a/n: i do my fanfic writing on ao3 now- including ceo killer smut, but i saw that blindfold video and i knew what i had to do and i knew the tumblr girlies were the crowd for this. i'm so sorry i don't know which depraved part of my brain this came from it just happened
cw: blindfolding, edging, author whipping her head back and forth as luigi and reader go back and forth on who the hell is the dom here
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It had started off as a joke, really.
Well, no- not a joke. When you quietly told your boyfriend you'd thought he looked "bite-able" in that blindfold, you had said so with a laugh to give yourself the excuse of being totally joking if he wasn't down to let you try the whole concept out in the privacy of his bedroom.
It normally would've been disappointing to leave your friend group's get-together so early- after all, you had movies and drinks planned, but wouldn't you know; an hour after your innocent comment in his ear, your neighbor coincidentally needed a ride to the hospital. Crazy how these things work out.
No, it was not disappointment you felt this time. An all too familiar sensation built between your thighs when his hand gripped the steering wheel, driving a little too fast back home.
You had almost asked your friend for the blindfold, but then you would of had to hear her ask why you'd need one when you were going to drop your neighbor off at the hospital, and you figured it'd be easier to just make do with something from your closet. Which you would- your brain was already brewing with ideas of different scraps of fabric you could use as a makeshift blindfold.
Back to your current predicament: soaking through your underwear, Luigi's fingers the star of the show you're playing in your mind as he drives you both home, and the bulge in his jeans.
"Tell me what's on your mind, love," he smirks, and then he's dragging his free hand that's not operating a moving vehicle up your thigh. Your breath hitches as he runs a thumb gently over the fabric covering your skin.
You stay silent, because if you speak you might just break immediately and beg for him to pull over and fuck you stupid on the side of the road.
He hmphs, delivering a firm smack to your thigh, and you let out a whimper at the stinging.
Luigi is normally a very safe driver, but it is nothing short of an absolute miracle that there were no cops out on the road to pull him over for a speeding ticket. It feels like you're parking and pulling out your apartment keys before the stinging sensation stops lingering.
You both say hello to your neighbor and his dog, about to go on a walk, and then shut the door.
"He looks remarkably well for someone needing to go the hospital," you joke, reaching your hands up to thread your fingers through Luigi's curls.
He leans into your touch, pinning you against the wall by the door in the process. This leads to your mouth being absolutely devoured by his own; your boyfriend is kissing you so desperately that when you pull away, a whine releasing from the back of his throat.
That blue checkered shirt, while fitting him exceptionally well, is unbuttoned and abandoned on the floor before you even drag him to the bed, wasting no time turning on any light except the bare minimum to see his shaking hands and achingly hard dick straining in his pants.
Pushing him down on the bed, you climb in on top of him, straddling his hips and shoving his shoulders down so his head meets the pillow. His arms go to find the hem of your own shirt, assisting you in pulling it off and then reaching to get the rest of your clothes off.
When the both of you are left in your underwear, your wetness is more prominent to Luigi, and he takes a breath, going to reach to help you out, but you're off his lap and hurrying to your closet.
"Baby," he mutters, his hand going to rest over his boxers.
Bingo. An old scarf- or, to better describe it, the idea of a scarf, because you had started crocheting it and then just never finished. However, it was perfect for the debauchery you had planned for you and your boyfriend.
"What's wrong?" you asked sweetly, stalking over to him and slowly climbing back on the bed to resume your position. "What can I do to help you out?"
You take his hand off his bulge, resting it on his side, and he shifts, his breath deepening.
"Need you so bad, please," he mutters. You drop the scarf while you place kisses down his jawline, eventually making your way to his ear.
"Lay back for me."
He obeys.
Luigi's eyes drop to the scarf, a smile building in the corners of his mouth makes you blush. There's no way you'll be able to keep your composure and not let him fuck your brains out, but you gotta keep it together long enough that you can get your boyfriend whining and moaning for your touch. You press another kiss to his lips, and tie the blindfold around his head, securing it in the back before ruffling his hair and grabbing his chin with your fingers.
"Not that you would know, but every single girl there was staring at you with that blindfold on," you remarked, your other hand running down his chest.
"Is someone j-" Luigi's voice falters when your fingers reach the waistband of his boxers, tracing over them.
"Hmm?"
You continue running your fingers over the skin, not bothering to take the fabric off until he can manage to form some words for you.
"If you were j- fuck- if you were jealous, you hid it very well," he says, hips raising so you can slide off his boxers.
Not jealous. Maybe a little annoyed, sure. But those girls were back there, and you were right here, with Luigi on your bed, your name falling from his lips, begging you to touch him.
"Or maybe that's why you were practically in my lap afterwards, huh?" he continues. "Wanting to show everyone there that I'm yours? Don't wanna share me?"
You're the one on top, you remind yourself so you don't melt in his hand and let him roll over to pin you down on the sheets. You look down at his dick, hard and standing at attention, waiting to be dipped into your warm, wet pussy.
Not yet. Not yet.
You move your mouth back down to his neck, right behind his ear, and bite down lightly.
Luigi gasps, but you quickly shush him and repeat the action on the other side of his face, a little harder this time.
"I told you I wanted to bite you," you admit, smirking when he throws his head back at the soothing kisses you leave over the teeth marks.
He twitches when your thumb finally runs over the tip, hands fidgeting at his sides. You watch his mouth open and close when you gather some of the precum, spreading it all over his length.
Breathtaking. He's truly the most beautiful man you've ever seen.
You feel more wetness gather between your thighs when you look at how hard he is, and how muscular his thighs are, and how you'd love to lower yourself on to him and take what you wanted. Instead, you wrap your fingers around him, pumping the length until his hands go to grab your waist.
You freeze, and Luigi whines again, bucking his hips up into your hand.
"Did I tell you that you could move, baby?" you scold him again, your free hand grabbing the nape of his neck, moving your lips closer to his. When he doesn't answer, you ask again.
"No- no, you didn't, fuck- baby, baby please keep going-"
Luigi's voice grows more desperate, filling you with a high that feels intoxicating. His precum soaks your fingers, his breath shaky- you want him so bad. Patience is becoming an unbelievably challenging attribute.
"Be a good boy and keep your hands to your side," you order.
He does. You watch the way his face contorts as you make him feel good, reveling in his moans. You continue stroking him until his whines get to a higher pitch, until he's involuntarily thrusting up into your hand.
You don't think you've ever been this wet.
When you know he's about to cum, you slowly pull your fingers away, licking all the precum off of them.
"No-" he protested, squirming and gripping the sheets so he doesn't reach and finish the job for you. "I was good- please- I wanna cum so bad, please."
You run your thumb over his cheek, tutting at the desperation in his voice.
"Maybe if you sit still, I'll think about it."
Maybe your newfound confidence is due to your own overwhelming urge to orgasm. Hearing him fall apart under you like this certainly helps as well. You adjust yourself in his lap, gripping his arms to support yourself in your quest to get a bit more comfortable, and then you pull of your own underwear.
However, you don't slide him inside you. Your own fingers go to run up and down your slit, and you sigh at how wet you are. It's incredibly tempting to use them to get yourself off, but knowing that Luigi's are right in front of you makes yours worthless by comparison. So you opt for grinding your pussy against his thigh, coating it in your slick.
You take a breath when you hit just the right spot, and you don't even say anything when your boyfriends hand shoots out to your waist to stabilize you and guide your body.
He whimpers when you grip his shoulders, quickening your pace as you use his thigh. Any other thought that wasn't about cumming like this was out the window, and it didn't help Luigi was coaxing it out of you, cursing and whimpering for him to let him help you out, for you to just take his blindfold off-
You snap back into reality before you finish, and with every single ounce of self-control you can muster, you pull yourself back.
Dipping your fingers into your pussy, you collect the wetness that's dripping out of you and bring it to Luigi's lips.
"Open," you command, and he eagerly takes your digits in his mouth, licking them clean and whimpering at how good you tasted.
It will be a cold day in hell before you forget that vision: him blindfolded, hand gripping your wrist and sucking on your fingers like it was candy.
You tug his hands back down to his side, ordering for him to keep them there, but he speaks up.
"Please, I need to feel you," he cries, squirming underneath.
You find a little bit of sympathy for him, because he asked so nicely.
So you only bring him to the edge one more time, as opposed to your original plan. He's trembling underneath you, whines and whimpers tumbling out of his mouth when you pull away again right before he cums, but you go back down again, this time with your mouth.
Luigi fucking sobs, hands pawing at the sheets and your hair and everywhere he can reach as you take all of him in, licking and bobbing your head up and down.
When he cums, it's everywhere. You think you have most of it in your mouth, swallowing it with the feeling of absolute ecstasy running through your body, but it's on his stomach, on yours, in your hair..
"You should see yourself, Lu," you tease, collecting the white off his chest and licking your fingers clean.
He doesn't respond for a minute, too out of breath. When he finally comes back around, he lets out a relieved sigh.
"Was the blindfold really that arousing?" he half-joked, rubbing his forehead and getting a little bit of cum on the edge of the scarf still tied around his eyes.
You shake your head yes, but then realize he still can't see you. When you go to answer him verbally, he starts again.
"Take it off me," he orders quietly, and you know you're about to get it.
When you finally let him have a look at you, he smirks.
"There you are."
He looks so angelic laying there, that you almost forget you haven't finished yet, and there's an ache between your legs that's begging to be quelled.
"Let's get this thing off you," he continues, taking the bra that you hadn't bothered to remove before and discarding it on the floor.
Luigi scoots you closer up his body, and you realize where he's going with this.
"Baby-" you plead, whimpering when his hands dig a little too hard into your hips. He smiles innocently up at you, the same kind of smile you gave him before blindfolding him and ruining his orgasms.
"M'just gonna make you feel good," he mumbles, and you gasp when he pulls you up onto his face. "Be a good girl for me."
“No writing is wasted. Did you know that sourdough from San Francisco is leavened partly by a bacteria called lactobacillus sanfrancisensis? It is native to the soil there, and does not do well elsewhere. But any kitchen can become an ecosystem. If you bake a lot, your kitchen will become a happy home to wild yeasts, and all your bread will taste better. Even a failed loaf is not wasted. Likewise, cheese makers wash the dairy floor with whey. Tomato gardeners compost with rotten tomatoes. No writing is wasted: the words you can’t put in your book can wash the floor, live in the soil, lurk around in the air. They will make the next words better.”
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