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taelophone · 16 days ago

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Co-Parenting⋆.☘︎ ݁˖⋆˙⟡ — BD!Luigi Mangione x Reader ⋆˚｡☘︎⋆ TWs: Porn w Plot . Penetration . Co-parenting (if thats a trigger...) . Semi-toxic themes if u squint . Ambiguous relationships . ── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ 7k + words. Im on a fucking roll.

Co-parenting was no easy task– you’ve gathered that from the sleepless nights wrestling a hyperactive two-year-old into bed.

On the days when you only had one set of hands, your daughter seemed to rain down on you like the wrath of a god. A tiny god, but a mighty and merciless one nonetheless.

She ruled and ripped through the white halls, splashing the ghostly white drywall with the many colors of Crayola with her bright and giddy smile not to mention the iron-clad lungs that she seemed to inherit from somewhere in her father's lineage.

But chaos and tribulations aside, you wouldn’t trade her for anything, your beautiful not-so-baby baby girl, Adelina.

She had her father's eyes, void and deep with brown and gold flecks of pale sunlight. She beared his cocoa-colored curls, but your presence illuminated her little nose and the scaffolding of her face. If it was possible to capture two faces at once, she’d be a prime example.

And as you strapped her into her pink and floral-print car seat, she chuckled as you peppered her face in kisses from head to chin.

“Mommy!! Mommy stop! No! You do’d too much! I do it,” Adelina instructed, her little face scrunched up in a full-muscle smile before she leaned over to you, her little nose pecking your cheek with the force of an angel.

“Thank you, Addy! You’re so sweet,” you cooed, your bottom lip jutting out in a heart-warmed pout as she poked at the freckles and acne scars on your face.

You tightened the polyester webbing on her car seat, clicking each buckle and gently pushing her fuzzy pink pom-pom hat back into place. After a glance at the car seat, you shoved your white BMW door closed and trekked around the car to reach the driver's seat.

“You ready to go see daddy, li-li?” you asked, glancing at her reflection in the rear-view mirror before the engine purred to life, the steady flow of heat gradually filling the space between the winter air.

“Yah!” She beamed, throwing her little hands in the air with a girly giggle.

“Alright, let’s go!” You nodded, a triumphant look on your face as you pulled out of the driveway.

The ride to Luigi’s wasn’t long. Unfortunately for you, the angels in heaven decided today would be the perfect day to breathe their frosted breaths down from the heavens, sending snowflakes down from the skies that would stick to the mortal-made machinery for days to come.

Icy slopes of slippery sleet clung to the streets, earning itself a few silent prayers while you navigated through the streets.

Each spark of strength from your tires was met with equal resistance from the frosty roads.

It was clear driving back from Luigi’s would be harder than you thought.

But there was no use in backing out now. After all, you were only ten minutes away from your ex-boyfriend's house. So you proceeded cautiously down the highway, silent prayers falling from your lips until you parked your car in front of the familiar humble abode.

“Alright, sweetie, let’s go see daddy! You got your bag?” You asked, unbuckling yourself to take a deep and self-soothing breath.

“YEAH!” She beamed, her little button nose all wrinkled with excitement as she bore her joy with all her facial muscles.

You chuckled, approaching the back of the car for the second time that day as you unpacked your wriggly toddler. She giggled, her little feet kicking back and forth as you lowered her to the powdery-white ground.

“Be careful, please. We don’t want you to fall!” You gasped, smiling down at your daughter as the white snow crunched under her lilac snow boots.

She giggled, throwing herself down on the snow as you unloaded her bags from the backseat. Her small arms picked up the bright white piles of frosty miracles, cold clouds, as she would call them.

”C’mon, sweetie,” you beckoned, kicking the car door closed with your rubber sole and trekking your way up to Luigi’s front porch after grabbing Adelina’s fur-adorned hand.

A few gentle knocks landed on the heavy oak door, the glossy black paint failing to conceal the beautiful pattern of the tree rings. Jet black with a gorgeous ivory lintel— a little extra for him— but perfect for his cute little family home.

“Mommy, I made a sn-no ball,” Addy said, her little hands showing you the little ball in the palms of her hands.

“Oh, that’s wonderful, sweetie! What are you gonna do with it? You gonna let daddy freeze it?” You asked, hiking the slipping baby bag back up your shoulder.

“No,” she stated matter-of-factly. “I wanna trow it at daddy!”

You chuckled, attempting to mask the sound with a poorly placed cough to discourage her menacing behavior. The little laugh fought back, clawing its way up and out of your throat as you set a hand on Addy’s head.

“Sweetie, that’s…that’s not very nice!” You murmured, taking a deep breath before the front door swung open.

There he stood, leaning forward a little before his legs aligned with his form. When he processed that his door was indeed open, his face shifted into an eager grin as he glanced between you and Adelina, ready to outstretch his arms and greet you both with happy—

Paff!

“Adelina Mangione!”

A big, teethy grin slowly broke out on Addy’s face. One that stretched from the beginnings of her little lips and rose to the crinkles of her eyes. She let loose a maniacal giggle after aiming the freezing snow directly at Luigi’s socks.

Instantly, Luigi’s eyes snapped shut in practiced control. The frosty substance melted into the black cotton, soaking his entire sock and ceasing his foot’s ability to move properly.

“That’s just cruel,” he sighed, his eyes fluttering open as he kneeled to be eye-level with his smug daughter.

“Addy, that wasn’t very nice,” He murmured, his tone deep and stern with the weight of a formal lecture. His voice thumped against your eardrum pleasantly, the bass of his tone reverberating from the depths of his lungs and teasing at your harping heartstrings.

“We don’t throw snow at people when they don’t have their cold clothes on. It can make them sick, and nobody wants to be sick, okay?” He said, holding her little hands between his pointer fingers and thumbs.

She pouted, her brows furrowing slightly as she nodded, giving a little “okay” in response.

“What do we say when we do something not nice?” He asked, tilting his head to the side with a tiny smile.

“Sorry, daddy.”

“Thank you, love bug. Now go inside, I don’t want you to get cold,” he chuckled, pinching her nose momentarily to earn a little giggle from the toddler.

No sooner than her mood lightened and her legs carried her inside, Luigi straightened his knees and brought his gaze over to you.

“Hey,” he smiled, immediately taking the bags off of your shoulders, his hands brushing over your shoulder. The contact felt more intimate than you’d like to admit, considering it was the most mundane form of touch you’ve probably ever experienced.

“Hey, Luigi,” you sighed, mirroring his prior gesture of straightening your posture and bringing your right arm to massage your left shoulder.

“How did you get here? It’s been snowing pretty bad…” he murmured, scanning the streets for any sign of footprints before his face immediately dropped upon seeing your car. “No way.”

“What?” You asked, whirling your torso around to face whatever seemed to alarm him.

“Why did you drive here? Actually, HOW did you drive here?” He asked, his brows shooting up in concern.

“I…got in the car and drove?” You murmured, your brows furrowing together like the answer was obvious as your thumb pointed in the direction of your car. Like he couldn’t already see it.

“Okay, first of all,” he began, gently placing a hand behind your back right in between either of your shoulders, and guiding you into his living room. “You could have died.”

“Second of all, it’s in the tens right now, and you’re standing in my house with jeans and a cropped sweater. Pneumonia isn’t merciful and she will take you with her, trust me, I know,” he lectured, glancing back and forth between your daughter and you.

How Adelina was bundled up was almost comical. There was no way she felt the temperature when she stood outside, decked out in her purple coat with white clouds, fuzzy black leggings, lavender boots, and fuzzy little pom-pom hat.

You on the other hand were dressed for a quick coffee run under central heat and warm lighting. Looking back, you thought it would be okay considering you would be in and out in less than thirty minutes.

But now that you stood in front of this man who seemed to have enough energy to discipline and correct anyone before him, you had to admit you felt a little silly.

He opened his mouth before instantly closing it and throwing his hands up weakly before they flapped down at his sides.

“I’ll deal with you later,” he chuckled, shaking his head as he made his way over to Addy to rid her of the many insulated layers you had wrapped her in. He released her from her cozy shoes, her near-sweltering coat, the cute little hat on her head, and the polka dot mittens on her hands before she took off to run rampant in her playroom.

You made use of the presumably short time you had in his living room, leaning against the door with your phone in hand just to check the time.

“Why are you so close to the door? I’m not gonna kill you,” he chuckled, suddenly appearing in front of you with both hands on his hips with an amused smile.

“Oh I thought you wanted me to leave soon—“

“What? No, no no no no. You’re not leaving until the roads clear up a bit. I don’t want you getting hurt or in an accident, c’mon…” he murmured, punctuating his statement by lifting you by your knees and tossing you over his shoulder.

You yelped in shock, your hands immediately clutching at the back of his shirt for any sort of support even if feeble. Luigi chuckled, tossing you on the couch and wrapping you up with a fuzzy white blanket with pretty black snowflakes.

Once he rolled you up like a sushi roll, he crashed down on the couch next to you and stretched, the black cotton fabric of his sweatpants dipping just a tad. What a beautiful sight; his pretty white wifebeater hugging him so gently while he practically flaunted every hard-earned muscle he had.

“How was your day, hmm? Besides the fact that you literally almost died,” he chuckled, his arms draped around the back of the couch carelessly.

“I didn’t almost die,” you dismissed, a light giggle falling from your lips as you shifted on the couch to get comfortable. “And my day’s been pretty good…I was supposed to go home and watch a movie, but I’m here now.”

“You can do that here, though…with me,” he shrugged, tilting his head to the side like this was obvious information.

“Well I wanted to watch a movie in my bed,” you sighed, giving him a feigned eye roll before you slouched back on the couch, kicking your shoes off somewhere in his living room.

“Well you can watch a movie in my bed too,” he added, watching as Addy ran back and forth from the kitchen to her playroom, carrying a new box of snacks with each new trip.

As long as silence wasn’t the only noise that crept from out of that room, he was fine with whatever she did.

“Ew, gross, Luigi germs,” you joked, pretending to lean as far away from Luigi as possible.

He sucked his teeth, shaking his head in faux frustration before he raised a brow at you and poked his tongue on the inside of his cheek. The truth was, he had been wanting you in his bed for a while now, but you didn’t need to know that just yet.

“See now I see where Addy gets it from…your beef with me is literally hereditary” he sighed, shaking his head with a little pout.

“I know, she’s my mini-me,” you chuckled, gently unraveling yourself from your blanket to drape it around your shoulders. “I think I met my match, like, she’s just so much like me when she talks it’s crazy”

“Lina linguine!” He beamed, watching as she toddled into the room at the nickname she had been more than familiar with coming from her father.

“Hmm?” She hummed, her hand cupping the shell of her ears while the free one dragged along a large Snorlax plushie.

“What do you want for lunch, sweetie?” He asked before standing up and taking his usually large strides towards his kitchen, Addy following behind him with little steps of her own.

“Mommy, come on! We makin’ lunch!” She smiled, beckoning you towards her with her little hand.

You immediately got up to your feet, skipping over to your daughter and waltzing into the familiar kitchen with the white marbled counters and gold accent handles. It was clear your feminine touch had left the kitchen, leaving behind the ghost of a reminder in the form of a pink stand mixer with a strawberry shortcake sticker that stood out amongst the black-and-brown decor.

“Daddy, I wan’ noo-noos,” she stated, craning her head up to look at him as she attempted to see over the kitchen counter.

“Noodles? Okay honey, what kind?” He asked, his hip resting against the counter as he looked.

“ba-skeddi,” she murmured, holding onto his pants leg with a full grip. How Italian.

“Alright I’ll make you some spaghetti,” he said, the laugh he was fighting struggling for dominance on his face as Addy toddled back off into her playroom.

No sooner than Addy left the kitchen did Luigi pull out a mini pot and some star-shaped pasta, adding water and salt and letting it boil.

“Now what do you want, my queen,” he joked, putting a hand over his chest and pretending to bow.

“Stop it!” You laughed, whacking him on the shoulder as he straightened back up again with a rugged laugh.

“I’m not really hungry, I’ll just eat when I get home” you shrugged while playing around with your phone, leaning your upper body against the cold marble countertop.

He sighed, rolling his eyes before he walked past you to access the silvery fridge. But, not before he landed a heavy smack on your ass.

“LUIGI!” You gasped, your hand coming to rest on top of the spot he hit.

“See, I was gonna make pasta anyway, so you can have pasta too…how do you feel about Alfredo with broccoli?” He chuckled as he avoided turning around.

He could almost feel and taste the expression you wore; your jaw slack with shock and your pretty brows furrowed in a mixture of disbelief and scandalization. His tongue came between his teeth and peeked out from his smile, a flash of the teenage boy you once fell head-over-heels for in high school.

“Luigi, don’t play with me, what was that?” You laughed, leaning against the counter now instead of on top of it.

“You said you want Alfredo? I got you, don’t worry,” he dismissed, pulling out heavy cream parmesan cheese, fettuccine noodles, broccolini, and an abundance of alternate ingredients that he would end up throwing in a pot or pan sooner or later.

“Luigi!”

“Yes, baby?”

You stared at him, your arms folded and your head tilted to the side In feigned indifference. He mirrored your body language, throwing his hip out to the side and folding his arms across his broad chest before cocking his head to the side as well.

“Don’t get beside yourself, we’re co-parenting,” you enunciated, shaking your head in disbelief.

There was no real bite to your tone…Luigi could tell. The cold and frost to your tone melted the moment he pulled you through his door to shield you from the winter woes of the rocky roads and the icy exhalation from the angels.

Even as you stood in front of him in his kitchen, he knew exactly what that eyebrow meant when it raised at that exact angle. He’s corrected your attitude many times before and was more than willing to do it again if you’d let him.

He smirked, a smug and knowing grin spreading across his face as he reached around you to slide a cutting board over the smooth surface. His hands were heavy as he focused his attention on dicing up the garlic beneath his knuckles and knife.

“Don’t lie to yourself, it’s not good for you” he said, sliding his minced garlic to the side and dicing up his parsley and herbs. The hollow chok-chok-chok filled the momentary silence between the two of you as you watched his hands make easy work of cutting up his veggies.

“Ah, fuck…can you grab the butter from the fridge, please? I love you,” Luigi asked, looking over his shoulder.

You side-eyed him, cutting your eyes at his audacity but waltzing over to the fridge and swinging it open nonetheless, passing him the fat stick of pale yellow butter with a low hum.

“Thank you!” He beamed, brushing his hand against yours.

Again, the warmth of his body heat sent sparks and shivers shooting down your spine despite the casual nature of his presence. Touch-starved was a bit of an understatement, considering the last time you had had any intimacy was over two years ago, plus the nine that you carried your daughter.

Almost three years of celibacy and every bone in your body yearned to break that god-awful streak. You took a deep breath, the oxygen flowing in through your nostrils and exiting your dry mouth as carbon.

You leaned on his shoulder, the fat of your cheeks mashing against the firm structure of the top of his deltoid muscle as your half-glazed eyes mulled over every action his hands made.

You had always loved them. Decorated with three bluish-green veins that led down his wrist, soft with years of baby lotion he learned to slather on an ashy baby, and strong with experience in several forms of combat, his hands had always been the prettiest perfect necklace to wrap around the column of your throat.

The breakup between you wasn’t particularly terrible if you were willing to stand in his kitchen and lean your head on his shoulder, but it wasn’t civil enough for you to let him grope at and flirt with you without at least somewhat of a consequence. It was pretty funny considering you couldn’t yell due to the baby being asleep just one room over, so you had a very quiet argument over time management and Luigi not making enough time for his family.

But those days were behind you. After you walked out the door with your daughter wrapped up in her swaddle, something in Luigi’s brain shifted. He couldn’t explain it if he tried, but suddenly he felt like he didn’t want to work anymore.

If it took getting on both knees and placing his palms flat on the ground— he would. If all it took was begging on hands and knees for you to grant him forgiveness, he would do it with an empty mind and a full heart.

He placed a large chunk of butter in a black skillet, along with his garlic and some of the herbs from earlier. He didn’t want to move around too much out of fear you’d come to your senses and stop leaning on his shoulder.

“Who taught you how to make Alfredo?” You asked, the pad of your pointer finger moving with its consciousness as it came to trace the squishy trail of the veins in his hand.

“My mom used to teach me but I wasn’t really paying attention. So now TikTok,” he smiled, looking down at you with his beady black eyes.

“See I could’ve taught you that,” you sighed, shaking your head with false resignation.

“Shush,” he joked, wrapping a hand around your hip before he leaned over to grab the now boiling mini-pot of water, filling it up with the star-shaped pasta. Now that you had a closer look at the bag, it turned out that the contents were star and moon-shaped pasta.

He poured the dried planets into the foggy, bubbling waters, stirring everything momentarily before putting it back on the stove. Once his garlic was sautéed and the kitchen smelled like domesticity, he added what he felt was enough heavy cream, followed by a nice portion of parmesan.

He stirred everything together with his wooden spatula before adding the sparks of chopped greenery along with salt and black pepper. A simple Alfredo sauce that he’d mix in with some fettuccine that he would inevitably devour with sharp teeth and a pointed tongue that’d glide across his porcelain plate.

The thought was enough to make you shudder. Time and mind seemed to taunt your thoughts, burning hot kisses from Eros trailing down the ridges of your brain down to the core of your soul.

You spent the evening watching him cook in the kitchen, occasional pink and passionate passes passing back and forth between the pair of you. Rogue “I love you’s” flew through the room like dainty doves that had been freed from the golden bars of their cages.

Luigi had since given Adelina her noodles, buttered with salt and parsley, the only way she would consume her pasta of astrology. By now the sky was a dull navy, the final straggling streaks of deep mauve kissing their goodbyes to the sky as they got ready to turn in for the night.

Seven-thirty in the evening, gathered at a cute little dining table with your ex-boyfriend and his near-identical twin. Addy babbled and gabbled about the little tea party she had with her “coworkers”, her stuffed animals, and Pokemon figures, and explained how Luigi missed a very important meeting and that she had fired him for doing so.

He gasped, his fork cluttering down on his plate as he covered his hands with his mouth.

“Addy! Addy no, I’ll go broke and then I’ll starve! Don’t be a capitalist, Lina, I have a family too!” He gasped, pretending to cry as he carded his hands through his hair.

“I have a beautiful wife and a baby girl!” He sobbed, wrapping his arms around your shoulders unexpectedly. You dropped your fork on the table as well, the sudden action causing an amused yelp to flee from your lips.

“Ms. Mangione, please! We won’t eat if you fire him!” You sobbed, placing a hand over one of Luigi’s biceps.

“Nnnnno!” She giggled, her little face glowing with joy from her parents playing along with her bossy little antics. “Fire! No more Daddy!”

Luigi made a show of pretending to fall out of his chair, writhing around on the floor while clutching his stomach and feigning hunger. You had to admit, his theatrics managed to tickle your lungs until you ended up giggling alongside Addy as he “died” on his dining room floor with a final weak sigh.

“That’s why you don’t trust CEO’s, Lina. They’ll make you starve and die,” he explained, pulling himself back up to his feet. “And now, it’s time for you— to go to sleep!”

She groaned, surprisingly loud and incredibly drawn out as Luigi finished the rest of his food, his tongue gliding across the white porcelain before it clattered back down on the table. To avoid getting a headache between your legs, you peered out the window to see if the weather had gotten any better.

Much to your surprise, it was snowing again. Amazing.

“I wan’say nigh-nigh mommy…” Addy pouted, her upper lip mere centimeters away from kissing the top of her nose as her arms crossed over her chest.

“You can still say goodnight to mommy! She’s right there, look,” he smiled, pointing at you briefly as he scooped her up out of her high chair.

She waved at you as she rubbed her left eye, a little “g’nigh, mommy…”

“Goodnight, my love. If you go to sleep now, Daddy will take you to the playground tomorrow and then you can play all day,” you smiled, pinching her little chubby cheeks between your pointer and thumb.

She nodded, the little furrow in her thick brows straightening only slightly. You could hear her fuss and fight as Luigi made his way upstairs to put her in bed.

You finished your food after the pair of them had gone upstairs, grabbing the remaining dishes from the table and putting them in the sink. You doused them with hot water, the steam wafting from the scalding water standing unrivaled from the fog that clouded your head.

Such a pretty man with an even prettier way of articulating his words. There was no room for confusion or misunderstanding with his firm and deepened tone…god his voice was hot when he used to talk you thr—

“Oh thank you, baby, you didn’t have to do that,” Luigi said, his hands resting on the kitchen counter on opposite sides of your body.

Behind you, and close. You could feel the bass of his voice strumming from the back of his throat as his chin came to rest on your shoulder.

“You’re welcome!” You smiled, placing your hand over Luigi’s as his hand found your hip in a self-soothing hold. The hot water cleaned the dishes and silverware free of any remaining food and debris, ridding it of sin before you tossed each component into the dishwasher to be properly sanitized.

There was silence after you closed the dishwasher door, heavy and thick as Luigi’s arms wrapped around your shoulders while you fidgeted with the unfamiliar buttons on the dash.

“It’s this one,” he purred, his thumb pressing the plastic button that prompted the dishwasher to click and lock.

Now it was your turn to be thankful. You craned your head up, meeting Luigi’s small smile that features the crinkles in the corners of his eyes.

“Thank you, Luigi,” you mused, your hands coming to rest on his forearms that wrapped around your neckline.

He nodded, his eyes hyper-fixating on your pretty features like this would be the only time he’d get to see them up close. Somehow and some way, something at the back of his mind told him this wasn’t the case anymore.

“Movie?” You offered a short question aiming to cut through the oddly intimate silence between the two of you.

“Sure,” he nods, his arms unraveling from around your neck before they scoop you up by the back of your knees and flip you back into his arms. Bridal style, just like how he planned to carry you someday.

He waltzed over to the couch, pretending to prepare his throw you down onto the scratchy linen before hitting the most abrupt turn you’ve ever seen him make in his life, heading in the direction of the stairs with a giggle.

“On second thought, I wanna watch TV in my room,” he smirked, carrying you up the flight of stairs to his characteristically minimalist bedroom.

“See now you’re just getting beside yourself…” you sighed, but letting him toss you on his bed nonetheless.

“I won’t, I swear…” he sighed, tossing you down on his bed before fetching his remote from the bedside table.

“What did you say you wanted to watch earlier? Did you say what you wanted to watch earlier?” He asked, rolling onto his king-sized bed.

The ivory sheets dipped under his body weight, the memory foam accommodating your memory once again on your side of the bed as you shuffled into familiarity.

“I don’t know, actually, what do you wanna watch?” You asked, your hands fidgeting with the hem of your sweater absentmindedly.

“Uh…” He buffered, his mind completely blank for a moment.

“Oh, right,” you chuckled, tapping your forehead. “You don’t really watch TV like that, I forgot.”

He nodded, staring at your outdoor clothes on his bed with a confused crinkle in his brows. He tilted his head to the side, scanning you up and down like he was almost offended by you still wearing your sweltering jeans and cashmere sweater.

“I have some clothes in my closet if you want to change…you know where everything is already, I think,” he said, powering on his TV with a click of the silicone red button on the remote.

“Actually yeah, sleeping in jeans sounds crazy…” you nodded, rolling out of his cozy comforter and making your way to his closet.

You rummaged through each cotton or nylon article of clothing, the occasional linen or silk brushing your fingertips until you weeded through to find a baggy shirt and a pair of your old shorts that you found in the depths of his drawer. Black with a pretty white drawstring, and slightly ripped at the left leg from Luigi’s habit of impatience.

You slipped away to the bathroom, tugging off your top and bottoms with a silent sigh of satisfaction as you slipped into the soft material of Luigi’s shirt and the comfort of a waistband that wasn’t digging into your midriff.

His bathroom was the same as you remember it being, with the addition of a little pink toothbrush he kept for Addy next to his big blue one. Contrary to his kitchen, there was a presence of a feminine life that decorated the bathtub in the form of Disney Princess bubbles, a plastic tiara, and an Aurora Barbie doll. Cute.

You emerged with your clothes folded over your arm, placing your outfit down on his sleek black dresser and smoothing the fabric over before climbing back in bed beside Luigi. He threw a lazy arm over your shoulder as your leg came up over his, tangling your limbs together like life hit the resume button from where you had left off two years ago.

“I think we should watch Finding Nemo…” He chuckled, immediately booting up Disney Plus without missing a beat.

“Luigi, we're twenty-five.” You deadpanned.

“So?” He chuckled, flipping through the options before ultimately hitting the back button.

“American psycho?” He offered, looking over at you with a tiny smile.

“Absolutely not. How about Coraline?” You smiled.

“We’re twenty-five!” He whined, mocking your tone by putting on a high and effeminate voice with a scrunched-up expression.

“Fine,” you sighed, pressing a hand over his mouth with feigned annoyance. “Midsommar?”

“Never heard of it…” he hummed, typing in the movie name as ‘Midsummer’ and jumping subtly when he heard you gasp like the wind had been knocked out of you.

“You’ve never seen midsommar!?” You asked, your hands resting on his broad chest in shock.

“I don’t really watch movies like that…” he chuckled, the intro to Midsommar filling the room as he turned the volume down a bit to be mindful of Adelina’s room just two doors down.

“Right,” you nodded, resting your head on his shoulder and wrapping your arms around his bicep with a light chuckle.

You watched most of the movie in comfortable silence, his large hand shifting down to hold the back of your thigh as it rested between his knees, the cap nestled just at his belly button underneath his white tank. The rise and fall of your chest spurred something deep within him, especially with your concealed silhouette just beyond his grasp as you wore his shirt that seemed to swallow you whole.

The fiery heat from your body should be comforting, but all he could feel was a nuisance every time a wave of red-hot body temperature ran over him and sent flashes of heat down to his slowly hardening bulge. The hand that held your thigh began to slowly caress your skin, his rough feather-light and teasing as he kept his eyes glued to the screen.

You weren’t stupid— after dating Luigi for years, you knew he knew how to push your buttons and just what to do to elicit a certain response. There was no mistaking the embers and sparks from his palm as his hand rubbed your sensitive skin.

So you let it happen, allowing his hand to gradually get higher and higher until he reached the edge of your shorts, his knuckles brushing the edge of the cotton fabric.

“I know what you’re doing, Luigi,” you whispered, keeping your eyes trained in front of you as you attempted to keep your attention on the movie.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about…” he murmured, his hand snaking down your shorts to play with your sensitive clit through the fabric of your panties.

Normally he wouldn’t be this forward or bold…he’s seen you for two years straight after the breakup, and he’s been just as aroused by your presence before. But seeing you in his clothes and his bed ripped a fresh coat of red ravenous arousal from his brain.

Hungry and heated like a wolf preying on the willingness of a meek little bunny to stay put. How much time until you start squirming away for freedom? Would you push his hand away weakly and complain about the status quo— or are you aware of the hunter behind you and are content with the fate that you’ll meet in his sheets?

You whined at his fingers toying with your sensitive pearl, a wave of wetness beginning to soak the fabric of your panties as the already thin material became damp and cold as it stuck to your plush lips. Your leg shifted off of his lap, a weak and half-hearted attempt to clamp your thighs together in a last-ditch effort to quell the whines and moans that threatened to bubble to the surface.

“No, don’t do that,” Luigi huffed, pulling you into his lap and hooking one of your legs over his. “Don’t start being a brat now, take these off.”

You moaned, letting him pull your shorts off of you and wrapping a hand around his forearm before he threw them somewhere around the room where you knew you’d discover them again in two years.

“Is this okay?” He asked, his large hand stopping just below your navel to rub gentle circles over the soft skin.

“Yeah, it’s fine, just keep going please…” you panted, the buzzing of the RGB TV fading to the back of your mind as your consciousness focused on the slow pace at which Luigi’s fingers pushed themselves into your glossy and slippery cunt.

There was a natural resistance that came with almost two years of celibacy, but you’d be lying if you said your body wasn’t also sucking in the familiarity of your ex-boyfriend at the same time. The stretch was distantly familiar, like a warm face you’d make a frantic attempt to replicate inside a dream in hopes of seeing them again.

Foggy with lust and hot with desperation, his free hand came up to your face, squeezing your cheeks together between his prime four and thumb until the skeleton of your teeth began to resist his advancement. “Watch your movie…you wanted to see it so bad,” he purred.

He kept your eyes trained on the large flatscreen all the while his fingers pumped in and out of you at a steadily increasing pace. The sounds were sinful; gross and sloppy sloshing noises added their own soundtrack to Luigi’s bedroom as your whines and moans grew louder in volume.

Each time his fingers pulled out of you they appeared glossier— like a lip gloss fanatic caking her lips in the glittery and distantly white oils in a glamorous frenzy. The shinier Luigi’s middle and ring fingers got, the closer he watched the scene below as you wet him down to the knuckle.

“You gotta be quiet…you’ll wake the baby,” he chuckled, the hand that kept your eyes on the screen traveling to fold over your mouth.

You nodded, moans clawing their way up your throat and fleeing from the fleshy gateway into the captivity of Luigi’s hand. At this point his hand began bullying that spongy spot inside of you, the pads of his fingers confronting your orgasm head-on as he worked his hands into an almost painful wrist cramp.

Your body stilled as you cried into his palm, tears of long-forgotten ecstasy brimming in your eyes as he shoved you into an orgasm. Your walls fluttered and clenched around him, coating his fingers in a pretty pearly white as he smirked at the muffled string of curses that charged from your mouth.

“There you go…good girl,” he purred, continuing his relentless assault on your cunt with his fingers. “You can give me one more…It’s been too long, I need to feel you” he purred as the near-painful bite of overstimulation gnawed at your flesh.

“It’s okay,” he hummed, watching as your legs shook and threatened to kick from the speed at which his fingers thrust in and out of you. “You can take it.”

His thumb drew tight and gentle circles over your clit, his hand moving over your stomach to hold you in place as your back arched away from his broad chest. Your heartbeat throbbed in your ears as the white blinding veil of euphoria rendered you blind, and keeping yourself quiet was becoming more and more of a struggle.

The screen had long since lost your attention, your tear-filled eyes now focusing on your achy and abused cunt drowning in the euphoria his fingers gave you. It borderlined on being too much— your mind felt like a thousand butterflies swarmed your senses and blocked the receptors in your brain that made you form a sentence.

“Move your hand,” he whispered.

You hadn’t even realized it, but your limp and shaky hand had grabbed at his wrist in a feeble effort to save yourself from his restless hyper-fixating on your pleasure.

“I ca—…can’t ta-ha-ake it..!” You whined, fighting against the strength of a man gone ravenous— feeding off of your moans like sweet nectar from a fresh honeysuckle.

“Oh, well then I’ll make you take something bigger,” he snarled, pulling you up further on his lap so he could pull his sweatpants and grey Calvin Klein boxers down.

His grapefruit pink tip sprung free, the beaded dribbles of salty precum a sinful testimony to how worked up he had been for the past twenty minutes.

“I’m sorry,” he purred into your neck, kissing up and down your jugular, slowly sinking you onto his girthy length with a hypocritically loud grunt of his own.

Your broken moans charged out in the form of barely concealed cries and whines, whispers of profanities ghosting your tongue as they greeted the world with every breath you took. You forgot how massive he was, the bulge that taunted your womb twitching and spasming between your walls with searing anger.

“I’m gonna give you another baby if you keep squeezing me like this…god—“ he rasped, gripping your flesh with a hold that would leave ripe bruises in his wake by morning.

“Please…!” You squealed, holding onto his forearm as he brought your hips up and down on his fat dick.

You weren’t even sure of what you were asking for at this point, much too focused on the feeling of his pretty shaft making your body go numb and tingly with pleasure. The squelches and quiet whimpers from both you and Luigi bounced off of the walls, filling the crazed man’s head with impurities and temptations that only led to him panting harder in your ear.

Both of his arms wrapped securely around your navel, his treatment of you akin to that of a man’s reckless pursuit of some Amazon silicone doll that he unearthed to relieve the tension in his mind every few hours. His fingers pressed into the opposite sides of your hips, forcing you down with such intensity that you were surprised he wasn’t breaking your bones.

He was everywhere; your ear, your neck, your midriff, your cervix, and your mind as his pants and whines grew gruff and heavy. There was minimal chatter, after all, have you ever heard a beast talk to another while desperately rutting into them?

Your eyes inevitably crossed together before they traveled to the back of your skull. Drool fell from your slightly parted mouth, dribbling down your chin and traveling to the black fabric of Luigi’s oversized shirt.

He quite literally fucked you dumb— if anyone were to call and ask you a question, all that would break free was whiny gargles and choked-up sounds, and if they were lucky maybe a syllable.

You wanted to warn him that you were close, but he could already tell from how your gummy and warm walls began to spasm and flutter around him. Following this immediate realization, his left arm untangled itself from around your waist and found purchase on your throat to squeeze its column.

It was shortly after his little air-restricting stunt that you found yourself tensing up again, seizing and shivering as Luigi’s hand clasped over your mouth to silence the loud and teary moan that he knew you would release in that moment. If you were in your right mind you never would’ve been that loud, so you gave props to Luigi for catching your mistake.

Now it was Luigi’s turn to lock up, a deep and guttural moan fleeing from his throat that was a lot less loud compared to what you would have unleashed. He painted your insides white, thick, and hot ropes of ghostly white release that he prayed deep down would pollinate the depths of your womb.

“Fuck,” he panted, rubbing his hands over your hips to soothe the bruises he’d gifted you with. “I love you, you’re so fucking pretty…”

You hummed, the sound high and drawn out as he kept himself nestled deep in your guts. He didn’t exactly expect you to respond after snatching your right mind right out of your brain, so all he did was let out a deep chuckle.

“Goodnight, babe.”

#luigi mangione thoughts #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione x you #luigi mangione fanfiction #luigi mangione fanfic #luigi mangione x y/n #luigi mangione smut #luigi mangione imagine #luigi mangione fic #luigi mangione fluff

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hisaangel · 1 month ago

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Luigi high (🍃) sex

Build up @“& everything

Luigi mangione x reader

cw: mdni, smut, smoking the devils lettuce, nickname: good girl and baby,

the sound of a lighter starting, made your eyes crack open only to find Lu with a joint in his mouth. Setting the fire down before taking a long drag, catching your eyes, staring up at him with a blank expression, taking one last inhale of the joint before taking it out from between his lips and placing it between yours before continuing wih the book placed on his lap.

Taking a long hit, the feeling of your lungs filling up, and the slight burn in your throat before exhaling a cloud of smoke. Your body relaxing and mind starting to fuzz. Taking one more before passing it back to Luigi, repeating the process.

Giggling at the sight of luigi's slightly glossy eyes, moving to his lap, straddling his hips with your thighs, smilling as luigi moves the joint to yours, taking the last hit, and placing the rest down into the ashtray on the coffee table.

Taking your chin pulling you closer to his lips, leaning forward to leave a kiss, slowly pushing his tongue past your lips. His hands tracing down your hips, unable to hold moans back as Luigi places a train of sloppy wet kisses down your neck "My pretty girl".

unable to wait any longer, reaching down to slide his sweetpants and boxers, grabbing his cock, rubbing the precum leaking from his tip, sending a shiver down his spine, bucking his hips. Luigi sliding his hand from your hips down to your panties pushing them to the side before rubbing circles on your clit.

His fingers teasing your hole before slamming two fingers in, curling to hit your g-spot, arching your back at the feeling, luigi whispering "good girl" before setting a brutal pace.

Unable to hold back on your moans and screams, "mhmm so close Lu" causing Luigi to stop his movements, groaning as you fall forward leaning your head on his chest. "i know, i just want you to cum all over my cock"

as he positions his cock at your entrance, grabbing his shoulders as you sink down onto him, the feeling of him stretching you out making your eyes roll to the back of your head, turning you into a mess. "please Lu" grabbing your hips slammering into you, digging your nails into his shoulders and back as he brutally ruined your insides

His thumb moving to your clit, constantly assaulting your clit as a knot in your stomach started to form. Feeling your walls tightening around him as you tell him "im gonna cum lu".

your nails now leaving claw marks all over his back, the pain shooting him over the edge with you, cumming in you before pulling out, lettinng his cum drip out of you down onto his thighs.

pulling you into his chest as he circles his thumb on your back "You did so good for me baby"

#luigi mangione #free luigi #hisaangel #fine shyt #luigi mangione smut #luigi mangione x reader #luigi #luigi mangione fluff #luigi mangione prompt #luigi mangione imagine #mdni #smut #high #luigi is innocent #luigi imagine

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scoutofmymind · 8 days ago

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Hiii, I’m not entirely sure if you do au one shots, but if you do please write a princess x knight trope with Luigi. Him looking out for you during his night shift, watching you with the fiancé your father chose for you despite you two being madly in love.

Your writing is gorgeous, btw! In awe <3

I’m Your Man — {Luigi x Reader}

Content: NSFW— MINORS DNI, kissing, p in v, virgin Luigi, fucked up kingdom politics, reader is a princess with an evil king father lol, this is NOT alpha/Omega or whatever, Luigi was raised as a wild animal killing machine, once again inspired by Mitski

Wc: 6,143

Notes: Like a wolf with its leg in a trap, he'd said, that familiar cruel smile twisting his lips. They'll tear through their own flesh to survive. Imagine what they'd do to yours.

Pain shapes them. The cold hardens them.

A common solider dies for his kingdom, a Grimguard kills for it.

AN: Thank you so so much for this request 💕 I once again took this and ran with it. It actually wasn’t my first Luigi x princess reader request sitting around in my inbox, so come one, come all! I have an inkling I might have questions about this one, so lemme know! I enjoyed writing this very much x

Ps: in order to keep this Drabble length and not fic length, I definitely cut out some backstory . But I hope despite that, it’s easy to follow along xo

You're an angel, I'm a dog

Or you're a dog and I'm your man

You believe me like a god..

I'll destroy you like I am

— I’m your Man, Mitski

Ironmere lies suffocated beneath its winter shroud, the castle's hundred hearths cold and dark save for one — your father's study. You've no choice but to seek its warmth, sprawled across a leather chair that's seen generations of royal lectures.

The fire pops and hisses, each crack of burning wood another tick in your mental count, anything to dull the familiar sermon.

"I must remind you," your father says, pipe smoke coiling around him. His shadow stretches across the study walls, cast by flames that paint the room in shades of amber and gold. "That the Grims are bred for loyalty, my dear." He turns to study your face, but you keep your eyes fixed on the dancing flames, refusing to meet his gaze. "Can be no more your equal than a well-trained dog."

The fire swallows his words, and you wonder if it, too, finds them bitter.

Since catching you at your balcony, tracing the Grimguards' movements with hungry eyes, your father has waged his own quiet war; each day brings a new warning, each meal seasoned with thinly veiled threats meant to plant fear where fascination grows.

But seeds of warning find no purchase in frozen earth.

"Speaking of which," he says, abandoning his chair to stand before the frost-kissed window. Beyond the glass, the Ironmere mountains pierce the steel-gray sky, their jagged peaks collecting snow. The ancient evergreens bow beneath their white burden, branches dripping crystal daggers of ice. "We've taken a new pup out of training. Young one, but promising. He'll be stationed near the South Tower."

They're bringing in a new generation again, stealing youth and binding it in black armor and cold metal muzzles.

Your father's cruelty wears a gentleman's mask, polished and pristine as the rings that adorn his fingers. Time has taught you to see beneath it, to recognize the calculated malice hiding behind words like duty and tradition.

The South Tower stands like a frozen sentinel, eternally facing winter's fury. It's where your father plants his fresh seeds of war, watching come morning with clinical interest as frost either hardens them into soldiers or claims them for the grave.

No coincidence leads new Grimguards there.

They either wake to see another dawn, their breath clouding behind their muzzles, or they join the nameless others whose bones might still rest beneath the tower's foundations.

This is how he plays at being divine — selecting who lives and dies with the casual interest of a man trimming roses; Nature's selection, he calls it, as if nature ever intended for young men to be bound in iron and left to freeze.

"Another child?" The words slip past your guard and your head turns toward him, though the fire still claims most of your attention, its warmth a mockery of comfort.

"No younger than yourself, my love." The endearment falls from his lips like frozen honey — sweet, yet somehow wrong. He speaks of sending a boy your age to stand in winter's cruelest depths, guarding a tower that has stood empty since before your grandmother drew breath. "We've discussed this before," he says, finally abandoning his view of his frost-touched kingdom to fix you with that measured stare. "You ceased being a child the moment you became heir to Ironmere."

You answer with silence and the loud protest of leather against leather as you shift in your chair.

Let him interpret the sound as he wishes — rebellion or resignation, it matters little. In this moment, you think of another young man who whose breath will freeze behind a muzzle while you sit before this fire, counting the ways your father fashions cruelty into crown.

"The muzzle ceremony is their rebirth." His voice takes on that familiar, aristocratic lilt—the same tone he uses when discussing wine vintages or the value of old tapestries. As if he speaks of art rather than chains. "This one's training scores are exceptional. He'll serve the crown well."

You've watched these ceremonies before, hidden in gallery shadows. Seen how they strip away names and replace them with numbers, how they forge living flesh into living weapons. The muzzles aren't just metal — they're shackles of status, marking each Grimguard as something less than human but more than beast. A perfect servant for your father's perfect kingdom.

In your mind, you see another humans eyes, bright with unshed tears as cold iron meets warm skin — another soul bound to Ironmere's frozen heart, while your father speaks of service as casually as one might discuss the weather.

Through frosted windows, you've studied their brutal dance since childhood.

The Grimguards train in Wolfdens outer courtyard where the stones are perpetually slick with ice, where one misstep means more than just a fall. They move like shadows given form, their black armor drinking what little sunlight winters here permit.

The training starts before dawn, when breath freezes mid-air and fingers can barely grip steel. They fight with those peculiar curved blades — somewhere between sword and sickle — that have become as much their signature as the muzzles that cage their faces.

The weapons are deliberately unwieldy at first, designed to strain muscle and test resolve.

Many break their own wrists learning to wield them.

You've counted the phases of their training through seasons.

First, the endless drills until their movements become reflex, then the sparring that leaves red droplets crystallizing on white snow. The masks come early — crude training ones at first, heavy iron things that make it hard to breathe, harder still to see. They learn to fight half-blind, to rely on instinct over sight.

To become creatures of pure reaction.

But it's the endurance training that haunts your dreams.

They stand for days in the bitter cold, perfectly still, until ice forms on their armor. They run barefoot through snow until their feet bleed, then run further still, and some disappear during these tests, their names never spoken again, as if Ironmere itself had swallowed them whole.

Your father calls it necessary refinement.

You call it what it is.

The systematic breaking of human beings until all that remains is loyal steel wrapped in obedient flesh.

It was the whimpering that drew you from your chambers — a sound so foreign in these stone halls where weakness dares not echo. Your footsteps fell like fresh snow as you traced that desperate keening, following it until it transformed into a metallic chattering, silver bars rattling as violent tremors wracked a body fighting to remember warmth.

He doesn’t turn when you found him in the South Tower's breezeway, though surely he heard you.

His silhouette matches the template they all conform to eventually — broad shoulders carved by endless drills, frame solid as the mountain itself, training blacks clung like a second skin, running from throat to wrist in an unbroken line of shadow. Only his gloved hands betrayed movement, fingers flexing and unflexing in a rhythm that matched his shivering.

The new muzzle catches what little moonlight filtered through the frost-laced windows, shaped like a snarling dogs snout, throwing silver patterns across the walls. Too new to have darkened with use, too rigid yet to have molded to his face.

Another wolf being broken to the bit, another hound learning to embrace his cage.

The closer you drift toward him, the more your father's warnings drum against your skull.

Never approach a new Grimguard alone. They're most dangerous before the muzzle takes hold.

The metallic chattering quickens like a death rattle, and the cold seems to deepen, carving into your marrow with ancient teeth, and memory washes over you as you recall exactly what they become — watched them train in the courtyards below your window, witnessed how they move like poetry written in violence, how they strike with the precision of winter's first killing frost.

But this one.

This one still trembles.

His control fractures with each shudder, and you remember how father once told you that a Grimguard is most lethal in the moments they're breaking.

Like a wolf with its leg in a trap, he'd said, that familiar cruel smile twisting his lips. They'll tear through their own flesh to survive. Imagine what they'd do to yours.

Pain shapes them. The cold hardens them.

A common solider dies for his kingdom, a Grimguard kills for it.

"Are you cold?" The whisper escapes before wisdom can catch it, and the transformation is immediate — his trembling ceases as if frozen in time, muscles locking into place with military precision.

Whether it's training or pure shock that stills him, you can't tell.

These new ones are always unpredictable, balanced on a knife's edge between their old instincts and their new purpose.

"I heard you whimpering," you continue, the words hanging dangerous and delicate in the space between you. Through the silver teeth of his muzzle, his breath comes in short, controlled bursts, each exhale creating ghost-white clouds that dissipate against the metalwork.

The pattern is deliberate now — mechanical — as if he's forcing each breath through a carefully memorized cadence, the same measured rhythm you've watched the veteran Grimguard use during their drills, when they're trying to master pain.

You wonder if he's already learning to lie with his body, or if he's simply too terrified to show weakness.

You hover in the uncertainty, unsure what response you're seeking.

The Grimguard are like shadows given form and function — you've spent years watching them from windows and walkways, learning their peculiar language of violence and restraint.

They move in packs through the fortress halls, all lethal grace and barely contained aggression, but you've also witnessed the moments they think no one sees.

A Grimguard pressing their muzzle against a packmate's shoulder after a brutal training session, the silent comfort shared between two hounds who lost their third to a snow bear's claws at the North Gate, and there’s something almost gentle in how they lean into each other then, these weapons your father has forged, finding warmth in the spaces between their brutal purpose.

But those moments are never meant for outsiders' eyes.

They're certainly not meant for the kings daughter, whose very presence reminds them of the hand that holds their leash.

You've seen how quickly they can shift from deadly grace to deadly intent, how the muzzles hide everything except the truth in their eyes.

He turns — slowly, deliberately — and you catch your first glimpse of eyes behind the silver latticework.

They're brown, almost gold in the dim light, and far too lucid for comfort. Not yet hollowed out by more training, not yet carrying that vacant winter-wolf stare that marks the veteran Grimguard.

These eyes study you with an unsettling clarity, as if cataloging every detail of your presence.

His head tilts, just slightly, reminding you of the hunting hounds when they catch an unfamiliar scent, and the motion is too natural, too human. Somehow that makes it worse, as most Grimguard move like they're reading from a manual of precise angles and measured steps.

The muzzle shifts as his jaw works beneath it, and you realize he's trying to decide if he's allowed to speak to you. New recruits often struggle with this — the complex hierarchy of who can command their voice and who must be met with silence.

The princess falls into a grey area their training hasn't covered yet.

Finally, his gloved hand rises, not toward you but to his own throat, fingers pressing against the high collar of his blacks where you know the control runes are etched.

The control runes are your father's masterwork — ancient symbols seared into the skin at throat and spine, binding each Grimguard to the fortress's will.

You've seen them during the marking ceremonies, watched how they burn with a cold blue light as they're carved, how they fade to silvery scars that pulse with each heartbeat.

They serve as both leash and collar, limiting how far a Grimguard can roam from the fortress walls, how much force they can use, who they can harm.

"My Lady." The words emerge like broken glass wrapped in velvet — smooth on the surface but jagged underneath. His voice carries that telltale distortion all new recruits have, as if speaking through layers of frost, but there's something else there. A tremor of defiance, perhaps, or desperation. "The cold is necessary. Part of our conditioning."

He swallows hard, the muzzle's intricate metalwork shifting with the motion. The runes must be burning now — you can see how his fingers dig deeper into his collar, tendons standing out against the black leather of his gloves, but he holds your gaze, those amber eyes still too present, too aware.

Most pups learn to lower their eyes by now.

You notice a tension in how he stands, like a bowstring drawn too tight, and you recognize the stance from watching new recruits, called the Unblooded, in the training yards.

"Necessary," you echo, tasting the word's bitter edge. You've heard your father use that same justification countless times in his workshops, watching dispassionately as fresh recruits screamed through their first exposure to the killing cold. The cold that reshapes them, hardens them, strips away everything warm and human until only the Grimguard remains.

His breathing hitches — just slightly — at your tone.

The runes pulse again, brighter now, a steady rhythm like heartbeats beneath his collar. You notice how his other hand has curled into a fist at his side, leather creaking with the strain, Fighting the compulsion to kneel, perhaps, or fighting the instinct to run.

Both would be equally futile.

"And who told you that?" The question slips out softer than intended, almost gentle — It's dangerous, this curiosity about their lives before the muzzles, before the markings. Your father has warned you repeatedly about seeing them as anything more than what they are now: tools, weapons.

But there's something about this one's eyes, about the way he still holds himself like he remembers another life, that makes you reckless.

You can hear the slight scrape of metal teeth as his jaw clenches beneath the muzzle. When he finally speaks, his voice has splintered, "The Keeper himself, my Lady. Your father."

You hear the sound of boots approaching, the groundslurkers making their rounds to assure everything is just-so.

"Inside," you murmur, touching the frozen door behind you. Not a command, but an invitation. A dangerous one. No Grimguard is allowed in the royal quarters unless specifically ordered by your father.

The punishment would be severe.

He knows this.

You see the conflict ripple across what's visible of his face, the way his fingers twitch toward his turtleneck collar, but the patrol's footsteps are getting closer, and you've already seen too much.

You push the door open wider, letting candlelight spill onto the frost-rimed stones. "Choose quickly."

For a moment, he's perfectly still, like the ice sculptures in the winter garden, then he moves — one fluid step through the doorway, silent as snow despite his armor, and you close the door just as the patrol rounds the corner, their heavy boots echoing past without pause.

In your chambers, he looks desperately out of place.

The black armor and cruel angles of his muzzle stark against the rich tapestries and furs. He stands rigid, carefully not touching anything, as if afraid his mere presence might taint the warmth of the room.

In all your life in the palace, you've never dared to get this close. The Grimguard are your father's shadows, his weapons — to be glimpsed from afar, never examined.

But now.

You circle him slowly, studying the way frost creeps along the joints of his armor, how it crystallizes in delicate patterns where leather meets metal. Up close, you can hear the soft crackle of ice forming and reforming with each breath, see how the cold radiates from him in barely visible waves that make the air shimmer.

The muzzle is even more intricate than you'd imagined.

Delicate silverwork overlays darker metal, creating a lattice of thorns and frozen vines that cage the lower half of his face. You can see now why they call it a muzzle rather than a mask — it's fitted precisely to his features, allowing just enough movement to speak when commanded, but designed to remind both wearer and observer of its purpose.

Control.

Your hand lifts before you can stop yourself, drawn to the impossible intricacy of it. His whole body goes rigid, but he doesn't step back. This close, you can see the minute tremors running through him — fighting against something you don't fully understand, or reacting to your proximity, or both.

"Does it hurt?" you whisper, fingers hovering just above the metalwork. "All the time, or only when-“

"Yes." The word comes out rough, barely above a whisper. He hasn't spoken this long without a command in who can say exactly how long. "Always. But more when..." He trails off, eyes flickering to your still-raised hand, then away.

More when fighting whatever's been done to him, you realize.

More when showing any trace of humanity.

Your hand trembles slightly, caught between pulling back and closing that final distance. The cold radiates against your skin, a warning or an invitation— you're not sure which.

You've never heard one of them admit to pain before.

They're not supposed to feel anything at all.

But he does feel.

He hurts.

His eyes widen, a flash of something — fear, hope? — breaking through their frozen surface.

"Let me help you," you say softly, reaching for the intricate clasps of the muzzle nestled in his wavy, black hair. "Just while we're here. No one will know."

"You can't," he says, the words strained. Even this small act of refusal seems to cost him. "The cold will hurt you. And if the Keeper—"

"My father isn't here," you interrupt, your voice steady despite the way your heart pounds. "And I'm not afraid of the cold."

You're close enough now to see how the metalwork digs into his skin, how even the simple act of speaking makes the thorns beneath the sides of his muzzle bite deeper.

All these years, you never knew the muzzles were lined.

Never wanted to know.

His breath catches as your fingers brush the first clasp, but he remains perfectly still, caught between what he's been made to be and what you're offering him — a moment of freedom, no matter how brief.

The clasp comes free with a sharp click, and his whole body jerks as if struck. A soft sound escapes him — pain or relief, you can't tell, as frost spreads rapidly across the metal where your fingers made contact, but you refuse to pull away.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, working on the next clasp. "I'll be quick." The cold bites into your fingertips now, sharp and hungry, but you can see how the muzzle's grip has already loosened slightly, allowing him to take a deeper breath. “Are they all like this?”

His hands clench at his sides, trembling with the effort to remain still, and each release of a thorn seems to send shockwaves through him, as if the very act of being freed is its own kind of agony. But he doesn't stop you, doesn't pull away — and that tells you more than words ever could.

The facade of silver and shadow begins to come apart under your careful touch, revealing glimpses of what lies beneath; you try not to think about how long it's been since anyone has seen his true face, or why your father thought it necessary to cage him so thoroughly.

"No," he manages, voice tight as you work on another clasp. "Not all. This one is special." There's a bitter edge to the word that makes you pause.

The implications sink in slowly. Your father must have designed this one specifically for him — more thorns, more pain, more control. Because he was different somehow. Because he fought back.

You examine the cruel metalwork with new understanding, noting how the thorns are positioned to punish speech, expression, any hint of defiance, your fingers tracing a particularly deep puncture mark, and he goes completely still, hardly breathing.

"Almost done," you promise, though your hands are nearly numb from the cold now. Each clasp reveals more evidence of long-term torture disguised as restraint. The more you see, the more questions burn in your throat, “Why’d they give you one like this?”

He's quiet for so long you think he won't answer, the final clasp coming free under your trembling fingers, but he makes no move to remove the muzzle completely.

"I remembered," he finally says, "Something I wasn't supposed to. My name." His eyes meet yours, and there's something terrible in their depths — not just pain, but knowledge. "They take everything when they make us, but I kept one thing."

He stops abruptly, as if even this small confession costs him dearly, and you can see the thorns pressing deeper as he speaks, drawing pinpoints of darkness that might be blood, might be something else entirely, yet he hardly reacts.

The pain hardly registers.

A weapon isn't supposed to remember who it used to be.

But this one does.

“What’s your name?”

His breath catches at your question, and you can see him fighting against years of conditioning, against the very magic that binds him, and the room grows colder, frost crystallizing on the windowpanes.

"L-" he starts, then gasps as if the very attempt causes him physical pain. His hands clench. "Luigi," he finally manages, the name coming out in a rush of frozen air.

You repeat the name softly, testing its weight, and he shudders at the sound of it from another person's lips. How long has it been since anyone has called him by his real name? How many years of being nothing but a number, a weapon, a Grimguard?

This is where it began.

And soon, you find yourself inventing excuses to avoid Duke Aldrich of Brindsborough's tedious evening calls. Instead, your nights belong to these stolen moments; you and Luigi seated on the floor of your chambers, knees touching, sharing whispered confessions in the candlelight.

He teaches you how the Grimguards sleep — bodies intertwined for warmth in the cold stone kennels, finding comfort in the press of limbs and shared breath. The first time he shows you, hesitantly arranging your bodies so your back fits against his chest, you understand.

It's not just for warmth — it's about trust.

You learn to read the minute changes in his expression, the things he can't say even without the muzzle. He learns your tells, too — the way you twist your rings when you're anxious, how your laugh changes when you're truly happy versus when you're playing the perfect princess.

These evenings become your refuge whilst the rest of the castle prepares for your upcoming marriage to a man you barely tolerate, you and Luigi build something fragile and precious in secret candlelight.

You tell him about the time you were seven, and you snuck your injured falcon into your bedroom instead of letting the gamekeeper "take care of it." You'd splinted its wing with strips torn from your favorite dress and fed it scraps from your dinners for weeks. Your father had been furious when he found out — not because you'd ruined the dress, but because you'd shown weakness.

Mercy was unbecoming of a princess.

The next memory stands out sharp and clear — that particular night when everything shifted.

You'd barely managed to secure the door's heavy lock before Luigi abandoned his usual restraint, muzzle yanked off. One moment you were turning, the next your back hit the floor with a soft thump, driving a surprised laugh from your chest.

His movements were pure instinct, almost feral — nothing like the rigid control the Grimguards usually displayed. Cool lips and nose traced your neck once you’d pulled his muzzle away, your collarbone, your hair, erasing every lingering trace of Duke Aldrich's cloying cologne. Each brush of contact sent shivers down your spine, not from cold but from the intensity of his need to claim, to possess.

"Marking your territory, are you?" you whispered through breathless giggles, fingers threading through his hair. The words made him pause, and you felt him tense — caught between embarrassment at his display and a deeper, darker urge to continue.

You could feel his breath against your throat, quick and uneven. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough. "He touched you. I could smell him on you all evening. I couldn't. I can't-“

Instead of pulling away, you tugged him closer, understanding flooding through you. This wasn't just possession — it was protection, desperation, love transformed by whatever magic had remade him into something wild and fierce. "I'm here," you whispered. "I'm yours."

A sound rumbled deep in his chest — not quite human, not quite animal—and his grip on you tightened almost painfully. The temperature plummeted, frost blooming across the flagstones in intricate spirals, but you weren't cold.

Not where he touched you.

"Mine," he breathed against your skin, the word holding years of denied wanting. His control, already fragile, splintered further. You felt the magic that bound him surge and twist, fighting against this claiming that went against everything they'd bred him to be.

Grimguards weren't meant to want.

Weren't meant to possess anything but their duty.

Yet here he was, trembling above you, eyes dark with need as they met yours. One hand cradled your face with impossible gentleness, even as the other gripped your waist with bruising intensity. The contradiction of him — deadly weapon and tender protector, ice and burning want — made your heart race.

"Say it again," he pleaded, voice rough with desperation.

You reached up, traced the scars where the muzzle had been, and watched his eyes flutter closed at your touch. "I'm yours, Luigi," you whispered. "Only yours."

The moment your fingers trace those scars, Luigi shudders violently, a full-body tremor that sends cascades of ice crystals shimmering through the air. His breath hitches, catches — no one has ever touched him there, not with such tenderness, not since they first bound him.

But then he does something that steals your breath — he leans into your touch. Like a half-wild thing learning trust, he presses his face against your hand, nuzzling into your palm.

His skin is cold as ever, but his breath comes hot against your wrist. When his lips brush your skin — tentative, questioning — you feel the ghost of frost patterns blooming up your arm.

"Warm," he murmurs, sounding almost drunk on the sensation. "You're so warm." His eyes are half-lidded now, tension melting from his shoulders even as his grip on your waist remains possessive, and the contradiction fascinates you — how he can seem so dangerous and so vulnerable in the same moment.

You trace another scar, and this time he makes a sound that's almost a purr, deep in his chest. The ice spreading across your chambers takes on a soft, pearlescent glow, as if reflecting his pleasure. It's intoxicating, this power to gentle him with just your touch, to make the fearsome Grimguard melt like snow in spring.

When his eyes open to meet yours again, they're heavy with an emotion that makes your heart stutter. The gold in them has darkened to midnight, pupils blown wide. "More.” he whispers, and it's both a plea and a demand.

With trembling fingers, you map the constellations of his scars, each touch drawing new sounds from him — soft gasps and broken whimpers that make your chest tight. The marks are smooth beneath your fingertips, silver-white against his olive skin. You trace them all; the deep grooves where the muzzle's straps cut in, the lighter marks across his jaw where they tested different bindings.

His control slips further with each caress, and frost flowers bloom and fade on your skin where his hands roam, leaving trails of delicious cold that make you shiver. When your thumb brushes the corner of his mouth — where the metal once forced his silence — he catches it gently between his teeth, eyes locked on yours as he presses a kiss to your fingertip.

"They told us we couldn't feel," he murmurs against your hand. "That the binding stripped everything but duty.” He presses his forehead to yours, breathing ragged. "With you, I feel everything."

You curl your fingers into his hair and pull him down, eliminating the last space between you. His lips are cool against yours, but they warm quickly as you show him this new way to be close, to trust, to want.

He learns fast, desperate and eager, like a man who's been dying of thirst finally given water.

You feel it in every desperate roll of his hips, that untamed creature beneath his skin — the one the Grimguard could never fully bind. It surfaces in the frost that spreads beneath his palms where they bracket your head, in the way his breath comes in ragged pants against your neck, hot despite his perpetual cold.

He's beautiful like this — composure shattered, cheeks flushed an impossible pink against his beautiful skin, and his eyes are blown wide, that ethereal chestnut brown nearly swallowed by black, and they catch the light like stars when he gazes down at you.

There's something almost painful in his expression — wonder and desperation and disbelief all tangled together.

The friction between you draws broken sounds from his throat, primal and unrestrained. His movements are instinctive, graceless — so different from his usual precise control, each roll of his hips against your thigh becoming more frantic than the last, his whole body trembling with need.

"Please," he gasps, though you're not sure what he's begging for. You’re almost certain he doesn't know either. His fingers curl against the floor, "Please, I can't- I need-"

You reach up to thread your fingers through his hair again, drawing him down until his forehead rests against yours, and he whimpers at the contact, hips stuttering in their rhythm.

This close, you can see every emotion flash across his face — vulnerability and hunger and love so intense it steals your breath.

The wild thing in him recognizes its match in you, and neither of you want to tame it anymore.

His voice trembles as he tries to find the words, years of enforced silence warring with raw need. You cradle his face in your hands, thumbs brushing his cheekbones.

"Tell me," you whisper. "I want to hear you say it."

"I-" he starts, then breaks off with a shaky exhale.

"I need to be closer.” He whispers, his movements between your legs desperate and juvenile, but there’s something so, so sweet about it.

He’s reduced himself to raw and visceral need, and cares little for how it makes him look, this feared Grimguard, a hound who sleeps in piles with his pack, a weapon of mass destruction, a human being. He’s flayed himself open for you, guts spilling forth, red hot and oxblood — this primeval need, this unfiltered want.

It simply is not something you’d ever find in anyone else.

Specifically the Fiancé your father has hand-selected.

Luigi groans as you guide him where you need him, the sound low and broken against your throat. Your nightgown rides higher, silk cool against fevered skin. His grip on your hip tightens instinctively, and you gasp at the perfect pressure of frost-touched fingers.

Each roll of his hips is hungry, instinctive — like his body remembers what his mind was forced to forget. You wonder if he dreams of this, if behind those crystalline eyes he imagines all the ways he could unravel you. If during those long, cold nights in his chamber, thoughts of you haunted him like this.

The friction builds a delicious heat that makes your head spin. You arch against him, chasing more, and his breath hitches at the way you move. His eyes are wild when they meet yours — desperate and wanting and almost afraid of how much he needs this.

The etiquette mistress would faint if she knew the thoughts that filled your head during lessons now — memories of frost-touched skin and desperate sounds and the way Luigi says your name like a prayer.

You guide Luigi beneath you, and he goes willingly, eyes wide with wonder as you settle above him, his hands tracing paths of up your thighs, mapping you like something precious, something sacred, each touch leaving ghostly patterns on your skin that fade like morning mist.

The silk of your dress whispers between you as his fingers trail higher, catching on your collarbone where your necklace rests, transfixed by the way the pendant rises and falls with your quickening breath, by how the gold warms against your skin while his touch remains winter-cold.

"Closer," you echo, fingers curling in the hem of his black shirt. You draw it up slowly, exposing him inch by inch, the moonlight streaming through the window catching on old scars that map his abdomen like constellations — some precise and surgical, others jagged and cruel.

Your heart aches at their implications, but now isn't the time to count his wounds.

Not when he's looking at you like this, like you're everything he was told he could never have.

His breath hitches as your hands explore the newly exposed skin, and the temperature drops further with each touch, frost spiraling out beneath him in intricate patterns that match his racing pulse.

"Please," he gasps, and you're not sure if he's begging you to stop or never stop. Maybe both. The wild thing in him is closer to the surface than ever, making his eyes glow like arctic stars in the darkness. "I need- I don't know how to-"

You lean down until your foreheads touch, breaths mingling in the frost-edged space between you. His skin radiates winter's chill everywhere except where his heart beats strong beneath your palm. You can feel him trembling, power barely contained.

"Let me show you," you whisper against his lips, cradling his face. His eyes are luminous in the darkness, filled with vulnerability and desperate trust. The temperature drops as his control frays further, delicate patterns of frost blooming across every surface.

"I've never-" he starts, voice breaking.

You silence him with a gentle kiss. "I know," you breathe. "I've got you. You're safe, Lu."

His fingers flex against your arms as emotions war across his face — years of isolation and fear battling with his need to be known, to be accepted exactly as he is. The wild thing in him strains closer to the surface with each passing moment. "Let go," you tell him softly. "I got you."

You pour all your love into another kiss, wet and hot, showing him that he's worthy of gentleness, of care.

That he doesn't have to hold himself back anymore.

And he doesn’t.

You watch in wonder as his composure fractures, that usually fixed expression melting into something vulnerable and raw, his hands grasping you like an anchor as his careful control slips further.

The temperature drops with each shared breath, but you've never felt warmer.

His face — usually so guarded, bearing scars that speak of battles fought alone - is transformed. Open. Trusting. His lips part on silent pleas as his eyes lock with yours, glowing like arctic stars, and the wild thing in him is closer to the surface than ever.

You've never seen anything more beautiful than this proud, powerful man allowing himself to be soft for you. To be vulnerable. His fingers flex against your skin as another tremor runs through him.

"You're safe," you whisper, rocking your hips against his in a slow rhythm that allows the both of you to adjust. "You're mine."

The sound he makes is something between a sob and a prayer, raw with years of loneliness and need. You kiss him deeply, showing him with every touch that he's worthy of this — of pleasure, of care, of love freely given, and he takes just as his heart desires.

It hardly takes him any time before he’s got the hang of it, raw and needy, soft but strong.

He shoves his face in your neck once you’ve been laid on your back again, his teeth biting gently into the soft flesh of the curve in your shoulder, his instincts still lingering, but you welcome them and each mark he leaves against your skin, the rhythm of his hips sloppy and wild but achingly free, your own body cherished as if he’d come undone at your altar.

He worships you, just as the Grimguards are meant to worship their Keeper — his devotion raw and unfiltered, his gaze defiant and steady, “I love you.” He says, the words feeling like a foreign language, but one you had taught him to speak. “So much it hurts.”

#req #I’m literally psycho #yall idk I can’t just be like here’s the knight and he loves the princess!#it has to be so much more insane than that #anyway.. enjoy #luigi mangione fanfic #luigi mangione fanfiction #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione x yn #fanfic #IYM

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meowhara · 1 year ago

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Halloween Special🔮

Mafia!Miguel O'Hara x Fem Bunny Hybrid!Reader

cw : none! cry baby reader ig 😌

author's note : Tbh I almost delete this draft because of how boring it is (at least in my opinion). I got a better story idea midway of writing this but I don't have any time to redo so here you go. Sorry if it's too boring to read :)

"What is Halloween?" You asked as you laid on your stomach on a red fluffy sofa and scrolls through your pink phone (that he just bought for you) in his office.

"Halloween? Oh it's a celebration where you go around the neighborhood wearing stupid costumes and trick or treating people in order to collect candies." He said with a snarl. He couldn't even remember when was the last time he went trick or treating. But he does remember a childhood memory of him and Gabriel, walking in the middle of the night dressing up as Mario and Luigi. The memory of them laughing with mouthful of candies in their mouth.

You gasp, interrupting his train of thought. "I want to wear costumes! I never got to wear one before!" You said as you start skipping excitedly towards his working desk where he is sitting right now. "You? Want to wear costumes?" He look up at you through his lashes as if you just said an utterly stupid idea, not taking his reading glasses off before he continue working on some business paper on his desk.

You nodded, "Please... Pretty please?" Miguel ignores you and continue signing tons of paperworks that he needs to work on. "Is that a yes?" You asked again, hoping that he'll let you dress up for the up coming Halloween which is today. He stood up suddenly and starts walking towards the exit of his office. "Aww Miguel? Please??" You said as you follow behind him.

He kept ignoring you and kept walking towards the front door. "Miguel... Pleaseee? Just let me dress up this one time for Halloween." You kept begging and tugging on his sleeve while looking up at him with the biggest puppy eyes he has ever seen. He stopped in front of the door to put his coat and black frame red lens sunglasses on. Before looking down at you with an annoyed expression, "Lyla, help and make her whatever costume she wants." He said while looking at Lyla who's busy typing on her phone with her back leaning onto the nearest wall.

She rolled her eyes before standing up back straight. "Why me? I'm busy too you know?" She sneered as he looks at Miguel and crossing her arms in front of her chest. But he didn't say anything before walking out the door and driving away with some of his men.

You let out an exited squeak and your small fluffy bunny tail starts to wag in excitement before you turned to look at Lyla with a wide happy smile on your face. She let out a frustrated sigh and rubs her face with her palm before she looks at you, feeling defeated. "Come on you little ball of fur." You happily follows behind her towards the living room.

Miguel is sitting on the back seat of his car as his second man in command drives him to a meeting he needed to attend. "Cancel all the plans I have for this evening." He said while he lit up his cigarette. "Sir, but your schedule are packed today. You have several important meetings to attend to." The man behind the wheel said. "I don't care. I don't want to be interrupted for the rest of my evening." Miguel said after he puffed a cloud full of smoke from his mouth. "Is it because of Y/N?" The driver raised one of his eyebrows at Miguel and looked at him through the rear view mirror. Miguel was caught off guard from the question, he let out an offended scoff. "No. One more word out from your mouth and I'll cut your tongue off." He growls before the driver let out a satisfied chuckle and focus back on the road.

"So what do you want to dress up as, Y/N?" Lyla asked you as she tried to look up for costume references online with her phone. "I want to be umm what's the name of the little girl with red cloak?"

"Red cloak— Little red riding hood?" She said with an eyebrow raised at you. "Yes her! I want to dress up as her. I thought it would fit me." You said with a bright smile. "Why don't you just dress up as a bunny? You have the ears already right? Wouldn't that be easier?" She obviously doesn't want to make anything too complicated since this is not the part of her job, babysitting her boss's little girlfriend? Yeah right.

"But I want to be the little red riding hood..." You pouts, hoping that will make her change her mind. "Ugh fine. You're lucky you're so cute." She pinch your cheek softly before standing up. "Where are you going, Lyla?" You asked, wondering why she stood up suddenly. "You want a costume right? Don't you need some fabric for that?" She said as she walks to the front door and put her black leather jacket and her black motorcycle helmet on. "Right... Can I come with you?" She just sigh, "Y/N, Miguel will chop my head off if I let you out without his supervision. Just stay at home and wait okay?" Your bunny ears fall backwards from disappointment but you nodded anyway.

After she went out to buy some fabric and other things to help you make a costume she then came back to Miguel's masion. You spend the whole day with her making your costume using an old sewing machine she somehow found in Miguel's basement. Lyla made the red cloak and a matching little red riding hood inspired dress. She even bought a small brown basket to match your costume.

Miguel came back home right after you finished making the costumes you wanted. He entered the living room just to find it messy with fabrics everywhere. Lyla rests her head against the sofa's back pillows with her eyes closed. "You need to pay me extra for this you know?" She said still with her eyes closed. "Where is Y/N?" He asked, ignoring what she just said to him. But she just replied back with a shrug.

"Lyla—" He raised his voice before you hugged him from the back. "Miguel! You're back." He turned to look at you and his expression softens instantly. "What are you dressing up as?" He asked as an amused smile appeared across his face. You gave him a quick 360° spin to show your costume off to him. "Little red riding hood! Do you like it?"

The way your red cloak's hood covers your head, leaving your beautiful mostly adorable face for him to look at and the way your bunny ears are hidden by the hood. And how the matching dress Lyla made for you makes you look even more adorable to look at, it does suit you perfectly. His little red riding hood, he thought to himself. Deep down he's in love with how you look but he's too embarrassed to say it. "It looks okay."

You tilt your head to the side and took the hood off, exposing you bunny ears as it straightened back up like usual. "You... Don't like it?" You said with a sad tone which made Miguel regret his answer right away. "No— no. I do like it. You look... Good." Your face lit up right away, "You think so?" He just nodded, worried that another stupid word out of his mouth will make you upset.

You giggles and hug him tight. He got surprised by your sudden hug but he hugs you back any way, as gentle as possible. You then look up at him with the brightest smile that stole his heart every single time he looks at you smiling at him. You pull away before you jump a little to gave him a little kiss on the cheek. His face turned into a redder shade right away from your kiss which makes you giggle even more. Lyla rolled her eyes as she watches her boss getting flustered from a kiss that you just gave him. She cleared her throat to catch your attention, "Don't you have a surprise for Miguel, Y/N?"

"Right! I do have a surprise for you." You said before taking a small pile of clothing that you neatly folded from the living room table. "What is this?" He said before taking it from you. "A costume for you. I thought it might be even better if you dress up with me." He unfolded the clothing, trying to figure out what kind of costume it is. It looks like a pretty long black cape with red fabric in the inner side of the cape. "You want me to wear this?" He asked, unsure whether he wanted to accept your request or not. At the same time he doesn't want to hurt your feelings.

"Yes, it's a vampire costume— I mean cloak. I mean you just need to put that over your suit since your outfit is already kind of... Vampirey enough." You said sheepishly. "No. That's not going to happen." He fold the cloak and offers it back to you. "B— but I worked hard to make that cape for you... Please just wear it." You begs, trying to make him change his mind.

"Don't be such an asshole boss. She made it for you, at least wear it for her." Lyla jumped into the conversation because she feels bad if Miguel just turned down your hard work just like that. He look at you for a while before letting out a long and tired exhale, "Fine. I'll wear it. But just for today." Your face lit up once again as he wears the cape. "You know what will make the costume look better, Y/N? Fake fangs." She teased.

Instead, you took her teasing seriously and starts dragging Miguel with you towards his bedroom where you make him sat down in front of the mirror to put fake fangs on him. "Is this really necessary?" He pouts likes a child. "Mhm it is. It's Halloween after all." You said while you put the fangs on him without him complaining at all, different from usual. "I regret telling you anything about Halloween." He mumbles before checking himself on the mirror and taking a look at the fake fangs.

"So, what do you think?" Your eyes are focused on his reflection on the mirror. But he didn't answer, he just stares at you from the mirror. "Miguel, are you okay? Are you mad at me?" He starts walking towards you slowly with his brows knitted together, angry. "M— Miguel? What's wrong?" You backs away from him, you can feel fear surging through you veins from how different he acts all of the sudden.

The back of your legs are now pressed against the bed, leaving you no more room to escape. His eyes are looking down at you like a predator looking at it's prey. Now you know how much fear the little red riding hood must felt when she met the wolf in disguise. You can hear your own heartbeat in your ears from how scared you felt at the moment. Your bunny ears fall backwards when you're feeling scared or nervous and you can feel your legs shaking in fear.

Miguel pounce at you, tackled you off your feet before your back landed on the bed. You screamed and put your hands in front of your face for protection. But to your surprise Miguel let out a laugh, "Can't believe you fall for that, little one." He said before smothering your face with kisses. "W—what?" You look up at him with fear, tears blurring your vision. "I was just messing with you. No need to get so worked up over it." He teased as he starts kissing your neck and nibbles on it gently.

"Why would you do that for?" You can't stop yourself from crying, some tears fell from your eyes before you wiped it all away. "Aww don't cry. Why are you crying?" He teases even more and move aside so you can get back up on your feet. You know how much of a tease he is when you two are in private, especially when he's in a very good mood. "You scared me." You said as you sat back up angrily before looking away from him.

He smirked and gave you a soft kiss on the forehead, "My bad, little one. Come on don't be mad, I was just toying with you." You look away from him with your hands crossed in front of your chest to show that you're mad at his joke. "Little one? Please talk to me. I'm sorry okay? I mean it." He motions your head to face him with his hand before caressing your chin with his thumb while looking at you with an apologetic expression. An idea came up in your head before your face softens a little, "I'll forgive you if you let me go trick or treating tonight." You said with a smirk, challenging him.

"Oh getting smarter aren't you. I like that. But no trick or treating. You know how dangerous it is at this hour, little one."

"Why? Everybody went outside already! I don't want to miss anything." You said with a small pout. "By me letting you dress up and even let myself dress up because you asked me to is a miracle itself, trust me."

"You're lame." You grumbled under your breath. "Care to repeat that? I don't think you're loud enough the first time you said it."

You ignore him and it's getting on his nerves but he's trying to keep himself calm for your sake. "It's getting late. Let's go downstairs and eat dinner."

Throughout the dinner you're awfully quiet and kept playing with your food, not eating any of it. He understood by now how pissed you are just because he didn't let you to go out. He didn't allowed you to do one thing that everybody does on Halloween and it's pissing you off, horribly. "Y/N, please just eat your food. I got you your favorite carrot, the freshest even. I know you're upset but you can't starve yourself like this." He said, trying to make you understand the situation better. "Look I know how pissed off you are by how I'm being overprotective. But you need to understand that this is for your own good." He kept trying to persuade you with his words. But you're too angry to listen. "You're just being selfish." You hissed at him, making his heart break.

He tried to think of a way to make you at least a little bit happier. He called one of his men to prepare something for you in order to make it up to you. "Look I know I can't let you out to go trick or treating. But I prepared a batch of candies outside my door so kids can take those. So, you won't missed out anything since you can still watch people coming by from inside the house. You can even greet them yourself if you want." He said with so much warmth in his voice. You stood up quicker than the speed of light, "Really? I can do that?!" He nods before you jumped at him to give him a big hug. "Thank you thank you thank you!"

"In one condition. You need to finish your dinner first." You nodded before eating your dinner as fast as you can before you rush towards the front door and sat by the window, waiting for anyone to come up to take candies from the big container full of candies.

Miguel just smiled as he watches you from the living room, your bunny tail waging in excitement. He's happy that you're happy and that's what matters the most for him. Paperworks waited for him upstairs so he went back inside his office to work while you're still sitting near the window with his sidekicks watching over you for him.

Hours has passed and he's still up in his office, busy until he heard a knock on his door. "Come in." Eyes still glued to his work, one of his sidekick enters his office. "Sir, it's Y/N. She's umm how do I explain this? She's been very quiet for the past hour and her ears— it's not standing up. You know what I mean?" He sigh before looking up from his paperwork to his sidekick. "Is she asleep?" He asked, tiredness filled his voice. "No I think she's crying..." Miguel rubs his eyes with his palms before rushing out from his office, "Oh for fuck's sake."

"Sir, don't you want to take that ridiculous costume off." His sidekick complaints, tugging on his vampire cloak that you made just for him. "Touch it one more time and I'll break your hands myself." He growls before his sidekick raised his hands up, off of the cape. "Sorry."

Miguel saw you weeping on the floor, still with your little red riding hood costume on. "Hey, little one. What's wrong?" He crouched down beside you just to find your face wet from tears. "I waited and waited for hours but nobody came... Why didn't they show up?"

Miguel didn't think about the fact that his mansion is just too scary for any kids— anyone to walk to his door and take some candies. "Look, maybe they didn't know there are candies there. We can try again next year okay?" He patted your back as an attempt to calm you down. "Is it my outfit? Did they not like my outfit?" You asked in between sobs, you couldn't believe all that hardwork you spend on making costumes are wasted just like that. "Of course not. You look gorgeous! Next year I promise we'll go out together on Halloween okay? So you can go trick or treating." You wipe your tears away and look up at him, "Promise?"

"Promise." He said before he pulls you into a hug. The hug lasted for quite a while before you let out a loud yawn. He laughs before pulling away from the hug, "Let's go to bed, little one. You look sleepy." He helps you to get back on your feet. "Don't people watch scary movies on Halloween? I haven't done that yet." You mumbles as you rub your eyes with the back of your hands. Miguel look up at his watch, the time is currently showing 11 PM. "It's past your bedtime and besides you wouldn't even last a second watching a horror movie."

"Just one movie... I promise I'll go to sleep right away." He never wanted you to stay too long after your bedtime but he let it slide this time. "One movie okay? Then you'll go to bed right away." You smile happily before you two made your way towards the living room then sat down on the sofa.

He turn the TV on, "What do you want to watch?" He asked as he sat down beside you, you're sitting down comfortably leaning over his massive build. "I want to watch horror movies!" He can tell just by how exited you are that you never watched any horror movie before. He shook his head with a smile before he picked any random movie for you to watch. His arms found it's way around your shoulder, pulling your body closer to his.

Five minutes into the movie and you're fast asleep, snoring softly with your ears falling to the side. He smiles to himself again before carrying you upstairs like a baby. He then put you down on his bed, he doesn't even bother to take your costume off since he know how much you like wearing it.

He planted a light kiss on your forehead, "Good night, my little red riding hood."

#hybrid reader #mafia fanfic #yandere miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #yandere mafia #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #mafia au #halloween #halloween special #yandere #yandere miguel x reader

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pinkcreamypeach · 5 days ago

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A glimpse of my princess peach redesign ❤️ 🩷

Story if you wanna read lol.

“I wouldn't change a thing about you.”

(Peach x Mario)<-- Mario centered

TW- Body dysmorphia (Making Mario having my problems too😈)

@keylovesstuff @bberetd @peaches2217 @supergay-64

“…Principessa…?” Mario murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as Princess Peach guided him along the winding path of the mushroom forest.

Towering mushroom trees stretched high into the sky, their thick trunks rising like ancient sentinels draped in a breathtaking palette of warm hues deep reddish ambers, soft pinkish oranges, and golden yellows. Their massive caps, speckled with whimsical spots, were adorned with tufts of cloudy moss that clung to them like nature’s own delicate embroidery. Above them, the sky was wrapped in a gentle veil of cloud-like wisps, their soft embrace diffusing the sun’s golden glow. A flock of tiny birds flitted through the air, startled by the distant laughter of Toads who dashed merrily through the sun-dappled forest, their carefree joy blending seamlessly with the tranquil beauty of the scene.

Peach walked beside him, radiant in her rococo-inspired gown, a vision of elegance in soft pink silk. The dress cascaded in delicate folds, adorned with dainty bows at its hem, each ribbon catching the light with the subtlest shimmer. Her lips, painted in a perfect shade of heart-shaped pink, curved into a serene smile, while her sapphire earrings tinged with just the faintest touch of rose swayed gently with every graceful step.

In her hand, she carried an exquisite lace parasol, its intricate design a masterpiece of craftsmanship. Made from the finest ivory satin, it exuded an air of regal sophistication, the fabric’s luxurious sheen complementing the ornate floral lace that traced its edges like a whispered promise of romance. A polished metallic handle gleamed beneath her delicate grasp, its smooth surface cool against her gloved fingers. The parasol’s weightless frame allowed her to twirl it effortlessly, casting a soft shade over her as she hummed a quiet melody.

Mario felt her fingers entwine with his her dainty, gloved hands, silk-soft and gentle, mingling with his own, roughened by years of work. Her touch was light, almost featherlike against the calloused leather of his palms. The contrast was stark yet harmonious, their hands intertwined like two mismatched puzzle pieces that, against all odds, fit perfectly together.And as they strolled through the forest, bathed in golden light and the laughter of the wind through the leaves, Mario couldn’t help but wonder if this was real? Could someone as graceful, as ethereal as her truly hold his hand so effortlessly?

Her dainty, round fingers intertwined with his rough, bulky ones. Her soft, silky opera gloves met the worn, weathered texture of his leather palms, a contrast so stark it made his stomach tighten.Peach’s delicate face was partly obscured by the shade of her parasol, but the moment she smiled. His heart pounded as he looked at her… then at himself.

His overalls stained, frayed at the edges, the burn marks on the pockets standing out like scars. His boots, scuffed and old, gave him a slight lift, but next to Peach, he still felt unbearably small. Too short. Too broad. Too… wrong.

He always knew he wasn’t conventionally attractive. His nose too big. His arms too thick. His stomach no matter how much weight he lost, it never looked right. Spike had the kind of presence Mario never could. Tall. Intimidating. Assured. And Mario? He had tried. He had tried so hard.Diets. Exercise. Even considered surgery anything to fix what was broken, to smooth out the ugliness he was certain others saw.

Luigi did what he could, reassured him when the thoughts got too loud, but it never lasted. No matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, the truth was clear. His body was something to be tolerated, not loved.And as he stood there, hands clammy, heart sinking, he realized something bitter..Peach would never see him the way he saw her. No one would. Not when he looked like this.

Mario's eyes fluttered as Peach suddenly stopped him, her grip tightening around his hand. He barely had time to process before she leaned down, her presence closer, more immediate.

His breath hitched.

Her parasol, now closed, rested elegantly over her arm, but her focus was entirely on him. Her soft lips curled into a gentle frown, her brows knitting together in quiet concern. Her sapphire eyes, always so bright, searched his face with the kind of tenderness that made him feel both seen and unbearably exposed.

“…Mario,” she murmured, tilting her head. “Why do you look so sad?”

He swallowed. Of course, she would notice. She always did. No matter how much he tried to bury it, hide it behind laughter and bravado, Peach could read him like an open book.It would be best… to be honest.

He lowered his gaze, his thumb absentmindedly brushing over the delicate curve of her knuckles. If he had been paying attention, he might have noticed the way her cheeks flushed at the touch. Instead, his voice came quiet, hesitant.

“Principessa…” He hesitated, then looked up at her, searching for some reassurance, maybe. “…If you could change any part of me… what would it be?”

Peach blinked, her expression unreadable for just a moment. Then, without hesitation, she closed the distance between them, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his forehead.Mario’s eyes widened.

When she pulled back, her smile was warm, unwavering. “Nothing,” she whispered, her voice laced with certainty. “I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

For a second, Mario just stared, as if his mind couldn’t quite catch up with his heart. Then, warmth bloomed in his chest, spreading through his limbs until he couldn't contain it. His laughter bubbled up, loud and unrestrained, a joyful snort escaping before he could stop it.

Peach giggled at his reaction, her fingers still laced with his as she pulled him closer. She rested her chin atop his head, nuzzling into his hair with a contented hum. Mario barely had time to register the softness enveloping him, his face gently squished against the plush warmth of her chest. His heart stuttered, and for once, it wasn’t out of insecurity just… comfort.

His eyes fluttered shut as Peach released his hands, her fingers slipping into his hair, massaging slow, soothing circles. Without thinking, he let his own hands drift to her back, tracing lazy, affectionate patterns over the fabric of her gown.

They sighed together one slow, deep breath in… and out…

For the first time in a long while, Mario didn’t feel small. He didn’t feel like he had to be anything more than what he already was.

Because in Peach’s arms, he was enough. Just as he was.

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blackhakumen · 2 months ago

Text

Mini Fanfic #1250: Luigi's Mistletoe Adventures~ (SSBU X Darkstalkers)

9:23 p.m. Smash Mansion's Front Yard Entrance...........

Dedede: (Walking Up the Steps with Escargoon and Morrigan, Dressed as the Jolly St. Nick Himself, Santa Claus) ('Sighs in Pure Relief') Man, you are one helluva lifesaver in that mall today, Morrg!

Escargoon: (Turns to Morrigan with a Smile While Dressed as an Slug Elf) Yeah, there's no way we would've handle those adorable littlr demons alone without you stepping up to the plate like that.

Morrigan: (Giggles Softly While Dressed as Mrs. Claus) Oho stop!~ it was nothing to it. When you have to babysit your bratty little sister throughout the years like I have, you'll tend to have a better grasp at looking after children overtime. Besides, highly doubt anyone would want to deal all that nonsense at the mall all day.

Dedede: (Smiles Brightly at his Girlfriend) Exactly! I knew they did right by hiring you Mrs. Claus.

Escargoon: Keep up the good work, Morrigan.

Morrigan: (Smiles Brightly) Thank you, boys!~ I'm happy to be part of the team. (Hugs Onto Dedede's Stomach in Front of Her While Playfully Running her Two Fingers Up to his Chest and Smirking Seductively at Him) Especially with someone as jolly and handsome as you, Santa Baby~

Dedede: (Smirks Back at Morrigan) Girl, you're gonna end up right on the Naughty List if you keep keep flirting with me like this.

Morrigan: And do what? Hand me a bag of coal?

Dedede: Nah, that's too old school. How about take you on a one trip ride to the Dedede Express in either one of our bedrooms instead?~ (Smacks Morrigan's Butt a Bit)

Morrigan: (Playfully Yelps) Ohho!~ Sounds like a lovely trip already ~ (Smirks Even Wider) Can't wait~

Escargoon: (Already Has a Deadpinned Look on his Face by Couple's Flirting Alone) Okay. How about we go inside the mansion already before I bang my head on the door all night, huh?

Dedede: (Clicks his Teeth Before Glaring at his Best Friend) Quit being impatient, boy, I'm 'bout open the doors! (Takes his Mansion Key Out From his Costume's Coat Pocket) Damn. Can't have any sweet couple moments these days.....

Morrigan: (Whispers into Dedede's Ear) We'll have plenty more of that inside, my dear, be patient. (Gives Dedede a Kiss on the Cheek)

Dedede: ('Sigh') Yeah, yeah- Huh? (Notoces the Door is Opening Up Itself)

?????: (From the Inside) Welcome back, you guys!

Dedede: (Smiles Brightly at a Very Familiar Voice Opening the Door For Him and the Others).'Ey, Luigi! Thanks for looking out, my bo- Woah!

Morrigan: Oh my~

The trio's eyes starts to widen at the sight of the green plumber's face being covered with different colored kiss marks.

Luigi: (Chuckles Sheepishly While Rubbing the Back of his Head Back and Forth) I guess you're wondering why I look like this, huh?

Escargoon: Pretty much, yeah. What happened? (Walk into the Mansion Along with Dedede and Morrigan)

Dedede: Did a rainbow came all the way down here and kiss you all night or something?

Luigi: Not exactly. (Closes the Door Behind Him Before Following Behind) I just happened to get kissed a lot by our friend group is all in the living room.

Luigi presents the gang to their friend group (Daisy, Lilith, Samus, Chun-Li, Cloud, and Tifa) the living room happily waving at them. All of whom are wearing their respective colors of lipstick

Dedede: Damn. Even Cloud?

Luigi: (Starts Blushing a Bit as He Place his Hands on Both his Cheeks) Especially Cloud~

Morrigan: (Looks Over at the Mistletoe Hanging Up at the Living Room) Might be a hunch on my part, but does the mistletoe anything to do with any of this?

Luigi: Yeah! (Chuckles Lightly Again) I went under a lot of mistletoes today, funny enough.

Escargoon: That explains it.

Dedede: Well, don't just stand there, boi, give the details!

Luigi: S-Sure, if that what want. It all started this morning......

Morning Time at Luigi and Daisy's Room.........

Daiay: Hey Weeg. Look up above. (Points Luigi to a Mistletoe Hanging Up on the Room's Doorway)

Luigi: ('Sigh') Daisy, Peach is gonna go ballistic when she finds out you moved the mistletoe here again.....

Daisy: (Giggles Softly) I didn't move the one from the living room, silly!~ I got this one from the Coin Store yesterday. They were on sale.

Luigi: Ohh okay, that make sense. (Playfully Smirks a Bit) Bet you're happy to have one of our own now, huh?~

Daisy: (Smirks Back at her Man) Oh yeah~ (Slowly Wraps her Arms Around Luigi's Waist) But what makes me even more happy is that I get to be right under it with you~

Luigi: While kissing me all over?~

Daisy: Bingo~(Kisses Luigi Lovingly on the Lips)

??????: Is that another mistletoe I see above me?~

Daisy/Luigi: (Smiles Brightly at the Sight of Their Succubus Girlfriend Appearing in Front of the Doorway While Wearing a Mistletoe Headband) Lili!~

Luigi: Here to have breakfast with us today?

Daisy: (Snickers a Bit) With that mistletoe headband of yours?~

Lilith: (Happily Nodded) Yep-Yep-Yep!~ It was on sale at the Coin Store yesterday and I just had to get one myself so I could kiss two of my favorite cuties in the whe world!~ (Gently Grab Hold of Luigi's Cheek) Starting with you, sweetie~ (Gives Luigi a Loving Kiss on the Lips For a Few Seconds Before Pulling Away......and Starts Kissing Him All Over his Face)

Luigi: (Chuckles Ticklishly by Lili's Kisses) Lili!~ Slow down a bit, will ya?~

Lilith: (Pulls Away Again With a Apologetic Smile) Sorry~ You have such a cute, kissable face that I couldn't resist~ (Gives Luigi a Big Kiss on the Cheek)

Daisy: Never could I~ (Gives Luigi Another Kiss on the Cheek Before Playfully Pouting at Lili) Also, where the heck is MY mistletoe kiss at, hm?

Lilith: Oh how rude of me~ (Walks Over and Gives her Girlfriend a Loving Kiss on the Lips Next Before Pulling Away a Few Seconds Later) Satisfecha ahora señorita?~?

Daisy: (Blushes While Giving Lilith a Very Impressed Smile on her Face) Hot damn, Lili!~ We didn't know you know a thing or two about speaking spanish too.

Luigi: (Smiles as Well) Yeah, that was great.

Lilith: (Flips the Side of Her Hair in a Elegant Like Fashion) Well, what can I say?~ My love for the both of you is so massive that I was bound to learn a different language eventually~

Daisy: From a Spanish Handbook?

Lilith: (Smiles Sheepishly) From the internet actually......Look it all up right before I came here too (Giggles a Bit Awkwardly)

Daisy: (Casually Shrugs) Learning's still learning.

Luigi: (Simply Nodded in Agreement)

Few Hours Later at the Smash Town's Workout Gym.......

Luigi: (Makes his Way to the Door Along with Samus and Chun-Li While Wiping the Sweat Off his Forehead) ('Phew') Momma Mia, that was an intense workout......

Chun-Li: (Smiles Brightly at Luigi) Thanks again for training with us today, Luigi. You did great out there.

Samus: (Smirks Proudly at her Green Bean) And you said you wouldn't be able to keep up with us for this long~ (Playfully Ruffles the Top of Luigi's Heaf) We're proud of you, Weeg.

Luigi: (Chuckles Ticklishly by Samus' Hair Ruffling) Thanks, guys~ I'm just glad to be here with you two to begin with-

Chun-Li: Stop!.

Samus: (Quickly Stops Walking Along with Luigi on Cue) Huh?

Luigi: (Quickly Turns to Chun-Li, Confused and a Tad Bit Worried) W-What's wrong?

Chun-Li: Look! (Points Luigi and Chun-Li at What is Above Their Heads Right Now) A mistletoe~

Samus: So they finally et it up here for once this holiday, huh?

Luigi: Looks pretty. You think they got it from the Coin Store as well?

Samus: (Shrugs) It's possible. (Comes Up With Something Before Turning Back to Chun-Li with a Smirk on her Face) Say, Chun, you know what I'm thinking about right now?~

Chun-Li: (Watches Samus Slightly Moves the Side of her Down to Luigi For a Brief Second Before Smirking as Well) I think I have a good idea what's in both our minds at the moment, yes~

Samus/Chun-Li: Oh Weeeeegie~

Luigi: (Notices Two Ladies Between Them Starts Slightly Lowering Themselves Down to his Height Level) Hm?

Samus: Consider this your reward for your hardwork today~

Chun-Li: As well as for being the most brave and sweetest man we know and love very much!~

The couple then proceeds to give Luigi's big kisses on both of his cheeks, causing him to blush instantly.

Luigi: (Bashfully Rubs the Back of his Head Back and Forth While in a Giggling Mess) Not the reward I expected, but I appericate it all the same!~

Samus: (Snickers at the Sight of Blushing Green Plumber in Front of Her) Well, we are under the mistletoe after all.

Chun-Li: (Smiles Brightly) Plus, you're way too cute for either of us to pass up an opportunity like this, you know?~ (Giggles Softly) We even got your knees shaking and everything ~

Luigi: (Looks Down to See That His Knees Are In Fact Shaking on Their Own) Oh wow. (Tries to Maintain his Balance) I...somehow didn't even no- Tice!? (Suddenly Gets Scooped Up into Samus Arms)

Samus: I got ya, bud. Mind if I carry you the café? It's the least I can do for making you feel wobbly like that.

Luigi: (Smiles Softly) Not at all. Though, knowing you, I doubt you would take "no" for answer when it comes to my safety.

Samus: Damn right I wouldn't. (Lightly Boops on Luigi's Nose) And you're welcome.

Few Hours Later Back at the Mansion...........

Cloud: (Walks Dpwn the Stairs With Luigi) And then after that, I told the guy "If you were half the solider you said you were, you wouldn't have to yield midway through the-" (Stops Dpwn the Steps and Soghs as He Notices Something Hanging Above of His and Luigi's Heads Right Now) God, we're under a mistletoe, aren't we?

Luigi: (Looks Up at the Mistletoe in Question) Yep. (Chuckles Lightly) That's the third time I've stumbled under one today.

Cloud: (Snickers a Bit) Is that right? Starting to get tiresome already, doesn't it?

Luigi: Nope. It actually got me more flattered if anything.

Cloud: (Raises an Eyebrow) Really? So, you wouldn't mind if we kiss under it ourselves, would you?

Luigi: No, I wouldn't mind that at all actually. (Starts Blushing Again While Scratchinghis Cheek a Little) I-In fact, if there's anyone I'd like to share this moment with, other than Daisy and Lili- (Turns to Cloud) it'd be you too, Cloud~ (Eyes Widened a Bit Before Quickly Turning Away While Smiling More Awkwardly) But I-I-I'm pretty sure you have a million other things you would rather do than-

Cloud: (Gently Tilts Luigi's Face Right Back to His) No. I don't.

Cloud place one more hand onto Luigi's other cheek before giving him a passion kiss on the lips before pulling away with a satisfied smile while panting a bit.

Cloud: There!.....Now we're- (Looks Down to See Completely Awe Struck and Speechless Luigi Looks Right Now) Oh crap. I broke him. (Picks Luigi Up in his Arms Before Seeing Tifa Smiling Widely at the Two of Them and Giving her his Signature Deadpinned Look) You saw all of that, didn't you?

Tifa: Only the kissy part~ (Giggles Softly) Seem like you definitely like it a lot to me~

Cloud: Yeah, well- (Makes his Way to the Living Room Along with Tifa) Being under a mistletoe for this long can do that you sometimes.

Tifa: Riiight~ Is he gonna be okay?

Cloud: He's just in the state of shock right now, he'll be fine. At least I hope so.

Tifa: Want me to try wale him back up?

Cloud: If you want- (Notices Another Mistletoe Hanging in Front of Tifa's Face) Why's there a mistletoe hanging in front of your face like that?

Tifa: Cause of the mistletoe headband I'm wearing right now. (Takes the Headband Off the Top of her Head and Shows it to her Boyfriend) See? It waz on sale at the Coin Store the other day I got it.

Cloud: 'Course it is. They're selling anything in that cheap store these days....

Tifa: Don't be such a grouch.

Tifa gives Luigi a kiss on the cheek, waking him back up instantly.

Luigi: I'm up! I'm- Huh? (Notices He Is Being Carried by Cloud of All People and Tifa Happily Waving at Him)

Tifa: Hi Weegie~

Luigi: (Slowly Waves Back) Hi....What happened?

Cloud: You fainted after I kissed you under the mistletoe seconds ago.

Luigi: Oh, okay- (Eyes Widened Shot Up at What Cloud Judt Said) WAIT! (Shakongly Points at Cloud) Y-Y-You k-k-kiss me....

Cloud: That I did. (Smirks Again) You like?~

Luigi: Yeah.....(Starts Blushing Yet Again) You were a good kisser~ Not nearly as great as Daisy and Lili-

Cloud: Yeah, yeah I know. (Playfully Pulls on Luigi's Cheek a Bit) You weren't bad yourself either, Weeg.

Tifa giggles some more at how cute her boys at being towards one another.

Later that Evening in the Living Room.........

Luigi: (Eyes Widened in Genuine Surprise at Whatbis In Front of Him Right Now) You ALL want to kiss me again?

Daisy: (Seductively Smirking at Luigi While Sitting in the Living Room with the Rest of Her and Luigi's Friend Group and Wearong Orange Colored Lipstick) While we're under this conveniently placed mistletoe hanging above us~

Lilith: (Smiles Brightly While Wearing Pink Colored Lipstick) Think of this like a big grand finale for being under a lon of them already today. As well as a token of just how much we love and appericate to pieces~

Everyone: Yep!~/Mmhmm~/That's right~

Luigi: (Heart Begins to Melt in Genuine Happiness) You guys~ I love and appericate you all too~ (Frowns a Bit) But I dunno. I don't wanna waste anymore of your time than-

Samus: (Gives Luigi a Sisterly Glare While Wearong Light Blue Colored Lipstick) Noooope! Don't even think about finishing that sentence.

Chun-Li: (Gives Luigi a Reassuring Smile While Wearong Blue Colored Lipstick) You know we never minded spending time with you.

Tifa: (Smiles Softly as Well While Wearing Red Colored Lipstick) Yeah, and we definitely don't have any problems doing this for you.

Cloud: (Wearing Black Colored Lipstick) This idea wouldn't even come to lite if you weren't n our thoughts all day. Now quit your worrying and come over here already.

Daisy/Lilith/Tifa/Chun-Li: PLEEEEEEEEASE!?~

Luigi: (Stares into the Ladies' Pleading L, Sparkling Eyes For a Brief Second Before Sighing in Defeat) Oh, alright. (Smiles Softly) There's no way I could ever say no to you guys. (Walks Over and Sits Himself Down at the Middle of the Sofa)

Daisy: (Wraps her Arm Around Her Weegie) Feeling nice and comfy already, sweetie?~

Luigi: (Happily Nodded) Yep! Ready when you all are.

Daisy: Good. (Pumps her Fist Up.in Rejoice) NOW LET'S PUCKER THOSE LIPS UP, PEOPLE!!~

Ladies: (Cheers in Rejoice as Well) YEAH!~

Cloud: (Slightly Raises his Fist Up With Less Enthusiasm in Comparison) Horray..

Back to the Present

Luigi: And that's basically the gest of it. Pretty wild, huh?

Escargoon: I'll say. You are one lucky man, Luigi Mario.

Luigi: (Chuckles Lightly) I-I wouldn't exactly go that far.

Dedede: (Smiles Brightly and Proudly ar Luigi) Now, now, need no to be modest, boi. You should be ecstatic by the amount of love and kisses you got right now, thanks to that good heart of yours.

Morrigan: And that cute face~

Luigi: Thanks, guys. This all still feels so unreal right now....

Dedede: (Raises an Eyebrow at Luigi) Unreal, huh?

Luigi: (Quickly Shakes Both of his Habds In Frint of his Face in Defense).Not in a bad way, I swear! It just......Throughout my whole life, I was always given the short end of the stock, even before Mario and I became heroes. So being here and achieveing more than i ever have right now, with the people I love....It feels great and completely unbelievable rig-

The Gang: (In the Living Room) LUIGIIII!!

Daisy: (Walking Over and Standing Behind Luigi, Not Pleased) I KNOW you're not out there doubting yourself again!

Luigi: N-

Dedede: YEEUP! Our boi is at it again, y'all!!

Morrigan: Saying how unbelievable and unreal is it that he made it this far in life!~

Luigi: (Glares at the Couple) You guys- W-Woah!! (Gets Scooped Up into Daisy's Arm)

Daisy: Nah-uh. (Walks Back to the Living) Back to the Mistletoe Corner woth you, mister!~ We're gonna show you how real this all is!!

Luigi: ('Sighs in Defeat') Yes, dear.

Escargoon: (Watches the Duo Walks Off) Did we seriously have to snitch on him like that?

Dedede: Boi needs more lovin' in his life. He'll thank of us later.

Morrigan: Agreed. How about we leave them to their private ventures and to watch some holiday movies at my place. (Hugs onto Dedede While Smirking Seductively at Him Again) My treat~

Dedede: Don't have to tell me twice! (Throws his Ring Down on the Floor, Expanding Itself into It's Giant Size) Let's go. (Smirks Back at Morrigan) You're more than welcome snuggle the whole night away in my arms if you like~

Morrigan: Yes, please!~ ('Sigh') A shame that I do not have a mistletoe of my own to use for the both of us.

Escargoon: (Sighs Heavily While Pinching the Bridge of his Nose) I can't believe I'm doing this.....Hey, lovebirds! Here. (Hands the Couple Something)

Morrigan: ('Gasps') A mistletoe attached headband? (Eyes Sparkle Towards Escargoon) For me?~

Dedede: Where'd you get this?

Escargoon: From the Coin Store. It was sale the other. Thought about giving it to you later, but-

Morrigan: (Happily Hugs Escargoon) Thank you, Thank you, Thank you so MUCH, Escar!~

Dedede: (Smiles Brightly at-) My man!!

Escargoon: (Reluctantly Receives a Fist Bump Shake by his Best Friend) Yeah, yeah. Merry Christmas or what have you. Let's go in the damn ring already, huh?

@bestpony666

@caleb13frede

@meme-boys-blog

@tampire

@decibelcoatl

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alessiamalfoyzabini · 1 year ago

Text

Dark Moon | Chapter Four

Pairing | yandere!Jimin x Reader

Word Count | 1,9k

Warnings | +18, violence, slapping, smut noncon, forced blowjob, abuse, yandere themes, humiliation, explicit and dirty language, forced cum swallowing, spitting, prostitution, Jimin is cruel (yes, it is a warning)

This fanfiction is yandere, if you don't like the genre, don't read and if you are not of age, don't read.

I don't want to hear any complaints in the comments, thank you.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | She just wanted to escape her past, take charge of her life and break out of her steel cage, praying in God for a miracle that could change her life for good.

And her prayers were heard, but it was not the Divine that answered her.

That was certainly the devil in the guise of an angel, she thought as those corrupted and empty eyes searched her soul with extreme voracity.

He turned a sweet, false smile on her, before pushing her into the abyss.

➢ Author's Note | This chapter is stronger than the others, if you don't read yandere don't go on, it has triggering content.

Taglist: @katherine-kookie, @dragons-flare, @m00njinnie, @seokjins-luigi, @pjmsneverland, @jimincrystal, @ajkwww, @ungodlyjoon, @hecateslittlewitchling, @namjoonsbuspass

Taglist is open!

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"I have no problem shooting you right this instant. So I won't say it again, leave what belongs to me and never come back to this brothel."

Minho let go of the grip with which he was forcing the girl to suck him off, she fell back on the bed at dead weight, desperate for air, with tears clouding her eyes she saw Minho hastily compose himself, before Jimin moved to the side to let him out, still with the gun tightly clenched in his fist.

"This is not over, Jimin," threatened the man.

"I think it is."

"We'll see," was the last thing he said, before leaving that bedroom behind.

Y/N could not speak, too shocked by the experience she had just gone through, on her tongue she still felt the overwhelming taste of the bastard, but even more agonizing was the thought that Jimin had used her to anger Minho.

He could have acted that way from the start, but no, he had decided to give the man time to use her, making her feel if possible even more like an object.

She hated him, damn it.

"Are you still alive?" he asked her without a hint of tact, Y/N gritted her teeth inhaling through her nose.

"Does it matter? Dead or alive, things will not change. I'll live as a whore and die as one," she hissed, letting the boy finally have a view of her red and tear-streaked face, "And it's all your fault, you're a fucking monster and god ... you don't even know how much I hate you!"

A backhand hit her full in the face, for a moment she saw everything white, she only had time to feel a shift of air about her before a stabbing pain hit her in the skin, Jimin was gripping her hair with such brute force that her head began to throb and burn, she screamed in despair as she was dragged away.

No one in the hallway came out to help her, why would anyone bother, then?

Jimin was in charge there, it was his right to do whatever he wanted with the girls, especially if it was his first choice.

After minutes that seemed interminable, she was thrown inside a room she recognized as her own, indeed, theirs.

"You hate me for that? Oh no, my angel," he shook his head, slamming the door behind him, "I'll give you more reasons to hate me, good reasons," he concluded, beginning to remove his own clothes.

The more skin was shown, the more Y/N feared what was soon to come, Jimin's otherwise perfect arms were littered with ink weaving into thick sinuous lines, heavy tattoos stared at her menacingly when the man's belt also fell to the ground with a thud.

"What are you going to do?" she asked with a trembling upper lip.

Jimin shot her an unfriendly look, brought his hair back in a neck movement that the girl would have found attractive and manly if they were normal boys in an equally normal setting. Instead, she found it threatening and stifled a cry as the man began to unzip his pants.

No. Not again.

"I'll take what's mine, you whored with another man in front of my eyes, this deserves punishment," he replied with deadly calm, he knew things were not like that, he had given her the order after all, but he enjoyed provoking her, the girl tried to retort but Jimin was quicker, "Do you know why I stopped him before he finished?"

Y/N didn't know what to answer, she just watched fearfully as the boy shed all his clothing, he was completely naked. His cock stood straight and swollen, Jimin ran a thumb over the turgid tip and moved closer and closer to her, who curled in on herself.

"Please, I don't want to do this," she cried, but Jimin did not take pity on her.

"Answer me."

"I don't know... I don't know" she shook her head, the young man grabbed her face hard, blocking her.

"I stopped it because the only cum your pretty little mouth is going to swallow is mine," he said firmly in a statement that went against the Dark Moon's own principles, again trapping her head in his firm grip, "Hate me, Y/N, I want to feel how much you do it while your throat is squeezing me," he chuckled viciously, before thrusting unceremoniously into that delicious hot, wet cavern, he closed his eyes biting his lips, the woman moaned and cried with her mouth tight around his girth, swallowing against her will every single inch of the man, until she touched the tip of her nose to the boy's pubes.

Jimin let his moans filled with lust and satisfaction wander around the room, with his hips he pushed deep into Y/N's throat, she threatened to choke on her own spit, long rivulets trickled down her chin, going to soak Jimin's belly closer and closer to her face as the speed of his harsh thrusts increased.

"Aaah... you're better than I thought, tell me the truth... you like being my personal whore, mhh if I touched you... you'd be wet, right?" he asked cruelly, Y/N shook her head forcefully, she was tired, her jaw ached and that bastard's cock kept pulsing and swelling without showing any sign of coming, but she felt it that strange sensation snaking up to her lower abdomen, making her legs tighten to her horror.

She really was Jimin's personal whore.

That realization made her feel disgust for herself.

A grip on her hair more fierce than the others caused her to lift her shiny red eyes to those of her "boss."

The man's hard and cold expression did not match the desperate movement of his hips, "You will swallow every single drop of my cum and afterwards you will lick my cock until it is completely clean, because that's how my whores do it," he grunted giving increasingly frantic and violent thrusts, the girl only wished that this torture would end as soon as possible, she was in such a devastated state of mind that she would follow his every single order to get him away from her, so she nodded weakly as she met the first hot spurt, the muscles of her throat contracted around the cock, throwing down every single drop, just as she was ordered to do.

Jimin's chest swelled in satisfied pride, seeing her there, her cheeks swollen with his cum devastated him in a way he would have struggled to admit out loud.

He released her mouth and finally Y/N was able to take a long breath of air, before the man once again crushed her face against his swollen cock, ever more humiliated she stuck out her tongue, beginning to give small licks along his still stiff length, collected seminal fluid mixed with her own saliva, Jimin's ever-deepening sighs intensified, breaking into a moan at the small suction on the soft, veined skin.

The grip on her hair softened and soon Jimin let her go, Y/N abandoned herself in the clean sheets, her vacant gaze fixed on the ceiling.

"Open your legs, sweetheart," he ordered, and in the girl's mind flashed the thought of resisting him, of not giving in to him. But what would that decision bring? Only pain, so much pain both physical and mental.

She opened her legs as ordered, but looked away to prevent herself from seeing that violence.

Jimin grinned, he did not rip off the young woman's underwear as she had imagined, he spat on her belly causing her to shudder in disgust, he pressed his heavy and still hard cock on her moistened skin and began to slide over it with ease, grunting at each savage lunge and at the intense overstimulation he himself was forcing himself to endure.

He squeezed the girl's chin between two fingers, forcing her to watch as he used her body without giving her the same satisfaction, her look filled with anger and disgust was enchanting to the man, who with one last thrust came one more time, soiling both of their bodies with his cum, such was their closeness.

"Are you angry because I didn't smash your tight pussy?" he asked amusedly, sinking his thumb into the woman's lower lip, "I might as well lick your pussy if you would behave well with me, and I don't think that's going to happen anytime soon with such an attitude...think about it, my pleasure could be yours too if you wanted it."

Y/N turned her head abruptly, releasing herself from his grasp with an expression of disgust firmly stamped on her face.

"I couldn't take pleasure with you even if I wanted to, you're a piece of shit," she spat between her teeth, Jimin clenched his jaw before giving her yet another resounding slap that made her swallow the tears she was holding back.

"Careful, I might consider cutting out that bold tongue of yours, you'd be able to suck me off without it anyway," he hissed before abandoning her, just like a whore.

"You put on a show yesterday."

Jin welcomed Jimin into his office in an icy voice.

"Yes? Well, a rat had sneaked into my territory, I couldn't turn a blind eye, I hate rats," he sat confidently across from his friend and business partner.

"Yet Namjoon must have informed you of my intentions regarding that rat."

Jimin clicked his tongue against his teeth, "How long have we been friends, Jin?"

"Jimin, don't take this key with me, it's just business those with-"

"But family is not business!" blurted out the younger man, "I don't care about the whores and new friends you make, because I know you would never screw us over for someone else, which is precisely why I don't understand what went through your mind when you decided to go into business with Choi," he said harshly, Jin maintained a somewhat neutral expression despite the shaking of his clenched fist.

"I meant no disrespect, Jimin," Jin replied more calmly, "Choi Minho is not involved in what happened to you, so I thought it was accessible."

Jimin leaned toward Jin with fury in his eyes, "No Choi from that family is accessible, if you still want me as your business partner, but especially if you still want me as your brother, drop any negotiations with them," he ordered.

Normally Seokjin would not have accepted such a tone from one of his subordinates.

But that was Jimin, one of his closest friends, one of his brothers, and faced with his stormy past with the Choi family, he could only bow his head and look for another way to get into politics.

"I will cut Choi Minho from my list of names," he finally said, Jimin nodded a little more relaxed.

"Thank you, Jin."

"I'm not done," he blocked him before he could get up, "What are you going to do with that girl?"

Jimin glowered at him, "What do you mean?"

"I need to make sure you're not going to cause trouble with other clients, I heard you were quite possessive of her."

"Possessive? Come on, I was just having fun to provoke Minho a little."

Seokjin didn't buy that excuse; Jimin could tease anyone but him.

"If you want her, I'll wrap her up myself with a nice bow and send her home to you, Jimin."

Jimin narrowed his eyes, "And let's hear it, why would you do that?"

"Because you like her."

The pierced boy swallowed, speechless. Yes, he liked her, he had made that clear, but to that extent? Would he have taken Y/N away from the brothel to enjoy her himself?

"You're imagining things, man," he chuckled, Jin raised an eyebrow.

"Is that your last answer?"

#bts #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts x reader #yandere bts #bts yandere smut #yandere bts x reader #jimin x reader #yandere jimin x reader #jimin x you #yandere #jimin fanfic #bts fanfiction

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pianokantzart · 1 year ago

Text

The Line of Fire

Luigi seems to be the only one who notices that the "Mario" wandering around The Mushroom Kingdom isn't really Mario. To make things worse, whoever the imposter is seems fully aware of Luigi's position, and is intent on doing whatever is necessary to threaten him into silence.

Another work based on the body swap concept from @elitadream. It has a firm grip on my brain and won't let go. Take care to check the tags for trigger warnings!

Word Count: 4307

Also available on Ao3: X

____________

It was late in the afternoon when Luigi finally made it home. He tried to look natural as he walked up the front steps of his little cottage on the outskirts of town, carrying a large bag of groceries in each arm, squeezing them tightly to himself every time his sensitive nerves picked up in the slightest little rustle of the grass or shadow cast by the clouds overhead. Glancing nervously over each shoulder he stepped to the front door, then– like a nervous animal– rushed across the threshold and kicked the door shut behind him.

In the familiar confines of his house, he felt no safer. He hurried into the kitchen and tried to ease himself with his usual tasks of putting away groceries and sweeping the floors, but it was no good. Whenever he successfully buried his fear, an equally powerful sense of guilt took its place. Here he was, going about his business like usual, as though his brother’s location and well-being weren’t a morbid mystery. Like something cruel and terrible hadn’t stolen him away and taken his place… Luigi set the broom aside and rubbed his temples, trying to think of what more he could do that he had not already done. What attempt he could make that wouldn’t jeopardize innocent lives? It was crucial to tread carefully, but it didn’t help that he barely even understood what was going on in the first place.

This thing that had taken his brother’s place… the “Not-Mario” he had come to call it… was, from what he could tell, a near-perfect imitation of his brother in appearance and abilities. Luigi had a few theories: some sort of shapeshifter, a facsimile created from magic, or something had stolen Mario’s body directly, and was now puppeting it for their own devices. He suspected the latter and was half-certain of the culprit. There was a startling familiarity to that hellish glint in what used to be his brother’s eyes, but he didn’t dare yet call the thing masquerading as Mario “Bowser.” It felt far too early to make assumptions. He only knew a few things for certain: Mario was in terrible trouble, there was something pretending to be Mario, the Not-Mario knew that he knew the truth, and nobody else seemed to see through the ruse. The doppelganger had assured him that the real Mario was still alive. It was implied in equal measure that Mario’s survival would be determined by whether or not the truth got out. He also threatened Princess Peach, the neighboring toads, and everyone else he could use as leverage, knowing Luigi had no desire to test whether or not he was bluffing.

Uncertainty and doubt knotted Luigi’s heart, endless questions eating away at him when he was steadily pulled from his thoughts by a spot of red appearing in the corner of his eye.

He turned and let out a yelp of surprise. There stood Mario’s body, void of Mario’s spirit, leaning against the doorway of their kitchen, glaring at him with those strange eyes. When did he come in? How long had he been in here? Why had he come here?

Throughout this entire ordeal, one of the few kindnesses Not-Mario had granted him was staying away from their home. This was a selfish comfort, of course, “Mario”’s absence merely meant that he was too busy doing who-knows-what elsewhere. Luigi nervously reexamined his brother’s face, hoping to find some faint glimmer of the man he’d grown up with, but if anything it had only gotten stranger since he had last seen it… sunken and tired, like he hadn’t slept at all.

Before Luigi could ask, Mario’s voice interrupted with a simple command: “Living room. Now.” “What?… Why can’t we talk here?” Not-Mario gave no response, he simply walked off, leaving Luigi feeling stupid for so much as posing the question. Of course not. Where they talked was not the point, the point was establishing at every opportunity who was in control.

Luigi anxiously stepped into the living room, and at once found himself being approached aggressively by his brother’s body, boxing him toward the back of the room where a couch and an easy chair sat in a small half-circle around a television set. “Where were you today?” Not-Mario Growled. Luigi braced himself against the arm of the couch. “I went to the marketplace. You know, to get groceries?” Not-Mario was unswayed. “Where else?”

Luigi gripped his arm and averted his eyes. No way. He was certain he’d been careful. He’d made sure he wasn’t followed. He knew the toad he handed the letter to, made him promise to keep it a secret. He’d done everything right! “N-nowhere else! I mean, I did take a little walk before making my way home.” “A walk? Did your little detour happen to bring you near Peach’s castle?” Luigi felt his heart drop as Not-Mario pulled a familiar envelope from his overall pocket. He held it up and stared daggers; a taunting, hateful grin spreading across his face. “It’s embarrassing, really. Don’t you know the palace guards have better things to do than deliver your mail for you?…”

On impulse, Luigi lept to snatch the envelope, but his opponent proved too quick, immediately catching him by the shirt collar and thrusting him backward, sending him toppling over into his old recliner with such force that he could feel the chair springs snap under him. “Sit down .” The demand was sharp and booming, the undercurrent of rage Not-Mario had carried with him since he first appeared bubbling to the surface. Luigi stayed seated, watching with held breath and a pounding heart as the thing with his brother's face tore open the sealed envelope, and read aloud the letter enclosed:

“Princess Peach, I hope this letter finds you well. I would like nothing more than to explain the situation in person, but I am in no position to do so without endangering your safety. Be wary of Mario, he is not who he seems to be. Keep one eye open at all times, and take care you aren’t left alone under any circumstances. I will do my best to find out what’s happening. I’ll contact you again once I have a better grasp of what to do. Until then, for the sake of The Mushroom Kingdom, remain vigilant.

Dutifully yours, – Luigi”

As he finished reading the letter, he turned his focus to the author, gauging his response. Luigi stayed where he was, putting on a poor performance of remaining calm as sweat trickled down his face and his chest pounded.

Not-Mario sighed and tucked the letter back into the envelope.

“You should be thankful this never made it into Peach’s hands. The moment she starts getting suspicious, I’ll have to start taking drastic measures.”

“H-how did you get that?” Luigi finally managed, clutching his knees in an attempt to hide the way his hands shook.

“You gambled the lives of your loved ones so you can play ‘hero,’ and you think you’re in a position to ask questions?”

With a flick of the wrist, the man in red ignited firebrand and rendered the envelope to ashes. Luigi watched the pieces scatter across the living room, catching one of them in his hands as though a part of him hoped his failed attempt to find help could be somehow pieced back together. “You know,” Mario’s voice continued, “there’s a rumor that you’re in the middle of some sort of nervous breakdown. Though I suppose it was only a matter of time… you aren’t exactly known for your mental fortitude, and your recent head injury hasn’t helped things either.”

“Head injury?” Luigi barely managed the question when saw Mario’s form rushing toward him, hardly giving him time to even register what was happening before a gloved hand gripped his face with enough force to rattle his teeth, tore him from his seat, and threw him across the room with unprecedented power. Luigi’s body crashed like a rag doll into the TV set, his back bruising on the edge of the console, his skull shattering the screen. He lay there for a moment on the heap of cracked wood and glass, struggling to lift himself up, the world spinning around him as his vision turned white with pain. A laugh filled the air, such a horrible laugh, clashing with a voice of warm familiarity to create something grotesque and alien. “Nobody in this kingdom believes in you. Your only redeeming quality is that you live under the same roof as I do.” It sneered. “Tell me, do you ever wonder how often Mario took solace in your little neighbors? Finally able to speak plainly about how hard it is being followed around by his quivering imbecile of a brother?” Luigi didn’t answer. His sibling’s stolen voice was laced with poison, but he refused to swallow. He owed Mario at least that small dignity. The voice prattled on. “We seem to be on pretty cozy terms… I’ve apparently earned their unwavering faith. That is not something I intend to squander.” These words made Luigi’s blood run cold. He scrambled to a standing position despite the pain that still rattled his skull. Seeing Mario’s body walking toward the exit, he called out. “What are you going to do?” The question was ignored, and all at once Luigi felt more terrified of seeing the imposter leave than he was of his presence. If this was Bowser, as he suspected, surely a minor concussion wouldn’t be the only consequence of his attempt to seek help. What of the toad guard he had given the letter to? What of the princess herself? What about The Mushroom Kingdom, too safe and cozy to even install locks on their doors? blissfully unaware of the monster that wandered amongst them?

“Wait!” Luigi called again, taking a few stumbling steps after the body of his brother. “I need to know you won’t hurt anyone!”

At this, Not-Mario stopped just short of gripping the handle and turned to Luigi with his brows raised. “First you demand answers, now you want me to make promises?”

“Yes! Swear you won’t hurt anyone. Otherwise, I’ll… I’ll…” Luigi stumbled over his words. He wrung his hands and swallowed a lump in his throat, gathering together what little courage he could scrounge from the growing pit in his stomach. What would Mario do? What would Mario do? Pull yourself together, do what Mario would do! He released a heavy breath as he sank into a fighting stance, a crackle of electricity rolling along the fingers of his gloves, the hair beneath his cap fluttering with static. “... I’ll… I’ll make sure you don’t hurt anyone.”

It was a wild gambit, but all he wished to do was relay a message. Yes, he was weak, yes, he was terrified, but he was just strong enough and brave enough to get in the way. There was still one hero left in The Mushroom Kingdom, and whoever this imposter was, he couldn’t just wander around and do whatever he wished.

This time, Luigi was prepared when Not-Mario rushed at him, and he met the attack with a blast of bright blue electricity.

He had no intention of causing serious damage– if this was his brother’s body, he was going to need it back in the best condition possible– but he did hope to incapacitate him. If luck was on his side, perhaps he could get enough of an upper hand to restrain him. Then what? He didn’t know if any of the toads would believe him, but perhaps if he could just get Princess Peach to see the imposter– ask him questions, look into his eyes, confirm for the sake of everyone that he wasn’t Mario– they could figure out a plan to get the real Mario back! Mario’s body seized up under the shock but didn’t fall, and though the muscles of his face stiffened his expression showed no hint of pain. Barely perturbed, he barreled into Luigi with full force, knocking him flat on his back. Before Luigi could recover he felt the full weight of the man bearing down on top of him, and two large powerful hands wrapped tightly around his throat. Mario was strong, stronger than Luigi remembered, which was certainly saying something. Luigi knew his brother always held back whenever they sparred– fun, playful fights meant to do nothing more than hone their skills– but the strength he possessed now almost didn’t make sense. It felt more akin to the motions of an unwavering machine than that of a man. It pushed forward with reckless abandon, shrugging off Luigi’s struggles and blows with the resilience of a brick wall. Gasping for air, Luigi sent another charge into Mario’s body, feeling the current surge through his arms back into his own throat, and yet these efforts only seemed to tighten the grip around his windpipe. As the seconds ticked on with agonizing slowness, his struggles became more mindless and desperate as his mind clouded, his vision darkening, the electricity flashing from his hands fading into faint sparks as the adrenaline of battle turned into an animalistic fight for consciousness.

He didn’t want to die here. Luigi was not ignorant of his own mortality, but he wanted to go out in a way that would’ve made Mario proud. If he had only successfully delivered the letter, had alerted the citizens of what was happening… even just put up enough of a fight to put the doppelganger in his place… he wanted to have gone down doing something– anything of use. He’d failed at every turn, and now he was going to die, strangled to death by the very hands that carried him when he was injured, held him close when he was scared, and dragged him repeatedly out of the jaws of danger. Luigi’s last coherent thought was a prayer that Mario would be okay, before every sensation thinned out into nothingness, and the whole world turned black.

“Well, that was a waste of my time .”

Bowser let out a tired huff as he looked down at the unconscious body of his enemy’s brother. Luigi lay perfectly still, save for the slight rise and fall of his chest, his bruised throat making a slight wheezing sound with every inhale and exhale. Satisfied that his opponent was down for the count, Bowser took the time to examine the damage that had been done to his own body. Pulling up his sleeves he found red burns, shaped like tree branches, stretching along his forearms up to his shoulders. Bowser flexed his limbs, confirming they worked the same as usual, though he knew they would likely hurt a great deal if he was in a position to feel pain. He was thankful the markings didn’t extend any further than they did. So long as he wore his usual long-sleeved shirt, nobody would see the injuries or ask questions. He rolled his sleeves back up and knelt beside Luigi, paying especially close attention to the darkening marks appearing along his throat. He felt a powerful urge to once again wrap his hands around that scrawny little neck and finish the job, not because of the threat he posed, or the insolence he had displayed, but the idea of delivering the corpse to the real Mario… seeing the look on his face… was just too delicious not to revel in. But no, right now the threat Luigi posed to his plans did not compare with the suspicion it’d elicit if he disappeared. Despite Bowser’s claims, the surrounding Toads were already inquiring about Luigi’s absence and well-being. Just today, a wrinkled old codger named Enoki approached him to ask whether Luigi would be able to play cards with him that weekend. Bowser had done his best to imitate Mario’s intonations when he explained Luigi was “not feeling well” with feigned concern, so forced he felt on the verge of biting off his own tongue. Thankfully, Enoki bought the claim wholeheartedly, and even gave him a bag of loose-leaf tea to take home “for his brother's nerves.” Bowser accepted with a feigned thankfulness and threw the gift into the nearest garbage once he was out of the old man’s line of sight.

At length, Luigi’s eyes fluttered open. Seeing his brother’s form standing over him, his gaze widened. He shuddered under a fresh wave of fear, and little bolts of electricity sparked across his skin. Bowser huffed. “I suppose you’re wondering why you’re not dead?” Luigi didn’t speak. He clutched his throat with one hand and tried to push himself upright with the other, head lowered and eyes shut in apparent expectation of another attack.

“Don’t be so paranoid,” Bowser continued “You’d be far more of an inconvenience dead than alive. A nobody creates far less stir than the corpse of a nobody. But you did just try to attack me. What do you think I should do about that?”

Again, Luigi said nothing. While Bowser had initially enjoyed his fear-stricken silence, it began to feel more like defiance than submission. Seeing the plumber attempt to get to his feet, Bowser knocked the hat from his head with a sharp kick to the back of his skull and grabbed a fistful of hair. Forgetting his own shortness of stature, Bowser tried to lift Luigi all the way off the ground by his scalp. When all he could manage was to drag him halfway to his knees, he chose instead to twist his head at a purposefully painful angle.

“Answer me.” Luigi winced. His lip quivered as though he was trying to say something, but all that he managed was a pathetic squeak. Bowser leaned in closer to his “brother,” his lips unsettlingly close to his ear as he asked in a low growl: “Maybe if you’re so intent on imitating your sibling, I should bring you a little piece of him for inspiration? A few fingers, perhaps? Or better yet, one of his eyes…” This was a bluff, of course. The real Mario was imprisoned deep within The Darklands, chained up inside the hulking body Bowser used to inhabit. Though the thought of carrying out the threat was tantalizing, there could come a point where he’d need his old body back, and if Mario felt as disconnected from that body as he felt in this one, then mutilating him would be a waste. But Luigi didn’t know that. That was made clear by his reaction.

“No!” A hoarse plea finally burst from the man’s mouth. He clasped the hand that gripped his hair to ease the pain but didn’t dare struggle beyond that. “Please don’t! I’m sorry.”

Bowser tugged Luigi’s head back to better examine his face. Tears were already forming in his eyes, pouring down his cheeks. Disgusting. He’d forgotten this one was a cryer. It was easy to forget, for he had never known anyone of worth who cried. Junior was an exception, of course, but he was a still child– new to the world and his own emotions. Luigi was a grown man, a hero, allegedly, and yet he whimpered and sniffled as though it would garner any sort of pity. “You’re what?” Bowser growled. “Say that again.” “I’m sor-”

Bowser interrupted the second attempt at an apology by slamming his knee into Luigi’s stomach. He released him then, allowing him to crumble back to the floor at his feet. “Huh, I didn’t quite hear that. Say it again.”

Luigi’s whole body shivered, trying its best to cling to consciousness in its renewed struggle for air. “I’m… s-sorry.”

“Again. Louder.”

“I’m sorry!” Luigi’s voice steadily rose in pitch and volume as his breath returned to him, the tears in his throat and the bruises on his windpipe cracking his speech. “I’m sorry!”

The shrieky tone elicited a chuckle of genuine amusement from Bowser. After the stress of masquerading in his hated enemy's body for so long, seeing someone regard him with the fear and deference he deserved was a long-awaited bit of gratification. Taking advantage of the situation, Bowser made a little game of seeing how many times he could elicit an apology, and, of course, a crucial element of the fun was seeing to it Luigi stayed on the floor at his feet. Whenever the plumber tried to stand or crawl away, a sharp kick to the ribs or a stomp planted into the square of his back would send him back down to the ground.

But by “I’m sorry” number fifty-eight, Bowser grew bored.

So, with confident idleness, he abandoned Luigi in order to look around his nemesis’ home in search of fresh inspiration for what was to be done. Funny as the groveling was, there was a chance Luigi’s change of behavior wouldn’t last long. He didn’t trust him not to delude himself into attempting another “heroic” stunt once left to his own devices. It was crucial to get the message through. It didn’t take long for Bowser to find the staircase. The upper story was a bigger disappointment than the lower one, made up of only a shared bedroom and a bathroom, connected by a narrow hallway. Their cottage as a whole was far too small and simple for his liking, even when he was as physically diminutive as Mario. After all he had done for The Mushroom Kingdom, he should’ve at least been granted a small castle of his own.

Bowser entered the bedroom and looked around, wondering if there was anything there of value or information to be gleaned. No good, everything was trivial: comics and fantasy novels on the shelf, posters for small local bands hanging on the wall, multiple pairs of the same stupid overalls hanging in the closet. Atop the little table between matching red and green beds, there were a number of paper crafts. They were shoddily made… no doubt gifts by the local children. In a moment of impulse, Bowser ignited firebrand and released a little red flame to crawl across the corner of one of the paper stars. Finding a strange comfort in the sight, he allowed the fire to steadily spread to the other origami structures, and when its light began to fade he reinvigorated it with the flick of his hand. He ignited two more fires for good measure, one on the corner of Mario’s bed, another on the corner of Luigi’s, where the flames eagerly climbed up the downy quilts, swallowing the vibrant colors and filling the air with smoke.

He neither noticed nor cared when Luigi raced up the stairs. By the time the man in green had arrived, the fire had spread to the walls and the carpet, the rising flames painting little black spots on the ceiling.

“Looks like I was a little careless.” Bowser shrugged, watching the room burn with perfect calmness, “you may want to do something about this if you want to save your house.” Once Luigi overcame the paralysis of horror and disbelief, he disappeared back down the stairs. He was only gone for a few moments before he returned, armed with a fire extinguisher. Bowser stepped aside, allowing him to dive into the room and spray it down with a thick layer of white foam. When the smoke cleared and the heat died down, Bowser got a better look at his handiwork. The framework of the house still stood strong, but there was not a thing in the bedroom that the fire hadn’t marred, the vibrant reds and greens dulled and charred from the blaze, every furnishing and appurtenance disfigured. In the middle of it all was Luigi, holding the now empty fire extinguisher. He was making a valiant attempt to hide that he was crying again, harder than before, wiping at his face with his sleeve, airborne ash mingling with his tears, streaking his cheeks with soot. Bowser rolled his eyes. “I suppose you’d better get to work fixing this. Given your mental state, a project this big should help you occupy your troubled mind.” He nudged Luigi’s shoulder with a mocking friendliness, reveling in the way he tensed beneath his hand. “It’s probably best that you stay at home, anyway. And you will be staying home from now on, right?”

Luigi’s arms tightened around the fire extinguisher. Bowser readied himself, just in case the plumber suffered another flash of impulsive bravery and tried to swing it at him. But Luigi pulled no such stunt… he simply lowered his head and nodded.

Satisfied, Bowser left without another word. Heading down the stairs and crossing through the shattered remains of the living room, he shut the door firmly behind him before he hurried down the steps of “his” home, and headed back down the road toward the glimmering pink castle in the distance.

The first order of business would be to go into town and make sure whatever toads had seen the smoke were reassured that everything was under control; that the fire didn’t do much damage, and was “more smoke than flames.” Then, he would meet with the squadron of Koopas he had successfully snuck behind the palace walls. After exchanging intel, he would select a few to watch the outside of Mario’s house and ensure Luigi honored the agreement.

Halfway back to his destination, Bowser rolled up his sleeves slightly to reexamine the electric burns on his arms. He frowned, wondering if he had been too lenient. Luigi was no Mario, but the fact that he tried defying him at all was worthy of concern. Bowser decided then that at the next hint of insolence, the very slightest sign of defiance, Luigi would officially no longer be worth the trouble of keeping around.

In the meantime, however, he was at the very least entertaining.

#Super Mario Brothers #Bowser #Luigi #Strangulation TW #My Writing #tw: strangulation #tw: abuse #tw: violence #again... not my au. Not my rules. Just my two cents on how the situation could go down

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cutiepoototie3 · 5 days ago

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Bowser, My Love! I Will Free You!

Bowser x psychotic crazy princess

This is a small joke/ kinda seeious? Fanfic I made. I made this so I could sum it it in my schools literary club magazine so the whole school can read it 😈 but yeah.

You can take this as a bowser x reader! It’s kinda a joke but I had a really fun time writing this. I’m not sure if I’ll do more in the future. (I’ll probably put this on AO3) but just in case maybe y’all can put suggestions on what y’all like to see after this 😏

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯ ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯ ✯¸.•´`*•✿

It was a lovely day in the Mushroom Kingdom. Birds chirped, bees buzzed, and cheerful, colorful Toads bustled about without a care in the world. Ever since the King of Koopas had been sealed away, peace had returned.

As usual, Princess Peach tended to her royal duties, graciously meeting her beloved Toad subjects, while the heroic brothers, Mario and Luigi, scurried around saving the day—one broken pipe at a time.

Yes, the kingdom was content.

Well… almost everyone.

High above the Mushroom Kingdom, beyond the clouds and into the stratosphere, a storm of despair was brewing.

"NOOOOO!!! BOWSER, MY LOVE!"

The wail echoed through the halls of the Cloud Kingdom’s grand palace, shaking its very foundation.

"M-My princess, please, compose yourself!" a frazzled servant pleaded, dodging a plush Bowser doll that had just been hurled across the room.

But there was no calming Princess Puffina. She lay sprawled across her silken throne, clutching a heart-shaped handkerchief, drenched in her own dramatic tears.

"How could they?! HOW WOULD THEY?!" she wailed, her voice raw with heartbreak.

Her chest heaved with emotion as she flung herself onto the nearest cushion. “My poor, sweet Bowser! Trapped! Alone! Never to see the light of day! How will he survive without me?! Oh, the agony! The INJUSTICE!"

She let out a shuddering gasp before dramatically dabbing at her eyes. "Curse you, Mario! Curse you, Peach! I shall not stand idly by while my future husband suffers in captivity!"

Her attendants exchanged nervous glances.

Here we go again.

Princess Puffina. The notorious ruler of the Cloud Kingdom.

Yes, that’s right. A princess of the calm, kind, enchanting, and opulent kingdom of the clouds… madly in love with the dishonest, treacherous, sadistic, scaly, monstrous, ever-fearsome King of Koopas—Bowser.

“Ohhh, my Bowser!” she wailed again, throwing herself onto the other side of her throne with the grace of a fainting actress in a tragic play.

“My princess, please!” her frazzled servant begged. “He is not truly gone! Word has it that he has been contained in a small bottle…” the servant said cautiously, as if afraid of triggering another emotional outburst.

Puffina, mid-blow into her handkerchief, froze.

Her tear-filled eyes widened, shimmering like stormy skies as a single drop trailed dramatically down her cheek.

Then, in an instant—"Oh my goodness!" she gasped, flinging the damp handkerchief aside. “What am I even worried about?!”

With a sudden, whiplash-inducing shift, she bolted upright, swiftly wiping away her tears. Her cheeks were still flushed, her breath still uneven, but her expression had flipped from despair to thrilling realization.

Then it hit her.

"Wait… IN A SMALL BOTTLE?!"

Her hands clenched into trembling fists. "No one… NO ONE imprisons my beautiful, magnificent king like some cheap collectible!"

A dark thundercloud rumbled above her head, flashing with miniature lightning as her body trembled with fury.

“My princess, please, do not be so angered! It could be worse! Surely, a king like him wouldn't need sav—”

"SAVING!!!" Puffina suddenly shrieked, her voice echoing through the palace halls.

Her lips curled into a wide, dangerously unhinged grin as a manic gleam sparked in her eyes.

"Yes… SAVING."

She whispered the word this time, rolling it over her tongue like the sweetest, most wicked secret.

Her breath quickened. Her heart pounded. And then—she threw back her head, twirling in place, laughing maniacally into the air.

"That horrid Princess Peach has FLIPPED THE SCRIPT! She has HIM in captivity?! My sweet, misunderstood king?!" She clutched her chest dramatically.

"WELL, NOT FOR LONG!"

She stopped spinning abruptly, planting her feet firmly on the ground.

"I SHALL SAVE HIM! And when I do…"

Her voice softened to a dreamy sigh as she clasped her hands together, stars twinkling in her eyes.

“…he’ll have no choice but to marry me!~"

And with that, Puffina skipped off toward the balcony, completely ignoring the look of utter dread on her servant’s face.

“Oh browser!~ Im comming!~” and with that, she freely jumps off the balcony with the sudden puff of a cloud catching her and zooming away to the Mushroom Kingdom.

“Oh, Bowser!~ I’m coming!~”

With a graceful leap, Princess Puffina flung herself from the palace balcony.

For a moment, she plummeted through the sky, her hair whipping wildly in the wind—until, with a soft POOF!, a fluffy cloud materialized beneath her, catching her with perfect timing.

“Onward, my trusty Nimbus! To the Mushroom Kingdom!” she declared, pointing dramatically toward the horizon.

The cloud zipped through the sky, leaving a faint trail of sparkling mist in its wake.

Meanwhile, inside Princess Peach’s Castle, all was peaceful.

Mario and Luigi were enjoying a well-earned break, seated at a grand table filled with plates of spaghetti (Mario was on his third helping). Princess Peach, dressed in her usual regal pink, stood by the window, enjoying the warmth of the sun.

But their tranquility was shattered when—

BAM!

The castle’s grand doors burst open, slamming against the walls with a thunderous BOOM!

A gust of wind rushed into the room, scattering napkins and ruffling Peach’s gown.

And there, in the entrance, stood a figure bathed in dramatic backlight.

Princess Puffina.

Drenched in chaotic energy.

Her wild curls bounced as she strutted inside, her fluffy gown billowing behind her like a storm cloud.

"Ah, my dearest Peach!~" she cooed, her voice sickly sweet as she sauntered toward the princess. "How simply wonderful to see you, my darling~! Oh, and the Mario brothers, too!~ What luck! I was just in the neighborhood and thought, ‘Why not pay a little visit?’"

Mario and Luigi exchanged glances.

Peach blinked. “Uh… Princess Puffina? What are you—”

“OH, you sweet thing!~” Puffina cut her off, placing a delicate yet vaguely threatening hand on Peach’s shoulder. “It must be so exhausting ruling this little mushroom patch. I just don’t know how you manage!”

Peach stared at her.

“…I do just fine?”

Puffina giggled, but there was something unnerving about it. “Ohhh, of course you do! You always do, don’t you?”

Luigi swallowed nervously. “…Mario, I don’t-a like this.”

Mario, now napkin-less thanks to Puffina’s dramatic entrance, nodded. “Yeah.”

“BUT ANYWAY!” Puffina suddenly clapped her hands together, making everyone flinch. “I simply must be on my way! So lovely catching up!~”

And with that, she turned on her heel, skipping deeper into the castle.

Peach blinked again. “…Where are you going?”

Puffina waved a hand dismissively. “Ohhh, nowhere important! Just a little, tiny errand! Don’t worry about it~!”

Peach frowned. “That doesn’t answer my—”

SLAM.

Puffina shut the doors behind her.

There was a long pause.

Mario, his mouth still full of spaghetti, slowly turned to Peach. “…What-a just happened?”

Peach sighed. “I have no idea.”

Puffina glided down the castle corridors, her cloudlike dress floating behind her.

She hummed to herself as she peeked into different rooms, occasionally gasping dramatically when a Toad guard would spot her.

“Oh, pardon me, darling!~ Just looking for the powder room!~”

The confused Toad would bow and apologize, and just like that, she’d twirl away, moving closer and closer to her goal.

And then—

She found it.

The room was dimly lit, tucked away behind an ornate golden door. A guard stood outside, standing at attention.

Puffina’s eyes gleamed.

Her beloved Bowser was inside.

Time for a rescue.

She peeks over the wall side eyeing side to side as with one whoosh of her cloud magic she disguises her self as a toad. She had a tray in her hand with food and strutted right up to the guard “feeding time!” she said firmly

The toad guard strangely looks at her “feeding time is a bit later. I think your early miss.” they said and quickly princess puffins ironically puffs. “This is a order from princess peach! Her kind heart decided to give bowser fresh hot spaghetti.” she says.

“Ah! Well in that case i see no problem! Our princess as a generous heart!” the toad sighs letting the disguised princess puffins in.

She smiles sweetly but frowns at the thought of princess peach. She walks in and with closed doors she trandforms back into her human self.

Her eyes scan the dark room and in the center a small glass bottle glimmers from the small opening of light. She could see is gorgeous yellow scales. His small lizard back faced her. She smiled from ear to ear.

FINALLY! Her king was right here! Alone! Just her.. And NO ONE ELSE.

“Oh! Oh my bowser!” she runs towards the small bottle. Grabbing it and putting the bottle towards her lips.

“Oh my itsy-bitsy-tiny-kingy!” she kisses and shakes the bottle in a frenzy. Covering the bottle in her bright pink lipstick. The monstrous tiny lizard inside being shooked around. When stopping her kissing frenzy she smiles dangerously happy at him. The lizard shocked in the bottle “dont worry my cutesy pookie! Well escape!”

“HAH!” with a swoop of a kick she busted the stoe wall down and with her trusty nimbus she leps out and flys away.

With the wind rushing past her and her cloud soaring through the sky, Princess Puffina giggled wildly, cradling the tiny glass bottle in her hands. She twirled it between her fingers, the little lizard inside bouncing around from the movement.

"Oh, my sweet, tiny, itsy-bitsy Bowserkins~!" she cooed, smooching the glass repeatedly, leaving bright pink lipstick marks all over the surface. Inside, Bowser’s tiny body tumbled against the walls of his container, dazed and absolutely done with whatever was happening.

Puffina finally landed on a floating cloud high above the Mushroom Kingdom, the perfect place for a romantic (completely one-sided) reunion.

"Alright, my darling!" she sang, gripping the bottle tightly. "It’s time for your big comeback!"

With a POP, she yanked off the cork.

For a moment, Bowser just sat there, frozen in his tiny form, staring up at the grinning, lovesick princess looming over him. He blinked once. Twice.

Then—

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF DRY BONES IS HAPPENING?!"

Before he could even attempt to scramble out of the bottle, Puffina tipped it over, dumping him unceremoniously into her hands.

"Ohhh, Bowser~!" she squealed, clutching him to her chest. "You're even cuter when you're travel-sized! Eeeee!"

"PUT ME DOWN, YOU MANIAC!" Bowser roared, struggling against her iron grip. "WHO EVEN ARE YOU?!"

Puffina gasped dramatically, eyes shimmering with heartbreak. "Bowser… my love… you don’t remember me?!"

"I’VE NEVER MET YOU IN MY LIFE!"

But before he could protest further, Puffina beamed, eyes wild with excitement. "Oh, don't worry, my big handsome grumpy turtle, I know what you need!"

She reached into the fluffy folds of her dress and pulled out—

A Red Mushroom.

"Open wide, sweetie pie~!"

"WAIT—NO, HOLD ON—!"

Too late.

With the strength only a princess deeply in love (and deeply unhinged) could have, she shoved the mushroom straight into his mouth. Bowser gagged, flailing his tiny limbs, but before he could spit it out—

POOF!

A burst of magic erupted around him. His tiny form swelled rapidly, his deep growl returning as he expanded back into his monstrous, towering self.

Puffina clapped her hands, twirling in delight. "EEEE, THERE HE IS! MY BIG STRONG KING!"

Bowser groaned, rubbing his head. "What… the heck…" He blinked, looking around, finally realizing where he was. "Wait. How did I get out of that bottle?! Where even—"

Then his gaze landed on her.

Puffina stared up at him, eyes sparkling, hands clasped together like a maiden in a fairytale.

"Oh, my dearest, sweetest, most magnificent Bowser..." she whispered dreamily.

Bowser took a step back. "...I don’t like how you’re looking at me."

"NOW WE CAN GET MARRIED!" she declared, throwing herself at his arm.

"WHAT?!"

And they had 256 babies. The end.

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luigisblueoveralls · 2 years ago

Text

Honeymoon Bliss

Luigi x Fem!Reader

SFW and NSFW

Requested by @pixelybisexualwitch

Summary: After you and Luigi's wedding, you both take off to your honeymoon and spend the whole day together and have fun during the day as well as extra fun during the night.

Notes: Fluff and Smut. I will mark where the Smut starts in case anyone just wants to read the fluff. Of course, shy and fluffy and praising Luigi as always, but also very loving.

Requested by:

(H/C)=Hair Color

(S/T)=Skin Tone

(E/C)=Eye color

🌸=When SFW starts

🔥=When NSFW starts

💚

🌸

"You may now kiss the bride."

The whole crowd cheered as Luigi grabbed you, bowed you down, and gave you the biggest kiss he has ever given you. He held onto you tightly so he wouldn't drop you by accident. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he held you back up straight, absolutely on cloud nine. The two of you were so happy to finally tie the knot. Your family and friends were crying with tears of joy, especially Mario. He was so happy for his little brother to have someone to love. Throughout the wedding, the two of you played wedding games, ate some cake, and hung out with your friends and family, absolutely enjoying the day. But you both knew it was about to get even better. The honeymoon.

When Luigi asked where you wanted to go, you picked Colorado. Despite the heavy snow there, the mountains and views were beautiful. Luigi wanted to go wherever you wanted to go, and he was happy to go to Colorado for y'alls honeymoon. Since y'all wanted to have the whole first day in Colorado, you both waited till the day after the wedding to start the honeymoon.

"You ready, (Y/N)?" Luigi asked you both buckled the seatbelts in your seat.

The airplane was fixing to take off, and while you were excited, you were also nervous. Airplanes have always given you anxiety.

"Y-Yeah. I am Luigi." You told him in response.

As the airplane started to move, Luigi held your hand tightly. You held back as the plane went faster and faster and started lifting up. You held your breath as you could feel your stomach do flips, and your legs start to shake. All you could hear was the sound of the airplane engine souring loudly, as if it were mocking you. Make it stop, please.

"Hey." You heard the calm, soft voice of your now husband speak to you.

You shakingly turned to him. Luigi's blue eyes stared into your (E/C) colored eyes.

"I'm right here. We are on our way to Colorado right now. What are we going to do first when we get there?" Luigi asked you, trying to distract you away from the airplane take off.

"U-Um, we are going to go to our cabin on the mountain that we rented." You answered him.

Luigi held both of your hands and made you turn to your side fully to be facing him.

"A log cabin, actually. I may or may not have secretly made a few upgrades." Luigi winked at you, making you giggle.

"That sounds delightful." You said, blushing intensely, thinking about the day and night is gonna go.

"And then what?" Luigi asked, his blue eyes twinkling at you.

Ever since y'all got together five years ago, Luigi's eyes twinkled at you with so much love and care he had for you. You could stare into his eyes forever.

"Then we are going to go eat at a local pub, have some drinks and good food. And then maybe have some more fun later that night at the cabin." Luigi suggested, giving you a sly smile.

"Oh, really now?" You whispered, making you both giggle like school girls.

You felt more relaxed and relieved as the airplane was stable. You got back into reality as you realized you were with the love of your life, and you were gonna have the funnest week of your life in Colorado. After about five hours on the plane, the two of you finally arrived in Denver, Colorado. It was cold but you both were prepared.

"Brrrr, it's starting to snow!" Luigi exclaimed as the two of you quickly climbed into the taxi, shoving your luggage in it.

"You two new here?" The taxi driver asked both of you.

"Honeymoon! Newly married." You told the driver.

"Congratulations to you both then. I hope you both enjoy Colorado." The driver said to you both.

Luigi thanked the driver as you peered out the window. There was fresh snow starting to fall from the sky and onto the ground with the mountains already caked in snow. It was such a beautiful sight to you, and it was everything you have ever dreamed of. The two of you then arrived at the log cabin you were staying at. It was up on a hill, not a steep hill, thankfully, but the snow that was falling on the roof and on the grass and it made the view so much more beautiful. In the distance, on the back porch was a beautiful, open view of the mountains. And to top it all off, there were no close neighbors. The taxi stopped, and you and Luigi scrambled out of the taxi to get your luggage out. You paid the taxi driver as well as gave him a good tip, and he drove off. Although you wanted to admire the cabin some more from the outside, it was absolutely freezing, so the two of you power walked into the cabin.

"I'll go turn on the heater." Luigi announced as he searched for the cabins thermostat, which was in the kitchen.

The hot heat immediately filled the cabin, warming the two of you up.

"Ahh, that feels so good." You sighed, sitting on the couch.

"Oh yeah." Luigi said as he sat down next to you.

Of course, Luigi immediately held your hand and leaned his head onto your shoulder. You both were on cloud nine and felt so high for each other. Luigi was your husband, and you were his wife. It finally happened. You could feel your body start to get very warm and tingly on the inside. It felt so good to you. Oh yeah, you were ready. But was Luigi?

"Hey, uh, Lui?"

"Hm?"

"Can we uh, delay the pub dinner for tomorrow?" You asked Lui.

"Well, why's that?" Luigi asked.

"I think my entire body is sick, and *you're* the only cure for it." You told him in a sly tone, hoping he'd get it.

Judging by his pink face, Luigi got it.

"O-Oh, I see. Is someone feeling frisky?"

"Maybe." You answered, turning away from him in embarrassment.

This sort of thing wasn't new for the two of you. You both have had sex with each other plenty of times, the first time with Luigi being super shy as hell, but this time, it was different for sure. It would be y'all's first time as husband and wife. Luigi then grabbed your chin and made you look at him with a smile.

"Uh maybe I am too." Luigi awkwardly said.

It was his way of trying to be seductive. It was cute, and it worked on you. You glanced down at his crotch, answering your suspicions.

"Yeah, I can tell." You commented, still staring.

Out of a mix of both embarrassment and being flustered, Luigi covered his crotch up with his hands.

"Take me to the bedroom." You commanded him.

"Yes, ma'am." Luigi said as he got up, picked you up, held you gently and carried you to the bedroom.

🔥

Both of you entered the bedroom, and it was so big with a Queen sized bed, a big TV as well as a dimly lit lamp turned on. It set the mood for sure. Luigi then ever so carefully sat you down on the bed. He has always treated you so delicately like a feather.

"You're so pretty." Luigi said to you.

You blushed at his comment profusely. Even though you have heard these compliments so many times over the years, Luigi never fails to make you blush.

"You're such a cutie, Lui." You told him, pinching his cheek.

He giggled at you as he laid down on his back, looking up at the ceiling. You got a sly idea. You started taking your shirt off without moving positions, and Luigi remained still. You could feel Luigi looking at you as your shirt came fully off. You were wearing a bright green lacy revealing bra on, which was part of the surprise outfit you had planned for Lui. He was eyeing you but not fully staring. You decided that the best course of action was to get him out of the room for a second.

"Why don't you go get that bottle of white wine we brought with us?"

"Oh, uh yeah, yeah, sure thing." Luigi said, his face just caked in pink.

You know he saw the bra, and it was unlike anything you have ever worn for him. It took him by surprise and made him instantly aroused for you. As Luigi left, you quickly tore all of your clothes off, wanting to reveal the whole outfit to him. It barely covered your parts and skin and also came with stockings as well. It was y'alls honeymoon, anything can happen. As you could hear Luigi coming back to the room, you sat on the edge of the bed with your legs crossed and your hands propping your body up. Your entire body was in view for him. Luigi entered the room and nearly dropped the wine bottle and glasses he had in his hand when he saw you.

"(Y-Y/N). You look so..stunning." Luigi stuttered out.

His whole face was caked in red. Even his nose was bright red. The way your (S/T) skin blend in with the bright green lingerie you had made him so much more aroused than he already was. He could not keep his eyes off of you.

"Thank you." You gestured Luigi to sit next to you, and he did.

He poured both of you a glass of wine, setting the bottle aside.

"To husband and wife." You start a toast.

"To husband and wife." Luigi finished as you both clicked your glasses together and finished the glass of wine.

The wine went down your throat smoothly. You didn't need the wine but you figured Luigi may need a little confidence juice. You both sat the glasses aside as Luigi turned to face you, holding your hips. He quietly gazed up and down at you, admiring your body.

"Forgive me, I know it's rude to stare but I can't help it." Luigi apologized to you.

"Sweetheart, there's no need to apologize. I'd be offended if you didn't stare." You drag your finger down his cheek and twirled the end of his mustache that you loved so much.

You gazed down and noticed Luigi's excitement poking through his shorts.

"Someone's excited." You comment, grazing your hand near his crotch making Luigi whine.

"Ah, how could I help but not be excited with you?" Luigi said, watching what you were going to do.

You backed away from Luigi and laid down on the bed, not breaking eye contact from him.

"I want you, Lui. Come show me a good time, husband." You told him.

"Y-Yes, ma'am." Luigi said, flustered than ever.

Luigi then took his shirt off. You admired his body. Luigi wasn't fat but also wasn't skin and bones either. He had some chest hair, but not too much and even some muscle in his arms from all of the plumbing work he has done over the years. He then took his shorts and boxers off, his hard dick popping out. He was a good five inches and very thick. From the other times y'all have done it, he was able to hit all the right nerves and spots inside of you due to that factor.

"God, you're so handsome." You comment, making Luigi smile.

"I think you're slightly better looking than me." Luigi said as he got on top, hovering over you.

He then leaned down and gave you a passionate kiss. You instantly kiss back, feeling his soft lips against yours. Luigi then began to massage your breast, making you moan into his mouth. You just want him inside of you so badly. You crave him now more than ever. You felt Luigi then grab your lacy underwear and pull it down your waist, then your legs and then off of your body. You could feel yourself become more and more wet from just Luigi touching you. His touch was like a drug to you, so addicting and you would get withdrawals if he didn't touch you.

"Oh, Lui. I want you." You begged to him.

If this was his first time, Luigi would've came right then and there from your words. But over the years, he has gotten better at being tolerant and lasting longer.

"I want you too, (Y/N)." Luigi said as he positioned himself to enter you.

"Are you ready, my love?" He asked for your consent.

Even though you were more than ready, you always appreciated him asking for your consent. You nodded in response as Luigi pushed his dick inside of you, making you moan deeply.

"Fuck."

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" Luigi frantically asked you.

The thought of hurting you made him so upset. That was the last thing he ever wanted to do to you.

"You're fine, Luigi. Just felt so good." You reassured him, rubbing his back.

"Okay good. I just want this to be fun for you." Luigi told you.

"I know and you're already doing that."

Luigi smiled at your comment. He felt reassured. Luigi then started thrusting in and out of you, softly and slowly. You wanted something more.

"P-Pin me down, Lui."

Luigi stopped and looked at you in shock.

"Too much?" You asked.

"N-No, (Y/N). I just didn't expect that out of you." Luigi admitted.

"Well, it's our honeymoon. Anything can happen." You mentioned.

"You're right."

Luigi then grabbed your wrists, held them tightly but not harshly and pinned your hands above your head. The feeling of his nails into your wrists turned you on so much.

"L-Like this?" He asked.

You nod in response, feeling so much bliss and euphoria radiate throughout your body. Luigi then started thrusting in and out of you. Right away, Luigi was hitting all of the right nerves, making you tingle. You locked eye contact with Luigi, his bright blue eyes that were filled with so much love for you staring back into yours intensely.

"You feel so good, Lui." You moaned, which made Luigi start thrusting faster and harder.

He laid his forehead on yours, still maintaining eye contact.

"Sh-Shit." Luigi groaned, "you feel so warm, (Y/N). Ah, ah!"

Hearing the noises he was making made you moan louder. You could feel his nails dig into your skin out of pleasure but you didn't care at all. No, you just care about how good Luigi was making you feel right now. The entire room was filled with the two of y'alls noises you both were making.

"O-Oh, (Y/N). You feel so good."

"L-Luigi. Oh, ohh. Right there, please."

Luigi started hitting in the direction that hit your good spot inside of you. You couldn't feel your legs any more, they were all tingly and numb from Luigi's thrusts. That orgasm was coming close for you and it felt so so good.

"Please, Lui. Lui let me cum please." You beg him.

"Ngh, ah, ahh. Hmhmm, hm." Luigi whimpered out.

That tells you that he was coming close. When Luigi would come close, he could not get any words out other than your name.

"I'm right there, Lui. I'm right there. O-Oh!" You cried out, feeling the edge of your orgasm creep out.

Luigi was getting sloppy because he was right there, too, but he kept going for you. It was all worth it to him to hear your moans of pleasure because of him.

"Oh, oh ohh Luigi! Oh Lui!"

"Ohh, oh (Y-Y/N)!"

The two of you screamed in unison as the both of you orgasmed hard at the same time, causing Luigi to collapse on top of you. You both laid in silence as both of you were catching your breaths and coming down from the high of your orgasms.

🌸

"That was…amazing." You gasp out.

"Yes. It was." Luigi agreed.

He let go of your wrists and just wrapped his arms around you, to hold you, as he laid his head gently on your chest.

"I love you, Luigi." You said as you run your fingers through his soft brown hair.

"I love you too, (Y/N)." Luigi said back, totally smitten with you.

"Want to freshen up in the shower?" You offered.

Luigi jolted his head up in excitement.

"Um yeah! Definitely."

The two of you climbed off of each other and went to the master bathroom that was connected to the bedroom. The shower was huge, with a shower head on each side of the wall with a tile floor and wall as well as glass doors. As you started the water and waited for it to warm up, you could feel Luigi run his fingers slowly down your back and to the clip of your lacy bra. He unclipped your bra and slid your bra off of your body.

"You're so beautiful." Luigi told you as he kissed your shoulder, his soft fingers running down your skin.

It made you shiver but in a good way. He then wrapped his arms around you and started placing soft kisses on your neck.

"Lui, you're just the cutest man ever."

Luigi giggled, burying his face into your neck.

"God. What would I do without you?" He laughed.

Luigi could not imagine a life without you. He loved you that much. He wanted to have kids with you, grow old with you and he pray that at the point you both are super old that y'alls kids were grown and you both would die together in peace for he could never imagine a day without you.

"What would I do without you?" You remarked back, making the both of you laugh.

Once the water was hot enough, the two of you stepped into the shower. For the rest of the night, you two stayed in the shower together till the water got cold. Luigi took his time with washing you. He wanted to get every inch of your skin, and he did. And you did the same thing for him. Washing his mustache was the best part in your opinion. It was definitely a good post sex activity for both of you and a different type of intimacy for both of you. Once you both were done showering, y'all didn't even bother putting clothes back on. You both just both got back under the covers, holding each other close. You both could not wait for another day of spending time with each other as newlywedded husband and wife.

💚

Here it is!! I'm so sorry it took so long! Like I said I work full time and can only write when I can but thank you all for your patience! I hope you enjoy this @pixelybisexualwitch !! I'll be working on the other requests as well and have them up as soon as I can.

#luigi fluff #luigi smut #luigi x reader #luigi nintendo #super mario luigi #x reader #luigi #luigi my beloved #luigi x reader fluff #luigi x reader smut #super mario #super mario movie

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