#gambit xmen

[nakakabaliw]

buying groceries for a bunch superpowered teens aint easy.....

[paranoidratt]

Would you guys believe me if I said I was already half way through drawing this before episode 8 even came out

[icornflower]

I hope we get to see this Gambit in the Marvel Rivals someday..

I'm really looking forward to the second season of X-Men '97... So I drew a Gambit design inspired by the show in the Marvel Rivals style

[classygumi]

spidey! reader x some of my favorite marvel men

GAMBIT … remy lebeau

everything hurt.

your suit was torn in several spots, the symbolic webbing ripped open to reveal bloodied skin. the window sill of the mansion was slick, the rain doing little to help your case. thunder struck in time with your soft bang against the edge, knocking the window open. you slid inside, quietly latching the lock behind you.

lightning flashed, illuminating the room. you pried the mask off your head, hair bouncing free as you breathed deeply. your wounds ached, and you grimaced when a particularly harsh throb wracked your ribs. you leaned against the wall, grateful for the dark that encased the room.

remy was out for the night, you were certain. he’d left you a note, saying he and the guys went to a gaming hall. you’d smiled fondly at the tiny heart he left next to his name.

you stumbled into the bathroom, blood smearing along the walls and the counter. the toothbrush cup fell over, spilling onto the floor. you went down next, your shaking arms barely able to hold yourself up.

before you could even think of picking them up, lights flicked on as the floors creaked.

“chère?”

you reached for the door, throwing your limp body against it. remy’s shadow appeared from under the door, his knuckles tapping against the wood, “did i wake ya up? y’alright?”

“m’fine, remy,” you shakily spoke, biting back a wince as your fingers dipped into the wound. you felt the hard casing of the bullet. “can’t lie t’remy, mon ami. let him in, please.” your nails grazed the bullet, a quiet grunt leaving your lips at the ache.

your brows knit together when the door you rested on began to rattle. it warmed, and you quickly scooted away when you saw the purple flecks of kinetic energy swirling around the doorknob. “remy—!”

it opened.

and there he was.

dressed casually—in one of those crop tops he adored and jeans—like he didn’t bankrupt other gamblers and win every game of poker. his crimson hair was fluffy.

“where’s your coat?” you asked with a gentle frown. it was cold outside, didn’t he wear one?

“you bleedin’ on our floor ‘n askin’ about some coat?” he knelt next to you, necklaces clinking as he tore his gloves off. you watched him tug the first aid kit from the cabinet, flicking it open and getting to work. remy was uncharacteristically quiet, which worried you deeply. he hadn’t acknowledged the suit you wore, nor gloated about the sheer amount he’d won tonight.

you grimaced when the bullet clinked on the tile, feeling your enhanced regeneration tingle through your cells. “i knew,” remy spoke, resting a comforting hand on your thigh, “‘bout de…spider thing. did’ya think i wouldn’t notice?”

you looked away, silent and ashamed.

“m’not mad at ya, chère. not even a lil,” he soothed, clasping a firm hand under your jaw and guiding your face back to his, “just wish ya told remy sooner. he didn’t wanna see ya like t’is before ya told him.”

“i’m sorry,” you whispered, feeling the skin of the wound close. remy stared down at it, dual-colored eyes swirled with confusion. “i heal over time,” you explained, “gunshots take longer, usually.” he shook his head with a fond grin, as if the thought of your wounds taking longer to heal would quell his worries.

remy’s eyes were molten, swirling with sparks of purple and admiration. it was quiet, his thumb simply sweeping over your cheek as your healing tingled your cells. “how much did you win?” you asked after a while, allowing him to scoop you up and carry you to the bedroom. “i’m offended, chère. ‘course i won lots,” he smirked lazily, “wan’ somethin’? remy’ll get it for ya.”

“my suit kinda needs repairs,” you sheepishly admitted, and he laughed. “mm. dunno ‘bout supportin’ such…dangerous endeavors..” he got you comfortably in bed, joining you quickly, and tucked you close. remy was always warm. you buried your face in his chest, hiding from his blazing eyes upon your next words, “and i wanted to go shopping for a dress for emma’s event..”

“ooh, now dat—remy’s got plenty,” his lips pressed against your head, “oughta let me see ev’ryone of ‘em. touch, too. tha’s requirement. needa see if the…quality is worth de price.”

you smiled and giggled, keeping your warm face hidden from him, “required, huh? you sure it’s just to test the fabric quality?”

“guilty as charged,” he mused, dragging his fingers along your spine, “close ‘dem eyes, chère. sleep f’remy.”

you hummed softly, the ache in your bones fading as remy’s touch soothed them. outside, sirens still blared and criminals still ran rampant—but right now? you were simply remy’s.

daredevil … MATTHEW MURDOCK

you’d learned how to circle matt.

adapted to his schedules, shifted around mishaps, smiled through painful throbs of bruises—you’d perfected it.

until you seen him out.

you were perched on a balcony, fingers barely grazing the iron safety bars. it was 3am, and matt was usually asleep at this time. home from a long day of court, and tonight, he mentioned going out to drink with foggy and karen. he was home at midnight—why was he out now?

you quietly leapt across buildings, pausing every time he paused, moving when he moved. his cane tapped lightly against the concrete, the familiar clicks making your heart rate slow.

then, a hand shot from the darkness.

matt was yanked into an alley, and you launched into action. you watched as the man threw matt to the ground, and before matt could retaliate, you were there. your fist collided with the thug’s face, webs zipping! out. your foot landed on his shoulder, launching yourself and him up as you threw punch after punch and kick after kick. the webs clung to him, pinning his struggling and bruised frame against the brick wall.

your feet touched the pavement, kneeling in front of a winded matt.

“sir, sir, are you alright?”

“i knew it,” he breathed, smiling in that utterly pleased way of his. you tried to subdue your increasing heart rate, handing him his cane, “knew what?” matt’s head tilted knowingly, hands drifting forward to grip your waist.

“i’m not a fool, sweetheart. i know your heartbeat,” matt leaned up, and you had to look away from him, “it got faster. you’re nervous. i know your footsteps—your breaths.” matt pushed himself off the ground, and you slid his cane in his hand. he took a step towards you, lips still pulled into that infuriating smile of his. you tried to pull away quickly, but he caught your wrist, “i know your touch, your hands. even if they’re covered.”

“did you plan this or something?” you embarrassedly asked, keeping your eyes averted as he tugged you closer. his lips curled up further, and you groaned in disdain, “matt!”

“don’t be like that,” he cooed, “i was getting tired of you tiptoeing around it. so, i gave you a reason to tell me.” your head thumped against his chest, a heavy sigh leaving your lips. he swayed you lightly, chin propped atop your head. he smelled like warm sheets and the candle on the nightstand.

“go home, please.”

“come with me,” he countered, bringing both arms around you. his fingers traced the webbing of your suit, trailing around the spider design on your back. “i can’t,” you muttered, tensing when one of his hands dragged up your arm. his fingertips grazed along your mask, and you clasped his wrist tightly, “matt…”

“just for a minute, baby,” he whispered, “please?” you hesitated, nodding briefly. matt lifted your mask over your nose, and you felt his breath tickle your lips.

then, you felt his softness.

matt’s hands held your face, his shoulders dropping in utter bliss. you backed him into the wall, smiling into the kiss. you broke apart, foreheads resting together.

your lips parted to speak—

“hey, can you let me down please? i need to go to the doctor!”

your head jerked up, and matt laughed:

“foggy?!”

SPIDERMAN … peter parker

it was hard being new york’s third spidey.

you usually stayed under the radar, cleaning up when peter or miles couldn’t—but there was one tiny issue.

they had no idea it was you.

peter was at grad school for the majority of the day—miles surely contemplating his existence in high school—so you had opportune time to be spidey during the day. they’d tried to contact you, of course, but you’d made it a point to avoid them at all costs.

right now, you were perched on a rooftop, eyes skimming across the city as you held a large icee in your hand. you sipped casually, flinching when your comms began to ring. your fingers pressed against your ear, a soft hum leaving your lips.

“hi, honey,” you greeted, “what’s up?”

peter didn’t answer.

“peter?”

“why didn’t you tell me?”

“tell you what?” you calmly asked, keeping your voice level despite the panic creeping up your spine. peter sighed, displeased, “delmar’s pickle sub was on sale an hour ago.”

“oh,” you laughed, relieved, “i’m sorry, i didn’t know it was.” peter groaned childishly, and you vaguely heard the bustling sounds of the cafeteria. “are you with miles?”

“yeah. gonna take him to get some actual food for his final week,” you heard him call him over, and then you heard his voice, “hey, pete’s taking me to get actual food. do you wanna go?”

your lips parted to agree, but a loud screech and explosions sounded nearby. you heard the phone rustle, “what was that? baby?”

“nothing—i gotta go, have fun!”

you swiftly hung up, ignoring the way peter called you back instantly. you tugged your mask back on, tossing your empty icee cup in a trashcan as you swung to the scene. you landed atop a streetlight, frowning when you saw a group of men holding women hostage.

their massive guns waved haphazardly, and you teasingly called out, “got a license for those?”

“it’s the spider!”

“which one?!”

you catapulted yourself at them, web bombs flying from your palms. the sticky threads flawlessly coiled around them, pinning them in one webbed up cluster. “huh. that was easy,” you shrugged, walking over to the women.

“hi,” you whispered, “anyone hurt?”

they shook their heads as you gently guided them away. you flinched when a sharp pain pierced your side. you glanced down, spotting an unfamiliar object. the dart’s contents were glowing purple, and your body broke into shivers upon its dispersal into your bloodstream.

“haha! it worked!” the cluster cheered.

you shot a web, barely able to swing properly. you crash landed on a nearby roof, curling up into a ball as your body shook. you were freezing despite the boiling hot weather.

“spidey?” the voice was warbled, but you recognized the familiar red and blue suit, accompanied by the black and red one. you tried to move, to hide from him, but his hand carefully moved you on your back.

“hey, hey, what happened?”

you shook your head, fingers grazing the rooftop’s edge. you were in agony. cold, hot, boiling, freezing, shivering, paralyzed.

“you need fresh air,” miles worriedly said, his hands nearing the hem of your mask. you weakly slapped them away, and he looked at peter for guidance.

“we promise we’ll keep your secret,” peter comfortingly said, “we can help you.”

“i don’t want it,” you heaved, mustering up enough courage to toss yourself off the edge. your body freefell, but your webs missed their landing—

a hand coiled around your wrist, your body dangling against the wall. you tiredly looked up, spotting peter upside down in front of you. he was stuck to the wall, one hand next to your head as the other held you up by your wrist.

“i tried to give you openings, but i seriously can’t take it anymore,” peter reached for your mask, yanking it up and off before you could react, “baby, please. we need to get you to the hospital.”

your mind was rendered to nothing but mush.

you could only hum and grumble, and you grimaced when he swept you up. your vision went dark, all you felt was his arms.

when you woke, he was staring at you with an intensity and a sadness you hadn’t seen since aunt may.

“pete?” you tiredly whispered. he didn’t speak, his knee bouncing rapidly, “are you mad?”

“i’d be a hypocrite if i were mad,” he sighed, shifting from his seat and sitting next to you on the bed. his fingers traced along your cheek, a weak smile on his lips.

“you could’ve told me.”

you didn’t answer to that, lifting your hand to cup his. his warmth permeated the cold of your skin. you shrugged softly, and he laughed as he pressed his lips to yours. “mm. i guess i didn’t tell you either, huh?”

“no, you didn’t,” you mused, “i found out because you left your mask in—“

“you promised not to talk about that!”

wolverine … LOGAN HOWLETT

“she’s not herself—logan!” charles shouted, turning in his wheelchair in an attempt to stop him.

“i don’t give a damn,” he snarled, spinning on his heel, “she’s mine. some fish-bowl headed lunatic ain’t takin’ her from me.” ororo stood instantly, grabbing her jacket and following him out. he briefly shot her a look of gratitude and utter respect, to which she nodded once.

storm always had his back.

the jet rumbled as it zipped through the air, and its screens displayed you in the city. mysterio hovered near you, the sky dim as the people’s symbol of hope ebbed away. “get me as close as you can,” logan grumbled to scott, who didn’t respond with one of his usual remarks.

he understood the gravity of the situation.

you, the girl who swung with webs through new york city, hands outstretched to whoever needed help—a child who fell off their bike, a man kicking a vending machine that took his money, the elderly woman who needs help crossing the hectic street—you were there.

now, you were suspended midair, body lifeless as mysterio’s control seeped into your mind. citizens cried and begged, their fingertips barely able to reach you.

“ah, the x-men,” mysterio cooed, “come to save a fellow hero?”

the jet landed harshly, and logan leapt out. he stormed closer, feeling the soft breeze of ororo’s aura behind him. jean and scott joined them, their eyes blazing with rage.

“where did you take them?” scott shouted. mysterio’s arms stretched wide, “allow me to show you.”

the city faded to black.

bodies were thrown and tossed about, and logan seen you. your suit was shredded to pieces, your mask completely gone. your eyes were black, tears staining your cheeks. blood coated your skin as you stood atop a pile of bodies.

how long had you been here?

what were you seeing?

he turned around, tensing when he realized that he was the only one here. logan sprinted toward you, and your eyes jerked to him. you jumped, webs slinging out to stop him. webs cocooned him in seconds.

your fingertips dug into his face, “sick joke, mysterio. using him against me.”

“bub—“

“stop talking,” you seethed, fresh tears filling your eyes, “i will break your neck.” logan’s claws slid free, slicing through the webs and shoving you against the ground. his hand pressed against your throat—a warning. “listen to me,” his tone was firm, eyes dark with anger, “yer stuck in an illusion. he threw me in here w’you.”

“you’re—lying!” your knee dug harshly into his stomach, but he didn’t move. logan’s claws dug into the asphalt, solidifying his posture, “i ain’t lyin’, stubborn thing. it’s logan,” he stressed, eyes flicking all over your injuries, “look.”

he cautiously raised a hand, reaching for the neck of his white shirt and tugging the collar down. a thin chain with a ring looped onto it—the stupid matching rings you’d bought as a peace treaty after a big argument. you faltered in your fight, hand lifting to further pull the shirt down—

“now yer just pushin’ it.”

then he felt your fingertips brush along a scar.

one that very little knew was there.

the scar that you’d given him for moments like these, moments that needed proof and grounding. logan relaxed, leaning back and pulling you up with him. you traced the tiny X with care, and he frowned when tears filled your eyes. “c’mon, sweets. don’t cry.”

your palms roughly swiped at your eyes, your breaths growing scarce, and his hands easily found your wrists, “stop. breathe.”

you cried apologies, falling into his arms. logan sighed, standing up with you secure in his hold. he rubbed your back as he walked through the domain, ears tuned into finding his comrades.

when he reconnected with the group, ororo greeted you with a soft smile. you stayed in his arms, eyes forcefully averted from the carnage you’d unleashed in here. logan wasn’t worried about getting stuck in the domain, he knew they’d find their way out eventually.

but right now, he had you—his darling spider—in his arms, and you needed him.

HUMAN TORCH … johnny storm

you’d broken your arm in an intense fight with sandman. you remembered the sick crack, the way your forearm was angled incorrectly as you sheepishly showed it to the emergency room workers. you hadn’t been able to reset the bone, so it had begun to heal like that. the doctors, pitifully, had to re-break the bone just to fix it.

it healed a week ago.

johnny still hadn’t stopped pampering you.

he refused to “hand you over” to peter when the city called, he refused to let you do literally anything. tonight, peter had messaged you, desperate for help on an intel-related task. johnny was sleeping, and so, you’d taken the opportunity.

you quietly snuck out of the bedroom, suit zipped up and ready to go. herbie appeared at the end of the hallway, his little head tilting curiously. you knelt in front of him, gently rubbing his head, “i’ll be back soon, herbie. don’t worry.”

“johnny?” he beeped quietly.

“sleeping. if he’s up before i leave, tell him i went shopping. wait, no don’t tell him that, he’ll be upset,” you considered a proper response, sighing as you shook your head and came up empty, “just tell him i’m helping pete.”

herbie beeped, nodding. he nuzzled into your hand, and you smiled warmly. “bye, be good.”

he followed you to the balcony, watching you closely as you leapt off it. the sky was blanketed with stars as you zipped through the city, landing calmly on the appointed building. peter appeared from around the corner, waving as he landed. “hey, thanks for coming. did johnny let you go easy?”

“i didn’t wake him up,” you admitted, “didn’t feel like arguing and wasting time.” peter hummed knowingly, perching next to you and pointing at the condemned factory.

“kraven’s got stuff in there. need to know all about it.”

“easy,” you mused.

it was in fact, not easy.

you and peter breathed heavily behind cover, bullet wounds coating the two of you. “i’m sorry,” he whispered, wincing at a throb of pain. “uh-huh,” you mockingly replied, flinching when a bullet embedded the wall next to you.

you silently contemplated what to do—

you were cornered, blood dripping from nearly every part of your body. peter was in a similar shape, wounded and exhausted. you groaned, your head thumping against the wood crate, “use the signal.”

“seriously? johnny’s gonna kill us…”

“i’d rather die to him than these guys, pete. just do it.”

peter visibly accepted his fate, thumb pressing against the line of webbing that alerted the fantastic four. within seconds, your comms rang. you pressed your ear against your shoulder, too tired to raise your hands.

“that better not have anything to do with you.”

“i don’t know how to tell you this,” you laughed weakly, “but it kind of has everything to do with me.”

johnny didn’t speak, comms shutting off. peter met your masked eyes, “how bad?”

“he’s dead silent,” you solemnly said.

“shit.”

the glass erupted into shards, and you flinched when rapid gunshots fired. a bright orange glow encased the room, and you vaguely heard the soft thrumming of sue’s barrier.

loud footsteps sounded to your left, and you saw ben standing over the two of you.

“hey,” you and peter greeted casually, as if the two of you weren’t staining the floor red. johnny landed next to ben, expression utterly displeased and furious. he knelt next to you, sending a nasty stare towards peter as he scooped you up.

“i’m sorry, man!” peter shouted as johnny walked away. he didn’t say a word as he ignited into flames and shot off towards the hospital.

“stupid, stupid,” he muttered, “i’m gonna sell out everything he loves.”

“johnny—“

“you scared me, baby,” he admitted, “woke up to the signal going off, you not in my arms.”

you murmured an apology, doing your best to withstand the heat he emitted. your suit was fireproof, courtesy of reed, but some places were torn. “do you wanna know how long i’m keeping you to myself now?”

you sighed, eyes closing as you accepted the inevitable.

“how long, johnny?”

“three months.”

generous, you thought amusedly.

“you’re also prohibited from communicating with peter for a good year.”

the doctors made quick work of you, and you assured them your healing would take care of what they couldn’t quickly fix. they had other people to help, people that couldn’t self-sustain.

now, you were in bed with johnny.

he had you wrapped in his arms, tightly. “are you gonna hold me like this the whole three months?” you softly asked, tapping your fingers on his back to the rhythm of the song he’d chosen.

“if i have to. i’ll hold you in the shower, at dinnertime, while you get ready,” he listed off, eyes sparkling with mischief. you smiled, cuddling closer to him. he kissed your head, gently pulling you away so he can reach the rest of your face. he peppered kisses on your skin, pausing before he reached your lips.

his blue eyes swirled with worry and love, and you nodded.

he kissed you sweetly, embers flickering in his hair. you separated with a shy laugh, and he embraced you again.

“seriously, don’t scare me like that again. especially don’t just…leave.”

“would you have let me go help pete?”

“no. duh—but that’s not the point!”

[gr0und-zer00]

Face-sitting and sex are the best ways to get rid of stress!

⋆˚꩜｡ Gambit/Remy Etienne Lebeau x fem!reader (18+)

After an annoying mission, Remy takes it upon himself to make you feel good in the best way a boyfriend could!

CW: sex, cursing (duh...), face-sitting, p in v, insinuated squirting lol??, reader has a cooch, not proofread, I also don't speak French AND this might be ooc

I had to add marvel rivals gambit in honour of me lording him

1.8k words (I'm thinking of posting about lin lie too soon :p)

The mission your group had to abandon abruptly drained you along with Cyclops and Storm. How did the first member of this group basically become the most annoying and whiny person, as the leader? You have no clue. It’s beyond you. You had to hold yourself back from screaming. Not even yelling anything coherent, just screaming a high pitch in pure frustration, enough for a dog's tail to start wagging.

Getting back to the mansion was the biggest wave of relief you felt after that failed mission, Scott just had to snark out, “Nice job with not letting the perpetrator run off.”

“Oh yeah, because you were so quick to catch him after pleading with me to help you with the second idiot.”

“Obviously you were supposed to restrain him before coming to help me.”

With gritted teeth you hold back whatever you had to say as Ororo jumps in, “hostilities shall not help us after a failed mission,” she diplomatically soothes, “I suggest rest and relaxation for the remainder of the day.” Her voice remained serious and she placed a hand on both of your backs, before removing it and proceeding further inside.

In an attempt to resist further bickering, you walk off, your steps ringing loudly as the only way to release anger until you turn the corner and bumped into a strong wall. Well— ‘wall’—it was actually Gambit.

Gambit, your smug looking boyfriend. Gambit, who’s perfectly dressed in his usual ensemble of purple and whatever brown trench coat. “Welcome back,” he says simply, leaning against the surface and grinning down at you.

When you don’t respond, his sharp smirk softens into a concerned smile, “now, I know that look all too well. Wanna tell Remy what’s going through that pretty head o’ yours?”

You could hardly muster anything in your frustration, simply leaning against the wall with him and your arms crossed under your chest.

“Frustrated, chère?” He prompts for an answer, and he’s delighted when he’s at least met with a nod.

His smugness finally returns as he leans down to whisper in your ear, his warm breath tickling your neck, making goosebumps flick up, “I know a way you can release all that pent up frustration, all ya gotta do is trust me…”

That’s how you find yourself sitting in bed. 

Correction, Gambit laying on the plush bed you share and you found yourself sitting on his face.

Sure, you worried about practically suffocating him, but he assured you that if he died this way, he’d die a happy man.

“Remy, this is disgusting. You didn’t even let me shave or shower!” You glare down at him as he eyes the full expanse of your pussy including the unkept state of it, wettening his lips.

“Now mon ange, Gambit don’t care about a little extra something added to his favourite delicacy…” he playfully quipped before he brought his broad hands to your ass, slamming your bare cunt onto his face.

You yelp at the sudden tug down, imagine how embarrassing it feels to have melted so easily to your boyfriend simply licking your pussy. You don’t even realise when you slid your hands into his wavy hair and tugged, clenching with your life as he eats you out like it’s his last meal before going onto death row.

He held onto the meat of your thighs, groaning with every pulse of your pussy on his tongue and his bulge ached in his pants. However, your frustration also manifests into jumbled words, “that idiot—expects me to fucking do everything—shit, yes…everything and yells when I can’t do a billion things at once!”

Gambit hums, sending vibrations through your soaked pussy, flicking his tongue inside and nudging your clit with his nose. 

You continue angrily, “that self-centered bitch! Fucking hate Scott—just like th-that, Remy…why is he the leader? Anyone else would be better—”

“Shh…don’t wanna hear another’s hommes name in bed, chère. More specifically while I’m eating this pretty pussy” his eyes seem glazed over, more obviously so in the black scleras, as he looks up at you through his lashes, “your legs make good ear muffs for me, but you’re a hell of a loud talker when you’re mad.”

With a simple grunt, you grind down on his tongue in retaliation, your aim being to shut him up. You hump his face by this point, painting him in a mix of your juices and his spit, to him this is the best elixir in the world as muffled, satisfied moans erupt from him. He couldn’t resist reaching down, palming his own throbbing cock that started to form a wet patch, all from eating your pussy.

Meanwhile your head was tilted to face the ceiling with your eyes eased shut, “Remy, holy shit..”

“Gonna cum on me? Montre-moi (show me), ma belle…”

You didn’t need to be told twice. With a moan ripping out of you, you slam your hips onto the man’s face below you. His hands grip your ass with a pleasured moan, kneading the cheeks as he gulps down the gushing liquid coming out of you.

It wasn’t until your fatigued form lazily lifted off his face, did he heave several breaths of air after constantly breathing the scent of your natural husky scent. 

As a parting ritual from your pussy, he kisses your clit, enough for you to huff of playful lack of amusement and shuffle off of him, sitting on the bed next to him. 

He looks fucked out, like unbelievably fucked out as he sits up with a dazed frog-like blink and a dopey grin. 

“You look stupider than normal” you comment teasingly, flicking his forehead. A chuckle comes out of him as he catches your wrist with a broad hand and kisses your palm, and hums “peut-être (maybe)…mais, you do look happier, chère. Much, much happier…”

With a smug look he glances down at the tent in his pants, “you can always go for a ride, y’know?”

“If I ride you now while in this pissed off, I think I’ll break your dick off”

“Then break it off, it’s all yours anyway.”

The bedframe rattled against the wall, slamming just as your hips did on his cock. You can’t give all the credit to yourself, Remy’s hands are on your waist, lifting you up and pushing you back down as he grunts, smirking at the sight of your more relaxed expression. 

“Fuck, Remy…”

“Uh huh?”

You lean forward, pushing him back on the bed as your hands plant themselves on his chest for support, bouncing up and down, and the ample amount of squelches from your greedy pussy rung out like a siren to Remy. 

His admiration is unmistakable in the way his eyes twinkle, looking up at you, “That’s it, show Remy how much you love riding him like a personal dildo,” he breathes out, one hand planted on your slap warmed ass. You glare down at his snarky look, and your hips stutter, “Oh, I’m being mean to mon fleur for making you do all this work, no worries then…”

He flips you both around, your back hitting the mattress, and you cringe briefly at the dampness from the previous face-sitting, which he can’t help but tease you about as he thrusts his cock back into you. “Don’t go lookin’ so disgusted, that’s all from that pretty, needy pussy” he states matter of factly, he then hilts himself completely into you, forcing a surprised “Oh!” out of you, hardly pulling out, but pushing deeper into you with the thick appendage feeling stuck in your throat that all you can muster is a “Fuck!”

He places your legs on his shoulders to rest on; simultaneously, he thrusts, stroking himself against your gummy walls, miraculously hitting the star igniting spot repeatedly that you can hardly keep yourself quiet, gasping out, “Oh, you son of a bitch!”

“Aww, pretty woman gets some lovin’ and can only insult her man? That’s ok, let it all out…”

His words are so sweet and gentle, but his thrusts are so deep and aggressive, forcing the frustration of the mission out of you any way he can. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull and your head falls back, and mouth hangs open as his cock continues its punishing pace.

“Remy makin’ you feel good, chère?” he asks playfully, giving a parting kiss to your calf, before wrapping your legs around his waist, he grins when you nod vigorously. 

The thrusts continue, filling the room with the sound of wet claps as he eases himself down even further, his body pressed down chest to chest with yours and his hips continue snapping up and down, bullying your cunt as his balls slap your ass with every back and forth motion.

After finally getting used to the change of pace, your arms wrap around your boyfriend's neck, and the ever perceptive–and ever teasing man–has to question, “Finally get your bearings, ange?”

“You talk too damn much…” you breathe out, the knot in your stomach inching closer and closer to unravelling entirely as the deep rubbing of his cock against your poor cervix, “keep fucking me. Cum in me, fuck me stupid, baby…” you whisper in his ear as you trail your hands along him, one in his hair and the other along his upper back that you were clawing at.

He doesn’t need to be told twice! 

His hips snap with renewed vigour as plapping sounds ring louder, the wet slaps miraculously caused by no lube and only the mix of your slick and his precum. His mouth shoots down, latching onto your perked nipples, and his tongue runs along, flicking it up and down before sucking and releasing with a pop. 

“These sweet beauties are good, ain’t nothing sweeter than this pretty pussy… or that ass…” he grins at the fucked out expression on your face and the way your eyes widen. You don’t have to even say a damn thing for him to know that you were just about a thrust away from cumming.

When you do release, your body shudders, pussy pumping and clenching Remy’s cock so hard he finally lets out his own series of incoherent moans in harmony with yours before smashing your lips together. He pushes his cum deep into you, and wickedly smirks at the ring of white wrapped around the base of his softening cock when he pulls away from the passionate kiss shared.

He doesn’t move yet, just looks down at you with the same smug look, “say…I could help you get cleaned. Need another seat again? Right on your favourite throne, ma reine (my queen)?” he wags his brows

Your chest heaves and you look up at him, “smart Cajun..” your voice teases him as you contemplate the prospects of sitting on his face again.

Tempting, right?

dividers by @cafekitsune

[lemmon-reef]

I finally finished this!

and the skin never arrived (yet)

[spurionage]

rivals romy,,, hurry rogue i miss yuo

[hopefulonion]

Thank you Marvel Rivals for adding my pookies 💖💖💖