Imagine Asking Wade If He Still Likes You When Hes Literally Inside You LMAOOO I Just Know Hed Be So

imagine asking wade if he still likes you when he’s literally inside you LMAOOO I just know he’d be so flabbergasted

i know a normal people fan when i see one (18+, fluff)

but jokes aside, and dicks inside, wade would likely get whiplash; his head turning so fast he can hear a crack in his neck, staring at you like you're crazy because just seconds ago you'd been running your gentle hands over his skin. your fingers brush against the divots of his scarred skin, your cheek pressed to his chest, humming softly, close enough that your lashes tickle whenever you blink.

wade's a little out of breath, sticky with sweat, and miraculously, rendered speechless. to others, a rarity, but with you, while still rare, is more frequent, especially after sex.

sure, he drops a joke or two, but there is a window where wade likes to sit there, holding you, skin against skin, in silence; listening to the sounds of your shaky breaths as you come down from your high, the sounds of the bedsheets ruffling with slow movements from the both of you, even the sounds of the old crackly fan on his ceiling.

and so, in that small window of silence, the two of you lay there in a warm embrace, listening to each other's heartbeats as wade's dick slowly softens inside you.

but then that small window starts to close, the silence breaking with you. you shift, turning to press your chin against wade's chest while looking up at him, "hey," you whisper, a smile growing against your lips.

"hi," he whispers back to you, but he continues to stare at the window, watching the soft light of the rising sun peeking in through the white lace curtains you picked out, a part of you in the dingy apartment he shared with blind al.

"we've officially gone at it all night. fucking like rabbits. and i can't believe i'm saying this but, i'm fucking spent. i might need a few weeks to recover. i asked for a bone and you threw a whole skeleton at me, peanut."

you snort, rolling your eyes, "yeah, right."

"okay, fine, a week is too long." wade hums, he finds your hair and runs his hand over it, twirling a strand around his finger, "i'll be good as new by tonight or at least by the time you scroll to read another fic of me, of course."

you're still staring at him, and wade, ever the observant, notices. he shifts, sits up, holds onto your waist, and brings you up with him. you have to bite your tongue to hold back a moan, sensitive to the way he's touching you, the way his dick keeps you full.

wade raises his brows (or at least, where his brows would be), "what? is there something on my face? i know i'm ugly but i thought we were past that. your staring is making me a little self conscious, sweetbuns."

"wade?"

"yes, cupcake?"

"do you like me?"

"what-?" he stares at you, eyes wide and nearly popping out of his head. "do i- what? what the fuck kind of stupid ass fuck ass question is that? you think i don't like you? we literally fucked all night. literally did every position in the book. i let you peg me! you might be the only person on earth that matches my freak-"

"yeah, i know but-"

"bitch, i'm literally still inside you."

that's when you can't help but laugh, grinning against his neck when he wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer. you love the way his body emits warmth, and you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer like you want to live inside his skin.

wade holds you, his cheek pressing against the top of your head. and he groans loudly when you say, "you never answered my question."

"oh my god," he huffs dramatically, "of course i fucking like you. like no shit."

"okay, great. i was just making sure."

yeah so,

I like to think that if you were dating Wade he wouldn’t like it if you had any fictional crushes. Like hello??? I’m right here??? What do they have that I don’t??? Maybe whenever you’re watching a show or movie with one of your fictional crushes he would point at his eyes and then at the screen like ‘watch it buster’. If you get any merch of the characters? Expect them to be quickly replaced with Deadpool merch.

"Wade. Where's my Gojo Funko?"

Wade whistles innocently as he wanders into the bedroom, and you point at the place where Gojo was. Instead, perched in his place, is a tiny little Deadpool figurine with its legs crossed demurely.

"What's that, light of my life?"

You repeat the question, punctuating between words by jabbing your finger into his chest accusingly.

"Where. Is. Satoru. Gojo. You've kidnapped him and I want him returned to me, unharmed."

Wade holds his hands up.

"Whoa, okay, this isn't a hostage situation! He's fine. I have him somewhere safe and he's doing well." There's a beat. "Huh, actually now I say it out loud, maybe this is a hostage situation..."

"Wade...!"

"Okay, okay!" he fishes your figure out of his pocket and hands him to you. You kiss Gojo's little forehead and Wade groans.

"Come on, he's not even real! Why do you like him so much? Is this hunk of comic book antihero not enough for you, you have to look to this anime twink to satisfy your needs?"

"Baby," you say with a sigh, your cadence slow as if explaining to a toddler, "just because I think the cartoon man is hot doesn't mean I don't love you. Look." You clear room so that the Deadpool and Gojo figures can sit on your shelf, together, but first making them bonk heads together in a kiss. "There you are. The two of you are boyfriends now. Happy?"

Wade points to his eyes and then to Gojo's tiny plastic ones, the universal sign for I'm watching you. You sigh at him fondly. This is as close to a truce as you’ll get.

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I NEED TO PLAY FIGHT WITH LOGAN BADDDD!!!!

It always starts with some smart ass comment you make – something about his hair, or some sexual innuendo regarding his claws, and if you're really daring to test him, you make a comment regarding his age.

You can't help it that he's fun to rile up, almost like a kid on a sugar high. It's all too entertaining by the time you've gotten him past the point of annoyance.

He's sat beside you on the living room couch of the mansion, legs kicked up onto the ottoman, hair tufts somewhat losing their shape from the day, and a beer in one hand.

You're surprised he's made it a point to ignore you for the most part. Only giving you hums in acknowledgment to your jibes and continuing to take small sips of his beer.

That should've been your first warning that you weren't the one in control of the situation.

But, being the obnoxious person you were, paired with your determination to get some form of a reaction of out of him, you continued on.

"Y're a brat." Logan peers at you from the side, clicking his tongue against his cheek.

You mistakenly take the comment as fuel to your tease, loftly you raise turn your head to him, "So old you can't even think of a response can you–"

A soft object hits the side of your face full force, causing your head to whip to the side, mouth agape.

You immediately bring a hand up to nurse the place you'd been hit, and in the same breath, you turn to see Logan holding back a laugh, a mishapen pillow in hand.

Neither of you speak. Only exchanging an understanding look before you're tackling him on the couch in an attempt to keep him down.

The game is always the same – never a fight of who can hurt the other into submission but rather one of exhausting the other until they're forced to give up.

Logan gives you the upper hand as he had during your torment, only leading you to think you might win only for him to push you flat on your back to the couch with one of his hands holding the both of your wrists above your head before you could blink.

"What the hell, Logan!" You squeal, forcing your legs against his chest as you try to push yourself out from under the weight of him.

"What?" His voice drips with taunt, one of his thick brows arching, clearly amused at your futile struggle."You're really gonna let yourself get beat by an old man?"

You manage to wiggle one of your hands free and jab it against his side.

Logan snorts from above you, letting your other wrist go for a second as he readjusts himself atop you.

Slipping out from under him, you try to escape before you're being pulled into Logan's lap, his arms wrapped around your middle.

You struggle to free yourself from his grasp, and in the midst, you can hear him laugh from behind you, his chest vibrating against your back.

Though you know he'll harass you for his easy win until the day you die, you wave your metaphorical white flag as you relax into his hold, allowing your head to fall back against his shoulder.

Logan dips his chin to look down at your pout, mimicking the faux expression.

"You wanna apologize yet?" His frown could be heard through his voice.

For some reason, that inspires you to provoke him again. You're not sure if it's the way he worded it; the words coming off his tongue as though he'd expected you to give up just that easily.

"Nuh-uh," you shake your head.

"Nuh-uh," Logan parrots you with a smile, exaggerating your expression and mimicking it back to you.

You go to tickle him again and am instantly met by both of your wrists being grabbed by both his hands.

You don't get very far the rest of the night, unfortunately.

Pilot meet Series🤝

COLORED SOME SKETCHES!!