Setting: A grimy X-Men safehouse. Gwenpool, in her pink-and-white costume, lounges on a couch, flipping through a Deadpool comic. Wolverine, in his classic yellow-and-blue suit, is sharpening his claws at a table, growling softly.
Gwenpool: (grinning, tossing the comic aside) Yo, Logan! Bet you can’t last five minutes in the sack, old man. All that healing factor, and you’re probably wheezin’ by the two-minute mark. Pfft! Ancient bones, amirite?
Wolverine: (snarls, not looking up) Keep talkin’, pinkie. I’ve been through wars you can’t even spell. Ain’t nothin’ ‘bout me that’s slow.
Gwenpool: (leans forward, smirking) Oh, please. You’re like, what, 200 years old? Bet you need a nap after tying your boots. I’m callin’ it—five minutes, tops, and you’re out. Wanna prove me wrong, gramps?
Wolverine: (stands, claws snikt out, glaring) You’re dumber than a bag of hammers, kid. Alright, you want a challenge? I’ll make you eat those words. Let’s see who’s beggin’ for mercy.
Gwenpool: (jumps up, clapping) Oh, it’s on! I’m gonna need, like, three boxes of condoms for this plot twist! Let’s make it spicy, Wolvie! Just don’t croak on me, fossil!
Cut to: Later that night. The safehouse floor is a war zone—empty condom boxes scattered like fallen soldiers, used condoms tied off and strewn everywhere, filled with Logan’s… overachieving healing factor. Gwenpool, still in her pink-and-white costume, crotch of her leotard yanked aside, is drenched in sweat, her breasts practically screaming through the soaked fabric, gripping the floorboards like she’s auditioning for a disaster movie. Wolverine, stark naked, looks smug as hell, now going raw after burning through their protection stockpile.
Gwenpool: (panting, voice hoarse, sprawled out) Okay, Logan! How many more times can you even cum?! We’ve torched three boxes already! I’m—ugh—exhausted! My legs are Jell-O, my costume’s basically a wet T-shirt contest, and I’m pretty sure I’ve sweat out my entire origin story! I’m done, you mutant Energizer Bunny!
Wolverine: (grinning, not even winded) Done, huh? Well, hold on, pinkie—I’m almost there again. One more for the road, bub.
Gwenpool: (eyes widen, voice cracking) What?! Again?! Logan, we’re out of condoms! You’re not about to—oh no, no, no, this is not in the script! I didn’t sign up for the deluxe creampie edition! (flails dramatically) My fourth-wall-breaking powers can’t retcon this!
Wolverine: (smirks, leaning in) You wanted the Wolverine experience, kid. No protection, no problem—my healing factor’s got me shootin’ blanks anyway. Relax and enjoy the finale.
Gwenpool: (panicked, clutching a crumpled condom wrapper) Blanks?! You better not be lying, or I’m suing you for child support in every Marvel timeline! Oh god, this is my first creampie, and it’s with a guy who smells like cigars and bad decisions! (screams into the wrapper) Deadpool’s gonna love this story arc!
Logan finishes with a grunt, delivering the promised creampie. Gwenpool freezes, eyes bugging out like she’s seen the editor’s cancellation notice.
Gwenpool: (in shock, staring at the ceiling) I… I can’t believe it. I’ve been Wolverined. This is worse than that time I got stuck in a team-up with Cable’s techno-virus! (sits up, wincing) My costume’s ruined, my dignity’s in the multiverse landfill, and I’m pretty sure I need an IV of chimichanga sauce to survive this!
Wolverine: (chuckles, lighting a cigar, casually kicking a condom wrapper aside) Told ya, kid. Don’t poke the beast unless you’re ready for the claws. You good, or you want me to fetch you a juice box?
Gwenpool: (groans, flopping back) I’m never taunting a mutant with infinite stamina again! This is worse than that time I got retconned into a background character! (mutters, pulling her costume back in place) Hashtag: WolverineWrecksMe. And I’m billing you for the dry cleaning and therapy, you furry menace!
Fade out as Logan laughs, puffing his cigar, while Gwenpool dramatically vows to never challenge a mutant again… until the next issue, when she inevitably forgets this lesson.