#deadpool drabble

『••✎••』

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.

The dinner rush is winding down, but that doesn’t mean The Wolf’s Den is free from its fair share of entitled customers. Tonight, it’s some guy at the takeout counter - late picking up his order and now demanding it be reheated like it’s the kitchen’s fault he couldn’t get his timing right.

Wade, as usual, tries to handle the situation his way. “Sir, I totally understand where you’re coming from,” Wade says, leaning on the counter, his tone dripping with false sympathy. “If I had a nickel for every time I let my crippling indecision ruin my meal, I’d have - well, I wouldn’t have to work here, let’s put it that way.”

The man glares. “Are you serious right now?”

“Not even a little bit,” Wade replies cheerfully. “But listen, I get it. You’re hungry. You want your food hot.” He presses a hand to his chest, feigning deep understanding. “But the thing is, our kitchen staff is very busy. If you wanted piping hot food, maybe you should’ve, I don’t know, picked it up when it was ready instead of rolling in here half an hour late like you’re rolling into the drive thru - ”

“Where’s your manager?” The guy snaps.

Wade gasps dramatically. “Oh, no, don’t do that - anything but that.” He leans closer. “Tell you what - how about we try something a little different? I’ll get you a specialist.” He spins on his heel and marches over to you where you’re retying your apron behind the counter. “You’re up, sunshine,” Wade says, clapping his hands. “You know how men - ” He rolls his eyes, “ - are totally and explicably immune to your adorable charm and sweet smile? Maybe you can get this guy to chill the fuck out before I lose my job.”

You sigh, smoothing down your uniform. You’re used to handling difficult customers. Most of the time, a calm demeanor and a friendly tone can do the trick. You approach the counter with a warm, polite smile. “Hi, sir,” You say in your usual sweet tone. “I heard there was an issue with your order?”

The guy barely looks at you, just scoffs. “Yeah, I want my food reheated. Shouldn’t be that hard, right?”

You keep your pleasant expression. “I completely understand, but unfortunately, once food is prepared for takeout, we aren’t able to reheat it. We have to make sure everything’s fresh and handled safely.”

The guy sneers. “So what, you’re just gonna leave me with cold food?”

You remain patient. “It’s still warm, sir, but if you’d like, I can - ”

“Jesus Christ, are you dumb?” The man mutters, shaking his head. “Is it that hard to put something back in the oven for two minutes?”

Wade gasps, looking between them. “Ohhh, big mistake there, buddy.” He exhales anxiously.

Your pleasant expression doesn’t falter - but inside, your stomach twists. It’s not the first time you’ve been called something like that by a rude customer, and it probably won’t be the last. The difference this time is that Logan is in the kitchen. And if there’s one thing you know, it’s that Logan doesn’t take kindly to people disrespecting you. So instead of arguing, instead of giving the man the satisfaction of getting a rise out of you, you simply straighten your apron and say, “Let me get our head chef for you.”

Then, without another word, you turn and walk straight into the kitchen. The moment you step inside, Logan is already looking at you, like he sensed something was wrong the second you appeared. “What’s goin’ on, baby?” He asks, wiping his hands on a towel.

You exhale. “We’ve got a guy at the counter who wants his food reheated even though he was late picking it up.”

Logan nods once. “Okay. So what’s the problem?”

You shift, crossing your arms. “I tried to explain we don’t do that, but he’s just looking for a fight.” You hesitate. “And…he called me dumb.”

The kitchen falls silent.

“Who?” Logan asks, his voice low, dangerous. You cross your arms, rolling your eyes as if to say it’s not worth it, but Logan needs to know. His girl shouldn’t have to deal with some disrespectful prick just for doing her job. You had seen Logan annoyed, has seen him grumpy, but you have never seen him look quite like this. Logan exhales slowly, nostrils flaring. Then, in a voice so calm it’s dangerous, he says, “Stay here.”

“Logan,” You warn, touching his arm, but you know better than to stop him. He glances down at you, softening just for a moment. “Don’t do anything that’ll get you fired.”

“I’m just gonna talk to him, sweetheart.” Logan says, though the dark glint in his eyes suggests it won’t be a friendly conversation. And before you can say another word, Logan tosses the towel onto the counter and stalks out of the kitchen. He was already in a foul mood from the dinner rush, but the second you told him what the customer had said to you, something inside him snapped.

Wade, who has been standing by the pass watching the scene unfold, raises a gloved hand. “Oh, oh, I can help with this one. He’s the sweaty guy at the front counter with a bad combover and a ‘will try to stiff a hooker’ attitude. Kind of looks like an off-brand used car salesman who tells women to smile more.”

Logan is already untying his apron and stepping around the pass before Wade even finishes, stalking toward the pick-up counter where the customer is still grumbling about his food, oblivious to the impending storm. “You the one givin’ my girl a hard time?” Logan’s voice was low, controlled, but there was a dangerous edge to it.

The customer, a middle-aged man with an entitled sneer, scoffed, shifting his weight as if unimpressed. “All I said was my food wasn’t warm enough, and she acted like I asked her to solve a damn math problem.”

Wade, standing off to the side, let out a low whistle. “Buddy, you just stepped on a landmine, and I gotta say, I’m glad I can grow everything back so I can watch this closely.”

Logan didn’t acknowledge Wade’s commentary. He kept his eyes locked on the man in front of him, his jaw clenched so tight the muscle ticked. “You call her dumb?” His voice was dangerously even.

The customer hesitated for a moment before doubling down. “Look, I just - ”

“Did you call her dumb?” Logan repeated, stepping closer, his sheer presence enough to make the man falter.

The customer swallowed, suddenly very aware of how much smaller he was compared to Logan. “I - Look, I didn’t mean - ”

“You didn’t mean shit,” Logan cut him off, voice sharper now. “You’re the dumbass who ordered pick-up and then showed up late. Now you wanna blame someone else ‘cause your food ain’t hot? That’s on you. Not her.”

The man looked around, suddenly aware of the eyes on him. “It’s just food, man, not a big deal.”

Logan’s eyes darkened, his fists flexing at his sides. “Yeah? Then maybe you should’ve just ate it and kept your mouth shut instead of runnin’ it at my girl.”

Standing just behind Logan, your hands on your hips, you tilt your head at the customer, unimpressed with him. “I was happy to offer to have it remade for you, but you decided to be rude instead.”

The customer shifted uncomfortably, suddenly very aware that he was the bad guy in this situation. Wade, ever the chaotic instigator, leaned in and whispered, “I’d apologize if I were you. He once beat a man with his own shoe for less.”

The customer must’ve believed it, because he finally relented, clearing his throat. “I, uh…maybe I was out of line.” He muttered.

You raised a brow. “Maybe?”

The man exhaled sharply, avoiding Logan’s still-intimidating gaze. “I’m sorry, alright?”

Logan held his stare for another few seconds before he finally stepped back, his lip curling. “Yeah. You are.” He says, voice a quiet growl. “Now, you got two choices. Take your food and leave or leave wearing it. Either way, you’re done talkin’ to her.”

The man opens and closes his mouth, his ego visibly warring with his self-preservation instincts. He must decide he values his bones in their current, unbroken state because he grabs his bag of food without another word and practically scurries out of the restaurant.

A beat of silence passes before Wade lets out a slow whistle. “Hot damn, Peanut. You just scared that man so bad, his soul left his body behind.”

Logan ignores him, turning back to you. “You good?”

You smirk, crossing your arms. “You know that isn’t always necessary, right?”

“Yeah,” Logan shrugs, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “But I had time.”

You soften at that, and Wade dramatically wipes an imaginary tear from his eye. “Beautiful. Just beautiful. It’s like a romantic action movie with a side of aggressive customer service.” Logan rolls his eyes and heads back to the kitchen, pulling you along with him, deciding to keep you close the rest of the shift. Wade, still grinning, calls after the two of you. “Hey, next time, let me be the one to threaten people! I’ve got way more colorful material than ‘take your food or wear it’!”

🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️

This was inspired by a bistro huddy skit after a few of you mentioned him in the comments and in my ask box. It made me want to check out his videos! It was so funny, I simply had to tailor it to line cook!logan😂

{✰} wade loves cooking and he would get all dramatic and make you a full-course meal as if he's on chopped or something. he wants you to pretend to be gordon ramsay

{✰} wade loves spending money on you, he doesn't use the money for anything besides food and rent for his apartment, so he loves spending it on you. whatever you want, he gets it for you. any time you go out to dinner wade will threaten to drop your wallet off a cliff because "why're you trying to pay? don't do that again or i will throw your wallet off a cliff and into some water."

{✰} wade would get matching nails with you, whatever set you get, he's ready to get a matching set.

{✰} wade doesn't like to have his mask off in public because of his scars and at first, he didn't even show you his face half the time but now that you guys have been together for so long, he takes it off around you because he knows it doesn't phase you.

{✰} wade loves physical touch so naturally, he would be all over you. wade likes to think of himself as a murderous teddy bear that only really cares about you.

{✰} wade doesn't like arguing with you unless it's playfully and not about anything serious but if it's a serious argument then he will start to get anxious and unconsciously start to self-sabotage.

{✰} wade gets emotional over chick flicks and when you ask if he's crying he'll say, "of course not...it's just a little dusty in here."

{✰} wade likes bringing you souvenirs from the countries he's visited for work and he brings you random trinkets that you will never use but he lights up when he brings them to you so you put them on display around your shared apartment.

{✰} nsfw ::

{✰} wade loves kissing, he likes the feel of your lips on his. he likes to suck on your bottom lip making you whine into his mouth.

{✰} wade is possessive and jealous, he will mark your neck just so everyone could see that you're taken and no one else could have your attention. he wouldn't blame you for being ogled but he would take it out on you, fucking into you so roughly and so deeply while you cry into the sheets, "fuck, you're mine. this pussy is mine. say it, say it's mine." you couldn't do anything but moan loudly and say exactly that, "fuck, daddy! it's yours, i'm yours!

{✰} wade is into thigh riding. he will watch you chase your release on his thigh before fucking the way you want him to, he ultimately wants to see you beg him to fuck you.

{✰} wade is 100% into praise and degradation, he wants to make you're okay with it before he says something that triggers you in bed.

{✰} on occasion, wade likes to be restrained. he likes when you have some type of power over him, makes him cum harder and he likes when you tease him. he keeps handcuffs by the bed just for this specific moment, you're in his lap and taking your time riding him - slowly grinding your hips just to make him beg you, "please, baby.. let me fuck you, please."

{✰} wade is into choking, he loves to see his hand wrapped around your throat while he has you in a mating press, pushing all his weight onto you and fucking you deep enough to make you cum over and over.

{✰} sometimes when wade is feeling very needy, he just needs you. times like this, he'll take his time with you, fingering for a long time to make sure you can take him, eating your pussy like he's starving before he fucks you nice and slow saying how much he loves you. "i love you so much, baby. so good for me, taking all of me so well."

{✰} speaking of... wade is a munch. he will happily lap at your slick, sit you on his face, and grip your thighs while you ride his face, using him for your own pleasure. he would also take the opportunity to overstimulate you, your thighs wrapped around his head trying to push him away having already cum twice but he wants more from you.

He chewed on the fingertips of his suit, bouncing his knee in worry. It'd been three hours since he got you to the hospital. You'd been in bad shape because of the fight. He, nor you, saw the surprise attack from behind and he didn't reach you in time. And you can't heal like he does.

Of course, you didn't go down without a fight. You swung your knives around after your back was burnt to a crisp and plunged them right into your attackers head.

Wade clapped, jumping up and down, and you smiled at him before collapsing.

One of your doctors came out, looking for Wade. He noticed him right away of course. Wade looked up and rushed to the doctor.

"How is she, is she okay? She's gonna be fine right, she's not gonna die? She’s like Robin to my Batman, doc. Oh god, this is my fault, I should have checked everything before she went in-"

"Sir, sir. Please, have a seat." The doctor comforted as much as he could.

Wade sighed and did as he was told. The doctor took a seat next to him, "Your partner is going to be just fine. She's healing quite nicely and faster than expected. It's actually a miracle."

"Excuse me?" Wade asked.

The doctor laughed nervously, "Well uh, we were in surgery and as soon as we started removing the dead skin, it... healed. There was no trace that she was ever burned in the first place."

Wade gasped, bringing his hands to his face, "Reeeally?"

"Yes. If you'd like, you may see her." The doctor smiled and turned, gesturing for Wade to go first.

He practically ran to your room, giddy like a child would be. You'd just opened your eyes when he entered. The doctor nodded and told him he'd give the two of you a minute.

Wade flung himself onto the hospital bed, hands and feet out to his side like they have to do when jumping from an airplane. He landed on you, back up, and you groaned, slapping him on the back.

"Jesus Christ! Just because I'm better doesn't mean you get to do that you little shithead!" You cried.

Wade nuzzled his face in between your breasts, snuggling as much as he could.

"I was so worried! My little Robin got hurt but now is somehow all better but hey, at least you can still give me massages now."

“Uhm, no, because you moan really loud and our neighbors think we’re having sex.”

He gasped, jerking his head up to look at you, "I do not!"

You grinned and nodded, "Yep. No doubt about it."

"Oooh, I'm so gonna get you back for saying that when we get outta here."

Everything I Write Tag List:

“Fucking no.”

“Fucking…” He waggles his eyebrows, or at least you assume he does since his mask moves in that fashion, “yes.”

“Look, Wade. You are not ‘rescuing’ a horse, okay?”

“Why the fuck not?”

“I mean, where would you even keep it?”

“In my room, with my unicorn. Duh.”

“I don’t even know where to start with that whole-” You wave in his general direction.

“Start with the tip, easing down nice and slow before gently cupping the balls.”

“You fucking wish, Wilson.”

“You bet your ass I do. Luscious Lips ” You crack at that, fighting to hide the smile on your face but what’s the point? He’s just plain ridiculous.

“Stop staring at me with your fucking puppy dog eyes, you fucker.” You grin at him, unable to hold back now. Jesus, you were such a soft touch with him.

“Ah, the sweet smell of peer pressure triumph.” He rolls backwards till hes somehow on his feet again, in a way the physics just does not allow, skips past you, stopping only to place a kiss on your cheek and whisper, “I prefer a firm hand, just FYI.”