Peter Parker didn't feel right. It wasn't the usual exhaustion from a long day of patrolling the city as Spider-Man, or even the soreness from getting slammed into a building by Rhino earlier that week. No, this was different.

For one, his thoughts weren'tentirelyhis own anymore.

"Turn left at the next street," a voice purred in his mind, low and gravelly.

Peter stopped mid-swing, hanging from a webline as he looked around in confusion. "Who said that?"

"It's me," the voice replied cheerily. "Your friendly neighborhood demon."

Peter blinked. "I... have a demon?"

"Yup," the voice said smugly. "You're possessed. Congratulations! I usually only manage to snag cultists or desperate people, but you—hoo, boy. You're a bonus round."

"Great," Peter muttered, swinging to a nearby rooftop. He crouched on the ledge, running a hand over his head. "How did this even happen?"

"Uh, you touched that weird statue in that alley yesterday?" the demon said, its tone dripping with sarcasm. "Did you think it was justart?"

Peter groaned. "That's what I get for being curious."

"Yup. And now I'm in here, which, by the way,thank have no idea how much it sucks being stuck in hell."

Peter hesitated. "Wait, so you're... not trying to control me or anything?"

"Oh, no, absolutely not," the demon said quickly. "I have zero interest in making you do evil stuff. I just wanted to get out of hell, and your body is way better than a lava pit."

"Well, that's... mildly reassuring?" Peter said, his voice uncertain.

"Glad we're on the same page," the demon replied. "So, what's on the agenda today? Fighting crime? Eating pizza? Watching rom-coms?"

Peter sighed. "I need help."

Peter's first stop was Wade Wilson's apartment. Not because Wade was an expert on possession—far from it—but because Wade was the only person Peter knew who wouldn't immediately freak out upon learning he had a demon hitchhiker.

Wade opened the door in his signature red-and-black suit, holding a half-eaten chimichanga. "Spidey! To what do I owe the pleasure? And by pleasure, I mean you look like you're about to tell me something insane. Spill."

Peter stepped inside, pulling his mask off. "Wade, I have a problem."

"Yeah, you do," Wade said, pointing at Peter's face. "You're not smiling. That's your problem."

Peter glared. "I'm possessed by a demon."

Wade froze, the chimichanga halfway to his mouth. "Nice. Is it a cool demon? Like, scary horns and fire, or are we talking tiny and adorable?"

"I'm standingright here," the demon grumbled in Peter's head.

"It's neither," Peter said, ignoring the demon's indignation. "It doesn't want to go back to hell, and it's not trying to make me do evil things, but I don't know what to do."

Wade leaned against the counter, clearly intrigued. "So you've got a demon that's just... freeloading? Like a roommate who doesn't pay rent?"

"Pretty much," Peter said.

"Hey, I resent that," the demon interjected. "I'm a delightful conversationalist."

Peter sighed. "Can you help or not?"

Wade grinned. "Oh, I'mabsolutelyhelping. This is way too interesting to pass up."

After a quick brainstorming session, Wade presented his plan with the enthusiasm of someone pitching a terrible business idea.

"Okay, step one: We figure out if this demon is legit. Step two: We find a way to get it out of you without sending it back to hell, because apparently, it's not a fan of the whole eternal suffering thing. Step three: Profit."

"There's no profit involved," Peter pointed out.

"Then why are we even doing this?" Wade asked, throwing his hands up.

"Because I don't want to be possessed for the rest of my life!" Peter snapped.

"Fair," Wade conceded. "Alright, let's start with step one. Demon! Prove you're real."

Peter blinked. "How is it supposed to do that?"

Wade shrugged. "I dunno. Do something spooky. Make his eyes glow. Summon a bat. Tell me my darkest secret."

"Fine," the demon said, its voice oozing with boredom. Peter's hand suddenly jerked upward, pointing at Wade.

"Your darkest secret is that you cried duringThe Notebook," the demon said through Peter's mouth, its voice layered with an eerie echo.

Wade gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. "Howdareyou! That was between me and Ryan Gosling!"

Peter slapped his own hand down, regaining control. "Stop making me do stuff like that!"

"Hey, he asked for proof," the demon said defensively.

Peter glared at Wade. "Happy now?"

"Extremely," Wade said, grinning.

Wade's first idea was to try a makeshift exorcism. This involved lighting a bunch of candles, drawing random symbols on the floor with ketchup, and waving a spatula like it was a sacred relic.

"By the power vested in me by... uh... Marvel Comics," Wade intoned, "I command you to vacate this hot nerd's body!"

"Did you just call me a hot nerd?" Peter asked, incredulous.

"Focus, Spidey," Wade said, waving the spatula with more vigor.

The demon chuckled. "This is adorable. Truly. But it's not gonna work."

"Why not?" Wade demanded.

"Because I'm nottrappedhere," the demon explained. "I'm chilling. I could leave anytime I wanted, but I don'twantto."

Peter blinked. "Wait, you can leave whenever you want?"

"Of course," the demon said. "But hell sucks, so no thanks."

"Then what do we do?" Peter asked.

"Let me stay," the demon suggested. "I'll be a good tenant. Quiet, clean, and I promise not to make you eat bugs or anything gross."

Wade laughed. "See, Pete? It's like a symbiotic relationship. Venom 2.0."

Peter groaned. "This is insane."

By the end of the night, Peter and Wade sat on the couch, exhausted.

"Alright," Peter said, rubbing his temples. "You can stay. But only if you promise not to take over my body again or make me do anything embarrassing."

"Deal," the demon said cheerfully.

"Really?" Wade said, looking disappointed. "No spooky possession shenanigans? Boring."

"I've had enough shenanigans for one day," Peter muttered.

Wade patted Peter on the back. "Cheer up, Spidey. At least your demon is polite. Could be worse—you could've ended up with one of those fire-and-brimstone types. Or a mime the worst."

Peter chuckled despite himself. "Thanks, Wade."

"Anytime," Wade said, grabbing a chimichanga. "Now, what do you think your demon would like to eat? Do demons eat chimichangas? Guess we're about to find out."

As Wade rambled on, Peter leaned back against the couch, finally starting to relax. Maybe having a demon in his head wasn't ideal, but at least he wasn't dealing with it alone.