deadpool (wade wilson) x f!reader
summary: in which you find your ex eating nachos on your couch in the middle of the night.
warnings: mature content mdni (unprotected sex, creampie), strong language.
after years of no contact, the last thing you expected to find in your apartment was deadpool, casually sprawled on your couch, shoveling nachos into his mouth like he owned the place.
your brain took a second to catch up. the smell of melted cheese and hot sauce filled the air, mixing with the sheer audacity of the situation.
“what the… wade?!” you shouted, dropping your keys.
deadpool turned his masked head toward you mid-bite, cheese stretching between his mask and the nacho like a bad rom-com moment. “oh, hey, babe, wait, i mean, ex-babe. yikes, that’s awkward. how do people usually greet their long-lost, emotionally estranged exes?” he gestured wildly with his nachos. “’sup? how’s life? still mad at me? You look great, by the way.”
you blinked, still processing. “why the hell are you in my apartment?”
he gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “wow. no ‘i missed you, wade!’ or ‘oh my God, it’s been years, wade! let’s hug it out, wade!’ just straight to the hostility. some things never change.” he shoveled another nacho into his mouth. “anyway, i got bored.”
“you broke into my house because you were bored?”
“well, technically, it was a break-in and a break-down, because i had some deep emotional realizations while waiting for you.” he patted the spot next to him. “come. sit. let’s talk. or fight. or fuck. or all of them. i’m flexible.”
you folded your arms. “give me one good reason i shouldn’t throw you out right now.”
he held up a finger, pausing for dramatic effect. “i brought extra nachos?”
he sighed, setting the nachos down. “fine, fine. if you must know, i was in the neighborhood, saw your window all dark and lonely, and thought, hey, i wonder if (y/n) still wants to stab me after all this time!”
he leaned forward slightly, voice uncharacteristically quiet. “do you?”
for the first time since walking in, you actually looked at him. same ridiculous red suit, same obnoxious energy, but there was something different underneath it. something hesitant. maybe even regretful.
after all this time, why was he even here?
that was the real question. and one you weren’t sure you wanted the answer to.
your jaw clenched. “you hurt me, remember?”
that shut him up. for half a second, anyway. he lowered the nacho, tilting his head. “so… we’re still mad about that, huh?”
your glare could’ve melted his mask off. “you mean the part where i was just your second choice? where you said you loved me, but we both knew i was just filling the space vanessa left behind?”
he didn’t answer immediately. and that was worse than a joke. worse than deflection. it was confirmation.
your chest tightened, but you refused to let him see it. “you never really wanted me, wade. so why the hell are you here now?”
deadpool was quiet. no quips, no dumb jokes. nust that annoying, unreadable tilt of his head.
then, barely above a whisper “she’s gone.”
you flinched, not expecting that. “…what?”
he shrugged, voice too light, too forced. “vanessa. gone. forever. she left me again, and the fault is mine this time. she’s dating other guys now. a whole tragic movie subplot that ended with me alone and, shocker, i started thinking about you.”
you swallowed. Hard. “oh wow, so now that she doesn’t want you anymore, again, you remembered that i exist! wow that’s so kind of you” you said sarcastically. “and what? you just assumed i’d still be here, waiting for you to come crawling back?”
he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “i don’t know why i came. i just… i ended up here. guess I was hoping you’d still hate me, because that’d mean you still felt something.”
silence hung between you, thick and suffocating.
after a long moment, he picked up a nacho, twirling it between his fingers. “i get it. i was a massive dick. probably still am.” a dry chuckle. “i let you believe you were enough for me when I was still stuck in the past. and that’s the worst thing I’ve ever done to someone.”
you scoffed. “you’ve literally killed people.”
“yeah, but they deserved it.” he glanced up at you. “you didn’t.”
for the first time since stepping into your own apartment, you felt off-balance. your eyes softened. wade wasn’t supposed to apologize. he wasn’t supposed to admit things.
he wasn’t supposed to still feel like a wound you never quite let heal.
“no, i didn’t…” you let out a slow breath. “so what now?”
deadpool tapped his chin. “well, i was hoping you’d say, ‘wow, wade, i’m so overwhelmed by your honesty that I must forgive you immediately, now come eat these nachos with me and let’s make out dramatically while a romantic soundtrack plays in the background.’”
and that’s when you realized that he didn’t understand a thing of how much he hurt you. his apologies didn’t mean a thing.
“aw, c’mon, at least think about it-”
he sighed, pushing himself off the couch. “fine. but just so you know, these nachos are your nachos, so technically, i was eating my feelings with you in spirit before you got home.”
you crossed your arms, watching as he moved toward the window. he climbed onto the ledge but hesitated.
one last glance. one last stupid, hopeful moment.
“you could hate me forever” he murmured, voice uncharacteristically soft. “or… maybe someday, we could be something else.”
your throat tightened. “i don’t owe you anything.”
he nodded. “i know.” a beat. “but i’ll probably still be back.”
and with that, he was gone.
leaving nothing but a half-eaten plate of nachos and a mess you weren’t sure you’d ever really cleaned up.
it was nearly 3 am when you woke up to the faint sound of rustling in your kitchen.
at first, you thought you were dreaming. or maybe you’d finally lost your mind. because there was no way wade had the sheer audacity to-
you bolted upright, grabbing the nearest weapon (which happened to be a lamp), and stormed into the kitchen, only to find deadpool, standing in front of your open fridge, casually eating your leftover takeout.
he turned, holding up a carton of noodles. “so, funny story, i was on my way to not bother you, but then i got hungry and remembered, ‘oh yeah! my totally-not-still-mad-at-me ex has great food.’” he shoved a bite into his mouth. “so i figured, why not kill two birds with one-“
the lamp hit him right in the face.
“ow! jeez! okay, rude!” he whined, clutching his head. “i’m technically concussed, so that was a crime against the disabled!”
you glared, breathing hard. “why. the hell. are you in my house again?”
he held up a finger as if making a grand point. “correction: I am not in your house again. I am in your kitchen this time. whole different vibe.”
you stepped forward, shoving him back against the counter. “you’re unbelievable.”
he hummed, tilting his head. “i mean, you used to find me pretty believable when you were screaming my-”
you grabbed a knife. immediately.
he put his hands up. “whoa—okay! jeez, we’re already at the murder stage? what happened to playful banter? witty back-and-forth? sexual tension?”
“there is no sexual tension” you snapped.
deadpool tsked. “ah, so you feel it too.”
you wanted to strangle him. and maybe kiss him. and then strangle him again.
instead, you backed up, running a hand down your face. “you shouldn’t be here, wade.”
“i know” he admitted, surprisingly easy. “but that hasn’t really stopped me before, has it?”
you let out a frustrated laugh. “no, it hasn’t, because you don’t respect boundaries, or personal space, or the fact that i don’t need you in my life anymore.”
his grin faltered for half a second. just a flicker. but you saw it.
and you hated that it made you feel anything.
“you really believe that?” he asked.
you swallowed. “i have to.”
he exhaled, pushing himself off the counter. “alright. if that’s how you wanna play it.”
you expected him to leave. maybe throw in a dumb joke, do a dramatic flip out the window.
but instead, he stepped closer.
close enough that you could smell the faint scent of blood and gunpowder. that familiar deadpool smell that brought back a thousand stupid, reckless memories.
“tell me to go” he said, voice lower now. “tell me, and i will.”
you clenched your jaw. “wade…”
his gloved fingers ghosted over your wrist. barely there. just enough to make your breath hitch. “tell me you don’t think about me” he murmured. “not even once. not ever.”
your pulse was a drum in your ears. you wanted to shove him away. you wanted to pull him closer.
instead, you did what you did best.
with a smirk, you tilted your head, lips barely an inch from his. “you know what i do think about?” you whispered.
you leaned up, breath warm against his mask.
then, you grabbed his wrist, twisted it behind his back, and slammed him into the counter.
you only managed to do this because it was the last thing he expected you to do and you caught him off guard. or maybe he just let you.
he groaned, more surprised than hurt. “oof, god, you are so hot when you’re violent.”
tou pressed harder, grinning as he winced. “you like that?”
you rolled your eyes, finally letting go. he spun around, shaking out his wrist, and let out a low whistle. “damn. you still got it.”
“okay, but counteroffer: what if we get tacos first?”
he clapped his hands. “alright, fine. no tacos. i’ll leave.”
he made it two steps toward the window before pausing. glancing back at you.
you crossed your arms. “what now?”
he hesitated. just for a second. then, quietly:
“…you ever think about what we could’ve been? it hadn’t been such a dumbass?”
yes, all the time “no” your throat tightened.
he smiled. a sad, knowing thing. “liar.” he got closer to you, once again.
his voice dropped even lower. “remember that night in mexico? when we-”
you grabbed his collar and yanked him forward until your faces were inches apart. his breath hitched, and for once, he actually shut up.
“you think this is a joke?” you murmured.
his voice came out rougher than before. “i think… we were never just a joke.”
you hated that he was right.
you hated that, despite everything, your body still remembered him. the warmth of him. the way he always smelled like gunpowder and bad decisions.
you hated that you still wanted him.
his gloved fingers trailed up your arm, slow and deliberate. “tell me to leave” he whispered.
you should tell him to walk out that door and never come back.
but instead, your fingers tightened in his suit.
and you whispered, “make me.”
deadpool’s groan was pure filth.
“god, i forgot how much I love you” he muttered, voice dark with amusement. “not the feelings part, ew, emotions, but the whole you wanting to kill me while also wanting to kiss me thing? chef’s kiss.”
you rolled your eyes, but you didn’t let go.
his fingers slid under your chin, tilting your face up. “so… are we gonna keep pretending this tension isn’t a thing, or are we finally gonna do something about it?”
you smirked. “what, you think i’m just gonna fall back into your arms like nothing happened?”
he hummed. “not immediately… but give it, like, five minutes.”
you wanted to wipe that smug look off his face.
so you did the only logical thing.
it was rough, all teeth and frustration, a collision of old wounds and unresolved tension. he groaned against your mouth, hands gripping your waist like he’d been dying to touch you again.
and maybe, just maybe, you’d been dying for it too.
but then, just as quickly, you shoved him away.
deadpool stumbled back, blinking. “holy- wait, was that a real kiss or just a mind game? i need clarification before I start planning our wedding.”
you wiped your mouth, smirking. “you’re still a dumbass.”
he grinned. “and you still like me.”
you shook your head, turning to leave. “don’t push your luck, wilson.”
but as you walked away, you felt his gaze lingering, like he knew, no matter how much you fought it, this wasn’t over.
the night felt thick with the tension hanging in the air. the kiss was a spark, a short, fiery burst, but it had left both of you with too much left unsaid.
you hadn’t expected the kiss to affect you the way it did.
in fact, you’d expected nothing. you’d fully intended to push him away, to remind him that you didn’t need him. but when his lips had finally met yours, all that confident indifference you’d been wearing cracked. it was a reminder. a reminder of what you’d lost.
but now, with him standing there, smirking like a damn idiot, you had to figure out what to do next.
deadpool ran a hand over his masked head, his lips still curled in that devilish grin. “so… not even a thank you for that?”
you narrowed your eyes, stepping closer again, just enough to make your pulse quicken. “you’re an asshole, wade.”
“yeah, but i’m your asshole” he shot back, voice low, teasing. “is that why you kissed me? because i’m still your favorite?”
the words hung in the air like a challenge. you didn’t have to look at him to know he was watching your every move.
your throat went dry, but you refused to let him see it. “i don’t need you in my life. i don’t need you at all.”
he leaned in slightly, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him. “liar.”
you glared up at him, lips trembling from the weight of unsaid things. “what do you want from me, wade? i don’t even know why you’re here.”
he stepped closer, just barely invading your space, his chest brushing against yours. the feeling of his body so close made your heart hammer in your chest.
“i told you” he whispered, voice gravelly. “i don’t know either. maybe i just wanted to see if you’d still throw me out on my ass or if there’s more to us than the past.”
your lips curled into a sneer. “you don’t get to break in here and act like things can just go back to how they were.”
“who said anything about going back?” his hand, warm and bold, slid down your arm. his fingers lingered just long enough to send a shiver up your spine. “maybe i don’t want things to go back. maybe i just want to… move forward.”
you took a step back, trying to push him away. but his hand followed, never leaving your skin, and the pressure between you was suddenly too much to ignore. the air thickened. you could feel the electricity crackling between you.
“i don’t need you to move forward, wade.” the words were barely a whisper, as if you were convincing yourself more than him.
he chuckled softly, that familiar, infuriating sound that you hated but couldn’t deny. “really? ‘cause the last time i checked, you kissed me.”
you stiffened, your breath hitching. “you’re delusional.”
he smirked. “maybe. but you still don’t want me to leave. not really” his voice dropped, becoming darker, more dangerous. “maybe you like me being here more than you care to admit.”
you felt the tension inside you snap. “i don’t like it, wade” you bit out. “but it drives me insane that you’re still standing here.”
“good” he breathed, stepping even closer, his body pressing against yours, his face inches from yours again. “because i’m not going anywhere. not until you admit what’s between us.”
his lips brushed against your ear as he spoke, sending an electric jolt through your entire body. “say it.”
you took a deep breath, heart pounding, and tried to resist the pull. “you’re just-”
“just what?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “what? you think i don’t know? you think i don’t see it in your eyes? that flicker of want you can’t hide?”
your body was betraying you. your heart was racing, your mind clouded by the same wild, confusing attraction you had for him when everything was simpler.
he lowered his voice even further, just for you. “you don’t hate me, do you?”
no, you didn’t hate him at all, not even a little bit.
the words hung in the air. he was pushing, but this time, you weren’t so sure you wanted to be the one pushing back.
“tell me you don’t want me anymore” he whispered, his lips brushing against yours. the barest of touches. teasing you.
his lips crashed into yours before you could finish the sentence, taking the words right out of your mouth. there was no hesitation this time, no pretending. it was raw, desperate, hungry. every inch of him pressed against you, like he was claiming what was always his.
you pushed him back, but he didn’t go far. he just smiled and deepened the kiss, his hands grasping your waist, pulling you back toward him. you could feel the heat of his body, the way his muscles flexed with every movement, and the low growl of frustration that rumbled in his chest when you tried to pull away.
“don’t fight me, (y/n)” he murmured, barely pulling back enough to speak. “you know this is real.”
you were so close to losing control. but you couldn’t, you wouldn’t, admit it. not yet.
“get out” you whispered, though the words came out shaky.
his hand gripped your chin, tilting your face up so he could look you straight in the eye. “tell me you don’t feel it” he pressed. “tell me you don’t feel the same tension, the same pull…”
his lips brushed over your mouth again, slow and teasing.
you should have pushed him away, should’ve said no. but instead, you closed your eyes, leaning into the kiss, letting your lips move with his in a dance that had always been inevitable.
his scarred hand tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, his other arm wrapping around your waist to lift you onto the kitchen counter, spreading your legs and getting in between them. he broke away, panting slightly. “see? you can't deny it.”
you pulled him closer, feeling his erection press against your already damp panties. his hands slid up your thighs, pushing your oversized shirt up. he growled softly, pulling you to the edge of the counter. your legs wrapped around him automatically. his mouth found yours again, hungry, aggressive.
you found the hem of his mask and took it off slowly, finally meeting those dark eyes you missed so much. he froze as your fingers curled under his mask, revealing his grotesquely scarred face. his eyes widened momentarily before dropping to mask his vulnerability with a smirk. “still fucking hot, huh?” he quipped, but there was a raw edge to his voice.
you chuckled, and nodded. “i missed your eyes” you admitted, placing another kiss on his lips. “gorgeous as always” you said, cupping his face with your hands.
his heart pounded in his chest at your gentle touch and words. the walls he'd built crumbled a little more with each passing second. he leaned into your touch, his voice barely a whisper. “you always saw past the scars, didn't you? fuck, i've missed you.”
“i’ve missed you too” you finally admitted, kissing him once again.
his arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer as he kissed you back, his scarred hands splayed on your lower back. he broke the kiss, resting his forehead against yours again. “you know what else i missed?” he asked.
you nod you head no. he smirked, his eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and sincerity. “this. us. fighting, making up, and especially the makeup sex.” he leaned in to nip at your lower lip gently. you chuckled.
his fingers find the hem of you oversized shirt, the one you used to sleep, in that moment he seemed to realize something, his eyes softened.
“this shirt…” he muffled into your neck between kisses. “is it mine?” he asked playfully, already knowing the answer.
“fuck off i hoped you wouldn’t notice” you chuckled blushing a bit.
he chuckled too, his fingers gently tickling your sides. “oh, i noticed. and i fucking love it.” he pulled the shirt over your head, leaving you in just your bra and panties. “and i also noticed the way your body still reacts to me, the same way it used to”
you understood he was talking about your damp penties, the goosebumps on you skin whenever he whispered something to your ear or touched you. he squeezed your waist to prove his point.
he leaned in to kiss your neck softly, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts gently over your bra, making a little moan escape your lips. his smirk widened. he knew those touches drove you crazy. he slowly slid his hands down your stomach again, hooking his fingers into your lace panties. he looked up at your face, saw your parted lips, eyes half-closed. “baby?” he asked softly.
you locked eyes with him. “yeah?” you asked.
his voice was low, almost hypnotic. “i'm gonna take these off now, okay? and then i'm gonna fuck you right here on this counter, alright?” His thumbs hooked into the sides of your panties, waiting for your consent. “say yes, baby.” you started nodding eagerly. he growled softly at your nod. he liked that you were still so responsive, so needy. he yanked your panties down your legs quickly and spread them legs wider, stepping between them.
his eyes locked with yours, intense and vulnerable all at once. seeing you like this, exposed, wanting, almost brought him to his knees. he slowly undid his pants, kicking them off completely. “you still on birth control?” his voice was rough with desire but also careful.
you nodded. in that moment you were so glad you still were because you needed to feel him.
he groaned deeply, his eyes never leaving yours. he gripped your hips, pulling you to the edge of the counter before positioning himself at your entrance, rubbing the head of his cock against you gently. you needed more.
“missed this pussy so fucking much.” he said thrusting deep inside you. his hips moved in long, deep strokes, one hand gripping your hip while the other supported his weight on the counter. “still fucking perfect.”
you let your head fall backwards with a moan, closing your eyes as he slowly pushed his dick inside your pussy, it felt so much better then she remembered.
he watched your body arch back, taking him deeper. your breasts pushed out, nipples hard. he growled softly, picking up his pace. he hit that spot inside you that made your eyes roll back. you wrapped you arms around his neck, needing to feel him closer to your body, and kissed him. he kissed you back fiercely, tongue invading your mouth to claim it as his. his hands moved to grip your ass, lifting you slightly as he angled his hips to hit that spot inside you even harder. you almost screamed of pleasure when he did that. he groaned into your mouth, the kisses messy and desperate. “i love fucking you like this”
“this feels so fucking good” you moaned, begging him to go faster. he growled possessively, grabbing both your ass cheeks tightly. he started pounding into you harder and faster, the counter shaking underneath you. his mouth found yours again in a rough kiss. “fuck, i missed these sounds you make…” he hit that spot again and again, making you gasp. “fuck! keep going, i am so close!” you moaned.
he grunted, his hips moving faster, his body slapping against yours. he could feel your legs trembling around him, your breath hitching in your throat. “that's it, baby. come all over my cock.” he adjusted the angle slightly, hitting that sweet spot relentlessly.
“fuck wade” you came crying out his name. he groaned, feeling your pussy clench around him tightly as you came. it triggered his own orgasm. he buried himself deep inside you, hips stuttering as he released. “fuck yes, that's my girl…”
he rested his forehead against yours, breathing heavily. his heart was pounding in his chest. he gently pulled out of you, making you wince slightly. he bent down, pulling up your panties gently, then his own clothes. “come here”
you get down the counter, struggling to stand up due to your shaking legs, your body still hadn’t recovered from your orgasm.
he wrapped his arms around you tightly, lifting you off your shaky legs completely. he carried you to the couch, sitting down and settling you onto his lap. his fingers gently stroked your hair as he pressed soft kisses to your temple. “you okay, baby?” his voice was soft, almost tender.
“yeah, i just missed this” you answered nodding.
he sighed softly, holding you tighter. "missed you too, baby” he paused, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your back. “god, i fucking hate being the asshole i’ve been.”
“it’s ok, i think you’ve learned your lesson”
he chuckled softly, his body relaxing. “damn right. no more being a dickhead?” he checked softly, his thumb caressing your jaw softly. “you forgive me for being an idiot?” he was almost serious, his eyes watching you carefully.
“absolutely not. not yet at least. you still have a long way to go” you smirked playfully at him.
he groaned playfully, nuzzling your neck. “fuck, you're mean.” he bit gently at your neck, his hands squeezing your bottom. “alright, what do I need to do to earn that forgiveness, huh?” his voice was low, flirtatious.
“mmh i don’t know, maybe you could start with a second round, i deserve that, don’t i?” she flirted. he grinned mischievously, his eyes lighting up with desire. “oh, you definitely deserve a second round, baby.” he stood up, holding you close as he started towards the bedroom. “and maybe a third, and a fourth…”
a/n: let me know you liked it, and if you did, don’t be scared to like, comment or reblog, it would really help me since this blog is new. let me know if you have any kind of request, not just for deadpool, it can be of any marvel character or more, i’m happy to write them <3
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