Myfuckinggod, am I actually using this?
Turns out I am. Because the good folk on /y/ tell me so.
Uuuuh make it look professional guys.
Professional.
Title: I knew I should've thrown it out! (a.k.a. That one thing I wrote for /y/ that one time.)
Fandom: Well I don't know. Comics, I guess. Namely, Deadpool and Spider-Man ones.
Pairing: Spider-Man/Deadpool
Rating: NC-17. I'm pretty sure.
Notes: Despite my better judgement, I've decided to employ my LJ account of howevermany years for something actually useful. For someone. Maybe. Someday.
Wade Wilson had never been one for submission. He figured it came with the territory of being a wise-cracking, suicidal maniac with more pop culture references in his head than sense. He also figured it explained his current situation; frantically sorting out clothes after a hasty shower whilst checking to see how long the microwave meals he’d bought needed to be cooked for. It was the best attempt at romance he could think of, and he pulled on his characteristic outfit, before also putting on a formal-looking suit (Not the most comfortable thing to be wearing underneath a suit, but he always felt better wearing it. Not to mention the possibility of him having to tear it off Superman-style should some calamity come bursting through the window. A slim possibility, but always there.). A lame attempt at romance this may be, but he felt it was necessary to reassure himself of his infinitely manly status. Besides, any opportunity to get Spider-Man off the streets being a do-gooder and into his bed was jumped at instantly by the Merc.
He then set the microwave, and sat down to wait, hoping that his invitation had gotten to its intended recipient okay.
Peter was tired after spending almost four hours chasing after a particularly annoying thief, and as he climbed back through the window of his small apartment, he groaned, lifting his mask to get some fresh air as he searched in the darkness for the lightswitch. Once he hit it, however, he jumped backwards, nearly knocking over a table in the process.
It was obvious from the get-go that the message had been scribbled on in permanent texta, in what must be some of the worst writing Peter had ever seen. Fortunately, he didn’t have to strain himself too hard, the short message reading “Get your spidery ass over here, quicksmart! -‘Pool”
He groaned once more, turning and sliding back out the window. It was becoming a regular occurrence, the mercenary sneaking into his apartment at all hours to wreak some kind of havoc, or to raid his fridge. But on a night like tonight, when all he’d rather do is sleep, Peter was adamant that he was going over there to simply tell him that he was going to change the locks. And possibly install some kind of bear trap.
He knew the window would be open; this wasn’t the first time Spider-Man had made house calls. As he approached, he could hear Deadpool muttering to himself like he often did. He paid it no heed, and simply crawled through the window. But still the mercenary was lost in himself, counting off items on his fingers. It wasn’t until Peter cleared his throat that the larger man wheeled around. It was amazing just how many expressions translated through that infernal mask, as Peter could see his face light up as his mouth started. “Spidey! Hey! I was beginning to think you weren’t gunna show. What with fighting crime and being the poster-boy for superpowers and spandex…”
“What’s this about, Wade?” came the curt reply, as Peter stood hunched over in front of the window.
Deadpool raised a finger to respond, when a beep called him away, and he quickly got out “Hold that thought” before racing off to the kitchen. Peter followed, his arms folding as he rounded the corner. Once Deadpool realised that he could multitask, he began to respond anyway. “Well, thing is, some people have started talking about me going soft since meeting you. I mean, they don’t know, of course, but you know how things are. Gotta keep up my image. So I thought that in my role of manly man, I ought to get something like this happening, know what I mean? Get things sorted out….”
From the other side of the room, Peter’s fingers curled into his arm, and behind his mask, his eyes narrowed. He was definitely not in the mood for this.
“…So look! I bought the deluxe ones, for….added romance, I guess. And there’s some wine I stole from a friendly hobo, and flowers from….somewhere, and-“
The end of that sentence didn’t quite make it out, however. By that time, Peter had crossed the room and, as Deadpool had turned to face him, deftly knocked him out with a chopping board.
Wade groaned as he opened his eyes slowly. Despite his healing factor kicking in, it was still a hard hit, and one he wasn’t expecting. His eyes remained unfocused for a few seconds, before zeroing in on….the ceiling? Only then did it occur to him that he was lying on his back, on his bed. He was also unable to move his arms or legs. He’d have done some more thinking, but his train of thought was broken off as Peter began to speak.
“…-nd you think you can just call me over, make me act like your bitch whenever you want? Well, I’m sick of that particular joke, so let’s just see how you like it, hm? Sounds like a much better plan to me…”
Wade attempted to move his arms once more, before finding that they were stuck fast with rope and web, and now lying uselessly on his torso. Which is when he noticed it. He let out another grunt as he lifted his head as much as he could, looking down at himself.
Oh no.
Peter had obviously noticed, and turned towards him again, arms folded.
“Oh yes. You remember this, don’t you? Too bad you don’t ever throw anything out, otherwise I might never have found it. How “manly” do you think you look now?”
At some point whilst he was knocked out, Peter had successfully managed to relieve Deadpool of his suit, replacing it with the dress he’d kept locked away in the back of his closet from countless issues ago. He’d forgotten that Spider-Man was one of the few he’d actually shown it to.
And now he was stuck in it, laying on a bed, said Spider-Man currently smirking and apparently admiring his own handiwork.
“Uuh...Okay, so the whole “Wining and Dining” thing didn’t work out for you. That’s cool, I’m sure there’s something else that’ll wo-”
“You don’t get it, do you? I never signed up to be your ‘bitch’. So now, you’re gunna know exactly how a comment like that feels. And then some.”
Beneath the outfit, Deadpool visibly tensed, still wriggling idly in some attempt to be free of his bonds. And while his mouth still ran like it always did, his tone was higher, more desperate.
“Okay, so Spidey’s got fangs. I get it, really. This wasn’t the plan though, after I thought up such a good plan, too…But yeah, if y’just wanna let me go, we can forget this whole thing happened…?”
And suddenly Peter was close, far too close and sliding both their masks up, revealing a smirk. “Not a chance.” Was the only response, before he leant down and crushed their lips together. Peter’s hands quickly wound their way around Wade’s body, fingers splayed over the fabric to run over the curved muscle and marked skin whilst their tongues battled one another in the kiss. It was a long while before Peter had to pull back for breath, panting slightly as he made his way down the other man’s body, hands running over Wade’s torso as he tugged at the dress slightly. The other man could put up little resistance, twisting his head and attempting to wriggle free. But it was a futile effort as Peter’s hands simply pushed him down again every time. Then they worked their way further down, beginning to pull at the skirt of the dress, forcing it up.
“O-okay, joke’s over. Can’t you just let it go…?” Came the shaky voice. Whilst this was the exact opposite of Wade’s plans for the evening, and an outcome he’d never wanted, he couldn’t ignore the contact, the distinctly slender, yet firm fingers roaming across his body. Even through several layers of fabric, the outline of his erection was quickly visible under his skirt, the extra fabric doing nothing to conceal it.
Peter was quick to notice, and almost instantly a hand slipped under the skirt, quickly sliding up his thigh to reach the bulge. The motion caused the mercenary to gasp for breath, and Peter looked up at him briefly, still grinning.
“Well, well, and we haven’t even got to the good part yet. Could it be that you’re enjoying this a little more than you’re letting on…?”
The only response was a string of expletives, so Peter simply shrugged and carried on. He quickly pulled at Wade’s pants, the clothing slipping off easier than anticipated, freeing his erection. Mercilessly, Peter took it in hand, jerking it roughly. A half-formed word died in Wade’s throat, replaced by a groan that, coming from the older man, seemed borderline ridiculous. Peter seemed to take no notice of it, however, his other hand holding the skirt of the dress clear whilst he ran several fingers up the shaft of the man’s cock, toying with the head a moment before continuing to stroke him. It seemed that every new motion earned him a new sound, so he varied pace, concentrated on the tip, played with his balls. He even took his hand away completely, just to hear the pleading curses that followed.
But with every motion, Peter’s own cock rubbed against suit, achingly hard. It grew harder to ignore, before finally he gave in, pausing to contemplate his next move (despite the hurried protests that resulted). He then grabbed the older man’s hips and, despite odds, managed to awkwardly flip him, so that his face was buried in the sheets, earning him a moment’s peace. But he then managed to get himself between Wade’s legs, and the mercenary froze.
“W-wait. Don’t you dare, you fu-uuh--aagh!”
With a quick motion, Peter had gotten his own pants down far enough, given his own cock a few deft strokes to spread the small amount of precum already at its tip over his length, then pressed himself hard against Wade’s ass, unwittingly moving his hips too hard and pressing himself in a small way. Wade instinctively clenched, hard, and the next few moments were an adventure in barked commands and curses as the two men attempted to straighten things out. Eventually, Peter grew bored of this, and simply tried pressing himself deeper. This had the unusual effect of throwing Wade completely off-balance, turning whatever profanities he was going to say into a string of gibberish and moaning. The sound alone caused Peter to reflexively buck his hips and groan softly. He then realised with a small shudder that he was actually beginning to enjoy Wade’s incessant chattering. God help him.
There were a few more experimental thrusts and screw-ups before Peter finally managed to slide himself smoothly into Wade, his torso doubling over and resting against the other man’s as he groaned softly. He had to admit, being the one on top for a change was a change he was enjoying, and he quickly began to move faster, his breathing fast and ragged as he fought to keep control. Wade rocked his hips back onto Peter to get him moving faster, and squirmed beneath him, twisting himself and hissing behind clenched teeth.
The first time Peter hit Wade’s prostate was quite by accident, but the net result was that Wade’s back suddenly arched, the back of his head almost colliding with Peter’s own, and he groaned through clenched teeth, all but growling as Peter brushed the spot again. From there, it was only a short while before his world went white, and a few moments later, Wade could feel himself being filled as Peter slammed into him hard. As both of them rode out their orgasms, Peter slowly pulled out, flopping to one side on the small bed as both of them caught their breath. After a few moments, Wade opened his mouth to speak, and for a while Peter was expecting another insult, or even a declaration of his undying hatred.
“We….are definitely doing that again.”
Uuuuh make it look professional guys.
Professional.
Title: I knew I should've thrown it out! (a.k.a. That one thing I wrote for /y/ that one time.)
Fandom: Well I don't know. Comics, I guess. Namely, Deadpool and Spider-Man ones.
Pairing: Spider-Man/Deadpool
Rating: NC-17. I'm pretty sure.
Notes: Despite my better judgement, I've decided to employ my LJ account of howevermany years for something actually useful. For someone. Maybe. Someday.
Wade Wilson had never been one for submission. He figured it came with the territory of being a wise-cracking, suicidal maniac with more pop culture references in his head than sense. He also figured it explained his current situation; frantically sorting out clothes after a hasty shower whilst checking to see how long the microwave meals he’d bought needed to be cooked for. It was the best attempt at romance he could think of, and he pulled on his characteristic outfit, before also putting on a formal-looking suit (Not the most comfortable thing to be wearing underneath a suit, but he always felt better wearing it. Not to mention the possibility of him having to tear it off Superman-style should some calamity come bursting through the window. A slim possibility, but always there.). A lame attempt at romance this may be, but he felt it was necessary to reassure himself of his infinitely manly status. Besides, any opportunity to get Spider-Man off the streets being a do-gooder and into his bed was jumped at instantly by the Merc.
He then set the microwave, and sat down to wait, hoping that his invitation had gotten to its intended recipient okay.
Peter was tired after spending almost four hours chasing after a particularly annoying thief, and as he climbed back through the window of his small apartment, he groaned, lifting his mask to get some fresh air as he searched in the darkness for the lightswitch. Once he hit it, however, he jumped backwards, nearly knocking over a table in the process.
It was obvious from the get-go that the message had been scribbled on in permanent texta, in what must be some of the worst writing Peter had ever seen. Fortunately, he didn’t have to strain himself too hard, the short message reading “Get your spidery ass over here, quicksmart! -‘Pool”
He groaned once more, turning and sliding back out the window. It was becoming a regular occurrence, the mercenary sneaking into his apartment at all hours to wreak some kind of havoc, or to raid his fridge. But on a night like tonight, when all he’d rather do is sleep, Peter was adamant that he was going over there to simply tell him that he was going to change the locks. And possibly install some kind of bear trap.
He knew the window would be open; this wasn’t the first time Spider-Man had made house calls. As he approached, he could hear Deadpool muttering to himself like he often did. He paid it no heed, and simply crawled through the window. But still the mercenary was lost in himself, counting off items on his fingers. It wasn’t until Peter cleared his throat that the larger man wheeled around. It was amazing just how many expressions translated through that infernal mask, as Peter could see his face light up as his mouth started. “Spidey! Hey! I was beginning to think you weren’t gunna show. What with fighting crime and being the poster-boy for superpowers and spandex…”
“What’s this about, Wade?” came the curt reply, as Peter stood hunched over in front of the window.
Deadpool raised a finger to respond, when a beep called him away, and he quickly got out “Hold that thought” before racing off to the kitchen. Peter followed, his arms folding as he rounded the corner. Once Deadpool realised that he could multitask, he began to respond anyway. “Well, thing is, some people have started talking about me going soft since meeting you. I mean, they don’t know, of course, but you know how things are. Gotta keep up my image. So I thought that in my role of manly man, I ought to get something like this happening, know what I mean? Get things sorted out….”
From the other side of the room, Peter’s fingers curled into his arm, and behind his mask, his eyes narrowed. He was definitely not in the mood for this.
“…So look! I bought the deluxe ones, for….added romance, I guess. And there’s some wine I stole from a friendly hobo, and flowers from….somewhere, and-“
The end of that sentence didn’t quite make it out, however. By that time, Peter had crossed the room and, as Deadpool had turned to face him, deftly knocked him out with a chopping board.
Wade groaned as he opened his eyes slowly. Despite his healing factor kicking in, it was still a hard hit, and one he wasn’t expecting. His eyes remained unfocused for a few seconds, before zeroing in on….the ceiling? Only then did it occur to him that he was lying on his back, on his bed. He was also unable to move his arms or legs. He’d have done some more thinking, but his train of thought was broken off as Peter began to speak.
“…-nd you think you can just call me over, make me act like your bitch whenever you want? Well, I’m sick of that particular joke, so let’s just see how you like it, hm? Sounds like a much better plan to me…”
Wade attempted to move his arms once more, before finding that they were stuck fast with rope and web, and now lying uselessly on his torso. Which is when he noticed it. He let out another grunt as he lifted his head as much as he could, looking down at himself.
Oh no.
Peter had obviously noticed, and turned towards him again, arms folded.
“Oh yes. You remember this, don’t you? Too bad you don’t ever throw anything out, otherwise I might never have found it. How “manly” do you think you look now?”
At some point whilst he was knocked out, Peter had successfully managed to relieve Deadpool of his suit, replacing it with the dress he’d kept locked away in the back of his closet from countless issues ago. He’d forgotten that Spider-Man was one of the few he’d actually shown it to.
And now he was stuck in it, laying on a bed, said Spider-Man currently smirking and apparently admiring his own handiwork.
“Uuh...Okay, so the whole “Wining and Dining” thing didn’t work out for you. That’s cool, I’m sure there’s something else that’ll wo-”
“You don’t get it, do you? I never signed up to be your ‘bitch’. So now, you’re gunna know exactly how a comment like that feels. And then some.”
Beneath the outfit, Deadpool visibly tensed, still wriggling idly in some attempt to be free of his bonds. And while his mouth still ran like it always did, his tone was higher, more desperate.
“Okay, so Spidey’s got fangs. I get it, really. This wasn’t the plan though, after I thought up such a good plan, too…But yeah, if y’just wanna let me go, we can forget this whole thing happened…?”
And suddenly Peter was close, far too close and sliding both their masks up, revealing a smirk. “Not a chance.” Was the only response, before he leant down and crushed their lips together. Peter’s hands quickly wound their way around Wade’s body, fingers splayed over the fabric to run over the curved muscle and marked skin whilst their tongues battled one another in the kiss. It was a long while before Peter had to pull back for breath, panting slightly as he made his way down the other man’s body, hands running over Wade’s torso as he tugged at the dress slightly. The other man could put up little resistance, twisting his head and attempting to wriggle free. But it was a futile effort as Peter’s hands simply pushed him down again every time. Then they worked their way further down, beginning to pull at the skirt of the dress, forcing it up.
“O-okay, joke’s over. Can’t you just let it go…?” Came the shaky voice. Whilst this was the exact opposite of Wade’s plans for the evening, and an outcome he’d never wanted, he couldn’t ignore the contact, the distinctly slender, yet firm fingers roaming across his body. Even through several layers of fabric, the outline of his erection was quickly visible under his skirt, the extra fabric doing nothing to conceal it.
Peter was quick to notice, and almost instantly a hand slipped under the skirt, quickly sliding up his thigh to reach the bulge. The motion caused the mercenary to gasp for breath, and Peter looked up at him briefly, still grinning.
“Well, well, and we haven’t even got to the good part yet. Could it be that you’re enjoying this a little more than you’re letting on…?”
The only response was a string of expletives, so Peter simply shrugged and carried on. He quickly pulled at Wade’s pants, the clothing slipping off easier than anticipated, freeing his erection. Mercilessly, Peter took it in hand, jerking it roughly. A half-formed word died in Wade’s throat, replaced by a groan that, coming from the older man, seemed borderline ridiculous. Peter seemed to take no notice of it, however, his other hand holding the skirt of the dress clear whilst he ran several fingers up the shaft of the man’s cock, toying with the head a moment before continuing to stroke him. It seemed that every new motion earned him a new sound, so he varied pace, concentrated on the tip, played with his balls. He even took his hand away completely, just to hear the pleading curses that followed.
But with every motion, Peter’s own cock rubbed against suit, achingly hard. It grew harder to ignore, before finally he gave in, pausing to contemplate his next move (despite the hurried protests that resulted). He then grabbed the older man’s hips and, despite odds, managed to awkwardly flip him, so that his face was buried in the sheets, earning him a moment’s peace. But he then managed to get himself between Wade’s legs, and the mercenary froze.
“W-wait. Don’t you dare, you fu-uuh--aagh!”
With a quick motion, Peter had gotten his own pants down far enough, given his own cock a few deft strokes to spread the small amount of precum already at its tip over his length, then pressed himself hard against Wade’s ass, unwittingly moving his hips too hard and pressing himself in a small way. Wade instinctively clenched, hard, and the next few moments were an adventure in barked commands and curses as the two men attempted to straighten things out. Eventually, Peter grew bored of this, and simply tried pressing himself deeper. This had the unusual effect of throwing Wade completely off-balance, turning whatever profanities he was going to say into a string of gibberish and moaning. The sound alone caused Peter to reflexively buck his hips and groan softly. He then realised with a small shudder that he was actually beginning to enjoy Wade’s incessant chattering. God help him.
There were a few more experimental thrusts and screw-ups before Peter finally managed to slide himself smoothly into Wade, his torso doubling over and resting against the other man’s as he groaned softly. He had to admit, being the one on top for a change was a change he was enjoying, and he quickly began to move faster, his breathing fast and ragged as he fought to keep control. Wade rocked his hips back onto Peter to get him moving faster, and squirmed beneath him, twisting himself and hissing behind clenched teeth.
The first time Peter hit Wade’s prostate was quite by accident, but the net result was that Wade’s back suddenly arched, the back of his head almost colliding with Peter’s own, and he groaned through clenched teeth, all but growling as Peter brushed the spot again. From there, it was only a short while before his world went white, and a few moments later, Wade could feel himself being filled as Peter slammed into him hard. As both of them rode out their orgasms, Peter slowly pulled out, flopping to one side on the small bed as both of them caught their breath. After a few moments, Wade opened his mouth to speak, and for a while Peter was expecting another insult, or even a declaration of his undying hatred.
“We….are definitely doing that again.”