#gambit x f!reader

Rogue and Remy have always been a couple at the X-Mansion. Even when they’re butting heads, when Rogue is withdrawn and Remy is secretive. Then you come along, joining Xavier’s as a school counselor of sorts. Mainly, you handle the more intense student cases, making sure these individuals are acclimating well and have the support they lack at home to make it through the school year. One could argue mediating and emotional support are your powers, but you’re actually a sensory empath.

Whatever you feel, whatever you taste, whatever you touch, you can mentally transmit those same sensory signals to others. It’s a neat little mutation the later proves instrumental in your throuple, offering them if only a semblance of the truest, most intimate forms of connections which they have always struggled to overcome on their own.

“There ya go, sugar.” Rogue says as she effortlessly moves your heavy oak bookshelf from one side of your office to the other. “Need anythin’ else?” She asks, giving you a kind smile as she sets her hands on her hips.

“I couldn’t possibly bother you any further.” You say, your cheeks warm as you look at her standing tall and beautiful, not even breaking a sweat after moving your furniture around. “Thank you, Rogue.”

Rogue comes over to where you’re setting up your desk and her gentle hands rest on your hips as she leans over and kisses your hairline carefully. “Of course, darlin’, just give a holler if somethin’ comes up.”

There’s a deep and emotional connection that you share with Rogue from the get-go. Easily perceived as womanly friendship and affection. You don’t need to touch Rogue, her company and conversation is stimulating enough. There are moments when soft, careful touches come more naturally to Rogue around you. You’re careful too, patient with her.

Not that Remy isn’t, but he can be far more impulsive and often gets carried away during intimacy.

“How ‘bout dis?” Remy grins from your office doorway where he’s leaning with his arms crossed over his broad chest. A smug smirk graces his face as he watches his two girls in an intimate moment. “No invite for ol’ Gambit?”

“We ain’t defilin’ her office, Cajun,” Rogue smirks, dropping her hands from your waist and watching Remy carefully as he saunters over. “Just decoratin’.”

“Shame,” Remy looks from Rogue to you, and he gently lifts your chin with two fingers, making your cheeks bloom warmth. “Defilin’ so much more excitin’, non, bebe?”

Your eyes flutter close as Remy leans down and captures your lips in a kiss. One of your hands comes to rest on his toned abdomen while he places his own at your waist and the other finds Rogue’s hip, tugging her into his side by her utility belt. Her hand rests on his chest while she watches the kiss and you transmit the feeling of Remy’s lips to her mind, letting her feel his kiss as well.

“Mm,” Rogue hums and closes her eyes, resting her forehead on Remy’s shoulder as she feels the sensation of his kiss against her skin. Warmth, steadiness, Remy’s signature roguish flair when he nips your bottom lip. Her tongue almost feels the tip of his sliding between her parted lips as he does you. “I always knew you were a good kisser, Rem.” She says as you part with a bashful smile.

“I have my first counseling session in a few minutes,” You tell them, stepping back and breathing more steadily when their combined scents and presences aren’t intoxicating you. “I don’t want the students to know me that personally just yet.” You say with a soft laugh.

“Mm, Gambit sure love a cliffhanger.” Remy smirks and licks his bottom lip, still tasting you while Rogue gives you a wink as she guides Remy out.

“Good luck, sugar, you got this.”

In the beginning, the idea of a polyamorous relationship was foreign to you. All you knew was that you liked Remy, you liked how he flirted intentionally and how he made time for you. You were surprised to find that he and Rogue were an item a few days into what could be considered your courtship. Rogue was kind from the beginning, however, always making sure this was an arrangement you were comfortable being a part of. Her sweetness and her strength made you melt where Remy’s impulsiveness and mischievousness thrilled you.

The first time the idea of a threesome came up, you were shy, and with good reason. It wasn’t something you had ever been a part of before arriving to Xavier’s. You understood, however, their side of it. With you, they could feel each other, even if only mentally, and for a couple like Rogue and Remy to never know what their lover’s kiss or touch felt like, well, that alone tugged on your heartstrings.

As a lover, Remy is quite selfish and private in all actuality, but with Rogue, he wants her to see everything. In that way, he can show her all the things he’d to her if he only could. Rogue, on the other hand, is a generous lover. Giving and attentive, always in control because she just has to be in every aspect of her life given her mutation. With you, she doesn’t have to think about it too hard. It comes easy to care for you, especially with Remy’s helpful hand.

Tonight is no different. Rogue is sitting against your headboard, fully dressed while you sit between her legs as Remy’s bare cock is plunging into your glistening cunt. Her gloved fingers are circling your clit expertly, whispering soft praises into your hair while you writhe in her arms. “You take him so pretty, sweetheart.” She breathes against the shell of your ear, her fingers spread your arousal and Remy’s spit around your bud as you whine from the intense pleasure.

Remy has one hand gripping onto the headboard above you and Rogue and one hand splayed over your lower belly where he can feel his cock stretching you out. “Mon Dieu, petites,” He groans, watching you take him against Rogue who is biting her lip while watching as his thick shaft glides in and out of you, coated in your creamy sheen. “Remy gettin’ close watchin’ you two lyin’ there so sweet on each other.”

“Not yet, Rem, make her beg real pretty for it first.” Rogue’s gloved fingers reach out to wrap around him, squeezing gently and guiding only his tip into your pussy, making you and Remy both whine and swear, respectively.

“Merde, Rogue,” He grunts before cupping your jaw in his large, calloused hand. His red-on-black eyes burn into yours and he kisses you sloppily before muttering against your lips. “You beg for it now, bebe. Sois une bonne fille pour nous.” (Be a good girl for us.)

Your body trembles in Rogue’s careful hold as she guides Remy’s tip to rub on your clit and your thighs try to close against the overstimulation. Remy quickly holds your thigh open, his other hand still on your belly to keep you pinned on the bed. “Uh-uh, sugar,” Rogue tsks, her eye catching Remy’s and he winks at her knowingly as he continues his teasing grind against your sloppy pussy, his tip leaking with his impending release. “Don’t run from ‘im now, he’s bein’ so generous an’ good to ya.”

“Please,” You break, needing to feel his cock fully buried in you again. “Please, Rogue, Remy, I want it so bad! I wanna cum for you, please!”

“Putain, une fille si douce.” (Fuck, such a sweet girl) Remy groans, giving in first like he always does, and taking Rogue’s gloved hand from his cock. He guides it to your clit again so he can sink deep into you. “Beg so pretty, don’ she, Cheré?”

“So damn pretty, almost as pretty as when she comes.” Rogue teases, her fingers rubbing on your sensitive bud again while your head tips back against her shoulder as your orgasm crashes over you.

“F-fuck, Re-Remy!” You sob, your legs squeezing his hips as he continues rutting against you, chasing his own release. “You’re s-so deep!”

Your mind reaches out to Rogue’s and you share the physical experience with her, the stretch with each pound, the slick feeling of his cock gliding against your walls, the pressure of his hand on your belly guiding his length straight into your cervix. “Oh, my god,” Rogue drawls out and suddenly tenses up behind you, her hands grabbing tightly onto your waist as she trembles from the same release, yours.

“You feelin’ Remy too, ma belle? Feel how deep he can be?” He coos, touching her waist and holding her down as he continues pounding into you, making her feel it as well. His shaft swells in the confines of your wet pussy and you hear Rogue gasp as you shudder from the feeling of his thick release flooding you to the brim. “Merde, dat’s it, take it.” He groans as you clench around his sensitive head.

The come down is quiet and sweet, Remy’s kissing softly on your neck, Rogue’s running a gloves hand through his sweaty hair while he’s whispering praises for both of you. His cock slips out of you with a squelch and you groan from the feeling of it. “Mm, I’m definitely more relaxed now.” You say in a dazed state, making Remy chuckle and Rogue giggle.

“You know we’re always gon’ take care of ya, baby doll. Through good days and bad days, hm?” She says, carefully tilting your face towards her with two sheathed fingers. You give her a little nod and then Remy turns your face back to his and kisses you.

“You share this with her, bebe.” Remy murmurs against your lips and you do, one of your hands slowly reaching back to cup around Rogue’s nape where her hair sits as you mentally share the kiss. “Remy love you both, you know dat? Couldn’ imagin’ a life without either one o’ you pretty girls.”

“Always a flirt,” Rogue shoots back with a fondness in her voice, but her gloved hand comes up to caress his cheek lovingly. “I love you too, Cajun.”

“I love you,” You murmur, still resting limply against Rogue who is caressing your scalp while Remy kisses and rubs on your thighs. “Both of you.”

Gambit Masterlist

There is a quiet truth within the halls of the X-Mansion, an unspoken affliction that one of their own carries quietly. Something old as time, something older than mutation, that is using Remy LeBeau as a host. Somewhere deep beneath his easy grin and Cajun charm something ancient still feeds.

At first, Remy used to blame exhaustion. Then stress. Then the way the mansion has been too quiet lately — no danger, no distractions, no touch. That deep, quiet ache beneath his ribs, not physical, not exactly, was all too present lately. Remy would dismiss the ache time and time again until the Professor helped him pin point it in his ancestry. The same ache that used to vanish after a night spent tangled in laughter and warmth and whispered promises he never meant to keep.

He hadn’t noticed how long it had been. No stolen glances. No fleeting encounters. No one drawn into his orbit close enough for the quiet exchange that always left both parties breathless and oddly lighter. And now nothing inside him seemed to ignite.

His incubi nature doesn’t replace his mutation. It fuels it. Each charged object, each explosive burst of pink light was backed by vitality. Each impossible feat of kinetic manipulation was drawn from the same well. A well replenished not by rest, but by connection and closeness. By the quiet surrender of vital warmth shared in moments that left hearts racing. This transfer of energy was never stolen as some myths claimed, never forced. Just exchanged.

Now, it’s been months.

Months since Remy last fed and recharged himself. His kinetic energy is dimmer and dimmer by the day, taking more toll from him than when he is at full charge.

Usually he has time between sexual trysts before his kinetic energy begins to deplete. Given that he has been jet-setting around on the Blackbird with little time between missions for a recharge, he feels it more now than ever. His cards fizzle faintly, it takes more effort from him to charge larger objects, he feels drained, and it’s almost humiliating for him to be in such need.

Cursing his incubi bloodlines, Remy rolls out of bed a little after dawn and heads down the staircase to the kitchen hoping to sate his hunger with a snack or a drink. As he pours himself a glass of water, he hears a light yawn behind him and turns to see you. You’re dressed for your pre-class jog, but still very much waking up as you rub your eye.

“Mornin’.” You say, offering him a sleepy smile as you lean into him and greet him with a side hug while grabbing a coffee mug from the cabinet.

“Mornin’, petite.” He says, handing you the mug you’re reaching for and you thank him. “Sleep well?”

You look over, noting the tension in his shoulders and the restlessness of his eyes. “Better than you, it seems. You look tired.” You say casually as you pour coffee from the pot into your mug.

“Tired’s too polite for what Gambit is right now.” He smirks tiredly while you grin and offer to make extra of your own breakfast to which he nods appreciatively as he watches you move with cat-like enthusiasm around the kitchen.

The friendship the two of you share has always been comfortable, uncomplicated, and honest. There is a mutual attraction, of course, biology wouldn’t be doing its job without a little sexual tension. But now with you standing in front of him while his main source of energy is drained, Remy realizes something unsettling. Your presence doesn’t just feel pleasant, right now it feels steady and charged. He chalks it up to his current state of being, he only feels like this because he knows he needs to feed and you just happen to smell really nice and look so pretty with your hair tied up and your tight leggings.

Is nothin’, surely, Remy tells himself as he takes the plate you hand him and sits across from you at the island.

Being good friends, you noticed how dim he seemed lately, however. You noticed how he had started looking at you — almost like he wanted to ask you something constantly, but just didn’t know how. Or couldn’t bring himself to ask.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Rem?” You ask one evening when he’s in the greenhouse with you helping you pick out herbs for dinner.

Remy gives you that charming grin, but you can tell it’s a little forced. “You worryin’ ‘bout Gambit, cherie?” He asks with a smirk. “Mighty sweet of you.”

“I’m serious,” You laugh softly, turning to him and crossing your arms over your chest. “You don’t seem like yourself. I just want to make sure you’re good.”

He hesitates just a moment. “Is jus’ biology,” He says with a deflecting wink. “Nothin’ for you to worry ‘bout.”

At that you scoff a little. “Of course I’m going to worry, Remy. You’re my friend, and it’s clear you haven’t been yourself.” You pause, not wanting to come off pushy and take a step closer to him. “Please, tell me what’s going on.”

Remy says your name with a small, nearly defeated laugh and shakes his head. “Is too complicated.”

“Rem, we’re actual mutants. Complicated is wired in us, come on.”

After a moment, he lets out a small sigh and nods like he’s convinced himself it’s better to have this conversation than to keep you in the dark. “I ain’t fed in a lil while, cherie,” He says with a small shrug as he hands you a small bushel of fresh rosemary. “Gambit’s energy gettin’ too low to charge.”

“Fed?” You ask curiously and then it clicks. Right, you think, He’s part incubi. “Oh.”

“Oh.” Remy smirks.

You know, everyone knows, everyone just has enough decency and respect towards Remy to not bring it up in everyday conversation. But now your friend is slowly dimming and it’s because he hasn’t had the sexual encounter required to keep himself charged. And if the Gambit can’t charge anything, that’s dangerous for himself and others in the field.

“Well,” You begin, busying yourself with the parsley and trying to sound more casual than you feel about this topic. “Have you made some calls? You know, find yourself a hot date.”

“Shoulda few weeks back,” Remy sighs, rubbing a gloved hand over his face with mild relief now that everything is out in the open between the two of you. “‘Fraid Gambit might take too much now.”

And then, just because you’re the kind of person — helpful and empathic — you ask. “What if I helped?”

Dinner that night is normal. Jean and Scott wrangle the younger students into the dining room, Logan barks at Bobby and Pietro for goofing around in the kitchen while he’s trying to hand out bowls of his hearty soup. Ororo is easily guiding the teens in from the rec room for mealtime.

You and Remy, however, are both quiet. Quieter than usual for either of you. Not in a bad way, just pensive. Your face is warm and your hands anxiously tremble whenever you pick up your spoon. While Remy can’t stop trailing you with his dimly glowing eyes, his mind wondering curiously about tonight. All through dinner, the conversation in the greenhouse plays on repeat in your mind.

“You ain’t gotta help Remy, cherie.” He had said, though his eyes didn’t shift off of you not one fraction.

“I hate seeing you walking around so dull, Rem, it can’t possibly end well.” You rationalize, more for yourself than him. “It doesn’t have to be a big deal, let me just…help a friend out.”

Remy had chuckled. “Mighty kind friend you are, petite.”

And you had rolled your eyes before saying, “Tonight, yeah? Meet in my room after dinner.”

Your room is familiar to him in the way that most of the mansion is familiar — he’s been in and out of it enough times over the years to know the layout without thinking. The stack of books and small gathering of coffee mugs on your nightstand. The window you leave cracked regardless of season. The way it smells like you, something warm and faintly herbal that he’s never examined too closely until now. You close the door behind him and turn to face him with that expression you get when you’ve decided something and aren’t second-guessing it.

“So…” You say, a bashful tint on your cheeks as you watch him take us space in your bedroom with a very different energy than usual.

“So,” Remy agrees, extending a hand out to you in a very gentlemanly fashion. You laugh a little, which breaks whatever formality was threatening to form, and then you close the distance as he tugs you into him for a kiss. It’s easy the way things between the two of you have always been easy. He threads a hand into your hair and you make a small sound against his mouth that sharpens his attention considerably. He can feel you smile against his lips. “Something funny, cherie?”

“Mm-mm,” You hum, still smiling smugly, and you kiss him again before he can respond to that. “No.”

Remy walks you back toward the bed with his hands at your waist and you go without resistance, pulling him down with you when the backs of your knees meet the mattress. He carefully settles his weight over you and you look up at him in the low light from your bedside lamp, your hair fanned out beneath you, a bright and curious glint in your wide eyes. His eyes, dim for weeks, are already beginning to warm at the edges, you notice.

“There you are.” You say quietly, your fingers brushing along his sharp jaw as you smile affectionately up at him. Remy kisses you before he can think too hard about how that landed.

There is no rushing, no desperation to reach the fun part. You both take your time with it, unhurried in the way that familiarity allows, trading kisses that grow progressively less casual while your fingers work at the collar of his shirt and his mouth finds your jaw, your throat, the soft place beneath your ear that makes your breath hitch and your chin tip back. Remy takes his gloves off because bare hands matter here in a way they don’t always and he feels your breath catch slightly at the deliberateness of it.

“Remy.” You moan softly.

“Cherie.” He praises reverently. He works your jeans and underwear down your legs with patience that seems to genuinely surprise you. He slowly presses his mouth to your hip, kissing the inside of your knee, and you watch him the entire time with that particular feline attention — sharp and a little amused and underneath it something that is neither of those things.

“You don’t have to make a whole production of it.” You tease in an attempt to remind yourself this isn’t a big deal, even if it’s starting to feel like it is, even though your voice has lost some of its usual certainty.

“Non,” He agrees, and looks up at you from between your thighs, thumbs brushing gently over your soft lips and parting them gently, “but Gambit gonna anyway.”

You laugh softly, and then his mouth finds your warm center and the laugh dissolves into a shaky inhale. The sound you make goes through him like a current finding ground, his kinetic charge pulses in waves within his bones. He knows immediately that this is different, that you are different. He can sense it the way he senses latent energy in objects, that particular aliveness and willingness to charge.

And what you’re feeling is genuine and warm and directed entirely at him. Your arousal is tricking through your folds as his tongue flattens against you, it feeds him differently than anyone he can recall. Richer and more specifically tailored to him definitely having to do with the bond you share.

Remy’s already charging back up and he could stop here if he wanted to, if you asked him to, but he doesn’t stop. You try to muffle yourself with the back of your hand and he pulls it away from your mouth with a firm patience, pressing it flat against the mattress instead.

“Non,” He says against your mound, his tongue flicking teasingly at your sensitive bud. “Let Gambit hear you.”

“You’re terrible.” You breathe, your back arching as he passes his tongue over your slit, searching a little deeper for that sweetness that fuels him.

“Oui.” He agrees, and gets back to work.

You give up on quiet after that. Your free hand finds his hair, your thighs bracket his shoulders, and he can feel the tension building in your loins, the small involuntary tremors of your legs, the way your breathing changes register with him in a way he doesn’t usually pay attention with someone else.

When your first orgasm crescendos to its peak, you says his name in a way you’ve never said it before, drawn out and unguarded, and your nails catch against his shoulder with an unconscious sharpness that he doesn’t think you notice, but he notices. His tongue burrows deeper, circling slowly as he drinks you in and feels his energy refilling slowly. A soft groan escapes him and he keeps going.

“Tu es parfait, si bon pour moi.” He murmurs, his hands subtly sending a charge through your skin as he refuels.

He takes you through the second release with more deliberate attention, learning what undoes you specifically and applying it with focused patience. You whine he focuses on your clit, sucking softly on the bud until your legs threaten to close out the sensation. You’re warm and restless and completely present and he is — for perhaps the first time in longer than he’d like to admit — entirely present too. Not performing, not managing the encounter from a careful distance…just here.

By your third orgasm, he’s lapping like a man no longer dying of thirst, but rather possessed by hunger, holding your thighs wide open to fight against your impulse to close them. You’re laughing breathlessly, helplessly, between the moans you can’t quiet, one arm flung over your eyes, your whole body flushed and trembling.

“Remy - okay, Remy, I’m - can’t, please - mercy!” He chuckles and presses one last unhurried kiss to the inside of your thigh before letting up. He looks back up to find you staring at the ceiling with the expression of a person who has been completely taken apart and is taking stock of the damage.

Remy’s been fully recharged for a little while now, but he doesn’t regret going overboard when you look this soft and happy. He settles beside you on the bed and you turn your head to look at him, your hair a disaster, your expression open in a way you probably aren’t aware of. His eyes are fully warm again, properly his, the dullness entirely gone.

“Merci, cherie,” He says, and means it in more ways than he’ll name. “Owe you my life.”

You exhale a breath that’s almost a laugh and look back up at the ceiling, loose and wrung out and completely unbothered. “Any time.” You say offhandedly like it costs you nothing.

Remy looks at you for a moment longer than he should, the low light illuminating your dewy skin, the warmth of your vitality still sitting in him like a coal, the careless generosity of those two words, and then he looks away. His arm wraps easily around you and you sigh softly as you rest your head on his chest to catch your breath.

Any time.

He’s going to have to think very carefully about that.

Remy always brings you to mixers and on group hang outs so you know all of his friends and their girlfriends. A lot of them often assume that you and Remy are together, and it’s hard to dispute it because Remy flirts with you all the time.

And you let him because you think it’s just how he is, he’s a flirtatious and physically affectionate person, oblivious to his huge crush on you. In spite of the obvious signs such as his constant nitpicking any and all of your potential dates.

“Don’t go out with that guy, chérie, he a no good cheat at poker. No honor.”

“You don’t want that boy to have your number. You better off staying in with moi tonight.”

“You gon’ wear a fine dress like that for a boy with a 2.3 GPA, mon ange? Non, what a waste. Let me take you out to the jazz lounge I told you ‘bout.”

Frat boy!Remy who genuinely just cares about you, makes sure you’re not falling behind in class or in life. Remy meal preps for you during the week, he helps you study even though he hates studying himself.

Going on late night snack drives with Frat boy!Remy and he wraps his arms around you from behind as you seriously contemplate the candy aisle.

“You know I’ll buy you every piece of sugar you want, mon ange, no need to pick and choose.”

Who carries all the bags, opens your doors, walks on the outside of the sidewalk from the bar to the car with your arm linked through his because he’s still a gentleman.

Frat boy!Remy who once bets you a kiss at a bar that he can guess the next card you pull from his deck and you know he knows his deck like the back of his hand, but fuck it, you kind of want kiss him.

“C’mere, bebe,” He murmurs smugly when you flip your card to show him that he guessed correctly. “Been waitin’ for this.” He says before you register it and you let him pull you into a drunken kiss.

It’s a slow and experimental kiss, at first, until he finds a rhythm that makes you moan in content and lean further into his firm chest. “You’re such a good kisser.” You whisper bashfully, surprised by how normal it feels to kiss him.

And you keep letting him kiss you afterwards. Regardless of where you are.

During late night study sessions in your dorm or in some dark corner of a bar when you’re out with a group, kissing him back shyly and blushing from his flirty lines in between pecks.

You do consider for a moment how this might complicate your friendship, but only for a moment because Remy then lifts you onto the nearest ledge and slips his tongue into your mouth, making you forget everything else except how good he is at that.

It’s college and you’re only hot and young once so why not make bad decisions with a hot friend?

Frat boy!Remy who asks you to be his girl every other week and you playfully say no, insisting you’re better off as friends — even though you wouldn’t be making out with anyone else like you do with him.

“So when we kiss, we kiss as friends?” He asks teasingly with a smirk and you laugh, nodding slowly, your face warm as he walks over and kisses you where you’re sitting on the end of his bed.

“Friends can kiss.” You murmur, cupping his face, his stubble tickling your palms as he moves to hover over you with one hand on your hip and the other by your head as you low back on his bed.

“Hm,” Remy hums against your lips before trailing down to your jaw. “You kiss your girl friends the way you kiss me, chérie?” You laugh, swatting playfully at his chest and continuing the kiss.

Frat boy!Remy who sneaks into your dorm late at night for a make out and stays for a cuddle until you have to quietly shoo him out because he’s being too loud with his talking, making you laugh, and flirting and he will wake your roommate.

Frat boy!Remy who hates when his frat brothers flirt with you at mixers and it doesn’t take much for him to sidle up beside you, offering you a drink, and bringing you into a slow and hot kiss right there.

Frat boy!Remy who starts to say things he shouldn’t when he kisses you for too long or when he drinks too much like how he can’t bear the thought of seeing you with someone else, or how you’re the only girl he can’t seem to stop thinking about.

“You so damn pretty, chérie,” He murmurs against your lips in a celebratory kiss while you’re sitting sideways in his lap long after a game has ended and he won the pot. “Can’t believe you let a fool like me waste your time.”

“You wouldn’t let me fool around with anyone else, Rem.” You giggle, pushing his hair back playfully and caressing his jaw while he laughs because he can’t deny his constant meddling in your dating life. “And I like spending time with you.”

“Mm, ‘m a terrible influence for you.”

“I know, it’s okay, just keep kissing me.”

Frat boy!Remy who takes things further that night in the privacy of his dorm room, unable to pull himself away from you, not ready to move on yet. You’re gasping and moaning his name as he devours your neck, his hands wandering under your clothes.

“Rem, we should stop.” You breathe out, inhaling sharply as his hand slides into your leggings and he feels the damp spot in your panties. Remy groans softly, moving down your sternum and you sigh, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“We should?” He asks, raising your tank top a little to kiss your lower belly and you whine, squirming under him as he smirks. “Or we must?”

“We should,” You say, biting your lip as you lift your hips so he can shimmy your leggings off. “But I don’t think you want to.”

“Non, bebe, I don’t,” Remy licks his lips as he moves your panties to the side, you moan as his thumb rolls gently over your clit and he takes a swipe at your folds with his tongue. “So tell me now to fuck off before it’s too late.”

“Stay.”

Frat boy!Remy who loves to eat pussy and gets so absorbed in the rhythm of it, sucking on your clit and burrowing his tongue into you. You’re crying and begging him to stop an hour in because the pleasure is too much to handle at that point. “Si douce, une si douce petite chatte, bébé.”

So sweet, such a sweet little pussy, baby.

“Remy, please, too much!” You cry out, trembling from head to toe, trying to close your thighs against the overstimulation.

His hands keep your legs spread open and pushed up against your chest. Your fingernails scratch his scalp as you pull his hair and claw at his shoulders trying to slow him down with no avail.

Frat boy!Remy who isn’t afraid to take his time or the lead. He eats you out until you’re spent and dazed with pleasure and then he’s ready for more.

Frat boy!Remy who fucks you slow and hard, keeping a firm hold on your jaw so that you can’t look away from him while he gives you deep and steady strokes. “S-so hard, you-you’re so fucking hard, Rem.” You gasp, brow furrowed in distress because your best friend is inside you and it feels so good.

“You so fuckin’ tight,” He groans against your lips while you scratch down his back and cry his name mid-orgasm. “You always act like you don’t wan’ it, but you do, don’t you, mon ange?”

You can’t help but nod as your lips seek his out again, whining against his kiss as you cling to him. “Can I keep you?” He asks, thrusting hard enough to pound into your cervix and you choke on a moan, nodding helplessly again. “I knew you’d be a good girl for me.”

Frat boy!Remy who makes sure you are loud enough that his frat brothers can hear you down the hall, making it clear that regardless of titles, you belong to someone — him.

My head has recently been plagued by thoughts of Remy as a frat bro and fooling around with him omggg😭 I didn’t know where to begin, but this seems like a good start as I continue to develop this variant of his character:)

Gambit Masterlist

The sight of him like that, leisurely sunken into a seat, thighs wide open like an invitation, lord, it makes you feral. You can’t help but perch yourself on his lap, face warming as he coos at you while guiding you down like he’s helping you sit on a throne.

“There you are,” He murmurs as he nuzzles his nose into your hair, kissing your neck once before sitting back and fanning out his playing cards with that air of confidence known to accompany the trademark Gambit charm. “Was wonderin’ where mon cœur had gone.”

As you’re just sitting together, listening to him explain the game he’s going to teach you, you can’t help but be turned on. Simply by the sight of your boyfriend sitting, manspreading, already trying to be in charge — even if it’s just over a card game. Slowly, you rub your hand on his thigh as he continues messing with his playing cards, absentmindedly bouncing you in his lap and you’re more than content to feel the strength of his leg muscles under you.

Until you need more than content, you want to ruin him, and you want him to ruin you. “You have some time for me?” You ask, pressing your chest into his as your hand begins to glide a little further up his thigh.

“Mm, chérie,” He groans as you palm his member, and he sighs softly against your neck while you feel him begin to swell beneath the material of his pants. “You can have every minute of my existence.” You can’t help your flattered grin as you lean in and kiss him before sinking down to your knees between his thighs. Remy leans forward to kiss you once more, making you giggle as you undo his pants and fish out his already hard cock.

“All of this for me?” You ask coyly as you stroke his length, wrist making circular motions as you pump him a few times.

“All of me is yours.” He sighs, one hand already tangling in your hair and you licks your lips before pressing a soft kiss to his tip. Your tongue circles around his tip and you can’t help a moan as you taste a bead of precum. Remy’s head falls back against the couch, a soft groan escaping his lips as you run your tongue up the thick vein on the underside of his cock and then suckle on his tip. “Jus’ like that, chérie.” Remy encourages, still petting your hair as he watches you indulge in him. “Always wanna be a good girl for Papa, huh?” You nod eagerly, loving when he calls himself that and looking up at him as your mouth sinks further down, taking another inch.

Soon his tip is pushing up against your throat with every bob of your head, taking less than half of his cock at this point. Remy always lets you take your time, lets you get yourself cockdrunk before he takes over. He enjoys this part, the play part. Rubbing his tip across your lips, tapping your tongue a few times when he’s too close to the edge and smirking when you moan sweetly and keep eye contact. Most of all, he just adores watching you suck him off like it’s a hobby of yours.

Suddenly, he pulls your mouth of cock to kiss you sloppy. His tongue sweeps into your mouth to suck on your tongue, and you whine weakly while still stroking his length. “You like bein’ a good girl, ain’t that right, chérie?”

“I like being your good girl.” You tell him, giving his leaking tip kitten licks while smiling coyly at him from where you’re sitting so pretty between his thighs.

“Then open wide for me, bébé.” Obediently, your mouth opens and you stick your out as Remy holds tight onto your hair, tilts your head back gently, and he spits into your mouth. “Use it.”

His hand in your hair guides you back down to swallow his cock, his tip hitting the back of your throat more intently. His added saliva in your mouth makes the glide further in easy and you choke on it. You gag softly, pushing through the discomfort of the stretch, and Remy swears as his tip pushes down your gullet. “Merde, juste comme ça, ma bonne fille.”

Those red-on-black eyes never leave you as he takes over now, your hair in his fist, forcing you to take his cock further as he groans and swears, always very vocal which you love. “That’s it, petite. Take Papa’s cock. You doin’ so damn good.”

Lord, you do love listening to his breathy French as you swallow another inch. You love the way he pulls you off without warning for a messy kiss because he loves you so damn much. You love when he tells you how gorgeous you look with him throbbing between your lips. You love the way you can make him lose his mind and his self control when going down on him. All while your pussy helplessly leaks arousal and you start to grind against the rounded end of his boot.

“Mon cœur, fuck,” His head falls back as he holds the back of your skull with one hand and wraps his hand gently around your throat to keep you steady while he fucks your esophagus. His strokes are long and deep, all the way in, all the way out. Same as when he’s pumping a load into your pussy late at night. Remy likes to see you taking all 8 inches again and again until he’s right at the edge and then he stands up, forcing himself fully down your throat while he empties his hot, sticky load into your belly.

His hands cup your cheeks and he coos at you in the middle of cumming, thighs trembling under your palms as he hunches over to look you in the eye while you finish him off. “My good girl,” He groans, wiping the rogue tears on your cheeks with his thumbs while milking himself with your tongue. “Such a sweet little mouth you give to Papa, bébé. Fuck, take it all.” Your eyes are refilled with tears from the stretch of his cock and your own gag reflex, but you keep taking it anyway because he deserves this.

Because he’s so good to you, you can’t help but want to be good for him.

Every time I tell myself I’m just going to do a short little blurb, I don’t🙃

Gambit Masterlist

You have heard him talk plenty about the ladies. The ones he dates, the ones he wines and dines, the ones that are a fun distraction. You’ve come to know it as guy talk, some of your friends call it locker room talk. Regardless of what it goes by, you know it when you hear it.

“Little late to be getting back from a lunch date, ain’t it, Gumbo?” Logan asks in an almost knowing manner as he sets your dinner plate in front of you. You are sitting at the kitchen island where you had been chatting with Logan after begging him to make extra of whatever he had cooking up.

Now, however, you’ve fallen quiet as Gambit is strolling into the kitchen, twirling his keys by the ring in a boyish way that makes butterflies bloat your belly. Damn it, even just seeing him walk makes you hot for him.

“Never too late for a little consensual fun, mon ami.” He says with a casual grin, shoving his keys in his pocket and taking an apple while winking at you. “Not exactly chivalrous to rush a lady, y’know?” He tells Logan, angling away from you as if that alone is enough to censor himself. “An’ she had a nice hot pie for ol’ Gambit to sample back at her place.”

As you’re listening, your brows knit together in confusion at the sudden mention of pie. You look down at your plate, chewing slowly as you think about it, and then you realize what he means. Gambit ate a woman out. Your face warms at the thought of his face between your legs when you are suddenly brought back to reality.

“Kid’s sittin’ right there, have some manners.” Logan says to Gambit who simply ruffles your hair in passing with a laugh and says he meant nothin’ by it. You glare reproachfully at Logan for calling you a kid in front of the man you want to fuck.

You find that you like listening to the experience that Gambit has with women and sex. It means he’ll know everything if you and him hook up. He would guide you, show you what feels best, and that thought of being taken care of by him, Lord, does that make you want him worse.

Sometimes you seek Gambit out in private just to see if he would still talk to you that way. Without another guy around, without an audience to play for, just you and him. Just to see if he still thinks of you as a kid or not.

“What’s that mark on your neck, Remy?” You ask one evening when he’s in the kitchen tampering with the espresso machine and you notice the bruise on his neck. Right at the jaw. Small and pinkish, red.

It’s kind of cute.

“Oh, that?” Gambit grins and rubs the spot with two fingers, giving you a knowing look. “That there’s a special typa mark from a special typa friend.”

Your cheeks warm and you bite your bottom lip to stop from smiling, trying to play coy. “How special?”

“Late night special.” He winks and you let out a small giggle, rolling your eyes and continuing.

“What do special friends do late at night that leaves those types of marks?” You press, leaning forward where you’re sitting on the counter and Gambit doesn’t fail to notice the glimmer in your eyes. “Could we be special friends?”

His attention turns to you fully now as the espresso machine slowly wafts the boldly aromatic scent of coffee around the kitchen. Gambit moves towards you slowly, one hand on either side of you, flat on the counter as he surveys your expression. You can feel him sizing you up the way he does an opponent on the field or an unsuspecting lady at the bar.

“You ever kiss a man long enough to make him hungry for you?” He finally asks and you shake your head slowly, lips parted as you try to imagine that kind of heat.

“No, I haven’t.” You say, looking up at him through your lashes and letting out a slow breath as you work up the nerve to say, “But I’d like to.”

Gambit’s red-on-black eyes study you, and you don’t feel nervous. You feel more…thrilled. Thrilled that Remy LeBeau is considering you, contemplating the idea of you and him. “My, ain’t time been kind to you, petite.” He says, softly brushing his knuckles over your cheek before letting his fingers trail down your arm, making you shiver slightly. “All grown up now.”

“You notice me now, huh?” You tease softly and Gambit chuckles.

“I do, I notice,” His eyes darken a little, maybe a trick of the light, and then he adds, “Not sure that’s a good thing for you, bébé.”

That evening the two of you find yourselves alone in the rec room after hours. After making sure the others had dispersed once the chaos of movie night had concluded. You are sitting in his lap, straddling him as you kiss for the first time. One of Gambit’s hands is cupping your jaw, the other resting on your hip while you have your palms flat on his toned chest.

It’s slow at first, a small peck followed by your nervous giggle. A second kiss that he is more intentional with as he plants it firmly, not deterred by knowing that you haven’t been with a man before. Your lips part slowly in anticipation for the next kiss and he takes it, murmuring about you being a quick learner while tilting your jaw up to bring you closer and you hum in delight.

“Just like that, petite. Slow and sweet, like honey.” He whispers, making you blush as he strokes your cheek with his thumb.

“Do I taste like honey?” You ask, your voice unrecognizable to yourself as it comes out sultry and teasing. Lord, this man brings out the dirtiest parts of your character.

“You taste better, chérie.” He murmurs, his lips closing over your bottom one again and this time his tongue peeks out and he licks along the plump skin. “Like a sin.”

The kiss grows hotter. His has your face in his hands, controlling your position as he kisses you. He bites you just once to try it and you gasp softly which makes his cock hard underneath your ass. Tentatively, you start to grind against the hard length in his pants, letting his tongue slip into your mouth.

“That feels funny.” You say, playfully sticking your tongue out just for him to nip it with his teeth too. “Remy!”

“Let me taste you.” He says, grinning when you kiss him again and slide your tongue into his mouth so he can suck on it. The sensation makes you moan and one of his large hands comes to the back of your skull, holding you steady as the kiss intensifies.

His mouth then moves onto your jaw as you break away from him for a breath of air, a soft laugh falls from your lips from the foreign sensation of Gambit marking your skin. The guy that taught you how to ride a bike in the gardens now teaching you how to make out with a guy and you’re so fucking wet. His hands tighten on your waist as if he anticipates you might run from the pleasure and he whispers how good you smell, how perfect you feel in his arms. “Gambit gon’ have a good time playin’ with you, mon ange.” He whispers as he carefully unzips your hoodie a little more and you shiver from anticipation, leaning eagerly into him. His mouth trails down to your collarbone and you sigh as his tongue licks over the skin there.

One of his hands leaves your waist and runs up the front of you, his thumb brushes over your hardened nipple before pressing his palm over your heart, feeling your heartbeat under his skin. “Oh, Remy!” You moan, one hand tangling in his long, auburn hair while the other fists his shirt.

“Si douce et nécessiteuse.” He murmurs, making you whine softly because you don’t understand, but you know he’s saying the right things into your skin. “Wanna be special friends, huh?” He asks, brushing his nose against your sternum and you nod quickly, closing your eyes as you feel his tongue slowly licking back up to your pulse point.

His teeth bite on the spot gently and you tense up a little before shivering as his lips close around the sting and he sucks on your skin. “Oh, fuck,” You moan, the hand in his hair pushing him slightly closer while he keeps his grip tight on your hips. “Yes, yes, that feels so good!”

“Oui, bebe? You like that spot there?” He asks, kissing the base of your neck again and then sucking a little harder to hear you cry out for him.

“Mhm, it’s so hot. I want to feel you do that everywhere.” You confess, tugging impatiently on his large arms, shifting against on his erection in invitation. Remy keeps marking your neck, groaning as he discovers all your sensitive spots for you and leaves behind darkened kiss marks that’ll sit under a pretty sweater like a dirty secret.

As you grind on him, as you make out with the man that once walked you from your bedroom to the kitchen because you were scared of the dark, you can’t but feel triumphant. Especially as you are sitting here in your crush’s lap while he shows you how to kiss, how to create heat between bodies.

You can feel him throbbing faintly against your thigh and he groans, lifting you momentarily to rearrange himself. “Easy there, petite.”

“I don’t mind it.” You tell him, rocking your hips gently again and he chuckles, stopping you while chasing your lips with another kiss. “I want you to be my first, Remy.”

“Glad you don’t scare,” Gambit says against your lips, kissing you softer, showing more restrain than you had expected. “But that’s a mighty quick pace you chasin’.” You blush as he lifts you up, carrying you as you wrap your legs around his waist, and he walks you towards the staircase. “Let Gambit teach you slow.”

The other night, I had this dream where I was making out with some guy who had very strong Remy vibes and this is the concept of that dream with a Gambit twist😅

Part Two

Gambit Masterlist

It does loom over him how young you are, the taboo of his growing interest in you when you return a young lady, but he approaches the situation slowly so as to not overstep. You are after all his brother Bobby’s little girl. Maybe $20 for lunch here, a late night ride home from the bar there, he feels out where your head is at now that you’re older and he’s not technically family.

“You’re always around, huh?” You ask teasingly as you fall easily into his passenger seat. Remy agreed to pick you up from brunch with your friends because you had one too many peach Bellinis. “Almost like you’re just waiting around for me to call.”

“An’ if I am?” He asks with a grin that makes your face heat up and you bite back a smile.

“My dad wouldn’t like that.” You say, clicking on your seatbelt and fixing your makeup in the visor mirror to make yourself busy. “You’re basically his brother.”

Remy watches you tug on the ringlets of hair falling out of your updo and he swears he almost throws caution to the wind and kisses you. “Oui, mais…” His red-on-black eyes meet yours, intentionally trailing down your little romper which has a deep V cut between your breasts, and he tilts his head coaxingly. “You don’ really see Gambit as an uncle, do you, petite?” He asks, smirking softly at you as if he knows you better than you know yourself - and he kind of does.

You would tell Remy everything when you were young. It was often easier than telling your dad when you weren’t quite sure if your feelings for a boy were true enough to be “talk with dad” serious. Remy made it less of a big deal, which you appreciated in your adolescence.

Uncle Remy didn’t judge you when you asked him to teach you how to play cards because you wanted to impress some senior or talk you down when you wanted to sneak out to meet some friends for a bonfire. Remy made sure that while you were off being young and reckless, you had someone safe to trust with your bad ideas, and Lord knows Remy’s past is full of bad ideas.

“Remy, that’s not appropriate,” You say in a bashful tone, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Don’t make me blush.”

“Mais c’est trop facile, mon amour.”

But it's too easy, my love.

Your eyes roll but you can’t hide your smile as he calls you his love and drives you back to your father’s house. You can see his hand twitching like he wants to move it off the steering wheel. “You nervous around me lately, Uncle Remy?” You ask with a teasing smirk.

Remy chuckles, shaking his head and running that restless hand through his auburn hair. “Non, petite, Gambit just thinkin’.”

“About?” You coax, leaning back in your seat and looking over at him with that darkened hue on your cheeks that tells him you’re still buzzed.

“Somethin’ inappropriate an’ foolish.”

Your chest swells with anticipation, you’re shifting subtly in your seat because you know you’re slightly tipsy and dressed to tantalize and you know that your hot uncle is sitting right there trying not to think about it. Just like you’re trying not to think about how his mouth might feel on your skin, how his built frame would blanket you with ease since he’s so damn tall. You blame it on the remaining alcohol in your system making you bolder as you take his hand and place his palm on your thigh.

“Oh, oui?” He asks with a surprised, but mischievous grin that makes you laugh softly.

“Just drive us somewhere.”

Remy sneaks you away for a few hours, parking at some overlook he knows the path of too well, and before you can even ask how many women he’s brought up here, he’s on you.

“You wan’ this, mon amour?” He asks, his tongue already finding its way into your mouth and you moan, nodding your head as you pull him closer by his shoulders.

“Please.”

Without missing a beat, he reclines your seat back as he settles on top of you and you end up making out with the man that once let you eat a whole box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch when he was watching you after soccer practice. Now the same man is whispering how beautiful you’ve grown up to be and how he never imagined this, but now he can’t imagine it any other way. There’s something so twisted about it that makes you crave it even more, the depravity of getting the affection and attention you lack at home from a family friend. Your father’s brother, even if they’re not blood.

“Ma dulce fille,” Remy murmurs against your lips, one hand gripping your thigh as it wraps around his waist and the other cups your cheek as the kiss deepens. “You want it, petite? Want Uncle Remy to be sweet to you?” His tone is playful and teasing, his lips are soft as they trail down your neck to pepper kisses along your collarbone.

“I’m-yes, but-ahh-out here?” You manage through breathless moans, glancing out of the window to your surroundings, your hips seeking him out in betrayal. Remy nods, nuzzling into your neck and licking a line to your earlobe where he tugs on your good hoop with his teeth, promising you won’t get caught in a whispery tone that sends butterflies swarming through your belly. “Remy, this is so wrong.” You moan as he sucks on your pulse point while grinding his stiff erection against your mound.

“I know, petite, I know,” He groans as your thighs squeeze around his hips and you arch into him, your body begging for more friction as his hands make quick work of the buttons on your romper. “Just a little taste, then we go, oui?” He kisses you once more on the lips before getting you out of your romper so that he can go down on you. Your seat slides back on its track as Remy moves it and you gasp in surprise, giggling at yourself while he kneels more easily on the floorboard. “You look so damn pretty like this, bebe.”

Your mind spins as his long fingers part your folds with a few caresses, a subtle shock shoots through your core that makes you squeak and he winks. His tongue follows, tasting your sweet arousal, circling your clit slowly while he watches you writhe in his passenger seat from the adrenaline and lust. His lips press a kiss to your clit before he sucks on it gently and you whine, lifting your hips greedily for more. His hands are firm on your thighs, keeping them spread for him as he has a tasting of you.

“Mm, Rem, I-I’m-oh!” You can’t find enough words to form a coherent sentence - and usually you’re a talker during intimacy - because this same man who has his tongue in your pussy once tended to your scraped knee with a Tom and Jerry bandaid he had found in his bathroom by sheer luck. The man that once signed you out of third period because he needed to pass a drug test for a job so your father would get off his back is finger fucking you in his car. This man rubbing on your clit and biting the inside of your thigh used to get high and come cheer at your soccer matches, and you like it.

You gave me a thread, dear anon, and I couldn’t resist the urge to follow it😭

It’s only a few days later, after secretly making out with him in the rec room after hours, when you kiss Gambit again. This time in the kitchen, just as a thank you for making the coffee which turned into a make out on the counter. His hands are on your waist for a little bit, but he can’t ever help taking over when you get all pliant for him. His palms knead at your breasts and he slides one hand around your neck. You have your arms around his waist, nails digging into his bare back as he begins to nip and lick at the sensitive spots he previously discovered.

“You say thank you like that to everyone?” Gambit asks, kissing your neck when you have to pull away to catch your breath. He holds your jaw now, keeping you in place while you softly rake your manicured nails up and down his back.

“Maybe,” You gasp when you feel his teeth nip at your pulse point, one of your hands tangles in his hair to gently pull him back. “Makes me more popula-ow, Remy!” You laugh as he bites a little harder, not amused with your answer. “Logan’s gonna kill you.” You moan while he sweetly licks the sting away.

“Over a kiss? Un peu dramatique, non?” He jokes, making you giggle, but he stops because he doesn’t want you to get in trouble.

Gambit can understand Logan’s aspirations of keeping you untouched, but he also sees how unrealistic that is of the Wolverine to expect. You’ve grown in the last years into more woman than child, and it is not a beauty that goes unnoticed. Of course, Gambit knows the risks of messing around with a girl still attached to her father figure. Especially a teammate’s — dare he say, a friend’s — daughter. And yet, he can’t bring himself to discourage you when you approach him with wide eyes and inappropriate questions. How could he when you come to him so brazenly curious and eager to learn?

The night it goes too far to turn back, Gambit had been heading to your bedroom out of habit with the intention of kissing you goodnight for a little bit. Unaware of the soft noises inside, he ends up getting more than he bargained for when he opens the door and sees you pleasuring yourself on your bed.

With a soft yelp, you quickly sit up and then relax when you realize it’s just Gambit. “Thanks for knocking.” You say sarcastically, panting softly and biting your lip as you watch how his red-on-black eyes focus on your pussy.

“Ma faute, petite,” Gambit closes the door behind him with a definitive click of the lock as his eyes scan your spread out figure and his cock stirs in his pants. You sit in just your camisole and panties which are pushed to the side, showing off a little as you shift your legs to bring your knees up higher, and give him a better view. “I see you started without me.”

Your cheeks warm up and you slowly resume your task at hand, humming contently as you sink back into your pillows. “Not too late to join.” You twist the dildo a little and moan softly. “Want a closer look?”

“Oui, s’il te plaît, bébé.” He says, already moving towards you and moistening his lips as he kneels at the end of the bed. You let him watch up close as you bob the toy in and out rhythmically, whining as you gush subtly from the added arousal of him watching.

“Tu es si jolie.” Gambit murmurs, caressing your thighs and pressing soft kisses along your soft skin. You watch him kiss and worship you as you keep fucking yourself, and then his fingers send subtle kinetic waves through your skin, making you moan his name. “May I?” Gambit looks at you for consent to continue, and you give him a quick nod before he removes his shirt, claiming he’s a messy eater.

In a matter of minutes, the toy is set aside and you find out what that means exactly as his mouth latches onto your pussy. You’ve heard him talk about going down on women before, but it feels so much better than he described. His tongue burrows deep in your hot little hole, two thick fingers plunging in and out, curling every third stroke to bring you closer and closer to the edge. “Fu-fuck, Rem! I’m gonna cum!”

And when you do, it is with a subtle squirt that makes Gambit groan in appreciation, lapping up your release and sucking on your sensitive clit. He chuckles softly as you writhe and instinctively try to close your legs to the intense pleasure. “There we go, mon ange. Better when you got some help, non?”

“That was so hot, show me how to do it again?” You plead, breathless, but energized and eager to learn more, try more, especially with him. And who is Gambit to refuse the acquisition of knowledge?

The next few nights are filled with Gambit sneaking into your bedroom so you can make out in secret. Sometimes he fingers you, sometimes you stroke his dick. Mostly, you make out and touch a lot. You love grinding on him while convincing him that he’s only being a helpful friend, and that it’s safer for you to learn from him than some other guy.

“Hard to argue with your reasonin’,” Gambit smirks against your neck, listening to your breathy whimpers and soft moans as he kisses you there. “You gon’ keep quiet for me?”

“Yes, I’ll be quiet, please.” You beg, looking down at him and moving to slide off your panties and your camisole, fully exposing yourself to him for the first time since these heated little lessons began.

“Putain, bébé,” Gambit groans as you cheekily toss your panties at him and he chuckles, shoving them into his pants’ pocket and then lifting you up so you’re straddling him again. “You a bad influence.”

“Let me suck you off.” You whisper mischievously, kissing him slowly, grinding your bare pussy against the hard bulge in his pants. His hands guide your hips, a soft groan vibrates in his chest beneath your palms as you chase that delicious friction.

Gambit is unable to hide an amused smirk at your bold request. “You don’ know how to do that.” You’re always trying to jump ahead into new things you’ve seen in porn, always getting him to cross more lines for you. “You not gon’ like it, petite.”

“You don’t know that!” You counter, already moving down the bed to kneel between his long, stretched out legs when one of his brows lifts in curiosity. “It’s not a big deal, I’ve practiced with my toy, I wanna try it for real.”

Gambit doesn’t make a move to stop you as you determinedly unbutton his pants and cautiously fish his semi out of his briefs. You cutely kiss his swollen tip, giggling to yourself as your hand delicately wrapping around his long shaft and he hisses from the inappropriate pleasure.

“You gon’ get me in trouble with your papa, chérie.” He groans, one hand petting your hair while the other caresses your cheek.

He lets you lick at his cock anyway, guides you by your nape to run your tongue from the base to the tip and then tells you to suck him into your mouth. You bob your head a few times, gagging when you go down too far and he coos at you, reassuring you that it’s okay when it happens. His hips thrust upwards subtly, chasing the pleasure in your salivating mouth, and you taste a little salty bead of precum spreading over your tongue.

“Mm, tastes good,” You murmur, popping him out of your mouth and kissing his tip. “Am I doing okay?” You ask even though you know you are — you just like to hear it.

“More than okay, bèbè,” Gambit says with a grin, bringing you up to kiss you and you settle into his lap again. “Tu me rends fou.” You keep making out slow and sloppy with the faint taste of his cock lingering your mouth before he says, “Let me take over now.”

There will be one more part to this mini series where Remy and Innocent!Reader go all the way🤭

Gambit Masterlist

His office isn’t as sharp and cold as Lucien’s. Not so immaculate that you’re scared to knock something out of its place. Remy’s office almost resembles the lounge itself on a smaller scale with comfortable chairs, warm and alluring lighting, the scent of his signature bourbon where it sits in a decanter on his desk. It’s intimate in a comforting way.

“Have a seat, cherie,” Remy says, motioning to one of the chairs in front of where he’s sitting on the edge of his desk. You take a seat, your hands folded politely in your lap as you look up at him with wide eyes.

Lord, is he gorgeous up close, you think as you take in his chiseled jaw, the stubble that tempts you to caress his cheek, his soft and intense red-on-black eyes. He’s chiseled and tall too, which just adds to the inappropriate thoughts in your head. He’s taller than he looks from the distance between the floor and the balcony where he often stands to oversee everything. Agile and limber, no doubt.

“Tony said you wanted to speak to me?” You ask after forcing down the lump in your throat.

“I wanted to check in.” Remy says with a small nod. “Lucien had mentioned you came in today in quite a rush. Something about the bus?” Your cheeks warm as you recall your incident from last week.

The power had been cut off to your building over night and your phone hadn’t charged all the way. You had a late start and having to shower in the dark was not making your day any better. Your hair air dried as you ran to catch the bus to take you to Manhattan and you managed to pin it into a low, elegant bun before it arrived. Once on the bus, you had just enough time to apply a light layer of concealer, mascara, and lipstick before you arrived to the neighborhood where Saints and Sinners is located, hurrying in just minutes after your scheduled arrival time of 10am.

“I did come in a few minutes, Mr. LeBeau, but it won’t hap-”

“Just Remy, cherie.” He interrupts smoothly and you slow down, taking a moment to nod and gather your thoughts.

“Remy,” You correct yourself, tucking a loose strand behind your ear. “It won’t happen again.” Remy studies you for a minute, taking in your wringing hands and the straight line in your posture. He doesn’t like it.

“No need to be nervous ‘round me, belle,” He says, his hands tightening on the edge of the desk to stop himself from gathering you in his arms to show you so. “I only wish to be of assistance to you.”

Your head tilts curiously, your hands stop fidgeting in your lap while his genuine smiles holds steady, not deterred by your wariness. “Assistance?”

“I wish to make your life comfortable.” Your head tilted in mild confusion and he couldn’t help the small chuckle that left him. “If you allow me to, of course.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” You say, shaking your head slowly. “I’m not asking for anyth-”

“Je sais,” Remy says in a much softer tone, now standing straight to step in front of you, dropping to one knee while his hands grab onto the armrests of the chair you’re sitting in. The two of you are so close, you swear he can hear you swallow your words. “I know you not askin’, I offer because I care.”

You want to say no, but you also want to say yes. Your very attractive and successful boss wants you to basically be his sugar baby. It’s definitely not a situation you pictured yourself in, but it could be worse. Yet, you hesitate. It’s unfamiliar territory and the last thing you need is to be taken advantage of.

“Can I think about it?” You finally ask, looking at him almost promisingly and Remy nods, smiling at you as if he’s content that you’d even consider it.

“Bien sûr, chérie,” He says, standing again and leaning against his desk. “Please, think about it.”

A Few Days Later…

Remy had not meant to eavesdrop, truly. He just happened to be in pursuit of a specific bottle of Roi Noir — his personal brand of bourbon — when he heard your voice. That calming, soothing lilt of primness and warmth, but not the usual light tone…your voice is heavy with frustration. Remy looks around the corner and spots you taking a call. You stand in the service corridor that leads down to the cellar, one shoulder resting lightly against the wall, phone pressed to your ear. You’re still in the black sequin dress, the fabric catching stray light every time you shift your weight, but the polish you wear on the floor has slipped just enough to reveal the strain beneath it.

“Yes,” You say quietly, measured. “I understand what the lease says.” There’s a pause as you listen to the other end and he sees your jaw tighten just enough for Remy to register the frustration. “Okay, yes, I’ll take care of it.”

After you hang up, you let out a soft sigh and take a moment to compose your thoughts — how the hell are you going to pay an HVAC guy when you don’t get paid until the end of the week. Your apartment is freezing in mid-February and your landlord refuses to do anything on his end. “Fuck.” You breathe out before standing straight to get back to your shift.

Remy meant to turn around and leave, but he couldn’t move, not before making sure you were okay. Your eyes meet his as you turn to go back to the floor and you gasp softly when you see him standing there.

“So sorry, cherie,” He says, placing a hand over his chest and bowing subtly. “Came for a few bottles from the cellar, didn’ want to interrup’.”

“No, you’re fine, Mist - Remy.” You say, waving it off and standing a little straighter. “I’m sorry for taking a call during work,” You begin to apologize, and he can’t help a small smile at your needless apologies. “It was my landlord, and he can be a bit, well, you know.” You give a small, exasperated eye roll and Remy nods understandingly.

“Je comprends.” He says, stepping closer and tentatively reaching for your free hand. “Do you need help?” He asks in a softer tone, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You just gotta ask, ma belle.”

You had thought about his proposition from a few days ago, you had thought about it all that night and still couldn’t come to a concrete decision. You wouldn’t consider yourself a gold digger, you certainly wouldn’t consider yourself helpless, but you can deny that the extra petty cash would greatly improve your ability to save and live comfortably. Still, it feels almost like cheating, not really earning it through merit, but instead through something as easy as attention and companionship.

“That’s it?” You then ask, biting your bottom lip anxiously as you look up at him. “I just ask and you make my life easy? That simple?”

Remy grins at your interrogatory tone, and he kisses your hand, making you inhale sharply and he nods. “C’est simple.” Noting the linger hesitation in your posture, he adds, “Wanna try it out?”

Your brows furrow curiously as your boss kisses your other hand now, your grip tight as a vice on your cell phone as his lips leave a too real prickle of energy running up your arm. “How?”

“Gimme your number, an’ I give you $500.” Remy says with such casualness that you actually laugh. Your hand comes up to cover your mouth as your eyes widen.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. It’s just, well, it sounds too good to be true.” You explain, stilling hiding a grin behind your hand.

Remy just smiles and says, “J’aime ta rire.” Your face warms and you look away from him bashfully and his eyes shine with delight. “You know French?”

“Not proficiently.” You tell him with a small shrug. “I took it through high school.” You bite back a smile and say, “You said something about my laugh.”

“I love it.” He confirms and you chuckle.

“You really just go for what you want, huh?” You say, crossing your arms over your chest and smirking teasingly at him. Remy steps a little closer, leaning down so his nose barely brushes yours.

“Only when the risk as high as the reward.” Remy runs his hand up your arm slowly, his thumb brushing the inside of your arm as he moves an inch closer to you. He smells like something spiced, something strong, and sensual. His hand squeezes your arm once more and he drops it, stuffing it back into his pants’ pocket. “You say stop, I go back to my office an’ we remain friends. No pressure, cherie.”

There are things to consider, such as the fact that $500 would solve your heating issue and get you through the next week with groceries. Or the fact that there is clear imbalance in the power dynamics between you. Worst case scenario? You just block his number.

“Just my number?” You ask and Remy gives you a small nod. You lay your hand out and he hands you his cell phone, watching you with a content smile as you type in your name and number into his contacts. “There you go, boss.” You say playfully and Remy chuckles, tapping on the screen and then sliding the phone into his pocket.

“Non, not for you,” He says just as your phone pings in your hand. “For you, I am only Remy.” He gives you a soft wink and continues his original search for the bottles of bourbon in the cellar. You watch him disappear into the dark room and then check your phone where there’s a new notification from your banking app.

+$500

And the message attached.

For trusting me -R

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Let me know what you thought, kind readers! There is going to be a bit of a time jump for the next chapter just so we can get into the nitty gritty😉