Femboy Luigi Novels & Stories

The key ring mocked me with its twisted metal maze. “Come on,” I muttered, grocery bag threatening to stage a rebellion. Just as I was about to lose my shit completely, I heard a door open behind me. “Need some help there, struggling swan?” I glanced back. Luigi, leaning against his doorframe like he was posing for some leather jacket commercial. “That charming smile isn’t gonna work on me,” I shot back. Luigi was textbook player material—good-looking, knew it, thought he was doing womankind a favor by existing. We had exactly zero romantic chemistry, which made him the perfect neighbor.