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magpiepills · 1 month

Text

Game Over

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI

Pairing: SNL Mario x Princess Peach! Reader

Word count: 2.3

Summary: a friendly wager over the Star Cup leads to an unexpected victory.

Warnings: pegging, anal fingering, dirty talk, drinking, flirting, butt plugs, use and abuse of video game imagery, crack fic, probably cringe. No use of y/n, reader is princess peach, but her hair, skin and body type aren’t described.

A word from the author: This is a repost! Here is my bonus contribution to the Peg That Middle Aged Man Campaign! I love this fic. This may be one of my favorite things I’ve ever written. I was giggling like an idiot the whole time I worked on it, and I’ve been dying to finally share it. Yes, it is crack, but I think it’s also kinda hot?

“You lost, Mario,” You said, running a gloved finger over the shiny button of his overalls “you know what that means. I’ll come find you later.” You winked at him over your shoulder and went to celebrate your win.

He had barely gotten out of his kart, angry at himself for losing, angry that he couldn’t react as quickly as he used to, couldn’t dodge banana peels fast enough to keep you from speeding by, a blur of pink in his peripheral.

You took your victory lap, waving gleefully from your kart, and accepted your trophy under a flurry of confetti. No mere cup could bring you as much pride as collecting your winnings from Mario, though.

Mario had accepted defeat graciously, you had won fair and square. You’re an honest woman, a good woman. Even though his cock ached at the sight of you sauntering toward him in the garage, he wanted to go back on his word, travel back in time to take back the bet, to wager something, anything else. Mario knew it was useless. He had already let his secret slip, let you know his secret desire, and now you were going to collect, going to give him everything he wanted and there was no going back. Game over.

•••••

Mario was handsome, much better looking up close where you could see the true depth of his brooding eyes, see the gray threading through his mustache, the way dirt and grease seeped into his denim and smell the engine grease, sweat, and mint that cling to him. You’d wanted him for ages, danced around each other, teasing, hinting, exchanging glances, never quite finding the right time to hook up. He was so quiet and earnest, you were exuberant and bold. Fire and water, to be certain. What do Fire and Water make if not steam, though and last night the pot was about to boil over when you’d met up with a few other drivers before the Special Cup race. Friendly wagers weren’t uncommon and everyone was in high spirits after a tough series of other races. Competition was fierce and only the best of the best were left.

Glasses were filled and drained and filled again, and you were feeling buzzy and alive when you spotted the sometimes plumber on the outside of the small crowd. His eyes were shiny and his cheeks and chest were flushed pink from so many toasts to his opponents. He raised his glass when your eyes met, drawing you to him. “Luigi just bet an entire week’s pay on the first race.” He teased. Luigi was swaying on his feet, smiling and holding Yoshi for balance. “What did you wager, Mario?” You asked, knowing as well as he did that Luigi wasn’t ever going to beat Mario. “Told him I’d give him the business if he won.” Your jaw dropped in faux surprise, and you smacked him lightly on the arm. His arm. Maybe you’d drank a bit too much too, but it was so solid you couldn’t help but let your hand linger, squeezing it gently to feel the solid muscle. You didn’t know how long you’d stood there, gazing at his bicep, studying its strength, imagining it hooked under your knee, or lifting you against a wall, until you heard him speak. “What about you, Princess? You want to make it interesting too?” He was smirking down at you, lust glinting in his eyes.

“Yeah. Let’s make it interesting Mario. What do you want to bet?” You smirked back, tilting your head playfully, your little crown slipping to the side just slightly before you right it.

Mario adjusted his stance, squaring his shoulders and letting you drink in the great size of him, his height, the broadness of his shoulders, the taper of his waist evident even under his overalls, the softness of his belly, grown from a fondness for meatballs and pasta. His strength was tenfold, strong enough, you thought to punch through bricks if he wanted. “If I win, I’m gonna take you out, and you’re gonna let me show you a real good time.”

His words gave you a chill that run up from the base of your spine and made your scalp tingle, leaving you a little breathless. “Yeah? And if I win, then what?” He grinned, placed a wide hand on your ruffled waist “I guess you’ll have to show me a good time.”

You could have left it at that, a flirtation without teeth, but you needed more. “What’s a good time to a guy like you, Mario?” You desperately wanted to know now.

“C’mere, I’ll show ya.” He tugged you down a dark hallway, into the shadows, where the music and the laughter and the voices were dampened by wood paneled walls. Your hand felt small in his and for a moment his thick fingers grazed over your gloved ones, admiring the delicate fabric, how smooth and soft it was, how clean and bright it was, never a smudge of oil, not a single red drip from your glass. They were pure and pretty, just like he liked to think of you, his Princess Peach.

There in the dark he locked you into a kiss, scratched by his mustache and soothed by his tongue, you could only let go and let him take you.Hiking your skirt higher, he nipped at your neck. He kissed wetly along your jaw, and breathed into your ear just as you felt the solid heft of his hard cock come to rest over your clothed cunt. Even under his overalls you could estimate his size. “Is that a pipe in your pocket?” You tease, rolling your hips against him.

Mario hummed. “I’m a plumber, Princess. Lay a lot of pipe. Good at it too.” He continued to kiss you, grunting in frustration at the voluminous skirt keeping him from getting his hands on your ass. “Fabric.” He mutters. “Impractical.” You lean back, smiling at his eagerness and the hunger in his eyes. You gathered the fabric of his very practical overalls at either side of his hips, pulling the material taut over his straining cock. He rocked his hips forward, begging for release. You wondered what he was wearing under there. It would be so easy to find out, just unclip his straps and they'd probably fall to his ankles. Your mouth watered, but senses prevailed and you remembered your wager. “And when I win, Mario? Are you going to let me bring out my pipe?”

You didn’t really expect it would happen. Sure, Bowser loved bouncing on your cock, let you take him all over the castle, begged for it. “Fuck me, Princess, please!” He bellowed. Mario though? For lack of a better term, you never pegged him as one to let a woman dick him down. You fully expected to suck his cock or let him fuck you hard and fast, maybe take your panties as a bonus prize. Here he is though, lips parted, eyebrows furrowed. “That what you want, Peach? You think you can give it to me right?” His voice grew deeper and you knew the surprise was written over your face. “Know I can. I think once you get it you’ll throw every race just to get it again, too.”

That had your opponent groaning and bucking against you, hard and leaking.

You licked your lips, quickly flicked your gaze from his eyes to his lips and back again, and leaned close to let your lips brush the shell of his ear. “Save it for the race, Mario. Better get a good night’s rest.” And with that you slipped back out into the raucous crowd, little crown bobbing along with each step across the room and out he door, gone before he could respond.

•••••

In the dark, warm garage, you found Mario wiping down his kart with a rag, his movements slow and practiced, methodical, buffing until the red paint gleamed, reflecting the moment he saw you standing behind him. He tossed the rag into a bin and smiled, lopsided and a little shy. He shifted his weight and wiped his hands on his pants. “Here to make good on the wager or you want to go double or nothing?”

“I want my prize now, Mario. Unless you’re going to renege.” Your voice was soft and sweet, and as you spoke you closed in, helping yourself to a generous feel of his chest, his biceps, and down his strong forearms before you pulled them around your waist and stood on the tiptoes to reach up for a kiss from his hot and willing lips.

His kiss was searing and deep, you’d like to stay locked with him like this forever, but there was business to attend to first. Deftly, you unsnapped the hooks holding up his dusty overalls, letting them sag low on his hips.

Mario’s head spun. He had given the race his all, determined to bury himself in you to the hilt and fuck you mercilessly until you screamed his name and soaked his cock. He was certain of his victory, but something in the back of his mind gave him pause. A little what if…

And so when you spun the defeated man around, guiding him to lean against the hood of the kart and reaching between his endearingly small ass, you found he was ready for you. Throughout the race, Mario had worn his favorite butt plug, the one that fit with just the right stretch and was adorned with a happy little golden star atop the flared base.

Your heart pounded. He had prepared for you. He knew you were his most formidable opponent and he knew he could very well lose. Your heart sang in your chest. Holding back a delighted giggle, you tugged gently at the plug, making him moan and sigh. You steadied him with a hand on his hips and carefully worked the plug free, tossing it into the bin with the rag, more clean up for later.

From your purse, you fetched a small bottle, laying it on the hood right where Mario could see it, then stepped out of your full, ruffled skirt, revealing that you, too, were prepared. You’d driven to glory with the red and white polka dotted cock resting heavy on your thighs, hidden by your skirt, but urging you to your win, reminding you what awaited. You took the bottle and drizzled the cool green lubricant into your hand. Mario watched, eyes fixed on your strap on. Only closing them when he felt you press one, then two fingers into his tight ass. Gently you stroked him, letting him adjust to you, letting him push back onto your hand with a soft whine.

With every move, his overalls clinked against the side of the vehicle, soon drowned out by his wanton moans and curses. “Fuck, Peach. Fuck, ohh..”

“How’s that feel, baby? That good? Do you need more?”

Mario nodded, swallowing thickly, breathing heavily.

“More. Please.”

You shoved his red shirt up his back and kissed along his spine, easing in a third finger. As he relaxed into your movements you found a rhythm, fucking him with your fingers, praising him, kissing him anywhere you could reach, and taking his big, callused hand when he reached for yours.

When you felt him begin to clench, you pulled away. “No, Mario. You’re not coming yet. Don’t you dare.” You didn't win this race to just finger his asshole. You coated the mushroom head of your silicone cock and nudged it against his warp zone. “You gotta come on my cock. You want that, baby? Want me to fuck you now? Really properly fuck you?”

Again he nodded, and you smacked his ass. “Need to hear you say it, Mario. Do you want my cock?”

“Yes. Yes. Want you to fuck me, Princess. Please. Fuck!”

Desperation looked good on him, but so did euphoria, so you guided your thick, dotted cock into him and watched in awe as the ring of muscle stretched to take you, pulling you in, it seemed. Aided by the generous drizzle of thick, green lube, you rocked into him until your hips were flush with his ass. You stayed there, letting him adjust, head dropped forward, letting the pleasure wash over him.

He felt so full. His cock dripped precome down the gleaming side panel, and he began to move his hips, winding them a little back and then a little forward, slow and steady, “Move for me, Peach. Fuck me. I can take it.”

You increased your pace, fucking his ass a little harder, a little faster, a little deeper, but keeping control. “Doing so good for me, Mario.” You praised. “Look so sexy taking this cock. My pussy is so wet. Do you know what you do to me? Letting me fuck you like this? Taking my pipe?” Your words and praise swirled in his mind and suddenly your hand was around his cock, stroking him, twisting with each pass up his shaft as you buried your cock deep and gave only shipper, pulsing thrusts. “Need you to come for me. Come and I’ll let you eat my pussy.”

His orgasm was instantaneous, thick ropes of spend dripped down the side of his kart, desecrating the shiny finish, but he didn’t care. He slumped forward as you slipped out of him, sated and happy, aching in the best way.

You came back, kissing him again, passing him a clean cloth to clean himself up, thanking him for an invigorating race and an unforgettable night.

Hopping up onto the hood, you laid back, wearing your gloves and crown and nothing else, “You finished first this round, Mario. Now it’s my turn.”

He spread your knees with strong hands, “Let’s a-go!”

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