Skywalker @antheriium - Tumblr Blog

GOD this is so insane I wrote this scene out from the discord, with @hemlock-dreams saying setting it up a blow-out fight with the Avengers after they were treating Wade poorly and he had to intervene so Spidey didn't kick their ass. I wanted to write the aftermath, and then hemlock DREW IT. screaming/ crying / etc etc etc.

So with that in mind, and knowing that the below is about 95% porn/ NSFW, enjoy. if you know me in real life AVERT THINE EYES unless you are into this sort of thing in which case, please proceed .

Wade watches Spidey pace, his shoulders tense and his movements sharp. "Sooooo," Wade breaks the silence. "That was...fun..." Spidey snorts derisively. "I don't like hypocrites. They were being assholes." Wade nods. Makes sense, make sense. Only— "You okay, buddy? Cause I haven't seen you lose it that bad since...now that I'm thinking about it, uh, never, and we deal with assholes all the time on patrol." Spidey hisses— a sharp, primal sound that, combined with the points of his fangs, does absolutely jack shit to calm down Wade's burgeoning erection— and turns towards Wade. He stabs a finger at him. "The Avengers don't get to fucking talk to you like that." Wow, okay. That's adorable. Wade laughs dismissively. "News flash, Webs, that's always how they talk to me-awhoooakyy—" He cuts off as between one second and the next Spidey has him pinned. Spidey's body—huge, hot and firm—presses him against the wall. His fangs are so close they're nearly brushing the fabric of his mask. "No, Wade," Spidey rasps. "They. Don't. Talk. To. You. That Way." "Okay," Wade squeaks. He's so turned-on he's a little lightheaded.

Spidey's pressed so close that Wade wonders if he can feel his heart beating. He's gotta feel Wade's dick, hard as nails and now tortuously trapped against Spidey's hip. Wade holds his breath as Spidey doesn't move away—if anything, he moves closer. He runs his nose over Wade's masked cheek and inhales. "Webs," Wade manages, because, let's be clear, he's into this, holy shit (holy shit!!!) is he into this, but he's a little confused about what the fuck is happening right now— Confusion that does not get any clearer when Webs tugs at his mask. Maybe because of the confusion, he lets Spidey pull it up—up over his mouth, up to his nose—before he makes an involuntary noise at it going any further. "Webs," Wade tries again, strangled, because Spidey's looking at him like he's gonna eat Wade alive and Wade is going to fucking let him—

"Promise?" Spidey says. His voice is low and husky and goes straight to Wade's dick. "Yeah, sure, I promise, whatever you want," Wade babbles. He has no idea what he's promising, but who cares? Not Wade!! Not right now!!

"Good," Spidey murmurs, and then leans in and (holy shit!!!!) kisses Wade.

There's a split second where it's just a kiss, soft and exploratory, and then Spidey's fangs scrape over his lip, drawing blood, and Wade can't help it: he lets out the sluttiest, neediest moan of his slutty, needy life, and, well—it seems to do it for Spidey because getting eaten alive isn't too terribly far off from what happens next.

Spidey devours him: bites at his lips and jaw and chin, licks into his mouth and sucks on Wade's tongue. He kisses Wade with the intensity of a fucking category five hurricane—it's all Wade can do to keep up.

Spidey shoves one thick thigh between Wade's legs and grinds against him, which gets Wade letting out another absolutely pornographic sound. He can't help it, can't even pretend to be cool. He's rocking against Spidey's leg and clawing at his back with artless, desperate abandon.

It's so hot and so insane that Wade feels high— like, actually, legitimately high. His mouth goes hot and tingly and it's like Wade's senses start misfiring: Spidey feels like a drumline and tastes like purple, lurid and intoxicating.

"Are you fucking magic," Wade manages to slur in a spare, caught breath, "Or a like, fucking, incubus?" "Hm?" Spidey says from somewhere around where he's biting at the hinge of Wade's jaw. "Youfeelsofuckinggood," Wade pants, and yeah, he's rapidly losing his ability to fucking talk, which, wow. Achievement Unlocked. Spidey pulls back to stare at him, and Wade can see little strings of saliva—hot pink and shimmery, pretty—on his fangs. "Ooohhh, fuck," Spidey says. "Whoops."

"Whoos?" Wade echos stupidly. Spidey's so pretty. Prettiest boy Wade's ever seen. Wait—thats a lie. Petey-Pie's the prettiest boy Wade's ever seen. Sorry, Spidey, but given, you know, Wade's never seen Spidey's face, Wade thinks he can be forgiven for that. Spidey's the prettiest boy Wade's never seen, that's the correct version. Now they're both the prettiest. Spidey laughs for some reason, a huff of amused air against Wade's mouth, which reminds Wade that holy shit, he could be kissing that mouth instead of just staring at it, so he does: leans up and licks Spidey's shiny pink spit, sucks his bottom lip into Wade's mouth. Spidey moans, a deep sound that resonates through Wade's body like a bass drop.

"Shouldn't," Spidey says between kisses, "Fucked up—" Oh. Wade stutters in his movements. Yeah—yeah. Okay. That—well. To be expected. He goes to pull back, pull away, except Spidey hisses sharply and follows him, pinning him back against the wall. He rubs his mouth and nose against Wade's cheek and down his neck.

"Not like that. Bit you too much. Couldn't help it, feel so good, Wade. Got you too high," Spidey mutters against his neck.

Ohhhh. Okay. That explains the tasting purple thing. Goddamn, move over beer flavored nipples, there's a new unrealistic dream sex standard and it's Spidey and his magic drug spit.

Wade didn't think Spidey could get more perfect, but, well, here we are.

"Don't wanna," the next part Wade kind misses as Spidey licks over his carotid artery, but it ends in "—consent." Oh. Oh. Now, hey, Wade's got to set some shit straight. He tugs Spidey back up to look at him, the polymer lenses of his mask round and shining. "Fuck me up, baby boy," Wade tells him, as seriously as he can while being, as he knows now, fucking zooted on his venom. "I fucking want it, you gotta know how bad I fucking want you—" Then Wade doesn't have to focus on words anymore because, thank god, Spidey slams their mouths together and gets to the fucking him up part, thank god, thank you-thank you-thank whoa shit— The whoa shit is because Spidey picks him up and pretty much bodies him onto the couch, where Wade lands with an oof. Spidey stands over him, tall and looming and both scary and extremely, mind-meltingly hot.

He points at Wade's belt.

"Off, or I'm gonna rip it off," Spidey growls, and whew, yeah, holy shit. Wade gets his belt off faster than he thinks he's ever managed before, new record, and is barely able to get the start of the pants of his suit unzipped before Spidey loses patience and is on him, pulling roughly at the fabric until it's shoved down around his knees and then Spidey bends him in half so that Wade's trapped ankles are hovering over his shoulders. Spidey lays stinging bites and kisses over his ass and the backs of his thighs, and when Wade can only pant and make embarrassingly high-pitched whines, Spidey hooks his thumbs into the meat of his ass and spreads him open. "Can I—" Spidey starts to ask and Wade just about strokes out in his haste to say, "Yesyesyesyes, anything, everything, fuck me up." "Thank fuck," Spidey says and then dives in. Wade would like to state, for the record: he is no amateur at getting his ass eaten. He's, you know, been around the block. He's no blushing virgin, no shy maiden. He's gotten eaten out plenty of times, is what he's getting at here. This? He was not fucking prepared. "Oh my god?" Wade squeaks, which might be right after or days, because Spidey eats ass like it's his god-given mission in life to take Wade apart at the fucking seams. Wade feels like he's losing his mind—it's so good and so intense, whatever pink magic is in Spidey's venom seems to crank everything up to fucking 11,000.

Spidey eats him out sloppy, too: wet and messy and obscene, moaning like it feels just as good for Spidey as it does for Wade. Wade ends up grabbing on to his own ankles like the bitch bar in a Honda Odyssey, hanging on for fucking, he doesn't even know any more, life?? He feels hysterical, inside out, un-fucking-tethered. The moment Spidey actually shoves his tongue in Wade's ass, Wade thinks he dies. Straight up blue-screens. When he comes back, it's to the sound of himself begging shamelessly. "Please, please, please—" The fact that his stupid pants are in the way and he can't see is suddenly the world's greatest injustice—Wade manages to get his last two brain cells rubbed together enough to yank his boots off and shove his pants fully off to land somewhere Wade could give two fucks. This accomplishes two things: first, it lets Wade see the dark top of Spidey's head as he works Wade open and the way he's got Wade's thighs gripped tight between his fingers—spectacular, mind-blowing, scorchingly hot—and the second thing it accomplishes is Spidey going, "Fuck yeah, good girl," and spreading Wade open even wider for his mouth. Wade thinks he dies again at that. Just a little, but who can blame him??? He's only fucking humanish. "Webs," he keens. He tries to shove back but he can barely move like this. His leverage is shit, he's 100% at Spidey's mercy. "Gotchu, I gotchu," Spidey says, which, understatement of the fucking year.

Never let it be said that Spidey doesn't have Wade figured the fuck out, because he doesn't play games: he slides two of his fingers into Wade along with his tongue, the slick of Spidey's combined saliva and venom making things way easier and wildly better than Wade would have imagined. Wade garbles something nonsensical, flailing. His hand ends up hovering just over Spidey's head, indecisive on if he's allowed to—when Spidey pushes his head into Wade's hand, winks at him and then starts fucking Wade in earnest with his fingers. If Wade wasn't in love before this, well. That would have done it. Spidey finger-fucks with the same unhinged intensity and attention to ruin that he does eating ass. Wade digs his fingers into the dark material of Spidey's mask—wishes it was the hair he can feel beneath, but he can't say shit—and accepts his fate. It isn't until Spidey genuinely starts teasing a fourth finger that Wade gets impatient. "Webs, fuck, if you don't fuck me—" he threatens. He's not exactly an intimidating sight right now, knees by his ears and ass in the air, but he's still fucking Deadpool. Spidey pulls back, biting at Wade's thighs like he can't help himself. "Condom?" He asks when he finally manages to stop snacking on Wade's legs. Wade snorts and shakes his head. "Don't have 'em. Can't give you anything, Webs, and you can't give me anything. Kinda my thing, remember?" Spidey freezes for a split second as he seems to consider that, and then he rubs the exposed part of his cheek on Wade's thigh. "Huh. Yeah—yeah, okay." Thank god because if Spidey was about to make him go to a bodega right now he was going to legitimately start murdering people. Happy days for Wade (and the innocents outside), Spidey gets back on task real quick—he does something with his suit that Wade doesn't quite catch. What he does catch is the movement of his arm as he strokes his dick, hidden behind Wade's body.

Wade reaches out to touch, on god he wants to feel the hot length of Spidey in his hand, but Spidey catches his hand and brings it up to his mouth to kiss it. "Sensitive," Spidey grunts. "Gloves on would be too rough, and gloves off—" "Too ugly?" Wade offers. Spidey bites him, properly and sharp this time, and Wade hisses at the sting. "Too good," Spidey corrects. "God, Wade, you've got no idea—if you want me to fuck you, next time, I promise." Huh. Well. Wade doesn't know what to do with that information just yet. He tries not to hope at next time. He does know what he wants now, so he pulls his hand back and uses it to spread himself open a bit more for Spidey. "Fuck," Spidey hisses, "Good—good, Wade, fuck," and then moans when he rubs the head of his dick against Wade's hole. Wade barely manages to restrain himself from launching himself up and just sitting on it. He forces himself to be patient: all his wildest dreams are coming true right now and he wants to savor it, wants to take whatever Spidey's willing to give him right now. Which, as it turns out, is a lot. "Oh, fuck, fuck-fuck-fuck," Wade gasps as Spidey pushes in. Spidey's cock seems to get thicker in the middle, it goes on forever, and the stretch is so good it makes Wade's eyes roll back. "Okay?" Spidey grits out, and Wade nods frantically. "Holy shit, never better, knew it, knew you'd be big, baby, knew you'd ruin me," Wade babbles. Spidey huffs, amused, and thrusts suddenly—a sharp motion that has Wade breaking off to moan. "Yeah?" Spidey asks, "Think I'm gonna ruin you?" "Already have," Wade confesses stupidly, too sincere. Spidey doesn't seem to notice though, he just smirks and leans in to kiss him as best he can with the position they're in. It's mostly a sloppy, open-mouthed touch of their tongues. "Haven't even started," promises Spidey, and then, boy, does he get started.

Again, Wade would like to make a case for himself: he's been fucked so much! By so many people! A great deal of them super-powered!

Matty, Nate, the odd times Logan gets the itch to put Wade in his place—point is, Wade's been held down and fucked by people stronger and faster than him before, and it was great! 10/10! Which is why this shouldn't be new or different for Wade, but it is. It's fucking outrageous: Spidey fucks him so hard, so good, that the world could be end outside and Wade wouldn't even know: all he can focus on is drag of Spidey's cock in him, over and over. It shouldn't be different, but then that's Spidey for ya: everything he is and does seems to blow Wade's mind. Wade's not as sensitive as he used to be back in GQ Wade days—the scars took care of that—but whatever witchcraft going in Spidey's venom seems to jumpstart all of his fucked-up nerve endings. Pleasure shocks through him, lighting him up from the inside, where Spidey's making space for his cock, all the way to his fucking fingertips. His fucking nails feel erogenous. He might be saying something—begging or whining—but who knows or gives a fuck. He feels incredible, all his normal pain transformed by the pleasure until it's all just one big tidal wave of sensation. He's so busy just riding it out that he almost forgets about his dick until Spidey gets a hand on it. He makes a completely involuntary wounded noise and has to summon all the willpower in his body not to come. "Spides-Spidey," he warns, panting, "I'll—fuck—I'll come—" "Go ahead," Spidey says. The white eyes of his mask are narrow and intent on Wade's face. "Want you to, wanna watch. Gonna keep fucking you though, wanna make you scream." Oh. Well. In that case.

Wade comes immediately. It makes a mess on his chest where he's all scrunched up—he's gonna have to power wash the Pool suit when they're finished here but he doesn't care, doesn't give a single shit. Wade's too distracted having the best orgasm of his life. He feels like his brain is dribbling out his ears as much as his come is dribbling out of his dick. "That's it," Spidey is murmuring when his ears turn back on, "Fuck, that's hot, wish your suit was off, wanna see you come all over your tits—" Holy shit, Wade thinks wildly, entirely incapable of words. The mouth on Spidey—!

Spidey's true to his word—he doesn't stop fucking Wade. If anything, he picks up the pace. Wade can only squirm, an overstimulated mess, as Spidey pounds into him. "Easy," Spidey tells him, "Be good, just take it, Wade, be good." Good fucking night. It's so much: it's so intense and so overwhelming. It's so hard not to twitch away from it, but he forces himself to be still, forces himself to relax. Spidey hisses approvingly as Wade goes loose and pliant. "Good—good girl," Spidey grunts and it's fucking unfair, the way he keeps slamming on all of Wade's buttons. Wade thinks he might go permanently blind with how hot it all is. "Who made you?" He manages to wheeze incredulously. "Where did you come from? Fucking—perfect—oh my god, Spidey—" Wade breaks off to pant as Spidey grinds against his prostate and sends white hot shocks of pleasure shooting through his body. Spidey laughs, and it's low and dark. "Me? You've got no idea, Wade, you've got no fucking clue, what I want to do to you, the way you feel to me—"

Wade can only whimper helplessly as Spidey nails his prostate again and again. Despite what Mormon fairy smut novels and AO3 would have you believe, there is such a thing as a refractory period, even for men "blessed" as Wade is with his healing factor. Normally he needs a good fifteen-twenty minute cooldown before he can even think about coming again. A refractory period that Spidey appears to have taken as a fucking challenge. Wade never really got soft, not with the constant stimulation, but Spidey makes sure he gets fully hard again by sliding his hand over his cock: a slow, loose counter-balance to the hard, fast pace of his thrusts. Wade's trying so hard to be good, be a good girl, take it the way Spidey wants him to, but he can't help but whine and shake his head when Spidey's grip on his dick changes—tighter, faster, with intent. "I—Webs," he pleads, "I can't, s'too soon, no way—" "You can," Spidey assures him, "You will." He rolls the palm of his hand over the too-sensitive head and Wade chokes. Spidey does something—Wade can't even begin to track anymore—but whatever it is it means Spidey has situated them so that they're closer now. The angle is different, somehow impossibly fuller, and Spidey's thrusts are slower, rounder, deeper. Spidey's got one hand in the back of Wade's mask, pulling his head back so that Spidey can mouth at Wade's jaw and the exposed skin of his neck. The other hand he's still somehow got wrapped around Wade's dick, providing absolutely maddening friction. "Webs," Wade tries again, desperate. His legs are shaking and his heart is going a million miles a second. He feels hysterical, out of his fucking mind, all of his nerve are endings screaming. There's no way. There is no way— "Wade," Spidey murmurs, dragging his mouth over Wade's frantic pulse point. "Come." And then he bites him, his fangs sinking into Wade's neck.

And listen. LISTEN. Refractory period-shmactory period. Wade comes, with a breathless whine, to a haze of purple venom synesthesia. Coming feels like being fucking raptured: he's tasting colors, he's seeing sounds.

And just when he thinks it's over, Spidey comes, with a sharp inhale, moaning, "Wade, oh, oh, shit, fuck, sorry—" and Wade has one delirious moment of hilarity wondering what the fuck he could be sorry for, when he suddenly gets the aftershock of a fucking lifetime.

It's like coming again but from pure prostate stimulation: waves of shimmery iridescent pleasure radiating from his ass. It's incredible. It's un-fucking-believable. It's so intense it rides on a knife's edge between ecstasy and agony. Wade writhes, caught, as it doesn't end.

He sucks in air in a desperate attempt to not just pass the fuck out. Every time he thinks it might be done it crests again until Wade is a shaking, sobbing mess.

He's distantly aware of Spidey petting him, pressing his weight into Wade so he doesn't fall right off the fucking couch, and making soothing noises.

Finally, after a period of time Wade couldn't put a number to with a fucking gun to his head, it eases up. It softens into a heavy, lingering sweetness throughout his body.

"Holy shit," Wade croaks. Spidey makes a soft, concerned sound.

"You okay?" he asks. "I've never done that before."

Wade can't help it, he snorts loudly. Then he chokes when that sends a new wave of tingles through his body.

"Bullshit," he gasps when he gets his breath back. Spidey laughs.

"No, no, not that," Spidey says, amused. "I've done...most of that before. I've just haven't come inside anyone before. At least, not without a condom. Never wanted to risk it."

Wade blinks. He's still having some difficulty putting coherent thoughts together, but, like. What.

"Webs," he says slowly, "I just want to make sure you know that you like. Super-duper cannot knock me up. Please feel free to try your hardest, anytime, but—"

Spidey sputters, laughing again. "Risk my venom, Wade. My saliva makes people high? I can poison people? I never knew what my cum might do to someone."

Oh. Right, okay, that makes more sense. A delighted thrill goes through him at being any kind of first for Spidey.

"Well, mystery solved, baby," Wade says smugly. "It's like, literally orgasm batter, holy shit. I don't think my prostate's ever gonna be the same."

Spidey huffs out a relieved breath. "Good, okay—it seemed like it was good but also a little like you were dying, so I wasn't sure."

Wade shrugs. "I mean, maybe. It was fucking intense. Who knows what it would do to a normie, but dying's cake to me. If it is, it's worth it, holy shit. Wowza."

There's a secret little smile on Spidey's face where his mask is rolled up. "Yeah? You liked it?"

Wade stares at him incredulously. "Liked it? Spidey, I think you broke me. I haven't been fucked like that—haven't felt anything like that—ever. You've ruined me for all others."

There's a sound that comes from Spidey, a noise that Wade can only describe as a purr, rumbling through his chest. He tilts Wade's head so he can lean in, a breath away.

"Good," Spidey says, before he kisses Wade again.

Wade opens up immediately, greedily. He's not sure how long Spidey's going to let him have this, and he wants to get his fucking money's worth. He'll be beating his meat to the last hour for centuries.

They trade kisses, open-mouth and languid, until Spidey shifts and Wade realizes that Spidey's hard, pressing against his thigh.

He starts to reach out but then stops, remembering what Spidey told him mid-fuck: gloves too rough, but skin potentially good? Big if true, but Spidey hasn't lied to him yet. He dithers for a second, caught in indecision, and then elects to trust Spidey. He pulls his glove off and lets it drop to the floor.

He wiggles his bare fingers before Spidey's face for approval. "May I?" He asks, gesturing towards Spidey's dick.

Spidey takes a deep breath, his eyes on Wade's hand. He stares at it for so long that Wade starts to feel like he made a mistake in offering when Spidey speaks.

"Can I—" he rasps. He reaches out with his own gloved hand and touches Wade's naked one. He shudders.

"Wanna put your fingers in my mouth," Spidey admits. "Please?"

Well. That's not what he was expecting, but it's fucking scorchingly hot.

"Sure," Wade says, magnanimously. "Go for it."

Spidey makes a noise that Wade can only describe as a hungry, and brings Wade's hand to his mouth. He rubs his closed mouth over the pads of Wade's fingers before parting his lips and sliding just the tips into his mouth.

The sound that rips out of Spidey—low and needy and desperate—is paired with the sudden jerk of his cock against Wade's thigh. As if getting two of Wade's fingers in his mouth was on the same level of pleasure as Wade jerking him off.

Wade stares, wide-eyed, in disbelief. There's no way in hell he can get hard again right now, but goddamn if his dick doesn't try to make the effort.

Spidey slides Wade's fingers further into his mouth, to the second knuckle, and rubs his tongue against the undersides. When he groans, Wade can feel the vibrations of it against his fingers.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Wade swears, reverent. "Look at you."

Spidey moans. He pulls another one of Wade's fingers into his mouth and sucks. His dick twitches against Wade, hips hitching in a desperate attempt for friction.

Wade pulls his other hand up and rips his other glove off with his teeth so he can worm it between them and finally—finally—get his hand around Spidey's cock.

"Oh fuck," Spidey drools around Wade's fingers. It comes out more like "awfawk", but Wade gets the idea. Spidey's fangs drag against his skin and Wade shudders as the sharp tips catch on his scars.

"You like that, baby?" Wade croons. It's nice to turn the tables against him a little, now that Wade is operating with a few more functional brain cells. "My fingers in your mouth and around your cock?"

Spidey moans and nods, forcing Wade's fingers deeper. The tips bump up against the soft palate, hot and plush, and it elicites another deep groan from him. Wade jerks Spidey off with one hand and lets Spidey use the other to rub his mouth—alternating between running his lips over Wade's fingers and curling his tongue around them.

Spidey seems to love it—he gasps and moans and holds onto Wade's wrist in a grip that's definitely bruising. Which is great, fantastic even, but Wade's had a thought that's even better.

"Webs," Wade murmurs, "Got an idea. Let go of my wrist?"

Spidey lets go and Wade grins at him. "Feel free to stop me if you hate it, but I just want to try something."

And then he fucks three fingers into Spidey's mouth at the same time he jacks his dick. The response is immediate and deeply hot: Spidey keens and opens his mouth wider for Wade, his hips jerking against Wade.

"Holy shit, yeah, fucking-A, Spidey," Wade mutters. It's fantastic: the matching wet, slick slide of his fingers in his mouth with the motion of his hand on Spidey's dick.

It doesn't take too long for Spidey to start shaking, panting harshly against Wade's hand. Wade watches, enraptured. He wasn't able to pay that much attention the first time Spidey came, due to his own brain being dopamine soup, but he's greedily drinking in all the details now: the hot flush Wade can see peeking from underneath his mask, the hitching, involuntary moans he lets out. His mouth is red and swollen, shiny with spit and the venom he's leaking.

"God, Spides," Wade confesses helplessly, "If this is what it's like with my fingers, I can't wait to get my cock in there."

Spidey sucks in a sharp breath and comes all over Wade's hand, moaning around the fingers shoved deep into his mouth. Wade jerks him through it until Spidey taps out, his hand coming down to stop the motion of Wade's wrist.

"Wow," Spidey rasps once Wade slides his fingers out of his mouth. Spidey lets out a mournful sound once they're free, so Wade doesn't take them too far. He lets them rest on the exposed parts of his face— his cheek and his chin. Spidey tilts his head to press a kiss to them.

Meanwhile, Wade literally has something interesting on his hands. He brings his Spidey-cum covered hand up and inspects it.

It certainly looks like regular jizz. Wade wouldn't have guessed it's magic orgasm batter if he hadn't just lived through it. There might be just a faint iridescent sheen to it, but for the most part: yep. Looks like jizz.

Curious, Wade goes to lick it.

"Wade—" Spidey warns. "I'm, uh. Not sure what that will do to you. Might not want to do that."

Wade rolls his eyes. Adorable. "Websy," he chides, "Please. I am like the best person to try it. Fucking around and finding out is what I'm built for."

Then he licks Spidey's cum off his hand.

It tastes like—well, cum. Wade's not about to sit here on Michelle Obama's internet and lie about what jizz tastes like. It doesn't taste sweet or delicious or any of the other bullshit romance novels try to swindle people on. It tastes like jizz: salty and bitter. Maybe a little sharper and a little more acidic than the average guy's—and then Wade's mouth goes tingy and hyper-aware.

"Huh," Wade says. He rubs his tongue over his teeth and shudders. When he inhales he can taste—stuff. He doesn't know how to parse it. The air tastes Starburst-pink sweet and grassy green curious, terracotta worry, and beneath it all, a rich ocean blue of satisfaction.

He relays that to Spidey who tilts his head.

"Huh," he echoes. "Pheromones, maybe? I taste those."

Wade shrugs. Who knows, but it tracks with all the other synesthesia effects Wade's experienced from the venom.

"Hey, stick you fingers in my mouth," Wade says. "I wanna see what it feels like."

"Christ," Spidey mutters. He reaches up and hesitates. "Okay to keep my gloves on?"

Wade shrugs again. He's maybe a mite disappointed, given how bare he is in comparison, straight up Winnie the Poohing with his mask on, but he's certainly not going to judge.

He opens his mouth and Spidey slides two of his gloves fingers inside.

And, well, holy shit. He knew, obviously he knew that the mouth was a pleasure center. He just never thought about much more than taste and tongue and lips, yay!

His whole mouth lights up at the intrusion. He can taste the fabric of Spidey's glove: the unique material it's made of, Spidey's sweat and scent permiating it. He can feel each individual thread that make up the knit of it, and revels in the way the texture feels over his tongue.

The pressure and texture and taste of Spidey's fingers is so explosively good it momentarily makes Wade stupid.

He immediately understands why Spidey goes so wild for it. When Spidey pulls his fingers free he wants to follow them and shove them back in.

"Holy shit," Wade groans. "That's amazing. Your cum turns mouths into pussy. Moussy? Mussy?"

Spidey snorts. "Well, that's one way to describe it. A horrible way, but sure."

"Please let me get my cock in there some day soon," Wade begs. He's already dreaming about how fucking awesome it will feel—for him and for Spidey.

Spidey coughs. "About that, uh. Well…"

He trails off and Wade curses himself for assuming, his heart sinking.

"No is fine," Wade reassures him. "That's okay, baby. No pressure."

Spidey shakes his head. "Nah, that's not it. I've just, uh. Never done that."

Wade blinks. "Never…?"

There's a flush creeping down Spidey's cheeks.

"By the time I started sleeping with guys, I had my powers, and uh. Well, you saw. My fangs are a little unruly when I get excited. Seemed like a bad combo."

"Oh, baby," Wade croons. Another first!! Wade's going to die of happiness. "Maybe for some other scrub lord. But not for me. Please know that I am very, very into the idea of fucking your mouth with the fangs."

There's a pause where Spidey just stares at him, masked eyes white and round.

Then he says, "Jesus, what have we done? How the fuck are we going to get any patrol done? We're going to be fucking all the time."

Oh, fuck yeah, Wade thinks, right before he throws himself at Spidey to kiss him. Wade is on cloud fucking nine, and he doesn't even think the cum-venom can take credit. It's all Spidey: Spidey-Spidey-Spidey.

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