting Peter taste himself on his tongue, the muskiness mixed in with the artificial sweetness of his lip gloss. Peter wraps his arms around his neck, slides his tongue along Wade’s, lifting his shaking thighs and squeezing Wade’s hips with them. He tries to grind against the tantalizing hardness between Wade’s legs, but the bigger man pins his hips with his against the mattress and doesn’t let him move.


“Wade- daddy, ” Peter whines, pleading with his eyes.


“No, Peter,” Wade growls. “Fuck, you’re such a brat, you fucking know what that word does to me, don’t you?”


Peter blinks innocently up at him, fluttering his darkened lashes, and in punishment Wade slaps him around the face with the back of his hand. Peter gasps and then keens as the pain blooms across his cheek, more precum spilling from his dick into his panties. “Please, Wade, again,” he pants.


Wade grabs his chin in his hands, forces him to look him in the eye. “I’m going to do this a little differently this time. Some rules, now. Are you listening, babydoll?”


Peter nods. “Yeah.”


“Good girl,” he grins like a shark as Peter moans at being called a girl, his hips twitching in Wade’s steel-fingered grip. “I tell you to do something, you get right do it, no playing around, or I’ll punish you,” he says. “And if I ask you something, you reply with a ‘yes, Wade,’ or, ‘no, Wade,’ or a colour. Nothing else, no other words. You can make all the sounds you want, but if you say something other than ‘yes, Wade,’ or ‘no, Wade,’ or a colour, at all, I’ll punish you. And it won’t be the find kind of punishment like last time, when I spanked you. It’ll be something you don’t actually enjoy.”


“Yes, Wade,” Peter says obediently. He squirms a little, impatient.


“And if you come before I tell you to, you’ll regret being born,” Wade commands. Peter nods fervently, then yelps when Wade pulls at one of the straps of his garter belt and snaps it against his skin.


“Yes, Wade!” He moans, and then whines as Wade crawls off him and stands by the bed.


“Up you get, baby girl,” he grins, adjusting his erection in his pants. Peter scrambles up, stumbles as his feet meet the floor.


“Into the kitchen,” Wade commands, and Peter doesn’t even think about why they’re relocating, just goes for the door.


“No, baby girl. I want you to crawl.”


Mouth dropping open, Peter sinks to his knees, biting his lip in humiliation as he crawls across Wade’s carpet. His dick feels heavy and uncomfortable between his thighs, and he looks over his shoulder at Wade to see if he’s following.


Wade is, his eyes riveted to where Peter’s dress has ridden up over his butt. Shivering at that heavy gaze, Peter tries to sway his hips a little more as he crawls into the kitchen.


“Stand up.”


Peter does, trying his best to be graceful. Wade steps in close, crowds him up against the dining table, lifts him up onto it.


“Are you going to be a good girl for me, Peter?” Wade says, his voice dark and rough.


“Yes, Wade,” Peter whimpers, and gasps as Wade brushes his scarred nose over Peter’s chin, lips his head back and lets Wade bite at the skin around his new choker.


“Are you going to let me fuck you? Open up your sweet little cunt and let me in?”


Peter quivers. “Yes, Wade.”


“Let me play with your pretty nipples, get them all sore and red and swollen? Get you to cry for me?”


“Yes, Wade,” Peter gasps, and then Wade is pushing him back, laying him out over the kitchen table. He pushes up Peter’s dress to his armpits and leans down, sucks at one of his nipples. Peter jolts and whines, his hands coming to rest on Wade’s broad shoulders, still annoyingly covered by his shirt.


“Nu-uh,” Wade says, pulling back and yanking his hands from his shoulders, pushing them up over Peter’s head. “No touching me. Do I need to tie you up, baby?”


Peter whimpers, and then nods. Wade’s hairless eyebrow lifts for a second, and he hastily adds, “yes, Wade.”


“Good girl, telling me what you need.” Wade leaves for a second, and Peter strains to see where he goes from his place over the kitchen table, but then he comes back, black satin ropes in his hands. He twines them through Peter’s wrists and then secures the bindings to one of the table’s legs. Peter tests them quickly, finds them solid, but he’s sure that he could easily break out of them with his Spidey-strength. He doesn’t want to, though.


Wade goes back to his nipples, drawing one pink nub into his mouth and worrying at the flesh with his teeth until Peter’s squirming, pinching at the other with his fingers. Peter wants so bad to beg and plead Wade to stop, to keep going, he’s not sure, but he’s promised to not say anything unless Wade asks him, so he stays silent, only letting moans and cries fall from his lips.


Wade keeps at his nipples, switching over when Peter doesn’t think he can take anymore, and then he bites down hard. Peter yells in pain, feels the indents of Wade’s teeth in his skin, feels his stomach and balls tighten, thrilled.


“Fucking gorgeous,” Wade praises, and then gives Peter’s poor nipples a break, kisses down Peter’s heaving chest and stomach to his garter belt. “Now don’t come, sweetheart.”


Peter strains his head up to see what Wade’s doing, but then his head clunks down onto the table again when he realises that Wade’s pulling his panties down only far enough to free his cock, and then Wade is leaning down between Peter’s thighs and swallowing his dick.


Peter sees white. Wade’s mouth is hot and wet and soft and holy fuck he’s going to come . Panicking, he twists his hips, frightened mewls falling from his lips, tugging at the ropes around his wrists, and Wade sees his distress, grabs his dick at the base and squeezes.


Keening, Peter collapses back against the table from where his back had bowed, and pants his gratefulness to the ceiling. Seeing that he’s not about to come, Wade continues, sucking and bobbing his head, and Peter goes a little wild. Every time he’s about to come, Wade seems to sense it, and squeezes the base of his cock, his balls, hard enough to stop him from achieving orgasm.


Soon enough, Peter’s in tears, his thighs quivering over Wade’s broad shoulders. He’s sobbing, chest heaving, but he’s given up fighting against his restraints, and all he can think about is the pain in his right nipple, the strain of his balls, the emptiness of his hole, the heat around his cock that’s Wade’s mouth.


Just as Peter thinks he’s going to pass out, Wade draws off his dick, giving the weeping head one last little kiss. Peter sobs and shakes on the table, his hips twitching.


“You’re doing so well,” Wade praises, and then he’s ripping Peter’s panties so they hang around one of his thighs. Peter moans, almost mindless as Wade stands and surveys the mess he’s made of Peter, dress up around his armpits, his nipples red and sore, the bite marks on his neck and his straining, wet erection, painfully red and full against his stomach. He thumbs at Peter’s tears, at his lips, and sinks the digit into Peter’s mouth, gives him something to suck on.


“I don’t think you’ve been good enough today to be given permission to come, have you, baby girl?”


Hiccuping and suckling weakly at Wade’s thumb, Peter shakes his head, helpless to do anything else but agree.


“What do you say, cupcake?” Wade growls in warning.


“No, Wade,” Peter manages to slur around Wade’s thumb, saliva leaking out the corner of his mouth.


“Thought so,” Wade smiles, dipping into two another fingers into Peter’s mouth and trapping his tongue against the bottom of his mouth, making Peter gag on them. “So you’re just gonna lie there, and I’m going to fuck your soppy little cunt until I’m done with you, and you’re not going to come, baby girl. You’re just going to take it, take daddy’s cock, and you’re going to be so fucking grateful, aren’t you?”


Sobbing, Peter nods, cries out, “yes, Wade,” when Wade finally takes his fingers out of his mouth.


“Good girl,” Wade smiles, and then there are fingers at Peter’s entrance, wet with Peter’s saliva. It’s slightly loose from Wade’s tongue from before, and Wade easily sinks two fingers up to the knuckle into Peter, making the boy whine desperately.


“You’re so open already, sweet cheeks, are you craving my dick that bad?”


Peter can’t reply, no words are making sense to him at this point. Luckily, it seems that Wade doesn’t mind, just stretches him open a little more, keeping Peter’s hips down on the table with a big hand over his stomach. The fingers withdraw from him, and there’s a click of a lid, and then something a lot bigger than fingers are pressing up against his clenching hole.


Wade lifts Peter’s thigh high clad legs up, and pushes into him with one smooth, unrelenting thrust. Peter throws his head back, keening, and just takes it as Wade starts fucking into him ruthlessly. It hurts a little, two fingers aren’t enough to stretch him properly, but the burn is so fucking good.


Wade’s hands tighten on his thighs, and the sheer material of Peter’s stockings rip a little under the pressure, his skin bruising as well, but neither of them care. Peter’s past that, past any other thought or feeling other than the sensation of Wade fucking into him. He doesn’t even feel like he needs to come anymore, he just needs whatever Wade is willing to give him. His eyes fall closed, tears leaking from the corners, and small little “uhs” drop from his lips as Wade jolts his body and the whole table with the force of his thrusts. The little red jewel of his choker jumps at the hollow of his throat, bouncing in time with Wade’s hips.


Grunting, Wade bends him further over, practically in half, and comes with a low moan. Peter distantly feels Wade spill into him, but the man doesn’t stop fucking him, keeps going as his cock spurts more cum.


Peter’s thighs feel like they’re bruising under Wade’s harsh grip, and he’s pretty sure his mascara is running from his tears. His body has gone pliant and limp under Wade, sprawled across the table, and he doesn’t make a sound of protest as Wade pulls out quickly, grabs his hips in his big hands and flips him over. The rope around his wrists has enough give that it isn’t uncomfortable, and Peter just pants into the wood below him as Wade yanks his hips up and shoves into him again.


“Fucking- perfect for me,” Wade’s groaning, “baby girl, you’re so good.” He bends over Peter, gets his hands in Peter’s sweaty curls and yanks, makes Peter squeal from the pain and proceeds to fuck Peter raw and sore, his first load slowly slipping out of Peter and dripping over his hairless balls.


“Fuck,” Wade moans, gives one last thrust that bangs Peter’s bruises hips into the table, and empties another load of cum into the limp and pliant boy beneath him. After the last drop is squeezed from his dick he slowly pulls back, slipping out of the swollen hole.


Empty, Peter sobs, feeling Wade’s cum dripping from him.


“I know baby, honey, I know,” Wade soothes him, “oh, look at you. Aren’t you a mess?”


Peter can’t even hear him. He’s floating somewhere up in the clouds, and when Wade flips him over again and wraps a hand around his weeping cock, tells him he can come, his orgasm is like an afterthought, a release that sends him spiralling higher and higher-




There’s a hand in his hair. Murmuring, Peter shifts, winces as the ache in his backside makes itself known.




That’s a nice voice. Deep and soft, worried.


“Mm?” He manages.


“Are you okay? How are you feeling? Baby? Sweet-pea, talk to me.”


“Fucking great,” Peter slurs, burrowing deeper into the hold around him.


“Oh, thank fuck,” says the nice voice, and Peter makes a quiet sound, buries his face into the equally nice chest in front of him, and decides he’s not ready to talk yet.


A few minutes later, the fogginess in Peter’s brain dissipates enough that he becomes aware of his surroundings. He sits up a little, hissing in pain, and looks around him. He’s sitting in Wade’s lap, encircled by the man’s huge arms, and he’s still in his dress and choker and thigh highs and ripped panties. They’re on the kitchen floor, and Wade’s scarred face is looking down at him in relief.


“You passed out, you scared the shit out of me,” Wade says, littering kisses all over Peter’s face.


“Oh,” Peter says, feeling small. “I’m sorry.”


“No, don’t be, you’re okay. Shit, you’re okay.” Peter realises that Wade is shaking under him, and he feels his chest ache.


“I’m fine, Wade, I’m more than okay,” he says, wrapping his weak arms around Wade’s neck and straining upwards to give Wade’s face kisses as well. Even sitting in Wade’s lap the man is much taller than him, but the stretch is worth it to feel Wade’s textured skin underneath his lips. “Thank you. I don’t think I’ve ever felt like that in my entire life.”


“You’re super duper welcome sweetcheeks,” Wade smiles, “I’ll be more than willing to do that to you again, you were perfect and so fucking hot, but yeah, no passing out again, I just- shit, I was so scared that I’d actually hurt you.”


“I’m fine,” Peter reaffirms, and yeah, he totally is. His arse hurts from Wade fucking him through two of his own orgasms ( two orgasms, without any recovery period, how the hell did Wade even do that?) and his nipples ache and he’s pretty sure his balls don’t feel right from being at the brink of orgasm for so long, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. “Honestly, I’ve never felt so good. My limbs are still tingling, holy shit.”


Wade takes a deep breath, seems to center himself. Peter looks up at him, biting his swollen lower lip in worry, but the man’s shoulders slowly relax. “Sorry for freaking out like that babe,” Wade says, sheepish.


“It’s okay,” Peter says, stroking over Wade’s bald head. Wade makes a sound, then heaves them up off the floor, cradling Peter in his arms. Peter goes bright red as he feels Wade’s cum leak from his hole and down his thigh, catching on his thigh highs, and Wade chuckles a little weaker than normal at his expression.


“Come on, let’s go get you all cleaned up and squeaky clean.”




After Wade spends half an hour giving Peter a bath and making sure that every inch of his body is okay and mostly unharmed, they end up cuddling in bed. Peter’s supposed to be going back to his dorm, he has an early chem class tomorrow, but nothing at the moment can drag him from Wade’s arms. Half the reason is because he definitely doesn’t want to, feeling cold and bereft whenever Wade is more than a meter away from him, and the other half is the fact that Wade keeps giving him scared looks, like Peter is going to break down any second, and Peter doesn’t want Wade to worry, so he’s staying.


Sitting naked except for his choker in Wade’s lap, wrapped up in blankets with a mug of hot chocolate, Peter feels the most content he’s ever felt. Wade’s laughing, his chest shaking against Peter’s back as they watch cat videos on his phone, and yeah, okay, Peter might just be falling in love.




That’s what makes it worse when he stumbles out of bed in the morning, Wade still snoring, half his leg hanging out from under the blankets, and Peter, really needing to pee but still half asleep, opens not the bathroom door, but Wade’s closet door accidentally, and there are guns.


Lots and lots of guns. Guns of every shape and size and colour, there’s even a bejewelled Hello Kitty desert eagle, guns upon guns upon knives and swords and some are really not clean. That’s dried blood. That’s definitely dried blood. And holy shit, is that- is that a severed finger poking out of that bag?


Calmly, Peter closes the door. Quietly, he sneaks into the bathroom, gathers up his clothes, tugs them on over his body, sneaks back out and scoops up his phone, his bag, his shoes. Shoves his feet into them, makes his way out of Wade’s apartment, and takes the elevator down to the lobby, hugging his arms to himself tightly.


He doesn’t cry as he takes the bus back to his dorm. Curled up, safe is his bed, he does.



Chapter Text


“I’m really sorry, Peter,” MJ is saying.


Peter just hunches down further over his textbook, blinking at the blurred lines of text. “Yeah, I’m sorry that the guy I was letting fuck me in weird kinky ways is a total psycho too.”


MJ sighs, patting Peter on the back. “I should never have let you go to that club by yourself.”


“It’s not your fault,” Peter mumbles. “He was too good to be true.”


“I’m just glad that you got out of there before he started chopping you up or some shit. Yikes, maybe you should call the cops on him, did you say you saw a finger?


Peter closes his eyes, puts his head in his hands. He’s supposed to be studying, but all he can think about is Wade, about how gentle his brown eyes were, how worried he was about Peter after he’d passed out, the chocolate milkshake he’d bought Peter after the first time they’d slept together, how he’d kept on checking in on Peter during their first scene, the tilt of his smile, slightly wonky on one side because of his scars, how he’d never taken his clothes off around Peter because Peter was pretty sure he was self conscious about his skin. About how it must’ve all been a lie, because Wade’s some fucked up killer or something with an arsenal and a dismembered body part in his closet.


“I don’t know. I was kind of half asleep but there were definitely a whole heap of knives and guns and- yeah. Some of them were not clean.”


“That’s so fucked up.”


“You’re telling me,” Peter rubs his eyes. Checks his phone and then puts in face down on the library table when he sees four unopened texts from Wade, and a missed call. On one hand, he doesn’t know that Wade really is a psycho, maybe he’d been half asleep and mistaken rust for blood or something, and that finger was just a really weirdly shaped knife or something, and maybe he wants to see Wade again and demand an explanation, but on the other hand Wade totally could be a serial killer who lures boys he meets in kink clubs, and Peter should cut all ties with him immediately and probably call the cops.


Or, you know, he could totally do the normal thing and drop by Wade’s apartment as Spider-Man, do some snooping. See if maybe he was blowing this all out of proportion, or wasn’t. He just, he’s just so stuck on the fact that his Spidey-sense didn’t go off around the man, and it gives him hope. Hope that this is all just one big misunderstanding.


“Are you- are you okay?” MJ asks, and she puts a hand on Peter’s shoulder.


Shrugging it off, Peter puts his head back into his textbook. “I don’t know, MJ. Just- just give me a little while, okay?”


Leaning back in her chair, MJ gives him a worried look. “Sure thing, Peter.”



The thing is, Peter can’t take the choker Wade had given him off. He hides it underneath a scarf during the day, and at night as he changes into his Spidey suit, he can’t bear to put it to the side, and ends up fastening it up around his neck over his suit. The jewel glints in the dim light, the colour matching the red of his suit perfectly. Figures.


He tries to not think too hard about why he can’t leave it behind.


He crawls quickly out of his dorm room window in the cover of darkness, swings up onto the roof, and then quickly springs off of it towards Wade’s place. No more freaking out about this, Peter is going to get to the bottom of this one way or another, and if he has to turn Wade into the police, he totally freakin’ will.


Time drags as he swings through the streets, and he doesn’t know if he’s purposely putting this off and taking a long way or something, or just the dread and anxiety he’s feeling makes it seem so long, but he feels drained when he finally lands just outside one of Wade’s windows.


He takes a deep breath, and then peeks in. No lights are on, and there’s no movement. Quietly, he tests the window, and when it doesn’t open, lets out one of Mr Stark’s tiny test nano robot spiders that he uh- liberated would be the word- from one of Mr Stark’s labs when the billionaire wasn’t looking. Peter has sticky fingers, okay, he just can't help these things. The little mechanical bug flattens itself out, slips through the crack in the seal, reforms itself and opens up the latch.


“Thanks, nano-spidey,” Peter whispers, quietly opening the window and listening intently for any sound. Nothing. Slipping silently into the room, he peers around. The place looks different in the dark. More ominous.


There’s no sign of Wade. Carefully, Peter makes his way into the bedroom, and goes straight for the closet. Opens it up, and even in the dark, yeah, he can see the treasure trove of weapons. He’s just bending down to look for that finger that he thought he saw when his spidey-sense just kind of sparks a little, and he freezes as something sharp is pressed up against his throat.


“Well, lookie here at what I’ve found. Somebody’s got lost trying to find the candy store and ended up in my closet!”


That’s Wade’s voice. But so different from what Peter’s used to hearing. There’s no warmth, or dark, silken promise, or familiarity. It’s flat and menacing, and makes Peter’s heart drop into his stomach.  


“Cat got your tongue? That’s all right, you don’t need to talk for me to slit your throat, but it’d be so much more fun if you screamed just a little.”


Tears burn in Peter’s eyes. He swallows, putting his hands up in the air. “Are you- are you going to kill me?”


“Well, that depends,” Wade chirps, and the total flip in tone almost gives Peter whiplash. “What are you doing rummaging around in my things? That’s very rude of you, not asking first. Some of those things are private, you know!”


“I-” the word catches in his throat, but Peter manages to force it out. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.


For a second there’s silence, and then the blade is gone from Peter’s throat, and there’s footsteps and then there’s blinding light.


Wincing, Peter turns around, and- okay, not what he was expecting. That’s- that’s the guy that Mr Stark flew them away from in the forest behind the General’s house, the guy with the sword and the red and black costume but holy fuck, that’s also Wade, because that was Wade’s voice and those are Wade’s wide shoulders and those are definitely Wade’s bulging biceps and thighs.


“You are definitely not who I was expecting to see,” Wade/not-Wade? says, “for a second I thought- but holy fuck trumpet, you’re Spider-Man! I’m your number one fan! Eeee! Can you sign my katana?”


Peter doesn’t know what to do. His brain has stopped, he totally has no clue what’s going on. “Um,” he says, intelligently.


“Hold on,” the white eyes of the mask narrow a bit, and Wade/not-Wade? takes a step forward, “where did you get that choker?”


Come on brain, work!


“Uh,” Peter says. Okay, still offline.




Peter gulps, feels Wade’s choker up against his throat. “Yeah?”


Wade/not-Wade? goes completely still, his mouth slack under his mask. They end up staring at each other, both still as statues.


“Shitballs,” Wade/not-Wade? breathes, and then he’s tearing off his mask and Wade’s familiar handsome, scarred up face is staring at him in disbelief.


Peter bolts.


Wade catches him as he tries to streak past, grabbing him by the wrist and tugging him close. Peter bangs up against Wade’s chest, breathes in the familiar smell of Wade’s body.


“Peter? Is that really you? I’m not dreaming this shit up, am I?”


Trembling in Wade’s hold, Peter slowly shakes his head. “I mean- yeah. It’s me.” Takes a deep breath, and then peels his own mask off. Wade blinks down at him, rubs his eyes, and then looks at him again.


“I’m fucking Spider-Man, I mean you’re Spider-Man, but I’m fucking Spider-Man,” Wade says. “Holy mother of God, Jesus H. Christ ten feet up a tree in stripper heels, I popped Spidey’s cherry!”


“Wade, you asshole-” Peter frowns, pushing away from the bigger man, trying to not get distracted by all the muscles currently under his palms.


“No, wait, Spidey-babe, Peter, I'm sorry! It's just, talk about mind blowing, I can't control my mouth, I mean, when can I ever- are you crying?”


“No.” Peter's definitely crying.


Wade panics. “Peter, baby boy, I'm so sorry, please don't cry,” he reaches out but Peter slaps his hands away.


“I was freaking out for two whole days because I accidentally found your closet full of bloody swords and severed fingers and it turns out you're some kind of masked hero working with Mr Stark and all this time I thought you were some kind of deranged serial killer but you're not and you totally just found out that I'm Spider-Man and I'm just kind of feeling a little overwhelmed right now,” Peter sobs.


“That's why you left without saying goodbye,” Wade breathes out. “Baby, you were totally not meant to find out about the Pool that way. Shit, I’m so sorry, that must’ve sucked.”


Peter whacks Wade in the chest with a closed fist, and knocks all the breath out of the bigger guy. “Yeah, it really fucking did, you asshole!


“I was going to tell you,” Wade manages to say after gaining his breath back. “I just- you know, it’s not something you really bring up in casual conversation, or when you’re doing the nasty. Hey, are those ropes too tight? Need any more lube? Oh yeah, by the way, I’m a ex-mercenary for hire who’s just trying to do the right thing and work with douchey rich superheroes with daddy issues, and I probably need to clean out my closet more often and whoops sorry I tend to forget about stray fingers that sometimes fall off after a rather tense ten on one, and I’m not talking about a nice, wholesome bukkake.”


“Your fingers fall off?” Peter squeaks, grabbing one of Wade’s leather covered hands and inspecting the digits.


“Uh, yeah, stray knives sometimes happen to them. They grow back though!” Wade chirps, wiggling his fingers. “Thank you healing factor!”


“Wow, that’s awesome!” Peter says, tears completely forgotten. “I have a healing factor but definitely not as cool as yours. Can you grow back anything? How fast does it take? Is it slower if you have to grow back all your limbs? Does it hurt? Were you born like this? How did you find out you could grow back limbs? Wait how much blood can you lose? Does your blood just replenish itself instantly, is that part of your healing factor-”


Wade laughs and covers Peter’s pretty mouth with his hand. “Woah, slow down there cowboy. One question at a time.”


“Sorry,” Peter mumbles behind his palm, blushing. “It’s just- you’re really cool.”


It’s Wade’s turn to blush. “Nah, it’s not as cool as it sounds. Coming back to life sucks, and I tend to vomit a lot. Shitting yourself when you die isn’t glamorous either.”


Peter’s eyes go wide. “You can come back to life?” He squeaks, and even though Wade’s still got his hand over his mouth he starts asking a barrage of questions, firing word after word quicker than even Wade can keep up with.


“You’re too cute for words, damn,” Wade grins and takes his hand away to replace it with his mouth. Peter melts under it, fingers clutching at the straps of his costume, and goes up on his tippy toes so Wade doesn’t have to strain his back leaning down so far.


“My tragic backstory can wait,” Wade says against Peter’s lips, “first, hanky panky time, seeing you in that suit is doing fun tingly things to my nether regions, talk about bubble butt yeehaw ,” and Peter yelps and laughs as Wade grabs two big handfuls of said behind and lifts him easily.


“Unless, of course, you don’t-” Wade starts, drawing back and looking a little unsure. Peter huffs and grabs him by the ears.


“Even when I thought you were a serial killer I still couldn’t stop thinking about your eyes, or your dick,” he confesses, “so now that it turns out you’re not, I would really like your dick in me, like right now.


“Your wish is my command,” Wade sings, shoulders relaxing, and his gorgeous brown eyes sparkle as he walks forward until Peter’s back hits the bedroom wall. Peter murmurs his approval as Wade attacks his throat with his mouth, leaving hot, wet bruises over Peter’s skin. Legs wrapping tight around Wade’s hips, Peter moans and lets his head fall back, fingers digging into the rough texture of the back of Wade’s bald head.


“You kept it on,” Wade says as he tugs at Peter’s choker with his teeth. “Even over your suit.”


“Yeah,” Peter breaths, “I couldn’t- I couldn’t take it off. Even though I was seriously thinking of turning you over to the police, I was still yours.”


Fuck ,” Wade groans, pressing Peter further back into the wall, grinding the hotness of his erection into Peter through their suits. “Fuck, baby, goddamn you perfect, pretty, dirty little spider,” he growls and fumbles at the back of Peter’s suit. “How the hell do you get this thing off?”


Peter wriggles, trying to get his hand between them so he can find the seam. “It used to be a onesie, but I made some design adjustments with Mr Stark because peeing was such a hassle, I just need to- ah ha!” He finds the hidden seam, gets his fingers under it, brushes the little spot that lets his suit turn into two seperate pieces and hang a little loser on him.


“Damn it,” Wade curses, “Tin Can made you this suit? My wet dreams are going to be forever tainted now,” he whimpers, but it doesn’t stop him from yanking up the top half of Peter’s blue and reds and making Peter grab the material in his teeth. “Tap me if you want me to stop,” he clarifies, “or hell, just throw me right off you, you’re so fucking strong, hot damn that’s a turn on,” he groans and goes for Peter’s nipples.


“Mmf!” Peter gasps around the mouthful of his own suit as Wade bites down, hard , and bucks his hips uncontrollably. His fingernails dig into Wade’s shoulders, leather groaning under the strength of his hands.


“I’m going to fuck you right here,” Wade says against the skin of his chest, giving his poor swollen nipple a break and sucking a deep, angry mark into his left pec. “Up against the wall in your tight little spidey suit, so whenever you wear it you think of me and my dick fucking you so good you can’t help but pop a boner,” he growls, “and all you’ll want to do is beg me to touch you, baby doll, is that want you want? For me to touch you?”


Peter whines around his mouthful of suit, nodding his head desperately as Wade blows cool air over his abused nipple. Wade grins, all teeth, “touch you here?”


Nodding again, Peter whimpers as Wade laves his tongue over the swollen red peak, and then bites another set of teeth marks around the sensitive flesh, making Peter keen from the pain.


“How about here, as well?” Wade squeezes his butt, fingers digging into the muscle, and of course Peter nods again, all he can do it say yes to Wade. The fingers drift further in, between his cheeks, rubbing over his hole, the thin material of his suit doing little to stop the heat of Wade’s skin, even through Wade’s gloves. The man is like a furnace, making Peter sweat, his suit sticking to him, especially between his legs where his dick is leaking from where it’s straining against the red and blue material.


“Here?” Wade breathes, fingertip pushing against the material covering Peter’s entrance, and Peter nods viciously, hips jerking against Wade’s massive, hard body.


“Pweash-” He manages to beg around his makeshift gag, and tears are burning in his eyes, that’s how desperate he is.


“Okie dokie,” Wade chirps, and suddenly he’s pushing Peter further up the wall, manhandling him around so Peter’s facing the wallpaper. Peter sticks to it out of pure habit, hands up near the high ceiling. He almost loses grip a second later as Wade yanks the bottom half of his suit halfway down his thighs, and Peter has half a moment to realise that his naked butt is right in front of Wade’s face before Wade is diving right in.


Eyes rolling upwards, Peter cries out around his spit soaked mouthful of suit and scrabbles desperately at the wall as Wade sucks at his rim, sticks his tongue right in and wriggles it around inside him, jabbing it in a mockery of what’s about to come. It’s hot and slick and soft and entirely too good, and Peter feels like he’s about to explode.


He has to let the makeshift gag fall out of his mouth. “Wade- Wade please, oh fuck, I’m going to- I’m going to come, please, stop ,” he whines, but he doesn’t safeword out, and Wade keeps going and Peter gasps and sobs and wriggles and comes untouched against Wade’s wall with a breathy cry.


“Fuck me, that’s hot,” Wade grunts, giving Peter’s twitching rim one last suck, making the boy whine from the overstimulation, and tugs Peter back down the wall through his own cum. For a second Peter can’t quite figure out how to make himself unstick and some wallpaper comes down with him, but Wade obviously doesn’t care, just plasters his big body up behind Peter’s and fumbles at his straining crotch.


Peter’s becoming lucid enough to hear a zipper and Wade cursing as he rummages around in one of his hip pouches, and then a sound of triumph as he finds what Peter assumes as lube. He struggles for a moment to uncap it and Peter feels vaguely like he should help, but his body is all soft and loose from orgasm and he would probably be more hindrance than help at this point.


“Come on, come on you little-” and then there’s a pop, and Wade squeezing lube a little bit too generously all over Peter’s ass, and Peter shivers a little at the cold liquid but then moans as he feels Wade’s hot, hard cock rub up against his cleft, spreading lube over itself.


“Please, please,” Peter whines, wriggles his hips back into Wade, and the bigger man growls, giving Peter’s ass a stinging slap that has Peter gasping and mewling, but then Peter is getting what he wants, a blunt head pressing against his hole.


And Peter’s relaxed from orgasm and loose from Wade tongue fucking him, but he’s still tight and Wade’s massive and he hasn’t had much prep, and Wade only manages to get the head of his huge cock in him, slipping past Peter’s rim with a smooth pop, the overabundance of lube easing the way.


“You feel so fucking amazing,” Wade groans, slowly pumping his hips in little thrusts, and Peter wriggles and whines and begs Wade to just fuck him already, he can take it, please just do it , but Wade refuses, pining Peter against the wall with his hard, unforgiving body and not letting Peter spear himself back on his dick. He continues with the small, careful thrusts, inching forward bit by bit, letting Peter’s body accommodate to his size, and takes no heed of Peter’s pleading.


It gets to the point that Peter’s sobbing and seriously thinking about using his spidey strength to just make Wade fuck him properly already, when Wade finally grabs a handful of his hair, another handful of his hip, and slams forward the last few couple of inches.


Peter practically yells into the wall, feeling his insides part forcefully around Wade’s hot, heavy cock, and it hurts but it hurts so good and fuck he’s so hard already so soon after his last orgasm.


“Okay?” Wade breathes into his ear.


“More than okay, oh my god, just fuck me already you asshole ,” Peter whines, and Wade laughs and yanks his head back by his hair in retaliation, and Peter’s pretty sure if they were properly sceneing Wade would’ve had to punish him severely for that, and Peter probably would’ve enjoyed it immensely, but this time Wade just proceeds to try and fuck him through the wall.


“Oh- fuck- uh,” is all Peter can say, pinned between Wade’s unforgiving body and the wall in front of him. His mouth falls open as he pants and mewls and lets out little noises of frustration as he tries to spread his legs further but can’t, his suit hindering his efforts to get Wade deeper, and Wade just lets out a breathless laugh.


“Poor- little- baby-” Wade grunts with each thrust, “is this not good enough for you? Do you want more?”


Peter nods, whining. At the current angle Wade can’t quite hit his prostate, and while having Wade inside him is awesome , it could be awesomer .


The hand in his hair yanks his head back further, manipulating it so one flushed cheek and bright eye is exposed over his shoulder, and Wade swoops down and claims his bitten red lips with his, stealing his breath away.


“Greedy little thing,” Wade growls into his mouth, “I think I’ve been spoiling you too much.” He makes a tutting sound and takes a step back. Peter almost panics, but Wade has a grip on his hips and takes them with him, shoving Peter’s head down so he’s bent over, braced against the wall with his forearms.


The new position shifts Wade’s cock inside of him, and Peter’s entire body sings as his prostate is brushed over as Wade pulls back. He gasps and whines and wriggles his hips in Wade’s hold, trying to get the bigger man to thrust back into him, but Wade’s holding his hips up high enough that his feet don’t touch the floor and he can’t get any leverage.


“Wade, please ,” he begs, “ please, please, please!


Wade gyrates his hips a little, teasing. “Please what , baby boy?”


“Please fuck me,” Peter gasps, fingers twitching against the wall.


“Hmm,” Wade stalls, “but I was doing that before.” He pulls out a little bit more, head of his dick hardly inside of Peter’s ass, and holds Peter’s squirming hips still in his big hands. For a second he just looks down and admires the view, Peter’s lean back bowed down, tiny waist quivering and strong shoulders straining under the top half of his suit, his pretty pink butt tilted up high, glistening with Wade’s over eager application of lube, his hole stretched and swollen and red around Wade’s dick, greedily trying to suck him back in.


“Pretty, pretty, pretty,” Wade murmurs, and pushes a gloved thumb up against that twitching hole. “So nice and pink, and all mine,” his voice dips down deep.


“Yes, yes,” Peter nods, “all yours, please, please fuck me, ruin me for anybody else, I just want you, Wade, please, please oh-” his words end in a squeak as Wade slams back in, knocking Peter’s head up against the wall. He sets a brutal pace, hips slamming up against Peter’s ass, and Peter swears that he’s going to have a permanent imprint of them on his butt cheeks. Peter’s feet dangle helplessly in the air, toes curling with pleasure as Wade thrusts directly into his prostate, and the room fills with the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, accented with Wade’s deep grunts of effort and Peter’s uncontrolled, short, sharp cries.


“I- I’m gonna come again,” Peter manages to gasp, swallowing too late to stop his mouthful of spit from drooling down over his chin and onto the carpet. “Can- can I?” He asks, feeling his balls draw up tight again, his own dick weeping and bouncing underneath his belly with every thrust. Wade fucks him so good that he’s going to come without anything touching his dick again , and holy shit Peter is definitely ruined for anybody else at this point.


“Go on, honeybunch,” Wade purrs, “you can come whenever you want, come on, come for me, darling, come without me even touching you, just fucking you into the wall just like you wanted, just like you deserve.” And somehow he picks up the pace even more, fingers digging bruises into Peter’s hips, and the pressure in Peter’s balls and stomach builds and builds and his eyes roll up and his entire body tenses as his dick spurts cum up over his stomach and on the floor.


Wade curses as Peter’s ass convulses around him, the tight silken heat pulsing around his cock, and he knows if he keeps going like he is he’s going to bust pretty soon, but he wants to come watching Peter’s lovely flushed little face when he does, so when Peter’s body falls limp and the hero loses grip on the wall he scoops Peter up and walks him over to the bed.


His dick slips out of it’s favourite place as he spreads Peter’s pliant body over the pink bed sheets, but Wade just promises himself soon and tugs the bottom half of Peter’s suit off his long legs and climbs between them. He looks up from where he’s watching his gloved hands run up the vulnerable pale flesh of Peter’s thighs and sees brown eyes peeking out at him from under thick lashes.


“There you are baby,” he coos, running his hands up higher and smearing Peter’s second release up his toned tummy. “Still green?”


“Yes, Wade,” Peter murmurs, “green. Definitely green.” He blinks once and looks down at Wade’s straining dick, curving up from the opening in his suit, and spreads his thighs wider. “Please?” He whimpers.


Wade squeezes his eyes shut for a second. This boy- fuck . Peter’s not the only one ruined. He gets his hands underneath Peter’s knees, pushes them up so Peter’s bent in half, and pushes right back in.


Oh- ” Peter’s back bows and his fingers clench in the sheets and his mouth falls open soundlessly as Wade slowly sinks back into his oversensitive flesh. His dick gives a valiant twitch where it lies mostly soft against his stomach, but Peter doesn’t think he could possibly get hard again, and just lies back and takes what Wade gives him.


And Wade gives him a slow, thorough fucking, and against all odds Peter does get hard again, and he whines and sobs as Wade finally takes off a glove and wraps a big, warm hand around his aching dick and strokes him to another orgasm, a dry and desperate one, one that leaves Peter half conscious and almost beyond over sensitive and wrung out on his back, and Peter can only wonder how Wade hasn’t come yet.


Through the pleasure haze and ache of being fucked through three completions, Peter manages to pin his eyes to Wade’s sweaty face, and watches transfixed as Wade bites his bottom lip and his hips finally start to stutter and his big, strong body hunches forward. He gasps out Peter’s name as he finally comes, and Peter feels like purring, eyes half lidded and pleased.


Warmth fills Peter, and it’s only a little bit of Wade’s cum spilling into him, mostly it’s just his heart leaking all over the place and his stomach fluttering, and he opens his trembling arms to receive Wade as the man falls forward onto him.


“Wow,” Peter rasps after a couple minutes of Wade catching his breath. “Maybe I should go AWOL more often if that’s gonna happen.”


“Don’t you fucking dare,” Wade rumbles from where he’s buried his face into Peter’s sweaty neck. “It was the worst two days of my life, and I’ve been through some fucked up shit.”


Peter winces. “I’m sorry,” is all he can say. “I should’ve- I should’ve asked you about it or something, not just freaked out after a quick half awake look in your closet when I was aiming for the bathroom.”


“Nah, sweetling,” Wade shakes his head, brushes his lips up against Peter’s throat. Even after three orgasms, Peter shivers at the touch. “You did good, getting out. Seeing that shit would scare anyone, and in normal circumstances where I was someone else I would’ve been rooting for you to do the same thing. For all you knew, I could’ve been a psycho killer.”


“Well, you’re not,” Peter wriggles a bit. He’s super strong, but Wade’s really heavy, and he’s kind of a little- er, maybe kind of a lot, sore. And sweaty. And covered in cum. Inside and out. “Uh, not that I don’t wanna cuddle, cos I do, but do you mind-”


“Shit, yeah, soz,” Wade pushes himself up off of Peter’s smaller body and watches Peter’s face worriedly as he slips his softened dick out of Peter’s ass. Peter’s tired face winces a little, and while Wade doesn’t feel any chaffing from the admittedly quite long bumping uglies session they just had because of his healing factor, his tiny spidey babe’s healing factor isn’t as good, and Peter’s definitely going to be feeling it.


“Really sore?” Wade asks, “I’m so sorry, I went too hard-”


“Don’t you dare apologise, I came three times,” Peter says, “ three . And twice you didn’t even touch me! If anything, I should be thanking you. And I am.”


Wade peppers his face with kisses. “You’re too sweet, my little honeybun, too sweet and perfect and pretty and good, you were amazing.”


Peter actually giggles and squeezes his eyes shut as Wade presses his lips to his eyelashes, “you too, Wade. You too.”


Later, Wade has to carry Peter to the bathroom for clean up. Peter had tried to get up out of bed on his own accord, but he hadn’t even made it one step before his legs had said nope and just given up and Wade had scooped him up in his big arms. Peter doesn’t even mind, having Wade’s beefy arms around him is definitely not cause to be grumpy, and just relishes in Wade fussing over him.


The big tub gets filled and Wade strips Peter of the top half of his suit, finally, and reaches up to unclip Peter’s choker.


Peter freaks out a little. “No- no, I don’t- um, I-” He doesn’t even know why, but the thought of Wade taking off his choker (his collar ) leaves him feeling shaky and empty and cold and panicked and entirely not good .


Wade backs off immediately. “Sorry boo, I should’ve known. I won’t touch it.”


Taking a deep breath, Peter puts his hand over the jewel and calms down on the bathroom counter where Wade had carefully placed him. “Okay.”


“Bubbles?” Wade asks, and Peter nods, and Wade dumps in what seems like an entire bottle of sweetly citrus scented bubble mixture, and swoops Peter up again and slowly lowers him into the water.


“Not too hot?”


“It’s perfect,” Peter purrs, settling into the water as Wade turns off the tap. His eyes pop open as he hears Wade step away, and his hand shoots out to grab Wade’s wrist.


“I’m not going anywhere, sugar. Just have to get out of this sticky suit, it’s starting to serious chaf at my sensitive bits, and Daddy Deadpool does not like chaffing. Really cramps my style.”


Peter narrows his eyes suspiciously, but lowers himself further into the water and grumbles. He lets go of Wade’s wrist, and when the bigger man gives him a self conscious look as he begins to strip, Peter closes his eyes and tips his head back. He doesn’t mind Wade’s scars, they’re part of him after all and Peter wants the full package, but he doesn’t want Wade to feel uncomfortable around him.


“Incoming,” Wade warns, and then a big body is slipping in behind him, and Peter finds himself lying between Wade’s legs, head tipped back onto Wade’s shoulder. Something in his stomach calms with Wade’s touch and presence, and Peter sighs happily, trying to snuggle closer.


Wade drops a quick kiss into his hair. The steam in the bathroom has made it damp and sweet smelling. “I’ll get you a proper collar if you want, doll. One for play and one to wear over your suit with a catch that breaks if someone gets hold of you by it. Gotta play safe, gorgeous. Safe, sane and consensual.”


The hot water and Wade holding him and the lifting of stress has made Peter drowsy already. And not to mention the thorough fucking he’d just received. “I would love that,” he purrs, tilting his head to the side a bit and pressing a small kitten kiss under Wade’s textured chin. “I wanna be yours. Properly.”


Wade goes very, very still underneath him, and Peter wriggles a little, pouting as his comfy pillow becomes more like a log. “What wrong? Do you not- I mean, I didn’t mean to presume-” a small dark pit of cold and panic begins to spread in Peter’s stomach, freezing out the fuzzy warmth that had been permeating through his body. “If you don’t want me I understand-”


“I want you!” Wade says, “I want you more than I’ve wanted anything, Peter, fucking believe me, but just- think about it first.”


Peter frowns and flips over deftly in the water so he can look up at Wade’s face. His scars are mottled pink from the heat, and his eyes are bright and serious as he looks down at Peter, his lips pressed tight. “Do you really want to tie yourself to me? I’m more than a little fucked up, and the outside isn’t even the half of it, baby boy, I’m possessive and more than a little blood thirsty and I can’t take shit seriously even when I really, really should and my backstory is a fucking wasteland that you wouldn’t want to poke with a ten foot pole and I have an unhealthy dependance on takeout and Golden Girls and I hate cleaning and the colour yellow because it washes me out-”


“I hate cleaning too,” Peter interrupts. “And I doubt myself too much and make stupid mistakes and say horrible jokes when I shouldn’t and overthink things too much and just overall I’m a mess trying to be a hero who can’t even do that without a billionaire backing him and the papers hate and call me an unneeded and dangerously unchecked vigilante-”


“Hey- no, wait up, the Bugle can go fuck themselves right in their right leaning, click-baity assholes, Spider-Man is the best , what the fuck-”


Peter smiles and kisses Wade sweetly. “I want to be yours, Wade. Flaws and all. I think you’re perfect.”


Wade’s gone speechless, so Peter just snuggles into his damp chest and makes a pleased little sound. He’s planted the seed, and Wade seems amenable. Peter can tell he’ll come around.

Chapter Text

It’s the return of the bugs.


“Haven’t they had enough already?” Peter mutters to himself, webbing what look like giant green cicadas the size of a house cat to the side of a New York City building. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up and he ducks just in time for a massive dragonfly with razor wings to cut through where his head had been a second before.


“Phew, was almost worm food there.” The dragonfly turns around in mid air and Peter readies himself to jump out of the way, but before he does a knife comes whistling through the air and thunks into it, the insect shrieking and green blood spurting everywhere. Peter blinks. He knows that knife.




Turning on his heel, Peter beams under his mask as he spots Wade in full Deadpool costume skipping towards him, red suit turned green from being covered in green bug goo.


Peter doesn’t mind, he’s covered in the stuff as well. “Wade!” He squeaks happily, launching himself forward, dodging a rather angry looking neon yellow ladybug and throwing himself into his boyfriend’s (Dom’s?) arms. “I didn’t think you’d be back until Tuesday!”


“Mmm, my gorgeous little honey-buns, the sweetest of flowers, neither did I! But missing you turns out to be a great motivator in hunting down drug lords in Mexico, who would’ve known? Oooh, Webs, I missed you!” Peter can almost hear the love hearts that Wade tacked on mentally to the end of the sentence, and practically feels them as well as Wade coos and rubs their masked cheeks together.


“I missed you too, Wade,” Peter hums happily, wrapping himself around Wade’s familiar, muscle thick form. His Spidey-sense spikes and he perks up, looking over his shoulder, but Wade already has his bejeweled Desert Eagle out and shoots the oncoming giant wasp with a loud bang.


“Nobody gets in the way of me and my sugar plum’s reunion time!” Wade yells, spotting a massive slug covered in acidic slime that’s gotten rather close to their feet for comfort, emptying his clip into it. The resulting slime explosion starts to eat away att the street below it. Reluctantly, Peter climbs down off of Wade, webbing a beetle that had been harrassing a fleeing citizen to a lamp post.


“Maybe we should postpone our reunion to later,” Peter sighs. Wade pouts underneath his mask.




“Oh jeez, who invited Crazy Red.”


Peter looks up to see Hawkeye up on a rooftop. The sharp shooter picks various flying bugs out of the sky with his arrows, and when Peter waves up to him he takes a second to wave back.


“Eye Hawk!” Wade shouts. “No, wait, Bird Eye? No, that’s a kind of chilli. Hawk Man? Ah, whatever, Least Helpful Avenger, greetings from below!”


“Hey, Spidey, might wanna take a step back from him there. That guy’s a little trigger happy. And sword happy. And knife happy. And bomb happy. You know what- just, he’s too happy. Come on up here and gimme a ride over to Steve.”


“Mean,” Wade grumbles. “Oh, but you mean Captain America? Eee, bring me too Spidey!”


Peter grins and grabs Wade around the waist, swinging them up to Clint’s rooftop. Clint eyes Deadpool suspiciously.


“Hey, he’s cool,” Peter reassures, “we know each other.”


“Of course you do,” Clint mutters, but grabs Peter’s other side, and Peter swings them through the city, Clint directing him where to do.


“Woah, that’s a big bug,” Peter’s eyes widen as they approach the Mother Bug, as tall as a five story building and as wide as two olympic swimming pools. How was she even fitting into Central Park, Peter had no idea. Where she came from he had no idea either. He’d been so sure that Tony had blown her to gooey pieces last time.


“Big boy. Uh, lady,” Wade says, and Peter touches down just outside the fray of wild, angry bugs surrounding the gargantuan grub, hiding behind some bushes. As they watch she lays more goopy eggs that immediately hatch into a swarm of even more insects.


“Uhg, gross,” Wade and Peter say at the same time. “Jinx!” They say again, and then duck as a swarm of bugs come buzzing towards them. Clint rolls his eyes and fires an exploding arrow into them.


“Uh uh, no way Jose, Deadpool, get out of here!” Iron Man flies out of the air from where he’d been blasting the side of the Mother Bug. “We’re just getting the situation under control, we don’t want you messing it up. And let go of Spider-Man!”


“Apparently they’re cool,” Clint says.


“No, they are not ,” Tony growls, his mask receding away from his face. Behind him the Mother Bug wails high pitched as the Hulk tears a chunk out of her side, neon pink blood gushing everywhere.


Wade clutches closer to Peter’s side, where he hadn’t let go when Peter had set them down. “We so are!”


“He’s my boyfriend.” Peter explains.


Tony’s face goes bright red as Wade coos and kisses his cheek. “What the fuck, no, he’s not . Pe- Spidey, get away from him right now, Deadpool, stop touching him!


A huge blast shakes the surrounding area as Scarlet Witch blasts the Mother Bug with red energy, and Clint starts to back away from them. “Uh, guys, are we gonna go help or what?”


“Go,” Tony demands, and Clint just shrugs and trots off to help the gathering of Avengers. Really, it does look like they have everything under control now, it’s just the massive size of the Mother Bug that’s giving them problems. It’s not easy to take something that big and resilient down.


“You can call me Peter,” Peter says. “He knows who I am.”


Tony touches down in front of them, his face like thunder. “Pete, what the hell did he drug you with?”


Peter frowns. “He didn’t drug me with anything. He’s my boyfriend.”


Wade gasps in horror. “I would never drug my baby boy! The gall of you!”


“Some kind of mind control then,” Tony insists, and Peter frowns even more.


“Nope, no mind control. Mr Stark, really, we’ve been going out for like months now!”


Tony looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm as the Mother Bug writhes with pain behind them, the ground shaking and Captain America going flying from where he’d just been about to jam his shield into her forehead. Steve lands about ten meters away from them, rolling and coming back up onto his feet.


“Tony, really, enough chit chat! We could do with some help here,” he says, wiping green goop out of his eyes.


“Nope, busy.” Tony doesn’t even look at him, just glares lasers at where Wade’s hand is grabbing at Peter’s waist.


“Tony!” Steve shouts as a barrage of big blue ladybugs come right for him.


“Oh for fucks-” Tony turns around and takes to the air, blasting the bugs and turning them into a shower of slime. “Wilson, this isn’t over!”


“What’s wrong with him?” Peter mutters. “He’s usually not such a dick.”


“Maybe something’s bugging him,” Wade giggles, and Peter laughs, and they join in on the fray.




Exhausted but now completely clean from bug goo after a very long, very hot, very thorough shower, Peter flops onto Wade’s bed.


“Mm, babydoll,” Wade makes grabby hands at him and Peter crawls over to him, draping himself over Wade’s Hello Kitty pajama covered body. Wade cops a feel of his butt under the oversized shirt Peter’s wearing.


Peter hums happily, nuzzling into Wade’s roughly textured neck and sighing. “I’m sorry Mr Stark was a total asshole to you. I thought you guys worked together.”


“More like he tells me what to do and pays me some moolah than working together, honeybuns. Tin Can cramps my style anyway, couldn’t work side by side with him on a good day.”


“Still, it wasn’t very nice of him. You deserve better than that,” Peter grumbles.


“You didn’t need to tell him, you know.” Wade says after a second.


Peter sits up, frowning. “Yes, I did. You’re my boyfriend. You’re important to me. You’re a huge part of my life. Why wouldn’t I tell him?”


Wade’s expression carefully doesn’t change. He reaches up a gently touches the little gem sitting in the hollow of Peter’s throat, hanging off the choker that Wade gave him and hasn’t replaced with a collar yet.


“...No reason.”


Peter presses his lips together. “Did you not want me to tell him?” His heart sinks in his chest.


“No, no way, I want everybody to know that we’re dating, I mean, look at you. You’re the sweetest honey ever. I couldn’t possibly do better. I just- I didn’t think you’d want him to know.”


Oh dear. Peter knows that Wade doesn’t like the way he looks, is severely insecure about his scars and hairlessness to the point that he doesn’t look in any mirrors and constantly talks down about himself even if Peter does his best to stop him, but he didn’t think that Wade wouldn’t see how much Peter loved him and was proud to have him as his boyfriend and was sincerely unashamed about him in every single possible way.


“Wade,” Peter breathes out. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re amazing. You’re sexy and smart and kind and funny and not to mention a beast between the sheets. You treat me so well, you know me so well even though we’ve only been going out for a couple of months. Why wouldn’t I want to tell everyone I know that we’re dating?”


Wade shrugs, still not meeting Peter’s eyes. “Tin Can’s important to you, and he basically runs the Avengers, who are super duper important to you as well. And I’m not exactly family friendly material, it’s kind of an understatement when I say that they don’t really vibe with my feeling, ya know? Even if I do work for them sometimes when they need something done with a little more pew pew and a little less questions asked. I don’t want them kicking you out because of me.”


“I don’t wanna be part of them if they don’t agree with me dating you,” Peter says seriously.


Wade’s eyes get a little wet. “Pete-”


Peter leans down and cuts him off with a sweet kiss. Breathing out of his nose, Wade palms the back of his head with a broad, warm hand, making a low, happy sound as Peter licks into his mouth.


“I’m not ashamed of you,” Peter whispers against Wade’s lips. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m kind of really in love with you.”


A sob catches in the back of Wade’s throat. His chest feels like it’s going to implode and explode all at once. “Peter-”


“You don’t need to say anything.” Peter kisses him again sweetly, and then trails his lips down his chin, giving a little kitten lick over a harsh scar. “Lemme take care of you for once.” He starts unbuttoning the top of Wade’s bright pink pajamas.


Wade tries to sit up, a protest on his lips, but Peter just pushes him back down again, frowning. “Nope, no moving. Just lie back.”


“Thought I was the Dom in this relationship,” Wade says wetly. His throat still feels tight.


Peter just smiles and goes back to his buttons. With each one slipped out of it’s hole he gives the revealed scarred skin a small kiss until he gets down to Wade’s waistband of his pj bottoms. Then he works his way back up, smoothing his hands over Wade’s sides and helping him out of his open shirt.


“Peter,” Wade says quietly, hands coming up to Peter’s hips. He looks a little afraid; he’s never been fully bared in front of Peter before, not in the light anyway. They’ve taken baths together, but Peter always closes his eyes when Wade undresses and sits with his back to Wade’s chest. And when they fuck Wade’s mostly always fully clothed, and Peter really likes that dynamic, but also kind of feels a bit weird about it because sometimes it just feels like Wade’s too afraid to bare his skin.


“You’re beautiful,” Peter smiles, pressing a kiss to Wade’s forehead. Then he leans over to the side and snags a bottle of oil off the bedside table that he’d specially formulated with Wade’s skin in mind. It’s mild and hydrating and softening, with a light vanilla and orange fragrance. Wade’s skin can get irritated and dry, especially after long hot showers just like the one he’d just took. Peter pours a good amount into his palm, rubs his hands together to warm it, and then massages it over Wade’s chest.


Wade melts into the mattress underneath him as Peter uses his strong fingers to unknot the tense muscles there, rubbing more gently over his stomach and then harder over his shoulders and down his arms. Peter coaxes him over onto his front to knead at his back, and Wade makes sinful noises into the pillow as Peter basically turns his spine into jelly with his thumbs. He’s relaxed enough to not even feel self conscious when Peter slips down further and pulls his pjs off his legs, pouring more oil into his hands and digging his thumbs into Wade’s glutes. He makes his way down Wade’s legs, giving each one the same amount of attention, rubbing the oil into every inch of scarred skin and soothing every muscle, and even gives both of Wade’s feet a good rub, even getting between his toes.


Then he turns Wade over again, making his way back up Wade’s legs as Wade can only make slurred, pleasured noises, half asleep. When Peter gets to the top of Wade’s muscle heavy thighs he perches lightly on top of them, taking Wade’s half hard cock into his hand and gently stroking it into full hardness.


Wade groans, eyes opening halfway to watch Peter reach behind himself and finger himself open, a pink flush overtaking his cheeks. Then Peter shuffles up, biting his lip as he lines Wade’s dick up, and sinks slowly down, enveloping Wade in his familiar tight heat. The slick oil makes the slide wet and easy and Peter seats himself fully in Wade’s lap, panting. He’s exhausted from rounding up monster bugs all day and bringing down the Mother Bug, but he’s determined to do this.


“Baby, fuck,” Wade moans, hands reaching up for Peter. But Peter just shakes his head and captures them in his own, kissing over Wade’s knuckles.


“Lemme take care of you. Just lie back and enjoy and let me do all the work,” Peter smiles, puts Wade’s hands down by his sides and braces himself on Wade’s chest, slowly drawing himself up again. He rides Wade at a measured pace, his rhythm steady and sure even as his tired thighs tremble and his breath picks up and his own heavy hard cock bobs with every roll of his hips.


“‘M close baby boy,” Wade pants, toes curling.


“Mmhmm,” Peter gasps, and finally his hips start to move faster, fucking himself down on Wade’s cock, his silken insides dragging over him as Peter clenches around him. Wade growls deep in his chest, feeling his stomach tighten and his balls draw up, and then he’s coming, throwing his head back as Peter rides him through his peak.


With the last spurt of cum into Peter he goes completely boneless. Peter quietly, carefully climbs off of him, whimpering as Wade slips from his slick, used hole and hot cum leaks down his thighs.


“I love you too, you know,” Wade mutters as his eyes grow heavy and sleep beckons. He tries to fumble for Peter’s still hard and flushed cock, but Peter just tucks his arms against his sides and pulls the covers up around him. He kisses Wade’s cheek and then over his eyelids, ignoring the ache between his thighs.


“I know,” he whispers, leaning over to turn the lights off.




Peter looks up at the familiar sign reading Cherry Wine , his leg jiggling slightly in nervousness.


“We don’t have to do this,” Wade says next to him, his arm tight around Peter’s little waist. His fingers dip underneath the light material of his tight shirt for a second, stroking over the soft skin of Peter’s tummy.


Peter takes a deep breath. “I wanna meet your friends. You’ve met MJ and Ned, so. Just, do you think they’ll like me?”


“They’ll fucking love you to little bitty pieces,” Wade reassures him and opens the door. The bouncer greets him with a friendly smile, waving them through without checking Peter’s ID. He knows who Wade is. For a second Peter had thought Wade wouldn’t let him come to meet his friends here since he was underage, but Wade had just shrugged and said it was fine because Peter was with him. Peter wasn’t gonna argue with that.


When they get into the club it’s busier than the last and first time Peter was here. It’s dim, lit with warm, dark red lights, and the bass of the music is heavy and deep, reverberating through Peter’s chest. There are bodies on the dance floor but the stage for shows is empty, and the booths around the sides are full.


“There they are.” Wade steers Peter to one of the booths in the corner, hidden away enough that Peter wonders how Wade spotted them.


There are two women sitting there with fruity drinks in front of them. They’re both stunning, one with a confident smirk across her face, one dark eye and a lighter one ringed with vitiligo, and the other leaning back against the booth, her lipstick deep red and her smile sharp, long dark hair spilling over her shoulders. Peter tries hard not to stare at them as Wade pushes him into the booth first and slides in after him.


“‘Ness! Dom!” Wade grins, grabbing Peter around the hips and manhandling him into his lap. Peter squeaks and goes bright red, hands fisted in Wade’s hoodie. “This is Petey-Pie!”


Peter waves shyly at the bemused women, hoping the flush to his face is hidden in the dim lighting. “Hello,” he says, shyly. The booth they’re in is somehow situated that the loud music is muted, so Peter doesn’t have to worry about shouting across the table to be heard.


“Hi Peter,” the woman he thinks is Vanessa smiles. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Wade’s been talking my ear off about you.”


Peter doesn’t bother hiding his pleased smile.


“Fucking hell, you’re cute.” Domino drawls, putting her chin in her palm. “Jeez, Wilson, how’d you spin this?”


“No idea,” Wade chirps, “but I’m not questioning it!”


Another woman slides into the both, nestling up against Vanessa’s side. Peter blinks at her, recognising her as the nice bartender from last time. Debbie, was it? She’s still wearing her pretty flower charm collar.


Vanessa wraps an arm around her, tipping her chin up and kissing her. Peter looks away, face still red.


“Hey darling,” Vanessa smiles. “This is Peter.”


“Oh, I know, we’ve met. Nice to see you again,” Debbie smiles and Peter smiles back.


“It’s good to be back. Thanks for last time, by the way.”


“No problemo. That guy was a total creep.”


“Eurgh, you mean Ethan? What a scumbag,” Domino puts her drink down after taking a sip. “He finally got blacklisted.”


“Good riddance.” Vanessa pulls out a long leash and clips it into Debbie’s collar, wrapping the end around her hand a couple times. Peter stares for a second and then looks away.


“You want me to buy you a leash?” Wade whispers in his ear. “You’d look so pretty tethered and crawling across my floor. I could probably choke you so well with it.”


“Wade,” Peter hisses. He’s pretty sure his face is going to be permanently red from this night after.


Vanessa and Debbie slide out of the booth, Debbie’s leash still held tight in Vanessa hand. “We’re gonna get some drinks, anybody want anything?”


Domino and Wade list off absurd sounding drinks and Peter just shyly asks for a vodka and cranberry, and then they’re off into the crowd to the bar. Domino takes the chance to absolutely interrogate Peter about his life, and somehow Peter finds himself answering every question with the complete truth without even thinking twice about it.


Vanessa and Debbie come back with their drinks and a platter of snacks as well and join in on the conversation. Wade feeds Peter grapes and cheese from his fingers, Peter not getting embarrassed about it because Vanessa does the same with Debbie, and Domino just grins at them as she picks at the dried fruit. The ladies are really nice, and Peter finds himself relaxing in their presence, laughing and chatting with them, leaning back happily into Wade’s chest as he sips at his drink.


Soon, a stage show is announced and Vanessa and Debbie get up to watch it, and Domino spots a pretty sub in the crowd giving her the eyes and swoops off to claim her, so it’s just Peter and Wade sitting in the booth.


Wade turns Peter around in his lap so he’s straddling Wade’s wide, hard thighs and holds up another grape.


“Your friends are really nice,” Peter comments, leaning forward obediently and opening his lips. Wade slips the small, round fruit into his mouth, watching as Peter’s pink tongue playfully licks at the tip of his fingers.


“Tease.” Wade squeezes Peter’s hips in his big hands, tickling him under his shirt. Peter wriggles, giggling, and then Wade is grabbing at his butt, kneading the plump flesh. Peter moans quietly, wrapping his arms around Wade’s neck and offering his fruit sweet lips to Wade.


“You like it though,” Peter says against Wade’s mouth as the bigger man leans down and claims his.


“Yeah, I do,” Wade growls into his mouth. “And you like it when I punish you for it.”


“Mm,” Peter hums, mewling quietly as Wade fists a hand into his hair and tugs his head back, baring his throat for rough kisses.


Someone clears their throat. Peter squeaks but stays still in Wade’s hold, knowing better than to move when Wade has him.


“Oh, hey Dom,” Wade looks up. “Kinda busy here.”


Domino has the pretty sub from before by her side, her hand in the girl’s back pocket of her tight black jeans. They both look equally pleased as each other. “Yeah, I can see that,” Domino drawls. “Just letting you know I’m outta here.”


“Have fun,” Wade growls, waving with the hand not currently holding Peter’s head back.


“See ya,” Domino smiles. “Great to meet ya, Peter. Nice necklace you’ve got there, by the way.” She nods at Peter’s bared throat. “Not a collar though, Wade. Better hurry up with that.”


“Oh, I wouldn’t worry ‘bout that,” Wade smiles, baring his teeth. Peter’s spine tingles up and down his back, his chest tightening in excitement, but he stays submissively quiet in Wade’s hold.


Domino heads off with her prize and Wade’s attention snaps back to Peter. Peter shivers at the promise in Wade’s dark brown eyes.


“I think it’s time to head home,” Wade rumbles. Peter bites his lip and lets Wade manhandle him through the club, the bigger man waving goodbye to Vanessa and Debbie when they see them through the crowd around the stage.


When they get back Wade strips him and ties his hands behind his back, bending him over the kitchen table and taking him roughly, hand fisted in his hair and forcing his head down, growling dirty things in his ear as Peter keens and sobs and begs and finally gasps as Wade gives him permission to come, spurting his release over the polished wood. Afterwards Wade commands Peter to lick it up, and in a daze Peter does, trembling as he bends over and laps it up with his tongue, twitching as Wade’s own spend leaks from his puffy rim and down the back of his legs. Wade ends up fucking him again, Peter’s body loose and pliant as he gets ploughed in the bathtub, water sloshing everywhere, the big bathroom echoing with the sounds of wet skin slapping against wet skin and Wade’s grunts as he holds Peter’s body over the rim of the bath, Peter panting down to the bathroom tiles as Wade uses him.


He doesn’t get a collar that night, but warm and content and well used, cuddled up in Wade’s arms as the man whispers praise to him and soothes gentle hands down his back, he’s happy to wait. He knows it’ll be soon.




Peter ignores every message Tony sends him, sending only one back in reply; if Tony doesn’t apologize to Wade’s face, then Peter wants nothing to do with him. It hurts, because Peter has spent most of his life worshiping the billionaire tech genius superhero and then thinking of him as a mentor and possibly, could be, maybe, father figure, but he sticks to his promise.


The year goes on, Peter avoids the Avengers, goes to college, studies with Ned and MJ, spends most nights and weekends at Wade’s, brings Wade to meet Aunt May, fights crime as Spidey with Deadpool at his side, hides the various bitemarks, handprints, rope burns and bruises that Wade leaves on him under his clothes, and is happy. Exam time quickly arrives and Peter holes up for weeks, studying up a fury, and bans Wade from seeing him since every time he does he ends up distracted or on his back with his legs in the air as Wade takes him enthusiastically, or bent over something as Wade spanks him and then takes him enthusiastically, or on his knees sucking Wade off as Wade tugs at his hair and calls him a slut, slapping him around a bit and then fucking him enthusiastically on the floor.


So yeah, Peter doesn’t see Wade for three weeks because of the aforementioned, and after his final exam, he’s missing his boyfriend something fierce . It’s not just that he’s horny as hell, he’s used to being fucked at least four times a week at the least , but he also misses Wade’s hugs and big cheesy grin and wide hands and atrocious fashion sense and deep, raspy voice.


Peter heads back to his dorm in a rush as soon as he leaves the exam building, takes a quick shower, readies his surprise that he’d bought one lonely night on a whim, and texts Wade he’s on his way. He doesn’t have the patience to take the bus so he treats himself by slipping into his Spidey suit, throwing his weekend bag over his shoulder and diving out his window. Stretching his body after three weeks of sitting at a desk and squinting at his laptop screen and notes is heavenly, and when he arrives at the window Wade always leaves open for him his blood is rushing through his veins and he’s exhilarated.


“Wade!” Peter slips in, pulling his mask off and dropping his bag onto the floor. He quickly strips out of his suit and yanks his jeans and tshirt on. “Wade? Are you home?”


“In here.”


Peter follows Wade’s voice into the dark living room, pausing in the doorway when he sees Wade sitting calmly in an armchair, dressed in black with his legs crossed. The lamp next to him is the only source of light in the room, throwing dramatic shadows over his broad frame, exaggerating the rough, pockmarked texture of his skin. There’s a dark purple bag sitting at his feet and a severe frown over his handsome, scarred face. A wooden hairbrush sits innocently on his thigh.


Peter’s heart starts to pound, his mouth watering in anticipation. Oh.


Wade’s eyebrow lifts. “Well. Come here.”


Peter walks in like a moth drawn to flame, padding in with his bare feet quietly swishing over the carpet. He stands at Wade’s feet, swallowing nervously.




Peter’s already hard in his jeans. He takes his shirt off with shaking fingers and reaches down for his fly, fumbling at it as Wade makes an impatient noise.


“Hurry up.”


“Sorry-” Peter yelps as Wade grabs his wrist in a punishing grip.


“Did I say you could talk?” Wade’s voice is flat.


Peter shakes his head, gulping. Wade grips him even harder for a second, the bones in his wrist aching sweetly, and he whimpers. Wade lets him go and leans back in his chair and Peter quickly drops his jeans, stepping out of them.


Wade’s eyes go wide when he sees the dark blue lacy panties that Peter’s wearing, breaking character for a second. “Holy moly, baby boy, are you trying to kill me?”


Peter bites his lip, pleased. “It’s not the only surprise,” he hints, coyly.


Wade’s fingers twitch on his thighs, his eyes darkening once again. “Kneel,” he grates out.


Peter sinks down gracefully, making a show of it, Wade watching him appreciatively. After all, he’s had months of getting down on his knees almost daily, he might as well show off what he’s learnt.


He settles down on the carpet. Wade leans forward and captures his chin in his big, strong hand, tipping his head up. “Colour, cupcake?”


“Very, very green,” Peter says enthusiastically.


Wade smiles down at him, giving him a kiss on the forehead. “Goodie sticks. I’m about to get pretty rough with you. If you feel uncomfortable in any way or want me to stop, let me know, okay? I won’t be angry. Feel free to yell or throw me across the room too.”


“I know.” Every time Wade tells him this, and it’s not like Peter would forget, but he appreciates it all the same. It shows that Wade cares about him. Loves him, and wants him to feel safe.


And then Wade catches him off guard, slapping him hard across the face. The left side of Peter’s face blooms in pain and he cries out, collapsing onto his side from the force of it. It’s more of an ache than a hard sting; Wade’s wearing gloves, but it’s still so good. Ever since Wade found out about his spidery alter ego and subsequent super strength and healing abilities, he’s been getting rougher and rougher, but still not rough enough to seriously injure Peter. Peter freaking loves it .


Tears sting at his eyes and he straightens up again, clutching his now numb cheek.


“I remember not giving you permission to talk, before.” Wade picks up the hairbrush and slaps it lightly against his palm. Peter licks his lips, watching it fearfully.


“I think that’s five, don’t you?” Wade hums.


Peter’s breathing picks up.


“And there’s the matter of you ignoring me for three weeks. I’m not very pleased, sweetheart. In fact, you might say I’m a bit mad.” He slaps the hairbrush against his palm again, the wood making a dull thud against the material of his glove. The sound makes Peter shiver. “I think that’s, let’s say, another fifteen.”


Twenty whacks with that hairbrush. Peter’s going to be ruined afterwards. And then there’s the matter of his other surprise for Wade as well, that’s not going to be helping matters either. Playing fearful, Peter shakes his head.


Wade hits him across the other side of his face. Peter gasps, catching himself this time before he crashes to the floor, hiccuping. His cock strains against it’s lacy prison, pre cum seeping through the sheer fabric. He clenches down on the thing inside of him, whimpering.


“You don’t get to say no.”


Peter sits up again, looking down, shamefaced. A rough hand grabs his chin and forces his head up so Wade can watch the tears drip down his bright red cheeks.


Wade tilts his head, shoving a gloved thumb into Peter’s mouth. “Pretty,” he muses as Peter chokes, his thumb forcing it’s way into the back of Peter’s throat. Peter struggles a little, hands grasping at Wade’s arm, crying as saliva drips down his chin. Wade stands, tugging Peter up by the hand in his mouth, walks him backwards and shoves him up against the arm of the leather couch.


Peter yelps, tipping backwards as Wade lets go of him, and he fumbles for the back of the couch. He regains balance just as Wade grabs a fistfull of his hair and yanks roughly, bending him over the arm of the couch and shoving his face into the cushions.


Peter’s ass is raised in the air, his feet off of the floor and floundering. He whines and tries to push himself back up but Wade keeps him down, a hard hand on the back of his head pushing firmly. He tries to kick but Wade’s in between his thighs and he can’t get a foot to him, so Peter’s helpless, whimpering into the cushions.


Wade chuckles behind him, his free hand going to the back of Peter’s panties to yank them down. He pauses when he gets them just past Peter’s butt cheeks, going silent.


Peter grins a little into the couch. Pretending again to struggle, he wriggles his hips enticingly, and Wade growls at him in retaliation, slapping his ass and shocking Peter into stillness.


“You’re such a little slut, aren’t you?” Wade rumbles, pulling at the little ring at the end of the string that hangs out of Peter’s already slicked up entrance. Peter moans as the beads inside of him tug against his walls. “Couldn’t wait for my dick, so you shoved these inside of you, hm? Are you that desperate, baby boy?”


And then Wade yanks and the biggest ball pops out of Peter, Peter’s squeal muffled by the couch.


“I guess I should be grateful that you didn’t go looking for someone else’s cock to fuck you.” Wade sounds almost bored as he grabs the ball, warm from Peter’s body heat, and rubs it up against Peter’s twitching hole. “You’re such a greedy whore, you would like that, wouldn’t you? Maybe I should invite some friends over, tie you up and let them have a go at you, pass you around like pass the parcel until you’re dripping with cum and crying for them to stop. Maybe then you’ll have a use, other than being my needy little cock warmer, hm?”


He pushes the bead back into Peter with the last word, popping it back past Peter’s rim with a finger, Peter’s body jerking as it jams up against the other two inside of him. Peter trembles, shaking his head as much as Wade’s hand can allow him to. “No, no- ah!”


The hand in his hair tightens to the point that Peter’s scalp is screaming in pain and Wade shakes him by it, pulling him up off the couch and making his back bow. Peter shrieks, grabbing behind him at Wade’s arm, trying to alleviate some pressure.


Wade just shakes him harder. “No talking,” he barks over Peter’s sobs. “Fucking hell, how many times do I have to repeat myself?”


Peter’s cock is leaking copiously now, heavy and full between his legs, half caught in the panties that Wade had half pulled off of him. It full on twitches as Wade turns him around, pulling him to his feet, Peter stumbling, caught in the panties that drop to his ankles. Wade slaps him again, once, twice, three times, Peter’s cock leaking a new glob of precum with every hit. Peter collapses when Wade lets him go, tipping back onto the couch, dazed and panting.


“I think that makes it a round thirty, now.” Wade sounds like he’s back to commenting on the weather as he grabs Peter’s hips and flips him over onto his stomach. He picks up the hairbrush from where he’d dropped it and taps it lightly on Peter’s butt. “Baby? Colour?”


Peter manages to come out of his stupor enough to mutter “ green .”


The first hit makes Peter shriek. The balls inside him push against his flesh as it’s forced down with the whack, and his ass stings like it’s on fire. He tries to pull himself away but Wade just drags him back and lays into him, thwacking every inch of Peter’s ass until it’s cherry red, and then even more, picking a spot on the underside of Peter’s butt where his thigh begins and concentrating there until the flesh darkens into a bruise, Peter sobbing and then yelling and then screaming.


The final five hits are heaven and hell all wrapped into one. Wade reaches around him to feel how hard his cock is, giving it a brutal squeeze and chuckling as Peter wheezes with pain. “You can come after the last one,” he says into Peter’s ear, Peter only just hearing him over the rushing of blood in his ears.


Wade counts down, and Peter shouts himself hoarse with every hit, stomach tightening and fingers clenching, body tensing up. His ass is alight and his entire body feels oversensitive, every nerve hyperactive as he draws closer and closer to orgasm.


Wade hits him hard , right on the fleshiest part of his left butt cheek, and Peter whines. “Three.”


One on the opposite side. Peter sobs, desperate. “Two.”


And then Wade slams the unforgiving back of the brush into the bruise under the curve of Peter’s buttcheek, at the same time reaching around and jerking Peter’s straining cock. “Come.”


And Peter does, screaming soundlessly as his vision whitens out and he spills cum into Wade’s gloved palm. He comes for what feels like forever, the pain in his ass searing across the overwhelming pleasure of release, heightening it until all Peter knows is rapture.


He comes back to himself still spread over the couch, but now he’s on his back and Wade is sitting sideways between his legs, idly smearing Peter’s cum over his heaving tummy. When he sees Peter’s eyes looking at him from under his lashes, the boy blinking, dazed but conscious, he grins like a shark and yanks all three beads out of Peter in one brutal jerk.


Peter’s eyes pop open and he wails hoarsely. Wade dangles them from his fingers, inspecting the glistening black balls, and then throws them over his shoulder.


“What am I going to do with you?” He sighs, looking down at the ruin he’s made of Peter. Peter makes a sound and Wade follows his gaze down to between his own legs, where his cock is making a massive tent in his jeans. There’s even a wet spot. Peter’s mouth waters.


“I don’t think you deserve that,” Wade considers and Peter chokes on a disappointed sound. “Aw, poor baby.”


He pinches Peter’s thigh viciously and Peter yelps, body jerking, and then he cries out as his burning ass rubs over the leather of the couch with the movement. Wade watches him deal with the pain impassively and then reaches down to pick up the bag from before.


“I’ve got something else for you.” He opens it, pulling out Peter’s favourite hot pink vibrator. It’s big, not quite as big as Wade, and ribbed, with a cordless remote that Wade pulls out as well. “You’re lucky I’m even giving you this after your behaviour.”


He turns it on, but instead of putting it between Peter’s legs he touches it to Peter’s chest, pressing against Peter’s nipple. Peter jerks, mouth dropping open in a high whine, and bites back a plea for Wade to stop, to keep going, something.


“Hmm, you can talk, I think I want to hear you beg,” Wade says conversationally.


As soon as he has permission Peter starts to babble. “Wade, Wade, please , oh my god- ah!” Wade turns the vibrations up another setting, making Peter’s nipple ache and puff up. Before it goes numb Wade switches to the other nipple and pinches the first one brutally, tears gathering again in Peter’s eyes.


“Stop! Wade, I’m sorry, stop, please,” Peter begs as Wade refuses to let up on the pressure on his poor, abused nipple.


“You’re sorry?” Wade hums, pinching even harder. “What for?”


Peter squirms, tears dripping down the sides of his face, his cheeks still red and stinging from Wade slapping him.


“I don’t know! Ow, Wade, I can’t- please!”


Wade tilts his head, but lets Peter’s nipple go. Peter collapses back into the couch, panting and sobbing. His cheeks and nipple and ass all throb with heat, the vibrator pressed up against his unabused nipple a counteracting point of pleasure that doesn’t really do much against the pain. It’s amazing . Wade treats him so well, Peter is the most spoiled boyfriend, ever.


The vibrator leaves his nipple, trailing down his heaving, sweaty chest and down to his  oversensitive half hard cock. Peter whines, shaking his head. “Not there, please.”


Wade ignores him and Peter does his best to take it, suddenly feeling like he’s going to shake apart. It’s so much, he’s in so much pain and pleasure, he doesn’t know what to do. The tears keep coming and he’s sobbing fully now, hands fisting in the leather of the couch. “Wa- Wade,” he hiccups.


Somehow sensing that Peter’s reaching the end of his tether, Wade pulls the vibrator away, and then he’s leaning down over Peter’s face, pressing a kiss into his forehead. “Honey, you okay? What’s your colour?”


“Gr- green,” Peter stutters. “I just- it’s a lot. I need a sec.”


“Okay darling. Want me to stop?”


Peter whimpers, shaking his head, clutching at Wade’s shoulders with shaking hands. “N- no, I’m good. Keep going.”


Wade looks down at him, frowning, but sees the sincerity in Peter’s eyes. “You’re sure? You’re not too sore? I’ve hit you a lot.”


Peter nods. “Yes. Yes I’m sure, please, keep going. But maybe, maybe tie my wrists? It helps ground me.”


So Wade does, picking up the bag again and pulling out a soft, braided satin rope that Peter knows well. It’s not strong enough by even a little bit to really keep his super spidey strength in check, but that’s not the point. The point is that he feels them around his wrists, restricting him, constraining him, settling him down. He’s secure now, held by the ropes and Wade’s hands around his waist.




“Mmhm,” Peter nods, sighing as Wade raises his hands above his head. He leans down and kisses him, tangling their tongues together sweetly.


“I’m gonna start again, you good?”


“Yes, Wade.” Peter looks up under his lashes at him. He feels much better now. A little impatient, as well. “Please?”


This time, when Wade kisses him, he’s overwhelming, his hand enveloping Peter’s lower jaw, his grip almost tight enough to bruise. Peter whimpers into it, feeling himself slipping back down into the mindspace that he’d been drawn out of before.


The vibrator makes another appearance, buzzing down the inside of Peter’s thigh. He squirms, trying to close his legs, but Wade tuts at him, tapping his nose. “Nuh uh, babydoll. Open up.”


Peter does, reluctantly. “Wade- I don’t- I’m not sure-”


“You don’t have a choice, darling,” Wade says and runs the vibrator over the stinging of Peter’s ass. He shrieks, but before he can jerk away Wade holds him down with a hand on his stomach and works the head of the vibrator into him.


“No- oh, stop-”


Wade responds by flipping him over onto his front, hand on the back of his head, the other slowly sinking the lowly buzzing vibrator further into him. “Your pretty mouth says no but your pretty hole says yes,” he hums, watching as Peter’s entrance sucks it in greedily. The slick from Peter’s anal beads eases the way but it’s still a burn, the width of them not enough to ready him for the stretch of the vibrator. He whines through it, begging Wade to stop, but can’t help spreading his legs wider, craving the full feeling, the strain, the sweetness of the pain.


Soon it’s seated fully in him, jammed and buzzing furiously up against his prostate. Peter writhes, tugging against the restraints on his wrists, his cock full against his already cum smeared belly, squished between his body and the couch below him. Wade taps his butt with the palm of his hand, less of a whack and more of a pat, but Peter sobs with pain anyway, his freshly spanked ass a mess of welts and bruises.


And then the world is spinning around him. Wade heaves him up, shoving him down to the floor onto his knees, Peter crying out at the sting of his ass meeting the back of his calves, the vibrator jerking inside of him with the movement. He can hear it humming away, a quiet, constant backdrop to his crying and Wade’s amused sounds.


A gloved finger makes his way into his mouth. Peter sucks at it out of muscle memory, unable to concentrate, Wade chuckling at his ruined expression as he pins Peter’s tongue to the bottom of his mouth.


His other hand undoes his pants and draws out his cock. Peter stares at it through his tears, panting around Wade’s finger, saliva drooling down his chin.


“You want this?” Wade teases, his own fingers wrapping around his girth and slowly drawing up, making himself groan.


Peter doesn’t know whether to nod or to shake his head. The confusion on his face must show, because Wade huffs a laugh. “Don’t hurt yourself,” he grins. “Come on, I’ll make the choice for you.”


He pulls Peter forward by his hair and feeds him his cock. Peter’s jaw aches and strains as Wade’s dick forces his mouth open, and all he can do is take it, gurgling around it as Wade sets the vibrator to it’s highest setting, vibrating intensely against his prostate.


Peter’s eyes roll into the back of his head. His fingers clench and unclench, his thighs shaking, breathing heavily through his nose as Wade uses his mouth. He’s full at both ends, owned completely.


A thumb slips in with Wade’s next thrust, stretching Peter’s lips to the limit. His other hand reaches down and digs a nail into Peter’s abused nipple. “Come now, Peter.”


Helplessly, Peter obeys. He howls around Wade’s cock, shaking through the almost painful orgasm, cum spurting over his stomach again. He’s pulled off of Wade’s dick, manhandled up into the man’s lap, and the vibrator unceremoniously pulled from his body. Peter only twitches, a limp ragdoll in Wade’s arms.


Wade slicks himself up with the ever present tube of lube behind the couch cushion, and replaces the vibrator with his cock. Peter trembles as he’s stretched out again, whimpering, shaking his head.


“I can’t,” he rasps, “please don’t make me.”


Another slap. Tears fly from Peter’s face from the force of it, Wade having to hold him up by his hair so he doesn’t collapse.


“Baby, you don’t get a say,” Wade tuts as he seats Peter fully in his lap, balls deep in Peter’s twitching hole. He manipulates Peter’s arms so they’re looped around his neck, the rope around Peter’s wrists keeping them there, and starts to bounce Peter on his cock.


Overwhelmed, Peter just lets Wade do what he wants with him, weak, little sounds falling from his lips. His head tips back, eyes falling closed, and Wade has to palm his burning ass and squeeze tightly for him to cry out and straighten up again, sobbing.


“Look at me, honey.” Wade commands, his voice raspy and deep. He doesn’t sound like he’s exerting himself at all even though he’s doing all the work, hands tight around Peter’s hips, forcing him up and down. Peter hole squelches around his dick, the sound dirty and obscene in the otherwise quietness of the living room.


Peter tries, he really does, but his gaze is unfocused, slipping away from Wade’s eyes and jerking back towards them when he realises he’s straying. He knows he’s drooling, mouth dropped open, and his face stings from Wade’s slaps and his tears. “Wa-Wade,” he manages to croak.


A gloved hand around his oversensitive dick makes him jerk. “No,” he gasps, shaking his head weakly. “No more. It hu- hurts.”


Wade tips him over onto his back, holding one of Peter’s legs over his shoulder. Peter moans brokenly with every thrust, hot pain zingling up his spine as the zipper on Wade’s pants chafe into his abused backside, Wade’s thumb nail digging into the swollen head of his hyper sensitive cock. Peter’s been able to come three times before in one session, but this time he knows it’s not possible. He’s too rung out, sore and uncomfortable, and even with Wade splitting him in two, the delicious ache and pain running through him, he just doesn’t have it in him.


“I can’t,” he sobs again, body jolting with every one of Wade’s thrusts, moving up the couch inch by inch. “Let me- let me go.”


“There’s no chance of that,” Wade smiles down at him, eyebrows coming together as he bites his lip and grunts, the punishing pace he’s set fucking Peter beginning to lose it’s rhythm as he gets closer to his peak. Peter lets out a broken sound and tips his head back, the ceiling above him going hazy around the edges.


Wade tugs at his dick. “Down here, Peter. Look at me,” he growls. Peter manages to look down his nose at the man over him, holding his trembling legs open. “Watch me ruin you.”


And then he leans further over Peter, folding the smaller male in two, gets a hand around his throat and ruts ruthlessly into him. Tears roll down the side of Peter’s aching face, his vision blurry, but he keeps eye contact with Wade somehow, helpless to disobey an order.


“Fuck,” Wade grunts, tightening his grip around Peter’s throat. Peter can still breathe but it’s hard, and he gasps, mouth open wide. “Beg me,” Wade commands, “tell me to stop.”


“St- stop,” Peter rasps. He’s beginning to float, the only things keeping him down to earth the rope around his wrists, the hand around his throat, the weight over and in him, Wade’s liquid brown eyes staring into him, stripping him bare. “Plea- uh, please , no, stop, don’t- don’t come in me- uh, ah!


One last thrust, shoving Peter up against the arm of the couch, and Wade’s coming, cock pulsing inside of him. Peter keens weakly as Wade hunches over him, grinding slowly, as if he’s trying to get his spend as deep into Peter as he can. And then it’s over, Wade gasping for breath as he straights up and lets Peter’s throat go, his handprint a red expanse over the milk white of Peter’s skin.


“Baby,” Wade murmurs, gathering Peter up in his arms, letting his cock slip from between Peter’s thighs. “Darling, gorgeous,” he peppers Peter’s face with kisses, “you were so good, so obedient, you did so well, you were so perfect for me. My baby boy.”


Peter blinks, dazed. He’s still riding the high, brain jumbled. He’s vaguely aware of Wade showering him with praise and kisses, and his heart is a vast, warm expanse in his chest, but he’s not ready to surface just yet. His wrists get untied and he’s lifted up, held like something precious against Wade’s chest, and then laid out across soft sheets. Wade’s voice is still soothing him, and Peter whimpers as his thighs are spread but he only feels Wade’s fingers gently prodding at his rim, checking that he’s unbroken, and then wiping the cum from him with a warm, damp cloth. Cooling gel is smeared over his burning ass and nipple, the sensation on the edge of his awareness, like he’s swimming through water and it’s a distant echo, a twinkling of the light reflecting in the corner of his eye.


Then he’s enveloped in a warm embrace, Wade’s scent strong in his nose, and Peter nuzzles close, breathing out a quiet, content sigh. He drifts, for a while, and then when it’s time, he breaks the surface.


“There you are,” Wade whispers fondly as Peter lifts his head, blinking blearily. He tilts his head up for Wade’s kiss, smiling.


“Not up to talking yet, sweetheart?”


Peter shakes his head, resting back down against Wade’s chest. His fingers swirl lazy patterns across the rough, snarled texture of Wade’ skin, humming in the back of his throat as Wade pats his hair.


“That’s okay. Let me know how you’re doing when you’re ready.”


A little while longer, Peter basking in the gentle afterglow, and then he stretches, his toes hardly making it past Wade’s knees. He relishes in every ache he feels as he does.


“Mm, that was good.”


Wade grins, his warm eyes sparkling. “Glad you enjoyed.”


“Those three weeks were worth it if this is what I got afterwards.”


Pouting, Wade pinches Peter’s sore ass. Peter yelps; his healing factor has already kicked in, healing the surface damage, but he’s still tender.


“Don’t go getting any bright ideas,” Wade growls.


Peter laughs lightly. “Nah, I missed you too much.”


“You feeling okay? I was pretty rough with you, it looked like you were struggling for a while there, tootsie.”


Peter makes a face at the awful pet name. “Ew, don’t call me that. But, uh, I guess it was a lot after weeks of not getting down and dirty. But I’ve never been better.”


“Okies,” Wade smiles sweetly and Peter’s heart turns to goo. Gosh he loves this man.


“I bought you a prezzie. Something to say congrats for finishing your exams!” Wade makes an over exaggerated disgusted face. “Yuck, exams. What a gross word. Worse than moist, and gush, and Ronald Drump, he who must not be named. It should be banned.”


“Better get right on it,” Peter smiles crookedly. “You said you bought me something?” Another time and he’d be happy to follow Wade on his gross word tangent, but he’s excited for his gift.


“Oh yeah!” Wade sits up, lifting Peter with him in one arm. “You’re so good to me, keeping me on track. How did I ever do anything without you?” He sighs, getting up from the bed and walking over to the big safe he’s got in the corner of his room. “Open her up, dollface.”


Peter reaches out and punches in the passcode. B U T T S .


The thick, heavy door pops open. There’s a box inside, wrapped merrily in glittering wrapping paper, a perfect bow tied on top. Next to it is a weeks old Taco Bell take out bag, judging from the smell of it.


Peter wrinkles his nose. “Ew, Wade.”


“Oops, I forgot about that,” Wade says sheepishly. “Was saving it for later. Anyways…”


Peter grabs the box and Wade carries him back to the bed. He sets him down carefully, Peter hissing as his butt meets the sheets, but he settles, folding his legs and setting the box between them.


Wade cuddles up behind him, hooking his chin over Peter’s shoulder. “Go on!” He urges excitedly.


Peter smiles and undoes the ribbon, then rips the wrapping paper off unceremoniously. What the point of wrapping paper if you can’t tear it off and make a big mess of it?


It’s a heavy, dark, lacquered box. On top the words baby boy are engraved in gold. Breath picking up, Peter carefully lifts the lid.


Inside is a beautiful, sleek silver collar, resting on a dark satin pillow. Peter picks it up in shaking hands, mouth dropping open at the sparkling, dark red gem dangling from it. Tasteful and simple, it passes easily as a statement piece of jewellery, something that Peter can wear everyday.


“Wade,” he breathes. “It’s beautiful.”


A kiss is brushed over the shell of his ear, Wade’s voice low and intimate. “Would you do me the honour of belonging to me?”


Peter turns around in Wade’s arms, blinking incredulously at Wade’s nervous face. It’s obvious, isn’t it? “I already do.”


Wade’s eyes are getting wet. His fingers shake as he reaches up and undoes Peter’s choker, slipping the velvet from Peter’s skin and dropping it to the sheets. Peter makes a small noise, feeling naked, but then Wade is gently taking the collar from his hands and securing it around his neck.


It fits perfectly. The metal quickly warms to Peter’s body temperature, the heavy gem sitting in the hollow of his throat like it belongs there. Peter touches it with trembling fingers, his eyes wide in awe.


“You look amazing,” Wade croaks. He looks like he’s about to burst with indescribable happiness and pride. Peter can’t blame him, he feels exactly the same way.


Suddenly unable to take it anymore, Peter squeaks and throws himself into Wade’s arms, sending them tumbling into the sheets. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He rambles, face hurting from how wide he’s smiling. “Oh my god, Wade, I love it, I love you!”


Wade laughs, accepting Peter’s kisses and happy squirming on top of him joyfully. “Love you too, baby boy,” he smiles, tears spilling over.




For the first time in months, Peter stands in the Avengers Facility, hand held securely in Wade’s. He stands with his back stubbornly straight, staring a fumbling Tony Stark down silently.


Beside him, Wade quivers a little in fear. Wow his tiny spider boo is fierce . The temperature in the room is practically dropping by the minute. Remind him to never get on Peter’s bad side.


“Look,” Tony rubs the back of his head. “I’m sorry, okay?”


“I’m not the one you should be apologising to,” Peter states plainly.


Tony lets out a loud breath. “Fuck, do I have to?”

Peter just slowly raises a brow. Tony winces. “Shit, okay, okay. ”


He makes eye contact with Wade and tries his best to not look like he’d rather be standing in cow shit. Or using an Apple product, same thing. Peter can appreciate the effort, even if Tony looks constipated.


“I’m sorry for implying that you’d somehow tricked Peter into tolerating-”




“-Dating you.” Tony clears his throat.


Peter taps his foot. “And?”


Tony heaves a sigh, shoulders drooping. “And I’m sorry for being a dick and I’ll try not to do it again. Christ, is that good enough?”


Peter shrugs, turning to Wade. “Is it?”


Wade taps his chin, thinking. “Well, I think it’d go down better if he buttered me up a little. Maybe some compliments on my great ass, buy me some sweet wheels, maybe my own helicopter-”


“Wade,” Peter admonishes.


“Fine, it’s cool, it’s cool. Apology accepted, Tin Can.”


“Thank fuck,” Tony sighs. “Now can we finally get to the meeting?”


Peter marches out of the room past him, tugging Wade after him, and kicks open the door to the meeting room. All the chatter stops, everybody blinking at him, wide-eyed at the unexpectedly irate looking, normally cheerful Spider-Man. At the back of the room Clint pulls out a packet of potato chips and starts to eat them, looking amused.


“Wade and I are dating,” Peter announces, holding up his and Wade’s joined hands. “If anybody has a problem with that, or with Deadpool joining us, you can meet me outside and I’ll fight you.”


Natasha leans over and grabs a chip from Clint’s packet, crunching into it loudly.


“And if I hear anybody making mean comments about him, I’ll fight you too, and I’ll win. Any questions?”


Everybody shakes their heads. Bucky starts to raise his hand, a badly concealed evil grin on his face, but Steve grabs it out of the air and shoves it down, whispering furiously at him.


“Good.” Peter holds his head high, leading Wade forward and pushing him down into a chair. Then he plants himself in Wade’s lap and leans forward, smiling sweetly behind his mask. “So, how’s everyone's day going?”


Tony joins them, making disgruntled noises about his broken door, and the meeting commences. Wade’s unusually quiet, and when Peter twists around to check on him, he finds Wade looking at him dreamily, the eyes of his mask practically heart shaped. Smiling, Peter lightly touches his collar underneath his suit and then drops his hand to Wade's, linking their fingers together.


For a second they’re in their own little bubble. Then Sam flicks the third balled up piece of paper into the back of Bucky’s head, and Bucky turns, snarling, his metal arm knocking a hot cup of coffee into Bruce’s lap as he dives for Sam. The Hulk comes roaring out and chaos erupts, and Peter and Wade make a run for it, hand in hand and laughing.