#wilson always knows what he means

[brainrotcharacters]

the easy grip on the knife. the leg over the seat. the hand over the other seat. the sassy "come get it" move. you know the bitch is smiling behind that mask even as he said the line.

[ace-with--a-mace]

houses head wilsons heart crushed me wtf doctors...

[gilbirda]

watching house md in one go really makes you see when the writing went nosediving huh

[coweye]

The Worst Logan

Logan Howlett x Reader!Loganverse| smut | 5.8k words

Summary: You are the deceased-anchor-being-Logan's lover, having found yourself with Laura in the void, you navigate meeting the variant of the love of your life. Sweet dick kicking angst with gratuitous smut, cause we all know Logan eats pussy like a CHAMP. 😤

This is self indulgence at its finest, but it had be to done. 7-years ago, the movie Logan broke something within me that has finally been fixed! 🤠💕

Warning: Explicit - smut. canon death, depression, angst, spoilers for Logan / Wolverine and deadpool, cunnilingus, unprotected p in v, creampie, all the good stuff. 18+

The first time you see him again, the new him, the other him you mean. It’s in the cave accompanied by a man who talks far too much.

You recognise his voice in an instant when the mouth finally allows him to get a word in edgeways. His voice. 

You’ve heard it nearly every night for the past seven years. It's a few octaves deeper than you remember and filled to the brim with vitriol but it's definitely his. The realisation that your memory has been warped by time is a blow to the gut but you continue towards the sound all the same.

When finally you round the corner Logan stands before you in all his glory. For a moment you are rendered utterly unable to form a single sentence as he leans against the wall, a bottle of bourbon in his palm and adorned in yellow and blue.

Your mind can't reconcile this figure as the man you buried. He has the same sneer, the same broad shoulders, he even has the same stance - but Logan, your Logan, would rather die than wear that garish yellow suit and admit to being the hero he always was. 

His nose flares in what you believe to be recognition as he smells your presence, you allow your powers to retreat and reveal yourself. As your invisibility ebbs away Logan snarls in surprise as the talkative man in red gasps theatrically and begins jumping on the spot. 

Your fears are proven well founded when your eyes connect with his across the room, instead of the love and recognition, you find only open hostility and rage.

Your heart had bulldozed all logic, you were in the fucking void, of course it was a variant.

This Logan looks younger; his hair not so grey, his face unscarred and his eyes not so tired. 

This not-quite-Logan stares right back at you seemingly ill at ease with the stranger who is currently taking an inventory of his face. 

“Logan, that's them. It’s X-23 and Y/N, the one’s I told you about.” You graze your palm along your daughter's back in support as you come to stand beside her. 

“Her name is Laura.” It’s a knee jerk reaction; your correction. Your girl wasn’t the sum total of an experiment, she was her own person with her own thoughts and feelings, not a weapon to be utilised. 

The Wolverine’s gaze darts between the two of you, it’d be comical if you didn’t feel like you were about to regurgitate your lunch. They land on Laura, and linger there for a few moments, before they return to you, it's as if he’s trying to find you in her features. 

You barely hear the man you will later come to know fondly as Wade Wilson, question how you all ended up in the void.

“There was a knock at the door TVA sent me here, saying my world was dying … and I never even got the chance to fight for it.” Blade explains remorsefully. 

“They sent us here because they knew we’d put up a fight.” You utter distractedly, finally breaking your staring contest with Logan as he takes a swig from the bottle he’s currently white knuckling. 

“People like us don’t go quietly, TVA knows that so they took us out.” Elektra attests.

“The answer is yes, I’m in.” Wade declares.

“In what?” Blade questions bemused by the man in red. 

“A team up, you me, me you, all of us together, lets get the fuck outta’ here.”

“Don’t listen to him, he’s a fucking liar!” Logan growls, furious at the other man. 

“It was an educated wish!”

“HA!” The loathing behind it makes you pause, he was so angry. 

The heat in his voice, the resentment, it burns you. You supposed even your Logan had his fair share of rage.  

When he arrived at the mansion all those years ago, fresh faced and wild, you had adored him even then, though Logan was far too preoccupied with Jean to notice the torch you carried for him back then.

It was ironic that It had taken the utter annihilation of the X-Men to bring you together. Charles’ accident had left the two of you as sole survivors. Over the years in hiding your ability to mould force fields managed to keep the worst of the effects of Charles’ seizures at bay, but Charles Xavier was one of the most powerful telepaths to grace the earth and your powers had limits. 

Those years were some of the darkest and yet the best of your life, you found yourself growing to love the man the world called The Wolverine.

You realise you’ve entirely tuned out Wade’s rousing speech and have spent the time analysing the man wearing your love’s face currently gargling bourbon though your name pulls you out of your reverie. 

“Laura, Y/N? What’s it gonna’ be girlies?” 

“Lets fucking go.” Laura agrees heartily, you simply nod still dazed. 

“YES! LET’S FUCKING GO!” Wade shouts back fist pumping. 

“You’re all fucking dead.”

Much later in the evening when the sun has finally set you seek him out. When you come across the father and daughter duo before the campfire you hold back, your skin slowly begins reflecting light, fading from vision as you call upon your powers to hide in the treeline. 

They both needed this and it wasn’t something you were about to get in the way of. They talk for a little while, before they part ways, both a little teary. Laura nods your way despite being unable to see you as she heads back to the cave, her nose just as keen as her fathers. 

So it shouldn’t surprise you a few moments later when you hear Logan's voice call across the clearing.

“You gonna’ stand there all night, Bub?” The man sounds utterly exhausted. 

You say nothing in response, only dismissing your powers and revealing yourself as you advance. You take Laura’s seat at the fire, not quite having the courage to look at him just yet. 

“You hear all that? Should mind your own damn business.” You remembered this Logan well, the one aching for a fight, desperate to shed his vulnerability and bloody his fists. 

“I didn’t hear a thing, Logan.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, you haven’t had to gentle parent The Wolverine in a while but it’s like riding a bike. “I wanted to let the two of you talk, she needed it and I think maybe you did too.”

“What do you fuckin’ know.” He growls dismissively, swigging from his bottle of what now appears to be scotch. “You can skip the speech and go back up, I’m not looking for company.” 

“I’m not here to tell you what to do, Logan.” Finally, you look away from the fire and find his eyes fixed on you, you swallow the lump in your throat before you speak. “I just wanted to see you.”

“See me?” He questions incredulously. “Well, keep the change, bub. Good night.”

Despite your smile at his words, you can’t help the tears that begin to cloud your eyes. Your mind and your heart have been locked in a constant battle since setting eyes on him. This man by all rights is Logan. The man you have mourned relentlessly and yet in every way that matters he isn’t.

“It’s like seeing a ghost.” Is the only explanation you can give him, his response is a stoic cheers with his bottle before he takes a deep gulp. 

Finally either his curiosity or the alcohol gets the better of him as he questions. “You her Mother?” 

“Yes and no.” His stare doesn’t leave your face as he waits for you to elaborate. “Her biological mother was a woman from Mexico City that the fuckers in the lab exploited, all we know is that she disappeared after giving birth. After … you … after everything that happened in North Dakota…” You trail off.

Your voice is suddenly thick and your words get stuck in your throat as you try to make them form. It's utterly embarrassing as you feel the traitor tears begin to form. 

A bottle of Johnny Walker enters your field of vision from where you sit staring at your clasped hands in your lap. Startled, you glance up to find the Wolverine standing before you, casting an impossibly large shadow as he holds out the bottle.

You accept the offering from his gloved hand, your fingers grazing his in the transaction as you take a swig or two (or three) before passing it back. He looks thoughtful when he places his lips on the place where your own had just lingered, as he retakes his seat. With amber courage coursing your veins, you continue. 

“She was all I had - if not for her, I-.” You wipe your nose, staring back into the fire. If it was a struggle to meet his eyes before, it was impossible for you now.  “I just couldn’t see the point in being alive anymore if everything just slowly gets stripped away; the X-Men, then Charles and then Lo-” 

You don’t know it, but you’re preaching to the fucking choir with your words. It was rare to find a soul, going through the exact same torture as yourself. Logan found himself softening to you, it was as involuntary as it was unwelcome, but he couldn’t help it as you described a battle so close to the one he fought daily. 

“-she reminded me what I had to live for. Laura she is fierce and so fucking kind; she is everything I loved about him.” You cut your trauma dumping to a swift end as you remember yourself. “So no, to answer your question. I’m not her biological mother, but she’s my daughter in every way that counts.”

Silence reigns for a moment as neither one of you knows what to say to the other. 

“You loved him?” Logan’s voice is deeper than before when he speaks the sentence. You raise your eyes from the fire to find his for the first time since you began monologuing. They’re filled with something you can’t quite name.

“I did.”

Logan seems to contemplate this, mulling it over as he continues drinking. Finally, he seems to reach some sort of conclusion.  “You should get some sleep, big day for you tomorrow.”

“Can I stay here … with you for tonight?” The words slip out before you really even mean them to. Tomorrow you might be going to your death and the ghost of the love of your life is here alive and real, what do you really have to lose?

Logan does a double take, not quite expecting those to be the words that leave your lips. “I’m not him, Darlin’.”

“No, I suppose you’re not.” You sigh, “but could you please just hold me whilst I sleep, James?”

A huge part of you expects him to tell you to fuck off back to the cave and leave him to his booze fueled pity party. However, against all odds, he doesn’t do that. 

Logan simply lifts the half full bottle of scotch to his lips and downs every last drop. He’s a little unsteady on his feet when finally he stands up to his full height and turns towards the blankets he’s laid out on the ground. 

“Fuck it.” He growls and drops himself like a sack of potatoes onto the pile with little regard for his own body. You’ve certainly had nicer invitations into his bed but when he waves you over with a lazy gesture, you can’t help but hurry before he changes his mind. 

Before you know it you’re tucked into Logan’s side. His gloved hand doesn’t quite seem to know where to go, more accustomed to brutality than tenderness these days as it hesitates for a moment suspended in the air. After some careful consideration he delicately places it on the dip in your waist securing you to him. 

Logan’s breath is uneven, though he’s doing his best to seem unaffected by your closeness. It has been years since someone has touched him with such easy affection and the way your body curls around his own as if it was created to do just that is driving him crazy. 

You are completely at ease with him, you trust him so entirely it almost breaks his fucking heart. Logan's stomach is heavy with something he can’t name, you fucking terrify him. Yet, he doesn’t move because you feel so fucking good as he holds you. 

It's scary, you realise, how easy it would be to pretend this was your Logan as you melt into his embrace. He smells exactly the same as you bury your face in his neck, the roughness of his beard feels the same pressed against your forehead. 

This Wolverine’s arms are a little fuller and his chest a little firmer, but he still holds you the same. You make a decision to not focus on such difficult philosophical concepts as variants and the morality of switching out your Wolverine. You decide to live in the moment, to just enjoy the furnace of his body keeping you warm and his arm encircling your waist protecting you from the world, it’s so easy to pretend that this was your Logan, so you do. 

And you fall asleep quicker than you have in years.

It is still night when you awaken, it's not quite dawn but the fire has burned out to a low smoulder. You’re not sure what has awoken you from the best sleep you’ve had in a long while, that is until you feel the arms wrapped around you and the sleeping Wolverine holding you in a death grip against his chest, his half hard appendage digging into your hip. 

Everything is still hazy; you’re floating in that sweet spot between waking and dreaming, you forget about North Dakota and, god forgive me, Laura. 

You’re back in your bed at home and Logan is holding you.

There's no my logan, new logan, old logan. 

He’s just Logan. 

You bury yourself deeper in his neck. 

It’s only for a moment though before it all comes flooding back and the agony overwhelms you like a blade to the gut. 

Instantly tears flood your cheeks as you shake from your silent sobs. 

“...Y/N?” Logan's voice is thick with confusion and sleep, his grip has loosened somewhat to allow you to breathe but he doesn’t release his hold on you. “What’s wrong darlin’?” 

That affectionate name is the last nail in the coffin it fucking ends you. 

All teary, and regrettably maybe a teensy bit snotty, you lean forward and kiss him. Kiss isn’t the right word but it’s your intention. Your lips touch one anothers before he’s pulling away and holding you back. 

“Y/n… Darlin’ you don’t want this… I’m not-”

“But you are Logan. You’re him just as much as he’s you.” Your hands rise to his jaw, running your finger along its familiar sharp edge. “You’re Logan.”

“Y/N… I’d be taking advantage…” His voice is firm yet gruff as he tries to inject reason into the conversation. As usual being the good guy he’s constantly telling everyone he’s not. 

“I am so goddamn sick and tired of being sad, please Logan.” This time when you capture his lips, he doesn’t rear back. You’re not sure what’s going through his mind, but his self control seems to snap within him as he begins returning the kiss in earnest.

Logan’s tongue swipes along your bottom lip begging entry, entry you swiftly allow. You’re breathing heavily through your nose as he plunders the depths of your mouth, exploring your mouth with his quick tongue. 

Deciding to make the next move you push yourself up, throwing a leg over him to straddle his lower stomach. He’s lifted the top half of his body to ensure he doesn’t lose your mouth, your teeth clash slightly with the movement and you can’t help a bubble of nervous laughter.  He pays it little mind though as he swallows the noise, his hands coming to rest on your hips. 

Instantly, you grind your hips downward on the growing bulge that lurks below. Logan lets out a deep groan at the friction and his hands on your hips raise to the bottom of your tee in response, his thick hands tugging at it requesting your permission.

Nodding, you pull back causing him to groan at the loss of your hot mouth on his. Though it's only for a moment as the second the tee is over your head, he’s back on you, only it's your bare neck he’s lashing with affection now.

Logan breathes in deep your scent mixing with the heady aroma of your arousal. He’s nipping and licking along the smooth skin, soothing his bites as quickly he makes them. It's the animal instinct within him, telling him to devour you entirely; make you his. 

“Logan…” You gasp, your eyes are clenched shut in pleasure as he bucks his hips upwards into your jean covered centre.  

Logan pulls back to take you in, writhing above him in the moonlight, you’re fucking beautiful, though the flash of familiar metal between your breasts catches his eye, unable to stop himself, he catches it in his fist. 

Dog tags; his old dog tags.

‘LOGAN’ is etched into the aged metal and they’re warm to the touch from living beneath your shirt over your heart. 

The realisation hits him like a freight train, not only was he loved by you, but for his other self to have given you these, he fucking loved you. 

He’s not sure why it didn’t occur to him before, that the other him was as devoted to you as you were to him. He’s not entirely sure how to feel about it, but he twists his hands, careful not to snap the metal string, but using it to pull you close. 

For the other dead Logan, the hero he’s heard so goddamn much about, he decides he’ll give you the treatment you deserve. 

As if you weigh nothing at all he flips you onto your back, his hands dropping the dog tags and falling to the waistband of your jeans. His dexterous hands undo the button so quickly, that your trousers are peeled from your legs before you know it, leaving you in an unimpressive unmatching set of underwear beneath his roaming eyes. Though Logan couldn’t give a fuck as he groans at the sight of your body exposed to him. 

Logan begins by kissing down your stomach before his hands linger on your black panties, he can't help but grin at the tiny barely there bow in the middle of them; you’re like a gift all wrapped up for him. 

His eyes lift to meet your own as he begins sucking at the fabric that's keeping your pussy from him, it's already damp with your arousal and by the time he finishes, absolutely sodden with his saliva.

“Logan, please…” you whisper desperately as your hands find his ‘tufts’ for a lack of a better word. They were new, but you liked them, plus they now seemed pretty functional. 

He takes only a moment to remove his gloves, before they return eagerly to your body. Those thick hands traverse the planes of your thighs, they’re quick in their passing as they make their way up to the waistband of your panties, he hooks them over his thumb and reveals your soaking core to his hungry eyes and he’s right back to wanting to fucking devour you, and boy, fucking does he. 

Enthusiastic, would be the word, earth-shattering would be another - the word to describe how Logan eats pussy.

Logan without much preamble dives into your centre, his tongue slips into your hot wet heat, lingering for a moment on your clit, circling it reverently before he dips that talented tongue inside of you. His nose knocks against your clit several times, each more delicious than the last as he utterly devours your pussy. He moans, grinding his hips into the dirt and readjusts pulling you closer, his thick muscled arms locking under your thighs as you buck against his mouth. 

You're a complete goner the second he slips a single long thick finger inside of you. 

“Fuck, Lo, I’m gonna-” 

“Come, baby... I got’ya.” He mumbles into your pussy. And fuck me, he does. He carries on lapping at you all the way through your orgasm, drawing it out of you like the pied fucking piper of pussy. It feels like you’ve been falling for hours by the time you finally come down, only Logan doesn’t allow you any reprieve before he’s back to lashing your clit with his quick tongue. Your hands find those faux ear tufts once more and he groans as you pull on them a little more sharply than you intend in your shock, in answer Two fingers bury themselves deep inside of you.

“One more.” He’s negotiating orgasms, but you have no qualms as he rubs his nose side to side with affection against your sensitive bud. His tongue and nose moving in pace with his fingers, currently fucking in and out of you. 

It's when he scissors those thick long fingers inside of you, hitting that spongy spot within you that makes your back arch. 

Your top half has left the ground, he grunts in annoyance, suspending your hips back to his mouth at the angle he likes. Those deep hazel eyes meet yours from between your thighs, crazed and animalistic, driven wild with arousal as he eats your pussy with gusto.

It's that image that thrusts you over the edge once more, your back hitting the ground as your body seizes, thrusting your hips against his mouth. 

Without any preamble a third finger joins stretching you deliciously. The hand not currently fucking you, leaves your hip to caress your stomach stroking the flesh there, not quite able to reach your breast. 

“Lo… fuck… yes… right… right fucking there.” You cry as he draws your second orgasm of the night out, only when you tug at his tuft due to overstimulation does he acquiesce and pull back, only of course, after cleaning up your gaping desperate hole. 

He sucks his fingers clean as he sits back on his knees, his cock thick and tenting against the yellow bottoms of his suit. Your arousal has soaked through his beard making his chin slick, he wipes it with a single swipe with the back of hand though, it does very little for his sodden chin. 

Tired of not touching him, you sit forward grabbing at his belt. It's a difficult contraption that confounds you, though Logan is far too wound up to find any humour from it. 

 He replaces your hands unbuckling the thing before finding the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head. 

There, finally in all his glory, he is exposed to you and you’ve never been a religious woman, but Mary mother of fucking christ, he is gorgeous. Logan’s chest is fucking… transcendant to behold, it's like he’s been sculpted by god herself, the light isn’t the best out of here, but you hope to god you don’t die tomorrow simply for wanting to take your time and lick each and every single one of those muscles on his stomach. 

Its your turn to leap forward onto your knees and join his mouth with yours, he tastes distinctly of you and his chin is still sodden, but you couldn’t give less of a fuck, you love the fact your desire is still marking his skin. 

Your hands trace the firm abs at your disposal, before dipping into his now open trousers and underwear to find him rock hard. 

If his physique impressed you, you had a big storm coming, because his cock was a fucking resplendant beauty and it was plain to see from the swelling Logan really liked eating pussy. 

Your fingers barely touched as you pumped him, once twice, spreading the copious amounts of precum along his shaft.

“Fuck.” He grunts into your mouth. You lean down, positioning yourself to take him in your mouth, though he stops you in your tracks grabbing your shoulder. “No sweetheart, I want your pussy.” You clench around nothing at his filthy words, this man will be the fucking death of you. 

You reach behind you and free your tits from their confines, another moan leaves his throat as he pushes you backwards. On his hands and knees he’s deliberate with every move as kicks the bottoms of his suit off as he prowls towards you.

Finally, he’s in between your legs naked as the day he was born. His hands are on your breasts, exploring the new plains exposed to him, playing with your nipples alternating between sucking and twirling them between his fingers. 

So lost in his skilled hands, you barely notice when one disappears to line himself up, it's a shock, the sudden intrusion, but not an unwelcome one as he thrusts himself forward and as deep as he can go. 

You moan his name into his ear, doing your best to keep your volume down.

He has prepared you well, you’re so worked up that he slides home through your tight slit. The sheer size of him means it's a stretch that borders on uncomfortable, but the second his hand finds your clit you’re clenching around him and grinding forward, desperate for more. Unable to control himself, his claws extend, he grunts pulling you close and thrusting them down into the ground. 

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He grunts into your neck, where he's busy lavishing the flesh once again with bites. Your neck is going to be black and blue tomorrow, but you can’t find it in you to give a single fuck.

The two of you are so fucking close his bare skin so deliciously hot against your own, but you want more, you need more.

Logan pulls his hips backwards, pulling out of you until only the tip remains before slamming home and spearing you wide open his cock. Your moans blend together as you lose yourself in each other's bodies.

Logan is worked up from eating your cunt, so it doesn’t take long for the sensation to hit him.

“Fuck, where do you want it?” He grunts into your neck, as his hand descends to rub quick circles on your clit. He pulls your ass up, making sure to hit the spot inside of you that makes your toes curl.

You know he’s teetering on the edge, desperate to make you cum before he does. 

“Inside - come inside me, baby.” You whimper into his neck as he pounds into you reaching your deepest recesses with his thick cock, his hammering, it’s unforgiving with his enhanced strength but it pushes him deeper into spots you couldn’t have imagined. He groans at your words, sounding every bit the wounded animal he is. Your shared groans and the sound of his balls slapping against your ass as he takes you again, and again is all that can be heard in the clearing. 

Finally as he joins your lips in a kiss, you come hard on his cock. Clenching around him as your body writhes uncontrollably. 

Logan adjusts his hold on your thighs, now he uses your body, drawing out your pleasure but ultimately chasing his own. The pace is fast as he grunts and groans erotically into your neck, he fucking growls as his hips stutter against your own, and you know you should be more careful, but the thought of him cumming inside you has you gripping his cock like a vice once more. You give him a tight sheath to come in, and he pumps you fucking full of his cum and its a big fucking load. Logan thrusts a few more times, pushing his seed deep inside of you as he claims your mouth once more.

You run your hands through his hair as he lets his body fall against yours, he’s supporting his own weight, thank god, you don’t think you could handle his muscle, let alone the adamantium skeleton. He’s still sheathed inside you as the two of you revel in the closeness.

The silence stretches on for an amount of time you can’t quite quantify. The two of you take in your surroundings, listening to the quiet of the forest, until your breathing has finally calmed down. 

Logan lifts himself up on one arm, and pushes your hair back from your face. You stare at him in the moonlight for a long moment, unable to help yourself as you trace his familiar features. His strong nose and the curve of his brow, your finger dances along his flesh. 

Logan’s eyes close, so touch starved he basks in your affection. 

“I-” Logan goes to speak, before you drop your finger on his lips.

“It’s okay. Whatever happens tomorrow, happens. I’m okay with it.” You smile at him, there's a chill to the air but you’ve got your Wolverine warming you up. “I just wanted one night to be about something other than death.”

He takes your hand from his lips and kisses along the back of it and up your wrist, though It's a slippery slope as he hardens inside of you again. 

Logan manages to pull two more orgasms out of you before dawn.

When your time has run out, the two of you finally dress, not wanting to be found in a compromising position. Logan curls his body around yours and buries his face in your hair as he spoons you from behind. 

Just when you’re just on the cusp of sleep, he finally speaks into the night. Logan opens up about his world tearfully, instantly you reach your hand down, finding his own thicker one resting on your belly and you intertwine your fingers with his. He tells you of the mutant hunting as you draw comforting circles on the back of his hand, it's not much, but it's more than he’s ever had whilst reliving his worst day. When he has finally bared his soul, the two of you fall back into silence. 

After what has been an emotionally, not to mention physically taxing night the two of you finally fall asleep if only for a few more hours, two incredibly damaged souls offering one another comfort.

It’s later in the morning when you finally awake. The sun has risen that much is clear but you're slow to awaken from your comfortable position in Logan's arms, his warm strong body coiled against your back fighting off the worst of the early morning chill, his face still buried in your hair as he snores peacefully.

There’s a sensation niggling at you, you think it's what woke you up in the first place; you can’t shake the sensation of being watched. 

Lazily you open your eyes, only for your heart to drop to your asshole when you find Wade Wilson about 10-inches from your face lying on his side, his head supported by his hand.

“Mornin’ sleepy head, have a good night?” You can hear the smile in his voice. 

“AGH!”  Unable to stop both your cry of fear and your fight or flight response in progress, you throw yourself backwards, your powers activating of their own accord, and slamming your body into Logan’s chest. He startles awake, with the telltale ‘snikt’ of his claws extending as he orientates himself, his arm coming out to block you from the threat, despite not being able to see you. 

After your brain catches up, you call your power back, but Logan doesn’t do the same, keeping his claws out seemingly ready to slice up his not-so-best friend. 

“Get the fuck outta’ here, Wade.” Logan growls harshly at the other man, his voice is filled to the brim with hatred.

“Hmph - this is what I get for acting altruistically. I thought a good stress relieving bone in the woods with your cherie amour would really sort out that bee in your bonnet, but you sir are just a very unpleasant man and I’m worried that-”

“WADE.” This time Logan’s voice is a threat as he shouts at the man. You place a hand on his muscled arm to steady him. Though he may have stopped your heart with his antics, Wade isn’t doing anything particularly outrageous.  Logan shakes your hand from his arm and allows his claws to retract as he stands. 

“Thanks for jumping to my defence there, Y/N. Great to meetcha bt-dubs, huge fan.” You’re disoriented from the wakeup call but you shake the hand he offers you.  Honestly, you’re still trying to process the head-fuckery of the past day, so you don’t have a quick response for him, though the mouth doesn’t seem to mind as he continues. “That mean lil’ lady is asking for ya’. Thought I’d come and check you and big yellow weren’t still bumpin’ uglies. Didn’t want her to see you and Papa going to town on each other's fun parts.”

“Uh - Thanks… Wade?” 

“That’s me.” He theatrically begins bestowing multiple kisses on the back of your hand he still had in his grasp, which you retract gently. “Oh, and we’re done.”

Pushing yourself up, you go to stand though Logan offers you his newly gloved palm. You lock your fingers around his and the two of you stand together, inches apart and your fingers still intertwined, neither quite sure what to say to the other. Wade’s ‘awh’ over your shoulder shatters the moment and he drops your hand instantaneously. 

After a beat or two Logan leans forward, placing a single solitary kiss on your forehead. “See ya’ around, bub.”

“Where’s my smooch, Logie-bear?”

“Go fuck yourself, Wade.” He calls as he walks around, Logan doesn’t look back as he heads off into the forest. 

You still had faith he’d turn up for the fight, Logan always turned up when it counted and you knew this time would be no different. 

“Hate to see him leave, but love to watch him go.” Wade sighs linking his arm with yours. 

“Mmh, You can say that again.” You agree with the clown watching Logan’s ass as he walks away, you swear you see his step falter thanks to his impeccable hearing, but he doesn’t turn back. 

The two of you turn and you begin walking back to the cave arm in arm with the strange man to prepare for the assault on Cassandra’s lair when Wade finally asks the question you know he’s been dying to ask since meeting you “So, Y/N just between us girls… how big is it?”

LOGAN TENDER HAIR TUCK SUPREMACY RISE. I'll use it in every fic, don't think I won't.

Thanks for reading xxx

Graphics by my pal - @saradika-graphics 💕

[lovelybucky1]

Oooohh i have a request!:

Playing “never have i ever” or something like that with logan and wade (maybe along the lines of a boring friday night with nothing else to do) and you admit to never having an orgasm by anyone but yourself

Flash forward you’re in logan’s arms and wade is eating the fuck out of your pussy, and then they switch 👀👀

i’ve written something similar two the second part here, but i love the never have i ever idea! // divider from @strangergraphics

boredom isn’t something heroes are used to. there’s always something happening somewhere, someone needing to be saved. but tonight, everything is quiet. the three of you were suspicious at first, but you checked every police scanner, news outlet, and all of your contacts and came up with nothing. the bad guys had decided to take an evening off, and now you were stuck with nothing to do.

you, wade, and logan all sit around in the living room with bottles of beer. you and wade stare at the mindless gameshow on tv while logan rests his eyes. you’re definitely bored, but wade is restless. it’s like he’s itching for something to do, like his body is physically unable to handle the inactivity.

“why don’t we play a game?” wade asks, startling logan awake.

the two of you look over at wade. “what kind of game?” you ask.

“i don’t know, ‘never have i ever?’”

logan rolls his eyes, then shuts them again. he’ll deny any “old man” comments, but he really is one. you elbow logan in the side and he opens them again.

“come on, it’ll be fun,” wade pleads.

“it’s not like we have anything better to do,” you say to logan. reluctantly, he agrees.

you reposition yourselves in the living room. you sit on the couch, leaned against the arm with your feet in logan’s lap, who sits on the other end. wade sits on the floor by the coffee table, his beer on the table without a coaster next to him.

“this is your game, wilson. you start,” logan says before taking a sip of his beer.

“no, don’t drink! you only drink if you’ve done the thing i say,” wade scoffs. how can logan be so old and still know nothing about fun? “okay, okay. never have i ever… gotten arrested.”

you furrow your eyebrows at him while logan takes a drink. you’re almost certainly wade has been arrested before. “i don’t think you’re playing this game right,” you say. “you have to say things you’ve never done.”

wade scoffs. “i haven’t been arrested, thank you very much. all the cops who’ve tried have mysteriously ended up with broken noses.”

you roll your eyes at him. “my turn now? never have i ever… cheated on a partner.”

both of them take drinks, wade with more shame than logan. ugh, men.

then it’s logan’s turn. “never have i ever worn a dress.”

you figure it’s targeted at you, just because logan’s a dick, but to your surprise, wade drinks too. logan raises his eyebrow at him, silently urging him to elaborate.

“you wish you saw that, huh, peanut?” he taunts instead. logan makes a face at that.

“i’m thankin’ god i didn’t have to.”

you play a couple more rounds, all three of you exchanging stories and sipping from your bottles. it takes a lot to get them drunk, but you’re starting to feel it. there’s a collection of empty bottles, mostly beer, but halfway through the game, wade decided to up the ante with some liquor.

it’s wade’s turn again and he says, “never have i ever been with two guys at once.”

he means it as a joke. he doesn’t expect anyone to drink. there’s no way logan would do something like that, and you’re too innocent. that’s why his eyes practically pop out of his head when you throw back the shot.

the game turned sexual a few rounds ago, but it was pretty mild stuff. talk about doing stuff in public, kinks, freaky shit like that. nothing as interesting as this.

both wade and logan turn their full attention to you, eager to hear this story.

“what?” you play dumb.

“two guys at once?” wade asks. you shrug.

“it wasn’t anything.”

“nah,” logan says, sounding interested for the first time all game. “you gotta tell us.”

you sigh. “it was a while ago. i met this couple at a bar and they said they were looking for a third. i had nothing better to do and they were both hot, so…” you trail off, shrugging again.

“give us the gory details. how’d you do it? daisy chain?eiffel tower? double cowgirl? triple spooning? come on, tell us,” wade rambles.

“you’re a fucking perv,” you tell him and he doesn’t deny it. “it was just normal dp.”

logan raises an eyebow. “that stands for double penetration,” wade tells him.

“i know that. i’m just wondering how you took it all,” logan says.

you’re used to this kind of talk from wade. the man thinks with his dick so much that you question if he even has a brain. you’re not, however, used to this from logan. he’s no prude, but he usually doesn’t participate in these kinds of conversations with wade.

“must’ve been a tight fit,” logan adds on.

you look between the men and their interested faces. you’re still pretty bored, the game having grown stale a while ago, and now you’re a tipsy. you want something exciting and right now, you’re feeling bold enough to persue it.

“do you wanna see?” you ask them.

wade and logan share a glance, but it only takes a second before they’re replying “yes” in unison.

[happy74827]

Joyride

[Wade Wilson x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Remember kids, always look at the road when driving. It can help you avoid certain blabber mouths 🫶

WC: 2556

Category: Fluff, Annoying!Deadpool, 4th Wall Breaks, Insane Amounts of Profanity {TW: Deadpool (for obvious reasons)}

In honor of watching Deadpool 3 (super good btw), enjoy this random chaotic fic I created with the help of @yoursacredqueenmother. This is super chaotic lmfao

『••✎••』

Shit. Shit. Shit. SHIT.

A millisecond ago, you were driving down a street. In the middle of traffic. At a red light. Now, you were panicking, looking over the front of your car for the flash of red you had just seen. It took a couple of seconds for you to realize that there was blood on your car and on the ground—a lot of blood.

"Oh, shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!"

You quickly hopped out of the car, rushing to the spot you thought the person… or thing would be, but… there was nobody. There was blood on the ground but nobody.

Did you hit a deer, and it just… ran off? No, that can't be right. You definitely saw something red, and it most certainly was not a deer.

You looked around, confused. How the hell does something bleed all over the ground and then disappear without a trace?!

You got back in your car, deciding to drive to the closest police station. Maybe they knew something about this.

So, you decided to abandon the shortcut home and drive to the nearest police station, which happened to be just down the road. But as you were minutes into the drive, you felt the sudden urge to look in your rearview mirror.

And there you found your mysterious red-suited victim in the backseat, holding the biggest knife you have ever seen as his white-covered eyes stared at you from behind the mask.

You never hit the brakes faster in your life. The car made an ugly screeching sound, and the sudden force slammed the red-clad man into the back of your seat, making him let out a surprised yelp.

The car finally came to a stop, and the masked man recovered quickly, pushing himself off of your seat and glaring at you.

"Well, aren’t you just a heart break—"

He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence.

You grabbed your keys from the ignition and popped off the attached pepper spray, turning around and squirting him in the face. He let out a scream, and you quickly got out of the car, shutting the door and running as fast as you could.

Unfortunately, you didn’t get very far. Despite being hit by a car, and subsequently getting pepper sprayed, the man (or what you assume to be) caught up with you and blocked your path, his hands on his hips, his head cocked to the side.

"Alright, lady, what the fuck?" He asked, his voice sounding nasally, most likely because of the spray.

You stared at him, confused. He looked like he was waiting for an explanation.

"W-What the fuck?! What the fuck me? What the fuck you!" You exclaimed, your voice cracking a little. "What the fuck are you doing in my car?!"

"Well, I was trying to hitch a ride! But clearly, that didn't work out. Thanks a lot, by the way, for the pain and suffering. You’ve really opened up my horizons here."

It almost sounded like he was pouting.

"What the—! A ride?! Why in the hell would you just hop into someone's car?!"

"Uhh, because you ran me over, genius! I mean, come on, the least you could do is offer a guy a ride home after that. And then, the cherry on top of the fucking sundae: pepper spray!"

The masked man, so to speak, threw his arms up in the air, and you could almost see him rolling his eyes underneath the mask. Of course, that’s when you noticed the obvious broken bones in his hands. And the blood. There was a lot of blood.

"Look," the guy started, walking closer to you. "I know, I'm a big scary guy with a big scary knife and a bad temper and all, and you’re just… well, I’m sure you have an amazing personality, but how about we put all that aside, and you give me a ride, alright? Just drop me off at the corner of 10th and 55th, and you can forget this ever happened."

"Your arm… your wrist. It's broken," you told him.

"Yeah, no shit," the man scoffed. "Got any Taylor Swift CDs in that car?"

"Uh… no, not really. Why?"

"Cause, baby, I’m Shaking It Off!"

There was a pregnant pause, and you weren't quite sure if he was being serious or not. I mean, surely he wasn’t about to just ignore the fact that his arm was the complete opposite of norm—

But when he shook his arm in a violent manner, and a loud crack followed suit, you realized, with a heavy heart, that yes, this guy was serious.

What you didn’t know until a few seconds later, however, was that he snapped his bones back into place like it was nothing. It took the flexing in his fingers to realize it, too.

"Holy shit." You truly were in awe.

He seemed to find amusement in your expression, tilting his head slightly and giving you a once-over. And, yes, you could feel his eyes on you, and for some reason, it sent a shiver down your spine.

"So… Wendy Torrance, about that ride? Can you give me a lift, or are we gonna start that chick flick moment where your mental breakdown leads to slow-motion running to a Sia song?"

You could only stare.

"Alright, well, if you're going through with the latter, then at least play something that doesn’t involve that little dancing girl who likes to wear potato sacks as clothes."

You couldn’t believe this was happening.

"You are literally insane." You breathed out, shaking your head.

Even if you couldn’t see it, something told you that he made the biggest grin underneath his mask.

"Why, thank you, darling."

Fast forward a couple of minutes, and you found yourself driving towards the address the red-suited stranger had given you. You couldn’t really make conversation. He had his hands in his lap, playing with a knife, and was staring at you, his head tilted.

"You can blink, you know. I'm not a zombie," he informed you, making a gesture to his mask and eyes, which you assumed he was blinking underneath.

"Right," you nodded.

“Well, mostly, at least. I mean, I still have a pulse, but it's kind of irregular, and I think it's because I keep getting shot and stabbed in the heart. Oh, and I guess I'm also pretty much immortal, so that's probably the reason. But I think the whole not-dying thing cancels out the heartbeat thing, right? Like, the more times you get impaled or decapitated or set on fire, the more it doesn’t matter because it doesn’t affect you anymore, am I right?"

You glanced at him. He was staring at you, his hands still and his knife resting on his leg.

"…Do you ever shut up?"

"Woah-hoho, feisty. And here I thought I was going to break the ice with a good ol' fashioned knock knock joke."

"I don’t think that would've been funny."

"That's what the last girl said."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhm. Except she wasn’t talking about the joke. I made her laugh in a different way."

You glanced at him again, and he was giving you a knowing look.

"I can't decide if you're disgusting or not."

He hummed, shrugging his shoulders. That made him shut his mouth just long enough for you to turn on the radio but not long enough to avoid the inevitable.

"Hey, hey, I got a good one: Knock knock."

You let out a long sigh, closing your eyes. "Who's there?"

"Orange."

"Orange, who?"

"Orange you glad I'm not a serial killer?"

"That wasn’t even good."

"I know. It would've been better if I could've pulled the knife out of my belt. You know, just for show." He twiddled his fingers at you.

"That wouldn’t have helped," you said.

"Nope," he agreed. "But it would've made a great story."

"I suppose."

"Yeah. Hey, hey, I got another one: Knock knock."

"You just—"

"Knock knock."

You let out a huff. This man was the most childish, annoying, idiotic, strange, weird—

"Knock knock."

"Oh, just fucking tell me the joke!"

"No! It doesn't work that way!"

You rolled your eyes, but before you could answer, he beat you to it.

"Okay, okay, how about this: Knock knock."

You didn't say anything.

"Knock knock."

Your eyes flickered over to him for a second.

"Knock knock."

"For fucks sake!" You exclaimed. "Who's there?"

He leaned forward, closer to you, and you could see his mouth moving.

"Deadpool."

You were confused.

"D-Deadpool? Is this a reference to that shitty horror movie? If so, that wasn't even good, and I'm not laughing, and I don't get the joke."

He just gave you a blank look, or at least you thought he did.

"No. My name's Deadpool."

"That’s…" you trailed off. "A pretty dumb name. Like that outfit you're wearing."

"Hey! Diss the name all you want, but don’t you dare diss the suit. It's my trademark. Not everyone can pull off this type of look; it’s a very rare art."

"Whatever. You still haven't told me the punch line to your dumb joke."

"Punch line? I never said there was a punch line. It was a knock knock joke."

"So then… What was the point? To annoy the driver into wanting to run you over again?"

He chuckled, a low, deep sound that vibrated in his throat. That… That was… oh.

He was still close, and now, with the new angle, you could see the small, yet very visible, curve of his lips, and that made you wonder who was actually hiding behind the mask.

"You are seriously the strangest person I've ever met."

"Oh, babe, you don't even know the half of it."

"Please, enlighten me," you replied sarcastically, glancing over at him.

His masked eyes looked into yours, and you knew he was grinning; you could practically feel it.

"What do you wanna know?" He asked.

"Uh, I don't know. Something other than the fact that you're a nutcase. How about your real name? It's obviously not 'Deadpool,' and I doubt anyone actually calls you that. So, what's your actual name?"

"Oh, wow. Right off the bat, huh? You know, the last girl I was with wasn’t nearly as direct. Then again, she never sprayed me like I was a roach in her kitchen."

You didn’t respond. You kept your eyes on the road.

"Fine," he relented. "But don’t expect a happy ending. This isn’t Kanas anymore, Toto."

He leaned back in his seat, his arm hanging off the open window, the wind blowing through his red suit.

"Names Wade, like the boxers, but without the fancy pants."

You raised an eyebrow.

"Wade Winston Wilson, I love long walks on the beach, and a good movie, and tacos, and chimichangas, and guns. Especially guns. Kinky, but not too kinky… and did I mention the tacos? Cause I love fucking love tacos."

Maybe you should start carrying tape around.

"What about you, sugar lips?" He asked, gesturing to you with the hand he wasn’t leaning against. "Got a name, or can I call you mine? Ooh, I should’ve used that before the pepper spray. 'What's your name, or can I call you mine?' Classic, Wade. Well, except for the fact that I forgot the 'I'd like to hit it from the back' part. Damn, should have used that, too. It's a good thing they gave you the lead. Otherwise, the audience would've been confused. They would've been wondering, 'Why did the writer suddenly change the dialogue to be about sex? Wasn’t this supposed to be that pure Notebook love story we all wanted?'"

He paused for a moment.

"Wait a minute. Are we still doing the monologue thing, or is the writer done? Cause, no offense, but that was a shitty transition. And, come on, no one wants a Notebook love story anymore. Who writes those? What we need is a little romance and a whole lotta smut."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Me? Nothing, just giving some feedback. I've always had an open relationship with writers. Some might even call me the next J.K Rowling. Except, instead of a lighting scar and magic, I have an ass load of weapons with an insatiable lust for violence and blood. And tacos."

You decided to ignore him.

"Anyway, back to you. You never answered my question. Do you have a name or not?"

"I can’t believe I actually agreed to give you a ride home."

"Yeah," he said, sounding bored. "Why did you do that?"

"I don’t know. Because I hit you with my car and felt bad? You had a broken arm and were bleeding out all over the ground."

"First sign of insanity."

"What?"

"Nothing," his mask wiggled around the area of his eyebrows. "So, your name? Don’t tell me you’re gonna pull out the classic yes and no abbreviations. You know what? I’m just gonna call you Spidey. It's easier, and it’ll sound sexier when you're screaming it later."

You rolled your eyes, deciding just to ignore his comments for the rest of the drive. You were wishing that you didn't live in a city full of traffic cause, damn, this was taking a while.

"Alright, turn here."

You followed the directions and pulled up in front of an abandoned-looking building. You didn't say anything, but you did raise an eyebrow in question.

"What? A guy like me has to keep his place secret, especially when the fangirls are after him."

"I didn’t ask."

"Yeah, but I saw you wondering."

"Right."

"Hey, Spidey," he said, unbuckling his seat belt. "Thanks for the ride."

"No problem. Just make sure to keep your ass away from car bumpers. And out of my car."

"Awe, come on, baby cakes, don't be like that. You're really missing out. My ass is the finest in the business. Not to mention my package. You should see the reviews I get online."

You snorted. "I'll take your word for it."

"Yeah, you will," he said, leaning over and patting your cheek. "Hey, if you ever get lonely, or bored, or horny, or whatever, just give me a call. Here," he handed you a crumpled piece of paper. "Don't lose it, that's my number. We should totally bang, like, tomorrow, or tonight, or right now."

"Goodbye, Wade," you said, and he took it as his cue to leave. He gave a silly salute and exited the car, but not without giving you a wink first.

"See you soon, Spidey!"

With that, he walked up to the building and disappeared inside. With a sigh, you collapsed into the seat, not even bothering to watch him. You were exhausted, and all you wanted was to go home and sleep.

After a couple of minutes of relishing the nice breeze that came through the open windows, you sat up and un-crinkled the paper.

The only thing written on it was a phone number, with a small, messy, red heart and a few words that honestly had you questioning the sanity of the world:

'If you're lucky, maybe I'll even let you top. ;)'

——

Spoiler alert: it took about a month for the two of you to hook up.

And no, you did not have Domino’s luck.

[dxxdhood]

drains me slowly

pairing: wade wilson x gn!reader

summary: deadpool finally invites you, the coworker he has a massive crush on, over, which means the two of you end up doing more than just watching a movie.

tags: smut (18+), sub!wade wilson, dom!reader, pain kink, use of superpowers to fuel a pain kink, light masochism, teasing, gentle dom, hand job, scratching, body worship

wc: 3.3k

a/n: fic inspired by the new deadpool movie coming out!!! also, title is from love me dead by ludo.

No surprise that Wade wasn’t exactly anyone’s favorite– that goes for among the heroes he’s worked with and throughout his life in general. He’s – to put it in the kindest way anyone’s ever told him – fucking annoying. Oh, he’s more than aware that he’s a little too out-of-pocket, abrasive, impulsive– a nightmare to interact with, really. And those were just the recent comments made by the closest thing he has to coworkers! The shit he heard from people growing up was leagues worse. 

Look, having a rough start in life isn’t uncommon and he’s sure as hell not gonna get the tiny violin out for himself and throw his own little pity party, but he’s grown enough since his healing factor got beat out of him to acknowledge that he’s had it tough over the years.

He’s still going, though! Yeah, he may not always be the best at doing his laundry quick enough to get any clean clothes to wear, or at stopping his room from becoming cluttered with too many half-empty water bottles, but he’s still making it by, day by day.

But, well, it’s still really hard to constantly put himself out there, get assigned – or infinitely more likely, just shove himself into – whatever jobs or missions he feels like taking on when everyone treats him like Jar Jar Binks.

That was until you came along. So, obviously you’re crazy hot – he’s gotta get that out of the way first – but more than that, you were confident. Competent, too, and those rarely coincide in Wade’s experience. You mostly worked on call, joining the occasional mission, battle, or investigation because your mutant powers came in handy often, but you also still kept up with your day job. Honestly, Wade thinks the reason why you weren’t always present in fights was to stop the other mutants from being out of a job. Your ability to slowly deteriorate surrounding biological tissue, while horrifying and a pain in the ass to control – your words – was basically winning on easy mode.

But no, you were adamant about keeping your involvement with the X-Men infrequent– only joining when your presence was absolutely necessary. Apparently nonstop high stress situations aren't good for your mental health– who knew?

And he wants to pretend he became obsessed with you because of all those things, and of course they helped, but really, you had him at hello. Or well, you bothering to say hello and actually talk to him in the first place, to ask him questions about his life in moments of downtime where usually he’d be left with an unenthusiastic audience instead of a warm-hearted listener who actually laughed at his jokes.

So, of course, he has to go and fuck it up.

…

“So, glad that’s over, huh?” Wade says through a smile, the whites of his mask squeezing as his cheeks rise. “Speaking of over, you wanna come?”

“Over?” you shake your head a little, flashing your teeth as you try and comprehend him. “Right after we took on a whole crime ring?”

“Well, what a better time to unwind, am I right?”

“Oh?” you raise your eyebrows. “We’re unwinding?”

It’s small, but you swear Wade ups his talking speed, “Well, yeah, you know. Watch a movie, order in, show you my Pokemon cards, the works.”

You hum, pretending to consider it, “Depends, you got a holo Charizard?”

And now, for sure, he exhales his relief. “You insult me.”

The two of you enter his apartment not long after you’re dismissed from the mission, and Wade briefly excuses himself to change out of his suit. Making yourself at home, you take a seat on the couch and glance across his living room. His apartment is surprisingly nice. The kitchen and living room are one large, open space with a sleek, modern design. Also, you’d assume someone as chaotic as Wade would keep their house in a messier state, or hell, at least a little dusty, but the living room is spotless. Maybe he cleaned recently? What, was he planning on inviting someone over?

Snorting as you shake your head, a small click from across the hall catches your attention.

You’ve only seen Wade on the job, so naturally he’s always been wearing his red suit, but for some reason, you never stopped to picture him wearing civilian clothes. Actually, now that you’re seeing him in a sweatshirt and sweatpants – awfully warm for this weather – you’re struggling to reconcile the image of him you had in your head with the person right in front of you.

Well, at least until Wade brings up a fist to cover his mouth, illustrating his nervousness, and the tension fizzles out. Only Wade has body language that cartoonishly exaggerated.

“Nice sweats, green looks good on you.”

Wade pauses for a moment, registering your words before he giggles softly, arm falling to his side, “I’ve been thinking about changing the color of my suit. You know, hiding all the blood is great and all, but sometimes I gotta wonder – could this thing be more flattering?”

He walks over with a spring in his step before sitting by your side. Cutely, he wraps you up in the larger blanket first before settling the smaller, throw blanket over himself. You try your hardest not to show your confusion outwardly, but seeing Wade up close now has you questioning his outfit all the more.

He’s a bit tall, so the sweatpants don’t go all the way down to his ankles, but Wade’s wearing calf socks, as if he specifically were trying to avoid them being uncovered. Also, his hoodie’s easily a size or two larger, which makes it the perfect thing to wear to lounge around and watch a movie in, but also, the sleeves cover his entire hand sans his fingers. From the little you can see of them, they look puckered in scars.

But obviously Wade’s hands are scarred– he’s a mercenary. He’s handled all sorts of weapons and been in hundreds of fights over the years. You weren’t expecting his skin to be baby-smooth. 

What’s interesting to you is why he’d go through all the trouble to hide it.

Also, yeah, the most obvious pointers were that the hood of his sweatshirt is up even though you two are indoors in his own home and – how could you forget this one – his Deadpool mask is still on.

Was he just uncomfortable with sharing his identity in general or was he specifically trying to shove distance between the two of you? Whatever, if he doesn’t want to take his mask off with you, he doesn’t have to. You feel a distinct pang in your chest, but you try not to let it color how you respond to him. He’s more than in the right to only share what he feels most comfortable with.

Wade’s been fiddling with the remote while you’ve been – hopefully – subtly looking him over, and the screen finally changes from a streaming service page to the opening of the movie.

“We’re watching The Princess Bride? I didn’t take you for a romantic.”

He bats his eyes – at least, you think he does, given the mask– and speaks in a sweet voice “Why, me? Oh please, I know romance. I’m not going to invite a lovely, gorgeous, incredible person over and force them to watch Die Hard on the first–”

His back straightens out like he’s been electrocuted before he forcibly relaxes his posture to finish his thought.

“Hang-out.”

Okay, you want to go easy on him, especially because he seems so tense, but you can’t just let that one slide. You close the small distance remaining between the two of you, causing your entire side to press against his. Even through his sweatshirt, you can feel how warm he is.

“Mmm, just a hang out?” you mumble, sliding your head onto his shoulder. You’ve done this before, either for comedic effect or just in an attempt to push his buttons the same way he always tries to push yours – which, despite his best efforts, always ends up endearing him to you instead of bothering you – but never in a context like this.

He inhales sharply, and you count the seconds until he finally lets himself release it. Sometimes, you think he takes his healing factor for granted.

Turning his head to peer down at you, Wade considers you for a moment, keeping his face and body language deceptively neutral. You try your hardest to keep your eyes focused on the movie and your body loose and comfortable.

“You want this to be a date?” he says, flat.

“Why, thank you for asking, dear sir,” you copy his sweet voice from earlier before returning to your normal. “Yes, Wade, I like you.”

“I–” he starts, but the words get caught on their way out. His fingers bury themselves in the material of his sweatpants, and the movement draws your attention to them again. Shades of blotchy red and pink curve all across his skin.

Wade doesn’t say anything, which is concerning enough on its own, but following your confession, you feel like he’s more than out of his element. 

“That’s why you invited me over, right?” you try and help him out. “You feel the same, too.”

And then, feeling bold, you turn your head to face his still mask-covered head and kiss him lightly on the cheek. Instantly, you see fireworks go off inside him, because Wade hurriedly shuts the TV off and runs off to close the blinds. There’s barely enough light in the room now to make out shapes, but apparently Wade doesn’t take any issue because he peels his mask back and kisses you on the lips.

His lips are textured, and your intuition flashes quietly in the back of your mind, but for right now, you focus on how energetic he is. If his body is warm, his mouth feels like it’s on fire. He’s constantly moving, trying to experience all of you as fast as possible. 

It’s making your face heat up, how quickly he demands your complete attention and how relentless he is in grabbing it. Wade bites your bottom lip, causing you to gasp into him, and he uses the opportunity to explore across your own teeth and tongue. After a few more seconds, you break away, needing the space to breathe.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, voice rough.

“You’re telling me,” Wade coughs out. “We could’ve been doing that this whole time?”

“Well, all you had to do was ask.”

And although you can’t see him, which you know is the point, you understand something in him has shifted. He gets up from the couch, takes you by the hand, and leads you towards his room. His pace is so quick, you barely comprehend his actions until you’re both standing right in front of his bed.

“Is this okay?” he asks, quiet. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him stifle the amount of words he let loose before.

“Yes, of course it is. But Wade, we have to turn on at least a lamp or something in here.”

“We do?”

“Yeah,” you pause to give him a second to think. “I can’t see you at all like this.”

“What if – and you're just going to have to trust me on this one – you’d prefer it this way,” Wade’s voice is light, but it feels like it’s cracking at the edges.

“And why’s that?”

Not like you’d be able to see, but the anxiety radiating off of him makes him sound wide-eyed, “Huh? Oh, I– uh…”

“Look, if you’re worried about how I’m going to react to you having a bunch of scars– don’t. I don’t mind,” the sound of fabric rustling in front of you makes you think he just flinched. “I figured it out. You’re not sneaky.”

“You say that, but…”

“Wade, I don’t care. And I mean that kindly! Really, it doesn’t bother me.”

Wade starts pacing in front of you, nearly tripping on the leg of the bedpost, “Look, I appreciate the whole hero act you got going on here – really fits you good, you should totally quit your day job – but you don’t have to force yourself, I–”

“Wade, you either confront your insecurities head on or I’m not doing this with you. I told you what I think, the only person who’s going to worry about how you look here is you. We either have sex with a light on or not at all, okay?”

No one speaks for a few seconds once you finish saying your piece, and you cringe, realizing how forceful you must have come off. You’re about to speak up again to apologize when you hear a shudder-filled exhale from a few feet away.

“Jesus H. Christ,” he groans. “You’re so hot when you're putting people in their place.”

Your lips curl into a shaky smile, “Yeah, what else do you think is hot?”

And you can practically hear the gears turning in his head from here.

…

It’s actually happening. No fucking way he didn’t dream this up. But you were pretty adamant about him getting his head in the game in order for you guys to actually get down and dirty, so for you, he tries to keep his train of thought as focused as possible–  a big ask.

“Bossing anyone – everyone, especially me – around. You using your abilities–” you reach over and find Wade’s hand before running your fingers up his arm. “Shit, umm, using your abilities in general, but, umm, I really like when I’m there.”

“Oh?” you giggle. “When you get to watch, or?”

“When I get to feel.”

Your hand moves over to the nape of his neck, reaching under his hood and mask, to rub at his rough skin. Wade’s nerves light on fire as he waits for you to respond– for some reason, it never feels like your words come out fast enough.

“You got a thing for pain, Wilson?”

He chuckles, “You’d be surprised.”

“Okay, but are you sure? I can try, but it might not be all that good for you.”

“Don’t worry,” he thinks back to all those times he had a hard on while the two of you were fighting together. “It’ll be great for me.”

You hum, “Alright, then, but you tell me to stop the second you don’t like something, okay?”

“Aye, aye, captain,” he salutes, though you probably can’t see it. “And, same goes for you.”

“What a gentleman, letting me destroy him and giving me an out.”

He’s blushing something furious and he’s never been more grateful for the dark, “Anything for you.”

Those are the last words he whispers before he begins undressing. He knows you probably meant for him to strip with the light on, but he’s really not so sure he could stomach being looked at like a bug under a microscope. The attention, while electrifying, was already starting to get to him, so he lets himself stay in his comfort zone a little longer. As a treat. 

Once his sweats are off, he hesitantly peels off his mask before slipping into bed, keeping most of his body under the covers. After shutting his eyes, he clicks the lamplight on.

You’re not saying anything. That’s– a sign? A good one, a bad one, Wade doesn’t know. He’s trying so hard to keep his breathing steady, but he can feel his body start shaking all on its own.

You join him on the bed, kneeling next to him, before your warm breath falls across his cheeks as you kiss his forehead. Only then does he open his eyes, and you reward him by cupping his cheek in your hand.

“There,” you say. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Wade gets the strong urge to snort, and so he does, but your eyes narrow. There’s a soft scratching at the back of his skull as you snake your hand over, and quickly you dig your nails in slightly. Wade has to bite his tongue to keep the noise in.

“I’m sorry, is that funny to you?”

“No!” he whispers sharply as you bring your hand down to scratch along the line of his neck.

“Good, seems like you’re learning.”

You kiss him, teeth clacking together at first before Wade melts into it. Your hand is still slowly exploring his body, running along the line of his shoulder and towards his upper arm. When you reach his bicep, you very obviously squeeze the muscle there, and you let out a pleased sigh as you begin groping in earnest.

He wants to turn to hide his face in the pillow, not sure how to react to all the positive attention and appreciation, but you catch him trying to turn away, and you kiss him deeper.

While one hand begins to explore his pecs and abs, your other hand scratches down his v-line, softly caressing the skin of his inner thighs before moving around to squeeze his ass.

Wade rewards you with a small whine, and you carefully trail a finger down his dick. You move in to whisper in his ear, “You’re so hot, I’m not forgiving you for hiding for so long.”

Trying to stifle the embarrassing moan that he knows will come out, he bites down on his lip hard, but you take the hand not teasing his cock to gently pry his lip away.

“From now on, I get to hear you, okay?” you say and Wade nods rapidly.

You take the moment you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, and after giving him a second to ready himself, you ask, “I’m going to use it now. Tell me if you want to stop.”

“Okay–” he responds before he feels the sweet sensation of you jerking him off coupled with your power. It’s a humming, dull feeling of pain resting in the background– almost like the sensation of being choked except it’s affecting his entire body. Wade feels like there’s a weight pinning down each of his limbs and it’s so freeing– so relaxing.

He sighs and turns his head to the side, letting out a deep moan when you up the pace of your hand and bring the other to fondle his balls.

“How is it?” you ask, sweat dripping down your brow at trying to control your ability. Sure, it’s  powerful and at times pretty horrifying, but Wade always loved how he was essentially immune. At the same rate you could destroy the flesh around you, he could heal his own right back. Just knowing that made him feel good, somehow, like he was made perfectly for you.

“It’s good– so good, I–” he nearly shouts, forgetting about the neighbors.

“Yeah, baby? What do you need?”

At hearing the pet name, he straight up whines as he tries to bury his hands in the sheets instead of his own thighs. 

“Not sure, umm, a little more–”

And he doesn’t know which god he has to thank for putting you on this planet, but he’s willing to pay them all a visit. You read him like he’s not some mess, some walking disaster nobody bothers paying attention to, and you give him what you know he needs.

From the base of his chin, you drag your hand in a deep scratch across his neck, chest, and stomach, your eyes watching the pink lines blend in with his scarred skin. It’s a flashing pain, sharp like being scalded and it feels so good mixed with the blunt feel of being under your power.

“I’m gonna–” he says, and of course, you seem to already know. He cums with a deep grunt, rutting his hips into your fist before he thrusts his head forward to kiss you again.

As soon as he comes down, he pulls away only slightly, just so he can say what he’s been wanting to say since he met you.

“Thank–”

You cut him off with another kiss, because sometimes, he really does need to shut up. 

[comically-callous]

Can I request headcanons for Kurt, Remy, Logan, and Wade reacting to his gender neutral crush kissing him because they're so in love with him before apologising when they realised what they just did please?

Ofc!!

X-Men with a gn!crush!Reader who suddenly kisses them 🤯🤯🤯

Includes: Remy LeBeau, Wade Wilson, Logan Howlett, and Kurt Wagner

A/n: I love them a normal amount. This took me a long time to write because tumblr kept deleting all of my work 😋😋😋 But, it’s here now. Hope you freaks annoy it. Requests are OPEN 💜

Remy:

It happens one day when you guys are in the kitchen cooking together

Remy (ever the opportunist) is helping you out by occasionally guiding your hands or gently grabbing your waist/hips whenever he moves past you. And you're definitely not complaining

Overall, the vibes are very flirtatious and cutesy, and you sort of get caught up in it.

After the food is in the oven and Remy is washing dishes, you walk over and kiss him.

Remy damn near drops the bowl he was rinsing, but he manages to keep his cool and almost immediately starts kissing you back

You're the first to pull away because it suddenly clicks for you that you're kissing your friend, so you break the kiss to start apologizing

"What you apologizing for, mon Ami?"

"I kissed you."

"And? I certainly didn't mind."

Remy has liked you for a while. That was pretty obvious to everyone. Everyone except you, since you thought he was just being flirty with you like he was with nearly everyone.

But, that's obviously not the case. He makes sure to make that very clear.

Once all of your feelings are cleared up, Remy pulls you closer to him by your hips and smirks softly. "You wanna try and kiss me again? For real this time?"

His ass did NOT finish those dishes 💀

Logan:

He comes back from a long mission, exhausted and not really in the mood for dealing with anyone

Well, that is until he sees you walking down the hallway. Then he decides he can maybe deal with one more person.

You're happy to see him back, wrapping your arms around him in a warm embrace that he didn't know he needed

"Ugh, I missed you!"

“You say that every time I come back from a mission."

"Yeah, because it's true."

He missed you too, but you don't need to know that.

You pull back from him just to lean in and kiss him.

That's probably the last thing he expected you to do. I mean, yeah he really like you, but he'd always been certain that you'd never want a guy like him.

After a moment of shock, he starts kissing you back, arms tightening around you

You pull away to ask "is this okay?" And he doesn’t even let you finish, just pulls you in for another kiss.

Sorry. He’s just wanted this for such a long time.

Wade:

He's liked you for a pretty long time. But, he knows you probably won’t like him back with how he looks. And he tells himself he’s fine with that.

But, since you two have been friends for a while, you get curious. So, you ask if you can see his face.

He agrees eventually and pulls his mask off to show you.

Normally he doesn't get so nervous to show people his real face. But, it's different with you. He doesn't think he can just laugh off your disgust.

When he pulls his mask off and your eyes widen, he immediately assumes the worst

"Yeah. Hideous, I know. Not the chiseled supermodel that I sound like under the-"

"Wade, you're like, hot."

"Excuse me?"

He can't believe it. Actually, he doesn't believe it. After you repeat yourself, he starts telling you that he doesn't need you to lie to him and that's when you cut him off with a kiss.

He pulls away immediately just because of utter shock "Woah! Cool down, hot stuff. What are you doing?"

You tell him you've always liked him, and that you still like him (maybe even like him more) now that he's shown you his face.

He's over the moon.

"Well, why didn't you tell me sooner? We could've been doing this all along!"

"Doing what?"

And then he kisses you again. Heheheheehehehe 👅👅👅

Kurt:

Kurt loves helping you with anything and everything whenever he can. It’s one of the ways he shows his appreciation for you.

So, when you receive a (very minor) injury during training, he’s at your side almost immediately

He drags you away and makes you sit down, treating your small cut as if it were a leg that had fallen off

“Don’t move, Schatz. I will be back with a first aid kit.”

“Kurt, you don’t need to-“

“Stay, please.”

So, you let him patch you up, and he does far too much for a wound that you could probably just slap a bandaid over

But, you don’t mind. You admire him as he’s crouched down to the floor, delicately treating the small cut on your knee

And then he looks up at you with those bright, yellow eyes and he smiles. And you can’t help yourself. You lean down to him and kiss him.

This poor boy is so surprised he can’t do anything. He just freezes up. So, you assume you’ve done something wrong and you pull away.

“I’m so sorry. I thought- I was just-“

“Please do that again.”

“What?”

“Please.”

And you do 🧚‍♀️

[raccoon-in-the-danger-room]

Logan and Wade's relationship post movie is slow burn in the most infuriating way cause they have so many hang ups about the relationship

On Logan's side: He fell in love with Wade first. Which mortifies him cause 1) Wade is still in love with Vanessa 2) they're roommates in a one bedroom apartment with Blind Al until he gets his life together in a parallel world where he's technically dead and his SSN is donezo 3) Wade Winston Wilson is probably the most embarrassing person to have a crush on, let alone be in love with. Logan will defend him to heaven and hell and back, but even he knows it's crazy to fall for the Blowjob Queen of Sasqatoon.

He's fully aware of his feelings but tries to squash it down, acts like he hates Wade's guts. Even though every morning he wakes up early to make coffee for the both of them before Wade wakes up. Even though he's memorized what's his favorite gun cleaner and oil are, then stocks them up before Wade even notices his supply is running low. Even though he's the most at peace when Wade and Laura are having Girls' Night in the living room, wearing face masks and watching A24 horror films, while he's kicking back with Blind Al in the kitchen, sipping shitty beer.

On Wade's side: He has no idea Logan likes him. Or, better to say, he has no idea WHY Logan would like him. He might be gods perfect idiot, but if 2+2 = 22, then if someone tells you to shut up and stabs you in every argument to be had, they can't possibly LIKE like you. So even when the initial hostility of being new roommates dies down, he takes the domesticity they find together a side effect of being a Wolverine over the age of 40 with a teenage daughter and no active income in sight. "Beggars can't be ungrateful bastards who couch surf for free" and all that jazz.

Wade is also still hooked up on Vanessa. She'll always be his soul mate, and that will never change. So they try to talk it out. They go on a couple dates. They try to work something, anything out, but in the end they both agree it just isn't right anymore. They still love each other, but that doesn't mean they should be in a relationship. They both deserve better than to be stuck in the past.

So by the time Wade is single for real, Logan is already set on them not getting together. Previous points aside, he's no rebound chick. He just got promoted from Worst Wolverine to Okay-est Wolverine (via the coffee mug Laura got him from etsy) -- so he's absolutely NOT fucking gonna be a sloppy bitch and make a move on his roommate after he got out of a whatever the fuck situationship with his ex-dead, ex-fiance.

When they finally get together, it's so far down the line and so slow-burn, that they genuinely don't know how they got there. All they know is that they share a new one bedroom apartment together, alone (but Blind Al lives on the same floor of the complex) and that they are so far gone in domestic bliss that they're arguing with each other over how to properly assemble a pet condo for Mary Puppins.

[balteredsworld]

wilson’s hypothesis. gregory house

🥼🩺 | according to wilson, house likes you and you like him. so, house confronts you with wilson’s hyposthesis.

masterlist: greg house n all

warnings/tags! fluff of sorts, angst if you squint, talks of self-sabotage, idiots in love, sherlocked reference!!! (just watched 8x18—house self-sabotages so bad my lord)

author's note: lowkey hate this but it's idk what're we thinking fellow ducklings???

"wilson thinks i like you," house airs.

you throw him a strange glance.

"crazy, right?"

"yeah? and you think i like cameron," you mimic, matching his dismissive detachment to comedic effect.

only, house is serious.

“no, wilson thinks i like you.” house ignores your joke, repeating wilson’s solemn hypothesis.

when you pause to look at his face, your mind goes off into complete nonsense like's just tipped you over and left you with internal bleeding in your brain, upon the realization that he does, in fact, mean those words he's telling you.

"what makes him say that?"

"i'm apparently connecting with you,” house indulges, relaxing into the cold bit of wall behind him. the moonlight hits him in a more subtle way, half hidden in the shadows. the blue of his wrinkled shirt melts into the glow it radiates.

you're not particularly sure what to say. thankfully, he elaborates.

“you share your food with me, i take your food, ergo it means something in wilson's romantic world,” house offers, before quickly dismissing the thought of his supposed feelings for you. "but you know wilson, he's always been a romantic. thinks he can diagnose emotions as easily as diseases."

you consider the argument, "well couldn't that just mean i can't finish my food and you don't wanna get your own?"

he squints at you, as if with drills for eyes. you're playing dumb, unless you really believe that. but you don't.

you clear your throat, "well, do you believe that?"

"well it's either that or i must obviously like you."

you gawk. "well, do you?"

"do i have to spell it out for you?"

"wilson had to," you snark back. "so, do you?"

"no," he says with a flat face.

something in your chest drops, just as your brows shoot up. "no?"

"no," he reaffirms.

you don't know if you manage to catch your frown. house doesn't say anything if you didn't. you're more than a little embarrassed, surely flushed. you're thankful that the two of you are under the dim veil of night.

"well good thing," you grumble.

house looks at you with a curious look, as if he was almost offended you would say that. "good thing?"

“we’re both lonely. lonely means self-sabotage,” you explain, fiddling with one of the main trinkets that line the ledge. you were sure you proving your point, coming up with an off-putting rationale to cover up your embarrassment. "two self-saboteurs, well, that's an equation with proven unresolved issues... so yeah, good thing."

you were internally cringing at the words you were spitting out, but you were trying to play it cool. it's something that's never worked in your favour though when you were near an attractive guy, and you always swore this was to make them repulse the inkling of interest. and you swore off doing this years ago, but the blunt rejection, if you could call it that, sprung the teenager out of you.

then again, house affects you like that. blue eyes and blue shirt and all.

he makes it no secret that he's a ladies' man, often hitching hookers into the hospital despite cuddy's gentle parenting to make him stop. but house does whatever he wants in the hospital, hence all the lawsuits you've had to deal with.

when you look at him again, he's somehow uncharacteristically quiet. you're unsure if his speculative eyes are because of a lightbulb moment, but one thing's for sure: he was thinking.

"you're thinking, aren't you?" you glean in a tilt.

house doesn't say anything, but turns away from you. when he does, you're unsure if you see his lip curl in disappointment—he hides it too well. some part of you hopes, but you know you're not his type. a bit too much like him in the overanalyzing and overthinking.

and maybe you're convincing yourself, but realistically speaking, your happy arrangement of sharing food in the middle of a hospital shift may work for lonely and misery, but not for anything else. two people who like self-sabotage is like a dumpster fire.

you'd rather have house like this, happy and alarmingly blue.

"aaand you've stopped listening. i shall take that as my cue to leave," you announce, hopping off the ledge in the same ginger fashion you had waltzing in.

when you land your feet, house airs his deduction, nodding along as if he was finally making sense of you and wilson’s hypothesis. 

“maybe he’s onto something.”

you turn to him with a tinge of a worrisome brow. 

“who knows? maybe i’ve been sending subtle signals that even i’m not aware of. so what do you think?” he croons his head, all ominous, arriving to a conclusion. you can practically see the cogs turn in his brain. “you like me.”

"i never said that.”

house looks at you, rising in a smooth motion, as if to showcase his towering height, forcing you to look up at him. sitting down, he's not so large, but now, all you can think is that he's tall.

"you might not, but your body does," he croons, dangerous smirk playing about his face. his eyes probe your face, confidently with a proven theory. "pupils dilated..."

house grabs your wrist, eyes practically lighting up in delight at his impending diagnosis.

"…and pulse elevated. i understand that wilson thinks that love's a mystery to me, but the chemistry's incredibly simple," he says, softening his grip on you.

house doesn't let go, lingering in this proximity, leaning closer like some ghost and spirit you'll always look for. your breath hitches, but house doesn't afford you time to quite think, capturing your lips in a kiss that you reciprocate, clutching onto his arms for balance.

you feel one of his hand snake to the nook of your back, pushing you flush against him. house keeps his other hand cupping your cheek and jaw, large enough to cover that expanse of your face. it's a little dry and rough, but you don't mind, all too preoccupied with his lips.

house makes good work on you. his lips are even better than you'd imagine, but you finally register his words and what you were doing, so you pull away. the furrow of your brows returning, apprehensive about his next words.

you whisper, “i thought you didn't like me.”

"i was lying," he shrugs. "i needed to see if i was right, and i was."

"so you figured me out?"

"you like me,” house concludes, triumphant. “i was right.”

“i thought this was wilson’s hypothesis?” you cock a brow.

“hypothesis,” he nods before flicking your head. “but i can’t give him the credit for my diagnosis.”

you let out an airy laugh, relieved that he didn't make you spell it out for him. "you're an ass, you know?"

his eyes are proudly heralding trumpets. you could practically hear the victory going off them.

"it comes with the sitting arrangement."

[runawrites-blog]

I Could Just Eat You Out (Deadpool x Reader)

Summary: A little verbal slip-up leads to Wade going down on you. It's the only way to shut him up. (Female Reader) Word Count: 1,092 Warnings: SMUT (Minors Do Not Interact). Explicit Sexual Content. Oral (Female Receiving). Sort Of Sub! Wade Wilson. No Y/N. No Deadpool and Wolverine Spoilers. Crossposted on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58067737 A/N: My friend I watched Deadpool and Wolverine in the cinema a few days ago and it re-awakened my crush on Deadpool. This is my first time writing a reader insert for Deadpool, please be nice. This contains NO SPOILERS.

---

“I could just eat you out.”

“Out?”

“I mean, eat you up. Sorry, verbal autocorrect.”

“No takebacks!”

That was what had led to this, had led to you leaning back on your sofa, legs spread with Wade kneeling between them, holding onto both your thighs as he kissed the insides of them, teasing you as he got closer and closer to where you wanted his mouth. When he once more stopped just short of your clit you groaned and gripped onto his shoulders.

“Stop teasing me, Wade.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” He grinned up at you before sinking his teeth into the flesh of your thigh, making you whimper quietly. “Now where’s that smart mouth you always like to run? Come on, speak up.”

“I run my mouth? Have you-- Have you listened to yourself lately?”

With that, you used the heel of your foot pressing into his upper back to bring him closer, releasing a sigh of relief when his mouth finally connected with your dripping folds. You watched him blink in surprise but then quickly, he shrugged his shoulders and ran his tongue up between your lips, making you gasp in pleasure.

“Finally!”

His small chuckle sent vibrations right through your core and you moaned out, legs clenching around his head as your nails dug into the flesh of his shoulders. “This is great. I’ve always loved tacos.”

“If-- If you call my pussy a-- a taco one more fucking time, I’ll kick you out.”

Wade pulled back at that, cocking his head to the side and giving you an affectionate grin. “And punish yourself? Please, don’t make me laugh. I get you so wet that the first few rows in the cinema will need a flash warning.”

“Do you ever shut up?”

“You could make me.”

With that, you used both the heel of your foot against his back and your hands to pull him back until his lower face was buried inside of you. And thankfully, he did shut up for more than five seconds in favour of properly eating you out, tongue lapping at your folds, fingers digging into your thighs and nose brushing against your clit. It didn’t take long for you to dissolve into a moaning mess under his ministrations, your nails leaving small crescent shapes in the flesh of his shoulders as your thighs clenched and quivered around him.

Every clench of your tighs around his head got a moan out of him that send vibrations right into your clit and you gasped out almost in unison with the noises he was making. When he moved on from lapping at you to gently wrapping his lips around your clit you let out a high-pitched whine, making his eyes widen. You didn’t know whether or not he knew this noise to be one of pleasure or if he thought he’d hurt you but you didn't care either way. Before he could pull back even an inch you stopped him.

“Don’t-- Don’t stop, please.”

That was all the encouragement he needed as he began his gentle suckling of your clit, his lips periodically parting to make way for his tongue so he could circle it around the small bud of nerves. Pleasure shot through your body and you all but choked Wade with your thighs which unsurprisingly made him even more eager in his ministrations. His lips moved along yours, tongue circling your clit and the obscene slurping noises he was making were pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Wade, so-- so close!”

You had expected him to say something because when had he ever not kept his mouth shut but he kept quiet, pressing his face further into your core with such vigor that it made your head spin at the sight alone. He was so eager, lapping at your folds, tongue switching between exploring your pussy and licking at your clit while his hands clutched at your thighs.

“Fuck, please don’t stop. You’re so good at this. So good, Wade.”

One of his hands left your tigh, disappearing down his body and you heard the noise of a zipper being undone but he didn’t say a word, mouth much too occupied. The other hand now also left your tigh and you gasped loudly in surprise when he plunged two of them into your pussy, scissoring them.

“Deeper, please. Almost there.” You gasped out as Wade put another finger inside of you, angling them in just the right way. “Fuck, you’re so good, Wade. So good.”

Another keening moan tore from Wade’s throat at your praise and that, combines with a particularly precise thrust of his fingers and his wet tongue pressing tightly against your clit made you stumble over the edge. Your orgasm ripped through you in waves, legs quivering, pussy clenching around Wade’s tongue and chest heaving. Vaguely, you registered him moaning against you, his eyes falling shut as he worked you through your orgasm.

When you eventually came down from your height and felt him still lapping at your pussy, you brought your foot off his back to use it to shove him off you, too sensitive to let him continue. With a kiss to your clit he relented, drawing back and resting his cheek against your tight as he grinned up at you, chin and lips glistening with your juices and eyes hooded with pleasure.

You sat with him for a few moments, hands behind your body and leaning back onto them, eyes locked with Wade’s as he stared up at you in utter adoration. The hand he’d previously had inside of you came down to wrap around your calf, fingers gently digging into your flesh. When he nuzzled against your thigh you moved one of your hands to his face, cupping his cheek and stroking your thumb over it. He released a soft sigh and turned his head to kiss your palm.

“Nothing to say, Merc with a Mouth?” You asked softly, getting a small chuckle out of him before you nodded your head toward where his other hand was still resting down his body and out of your sight. “Want me to return the favour?”

He shook his head, bringing up the hand so you could see that it was coated in his semen before he wiped it at his pants. “No need.”

“I keep forgetting how quickly eating pussy shuts you up.” You chuckled affectionately, still stroking his cheek gently. “I should ask you to do it more often.”

“All you gotta do is ask.”

[pellucid-constellations]

Faking It

Pairing: College Athlete!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes was in love with his girl—disgustingly, annoyingly so. Enough to start fights on the ice just to make sure he saw her after a game.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: This is FLUFF!! With HOCKEY MAN

a/n:​​​ This was originally something completely different but then I hated it so now it's all fluff and now I do not hate it. Pleaseeeee let me know what you think and if you enjoy it!! I love you thanks for reading ❤️❤️❤️

Masterlist

~~

“Jesus Christ, Buck. Again?” 

Bucky grinned, split lip tightening uncomfortably. When he turned to his captain, he had the gall to act oblivious. “What do you mean, captain?” 

Steve gave him a disapproving look. “Give it up, pal. There was no need to pick a fight with that guy and you know it.” 

“He was talking shit about the team!” 

“They’ll always be a player talking shit about the team.” 

“Then why’re you breathing down my neck right now, huh? We won. Be happy, Cap,” Bucky encouraged, slinging an arm over his shoulder. Steve raised a brow back at him but was clearly fighting back a smirk. Bucky could tell by the way his eyes lifted, contrasting his deep—albeit fake—frown. 

In truth, Bucky had been looking for a fight. He’d been looking for a plethora of fights since the start of the season, and was usually quite successful with his venture. It had garnered him quite the reputation, but where the crowd saw it as a short-fuse on a large man, Steve saw it for what it really was. 

An opportunity to see you. 

And while Steve could appreciate the dedication, it made one of his best players ride out unnecessary time in the penalty box. 

“I am happy. Just not with you,” Steve clarified, knocking Bucky’s arm away. 

Bucky let out a sound close to a scoff. “Even with my extra time in the sin bin I still helped carry. It’s just part of the game, Steve. Gotta protect the team’s pride.” 

“Yeah,” Steve drawled sarcastically, stopping in front of the locker room doors. “I’m sure that was your reasoning. What was it last game? Someone said something about your ma?” 

“Hey, he did.” 

“They always do.”

Heavy footsteps created a commotion in the hall, the rest of the team finally catching up with the pair. They funneled their way into the room for showers and a fresh change of clothes, and Steve stood with his crossed arms leaning against the wall, somehow still directing an admonishing look towards Bucky amidst the crowd. Bucky did his best to look baffled by the unspoken accusation, but then Sam Wilson passed by and Bucky’s ploy was disintegrated. 

“Hey man,” Sam greeted, slapping a friendly hand against Bucky’s arm as he passed. “You let someone beat the shit out of you again so you could go see your girl?” 

Bucky’s scoff returned, but this time Steve was having none of it. He kicked off of the wall and went to follow the rest of the team into the locker room. Bucky watched with a grimace, not only caught, but put on display.

“You know,” Steve called over his shoulder, not expecting Bucky to follow. “You’re dating the girl now. You don’t gotta keep up with this whole schtick.” 

“I don’t have a schtick,” he called back. At the responding laugh from Steve, Bucky yelled, “I don’t!” but no one was listening to him. Or believing him. 

But fine. If his schtick involved you, in any capacity, Bucky would admit to having one. 

Some of what Steve said was right. Bucky was dating you now. You were his girl and that would imply total access to you all the time, whenever he wanted. He didn’t need to pick fights or feign injuries anymore (the latter never really worked anyways), because he had a key to your apartment. And you were in his bed more weekends than not. 

But, damn, were you busy right now. 

Bucky had never really considered how much schooling went into becoming a physical therapist until he met you. You were typically swamped with papers and tests and requests from Dr. Cho, but this past month had been exponentially worse thanks to finals. He had seen you about once a week if he was lucky, and that was a generous estimation. Add your crazy schedule to the alarming amount of away games he had over the past few weeks and he was champing at the bit to see you. 

Bucky just prayed it was you in the training room today and not Dr. Cho. His odds were pretty favorable considering the team’s main trainer didn’t usually stick around after games if there were no major injuries, but there was always the off chance she let her interns go home early. But, knowing you, you would be in that room until the rink lights went off. 

God, he loved you. Every overworked, high-strung bit of you. 

He even loved the scolding look you shot him as he pushed open the training room doors, his bruises and cuts on full display. You dropped the pen you were tapping against an overflowing notebook and rocketed out of your rolling stool, and Bucky adored the way you stomped over to him, biting the inside of your cheek to stop the curse you clearly wanted to let free. 

“Hey, baby,” Bucky smiled, this time ignoring the sting in his lip. “Funny seeing you here.” 

You huffed, bringing careful fingers up to his chin. “Not very funny,” you mumbled. “Not when you look like someone hit you with their car.” 

Bucky let you fuss for a moment, following your touch as you turned his head back and forth and examined his split knuckles. This was your job, so obviously he let you do it, but he enjoyed watching you. So he didn’t stop you from lifting his jersey up to inspect his middle, because how else would he catch the cute way you scrunch your nose up in concentration? If he pulled his hands away when you started testing the range of motion in his wrists, when else would he be able to track your lips as you softly counted and mouthed gentle confirmations? 

Never. Because you were so damn busy. 

“Missed you,” Bucky said after sneaking a kiss on your forehead while you were prodding at the bruise on his collarbone. “I’ve been missing you a lot.” 

You let a small smile interrupt the disgruntlement on your face. Bucky grinned at the change, pressing another kiss to your hair while he still could. 

“Did you miss me enough to send a right hook into that guy’s jaw?” 

“Yes.” 

Your smile was gone again. Now you looked aghast. “Bucky.” 

“What?” he exclaimed, sliding his torn hands from your healing ones to wrap you in his embrace. “You want me to lie instead? Okay, fine. No, sweetheart, I didn’t start a fight just to have an excuse to see you. That guy got all these punches in on me because I’m out of practice, is all. I don’t think about you every waking second of my life, and while we’re at it, no I did not use your shampoo this morning because I miss how—”

“Okay, okay,” you laughed, resting your forehead on the divot in his chest. “I get it. Thanks for being truthful.” 

Bucky relished in the feel of you. He had been slightly worried that his state would cause you to be more upset than anything. If you weren’t so tired right now, there was a high chance you’d be yelling at him because of his recklessness instead of resting against his chest. So Bucky jumped at the opportunity, trailing one of his hands up to cup the back of your head. He craned his neck down, burying his face into the juncture of your neck. 

He hadn’t been lying about the shampoo. 

“I miss you too. Even if you act like an idiot sometimes,” you mumbled against his jersey. 

Something in Bucky felt lighter, warm. “Acting like an idiot’s the only way I get to see my girl.” 

You hummed. “Sorry ‘m so busy.” 

You had to be exhausted. Not even a single reprimand had tumbled from your mouth. Bucky had expected at least three. 

“When’s the last time you slept, baby?” Bucky kept his voice low, his thumb making unconscious circles against your hair. 

“I don’t know. In the night.” 

“Okay, thanks smart ass.” Bucky jostled you a bit until your eyes met his. “I meant when did you last take a break? Get a good night’s sleep?” 

You sighed, gaze trailing over his face. “Let me fix you up. Then we can play twenty questions.” 

“Baby—”

“No, Buck, this is the training room, if you haven’t noticed,” you quipped, stepping back and rifling through a few drawers. “Take a seat and I’ll fix you. That’s my job.” 

“Well, what about my job?” he grumbled back. 

“You have failed at your job. Your job is hockey and you instead played human punching bag.” 

“Not that job. My other job. The one where I take care of you.” 

You spun on your heel, a basket of supplies resting on your hip. The sweater that engulfed your frame had the university’s logo stamped across the front, but instead of jeans or slacks—the usual uniform for PT interns—you wore leggings. Your hair was pulled back in the most endearing, pretty mess, and Bucky’s chest hurt as he looked at you. 

“My tired girl,” he hummed, bringing his hand up to your cheek as you pushed him down on the exam chair. He sat if only to appease you, his feet still flat on the floor even with the tall seat.

“I’m only a little tired,” you weakly fought. Bucky chuckled in response, sanitary paper crinkling beneath him. “Now let me clean you up.” 

You snapped gloves onto your hands and Bucky fought back a petulant whine. If he had been any other member of the team, those gloves would have been on the second they walked in the door. He should be grateful, then, that you only put them on when it was time to tend to his wounds, but he wasn’t. He missed you too much to feel latex instead of your skin. 

Bucky’s lip stung as you cleaned it, but he hardly flinched. If he moved, he would miss the pretty way you bit into your lip as you stared at him. 

“Remember when I’d be in here all the time?” he asked when you turned back down to grab antibiotic cream. 

You let out a tired laugh. “How could I forget? You picked a fight every game. If that didn't work you’d come stumbling in here complaining about a torn ACL or whatever. Big liar.” 

“I wouldn’t call it lying.” 

The smile you gave him was replicated on his own face. 

“You were literally lying.” You dabbed the cream on his lip, and then moved to the cut on his cheek. “You would come limping in here and then I’d see you an hour later running out to the parking lot.” 

“You wouldn’t look at me if I wasn’t injured.” 

“It was my job, Bucky!” you laughed, eyes giving away your amusement. “I wasn’t supposed to be fraternizing with the players. I’m pretty sure Cho only lets us be together because you wouldn’t leave her alone otherwise.” 

Bucky moved his hands from his thighs to your waist, tugging you closer as you worked. “Hey, sometimes drastic measures are needed.” 

“You called her multiple times a day… bought her an edible arrangement. Wait, didn’t you offer to drive her kids to school a few times?” 

“It worked, didn’t it,” he posed, nudging his nose against your cheek. You giggled, lightly slapping his arm to get away. 

“The edible arrangement was a good touch,” you relented. 

Bucky released you as you wiggled from his grip, flitting around the training room to put supplies back. He spotted your backpack in the corner of the room, unzipped with the water bottle tipping out. When you sat down at the computer to document his care, which he found a bit ridiculous (you only put a bandaid on his face), Bucky walked over and gathered your things. He did so slowly so you wouldn’t notice; you probably had plans to stay at the rink for another few hours, and that was not okay with him. 

With a final zip and your water bottle now standing upright, Bucky meandered over to your seated position. He hooked his chin over your shoulder as you worked, leaning over and tapping your phone screen for the time. His heart twisted warmly in his chest when he saw a picture of himself smiling under the 8:00 pm displayed on the homescreen. 

After all the pining and work it took to get you, Bucky often felt this wasn’t real. 

God, he loved you. 

“I know what you’re trying to do,” you whispered, clicking away at the computer. “I still have some charting to do. Peter hit his head yesterday and I have to do the follow up work.” 

Still in his uniform, Bucky wrapped you up from behind. Now you would both need a shower and he could get you to leave. He kissed the back of your head, and then your temple, and then your cheek as he craned his neck to watch you work. You smelled like fresh laundry and books and the subtle hint of your perfume.

“Parker’s fine. He was up and playing today. Let’s go home, baby,” Bucky murmured, most of his words spoken against your skin. 

“I know he’s okay. But head injuries are a completely different protocol and I have to—” 

“I miss you,” he reiterated. “And you’re working too hard. All the lights are off in the rink ‘cept for this one. Come back to my place. Let me take care of you.” 

“Why don’t you shower and change first? I’ll leave with you once you finish.” 

Bucky spun your stool around suddenly, one hand on your waist, the other reaching back to steady himself on the desk now at your back. “Oh no, don’t try to pull that on me. I get back in here, you’re gonna tell me you started something new you can only finish on the PT computer and you can’t leave for another hour. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

You let out a quick sigh, caught. “Well, what about—” 

“Nope,” Bucky interrupted. He used his far hand to shut the facility computer and then guided you up. “You’re coming home with me. You’re gonna sit in the car while I drive you to my apartment and then we’re gonna take a shower together and I’m gonna make you feel so good you don’t even remember what a concussion is.” 

“Bucky,” you chastised, hiding your face in his shoulder. 

His laugh shook your head. “Still so damn shy.” He reached down to grab your bag, slinging it over his shoulder and placing a hand on the back of your neck, meeting your averted gaze. “Just me in here, baby.” 

“I know. But you don’t have to be so vulgar.” 

“Vulgar? Sweetheart, if you want vulgar I’ll tell you exactly what I’m gonna do to you the second we—” 

You slapped your hand over his mouth, careful for the delicate skin there. Still, Bucky was sure you could feel his smile against your skin, and he fought back an even bigger one when he saw the embarrassed twist of your brow. 

Slowly, he pried your wrist down, kissing the palm of your hand on the way. “Sorry,” he whispered, not sorry in the slightest.

You pursed your lips, flustered. “You’re such an antagonizer.”

Bucky could do this every day and never grow tired of it. It had been months now and he found himself only wanting you more. 

“Can’t help it. I love you.”

Your faux annoyance morphed into a bashful smile, the kind Bucky remembered from his time faking injuries. It was reminiscent of when you were trying not to laugh at his jokes, or smile at his flirting, or give him any reaction he was looking for. 

But he always got what he wanted in the end. 

And, more than anything, he wanted you. 

“That one do the trick?” Bucky asked. “Am I finally getting my girl to come home with me?” 

When you looked up at him with raised brows and a smile twisted up at the corners, he knew you’d given up. Perfect timing, too, because—in all honesty—Bucky had been punched in the side during his on-ice tussle, and his ribs were starting to hurt. You were going to be pissed when you saw the bruise form tomorrow morning, but you would be pissed in his bed, so it was worth it to Bucky.

“I have to get a little bit of homework done when we get there,” you reasoned, pointing an accusing finger at your boyfriend. 

He threw his hands up in surrender, dropping one down over your shoulders as you both walked out. “Okay, okay. Homework at my place, I got it.” 

“That comes first, Bucky. Before anything else. Shower, then homework, and then… other things.” 

“I know what first means, baby.” 

“Good.” 

But Bucky had other plans, and they did not involve homework. He was pretty sure you were ahead, anyways. Like, weeks ahead, actually. 

“You eat dinner yet?” he asked, fishing his keys from his pocket. 

You looked up at him, incredulous. “What did I just say?” 

“What?” he defended, tugging you closer as the wind in the parking lot whipped at your clothes. “I can’t make sure my girl’s had dinner? What am I allowed to do?”

You only scoffed, tucking yourself further into his side. “Keep me warm.” 

“Always, baby.” 

[selfcarecap]

Dear Santa

✧ Logan Howlett x female!reader x Wade Wilson

✧ summary: Your best friend and roommate Wade is a little lonely over the holidays, third-wheeling with you and Logan the entire time. But the holidays are all about giving, so you and Logan decide to fulfil some of the more sexual wishes on Wade’s wishlist. Or: You have a threesome with Logan and Wade.

✧ warnings: smut 18+ (oral sex, piv sex, cum eating, frotting kinda, liittle bit of ass eating (f rec); deffffinitely attraction between Wade and Logan but the focus is on the reader), Christmas mention (just for the seasonal vibes, not the religion obv. wanted to make it neutral originally but sorry I needed Christmas vibes specifically!!), this is my first time writing Wade beyond a few lines, idk if I did him justice but either way this was so fun to write!

gorgeous dividers by @dollywons <3

✧ word count: 4.7k

Wade Wilson likes to flirt. That’s no secret. 

But he’s been even more flirty recently, in the weeks leading up to the winter holidays. In fact, he’s been so flirty that you had to check in with your boyfriend Logan to make sure that he doesn’t mind. 

And no, Logan doesn’t mind. If anything, he enjoys watching how Wade makes you squirm with the sexual remarks that you have to pretend are below your level but you actually quite enjoy. 

It started when you bought yourself some cute Christmas pyjamas, pink and with a cheesy pattern on them. 

“You look so cute, I could just eat you out,” Wade said as soon as he saw you in it. 

You sat down between him and Logan on the sofa, ready for your first December movie night, and you shared an unsure look with your boyfriend. 

“Don’t you mean you could just eat her up?” Logan asked, an eyebrow raised. 

Wade considered it for a moment. “Hmm, no. I said the right thing.”

You spent the rest of the night flustered, leaning into Logan and hiding your face in his neck as deeply as you could. 

-

The next time it happens is when you get out of the car after buying some festive decorations for your shared apartment with Wade. 

You’re getting the shopping bags from the back when you notice him still in the driver’s seat, leaning over to inspect the place you were just sitting. 

“What are you doing?” you ask Wade, cheeks heating up. 

“I was just checking if you were sitting in a pile of sugar, cause that ass is looking sweet.”

-

“You know why they call me Wilson?” he asks you over breakfast one time. 

“Because that’s your last name?”

“No, because I will soon be between your legs.”

You take a bite of your food, humming, “That one still needs some work.”

Wade nods, “I know, still experimenting on the execution. Thanks for the feedback.”

-

“Does my tongue taste funny to you?”

You roll your eyes at Wade. “Ew.”

“No, I mean it, I think I’m having an allergic reaction. Can you at least look at it?”

“Oh!” you hurry towards him. 

-

“You know, baby angel,” he tells you one afternoon, “I think you’re the only one who can still be on Santa’s nice list despite being so naughty.”

Your eyebrows inch closer together, “How am I naughty?”

“Your bedroom is right next to mine, Miss likes-being-spanked.”

“Oh…” is all you manage to say. 

“But from what I hear in there you are a good girl, so that checks out with Santa’s nice list.”

-

It’s not strange per se that he’s acting this way, but it still makes more sense when you find Wade’s Christmas wishlist. 

You’re in his bedroom to get back a hoodie of yours that he borrowed ‘because it smells like you’ and he wanted to cuddle it while he sleeps. He said it so sweetly that you couldn’t say no, though you hope cuddling is really all he did to it. 

You find the piece of paper jammed between the bedframe and the mattress, and it only catches your eye because of the messy ‘Dear Santa’ scribbled at the top. 

Wade is always graphic, but reading his wishlist still makes a tingle run up your spine. All that’s on the list is things he wants to do with you and to you, all of sexual nature, of course. Logan is involved too. 

You read Wade’s wishes and get giddy, running to your bedroom to show Logan. 

You’ve been struggling to find a meaningful Christmas gift for Wade, so this is going to be perfect. Now all you have to do is wait for the next horny joke – and you’re sure that won’t be long.

-

It’s Christmas Eve and you and Logan are watching some show when Wade comes in. It’s toasty warm, the fairy lights reflecting on the tv screen during every dark scene. You’re sitting between Logan’s spread legs with your back against his chest.

Wade sits down next to you two, eyes glued to your legs, bare underneath an oversized graphic t-shirt. You give him a minute before he says something.

His words come three seconds later.

“If your left leg is Thanksgiving, and your right leg is Christmas, can I visit you between the holidays?”

You lean to the side to glance up at Logan, who gives you a subtle nod. You settle back against his chest, “Sure.”

“Wait, what?” Wade’s jaw drops.

You giggle, humouring him, “What do you wanna do when you visit me between the holidays?”

He scrambles for an answer, still surprised at your words, “Since Logan is my little honey badger,” your boyfriend huffs from behind you, “and honey badgers are named after their favourite food, I wanna know if your honey is as sweet as I’ve imagined.”

You laugh but Logan grumbles, “If you wanna eat her pussy, just say that.”

Wade rolls his eyes, holding a hand to the side of his mouth, “Honey badgers are no fun,” he says to you, “But yes, I wanna eat your pussy.”

“Okay,” you say, smiling.

His eyes light up. “Okay? Like, you’re giving me your consent okay?” 

“Yes, Wade,” you giggle, watching him fall to his knees in front of the sofa as he gently pushes your legs apart. His fingers against your skin immediately make you feel warm.

Before Wade can get to your panties, Logan reaches around from behind you and pulls the hem of your shirt down, blocking Wade’s view. “Ah,” he chides, “No fucking manners. You kiss her first before you get between her legs.”

Wade doesn’t have to be told twice.

Your lips meet with a fervour exactly like you would expect from Wade. You figured he’s been lonely the last few weeks, single and alone while you and Logan are still in the honeymoon phase. You’re glad to provide some love for Wade. He deserves it.

While Wade almost bites your face off, Logan’s hands find your hips, gently circling the skin there, and you can practically feel the heat from your underwear radiating in the little space between you.

Logan knows your body so well by now that he can tell immediately when you’re getting needy. He reaches around you, taking hold of Wade’s jaw, interrupting the kiss.

“Now,” Logan commands.

“Don’t boss me around, the only one who can boss me around is this little thing,” Wade’s hand trails up your knee. You giggle, trying to suppress the moan you want to let out.

You spread your legs for Wade as he gets back on the carpeted floor, hands smoothing up your legs, playing with the hem of your panties. You want to tell him to stop teasing, the butterflies in your stomach almost too much to bear.

He laughs, “Oh, who am I kidding? I don’t have the self control to tease you like this.”

You lift your hips for Wade to pull your panties all the way down your legs, grateful that he doesn’t comment on how wet they already are. You don’t comment on how he stuffs them in his pocket.

Logan helps Wade spread your legs further, two sets of strong hands digging into the flesh of your thighs. You’re getting wetter by the second.

“This is even better than seeing Hugh Jackman oiled up and shirtless with ‘Like a Prayer’ playing,” Wade says when he sees your pussy.

“What?”

“Huge who?”

Wade ignores the questions. “God,” he whispers, leaning in to press a kiss to your clit, and you resist the urge of your legs to weakly fall shut from the pleasure.

He takes his time with you, eating your pussy like a five course meal, making out with it like he never wants it to end. Wade moans against your skin even more than you moan from the pleasure.

He fucks you with one finger, then two, while he licks your clit, but it’s still not enough. Luckily, your boyfriend recognises your need.

“Quit squirming, will ya? So needy,” Logan scoffs, lifting your hips off him for a moment to pull down his sweats, taking out his hard cock. You give him a desperate nod before he can even ask anything, and Wade helps position you so that Logan can slowly sit you down on his dick, all three of you sighing in pleasure as he bottoms out.

“Mhmm, good girl. Much better. Was startin’ to get cold anyway.”

You nod mindlessly, pussy already pulsing around your boyfriend. 

“So fucking pretty,” Wade mumbles. He licks your clit, your pussy stuffed full with Logan’s dick.

Logan lifts your shirt over your head, discarding it in a corner of the sofa, playing with your tits from behind you. Wade looks up at your chest, tongue on your puffy clit, and moans so hard his eyes almost roll back. He brings a hand up to squeeze your tit, leaving his hand there.

“You close, baby?” Logan asks, able to feel your every squeeze around his cock, and you nod, grabbing his knee for support.

“Yeah, pretty girl, cum for us,” Wade parts with your pussy for just a split second to say this. Logan’s hand comes down from your boob to gently press down on the space between your abdomen and your pussy, and you feel everything three times more intensely.

Wade begins to suck on your clit, and that’s your undoing. You whimper as you try to fuck yourself on your boyfriend’s big cock just a little bit, squeezing around him, as Wade sloppily licks your clit to draw out your orgasm.

All of Logan’s willpower trying not to cum flows into your hips as he grabs you there. You feel a warm load of precum in your pussy, but he manages to resist the urge to cum, pulling you up and off his dick as soon as you stop pulsing with the aftershocks.

All three of you are out of breath. Logan turns you towards him to press a big kiss to your mouth, pinching your cheek, “You really needed to cum, hm? Did so well.”

“That’s three Michelin stars right there,” Wade says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and licking it afterwards.

You blink at Wade.

“Exceptional cuisine, worth a special journey?” he offers. 

“Michelin? I knew that guy…” Logan says, shaking his head a moment later, “You wanna keep going?”

You nod eagerly.

Your boyfriend smirks, “Let’s see if Wade can make you cum too.”

Wade puts a hand on his chest as he stands back up, hard dick tenting his sweatpants, “Je m’excuse. Were you not just there for me licking her pretty pussy until she came?”

Logan shrugs, “I was the one inside her, bub.”

Wade huffs, “That’s not how it works and you know it.”

You smile, pulling Wade’s face closer to kiss him again.

“Can I fuck you?” he asks in between kisses.

“Yes, but not yet.”

Logan completes your thought, “Not before I cum in her.” You smile at his possessiveness.

Wade puts his hands on his face, “Woah, wait. Did you two plan this? That’s so hot.”

You’re already on all fours, Logan getting on his knees behind you, rubbing his cock between your pussy lips. You sigh in pleasure, pawing at Wade’s sweatpants and pulling him to the sofa by the drawstrings.

He moans, pushing his sweats down and getting in front of you, “Well, merry fucking christmas to me.”

You kiss Wade by his hips and support yourself with a hand on his thigh. He gets the tiniest little bit harder, a brief flex of his dick, now fully hard. A drop of precum drips down, and you only just catch it with your palm before it lands on the sofa. 

Logan smiles behind you, “Can’t have him ruinin’ the sofa, hm, baby?”

You nod lazily, and look up at Wade, “Can I?”

“Holy shit, baby, of course you can.” Wade looks you right in the eyes when you open your mouth to take the head of his cock past your lips, moaning when you taste him.

Logan begins to fuck you at the same time, slowly at first. You suck Wade’s dick in the rhythm of Logan’s thrusts, slow but firm, that move you forward a little bit every time. Somehow, you manage to still look up at Wade with a little fucked out look in your eyes as your boyfriend fucks your wet pussy just how you like it.

“Such a good girl, baby,” Logan mumbles, “taking us both so well.”

Wade stutters “Yeah, yeahh, knew this would feel good but,” he needs a second to recalibrate when you move your head down to lick his balls, heavy cock falling against your cheek, spilling precum. Wade’s eyes fall shut as his head drops back.

He continues after a few moments, “but this feels like heaven.”

When you move back to his dick and take him into your mouth all wetly, Wade cums instantly. The pleasure of having him pulsing against your tongue and his cum spilling down your throat makes you clench around Logan’s cock so hard that he moans. 

“Yeah, baby, cum for me,” Logan sneaks a hand around your hip to play with your clit, and with Wade’s dick still throbbing against your tongue, you cum too. You feel Logan letting go, fucking his cum into your pussy that’s squeezing him with the pulse of your orgasm.

 You all come down from your shared high giddy and giggling, Wade’s hand smoothing over your cheek, Logan’s hand soothingly running down your spine.

Wade’s dick, still hard, flexes in front of your face when you look at him, sticking out your tongue, his creamy cum covering it. “Saved you some,” you say carefully, making sure to not let any of it spill from your mouth.

“You’re perfect,” he groans, bending down to kiss you and messily make out. Some of his cum spills from between your mouths, dripping down your chest.

Logan manhandles you to turn you around onto your back, and you bounce a little when you land. Then he bends down to lick Wade’s cum off your chest in one broad lick. You’re too excited yourself to pay attention to Wade’s reaction. 

Logan moves to rest your head in his lap by his lower thighs, cock hard again and close to your face. He nods between your legs, telling Wade, “there you go. She’s wanted this for a long time”

Your head snaps straight up so that you’re looking at Logan, your gazes meeting. Your skin heats up all the way down to your chest and Logan smirks, “It’s okay, princess. This pussy’s still mine.” He reaches between your legs to deliver a gentle slap to your pussy, collecting some of his cum from inside you on his fingers, bringing them to your mouth. You suck them eagerly, and then sit up briefly to pull his face into a kiss.

“I love how we taste together,” you tell him.

Wade gets between your legs and tuts at Logan. “What an animal, doesn’t even clean up after himself,” he huffs and promptly licks your pussy. He smirks up at you and Logan, “I love how you two taste too.” 

“Need you to fuck me, Wade.”

“You have no idea how long I’ve dreamed of hearing those words. Fucked my fist listening to you fucking so many times, gave myself friction burn.”

You and Logan share a smile. You know this; he talks to himself while he’s jerking off – you’re not sure if he’s aware.

Wade lines his dick up with your pussy, pushing your legs up against your chest, teasingly slapping his cock against your clit until you’re squirming. When Wade fucks you, he fucks you slowly, tauntingly yet desperately.

Logan lazily plays with his cock, slapping it against your cheek and your tongue from time to time, your mouth eagerly chasing after him, but he’s just teasing you, wants you to focus on Wade.

“Doin’ such a good job, baby,” Logan says from above you, stroking his hand over your cheek.

“Thank you, peanut,” Wade says, eyes closed, thinking Logan is talking to him. You both let him remain in that belief. 

Wade is lost in the feeling of your warm, wet and tight pussy around his dick, languidly fucking you as your pussy starts to squeeze around him more and more as you get closer to your own orgasm.

“God baby, feels better than anything I’ve ever felt. Can’t last much longer”, Wade rasps, playing with your clit. But it’s messy, and Logan can tell it won’t be enough for you. He bats Wade’s hand away and circles your clit instead.

You cum before Wade, moaning as your pussy clenches around him, triggering his orgasm. Your back arches as pleasure flows through your belly and spreads throughout your whole body, Wade’s hips desperately chasing to keep that heavenly feeling until he stills inside you while he’s bottomed out.

“Still haven’t made her cum,” Logan says, with a teasing smile.

Wade looks up, “I was the one inside of her, bub.”

You roll your eyes at their teasing each other, but you don’t care as long as it’s about your pleasure. You don’t care who made you cum.

“Bend over for me, baby,” Wade says, pulling out, “wanna see if that ass is really made of sugar.”

You laugh as you get on all fours, Wade pulling your hips in place. He bends down and licks your pussy where he just came in you, swallowing some of his cum. 

Then, he grabs your ass so hard your cheeks spread. Wade licks around your tight hole, and you wrap your hand around your boyfriend’s hard dick. Logan bends down to give you a kiss, and you moan into his mouth as the tip of Wade’s tongue pushes inside you.

You can’t deny that it feels good but you’ve never let Logan’s mouth stay near your ass long either. You squirm so that Wade moves away from your hips, and he gives you ass a teasing slap as he sits back up.

“Definitely made out of sugar,” he concludes.

Just when Wade is about to stand up, some more of his cum drips out of your pussy as you involuntarily clench around nothing, and he stuffs his face back between your legs. He sits back up with cum in his mouth, ready to kiss you, but you shake your head, looking up at Logan.

Your boyfriend pretends to be unaffected, but you can see behind it.

“Can he?” you ask Logan, and he agrees to it. You grab his jaw and open his mouth manually, biting your lip as you look at Wade. Logan’s skin is hot under your touch.

“Here you go, open up,” you beam at Logan, watching as Wade holds his jaw all tenderly, spitting his own cum into Logan’s mouth. You hold your breath as you wait for them to kiss, but the moment doesn’t come.

You visibly pout when they pull away without making out.

“I know, sugar bear, me too, but Peanut’s not ready yet,” Wade shrugs.

You press a quick kiss of encouragement to Logan’s lips, and he and Wade are on you again within the second, but you need a break after your orgasms. But that little exchange, their lips almost close enough to kiss, turned you on so much that you want to see more of them.

You tell them to sit together, facing each other, as close as they can. Their muscular thighs are tangled around each other’s hips, Logan’s leg resting over Wade’s on one side, vice versa on the other one. Their dicks are close enough to touch with just a little bit of assistance.

“Can I?” you ask, kneeling in front of the sofa.

“Can you what, princess?” Logan bites his lip.

“Rub your dicks together?”

“Yeah, but come here. Don’t wanna see the face it’s attached to.” Logan lies down and lifts you on top of him, your pussy in his face and your upper body by their pushed together crotches.

“Oh pfft, you know you love it,” Wade comments.

“He does,” you kiss him for reassurance. Logan is obviously into Wade, he just hasn’t admitted that to himself yet.

Logan begins to lick at your pussy, tongue playing with your clit. “Don’t. Can’t focus,” you warn with a teasing smile.

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”

You wrap one hand each around their cocks, just jerking them off for a few moments.

“Don’t make it so suspenseful, sugar bear, or I’ll cum from the anticipation alone.”

“Would that be a bad thing?” you shrug with one shoulder, smiling down at their throbbing dicks in your hands.

As much as you’d love to see Wade cumming all over himself before you’ve even started, you have other plans. You let some of your spit drip down over their tips, jacking them off a bit faster, hearing their breaths stutter.

“Peanut, you’re really missing out not being able to see her. She’s so gorgeous.”

“I know she is, Wade.”

You smile at their compliments, lowering your head to trail your tongue between their cocks, paying more attention to your boyfriend first, then to Wade. They taste of your pussy and their precum, wetting your tongue with their taste.

Playing with them for a bit, you rub their dicks together, jerking them off at the same time.

“You need some assistance?” Wade asks, sitting up more and moving his hips. All you have to do is hold your boyfriend’s dick in place as Wade grinds against him, rubbing his cock against Logan’s for a few moments.

“God that feels good, wanna cum,” Wade groans.

“Off,” you tell him, smiling when his hips still in defeat. You tease them both a little longer, rubbing their tips together until their precum mixes and they’re both close, but you don’t let them cum. 

You get off them, telling them to stand up while you sit on the sofa facing them, leaning back a little.

“Which one of you wants to cum on me first?” you ask, voice sweet and angelic. 

They both start jerking off immediately, and you almost drool at having these two tall, muscular men stroking their dicks right in front of you – and for you – fighting over who gets to drain their balls for you first.

It’s Wade who cums first, a string of obscenities leaving his mouth as he jerks his dick to orgasm, painting your stomach white with his cum. Logan isn’t far behind, telling you what a pretty girl you are as he cums over your belly and tits. Their cum mixes, and it becomes impossible to tell whose cum landed where.

You sit up to lick your boyfriend’s dick clean, then Wade’s, then you lie back, puffing out your chest.

“Can one of you get wipes to clean me?” you ask innocently, knowing exactly that’s not what they’re going to do. They get to their knees simultaneously, starting to lick their cum off you, licking you clean.

They sit down next to you afterwards, you sandwiched between them. They lift one leg of yours each over their lap, touching you all over, putting their hands between your legs.

“Such a good girl for us, hm?” Wade says.

Your boyfriend agrees. “Did such a good job, baby.”

“You wanna cum again? Wanna cum for Logan and me?”

You nod lazily, all blissed out already, “yes please.” Your eyes fall shut at how good it feels, and at some point you can barely tell who is kissing you, whose hand it is playing with your nipples, or whose fingers are inside your wet pussy.

You cum for them, clenching hard around the fingers inside your pussy as another hand grabs at your knee to keep your legs apart. When you open your eyes again after a few moments, both men are looking at you lovingly, and it’s Logan who slowly pulls his fingers out of your pussy, delivering a few gentle, smoothing circles over your clit.

You grab his wrist to bring his fingers up to your face, looking him in the eyes, at how they light up when you suck his fingers into your mouth to taste yourself, no matter how often he’s seen you do it.

“You’re such a lucky bastard, honey badger,” Wade smiles, leaning his head against the back of the sofa.

You innocently smile at Wade, “I’d say I’m quite lucky too.”

-

You end up cuddling in your and Logan’s shared bed, all fucked out of your minds, freshly showered but exhausted to bits. 

“All in all, a successful Christmas Eve,” Wade says, making you giggle.

You force yourself from your warm and cozy position between them when you remember Wade’s list, grabbing it off your bedside table, along with a pen.

Wade’s cheeks redden in recognition at the piece of paper, “You found that? That was just me writing fanfiction before bed one night.”

“We wanted to give you a nice gift,” Logan grumbles.

“Yeah,” you agree, “We didn’t want you to feel like you were third-wheeling all throughout the holidays.”

Wade smiles one of his sweet smiles, “Thank you, guys. You’ve made this little guy,” he points at his face, “and especially this big guy,” he points at his crotch, “very happy.”

“Let’s see if you got all your wishes.”

Dear Santa,

I’ve been an exceptionally good boy this year, my kill count is at a measly 34. I think I deserve a few things. Here are my wishes for Christmas this year:

- Eat out Logan’s girlfriend

“You know she has a name, right?” Logan huffs.

“Of course, but the writer didn’t want to have to use the dreaded y slash n.”

“What?” you cringe.

“Nothing, keep reading.” 

- Eat my or Logan’s cum out of her pussy

- Sword-fighting with Logan while his girlfriend supervises

- Cum eating contest off her body with Logan 

- Cuddle with them

“What genius came up with this?” Wade grins.

“We had to do some interpreting, but we got everything, right?”

Surprisingly, it’s Logan who points at the last wish, “We haven’t done that one yet.”

“Yippie!” Wade claps, “cuddle wuddle time.”

“Nevermind,” Logan says, ready to get up and sleep on the sofa, but you pull him back by the wrist, giggling.

You switch off the lights, putting Wade’s wishlist away – all wishes checked off.

Logan moves closer to you, pressing his chest against your back to cuddle, giving you a loving kiss before lying down.

“I love you, princess.”

“I love you too.”

You let Wade snuggle up to you as the little spoon, draping your arm over his chest, and he holds onto your wrist with a warm hand.

“You made me a very happy Christmas boy, you know that?”

You laugh, “We love you, Wade.”

“I love you too,” he says, and lies his head down on the pillow. You kiss the side of his head before you pull the blanket over yourself.

“Merry Christmas, Wade.”

Just as you’re about to fall asleep a while later, you hear Wade’s voice:

“You know that means Santa’s real, right?”

P.S. Thank you so much for reading <3 Let me know what you liked and reblog to get on Wade’s and Logan’s nice list 🤭😇 and Merry Christmas!!! <3

[eupheme]

Your best friend Wade who always jokingly flirts with you the way he flirts with everyone - and you hate it because you have a real genuine crush on him and the flirting doesn’t mean anything… does it? It has to take a mutual friend to be like “oh my god he’s in love with you and doesn’t know how to tell you, so that’s why he’s always joking about boners” (please and thank u ilu 😌)

omg avo this kicked my ass, the amount of pining for Wade as he (jokingly, you think) flirts with you would be off the charts 🥲💖 I wrote a little drabble with how that might go, I love you and your ideas - thanks so much for sending this to me!!!

— cause every time we touch (i get this feeling)

best friend!wade wilson x mutant!reader

<1k | flirting, dirty jokes, heaps of pining

Blow job. Leg Spreader. Slippery Nipple. Liquid Viagra. Sex on the Pool Table. Pink Silk Panties.

Each time Wade comes into Sister Margaret’s - which is four or five times a week - he asks for dirtier and more obscure drinks.

"Wishful thinking", he tells you, each time.

Even with the roll of your eyes, you have to admit that it keeps you on your toes. That you look forward to seeing your best friend so often - tamping down the jolt in your belly, night after night.

Reminding yourself that yes, he got you this job, but he's not here to see you.

That this always was his spot.

It had been an easy sell. Used to working overnight shifts - security, back then. After the disaster with Weasel, they had been desperate for a replacement. Wade had come to you immediately, dropping to his knees as you opened the door.

Winning you over with a "you could literally get paid to hang out with me. How is this not a win-win-win? How is this not your dream job?"

And here, you didn't have to hide what or who you were. Reading feelings and intent were a bonus, when a handshake could tell you everything you needed to know. Their feelings spilled as easily as they were written, when you were negotiating contracts.

It also helped in-house. A human lie detector. Able to break up fights, settle arguments. A party trick, when things got slow. The regulars trying to get things past you - tales based in truth spun tall, seeing when you'd catch them.

Wade never plays, but you think that's because you know him so well.

And what seems like a sell, quickly evolves into more. Warping, as days pass. Spending more time with a crush sounds tempting, on paper.

The reality is something else.

Yes, there is a seat saved for him at the bar. Literally saved - his name scrawled across the vinyl, and you still haven't been able to scrub it out. Stopping by at all hours to chit chat.

Teasing you - how he's "so glad he doesn't have to stalk you at your old job anymore". An over-the-top sigh about being relieved that you're safe now - in your new job, surrounded by mercs.

Begging for the best job. Puppy-dog eyes. Fake coupons for favors that would make a sinner blush. Crossing his heart that you could have anything, and he means anything you wanted, if he could only get "that thing involving the murder clowns".

It's enough to make you hope.

Later, at home - in the early hours as you're pulled under. Replaying his comments. The filthy jokes and the shameless flirting - wondering if that's all they were.

Wondering if he'd be waiting for you tomorrow, perched on his stool.

But there's the downfall.

You see him - but you also see him with everyone else.

The charming smiles. Head thrown back in a laugh as he works the room. A friend to all, and as you watch him - perched on the knee of a goddess of mercenary as he yaps away, you can't help the swift current of jealousy.

Of foolishness.

It's enough that you're almost regretting agreeing.

Your mood is sullen, as you wipe down glasses. Trying to ignore the ache when you see him flirt. That realization that the something special you thought he had with you, might just be a part of his personality.

And when Dopinder shuffles from the back with more ice for the chiller behind the bar, it only takes one look at you before he's sighing.

"Not again. Please, I am begging you. I cannot take more of your yearning.”

Your lips quirk. Hadn't realized you'd become that obvious. He'd become your go-to, in the long hours you spend together behind the bar. Pinkie-promising not to say a word - but you always thought you'd had a decent handle on your expressions.

"We don't have to talk about it." Your hands raise, placating, "Just let me yearn in peace. I'll get over it."

"You know that almost half of what DP makes a month is funneled back in here, right?" He gives you a long look, "Before you, I saw him once a week. I had to beg him to come get his paycheck."

Doubt still lingers.

"Doesn't mean anything," You shrug - eyes dropping, as you help him restock.

"You do not think Mr. Pool worships the ground you walk on?"

The intensity of his question has you side-eying him, "I mean... I don't think he sees me that way. He acts the same with me as he does with everyone."

“Sure.” He huffs, leaning against the bartop, just as Wade plunks down in the seat in front of you.

“God, I haven’t been over here in like-,” Wade checks a fake watch, “Fifteen minutes? Feels like longer. Felt like a fucking hour.”

Pivoting back and forth on the stool as he adds, “Is it possible for people to get separation anxiety? Or is that just dogs? Is this how Dogpool feels when I’m gone?”

You just manage to catch the last bit, as Dopinder slips away.

“Exactly the same.”

Tonight, Wade is the first person that sits down in front of you for the game.

A frown, as you peel off your gloves - your barrier, to the outside world.

His own already bare - sliding back-and-forth over his suit-clad thighs. You'd mistake it for nerves, if you weren't so sure Wade had never been nervous in his life.

"What's your story, Wilson?" You ask, "Hope you brought something good."

"Oh, it's a whopper. A real fucking doozy. Apparently, you're not gonna believe it. " His laugh is a little too loud, and your eyes narrow, "But let's give it a whirl, okay?"

There's a flicker, behind the bar. A sideways look towards the bar, where Dopinder's hands cover his face. You don't need to touch him to read the guilt written across his features - the way he almost flinches, under your glare.

You're going to fucking kill him.

The sound of your name brings you back.

“Ready to play?”

Wade's hands rest face-up on the table - an offering. For once in his life he almost looks serious, and it’s enough to bring you back.

A breath - before you align your own. Letting them drop down, skin mapping against skin for the first time.

It floods through you.

The lick of heat that almost feels like a caress. A deep yearn that causes your own heart to twinge, layering with the feeling of need. Desire. Want.

It's familiar. It mirrors something deep inside, something that’s become as much a part of you as flesh and bone.

Oh.

A laugh slips from you, breaking the beat of silence. Relief tinged with disbelief - your smile stretching wide.

“Yeah?” You breathe, softening.

“Yeah.” He laughs, “Thought I was being obvious. But you are pound-cake dense, apparently.”

Hands flipping over, to entwine between yours. Letting that feeling inside him linger, settling warm and comforting over your bare skin.

“But I like that about you.” Another huff of a laugh, “Like all of you, really. Always have.”

It makes your heart ache. In a way that finally feels full, feels right - instead of the near-agony you’ve been bearing for weeks.

Only you could be such an idiot.

thanks for reading! 💖

[birdyshewrote]

“Birthday Girl”

Wolverine x Female!Reader

written by birdy

Wade Wilson throws you a rink-a-dink birthday party every year, and this year is no exception. But this time, you have a new guest.. and he’s been watching you for a while.

Notes- hi. ive never written a fic before EVER, so pls be nice. this is mainly for me to be able to get my thoughts out of my head because I’ve been thinking about this man for way too long. happy birthday bitches 🫶

WARNINGS/TAGS: smut- 18+ Logan Howlett x Female!Reader, Logan calls reader “Kid”, light smoking and alcohol consumption, Wade being a menace

——————————————————————————

You had caught glances of him a few times in the hall. The scent of smoke, leather and alcohol that belonged to only him drifted in the air behind him for a few seconds even after he had walked into the apartment room across from yours. There had been a few times where you stepped into the elevator and musky cigar smoke had filled the small space. You didn’t complain though, secretly savoring the intoxicating smell, taking more, quicker breaths than you needed too. You couldn’t deny the knot it put in your stomach and the weakness it put in your legs before stepping out of the elevator, down the hall and into your own room.

Eventually, you were tired of the mystery. Two weeks into the seemingly one sided tension, you trapped your long time friend and even longer time across-the-hall neighbor, Wade Wilson, into the elevator with you. Ever since the stranger had moved in with Wade, he had stopped inviting you over. Your birthday was coming up, and so was your annual not-so-surprised birthday party. Once the elevator doors closed, you started,

“Hey, who’s your new roomie?”

Wade scoffed, putting a hand across his heart on his chest, the other gripping a full black trash bag that smelt of blood and for some reason bubblegum scented air fresheners. “THATS how I am greeted nowadays? No, ‘Hello Wade’, ‘Looking good Wade’, ‘Here’s that five bucks I owe you Wade,’

You roll your eyes, putting a hand on your hip stepping away from him. “Okay, first of all, I do not owe you five bucks. You OFFERED to pay for the funeral arrangements after you killed my fish-“

“He looked hungry, who knew fish could be over fed?” He interrupted.

“I told you before I left!” You argue back. “I was only gone two days and you-“ You rub your forehead and shake your head, frustrated. “Whatever. Not relevant. Hello Wade, you do look good.” You say, defeated.

Wade giggly adjusted his weight to his heels, to his tippy-toes, then back to his heels again “Thank you.” He said, satisfied, and turned back to the doors.

“You didn’t answer my question. Your roommate? Who is he?” You ask again as the elevator dings and the doors creakily open.

He raised an eyebrow, looking at you sideways as the two of you walked down the small lobby. “Uhm, news flash doll face, Blind Al is not new. She’s an OG. Been here a while, silly.”

“Not Al.” Talking to Wade was like trying to a horse with dementia. “You know, ‘Mr Tall and Handsome,’ always sulking, ‘I don’t care about no smoking rules.”

Wade throws his head back, “Ooohhhh, you mean Peanut. What about him?”

“No introduction?” You ask confused, watching Wade as he carried his trash down the hall, holding the entrance door open for you.

“Well, I don’t know. I guess Iuh… I forgot.” He stuttered as he led you down the wet alleyway, towards the dumpsters.

“Last month you called me into your room to show me your new toothbrush. You have a new roommate and you just, ‘forget’ to introduce us?”

Wade shrugs, shifting the thin, plastic bag straps in his hand uncomfortably as he walked.

The truth was, Wade did not forget. The truth was, in fact, that one of the first things Wade had done was mention your existence to Logan before he was even fully settled in the apartment.

“I think you two would hit it off, hardcore. And I mean, HARD.” Wade had said.

“Absolutely not.” Logan grumbled, immediately shutting him down, not even looking up from the blow-up mattress he was unrolling in the living room.

Wade sat on the couch arm rest, looking down at the burly man. “Come on Wolvie, let a girl heal your cold, withered heart. You’re a tough, ‘don’t get too close’ typa guy, she’s an ‘I can fix him’ type of girl, I personally think it’s a perfect match.”

“Shut the fuck up. I’m telling you to drop it.” He snapped, glaring up at Wade. “I don’t need you playing Cupid here, you hear me? I swear to God, if I hear you that you’ve even said my name to anyone I’ll get the fuck out of here and never look back. I don’t need to be getting mixed up in any of that shit right now.”

Maybe years ago Logan would have been a flirt, he wasn’t new to women or relationships, but he had been through too much. He had lost too much. He’d never admit it, but the truth was, the infamous Wolverine was scared. Scared of intimacy, scared of getting attached, scared of loss, scared of you. Still, this didn’t change the fact that he had been secretly watching you leave your apartment through the safety of the peephole of his own door. And yeah, maybe if you weren’t so loud coming out of your apartment he wouldn’t know your schedule within a week. Like what time you wake up to leave for work or school, or what time you come home. What days you take your trash out or do your laundry. And when he found one of your sweaters lying around the apartment when he first moved in, what should he have done with it? He was holding onto it for safe keeping. And yeah, he knew it was yours, but only because your sugary perfume clouded his nostrils and made his head feel fuzzy. It was so recognizable, he knew immediately the sweater was yours. Maybe if you wouldn’t drown yourself in the body mist he wouldn’t instinctively know when you were just in the hall, he told himself. It wasn’t his fault he had animalistic smelling.

He couldn’t, however, find an excuse for how he’d hesitate in front of his door, watching for the elevator to stop at your shared floor, wait for the doors to open and inhale the scent of your panties from down the hall once you saw him, then he’d unlock his door and rush in quickly. Sometimes if he was unlucky he’d steal a glance of your full body out of the corner of his eye.

None of this meant anything though. He could contain the animalistic urges he had towards you. Especially when he caught a glimpse of your thigh when you knelt to pick up a dropped grocery. He could handle himself when he heard your thick, sweet laugh through walls when watching a show or movie. But at the same time, what harm would it cause if he touched himself while inhaling the scent of your hair, sweat and perfume through your abandoned sweater late at night? And keeping it locked away in a locked dresser wasn’t creepy, it was just there until you asked Wade to look around for it.

He could handle himself from a distance. He knew this. He knew his limits.

He had been woken up from the couch after a long afternoon of drinking and despair by a loud “SURPRISE!” followed by laughter and clapping. He did not know there was a party going on, let alone a party for you. He was completely blindsided when you were standing within ten feet of him, in his living area, talking to Al and Wade and the others, laughing that sweet laugh

Shit..

Where could he escape? The front door was no longer an option, everyone was clustered in front. Maybe he could make a run for it through the bedroom and out the window? Or maybe take his chances down the escape ladder through the-

“Sleeping beauty has awaken!”

Shit.

Before you could blink, Wade was pulling you through the small cluster of friends to the couch, where a very confused, very hung over, very huge piece of man stood like a deer in headlights. This was your first time seeing him up close, and shit was he alluring. His hair was untamed and messy from his interrupted sleep, his thick brows furrowed. Frown lines prominent as his large muscles twitched under his shirt-

“Hey, his eyes are up there you horn dog.” Wade publicly snapped you back into reality. Immediately flustered, you began trying to save the situation that was doomed from the start.

“I wasn’t looking at- I wasn’t even doing anything, Wade!”

“It’s okay, I know you weren’t. He’s just a moron.” He put an understanding hand up as he spoke. Fuck his voice was so deep and low, almost a growl. It felt rich and threw shivers straight to the back of your throat and straight into the dark jeans you wore. You swallowed. Hard.

After an awkward greeting, Wade had basically pushed a drink into both of your hands and left you to fend for yourself. Logan took a seat on the couch, the worn furniture dipping under his weight. He was clearly uncomfortable. He kept his eyes low, rarely meeting yours. He threw his arm over the head of the couch, spreading his knees. He pulled out a cigar and gestured to it. You couldn’t tell if he was offering you one or asking if you’d mind if he smoked, you shook your head no to both. You politely sat next to him, pulling your legs under yourself next to him.

Unfortunately, this man was not the easiest to speak to.

“So, Logan. You’re new.” You fidget with the cup in your hands.

He lets out a low “Mhm” while taking a puff, then lets smoke pool out of his mouth and drizzle out of his nose, before speaking again. “Yeah. Don’t really know how I ended up here. Just, kind of did.”

You nod, looking around the room. 2016-2018 pop hits played on the pink Hello-Kitty speaker Wade had bought for himself, now sitting on the kitchen table next to the drinks. Various characters lounged around the apartment chatting and eating pizza and drinking.

“Seen you around, y’know.”

You turn to face him again.

“Oh?” You ask, sipping your drink.

He nods in return. “If you need help bringing groceries up to your room or somethin’, you can just let me know. Heard you drop a few things before.” His top lip twitches just the slightest in what you assume is his version of a smile. He puts the cigar back into his mouth and chews.

You furrow your brows at the sarcastic banter. “Oh yeah? Didn’t know I had a stalker.” You bite back, smiling while doing so.

“Not stalking you, kid. Just minding my own business and getting interrupted every two seconds by my noisy neighbor.”

After this, the two of you spoke more fluid. Relating in Wade’s schemes and circumstances became a common interest. You felt yourself becoming more and more comfortable with the man’s presence. After your second drink, your leg rested against the rough denim of his thick thigh. He said nothing about it, so you continued to speak to him. You were unaware of what he was thinking or feeling.

He was freaking the fuck out. Especially when you asked him to go outside with him to get some air. He agreed, and the two of you slipped out of your own party. The night was dark as you walked through the city-lit pathway to the side of the building. Logan watches you and takes another puff of his cigar as you stretch in the open air. You sigh, relieved to be out of the stuffy room.

You could feel his eyes on you. The heat and heaviness of his lingering eyesight, watching your every move as if you were his prey. It made you nervous. It made you intrigued. You wanted to be in his sight, and he wanted to keep watching you.

“You shouldn’t smoke so much, shit’s awful for you you know.” You say, leaning on the brick building next to the tall, muscular figure.

He gives you a slow, sharp smirk in return, his canines showing through resting on the cigar.

Your heart begins to thump and he looks deep into your eyes, like he sees through you.

You let out a shaky exhale as your smile fades and take a step closer to him. He takes the cigar out of his mouth and looks down at you, shaking his head.

“You don’t want this, kid.”

You pause, trying to read his face in the dim lighting. “I do, and I think you do too.” You speak low and soft, like if you’re too sudden with your movements he’ll get startled and dash away. You slowly raise a hand and rest it on his hard, warm chest. You feel it rise and lower, he’s heaving now.

You bring your face up, closer to his. He doesn’t move, so you whisper into his own lips, “Logan, it’s okay.”

The light encouragement is what he needed. He looks down at your parted lips, pushes the lit cigar into the brick wall next to you, putting it out and dropping it, before muttering back,

“Well, you are the birthday girl.”

He leans down to give you what you’ve been asking him for, and what he’s been yearning for. He kisses you, slow and respectful at first, stepping in front of you. He puts his large, rough hand in between your head and the jagged building, protecting you as he pushes you against the wall. You bring a soft hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down farther into your space. He tastes like alcohol and smoke, and you couldn’t get enough. The kiss gets sloppier as you welcome his tongue into your mouth. You look at his face through squinted eyes, only to see his brows furrowed in deep concentration and self-discipline as to not overstep. You shut your eyes again as you grab his other hand, dragging it to your waist. He lets out a soft, low groan in response to the contact of your skin. Your waist feels so soft and warm is his heavy grip. He softly paws at your side, then up your loose shirt. He pauses underneath your bra, and you arch your back in response.

He breaks away, a trail of saliva connecting the two of you momentarily before breaking. “This okay? You’re sure? I can touch you like this?” He’s almost pleading, even with all of the consent in your body. He looks down at you, eyes half lidded.

“Yes, Logan. Stop asking me.”

He nods, smiling slightly, and slowly shifts his long, thick fingers underneath the garment, and towards your chest. He brings his mouth to yours again, greedily taking and lapping at your mouth. The scent of your arousal intoxicates to him. You clench your legs together, to which Logan uses his thick, sturdy knee to break you open and apart. You feel exposed to him now, resting on his knee. The rough denim rubbing sends jolts to your throbbing core. The kissing is wet, his stubble rubs against your lips as he gently bites your tongue with his canines. His hand gently gropes your breast, while pushing his knee against your dampening soft area. He brings his calloused hand down back to your waist, slowly guiding your hips to rock against his knee. He uses his other hand against your head to gently grip your hair and push your head closer against his mouth.

Logan didn’t get you a birthday present, but he was definitely making up for it.

[nxtaliaistyping]

hi!!! could I ask for more Slade p links? He's so underrated, I'm sure he'd be so mean during it tho :sob:

Batrogues | p links part four

(Gotta be logged into Twitter for links to work)

nsfw 18+, part one here, part two here, part three here

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Slade Wilson/Deathstroke:

worship him so he can ruin you

Very much into placing bets (and he always wins)

Makes you dress for his entertainment

Also loves when you show off for the camera he makes you fuck in front of in one of the outfits he buys

You need to be able to take him all the way baby

Harvey Dent/Two-Face:

Loves feeling wanted and desirable, so when you get on your knees and do this, his brain shuts off

He can’t say no to you when you wear socks like that

When he comes home and sees you in the kitchen, he can’t help himself

Let him teach you a lesson, each flip of the coin decides what he does with you next

Loves when you bury your head in the sheets, gives him an ego boost

Edward Nygma/The Riddler:

You really pissed him off by interrupting his work, so this was a fitting punishment for a whore like you

Your throat training

Stockings and lingerie will always be his weakness, he’ll fuck you like this while making you say how much you love dressing up for the smartest man in Gotham <3

Has a small thing for doing it in semi public places, likes the knowledge that if anyone saw, they’d see what a pretty girl the riddler has all to himself

Claims he eats you out so it’s easy to fuck you…but we all know he loves it

Jonathan Crane/The Scarecrow:

This position + you with a little of his fear toxin in your system

Also this while he’s got you under the influence of his toxin

Pretty into pet play, so loves it when you send videos to him like this (even if it means he’ll punish you when he gets home)

He’s a meanie fr

Loves to keep you leashed

Threesome/Random assortment:

Black Mask wants to demonstrate how obedient you are, so he commands you lick Deathstroke’s little pet while she’s fucked

You know how Catwoman and The Riddler have a thing in some comics? Yeah well picture that…but then they both take you home

Edward and Jonathan share you, and Edward has to record it for…um…no reason in particular

Black Mask needed to make a deal with Harvey, and you were his final bargaining chip. After explaining to him what a filthy mouth you have, Harvey couldnt help but be curious

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