nappycherub

[nappycherub]

۶ৎ masterlist.

kuroo is going to make you pay for this, and you know it. you couldn't help it tho, a new lingerie set has arrived to your place and he has to see it. you couldn't prive him, your tetsu, of such a great view for so many hours until he arrived home. no, he had to see it as soon as you put it on.

his dick hardened the second he opened your chat. the picture of your full body covered by that tiny, lacy lingerie covering the spots he wanted to see the most. a smirk formed at his face as he lowered his hand to start rubbing the bulge you provoked. he doesn't have any reunion today, so maybe he could leave a few minutes before the office because his gorgeous girl decided to tease him.

you were bent over the kitchen counter, his dick bullying your cunt as tetsuro gripped your hair. this is exactly what you want, this is exactly why you sent him that picture and why you received him wearing that lacy lingerie. "you're such a bad girl, huh?" he growls while his free hand spanks your ass again. your asscheeks burn and you can tell they're red, but you don't want him to stop either. kuroo grabs your hip and pulls you back against him while he keeps fucking you, his tip kissing your cervix and filling you so damn good that makes you come again. "I'm going to fuck you so dumb until you learn how to behave like a proper good girl"

[nappycherub]

oh x family i love you so dearly

fic here

[nappycherub]

Once Clark tells Batkids that if they need a safe space or some comfort, then they can come and visit his farm — he'll do his best to provide some help or support.

And he means it.

However, he is pretty sure that they will rarely use this advice of his. They are Batkids, after all! Independent and uncommunicative at the most.

Well.

Turns out he was wrong.

Damian and Dick are frequent quests in his farm, anyway — Damian hangs out with Jon, always appearing out of nowhere, and Dick visits them here and there — so it takes Clark some time to notice that others are here, too.

Tim starts joining them on occasions first. Mostly with Kon by his side, but he still steals sweets from the countertop that they hide from Jon, and Clark just... smiles. Okay. It is cute. Kon is a part of the family, and he is clearly in a good relationship with Tim. It is not bad at all.

...Until, Cass randomly appears in his study room out of nowhere, scaring the shit out of him, telling that she needed a quiet place to read the book.

And then Lois almost gets a heart attack when she wakes up in the middle of the night to drink water and bumps on Duke and his magnificent glowing eyes, because... Because Duke munches their cereals in four am???

(He was nearby after some mission. Was lazy to go to the safehouse. Whatever.)

Clark finds Stephanie sleeping with his sheep, caged in her hug later that week. When he returns home to tell Lois about it, he finds out that... She stress-bakes with Red Hood himself, while they both loudly shit on the Batfamily for different reasons (but mostly it is about Bruce, of course).

Alfred calls him a few hours later, asking to send the kids home for dinner.

Clark thinks that maybe — just maybe — moving out is not a bad idea, after all!

[nappycherub]

AU, where Jason returns to Gotham, but in between of his evil mastermind plans and managing the criminal empire, he starts working in this anonymous psychological hotline services.

And gets a call from Bruce-fucking-Wayne.

Well. It is not like Bruce announces that he is Bruce Wayne — it is anonymous, after all — but Jason knows his father's voice, alright?

'I don't need a physiological help,' his father tells him the minute he picks up the phone.

Jason... Snorts.

'Of course,' he nods, making his voice nicer. 'How can I help you?'

Bruce pauses, his breath hitching for a second; almost as if he recognized Jason's voice.

'My... my son thinks I need it, but I am fine,' Bruce insists. 'Still... I want to, well, fulfil a promise I gave... for once.'

Jason rolls his eyes, a familiar irritation flaring up in green flames before his eyes. He wonders who is this lucky son that gets to have such a diligent, responsible father - Dickhead? Tim? Damian?

'I see,' he breathes out, trying to follow a protocol of the calls. 'I am sure he will appreciate your loyalty. Will you tell him about it?'

'If he appears,' something screeches in the background, and if Jason closes his eyes, he can easily imagine Bruce leaning back on the armchair, in the Batcave. 'I... He only ever appears in my dreams, my boy.'

Jason freezes.

'Excuse me?'

'I... He is dead, my son.'

Had someone else died? Jason frowns, reaching for his phone, typing anxiously Nightwing and Robin in the search bar, trying to see if there is something serious happened; because he can't be talking about the second Robin, can he-

'I am sorry,' he blurts out, eyes drifting back to notes on the table, with some common phrases that can be used in this situation. 'I... Do you want to talk about, sir?'

Bruce is silent for a while. Jason thinks he is about to drop the call, but then, he sighs heavily on the line:

'His name was Jason. And he was the brightest boy.'

Jason mutes the microphone. He thinks he is going to vomit.

[nappycherub]

lead me home

pairing: void!gambit/remy lebeau x fem!reader

warnings: 🔞!!!!!, established relationship, post-daw resistance fight, the 3 b’s: blood, bruises, and baths (non-sexual bathing lmao), eventual smut, somnophilia for like .5 seconds, thigh riding, fingering (f!rec), finger sucking, riding, unprotected sex, service oriented boyfie gambit <3

w/c: 5.3k!

a/n: this is literally my first ever non-kpop fic, which is crazy. idk much about gambit or his lore, but i fell in love w him in deadpool & wolverine so here i am :) if this is so totally ooc i’m very sorry, i’m only going off of what i saw in the movie! anyway, as per the end credit scene and mr. tatum, gambit is still in the void after the fight, sooo….. here’s this!

“i can walk,” you grumble, cheek bunched up against the cool leather of his coat. you’re positive you can, but still you make no effort to remove yourself from the safety of his strong arms. 

you had been walking fine, up until the residual energy zinging through your body gave way to pure exhaustion. you’d made it halfway back to the resistance hideout in the banged up odyssey before it gave out on the two of you. what’s left of the trek is thankfully walkable, but it’s not easy with your body as sore and aching from the fight as it is. 

remy chuckles against the crown of your head, ducking his own lightly to press his chin to your sweaty hair. 

“gambit knows t’at.” his grin is easy. 

he’s hurting too; he’s equally as exhausted, but he grins and bears it and puts you first anyway. you love him. 

“i’ll get blood on your coat.” 

not yours, you don’t think. well, maybe a little bit of yours, but the majority of the blood staining your clothes belongs to cassandra’s gang of mutants. you fought hard. all seven of you did. 

“gambit knows t’at too, chère,” he says, still grinning. you want to reach up and poke your finger into the dimple in his cheek, but your arms won’t listen. you’ll settle for studying his handsome face instead, eyeing the sharp cut of his cheekbones, the tall slope of his nose. “a lil’ blood ain’t never hurt nobody.” 

“is that how the saying goes? i don’t think that’s how the saying goes.” maybe he’s right though… you’re too tired to think too much about it, and remy’s right about a lot of things. 

he shrugs and it jostles you, so you adjust your arms around the wide breadth of his shoulders and hold on tight. 

as soon as the resistance hideout graces your sight, you’re nearly ready to fling yourself out of remy’s arms and run to the door using what little bit of energy you have left. it might not be much, but it’s your home here in the void, and you’re ready for the small comforts of it that you didn’t know you’d be able to come back to. the warm glow of the lamp lights, the chill of the pool water on your skin, the heady taste of remy’s ever growing collection of liquor. 

your head lolls against his arm as his steps carry you to the door. “god, i can’t wait to take my bra off,” you groan, and remy laughs again as he shoulders the door open. 

“you need any help widdat?” 

his mischievous gaze never wanes even when you level him with a halfhearted glare. 

you shouldn’t need any help, but maybe you’ll let him anyway. 

there’s a twitch at the corner of his lips as he carries you down the steps. he’s favoring his right leg, you can tell by his gait, but he hasn’t said a word about it. you know your gambit well enough to know that he’d rather take care of you first and downplay his injuries when you inevitably ask about them. 

it doesn’t hit you until remy gently sets you down in the entryway just how quiet the hideout is with only the two of you in it. there was always some sort of noise to be heard: laura’s heavy boots thunking on the floor, blade sharpening his weapons, the sluicing sound of elektra twirling her twin sai. now all you hear is the rhythmic dripping of the bathtub faucet and the airy shuffling of remy’s deck of cards as he takes them from his coat pocket. it’s a lot to take in at once, the silence is. the silence, and the inherent knowledge that you have no universe to return to like the others did, that remy has no universe to begin with. remy is the only thing worth living for here in the void. him and the surprisingly earnest promise wade left you with.  

we’re gonna get you out of there, sweeties, you and step up just sit tight! whoever the hell is writing this hasn’t figured that part out yet, ‘kay? and you know what? you’re welcome. i actually know a couple of things you can do to pass the time while you wait. have either of you ever heard of smashturba—

remy’s gentle, gloved hands on your shoulders bring you out of your thoughts, and your head rolls back until it thunks against the bulk of his chest. 

“lemme take dis off, chère, how ‘bout t’at? gon’ draw you up a bath. get you cleaned right up.” 

you know you need it. it’s then that you can feel every bit of the grime from the fight: the dirt under your nails, the blood caked in your suit and on your skin, the nasty bruises that must litter your body. the exhaustion seeps forward tenfold, and you teeter on your feet. remy steadies you as always, flexing his hands on your shoulders before he unzips the back of your suit and presses a slow kiss to the nape of your neck. he gets you bare just like this - tenderly pulling your arms from the sleeves of your suit and kneeling to help untie your boots and take off your pants. your hands grip remy’s shoulders to balance yourself while you step out of them. he’s as solid and sturdy as a mountain, your gambit. 

and he does, in fact, expertly undo the clasps on the back of your bra when he’s done, sliding the straps down your arms and giving you a playful wink as he tosses it to the side. he studies you - eyes the bruises and nicks and blood that paint your skin. he clicks his tongue and shakes his head at himself, thumb tracing the shape of a particularly nasty purple-blue bruise on the curve of your hip.  

“should’a kept a better eye on you,” he fusses, and remy steps away for a moment to turn on the warm water in the tub. it runs brown before turning clear. he plugs the drain when the water heats to the temperature you like the best. “i kno’ you can hold your own, but t’at don’t mean i like seein’ you hurt.” 

you can relate. watching remy get tackled, shot at, and thrown around wasn’t easy for you either. 

it was a harrowing experience all together. a rag-tag team with a rag-tag plan, even though the end result turned out much better than expected. you even managed to escape alioth, which is a feat in itself. but the what ifs, the could have beens, they hit you like a ton of bricks. 

you watch him pull off his gloves and take off his coat, but other than that, he remains completely clothed. remy’s hands are steady as they guide you into the tub. your teeth gnash when the warm water laps against the gashes that litter your torso and legs as you ease your way down. you wish he could join you, sit behind you and pull your back against his warm chest so that he could hold you like you need, but he can barely fit in the small tub by himself, much less with another person. at least he’s close, kneeling by the bathtub on his knees and watching you keenly. 

your own knees curl to your chest as he dips a cloth in the water and rings it out before bringing it to your cheek. the first touch of the cloth on your face makes your eyes droop; he’s gentle, only applying the softest amount of pressure to scrub the drying blood off of your skin. 

the water tinges pink when he dips the cloth back under. 

he continues like that, pressing the wet cloth against your neck, your chest, your arms and cleaning the blood from your body. the ends of his black sleeves are soaked from the water, so you use your last remaining strength trying to push his sleeves up his muscular arms so they won’t get wet again. he lets you fuss over him for a moment with a glint in his eyes.

“let remy see dose hands,” he mumbles, and he hums his thanks when you present them to him. he scrubs the cloth across your palms and between your fingers, paying close attention to the tips of your fingernails to make sure he’s cleaned the dirt and blood from under them as best he can. remy is thorough; his deft fingers work wonders. his hands increase their pressure when he starts to really bathe you, lathering the cloth with a bar of soap and scrubbing you clean. he chuckles when you start to sway with his movements. “done fell asleep on me, eh? we almost through, chère.” 

“you have magic hands,” you breathe, words slurring, and remy chuckles again. he really does, in more ways than one, whether that be the energy that thrums under his skin or the way he takes care of you. 

“that so?” 

“mm.” 

he thinks you’re sweet. it’s not often that he gets to see you like this; remy loves your spitfire attitude and the way you carry yourself from day to day, but here, both physically and mentally exhausted after the day you had, you’re pliant and malleable under his hands, more honest. you slump to the side of the tub so that you can rest your head against his chest plate, the beat of his heart thumping underneath it. 

“remy,” you say. “remy.” you just want to say his name, taste it on your tongue. 

“mon chère.” a kiss to your shoulder, your neck, the top of your head. he’s content to let you rest there for several moments before he sits you up again and watches as your eyes struggle to stay open. “c’est tout, up we go.” 

when he pulls you to your feet, you cling to him like you’ll disappear if you don’t. it truly feels like you might - like the world would swallow you whole if you let go, if you don’t hug him tight. if he doesn’t wrap his arms around you and hold you steady, tether you to the ground. 

the water sloshes when he helps you step out of the tub, and it almost physically hurts when he turns away from you to grab a towel. 

that’s when you look down; the water is darker than you expected it would be, a debilitating pink-red color that might stain the already dingy tub if you don’t drain it soon. you shiver, slightly overwhelmed that all of that blood came off of your body. how much of it belonged to cassandra’s mutants? how much of it belonged to you? you could have— 

“look at me,” he tells you, and your gaze refocuses on him in an instance. there’s nowhere else you’d rather look. remy unplugs the drain before you have the chance to get distracted again. “look here. reckon it’s better to look at gambit’s handsome mug den t’at mess, huh?” 

that does bring a shaky smile to your lips, a small one that’s just for him, and remy dries you off as best he can while you steadily try to wrap yourself around him again. 

you let him play doctor when he’s done drying you off. he sits at the table while you stand between his legs to dab alcohol on your wounds and bandage them up before he helps you put on some clothes, a clean pair of underwear and one of his cropped tops that he likes so much. 

you’re halfway asleep when he takes you in his arms once more to carry you to the skull bed. he lifts you onto the mattress with little trouble, over the massive teeth around the edges of the jaw and straight onto the pile of throw pillows. remy putters around the bed for a bit, pulling the covers over you and arranging the pillows to make you more comfortable. it’s not until your eyes droop closed that he moves to head back to the bath himself, but your arm shoots out to grab his hand before he can. 

“mon petit chère,” he croons, something dulcet and warm and soothing. “i need t’get down to the bath right quick.” 

you frown, you can’t even help it. you want him in bed, spooned right behind you with his arms wrapped around your waist, you want to rest your head on his chest so that you can hear the rhythmic beat of his heart. you want him here with you, but you know he’ll feel better too when he gets the dirt and grime off of his body, just like you did. you should get up and help him like he helped you, erase the bloody signs of the fight from his beautiful body as best you can, show him how much you love him, how much you cherish his presence. 

“what’s t’at bobin for, huh?” remy chuckles. 

you pout harder. “i want to help.” 

he leans against the massive teeth and reaches over to smooth your hair from your forehead. “why don’tcha stay right here and keep an eye on me? gambit need all the lookin’ after he can get.” he lifts your hand up and kisses your knuckles before you finally ease your loose grip from his fingers. 

your eyes aren’t nearly as keen as they usually are when you watch remy take his clothes off. your blinks get slower and your eyes stay shut for longer, but you do keep your eyes on him like he asked you too. it’s the least you can do. his balaclava comes off first, then his chest plate and fitted shirt. his traps flex when he pulls the shirt over his head. if you were any less tired, you’d probably be biting your lip by now. 

just like you figured, he’s as banged up as you are. dark bruises litter the wide expanse of his muscular back, and his front looks the same when he turns around. the next time you open your eyes after another long blink, he’s already easing himself into the bath. remy lets himself relax for a moment, and you watch as his bulky arms come up to rest against the sides of the tub, head tilting back against the lip. you stare, you can’t help it. it’s the longest you go without blinking in a while, all so you can trace the never ending curves and lines and shapes of his body. 

“you go any longer without blinkin’, chère, ya eyes gonna dry out,” he jokes, a satisfied grin growing on his handsome face. 

“says the preening peacock,” you mumble, and you make a spectacle of blinking your eyes rapidly. a sleepy whine works its way into your voice. “you told me to watch! you like it. don’t even lie.” 

“mais oui, caught me red handed.” 

he doesn’t stay in for long, only long enough to relax for a few moments and clean himself off. you hope the water isn’t as dark with blood as yours was; the thought nearly makes you sick to your stomach, unable to bear the thought that remy could have been hurt worse than he was. 

your eyes stay on him still while he towels off, while he dabs alcohol on the worst of his injuries and bandages them up. remy’s naked as a jaybird when he finally makes his way back to the bed, and you throw the blankets back so they’ll be ready for him when he climbs in. he’s still favoring that right leg; he grunts as the muscle twinges when he climbs over the set of teeth in the jaw of the bed frame. you’re immediately pulled into his strong arms, one snaking around your shoulder and the other resting over your arm where it lays against his toned stomach. 

home at last. 

it’s like your brain shuts off the second you come into contact with his skin again. he’s dewy and warm from the bath. you can hear the thump of his heart, his steady breathing, and your eyes nearly roll as they finally slip shut. 

“sleep,” remy whispers. “gambit ain’t goin’ nowhere.” 

his dulcet voice is the last thing you hear before you finally succumb to your slumber, safe and sound in remy’s arms. 

it’s sweltering. 

the heat blankets you like a fog, wraps around you like a vine.

a blazing, orange fire, flames that lick themselves up your legs and torso. they should burn. the flames should scorch your clammy skin, and they do, until the orange of the fire makes way for dazzling purple. breathtaking, gleaming bursts of purple that embrace you like a warm hug instead. 

you’re hardly awake, haven’t even opened your eyes yet. without the use of your eyes, your fuzzy brain works in overdrive to understand what it is that you’re feeling. 

the feeling of heat, of unbridled pleasure. 

your hips twitch on their own, chasing the feeling your sleep-addled body and mind suddenly crave so desperately. the noises that bubble from your throat can’t be stopped: choked whimpers, pitiful keens, airy whines. you rub against something hard, something warm, and it’s the best thing you’ve ever felt. your fingers frantically search for the source of the heat, clenching and unclenching in their haste to pull it closer toward you. 

the soft give of skin, a deep breath, a tender kiss to your sweaty hair. 

a particularly hard snap of your hips has your eyes finally fluttering open, and the source of the heat makes itself known.

how could it be anything other than remy? 

even with your mind hazy from sleep, you immediately feel bad for tugging on him like you were, for disturbing his much needed rest, so your fingers unclench themselves from his bicep. his heartbeat is steady; you can hear the rhythmic beating of it from where you’re resting on his chest. 

“you up?” he rasps. he hasn’t been up long. “y’killin’ me dead.” 

how mortifying. you were rutting against him like a dog all because of something you don’t even know if you could consider a wet dream? you’re sweating, and your underwear is soaked. the shirt of his you wore to bed is so twisted and wonky from sleep that your bare breasts press against his side, but he holds you close regardless. 

“this is so embarrassing!” you wail, and remy chuckles. 

“mais non.” your leg is still thrown over his thigh, so he cups you behind the knee and drags your leg up until it’s resting over his crotch. he’s hard, mouthwateringly so, leaking against the muscular ridges of his stomach all from feeling you rut against him in your sleep. his hand rubs up and down your thigh when you begin to lightly press it against the bulge of his cock. “you can do whatever you want to remy, chère, don’t gotta ask. done drove him out his mind…”  

his lips are warm when you kiss them. your hand comes up to cup his face, his stubble scratches against your fingers. remy groans deep in his throat when your tongue licks lazily against his, and your cunt throbs in response. can he feel it with you pressed against him like this? he gives you his own answer with a flex of his thick thigh, pressing it against you harder. it’s easy to grind down on him like this, when you’re half on top of him and relaxed with sleep. 

“y’know, ah, if my mind serves me right, somebody told me once t’at i have magic hands.” 

he says it with a grin, right against the pout of your kiss swollen lips. 

“somebody, huh? who, some couyon?” 

“the love of my life,” he says instead, green eyes earnest and soft. “l’amour de ma vie.” 

you can’t help but kiss him again; you put your all into it, hoping that he can feel every ounce of the adoration you have for him. he’s the love of your life too. it’s deep from the start, slow and all encompassing, and you can’t get enough of the way remy holds you close to him by your thigh and your back. 

the heady press of his thigh against your soaked core is sorely missed when he rolls you over on the bed and throws the covers back. remy props himself on his elbow beside you, his eyes roam like you’re a feast he’s ready to devour. he doesn’t have to spread your legs, you do that yourself, unveiling the ever growing wet spot that covers the gusset of your panties. 

“gardez donc,” remy breathes, shaking his head like he can’t believe his eyes. 

you jolt when he thumbs the wet fabric before pulling it to the side to see you bare. you watch as he works his jaw, sitting up on your elbows to have a better look when he finally ducks down to spit onto your already soaked pussy. your head flops back onto the pillow nearly as soon as it happens. it’s too much… the feeling, the sight of it. remy’s thick fingers spread you open, and he watches raptly as his spit seeps down the glistening skin of your cunt. he rubs you like that; two fingers dip shallowly into your hole to gather your wetness and his spit before bringing them back up to your swollen clit. 

“oh my god, remy, fuck,” you keen, and those beautiful, green eyes bore into yours. 

“dass’it, you jus’ lay back and let remy deal de cards, eh?” 

all you can do is nod. 

his hands are magic, no one’s ever touched you the way remy has; you’ve never felt such unbridled pleasure until remy took charge of it. the two of you didn’t have the chance to do this too often, not with the others present. of course, you did find your ways. he’s taken you plenty by the fire outside, in the stone staircase at the doorway, and even on a few particularly memorable occasions, on a table in joe’s diner while you don his leather coat. a bed this big is a luxury, and you know exactly how you’re going to spend your time together until wade fulfills his promise. 

your legs shake as remy’s fingers slip inside. his middle finger first, with the heel of his palm pressed right against the bud of your clit for that delicious stimulation he knows you need. you stretch easily for him, and your thighs spread wider to accommodate his movements. his ring finger makes its way inside shortly after, and soon, your hips are rocking sharply against the rough heel of his hand while his thick fingers bully that spongy spot inside that makes your toes curl. 

“pleasedon’tstop,” you whimper, voice frantic and airy. remy nudges your cheek with his nose, breathing heavily against the line of your jaw. 

“wouldn’t dream of it, chère.”

he hums when your hand flies down to grip his wrist. it’s so overwhelming, it’s everything, that dazzling purple heat flashes again until it’s all you feel. 

“curl them, curl them like tha- oh.” remy listens well; he curls his fingers like you tell him to and keeps his motion steady until he has to sit up further and use his other hand to hold you down. he presses down on your stomach to hold you still but soon moves it to your restless legs where they writhe against the mattress. they nearly snap shut around his insistent fingers before remy pries them back open. you like when he uses his strength on you, when he holds you down. 

the devil’s always been good to you, your own fallen angel. 

“lemme see it,” he goads. “don’t hold nothin’ back from me.” 

it’s loud; you don’t have to tell him how much you like it because the sloppy noise of your cunt does that for you. his cock leaks steadily against your hip, you can feel the sticky drip of precum on your sweaty skin, but all you can do is grip remy’s wrist and hold on tight while his fingers rub against your spongy walls relentlessly. 

your eyes roll when he gets you there, and you cum with a full-body shudder. remy holds you to his chest as you curl in on yourself, shaking and shivering in his warm embrace. his fingers fuck you through it, only slowing his rhythm and easing their curl when your own fingers tighten around his wrist. remy ushers you back against the pillows now that you’re done, slipping his soaked fingers from your core only after you finish pulsing around him. his gaze is soft, but it darkens as you use your hold on his wrist to bring his digits to your mouth. 

“ooh, you nasty!” he grins, and his eyes slide down to your swollen, spit-slicked lips. remy curls his fingers again, petting them against your soft tongue and fucking them deeper into your mouth. “she’s sweet, eh?” 

you’d suck on his fingers all day if you could, but you slip them from your mouth with a pop! to answer him. “mm. i can see why you’re so obsessed with me.” he swats you lightly on the thigh for that, and you wiggle gleefully. 

remy slips your panties from your legs before he settles himself between them to kiss you again. he kisses your sweetness from between your lips, tongue curling around yours and sucking it into his mouth for a better taste. you’d let him fuck you like this if you didn’t remember his leg was hurt; you’d let him bend you in half and fuck you until your knees are clamping shut around his wide shoulders, but the thought that he could hurt himself more makes you hesitant. 

he kisses down your neck when you pull away from his lips, purses his lips around your sensitive nipple and flicks his tongue. it has you arching your back, and the cropped t-shirt you’re wearing rucks further up your chest. you curl your fingers into his hair to tug him closer. 

“let me- god, let me get on top?” you breathe. he makes to pull his head back, but you hold him in place. remy laughs through his nose and continues to kiss and lick and suck at your chest, and it isn’t until he nips at it that you let him go, but not without a swat to his shoulder. 

you almost squeal when remy takes you in his arms to roll you both over. his lap is your favorite seat; you wiggle your hips to get comfortable, and remy takes hold of them. his cock slips between the lips of your pussy where it’s warm and wet and soft, and you rock down onto him slowly. 

“you keep t’at up, chère, gambit won’t last a minute,” he grits. 

he’s cum like this before, with you just grinding yourself on his cock, shooting ropes of pearly cum up the ridges of his abdomen until you duck down to lick it all up. you’d do it again, but you’re aching to have him inside where he belongs. when you lift up on your knees and reach down to grip him, remy cups the backs of your thighs to help keep you steady. he’s a stretch, his length and girth is nothing to scoff at even after he fingered you pliant and needy. 

“dunno if it’ll fit,” you pick, circling your hips so that the give of your hole teases the head of his cock. 

“y’know gambit fits. just gotta let him in, chère.” 

you don’t have it in you to tease him any longer, so you press him inside with the tips of your fingers and sink down slowly. dazzling blasts of purple burst behind your closed eyelids; he feels so good, you fit together like a perfect puzzle. the first rock of your hips has your head lolling, and your hands scramble for leverage against the bulk of remy’s chest. 

“dass’it, dass’a good girl,” he grunts. “mon dieu.” 

you’ve always been his good girl, you always want to be. it spurs you on to do your best. your own body is sore from yesterday’s fight, but you feel reinvigorated on top of him like this. the bouncing of your breasts is covered by the shirt you’re wearing - it’s enough for remy, the sway of the cloth, the peak of your sensitive nipples through the fabric. one hand leaves his chest so that you can tug them jagged hem of your top up to your mouth. you bite down on it, baring your bouncing breasts to the man below you, and remy cups them in his hands. 

“hoo, merde. lemme take t’at off’a you?” 

he loves to see you in his clothes, you both know it, but he wants you naked. remy tugs the hem from between your teeth and shucks the shirt over your head, tossing it off the bed completely. you preen when he takes you in; there’s nothing to be shy about here, not with your gambit. 

“what are you looking at, remy lebeau?” you ask with a cock of your head. your hips resume their movement, grinding in slow circles until your eyes are fluttering. 

“you a sight for sore eyes, chère, i’ll tell you t’at.” 

like he’s one to talk. the window on the ceiling above the bed bathes him in warm light. remy’s beautiful, the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. his beautiful heart, beautiful soul, beautiful body… he’s the perfect package. 

you change tactics, switching your sensual grinding to rough bouncing that has your breath hitching in your throat. he’s deep like this, and every time you drop down in his lap, your swollen clit rubs against the coarse curls of remy’s pubic hair. 

you’re so close, so fucking close you can taste it. it has your knees trying to kiss where they’re straddling his hips. he notices the shaking in your thighs, he always notices everything about you, and his hips immediately buck to help you out. your eyes roll, mouth dropping open in a silent moan as remy begins to fuck you. he’s so strong, his hands grip your waist to pull you down on him harder, and it has you keening high in your throat. 

“eyes on me,” he grunts. “keep dese pretty eyes on gambit when he makes you fly.” 

it’s a struggle, but your eyes find his as quickly as they can. your hands are still planted on his chest, but you move them to either side of his head so that you can be closer to him. remy’s grip on your hips is intoxicating; you’ll feel it for days, god, you hope you’ll feel it for days. you’ve never felt safer in someone’s arms, never felt more loved or wanted. 

remy nods his head when your eyebrows start to furrow, hands moving from your hips to clutch the rippling fat of your ass. 

“you’re gonna make me cum,” you whimper. “baby, you’re- oh, remy, fuck!” 

you give him another full-body shudder when you cum, nearly lifting yourself clean off his cock in the process due to how hard you shiver. he holds you down, hips rutting as he chases his own release and follows right behind you. the rhythmic pulsing of your cunt gets him there quickly, it always does. 

“keep on clenchin’ like t’at, chère. bon dieu, ça c’est bon.” 

you plop down onto his chest when you’re both done, and remy’s hands come up to massage your back. 

it’s quiet again, all you can hear is your shared heavy breathing and the distant drip of the bathtub faucet. you’re content to lay here until remy’s hands get restless, until they reach out in search of his deck of cards. for now, you’ll rest against his chest and listen to the beat of his heart. 

you don’t know what will happen in the coming days or how long you’ll be stuck in the void until the tva finds somewhere for you and remy to go. you’re not sure of much, you won’t ask for much either, but you’re sure of at least one thing. 

as long as remy’s by your side, home isn’t far away.

dictionary!

(mon) chère: term of endearment - (my) "dear" or "sweetheart"

c'est tout: that's all

petit: little

bobin: frown

mais oui/non: well yes/no

couyon: (could also be spelled as couillon?) a rascal, a fool

gardez donc: look at that

mon/bon dieu: my/good god

merde: shit

ça c'est bon: that's good

[nappycherub]

Sticky.

RQ: 'Another idea I had was more NSFW, that being a passionate sexual experience with him (the reader can be G/N, afab, amab, or whatever you choose), of which ends with him “releasing” his fluids onto the reader’s torso from the reader pleasuring his area (depending on the reader you choose there can also be other fluids), of which Kurt falls upon when he’s finished. Since both of them are now sticky and whatnot, they decide to take a shower after they have recovered for a minute. Their time in the shower would consist of them washing and rubbing each other and doing slow and lazy romantic and sexual touches, though nothing as explicit as before. It’ll be fun to read Kurt washing / rubbing the reader with his hands and tail, while the reader is feeling down his wet fur. If you want to do something less NSFW, you could do them making out outside, of which they get dirty and then need to take a shower (though I admittedly prefer the more NSWF one 😈). Thanks for your consideration!' - @hulkingharbor

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x GN!reader // Warnings: Smut 18+ | Suggestive scenes, sex aftermath

A/N: I decided to start it at the end of a passionate night, I have a lot of smut requests so I am trying to balance it out. BUT, I didn't just want it to be sfw. So I put in a little tease at the beginning <3 Unedited. WC: 1.9k

"Bitte! I-I'm close," Kurt whined as you stroked him from your laid position, his poor legs could barely hold himself up as the pleasure shot through his body so intensely. "Aah! m-mein Gott....nngh," he gently bucked into your strokes, his face flushed violet as his pants grew heavier and quicker.

"Come for me, baby...I know you want to..." you encouraged in a sultry voice, making Kurt whimper desperately in response. His hips jerked up steadily to meet your hand's movements, his breathing picked up in short, quick huffs as he felt himself throb and grow hot. His poor body didn't know what to do, he held onto the sheets tightly as he thrusted up against your teasing hand. His cock throbbed and twitched as your hand stroked him, you knew he was going to burst any second now.

"I am going to..." Kurt swallowed the thick lump in his throat as he felt himself seize, his eyes widening before rolling back and he let out the most pleasurable sounds imaginable, your name intertwined with them. His bottom lip trembled as his cock twitched in your palm, shooting out sprits of white cum all over his chest and abdomen. Rope after hot rope came from his blushed tip until the strong shots turned into pitiful pearls beading and dripping thickly down his length and onto your fingers.

His chest rose and fell with the aftermath, he let out a soft mewl as you slowly drug your hand up his cock, pulling out any remaining beads of cum hidden away. His body quivered with lingering pleasure as he lay spent on the bed, exhausted yet content. He remained motionless, allowing the afterglow to wash over him. As he gradually regained his composure, you nestled beside him, your presence a comforting warmth against his side.

You began to trail a series of gentle, unhurried kisses across his face, your lips softly caressing his forehead, cheeks, and the tip of his nose. Kurt responded with a low, appreciative hum, almost resembling a purr, his eyes fluttering closed as he surrendered himself to your loving ministrations. The tension in his muscles slowly ebbed away, replaced by a deep sense of relaxation and contentment.

"Ah...liebe..." he whispered, his hand releasing the sheets and holding your forearm instead. You laid with him and slowly ran your fingers through his hair as he recovered from his orgasm, Kurt's breathing slowly returned to normal and he sighed. "Ach...I am klebrig." He noted, feeling the cum seep into his fur and dry slightly.

You chuckled softly at him, taking in his disheveled appearance. It did make him look quite a mess, you had to admit, and if you were being completely honest with yourself, there was something undeniably attractive about his current state. The tousled hair, the flushed indigo skin, the slight sheen of sweat clinging to his velvety fur - all evidence of your shared passion. However, as enticing as he looked, you were both thoroughly spent for the night, having indulged in each other's company to your hearts' content. You were sure you looked just about the same.

"Yeah, you certainly are a sight," you teased gently, your voice warm with affection. "Let's go take a shower and clean up properly. After that, I promise we can snuggle all you want." You encouraged him to get up, offering a hand to help him off the bed. He met your gaze with tired but contented eyes, a lopsided smile slowly spreading across his face as he nodded in agreement.

As he took your hand and slowly rose to his feet, you couldn't help but chuckle at his unbalance. Even in his exhausted state, there was something endearing about the way he moved, even if he was a bit unsteady from your earlier activities. The prospect of warm water cascading over your bodies, washing away the remnants of your lovemaking, followed by cuddling close in clean sheets, seemed absolutely perfect.

You started the shower, carefully adjusting the temperature and letting the water warm up to a comfortable level before gently stepping in with him. You both simply stood there, savoring the sensation of the hot water cascading down your bodies for several minutes. The steam rose around you, enveloping you both in a warm, misty cocoon as you stood close together, relishing in the intimate moment and the soothing warmth against your skin.

After a while, you both decided it was time to begin washing, you didn’t want anyone complaining about no hot water in the morning. Your hands instinctively reached for his body wash, popping the cap and squeezing a generous amount onto your palm, the fresh scent immediately filling the shower. Your hands touched his chest and you began to lather the soap on him, your fingers gliding smoothly over his skin and through his soft fur, appreciating the textures beneath your fingertips.

Kurt exhaled with a contented sigh, his lips curving into a warm smile as you diligently worked the soap into his fur. The gentle massage of your fingers turned the soap into a sea of white, foamy bubbles that clung to his coat. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he watched you, clearly enjoying the attention. "You like this, ja? It seems you can't keep your hands to yourself," he teased, his voice laced with playful smugness as you continued your thorough cleansing.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his comment, though a small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. "Oh, please," you retorted, your tone a mix of exasperation and amusement. "You're the one who's messy. I'm simply fulfilling my duties as your partner by cleaning you up. After all, I am, technically, responsible for getting you into this state in the first place." As you spoke, your hands moved lower, your eyes glued on his face as his smirk faltered a bit.

"So be good and stay still for me, ja?" You whispered, your hands gently gliding down his legs, taking care to clean every inch with meticulous attention. Your touch was soft yet purposeful as you slowly and carefully cleaned between them, ensuring no area was missed. Kurt swallowed hard, his body tense but obedient as he remained motionless for you. His tail sought comfort by wrapping itself around your ankle, an affectionate gesture, but also one to keep the thing from flicking and thrashing behind him.

He couldn't remember the last time he was cleaned, not so tenderly and lovingly anyway. You worked slowly and thoroughly, making sure every crevice was cleaned on him. You stood back up, his soft, golden eyes on you as he watched with a newfound look of innocence and vulnerability. You knew he had grown up a bit...differently, the details weren't set in stone, but by how he stood there and looked at you there was enough to go off of.

"All done, did that feel good baby?" You rinsed your hands under the shower head and reached up to cup his face, thumbs rubbing over his cheekbones in gentle strokes. Kurt leaned into your hands immediately and he sighed contently, blinking slowly before allowing his eyes to fully close and enjoy the moment.

"Ja...es war gut." His gentle voice rang through the shower, hitting your ears over the sound of the running streams of water pouring down your bodies. His tail unwrapped from you and moved higher on your body, he opened his eyes once again, emitting a gentle glow in the dimmer bathroom light. "Your turn."

His hands slowly lathered your own wash, carefully guiding them over your skin with a delicate touch. He washed you with the same tenderness you had shown him earlier, his movements a perfect reflection of the love and care you had. The warmth of his hands and the soothing sensation of the soap nearly put you to sleep standing there.

"You are so perfect, liebe...so utterly perfect," Kurt murmured, his voice low and filled with adoration. His words hung in the steamy air, emphasizing the depth of his feelings for you. As he continued to wash you, Kurt placed soft, feather-light kisses along the back of your neck, each one a testament to his affection. His tail caressed and soothed your hips, the spade gently moving up and down your skin.

After you both finished cleaning up, you stepped out of the shower together, ready to dry off. As you held up a large towel, preparing to wrap it around Kurt, you noticed his body tense slightly. His eyes widened, and he shook his head emphatically. "No, NEIN, don't you dare-" you began, your voice a mix of amusement and mock horror.

Kurt suddenly transformed into a furry whirlwind, shaking his entire body vigorously, like a dog fresh from a bath. Water droplets flew in every direction, creating a miniature rainstorm in the bathroom from his shaking. You let out a surprised yelp, frantically trying to use the towel as an impromptu shield against the unexpected deluge. "Kurt!!" you shouted, your voice a blend of shock and laughter as you attempted to dodge the spray of water.

After a few seconds, Kurt's impromptu performance came to an end. The damn showman he was. He stood there, looking quite pleased with himself, his fur now a chaotic mess of spikes and tufts where it was longer. Some areas stuck up at odd angles, giving him a comically disheveled appearance. A mischievous grin spread across his face, showcasing his pride in the playful havoc he had just wreaked.

You couldn't help but shake your head in amused exasperation, a fond smile playing on your lips as you gently ruffled his hair with the towel. His fur still damp and slightly disheveled, eyes blinking owlishly as he shook his head in response to your ministrations to let his curly hair fall naturally after the ruffling you gave him. A quiet chuckle escaped you as he did so, his expression and mannerisms never ceased to make you smile.

"You're not dry yet, you know," you murmured, your voice tinged with a mixture of amusement and care. You continued your task, methodically running the towel over his body. Your hands moved with a tender efficiency, carefully working to absorb the remaining moisture from his fur. You were honestly surprised he stood still for you, considering the way his tail knowingly flicked behind him.

As you felt his fur gradually becoming less damp under your touch, a sense of satisfaction washed over you. Finally, when his coat felt mostly dry beneath your fingertips, you stepped back to admire your handiwork. A fond grin spread across your face as you took in his slightly rumpled appearance, affection bubbling up in your chest. "There," you said softly, your eyes twinkling with mirth, "All dry now, you adorable dork."

He pouted lightly, his lower lip protruding slightly as he mumbled, "I'm not a dork. That's an unfair accusation."

"You are, actually, a huge dork," you teased him back, a playful grin spreading across your face as you observed his adorable pout. Your eyes sparkled with mischief as you continued, "But don't worry, it's one of the many things I find endearing about you. Now come on, I believe I promised you some quality cuddling time, and I intend to make good on that promise."

His eyes gleamed with excitement and he eagerly followed you out of the room, his pout now a happy smile. He trailed behind you towards the bedroom, ready to indulge in the promised cuddles.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

Dividers by @/adornedwithlight

Cover Images: Uncanny Spider-Man (2023), Pinterest

[nappycherub]

Ok so I know you said you have been unmotivated with smut lately, but you don't have to write this if you don't want to. But basically it's Scott summers x male reader where they are best friends, maybe they have some secret feelings that they have never confessed too. So male reader decided so bite the bullet and confess with out confessing, and is like " you know a few bounces on it never hurt a friendship", ( lol like the meme) and smut ensues.

Scott Summers x Mutant male reader

Headcanons

Readers got electrokinetic and magnetic powers, because I couldn’t think of anything original, and ice powers are already yoinked up by Bobby. So, ice cold head is gonna be saved for another day.

I feel like my Scott obsession shines through in this… enjoy some longer work

Feedback wasn’t the most original or coolest sounding name, but hey, it had been Scott’s idea, and you had a soft spot for him from the very beginning. So, Feedback it was. Seeing how Scott puffs up a little when you explain he came up with the name almost makes up for Logan picking on you for it.

Being great friends with Scott, makes most people assume you are a hardass like him. And yeah, you have your moments. You see how much Scott stressed about keeping everyone safe, as well as dealing with the US government and the likes, so yes, you take it seriously.

Your lightning powers lead you to also bond with Ororo, though you are not completely at her level. You cant control the weather, but you sure as hell can use electricity and lightning, and you’ve learned how useful it can be.

It took a lot of training, but who else can paralyze a person without it being lethal as easily as you can? Or fry most electronics or vehicles, even guns and other weapons? You are at least a little proud of your powers.

And maybe it has to do with the fact that Scott always seemed to preen, at least a little, with pride whenever you show how far you’ve come. You are the exact same with him, and your “broship” is kind of a thing in the X-men

To the point where the entire mansion, or island if its on Krakoa, get tense and start tiptoeing around when you two are fighting or arguing. Seeing you two not talking and avoiding each other is as uncomfortable as seeing Deadpool around, except its worse.

It always leads to some of the others, typically the younger mutants, trying to set up some kind of heist you get you two to get along again. Most of the times it fails, but the failure is what brings you together again, in a sense.

You also typically give Scott small zaps with your powers, to get his mind off whatever he’s too focused on. or the times where he lets you run light electricity through his muscles when they bunch up. Him groaning and huffing in relief is only an extra on top of the cake, since you already get to fondle his back.

Your feelings for Scott aren’t as much of a secret as you wish they were. Charles knew almost the very moment he met you. Apparently, you used to project your thoughts quite a lot, and he was growing tired of seeing your fantasies.

After that you got better at hiding. You especially worked hard to suppress and hide it when Scott got together with Jean. Yeah, it hurt your heart, but you never really thought you two would be more than bros.

But to show Jean some respect, you get less touchy and grabby with Scott. In the past you might have smacked his ass after training, or groped his pecs and arms, making some excuse about his gains. But with Scott in a relationship, it didn’t feel right.

Scott did the same thing with you, but… it was only because you did it first, right? So, its not like hed notice. Obviously, he does, Scott being so vigilant about the people around him means it takes him less than a month to be completely sure you’re avoiding him.

That doesn’t mean he says anything. Instead, he just kinda lets it stew. The relationship between you grows… tense in a way. Its not like you two are arguing, but you are trying to pull away enough to wash away whatever feelings you have, and Scott is sure you hate him for some reason, and he doesn’t know why.

In the end its actually Jean that confronts you about it, much to your embarrassment. She’s surprisingly kind about it, or you guessed it wasn’t surprising. Jeans an amazing woman, which was why it was no shock she swooped in and caught Scott’s heart.

Jean knows all about your feelings, but also Scotts. Scott loves her, very much so. But he loves you just as much, he just hasn’t realized it yet. Scott easily just pushes those feelings aside as platonic, or some deep loyalty to his best friend.

So, what if he sometimes has dreams about you holding him down and fucking him so hard he needs his visor, since his shades would be sent flying. Or his regular dream of you using small sparks of electricity to play with him.

But somehow Jean saves the situation. Being able to read minds is great, since it makes her feel safe and secure in her relationship, enough to know that you are both good men, and that you’d never act on your feelings with her in the picture.

This is how it continues for a while. Scotts with Jean, and you have some flings of your own. Over the years you kind of have a thing with Logan, then Warren, and a kind of “ill scratch your itch if you scratch mine” with Remy when he and Anne Marie have their moments.

And yeah, maybe there’s a couple of others on that list that you don’t speak too much about it. Its not your fault Deadpool can be weirdly charming and handsome sometimes. And that one time with Magneto is not something you’ll ever mention, to anybody. You get a feeling Charles knows about it though. You have a feeling Magneto told him.

All in all, you never end up with a long lasting “official” relationship. Its kind of hard to give your heart to someone else when Scott still has his name printed across it in big letters. You’re not like Scott, whose heart is big enough to fit multiple people

What you have with other people is always just casual and never means anything. Well, you do get closer to Logan. Its… a weird situation. He still has a thing for Jean, and you have a thing for Scott, and you help each other out when times get tough.

You thought Scott was gonna kill you when he caught you chewing on a cigar. It’s not like you were gonna smoke it, but seeing him huffing and puffing about you chewing on one of Logans cigars made your pants a bit too tight for comfort.

It really doesn’t help that Scott bulks up over the years. Logan may still call him slim, but there’s nothing slim about him. So, there might be more grope to the smacks you give his ass sometimes, how can you not, it’s so… grabble.

And you are always too distracted by his just… soft and big he is back there, hes even got butt dimples man. It means you never notice how Scott might just arch his hips back a little, or the way his thighs twitch when the excess electricity runs from your fingers into his skin.

Sure, him for thinking about those fingers inside him, its normal. He thinks. Its not his fault you have really nice hands, and the way electricity crinkles around your fingers is way too hot sometimes.

You once licked the electricity off your fingers, the sparks jumping from your fingers to your tongue. Scott knows its just for fun, or be a dick, but god does his front and back twitch think about it.

How you confess can happy in many ways. But the main factor is that Scott and Jean are no more. Maybe shes died, like she does in some comics. Or maybe they just broke up since they grew apart.

But one way or another you just confess. Maybe its after one of your rolls in the hay with Logan, and Scott finally doesn’t have Jean to redirect his attention too and his jealousy boils over. It leads to an argument, with you just spilling that you slept about because you couldn’t have him.

It hurts, after the confession leaves you. You’ve kept it tight inside you for years at this point, and seeing Scott just freeze up makes you feel even worse. You just get your keys into your hands with a flick of magnetic energy, before Scotts upon you.

The floors really uncomfortable, and the air is knocked out of your chest, especially as he places his bulk on top of you, Scotts hands on either side of your head.

Even with the visor giving off its usual red glow, Scott couldn’t get more handsome. The quiver in his lip and how he keeps nipping at its insides. “Scott…” you breath out, hands twitching at your sides, wanting nothing more than to settle on his nice, plush with muscle, hips.

Kissing Scott was everything you had ever imagined, and more. He tasted like the coffee hed been drinking, the brand you always hated but still bought because it was Scott’s favorite. The one he would always brew too strong, and never add any sugar or creamer too.

And yet, as his tongue rolled against your own, you couldn’t think of anything more delicious. It felt more like you two were trying to eat each other, to see who could devour the other one first after being starved for so long.

Any other time you might have been embarrassed about how wet and slick your kissing was, and just how loud it was. It seemed to ring through the empty room, Scotts hands already pulling at your shirt as you allow yourself to truly grope and feel that plump ass of his.

Youd touched Scott many times before. Hell, you’d even touched him naked here and there. But those times had been for medical reasons, or that one time to keep hypothermia at bay. This felt so much more intimate, so much… more.

The lamps in the room flickered as Scott pushed himself up to get fully undressed, your irises lighting up as you finally got to just stare. He was so hard, and with him standing above you he felt like a god, in his own way. You must have said this out loud, since Scott blushed and dragged you up.

It felt like being a virgin again, tumbling into bed and kicking off what clothes you had left on, hands groping and exploring. When it came to men, you had a lot more experience. You honestly only had experience with men.

That didn’t mean you almost didn’t bust on the spot when Scott sat himself down in your lap again, nothing between him and your cock. You couldn’t see it, but you could feel how his ass just draped around you, the smirk on Scotts lips so cocky you almost wanted to smack him.

With that thought, your body seemed to respond. Youd never really shot electricity from your crotch before, but the loud high-pitched yelp from Scott told you just that had happened.

You immediately wanted to apologize, fearing you had ruined the mood. A violent shudder ran through Scotts body, a deeper more guttural groan leaving his body as he rocked against you, precum spilling from him like a faucet. That had felt better than hed ever imagined.

The world felt like it was shrinking more and more until all you could think of was Scott Summers, and how felt against you. How he felt around your fingers as you stretch him open, and the loud wails of want he lets out, when you let the smallest flickers of electricity zap from your fingers to his prostate.

Youd always had a code of sorts, that your partner at least had to finish once, preferably twice, before you would enter them, or let them enter you. And with Scott it was so easy to wring them out of him. You almost wanted to just keep milking him for all he was worth.

Recognizing the look in your eyes, at least somewhat, had Scott tapping his foot against your tip, which was enough to remind you of how hard you really were, and how sensitive.

It gave Scott enough time to flip you onto your back, and with a recklessness you wouldn’t see from him every day, he just sank down on you.

All that working out made it easy for Scott to ride you, his thighs and hips working in harmony, his fingers digging into your pecs as you both groan and huff, letting out noises neither of you had ever let out before.

Kissing Scott as he rode you was a pretty name for it. in reality it was more just your open mouths pressed together as you both panted and drooled, tongues just rubbing together every now and then.

Having edged yourself until now meant you didn’t last long. As Scott shoved you over the edge your vision went white, and you had a feeling the popping noises you heard were the lightbulbs around the room.

It felt like Scott was draining your very soul of your body through your dick, his behind was diabolical. Part of you wanted to joke about him doing some other kind of training without telling you, but your teeth still felt like they were made of static, so all you could do was groan and gasp.

The high-pitched noises from Scotts mouth still registered to your fuzzy hearing, and the splatters of white against your torso made something inside you settle, knowing he had finished too.

The air was knocked out of your chest again as Scott slumped against you like a puppet getting its strings cut. The only noise in the room was the sound of your shared panting and wheezing, as well as the faint buzz of the ruined lightbulbs.

“you’re paying for that…” Scott finally mumbles breathlessly against the side of your neck. A snort leaves you, head still feeling like a thunderstorm and tv-static as you work your arms shakily around him. “Fine… but I’m picking the brand” you reply, voice slurred and tongue floppy in ways you hadn’t experienced in years.

Scott clearly wanted to laugh at your state, but he wasn’t much better himself. He couldn’t feel his legs, and it wasn’t completely because of the zap of electricity you’d sent through his entire body, as much as it was just how good it had felt.

You both needed to cool down, and maybe a nap. And then a good, long, cold shower. Scott lazily mentally noted down that he needed new sheets and lightbulbs, but not much else happened. For once his head felt blissfully silent, in the way only you could make it.

[nappycherub]

I am absolutely IN LOVE with the Gambit x sea monster mutant you did. Sea monster stories are my favorite thing EVER and it got me thinking about random little tidbits of Remy and leviathan’s life that I wanted to share

The first time Remy sees the sea serpent form he’s definitely a little scared and maybe a bit horny because hot DAMN. I can see him having a huge fixation on leviathan’s teeth, whether it’s the huge fucking chompers that could snap his spine in half or the human sized teeth that are a bit sharper than they should be

Remy placing a cute kiss on leviathan’s cheek while he’s in serpent form. He’s much smaller than him and leviathan can barely feel it, but he loves the gesture

Sex is definitely something that takes a bit to get used to. Leviathan’s skin is tougher than most and the first few times they do it, Remy finds himself having to do something skin aftercare due to the scaly version of beard burn. While I LOVE the idea of bottom Remy, I REALLY love the idea of him being in control. Leviathan is powerful and often finds that people expect him to take on a more dominant role in every day life so he LOVES being able to trust Remy to take care of him. It also gives Remy a HUGE ego boost, knowing that leviathan has that trust in him

Leviathan telling Remy all about the different sea life he encounters

Someone asks Remy about his jewelry and he proudly says “my boyfriend made it”

Remy Lebeau x Mutant male reader

Headcanons

Part two to a thing I wrote a while ago, which you can find here.

Finaly went on Christmas break, so I can hopefully sleep off this sickness I’ve been dealing with all week. How’s everyone else doing?

I imagine the first time you discovered that you could turn into a serpent was an accident. It was sometime during your time apart, where Remy was an X-man, and you were… doing whatever you were doing.

Maybe it was even during a fight with good ol Namor, who was pissed about some other being, entering his territory, since you carry such a powerful aura. The fighting came to a stop when you turned into a massive serpent.

It probably didn’t help your case that your serpent form had some waterproof feathers and was pretty damn colorful underwater. Or the fact that you could make rain, rainbows, extreme storms, so on and so forth.

After that Namor seemed to just accept you as his “brother”, in his own way… he was and is an arrogant ass, but he’s cool, if hed just stop his people from trying to worship you. At least Namor turned out to be a great help when it came to mastering your new serpent form.

After all of this, and you finally feel comfortable with it, you finally show it to Remy. At some point when he’s taking a break from the team or he’s just got some time off, that he spends near the sea since it’s close to you.

At this point you two arent dating, so Remy is very thankful for his coat, since it helps him cover the very sudden heavy pressure between his thighs when he watches you transform.

It’s not his fault is almost erotic, to him at least. Just the way your body lengthens, your muscles stretch and twist, how your scales grow and spread, and feathers burst out. The huge teeth bigger than his own body also has a lot of blood rushing south, something he doesn’t feel interested in exploring why.

He blames it on it being you.

It’s a very comical sight to see you two together around Krakoa most days, since you are very comfortable in the serpent form. So, it’s just you bobbing around outside the island, with Remy riding on top of your head.

Anyone with eyesight good enough can see Remy regularly leaning down to kiss the top of your scaley head, or how he wraps himself in the giant feathers.

But people also know not to look too closely, since Remy likes to… sunbathe up there. Or he says it’s sunbathing. And most days it is, but other days… well, its likely that it isn’t sunscreen splattered across his chest, and his twitching body and flushed appearance doesn’t help.

You almost always dump him into the ocean before putting him back on land, since he likes chilling up there for very long, and will give himself heatstroke doing so. This is where your feathers help, since they act as a parasol or cover at times.

It’s not as if you can feel much of what he does up there, since he’s sitting on top of your head and outside your field of vision. But just knowing he’s there, and sometimes smelling his more intimate actions makes your blood rush.

Remy also always demands kisses before going on missions, or you leaving for longer periods of time. This is both in your serpent form and your more human form, you better kiss him enough to make up for all the kisses he’s gonna miss when you’re apart.

I don’t think Remy does a whole lot of topping in the relationship, since he gets real hot and bothered about how big you are and how much you fill him. But he does do a lot of power bottoming.

He will never hear you complain though, since it allows you to lay back and watch as that half feral haze falls over Remy’s face, and his movements get rough and needy.

Even better if you purr or growl, flashing your teeth at him so it “seems” like you’re not just laying back and being lazy. You both know logically you could very easily throw him off and overpower him, but it makes Remy feel really good to be on top, and you feel good too when he does it, so why not.

Remy is very saddened that he can’t leave hickeys on you though, thanks to your scales, healing factor and just you being sturdy in general. You guys can’t even go with something more extreme like using a knife or leaving scars, since it heals up.

The closest you guys have ever gotten to a lasting hickey on you was after Remy spent hours sucking and biting at the same spot on the front of your neck, on a spot of skin without scales, and that faded after an hour or so.

Remy ends up having to cope, which results in him drawing on you instead with markers. He even finds ones he can use on your scales, and ones in colors that almost look like bruises. It’s not the same but its good enough.

I get the feeling the x-men have met Namor at some point, or will in the future. They don’t get why he’s extra sassy towards Remy, until you casually mention knowing him and how you guys fight on the regular as a “bonding activity”.

Apparently Namor is just mad that you’re dating someone from the surface since they all suck in his eyes, but you couldn’t care less. You love your Cajun.

You end up having to draw a lot of the sea creatures you see, since cameras can’t stand the pressure or see in the same way as your eyes, so Remy has a lot of those drawings saved in a folder. Hes debated on getting one or two tattooed.

He doesn’t know too much about the ocean, even after you guys have been together for a while, since very little is known about the ocean, but hes always curious and ready to listen.

There being a whole ocean people did freak him out for a bit, because obviously there were. There were literally people from space, so why not in the ocean? Them wanting to worship you at least got a good laugh and some flirty jokes out of him.

Speaking of Namors people. They would treat Remy better than other surface people, especially if he’s wearing jewelry made from your scales and feathers. They still don’t really like him, but they respect you so…

Remy is also definingly the kind to always wear the stuff you make him, he’s got multiple sets and many different pieces of jewelry. The feathers are most colorful and fit any outfit, but there are also normal stud earrings made from an old scale.

Remy likes wearing stuff you make him. But you also like seeing him wear it, since it puts your mark on him even if you hadn’t thought about that at the time.

[nappycherub]

please pretty please good sir, please right an imagines of Kurt Wagner with a demon, like full on demon from like the Bible s/o, like straight up like a prince of hell kind of demon.

p.s. I love your fics sm 💐🌅

Kurt Wagner x Demon male reader

Headcanons

Did you guys know that in olden time, people thought owls and toads were linked to the devil? Was this an excuse to give the reader animal characteristics? Yes, yes it was. Fruits like strawberries and cherries were also used to symbolize different more bodily involved sins. I took a bit of inspo to how the demons look in Dictionnaire Infernal, since they’re cool and goofy.

I may still be tired and wrung out from all my classes, but the will to write lives on. How’s everyone’s week been?

No one had known you were a demon in the beginning. Everyone just kind of assumed you were another mutant. They already had one member of the x-men who had wings, so it wasn’t the wildest thought that you were like warren.

Your wings were a bit more like an eagle owl, and sure, sometimes your eyes would morph into something like a toad or even a goat, but they had seen much weirder.

You not stepping inside churches or other holy areas was mainly seen as a personal preference, since you were so casual about it. you technically could step inside the buildings, but it was too much work to be worth it for you.

Instead you’d hang out outside with the others who didn’t feel a need to step inside. And yeah, you may have carved a sigil or two into the building behind your back, so you could teleport there in the future to cause some trouble if you got bored.

Demons had no specific form, at least your father didn’t and so you didn’t. you simply morphed into the one that felt most comfortable, making most believe you had a shapeshifting mutation.

There were multiple kings of hell, but your father had always been the most powerful and most influential, so you were expected to follow in his footsteps, which was why you had kind of ran away to earth.

It was just so boring, sitting there and doing all that kingly work so your father could retire with the other ancient kings, since demons don’t die, they can simply only be ignored and rebutted.

You had never meant to help the x-men or join them, but they’d been there at the right place at the wrong time, and just happened to catch some human trying to assault you for being a “mutant”

It was only the x-men stepping in that kept you from trapping the guy in eternal damnation, but you decided why not just play along for now, see where it takes you. And before you knew it, you were an x-men, helping to “fight for the good of mutant kind” or whatever.

It wasn’t hard to make you seem like a mutant, for you to even show up when Charles was looking for mutants with his powers.

It was all good and dandy, until that furry blue bastard wormed his way into the six pitch black organs you called your hearts. Well, sometimes it was six, sometimes twenty, sometimes zero, it really depended on the day.

But it was six the day you realized Kurt had gotten into your good graces. More than that honestly, as he made you feel… flustered. How he succeeded in making a demon like yourself flustered was still a mystery to you.

You had been drawn to him in the beginning because of his whole “blue demon” thing, only for it to turn out that Kurt was religious, and would sometimes wear a cross. He even prayed at times, the action always making your skin itch.

Kurt was honestly the only one to start putting things together since he knew some about demonology, hell, your name was just a shortened version of your infernal title. Weaker demons showing up and groveling at your feet and referring to you as their prince probably didn’t help.

Luckily it had just been Kurt around at the time, but the blue imp clocked you quicker than you thought they would.

Surprisingly, Kurt didn’t hate you or fear you. To him, you were an x-men and helped save people, so you weren’t fully bad. He even went out of his way to pray somewhere else so your hands wouldn’t burn and for your wings to start burning at the edges.

Somewhere along the way, what you had morphed into more than just a friendship. You had an inkling that your father would have your hide when he realized you had bedded a mortal, and one so clearly meant for heaven when the day came.

But eternity was so long, so who could blame you for wanting to spend it with someone as kind as Kurt. Even if you knew somewhere deep inside, that you would mourn Kurt for most of that eternity when the time came.

Kurt talked you into telling the x-men your true origin. They were hurt in the beginning, and you politely stepped out of the team since you technically weren’t a mutant, and you wanted to respect that.

That didn’t stop you from hanging out at the mansion, or on Krakoa when that came around. How you got on the island? You would never tell, mainly because it drove Scott crazy that he could never figure it out.

After coming out of the hellfire closet, you felt less need to control your form to the same degree. To most you were still just a mutant, since the body you wore the most had been a mutant, so… it counted in a loophole kinda way.

Everyone got good at clocking who you were, even on days when you altered your shape completely. Kurt was obviously the best. Even on days where you had a lion head and the tail of a snake, or when you had three heads and a burning crown.

It was a little awkward when Kurt became a priest and built his own religion like thing, mainly because you just couldn’t get yourself to touch him when he wore the uniform.

It was the aura for the most part. None of the others got it, or saw it like you did, but they weren’t demons, so it made sense. But Kurt always carried an aura, and it was manageable enough on regular days. But after sermons it just got strong enough to make your tongue buzz and your feathers puff up.

Kurt got good at wiping himself off in a metaphorical way, so you guys could kiss and cuddle even on days he did sermons. And you as a demon were way too strong to truly to hurt by it, it just got a bit annoying sometimes.

All in all, you two were happy. Even if you had to chase away demons that wanted to take over earth every now and then. Your father had never given you your own domain, so you just kinda slapped your name on earth and told every other demon to square up for it.

Some did come out of the woodwork to fight, mainly just because they could. No one really wanted earth. Too much trouble, too much holy interference, and all those magicians? No way. It was just older demons wanting a good fight for the most part.

Kurt also came to really like your less human look. Maybe he was projecting, but there was something nice about having a partner that didn’t look too “human”, if he could say that without being offensive.

There were days where you looked like the average human man. But other days you were more beast than man, or even the days where you didn’t even want a blood-filled body, so you were made out of sand or water, or anything along those lines.

He did have a preference for forms where you had a tail, because it was comforting to coil your tails together. Or if the form you took had claws, since it felt so good to have your hands rubbing up and down his back and scratch through his fuzz.

There were times when Kurt forgot to take off his cross, or hide it under his shirt, so you did get small burns, even if they went away in a few seconds. You didn’t care much, but seeing Kurt apologize was always very cute.

Having a powerful demon like you on the side of the x-men also helped out a lot during fights. You stayed out of it for the most part, to “keep balance of the mortal plane” or whatever your father said.

There were times when Kurt was in mortal danger where you stepped in though, but you always contained the worst of your powers.

And staying back also meant you could focus your powers on healing those that needed it. Kurt got the most of it, of course, as you would cuddle and kiss him, your kisses transferring the healing energy instead.

It was nice. And yes, you knew one day you’d be alone again, stuck on earth after claiming it as your territory. But the present was so good, so warm and loving, that the cold empty future didn’t matter.

[nappycherub]

Can I request headcanons for Kurt, Remy, Logan, and Wade being stuck with his gender neutral crush in close proximity please?

Love this 👅👅👅

Wade, Logan, Remy, and Kurt with gn!Reader in close/forced proximity 💕

Warnings!!!: Mild language, tad bit suggestive in a few parts (nothing crazy, don’t get excited), Wade being semi aware that he’s in a fanfiction lol, forced proximity in smallish places

A/n: Hello, I’m back. I liked writing this one, it brought me joy even though I had a mental breakdown halfway through writing it for unrelated reasons. Anyways, requests are open 😛

Wade Wilson:

Wade drags you out to a casino after a successful mission together because you guys are in Vegas and he wants to celebrate!! and definitely not because he wants to spend more time with you

But, of course, as soon as you two exit the lobby area of the casino and enter an elevator, the thing comes to a sudden halt.

“Uh-oh. The good ol�� forced proximity trope. Better get comfortable, Y/n. I’ve read enough fanfiction to know we’re not getting out of here anytime soon.”

Obviously, you call the front desk. But, they tell you it’ll be a while till they can send someone over to get you guys out of here.

Despite the shitty situation, Wade is happy to be spending time with you.

The two of you sit on the floor after a while and even though it’s a pretty spacious elevator, Wade sits right next to you. Like, shoulder to shoulder.

He’s sure to keep you entertained while you wait to be rescued. And by keeping you entertained, I mean he won’t shut the fuck up.

And it’s really all fun and games for him until you show any signs of being genuinely upset or nervous about being stuck here.

That’s when he basically pries the doors open himself and somehow manages to climb through the elevator shaft and fixes the problem himself.

“How the hell did you manage to do that?”

“I can be useful when I want to, hot stuff.”

You guys leave a negative review on the Casino later.

Logan Howlett:

You two have to share a hotel room together while on a mission, and unexpectedly, (say it with me, now) there’s only one bed.

“I can sleep on the floor.”

“I don’t want you sleeping on the floor.”

“Do you wanna sleep on the floor?”

“The bed can easily fit two people. Besides, It’s just for one night.”

“…”

“Come on…. I don’t bite.”

So, now you two are sharing a bed. And to your surprise, he’s being very mindful about it.

He sets up a little wall of pillows between you and says it’s to protect you in case his claws come out while he’s sleeping.

And obviously, you don’t know about it, but he’s pretty nervous.

He knows it’s stupid and he knows he shouldn’t be nervous because it’s not like anything is going to happen between the two of you. But, still.

He gets up once or twice to leave the room to smoke and definitely not to go outside and contemplate every single thing he’s done tonight.

When he comes back, you apologize and he realizes that he’s probably made you think that he’s somehow uncomfortable by your presence.

“Don’t be sorry. I don’t mind this, honestly.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

And so, the two of you get into bed together. Don’t worry. He’s going to be a gentleman about it unless you don’t want him to be 😈

Remy LeBeau:

The two of you are tasked with grabbing some spare blankets from a closet after some of the children at the school ask to build a pillow fort.

Easy enough task, right? Wrong. Somehow the two of you get trapped in the blanket closet together.

One can only bang on a door and shout for help for so long before giving up.

“Don’t worry, Mon Ami. Gambit’ll keep you company.”

The two of you can’t really move too much, both settling for leaning against the walls opposite from one another.

He assures you he wouldn’t mind you getting closer. Which, of course, gets you flustered and you just have to hope he doesn’t notice in the dark.

He’s having a great time. He loves teasing you, and getting to see you get all nervous.

“You sure you don’t wanna get a little more comfortable?”

“It’s fine, really. Someone’s probably realized we’re gone by now. They’ll find us here any minute.”

“Shame. I was hoping we’d get a little more time alone together.”

Anyways, it turns out if there are people looking for you, they’re doing a pretty shitty job, because you haven’t even heard anyone walk by the closet and it’s been nearly 20 minutes.

And Remy knows he unfortunately can’t just stay in here with you forever. So, he’ll knock down the door the second you give him the word.

Kurt Wagner:

You, Kurt, and a couple of the other X-Men take a little road trip. Or are all driving to do a mission. It doesn’t really matter, you’re all in a car together.

You and Kurt end up drawing the short straws and are forced to be crammed into the small backseat together.

Now, could Kurt hypothetically just Bamf over to wherever you guys are going? Probably. But, why would he do that when this is the perfect excuse to spend time with the person he’s been pining after for…. Weeks? Months? Who knows.

It doesn’t matter! He’s happy to be here with you. But, also nervous.

He doesn’t wanna upset you, or weird you out, or make you uncomfortable at all! That’s the opposite of how he wants to make you feel!

So, he may or may not end up basically smushing himself against the car wall.

He chills out eventually and gets comfortable. But, fuck, those first 30 minutes were ROUGH.

You two get to talking and he’s just so happy to be spending time with you. So happy his tail subconsciously wraps around your ankle.

You either don’t notice or don’t say anything. Either way, the tail stays there.

After a couple hours, your eyelids start to feel heavy. And before you know it, you’re asleep. On Kurt’s shoulder. AND HE’S FREAKING OUT ‼️‼️

-Y/n? Y/n? Mein Gott….”

And that’s the last thing he manages to get out before going completely ghost and still. He wants you to get your rest.

Eventually he falls asleep too. Turns out the two of you get very good rest when sleeping together. Maybe you should do it more often.

[nappycherub]

Pretty Boy

Warnings!!: oral - both fem and male receiving, fingering, teasing, praise

Kurt Wagner was a saint.

He prayed daily for his own sins. He didn’t believe in telling someone he would be praying for them because he had no business in their privacy. To be honest, Kurt didn’t much like to hear the shameless and endless berating against those who did not follow the book of God.

Kurt Wagner took a vow.

He took a vow of celibacy, believing himself to be restrained and would wait until he was wed to give himself to whom he loved. But if he’s being honest with himself, he took such a vow because he never thought he’d get married. 

“Look at me,” he’d say, “who would want to devote their life to someone who looks like me?”

You did.

You called Kurt Wagner “the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen”, and from then on, he knew he was fucked.

You showed up like the sun, shining and unexpectedly beautiful. So stunning that Kurt never thought you’d look twice at him.

Let alone be underneath him.

Kurt wanted to do you justice. He pressed his lips against yours with desperation, like a dehydrated man having his first drink of water. It was sloppy at first, because all he wanted to do was touch you. His hands carved out each curve of your skin, memorizing it in his mind like a beautiful painting.

His tail trailed up your dress, which you wore specifically for him. It was his shade of blue, and allowed him a glimpse at your lace underwear when you bent over. You had been teasing the poor boy all day with subtle touches and even trailing his own hand up your dress, teasing your inner thigh underneath the dinner table.

“Kurt. . .” you pleaded, begging for him to touch you. But you made it quite difficult for him today, seeing as he had a raging hard on at dinner and couldn’t get up.

He’d make you beg for it.

“Hmm?” He hummed teasingly against your skin, tracking hot kisses down your neck.

“Kurt, touch me.”

His tail laced itself around your underwear, tugging it down your leg with such slowness that you knew he was doing it on purpose.

“I need you,” your voice was breathless as he brushed his canines against your pulse point.

“Need what, mein schatz? Use your words,” he encouraged softly, gently biting down on your neck whilst grinding his hard on against your sopping wet core.

“Your finger. Please,” his three fingers weren’t normal or human sized, but thicker.

Thick enough to make you wonder how good it could make you feel.

With your underwear at your ankles, his hand began to venture downwards whilst continuing to mark you with his mouth. He had made several impressions upon your neck already, but craved more. He wanted your entire body to be decorated in hickies because they’d remind him that you chose him.

He hissed quietly as he felt you, “Bei Gott, (Y/N). . .all this for me, my love?” You were soaking wet and he dipped a finger inside. You lulled your head back gently, savoring the feeling of his thick and long finger.

Never in a million years did you think Kurt would be such a tease.

He went achingly slow, savoring your walls around his singular digit as it slid in and out with ease. But he knew he wouldn’t last much longer.

Which was where his predicament lied.

He didn’t want to break his vow to God. 

So, he’d compromise.

By making you cum in every other way possible.

But god damn, did he want to press his cock inside of you and watch as you two became one.

“Faster, Kurt,” you gasped, and he did as you wished. Working his slender finger into you, seeking out your g-spot whilst his other finger began to gently circle your clit. Your eyes widened gently, hips bucking upwards involuntarily and earning a deep chuckle from Kurt.

“Look at you,” he whispered in awe, “so pretty.”

You mewled at his words, and Kurt watched your pretty pussy before taking his thumb off of your clit. And replaced it with his tongue.

“Kurt!” You gasped unexpectedly, one hand coming down to tangle in his hair. He smirked against you, his tongue tracing circles around your clit before gently taking it into his mouth. You further clenched around his finger, getting closer to that sweet release. 

“Taste so sweet, liebling,” he practically moaned against your clit, sucking on it gently whilst working his finger further inside of you. 

“Oh fuck,” you cursed, thighs encapsulating his head but he fucking loved it. Your plush thighs around his head, legs quivering with the need for an orgasm made him harder.

If that was even possible.

“So close,” he purred, “cum. Cum on my finger. Let me taste you.”

With a few more pushes and his sweet tongue, you released with a weak cry. He still worked his finger inside of you, drawing out your orgasm and leaving you panting against the bed. He pulled his finger out slowly, licking it in view of your eyes.

That’s when you saw it.

He was straining against his pants, pre-cum soaking the front.

“Kurt,” you whimpered softly, sitting forward. He looked down at you, confused momentarily.

“Are you alri-agh!”

He was extremely sensitive. Once your hand gently wrapped around his cock through his sweats, his eyes shut and his hand wrapped around your wrist as a low moan released.

“You-you don’t have to,” he said. He didn’t care if he had to go jack off later. Well, he did but he knew his vows. 

“But I want to,” you pressed, “you made me feel so good. Let me make you cum, baby.”

He was putty in your hands at that point. That small plea paired with your begging eyes led him to sitting on the bed whilst you got on your knees, and he swore this sight was better than the Heavens itself.

His cock sprang free, gently hitting his stomach and he watched as you looked at it. He felt nervous, wondering if maybe you thought it-

A startled moan left his mouth as you dragged your tongue along his shaft. His hands gripped the sheets below him, his citrine eyes staring down at you. 

You further pressed on, your lips around his tip and you soon realized just how much he needed this. How much he deserved this. You slowly bob your head, taking him in inch at a time. Your warm mouth alone made him feel like he was already close.

“Zu gut,” he whimpered softly. You pulled back momentarily, deciding to tease him.

“What was that? Use your words, baby."

A strangled moan escaped him as you fully took his cock into your mouth. His hands gripped the sheets tighter, refusing to lay a hand on your pretty head. He didn’t want to make you gag or choke on accident, but he was using every ounce of self restraint.

“Just-just like that, (Y/N),” he was embarrassed but you savoured those precious little sounds coming from him. They were whimpers and soft moans, which encouraged you to deep throat him.

His tail flicked wildly on the bed, twitching every so often when you took him deep.

His eyes rolled back gently, but he didn’t want them to. He wanted to look at your pretty face, your eyes as you graciously took care of him.

“Close, baby?” You questioned, pulling away momentarily. He nodded eagerly, and you laced your hand with his. You licked his tip before taking him back into your mouth, and his hips bucked forward. You gagged slightly at the sudden jump, but it only made you want him more because he was enjoying this so much.

He felt it building, and fast. 

“So nah dran. . .” he gasped, his German sounding babbled, “I-I’m close.”

His hand clenched around yours, squeezing as his tail twitched wildly. You felt him cumming quickly, and kept him inside your mouth. He came soon with a weak cry of your name, panting slightly as his cum filled your mouth.

You swallowed, not complaining because his sounds and facial expressions were enough.

“Thank you, mein schatz,” he breathed out, his eyes practically glowing as he wiped your hair from your face.

“I’d do it everyday if it means you keep making pretty sounds,” you responded, earning a purple hue on his cheeks.

But he didn’t oppose.

[nappycherub]

I had this idea, because I was doing some crochet.

A reader who had made a lot of crochet stuff for all the X-MEN (most of it was requested from them to the reader) and Logan noticed everyone had something handmade except him. His bratty side kicks in and he wants something from the reader. (though the reader can make him a cardigan cause he is a grandpa or like a glove that has holes for his claws so he doesn't reap them apart) you can go feral with it 👀

Scott Summers, Kurt Wagner, Remy LeBeau, Robert “Bobby” Drake, Logan Howlett

Headcanons

Theres too many x-men, so I just,,,added my faves *blush blush* I also decided to write a little thing for everybody, like my CoD posts.

Crochet was your passion, something to do in your free time when mutant-kind wasn’t in danger. And with online shopping, it was so easy to get all the yarn and different hooks, patterns and recipes you might need.

So, of course you also feel the need to make stuff for all the people you care about. After filling your own room and wardrobe with all the stuff you could crochet, your yarn empire started to fill your friends closets and rooms too.

Scott Summers

For Scott you end up crocheting a couple of hats, and multiple pairs of gloves. Some you already had laying around, and just decided to throw into the pile.

What could you say? You were scared he was gonna freeze his ears when he went around in his visor. This meant you crocheted different hats depending on if he wore his visor or his shades, hats that wouldn’t get too in the way.

It was a little hard for Scott to be a leader in the colorful creations you made, but everyone knew it was just your way of showing you cared. So, it made sense for the leader of the team to get the first gifts.

After a while Scott will wear the things, you make even if it isn’t too cold outside, even working it into his everyday outfits if he needs a little bit of accessories. Sometimes a hat really helps with the look, you know?

Kurt Wagner

For Kurt you make a scarf. It was a crochet of the moment. You two were on a stakeout, which took way longer than planned, in a pretty cold place. So, you pulled out your crochet stuff and started going at it.

Before you knew it, there was a comfortable scarf in your hands. You had been smart enough to dress correctly for the mission, but Kurt hadn’t, so of course the scarf when around his neck. You may also have scolded him a bit for not dressing right for the mission.

Kurt absolutely loves the scarf, and will wear it whenever its even just a little chilly outside. It makes you want to make him even more, especially when he starts getting sad about the first one fraying apart.

In the end he has as many scarfs as Scott has hats. One for every weather, in different colors, so he can match them with whatever he’s wearing.

Remy LeBeau(and Anna Marie)

For Remy you end up making him a hoodie, in his usual colors. It had mainly been a spur of the moment creation on your end, since you just had a lot of yarn in that color laying around.

It hadn’t even really been made with Remy in mind, but our beloved Cajun was quick to swoop in and take it off your hands when you weren’t sure what to do with it. and you, just wanting to make stuff for others, are more than happy to let him.

He wouldn’t wear it every day, but you do see him snuggle up in the warm yarn hoodie whenever it starts to get chilly. Hes also more than happy to use it as an excuse to snuggle with Anna Marie, using it as some kind of silly flirt.

In the end you make Anna Marie a matching hoodie, making it a little too big for her, as well as making it the same colors as Remy, so they can switch hoodies whenever they want. Its kinda like getting to hug Remy, in a way, so Anna Marie enjoys it.

Robert “Bobby” Drake

You make Bobby a blanket, it’s as easy as that. You actually end up making him multiple blankets. You didn’t really have an understanding if his mutation made him even able to feel cold, or if it made him feel extra cold?

So, the first blanket was placed by the door to his room, since you didn’t wanna invade his privacy. Bobby may not feel cold, but he loves the blanket anyways, especially since you try your best to make it in his favorite colors, or featuring different stuff he likes.

Its actually Bobby that asks if you can make him a second blanket, since he needs to wash the first one and has gotten so used to having the heavy yarn blanket on top of his other blankets at night. And you, being the great person you are, immediately get to work.

He ends up with a bit of a collection of blankets over the years, though most of them stay in his closet since he can’t really use all of them at once. He does pull them out when the x-men are doing movie nights and stuff like that though.

Logan Howlett

It took a while for Logan to realize he was the only one who hadn’t been given anything you crocheted. And… He’s not mad obviously, why would he be, it’s just crochet. He’s maybe a little jealous though, somewhere under all that gruffness.

He wouldn’t say anything, Logans way too proud for that, but he does start hovering around a bit whenever you crochet, just to look… nothing else.

There are also of course some jokes from the others about how he hasn’t been given anything, so you must not like him, or it’s because he’s always coming and going as he pleases so he’s never there at the right time to swoop in for the kill (whatever you made).

Of course, he denies hating you, or wanting anything you make. But the jokes just reach you, and it horrifies you somewhat. What if Logan really thinks you hate him? That would be the worst, because of course you don’t. the only reason you hadn’t made anything for him was because he wasn’t in front of your face, and you were a little scatterbrained when you made stuff.

You didn’t want to be too obvious about your plans, so you try to subtly get his measurements, and just kinda go off of that. Luckily the x-men system has some stuff you can use noted down. In the end you make him a nice grey cardigan, with those big pockets on the sides. It does not go above your head that it’s the kinda stuff you’d see a grandpa wear. But you think he would like it anyway.

Logan finds the cardigan by his door, like you leave all your gifts. And no, he doesn’t jump up and down or cheer, but he does give a more positive sounding gruff noise than usual.

He may also have been preening just a little the next day when he wore it, just because it felt nice to be thought about, okay? Nothing else.

It also just makes you happy to see him enjoy it so much, so you end up making him some other stuff too. Who’d have thought he would love blankets and throwpillows so much. It ends up in his “not a nest” bed pile. He also enjoys the gloves with holes for his claws too, so they were worth all the hard work.

[nappycherub]

You want X-Men requests? Well, I think I've got a few kicking around for our favorite Cajun.

Ok, so this is NSFW but like...imagine overstimulated Gambit to the point where he can only speak garbled French? Idk, I think that's super hot.

YES OMG YES. I absolutely love this idea I ran with it SO QUICK! I'm Southern, but not necessarily the Cajun flavor of Southern, so I tried to use a translator/dictionary for Cajun-French. There's not really a translator for cajun dialect specifically, so forgive me for some mistakes. I tried my best ;-;

Tw: MDNI. NSFW. Creampie, Overstim, Praise kink (kinda). Reader written while picturing AFAB but no genitals specified. No pronouns specified. Soft dom!reader

Anyone looking outside-in on Gambit's relationships would think that the man is a player, due to his flirty nature, and he could be to an extent, but you know otherwise.

Remy LeBeau was a lover boy. Sure he showed out a lot by flirting, but at the end of the day it's you he's coming home to. The moment someone tries to make a move on him and flirting goes to touching, you know he's shutting that shit down quick.

He was all talk, and you were happy to find out that extends to the bedroom.

Now having said this, it's not that Remy was a liar. He's incredible at sex, but at the end of the day when he's with someone he truly loves, his walls come down. Loverboy was putty in your hands the moment you decided to grace him with your love and praise.

"Plus, donnez-m'en un de plus, s'il vous plaît." Remy is trembling underneath you, head tossed back into the pillow and twitching inside you still as he cums hard. His hands are clenched around your thighs, grip loose enough for you to grind on him slowly as he comes down from his high.

"Remy, I can't understand you." You say softly, cocking your head at him as you brush some hair out of his face. He leans into your touch, chest still heaving. He mumbles something else you can't quite catch, before repeating "donnez-m'en un de plus, donnez-m'en un de plus." Again and again.

"Reeemmmy~" You smile, rocking back against him just slightly to make him groan and curse, before leaning forward to kiss him on the chin. He tries to catch you in a real kiss, but you don't let him, choosing to hover over his lips teasingly. "English, please, sweetheart."

"Je commence Cher, don't tease." Remy whines, leaning forward again. You let him kiss you this time, unable to stop yourself from giving into Remy's charms. You grind onto him a little more to hear him moan and gasp into the kiss, and his grip on your thighs gets a little tighter. He mumbles again in Cajun, and you shake your head at him. He'd been trying to teach you, but you still weren't quite fluent. You decide you should ask him to teach you bedroom phrases soon. It'd make this a whole lot easier- but you wouldn't lie, you almost enjoy teasing him like this.

"One more, Cher. Please. Please, give me another one." Remy finally grunts. He looks at you with those pretty eyes of his, all blurry with his pupils dilated. You can't help but lean in and kiss him a few more times. You lift your hips, before sinking back down onto his cock with a little more force this time. He gasps out a broken "merci! merci," tears starting to trail down his cheeks as you start to ride him again.

"Oh- Only because you asked... so nicely." You moan. It's a struggle to get the words out, fighting your own oversensitivity, but hearing Remy crumble beneath you is worth how sore you would be in the morning ten times over.

[nappycherub]

Hi there! I'm currently watching the original X men series to catch up to 97, and I'm in love with Gambit.

Would it be possible to ask for Remy and reader to be on a secret mission, and the Ole "make out so they don't suspect us" trope comes in, and gambit kinda (obviously) has feelings...?

It could be sfw or nsfw, either is perfect! Thank you for all that you do, I've been trying to find fics for the xmen for a while 🙏🙏

Kinda spicy! Gambit/GN!reader

YESS!! YESSSS!!! I legit had a dream about this situation with remy the day before you sent me this ask and I was cackling in joy when I saw this! I basically hyperfixated on it because I love this trope.

TWS: sexual themes n shit, no explicit smut. As always, reader written while picturing fem! but no specific pronouns mentioned. Semi-public making out and touching. Nipples be touched but size and type of breast not mentioned.

-Ps- reader can see heat signatures for plot purposes. I usually try to keep powers ambiguous but it was a NEED!

"In here, quick!" Remy's thick draw catches your attention, just before he yanks you into an alley. The two of you were in New Orleans, looking for a specific mutant Xavier wanted to talk to. The only downside was that Remy still had a warrant out for his arrest, and wanted posters plastered all over the city from bourbon Street to the garden district.

"Don't worry Cher. You said. NOPD 'dumber than a sack of rocks, you said!" You gripe at him. Remy laughs, tugging you around the corner. The alleyways on Burbon street are mostly private areas, owned and sealed off by the bars that line the storefronts- but Remy knew this city like the back of his hand. However, things had changed since he was here last. That became apperent when the two of you reach the end of the alleyway and there's a brand new brick wall, a dead end.

Remy curses and skids to a stop, causing you to slam into his back. You send him a dirty look as you whip around, eyes adjusting to the brick surroundings. It's hard to make out the figures of the cops through the walls of the busy bar in in front of you, too many people crowding the street for drinks even this late at night. You strain your eyes a bit, but are able to make out the stiff-shouldered men, heat signature slightly elevated from booking it after the two of you. Unfortunately, they're headed towards the mouth of the alleyway.

"Damnit." You mutter, turning back to Remy. He understands what you mean just by looking at your face. He hums, thinking for a moment before he begins to take out a playing card. You grab his arm to stop him, trying to ignore how warm his skin is against your own.

"Don't. The explosion will just lead them to us." You say. Remy nodds, glancing at the corner before suddenly caging you against the wall of the alleyway. You try not to blush as he does so. Remy smirks at you, and you think your heart might just explode. You remind yourself that this is standard Remy behavior, but it doesn't stop your face from heating up. You can only hope it's too dark for him to see you properly.

"Well, there is another way we could fool those pigs." Remy says, quieter than before. You cock an eyebrow at him before looking back over in the direction of the alleyways opening, able to spot the cops as they begin to enter. In your peripheral, you see Remy running his fingers through his hair to flatten it. You open your mouth to ask him what he has in mind, but the sound of footsteps cut you off.

"-Well, if you're going to do something, you better do it quick!" You whisper back at him. Remy pushes you further against the cold brick, his hands drifting down to your waist as he leans over to wisper in your ear.

"Trust me, Cher. I'll take care of you." His words cause goosebumps to rise at the back of your neck, and you hardly have time to react before he's kissing you. Your eyes are blown wide, heart thumping wildly as you start to slowly relax into the kiss.

Unsurprisingly, Remy is a really, really good kisser. It's hard to focus while he's touching you like this, kissing you deeply like he loves you. He nips at your lip, and you gasp, having forgotten about everything else already. His tongue darts into you mouth, caressing the skin he finds there. You let out a small moan as one of his hands drifts lower, caressing your thigh and hiking your leg up just a bit. Your own hands slowly slide up his chest, drifting to his neck.

The heat in your chest is unbearable when Gambit separates from the kiss, a string of spit connecting your mouths before he wipes it away, nothing but affection on his eyes. You're panting for breath while he kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, and then lower. Remy places wet kisses on your neck, sucking and biting as he tries to swallow you whole. You thread your hands through his soft hair as his does so, fully encouraging him to ravage you in whatever way he would like. One of his hands begins to slide under your shirt when a cough startles you out of your heated state.

Your first instinct is to turn towards the noise, but Gambit is quick to cup your cheek and pull you into another heated kiss before your head could move a centimeter. He keeps you occupied as his other hand fully caresses the skin beneath your shirt, squeezing and caressing your chest. You hear another exhausted sigh from the cops. You crack and eye open slightly, knowing they cant see you do so in the dark. One of them begins to raise his voice, but the other smacks him on the shoulder.

"Just another pair of drunks. We've got bigger things to worry about right now." The cop says. You could practically hear the other roll his eyes before they turn to and walk away. Gambit brings your attention back to him and only him when you feel a finger brush lightly against your nipple. You gasp, and Remy chuckles, playfully biting your lip as he pulls away. He's smirking as he looks at you, and you can only imagine what you look like right now.

"Looks like you enjoyed that." He teases, voice low and husky. You can't seem to pull your thought together properly when he's looking at you like that. You nervously look away, hands playing with his collar.

"And if I did?" You ask, glancing back at him to gage his reaction. He looks surprised at first, face morphing into a lovestruck smile before he tries to cover it up with a smirk. Didn't stop you from being able to see the heat rise to his cheeks, however.

"Then gambit thinks we should do this more often."

[nappycherub]

Hey not sure if your currently taking requests but I just wanted to I soooooo stoked that you write for Remy! I've been starved for years cuz there's like no fan fics for him😭.

anyway I was wondering if you could do like a fic or headcannon where gambit somehow got hurt on a mission and is on bed rest but is also like really horny because you wont have sex with his since hes hurt.

If not that's fine I just thought it up and thought it would be hilarious 😂. Anyway luv your work, keep it up😘

NSFW!Gambit/AFAB!Reader

MMMMMHHHMMMMMM BESTIE UR MIND. ABSOLUTE GENIUS. I hope that you don't mind I did make it NSFW there at the end but the majority is just teasing our favorite gambler. Also, This is for the folks who were also really attracted to that one scene in criminal minds with the bulletproof vest. iykyk.

TWs: teasing, sexual innuendos, explicit smut, Handjobs, Mutual masturbation, PNV sex. Raw sex. (Wrap it bf you tap it yall) Creampie. Reader written with Fem! pronouns.

"Asolutetly not." You're quick to say it. Gambit pouts as the words leave your mouth, still on the infirmary bed with all the wires and doodads still hooked up to him. He's giving you those scoundrel puppy eyes that he knows you usually give in to, but you're not willing to budge this time.

"No, Remy. I will not be-" You take a quick glance around the room, leaning in a little closer as you begin to whisper-yell at him. "-I will not be having sex with you right now!" Remy sighs in a pitiful way leaning against the headboard in your direction. You can’t begin to look him in the eyes right now, instead lightly pushing his face away from your spot, sitting close to his bed on a chair that you had moved from the corner. His pout turns into an amused smile, as he instead takes your hand in his own, moving it down to press a kiss to your palm. You try not to blush at him. You’re supposed to be standing strong, dammit! 

  "Come on, Chère. S' not like it's gonna make Gambit hurt any worse-” You cut him off by lightly slapping his abdomen. Remy immediately flinches, curling in on himself with a pained groan. You feel a little guilty afterward, flattening your palm to rub the area soothingly.

    “Yes, it would. Remy, I could seriously hurt you. You heard beast, any vigorous activity could rip your stitches.” You say, moving to where you can sit on the bed, facing him. You cup the side of his face, gently moving stray locks out of the way. He rolls his eyes, not at you, but at the memory of the talking-to he got when he had woken up in the infirmary. 

    “Never stopped me before. Since I been with the X-men it’s like everythin’ become a big deal. So what if I rip a few stitches here an’ there?” Remy grumbles. You give him a stern look, before leaning in to kiss his temple. He melts into your touch.

    “It is a big deal, Remy. You need to heal. End of discussion.” You say gently. Remy thinks on it for a moment, before giving you a slight smirk. 

    “And by “end of discussion” you really mean “Until Gambit tempts me into bed”, Right?” He says. You roll your eyes at him before standing. If that’s the attitude he’s going into these next weeks with, you know for a fact he’s going to be insufferable.

    You were right. The incoming weeks were almost as much torture to you as they most definitely were to him. Wherever you went in the mansion, Gambit was sure to follow. He’d be in the kitchen while you would be cooking, unable to help due to doctor's orders, but no one ever said that he had to stay out of the kitchen. He’s come up behind you, snaking his arms around your hips as he’d “Give you pointers”. He’d lean close and whisper in your ear, sometimes giving it a nip or two. But one thing about Gambit is that every time you turned him away, or laughed at him and told him to sit down, he’d get pouty. 

    That was a trend that continued. He’d deliberately go out of his way to tease you, on movie night, in the library, in the showers even. And every time, despite how hot under the collar you might have been, you turned him away. The more bothered you seemed to be however, his pouts turned into smirks. Eventually, you got fed up with it. You were trying to be a good girlfriend and make sure Remy didn’t hurt himself, but if he was going to be a brat about it, you could be a brat too.

    You started off a little more subtly than Remy did. Lingering touches here and there, kissing him just long enough to leave him wanting. You’d wear just a tad less clothing around him, or wear slightly lower-cut tops. You were beginning to realize just how easy it was to get him riled up.

    One particular day, the tension was thick in the air, having coalesced into something barely breathable. Remy was lying back on the bed on his elbows as you redressed his wound, making sure to spread ointment onto the healing stitches and care for the skin. You frequently found yourself drawn to the sight of his lower abs, the large bruise having begun to yellow as it healed. Maybe it was the fact that you hadn't seen his skin in a while, but the sight of him had you breathing a little funny. Remy was also a little quieter than normal, unable to look away from your gentle hands as you took care of him.

    Once you finished, you lingered by his side, a hand pressed against his chest. You look up to find him already watching you, but neither of you says anything. You purse your lips, debating on whether or not you’re doing what you think you’re about to do. Remy tilts his head at you questioningly. He opens his mouth to speak but fails to do so as your hand trails down to his waistband. He takes a shocked breath through his nose, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he’s looking at you again through a lustful haze. 

    “Thought you said-”

    “Shut up.” You sigh, cutting him off. Remy smirks at you, biting his lip. You roll your eyes, caressing the crotch of his pants a few times before you begin to slip them off of him.

    “Don’t get too excited.” You whisper, but really it sounds more like a needy sigh. “Just a handy, okay?” Gambit huffs a laugh at you, but doesn’t tease. He's practically bucking his hips into your hand when you finally take hold of his cock, stroking him to hardness. You can’t seem to look away from the sight, watching as his abdomen clenches with every stroke from base to tip. You twist your hand on the upstroke, listening as Remy lets out a curse and a sudden moan just as you thumb his head, collecting his abundant precum as you use it to stroke back down again. 

    “You’re really pent up, huh?” You ask in a heated whisper. Remy’s head is tilted back in pleasure, and he huffs in amusement as he cracks an eye open at you. His hand slides up your thigh, Your legs being pressed against each other tightly to find some friction. You gasp as he suddenly slides two of his fingers up the inside seam of your pants, and you can practically feel yourself get wetter at the touch. 

    “Looks like I’m not the only one.” Remy hums. You can’t seem to pull away from him as he continues to stroke you. The air is hardly breathable, and the burning in your chest and your core starts to become too hot to ignore. 

    “Fuck it.” You say. Remy is confused when you let go of him, only to break into a wide smile when he realizes you were beginning to strip. The shirt is first to go, before your bra, and then your jeans and underwear. Remy wolf-whistles at the sight, and you wave him off, embarrassed. 

    “Couldn’t stay away from the temptation of Remy LeBeau, Now could you Chère?” Remy muses. He’s such a goof. You try to hide your smile as you carefully straddle his legs, making sure to avoid his sore spots. One of his hands holds onto your upper thigh, the other making its way to your center. He strokes you languidly with his fingers before circling your slit and pushing two inside. You suck in a breath, careful to set your hands on his shoulders without putting any weight onto them. 

    “Looks like this pretty pussy missed me as much as I missed you,” Remy says breathlessly. His eyes flicker from your cunt up to your bare breasts, and then to your flushed face. You feel like you’re falling apart too quickly, already climbing that high as he fingers you with those hands you love so much.

    “Remy,” You call for him breathlessly. “ m’ not gonna last too long.” Remy can't help himself any longer, and pulls you closer to catch you in a passionate kiss. He drags his teeth across your bottom lip, letting go of the plush skin. He doesn't withdraw his fingers until your thighs begin to shake and you start to clench down on him. You whine as he does so, barely holding your composure. Remy takes your hand off of his cock, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before gently dragging your hips further into his lap. Your mind is hazy, but you know to be careful as he lines himself up.

    “If we're going to do this, we're taking it my speed, okay?” You say. Remy nods, barely taking in the information. He was ready to be inside you. After weeks of nothing- all he could think about was you. Your giggles, your smiles. Your body. The way you taste on his tongue. The feeling of your thighs clenching around his head.  Remy would do anything you asked of him at this moment.

    You take it slow as you lower yourself down on his cock. The stretch of him feels delicious against your inner walls. Remy leans in, kissing and sucking on your breasts as you take your time. He bottoms out with a wet sound, his hands resting against your upper thighs.

    Remy curses as you begin to move, bouncing on his cock somewhat slowly. Even in the haze of your lust, you're worried about hurting him. Remy, on the other hand, doesn't share the same sentiment. His hands clench around your thighs, and when he can't seem to take the slow speed anymore, he slams you down onto him.

    You gasp at the action, and apologies spill from his lips as he tilts you forward, knocking your balance so you're forced to lean onto him as he controls the pace, eagerly thrusting into your heat. 

    “Remy-” Your protests are cut off with a kiss as your favorite scoundrel begins to take exactly what he wants. His grunts and moans beneath you send another trickle of warmth inside of you. To be honest, seeing him take control like this was hot- almost hot enough for you to forgive the fact that he was certainly overexerting himself- but it was hard to be mad at him when he's fucking you so good.

    One thing about Remy is that he's a talker in bed. If anything, you were surprised he was as “quiet” as he had been the majority of the time. But once he started to get closer to his peak, Remy began to ramble. 

    "You think you're smart? -Ah! Teasing me like that.. mmh… expecting me to just take it?" You're not really paying attention to his words, nodding in response while only thinking about his steady grip on your thighs and ass and the peak you're reaching so quickly. Remy squeezes you harder, almost harshly as he begins to take you faster. His hips begin to stutter, thrusts starting to do him in one by one. 

    Remy lets out a loud groan as he reaches his peak, burying himself deeply inside you and thumbing your clit. He continues to thrust as he helps you reach that white-hot peak of pleasure, pressing kisses to your temple as you ride it out on top of him. By the time you're both fully finished, you're panting for air. You're fully collapsed onto Remy's chest, Remy being absolutely boneless as he rests against the headboard. 

    “You’re such an idiot.” You say when you finally have enough sense. Remy just chuckles, continuing to press kisses to every part of your face and neck he can reach. You sigh happily as he does so, pressing some of your own kisses to his shoulder.

    When you finally peel yourself off of his chest, the first thing you check in on is his bandages. You scowl when you see that they've been soaked through with sweat, but more concerning is the spot of red that has started to form. You look up at Remy with narrowed eyes, and he quickly looks down as well, before looking back up at you and simply shrugging with a gleeful smile.

    “Casualty of love, Chère.”

[nappycherub]

Different Time

Relationship: Remy LeBeau/Gambit x Reader

Fandom: X-Men

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Mentions of Blood and Violence, Strong Language, Happy Endings

Word Count: 2,358

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Summary: Being dragged into the Void by your good buddy Wade was not how you imagined to be spending your days after your lover had died.

A single card was fixed between her fingers as she walked behind the other two people on their journey. There was silence all around the trio as they walked through the field. She did not pay attention to what was being said, nor did she care very much. If it was of any importance to her, they would let her know.

Before she knew what was going on, a dog was running straight for them. But the man with long, flowing locks that was running behind made her finger tingle with energy. After Deadpool and the Wolverine ahead of her did not move to attack the man, she let that energy fizzle out. Not that it would have done much damage anyways. It was getting harder and harder to remember what it was like. And yet, she could see it so clearly in her mind; the first time he had shown her what he could do.

“So what can you do exactly? You just throw cards at people?”

“Nah, cher,” his hands came up to hold a card between his fingers, “is much more den dat. I charge da playin’ cards wit energy. And den dey go boom.” His chuckle followed shortly afterwards.

“Is that so huh?” She chuckled as well. But the man just smiled, and wrapped his arms around her anyways.

“See is like dis, cher. Watch and learn.”

With his arms around her, he held an ace of hearts. Flicking it in the air caused a pink glow to encompass it. She giggled as he swiped the card from the sky, and touched it to her skin. The resulting kinetic energy made her entire body jolt, but the man kept her grounded as it flowed through each and every muscle.

“Feel dat, cher?” His breath fanned across her cheek as she rested against his chest. Once she had recovered, she held her hand and felt the card laid in her palm. Flipping it over through her fingers, she managed to produce a glow and a light crackling energy field around the object.

“Atta girl, cher.” A kiss was laid upon her cheek, and she felt the day old scruff rub against the crook of her neck.

“You comin’, bub?” A gruff voice pulled her out of her thoughts. Snapping into reality, the three men in front of her were looking like they were off to go somewhere.

“Apologies,” came her reply.

“Did we just miss some exposition about you? I feel like we just missed a vital flashback into your tragic backstory. Besides, I would like to find out what you do exactly. We’ve never gotten a clear answer. You just sort of do everything, like Taylor Swift.” Wade was having none of her dismissal.

“What are you talking about?” She was utterly confused, but Logan waved the red menace of off.

“Don’t pay him any mind. Come on, let’s go.” They all made the trek out to the dense corn that housed an old Honda Odyssey, which made the merc in red pitch a hissy fit.

“Get in the fucking car.” Logan snapped at Wade, utterly feed up with his antics. Before being prompted, she threw open the side door and climbed n the back. She watched as Deadpool tried to run off with the sweet little pup that had found them, but Wolverine put a very fast stop to that. Defeated, Wade climbed in the passenger seat, while Logan went in the driver’s, and they were off.

Somewhere along the way, she must have dozed off. That was the only explanation for the memory she was experiencing right now. Except, she was not exactly experiencing it as t had happened. No, she was watching it from an outsider’s perspective.

The first thing she saw, was a dingy old motel room floor. And the next, was laughing. Looking up, she saw them. It was her, and her beau play fighting on the bed of the motel room.

“Now, you know bettah den to play dirty, cher. Ain’t no coyon, ya know?” Her lover had trapped her arms to her body, and was smiling as big as ever. Plush lips stretched across his face. Hazel eyes twinkled brightly.

“Didn’t hear you complaining about me playing dirty last night,” she teased. Turning in his arms, she looked up at her lover with nothing but adoration.

“Well, Gambit seems to remember you not complainin’ neither.” His lips came down onto hers.

Watching from her spot near the dresser, the future her could still feel the wonderful pressure of their kiss. Tracing her fingers over her own, melancholy filled her heart. He looked so alive in this moment. A moment that she cherished with her whole being.

“Ahh!”

Something far less pleasant awoke her this time from her thoughts. One of Wade’s knives had lodged itself in her shin. Blood steadily poured itself from the wound. And the world fell still for a moment. Raising her eyes, she felt herself shaking in anger and pain as Deadpool met her gaze.

“Oh no. Oh, I am so sorry.” He wheezed. But it was too late.

Her other leg raised and kicked him hard in the head. While he was disoriented, her mind contorted the blade that was in his hands; even the hand that was holding the knife began to bend and break. Holding her knee, she made herself fall through the car and onto the ground below.

“Where’d she go? Magic woman.” She heard Deadpool exclaim loudly. It was followed by a growl and a squeak. And the car started to rock with the force that they were going at each other.

Rolling to her right, she got out from underneath the vehicle before someone sent a blade through to her again. Releasing her leg, she crawled on her belly over to a tree that was still facing the car. Her forearms were covered in dirt and leaves now, as were the entire lower half of her body. While keeping an eye on the Odyssey, she worked to remove her boots and rolled up the pants from her injured leg. She could see the wound eventually and worked to clear her mind.

Regenerating always took a lot from her. It took a lot physically and mentally from her, but she could get it done. Groans slipped from her lips as she could feel her skin, muscles, and even veins being to stitch themselves together. A scar was all that was left in the place of the stab wound. The woman rested against the large piece of wood behind her and watched through blackening vision as both men were thrown through the car, and jumped back in with fervor.

That was the image that she passed out to. That was the last thing in the real world that she saw. She was not sure how much time had passed between her passing out, and when she woke up. But she immediately recognized that she was not where she was before. There were stone walls all around her, and she was lying down on a bed. Before sitting up, she looked and could see Logan with a bottle of liquor to her right.

Voices were muffled all around her. She could not pin point a specific one, but something felt off. Like someone or something was there, and how that was supposed to make her feel, she did not know. Groaning, she sat up and caught the attention of everyone else that was talking. One person much more than anyone else. A familiar drawl called out her name, and her body filled with dread. Footsteps came closer, and the muffs came off from her ear.

“Cher, that you?” Her heart sped up and it felt like it was beating out of her chest. A hand came to her shoulder, but she was not having whatever weird illusion this was. Grabbing whoever’s wrist this was, she used her body weight and center of gravity to pivot the person onto their back on the floor beside the bed she was on.

Staring down, her heart stopped. This was her beau. Remy was staring up at her with wide eyes. Letting out a shaking breath, her hands let go of the man as if he had burned her and stood upon shaking legs. The man on the ground was not doing much better than her. He stood just as quickly, and looked at the woman just the same.

“Oh, thank you Lord. It is you.” He whispered, taking a step closer. But her hand shot up to stop him from getting closer.

“Don’t. Who the hell are you? And what are you doing with that suit on?” She demanded, and watched the confusion sink in.

“Cher, it’s me. It’s your Gambit. I’m jus’ wonderin’ how in da hell you here now.” Remy breathed.

“Oh my god!” Everyone’s attention was brought to Deadpool who was wide eyed in his mask. “This is your tragic backstory. You and him…”

“I need some air.” She turned on her heels, and phased through her wall till she was outside in the forest. Outside, she tried to draw in a deep breath, but found her body starting to seize. Everything got too much. Shaky limbs and sweaty palms found themselves crashing onto the forest floor. She tried to breathe in again but only managed half a breath. Her heart was beating out of her chest. The world began to spin.

“Ay, ay, you alright, cher. Come ‘ere. Let’s settle on down now, ya.” Thick arms encompassed her. They grounded her back to reality. As Remy kept whispering soothing words, she felt her world come back into focus. Her heart slowed down and was now moving at a steady rhythm. She was following Remy’s lead on her breaths; in through the nose for four, hold for four, out for four. Her arms and legs were soothing themselves out and she was able to wipe off her palms onto the legs of her suit.

“Dat’s a good girl, now. Ain’t no reason to be like dat. Just a little frightenin’ is all. Didn’ mean to.” He was apologizing for scaring her? After she had thrown him to the ground and walked out on everyone? Those arms felt so familiar and comforting; she did not want to move rom them. But she had to face this man. She had to know. Turning, her eyes finally came up close and personal with the man that had introduced himself as Gambit, Remy LeBeau.

“You good now, cher? Feelin’ a little bettah?” Even after all of this, he was still so caring.

“Yeah. How are you alive?” She whispered, tracing her eyes over every inch of his face like this was the last time she was going to see it. Because it just might.

“I been wonderin’ da same thing. Don’t know how long I been in dis here Void, but you was gone long before I got here.” One of his hands came up and pet her head so very softly.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours?” Her attempt at a joke made the Cajun chuckle as well. Sure, both of their laughs were tinged with sadness, but they were laughing together again.

“Well, I uh-” he stammered, trying to find the right words, “was out playin’ cards. Got a feelin’ dat somethin’ was wrong. Went back to the apartment we was stayin’ in. And you… you were gone when I got there. Tracked down who had killed ya, and it turned out to be my ol’ thievin’ ring. Didn’ like da fact dat we was ‘bout to get outta da game apparently. Da hardest thing Remy ever done was buryin’ you. Easiest was killin’ da sons o’ bitches dat took you from me.”

Silence enveloped them as the weight of his words sunk in.

“Something very similar happened in my timeline.” She replied, watching as he seemed to going through the same emotions she was.

“We were on our way back from a mission for Xavier. You and I were with Jean, Scott, and Storm. God, she was making so many jokes about how she was the fifth wheel on that mission and we were making it worse for her. Anyways, we got ambushed by the Brotherhood. We were actually taking out a good chunk of them, but Sabertooth got the drop on you. You bled out in my arms on the way back to the mansion. You had me promise not to do anything rash in the aftermath, but it was difficult.”

Tears welled in both of their eyes. Both of them mourning a love and life lost in tragic fashion. Remy pulled her in close, and she breathed in deeply. That familiar leather and musk scent blended with the fresh air outside. She just wanted that scent bottled up and kept with her at all times.

“So it seems to ol’ Gambit dat we both lost our other half. Maybe you was supposed to be the one that completed my deck, cher.” Her head raised and her eyebrow as she turned to look at the man in confusion.

“You’ve got an incomplete deck,” came her question. She began feeling around for a pocket in her jacket that was directly over her heart.

“Jus’ missin’ one card. Whatchu lookin’ for?” He questioned, letting her move around freely.

“Get your deck out,” his eyebrows raised. “Your card deck, Gambit. Humor me.”

“Whatevea you say, cher.”

The duo shifted until their respective items were grabbed. Remy produced a deck of cards and quickly rearranged them to be in card order. Her card was in between her first two fingers. As Gambit sifted through his deck, he stopped right where a card was missing. And as she revealed what was in her hands, the two suddenly looked at each other with love and tears. Her ace of hearts was missing from his deck, but he had finally found it again. It was a different time, different place, even a different person, but it was the same love that spanned the multiverse.

[nappycherub]

One of a Kind

D&WGambit! x X-Men97!Fem! Reader

Warnings: Slight Angst, X-Men 97' Spoilers, Pining, happy ending, two idiots, hurt/comfort, mention of character death

WC: 1686

“Have you been watching the news?” Scotts voice came as Y/n entered the mansion. The mutant looked up at the team leader with a look of confusion as she placed her bag down on the counter. 

“No? Why?” Her brow furrowed as Scott swallowed hard. He moved quietly to the small TV on the kitchen counter and flipped it on; Y/n watched in horror as images of the aftermath of a full scale attack on Genosha flashed on the screen. She felt a chill run through her body as flames danced in her vision and ashes coated what was once a proud and new country. She gripped the counter as Scott watched the unfolding news with her. 

“We have people there.” Y/n croaked as she kept her gaze locked on the screen. “Scott. Rogue, Kurt and Magneto are there.” Her eyes moved to her leader as his emotionless sunglasses reflected her distressed expression back at her. “Scott.” She said sternly. “Remy is there.”

Scotts brows furrowed as he opened and closed his mouth, like he was trying to speak but couldn’t find the words. Y/n Felt her stomach drop as the horrors of the news broadcast played in her ears. 

“Are they okay?” She asked, her voice breaking as she gripped the side of the counter. The same counter that Remy taught her to make jambalaya at. The same counter she had sat on and shared a late night bowl of cereal with him just a few nights before. “Scott.” She practically snarled. He took a step forward, his arm reaching out, almost like he was looking for comfort as well, like he was trying to tell her he had lost something too. 

Lost something.

“Scott. Is Remy okay?” 

…

 “Eva’ since you wandered up in ‘ere, you been lookin’ at ole’Gambit like you seen a ghost sha.” 

Y/n was ripped from her thoughts as she glanced at the man next to her. She was suddenly reminded she was in the Void and not the kitchen of the Xavier Mansion grieving loss all over again. 

“What?” She asked horsley as she looked up at the tall man on her left. He gave her a small smile. 

“Sha, you been up in ‘ere a few weeks now, yeah? When you gon tell Gambit why you lookin at him like dat? Hmm?” The Cajun sat down across from her his gaze intense as he perched his elbows on his knees. Y/n couldn’t bring herself to look up at him, she kept her gaze on the floor, on his boots. His voice felt like a million knives in her chest as she fiddled with the frayed ends of her shirt sleeves. It wasn’t him; not her version of him anyways. He sounded like Remy, moved like Remy, laughed like Remy… His eyes were different though, clear green instead of a red iris surrounded by black.His hair was slightly different too, not red but a natural brown. He gave her a pointed look, as if to say he wasn’t leaving till she answered him. Y/n sighed. 

 “Don’t know what you mean…” She spoke softly rubbing her face; Gambit chuckled. 

“You don know? Or you jus’ don wanna’ say, sha?” He sat back slightly, fidgeting with his deck of cards like he always did. Shuffling in an endless loop just to keep his hands busy. She watched his hands intently, bile rising in her throat as she watched the dance of the cards, feeling that same emptiness she had when Kurt gave his homily at the funeral…. 

“Been tree’ weeks since you popped into da void, been known you was an X-Men from da way you fight. We had a lot of X-Men up in ere’, but not like you.” He sighed, hands still moving and shuffling, but his eyes never left her face. Y/n sighed again, swallowing down the lump in her throat. 

 “So? Why do you care?” She asked, finally looking up to meet his gaze. He gave her a small smile, almost proud of her for finally looking at him head on. She felt sick again. 

“Gambit cares. He always does, sha. ‘Specially when one of his own kind gets dumped in dis hellscape.” His words were soft, like he was speaking to a cornered animal. Her Remy never talked to her like that. He was always obnoxious and snarky, pushing her buttons and trying to get a rise out of her. She scowled before leaning back. 

 “I've got my own reasons to be apprehensive. Everything here, everyone, it's all very new… Very… real…” Her eyes drifted away again as Gambit nodded in an understanding way. 

  “No one here knew da Gambit when dey first seen him. But you? Toi mon amie, you took one look at da Gambit et, mon dieu thought you was gonna combust on da spot. You looked at me like you known me. But da thing is, sha. Gambit don’t know you.” 

Her eyes glossed over at that statement; he didn’t know her. He was intrigued by her, but he didn’t know her. She scoffed,

 “Guess I don't exist outside of my timeline. Everyone seems to have variants except me.” She spoke with a shake of her head. She had seen countless Deadpool’s in the void since she got here, a few other versions of her teammates and even some Avengers, but she had never seen another Y/n. She was the only one, and now she had been put here. 

The last thing she remembered was Charles and Magnus asking her and her teammates to pick a side. The answer was clear for most of them, Rogue went with Magneto and so did Sunspot. The rest stayed loyal to a cause that didn’t seem to have a point anymore. She had fled the choice, unsure how she was supposed to pick a side when the only person she had fought for was dead. Humans had killed him. And she hadn’t even been there to tell him she loved him… to tell her best friend that after all this time, she had loved him more than she had ever loved anyone in her life. 

That’s when the TVA showed up, spouting something about how she was a danger to her timeline and needed to be removed to ensure the survival of the true X-Men. She had been thrown in, against her will, to a hellish landscape that was fitting of a reject like herself. She had fought tooth and nail against bandits in the wastelands before she came across a face that she hadn’t expected to ever see again. 

“I lost you ‘dere, sha. Where you gon off too now?” Gambit’s voice cut through her memories like Logan’s claws as she snapped her eyes back up to him. He gave her a warm smile before shuffling his deck again. She watched his hands again and he chuckled. “People are like cards, sha. Different suits, but all made of da same material. I like to tink’ of myself as a jack of all trades-” He flipped the jacks of the deck out to face her before shuffling them back in. “You doe? You give da Gambit a very specific type’o vibe.” 

Y/n watched as he shuffled a bit more before the queen of hearts flipped from the deck. Her blood ran cold. That wasn’t her card. That was Rogues. It had always been Rogues. Never her. Gambit's smug smile fell as she stood up abruptly, her eyes flashing with a twinge of panic. He stood up with her hands out in a show of surrender as he chuckled airly.

    “Gambit done take things too far. I apologize, meant no ‘arm in it. Je suis désolé mon amie.” 

She shook her head before reaching forward and taking the deck from his hand. He protested but watched her as she pulled the Joker card from the deck and pressed it back in his hand, atop the Queen of Hearts. 

 “This card. You always said this was me.” She pressed the glossy paper to his palm, staring at the jester printed in black and white. “You would pull this card and laugh at the resemblance, saying I was a damn couyon.” She frowned as tears pricked her eyes. “That Queen was reserved for far better than me. Never for me. Don’t you dare.” Her voice sounded labored as she locked eyes with him; his green eyes flashed with sympathy and hurt as he slowly closed his hand around hers. She didn’t pull away, instead she felt her breath hitch as a wave of burning hot emotions flooded her chest and mind. 

“Comment une personne si belle peut-elle être si triste?” He spoke softly. “You did know me den? Where you come from?” 

Y/n swallowed the lump in her throat before nodding. 

 “I did. But I lost you.” She choked out. 

He squeezed her hand softly. 

“And me and you? Was we…?” He asked softly, eyes searching hers. “Dis Gambit only ever known da Void. Pretty sure I was born here, neva known another way.” 

  “He was my best friend. My whole world.” She choked out with a sad smile. “But I was his couyon, never his queen.” She laughed, remembering the way he used to throw that word around with a charming smile running away from her playful wrath everytime. This Gambit gave her a sad smile.

  “He must have been blind ta not see da gift he had.” He spoke softly. Y/n shook her head. 

 “If you knew Rogue, you wouldn't say that. A Queen of hearts through and through. I could never blame him for picking her.” With that she dropped his hand, the lingering warmth fading from her skin. 

“Dis Gambit wants to know you more, sha. Dis Gambit don't wanna’ leave you lone.” His words were followed by him placing a card in her palm.

Y/n smiled softly before looking at the card he had handed her. “You aint no couyon-” He chuckled. 

Ace of Hearts.

“You one of a kind.”