#void remy lebeau

[hermesserpent-stuff]

void gambit owns my brain and heart ahhhhhhhhhhh

i like the idea that he has vague memories of potential plots. he knows his core, but he has no set story or memories before the void. he knows he likes cats and there is a girl he vaguely knows existed.

[paintedimagery]

Remy was genuinely so funny in this movie, so happy to see him on the big screen

[mossyivy]

So what's your type?

Brunets with weird eyes... Clearly...

[l4long-winded]

l4l presents... kinktober day five

today's act: freeuse, starring remy lebeau

admonitions: fem!reader, can be imagined with both void!gambit and '97!gambit, established relationship, consented arrangement, p in v sex, no condom, creampie, oral (f receiving), remy speaks in 3rd person.

word count: 726

you flip the page of your book with trembling fingers. you can barely hold the damn thing steady in your hands, the words shaking far too much for you to properly read any of what’s currently going on in the plot. even if you could, it’s not like you could pay attention to any of the storytelling or picture the imagery attempting to be woven by a clever author. it’s not fair. thinking straight while remy is doing this is never an option, but he expects a lot from you. maybe too much out of you sometimes. it seems like a tall order to silently wish your boyfriend to lower his expectations of you for once, understand you’re capable of turning into a pathetic mess with zero shame and how you’re more than okay with that. as long as it’s him rendering you into this, you don’t mind.

you raise the obstruction, peering at remy under the cover’s edge. his eyebrows crease inwards in concentration, eyes narrowed in on the spot between your legs where his cock repeatedly disappears into. your hips aren’t touching the couch cushions below, floating in his hands tugging you into him, fingers digging into the fleshier parts. your legs twitch where they’re draped over his thighs as remy rails himself into you while on his knees. this is something in particular that fascinates you, how much energy he has for this, how much strength he finds in thrusting into your tight warmth time and time again.

“merde, putain serré,” he growls. you only understand a handful of words in french. remy’s colorful vocabulary is one you sit down and have him explain often. he’s happy to give you lessons. you’re fond of the dirtier aspects. you may not be fluent, but those sentences flow out of him like a fountain when he’s entangled in you like this. and he’s entangled in you like this quite a lot, especially with your arrangement you both agreed on.

he gets so busy, stressed out, something he hides and keeps to himself in order to lessen your worries. the more in tune with remy you become, secrets he unveils with gradual time, you realize how much of a facade he puts up. he has a deeper past and complex fears others don’t know about. but you do. you noticed long ago how much fucking you helps, as does talking about his feelings, but this is his favorite remedy, and getting remy to talk about the darker and negative parts of his psyche was a difficult endeavor anyhow. he was reluctant to use your body like this at first, but you insisted on it for a reason. you’re both having fun. you really are in this moment, wanting nothing more to lose yourself in the steady drum of his hips colliding with your ass. he has somewhere he needs to be. unlike other events, he has no time to properly cause your arching crest.

remy’s gaze flickers from your pussy fluttering around his girth to your features. he clicks his tongue in disapproval, one of his hands abandoning your hips in order to shift your book down. you pout, watching the small smirk on the bastard’s lips as he pulls the proverbial curtain and conceals himself from your view.

“read your book, lapine. gambit’s almost there,” he grunts, working himself against you harder. you gulp back the whimper he elicits, gripping the book tighter in your hands. your thumbs block off the printed letters. he sees your fingertips turn paler from his position.

“m’gonna fill you up and lick it out later, chère, fuck, jus’ read f’me. be good like you always are,” he mutters. his promise makes all of this worth it. while he’s falling into a routine of fucking you whenever possible, as sparing as the minutes sometimes are, he always repays his debt in full. much like you’re about to be.

later does come. when he returns, he’s muttering a thrown away greeting, yanking your cotton shorts down, throwing a forearm over your stomach to keep you from squirming too much as his tongue laps over your hole, groaning to find the mess he left earlier when he tucked your panties into place before duty called. the mission has been taken care of, so now he has to take care of his girl.

french decoding:

merde, putain serré - shit, fucking tight

lapine - rabbit

[petrerpkr]

X men for beginners

2008-2024

Marvel timeline & reading order & marvel comics Release calendar

New x men (2001-2008)

Young x men (2008-2009)

X men (2008-2024)

X-force (2008-2024)

Astonishing X-Men (2004-2013)

Uncanny x men #526-534(2010-2011)

X men Schism(2011)

Avengers vs x men(2012 )

Uncanny xmen (2013-2017)

Wolverine and the X-Men(2013-2014)

All-New X-Men (2013)

Jean Grey (2017-2024)

Amazing X men (2013-2015)

Storm (2014-2023)

Gambit (1999-2023)

Rogue & Gambit(2018-2024)

Wolverine (2010-2024)

Wolverine Origins (2006-2010)

X Lives & Deaths of Wolverine(2022)

X men gold(2014-2018)

X men blue(2017-2018)

X men red (2018-2024)

Cable (2008-2024)

House of x (2019)/power of x

X men Hickman (2019-2024)

X of swords (2020)

X-Men – Hellfire Gala (2022-2023)

X-Men: The Trial of Magnetto (2021-2022)

Immortal X-Men (2022-2024)

[alysaydie]

Y’all think Remy uses his powers in bed? Just a tiny little bit? Imagine the sensation…

[small-sinclair]

Unfavored Cards

Whumptover 15: Childhood Trauma

Post Void!Gambit x Villian!reader

Tw: Gambit being a bit violent, blood, broken bones, sudden attack, being held down, Plot Twist Ending

Moment of Clarity

He hunted you down in the void like a rabid wolf looking for a squared meal. You were the reason why he got here in the first place, and it was your fault that he wasn’t home. He wasn’t sure if his cats were alright or know if Rogue was waiting for him. He longed for him more than he wanted to admit, but it was clear to everyone whenever he would wake up screaming out her name into the cold night air, flinging a card into the darkness to explode at nothing.

It was your fault.

All. Your. Fault.

So, hunting you down was like a little reward for him, and getting the satisfaction of watching the light leave your eyes was the most rewarding thing he’ll ever settle for in this wasteland. The moment he got a lead on you, he took it; no one was going to stop him no matter how hard they tried. Hell, even Johnny tried to stop him but ended on the ground with the business end of a charged bow staff. The glow in his red eyes screamed danger as they burned in bright embers and coal, making Johnny shuffling away from the ground to his feet. The anger that raised from Gambit’s blood to his stare was enough to warn off any creature, mutant and human alike. He was going to hunt you down without mercy, without thinking. He hated the way that you’re still breathing and not six-feet-under yet. For you, he’ll make it twelve feet.

You’re about to become a body that’ll never be found. Even in the land of the forgotten, no one will ever remember you. Show him a good time while he ends your life, though. It would be the cherry on top of his sundae.

So, when he found you at your makeshift campsite at the bottom of a haler, living your life as if you weren’t in danger, only brought more heat on his breath. How dare you hum a familiar tune. How dare you act as if you did nothing wrong! You were the main reason why he felt empty, felt hollow without his love! Whenever he closed his eyes, he would envision her in all her beauty, all her grace. Rogue was the true Mississippian Bell of the south, and he a fool of Louisiana with a heart of coal and swamp water. The more he thought of her laughter and her smile flashing in his memory, the more possessed he felt on putting you down. If he were a puppet right now for someone’s game, he only hops he was pulling the strings and breaking free from your grasp.

He gripped staff tightly and felt a few cards beginning to hover by his face, up by his eyes, and alongside of his free hand. Gambit wanted nothing more than to hurt you, break you until you were begging him to stop. This ends now; today! It may not bring back his love or free him, but it would bring him temporary comfort knowing you’re gone. With a flick of his wrist, his cards flew past him and hit you in the back. He earns a surprised yelp from you, but it wasn’t good enough. He towered over you from his spot, his shadow casting over your campfire with only his bright red eyes glowing in his darkness.

“You,” he snarled, his eyes narrowing down. “You took her from me!”

He saw you were about to open your mouth, but he silenced you with an ace card. It hit you in the chest and knocked you back, slamming you into a log. He didn’t give you time to get up as he slide down the little hill and slung another card at you, the charge stronger than the last. It knocked you to the ground within a snap, and he didn’t give you time to get back up on your feet; he pinned you to the forest floor, his legs on each side of you and a strong hand holding your hands above your head. He brought back his fist and landed it on your face, breaking your nose in the process.

With each hit from his gloved hand, each blow and broken bone under his touch, his thoughts flooded of Rogue in the sundress, the one with lime slices and honeysuckle. He heard his voice, singing sweetly and bright, as she stirred the pot for dinner. Everything he did, every he landed blow on your face and skin, felt like justice for himself. No matter how loud you screamed at him to stop, how many pleas and begs, he didn’t hear them Gambit knows what he wanted, and it burned his skin like wire over a flame. He wanted to free; he wanted to get out faster and sooner! Even if you can’t bring him back to his world and back to the swamplands, this will be the closest thing.

If anything, he was happy to see the blinking collar around your neck, showing that your mind powers were off and not tricking him. Where did you get it and who put it on you? He didn’t care. He won’t care.

He felt the strings around him break as his mind finally breaks into clarity. He wanted to see you bloodied and beaten under him. He held his fist over your head and watched as blood dripped from his knuckles; your blood never looked sweeter.

He quickly dug into his coat pocket and pulled out the Queen of Hearts. He felt all his energy, all the static around him, build into the card and charged it up with bright purple and red energy. He wanted you to fell the burn and the swiftness of his powers. He wanted you to see how fast and easy he could end you with this single card.

The cards always be in Gambit’s favor—

“Remy.”

As soon as the blood in his ears stopped roaring and his eyes were cleared from his anger, he looked down at the person beneath him. His heart nearly stopped as he looked at the woman looking back at him. His heart began to break, and his lungs filled with pained regret. Looking back at him with bright green eyes was Anna Maria, Rogue; his world. Her face swollen and bruised from his hits, eye swollen and too blue and purple for his stomach to handle, her throat with his mark, his handprint, that will forever be burned into her skin just under the blinking collar, shutting off her strength. The cut on her cheek bleed with the cut above her eye. The shattered look in her eyes only made his heart erupt in pieces. Her lips, beautiful and so soft, was plumped and bruised, cracked and bloody. The clothing he thought you were in turned into her green and yellow jumpsuit, and her hair a mess and matted from being held down for so long. He physically felt the string around his throat snap and break free from his skin, and he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

She looked like an angel whose wings were torn off and left for the gators to finish off.

His charged card quickly stopped glowing, and he got off her. His touch made her flinch away as he scooped her into his arms. His emotions flooding his lungs as he cradled her in his arms, holding her tightly as if he was the duct tape trying to keep his world together. It all felt so real when he told Johnny to stay behind. It all felt real when he found your campsite. He was so sure that he was there beating you until your lungs stopped and he had your heart in his hands, but he wasn’t. The world he thought he was in wasn’t there at all; the void surrender him months ago and brought him back to Rogue, back to her arms.

He let her see the side of him he never wanted to show. How could he do this? How could he let himself—

You’re a good puppet, Gambit. Your voice began to echo in his head, causing him to look wildly around the forest clearing until he saw you standing in your shadows and cloak. Such a good tool for me to use.

“Get away from us,” he breathed, shielding Rogue with his bruised hands. His red on black eyes were sharp as he glared at you. “You get away from us!” As he raised his voice, Rogue flinched in his arms, curling into a ball. “Shh, mon chere. Gambit ne vous fera pas de mal. I won’t—”

He heard your cold, heartless laugh, which only made him growl. You’re a fun one, Remy LuBeau.

He growled as he felt his powers begin to build back into the cards in his coat. “Ya don’ getta say my name!” He snapped. When Rogue’s tears touched his skin, it felt like acid burning through his bones and his skin. Every cell in his body felt like it was dying. “Never say my name!”

Do you know how easy it is to shape your vision? How easy it was to make you believe you were attacking me? It’s almost as if you were mocking him as you swirled shadows around your finger. It was so careless and thoughtless; he hated it. You really thought that New Yorker was going to stop you? Gods, you’re so stupid.

“Get outta my head.” He took a card from the ground and charged it until it glowed bright and strong. “Laissez-nous!”

You smiled sweetly at him as you opened your lips, letting luna moths escape from your lips and flutter around him. “I’ll always find a way to hurt you, Cajun. Never forget me. Never.”

“I’ll make ya pay! Hear me clear—I swear!” Gambit held Rogue protectively as he readied his card. “Swear it t’ya. I’ll never stop until you’re dead!”

“Oh, Remy,” you said his name with empty emotion that it nearly made a vein pop in his neck. “I look forward to it.”

With a yell, he through his card and hurled it towards you with as much as he could muster, with all his energy and power.

The fireflies danced with the sound of your endless tango with Remy, and what a dance it’s become.

[genderqueerbarbie777]

everybody give me your Remy LeBeau/Gambit headcanons rn this is a stick up 🔫

[pleasetakethis]

On my nth rewatch and

Gambit/Johnny Storm, anyone??

[sugarbear2001]

So I did some digging on Live Journal and found a few communities dedicated to the rarepair Wolverine/Gambit. Unfortunately, most of the links provided no longer work because this live journal page was created in 2012 and sites such as Yahoo groups no longer exist. But there is still some good content available to view. Also apparently people use the shipname Lomy for them. 

[secondaryartifacts]

[hermesserpent-stuff]

more void gambit thoughts

--

Remy rustles his fingers together, giving some soft chirps to a cat that he sees at the end of the alley. A kitten really. He had spotted it when routing through the trash to find something of use, an activity he had not shaken from his time in the void. Now he has a chunk of meat in one hand and is beckoning the kitten with the other. Three names rotate through him Oliver, Lucifer, and Figaro. Belonging to cats he had loved and never had at all. He would like to have a cat, and this scruffing little fellow would fit in perfectly with the rest of the roost.

He croons as it sniffs his crooked fingers and rubs against him. He scratches her ears, singing sofly to the little thing. Her fur is all matted, but he can tell it is a beuatigful inky black. It just needs to be cleaned. And fed. The little damsel begins messily chewing on the bit of the meat, getting fragments everywhere, like powder from a beignet. That's a good name. Beignet.

“Whatcha think Beignet? Wanna come home with ol’ Remy? Blades a real grump but you'd like him.”

[tavernofdragons]

.......

Yeah... I got to work at side views

[clarencethemouse]

Please someone request things about X-Men '97. I'm rotting over here

(Preference for Gambit, Nightcrawler, and Morph, but I'm here for everyone)

(Just let me exhaust my brain)

[l4long-winded]

l4l presents... kinktober day three

today's act: cockwarming, starring remy lebeau

admonitions: fem!reader, use of petnames, void!gambit, a bit fluffy, french.

word count: 701

every night in the void is difficult. whether that be being hounded by cassandra’s goons, scavenging for supplies from food to basic necessities, or the onslaught of complete boredom nestling into your brain; at least surviving entails a break from overthinking and having nothing to do with your hands that itch for purpose. last night, unfortunately, painted the picture of disaster. your legs ached from running, soreness burning throughout your muscles as you got back, remy close behind you. his feet drug across the floor, but still, ever devoted to you, he helped you strip down, pawed your clothes off, tucked a hand under your chin while asking you okay, chère?

the void has its flaws, its disparities, and its ruinations, but you can’t be completely mad. purgatory isn’t so bad with your favorite person, explosive by nature, yet gentle and romantic when he can be, a walking, personification of conflict. riddled with dichotomies and eccentricities. but all yours, despite it all, all yours. 

in the morning, after that rough night, the room grows brighter, sheets covering half of your sprawled bodies. as you stir awake, you realize remy’s already up. not through his change in breathing hovering over your shoulder, not even the soft kisses he scatters along your skin, nor how he grips your bicep tighter to tug your back closer against his chest.

it’s the morning wood growing into steel inside of you. all night, remy’s length was half hard, your walls snugly collapsing him in his safe haven. you both were far too tired to do anything beyond that. so after ridding of body armor and worn, tattered fabric, he sunk into you, arms wrapping around your upper torso, your tired groans combining in the air before he flung the blankets over your connected bodies.

“how you still managed to stretch me even after being like this all night is beyond me…” you mutter, a small bit of strain in your voice from the aches still burdening your muscles. partially also from how buried deep remy is right now, too.

“the best way t’wake up, non?”

you fail to turn your head to see it for yourself, but you can practically hear the mischievous grin forming on his lips through his smooth, jazzy tone. he shifts his hips ever so slightly, a pleasurable buzz soaring throughout your nervous system from the action alone. the body is awfully sensitive when it first wakes, fighting off drowsiness, maxing out sensation. it’s the current issue you deal with, remy’s palm finding its way to cup your breast, thumb stroking the supple skin around your nipple, not quite touching the bud.

“i don’t want to get up yet, i’m so fucking tired,” you whisper despite knowing your makeshift, oddball companions will be expecting you two soon to join them on some other spur of the moment adventure. you’re sleepy and remy is so warm, filling you up with dormant fervor.

“ne le fais pas, chère. let’s stay like this. they can wait. we’ve nothin’ but time ‘ere.” remy makes a compelling case. or maybe that deep rumble of his voice this early in the morning does something to you. you’re spellbound by it every time. the sax of his accent. the way it cradles the shell of year and promises that things will be okay without explicitly saying so.

“yeah,” you agree, “yeah, let’s stay like this.”

the truth is, neither of you really plan for this predicament to go any longer. remy pushes his hips forward, eliciting pleasurable sounds from both of your mouths. the haze transitions into something palpable. desirable. the charge electrifying. maddening. unable to be ignored. not like that’s what either of your are trying to do.

“or w’can stay like this after i tend to us,” he whispers, huskier than before. you’re in agreement without having to let go of the garbled moan his next thrust spurs out of you. the friction between the two of you is something you’ll be glad to capture like a firefly in a jar, warming him with his version of a captured sun. his heated star. pulling him into your rotation, rotating his hips for good measure. for good luck.

french decoding:

ne le fais pas, chère - don't do it, dear / darling

[genderqueerbarbie777]

and if I told yall I’ve been listening to Abstract (Psychopomp) almost nonstop while working on this gambit fic what would yall say??