🖤💋JeSa💋🖤

[bpmiranda]

Sinners and Saints |r. lebeau| nsfw

A/N: nsfw, sugar daddy!remy x cocktail waitress!reader, age difference, oral f!receiving, fingering, mentions of smut, Remy speaking French in bed🫠

The jazz lounge had gone quiet after the last band, the chandeliers dimmed to their final flicker, and the cocktail waitresses in their tantalizing sequins and shimmers were moving through the sultry atmosphere like glittering stars. Y/N changed quickly in the back; peeling out of the lounge’s black sequin, high neck dress, and into something soft: a simple tank top and cotton shorts, her “off-duty” look, hair still smelling faintly of lavender dry shampoo and late-night espresso.

Out back, Remy LeBeau waited in his car, a sleek, vintage coupe he maintained like a mistress, idled near the alley exit, headlights glowing low like always. She’s not sure why his consistency still surprises her. Y/N pulled open the passenger door and slipped inside, shutting the world out behind her.

“You stayed the whole time?” She asked, glancing over at him with a tired, shy little smile with eyes that still shimmered.

Remy smiled, reaching over to brush a curl from her cheek. “You think I don’t enjoy seein’ my girl sparkle in there?”

She scoffed softly. “Your girl, huh?”

“‘Til you say otherwise.” And she only bit back a bashful grin because he never failed to remind her that this ends when she wants it too, as if the last three months haven’t been absolute bliss.

By the time they reached her building, the exhaustion in her body had turned into something warmer and as soon as her apartment door clicked shut behind them, something shifted. Y/N tossed her keys on the counter and leaned back against the door, watching Remy shrug out of his jacket, sleeves still rolled, that one silver ring catching the light as he ran a hand through his hair.

“You looked at me all night,” She began, her voice quieter now, no longer guarded as she watched him be perfectly comfortable in this space, her space, in spite of only being here himself a handful of times so far. As he’s strolling through her kitchenette, he taps the light bill stuck to her fridge with two fingers and chuckles like the amount is funny to him.

Y/N watches him in mild amusement as he walks around looking at everything like he’s already taking care of everything in these four little walks, including her, so it’s all his own now. And she wouldn’t argue. “Not very subtle of the boss.”

“You filing a complaint?” Remy’s gaze darkened, but his smile stayed soft. “I take those very seriously, mon coeur.” He said with a hand over his heart as he stepped toward her slowly, giving her time to back away, she didn’t. “Couldn’t take my eyes off you,” He murmured quietly now. “You in that little dress, all sparkles and polite smiles…you looked like temptation dressed as grace.”

Y/N blushed, but she didn’t look away this time. “You like watching me?”

“I like unwrapping you.”

Then she bit her lip and blushed, and that was all it took to make Remy’s gentlemanly patience deplete. In two steps, he had her caged against the door, his hands warm on her waist, his mouth hovering just inches from hers. “You let me touch you when you’re like this?” He whispered. “Off the clock? No crowd, no sequins, just skin?” She nodded, breath trembling in anticipation for his kiss.

Though he didn’t kiss her just yet. Instead, his hands slid beneath her tank top, thumbs tracing the curve of her waist, palms memorizing the soft skin of her back. He lowered his head and kissed the base of her throat, slow and warm, moving lower, over her collarbone, down her chest. Her hands fisted in his shirt. He dropped to his knees. Pressed his face to her belly and whispered, “Tu m’as manqué toute la nuit, mon ange.” (I missed you all night, my angel.) Her breath hitched as he kissed her belly again, then the waistband of her shorts.

Y/N moaned, shaky and breathless, as he hooked his fingers there, tugging slowly, giving her time to stop him, but she wouldn’t. Not with the way he was looking up at her like she was art, not with the way his hands searched between her thighs for those sweet sighs and moans that haunted his mind, his mouth pressing kisses and indulging himself in the taste of her. “You’re so good to me.” She whispered, letting her head fall back against the door.

Remy looked up at her with a half-smile. “Not as good as I wanna be.”

And Y/N, finally alone in her apartment, finally unobserved by co-staff and customers, let him. She let him see what it looked like when she unraveled. When her eyes rolled back and her hips tilted in search of more and she let go of the last of her modesty, not because she was lost in him, but because she knew she was safe in him. She let him taste the return on his investment and he made damn sure to show her he was in it for the long haul.

The hardwood floor was cool against Remy’s knees, but he didn’t notice. His hands were curved around the backs of Y/N’s thighs, fingers flexing gently into the soft flesh there, thumbs brushing slow circles just above her trembling knees. He hadn’t said much in the last few minutes, not in English, anyway. Just soft Cajun French murmurs, half-prayer, half-promise, breathed reverently against her skin.

“Tu sens si bon, mon amour…J’ai rêvé de ça toute la nuit.” (You smell so good, my love…I dreamed of this all night.)

Y/N had one hand fisted in his hair, always gently, and the other pressed to her mouth, trying desperately to muffle the sounds she couldn’t control. Her eyes were glassy, lashes heavy, mouth wet and parted in disbelief at the way her body burned and curled and opened under his tongue and fingers.

Remy wasn’t rushed. Not with her. His mouth moved with intention; soft licks, slow pressure, just enough to make her whimper but never enough to let her fall completely. Not yet. He was building her, piece by piece, unraveling her carefully like a ribbon he didn’t want to tear. Every noise she made, every breathless moan, every half-whine she tried to bury in the back of her hand only made him go slower, deeper.

Y/N could barely take it. Her thighs shook, and she bit down on her knuckles, overwhelmed. Her chest heaved as she panted through another wave, hips rolling shyly into his mouth. It felt too good, it felt too much. Like she wasn’t made to withstand this kind of touch, but Remy looked up at her between strokes, red-on-black eyes heavy-lidded, his mouth slick with her arousal, and smiled like she was doing him a favor.

Like he was the lucky one.

The fingers inside her moved with the same slow rhythm, his knuckles brushing her with each curl, palm pressing up with every moan she couldn’t bite back in time. And when her body jolted under a particularly perfect combination of tongue and pressure, she cried out, soft and choked: “Remy-oh my God-please-”

And he just groaned against her, the sound was downright sinful. “Encore, bébé…say my name again.” And she did. Over and over, high and breathy, until it broke into something wrecked and pleading.

Y/N’s body tensed, thighs locking around his shoulders as her release crested, and Remy held her there, coaxing her through it, his mouth and hands never relenting, like he wanted to make sure she felt every second of it. She shook as she came, her head thrown back, hand still over her lips, barely remembering how to breathe. And still, Remy didn’t let go, he didn’t move, he didn’t stop worshipping.

When she finally collapsed against the door behind her, breathless and dazed, Remy kissed her inner thigh once more then looked up at her with a mouth swollen from use and a smile so satisfied it made her stomach flip all over again. “You okay, mon ange?” He asked, voice low and warm.

Y/N nodded, still trembling, her lips parted like she might cry, laugh, or beg for more. “I think,” She whispered, voice hoarse, “You broke me.”

Remy chuckled and rose slowly, kissing the sweat-damp skin between her breasts, then her collarbone, then finally her lips, softly, like a man who knew she wasn’t ready for the hunger she’d just survived. “Non, bébé,” He murmured, kissing her temple as he pulled her into his chest. “Not yet.” And then, as it often did with Remy, time ceased to move in any straight line. The hours blurred and bled into each other the longer he was in her bed.

The first time he took her, it was slow and his way of easing her into the night. Praising as her back arched, one hand clutching the pillow, the other buried in his hair as he moved inside her with languid, deliberate rhythm. He spoke to her the whole time in that low, coaxing voice. French and English bleeding together like silk and smoke.

“Look at me, ma lumière…you feel that? Takin’ my time.” She tried to answer, tried to say yes or please or even God, but her lips barely worked. Just open-mouthed, gasping quiet things that didn’t come close to expressing what her body was living through.

Then came the second time. The one with her face buried in the mattress, lipstick staining the sheets as he pulled her hips back into him with smooth, rolling force. His hands were everywhere at once; palming her ribs, teasing her throat, holding her steady while he whispered filth and worship into the back of her neck.

“You take me so well, bébé. So damn tight for me. That’s it…just like that.” She mewled something against the pillow, unrecognizable even to herself. He only chuckled and gave her more.

The third time was on her side while Remy spooned her, arm wrapped under her head while the other held her thigh open from the front. He went slower this time, tantalizing with the promise of release, and letting her feel everything. The press, the stretch, the ache. Her lips parted around a breathy sob, hips twitching into him. She tried to speak again and couldn’t. Her whole vocabulary had melted from the sensations of his experienced hands and body.

By the fourth time she came again, she was glassy-eyed, straddling his lap as he sat against her headboard, feeding her gentle praise between kisses to her temple and jaw. She rode him shakily, her hands braced on his chest, guided by his hands at her waist.

“Come on, ma belle, give it to me again. One more. You can do that, can’t you?” Y/N’s head dropped to his shoulder, mouth slack, a tear slipping down her cheek, not from pain, not from sorrow, but from how full she felt. How loved she felt, even in a way they hadn’t said aloud yet.

And still, he didn’t stop. He kissed her tears away. Laid her back down. Touched her like she hadn’t just given him everything and then some.

The last time, the final time that white hot release pulsed through her spent body, she didn’t even remember when it started. Only that his fingers were laced with hers above her head, their foreheads touching, her name falling off his lips like prayer. And she came like a wave collapsing, all at once and hard, tearful, trembling. His name the only sound she could shape, over and over.

By the time it ended, whatever end meant in a night like this, she was curled against his chest, skin damp with sweat, her thighs aching in that sweet, claimed way. He held her like she was something fragile. Like he hadn’t just spent hours learning every inch of her body, but was still craving the sound of her sigh. She tried to speak, to ask if he was okay, if she’d be okay, but her voice failed her.

Instead, she whispered the only truth left in her: “You ruin me.”

And Remy, voice rough, kissed her hair and said, “Then I’ll rebuild you in the morning, ma chérie.”

Remyyyy😩 My first Gambit piece! Let me know what you thought, kind readers!

Gambit Masterlist

🏷️: @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @peterparkernotfound @evasmlp @ayatotiddies @thatlittlered @seasonofthenerd @littlemisscantloveyouback @scorpiosaintt @simpingfor-wakasa @spencerswh0r3 @thatweirdtheaternerd12 @shybluebirdninja @iamburdened @craziersarah98 @xxvendettaxx @chronicallybubbly @throwmethroughawindow @ethanhoewke @steviebbboi @littlemissoblivious @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes @ashlinxsloves @lexasaurs634 @bananababblegigglemuffin @zaggprincess2 @xoxabs88xox @lokixryss @th3mrskory @alastorssimp @breezeybre @themareverine @fandomxo00 @solistarrs @born444u @journal3sposts @privatetruths @marvelgirlie-4 @kmc1989 @sidkneeeee @https-murdock @atomicmystery

[bpmiranda]

OH M YGODDD UAGAHAHAH YOUR REMY WRITING OH MY GODDD🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤 I LOVE YOUR WRITIING SO MUCH??????? MY GAMBIT YUME HEART THANKS YOU

A/N: uncle!remy x fauxniece!reader, 18+f!reader, fingering, oral f!receiving, dark!remy, taboo AU, MDNI

Uncle!Remy who should’ve told you to look it up when you came into the kitchen one afternoon and asked him what fingering was - a term you had heard from some guys at the park.

But he didn’t.

Uncle!Remy who looks you over as you stand in front of him in a pair of cutoff shorts and a tube top, your white sneakers dirty and unlaced, and says, “I could tell you, petite, or I could show you.”

Uncle!Remy who sets you up on the counter in the kitchen and has you lick his fingers, his other hand lightly closed around your neck while your face is growing increasingly warm and your pussy is throbbing with an ache you don’t fully grasp.

“Never thought of your sweet little mouth like this, ma chérie, but now?” He groans as you gag softly on his two fingers as they reach and dip into the back of your throat. “Mon Dieu, I wanna show you everythin’.”

Uncle!Remy who moves your shorts to the side so he can run a wet finger down your folds and feels his cock stir when you whine a soft little, “Uncle Remy,” His red-on-black eyes meets yours as you ask, “This is wrong, isn’t it?”

“Only if you don’t like it, chérie.”

Uncle!Remy who doesn’t see this as wrong, he sees it as just teaching you like he has most of your life, and he watches the way you react to his single digit disappearing into you slowly, coming out wet while his thumb rubs your little clit.

Uncle!Remy who talks you through it like it’s some dinner table conversation, “A man s’posed to take it slow, one finger at a time, not too fast.” He tells you as leans down to spit on your folds. “Fingering is foreplay, petite. He gotta make sure you wet enough ‘fore tryin’ to slip in anythin’ bigger, you hear?”

“Yes, yes, I hear you.” Your mouth is parted as you pant and whine, the feeling of pleasure consuming you when he adds the second finger and you arch into him, gripping tight onto the edge of the kitchen counter.

Uncle!Remy who mildly charges his fingertips as he brushes them against your bud and you jolt from the stimulating shock, looking at him with wide eyes while biting your lip. “Uncle Remy got a magic touch, bébé.” He winks, making you giggle breathlessly.

Uncle!Remy who lets himself get ahead of the game and sinks to his knees so he can get a taste of your sweet, weeping pussy. “Oh, my gosh, Uncle Remy!” Your head lolls back and your chest rises and falls with your erratic breathing as you near your release.

“C’est chatte est si bonne, petite fille,” He groans into you, the vibrations of his voice further stimulating you. His hands keep your thighs pushed apart as his head shakes between them, his tongue lapping desperately at your slit and your sensitive bud until you’re trying to close him out.

Uncle!Remy who slurps up your release, moaning as you squirm from overstimulation in the kitchen where anyone could see him corrupting you, his fingers digging into your thighs as you cry from how good it feels.

As you’re coming down, thighs trembling and still wide open, he stands and kisses you hard, letting you taste yourself on his lips and tongue before taking the biggest step away from you. “We cannot do that again, petite.”

“Okay, Uncle Remy.” You say with a shaky nod and he gently helps you off the counter, watching you slide your bottoms back into place and you give him a flushed smile. “Thanks!”

Uncle!Remy who watches you bound off towards the staircase to go up to your bedroom while he’s left standing in the kitchen, hard as a rock, and wondering how long it will be before he caves and seeks you out again.

Just a little blurb I wanted to get out of my head:3

Gambit Masterlist

🏷️: @neeniebeenie @moonlight-dreamer04 @animegirlfromvietnam @cakeofhorrors @imtherain

[satansdarlin]

Royal flush

Gambit/Remy LeBeau x Fem!Reader

NSFW tags: Oral fem receiving, breeding kink, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it)

Minors DNI

Word count: 3126

Not beta read so excuse any grammar mistakes

Written because of an idea from- @fandomzwriterk 💜

If you liked this check of my masterlist or put in a request if they are open

Remy was like a dog caged as he watched his loving partner bouncing Jean and Scott's son on her leg as she chatted to Jean. Why did she have to look so good just doing something like bouncing a baby? He loved her, he really did. But seeing her so close with another family just... irked  him. Jealousy wasn’t a normal thing for him. But (Y/N) just looked so damn happy. He was trying not to watch, but... he couldn’t stop himself. He leaned against the wall and just... watched her. It wasn't like he was jealous of Scott or Jean for spending time with her. No, in fact it was a far different reason. He was jealous because.. it should be him and (Y/N) doing that with a kid. Gah, he was getting worked up just imagining it. Imagining her all big and pregnant with his kid, her glowing that special way only pregnant women did. Holding their kid, being a perfect mom. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts as he continued to stare.

She glanced up feeling his stare and gave him a soft smile. He was surprised that she caught him staring. He was usually better at going unnoticed. He returned her smile, albeit a bit sheepishly. Damn, he felt a bit like a middle schooler, being caught staring at his crush. He didn't need to feel sheepish he internally reminded himself they had been together for so long and his ring was decorating her finger now. Kids wasn't something they had talked about yet both anxious about the idea of having children. Being mutants and still having to fight back against the anti-mutant campaign was hard enough imagining having a little bundle of joy that was also a mutant? Terrifying. But... the thought was intoxicating. Just imagining her belly swollen with their kid. Merde, he was getting worked up by this whole chain of thought. He couldn’t help but imagine her being all motherly, holding a baby, breastfeeding. His baby. He shook his head again, trying to clear his thoughts.

She passed the baby back to Jean and made her way over to her husband.  "You've been starin pretty hard" she spoke in a teasing tone. He couldn’t resist returning the teasing tone. 

“Well, can you blame me, baby?” He eyed her up and down again, almost salivating. “You’re lookin’ pretty damn good tonight.”

She glanced down at herself in slight confusion. She was just wearing one of his older shirts and some jeans. A completely casual attire.  "You're just easily impressed, hun”

He laughed. “You’re wearing my shirt. You know how much I like seein’ you in my shirt.” He reached out, grabbing her hips and pulling her close against him. “Besides, even if you were wearin’ a potato sack, you’d still look damn good.”

She snorted a bit and kissed his cheek not minding how his scruff scratched a her lips.  "You're actin off baby. Somethin up?”

He let out a hum, pulling her in closer so she was against his chest and he could wrap his arms around her. “Just watchin’ you with the kid got me a bit worked up.” Understatement, he thought.

She looked up at him with a sense of understanding.  "Yeah? Kids huh?" She didn't sound judgemental or opposed but rather curious. 

He leaned down, resting his forehead against hers. “Yeah. They ain’t ever really been a though in my mind. But…” Damn it, he was going to have to say it out loud. “Watchin’ you with that kid… I couldn’t help but imagine you with our kid. Bein’ all… motherly. I like how you looked.”

She hummed softly at this her eyes scanning over his black and red ones. "Well i think it's only natural. We been married for a while now." She spoke gently 

He nodded, unable to deny it. “We’ve been together for a while… and yet… a baby’s never been a thought in our minds, not really. I mean, are we really prepared to be parents?” He was being honest, despite how excited he was to see the sight of his wife with a baby in her arms.

"Well.. we could start preparing if you are wanting to take that step" she gently ran her hands over his shoulders. 

His heart skipped a beat. Here she was, not outright refusing the idea, but actually considering it and preparing to talk about it. “Are you wanting this?” He had to make sure, had to make sure she didn’t just agree because it made him happy.

"Baby I've been thinkin we would have adorable kids the moment we met" she giggled softly

He chuckled, pulling her flush against him. “Damn right they’d be adorable.” He leaned down, kissing right below her ear. “Can you imagine it? Little brats runnin’ around, wreakin’ havoc?”

She hummed softly. "Oh it'd be terrible" she teased as she felt one of his hands press against her stomach absent mindedly.

He let his hand roam, imagining the flat stomach swelling with pregnancy. “You know they’d take after you. Get your cute little nose and eyes.”

"Bet they'd get your hair." She hummed running her hand through his hair to emphasize her point. 

He chuckled, enjoying the feel of her fingers running through his hair. “They’d get your temper, too. I’d almost feel bad for ‘em.” He teased her.

She rolled her eyes and her gaze trailed over her lover. "Wanna get out of here?" She spoke in a hushed tone with a quirk of her lips into a smirk

He chuckled, already knowing what she had in mind. “Thought you’d never ask.” He pressed his hips against hers, already feeling himself getting aroused by just being this close to her.

That's how they ended up back in their shared home. Clothes decorating the floor from the front door to their bedroom. The bed creaking and headboard being muffled by the pillow stuffed behind it. She was clawing at his hair as he held his post between her legs lapping at her like a starved man.

He was damn near worshiping her, holding her tight and not letting her get away. “God, sweetheart, you taste so good,” he groaned, lapping at her like she was the source of his life essence.

She was whimpering and mewling as she fisted the sheets like they were a life line. She gripped onto his hair with her other hand gently tugging as he drug his tongue across her sensitive flesh. 

He was absolutely loving the sounds she was making. He knew exactly how sensitive she was, and he knew every single trick of his tongue to drive her crazy with pleasure. He was taking his time with her, enjoying every single second, savoring how good she felt and tasted.

She gasped out, her back arching like a cat as he pushed two fingers into her. He curled his fingers inside of her, knowing exactly how to draw out that pleasure and drive her absolutely wild. “You like that, sweetheart?” He teased her, his breathing a bit labored from his own aroused state.

She nodded desperately. "Yes rem love it feels so good" she whined out in that breathy needy tone he loved to hear her speak in. A tone reserved for his ears only. 

Damn, he loved how desperate she was. How needy she was. She was his, and his alone, and he’d make sure she knew that. “I’ll make ya feel so good, baby,” he murmured, latching his lips around the sensitive flesh and sucking.

Both hands went to the sheets clawing at the silk fabrics and the plush mattress underneath. 

He groaned against her, the sounds she was making and how desperate she was getting was driving him wild. He wanted to taste every inch of her, touch every single spot that would make her cry out with pleasure. He was completely intoxicated by her, like a drug he couldn’t get enough of.

The feeling of his vibrations against her made her mewl out loudly. "fuck!" Her words sent a jolt of satisfaction through him, making him smirk against her flesh. 

“That’s it… let me hear how good I make you feel, baby.” He curled his fingers again, knowing exactly how to draw out more desperate mewls from her.

She gasped out her hips pushing up against his arm holding them down. "Close" she squeaked out in a desperate mewl.

He could feel her getting closer, could feel her getting tighter and tighter around his fingers. He wanted to bring her over the edge, wanted to hear her come completely undone with ecstasy. “Come on, baby.” He pressed down on her hip harder, still relentlessly working her towards that sweet release. “Come for me,” he murmured against her, using every trick he knew to send her careening over the edge. “I wanna hear how good you feel.”

She cried out and her muscles contracted as she came undone. Her back bucked, her entire body trembling and twitching with the intensity of her orgasm. She was completely and utterly helpless under his touch. “R-remy….!”

He groaned against her as her body trembled and shook with pleasure. He wasn’t finished yet, though. He wanted to wring out every single bit of ecstasy from her that he could. “That’s it, sweetheart, let me make you feel good,” he murmured, his fingers working her through her orgasm and overstimulating her.

Her hands, shaking from the force of her orgasm, gripped his hair pulling him away letting out a breathy chuckle hearing him whine. "Baby I'd rather get on to the main course”

He groaned as he felt her grip his hair, preventing him from continuing his ministrations. When he heard her chuckling, he let out a whine, still wanting to taste her and bring her to climax once more. But hearing her wanting the main course stirred his excitement. “You sure you don’t want another?” He smirked, his usual overconfidence on display.

"This time I wanna finish around something bigger than your fingers" she wiped his face for him wiping off the left over arousal from her. He hummed, letting his tongue run over his lips to taste her again. 

“Such an impatient wife,” he teased her, wiping his chin on the back of his hand. “You want me that badly?” He asked, already knowing exactly what her answer would be.

"You know I do, baby." She inched her legs up over his hips. Now that wouldn't do. If he wanted to properly breed her those thighs needed to be up on his shoulders.

He chuckled, moving forward and pushing her thighs up until they were resting on his shoulders, allowing him to press even closer. “Naughty thing.” He teased her, pressing his hips against hers and letting her feel how hard he was for her. “You’re pretty much begging for it now.”

"Don't make me beg baby. I just want to make you daddy" she purred up at him. She knew damn well how weak that made him. He absolutely loved hearing her call him that, and she knew exactly how to use it to her advantage. His heart was pounding in his chest, his brain already filled with the image of her with a baby in her arms, calling him daddy. 

“Jesus Christ,” he groaned, his grip on her thighs tightening. He leaned back, resting on his knees and keeping her legs up on his shoulders.  “You really want a baby that much, huh?” He asked, taking in how she looked underneath him, just at his mercy. 

"I want your baby, remy" she gazed up at him. 

Hearing her say that shot a wave of intense possessiveness through him. “You want my baby?” He repeated back to her, almost like he was processing the words himself. “You’re gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.” He ran his hands up to her hips, holding her in his tight grip. He pushed the tip of him into her, teasing her a bit but it was hell to not just immediately slam in. He teased them both by just barely pushing the tip inside, driving himself absolutely insane. “God, you feel so good, sweetheart,” he groaned, his eyes locked on her face as he teased her. “You want it all, don’t you?”

"Yes, baby. Please give it to me remy" she whined softly already too desperate to play their usual game of cat and mouse. 

He couldn’t resist listening to her desperate whines and pleading. “Anything you want, baby.” He leaned down, pressing as deep inside of her as he could. “You gotta tell me if this gets uncomfortable,” he told her, wanting to keep her completely comfortable and safe.

"Shut up and fill me up, Mon cher" she hissed back already too impatient to be waiting any longer.  He chuckled at her impatience, but he wasn’t going to torture either of them any longer.

 “Alright, I’ll shut up and give you exactly what you want, sweetheart.” He pulled back slowly, only to snap his hips forward and fill her completely.

 They quickly dissolved into a panting mess as the bed shook with every thrust. He was glad they had moved out of their old apartment cause they would definitely gotten a noise complaint. He was mumbling French curses between English praises, his cajun accent dripping off his tongue like it was honey. The sounds of the bed creaking, the sound of his voice cursing, and the sound of her moans filled his ears. He was absolutely drunk off of her, completely intoxicated by how she felt and how she sounded. The French slipped out before he could even realize it, his usual filter completely off. She was absolutely living for it. She loved when he would talk dirty to her in his accent and that doubled down when he spit out French like it was nothing. 

Every single time he cursed in French, her reaction would drive his excitement higher and higher. “Vous sentez si bien, mon amour,” he panted to her, pressing even deeper inside of her with every thrust. “You’re mine, sweetheart. All mine.”

"Yours" she mewled back as his tip kissed her womb with every thrust. She was clawing at the sheets like a cat in heat crying out like one too. 

He could already feel his thrusts getting a bit sloppy and desperate, his hands gripping her hips so tight he was going to leave bruises. “That’s it baby,” he growled out, losing himself more and more with every minute. “God, you don’t know how good you feel.”

She was mind dumb as what felt like her third maybe fourth orgasm rippled through her. Just like he liked her. Her climax made him shiver, feeling her walls tighten around him and send waves of ecstasy through him. “You look so beautiful when you cum for me, baby,” he groaned out, his hips still bucking against hers. “You’re gonna make me cum too if you’re not careful,” he tried to tease her, but his voice came out as a desperate, strained whisper. 

"Give it to me" she spoke through slurred words filled with pleasure and mewls. "Make me a mama" 

“God, you’re driving me crazy, sweetheart.” His words came out in a breathless hiss, trying his best to hold himself back from falling over that edge. “Beg for it.” He was cocky, he loved to hear her beg for him like that. He wanted to hear how desperate she was.

"Please remy need it! Wanna be swollen with you! Want your baby" she whined out between moans and biting her lip as her eyes rolled up into the back of her skull.

“Damn near gonna be on my knees with hearing you like that,” he groaned, giving into her words. “God, you want me to fill you up?” He knew the answer already, but he couldn’t resist asking. He wanted to hear her say it.

"Yes yes yes,” the mantra fell from her lips like a depraved woman. She practically was. The idea of her handsome husband filling her up till there was no other way she couldn't be pregnant was appealing.

He was far from being able to hold back any longer. Her words were pushing him faster and faster to the edge, driving him more and more wild. “You’re gonna have it, baby,” he panted out. “Gonna make you a mama.”

His hips snapped into hers with a force he didn't even know he was capable of. His grip on her thighs was tight enough he knew there'd be bruises later. He was desperate, completely lost in how she felt, how she sounded, how she looked underneath him with his hands holding her down. The thought of the possessive marks he was leaving on her skin only fueled his need for more. “Christ, sweetheart, I’m gonna-” he started to warn her.

She mewled out as she felt him jerk forward spurts filling her up completely even spilling out onto the sheets below them. 

He gave a guttural moan as his orgasm hit him like a freight train. “Oh God,” he panted as his hips gave little, shallow thrusts with each pulse of pleasure. “Fill you up so good,” he groaned. 

He collapsed against her, letting go of her thighs and wrapping his arms around her. He was panting against her chest, trying his best to catch his breath from how hard he had just come. “You’re going to drive me into early cardio arrest,” he chuckled weakly.

She was coming down from it herself panting as she patted his sweaty shoulder. "Love you too babe”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss between her breasts. “Love you more,” he mumbled against her skin, his brain still a little sluggish as he recovered his brain power.

When he rolled off of her finally and she cuddled up into his side not even bothering to change the sheets yet both of their legs feeling like jelly. He pulled her close against his chest, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin against her forehead. He was completely and utterly satiated at the moment, already feeling the fatigue of exertion setting in and his eyelids growing heavy.

"Think it will take?" She hummed tiredly back at him.

“It better,” he chuckled, already knowing damn well that it would work. He ran his fingers through her hair, still damp with sweat. “If you’re not pregnant after this, you’ll break my heart.”

"We will just keep trying won't we then?" She teased back.

“Damn right we will,” he said, already planning out how soon he could go again without collapsing. “Keep trying until you’re round and swollen with my baby, sweetheart.”

[authorsofghosts]

Ya miss me? | Gambit x Reader NSFW

Summery: Gambit comes back from a mission and you missed him a little too much.

Themes: SMUT, PURE SMUT, Aftercare, Condoms (wrap it before ya tap it y'all), Cum Play, Dirty Talk, Grinding, Humping, Multiple Rounds, Needy!Reader, Oral, Semi-Injured!Remy (mentioned like twice). Lemme know if we missed anything.

Word Count: ~2.5k

SMUT WARNING. 18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI.

You look up from your phone as Remy stumbles into your shared room, his red-on-black eyes darting to watch you get up with the bed. Before he can even make a snarky, loving comment towards your excitement, you crash into him, your arms wrapped around his torso and your lips against his own. There's nothing more you've wanted since he left than this moment, seeing him again.

You notice the slight wheeze as you meet him, pulling out of the kiss and looking over him. His face is scratched up and his lips chapped with dried blood. He sees the worry in your eyes, "Cher, I'm fine, really."

"Are you sure?" You say, looking up at him as your hand paws at his chest, the cold metal of his body armor sending a chill down your body.

"Better now that I'm with you." He says with a smirk before leaning down to kiss you again. This time, you notice the iron taste of the dried blood on his lips, the way his breath shakes slightly as he gets closer to you. He's clearly not fine, but he obviously wants you as much as you want him.

You stumble back to the bed, his broad torso above you as he pressed his growing erection to your thigh, smiling into the kiss as he hears your whimpers as he grinds against you. "Ya miss me?"

"More than anything." You pant between breaths, fumbling to take his coat off.

"That's good, cher. Means ya really love me, yah?" He smiles, kissing down your neck as he helps with his coat. His hands cup your faces, stroking your cheek with his leather gloves. He listens to your whines and whimpers until your hands grip his auburn hair. "Feisty lil t'ang, ain't cha?"

You grin, nodding as he pulls back looking down at you. "Lay on the bed, Rem. Lemme take care of you." You mumble, staring into his ruby eyes. He raises an eyebrow before obliging. You watch as he goes to snap off his body armor, reaching out to stop him. "Nuh uh. Not yet."

You smile, straddling his middle and grinding yourself against the metal abs. You moan out at the friction, whining as your thighs squeeze around him tighter. Remy watches with wide eyes, mouth agape as he watches you work yourself along the faux, metal abs of the armor around his core.

"You been wantin' ta do dat a long time, huh?" He chuckles, his hands resting on your hips. You can't speak, too focused on grinding your hips along the ab like bumps in his armor, panting softly. "Mm, I betcha dreamed of it, yah?"

"S-shut up..." You whine out as his hands guide you quicker along his abdomen. He laughs softly, his smirk never faltering as he watches you. "Ah, Remy..."

"Ya close, cher? Getting off just like dat, huh? Such a good lil t'ang ya are." He laughs soft, grabbing your chin to make you look down at him. "Yer not allowed to cum just yet, mon amour. Not till yer riding my cock."

"W-who said I was about to cum?" You snap back snarkily, but he doesn't even have to tell you. The way you leaned down towards him, moaning his name shakily. You were on the verge of orgasm but he stole that high from you, pushing you off his body armor and quickly taking it off while you sit perfectly in his lap.

"You gon be good for me?" He ask, voice husky as he pulls you down, his scruffy stubble against your cheek as he whispers, "You gon ride my big cock, yah? You gonna take good care of ya Gambit?"

You nod, whimper softly as he whispers in your ear, breath hot against the shell, sending shivers down your spine and heating up the coil in your stomach. "Y-yes, sir."

"Good, good... dat's it." He coos, his hands traveling down your body before resting on your hips again, gripping your loose, lounge pants, "Lift up fa me, sweetie." He commands, voice gentle yet dominate.

You listen, of course, not having any other choice, melting at just the thought of having him inside you. He slips off your pants, smirking as he sees the obvious display of your arousal. "Mm, you really wan' me dat bad, baby?"

You nod as he fully undresses you, running your throbbing hole over his massive bulge in his pants. "Yer gon' be good and take it all, or else I ain't givin' it ta ya." He growls, making sure you know even if you're on top of him, he's still in control. Even if you said you're going to take care of him, he can command and break you whenever he wants.

Before you know it, he has his cock against your stomach, slowly rolling a condom down it. You watch, eyes locked as his fingers move down his shaft. He chuckles, making you look up at his face. "You always enjoy dat part, huh? Watching me stroke my cock..."

His voice sends shivers down your body. You nod, quickly positioning yourself on the tip of his cock, looking down for permission. He smiles, his hands on your hips lowering you, "Go ahead, cher. Ride me. Take care of me like you said you would, darlin'."

You whine softly as you stretch around his cock, slowly pushing more of it into your hole. You moan out, head falling back as he bucks up into you, forcing more of himself into your tight, hungry entrance. "Fuck, Remy, fuck..." You whimper, realizing that you really missed the feeling of him inside you.

"Mmhmm, been too long since ya had dis, huh? Yer so tight 'round my dick, grippin' it like a vice." He laughs, thrusting up into you, slamming the rest of his length into your tight hole. He chuckles as you whine, groaning softly as you fall forward, your hands landing on his chest. "You gon' bounce and ride my dick or just sit on it?"

"Sh-shut up, I-I needa... mm.. get used to it again." You mumble, your mouth filling with saliva. Swallowing hard, you move up, his cock dragging out of you before you plop back onto his lap, pushing it deeper into you than before. This causes Gambit to moan out, a grunt to try and keep quiet.

"Dat's it, baby, work my cock." He whispers, his accent becoming more prominent as you bounce on his length. Your moans mingle with his, the soft pants as you ride him, his thick dick dragging in and out of your tight, convulsing hole. "Soo good fa me. Such a good lil t'ang for me, yah? Good, good..."

His voice sends you over the edge as you cum, you hole clenching his length as you continue to ride him through your orgasm. "That's right, cher, that's it, baby." He whispers as he pumps into you, not letting you rest, driving for his own release.

"P-please, ah... Remy..." You pant out, whining as he bucks his cock further into you, holding you by your hips to help driving him in more.

"Almost dere, sweetie. Gonna cum real soon, den we can take as long a break ya need, cher." He grunts, huffing as he thrusts deeper into you, his length throbbing. His breathing picks up and you can tell he's close as he rams into you harder. He curses under his breath, groaning as he unloads himself into the condom.

As you fall forward on his chest, he strokes your hair, chuckling softly. He pulls out, taking off the condom and tying it off before tossing it towards the bathroom. "You okay, cher?"

"Mhm..." You hum, fucked out of your mind as you hug his torso tightly. You nuzzle against his neck, softly nipping at his exposed skin.

"Use ya words, baby." He coos, biting his lip as he tilts your chin to look up at him.

"Yeah... I'm good." You mumble, closing your eyes and pressing your ear to his chest, his heartbeat racing underneath. His laughing rumbles through his chest as he strokes your back, kneading into your skin soothingly.

"You need anything, darlin'? Water?" He whispers softly.

"Uhuh... maybe..." You whisper back. He turns over onto his side, gently laying you on your back and getting up. He walks over to the bathroom, picking up the discarded condom from earlier as he goes. He comes back a few minutes later with a small cup of water and kneels by the bed, helping you sit up.

"Here, cher. Drinky drinky, mon amour." He laughs softly, bringing the cup to your lips. As you gulp down the water, he caressing your cheek, staring at you with pure love.

"You're so pretty, baby..." You whisper, looking at him with a wide, cock drunk smile. He laughs softly, pressing a kiss against your lips.

"I'm da pretty one, huh? I thought that was you. You're the prettiest lil t'ang I've ever seen." He murmurs against your skin, nuzzling against your face as he crawls onto the bed, the cup sitting on the bedside table.

"Nuh, you are..." You mumble, giggling as his muscular arms wrap around your smaller body, a stark reminder of your size difference. "I love you."

"I love ya, too, mon amour. Je t'aime aussi, tellement." He says, whispering softly into your ear, his nose nuzzling into your hair. Whenever he speaks french, your knees get weak, and he knows.

He chuckles, his calloused hands rubbing up and down your body as you shiver, continuing to whisper soft nothings into your ear. His words get softer as his face slowly gets lower, turning into gentle kisses. They start slow and gentle but get hungrier and sloppier the lower he gets. You moan out, your back arching off the bed as you whimper.

"Need me again already?" He chuckles, his fingers running up and down your thigh. You nod, panting softly and you feel your core start to ache. "Mm, lemme get another condom and you can have me."

"N-no, wait-" You mutter out, your hands on his chest. "C-can I... suck you off? Please?" You ask, eyes wide and pleading as you watch his reaction closely.

His red-on-black eyes widen as his smirks. "Yeah, baby, of course." He chuckles, getting off of you and laying on his back. You quickly get on your hands and knees and position yourself between his muscular legs, hands wrapping around his dick and pumping slowly as you situate yourself. His head falls back against the pillows, eyes rolling and mouth agape as you work his length. "Fuck..."

You smile as he curses, licking your lips as you watch his face contort in pleasure. You slowly run your tongue up and down his shaft, a rough breath escaping his throat. "Fuck yeah, ah... forgot how good your tongue felt on dis dick..."

You giggle slightly as he praises you, kissing his tip before taking it in your mouth slowly. He hisses, his chest falling as he moans out. Your hand travels under his tight black shirt as your other plays with his balls. "So good, baby, such a pretty lil t'ang with my cock in your mouth." He groans, breathing heavier as he watches your head bob up and down.

Pushing more of his cock into your mouth, his moans get more frequent, your tongue working around his thick length, your hand pumping whatever you can't fit in while the other continues to juggle his balls. "Yah, keep going, oh... That's right, suck dis fat dick like the good lil bitch you are." He hisses out, his cock twitching in your mouth as precum coats your tongue.

You meet his eyes, your brows furrowing as he degrades and praises you at the same time. You push more of his cock into your mouth, your throat convulsing around the head and pushing him over the edge. He grabs you by your hair and yanks your head up and down his length, causing your eyes to roll back as you lose control of what you were so confident in.

You gag as he pushes all of himself down your throat, pulling you back and pushing it right back in. This repeats this a few times before he starts cumming. Most of it goes straight down your throat, till he pulls out and paints your face with the last few spurts of his thick, white cream.

"Lookin' so pretty now, huh? Covered in my cum." He chuckles, fist still gripping your hair. You manage a small smile, tears streaming down your face without you even realizing it. "Lemme clean this up..." He coos, licking his lips as he smears it around.

"Remy- Rem, stop that," you laugh softly, shaking your head.

"Nuh uh, I'm doing so well." He laughs, pulling you onto him. He presses his lips against yours, licking a small bit of his release from your lips before snaking his tongue into your mouth.

He moans into the kiss as he deepens it, wrapping his arms around your waist, hands possessively squeezing your ass. He chuckles as you squirm, his grip on your bottom getting rougher. "R-Remy, stop-"

"Make me." He growls into your ear, his hands squeezing and kneading into your skin rougher, one traveling up and the other traveling down.

You groan, whimpering slightly before overpowering him enough to sit up. You bite your lip as you look down at him, a small smirk coming to your face. You straddle his chest, taking some of the smeared jizz off your face and sticking your fingers in his mouth. His eyes widen for a moment before he laughs around your fingers, happily licking them clean. "Oh, cher, you're gonna have to think of something else d'an that."

"You're a freak, you know that?"

"Mhm..." He hums, pulling your fingers out of his mouth before taking your hand in his and kissing your knuckles. The soft, romantic gesture makes you blush, despite the both of you being naked and the position you're in on top of his chest. "Ya love it though, darlin'."

"Course I do. What's not to love?" You laugh softly, grabbing a tissue from the side table and wiping your face before the sticky whiteness on your face dries. "You're still an asshole for doing that."

"Oh? Am I, cher? Or are ya just mad it wasn't yer idea? Hmm?"

"Shut up." You say with no bite to it, reaching over and grabbing another condom, putting the wrapper between your teeth and looking down at him. His eyes light up slightly as he grins, taking the wrapper and ripping it open.

"We ain't stopping for a while, huh?"

"Nope."

"You really missed me, huh?"

[bpmiranda]

Sinners and Saints |r. lebeau| nsfw

A/N: nsfw, sugar daddy!remy x cocktail waitress!reader, age difference, oral f!receiving, fingering, mentions of smut, Remy speaking French in bed🫠

The jazz lounge had gone quiet after the last band, the chandeliers dimmed to their final flicker, and the cocktail waitresses in their tantalizing sequins and shimmers were moving through the sultry atmosphere like glittering stars. Y/N changed quickly in the back; peeling out of the lounge’s black sequin, high neck dress, and into something soft: a simple tank top and cotton shorts, her “off-duty” look, hair still smelling faintly of lavender dry shampoo and late-night espresso.

Out back, Remy LeBeau waited in his car, a sleek, vintage coupe he maintained like a mistress, idled near the alley exit, headlights glowing low like always. She’s not sure why his consistency still surprises her. Y/N pulled open the passenger door and slipped inside, shutting the world out behind her.

“You stayed the whole time?” She asked, glancing over at him with a tired, shy little smile with eyes that still shimmered.

Remy smiled, reaching over to brush a curl from her cheek. “You think I don’t enjoy seein’ my girl sparkle in there?”

She scoffed softly. “Your girl, huh?”

“‘Til you say otherwise.” And she only bit back a bashful grin because he never failed to remind her that this ends when she wants it too, as if the last three months haven’t been absolute bliss.

By the time they reached her building, the exhaustion in her body had turned into something warmer and as soon as her apartment door clicked shut behind them, something shifted. Y/N tossed her keys on the counter and leaned back against the door, watching Remy shrug out of his jacket, sleeves still rolled, that one silver ring catching the light as he ran a hand through his hair.

“You looked at me all night,” She began, her voice quieter now, no longer guarded as she watched him be perfectly comfortable in this space, her space, in spite of only being here himself a handful of times so far. As he’s strolling through her kitchenette, he taps the light bill stuck to her fridge with two fingers and chuckles like the amount is funny to him.

Y/N watches him in mild amusement as he walks around looking at everything like he’s already taking care of everything in these four little walks, including her, so it’s all his own now. And she wouldn’t argue. “Not very subtle of the boss.”

“You filing a complaint?” Remy’s gaze darkened, but his smile stayed soft. “I take those very seriously, mon coeur.” He said with a hand over his heart as he stepped toward her slowly, giving her time to back away, she didn’t. “Couldn’t take my eyes off you,” He murmured quietly now. “You in that little dress, all sparkles and polite smiles…you looked like temptation dressed as grace.”

Y/N blushed, but she didn’t look away this time. “You like watching me?”

“I like unwrapping you.”

Then she bit her lip and blushed, and that was all it took to make Remy’s gentlemanly patience deplete. In two steps, he had her caged against the door, his hands warm on her waist, his mouth hovering just inches from hers. “You let me touch you when you’re like this?” He whispered. “Off the clock? No crowd, no sequins, just skin?” She nodded, breath trembling in anticipation for his kiss.

Though he didn’t kiss her just yet. Instead, his hands slid beneath her tank top, thumbs tracing the curve of her waist, palms memorizing the soft skin of her back. He lowered his head and kissed the base of her throat, slow and warm, moving lower, over her collarbone, down her chest. Her hands fisted in his shirt. He dropped to his knees. Pressed his face to her belly and whispered, “Tu m’as manqué toute la nuit, mon ange.” (I missed you all night, my angel.) Her breath hitched as he kissed her belly again, then the waistband of her shorts.

Y/N moaned, shaky and breathless, as he hooked his fingers there, tugging slowly, giving her time to stop him, but she wouldn’t. Not with the way he was looking up at her like she was art, not with the way his hands searched between her thighs for those sweet sighs and moans that haunted his mind, his mouth pressing kisses and indulging himself in the taste of her. “You’re so good to me.” She whispered, letting her head fall back against the door.

Remy looked up at her with a half-smile. “Not as good as I wanna be.”

And Y/N, finally alone in her apartment, finally unobserved by co-staff and customers, let him. She let him see what it looked like when she unraveled. When her eyes rolled back and her hips tilted in search of more and she let go of the last of her modesty, not because she was lost in him, but because she knew she was safe in him. She let him taste the return on his investment and he made damn sure to show her he was in it for the long haul.

The hardwood floor was cool against Remy’s knees, but he didn’t notice. His hands were curved around the backs of Y/N’s thighs, fingers flexing gently into the soft flesh there, thumbs brushing slow circles just above her trembling knees. He hadn’t said much in the last few minutes, not in English, anyway. Just soft Cajun French murmurs, half-prayer, half-promise, breathed reverently against her skin.

“Tu sens si bon, mon amour…J’ai rêvé de ça toute la nuit.” (You smell so good, my love…I dreamed of this all night.)

Y/N had one hand fisted in his hair, always gently, and the other pressed to her mouth, trying desperately to muffle the sounds she couldn’t control. Her eyes were glassy, lashes heavy, mouth wet and parted in disbelief at the way her body burned and curled and opened under his tongue and fingers.

Remy wasn’t rushed. Not with her. His mouth moved with intention; soft licks, slow pressure, just enough to make her whimper but never enough to let her fall completely. Not yet. He was building her, piece by piece, unraveling her carefully like a ribbon he didn’t want to tear. Every noise she made, every breathless moan, every half-whine she tried to bury in the back of her hand only made him go slower, deeper.

Y/N could barely take it. Her thighs shook, and she bit down on her knuckles, overwhelmed. Her chest heaved as she panted through another wave, hips rolling shyly into his mouth. It felt too good, it felt too much. Like she wasn’t made to withstand this kind of touch, but Remy looked up at her between strokes, red-on-black eyes heavy-lidded, his mouth slick with her arousal, and smiled like she was doing him a favor.

Like he was the lucky one.

The fingers inside her moved with the same slow rhythm, his knuckles brushing her with each curl, palm pressing up with every moan she couldn’t bite back in time. And when her body jolted under a particularly perfect combination of tongue and pressure, she cried out, soft and choked: “Remy-oh my God-please-”

And he just groaned against her, the sound was downright sinful. “Encore, bébé…say my name again.” And she did. Over and over, high and breathy, until it broke into something wrecked and pleading.

Y/N’s body tensed, thighs locking around his shoulders as her release crested, and Remy held her there, coaxing her through it, his mouth and hands never relenting, like he wanted to make sure she felt every second of it. She shook as she came, her head thrown back, hand still over her lips, barely remembering how to breathe. And still, Remy didn’t let go, he didn’t move, he didn’t stop worshipping.

When she finally collapsed against the door behind her, breathless and dazed, Remy kissed her inner thigh once more then looked up at her with a mouth swollen from use and a smile so satisfied it made her stomach flip all over again. “You okay, mon ange?” He asked, voice low and warm.

Y/N nodded, still trembling, her lips parted like she might cry, laugh, or beg for more. “I think,” She whispered, voice hoarse, “You broke me.”

Remy chuckled and rose slowly, kissing the sweat-damp skin between her breasts, then her collarbone, then finally her lips, softly, like a man who knew she wasn’t ready for the hunger she’d just survived. “Non, bébé,” He murmured, kissing her temple as he pulled her into his chest. “Not yet.” And then, as it often did with Remy, time ceased to move in any straight line. The hours blurred and bled into each other the longer he was in her bed.

The first time he took her, it was slow and his way of easing her into the night. Praising as her back arched, one hand clutching the pillow, the other buried in his hair as he moved inside her with languid, deliberate rhythm. He spoke to her the whole time in that low, coaxing voice. French and English bleeding together like silk and smoke.

“Look at me, ma lumière…you feel that? Takin’ my time.” She tried to answer, tried to say yes or please or even God, but her lips barely worked. Just open-mouthed, gasping quiet things that didn’t come close to expressing what her body was living through.

Then came the second time. The one with her face buried in the mattress, lipstick staining the sheets as he pulled her hips back into him with smooth, rolling force. His hands were everywhere at once; palming her ribs, teasing her throat, holding her steady while he whispered filth and worship into the back of her neck.

“You take me so well, bébé. So damn tight for me. That’s it…just like that.” She mewled something against the pillow, unrecognizable even to herself. He only chuckled and gave her more.

The third time was on her side while Remy spooned her, arm wrapped under her head while the other held her thigh open from the front. He went slower this time, tantalizing with the promise of release, and letting her feel everything. The press, the stretch, the ache. Her lips parted around a breathy sob, hips twitching into him. She tried to speak again and couldn’t. Her whole vocabulary had melted from the sensations of his experienced hands and body.

By the fourth time she came again, she was glassy-eyed, straddling his lap as he sat against her headboard, feeding her gentle praise between kisses to her temple and jaw. She rode him shakily, her hands braced on his chest, guided by his hands at her waist.

“Come on, ma belle, give it to me again. One more. You can do that, can’t you?” Y/N’s head dropped to his shoulder, mouth slack, a tear slipping down her cheek, not from pain, not from sorrow, but from how full she felt. How loved she felt, even in a way they hadn’t said aloud yet.

And still, he didn’t stop. He kissed her tears away. Laid her back down. Touched her like she hadn’t just given him everything and then some.

The last time, the final time that white hot release pulsed through her spent body, she didn’t even remember when it started. Only that his fingers were laced with hers above her head, their foreheads touching, her name falling off his lips like prayer. And she came like a wave collapsing, all at once and hard, tearful, trembling. His name the only sound she could shape, over and over.

By the time it ended, whatever end meant in a night like this, she was curled against his chest, skin damp with sweat, her thighs aching in that sweet, claimed way. He held her like she was something fragile. Like he hadn’t just spent hours learning every inch of her body, but was still craving the sound of her sigh. She tried to speak, to ask if he was okay, if she’d be okay, but her voice failed her.

Instead, she whispered the only truth left in her: “You ruin me.”

And Remy, voice rough, kissed her hair and said, “Then I’ll rebuild you in the morning, ma chérie.”

Remyyyy😩 My first Gambit piece! Let me know what you thought, kind readers!

Gambit Masterlist

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[authorsofghosts]

Bonne Fête | Pt. 2 | Gambit x Reader

Summery: Post birthday morning cuddles, you and Remy (mostly Remy) decide that today is more than an excuse to have fun.

Themes: Established Relationship, Mostly Smut, Some Fluff, Clingy Remy AGAIN, Aftercare, Compliments during Sex, Multiple Orgasms (Reader), Reader gets annoyed (just a little), Slight breeding, Soft Dom!Remy, Unprotected Sex (wrap it before you tap it!!!).

Word Count: 1.25k

SMUT, MINORS DNI, NSFW 18+

Remy's nose is buried into your neck, his breath tickling you as he smiles into your skin. "J't'aime avec t'coeur." He whispers repeatedly, kissing your nape. You gasp, tensing the first few times before relaxing, his arms tightly around you, pulling you closer.

"Remy, darling..." You murmur, hand over one of his.

"What, cher? Don't I get a little somet'ing special? Ya know, fa' my birthday, baby?" He smirks as he speaks deliberately against your pulse point.

You groan, laughing softly as you push back against him, his muscles engulfing you. He nips slowly up your next before whispering in your ear sweet nothings as he grinds against you. "So sweet for me, ain'tcha?"

"Mm..." You hum, agreeing as chills run down your body. He hums too, his tongue soothing over the bite marks he leaves in his wake. A groan escapes both of you as his rock hard cock slots between your ass cheeks, a small whimper escaping you, "Remy-"

"Ssh, shh, you're okay," He whispers, turning your head and capturing your lips. He licks your bottom lip, making you open up immediately, no words needed. He claims every inch of your mouth over and over again, his tongue tangling with yours before he pulls away, panting, "Such a good lil t'ing fa me huh?"

"S-shut up-" You growl, turning around you face him and pushing him onto his back.

"Woah, hah, so worked up, huh?" He groans, watching you crawl on top of him. "So sexy up there, baby." He whispers, pulling you down to kiss again. You pull back immediately, laughing as you straddle his hips.

"Who said you're in charge, Remy?" You say, hands cupping his face before running them in his auburn hair. He chuckles softly, a gentle growl escaping his throat.

"You gonna spoil yer man for his birthday?" He says, watching you intently.

"Maybe I'm just gonna spoil myself," You murmur, scooting lower and sitting on your knees between his legs. His eyes widen, already knowing what you're gonna do.

"Mm, you know, I won't mind doing the same fa you, mon amour."

Before you know it, both of your mouths are working overtime for the other, making groans and whines around and against each other. His cock twitches in your mouth as you pump is slowly, licking around the head just how he licks it. Precum beads against your tongue and you pull back as you suckle more out of his slit. "Fuck- yeah..." You say before diving back in, bobbing your head.

Hearing your moans and pleasure filled groans, Remy doubles his efforts, trying to make you climax before you make him. Your hands shake as you pump him faster, feeling his tongue against you as he moves his head slightly, lips leaving you before licking around your entrance. Your legs snap together, trapping his head between them, but he doesn't seem to care, pushing in and fucking you slowly with his tongue.

Your head leaves his length, falling to the side as the pleasure becomes too much for you to handle, unable to multitask like you thought you could. You moan out Remy's name, eyes fluttering closed as you feel a coil in your stomach about to snap. "Fuck, Remy, ah..."

"Put those pretty lips back on me before I deny you an orgasm." He says, his lips barely touching your hole.

"No, please-" You beg, your lips against the side of his shaft, playing with his balls, "Please... please, baby." You say, lips wrapped around him again.

"Good baby, that's so good." He murmurs before licking along you again, quickly before focusing on your hole again. His tongue slips in and out of you, making you moan against his length.

"Please, please..." You repeat, tittering on the edge of bliss as he pulls away again, teasing you slowly, before his hand snakes from you hip to pushing in, hitting your sweet spot. "Ah! Please, yes-"

You can barely say anything before his mouth wraps around you and drinks down your release without second thought, like it's his last meal. your body trembles as you crash, hand lazily wrapped around his length but unmoving.

He pulls away from you, flipping you onto your back before dragging you on top of him. He kisses you slowly at first before shoving his tongue into your mouth, forcing you to taste your own release. It wouldn't be the first time this happens, but each time it does it makes you groan.

He pulls back, eyes half lidded and staring at you as you lay on his chest. "So good fa' me... fuck, gonna fuck you so good." He chuckles,spreading your legs. "You gon let me do it raw? It's ma special day, after all..." He growls into your ear.

You nod, biting your lip as he pushes his cock head against your already used hole. "Y-yeah... please... w-wanna feel you, all of you, inside." You murmur against his neck, whining as you try to push him in yourself.

"Nuh uh, gonna take dis as slow as I wan' darlin'." He murmurs against your lips before taking your bottom one into his mouth, biting down because sucking to sooth the slight pain. You gasp and whimper, making him do it again.

"Remy-"

"Nuh uh, quiet till I tell ya." He murmurs against your lips, pushing just the tip inside you, making your eyes open wide before rolling back. "Good, good. Take it like the good lil' t'ing you are." He whispers, pushing deeper, cock already lubed with your spit from earlier.

He sheathes himself in you, his balls heavy as he groans, feeling you wrapped tightly around his girthy length. As you moan softly, his hips bucking, he grunts. "Good, good, cher... Dat's right, tell me how good it feels."

"S-so good, fuck- fuck me-" You beg, bouncing slightly to stir him up.

"I am, baby, I"m fucking you. Agh, fuck you're so tight." Remy groans, head falling back slightly as he thrusts up. "Love dis hole. So good, baby-" He pants out, voice getting hoarse. He bites his lip as he speeds up, chancing the both of your highs.

"Remy, ah... Remy..." You moan, hands pawing his chest as you try to keep yourself up. You bounce with his thrusts, making both you groan and moan, a slight whine getting trapped in his throat. "Fuck, so good-"

It's not long before the both of you finish, his thick seed filling you as your own release covers the both of you. You're finally able to fall against him, chest against chest while he's still deep inside you, cock twitching with aftershocks.

You feel his abs contract against your stomach, his arms wrapping around you immediately, holding you like he never wants to let go; and he doesn't. He's lost in the moment, and so are you, his face buried into your neck as he places smooches on it, marking you further, pulling your skin into his mouth.

After he's thoroughly claimed and marked you, he pulls out of you,laying you down next to him. "You okay, cher? Feeling good?" His voice is barely a whisper, nothing but care and love in his voice.

You nod, humming softly as you open your eyes, staring at his face as he smiles back at you. "Yeah..."

"Dat's good, baby. I know how to make ya feel good, huh? An' vise versa." He grins, planting another kiss to you cheek.

"Mhm... happy birthday..." You whisper before he pulls you against him. You're current that you won't be getting out of bed until someone come banging on the door of your shared room, demanding it's time for him to blow out candles and have cake or something.

[bpmiranda]

A/N: just a little blurb🤭 arranged marriage, age gap, 18+ f!reader, fluff, Remy being a scoundrel😏 mentions of smut, unprotected sex, cheating (?)

Thinking about Remy LeBeau in New Orleans, maybe before the X-Men, or in another timeline entirely, and wondering if there’s ever been something he stole in spite of the consequences, the risk, the foolishness even when Jean-Luc and Bobby warned him.

Perhaps a heart too young for him to be holding, 18 and a handful of months in life alone, none in experience, and betrothed to a vile man old enough to be her grandfather as if her ownership were simply a fee of peace between ornery, evil men.

Remy had no business flirting with her, but he couldn’t help himself, and by the time he learned that this sweet girl being bashful over the invitation of coffee was a Bordeaux, it was too late. He had already memorized the pigment of her eyes and the hue of her lips as she admitted she might’ve noticed him around before when the Guilds held court.

Their bond was fueled by youthful rebellion and quiet longing for something their own. Remy had snuck in and out of plenty bedroom windows in his life, but none felt like stepping into hers.

And while there was restraint in the beginning, Remy couldn’t help himself when it came to courting a pretty girl. He’d bring flowers, Jean-Luc’s wife’s beignets, a dainty gold necklace he swiped from a boutique’s storefront.

“Remy, you’re going to spoil me.” She had grinned at his reflection in the vanity mirror behind her as he clasped the necklace and made sure it rested delicately beneath the hollow of her throat.

“Bon,” Remy whispered as he turned her to face him and pressed a kiss to the side of flower pendant, nuzzling his nose into her jaw. “Someone ought to, non?”

They sneak around in the French Quarter during the day, her running from her sister who calls out, “Ma petite sœur, where have you gone off to now? Papa and Julien are expecting us back!”

And Remy kisses her anyway, covering her ears as he does so she won’t hear Bella Donna urge her out of hiding, “Rem!” She gasps softly, only mildly scandalized that the Thief would steal a kiss in daylight. “I am promised to another, sir.”

“Non, bèbè,” Remy murmurs with that little smirk that kick starts the butterflies in her belly, “You’re not his, you can’t be,” His lips find hers again, moving softly over to the corner, mouthing against her supple cheek, “Tu es trop dulce pour lui.” He murmurs while kissing down her delicate jawbone and smirking when a soft exhale leaves her throat as he caresses the column lightly. “Your kiss alone would rot out his remaining teeth.”

They silence her giggles and his smug chuckling with another kiss before she insists she must rejoin her sister and their maid. “Will you - can you come again tonight?” She asks with a hopefulness that makes Remy want to be a good man. He confirms with a kiss on her knuckles and sly wink.

And Lord does he want to be a good man for her.

A good man that makes a plan and finds a town on the water somewhere up North for her, for them. A good man that would place a ring on her finger before ever touching her. Remy LeBeau is simply not a good man, he is a thief, a weapon, and a lover.

Her chambers are warm and scented by the flower arrangements she switches out every two weeks from the Bordeaux Estate gardens. Her frame swallowed by a simple, white linen nightdress that Remy has no business noticing the sheerness of, and yet, he does.

“Regardes-Tu, ma petite fille,” His voice is soft and low, practiced from years of cutting it close as he admires her all laid out on her bed like a stolen good. “Mon ange, mon lumière, do you wish his hands on you like this?” He asks while hovering above her, shirtless and his pants undone.

“Non, jamais,” She whispers, biting her lip as his warm, strong hands palm along her thighs and bunch up her nightdress. “I only want you, Rem, please.”

A good man would wait until she wasn’t engaged, but Remy’s not a good man. “C’est a moi, tell me so, ma belle.” He grunts as he enters her, not for the first time, but for the first time tonight.

“C'est vrai,” She gasps softly, her hands shaking from adoration as she clutches onto his shoulders and broad back, bracing herself as he thrusts slow and deep. “It’s yours, I’m yours, Remy!”

His hand curls around the back of her neck as he swallows her cries and makes love to her like her husband-to-be never will. Not as long as there is air in his lungs and rebellion in her heart.

I did use Google translate to confirm these translations, by the way!😂 Let me know if anyone would like to be tagged in Remy LeBeau content and I will happily begin a tag section:)

Gambit Masterlist

[dollwrites]

ｃｏｎｔｅｎｔ ｔｙｐｅ ┊ kinktober minis + remy lebeau [ impact play ]

ｃｏｎｔｅｎｔ ｗａｒｎｉｎｇｓ ┊ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader, public play, spanking/caning ( improvised ), Remy’s dirty mouth, all characters featured are aged 18+

ｉｍｐｏｒｔａｎｔ ┊please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

“Ahh, now see, dat lil squeal a’yers gotta be de prettiest sound Gambit ever hear ya make.”

a wave of hooting and hollering raised up from the bar’s other patrons with every thwack of his pool stick against your thighs and ass; most of them had crowded around to watch the sordid, little show of your spectacular attempt ( and failure ) of trying to beat Remy at a game of pool, and the subsequent payout. Remy didn’t mind, so long as they kept a respectable distance, but the second one breached the tight circle of the crowd and attempted to approach your prone form bent over the pool table, he’d step smoothly but squarely between them and you, keeping you safe and untouched by the strangers. still, he teased you mercilessly about the show you and he were putting on here.

“‘N ah bet dese fine folks never hear nothin’ sweeter den da sound of dis here pool stick spankin’ you raw ‘n da way you yelpin’ for it. G’onnow, sing for dem, bébé.” the pool stick cracked loud when it made contact with your upper thigh; the pleats in your skirt fluttering wildly to flash the audience a peek of your ass, heart shaped and swaddled in tight panties ( that were undeniably soaked ). you cry out again, your hands gripping tightly at the edge of the pool table you were bent over. your back arched, and your toes curled inside your shoes. “Dere she goes,” Remy chuckled, low and bubbling from deep in his chest as he swatted the makeshift cane against your thighs with a couple of rapid-fire spanks until you were shifting on your feet, trying hard not to crawl out of your own skin and whimpering. “Can’t sit still, but you’s still wearin’ dat cutesy smile. Thighs still drippin’. ‘N you still on display, still yowlin’ like a little housecat in heat for all dese folks t’see. Careful, now, or Gambit gon’ think you like losin’.”

Remy’s drawl was low and thick with barely contained lust. “Tell me da truth, now, chér,” the pool stick clattered against the table beside you now discarded, and he stepped closer to you. he caged you in with one hand resting against the edge of the table, the other reach up under your skirt to soothe the bite that still lingered on your skin. he did so with a firm, groping motion; grabbing fistfuls of your ass as his head dipped low, voice pitched quiet enough so you know it’s just for you, “yer legs are shakin’; don’t matter how much you like gettin’ spanked silly, you’s already gon’ be too sore to sit down. Gambit not a cruel man, bébé, even collectin’ dues sweet like dis one. You’s had enough, non?”

“I can take more.” you mewl and squirm in his grip, sliding across the soft surface of the pool table as he presses his chest against your back, his fingers teasing the lines of your panties as he grabs slow, firm handfuls of your ass. he squeezed just enough each time to enhance the sting, before massaging it deep into your supple globes. “I lost the bet, so don’t hold back—“ it sounded breathy and pleading coming from your lips, “punish me properly, Remy. Please.”

Remy smirked at that; flickers of pride and fondness cocktailing in his countenance before he fisted the soft fabric of your skirt against his palm, flipping it upwards. the pleats fold in on themselves, bunched and resting atop your lower back, exposing your panty-clad bottom now completely. your thighs quiver, your knees tucked in towards each other and on the brink of buckling, but you asked him so sweetly. there was no way he could say no, not to this, not to you. “Da lady begs so sweet, ah can’t say no.” his palm circled the shake of one asscheek, as if sourcing the fleshiest portion, the perfect stretch of skin to spank, pressing a kiss to the back of your head. “Gambit think he gon’ use his hand now, chér. Want dis ass to remember da shape of it.”

[bpmiranda]

Masterlist #4

A/N: all Remy Lebeau content

Fics

Sinners and Saints

Stolen Goods

Crushing

Drabbles

thief!remy in a forbidden tryst

fun uncle!remy

being in a poly relationship w/ Remy

dating remy lebeau

uncle!remy fingering you

romy x sexual intimacy

giving remy lebeau head

bf!remy x waitress!reader

fratboy!remy x oblivious!reader

*list will be updated as content is published:)

[bpmiranda]

Masterlist #4

A/N: all Remy Lebeau content

Fics

Sinners and Saints

Stolen Goods

Crushing

Drabbles

thief!remy in a forbidden tryst

fun uncle!remy

being in a poly relationship w/ Remy

dating remy lebeau

uncle!remy fingering you

romy x sexual intimacy

giving remy lebeau head

bf!remy x waitress!reader

fratboy!remy x oblivious!reader

*list will be updated as content is published:)

[mikasasgfs]

Lucky You- Remy LeBeau x Fem Reader

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

summary: you break up with your ex-boyfriend after you find out he's been cheating on you, so you decide to let loose at the club one night. You end up meeting the one and only Gambit, which leads you to end up at his apartment. <3

warnings: 18+ f!reader SMUT, drinking, Grinding, Dry Humping, riding, Dirty talk, Size kink, Slapping kink, Sthenolagnia kink, unprotected sex, finger sucking, straight up porn, reader is a freak and has a tramp stamp. MDI 18+

authors note: Merry Christmas, everyone. I hope you enjoy my present to you all ;) xoxo, mikasasgfs

Sthenolagnia: sexual fetishism, touching the muscles of another person in a sexually arousing manner

word count: 5.3k

Y/N: bold pink

Gambit: bold red

The night is loud in the city that never sleeps, bright lights blaring in every direction, and taxis honking around every corner. As you make your way under the midnight sky, you decide to visit your boyfriend's apartment as a surprise for your 1 year anniversary. Hidden in your Juicy Couture bag, 2 getaway tickets to beautiful Bora-Bora sit inside. 

As you’re walking along, you see a brand-new club down the street. To your dismay, you see the incredibly long line people are willing to wait all night for.

“That club cannot be that good if there's a huge line out the door,” you mutter. Making your way past it only to look back once more.

As you finally arrive at your boyfriend's apartment. You stop for a second to look at yourself in the mirror placed in the lobby. You can't help but smile at the fact that you look so damn good tonight. Giving yourself a quick twirl, winking at yourself before walking off.

Standing outside your boyfriend’s door, you can't help but imagine all the things that he could’ve gotten for you. Like those heels that you’ve had your eye on for a while, or maybe even taking you out for a shopping spree instead.

Filled with excitement, you knock eagerly against his door.

There's no answer.

You knock a little hard this time, but there's still no answer.

“Is this guy asleep or what?” you think to yourself.

Luckily for you, you remember he always keeps a spare key right under his floor mat. As you reach down to get it, your heart drops. You hear a girl giggle behind the door. You swear that you're hearing things until you hear your boyfriend's voice as well.

This has to be joke.

You fumbled the key in your hand trying to open the door to see if what you heard was real and not just a dream. You make your way inside, not bothering to announce your presence. Not caring how loud your heels clicked against the floor, swinging open the door you see him. Your boyfriend kissing another girl in the same bed you’ve made love in.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me.." you laugh.

Your once-boyfriend looks up at the doorway where you stand, his smile dropping the moment he sees you. The girl in your shared bed turns in confusion, then reaches for the sheets, as if covering herself could undo what’s already been seen.

He says your name

It's soft. Too soft for what you've just seen.

Your fingers loosen around your bag, falling on the floor. You can't seem to look away from what's going on in front of you.

"Wait, y/n, it isn't what it looks like," swinging his legs off the bed, scrambling to put on his clothes.

"Save it, we're done. You can go fuck yourself." You shout.

Storming out of the room, you can't believe this man had the nerve to cheat on you. Ever since you've been together, he's always been such an insecure asshole, always having the balls to critique the outfits you wear when you're with him. Always accused of seeking the attention of other men, even when you had only eyes for him. How can he say things like that when you bought him Bora-Bora tickets for both of you to go enjoy.

No tears come. Just a soft sniffle. You’re secretly glad it’s over between you and him, but at the same time, there’s an ache in your chest—one that hurts not because you miss him, but because you trusted him.

Slowly walking under the dark moonlight, your eyes land upon the same club that you saw earlier.

When a light bulb comes up.

You quickly call for a taxi, making your way home, deciding that tonight, no man will ever dim your spark. And with that, you decide to let loose at the club.

Arriving at the club, wearing a dangerously short dress with your matching Louboutin heels. You feel like a million bucks—you look it too.

Passing the long line, making your way to the front, the bouncer takes one look at you, automatically letting you through. Blowing him a kiss, you make your way past him. Already feeling the night bend your way.

inside the club, bodies dancing dangerously close to each other. The sweat and perfume mix in the air. The bass is loud enough to rattle your chest, lights flashing with the music as laughter and heat fill every corner of the room.

Making your way through the sweaty bodies dancing, you look for the nearest restroom, needing to look at a quick reflection of yourself. You mutter a soft, impressed “Damn,” adjusting your makeup before heading back out.

As you exit the restroom, you hear the song, SexyBack by Justin Timberlake blasting through the club, the lights dancing to the beat. Taking the chance to quickly stop at the bar for a few drinks before making your way on the dance floor.

Without noticing, a pair of red on black eyes follow you as you make your way through the crowd.

Taking a seat at an empty chair, you call over the bartender for a drink. You deliberately take a look at your phone to see if your ex has sent you any messages in which he did over 99+ messages saying how he loves you and how much of an idiot he is.

Rolling your eyes, you shove your phone in your purse, taking a long drink.

All of a sudden, a man sits right next to you—close enough that you notice the heat of him. The first thing that you notice about this man is how big his arms are.

Suddenly feeling a flush of heat between your legs.

Holy crap, you think. His arms are so huge.

Slowly looking away, sipping away your drink. You finally glance up at him. Catching the faint glow of red-on-black eyes looking back at you with interest. Gambit smirks.

He leans in, voice smooth and steady, pitched perfectly to carry over the bass.

"Now, chérie… what’s a beautiful girl like you doin’ all alone in a club like this, hmm?”

Caught off guard by his flirtatious line, you can't help but giggle softly.

You smile into your glass before lowering it slowly, eyes flicking back up to his.

“Who says I’m alone?” you tease, tilting your head just slightly.

“No man should ever leave a pretty thing like you all alone,” he says easily, lips curving into a slow smile. “But den again… guess dat’s where I come in.”

“Oh, is that so?” you smirk, meeting his gaze.

He chuckles, low and amused, clearly enjoying himself. “Mm,” Gambit replies, leaning back just enough to look you over properly. “Got a talent for showin’ up at just the right moment.”

You’re caught off guard by his tone—calm, confident, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

A slow smile tugs at his lips as he leans in just enough to be heard over the music.

“Before I steal you for a dance,” Gambit says easily, “I oughta know what to call you, chère?

His eyes stay on yours—lustful, curious, like he’s genuinely interested in the answer.

"The name's Gambit" he adds, hand brushing softly against your arm. “But I got a feelin’ I’d rather be sayin’ yours".

You give it to him

He repeats it softly, testing the sound, eyes never leaving yours. “Mm,” Gambit murmurs. “Pretty name. For a pretty girl, it suits you.”

You roll your eyes, but a smile tugs at your lips, "You say that to every girl you see?" you tease, hand lingering on his arm just a second longer than necessary.

“Only to you, mon amour,” he smirks, winking like he already knows you liked hearing it.

You do

His gaze drops to where your hand is still wrapped around his arm. He doesn’t pull away. If anything, he subtly flexes beneath your fingers, like he wants you to notice.

A slow, knowing smile spreads across his face.

“Mm,” Gambit murmurs, eyes lifting back to yours. “Careful, chérie. You keep holdin’ on like that, someone might think you like what you feel.”

He tilts his arm just slightly, inviting without forcing, voice light but teasing. “An’ I ain’t complainin’.”

You tilt your head, eyes flicking to his arm and back to his face. “Can you blame me? They’re… hard to ignore.” You bite your lip, watching his reaction.

You cross your legs slowly, deliberately, aware of the way his eyes flicker downward for half a second before returning to your face. He notices. Of course he does.

A corner of his mouth lifts.

“Mm,” Gambit murmurs, voice dropping just enough to feel like it’s meant only for you. “Looks like I ain’t the only one feelin’ somethin’ here.”

His arm shifts—not away, never away—but closer. Not touching you . Just close enough that you’re aware of how easily it could. The heat of him presses into your side, solid and steady.

“You always react like that,” he continues softly, eyes holding yours, “or is that just for me?”

The music swells, bass rolling through your chest, through your bones. His thumb brushes the edge of the bar—slow, unhurried—like he has all the time in the world and knows you’re already leaning toward him.

When he finally leans in again, his lips hover near your ear, not quite touching.

“Careful, chérie,” he whispers, breath warm. “You keep lookin’ at me like that, an’ I might start thinkin’ you want me to do somethin’ about it.”

Then he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze again—smiling, patient, completely sure of himself.

You swallow, pulse loud in your ears, refusing to be the first to look away.

“Confident,” you murmur, lifting your chin just slightly. “For someone who hasn’t properly asked me for a dance.”

That earns you a soft laugh—low, pleased. Gambit’s eyes darken as he shifts closer, closing the last inch of space like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His arm comes to rest behind you now—not touching, but there, solid and unmistakable.

“Some things feel better when they’re invited.” He replies.

The music changes, slower this time, the rhythm heavier. He glances toward the dance floor, then back at you, eyes lingering like he’s already imagining the way you move.

He offers his hand again—palm up, steady, patient.

“Come on, chérie,” he says softly, fingers tightening around yours as he tugs you closer. “Dance with me".

Without a second thought, you give in

Sliding off the barstool, letting him draw you in. His hand stays wrapped around yours—steady, warm—while the other settles at your hip like it’s been waiting for permission.

“Bonne fille,” he murmurs, looking down at you already rising to his feet, keeping you close as he guides you toward the dance floor.

The moment you reach the dance floor, the music takes over—slow, heavy, intoxicating. Gambit doesn’t hesitate. One hand slides firmly to your waist, the other guiding you closer until there’s barely space left between you.

Dangerously close.

Your bodies move together naturally, hips swaying in time with the beat. Every shift, every brush feels intentional. His grip is steady, confident—never grabbing, never rushing—just enough pressure to remind you exactly where you are.

With him.

He dips his head, mouth near your ear, breath warm against your skin. “Easy, chérie,” he murmurs, voice low and rough around the edges. “You keep movin’ like that, an’ you’re gonna start a fire.”

You smile, leaning back into him just a fraction more, testing him. His hand tightens in response, fingers pressing into your hip like he’s anchoring himself.

The crowd fades into nothing. Lights flash. The bass pulses through both of you. When you glance up, his red-on-black eyes are already on you—dark, focused, fully locked in.

“You feel that?” he asks quietly, almost teasing. “Ain’t just the music.”

It hums low and steady, curling through your chest, settling somewhere deeper. Instead of answering, you let your hands slide up—slow, deliberate—resting against his shoulders. Close enough now that your breath mingles with his, close enough that the space between you feels intentional.

Instead of answering, you let out a soft breath and shift closer, closing the last sliver of space between you. The movement is slow, intentional—your way of deciding. His hand at your waist stills, like he’s registering the change, waiting to see what you’ll do next.

You lift your chin, eyes meeting his.

“I do,” you say simply.

Your fingers slide from his shoulders down his arms, unhurried, exploring the solid lines beneath your touch. You don’t rush it. You let him feel exactly how much you like this—him. The reaction is immediate. His jaw tightens just slightly, breath deepening as he exhales through his nose.

“Well now,” Gambit murmurs, a hint of surprise breaking through his usual smoothness. “You always make your point like that?”

You smile, slow and knowing, leaning in until your lips are close enough that he can feel your breath. “Only when I mean it.”

For the first time since you met him, he hesitates—not pulling away, just recalibrating. His grip firms at your waist, grounding, steady, like he’s choosing control instead of giving in to instinct.

“Dangerous move, chérie,” he says softly, voice lower now, roughened just enough to betray him. “You touch a man like that… he starts thinkin’ thoughts.”

You tilt your head, brushing closer as you sway with the music, your body moving in perfect time with his. “Maybe I don’t mind what you’re thinking.”

That does it.

A quiet laugh escapes him, breathy and real, his forehead dipping briefly toward yours before he catches himself. When he looks at you again, the flirtation is still there—but so is something deeper. Interest. Focus.

“Mmm,” he hums. “Guess I ain’t complainin’.”

He pulls you in just a little closer—not trapping, not claiming—just enough to let you feel the decision behind it. The world around you fades into lights and sound, the crowd dissolving as the two of you move together, slow and deliberate.

And this time, when he looks at you, it’s not like he’s waiting anymore.

The music swells again, heavy and slow, his hand still firm at your waist as the two of you move together. You feel it—the tension winding tighter with every second he keeps you that close.

You make the decision before he can.

You turn in his arms, fingers sliding up to curl into his shirt, pulling him down just enough. Your lips meet his—slow, unhurried, intentional. The kiss is warm and confident, a quiet declaration more than a question.

For a split second, Gambit goes still.

Then he responds, one hand coming up to cradle your jaw as he kisses you back—controlled, deepening just enough to steal your breath. Not rushed. Not careless. Just enough to leave you both wanting more.

When you pull away, the space between you hums.

He exhales softly, eyes dark and focused now—no teasing left in them.

“Well,” he murmurs, voice lower than before, “guess that answers a few things.”

His thumb brushes your cheek once, lingering.

Then he leans in, lips near your ear, words meant only for you despite the noise around you.

“What do you say about gettin’ outta here, chérie?”

The next thing you know you’re at Gambit apartment, on top of him kissing him deeply beneath the warm sheets, slowly grinding against his clothed cock.

Gambit, the starved man he is, moves from your sweet lips down to your neck. Placing soft kisses. His kisses linger there, soft at first, then deeper, like he’s savoring every breath you give him.

“Fuck, Gambit ,” you breathe softly against him.

“Mon Dieu.. tu me tues, bébé,” Gambit groans against your skin.

His hands, slowly roaming your back, slid down to grip your ass, pulling you flush against him.

Breaking away from him, you take your time slipping out of your dress, letting it trail slowly down your body before it disappears onto the floor. You glance back up at him as you settle again, lace bra and matching panties on full display, a small, knowing smile playing on your lips—like you’re daring him to do something about it.

You completely break him

Suddenly he’s on top of you before you can even blink his hands roaming your body as he kisses you deeply. He unhooks your bra with one hand and tosses it aside, then slides your panties down your legs and off your body. He takes a moment to admire you, his eyes drinking in every inch of your naked form.

“Mon amour… you’re even more beautiful than I imagined,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky.

He leans down and kisses you again, his hands exploring every curve of your body. Lips trailing across your chest, stopping at your breasts. Softly sucking on each one before moving down your stomach.

He trails his mouth down the curve of your body until he’s kneeling between your legs. His lips find the delicate skin of your inner thigh, kissing you there—slow, deliberate, gentle.

Whimpering softy against your hand.

You can feel the smirk against your thigh when your hips buckle in desperation. “Easy, cher,” he murmurs, voice low and thick. “I’ll get there… just like watchin’ you squirm first.”

He lets his lips hover there a moment longer, breath warm against you, before slipping one hand down. His fingers trail between your folds—slow, unhurried, exploratory. He hums low when he feels how wet you are.

“Well, look at that…” he murmurs, his accent curling around the words, voice rough with something like pride.

He glides his fingers back up, spreading the slickness deliberately, eyes fixed on yours the whole time. “You feel that? He rubs a lazy circle around your clit, just enough pressure to make you shiver, then pulls away before you can chase the feeling.

You gasp, trying to move your hips toward him, but his hands lock you in place. “Ah ah,” he mutters against you, voice warm and smug. “You don’t get to tell me when.”

He laps again—slower, more deliberate—staying everywhere except where you need him most. You can hear the smirk in his tone when you whimper. “You gonna ask nice, bébé?”

Your breath comes in shallow bursts. “Remy, please I need you—”

That’s what he wanted. His lips finally seal around your clit, tongue rolling in slow circles while his fingers sink into your thighs. You buck, moaning his name like a confession, the teasing forgotten as he devours you properly—still slow, still controlled, but now relentless.

“Dat’s it, chérie,” he murmurs, pulling back. voice low and rough. You sound so damn sweet when you beg for me.”

Kissing your pussy, his eyes dark with desire. “You taste so fucking good, cher,” he says, his voice muffled. “I could eat you out all night long.”

He flicks his tongue over your clit, making you gasp. “You like dat, don’t you, chérie?” he drawls softly, a knowing smile in his voice. “You like it when I make you feel so good, hmm? Tell me, mon amour.”

“Yes— fuck, I love it Gambit. Keep going!” You moan tugging his hair softly.

Slowly sliding a finger inside of you, curling it to hit your g-spot.

You gasp grabbing his arm

“Dieu , You’re so wet for me,” he says.

He adds another finger, stretching you out even more. “I can’t wait to fuck this sweet little pussy,” he says.

He sucks on your clit again, sending you over the edge. You come hard against his mouth, moaning his name as he licks up every drop.

“Please Gambit, I wanna make you feel good too.” Looking down at him.

Slowly sitting up on the edge of the bed with that arrogant smirk playing on his lips. "You don’t have to ask me twice chère."

You softly push him against the bed settling between his legs, your hands working quickly to free him from his pants. His cock springs free, thick and twitching, already leaking pre-cum. Without thinking twice you wrap your lips around the tip slowly taking him all.

He groans, his hands tangling in your hair to guide your rhythm. You pull off a string of saliva connecting your mouth to his tip, and look up at him with lust-filled eyes.

“You taste so good, Remy,” you purr, running your tongue along his cock. “I love feeling your big cock hit the back of my throat..”

Gambit throws his head back, eyes fluttering shut for a second before snapping open again. He needs to see this.

As you bob your head, taking him deep, your hand slowing moving down between your own legs. You’re still slick from his tongue earlier, and the moment your fingers touch your wet folds, a muffled moan vibrates against his cock.

“That’s it,” he growls, his voice rough with approval. “Shit, Don’t stop on my account, cher. You look so pretty taking me down your throat.”

“Fuck,” he hisses, his hips snapping forward to meet your mouth. “Look at you, getting off on my cock in your mouth. Such a dirty little slut.”

Moaning softly. You move your fingers faster over your clit,, making wet, squelching noises that mix with the sound of your gagging. The euphoric pleasure makes your eyes roll back, and you gag slightly on him, which only seems to drive him wilder.

“Keep going, bébé… Shit..” Grabbing your jaw slightly, moving your head a little faster.

“Fuck,” he growls, his hips bucking involuntarily. “I’m gonna cum.”

You take him back in, sucking harder, playing with his heavy balls, swirling your tongue around the sensitive head while your hand strokes the base, sticking your tongue out to him, swallowing all of him.

“Dat’s it… mm fuck, you did so good, mon amour,” Gambit praises, kissing you softly, ignoring the fact that you were just taking his cock down your throat.

A slow, wicked smile slowly curves your lips. You push against his chest, using the strength in your arms to roll him onto his back. He goes willingly, a look of surprise and pure lust flashing in his eyes. He’s magnificent, sprawled out against the tangled sheets—all hard muscle and sweat-slicked skin, his cock lying thick and heavy against his stomach, still glistening with your spit.

“Lay back baby,” you purr, swinging a leg over his waist to straddle him. You settle your weight on him, his cock nestled perfectly against your slick, sensitive folds. The position is electric, a promise of the control you’re about to take.

“Mon Dieu,” he breathes, his hands coming to rest on your thighs, his thumbs stroking your skin.

You slowly rise up on your knees, reaching down to grip his warm cock. He’s hot and heavy in your hand, a testament to his size and the sheer power he wields. You guide the thick head to your entrance, teasing him, rubbing him through your wetness before you finally sink down.

The feeling is indescribable. Taking him from this kind of angle is deep, more intense. You lower yourself inch by inch, watching his face as you do. His eyes are locked on the sight of his cock disappearing into your body, his jaw tight, his breath held. When you’re fully seated, his hips pressed flush against yours, you both let out a moan.

“Fuck, you're so big Gambit,” you breathe, rolling your hips experimentally. The movement drags him against your inner walls, and you both shudder.

Yeah?” he grits out, hands tightening on your hips. “I know you can handle it, chérie... go on now. Show me.”

And you do. You start to move, a slow, sensual rhythm at first, lifting and dropping your hips, grinding against him with each stroke. You lean forward, pressing your hands on his chest, your hair brushing against his skin. Grabbing his jaw, kissing him at the same time, his cock hits right against that spot deep inside. You pull back from the kiss only when you have to, breath shaky, lips still brushing his as you both try to breathe. Your foreheads rest together, breaths tangled, a soft, needy sound slipping from you before you whimper and move faster, clinging to him like you don’t want to let go

“Go on,” he encourages, his voice a low, rough growl. Forehead still pressed to yours as you both catch your breath, lips swollen and hovering close like neither of you is ready to pull away. “Use that cock. Fuck yourself on it.” His hands roam your body, sliding up your sides to cup your breasts, his thumb flicking over your nipple, “Look so fuckin’ beautiful, takin’ all of me. So greedy for it.”

His dirty talk fuels the fire building in your belly. You sit up straighter, changing the angle again, and start to bounce. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, loud and lewd. You’re riding him hard now, chasing your pleasure, your breasts bouncing with every powerful thrust. The sight of him beneath you, watching you with lust, his huge muscles flexing as he fights the urge to take over, is the most empowering thing you’ve ever felt.

He brings one hand down, smacking your ass sharply. You moan.The sting from his hand brings a sort of pleasure down in your core. “Harder,” he demands. “Ride me harder, chérie. Wanna see you come apart on my cock.”

You obey, slamming your hips down, taking him as deep as you can. The pressure builds, an unstoppable wave.

Before he can say anything, you grab his wrist. His eyes widen slightly as you guide his hand to your mouth. You don’t hesitate. You take his index and middle fingers, pushing them past your lips and into the wet heat of your mouth. You close your lips around them, sucking gently, your tongue swirling around the digits, tasting the faint, salty-sweet flavor of your own cum that still clings to him.

The effect is instantaneous. His entire body goes still beneath you, a sharp, hissing breath escaping his lips. His hips buck up involuntarily, driving his cock even deeper inside you. You moan around his fingers, the vibration traveling straight up his arm.

"Tu me rends folle chérie". he groans, his voice raw and strained

You just smile, your eyes locked on his as you continue to suck and ride him, bobbing your head slightly, treating his fingers like you’re treating his cock. You’re showing him exactly what you want, exactly what you can do. The look in his eye is filled with a desperate, burning need for you.

You release his fingers with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his skin. "You're filling me up so well, baby". you say in a low, confident purr. "I want you to touch me.”

His eyes flash, a dangerous, predatory glint replacing the momentary shock. He doesn't need to be told twice. He yanks his hand from your grasp and slides it between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit. Slowly toying with you.

But just as you're getting close, he does something unexpected. He stops. His thumb stills, and his other hand, which had been gripping your hip, loosens its hold.

“Hold on, chérie,” he murmurs, his voice thick with a new kind of curiosity. “Just… hold still a second

Before you can protest, he’s moving you gently, gripping your waist, and effortlessly turning you over. The movement is fluid, disarming you as you find yourself suddenly facing away from him, no longer feeling him inside you. Your back is now completely exposed to him.

You freeze, a flicker of self-consciousness running through you. You know exactly what he’s looking at. The small, intricate tattoo you’d gotten on a whim, hidden away just above the curve of your ass.

You hear his breath catch. For a long moment, there’s only silence, the air thick with anticipation. Then, you feel it—the light, reverent touch of his fingertips tracing the lines of your tramp stamp. The touch is feather-light.

“Well, well, well,” he breathes, the words a low, husky rumble that vibrates through you. “What have we here?”

“A little secret, bébé?” he murmurs against your lower back, making you shiver. “All this time, hidin’ this from me. I’m almost offended.”

“I like it,” he decides, his voice dropping to a low, possessive growl. “I like it a lot. A little mark right here…" pressing a kiss on your neck, “..Just for me to find.”

He nips at your earlobe, his hands roaming your front, one cupping a breast while the other slides down to rest low on your belly. He’s just holding you, letting the new discovery sink in, letting the anticipation build all over again.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you, chérie?” he murmurs, his voice a low, satisfied rumble. “An’ I plan on uncoverin’ every single one.”

He positions the thick, flared head at your pussy, He doesn’t push in. He's teasing you, letting you feel the heat of him.

When his cock fills you up again. He rests his forehead against your shoulder, placing a soft kiss. Both of you are breathing heavily, the world narrowed down to the feeling of him, thick and hard and impossibly deep inside you.

You moan softly, your breath catching in your throat. Every slow, deliberate thrust from this angle sends a wave of gentle pleasure washing over you. It’s not the sharp, overwhelming surge from before, but a deep, resonant hum that builds slowly, melting you from the inside out. You feel cherished, adored, and worshipped.

He shifts slightly, changing the angle just enough to make you gasp. His hand leaves your breast and slides down your body, his fingers finding your clit. But he doesn’t rub it the way he did before—hard and fast. Instead, he presses the flat of his finger against it, using the slow rocking of his hips to create a maddening, perfect friction. Suddenly, Gambit cups your face, kissing you so passionately while he’s fucking you from behind.

“Gambit…god,” you breathe, his name a soft, contented sigh.

“Shhh,” he hushes you gently, his lips brushing against your ear. “Just let me. Let me take care of you.”

His movements remain unhurried, a steady, hypnotic rhythm as he fucks you from behind. He’s watching the way your body responds to him, his gaze soft but intensely focused, as if memorizing every flicker of pleasure. The cocky smirk is gone, the teasing glint in his eyes replaced by something raw and open.

He leans down, pressing his lips to the spot just below your ear. “So beautiful,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “Wanted this since I first saw you. Not just this… this.” He rocks his hips a little deeper, emphasizing his point. “This. Right here. Quiet. Just us.”

The tenderness in his voice is your undoing. The slow, sweet pressure building inside you finally crests, not like a violent wave, but like a gentle tide rolling in and over you. A soft cry escapes your lips as your orgasm washes through you. For a moment, you forget everything but the blinding, overwhelming pleasure.

He doesn’t stop. He continues his slow, sweet pace, drawing out your pleasure until you’re trembling beneath him. Only then does he let his own rhythm falter. He buries his face in your hair with a low groan, his body tensing, filling you up until you're dripping of him.

Gambit stays inside you as he softens slowing pulling out, wincing slightly. Wrapping his arms tightly around your waist, his face pressed against your back. Pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to your shoulders and the back of your neck. Gently turing you around cupping your jaw , kissing you as if it were his last breath.

The room is a mess, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat, tangled in the sheets, you simply breathe together—your bodies still connected, the sweet, slow rhythm of your hearts beating as one. You’ve never been more glad you went to the club that night.

authors note: YAYYYY, I hope the wait was worth it, everyone. Thank you for your support. Reblogs and Likes are deeply appreciated :) <3

[equallydeep-inyoureyes]

[bethbentlow]

done. often.

[witchyredneck]

I love the energy 🥹

[soluksuret-deactivated20260516]

[kittyflanders]

Taco Tuesday ; Gambit x reader!

summary: You live across the hall from Wade Wilson, and one Tuesday, he invites you over for tacos. 🌮 And that’s where you meet him. The Gambit. Post-Void, everyone got out alive and everything is fine.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 5.4K | smut with very little plot, alcohol mention, slightly drunk (but very consenting) reader, French and typing out accents/dialects, pet names (cher, mon ami, mon coeur, etc.), dirty talk (cos he is a dirty talker, don't argue with me on this), fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, no use of y/n.

a/n: this is based 100% on Deadpool and Wolverine Gambit / Channing's version of Gambit!! sorry for the lack of plot here, he deserves better than this filth, but I am down ASTRONOMICALLY and I needed to get it out. I spent so much time trying to get his accent right, I hope it comes off the way I wanted it to... anyway! i'm not certain if anyone will read this, but if you do - thank you a million times over! as always, requests are open! - banner by @/strangergraphics, and Remy gif by @scintie!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

He’s handsome. Like really handsome. 

Your stomach does a flip as he smiles at you, reaching for the bottle of Jack between your legs — wait. Pause. Rewind. How’d we get here?

Living in the same apartment complex as Wade Wilson was a trip. Even more of a trip was living across the hall from him. The things you heard coming from that apartment... nobody would believe you. So, you never told anyone. 

He’s kind. Albeit, zany but kind. Your interactions have been cordial and nauseatingly neighbourly. But on one regular ol' Tuesday afternoon, Wade invited you inside. He said something about having a party later that night, making tacos and being neighborly. He assured you that it wasn't a sex party... which to be honest, you weren't worried about until he'd mentioned it. Against your better judgement though, you'd agreed, and said you'd bring some liquor.

So, that evening, you opened your door, one bottle of Jack tucked under your arm, and another in your left hand. You shut the door to your apartment and walked straight across to your neighbour’s door. Your fist had rapped against the wood only twice before the door swung open, revealing Wade, and a very… strange and very bald looking dog in his arms. 

"Oh, what the fuck?" You asked, looking down at the creature. "I didn't know you had a dog…?"

Wade’s voice rose an octave or two, in a cutesy tone. "She's a new addition, yes she is!" 

"I brought... well, this. Sorry, it was all I had in my cabinets and to be perfectly honest, I wasn't about to go out and spend money on this. I like… barely know you."

"HA! Brutal honesty. We love to hear it." 

Wade took hold of your shoulder and yanked you inside, harsh enough that you made a small sound as he did. He shut the door with his foot, and towed you towards the table, where everyone was gathered. And that was when you first saw him. He wore all black, save for a tan trench coat with a high collar. He lounged casually on one of the dining chairs, playing with a deck of cards. They fluttered from hand to hand effortlessly, and for a moment, you were stuck, mesmerized by the dexterous way he handled them. You weren't sure what was pulling you towards him harder, your heart or your cunt, but you felt an undeniable draw to the man.

Wade's arm wound itself around your shoulders, guiding you around the room to meet each of his friends. At that point, living next to him, mutants were a forced transition. You were used to the concept of them, so meeting a giant silver man, for example, wasn't unexpected. Vanessa was the most normal - you were pretty sure she was human.

Finally, he got to the one you really wanted to meet. The one that your eyes had been darting back and forth to the entire time, the one that when he briefly met your gaze, your heart thudded in your chest. 

"And this... handsome slice of man, is the Gambit. Good luck understanding him, he's a real mouthful."

I’ll bet he is, you thought. 

He pocketed the cards in a quick motion and stood up from his chair. With a syrup-smooth chuckle, the man laughed and said: "You can call me Remy." He did in fact have a thick Cajun accent and spoke quickly – almost too quickly. You blinked once, focusing hard on his words.

"Remy," you repeated finally, before saying your own name and extending your hand. He took it gently and as he shook it, your palm tingled with what felt like electricity.

"Enchanté." (Enchanted)

Your cheeks burned, and you knew they were flushing. You couldn’t control it. "De même..." (Likewise.)

His brows lifted, surprised. "You speak French, mon ami?" (my friend) 

"Heh, uhh... comme un enfant." (Like a child) You chuckled low, averting your eyes for a millisecond. "I took a few years of it in high school and again in college. I’m by no means an expert."

Wade's eyes were wide, flicking back and forth between the two of you. There was obvious chemistry there, and a knowing smirk drew itself across his lips. Abruptly, he yanked one of the bottles of Jack Daniels from beneath your arm, before leaning against the nearby wall.

"Oh, fuck me. You understand Gumbo here? That’s cute. No idea what either of you are saying though, someone forgot to turn the subtitles on. I'll leave you two to get acquainted." Whatever that meant. You scoffed, but turned your attention back to Gambit, looking at him.

“Sit a while, cher.” 

You happily took the chair that he pulled out, not caring that it was facing away from the others, and plopped down onto it, situating the other bottle of Jack between your legs. You gripped the neck of the bottle tightly, and looked at him with a timid, but a come hither sort of smile. After a moment, you twisted the cap off, and flicked it off somewhere to your right. Wade would find it later, or he wouldn’t. You didn’t really care. 

You two talked for hours, most of which consisted of him telling you about the Void, and how hard it had been, while you pretended to comprehend it. Between words, you passed the bottle back and forth, taking mouthfuls, and inadvertently swapping spit as you did. The thought occurred to you about halfway through the conversation, and your stomach tightened. You shook your head lightly and clenched your thighs together, trying to stave off the arousal that was bubbling in your core. 

There we go. That’s better.

He’s handsome. Like really handsome. 

Your stomach does a flip as he smiles at you, reaching for the bottle, which was still situated between your legs. His fingertips just graze the side of your thigh and his eyes flit to yours. He holds his smile, waiting for you to either protest or move the moment forward, and all you can do is gawk, because your cunt starts throbbing. 

As the evening wears on, though cautious, it’s obvious that Remy feels the same pull that you do. He remains cool on the outside, but internally, he was battling the magnetic tugging he felt from you. He couldn't shake it. He’d compliment you, you’d compliment him. At one point, in between sips, you casually drop that you think his accent is hot and he whispers something underneath his breath, something you don’t understand. Before either of you realized it, you had started to lean closer to each other, your faces inches apart, and you felt the warm rush of his breath over your cheeks.

It was as if you both realized it simultaneously. You rear back, an embarrassed expression plastered on your face. Remy clears his throat. His attraction to you was stifling; something that he rarely felt. He was powerless in his want for you, the draw you had was irresistible.

"Maybe we should... uh..." You murmur, looking deep into his eyes. In a room full of people that were starting to fade away the closer you two got to each other, you were thankful you were still sober enough to suggest a different setting. Any longer and you surely would’ve just straddled him and gone to town. 

Remy moves first. 

"We gon' take a walk." He announces to the others, getting to his feet. 

The conversation stops abruptly, silence hanging heavy. You straighten up, trying your best to avert your gaze, but you still see everyone’s reaction. Someone clears their throat and your heart sinks, feeling like you might die on the spot. The one that had been introduced as Logan, gruff looking dude, raises a single brow at you. In true Wade-character, he ugly cackles, shattering the moment. Your shoulders sink, embarrassed, as you head towards the door, doing the proverbial walk of shame. 

Remy meets you at the door and pulls it open, holding it for you. You duck underneath his arm, looking sheepish and as you exit into the hallway, you think you heard Wade mutter something about a fanfiction but Remy yanks the door shut before you can react. 

“You want to… get some air? Or um… I have… well, no I had liquor, but I brought it to Wade’s.” 

He smiles, and looks down at the floor, before lifting his eyes back to you. “We can do whatever you want, chère. You ain’t gon’ catch me complainin’ eitha’ way.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, considering the options. Your heart was hammering in your chest at the prospect of just being near him without the others around. You two had been close to kissing in Wade’s living room, and now, you had the opportunity to continue that… or take a walk. The latter seemed less appealing. 

“Y’know what, why don’t we… just…” You take a few steps backwards, jerking your head towards your front door. Concerningly, you had forgotten to lock your door. However, it allows you to open it quickly, and walk backwards into the apartment. Gambit follows you in, his attention never leaving you. 

"You sure 'bout dis, mon ami? I can walk away righ' now." His words land heavy, a promise behind them. He was a gentleman at heart, you could tell. Fortunately for him, you were very sure, and wanted every inch of him.

Mon ami - something that in the few hours you'd spent with him, he'd called you often. Among other things. Mon ami meant my friend, but you knew you two weren't just friends. You saw how he acted with others, and the comments he made. Sure, he had a quick wit and a mouth on him, but the flirting... god, the flirting.

He stands in the doorway, his shoulders filling the frame. Silently, you nod and take another step back, giving him some room to enter. He takes one wide step towards you, leaving the door open behind him. He reaches for your hip, and you immediately take to playing with his large hands. Delicately, you pay attention to each long digit, trailing your middle finger along the knuckles, and up and down the length of them. You dip into the spaces between, your fingers barely ghosting over the webbing. 

Was that a shiver? Your eyes flit to his, searching them for a hint.

"You sure do know how to make a man feel good." 

Your heart flutters at his words. With his accent, even the simplest of things sounded charming. At least to you. You felt that he could ask if you wanted coffee or how the weather was and you'd be twirling your hair around your finger like a desperate schoolgirl. Embarrassing. 

You’re about to respond and defend yourself by saying that all you had done was play with his hands, which was hardly considered foreplay, but his fingers come up underneath your chin, gently closing your mouth with a dull click of your teeth. He tilts it upwards to an angle where he could easily kiss you. And kiss you, he does. 

It was the kind of kiss that makes your knees buckle, sends a violent shudder from the nape of your neck down to the base of your spine. It’s the kind of kiss that needs to come with a warning; Danger: Will Result In Sex. As his lips move against yours, you feel the urgency of his need, of his want, and hum into his lips. Remy takes that as a green light and deepens the kiss, moving his body so that it’s pressing flush against yours. The action leaves you immediately breathless and in response, you break the kiss, tucking your chin to your chest. Your hand finds his torso, pressing hard against the muscles underneath the shirt.  

"Ah, don't you be actin' shy now. You been teasin' me for hours."

“I have not!”

“You think I didn’t notice all ‘dem touches an’ looks you were givin’ me? I may ‘ave been born at night, but I wasn’t born last night.” 

He had you there. You couldn’t deny that, at all. Even if you’d wanted to. Which, part of you did. Part of you was very nervous, standing before this very handsome man, with the taste of his mouth still lingering on your lips but another part of you, the louder one, was delighted that he’d noticed. Furthermore, that he’d enjoyed them enough to come to your room.

You lift your hand behind him, pushing the door shut with a harsh shove. With a twist of your fingers, you activate the locking mechanism, sliding the deadbolt into place. Gambit chuckles, grinning down at you. Your heart leaps into your throat, but you press on bravely, lacing your arms around his neck. They trail down the front of his body, feeling the muscles as they twitch with each ragged breath. 

He quirks a brow as if to ask, 'Oh, really?' You simply smirk back at him. The contact is electric, and you find yourself resisting the urge to grind against him immediately. Instead, you focus on his hands again, bringing one of them up to your lips. You press a delicate kiss on the pads, before slipping one into your mouth and sucking gently. Remy makes a deep, husky sound in his throat, and brings his other hand to your hip, where he pulls you roughly against him.

For a man that uses his hands often, the sensations are high. The way your mouth envelops his finger, your tongue writhing around the digit had his jaw clenching, muscles fluttering on the side of his face. When you draw his finger into the confines of your throat, deep-throating it, his eyes roll back in pleasure. He pulls his hand back, shaking it off as if the inside of your mouth was hot to the touch.

"Woo, you nasty, huh? Nevah’ woulda' guessed... you been actin' like a good little girl 'uhround me." 

After that, it all happened very quickly. Gambit takes a step and connects his lips with yours again, pushing them into you in an act of desperation. Without breaking the kiss, he shrugs out of his jacket, tossing it onto a nearby surface. You push against him until his back hits the door with a heavy thud, definitely loud enough for any innocent bystanders to hear. Your fingers undo the button of your jeans, breaking the kiss for only a second to slide them down your legs. 

Once you return to his waiting mouth, the kiss deepens and the coil in your stomach winds tighter, claiming your body in a deep, fiery arousal. His big arms wrap around you, enveloping you in a heated embrace. Just for a moment, it’s tender — but shortly after, his hands drop to your ass, fingers slipping underneath the band of fabric to take greedy fistfuls of each cheek. 

Your hands find their way to his shoulders, gripping the roundness of them to use as leverage. Letting out a little hum, you sweep your hips across his groin, pressing tightly against him. His eyes drift shut, head bumping against the door as he leaned it back, a low growl coming from his throat. Keeping at it, you grind your hips against him, feeling the outline of his length as it hardens.

“You be drivin’ Remy crazy, grindin’ on me like ‘dat.”

“That’s the intention….” You stand on your tiptoes to pepper kisses on his lips, your warm breath fanning over his face, smelling faintly of Jack Daniels. Remy trails his hand carefully up your rib cage until he gets to the side of your breast, where he quickly slips around to the front, his large hand cupping the fullness of it outside of your shirt. Your reaction is visceral; your breath hisses through your teeth at the sensitivity. 

Remy laughs again and with his free hand, pulls your hips back to his. Swiftly, he spins you around, pinning you between his body and the hard surface of the door. He presses himself tightly against you, shifting slightly so that his thigh was between your legs. The sensation of something that close to your core is dangerous and brings a weak, mewling whimper from your mouth.

“We gon’ have ourselves some fun.” His voice is low, tinged with a new sort of lustful tone that you hadn't heard before. Your mind is spinning, growing dizzy with lust. The alcohol had certainly helped your nerves, you were never usually this brazen. Your core burns with desire at his words, silently begging for everything he was about to give you. His lips hover just over yours; you can feel his breath on your skin and the heat that radiates off his body as it presses into yours.

"Oh my god," you whisper into his mouth. "Fuck..."

His teeth nip at your bottom lip before he captures your mouth in a heated, passionate kiss again. His tongue explores the inside, swirling along your own wet muscle. With every passing second, your heart beats faster and his hands grip your hips tighter, thumbs massaging the flesh above your jeans.

“Wrap ‘dem legs around me, mon coeur.” (My heart) Remy’s voice is husky with want; amongst his playful, lilted tone, a possessiveness lingered, and the thought sends a chill down your spine. He nods once, encouraging you into his waiting arms. You jump up, and he catches you effortlessly, gripping your thighs tight and hoisting you up into his grasp. Feeling secure, you wrap both legs around his waist and encircle his neck with your arms. Your gaze meets his and you can see the wanton need mirrored in his own eyes, darkened with desire.

Remy's smirk is dripping with confidence. Your body's response to him was causing his ego to swell within his chest, and his cock to swell within his pants. He leans in close, his lips against your ear, nipping at the lobe softly before pulling back slightly. In one fluid movement, his hips buck up against your center, teasing you over the layers of clothing. You let out a moan, throwing your head back against the door.

He thrusts up into you again, chuckling low against your ear. The hard line of his cock grinds against you, making you stutter out expletives as it presses against you with a needy demand. 

"You like 'dat, cher? Talk t' me..."

You nod, swallowing and wetting your throat. "Y-yeah, fuck... I do... need you – it – so bad."

“Whaddya’ need?”

“N-need you… so bad.” 

“You can do betta’. Tell Remy what you need...” 

He presses you harder against the door, your back sliding against the wood as he kisses a trail down from your mouth to your shoulder, sucking and biting with all the right intensities. As his hips grind against yours, you feel the damp fabric slide across your cunt, alerting you to just how wet he’d made you. Fuck. 

“Need… need you to fuck me. Hard. Need to feel you everywhere.”  

A few hours ago, you’d agreed to Taco Tuesday at Wade’s. Now, you were getting dry humped by a really hot Cajun guy and moaning into the curve between his neck and his shoulder. You were positive that if someone opened their door, they’d hear you. Somewhere in your brain, the thought should have been moderately embarrassing, but you were far too invested in Remy to care. 

Without warning, Gambit lifts you away from the door and carries you to the nearby couch. He never breaks the kiss, still feverishly claiming your mouth as he moves. Your back hits the cushions and before you can process it, his body weight is on top of you. He slots himself in between your legs, and his hard-on bumps into your stomach as his hips rut against you, finding some relief in the friction. But not enough. 

Remy’s hand finds the hem of your shirt, lifting it just enough to allow his fingers underneath the fabric. You bite down on the pillow of your bottom lip and push your hips up into his. Thick, strong digits sweep across your skin, leaving a burning trail of fire in their wake. Every touch brings your temperature up, and it isn’t long before your entire body is consumed in flames. You sigh contentedly, arching up into his touch. 

Abruptly, Remy straightens up, crosses his arms over his torso and pulls his shirt over his head, revealing his tan skin and bulky muscles. His stocky stature makes your tummy clench with anticipation. He was fit, as you assumed, but that didn’t stop your jaw from falling open at the sight. 

“Wow,” you finally choke.

Remy grins. “You like what you see?” 

You nod furiously, hands snapping to his toned abdomen. He’s warm and his skin is soft, begging to be touched. The muscles flex underneath your fingers as you trace a long stripe from his belly button to his collarbone. Your hands claw at his shoulder, attempting to pull him back down on you, but he resists. 

He spoke with a playfulness, almost a sort of pleading. His thumbs flicks at the hem of your shirt. “Ah, c’mon, ‘dat ain’t fair. Enlève-tout toi, huh?” (Take it all off.)

You thought you understood, but if you didn’t, it didn’t matter. Remy was quick to translate his words, busy undressing you, pulling your worn t-shirt over your head, and reaching around your back to unclasp your bra. Most men would’ve fumbled with the clasp, but not him. His adept fingers make quick work of it, allowing your breasts to fall free. He throws your bra somewhere behind him. 

“Hooo, cher…!” His eyes light up at the visual and you feel heat blooming on your cheeks again, half expecting him to make a lewd comment. Instead, his hands cup your tits, kneading the soft plumpness like dough, thumbs grazing the nipples. He exhales through his mouth, jerking his head to the side. 

Finally, he kisses you again. It’s wet and sloppy and his mouth is consuming you, tasting you hungrily. His hips are still moving, sweeping into yours with a calculated precision. You try to spread your legs but the back of the couch thwarts your attempt. He notices this, watching as you struggle with the space. 

“You got a bed?” He asked in between smearing kisses along your neck and collarbone. 

“Yeah-yeah…. Down the hall.” 

“Remy be needin’ more room for what he wanna’ do t’you.”

His weight is suddenly gone from you, an unwelcome sensation, even though you know he’s about to carry you wedding-style down the hallway. He bends down, one arm sliding underneath your neck, the other in the crook behind your knees. For the second time that night, he lifts you into his arms.

You rest your cheek against his warm pectoral muscle, rocking back and forth, as he walks you both down the dark hallway. The only light in the room comes from the window, the city outside alive and humming. Carefully, Remy sets you down on the bed, unmade from this morning, your dark gray sheets cool to the touch. 

In nothing but your underwear, which at this point, are damp to the touch, you’re left feeling very exposed. But you can’t muster up any shame, not when he’s looking at you with such hunger, such want. Your tummy feels tight, and the feeling gets worse when Remy’s hands drop to his waist, unzipping and unbuttoning his pants. They fall loose at the waist, and he shucks them down the rest of the way, leaving him in nothing but a pair of deep purple boxers. Your eyes swing heavy to the outline that’s now presented to you. 

Oh my god. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise; Remy was a big guy, and that proved true downstairs, too. You can barely pull your eyes away from it, but you begrudgingly rip them away, to look up into his gaze. 

“Please,” you beg. “You’re too far away…” Your cunt is aching and nothing but him, his hands, his dick, will sate her. 

He leans forward, flattening both hands on the mattress and walks them back until his face is in front of yours. He sweeps you into another kiss and your heart races. His hands are perfectly positioned on either side of your hips, you feel them graze the flesh. His finger hooks around the elastic of your panties, twisting it around his pointer finger and gradually, he tugs them down over the curve of your hip.

You nod lazily against his mouth, as you feel the warmth of his hand near your core. Your legs drop apart, knees touching the mattress as you allow him access. One hand sweeps across your inner thighs, stroking them, while the other palms your soft mound. His other hand comes to pause at your knee, and pushes his weight into it softly, forcing you to stay spread-eagle for him. No way you could’ve done this on the sofa. 

There’s no hesitation in the way he fingers you; sweeping up through your slick folds, smearing your arousal around until she’s coated in it, splaying your pretty, wet cunt apart with his fingers, looking upon it hungrily. He knows what he’s doing, and how to do it right. You briefly wonder if that’s another mutant power he has… though being an expert at fingering someone seems outlandish. But he’s just so good at it. His middle finger barely touches you, circling the bundle of nerves delicately. Your back arches up towards him, a desperate groan vibrating your vocal chords. Delighted by your reaction, his finger flicks upwards at your swollen, sensitive clit, making your body literally quiver. 

“Uhugh – god…. Shit, oh my god.” 

He continues like this for several minutes, until your cunt is blazing hot and clenching with every moan you give. 

By the time he presses one finger inside, you’re teetering on the edge of an orgasm and your voice fills the room with needy, desperate sounds. You let out a shrill whine, and he slips in another finger, feeling the stretch of muscle as he does. His heart is pounding in his chest, overcome with lust. The way you sound, the way your body is moving and writhing on the bed, he can’t wait to sink himself into you. 

Amidst a laugh, he says: “People gon’ think we up in here watchin’ porn.”

Did he just insinuate that you sounded like a pornstar? You lifted your head, wearily, to look at him. Your chest heaves with each breath as you try to formulate a snarky remark to no avail. He looked so good – well, always – but he looked particularly good on top of you, his bright eyes lust blown and hungry. 

“We’re… we’re… porn… it’s…  oh god.” 

He shushes you. “You just lay back and keep moanin’.” 

Defeated, you huff and your head hits the sheets again, but not before you catch a glimpse of the way the muscles in his forearm ripple as it pumps back and forth into your cunt. You can’t help but moan at the sight, feeling a shockwave rupture your core. Your hips meet his fingers, rutting and writhing against the mattress in a needy rhythm.

Your first orgasm claims your body before you can stop it. You’re clenching around his fingers as they move, crooking upwards into your sensitive spots. Your slick coats his fingers and when Gambit pulls his hand back, thick, clear strands string from between them. He smiles down at you. 

Remy raises himself to his knees. “Turn ‘round…” 

You flip over and back yourself towards him, thinking that he’s going to go at it doggy-style, but to your surprise, he pulls you upright, pressing your back against his chest. His dick is hot between your legs, and when he reaches down to line it up, you let your head loll back against his shoulder. Gambit’s mouth finds the side of your neck, streaking it with wet, suckling kisses. He was taking his time with you, savouring you and you hum happily through closed lips, reaching behind you to thread your fingers through his hair.

“Fuck, you feel so good…” Instinctively, your hips undulate and his cock slips between your folds. Remy’s hips buck once, letting out a groan that comes from somewhere deep. 

“You ready, cher?” He asks, sweeping your hair away from your neck. You nod furiously. You’ve been ready – you were ready the moment you laid eyes on him.

Remy reaches down to sweep his fingers along your entrance briefly, before gripping himself and guiding the head of his cock into the slit. You keen at the feeling of his velvet-soft head pressing into your entrance, warm pre-cum leaking from the slit. He murmurs words of encouragement into your ear as you feel his hips press against your ass, urging his thick, veiny shaft inside your cunt. He does it gently, allowing you time to adjust to the girth, but the sting still makes you cry out. “Fffuck!”

He begins to thrust his hips shallowly, your cunt stretching around his cock. The feeling is all-consuming, and your body feels heavy in his grasp. One hand is gripping your waist tightly, the other, fingers splayed out on your stomach just above your cunt. There’s a pressure building in your cunt, and each thrust magnifies it. The sting of his cock fades to an ache, then to a dull throbbing that makes you want more and you lean forward slightly and press your ass into the curves of his hips, meeting his thrusts. 

“Mm, ‘dat’s it, cher…” His voice is hot on your skin. 

His thrusts get deeper, but there’s a lingering tension in his body that makes you feel like he’s not getting what he wants. You’re right; all at once, Remy pulls his cock from you and switches positions. 

You’re suddenly on your back, looking up at him as he looms over you, all muscle. His cockhead nudges your entrance again, but doesn’t penetrate. 

“Say my name, cher… I needa’ hear it leave ‘dat pretty mouth.” 

“Which one? Gambit? Or Remy?” You ask, breathlessly.

The way his eyes rolled back at the second option told you everything you needed to know. A smirk twisted your lips cruelly and you lifted your body slightly, just enough for your mouth to reach his ear. You moan his name over and over again, knowing full well the effect it’s having on the mutant man.

“Remy, Remy, Remy….” Your tone is high-pitched and whiny, but he seems to enjoy the lewdness of it all. He bucks his hips hard into you, and the fullness reaches an all-time high as he bottoms out, his pelvis hitting yours with a slap.

“Huhhh—!” You gasp, breathing ragged. “Fuck!”

“Gonna’ make you cum so hard you ain’t gon’ walk right for days.” His voice is low and filthy and leaves a stain on your mind. Your cunt clenches around him possessively, pulling him somehow deeper inside of you. 

As your head bangs into your headboard, the tip of his cock bumps your cervix over and over again, and your jaw goes slack, literally fucked silent. Remy hears the thudding of your skull and puts a hand between it and the wood, but he doesn’t stop his relentless, deep thrusting. 

The pleasure reaches a peak and your nails dig into his back, leaving crescent moon shaped indentations on his golden skin. Remy’s groaning loud into your ear as he cums, muttering in an almost incoherent melange of French and English. His accent is somehow heavier, and you can barely make out the words as he’s saying them into your skin. It doesn’t matter though, because you feel how full you are, and Remy’s hot, white completion is leaking out the sides and staining your sheets. 

He stays like that for a moment, hovering on top of you. His cock softens inside, completely spent and eventually, he slips it out, rolling over onto your bed.

“Ah, joi de vivre, huh.” (the joy of life), he says drowsily.

You laugh, and nestle underneath his arm, in the space he’s left for you. 

If you had your way, you’d do it all over again. 

Though he doesn’t say it, so would he. 

[classichorrorblog]

Bram Stoker's Dracula (1992)

[audiomano]

Sexual Fantasy