prompt ! : x-men boys react to the porn hub intro playing from your phone .
⋆｡° ✮ : SCOTT SUMMERS / CYCLOPS .
It doesn’t click at first. The gears in his head barely turning as he stacks papers. Once he realizes, his head snaps to you with confusion. His lips tight in a pout, “What’s going on..?” he asks, as you hold back laughter.
“Sorry! Didn’t know my volume was up.”
He’s frowning now, “Why are you watching porn in the middle of the day?” “Scott!” you shout, and he chuckles in response.
“How do you know it’s porn?” you ask, crossing your arms and he lets out another laugh, leaning his head back. He goes back to stacking papers, completely ignoring your question in the process.
“Well?” you push, stepping closer and leaning your face in front of his work, watching the blush build up his cheeks. He presses his hand against your face, pushing, “I think everyone has gone there at least once..”
“Just once?”
“Ooookay, enough questions, I have work to do, like a normal–”
“Non-porn loving—”
“I said!-- Normal, person.”
⋆｡° ✮ : WOLVERINE / LOGAN HOWLETT .
“So, you’re crazy.”
“Huh?”
He’s sitting on the other side of the couch, beer in hand as he shakes his head at you like a disappointed father. You frown, like you don’t understand, “I didn’t know my volume was up..” you whisper, and he just laughs. “Suuureee. Watchin’ porn like some sorta freak when I’m right ‘ere.”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
He takes a big gulp of his beer, before setting it down on the table in front of him, crossing his arms.
“Why watch dicks n shit like that when I’m sittin’ right ‘ere?”
You should’ve expected this, from a guy like him especially. “So, what? Am I supposed to watch you?” you ask, setting your phone down, and scooting a bit closer to him now, watching his lips curl into a smile.
“Sure, why not.”
⋆｡° ✮ : GAMBIT / REMY LEBEAU .
His eyes widen before he just grins, his shoulder bumping against yours as he peeks at your phone, “Ohhh, is it any good?” he simply asks, like this was a normal event. You seem more shocked than him, “Are you crazy?”
“Ah?” he says, confused– pointing at himself, “Me?” he laughs out. You nod, “Yes you!”
“Gambit ain’t crazy, Cher, just curious what my love is into. I think that’s pretty normal, no?”
You stare, “I mean, well, yes. But you’re not shocked that I’m just, watching porn…?”
“Gambit watch porn all the time.” he replies, “What!?” you shout, “Now you’re just hurtin’ my feelings, Cher…” he says, pouting.
“Sorry! I just, do you… like, actually..?”
He crosses his arms, thinking for a second, “Yeah, I do. Gambit like porn, it ain’t like I jerk it to it all, it’s like a challenge to find which one look like you.”
“That’s.. Actually sweet,”
“See? Gambit ain’t no weirdo! I just like to see porn that remind me of you, Cher.” he says, pressing a kiss to your cheek, and grabbing your phone as he does so, “But.. Gambit don’t want you watching porn ‘bout no other guys.. Y’here?”
You giggle in response to his antics.
⋆｡° ✮ : DEADPOOL / WADE WILSON .
“Well, well, well, we got Ms. Goonette over here. Let me guess, backshots? Creampies? …Jacking off videos…?” he says, awfully loud as well.
You hold in your laughter as you attempt to stay to the script, “I didn’t know it was turned up!” the eyes on his mask gets bigger, “Oh I’m sure, princess. Next time make it louder so I can hear the cheeks getting clapped– Seriously, this shit is crazy.” he laughs out.
You push him a little, just tossing your phone onto the couch. “Throwing evidence?” he says, sucking his teeth, “Yikes,” you slap his arm, “Shut up.”
He holds his hands up, as if surrendering, “Look, we all watch porn! No shame, no gain they say,” “That’s not what they say–” “I don’t care! What I do care about is what were you watching! I’m really curious.”
You pout, “I’m not showing you any of MY porn,”
“YOUR porn? Fine, fuck it, I won’t show any of MY porn–”
“Your dick is hard.”
“I’m a simple guy.”
“Okay, freak.”
“Damn, tryna make me cum already?”
a / n : miss thang wrote this at 1 am — sorry if this is SHYT !!!!!! but i love it :3c
❝ 𝐫𝐚𝐰 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐭 ❞ W.W & L.H ( 'The good, the bad, and the ugly" comics )
pairing wade wilson & logan howlett x fem! child! reader 🪽.
synopsis 𖥧 after him, Logan and Cap escaped from the North Korean facility that had kept them prisioners to steal their DNA and create mutant soldiers, Wade ended up taking a souvenir back home. and that's you. you are that souvenir. a traumatized love child of his and Wolvie's DNA that communicates only in grunts and is far too feral for her own good.
content 𖥧 fem/afab reader, reader is a child (7-14), reader is laura-esque.
💬 : alright lemme cook *wink (you'll understand it later).
The apartment smells like burnt coffee, old socks, and the specific kind of despair that only comes from a man who has never once deep-cleaned his refrigerator. It's not much. It's barely anything. But it has walls, a door that locks, and a window that opens to a fire escape that you've already eyed three times as a potential exit route.
Logan sits on the couch, or rather, Logan lounges on the couch, one leg thrown over the armrest, arms crossed, watching everything with the patience of a man who has seen centuries of chaos and is no longer surprised by any of it. His eyes track you the way a wolf tracks a pup: assessing, measuring, recognizing.
You are currently pacing the perimeter of the kitchen.
Not walking. Pacing. Slow, deliberate, predatory. Your bare feet make almost no sound on the linoleum. Your head turns slightly with each pass, cataloging every object: the knives in the block, the fire extinguisher by the door, the window above the sink. You're not looking for threats. You're looking for weapons. Because in the lab, everything was a weapon. The tray. The needle. The clipboard. The hand that reached for you.
Old habits die hard.
Wade is at the stove, wearing an apron that says "Kiss the Cook" in glittery letters (a gift from Weasel, definitely a joke from back when he was handsome, definitely not funny anymore that he's uglier than a testicle with teeth). He's frying eggs in a pan that's seen better days. The eggs are burning. He's humming something off-key. He is, for the first time in weeks, trying very hard to be normal.
It's not working.
"Okay," Wade says, flipping an egg so aggressively that it lands on the burner. "Okay, that's fine. That's fine. We'll just… scrape that off. Later. With a chisel."
Logan grunts. He's not watching Wade. He's watching you.
You've stopped pacing. You're standing at the counter now, perfectly still, your head tilted. On the counter are two things: a raw steak, still in its bloody packaging, and a raw whole chicken, pale and glistening under the fluorescent light.
You are staring at the chicken.
Not looking. Staring. Your pupils are dilated. Your breathing has changed, now it's shallower, faster. Your fingers twitch at your sides. Your claws want to come out. You're holding them back, barely, because Wade told you this morning that "we don't claw things in the apartment unless it's an emergency, and 'I wanted to' is not an emergency."
But the chicken... The raw, bloody, edible chicken.
Logan sees the shift in your posture. He knows that look. He's worn that look. That's the look of a weapon deciding whether or not to engage. That's the look of a feral thing calculating risk and reward.
He should say something. He should warn Wade. He should stop you before you do what he knows, just knows, you're about to do.
He doesn't.
Because he needs to see how Wade handles this. The Cap said Wade was going to "help you get used to life outside the lab" but Logan knows what that means. It means raising. It means late nights and patience and teaching a traumatized child how to be a person instead of a product. Logan can't stay. He has X-Men things. Apocalypse things. End-of-the-world things. He'll be gone back to the Mansion in three days, maybe four.
Wade will be here.
So Logan watches. He leans back on the couch. He waits.
You move like water.
One second you're standing at the counter, still as a statue. The next, you're drifting toward Wade. Slow, silent, your body low to the ground. You stop when you're slightly behind him, slightly beside him, close enough to feel the heat coming off the stove but not close enough to touch.
You tilt your head. The way a bird does. The way a predator does when it's trying to understand something new.
You've never seen anyone cook before.
In the lab, food came in syringes. Nutrients pumped directly into your veins. Sometimes, if you were "good," they gave you the slop: gray and brown and utterly flavorless, served in a metal bowl like they were feeding a dog. You ate it because you were hungry. You never tasted it because there was nothing to taste.
But this? The sizzle of the pan. The smell of butter burning. The way Wade moves—clumsy, distracted, cursing under his breath—but making something. Transforming things. The eggs were liquid. Now they're solid. The chicken is raw. Soon it will be cooked.
Your eyes drift from the pan to the counter.
The raw chicken sits there, pale and plump. The leg is slightly separated from the body, held on by a thin strip of skin and a fragile joint. It would take almost no effort to pull it off. A tug. A twist. That's all.
Your mouth waters.
You don't know what hunger is, not really. You've never been hungry in the way Wade means when he says "I'm starving, let's order pizza." Your body has been maintained artificially, clinically, efficiently. But this is different. This isn't maintenance. This is want. You want to bite into that chicken. You want to feel the flesh tear between your teeth. You want to taste the blood.
Your claws slide out. Just a little. Just the tips.
Logan notes that.
You look at Wade. He's focused on the eggs, scraping the burnt one off the burner with a spatula, muttering about "non-stick my ass, this is a lie, this is a conspiracy."
He's not looking at you.
You look at the chicken.
You look at Wade.
You look at the chicken.
Now.
You move. Fast. Not fast enough to make a sound. You've learned to move silently, because noise in the lab meant attention, and attention meant pain. Your hand closes around the chicken leg. You pull. The joint gives way with a wet pop. The leg comes off in your hand, dripping blood onto the counter.
You bring the leg to your mouth. You bite. Your teeth sink through the raw skin, through the soft muscle beneath. The blood coats your lips, warm, metallic, alive. You chew once. Twice. Your face doesn't change expression. This is just food. This is just fuel.
Wade turns around.
He has a spatula in one hand and a look of mild concern on his face, the kind of look he gets when he's forgotten something important, like where he put his keys or whether he turned off the stove.
He sees you.
He sees you. Standing there. Chewing. Blood on your mouth. A raw chicken leg in your hand. Your face blank. Your eyes wide.
He freezes.
"…Kid."
You keep chewing.
"What do you have in your mouth."
You chew faster.
"Kid. What is in your mouth."
You hold up the chicken leg. A piece of raw meat is still visible between your teeth. You tilt your head, confused. You don't understand the problem. It's food. You were hungry. You solved the problem.
Wade stares at the chicken leg. He stares at the chicken carcass on the counter, now missing a leg. He stares at the blood on your lips, which really does look like lipstick, a messy, uneven stain of red.
His eye twitches.
"Yeeaaah.." he trails off, slowly. "No. We're going to have to work on that."
Wade sets down the spatula. He wipes his hands on his apron. He takes a breath, the kind of breath a man takes before explaining something very simple to someone who is going to make it very complicated.
"Okay. Okay, okay, okay. Kid. Look at me. Look at my face. This is my 'I'm being serious' face. You can tell because I'm not smiling. I'm never not smiling. This is very serious."
You stare at him. You're still holding the chicken leg. You're not giving it up yet. Your grip has tightened, you've stopped chewing but he hasn't seen you swallow. Your claws have extended further, just in case.
"That," Wade says, pointing at the chicken leg, "is raw meat. Raw meat is not edible. Raw meat is dangerous. It has bacteria. Little tiny monsters called salmonella. They get in your tummy and they make you sick. Very sick. Puking sick. 'I regret all my life choices' sick."
You blink. You don't know what salmonella is. You don't know what puking is. You've never been sick. Your healing factor burns through everything.
Wade sees the blank look on your face and tries again.
"Raw meat equals bad. Harmful. Owie. B-A-D. Bad. Like… like touching a hot stove. Like drinking bleach. Like listening to Nickelback. You don't do it. It's a rule. A very important rule."
You look down at the chicken leg. You look back at Wade. You growl, short, questioning.
Wade doesn't understand the growl, but he understands the look. He sighs.
"I know you're hungry. I know. And I'm going to cook this. See? The stove? The heat? Cooking makes the meat safe. It kills the little monsters. And then you can eat it. And it will taste better. I promise. It will taste soooooo much better."
He reaches out. Slowly. Gently. His hand closes around the chicken leg—not snatching, not pulling, just holding. He gives a small tug. You don't let go. He tugs again, a little firmer. Your grip tightens as your frown deepens. He tugs a third time, insistent but not forceful, like he's asking permission instead of demanding compliance.
Your eyes flick from his face to his hand to the chicken leg to his face again.
You finally let go.
Wade exhales. He takes the chicken leg and holds it at arm's length, like it might bite him. "Thank you. Thank you for not making this a fight. I appreciate it. I do."
He looks at the chicken leg. He looks at your mouth. He cups his free hand and holds it in front of your face, palm up, level with your lips.
"Okay. Now. Spit it out."
You stare at his hand.
"Spit. It. Out. The piece you're still chewing. The one you didn't swallow. Spit it out. Come on. I know you have it. You didn't swallow."
You chew. Defiant.
"Kid."
You chew slower.
"Kiddo."
You stop chewing. You look at his hand. You look at his face. You make a sound through your nose (a huff, almost a sigh) and then you lean forward and spit the chewed-up piece of raw chicken into his palm.
It's wet with saliva. It's bloody. It's half-masticated.
Wade looks at it. His face does something complicated. He walks to the trash can, drops it in, and wipes his hand on his apron. Then he wipes it again. Then he wipes it on a dish towel. Then he washes his hands in the sink for thirty seconds.
"Okay," he says, his voice slightly higher than usual. "Okay. That was disgusting. But we did it. We did it together. Teamwork."
He turns back to the stove. He picks up the raw chicken carcass and places it on a cutting board. He picks up a knife, a big one, the kind you'd use to chop through bone. You watch him with intense focus, your head tilted, your eyes tracking every movement.
"Okay. So. Watch. Watch what I'm doing."
He cuts into the chicken. The knife slides through the skin, through the meat, through the joint. He's not good at it, he's clumsy, his technique is terrible, he cuts himself twice and hisses in pain, but he's trying. He's explaining as he goes.
"This is cooking. You take the raw meat, and you put it on the heat, and you wait, and then it becomes cooked meat. And cooked meat is delicious. Cooked meat is safe. Cooked meat is what people eat. Not raw meat. Never raw meat. Unless it's sushi, but that's different, and we'll talk about that later."
He drops the chicken pieces into a hot pan. They sizzle. The smell changes from raw and metallic to something richer, deeper, good. Your nose twitches. You lean closer.
"Do you smell that? That's the smell of 'not dying of salmonella.' That's the smell of 'Wade Wilson is a responsible adult.' Breathe it in, girl. Memorize it."
He glances over his shoulder at Logan, who hasn't moved from the couch. Who has been watching the entire time with an expression that Wade can't quite read.
"And you," Wade says, pointing the knife at Logan. "You. You saw her. You saw her eyeing the chicken. You knew what she was going to do. You've been sitting there like a furry statue the whole time, watching, and you didn't say anything. Not a growl. Not a grunt. Not a 'hey Wade, your feral child is about to eat raw poultry.' Nothing."
Logan doesn't flinch. He doesn't apologize. He just looks at Wade with something soft in his eyes.. something almost tender, something that doesn't belong on Logan's face, something that makes Wade stop talking.
"You did well, bub."
Wade blinks.
The knife lowers onto the counter.
"…What?"
"You did well," Logan says again. His voice is quiet. Rough. Sincere in a way that Wade has never heard from him before. "You didn't yell. You didn't grab her. You didn't scare her. You explained it. You took the food gently. You gave her a chance to let go on her own. That's good. That's how you do it with kids like her."
Wade stares at him. His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.
No joke comes out.
For once in his life, Wade Wilson has nothing to say.
"Oh," he says finally. His voice is small. Real. Vulnerable in a way he usually hides behind ten layers of irony and pop culture references. "Thank you... I guess. I'm really- I'm really tryin' my best here."
Logan nods. Just once. But it's enough.
Wade turns back to the stove once again. He's quiet now, thoughtful, almost shy. He picks up the knife again to slice something and that's when he notices that you've taken the knife.
Not aggressively. Not threateningly. You're just… holding it. Turning it over in your hands. Your tongue darts out, and you're about to lick the blade—because it has blood on it, and you want to taste it, because you're still hungry, because old habits die hard.
"Nope. No. We're not doing that."
He reaches over. Gently. Firmly. He puts his hand over yours on the handle of the knife. He doesn't pull. He just waits. You look at his hand. You look at his face. Your grip loosens. He takes the knife from your fingers and sets it on the counter, far away from you.
"Knives are sharp. They cut. They cut you. And you heal, yeah, but it still hurts. And I don't want you to hurt. So. No licking the knives. Okay?"
You stare at him. You don't growl. You don't nod. You just… wait.
Wade looks around the kitchen. His eyes land on a spoon, the one he used to stir the sauce earlier, still coated in a thin layer of tomatoey, garlicky goodness. He picks it up. He holds it out to you.
"Here. This is better. This is a spoon. You can lick the spoon. It won't cut you. It's just… spoon-shaped. Full of flavor. Go nuts."
You take the spoon.
Slowly. Carefully. Your fingers brush against his. You bring the spoon to your mouth. Your tongue darts out. You lap at the sauce, tentative at first, then more eagerly. Your eyes widen. Your face, usually so blank, does something new. Something soft.
You make a sound.
It's not a growl. It's not a bark. It's a rumble, low and steady, vibrating up from your chest. It sounds like an engine. It sounds like a cat. It sounds like contentment.
Logan, from the couch: "She likes the food."
Wade is staring at you. You're still pressed against his side- when did that happen? You're tucked under his arm, your shoulder nudging his ribs, your body warm against his. You're licking the spoon like it's the best thing you've ever tasted, and you're purring.
Actually purring.
Logan's voice is soft. "And you. She likes you too."
Wade's heart does something stupid. It clenches. It aches. It fills with something warm and terrifying and wonderful.
He lifts the arm you've been nudging and carefully wraps it around your shoulders. You lean into him. You don't flinch. You don't pull away. You just keep licking the spoon and making that rumbling sound, and Wade realizes that this is the first time in years that someone has wanted to be close to him without wanting something else.
Not a job. Not a favor. Not a transaction.
Just… you. A kid. A broken, feral, beautiful kid who ate raw chicken and spat it into his hand and is now purring against his side like a stray cat that finally found a warm place to sleep.
"Yeah," Wade says quietly. His voice cracks. He clears his throat. "Yeah, okay. This is… this is nice. This is really nice."
Logan smiles. It's small. Barely there. Just a curve upwards of his lips. But it's real.
"You're doing good, Wade."
Wade looks down at you. You're still licking the spoon. Your eyes are half-closed. The rumbling hasn't stopped.
"I'm trying," he says. "I'm really trying."
The chicken cooks. The eggs are burned beyond recognition, so Wade throws them out and starts over. This time, you watch from beside him, still tucked under his arm, still holding the spoon (which is now completely clean, licked to a shine).
You don't try to eat anything raw again.
You don't take the knife.
You just watch, and you wait, and you rumble softly every time Wade looks down at you.
Logan gets up from the couch. He walks to the kitchen. He opens the fridge, pulls out a beer, and leans against the counter.
"She's gonna need boundaries," he says. "Clear ones. Consistent ones. You can't let her eat raw meat just because she gives you the big eyes."
Wade snorts. "She doesn't have big eyes. She has feral eyes. There's a difference."
"She's got your eyes."
Wade goes quiet.
"And she's got my healing," Logan continues. "My temper. My instincts. She's gonna want to fight. She's gonna need to fight. You gotta give her a safe way to do that, or she's gonna find an unsafe way. Just like I did with all the cage fighting."
Wade nods. He looks down at you. You're not looking at him, you're watching the chicken cook, your nose twitching, your mouth slightly open.
"I know," he says. "I've been thinking about that. Controlled brawls. Me and her. Nothing lethal, not that anything could be lethal with me. Just… burning off the energy."
Logan takes a long sip of his beer. "That could work."
"It's gonna have to work. I'm all she's got."
Logan sets down his beer. He looks at Wade. Really looks at him, the way he looks at an opponent before a fight, assessing, measuring. But there's no hostility in his eyes. Just… acknowledgment.
"You're not all she's got," Logan says. "You've got me. You've got Cap. You've got Preston, for what that's worth, even if he's just an annoying voice in your head. You're not alone in this, Wade."
Wade's throat tightens. He doesn't trust himself to speak. He just nods.
The chicken finishes cooking. Wade plates it badly, messily, but with care, and sets a piece in front of you. Cooked. Safe. Edible.
You look at it. You look at him. You pick it up with your hands (because forks are still a work in progress) and take a bite.
Your eyes widen.
You make the rumbling sound again. Louder this time.
"That's a good sound, right?" Wade asks Logan, almost desperately. "That's a 'I like this food' sound and not a 'I'm about to murder you in your sleep' sound?"
Logan huffs, a laugh, almost. "It's a good sound."
Wade grins. It's not his usual grin, the sharp one, the performative one, the one that hides everything. It's a real grin. Soft. Hopeful.
He looks at you. You're eating the chicken with both hands, sauce on your cheeks, purring like a motorboat.
SUMMARY | every morning, you see a man and his dog walk past your bakery and all he does is stick his head through the door, inhales deeply, make a comment, then walks out. what gives?
WARNINGS | flirty banter with sexual jokes, none really!
RATING | teen+
“Oh, that smells like unicorn farts wrapped in rainbows!”
At the bakery's front counter, you glance up at the chiming bell above the door. Your first customer of the day... with a really strange comment.
A tall, mottled man stands before you in a grey hoodie holding an equally odd looking dog with a lolling tongue. Definitely not a sight you see every day.
He takes a deep, exaggerated sniff of the air.
“Morning!” you greet with a smile. “Come on in and—”
And just like that, he bolts out the door and back onto the street. His dog licks his face—actually, his open mouth—as they disappear from view.
What the fuck?
The next morning, it happens again.
“Mother of holy Mary and Marvel Jesus, that smells like a threesome between me, a donut, and fuck-me chocolate syrup!”
The man, again in the same coloured hoodie, pauses dramatically, closing his eyes and taking another long whiff as he half-leans into the bakery.
“Would you like to try—?”
But before you can finish, he’s gone again, leaving you standing there in disbelief.
The third morning is not much different.
Same man, same dog, same routine. However, this time, he doesn’t even say a word—just inhales, sighs in contentment, then spins around and exits as quickly as he entered.
It keeps on happening until the end of the week. By then, you've had enough.
Leaning on the counter, arms crossed, you watch from the counter as he comes into view by your window.
His dark maroon hoodie is drawn tight, and in tow as usual is his dog drooling slightly against his shoulder. You brace yourself, eyes narrowing.
The door swings open.
“Wow—”
“You, Mr. Dog Man!” You cut him off and point at him sternly.
He raises an eyebrow, pointing a finger to himself as if saying, “Me?”
“Yes, you,” you confirm, then you jab your finger towards your glass counter. “Kindly get the fuck in here.”
He chuckles, amused. “Did you just tell me to ‘get the fuck in here’?”
“Kindly,” you say, tilting your head with exaggerated politeness, “but yes.”
The man shrugs, complying with a casual stroll to the counter.
“Alright, I'm in. What’s the dealio?” he asks, leaning on the counter with a smile.
“What’s your name, sir?”
“It’s Wade,” the stranger supplies, his smile widening. “Wade Wilson. Is yours ‘The Bitchy Baker Who Didn’t Have a Good Dicking This Morning’?” His words drip with sarcasm, but there’s a playful twinkle in his eyes.
“Ha-ha. So funny,” you reply dryly. “You know, you can't just keep sticking your head in my bakery, make a comment, and then leave.”
“Why not? It's a free country,” he says, feigning innocence.
You roll your eyes. “If you like the smell of my baked goods that much, why don’t you actually buy one? I can assure you that they taste better than they smell.”
Wade smirks. “That’s what many of my ex-girlfriends said, but I could never trust them.”
You ruffle your eyebrows at his offhand comment, but he moves on quickly. “Look, I never carry my wallet on my morning walks. Mary Puppins here would guilt-trip me into buying way more stuff than I need.”
Your gaze drops to his dog, who’s happily panting in his arms and looking up with big eyes. “Her name is Mary Puppins?”
“Yup. Her previous owner—may he rest his soul—named her. Her new baby daddy—that’s me—just kept the tradition going.”
“And she guilt-trips you into buying stuff?” you ask slowly in equal parts disbelief and intrigue.
“Look at this face!” Wade exclaims, holding his dog out closer to you. “Wouldn't you buy her anything she wanted?”
For a few beats, you inspect the dog and its outfit. A little red and black costume that looks awfully similar to something you’ve seen before, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. But yes, her owner was right; she did have something oddly endearing about her.
“Is it okay if I pet her?”
“Oh yeah,” Wade nods enthusiastically, “go right ahead.”
Based on her lack of facial expressions, Mary Puppins seems indifferent to your pats and scritches, but her tail is wagging, so she must be enjoying it slightly. Wade watches you in approval.
You retract your hands, wash them quickly, then grab a tray of goods out from one of the shelves in the counter.
“Well, since you don't have your wallet, have one of these on the house,” you say, placing the tray in front of him.
Wade gasps theatrically, eyes twinkling in delight at all the choices he can possibly have. He takes his time, hovering his free hand over the array of pastries, until he finally decides on a chocolate croissant.
One bite, and his reaction is nothing short of dramatic, but that seems to be this guy’s style.
His eyes flutter to a close, and he lets out a moan that echoes in the quiet bakery. You smile proudly and mentally pat yourself on the back.
“Oh my God, they always talk about having a foodgasm, but my mouth is literally coming with each bite. Oh my fucking God!”
You laugh, shaking your head. “Okay, bring your wallet tomorrow and you can have plenty more foodgasms.”
“What—my handsome features don't get me free baked goods?” Wade leans the rest of his croissant towards Mary Puppins, who’s trying her best to nibble at it, but is mostly just licking it.
“You're cute, but you’re not that cute," you tease. Looking beyond his skin condition, he was a teensy bit handsome, you had to admit.
“I used to wear a wig. I’ll put it on again if it means I get free shit. Would that help?”
It’s hard not to smile in front of him. “No, I don't think so.”
“People say I look like Ryan Reynold’s hotter cousin when I’ve got a full load of hair on me.”
You huff and shake your head in disagreement.
“How about a date?” Wade asks with a wink. “There’s financial compensation in that—that’s gotta count for something.”
A date would count for something, but you didn't want him to be out of the waters yet.
“Come back tomorrow with your wallet and a date could maybe be in your future,” you reply flirtatiously.
Wade nods with a grin and begins to walk backwards towards the door.
“If I’m late though, it’s ‘cause I’m too busy jerking it while fantasizing about having those beauties in my mouth again.”
You sputter a laugh. Feeling brave, you decide to channel his humor and reflect it back at him. “Wow, maybe you’ll be only one minute late, if you can even last that long.”
He gasps in mock horror and jogs back to the counter again to take another baked good.
“This is compensation for that comment…” he says with squinted eyes, stuffing the pastry into his mouth.
“Don’t come too hard tonight, handsome,” you say with a wink.
“I’m legitimately so hard right now,” he says with a full mouth, pointing the half pastry braid towards his crotch. “As the kids say these days, you match my freak, lady. Say bye-bye, Mary Puppins!”
Wade awkwardly adjusts himself to make his dog give a little paw wave, while she simply wags her tail. You laugh and shake your head, amused by his antics.
As he finally exits, you hear him call out, “And if anyone asks, I’m just here for the sweet, sweet baked goods. Totally not because of the hot baker!”
You bite your lip, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, as you watch him and his dog disappear down the street. As you return to work, you replay your interactions with Wade over and over, and realize he’s just as endearing as his quirky dog.
You’re buzzing in anticipation to see Wade and Mary Puppins again tomorrow morning.
description: you’ve known wade was a vampire for a bit, but things start to change when he desperately needs to feed off of you
warnings and tags: vampires, murder mentioned, blood, blood play (if you squint i guess?), suggestive, implied nsfw at the end, biting, gender neutral reader (lemme know if i missed anything!)
notes: i was giggling and kicking my feet writing this i love my brain omg. sub vampire!deadpool #needthatsobad
enjoy happy valentines day cuties mwah mwah!!!
𖤐♡𖤐♡𖤐♡𖤐♡𖤐♡𖤐♡𖤐♡𖤐♡𖤐♡𖤐♡𖤐♡𖤐♡
it was definitely not the craziest thing he’s told you.
the mercenary work, him knowing mutants, the multiversal shenanigans.
him telling you that he’s a vampire on top of that did not shock you.
it confused you, sure, you definitely had a million questions but, again, you rolled with it, not the craziest thing he’s told you!
he would tell you, in great detail whether you asked for it or not, how he would feed off of the people he killed.
“i mean no one else has found out, i would just be a quick slice to the neck and bam, i get right in there!”.
you nodded, almost numb to this point of hearing the grotesque sound of his mercenary missions. “so…i guess you have a…never ending supply, per say?”.
he nodded joyfully “yup! it’s like a walking talking grocery store! or…pharmacy?…is it like drugs?…well i don’t know if i could take it that far but this is already a lot but it doesn’t compare to the other guy i fed off of the other night-“.
“wade” you said sweetly, taking his hands in yours “i understand”
he sighed softly at the contact and nodded.
“thank you baby, so glad i told you and not like…blade”.
you titled your head and giggled “who’s that?”.
wade shook his head “you don’t wanna know”.
🩸🦷🩸
it’s now been months of the same routine, nothing disrupting that…you wouldn’t call it peace, per say, but your normal.
you were now reading on the couch, bowl of grapes on the side table, lost in a coming of age novel you picked the other week.
wade’s been gone for hours, maybe longer than usual, usually whenever that happens, it’s just him getting side tracked, so you didn’t worry too much.
that is, until wade walked through the door, looking more tired than usual.
you looked up from your book and smiled at him “welcome home wade”.
he gave you a slightly playful salute back, not feeling or looking energized whatsoever.
you titled your head in worry, eyes roaming up and down his body in worry “you okay baby?”.
he nodded “yeah, i’m just tired, y’know?” it’s late, like it must be midnight or something. matter of fact, how are you still up? you loveeeeeee sleeping early, it’s kind of a buzz kill sometimes-“.
“wade” you interrupted “it’s 8:30PM…it’s not that late”.
his eyes darted to the other side of the room to avoid your gaze “oh…well! that’s what happens when you lose track of time! i was really busy, then i was really sidetracked cause i saw this really cool store that sold all sorts of cool shit-“.
you gently pushed your bookmark into your book and kept your gaze on him “i know when you’re lying”.
he turned to you and sulked like he got caught with his hand in the candy jar, which did actually happen! and he did try to lie about it! so you know the signs.
you sat more up on the couch and spoke softly “what’s going on wade?”.
he sulked over and plopped on his knees in front of you, his voice only in whines and whispers now.
“i didn’t get any…y’know…today and now i just feel like shit, like if the term shit hit the fan was a scenario, it would be this, like it feels like shit just hit not even the fan, it hit the air conditioner-“.
you gently grab his face to get him to focus “look at me, focus”.
he nodded and continued “baby…i know it’s a lot to ask and you might say no, which is fine! you don’t have to say yes! but-“.
you could almost tell what he was going to say, but you wanted to hear it from him.
“but what?”.
he took a deep breath and then looked up at you with pleading eyes.
“can i feed off of you?”.
you felt and almost heard your heart beat faster.
so did he.
he took your hands and slowly rubbed his thumbs over them “again, you don’t have to, i was just thinking and you’re the only one i’ve told and-“.
“i’ll do it”.
you say it before your brain could even register what you said at all, your heart beating faster.
wade’s eyes widen a bit “are…wait are you sure?”.
you nodded slowly “yeah, yeah i’m sure”.
wade’s voice dropped to a lower whisper as he slowly sat next to you on the couch, his hands slowly and gently rubbing your thigh.
“can you tilt your head a bit for me baby?” he asked sweetly. you did as told, eyes closed bracing for the incoming impact.
steadily, wade hands snaked up your chest to hold the other side of your neck, the heat from his breath started to linger on your skin.
you squeeze your eyes shut as you feel the sharpness of his fangs sink into your neck, tearing small holes in your skin. his lips puckered on you, slowly drinking from you.
as he did so, small moans escaped him. your scent, your body, your blood…you. you were everything to him and the fact that you trusted him this much was enough to make him feel at ease.
after what felt like eternity, he lifted his mouth off your neck. it stung, for sure, but you carefully tilted your head to stare at wade to see him, blood staining his lips, panting slowly, eyes wide and glassy, staring at you like you were the only being in the world.
you were…enamoured with the sight. you’ve seen him vulnerable, of course, but never anything like this. you felt your heart do backflips, feeling like it could beat out of your chest any second.
he broke the silence, per usual, his voice shaky but sincere “thank you, seriously. i’m so grateful that i can trust you like this-“.
you listen, genuinely, but you’re also mildly distracted by the blood dripping from his lips. staining the corners of his mouth, drying slowly.
“babe, you have some on your lips” you whisper softly.
wade’s eyes widen as he swiped a thumb across his lips “shit! yeah i’m sorry that got a bit messy, hold on i’ll wipe it off-“.
before he could even continue, your lips were on his, the taste of each other and iron passing between you as you both moaned between kisses.
it was almost…intoxicating. but at the same time it felt unbelievably good.
wade felt himself get weak in the knees, his moans were a bit louder compared to yours, submitting himself to you in this scenario neither of you saw coming.
“t-thank you, i love you so fucking much, you drive me insane, you’re all i need, i swear you’re all i need” he whimpered for the brief milliseconds your lips were apart.
you both slowly pulled away and wade’s eyes widened with the sight of your own blood slightly staining your lips.
“well…” he said breathlessly, “someone enjoyed that”.
you shrugged and tried to hide a smile “maybe a little”.
wade took your hands in his again “i love you, i love you so so much”.
you planted a small kiss on his forehead “i love you more”.
he turned to get a glimpse of your neck, the tiny holes still there.
“did that hurt at all?”.
you shook your head “it stung a little, kind of felt good”.
you watch as his facial expression turns to shock “good? what kind of freak shit are you hiding from me?”.
you smirked “how bad do you wanna find out?”.
wade felt his heart beat faster.
he thought you wouldn’t be able to handle the whole vampire thing, but it was him who could barely handle you.
"Y/n, look honey you're doing it wrong THIS CAN'T GO ON LIKE THIS!!!" Wade shouted right next to you while you covered your ears, hissing angrily at him. "Wade I'm not deaf I can hear you!" you yelled back, giving him a sharp glare.
He grabbed your cheeks tightly as you looked up. "Even though I warned you, you kept doing it wrong. For a moment I doubted your hearing maybe but..."
"Wade..."
He squeezed your cheeks even tighter between his hands. "You know sometimes I get a little too excited, and so do you. Though that's not relevant to our conversation, my sweetie pie,"
"Wa-"
"Shhh I know you're tired and stressed. I am too. But I’m still less tired than you, believe me. Anyway, you shouldn't stress yourself too much, maybe your milk supply might decrease because of it later. We wouldn't want a baby born in the 21st century to make history by starving in prosperity-"
You brought your hands tightly to his masked ears and pinched them hard. "Wade Wilson! Stop interrupting me when I'm talking to you! My god, the baby hasn't even arrived yet but you're already making all this noise!" You pulled Wade towards you, still holding his ears tightly. Wade stared at you with wide, bulging eyes. "When the doctor said I needed to rest, meant my mind believe me! And this child..." You glanced sideways at the dummy baby and the diapers you bought for learning purposes behind you. "Anyway since I...I'm doing it wrong my love..." You released his ears and gently cupped his cheeks. "Then good luck cleaning up poop in 5 months." You kissed him through his mask and stood up. Since he was whining about you doing it wrong and wanted to take matters into his own hands, you had to give him what he wanted. Before leaving him alone in the room with a strange sense of triumph, you slapped your surprised husband's butt.
pairing : deadpool x reader
warnings : groping (receiving from wade), yukio :3, mentions of reader being shorter than wade
wc : 1.6k
a/n : unedited, and i skipped out a few letters near the end😭
𝓐 = affection (how affectionate are they? how do they show affection?)
very very affectionate! all over you, 24/7, whether it be hugs or kisses. he’s super affectionate to pretty much everyone, whether it’s reciprocated or not, so with a partner, i think things would be 10 times worse (for the better) 💞
𝓑 = best friend (what would they be like as a best friend? how would the friendship start?)
pff you definitely went from friends to lovers! your landlord had dropped by to tell you that you had a new neighbour opposite you. you were very excited, and before you could even go over and say hello, he was already on your doorstep, box of cookies in hand. he told you his friend yukio made them. you invited him in, and soon became best buds pretty quick! he’s an extremely supportive friend, and while he can’t be there for you all of the time (because of missions and saving your entire timeline and stuff), he tries as hard as he can to! he’s an instant pick-me-up, his humour’s extremely comforting.
𝓒 = cuddles (do they like to cuddle? how would they cuddle?)
absolute lovebug! he’s all over you, and prefers that when he's in your presence he has at least a hand somewhere on you. he’s always creeping up on you, only to wrap his arms around your waist and rest his chin on the top of your head. you can expect a hand to be creeping up your shirt as he does so😭
𝓓 = domestic (do they want to settle down? how are they at cooking and cleaning?)
settling down isn’t really on his mind at the moment, and he doesn’t expect that it’s on yours. if you ever mentioned it however, he’d be happy to hear you out! you practically live together as it is, so he’s all for you officially moving in! he’s surprisingly a pretty good cook, peter seems to have taught him a few things over time! as for cleaning, he’s not terrible, but he really fucking hates it, so it’s usually blind al who takes up most of the cleaning responsibilities in their apartment.
𝓔 = ending (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)
he’d probably be breaking up with you if you got hurt because of him, or if he fears he may be putting you in danger :( he’d just be gone when you woke up the next morning, with no warning or any way of reaching him afterward
𝓕 = fiancé(e) (how do they feel about commitment? how quick would they want to get married?)
not a stranger to commitment, and not opposed to it in the slightest! the thought of marriage isn’t really on his mind, he’s satisfied with you as his girlfriend. it’s not like he doesn’t want to get married, but he can’t wrap his head around why. the only thing that would change is he’d be able to call you his wife (which he does anyways)😭 but if you wanted to get married he’d be happy to comply!!
𝓖 = gentle (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)
very very gentle physically! once he’s fully grasped the fact that your injuries do not heal within seconds, he treats you like you could break at any moment😭 emotionally… he’s working on it. sometimes his constant joking was at your expense, and occasionally hurt your feelings more than you’d like to admit :( but!! he’s learning to read the room, and he’s getting much better at it!
𝓗 = hugs (do they like hugs? how often do they do it? what are their hugs like?)
loooves hugs so much. you’re lucky you feel the same way because it would be horrible living with him if you didn’t😭he’s hugging you as much as he possibly can!! he thinks he has some kinda curse so he tells you he can only get any sleep if you’re nestled into his chest and his arms are wrapped tightly around your frame. he will always greet you with a hug before anything else!! he gives really good hugs too :3
𝓘 = i love you (how fast do they say the l-word?)
he’s saying he loves you from your first day together! you’re walking back to your apartments after a cute day out and he casually blurts, ‘bye, love you!’ he looks embarrassed after, but it soon becomes an inside joke, and something he says to you regularly throughout your friendship! it was only until he whispered into your ear one lazy morning, ‘i’m in love with you’ did you realise the gravity of what he felt for you💞
𝓙 = jealousy (how jealous do they get? what do they do when they’re jealous?)
doesn’t get jealous quick, but when he does it’s bad for whoever else is involved😭they are definitely being threatened by him!! his instincts are usually pretty good when it comes to stuff like that but yours are totally not. you can’t tell the difference to save your life between flirting and a good natured conversation, so his protectiveness can come in handy for you sometimes.
𝓚 = kisses (what are their kisses like? where do they like to kiss you? where do they like to be kissed?)
he kisses anywhere and everywhere on you :3 very often too! hmm i think he really likes it when you kiss him all over his face, although he probably won’t admit it.
𝓛 = little ones (how are they around children?)
very good around kids! he’s not usually the most patient man, but around kids it’s a whole other story!
𝓜 = morning (how are mornings spent with them?)
mornings are spent waking up late because you were both up well into the early hours of the morning doing whatever you were doing. mornings are spent groggily showering together as he yaps on and on about god knows what. mornings are spent eating yesterday’s leftovers for breakfast as you giggle over whatever absurd story he’s telling you💞
𝓝 = night (how are nights spent with them?)
nights are spent cuddled up on the sofa mumbling incoherent sentences into his chest as you’re straddling him, while he’s bingeing his favourite show. you wanna sleep so bad, and he’s not stopping you, but you would much rather fall asleep nestled into him than alone in bed! plus, you love when he moves you around while you sleep :3
𝓞 = open (when would they start revealing things about themselves? do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)
he’s very open right from the get go! but it’s harder to teach him to take things seriously :( he jokes about a lot of the things that he goes through, you presume as a coping method, but it’s really not healthy. he’s open to changing though, and slowly does after spending more time with you!!
𝓟 = patience (how easily angered are they?)
his patience is typically very short with most people (the exception being you, kids, and yukio :3) and it doesn’t look like that’s gonna be changing anytime soon😭
𝓠 = quizzes (how much would they remember about you? do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)
he tries so very hard but m’afraid he’s just not the best at it😭but that’s okay!! he has other strong suits! he remembers the very important things, but he could use some work remembering the little things too :)
𝓡 = remember (what is their favourite moment in your relationship?)
hmm i don’t think he really has a standout moment but if he had to pick one, he’d probably say when you said you loved him for the first time :3
𝓢 = security (how protective are they? how would they protect you? how would they like to be protected?)
sooo protective! he feels that you’re so fragile compared to him anyways, so he’d do his absolute best to protect you in every aspect he can! hmm as for you protecting him.. i think he’d like if you ever made an outward show of affection toward him when someone else was hitting on him in his suit. he finds it super hot :3
𝓣 = try (how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)
he tries very very hard! sometimes the result of whatever he’s doing doesn’t exactly reflect that, that’s okay!! it’s the thought that counts!
𝓤 = ugly (what would be some bad habits of theirs?)
his self-deprecating jokes :(
𝓥 = vanity (how concerned are they with their looks?)
unfortunately he’s really quite insecure about them, it breaks your heart to see that he can’t see himself the way you see him :(
𝓦 = whole (would they feel whole without you?)
no no no not at all! misses you so much when you’re away, even if it’s just for a short while, even when it’s just a day or two, your phone is always blowing up with his messages, he’s constantly checking on you, asking if you’re okay, when you’ll be free to call! it’s so comforting to know that there’s someone out there who cares for you as much as wade does.
𝓩 = zzz (what is a sleep habits of theirs?)
he is a very very active sleeper!! you can expect to be kicked in the night😭and probably hear him whispering something random as he’s rolling over, taking you with him. his dreams are so insane, you wouldn’t believe him if he wasn’t basically acting them out as he slept😭
the road stretched endlessly ahead, the hum of the tires filling the silence between you and deadpool. you had your hands on the wheel, gripping it so tightly your knuckles turned white. beside you, wade was sprawled out in the passenger seat, boots propped up on the dash like he owned the place.
it had been quiet for too long, so of course, he had to ruin it.
“so,” wade drawled, stretching. “if they can fix your world, what's the first thing you're gonna do when you get out of here?”
you didn’t even look at him. “get some tequila shots. maybe a wiper fluid chaser if i’m feeling reckless.”
he let out a low whistle. “damn. a woman after my own heart. you trying to impress me? because it’s working.”
“you’re a low bar.”
“ouch. right in my emotionally stunted heart.” he pressed a hand to his chest, feigning pain.
you rolled your eyes, focusing on the road, until something clicked in your brain.
“wait…what did you say?”
wade blinked at you. “i said, when we get out of here, what’s the first thing you’re gonna do?”
“no. no. before that.”
there was a pause. wade hesitated, then muttered, “…if they can fix your world?”
your heart stopped. the wheel creaked beneath your fingers.
“what do you mean, ‘if’?”
he shifted uncomfortably. “i mean… y’know…”
you turned to look at him, and your glare could have burned a hole through his mask.
“…you lied to me.”
wade’s hands shot up. “no, no, no! i mean-ow, fuck-”
you slammed the brakes. the honda odyssey lurched forward, sending wade crashing into the dashboard with a satisfying thud.
“fuck! my spleen! my second spleen! my third- wait, how many spleens do i have?”
you grabbed him by the collar of his suit, yanking him close until his masked face was inches from yours.
“you don’t have a fucking clue if they can help me fix things, do you?”
“no! i mean-ow-fuck!-”
you slammed him back against the seat.
“you lied.”
“no! i made an educated wish!”
“an educated wish?” you echoed, voice dripping with venom.
“yes, it’s like an educated guess but with more ‘please let this work, universe’ energy!”
you glared at him, chest rising and falling with rage, but he wasn’t squirming the way a normal person would be. no, he was looking at you, really looking at you, like he was enjoying this.
you bared your teeth. “you think this is funny?”
“no.” a beat. “…okay, maybe a little.”
your claws popped out, the metallic snikt filling the van. wade let out a low whistle.
“god, that’s sexy.”
“shut up.”
you were about to carve his throat out, but then, he pulled something out of his suit. a photo. crumpled, bloodstained. you frowned, staring down at it.
“…what is this?”
his voice was quieter now. “my entire world.”
you hesitated. the photo was of a woman, dark-haired, beautiful, smiling up at the camera. vanessa. you recognized her. there were others in the picture, too, faces that meant something to him.
“it’s only nine people,” wade continued, “and i have no idea how to save it alone.”
you felt something in your chest tighten. you hated that.
his voice softened. “i know how to fuck people up for money. but you? you know how to save ‘em.”
you swallowed. looked away. “i don’t know how to save worlds.”
he smirked, head tilting. “no, but you sure as hell know how to ruin a man’s entire f*cking life with just a look. and i gotta say… it’s kinda hot.”
you rolled your eyes. “you’re unbelievable.”
“and yet, here i am, trapped in a minivan with the sexiest murder machine i’ve ever met.”
your eyes flickered down to his lips before you could stop yourself.
no. no. absolutely not.
“i should kill you” you muttered.
“i mean, you could try, but i’d probably moan about it.”
that was it. you swung, but he caught your wrist.
the radio clicked on.
the air shifted. your breath hitched.
then, you both lunged.
the honda odyssey rocked violently as you slammed into each other. claws scraped against fabric. wade was laughing, arms wrapped around your waist as you pinned him down against the seat.
“oh, you dirty bitch” he groaned, hands sliding down to your hips.
“you love it” you shot back.
“i really, really do.”
he flipped you over, but you yanked him back.
he slammed you into the dashboard.
“fuck!” you growl, shaking off the hit. pain flares through your ribs, but it’s already healing. your head snaps up, eyes burning with rage.
wade is sitting in the backseats, chest rising and falling, hands flexing at his sides. his mask is torn, exposing the cockiest fucking smirk you’ve ever seen.
he brings up two fingers. flicks them toward himself. a gesture as if to say ‘come here’.
“i take it all back.” his voice is low, smug, taunting, throwing his head back. “the honda odyssey fucks hard! too bad we don’t, baby.”
your stomach flips.
rage coils in your chest, but it’s not just that, it’s something else. something dangerous. something that makes your breath come faster, your heart slam harder.
you crawl back to him, straddling his lap. you reach for his throat, pressing your claws against his neck, but not enough to cut him.
too close.
his breath is hot against your lips.
his other hand trails down your side, slow, teasing.
his mask was half-torn, revealing his mouth, his scars. His eyes, behind the fabric, were blown wide.
“I should throw you out of this car” you murmured, but your hands were still gripping his suit.
“I’d just climb back in,” he muttered. “you mad at me, sweetheart?” his voice is playful.
“you’re an asshole.”
“yeah, but you like it.”
your heart is hammering.
his mask is half gone, and his lips are right there.
fuck it.
you crash your mouth against his.
wade grunts in surprise but melts into it instantly.
his grip on your hips tightens, his other hand sliding into your hair. his lips are warm, rough, desperate. his teeth graze your bottom lip, and you growl, nipping at his in return.
the kiss turns filthy.
your claws sink into his shoulders. he groans, but presses closer. his hands gripping your hip.
his hand moves from your hair, trailing lower.
dangerously low.
you break away, panting.
his lips are swollen, pink. his eyes are blown wide, pupils dark.
“…are we still fighting?” you breathe.
his grin is wicked.
“god, i hope so.”
and then, he’s kissing you again.
harder. rougher.
his hand grabbed your ass firmly, and squeezed it, pulling you harder against him with a groan that's half pleasure, half pain from your claws.
you rolled your hips against his to tease him. he inhaled sharply as you ground against him, his grip on your ass tightening. a grin spreaded across his face, even as his hips bucked involuntarily to meet yours. you moaned, feeling him hardening under you. one of his hands moves to your jaw, tilting your head for better access as his lips find your neck. he nibbled, sucked, left a mark, knowing it'll heal in seconds with your healing factor.
you kept grinding against him, trying to create some friction where you needed him. he groaned, his hands moving to your hips. he lifted you slightly, adjusting your position so that you're lined up with the bulge in his pants and held you in place, his hips thrusting upward in a slow, teasing rhythm. his breath hitches as you ground against him, his fingers digging into your hips. “shit…”
you reached out for the zipper of your yellow and black suit, pulling it down. his eyes widened, a smirk curling his lips. “well, somebody's eager…” he reached up, helping you tug the zipper all the way down. his hands slipped inside, helping you out the suit.
as soon as you undressed yourself, you kissed him again, desperately. he met your desperate kiss with his own. his hands roamed your bare back possessively. one hand slid down to cup your ass again. he boosted you up slightly, then ground up again, making you moan. he swallowed the sound, then broke the kiss, panting heavily. his hands moved to the front of his own pants, quickly undoing them. he shoved them down just enough to free himself. he was already hard.
he grinned wickedly at your hungry gaze “like what you see, claws?” he teased. without warning, he lifted you and positions you, rubbing the tip teasingly against your entrance. you moaned and pressed yourself more against him.
he groaned at the feeling, his hands gripping your hips tighter. with a swift movement, he thrusted up, entering you in one smooth motion. he stays still for a moment, savoring the feeling. “fuck... you're so tight…”
you started riding him, going up and down slowly, just to annoy him. he tightened his jaw, his fingers digging into your hips again. you were teasing him, with slow, torturous movements. he swallowed a growl. he let you control the rhythm, knowing full well you were trying to drive him crazy.
you smirk and start tracing a line of small wet kisses along his jaw. his breath hitched, the slow ride driving him insane. he tried to maintain control, but it was slipping. his hands slid up your back, gripping your shoulders, trying to make you increase the pace.
“wow so i made you shut your mouth for longer then 2 minutes? record” you teased him, whispering it into his ear. he snarled at your teasing, his control snapping. he started thrusting up hard and fast, chasing his release. one hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you in for a brutal kiss. you kissed him back.
he was hitting every right spot inside of you, making you a moaning mess. he felt you tightening around him, your moans spurring him on. his hips thrusted relentlessly, each thrust deliberately aimed at that spot inside you that makes you see stars. “you’re not teasing anymore, are you?” he teased with a smirk.
“fuck off and keep going” you ordered, trying to not sound too desperate, but failing. he chuckled darkly, obeying your order with a renewed vigor. his pace becomes almost punishing, each powerful thrust stirring up those delicious sensations within you. "yes, ma'am" he quipped sarcastically, though his strained voice betrays his own desperation.
you could feel you were close, and by the way your pussy was tightening around his cock he could tell too. his breathing became ragged. one hand moves between you to rub your clit in fast circles, pushing you closer to the edge. "c'mon, claws..." he rasped, knowing exactly what he was doing to you.
“oh fuck” you cried out loud as you finally reached your orgasm. he growled as he felt you convulse around him, pulling him deeper. his own release was right there, but he wanted more. he kept thrusting, drawing out your release, making you whimper and shudder. "not done"
you were crying out for the overstimulation, everything was so sensitive. he showed no mercy, continuing to thrust into you as you try to squirm away from the overwhelming sensations. his fingers continued their relentless rubbing, pushing you towards another release you were not ready for. "look at me”. you tried to look at him despite the urge to close your eyes and roll your head back.
his eyes locked onto yours, intense and unyielding. he leaned in, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss as he pushed you over the edge again. his hips stuttering as he finally reached his own release inside you. “fuck” you said out of breath, you were shaking.
he continued to kiss you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth as he slowly came down from his high. he broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing heavy. "fuck, i love the way you come apart for me..."
“oh shut up” after a minute or two of silence, you finally gave in. “ok, i’ll help you save your world”
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
“i’m scared of the things i feel for you.” With premutated bff!Wade Wilson please!! Bonus points if readers a sweetheart who’s know Wade for a long time ^^
title; scars and soft things (Wade Wilson x fem!reader)
prompts; “i’m scared of the things i feel for you” — from three hundred assorted dialogue prompts
warnings; bff!wade, premutated!wade, emotional vulnerability, mutual pining, unspoken feelings, internalised fear of love, if i missed any lmk!!! (664 words)
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— thank you for celebrating my one year!!! | submissions are now closed
you found Wade sitting on the fire escape, a cigarette dangling between his fingers, boots swinging just above the edge.
the city buzzed below like a restless heartbeat, and he looked still. too still for someone who never shut up.
“you planning to jump, or are we just feeling dramatic tonight?”
you asked, leaning out the window with a smirk, trying to match his usual tone.
Wade didn’t turn to look at you, taking another drag before he exhaled slowly, smoke curling like a question mark into the sky.
“i’ve beem dramatic since birth, babe. came out the womb screaming in iambic pentameter”
you smiled, soft and tired. same old Wade.
“come inside”
he shook his head, staying in place.
“nah, air’s better out here”
that made you laugh.
shaking your head in disbelief, you leaned against the window.
“you’re in New York”
you climbed out onto the fire escape beside him, ignoring the way the etal bit into your thighs through your sleep shorts.
“exactly”
he told, a faux smirk tugging at his lips before you both broke out into silence.
it sat heavy between you, only broken by the distant wail of sirens and Wade’s quiet
“wanna talk about it?”
you asked, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.
Wade finally looked at you, and it broke something in your chest.
no jokes, no wink. just Wade. stripped down, raw in a way you didn’t see often. the guy who wore sarcasm like armour suddenly looked like it didn’t fit anymore.
“you ever feel like you’re standing on the edge of something that could ruin you? and all you wanna do is jump?”
your throat tightened at his words.
“what is it?”
he stared at you for a long minute. the cigarette burned to ash between his fingers, going unnoticed as he lost himself in his thoughts.
then after that long minute, softer than you’d ever heard him before, he murmured.
“i’m scared of the things i feel for you”
the world stopped. cars kept honking, a dog barked, life went on. but your heart? it hit pause.
“Wade..”
he cut in, a humourless laugh slipping through as he mumbled.
“i know, i’m the worst person to feel anything for. trust me, i live with me”
that made you frown.
you never knew he felt that way about himself, and it hurt you more than anything.
“don’t do that”
Wade shook his head.
“do what? tell the truth?”
you reached out, placing your hand over his. his skin was rough, warm but rough, and his hand was shaking slightly.
but even as his hand shook, your thumb stroked across his knuckles.
“you’re not the worst”
he shook his head again, a sigh tumbling from his lips.
“you don’t know what i’ve done”
you rested your head on his shoulder, stroking your thumb across his knuckles again.
Wade softened under the weight of your head on his shoulder, just like he usually did when you sat like that.
“then tell me”
his head turned to yours, and then he whispered.
“i’ve hurt people, i’ve hurt myself. and i’m good at pretending it doesn’t matter, but you.. you matter, and that scares the shit out of me”
your chest ached. you wanted to kiss him, wanted to fix it. he was just human.
broken, brave, terrified.
“i’m scared too”
you admitted, voice small.
Wade blinked.
“you?”
he looked down at you, watching you nod slowly.
“yeah. you feel like, a lot. like something that could change everything”
his eyes searched yours, as if you’d just handed him a life raft.
and then, he nodded. just once.
“i won’t jump”
he told, voice firm.
you smiled at him, soft and faint, head still on his shoulder as he reached for your hand.
“good because if you go, i’m going with you”
his fingers laced with yours, stroking his thumb across the back of your hand.
