luigisbambinaaa

Latest Posts by luigisbambinaaa

Luigi coded

people are saying he’s going crazy?? no honey he’s resorting to humor to distract himself, all of us who are even a little depressed can relate to using extravagant humor as a distraction

legal team part two luigi mangione x reader 18+

part one

summary you work on his legal team. sometimes you meet one on one.

warnings p in v sex, rpf smut, unedited

you stay near the courtroom doors, the file gripped tight in your hands. the buzz of conversation, footsteps, a flickering camera light down the hall. none of it cuts through the weight of your own quiet. you haven't looked at sofia since you arrived. you haven't looked at karen either. you couldn't possibly.

karen doesn’t lift her eyes when she speaks, just flips the file closed with a soft, deliberate snap. her voice is even—measured, restrained—but there’s an unfamiliar edge to it.

"you forgot the tie."

you bite your tongue. "oh,” you say as both their eyes land on you. “he didn't like it."

“luigi,” you cried out, your fingers on the back of his head tightening on his hair, curling your fingers into a fist. between kisses, he busied himself with the task of bruising the soft skin of your neck.

you flinched, breathless. “the guards—”

you didn’t know when things shifted. or how. it started with one kiss—soft, teasing, gentle. but then there was another. and another. and suddenly his hands were everywhere—your waist, your throat, under your blouse like he’d been waiting his whole life. and you let him.

you let him.

now heat is rushing under your skin, hands on the wall, lips swollen, pulse racing, and your client’s name still hot in your mouth. you don’t know what the hell this is, what it means, how to undo it. all you know is you can’t take it back.

you felt so stuffed, going completely dumb on his cock as he hammered his cock into your wet pussy, his movements haltering for a moment of mercy as he came close to whisper, his lips grazing your ear.

“tell me to stop,” luigi said, voice strained with need. “tell me to stop, and we’ll both walk away. pretend this never happened. pretend i haven’t been jacking off to you in the showers since we’ve met.”

sofia leans back, arms crossed, a teasing lilt in her voice. “didn’t frown once. miracle.”

her eyes, big and sweet, turn to you. she smiles. but you can’t quiet the growing sense of paranoia. were they onto you already? were you one meeting away from losing your entire career? you tell yourself it was adrenaline. a slip. but your skin still burns where he touched you.

you force yourself to be neutral. nodding silently in agreement, eyes fixated on the floor, keeping the image of you two tangled together in the farthest corner of your mind.

karen’s voice comes next. "i take it he had a good morning."

“luigi—! gentle, please—gentle—“ you squealed, your chest rising and falling as he did the exact opposite. the brunette boy reached around, giving your clit a soft pinch, you cried out when he raise his hand to give multiple slaps to your sticky folds, your thighs instinctively shutting around his hand.

“can’t take it?” luigi said, almost entertained.

you couldn’t speak, your breaths coming out in shaky huffs as luigi rubbed you into a mind numbing orgasm. “please—” you heaved, your eyes shutting tightly, “luigi—”

“you can take it, baby.”

out of nowhere, a silk fabric wrapped against your whiny mouth as he pulled you back, gentle but demanding.

“cause i’m gonna make sure you do.”

goddamnit.

“that much is evident,” sofia says, flipping a page. “no unnecessary sarcasm. no spiraling. no useless tangents. he was completely unlike himself, and i completely appreciate it.”

you can feel the heat rising in your face, the weight of what’s unsaid pressing down on your shoulders. karen sets the file on the table, thumb tapping lightly against the spine.

“y/n,” karen says. you chew the inside of your cheek as you raise your gaze from off the hardwood floor.

the brunette woman adjusts the clasp on her binder, then glances up at you without lifting her head. “i’m not in the business of personal affairs,” karen says plainly, tone crisp. “but i am in the business of outcomes. and today, he looked like someone the jury might actually root for.”

your gasps and squeals of pleasure were muffled behind his silk green tie, eyes threatening to roll back every time his tip slammed into your g-spot or cervix.

“luigi—please!” you squealed—loud, desperate, and so completely unlike yourself. your back arching now, pushing yourself against him even more, practically molding your bodies into one.

he let out a low growl, biting your ear lobe.

“you wanna cum baby?”

you whimper in response. you’re powerless underneath him. the slap of his hips against yours were bound to bruise. he tugged you back by the makeshift gag in your mouth and it was hard to make sense of anything.

luigi frustrated himself with how quickly he feels like he needs to come. his balls were pinched tight, aching for release but he can’t stop, he needs to make it right, make it perfect.

he threw the gag off of you. “i need to hear you,” he said, so sure. “tell me what you need.”

“cum,” you say, breathless. “i need you to cum inside of me.”

pure bliss stormed over you. and luigi couldn’t keep his head on straight—he was equally as twisted, as horny, as close—as he watched your orgasm course through your body, the coil in the pit of your stomach snapping in, your eyebrows knit together, the added mess between your thighs only making his hips stutter with his own climax painting your walls.

“luigi—!” you moaned in his ear, his thumb slipping between your lips for you to bite down on while he twitched and convulsed inside of you

"so fuckin' gorgeous stuffed full of my cum," luigi groaned, his cock smearing the sticky substance all over your cunt.

you mewled in response. everything was so sore, so sensitive.

“hmm, 'm sorry for making such a mess on your pretty pussy, sweetheart,” luigi said, honey-sweet. “lemme clean it up, yeah?"

you blushed in response when he dropped to his knees, throwing your creamy thighs over his broad shoulders, to put his mouth onto your sex. you almost cry at the feeling, his tongue playing between your folds to lap up his own mess. he cleans you up thoroughly, only to turn you out again right after, his spit soaking your cunt as he readies you for another round.

“we have to go,” you reminded him, breathing.

“we’re already late.” luigi argues, pulling you back onto him. you gasp at the sensation. the sounds of skin slapping re-enters the room, along with your lewd moans. you try to bite your lip. to quell some of the chaos.

“let ‘em hear it,” he growls. “let those little bastards outside hear what i do to you.”

“we’re entering a sensitive window in the trial,” karen continues. “every move is watched. demeanor, behavior, relationships—all of it. if he’s calmer, that helps us. if he’s clear-headed, that helps us. what doesn’t help is inconsistency. emotional volatility. or blurred lines.”

you finally meet her eyes. there’s nothing friendly in her expression. but there is something protective. she cares about luigi—in the only way someone like karen knows how: by keeping him alive in a courtroom.

“whatever rapport you’ve built with him, maintain it,” she says. rather, orders. “if your presence keeps him focused, then i expect you to show up. but this is not sentimental work. it’s survival. and any misstep becomes ammunition.”

“i understand,” you say, quietly.

"good,” karen hums. "because we all have a job in there. mine is to make sure he walks out of this building with his life. yours is to make sure nothing gets in the way of that."

you nod in agreement, and that settles it.

the next day, you’re instructed to report to the jailhouse an hour earlier than usual. no clear reason is given—when you ask sofia, she just shrugs and says mornings are better for morale. you’re not sure if she’s joking. but you’re sure she’s got a smile out of this, considering she was nowhere to be found.

they’ve already escorted him into the prep room before you’ve begun. karen’s looked at you once. it’s worse than awkward. it feels like a punishment.

luigi’s sitting at the table. composed. his tan jacket is buttoned up neatly, sleeves rolled with intent this time, not indifference. his hair’s damp at the sides, like he didn’t bother to towel it dry—styled just enough to suggest he’d cared, then thought better of it. he looks up—and those cinnamon eyes, sharp and unreadable, catch on yours with something you can’t name. he doesn’t smile, not really, but something in him lifts. lingers.

“early start,” he says, voice tender. agreeable.

you set the folder down, careful not to look directly at him or think about the event that transpired in this very room. you feel him watching you anyway.

“actually,” karen says, adjusting her blazer. “i need to place a call to the clerk’s office—there’s been a notice about a potential docket adjustment, and i want to ensure we’re aligned before pretrial.”

you glance back at her, unsure how to move, but she’s already halfway to the door.

“take your time,” luigi calls after her.

you shoot him a look.

the door clicks.

masterlist / talk to me

Credit to MaxBelkin on X.

😩😩😩😩

Wrong Time, Right Place

Pt1.

The last time she’d been in the Mangione house, she was nine, and someone had dared her to jump off the diving board.

She didn’t. She stood at the edge of the pool for what felt like an hour, heart hammering in her chest, goggles too tight against her face. Kathleen was laughing from the kitchen window, Luciana was sunbathing like a goddess on a striped towel, and Maria Santa had already done a backflip and was begging someone to “hurry up and go.”

She remembered Luigi too. Not as a boy she really knew—but as the kid who fixed things. Always barefoot, always squinting at something broken. He was quiet back then. Soft-spoken. Always carrying some piece of a gadget around with him. At some point that summer, he helped her dig a caterpillar out of a net and didn’t make fun of her when she cried. That was all she remembered. That, and the way the Mangione house smelled like lemon and rosemary, even when it rained.

Now she was 19, and back on that same porch. Only this time, she wasn’t here to swim or laugh or prove anything. She wasn’t a little girl anymore. She wasn’t even sure who she was lately. The door opened before she could knock. Her mom was already inside, calling out greetings like she’d never left. It was early summer, just past five, and Baltimore’s air had that heavy warmth to it, like the heat was sinking into the wood and staying there. She stood on the welcome mat with her duffel bag and her tote sliding off her shoulder, hair pulled into a lazy braid, lips dry, skin tight from the drive.

“Come on,” her mom called gently, waving her in. “Don’t just stand there.”

She stepped inside, and it hit her like it always did. The smell. Garlic and oil. Faint citrus. Something sweet baking in the oven. And the music, some old Italian record humming low from the dining room stereo, like the whole house had a pulse. For a second, her body didn’t know how to relax. It had been on edge for weeks. Finals. Projects. A roommate breakup that wasn’t even romantic but still felt like one. And the boy.

God. The boy. The one who kissed her like she was a secret and left her like one too.She hadn’t cried about him. Not really. But she hadn’t slept much since, either.bAnd now here she was. In a house she barely remembered but always missed. Kathleen appeared first, wiping her hands on a towel, smiling like she meant it. “You’re taller.”

“I’m literally the same height,” she said, setting her bag down. But her face cracked into a grin anyway.Kathleen pulled her in. It wasn’t one of those fake hugs. It was real, warm, tight, like she hadn’t just seen her grow up through Instagram. “I’m so happy you’re here,” she said into her hair. “You’re staying as long as you need. Okay? No pressure to be anything.”

That almost made her cry. She blinked it back. The kitchen was chaos in the best way. Luciana was barefoot on the counter, swiping wine from a bottle and yelling about how someone stole her favorite candle. Maria Santa was chopping tomatoes with a toddler balanced on her hip, pretending she wasn’t doing three things at once. Her mom was already laughing with Louis, Luigi’s dad, who was by the stove stirring a pot of red sauce and shaking his head fondly at the noise around him.

“This house,” her mom muttered, squeezing her shoulder, “I swear, it hasn’t changed since we were your age.”

And for the first time in weeks, she smiled and meant it.

~~~~~~~~~~~

They gave her Luciana’s old room. The one with the yellow walls and the creaky fan. It smelled like rose water and faded perfume. There was a bookshelf by the bed with random paperbacks and one photo of the three siblings taped to the wall—Luigi, Maria Santa, and Luciana, probably in high school, grinning at something off-camera. She unpacked slowly, half-listening to the sound of voices downstairs. Her mom had wandered off to help with something in the backyard. The Mangione sisters were still in the kitchen bickering like it was a sport. It was nice. No one was asking her to perform. No one was demanding to know how she was doing or expecting her to talk about school. She was just here. And that was enough for now. When she came back down, it was golden hour. Light spilling through the windows, Luciana now dancing in the dining room with a half-drunk glass of wine, Maria Santa setting the table, Kathleen humming along to the music with a dish towel slung over her shoulder.

“There she is,” Luciana called out. “We were about to send a search party.”

“She was unpacking,” Maria Santa said, smiling at her softly. “Let her breathe.”

“She can breathe while chopping basil,” Luciana joked, already pulling her by the wrist into the kitchen.

They handed her a cutting board and made room for her at the island. It was loud. Lively. Plates clattered, someone opened a bottle too fast and sprayed the counter, and Kathleen shooed everyone away from the oven like she had secrets to protect.

“You look so much like your mom,” Maria Santa said, dicing garlic. “But your mouth is all your dad’s. Sharp.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Luciana gasped. “She talks back! I love her.”

“She’s not quiet anymore,” Kathleen said proudly, pouring olive oil into a skillet. “She’s got fire now.”

She blushed a little. But it felt good. It felt like being seen.She wasn’t used to people celebrating the parts of her she didn’t have to hide. The back door creaked open, letting in the faint sound of cicadas and the warm breath of early evening air. The kitchen was already buzzing,Maria Santa stirring something on the stove, Luciana holding court with a glass of wine, and Kathleen rummaging through the fridge with her whole body like she was wrestling it.

She didn’t notice him right away. Not until Kathleen called out, casually, “Lu, tell your father to stop poking the sausages. They need to sear, not suffer.” And then he laughed. That sound, low, easy, familiar in a way she didn’t expect made her look up. He was standing in the doorway like he belonged to it. White linen shirt open at the collar, sleeves rolled once, skin warm and tanned from the sun. His hair was short, dark, cleanly styled, like he’d combed it once that morning and hadn’t touched it since. His jaw was a little sharper than she remembered. His smile, somehow softer. He looked like he smelled like sea salt and warm cotton. Like he’d been outside all day fixing something just because someone asked. Like the kind of man who wasn’t trying to be the center of attention, but always ended up there anyway. His eyes moved across the room,briefly, casually until they found hers And stopped. It was quiet, just between them. The kind of moment that doesn’t interrupt anything but still makes the air feel different. His brow twitched like he was trying to place her, then smoothed when it clicked.

“You grew up,” he said, not surprised. Just quietly impressed.

“So did you,” she replied, heartbeat climbing way too fast.

He smiled, tilted his head. “You’re not still afraid of the deep end, are you?”

She huffed out a breath. “Only when I’m tired.”

Kathleen’s voice cut through before he could respond. “Luigi, baby, grab the wine from the table and make yourself useful.”

He stepped past her, giving her a nod so subtle it barely counted, and moved toward the counter like he hadn’t just knocked the wind out of her. But before he reached the sink, he glanced back. Not to say anything. Just to look. And she wasn’t sure what kind of look it was—curious, familiar, maybe something else—but it landed in her chest and stayed there, warm and buzzing beneath her skin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun was just beginning to slip behind the trees when Kathleen announced dinner like it was a holiday. “Everyone out back! Shoes optional, opinions not.”

She followed the flow of bodies onto the patio, arms brushing shoulders, plates clinking, Luciana already halfway through a dramatic retelling of a Tinder date that ended in an emergency room. The long wooden table was set with mismatched chairs and wine glasses that didn’t match either. Candles flickered low, napkins were folded but already sliding out of place, and everything smelled like roasted tomatoes, lemon zest, and summer. She didn’t know where to sit. Her mom had found a seat next to Louis, deep in conversation about property taxes, and Maria Santa was balancing her toddler in one arm while waving a fork in the other. She hesitated at the edge of it all, unsure where she fit—until she felt someone step beside her.

“Here,” Luigi said, quietly, nodding to the last empty chair.

Next to him.

She glanced at it, then at him. He was already sliding into his seat, one arm resting lazily along the back of the chair beside his. Like it had always been meant for her.

She sat. Close enough that their knees almost touched under the table.

The food came in waves. Bread, salad, pasta. Kathleen moved like a magician between courses, and Luciana was already tipsy enough to declare herself “a saint for helping with the dishes later.”

Conversations layered around her like music—half-heard stories, laughter that built without warning, forks scraping against plates. It was loud and warm and beautiful in the kind of way you forget you need. And then Luigi leaned in. Not dramatically. Just enough that his shoulder brushed hers.

“So,” he said, eyes still on his plate, voice low enough that no one else could hear, “are you actually here for the summer, or did someone bribe you?”

She took a sip of her wine before answering. “Little of both.”

He smiled, slow. “I figured. You’ve got that look.”

“What look?”

“Like your brain’s still somewhere else.”

She turned to him. “And you don’t?”

His grin widened, but he didn’t argue. A pause settled between them. Not awkward just full. Like neither of them was in a rush to ruin it.

“I forgot how loud your family is,” she said finally, glancing at Luciana now singing backup vocals to the music playing through a tiny Bluetooth speaker. Luigi laughed into his glass. “That’s their quiet setting. You should hear them at Christmas.”

“I’m scared.”

“You should be.”

She found herself smiling without thinking. It was easy, being near him. He didn’t talk too much. Didn’t force it. But every now and then, he said something that made her feel like he really saw her. Not the version she was pretending to be. Just her. Kathleen came by and topped off their glasses. Luciana shouted across the table to say she looked “suspiciously good in this lighting,” and someone dropped a spoon that clattered like thunder. But all she could feel was the weight of his gaze when she looked down. Their arms touched again when they both reached for the bread. Neither of them moved away.

By the time dessert was cleared, the sky had turned completely dark. The candles on the patio burned low, flickering against empty wine glasses and half-finished plates, catching in the gold of Luciana’s earrings as she waved a fork dramatically and told a story she’d clearly told before. Her mom was yawning into her sleeve. Maria Santa had her youngest slumped against her shoulder, fast asleep, curls tangled and cheeks sticky with tiramisu. Louis stood to help her carry him in, and one by one, the others began drifting back into the house—laughing, brushing crumbs from laps, stretching their arms above their heads like the night itself had worn them out. She stood too, unsure where to go. Luciana kissed her on the cheek without warning and whispered, “You’re handling us beautifully.”

She smiled, a little dazed. “I used to think this family was loud.”

“Oh, honey,” Luciana said, looping her arm around her waist for a quick squeeze, “we’re just getting started.”

Inside, the kitchen was quieter now. Dimmer, too only the warm under-cabinet lighting left on, making the marble counters glow softly. There was a stack of dishes in the sink, a tray of burnt lemon rinds, and a towel half-crumpled near the sink like someone had given up mid-clean. She lingered there a moment, just taking it in. It was rare to see a kitchen like this when it wasn’t full of voices. When the energy had settled and you could finally hear your own breathing.

Then she heard footsteps behind her.

“Leave them,” Luigi said, his voice lower now, softer without the buzz of dinner around them. “You’re a guest.”

She turned. He was rolling up his sleeves further, collar still open, curls a little tousled from the humidity outside. He looked… relaxed. Like the night had worn him in all the right ways.

“So are you,” she said.

He reached past her for a dish and grinned. “I live here half the year. That makes me an unpaid employee.”

She hesitated, then grabbed the towel and bumped her hip lightly against his. “Fine. Then I’m your assistant.”

He raised an eyebrow, amused. “You gonna dry?”

“If you wash.”

“Deal.”

And just like that, they found a rhythm. He washed slowly, carefully, like someone who knew how to do it right—rinsing twice, stacking neatly. She dried, hands brushing his a few times too many. Neither of them mentioned it. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was… charged. Familiar in a way she hadn’t expected. Every now and then, he’d say something—point out that Luciana had hidden an untouched shrimp under her napkin or that Louis always left the forks for last. Small things. Observations. He noticed things. She liked that.

“You used to be scared of this kitchen,” he said suddenly, glancing at her with a little smirk.

“Only because Luciana threatened to throw me in the oven once.”

He laughed, deep in his chest. “She’s gotten nicer.”

“She gave me wine and called me hot. I’m terrified.”

He handed her a plate and looked at her a little longer than necessary. “She’s not wrong.”

She paused. The towel stilled in her hands. He didn’t look away. His expression didn’t change. And she wasn’t sure what to say—if she should joke, deflect, or pretend like her pulse didn’t just skip—but before she could decide, he turned back to the sink.

The moment passed. Quietly.

But it stayed there between them.

Humming.

By the time the last dish was done, her hands smelled like lemon and soap, and she was a little dizzy,but not from the wine. He wiped the counter with the back of his wrist and leaned against it, arms folded.

“You’re different,” he said softly.

She glanced at him. “So are you.”

A pause.

Then, like he couldn’t help it: “In a good way.”

Something in her chest tightened. The kind of ache that wasn’t sad. Just full. Before she could respond, Kathleen’s voice echoed from the hallway. “Luigi, don’t leave her alone in there. Give her the tour or something.”

He didn’t move. Just looked at her.

“You want the tour?” he asked.

“Only if it includes snacks.”

He smiled.

And led her out of the kitchen.

He didn’t really give her a tour. He started in the hallway, pointed vaguely toward a guest bathroom, then made some joke about Luciana’s old room being cursed—which, judging by the crooked closet door and permanent smell of vanilla lotion, might not have been far off.But after that, it was quiet. They walked slowly, barefoot on cool tile, the house creaking softly around them like it was falling asleep. Voices had dimmed behind bedroom doors. Her mom had gone to bed. Even the music had stopped. It was just them. He led her toward the back of the house, the older part,where the windows were thinner, the light more golden. The walls here were lined with photos, decades of family birthdays and anniversaries and blurry Christmas mornings.They paused in front of one without speaking. It was him,probably sixteen, holding a sparkler, grinning with cake frosting on his shirt.

“I looked like I had no idea what to do with myself,” he said, voice low, eyes on the frame.

“You looked like you were trying really hard not to smile.”

“I probably was.”

She tilted her head. “You were kind of quiet back then.”

“I’m still quiet,” he said, glancing at her. “People just stopped pointing it out.”

They stood there for a second too long. Then she shifted, brushing a finger along the edge of the photo frame.

“I used to love this hallway,” she said softly. “When I was little, I’d walk back and forth during parties pretending I was going somewhere. Just to be around it. The noise. The energy.”

He looked at her. Really looked.

“And now?” he asked.

“Now I think I came here to be around it without being in it.”

Luigi nodded slowly, like he got it. Like maybe he felt that way sometimes too.Then he turned, opened the last door on the right.The back den. She remembered it as the TV room,low couch, dark wood shelves, the leftover blankets always balled up in the corner. It looked the same now. Familiar. Safe. He stepped inside, but didn’t turn on the light. Just reached for the lamp in the corner and let it cast that soft amber glow across the room. She stood in the doorway for a second. He sat on the edge of the couch, leaned forward on his knees, looking out the window into the dark. She joined him, curling one leg under the other, the cushion dipping between them. Neither of them spoke for a moment.The quiet wasn’t empty. It pulsed with unsaid things. She turned her head toward him.

“You’re easier to talk to now,” she said.

He didn’t look at her. Just smiled gently. “You never tried before.”

“Maybe I was scared.”

His eyes met hers. No teasing this time.

“You don’t seem scared now.”

“I’m not.”

He nodded once.

Then, quietly: “Good.”

Her breath caught in her throat. She didn’t know what to do with the way he was looking at her. Like she wasn’t just some girl at the end of a long day. Like she was the thing he hadn’t realized he’d been waiting to find again. The silence stretched. And then he reached forward not dramatically, just instinctively and brushed a loose strand of hair from her cheek.

His fingers were warm. Calloused at the tips. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t move. Just looked at him. Let it sit there. Let it be what it was. And when he dropped his hand and leaned back again, she felt the absence like a string gently tugging at her chest.

They didn’t kiss.

Not yet.

But something settled between them anyway.Something neither of them had words for.

*+*+*+*+**+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+**+*+*+*+*+*+*+**+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+

This is just the first part I’m hoping you guys like it, still feel like I can do a lot better lol if you guys have any feedback I’d be glad to hear it (: someone please lmk if this feels rushed (:

@luigisbambinaaa @luigis-wetdream @multi-culti-girl @mangionesdaisy @snoopy184 @mashkatzi

😣😣😣😣

THE DINER

luigi mangione x reader

SUMMARY: please don’t call the cops, they’ll make luigi stop, and he just wants to talk!

WARNINGS: this is DARK so pls read these. dubcon, cnc(?), manipulation, stalking, p in v, bondage, breaking in, choking, dark!luigi my FAVVV LFGGG!!!

NOTES: soo i started writing this as a short imagine and got carried away. i am obsessed with dark lu, plz stalk me pretty boy,,,

luigi was never one to be girl-obsessed.

sure, he had lots of crushes on girls, went on dates, even had a few girlfriends here and there. yet nothing ever seemed to stick, as luigi would always feel that the other person never truly understood him. he'd get bored, always longing for more. nobody ever lived up to his standards, and as time passed, his priorities shifted.

until one day, when you appeared in his life.

pink soft lips that were tinted with gloss, eyes glazed up at him in awe; it took almost everything in him not to fuck you right then and there in the mail room.

it started off innocent; it seemed as if the two of you left the same apartment complex at the same time every morning for work. sometimes, luigi got to hold the door open for you, or stop the elevator door from closing on you.

luigi would finally work up the courage to start greeting you with a warm smile and a "g'morning ms. neighbor."

he noticed the way your cheeks flushed, shyly smiling up at him and mumbling a soft greeting back.

then, on a busy day at the apartment, you and luigi were the last to file into the small elevator, seeing as you both lived on the fourth floor.

there had to be, what, almost seven people crammed into this elevator? you were stood directly in front of luigi, the lack of space forcing your backside to be pressed up against the front of him.

you felt him hover behind you, breath hitched as the elevator began its journey upwards, causing you to stumble back and press into him harder.

that was the moment it happened for him; he took in the scent of your silky hair, your ass pressing into his strained cock before he wrapped his giant hand around your stomach, quick to keep you balanced. luigi swore you felt it too, by the way you gasped at the motion.

reaching the fourth floor with the ding of the elevator, you both stepped out.

"thank you." you had innocently smiled up at him.

after that, he finally let it consume him. he let you consume him. what started as a pure crush slowly transformed into a full-blown obsession.

he started to memorize the exact time you'd leave for work, and the exact time you'd arrive back home.

he even memorized your laundry days, where he was quick to slip in and out of the community laundry room, shoving a pair of your underwear into his pocket.

the days you'd leave at night, he'd start to follow you.

at first it was only to your car, just to ensure your safety, he'd tell himself. then he wondered, did you belong to somebody else?

so he'd carefully watch as you'd go out to the bars with friends, restaurants, and his particular favorite spot, the library. never seen with any other man, though. he just wanted to make sure you were okay, he felt like he needed to be your protector.

luigi would go to his favorite diner every friday, and write you letters. letters about how perfect you were, about your future together, about how you belonged to him. he’d slip them near your mailbox, yet you never seemed to actually receive them.

the nights were his worst enemy— knowing you were so close to him, and who knows what you were doing all alone?

he’d lie there on his back, shirtless and jaw clenched, hand wrapped around his long, thick cock. he would imagine you on your knees, taking his entire length until you gagged so hard your eyes would water. pumping up and down, he’d moan out your name until he reached his climax.

one night, luigi took it too far.

you’d left your apartment, turning the corner to the elevator. once out of sight, luigi took it upon himself to rush to your door, barely holding it open before it closed shut. he pulled the black gator mask up over his mouth and nose before heading in.

he was inside.

he slowly poked around, taking in every inch of the place you called home. he was taking a notice to the books you had placed on a bookshelf, when he hears the lock on the front door jiggling.

panicked, luigi shoved himself into a small storage closet in the hallway.

peeking through the slit of the door, there you were, in his sight. you dropped a package down on your kitchen counter, sighing to yourself.

you made your way to your room, closing the door behind you.

this was luigi’s only chance to escape— he waited a few minutes before slowly turning the doorknob, pushing the door open with no noise.

that’s when he heard it.

the soft hum of a vibrator, buzzing with life behind your door.

“mmm— fuck, luigi.”

luigi’s throat almost caught on fire, a burning sensation flaring in his stomach. you couldn’t have just said what he thought you said, right?

he quietly pressed his ear up to your door, now able to hear you much more prominently.

“just like that, oh my god, luigi.” you panted out to nobody.

it’s like he couldn’t stop himself— he knew it was a terrible idea, yet his body reacted before his mind could interject the idea.

and before he knows it, he is greeted with the most beautiful sight he’s swore he’s ever seen.

you’re lying on your back, completely bare and exposed. your back is arched, legs spread open as if you were welcoming luigi into them. you had a small blue vibrator pressed against your clit, eyes squeezed shut and lips pursed.

that is, until you hear the door open, and your eyes fling open in shock. horrified, you’re frozen in place as you look up at the man, standing casually in your door frame.

you’re quick to turn the vibrator off, pulling your comforter over your bare body. “what the hell are you doing?” you practically shriek, backing up into the corner of your bed frame.

in seconds, luigi rushes to your side. you react to this, shoving yourself further into the corner and pulling your covers over your head. “hey, stop!”

“i just wanna talk.” his voice is dark.

his hands are everywhere, as if even he’s trying to figure out what to do with them. you thrash against his pull, but it’s too late. he’s got his hands wrapped around your hips, pulling your comforter down so he can see your face.

you’re looking at each other for a brief second— and you realize you know who this is. half of his face is concealed, but you’d recognize those hazel eyes anywhere. his curly dark hair was disheveled, eyes tired as he pulled the mask down to reveal his unshaven face.

you open your mouth to scream, but you’re too late. luigi presses one of his large hands to your mouth, the other still wrapped around your hip, pressing you into the mattress. you squirmed beneath him, yet you knew he was much stronger than you.

“hi, pretty,” luigi stared at you in awe as you finally stopped wriggling underneath his grasp. “you’ve no idea what i’ve got in store for us.”

tears pricked the corners of your eyes, his hand pressed so hard against your mouth that it was starting to make your jaw sore. all you could do was shake your head ‘no’ at him.

which, he ignored. he didn’t even know where he wanted to start with you, couldn’t believe he finally was in this position. he’d only dreamt of the things he was going to do to you once he finally got ahold of you.

“i’m gonna take my hand away, and you’re gonna stay quiet, understood?” luigi asked. you lied there, frozen and unable to respond. “let me know you understand, baby.”

you slowly nodded your head up and down, eyes widened as you stared up at him. you cringed at the pet-name. he was currently sat on the edge of your bed, using all of his weight to hold you down. you weren’t squirming anymore, but he couldn’t risk giving you a moment to flee.

he slid his hand away from your mouth, and you gasped at the ability to take a deep breath.

“wh- what do you want from me?” you whimpered pathetically, which tugged at luigi’s heart strings. you were so helpless beneath him, and this only sent the blood rushing straight to his cock.

“i don’t want anything from you,” he started, stroking your hair gently. the motion made you flinch, yet you let it continue. “i want you.”

that’s when you took a chance.

his grip on your hip had loosened as he caressed your hair, and you took this as an opportunity to get away from him. you jolted upright, mustering enough strength to attempt pushing luigi off of the bed, giving you an escape path.

only, luigi didn’t budge when you pushed him. he swayed back a bit, but it was nothing that caught him off guard.

he chuckled at you cockily before standing up, and you tried to bolt around him. before you could pass him, luigi gripped onto both of your shoulders, body slamming you back down onto the bed.

“please!” you yelled underneath the man. he was on top of you now— his entire weight held you down, his hands angrily shaking you by your shoulders. not to the point where it’d hurt you, but rather as a way to get you to listen to him.

“oh, don’t give me that.” he scoffs, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “who was the one moaning my name?”

your face flushed with embarrassment— he wasn’t wrong.

“get off of me, luigi! this isn’t funny-“

“i was never joking.” his tone is dark, much like the look in his eyes. you really get to take in his features now, being so close to him. his face was lined with scruff as the black gator mask hung from his neck. he had a black beauty mark on his cheek, and his eyes looked so tired. breathing heavily, your eyes met his as he hovered above you. “so pretty, you’re so pretty baby.” he mumbled, mesmerized by you for a few seconds. your eyes flicked to his lips, then back to his darkened eyes.

that’s when they were on you— all over you, actually. his cold lips met yours with haste, pressing into you deeply. you kissed him back, yet your mind still resented this. his tongue eagerly dipped into your mouth, swirling against your own before pulling away. he kissed your cheek, your neck, your tits— his body mass still kept you pressed to your mattress.

“please-“ you half-moaned, all you could do was watch. “you don’t have to do this.” you weakly protested.

“shh, bellisima,” luigi cooed against your bare stomach, his words sending chills down your spine. he pulled away, watching you carefully to make sure you stayed put.

in one swift motion, he pulled his shirt off of his head, biting down on the fabric and letting it hang from his mouth. he took you by your legs, pulling you down further on the bed. you lied there on your back as he took both of your wrists, pinning them above your head. taking his shirt out of his mouth, he then used it to tie your wrists together, above your head.

you fought it at first, thrashing your hands away. but luigi was too strong, and had you tied up in minutes.

“you’ve got no idea how long i’ve wanted to see you like this,” luigi mumbled, propping himself up on his knees so he could take you in. you lied there, completely bare and all for him to take. your hands were tied above your head, too weak to do anything about it. he leaned into your ear, “i know you’ve thought about this too, about us.” he hissed.

“so fuckin’ perfect.” luigi muttered before lying down next to you. he took in every curve, imperfection, and detail there was to you. you lied there, motionless as tears began to spill from your eyes. he ignored them, and began tracing your stomach with his fingertips. this sent electricity through your entire being, the sensitivity of him barely touching you forcing you to buck your hips upwards. “and so needy, mmm.”

“just let me go.” you persisted, back arched against his touch.

“i just want to help you, baby. can’t you see that?” luigi tried explaining before sitting upwards, placing his large hand on your inner thigh. you gasped at the motion, his hand rubbing circles on that sweet spot against the inside of your leg.

“help me with what?” you demanded, your body slowly giving into luigi’s pleasure. your stomach fluttered as his middle finger made its way towards your clit.

“shh, let me just show you.”

with that, luigi’s middle finger and index finger were pressed firmly together, rubbing your clit with slow, agonizing circles. you were already stimulated from before luigi showed up, so this felt like torture. you shifted underneath him, wriggling at his touch.

“see, feels better than that little toy you got, yeah?” he asked, not expecting an answer. you ignored him, squeezing your eyes shut as pleasure soared through you.

“look at me.” he commanded, and you ignored him, keeping your eyes locked shut.

“fucking look at me.” luigi hissed, a short warning before he plunged his two fingers into your core, slick with you. you gasped loudly, eyes flying open as luigi started to fuck you with just his fingers. the pleasure felt unlike anything you’ve experienced before— his fingers curled against those sweet spots that lied deep within. “mhm, my good girl.” he praised you, only picking up speed.

“oh my god—“ you choked out, arms still raised above your head. you couldn’t do anything besides squirm against the pleasure, something that almost sent luigi over the edge. his fingers kept a daringly fast pace and you wondered how he wasn’t tired.

“feels good, yeah baby? you like when these hands fuck you?” he teased, licking his lips at the sight of you coming undone beneath him. all you could do is whimper in response, panting and nodding rapidly. what were you doing?

“god— i can’t wait any longer. don’t fucking move.” luigi demands aggressively, pulling his fingers out of you. they drip with you, and you whine at the bare feeling of him abandoning you. he notices this, and smirks devilishly. “so impatient, yeah? you want this dick?”

“please.” you pleaded— you weren’t sure if it was for him to stop or keep going. before slipping off his sweats, luigi takes both of the fingers that once were inside of you, and raises them to your mouth.

“open.” he commands, and you do. he slides his two long, bulky fingers onto your tongue and you close your lips around them, sucking hard. he slides them so deep that they reach the back of your throat, forcing you to gag lightly. “you’re doing so fucking good for me, such a good girl.” he rewarded you once again, and you decide to surprise him by swirling your tongue around his fingers.

“fuck—“ he groaned. you sent him over the edge. he pulls his fingers out of you, then slides his sweats all the way off, along with his underwear. his cock springs out, and the size is enough to make you panic.

your eyes widen, and you instinctively back up against the head board at the size of his length.

“uh uh,” luigi commands, quick to grab you by your legs and pull you back downwards. “it’s only gonna hurt for a little baby, but you’re gonna take it.”

“no—“ you choked out, eyes glossy.

“don’t be afraid of me,” luigi stroked himself a few times before he was sat in-between your legs, holding them down so he was sure you weren’t able to go anywhere. “i’m what you need.”

“t-too big.” was all you could manage, and he chuckles.

“let’s stretch you out then, yeah?”

without another warning, luigi spit in his hand and stroked himself again, lining his tip up to your core. he wasted no time inserting himself into you, and it took everything in him to not slam his entire length against your cervix.

“owww!” you cried out as the tip of his cock buried inside of you. “fuck!” you screamed, nails digging into his back.

“mmm.” luigi purred into your ear, letting himself stretch you out before pushing himself deeper into you. your eyes blurred, pain searing throughout your lower body.

“luigi—“ you cried. “it- it hurts. stop.”

“pay attention to this, instead.” he instructed before pressing his lips to your neck, sucking down harshly. you cried out, attempting to lift a hand to push his mouth away, but you’re still tied down. he pushed his cock further into you, a deep moan against your skin. he took it upon himself to then bite down at your skin, leaving you howling in pain.

your eyes seared with wetness, the sensation in your neck tingling against his canines as he bit down again, this time even harder. the skin broke, leaving deep blue and purple marks.

he was finally buried deep inside of you— his cock stretching you more than you’ve ever been before. he lingered for a second, looking up at you and wiping the tears away.

“so beautiful.” he whispered before pulling himself out of you, then slamming back in at full force. your entire body seized beneath him, feeling electrified in a way you’ve never felt before.

luigi started slow, yet hard. he rammed into you agonizingly slow, hitting your cervix when he’d go all of the way. his eyes were locked onto yours during every thrust, you biting your lip as obscenities flew from your mouth.

“focus on this, baby.” his voice rasped, and he bit down on your collarbone this time, earning a yelp from you. surprisingly, it was working. the harder he’d bite, the less you felt the pain of you stretching wider to fit his length. “that’s it, my pretty girl.” he mumbled against your skin.

buzzing beneath him, you started to jerk your hips into him, signaling you wanted him to pick up the pace.

“so fuckin’ needy, want me to fill you up, yeah? claim you so you’re all mine.” he growled, his words heavy against your ear.

“i’m not yours…” you trailed, whining. you knew this would potentially set him off, force him to fuck you faster.

“no?” he asked tauntingly, wrapping a hand around your throat as he continued fucking you slowly. he squeezed hard— then harder, and harder, until you started to see black specks cling to your vision. “not mine, huh? sure fuckin’ looks like you belong to me.”

and you were right, this did set him off.

he wrapped his other hand around your throat as well, squeezing as he finally picked up his pace. the pain you once felt now turned into aching pleasure. you felt your lower stomach pit with that heavy feeling— you were becoming seemingly close.

beads of sweat pooled at luigi’s forehead, his hands still glued to your throat as a necklace. you couldn’t focus on one thing: luigi’s cock plunging into you rapidly, your vision becoming blurred from how hard he was choking you, and the pleasure building within. it was all becoming too much, and you needed a release.

“come on baby, come on.” he encouraged you along, angrily bucking his hips so hard that the room was filled with the sound of skin slapping together rapidly. he removed his firm grasp from your throat, a bruise already forming. “god, i’m fuckin’ obsessed with you, y/n. you’re all i think about.”

“i’m— fuck! i’m cumming, lu.” you said through clenched teeth, voice barely above a whisper from how hard he had choked you previously. you let yourself release all over him, your body shuddering in pure satisfaction.

luigi was quick to follow, a few more ragged pumps sending him into his own euphoria. he moaned deep into your ear— a sound you were sure you needed to get tattooed on yourself. he pulled himself out of you before stroking himself, letting his white substance pour all over your stomach.

“oh my god,” he huffed, lazily sprawling out next to you. “y/n- i.” he started as he began untying your wrists.

you were quick to rise to your feet, not caring if you made a mess. before he realized, you were already down the hallway and in your bathroom, door locked.

luigi was seconds behind you, banging at the door the second it slammed in his face. “fuck— y/n! let me take care of you.” he pleaded, pawing at the doorknob.

you took a huge deep breath before taking a good look into the mirror.

huge purple marks dotted your neck, the spots where he bit. you leaned over the counter, wincing as your fingertips grazed over them. a thick, blue ring lined your neck, where his hands once resided.

“holy fuck.” you mumbled to yourself. your hair was a mess, and your makeup smeared down your cheeks.

“baby—“

you swung the door open, greeted by a naked luigi. he stood there, eyes soft this time as he cupped your face in his hands.

it’s like he fucked you dumb, or maybe you were still in shock. you said nothing as he walked you over to your shower, wrapping a towel over your shoulders and sitting you down on the edge of the tub portion.

he started the water, rubbing your leg as he did so.

“let’s clean you up, yeah?” he questioned, and all your could do was nod, your brain mush.

he slid you down into the warm, comforting water. you didn’t even realize it, but you were still shaking ever since he made you finish. you sat there, looking up at the man in awe, as he washed every portion of your body. he’d talk to you, ask you questions, but you just watched. it was as if you were too stunned to speak, cast under a spell by this italian man.

once done, he lifted you out bridal style, your naked body pressed against his. drying you off, he spotted a white fluffy robe, and wrapped it around your body.

“shhh, it’s okay. i’m not going to hurt you.” luigi spoke calmly, his voice as smooth as honey. “let’s get you to bed, okay?”

all you could do was nod at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and he picked you up once again.

he set you down on your bed, the sheets a brazen mess from recent events.

“don’t leave.” you choked out.

“now she talks,” luigi grins down at you, planting a kiss on your forehead. “i’m not.”

luigi carefully watched as your eyes fluttered shut, your breathing slowly becoming heavier with sleep. he watched as you quietly snored peacefully, sending you somewhere else deep in your mind.

“goodnight, pretty.” he kissed your forehead before cuddling up next to you. “finally mine.”

holy fuckkk 😩😭

indulge me i don’t even know with what but god there is is a DROUGHT

getting even

summary: you and your ex boyfriend luigi cuck your current idiot of a boyfriend after you catch him in bed with a HOOKER 😱

warnings: male tears, cucking, head (f!receiving) luigi is cocky asf and a munch

notes: please ignore. way too high and thought this was profound

“are you FUCKING kidding me?”

there your boyfriend was, in bed with a hooker. you couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

well that’s a lie, if anything you knew this would come eventually, you’d just been way too naive to admit it to yourself.

malcom’s eyes widened as he scrambles to cover himself, his face flushing red.

"b-b-baby, p-please," he stammers, tripping over his words like an absolute numptie. “it’s n-not what it l-looks like!"

you cross your arms, a bitter laugh escaping your lips as you mock his pathetic stutter. "b-b-bullshit, m-malcom! i let you live here r-r-rent f-f-free and this is how you r-r-repay m-me???”

your eyes darted to the prostitute still sprawled across your bed, clutching the sheets like they’d save her.

with a voice sharp enough to cut glass, you snap, “and you, get the fuck out of my house, NOW!”

the woman flinched, scrambling to gather her scattered clothes in a frantic heap. as she stumbled to her feet, she shot malcom a venomous glare, spat directly on his chest, and hissed, “DICKHEAD!” clutching her belongings, she bolted out of the room, her footsteps echoing down the hall.

you turn your gaze to malcom, who sat frozen, the spit glistening on his chest, his mouth agape like a fish out of water. with a voice cold and steady, you murmur “put some clothes on and pack your shit.”

malcom’s eyes glisten with tears, his lip trembling as he looked up at you, desperation in his voice. “no.” he chokes out, shaking his head weakly.

your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, a smirk curling your lips as you lean n slightly. “no? you sure?” you said, voice dripping with mockery. “alright, i’ll just give luigi a call then, heard he’s back in town.”

⊹˚✧₊‿︵ʚɞ︵‿₊✧˚⊹

luigi, your ex boyfriend, was someone you parted ways with not because of any betrayal or lack of chemistry, but simply because the distance between you became too much to deal with. you met him a few years back when you were both at the same college, and the connection was instant. electric, even.

he was charming, confident, and had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the room. but when he moved across the country for a job, the strain of a long distance relationship wore you both down. late night calls and sporadic visits couldn’t sustain the spark, so you mutually decided to end it, though you stayed on good terms. there was always a lingering "what if" in the back of your mind when it came to him.

now, standing in front of malcom, the contrast between the two men couldn’t be starker. sex with luigi was something else entirely… passionate, intense, and deeply satisfying. he knew exactly how to touch you, how to read your body, and he took his time, making sure you were left trembling and breathless.

with luigi, you never had to fake it, he could make you cum effortlessly, sometimes multiple times in a single night, leaving you blissed out and craving more. it was like he had a map to your desires, and he navigated it with ease.

malcom, on the other hand, was a disappointment in comparison. sex with him was lackluster, rushed, and entirely focused on his own pleasure. you couldn’t remember the last time he’d even come close to getting you there.

it was mechanical, predictable, and left you feeling more frustrated than fulfilled. where luigi was a maestro in bed, malcom was like a clumsy amateur, fumbling through without a clue.

⊹˚✧₊‿︵ʚɞ︵‿₊✧˚⊹

malcom’s teary eyes narrow at your taunt, his voice shaking but defiant. “you wouldn’t dare.” he said as he tried to call your bluff.

you smirk, unfazed, and pull your phone from your pocket. without breaking eye contact, you scroll to luigi’s name, tap the call button, and put it on speaker.

malcom sits there on the bed, frozen in shock, his wide eyes locked on the phone as if it were a ticking bomb. his mouth hangs open, the spit on his chest still glistening, his earlier defiance crumbling into pure panic.

after a few rings, the call connected, and luigi’s warm, familiar voice fills the room.

“hey you,” he says, his tone casual but laced with a hint of surprise and affection.

“heyy,” you reply, your voice smooth and deliberate. “heard you were back in town. been thinking about you lately.”

luigi chuckles, his voice dropping playfully. “oh yeah? you miss me?”

you lean against the wall, letting your tone turn flirty, a teasing edge to it. “yes, in fact… come over and fuck me.”

malcom’s jaw dropped further, his face paling as he stares, utterly speechless.

luigi pauses for a beat, then asked “what about that guy you’re with? whats-his-face?”

you rolled your eyes, glancing at malcom with disgust. “i just caught him in bed with a hooker,” you said flatly, watching malcom flinch as if you’d slapped him.

luigi burst out laughing, the sound rich and unrestrained. “i warned you about him.”

you sighed, a wry smile tugging at your lips. “i know, i’m an idiot, okay? i own up to it. shut up and come over. i miss your dick.”

luigi’s voice dropped, thick with heat. “well i miss how your pretty pussy tastes. it’s all i think about whenever i jerk off.”

you purr into the phone, “i know, baby.”

he chuckles darkly. “how about i eat you out while he watches?”

malcom lets out a choked sob, his hands covering his face as fat tears stream down his cheeks, his body shaking with pathetic whimpers.

you glance at him, then smirk. “you know what? that’s a good idea.”

luigi’s tone is all business now, laced with anticipation. “i’ll be there in 10 minutes.” the call ended with a click.

you toss the phone onto the bed and fix your gaze on malcom, who’s still sobbing, his face buried in his hands. “hear that?” you say, your voice sharp and unyielding. “and you’re gonna stay and watch. understand?”

malcom shoulders shake, but he lifts his head just enough to nod, tears streaking his face, his eyes hollow with defeat.

your anger flares, and you step closer, voice rising. “say you understand!”

malcom flinches, his voice barely a whisper through his sobs. “i understand.”

you smile.

“thank you.”

⊹˚✧₊‿︵ʚɞ︵‿₊✧˚⊹

ten minutes later, a sharp, confident knock reverberates through the house, pulling you from the haze of your fury.

you stride to the front door, pulse hammering in your veins, and fling it open. there stands luigi, looking like he stepped out of a fever dream. he’s even sexier than you remember, his dark hair slightly tousled, his jawline sharper, muscles taut under a fitted black shirt that clings to his frame.

his eyes lock onto yours, sparking with that familiar mix of mischief and hunger. a slow, dangerous smirk curls his lips, and before he can say a word, you grab the collar of his shirt, yank him toward you, and crash your lips into his.

the kiss is fierce, all heat and urgency, your tongues tangling as his strong hands grip your hips, pulling you flush against him. You’re still standing in the open doorway, the cool night air brushing your skin, but the world beyond him doesn’t exist.

he breaks the kiss just enough to lean in, his breath hot against your ear as he murmurs, “missed you.”

“i missed you too.” you reply, your voice a sultry purr, thick with want as you linger close, your fingers still curled in his shirt.

his smirk widens, and he tilts his head, glancing past you into the house. “so, where’s the asshole?”

you chuckle, a dark edge to it, and step back, offering him your hand. “right this way.”

you lace your fingers with his, his grip warm and firm, and lead him through the house, your heels clicking on the hardwood floor. the anticipation builds with every step, a delicious coil of heat tightening in your core. when you reach the bedroom doorway, you pause, taking in the sorry sight before you.

malcom is still slumped on the bed, a sniveling mess, his face splotchy and red from crying. tears stream down his cheeks, his hands tremble in his lap, and he’s too paralyzed by shock to even move. he looks like a broken toy, discarded and pathetic.

luigi leans casually against the doorframe, his smirk sharpening as he sizes malcom up. “hey man.” he says, voice smooth and taunting. “i’m luigi. what’s your name?”

malcom’s head jerks up, his bloodshot eyes blazing with a mix of shame and fury. “you know my name! we went to penn together!” he snaps, his voice cracking, the words half swallowed by a sob.

luigi lets out a low, mocking laugh, unfazed, and steps closer, his presence commanding the room. he looms over Malcolm, his tone shifting to something colder, more pointed. “now why the fuck would you cheat on someone like her?” he asks, gesturing toward you with a tilt of his head.

“look at her, she’s smart as hell, kind, gorgeous, the whole package. what kind of idiot throws that away?”

you roll your eyes, the flattery stoking the fire already burning inside you. stepping toward luigi, you let your hand trail across his chest, your voice dropping to a sultry, impatient drawl. “kiss me.”

⊹˚✧₊‿︵ʚɞ︵‿₊✧˚⊹

you’ve always dreamt about having sex with luigi again, the memory of his touch haunting your late night fantasies long after you parted ways.

his hands knew exactly where to grip, his mouth where to linger, his cock hitting every spot with relentless precision until you were a trembling, moaning wreck. he’d fuck you with a rhythm that felt like it was carved into your soul, deep, deliberate thrusts that stretched you perfectly, his fingers teasing your clit in sync until you shattered, screaming his name as your pussy clenched around him.

no one else ever came close to that kind of ecstasy, least of all malcom, whose clumsy attempts barely registered. but as much as you craved luigi’s body again, you never imagined it would happen like this… in front of another man, with malcom’s pathetic sobs as the backdrop.

currently, you’re sprawled on the bedroom floor, the cool hardwood pressing against your back as luigi’s face is buried between your thighs. his tongue is a fucking revelation, lapping at your dripping cunt with a hunger that makes your toes curl. he’s sliding two fingers deep inside you, curling them just right to hit that spot that sends electric shocks through your core.

his lips close around your swollen clit, sucking hard, then flicking it with quick, precise strokes of his tongue, each one pulling a desperate moan from your throat. your juices coat his chin, glistening as he groans against your pussy, the vibration making your hips buck.

he’s relentless, his fingers pumping in and out, slick and fast, while his mouth works your clit like he’s starving for it, teasing every sensitive nerve until your vision blurs. your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, grinding your core against his face as you chase the edge of oblivion.

malcom’s still there, slumped on the bed, his tear-streaked face a distant blur. his whimpers are white noise, drowned out by the wet sounds of luigi’s tongue and the ragged gasps spilling from your lips. you didn’t expect this, luigi devouring you on the floor while malcom watches, broken and irrelevant but the raw power of it, the sheer dominance, only makes your pleasure sharper.

his fingers thrust deeper, curling inside your soaking cunt, stretching you just right as he pumps them in and out, the slick sounds mingling with your ragged moans. he pulls back for a moment, his lips glistening with your arousal, his eyes dark with hunger as he growls, “missed doing this.”

you moan, your voice thick with need, “i know.” your hips buck toward his face, desperate for more, and he dives back in without hesitation. his tongue lashes at your clit, flicking it in rapid, teasing strokes before he sucks it hard, drawing a cry from your lips. his fingers don’t stop, plunging deeper, faster, the wet squelch of your pussy filling the room as he works you toward the edge. he’s messy, ravenous, his chin drenched with your juices as he licks and sucks, his groans vibrating against your sensitive folds.

he lifts his head just enough to glance at malcom, his voice dripping with mockery. “see, asshole? this is how you please a woman.” his tongue dives back in, lapping at your dripping slit, tracing every fold before sucking your clit again, harder this time, making your back arch off the floor. his fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot with every thrust, sending sparks of pleasure through your core.

malcom’s sobs grow louder, a pathetic wail that cuts through the haze of your pleasure but doesn’t dim it. he’s still slumped on the bed, his tear streaked face twisted in anguish, but he’s nothing. just a shadow in the room as luigi claims you.

luigi doesn’t stop, his tongue relentless, swirling and flicking your clit while his fingers fuck you deeper, the wet sounds obscene as your pussy clenches around him. his lips graze your folds, sucking them softly before diving back to your clit, teasing it with quick, precise licks that make your moans turn to screams. your hands claw at his hair, pulling him closer as your thighs tremble, the edge of release so close you can taste it.

“i’m gonna cum!” you gasp, your voice hoarse, desperate, your pussy clenching around his fingers as the pleasure surges.

luigi’s eyes flick up to meet yours, dark and feral, his lips glistening with your juices. “yeah, cum in my mouth,” he growls, his voice low and hungry. “i want it all.” he dives back in, his tongue lashing at your swollen clit, sucking it hard before flicking it in rapid, teasing strokes.

his fingers pump faster, deeper, curling just right, and the wet sounds of your pussy fill the room as he pushes you over the brink.

your orgasm hits like a tidal wave, a scream tearing from your throat as your body convulses. your pussy spasms around his fingers, gushing as waves of pleasure crash through you, your juices flooding his mouth. luigi moans, his tongue lapping up every drop, greedy and relentless.

he doesn’t stop, his lips sucking your clit softly now, then licking along your slick folds, drinking in every bit of your release. his fingers slow but stay buried inside you, coaxing out the last shudders of your climax as your body trembles, your chest heaving with ragged gasps.

his chin is drenched, glistening with your cum, and he groans again, savoring the taste as he licks you clean, his tongue tracing every sensitive inch of your pulsing cunt.

you collapse back against the floor, your body spent, the afterglow washing over you like a warm tide. luigi stays between your thighs for a moment, his breath hot against your skin as he presses a final, lingering kiss to your clit, making you twitch.

then he shifts, stretching out beside you, his body warm and solid against yours. his hand rests on your thigh, possessive, as you both lie there, the air thick with the scent of sex and the quiet hum of your shared satisfaction. your heart still races, your skin tingling with the memory of his touch, and you can feel the slickness between your legs, the evidence of what he’s done to you.

luigi turns his head, his eyes narrowing as they land on malcom, still slumped on the bed, his face a mess of tears and snot, his crying having now subsided.

his voice cuts through the room, cold and commanding, dripping with disdain. “i think you should get the fuck out of her house and never come back.”

ur all probably gonna read this and be like “palmy what the fuck” but i had to get this out of my system idk😭

tags: @alleviatcd @luigisbambinaaa @diors002 @corrodeddeadlydoll @contrarianshitstan-blog @weegeewifey @mangionesdoll @mangobabygirl @luigisnumber1fan @fligniuz @number1yearner @soulsmangione @ohsorrythen @bbyelle12 @briarloves @mangionesdaisy @thm12 @purplebadd1e @kikigoogoogaga @daydreamingwithluigi

masterlist | previous work

luigi thought of the day 🤗

you being pregnant with your kid and at the beach, and your stomach is too big and far along for you to reach down and put your sunscreen on ur legs <3 so luigi has you standing there on the beach in the hot sun while he’s very diligently putting sunscreen EVERYWHERE on ur body <3 like lifting your arms up and out of his way to get ur sides completely covered. holding ur hair to the side while getting ur neck…

on his knees in the hot sand, smoothing the lotion all over your calves and thighs and ass <333 tells you “keep your hand on my shoulder, baby. last thing we need is you falling” while he’s massaging your tense calves. definitely gets very handsy when he’s covering the backs of your thighs and ass. has no shame in sneaking his hands under ur bottoms. also definitely likes doing it because he can tell other men are eyeing you on the beach even tho it’s sooo obvious you’re pregnant. and well, of course luigi has to let them know only he can touch you like that! because he’s the one who knocked you up and you’re carrying his baby. not theirs :-)

POPNYC did their thing for his birthday btw

oh my god 😩

For your eyes only

The door shut behind him with a quiet click.

Luigi hadn’t been home in seven days,his family needed him, work dragged him across the city, and he missed her so bad he’d jacked off in a hotel shower more than once just thinking about her thighs around his head,but nothing, nothing prepared him for what he walked into. Red light spilled out from the bedroom, casting shadows up the hallway. The house smelled like vanilla musk and something darker,something feral.Music pulsed low from the speakers. Shakira, She Wolf. He squinted into the glow.

And then he saw her.

Hair twisted up like a crown, heels strapped tight, red lace stretched across her body like it had been painted on. The lingerie was obscene,thin ribbons framing her curves, sheer mesh between her thighs, nipples barely hidden behind lace and tension. She stood in front of a pole.

No greeting.

No kiss.

Just a glare tossed over her shoulder. He dropped his duffel bag without blinking.

“Babe,” he breathed.

“Sit,” she snapped.

He obeyed. Chair. Corner of the room. She moved toward the mirror like she owned the night. He could barely keep his hands from shaking.She gripped the pole and,spun,slow, controlled, thighs tight, hips rolling with unholy precision. She didn’t break eye contact. Not once. Her reflection stared him down, dragging her fingers along the inside of her own thigh. Then she bent forward, the lace stretching across her ass, and slid into a split like she was born for it.

Luigi’s throat dried.

“You didn’t think I’d learn while you were gone?” she murmured, barely audible over the music. “Did you think I’d sit here waiting? All soft? All obedient?”

“Jesus,” he rasped.

“I’ve been patient. Good. Cooking. Folding. Moaning when you asked.”

She turned. Bent backward until her hair grazed the floor. “And what did I get for it? A kiss over FaceTime and some promises.”

He swallowed, hard. “I missed you.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” she said, deadpan, strutting toward him now. “You don’t get to touch me just because you missed me.”

She dropped to her knees in front of him. Ran one single finger up the length of his thigh. Watched him twitch. Then pulled back.

“I could come right now. Make myself do it. Wouldn’t even need you.”

His jaw clenched.

“You wouldn’t.”

She stood again. Turned around. Bent over in front of the mirror and slid her hand under the lace. Just like that. Luigi’s chair scraped against the floor.He was behind her in two strides, grabbing her wrist and wrenching her back against his chest. But she fought. Elbow to his ribs. Knee against his thigh. She writhed like something untamable, and all he could do was hold on.

“You don’t get to play with me and act surprised when I break the game,” he growled into her ear.

“I told you not to touch me,” she hissed. “Want me? Earn it.”

He shoved her against the mirror.

And she smiled.

That was the moment he snapped. He grabbed her jaw and kissed her like a punishment, rough, teeth and tongue, hand pressing her chest against the glass. His other hand yanked her lace aside, fingers slipping between her legs.

“Already wet?” he hissed. “All that teasing just for me?”

“For me,” she spat back. “I got myself like this.”

He bit her shoulder. Hard. And she moaned. Nails scraped down the mirror. Her reflection was flushed, wild-eyed, mouth open. She looked like she was ready to kill him or ride him until he begged. He freed himself from his sweats with one hand, lining up behind her, grabbing her hips like they were the last things tethering him to sanity.

“No more games,” he muttered.

“No promises,” she shot back.

And then he pushed in. Her gasp cracked open the room. He slid in slow,thick, pulsing, deep, and she shuddered, forehead pressed to the mirror. He paused only when he bottomed out, letting her feel just how much he missed her.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned. “You’re so—tight—”

She rolled her hips back. “Then do something about it.”

He did.

Thrust after thrust, harder, deeper, the sound of skin on skin echoing in the room. Her red lace was pushed aside, twisted around her thighs, his hand tangled in the straps like reins. She stared at herself in the mirror while he wrecked her, biting her own lip, dragging her fingers over her nipples until he knocked her hand away.

“That’s mine,” he growled. “All of you is mine.”

She laughed,wild and breathless.

“Then take it.”

He lifted her leg onto the mirror ledge and pounded up into her, teeth at her neck, nails clawing into her hip. She threw her head back and bit him,right on the trap. He jerked, groaned, fucked her harder.

“I missed this pussy,” he muttered. “I missed how you fight me for it.”

“You never win,” she spat.

“You let me win.”

And then she tightened,legs trembling, walls pulsing around him,and he lost it. Drove into her with reckless desperation until he was snarling, buried deep, coming so hard he saw stars. His forehead dropped to her shoulder, chest heaving. They stayed like that for a moment. Breathless. Sweaty. Shaking. Then she turned her head and licked the blood off his lip.

He stared at her. Completely gone.

“I’m not soft,” she whispered.

He kissed her again. Slower this time.

“I know,” he said. “But you’re mine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The apartment smelled like sex, sweat, and her perfume. Sunlight filtered in through the half-closed blinds, slanting across the floorboards in sleepy gold stripes. The music had long stopped. The mirror was still smudged with her fingerprints. The red lace she’d worn lay crumpled near the base of the pole like a dead thing,thoroughly used, ripped at the hip, damp with everything they couldn’t say out loud. Luigi lay flat on his back in bed, one arm thrown over his eyes, the other reaching toward the empty side of the mattress.

She was gone.

A second later, he heard the soft clink of a mug on the kitchen counter and the pad of bare feet on hardwood. Then, her voice, smug and slow.

“You’re limping.”

He cracked one eye open and turned his head. There she stood his fucking nightmare in disguise,wearing nothing but his black UPenn hoodie, hood up, legs bare, sipping from a “Bite Me” coffee mug like she hadn’t broken him in half twelve hours ago. Her neck was marked. Her thighs looked sore. But she walked like a queen after conquest.He groaned and let his arm drop. “You bit me.

“You liked it.”

“You tried to draw blood.”

“I did draw blood.”

He sat up and immediately winced. She raised her brows. “Aww, baby’s sore?”

He looked down at his chest,bruises on his collarbone, tiny teeth marks near his shoulder. His abs hurt. His thighs ached. His ego was nowhere to be found.She turned away, giving him a full view of her bare ass peeking out under the hem of his hoodie, and opened the fridge.

“Hey,” he muttered, voice still hoarse from last night, “what the fuck was that?”

She leaned on the counter, sipped her coffee, and licked a drip from her bottom lip. “What? The pole? The mirror? The biting? The way you begged me not to come without you watching?He dragged a hand down his face. “Yes. All of it.”

She looked over her shoulder, eyes gleaming. “That was me being nice.”

He laughed,soft and disbelieving. “I was gonna make you dinner. Light some candles. Be sweet.”

“You were gone for a week,” she said, setting her mug down. “I needed to remind you what you were missing.”

“You think I forgot?”

“You didn’t forget,” she said, walking slowly toward him now, “but I needed you to feel it.”

She climbed onto the bed, straddling him before he could sit up fully. He looked up at her, hands on her thighs, hood still framing her face like a halo.

“You’re dangerous,” he said.She leaned down, lips brushing his. “You like danger.”

He kissed her, deep and slow, both hands grabbing her ass now, grinding her against him lazily.

“Don’t tease,” she warned. “Unless you want round two right now.”

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You’re serious.”

Her smile was all teeth.

“I’ll make you breakfast,” he said, kissing the curve of her jaw.

“You’ll need to carry me to the kitchen first.”

“You didn’t seem so helpless last night.”

She rocked her hips into his slowly, and his breath caught.

“I let you win,” she whispered.

He grinned. “Yeah, baby. I know.”

And when she bit his lip again, slow and soft, he realized something….She was still hungry,and he was never leaving again.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+

@luigisbambinaaa @luigis-wetdream @multi-culti-girl @mangionesdaisy @snoopy184 @daydreamingwithluigi @iinfinitelimits

Last fic for the weekend maybe (:

What if you were mine?

Pt.1

The kitchen light was too bright for how late it was, but she didn’t bother turning it off. Everyone else was either asleep or pretending to be, and she was standing there barefoot in her tiny shorts, eating cold mango straight out the Tupperware like it wasn’t the middle of the night.She should’ve gone to bed.But instead, she was half-naked, sticky with chlorine, hair still damp from the pool, and thinking about his fucking hands. She didn’t even hear him come in,just felt it. That weird shift in the air. That thing that happens when someone’s watching you. “Damn,” his voice came from behind her, low and scratchy. “You’re really out here eating all the mango by yourself?” She didn’t jump. Just glanced over her shoulder. “It’s not all for me.”

“You didn’t offer, though.”

She turned around slow, leaning against the fridge door like she didn’t care that her tank top was basically see-through in this lighting. Like she hadn’t seen him in the pool earlier with his stupid wet curls and his stupid chest and his stupid forearms that made her wanna crawl out of her skin.

“You want some?” she asked, holding out a slice between two fingers.

Luigi walked over,barefoot, towel around his neck, shorts slung low on his hips,and stopped too close. Like he didn’t realize it. Or like he absolutely did. Instead of taking the bowl, he took the piece from her hand. Bit into it, juice running down his fingers.Her breath caught. Just a little.

“You always walk around like this?” he asked, licking his thumb casually. Too casually. “Like what?”

He gave her a look. Her thighs. Her chest. Her mouth. She raised her brows. “You’re the one half-naked.”

“Yeah, but I’m not the problem here.”

“Then what is?”

“You,” he said, quiet. Like it wasn’t even up for debate.

She laughed, soft and mean, just enough to make him shift his weight. “You’re dramatic.” He tilted his head, studying her for a second. Then, like it just hit him: “Wait. How old are you again?”

“Nineteen,” she said, deadpan. She didn’t even blink.His whole face changed. Not disgusted,just like he suddenly forgot how to breathe.She leaned in a little. Not touching. Just close. Close enough to be annoying. “Is that gonna be a problem?”He backed up half a step. Ran a hand through his hair. Looked like he wanted to say yes but didn’t trust himself to open his mouth.

“I’m not a kid,” she said, softer now. Like she meant it. “You’re not gonna go to hell for thinking I’m pretty.”

“You don’t know what I’m thinking.”

She tilted her head, smug. “I do, actually.”

He exhaled hard, shaking his head. “You’re dangerous.”

“You’re weak.”

And then he laughed, this low, breathy thing that made her knees feel weird. He turned like he was gonna leave,but then didn’t. He stopped right at the counter, palms braced on either side, like he needed it to stay grounded.She could see the muscles in his back flex. The way he was breathing too slow.

“I’m gonna bed,” he said, finally.

“Liar.”

He looked at her, tired and full of something she couldn’t name. “You’re not supposed to be this young,” he muttered.

“And you’re not supposed to be this easy.”

He didn’t reply,didn’t move. Just stared at her like he was counting to ten in his head. Like he was already thinking about what she’d taste like if he gave in.

He was still staring at her.Just… standing there. He’d said he was going to bed like two minutes ago and yet here he was, still in the kitchen, still shirtless, still breathing like she’d just hit him in the chest. She didn’t say anything. Didn’t move either. Because the second she did, he might bolt. Or worse, not bolt. And she didn’t know which one would be more fun to watch.So instead she just raised her brows, like: Well?

He looked at her like she was a problem. Like she was a decision he already knew was gonna fuck him up but he hadn’t made peace with it yet. He huffed a breath, ran a hand down his face. His fingers dragged along his jaw like he was trying to physically snap out of it.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?”

She tilted her head. “Do you?”

That made him look at her different. Like, really look. His mouth opened like he was gonna say something else,some grown man, voice-of-reason type shit,but nothing came out.

And then he just… stepped closer.

Not a big step. Not all dramatic. Just one quiet shuffle across the tile that made her stomach flip because now they were too close.She could see everything. The water still clinging to his collarbones. The dip of his waist. That stupid freckle on the left side of his neck that she wanted to bite for absolutely no good reason. He glanced at her mouth. She saw it happen.And instead of pretending it didn’t make her heart do something ugly, she just said, “If you’re gonna kiss me, do it.”

His whole face twitched. “I’m trying not to.”

“That’s not hot,” she whispered. “That’s annoying.”

He actually laughed. Like a real one. Shaky and soft and like it caught him off guard.Then he said, “You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

“Maybe I do,” she said, and then added: “Maybe I’ve been thinking about your hands since before dinner.”

His jaw clenched. Like actual muscle movement. Like he was fighting something off.

“That’s not fair,” he muttered.

She leaned in just slightly. “None of this is.”

For a second, he just stood there. Watching her.

And then?

He kissed her.

Messy. Fast. No dramatic buildup. Just his mouth crashing into hers like he couldn’t take it anymore. Like fuck it. Like he knew he’d regret it later and didn’t care.She gasped. Her back hit the fridge harder than she meant. His hand caught her waist like instinct. Like he was scared she’d disappear. It was one of those kisses that made no sense. Teeth. Tongue. His thumb at the corner of her mouth. Her leg sliding up the back of his calf without thinking.

And then, Footsteps,hallway,voices.He broke off like he’d been burned. Stumbled back, lips swollen, eyes wide.

“Shit,” he whispered.

She just stood there, breathless. Wrecked. Smiling.He didn’t say anything else. Just grabbed the mango bowl and walked straight out the back door barefoot like he was running from the devil. She stayed leaning against the fridge, touching her lips. Mango-sweet. Luigi-warm.And yeah.That was definitely gonna happen again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He should’ve walked away the second she looked at him like that.Not when she smirked.Not when she said he was easy.Not even when she told him she wanted him.

No,he should’ve walked away when she leaned against the fridge like she knew what she was doing. Like she’d been waiting all day for him to crack.

But he didn’t,because he’s a fucking idiot.

Now he’s outside, sitting on the steps barefoot with the stupid mango bowl in his lap, palms sticky and chest still tight from kissing her like that.

It wasn’t supposed to happen.

He told himself he’d be good. Chill. Polite. That he’d smile and make conversation and keep it innocent,but then she walked into the kitchen with no bra on and mango juice on her fingers and called him easy, and it was over.

And the worst part?She was right.

He was easy….for her. He folded so fast it was embarrassing. The sound she made when he kissed her? The way her hands gripped his waist like she was about to pull him in harder?

He’s never going to forget that.

He leans forward, elbows on his knees, palms over his face. His mouth still tastes like her. Her lip gloss. Her breath. That little sound she made when he bit her bottom lip too hard by accident and she liked it.

He should’ve stopped.

Should’ve never started.

But god, she looked at him like he was a secret she wanted to keep. Like she already knew what kind of mess she was making and didn’t care.

And now?

She’s still in the kitchen. Probably touching her lips. Probably still tasting him. He hears someone walk through the hallway behind him,probably her cousin or someone else staying in the house. The door creaks open slightly, but no one comes out. He doesn’t turn around.

Because if it’s her, he might do it again.

He might pull her into his lap right here on the porch and kiss her slow this time. Not desperate. Not rushed. Just… slow. Deep. Lazy. Like he has all night,and if it’s not her, he doesn’t want to talk to anyone else.

The door closes quietly. Good. He’s not ready,not even close. He looks down at the mango bowl,still mostly full. Like he didn’t just sin over this exact fruit five minutes ago.He laughs once. Quiet. Exhausted.Then sets the bowl down beside him and leans back against the wall, head tipped up toward the sky.

She’s nineteen.

He’s twenty-seven.

And he’s already thinking about how she looked at him when she said his name.

“Luigi.”

He squeezes his eyes shut.This is bad,he already knows he’s gonna want her again tomorrow.

*****************************

@luigisbambinaaa @luigis-wetdream @multi-culti-girl @mangionesdaisy @snoopy184 @daydreamingwithluigi @iinfinitelimits

he’s so “i love my gf” coded

fuuuuuuck 😩

MY QUEEN!!!! I am obsessed with your writing 😍😍 pls write friends with benefits/fuck buddy Luigi getting absolutely feral jealous that you went on a date but he feels insane because you guys are not exclusive so he has ‘no right’ to feel such a way but he’s just a hotheaded Italian man when it comes to you 😩😩😌🫦

sports car

summary: you go on a drive with your “fuckbuddy” luigi in his bmw, which ends with a pleasant surprise.

warnings: head (m!receiving) unprotected sex, semi public sex, breeding

notes: the start of this is a teeny tiny bit self indulgent lol

thee restaurant buzzes with low conversation and the clatter of silverware, but you’re barely engaged, nudging a piece of dry salmon across your plate with your fork.

the guy across from you… brad? chad? you’ve already forgotten his name, leans in with a kind of forced familiarity that makes your skin crawl. his presence is heavy, invasive, like he’s trying to fill more space than his body actually occupies.

the grin plastered across his face doesn’t soften anything. it only stretches too far, too tight, like he’s wearing it for effect. his cologne is sharp and overbearing, his eyes, glassy and unblinking, track your every movement with a precision that feels less like interest and more like calculation.

without warning, he veers into a monologue. his voice lowering, turning conspiratorial, as he starts talking about andrew tate. not casually. reverently.

“that guy’s a genius,” he says, grinning like he’s just named a personal hero. “he says what everyone else doesn’t have the guts to say. if you ask me, that’s real powerful. the world needs more men like him.”

you couldn’t fathom what was coming out of his mouth. what the fuck were you doing? you knew that agreeing to go out with this guy was a bad idea.

“you live by yourself?” he probes, the question dressed in a casual tone but heavy with an intrusive edge that sets your nerves on edge.

you end up dodging the question with a vague, “i get by.”

he doesn’t flinch, just gives a slow nod, his fingers tapping too near your side of the table. and the way he mimics your movements… tilting forward when you do, drinking when you drink, feels deliberate, almost stalker like.

suddenly the air between you feels thin, brittle. you force a tight smile, your mind already scanning for an excuse to leave.

you glance at your phone, then get an idea.

you open your text thread with luigi, your chest tightening at the sight of his name. for two months, you’ve been hooked on him, meeting up whenever one of you needs to blow off steam, fucking with reckless abandon wherever the mood strikes.

it started with a chance encounter at a bar, his gorgeous smile and teasing banter pulling you in, leading to you accompanying him on a drive in his bmw. eventually he pulled into a quiet, secluded spot by the beach, diving into the backseat where clothes were torn off in a rush, and he fucked you senseless for the first time.

since then, you’ve found each other again and again, always meeting up whenever you’re horny. you mostly do it somewhere at his place, or his car.

each encounter is a blur of sweat slicked skin, tangled limbs, and gasped curses, leaving you trembling in his arms, your body sated but your heart aching. you’re ashamed to admit that you’re fucking in love with him. but he’s never said it back, and it eats away at you night after night.

that’s why you’re here, enduring this dreadful date, listening to this weirdo go on and on, in a hopeless attempt to move on, to numb the sharp longing for a man who might not love you the way you love him.

your thumb hovers over luigi’s last text, a cheeky “miss me already?” from 3 days ago, and you fight the urge to reply, the candle’s faint glow doing nothing to ease the growing dread of this date or the deeper pain of trying to let go of the man who consumes your thoughts.

you hate feeling like a burden, you absolutely LOATHE the vulnerability of needing to ask for a favour… it makes your stomach twist with embarrassment, like you’re imposing on someone who might resent you for it. but the dude across the table is still staring, his vibe growing darker, and you can’t stay here any longer.

swallowing your pride, you type out a quick text to luigi. your finger lingers over the send button, a wave of self doubt hitting hard as you imagine him sighing at the inconvenience.

you hit send anyway, heart pounding, the candle’s dim light doing little to ease the dread of this date or the nagging fear that you’re asking too much of the man you can’t stop loving.

you: hey… can you come get me? im on a bad date

as soon as the message sends, a surge of regret engulfs you. why did you do that? you mentally berate yourself, your thoughts tumbling into a chaotic frenzy. what the fuck were you thinking? he’s probably busy, out with friends or having a rare night to himself for once, and here you are, thrusting your problems onto him like some needy, burdensome mess.

you picture him reading the text and rolling his eyes, judging you for being too weak to handle a creepy date on your own. what if he’s fed up with you? just because you’ve been having sex with him for two months doesn’t mean that he owes you anything. you should’ve sucked it up and ordered an uber home. anything but pulling luigi into your drama.

your thoughts churn with worst case scenarios: luigi ignoring your text completely, or worse, sending a cold, dismissive “no” that makes it clear you’re not his concern. you imagine him brushing you off, and you know what? you wouldn’t even blame him. why should he drop everything for you?

you stare at your phone, the screen still blank, your stomach knotting with the humiliating realization that you’ve just laid bare how much you need him, when he likely doesn’t give a shit about you like that at all. you’re just someone he hooks up with sometimes, that’s it.

suddenly, your phone buzzes, the screen lighting up with a new text from luigi.

luigi: a date??? wtf are you doing on a date???

your heart stumbles, a rush of shock and cautious hope surging through you as you stare at the words on your screen. his message is blunt, cutting through the fog of your spiraling thoughts, and your fingers shake as you grip the phone, caught between relief that he’s responded and dread that this could unravel. why didn’t you just order a fucking uber?

you hesitate, then type out a response, your thumbs unsteady.

you: it’s nothing serious, just dinner. why does it matter?

seconds later, your phone vibrates with his response.

luigi: cus it does. where you at anyway? bet whoever you’re with is some loser lol

the words hit like a playful jab, sharp and teasing, yet laced with something heavier. you glance at your date across the table, his voice now droning on about cryptocurrency, eyes glued to his drink mid rant.

a wry smile tugs at your lips. luigi’s not wrong. your fingers hover over the keyboard, then you type.

you: at amigos. and yeah, he is a loser, and that’s why i need you to come get me

you: happy now?

your phone dings twice, almost instantly, his reply lighting up the screen.

luigi: oh baby, i’m already grabbing my keys

luigi: i’ll come save you soon, better be ready for me

the messages drip with a flirty edge, a promise woven into the tease, and your stomach flips, a grin creeping onto your face as you steal another glance at your date, now staring at you.

you quickly muster an excuse. “i’m so sorry, my mom just texted me, my grandma’s in the hospital, i oughta go down there and be there with her.”

chad… or brad? stares at you, his unnervingly wide grin twisting into a sullen grimace, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. the glint in them dims, replaced by something colder, more petulant.

“fine.” he mutters, his voice a low, gravelly grumble, dripping with annoyance as he leans back in his chair, arms crossing tightly over his chest. his jaw clenches, and for a moment, you think he might argue, but instead, he lets out a sharp huff, shoving his chair back with a loud, grating scrape against the polished wood floor.

the sound cuts through the restaurant’s soft hum, drawing a few curious glances from nearby tables. without another word, he rises, his broad frame looming briefly as he snatches his jacket from the back of the chair, the fabric rustling angrily. he storms toward the exit, his heavy footsteps thudding with purpose, the glass door swinging open with a jingle before slamming shut behind him.

through the restaurant’s large window, you watch him stride across the dimly lit parking lot, his silhouette sharp against the neon glow of the restaurant’s sign. he yanks open the driver’s side door of his black toyota, the motion jerky and aggressive, and slides inside. the engine roars to life, headlights flaring as he peels out, tires screeching against the asphalt, leaving a faint trail of burnt rubber as he speeds off into the night.

you’re left alone at the table, your heart still pounding from the tension of his presence, but a wave of relief washes over you, the candle’s faint flicker now feeling like a small beacon of calm in the wake of his departure.

you feel as though you’ve just dodged a MAJOR bullet.

taking a deep breath, you steady yourself and glance around the restaurant, the soft hum of conversation and clinking glasses grounding you. determined to wrap this up and get out, you catch the eye of a nearby waiter, a young guy with a polite smile, and gesture him over.

“could i get the bill please?” you ask, keeping your voice soft.

he nods and steps away, returning shortly with a glossy black folder containing the bill. you open it, a spark of frustration flaring as you remember chad…?….brad?…or is it actually tad??? promising over text before you even met up that he’d cover dinner, his cocky messages about “treating you right” and about how a woman should “never have to pay for dinner” now feeling like empty bravado now that he’s stormed off without a word.

with a quiet scoff, you slide your credit card into the folder, not bothering to check the total. paying for this disastrous date is a small price to be free of his creepy presence. after a swift transaction and a brief thank you to the waiter, you grab your purse, rise, and smooth your dress, threading through the packed tables toward the exit.

the glass door swings open effortlessly, and you step out, the crisp night air hitting your skin, a refreshing relief from the restaurant’s stifling atmosphere.

entering the parking lot, your eyes scan the dimly lit area, and your heart skips a beat when you spot it… luigi’s red BMW, its glossy paint gleaming under a streetlight, parked near the edge of the lot. the sight of it, bold and familiar, sends a rush of warmth through you, chasing away the last remnants of the date’s unease.

⊹˚✧₊‿︵ʚɞ︵‿₊✧˚⊹

he’s here. he actually came. you clutch your purse tighter, a small smile tugging at your lips as you start walking toward the car, the sound of your heels clicking against the concrete, mingling with the sound of the nearby passing traffic.

as you get closer, luigi’s gaze locks onto you through his windshield, his eyes raking over you with unapologetic hunger, tracing the way your dress molds to every curve of your body. your hips, your waist, your chest… before slowly climbing back to your face.

the stare is brazen, smoldering, and it ignites a tingling heat that blooms across your skin, defying the crisp bite of the night air. you reach the passenger side, fingers curling around the cool metal handle, and swing the door open, sliding into the leather seat that cradles you like a lover’s embrace. as you settle in, luigi lets out a slow, appreciative whistle, the sound low and deliberate.

his head tilts, tongue pressing firmly against the inside of his cheek in that cheeky, teasing gesture that screams confidence and flirtation, his dark eyes glinting with a wicked spark as he drinks you in up close.

“damn…” he drawls, voice rich and smooth as molten honey, each syllable laced with a weight that sends your pulse into a wild sprint.

a shy blush creeps up your cheeks, warm and betraying, as his words and that brazen look settle over you. you shift in the seat, trying to play it cool, but the heat in your face gives you away.

“what?” you reply, your voice light but tinged with a nervous laugh, your fingers fidgeting with the strap of your purse as you meet his gaze.

luigi leans back, one hand resting casually on the steering wheel, his eyes still roaming you with playful mischief. “this is the hottest i’ve ever seen you look,” he says, his tone teasing but warm, a grin tugging at his lips. “you went all out to go to dinner with that asshole? i’m the one who’s been fucking you for almost 2 months, and you’ve never dressed up this much for me.”

his words carry a mock pout, but the laughter in his voice and the way his eyes crinkle with amusement show he’s having fun with it, clearly relishing in how good you look tonight while still managing to tease you.

you tilt your head, a playful smirk curling your lips as you lean slightly toward him, your voice dipping into a teasing lilt. “well next time i’ll show up in my tightest, shortest dress.” you say, letting the words linger, your eyes locking with his, a spark of challenge in your gaze as you raise an eyebrow.

luigi’s grin widens, his eyes glinting with delight. “i wouldn’t complain.” he shoots back, his tone warm and flirtatious, the laughter still threading through his voice as he holds your gaze, the air between you charged with a familiar, electric pull.

before you can respond, he leans over the center console, closing the distance between you. his hand finds the side of your face, fingers brushing your cheek as he pulls you into a kiss. his lips are warm, firm, and hungry, moving against yours with a slow, deliberate intensity that makes your breath catch.

the kiss deepens quickly, his tongue slipping past your lips, teasing and exploring as it tangles with yours in a slick, heated dance. his stubble grazes your skin, a faint, delicious roughness, and the faint taste of mint from his gum lingers, mixing with the raw, masculine scent of him that fills your senses.

when he pulls back, his eyes linger on yours, a soft, knowing look passing between you. your lips tingle, still buzzing from the kiss, and a flutter of butterflies dances in your stomach, the intimacy of the moment leaving you both grounded and dizzy with want. you’re acutely aware of how much you’ve missed this, missed him, and the realization only deepens the ache of your feelings for him.

luigi settles back into his seat, a faint, satisfied smile playing on his lips. he turns the key in the ignition, the car’s engine purring to life with a low, throaty hum. with a quick glance over his shoulder, he shifts into gear and pulls out of the parking lot, the red car gliding smoothly away from the restaurant, the glow of its neon sign fading in the rearview mirror as you leave the disastrous date behind.

the city lights flash by in streaks of gold and white as he drives, the car navigating the road’s gentle curves with effortless grace. the low thrum of the engine and the rhythmic hum of tires on asphalt create a soothing bubble, a stark contrast to the suffocating tension of the restaurant. his left hand rests casually on the steering wheel, guiding the car with easy confidence, while his right hand drifts to your thigh, settling there with a warm, intentional weight.

his palm presses against the thin fabric of your dress, the heat of his skin radiating through, and his fingers splay slightly, the tips grazing the soft, sensitive skin just above your knee. the touch is both possessive and gentle, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles that send a quiet thrill through you, each small movement sparking a tingling warmth that pools in your core.

the faint roughness of his fingertips, calloused from work, contrasts with the smoothness of your thigh, anchoring you in the moment while stoking a slow burning desire. his grip tightens briefly as he rounds a corner, the subtle pressure sending a jolt of awareness through your body, and you catch the faintest quirk of his lips, as if he’s fully aware of the effect he’s having.

“so…” luigi says, his voice low and casual, though there’s a curious edge to it as he keeps his eyes on the road. “who was this guy you were having dinner with? some wannabe hotshot?”

his tone is light, teasing, but there’s a hint of something sharper beneath it, maybe jealousy, maybe just genuine interest. his hand stays on your thigh, thumb still circling, the touch grounding you even as his question pulls your mind back to the creep you’d rather forget. “i mean, you got all dressed up like that for him…” he adds, glancing at you briefly, his dark eyes flicking over your dress before returning to the road, a playful challenge in his expression.

the car cruises steadily, the city unfolding around you, but with his hand on you and his voice drawing you in, the world outside feels distant, the focus narrowing to the space between you.

you roll your eyes, a frustrated huff escaping as you slump back in the leather seat, the memory of the date reigniting your irritation. “ugh, don’t even, he was the fucking WORST,” you groan, crossing your arms, your voice dripping with exasperation. “some wannabe sigma crypto bro who wouldn’t shut up about “dominating the market” or whatever the fuck and how he’s, like, hacking the blockchain or whatever. kept bragging about his ‘gains’ and how he’s ‘not like other guys.’ oh, AND he left without paying, so i had to pay for dinner.”

you shake your head, annoyance flaring as you picture that asshole’s smug smirk and eerie gaze. luigi’s hand on your thigh is a grounding force, calming your rant, his thumb still drawing slow, tantalizing circles that spark a quiet heat beneath your aggravation.

a low chuckle from him breaks through your thoughts, the sound warm and amused. you whip your head toward him, one eyebrow arched, your voice a mix of teasing and irritation.

“are you giving me attitude?” you ask, half playful, half annoyed, fixing him with a look as you wait for an explanation.

luigi’s chuckle deepens, his eyes glinting with mischief as he keeps one hand on the steering wheel, the other still resting on your thigh, his thumb tracing those slow, deliberate circles that keep a faint heat simmering under your skin.

“i just think it’s hilarious,” he says, his voice low and teasing, a playful edge to it as he glances at you briefly before focusing back on the road.

“you’re out here getting this phd from me, and yet you’re stuck at some fancy dinner with a wannabe crypto loser who probably couldn’t even find the clit with a map.” he laughs again, the sound rich and unapologetic, clearly enjoying the absurdity of it.

“like, come on, baby, you’re slumming it with that guy when you’ve got me on speed dial?” his tone is light, cocky but not cruel, and the way his fingers give your thigh a gentle squeeze underscores the playful possessiveness in his words.

the city lights streak by as the car cruises smoothly, and despite your lingering frustration from the date, his teasing and that warm, steady hand on you start to pull a reluctant smile to your lips.

your heart rate quickens at his words, a glimmer of hope flickering deep inside… does he care that you were out with someone else? could he actually be jealous? the thought sends a rush through you, your feelings for him, unspoken and hidden, surging with a quiet ache. but you shove it down, feigning nonchalance as you shift in the plush leather seat, tossing him a sidelong glance with a carefully crafted smirk.

“hey, i’ve got my own life,” you say, voice cool but laced with a playful edge, shrugging slightly. “we’re not exclusive, luigi. you made that clear from the jump, remember? no strings, just fun, that was the rule that we agreed on.”

your words are sharp enough to remind him of the boundaries he set when you first started fucking, but your casual tone masks the pang in your chest, the longing for him to want more. his hand stills on your thigh for a beat, the circling thumb pausing, and you catch a fleeting shift in his expression, maybe surprise, maybe something deeper, as he keeps his gaze on the road, while clenching his jaw.

luigi stays silent for a moment, the engine’s soft hum filling the void. then he speaks, his voice quieter now, stripped of its usual playful edge, laced with a vulnerability that makes your breath falter.

“you know,” he begins, still staring straight ahead, “it gets to me, thinking about you with other guys. going out with them, fucking them, or even just… sitting through dinner with some asshole.” he falters, his grip on your thigh tightening just a bit, not possessive but almost instinctual, like he’s steadying himself.

“i’m the one who said no strings, keep it chill. but picturing you with someone else? it hurts way more than i thought it would.” his confession is soft, almost hesitant, as if he’s grappling with the weight of it, and the rawness in his tone sends your heart racing, that faint spark of hope you felt earlier flaring into something brighter.

he shifts gears, the car picking up speed as he guides it away from the city’s vibrant lights, taking the twisting roads toward the lake. the urban sprawl fades into darker, emptier streets, the scenery opening up as the road stretches toward the water’s edge.

his hand stays on your thigh, warm and steady, but his jaw remains taut, his gaze fixed on the road, hinting at an inner conflict. the city’s hum recedes, replaced by the distant whisper of the lake, and his words hang heavily in the air, leaving you caught between the thrill of his admission and the uncertainty of what it might mean for the two of you.

you shift slightly in your seat, his unexpected vulnerability stirring a mix of emotions, hope, nervousness, desire. the road stretches darker now, the city lights long gone, and curiosity nudges you to break the silence.

“where are we going?” you ask, your voice soft but tinged with playful curiosity, glancing at his profile, the sharp line of his jaw illuminated by the faint glow of the dashboard.

luigi’s lips quirk into a small, knowing smile, his eyes still on the road as he replies, “where do you think? we’re headed to our usual spot.” his voice is low, carrying a familiar teasing edge, but there’s a warmth beneath it that makes your pulse quicken, the implication of “our spot” sending a rush to your core.

he steers the car down a familiar narrow road, the pavement giving way to a gravel path that crunches under the tires. the lake comes into view, its surface shimmering faintly under the moonlight, framed by dense trees that create a secluded cocoon.

he pulls into the quiet clearing by the water’s edge, the same spot you’ve been to countless times before, where the world feels like it belongs only to the two of you. the car rolls to a stop, the engine’s hum fading as he cuts the ignition, leaving the soft lapping of the lake and the distant chirp of crickets to fill the silence.

he shifts in his seat, turning to face you, his eyes catching yours, moonlight highlighting the depth in his gaze.

“these last two months,” luigi begins, his voice softer now, laced with a raw honesty that makes your heart skip. “they’ve been the happiest of my life. no joke.”

he hesitates, his thumb now grazing your hand lightly, a rare nervous tic from him. “it’s not just the sex… although i will say, it’s been the best sex i’ve had in my life. it’s… you. hanging out, laughing, just… being together. it’s hit me different. and lately, i’ve been feeling like… i want more than just this no strings thing we’ve been doing.”

he continues. “you’re sweet, funny, kind, beautiful… the whole package. but i can’t keep doing this casual shit. it’s not right for you, and it’s tearing me up. i want us to be official. you and me, together, for real.”

⊹˚✧₊‿︵ʚɞ︵‿₊✧˚⊹

that does it for you.

you lean over the center console, your dress shifting slightly as you move, and your fingers find his belt, the cool metal buckle clicking softly as you deftly undo it. the sound is sharp in the quiet car, charged with intent. luigi’s eyes widen for a split second, a flicker of surprise giving way to a hungry understanding as he catches on.

he shifts in his seat, his hands moving quickly to help, tugging his trousers down with a rustle of fabric. the waistband slides past his hips, revealing the tight grey calvin kleins clinging to his thighs, the fabric stretched taut over his growing bulge, the outline of his cock already thick and prominent, straining against the cotton.

a faint sheen of precum darkens a small patch near the tip, betraying his arousal, and the sight sends a jolt of desire through you, your mouth watering, your core clenching with need. his thighs, muscular and dusted with dark hair, flex slightly as he adjusts, the air between you crackling with anticipation, the intimacy of the moment amplified by the quiet lapping of the lake outside.

you lean across the center console, your dress riding up slightly, and lock eyes with him, your voice low and commanding, dripping with need.

“underwear off. now.”

luigi’s eyes spark with surprise, then amusement, a deep, warm laugh spilling from him, the sound rich and filling the car. “you’re even hornier than usual,” he says, his tone laced with playful awe, a grin spreading across his face. “are you ovulating?”

his laugh is teasing, but the fire in his gaze matches yours, his pupils dilated as he reads the desire in your expression. he doesn’t hesitate long, already moving to comply, but first, he closes the distance between you.

his lips crash into yours, hot and insistent, the kiss immediately deep and consuming. his tongue slips past your lips, tangling with yours in a slick, fervent dance, carrying a hint of mint and his own unique taste. one hand cups your jaw, fingers steady yet gentle, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, while his other hand fumbles with the waistband of his underwear.

the fabric shifts as he pulls them down, the tight cotton catching briefly on his erection before sliding past his hips, freeing his cock. it stands thick and heavy, the swollen tip glistening with precum, veins pulsing along the shaft, and though you’re lost in the kiss, the knowledge of his exposure sends a fresh wave of want through you.

his stubble scrapes your skin, a thrilling roughness, and his low groan vibrates against your lips as he slides the underwear off completely, leaving him bare from the waist down. the kiss grows messier, more desperate, teeth grazing, breaths mingling, his hand moving from your jaw to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as if he can’t get enough.

the car feels smaller, the lake’s quiet whispers fading against the pounding of your heart and the intense, electric connection of his mouth on yours, his nakedness only amplifying the urgent heat between you.

you break the kiss abruptly, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes, dark and heavy with lust. without a word, you shift over the center console, your dress hiking up as you lean down, your breath hot against his skin. his cock stands rigid, the flushed tip slick with precum, and you pause for a moment, letting the anticipation build.

then, you press a slow, deliberate kiss to the sensitive head, your lips brushing the smooth, velvety skin, tasting the salty tang of his arousal. luigi lets out a surprised moan, a low sound that reverberates through the car, his hips twitching involuntarily at the sudden contact.

but you don’t stop there. your lips part, and you slowly take him into your mouth, inch by torturous inch. the thick, pulsing heat of his cock fills you, the weight of him heavy on your tongue as you slide down, feeling every ridge and vein against your lips.

then swollen head presses against the roof of your mouth, slick with precum, and you hollow your cheeks, creating a tight, wet suction as you begin to suck him off. your tongue swirls around the tip, teasing the sensitive slit, then flattens along the underside, tracing the throbbing vein as you take him deeper, your lips stretching to accommodate his girth.

the musky scent of him, mixed with the faint leather of the car, floods your senses, driving your desire higher. you move slowly at first, savoring the way he fills your mouth, the way his body responds, his thighs tensing, his hands gripping the edges of the seat.

another moan escapes him, louder this time, a ragged “fuck” slipping out as he watches you, his breath hitching in surprise and pleasure, the sound spurring you on as you work him with deliberate, hungry precision, the secluded lake outside forgotten in the haze of this moment.

luigi’s thighs tense under your touch, his muscles flexing as he shifts slightly in the driver’s seat, his breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. his hand finds your hair, fingers threading through the strands with a gentle but firm grip, not forcing but guiding, urging you closer. “my girl… my baby…” he moans, his voice low and ragged, dripping with pleasure as he watches you.

“so beautiful… making me feel so good.” his words are sweet, murmured nothings that spill out between moans, each one stoking the fire in your core. he gently pushes your head down, encouraging you to take him deeper, his touch careful but laced with need. the pressure sends a thrill through you, your throat relaxing to accommodate more of him, the stretch of your lips around his girth making your jaw ache in the best way.

you pick up the pace, your mouth gliding over his cock, wet and slick with your saliva and his precum. the head bumps the back of your throat with each downward motion, and you swallow around him, the tight constriction drawing a louder moan from him, a desperate “just like that, you’re sucking my cock so fucking good.”

your tongue flicks and swirls, lavishing attention on the sensitive underside before circling the tip again, sucking harder, the wet suction loud in the confined space of the car. his fingers tighten in your hair, not rough but possessive, his hips twitching upward slightly, chasing the heat of your mouth. “y’look like a fucking angel…” he groans, his voice breaking with pleasure, the sweet praise mingling with the raw edge of his moans.

his other hand grips the edge of the seat, knuckles whitening, as he fights to stay in control, but the way his cock throbs in your mouth, pulsing with every suck, tells you he’s unraveling. the moonlight filters through the windows, casting soft shadows across his tense frame, and the intimacy of the moment, his hand in your hair, his moaned affirmations, the lake’s quiet seclusion, heightens the electric connection, driving you to please him even more.

you let out a soft moan around his length, the vibration humming through him, your own arousal spiking as you feel him twitch in response. the sound is muffled but needy, your core aching at the thought of driving him wild, your dress riding up as you lean further over the center console. your jaw aches deliciously from his girth, but you don’t slow down, bobbing your head faster, taking him deeper until the tip brushes the back of your throat.

you swallow around him, the tight squeeze pulling another ragged moan from him, his fingers tightening in your hair as his hips buck slightly, chasing the heat of your mouth. “i-i’m getting close,” he murmurs, his voice thick with pleasure.

but then, his hand shifts, releasing your hair to tap lightly on the top of your head, a gentle but urgent signal.

“stop.” he says, his voice hoarse, laced with a desperate edge. you pause, pulling back slowly, your lips glistening as you look up at him, his cock still hard and slick, twitching in the cool air. his eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with lust, and he flashes a heated, almost predatory grin.

“get on my lap.” he rasps, his tone leaving no room for argument. “i wanna cum inside that pretty little cunt.”

the sheer bluntness of his words hits you like a shockwave, your body responding instantly, a rush of wetness soaking your panties as you nod, already moving to climb over the console, eager to give him exactly what he wants in the moonlit seclusion of your lakeside spot.

you move swiftly, climbing over the center console, your dress snagging briefly on the leather seat. you straddle his lap, knees framing his hips in the tight driver’s seat, moonlight flooding through the BMW’s windows, casting a silvery sheen over you both. your hands work fast, yanking up your dress, the fabric bunching at your waist to reveal the delicate black lace panties hugging your skin.

your fingers tug the material aside, exposing your pussy, slick, swollen, and dripping, the glistening folds catching the light, your clit throbbing with anticipation.

luigi’s gaze drops to your cunt, and a deep, primal groan escapes him, his cock jerking against his abdomen. “jesus fuck…” he mutters, hands clamping onto your hips, fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he stares at your soaked, parted lips, your juices dripping down your inner thigh in a glistening trail.

“so perfect, it’s practically screaming for me.” his voice drips with hunger, and before you can react, his hand darts forward, delivering a sharp, deliberate slap to your clit.

the sudden sting sends a jolt of pleasure through you, and you squeal, your body jerking as you gasp, “luigi!” your voice is a mix of surprise and needy whining, your core throbbing at the unexpected sensation, wetness pooling even more.

he just laughs, low and heated, his eyes locked on yours. “sweet girl, cmon, give me a kiss.” he says, voice softer but thick with lust, drawing you in. you lean forward, lips colliding with his, the kiss instantly deep and messy, tongues tangling in a fervent, sloppy dance. his mouth is hot, tasting of mint. one hand presses against your back, pulling you closer, while the other grips your hip, guiding you as your slick pussy grazes his cock, the brief contact drawing moans from both of you into the kiss.

the weight of your emotions his admission, this moment… overwhelms you. you pull back from the kiss, chest heaving, and look into his eyes. “i love you.” you breathe, the words spilling out raw and unguarded, your voice shaky with the truth you’ve kept buried. your heart pounds, exposed, but the way his eyes soften, the way his breath catches, makes it feel right.

luigi lets out a deep, needy groan, his hands tightening on your hips like he’s anchoring himself. “shit,” he rasps, voice heavy with feeling. “turn around, i want your back against my chest.” his tone is a heated order, sending a shiver through you. you comply, shifting in his lap to face away, your dress still bunched at your waist, panties pulled aside, your dripping pussy exposed and practically calling out his name.

you lean back, your back molding to the hard planes of his chest, the heat of his skin seeping through his shirt, his cock pressing against your entrance, thick and throbbing. his hands slide to your hips, steadying you, his breath hot against your neck as the lake’s soft murmurs fade.

your dress stays hiked up around your waist, panties tugged aside, your soaked pussy bare. his cock nudges your entrance, thick and pulsing, the flushed tip grazing your wet lips, sending a tremor of need through you. the lake’s gentle murmurs outside fade into the background.

his lips brush your neck, hot and intentional, landing a slow, wet kiss on the delicate skin just beneath your ear. the touch is searing, his breath warm and tantalizing, and then his tongue darts out, tracing the sensitive spot with a deliberate, lingering lick. a soft moan spills from you, primal and unrestrained, your head tipping to offer him more as your body instinctively arches into him. the slick heat of his mouth sends shivers of pleasure cascading through you, your core tightening, your pussy juices dripping in a glossy trail down your inner thighs.

luigi’s mouth closes over the spot, sucking softly at first, then with more force, his teeth lightly scraping as he marks you. his hand moves from your hip to your pussy, fingers zeroing in on your engorged clit with effortless precision. he begins rubbing in tight, deliberate circles, his rough fingertips slick with your wetness, teasing the sensitive bud with maddening accuracy.

the dual assault is intoxicating, his lips and teeth working your neck, sucking hard to leave a dark, tender hickey, while his fingers stroke your clit with unrelenting focus.

your hips jerk against his hand, a louder moan tearing from your throat, the pleasure surging as his touch pushes you toward the brink. the hickey pulses with a faint sting, a bold claim that makes your heart pound, your pussy clenching under his fingers, each circle sending sharp waves of heat through your body.

“you’re fucking drenched,” he growls against your neck, voice hoarse and thick, rumbling against your skin as he licks the fresh hickey, easing the sensitive mark. “need to get you ready for my cock.”

his fingers pick up speed, pressing harder against your clit, the wet, obscene sounds of your arousal blending with your breathless moans and the faint groan of the leather seat. your thighs quiver, splayed wide across his lap, your body sinking into his chest as he drives you wild, the combination of his sucking mouth and merciless fingers pulling you closer to the edge.

without warning, luigi’s hand leaves your clit, gripping your hip as he shifts beneath you. in one swift, ruthless motion, he thrusts upward, his cock plunging into your dripping cunt, bottoming out with a single, deep stroke. the sudden stretch is overwhelming, his thick shaft splits you open, filling you completely, the pulsing veins and swollen head dragging against your slick walls with a searing intensity.

you cry out, a sharp, “oh lu!” tearing from your lips, your body jolting against his chest as the pleasure-pain of his intrusion sends a shockwave through you. your pussy clenches around him, gripping his cock so firmly, every inch of him buried so deep you feel him pressing against your cervix, the fullness almost too much.

“so fucking tight…” he groans, his voice a low, guttural rasp against your ear, thick with lust. his hands clamp onto your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he holds you in place, letting you adjust to the brutal stretch. “this pussy was made for me, yeah, hear me?” his words are filthy, possessive, and they ignite a fresh wave of arousal, your walls fluttering around his cock, slick and hot.

he doesn’t move yet, savoring the way you’re stretched around him, your juices coating his shaft, dripping down to his balls, pooling on the leather seat beneath you.

you whimper, your hands scrambling for purchase, one gripping his thigh, the other reaching back to clutch at his shirt. “baby… fuck, you’re so big…” you gasp, your voice trembling with need, your hips twitching instinctively, desperate for friction.

the fullness is dizzying, his cock throbbing inside you, every pulse sending a jolt of pleasure through your core. your clit aches, still sensitive from his fingers, and the hickey on your neck pulses with a faint sting, amplifying the sensory overload.

he snickers darkly, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his breath hot and teasing. “you love it, don’t you? love how i fill you up.” he murmurs, one hand sliding up to cup your breast through your dress, his thumb grazing your hardened nipple, making you moan again. slowly, he starts to move, pulling out just an inch before slamming back in, the wet, obscene squelch of your pussy taking him echoing in the car.

“fuck, listen to that… so wet… and all for me.” he growls, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he sets a deliberate, punishing pace, each thrust deep and hard, his cock dragging against your sensitive walls, hitting spots that make your vision blur.

you moan loudly, your head falling back against his shoulder, your body rocking with every thrust. “yes, yes, fuck luigi!” you cry, your voice breaking as he fucks you relentlessly, the car rocking slightly with the force of his movements. your pussy grips him tighter, the slick friction driving you wild, your arousal coating his cock, making each thrust smoother, deeper.

his hand on your hip guides you, lifting you slightly before pulling you down to meet his thrusts, the angle letting him hit your g spot with devastating precision. “don’t stop… please!” you beg, your nails digging into his thigh, the pleasure building so fast it’s almost unbearable.

“stop? no fucking way,” he groans, his lips finding your neck again, kissing the hickey he left before sucking on a new spot, his teeth grazing your skin. “gonna fuck you till you can’t think straight.” his other hand snakes back to your clit, fingers finding the swollen bud and rubbing in tight, fast circles, the added stimulation making you scream, your thighs trembling as you teeter on the edge.

your pussy milks him with every thrust, the wet, sloppy sounds of your bodies colliding filling the car, drowning out the lake’s whispers. his cock pulses inside you, thick and relentless, the head battering your deepest spots, and you feel the coil in your core tightening, ready to snap.

“baby… i’m so close,” you whimper, your voice ragged, your body shaking as he pounds into you, his fingers relentless on your clit, his lips sucking another dark mark onto your neck. the pleasure is overwhelming, a tidal wave threatening to crash, your love for him mixing with the raw physicality of the moment, making every sensation sharper, more intense.

“oh baby, let go for me,” he rasps, his voice strained, his thrusts growing harder, more erratic, his cock throbbing inside you as he chases his own release. “cum all over my cock… wanna feel that perfect cunt squeeze me.” his words push you over the edge, and with a final, desperate moan, your orgasm hits, your pussy clamping down on him, waves of pleasure crashing through you as you tremble in his lap, your juices gushing around his cock, soaking his thighs and the seat below.

but he doesn’t stop. his hands grip your hips tighter, fingers digging into your flesh as he keeps fucking you, his cock slamming into your oversensitive pussy with relentless, punishing thrusts. each stroke drags against your spasming walls, his tip battering your g spot, sending jolts of overstimulation through your already trembling body.

you’re loud now, uncontrollably so, your moans turning into high pitched cries and gasps, each one spilling out louder than the last. “fuck, it’s too much!” you whimper, your voice breaking, your hands clutching at his thighs, nails scraping the flesh as you squirm in his lap.

“you sound so beautiful,” he groans, his voice low and ragged, his breath hot against your neck as he pounds into you, chasing his release. “wish i was recording right now… you’re gonna make me cum baby.” his hips snap up, the wet slap of his cock plunging into your drenched cunt echoing in the car, mixing with your desperate cries and his own guttural moans.

his thrusts are frantic now, his cock throbbing harder, the veins pulsing against your walls as he nears the edge. “fucking incredible,” he growls, one hand sliding up to grip your waist, holding you in place as he fucks you deeper, the car rocking with the force of his movements.

your body shakes, oversensitive and overwhelmed, your pussy clenching involuntarily around him with every thrust, drawing out more slick, your thighs soaked and trembling. “luigi, please!” you cry, not even sure what you’re begging for, your voice hoarse, your head thrown back against his shoulder as you ride the razor’s edge of too much pleasure. the hickey on your neck throbs faintly, a reminder of his claim, and your clit pulses, untouched but aching from the intensity of his cock filling you so completely.

“gonna cum,” he moans, his voice breaking, his thrusts growing sloppy but no less forceful. “gonna fill that pretty pussy up… fuck, baby.” with a final, deep thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing violently as he cums inside you. hot, thick spurts of his cum flood your pussy, coating your walls, the warmth spreading deep as he groans loudly, his hips jerking with each wave of his release.

you feel every pulse, every gush, the sensation pushing another overwhelmed whimper from your lips as your pussy clenches around him, drinking in every drop. his cum mixes with your juices, leaking out around his cock, dripping down his balls and onto the seat, a sticky, filthy mess that marks the intensity of the moment.

both of you are panting, your breaths ragged and uneven, filling the BMW’s confined space. luigi’s chest heaves against your back, his heart pounding so hard you can feel it through his shirt. his hands, still on your hips, soften their grip, his fingers brushing your skin gently as he catches his breath.

the air is thick with the scent of sex and leather, the lake’s quiet ripples outside barely audible over your shared gasps. slowly, he shifts beneath you, his softening cock still inside, and his voice breaks the silence, low and tender. “let me look at you.”he murmurs, his tone soft but insistent, carrying a warmth that makes your heart skip.

you nod, still dazed, and with his help, you carefully lift yourself off his lap, his cock slipping free with a wet sound, more of his cum and your slick dripping down your thighs. he guides you to turn around, your dress still bunched at your waist, panties askew, as you maneuver in the tight driver’s seat to face him.

your knees settle on either side of his hips again, your bodies close in the cramped space, the moonlight casting soft shadows across his face. his dark eyes meet yours, filled with a mix of adoration and intensity, and his hands move to cup your cheeks, his thumbs brushing gently over your flushed skin.

luigi leans in, pressing a slow, tender kiss to your forehead, the gesture so intimate it makes your chest ache. his lips linger there, warm and grounding, before he pulls you into a tight hug, your face nestling into the crook of his neck, his arms wrapping around you like he’s afraid to let go. the heat of his body, the steady thump of his heartbeat, grounds you, and you melt into him, your arms looping around his shoulders.

“i love you.” he says, his voice quiet but firm, the words vibrating against your skin, carrying a certainty that sends a wave of warmth through you. “i mean it, baby. i love you.”

your heart soars, the love you’ve held back for months now mirrored in his confession, and you press yourself closer, savoring the safety of his embrace. he pulls back just enough to look at you again, his hands still cradling your face, his eyes searching yours with a soft, unguarded affection.

“let’s go back to my place,” he says, a gentle smile tugging at his lips, his voice low and inviting. “wanna be with you tonight… just us.” the promise in his words, coupled with the lingering heat of your shared release and the quiet intimacy of the lake’s seclusion, makes the idea of being alone with him, in the comfort of his bed, feel like the perfect next step.

🎀…ONE MONTH LATER…. 🎀

lately, something’s been off. you’ve been exhausted, far beyond your usual tiredness, your body feeling heavy and sluggish even after a full night’s sleep. your appetite’s been unpredictable, some days ravenous, others repulsed by foods you used to love.

nausea creeps up at odd times, a queasy wave that hits you in the morning or when you smell coffee. and your emotions? they’re all over the place, swinging from joy to tears in moments, leaving you reeling. you’ve brushed it off as stress or maybe a bug, but a nagging thought has started to take root, one you haven’t dared voice aloud.

you’re standing in the small, fluorescent-lit bathroom at work, the door locked, your heart pounding so loud it drowns out the hum of the ventilation. sure enough, in your trembling hand is a plastic stick, its small window displaying two unmistakable pink lines. a positive pregnancy test.

soooo… do we keep the baby?

tags: @alleviatcd @luigisbambinaaa @diors002 @corrodeddeadlydoll @contrarianshitstan-blog @weegeewifey @mangionesdoll @mangobabygirl @luigisnumber1fan @fligniuz @number1yearner @soulsmangione @ohsorrythen @bbyelle12 @briarloves @mangionesdaisy @thm12 @purplebadd1e @kikigoogoogaga @daydreamingwithluigi

masterlist | previous work

Full of me. Made for me

Part3 of birthday boy

The light woke you before anything else did. Not bright. Not harsh. Just soft morning sun, warm and golden, sliding across the bedsheets like it had been waiting for permission to touch you. You barely opened your eyes. Your limbs felt heavy, deliciously sore, the inside of your thighs sticky and raw in the aftermath of the night before. Your body pulsed gently beneath the surface,fucked-out and aching in ways that felt like they meant something.

And when you shifted—

You felt it.

The weight.

The fullness.

The heat.

Luigi was still inside you.

His body was pressed against your back, one arm curved under your head, the other sprawled across your stomach like he was holding something precious. You could feel the slow rise and fall of his chest, the scratch of his stubble against your shoulder, the soft hum of his breath against the shell of your ear.

And you could feel his cock. Soft, thick, warm, still seated deep inside your cunt, resting there like he never wanted to leave.

And God… you didn’t want him to.

You didn’t even move. Just let yourself sink into it, into him, as the dull ache between your legs pulsed like a heartbeat. You could feel the mess between your thighs, the slow, sticky drip of his cum from the night before leaking out around where he still filled you. And then he moved. Not much. Just the slow curl of his fingers across your belly, the soft twitch of his cock inside you.

Then his voice, low, gravel-thick, still laced with sleep.

“Don’t move.”

You smiled into the pillow, breath catching.

“Lu…”

“You’ll spill me, baby,” he mumbled against your neck, voice warm and groggy. “I spent all night filling you. I want it to stay.”

His hips shifted, barely, just enough for the head of his cock to nudge your walls. Your body clenched around him instinctively, like it couldn’t bear to let him go.

He groaned, voice thickening.

“Still so warm around me. So fucking good.”

You whimpered, arching your back just slightly. That was all it took. He hardened inside you. Slow. Thick. Deep.

“Shit—don’t do that,” he whispered, dragging his hand up your side. “Not unless you want me to fuck you again.”

“Maybe I do,” you whispered.

He smiled against your shoulder.

“Of course you do. My greedy girl.”

His cock swelled even more, pressing deep, twitching like it knew exactly where it belonged. And still, he didn’t thrust. He just stayed there.

Inside you. Heavy and warm.

“Can feel my cum dripping outta you, bella.”

His voice was lower now, more awake. Hungrier. “Made such a mess of you last night. And you let me. So fucking good for me.”

You could feel it sliding out, thick and wet down your thighs, soaking the sheets beneath you. He reached between your legs, fingers dragging slowly over your folds.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Still leaking. You feel that, baby?”

You nodded, gasping when his fingers pushed some of it back in.

“Gotta keep you full,” he whispered, still rubbing soft circles over your clit. “Need it to take. You want that, don’t you? Want me to fuck a baby into you?”

“Yes,” you whispered. “Lu, yes… I want it.”

That broke him. He started to thrust. Not rough. Not fast. Just deep. Controlled. Worshipful. “I’ll do it. I’ll give you everything. You want my baby, I’ll make sure you get it. I’ll fill you every night if I have to.”

You moaned, your hands gripping his as he pressed into your stomach, slow strokes that felt like promises. You could feel your body fluttering around him again, sensitive, needy, soaking wet from how full you were.

“You think it’ll be a girl?” you asked quietly, voice barely holding together. He kissed your neck, still rocking into you.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “And if it is… I wanna name her Luna.”

You blinked. “Luna?”

“Mm.”

Another thrust.

“She’ll shine in the dark. Just like her mama.”

Your breath hitched.

And he smiled.

“You’re gonna look so fucking beautiful pregnant.”

He nuzzled your shoulder. “Round and glowing and dripping with me every night.”

You moaned, legs trembling.

“Shhh,” he whispered, brushing your stomach with soft fingers. “We’ll stay like this a little longer. Keep me inside. Keep me safe.”

And so you did. You stayed there. Pressed against him. His cum still inside you. His cock still hard. And your future starting to grow.

You’d known for three days. Three days of waking up dizzy.

Three days of pulling on your shirt only to pause when your chest ached.

Three days of looking in the mirror and wondering, “Is it happening already?”

You didn’t tell him. Not right away. Not until you knew. Not until the second line appeared and the air left your lungs and the world tilted into something entirely new.

And now… here you were. Sitting on the bathroom floor. Still holding the test in both hands like it might disappear. You hadn’t cried. Not yet. But then you heard him. Keys in the door. Shoes on the floorboards. That soft voice of his from down the hall.

“Babe? You home?”

You didn’t move. You couldn’t. Your fingers gripped the edge of the counter. You knew you should’ve told him differently. Over dinner. In bed. Wrapped around him the way you always were.

But it was now.

The bathroom door creaked open.

And the second he saw your face....

He froze.

“Baby…”

His voice dropped. You didn’t have to say anything. You just turned the test slightly in your hand, holding it out with trembling fingers.

His eyes scanned it.

Then your face.

Then your stomach.

And then he dropped.

No hesitation. No fear.

Just knees on the tile. Hands on your thighs. His breath stuttering in his throat like his heart had stopped and started again in the same beat.

“You’re pregnant?”

It wasn’t a question. It was awe. You nodded. That was all it took. His eyes filled red at the edges, jaw clenching like he was trying not to break apart in front of you. His hands, those warm, gentle, so fucking sure hands, slid up under your shirt and rested flat against your stomach.

“I knew it,” he whispered. “I fucking knew it.”

You were crying now, soft, quiet tears rolling down your cheeks.

He leaned in.

Pressed his lips right above your navel.

One kiss. Two. Then three.

Like a prayer.

“Thank you,” he said against your skin. “Thank you for giving me this. Thank you for letting me put a baby in you.”

You laughed through your tears, burying your hands in his curls.

“You’re gonna be such a good dad, Lu.”

He looked up at you, eyes glassy, lips parted—and you saw it hit him. All of it. The weight. The beauty. The way you were already carrying something, the two of you made.

“I’m gonna take care of you,” he said, voice thick and cracked. “Both of you. I’ll do everything. Anything. I’ll never let you lift a finger again.”

“Lu—”

“No, baby, listen to me.”

He sat back on his heels, palms pressed flat to your thighs, eyes on your belly like it already held the sun.

“You’re mine. You’re carrying my child. You’re the mother of my fucking baby. There is nothing in this world more important than you.”

And then, like he couldn’t take it, he leaned in again, pushed your legs apart, and pressed his mouth to the inside of your thigh.

Then lower.

“Let me take care of you,” he whispered. “Let me show you how much I love you for this.”

His hands gripped your hips. His breath was hot between your legs. And you let him. You let him worship you, the way a man does when he realizes he’s just been given everything he’s ever wanted.

@luigisbambinaaa @luigis-wetdream @multi-culti-girl @mangionesdaisy @snoopy184 @daydreamingwithluigi @iinfinitelimits

Soft Girls Don’t Stay

Part I – I Wanted to Be That Woman

(“Sí, yo quería ser esa mujer / La madre de tus hijos…”)

It started like all the stories that don’t end well do—slow, careful, innocent. A friendship. A bond so natural it didn’t feel like anything at first. Just comfort. Just ease. Just him.

You met Luigi in college. You were nineteen, heartbroken over some boy who didn’t even like himself, let alone know how to love you. Luigi was two years older. Funny. Smart in the quiet way, where he didn’t need to prove it. The kind of guy who made you feel safe just by being there.

He never tried to make a move. Not then. He was just… there.

The one you called when you needed help with insurance. The one who showed up outside your apartment when you said you were fine but your texts were off.

The one who listened.

The one who always stayed.

You didn’t realize when it shifted.

When friendship started to taste like something else.

Maybe it was the night you watched that stupid movie on his couch and your legs brushed—and neither of you moved. Or when he came to your place after his ex cheated and you spent the night on the floor beside his bed, holding his hand in the dark.

You were just friends.

Friends who slept in the same bed.

Friends who told each other everything.

Friends who started to look at each other a little too long, too late, too often.

“Y juntos caminar hacia el altar / Directo hacia la muerte…”

You knew the moment you were gone for him.

It was the night your last boyfriend left you crying on the sidewalk outside a party. You called Luigi. No words. Just sobs. He didn’t ask questions. Didn’t hesitate. He came.

You remember sitting in the passenger seat of his car, hoodie pulled over your knees, mascara streaked down your face, and him looking over at you like you were breakable. Like he didn’t know what to say—but would still sit with you in the silence until it felt like breathing again.

“I hate seeing you like this,” he said.

You looked at him, eyes swollen. “Then stop leaving every time I start needing you.”

It slipped out. And he didn’t answer.

Just reached over and took your hand.

⸻

You didn’t talk about it the next day.

You never talked about it.

That was your pattern: almosts. Stares. Brushed hands. Long hugs. Texts that said “come over?” and replies that said “I was already on my way.”

You had other people. So did he.

But they didn’t feel like anything.

Sex with them was just movement.

But sex with each other?

It felt like gravity.

⸻

The first time you slept together, it wasn’t planned. It never was.

You were wearing a big t-shirt and nothing else, curled on his couch after another hard week, your legs in his lap. He was talking about a fight with his dad, something old and unresolved. You reached up, brushed a curl behind his ear without thinking.

He froze.

So did you.

Then he kissed you.

Slow. Deep. Like he’d been waiting years.

And maybe he had.

You ended up in his bed. Skin on skin. Breath on breath.

It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t messy. It wasn’t loud.

It was real. So real it made you want to cry. The kind of touch that makes you forget where your body ends and theirs begins.

He said your name like it was a secret. Like a prayer.

And when he came, he buried his face in your neck and whispered, “You feel like home.”

⸻

But in the morning?

He was different.

Quieter. Softer. Still there—but already slipping away.

And you let it happen. Again.

Because that’s what you did.

⸻

That summer, you weren’t together.

But he still got jealous.

You were at a party, laughing at some guy’s joke. Luigi saw you from across the room. His jaw clenched. You could feel it before you even turned around.

Later that night, he cornered you in the hallway.

“You like him?” he asked.

You blinked. “We’re not doing this.”

He stepped closer. “You were touching him.”

“He touched me.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, well, it looked like you wanted it.”

You crossed your arms. “Why do you care?”

He looked at you like you had said something offensive. “Because you’re mine.”

The silence after that was deafening.

You whispered, “Then say it. Out loud. Call me yours.”

He stared at you.

Didn’t say a word.

So you turned around. And walked away.

“Y al final, ni hablar / Los dos nos destruimos…”

⸻

That’s how it always went.

He was there—but not fully.

You loved him—but never enough to stop hurting.

And still, if he called, you came.

If you cried, he showed up.

You once told your best friend, “I know he’s not mine. But it feels like he is. In the ways that count.”

She said, “Then maybe those aren’t the ways that should count.”

⸻

And now, five months later—

You’re folding laundry on the floor of your bedroom when you hear it:

Three soft knocks.

Your whole body stills.

You press your fingers to your lips.

“No,” you whisper to no one. “Not now. Not again.”

You tiptoe to the door. Look through the peephole.

And there he is.

Luigi.

Same curls. Same hoodie. Same hands that used to know how to undo you.

Your heart drops.

And all you hear, again, is the lyric that never stops echoing when it comes to him:

“Y al final, ¿qué tal? / Tú y yo ya no existimos…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part II – I Still Smell Like Yours

“No, no quiero ser esa mujer / Ella se fue a un abismo…”

He didn’t bring flowers. He brought a box. A worn, cardboard box with your handwriting on the side—half-faded hearts you’d drawn in Sharpie a lifetime ago. Inside, you already knew what you’d find: your sweatshirt, your journal, probably that hair clip he used to slide off you like undressing was second nature.

He didn’t knock like he was sorry.

He knocked like he was hoping you’d still answer.

And you did.

Because of course you did.

You opened the door slowly, quietly, like maybe if you moved gently enough, the past wouldn’t rush in behind him. But the second you saw him—same curls, same hoodie, same mouth you used to kiss just to shut him up—it hit you like heat.

And worse?

He looked relieved to see you.

“Hey,” he said, voice low.

You didn’t say anything.

He shifted, awkward. Held up the box like a white flag.

“I found this in my closet. Thought it was yours.”

You folded your arms. “You drove all this way for a box?”

He glanced down. Shrugged. “I was in the neighborhood.”

“Bullshit.”

He smiled, just barely. “Yeah.”

A pause.

“You gonna let me in?”

You should’ve said no.Should’ve slammed the door and let him carry his regrets back home. But your body moved before your brain could catch up.

You stepped aside.

The air changed the second he walked in.

He looked around like the room still belonged to him. Like nothing had changed. Like you hadn’t cried into your pillow every night for the first three weeks after he ghosted you in broad daylight.

His eyes landed on the candle burning by the window. Vanilla and rosewater.

He closed his eyes for a beat.

“You still wear that lotion?”

You didn’t answer.

He smiled to himself. “Of course you do.”

You stayed near the door, arms crossed. “Ten minutes. That’s all you get.”

He set the box down. “You look good.”

“Luigi.”

“Just saying.”

“You don’t get to say that anymore.”

⸻

Silence. The kind that buzzes in your ears.

He turned to face you fully now. His voice softened. “I missed you.”

You shook your head. “No. You missed the way I loved you.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?”

He stepped closer. Not touching. Just near enough that it felt like skin on skin.

“You think I didn’t love you?” he said, voice low.

“I think you loved me the way scared people do,” you said. “Only when I wasn’t asking for anything.”

He blinked.

You pressed on.

“I never wanted a superhero, Lu. I just wanted someone who wouldn’t run every time it got real.”

“Tú no eres aquel que prometió / Sería mi superhéroe…”

His jaw tensed. “You think it was easy for me?”

“You made it look effortless.”

“That’s not—”

“I begged you,” you snapped. “I fucking begged you to just show up. To tell me it wasn’t all in my head. And you left me on read.”

“I didn’t know what to say.”

“So you said nothing? For months?”

His voice cracked. “I was scared.”

You laughed. It was bitter and small. “You were scared? I let you see all of me. I made you my safest place. I would’ve done anything for you.”

“I know.”

“Then why wasn’t I ever enough?”

The words hung there. Heavy. Sacred.

He stepped forward again. Too close now.

“You were always enough,” he whispered. “That’s what scared me.”

You stared at him. Your throat burned.

“Don’t,” you said, voice barely holding. “Don’t do this if you’re not going to stay.”

He touched your cheek. Just barely. Fingers brushing skin like it still belonged to him.

“I never stopped thinking about you.”

“You stopped calling me.”

His hand dropped. “I didn’t think you wanted to hear from me.”

“I didn’t,” you whispered. “But I wanted you to want to try.”

His eyes dropped to your lips.

You felt your heart stutter.

Because you wanted him to kiss you.

God, you still did.

But you couldn’t afford it. Not again. Not this time.

He looked at the couch, then back at you. “Can I sit?”

You nodded slowly.

He sat, elbows on knees, staring at the floor. You stayed standing.

He looked up. “You look happy.”

“Does that bother you?”

A beat.

“Yes.”

You moved to the arm of the couch, careful not to be close. He turned his head toward you.

“You see anyone?” he asked.

You smirked. “Would it matter?”

“Don’t.”

You tilted your head. “Why not? You saw other people. You had no problem letting them touch what I built.”

His brows pulled together. “That’s not fair.”

“You’re right,” you said. “Because at least they knew what we were.”

You stared at each other. You saw it in his face—the pain. The wanting. The jealousy.

“You were never mine,” he said, voice soft. “But you always felt like you were.”

Your eyes welled.

“And that’s the problem.”

In the silence that followed, you both knew:

There was no button to bring you back to the beginning.

No reset. No rose-colored ending.

Just this.

Just heartbreak dressed like history.

“¿Y dónde quedó ese botón / Que lleva a la felicidad?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part III – The Goodbye I Deserved

“Y que todo acabó, no queda más / Seremos dos extraños…”

You didn’t mean to sit down.

But your legs gave in before your pride did.

You were on the far end of the couch now, knees pulled up, palms clenched. Luigi sat across from you, elbows on his knees, like he was waiting for the right time to speak.

Like this was a funeral.

And he’d shown up late with nothing to offer but the truth.

“I used to picture it,” he said quietly. “Us. A place together. You in my hoodie, yelling at me for using the wrong sponge on the dishes.”

You looked down. Smiled without warmth. “You never said that before.”

“I didn’t know how to say anything before.”

You scoffed. “No. You just left.”

He nodded. Took it. “I know.”

A long pause.

“You were the only one I told everything to,” he said. “The only one who made me feel like I wasn’t too much. You made the world quieter.”

“And you made mine louder,” you said, looking up. “You made me doubt myself. You made me wait. You made me feel like love was something I had to earn.”

He winced.

You continued, voice steady now. “I wanted to be that woman. The one you saw a future with. The one who got your last name, your kids, your ugly coffee mugs.”

“Sí, yo quería ser esa mujer / La madre de tus hijos…”

Your throat tightened.

“I would’ve built a life with you, Luigi,” you said, barely above a whisper. “I would’ve chosen you. Over and over. Even when you didn’t choose me back.”

He looked broken now.

“I still would,” he said, voice raw. “If you let me.”

You stared at him. Silent.

And that silence was the answer.

He exhaled. Closed his eyes. Rubbed his hands together like he could warm up from the cold you’d become.

When he spoke again, his voice cracked in places it never used to.

“I know I fucked up,” he said. “I know I didn’t show up when it mattered. But if you ever need me—if you’re ever falling apart at 2AM or you just need someone to show up without asking why—”

He looked up.

“I’ll be there.”

You blinked. He kept going.

“I’ll always be here. I’ll always wait for you. Even if you never come back.”

There it was.

The thing you wanted for so long.

Too late.

But still.

You let yourself feel it.

You crossed the space between you. Sat next to him. Pressed your forehead to his.

“You were my favorite almost,” you whispered. “But I can’t keep choosing you in every lifetime where you never choose me.”

His hands trembled as they gripped your waist, but he didn’t pull you in.

He knew better now.

You stayed like that for a moment. One last inhale. One last warmth.

Then you stood.

He watched you walk to the door. Barefoot. Steady.

You looked back only once.

And with the softest voice you’d ever used on him, you said:

“Goodbye, Luigi.”

“Yo te olvidaré, me olvidarás… hasta nunca.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I hope you guys like this hate to admit it but I cried while writing this (:

@luigisbambinaaa @luigis-wetdream @multi-culti-girl @mangionesdaisy @snoopy184 @daydreamingwithluigi @iinfinitelimits

now imagine baby girl carefully bringing him his birthday cake with candles lit 😣😣😣😣 giggling, singing happy birthday, and saying “make a wish dady!” 😣😣😣😣

WTF 😣😣 and she’s more excited than he is because she loves making her papa happy 😣 and as soon as lu sees her bringing him his cake his heart just turns into mush

and then she smacks a kiss onto his cheek and goes “mwwwwwwwwaaaahhhh!” 💔💔💔💔

Luigi celebrating his birthday in my tomodachi life 🍰♡ ༘*.ﾟ🧸

27

He told you not to make a big deal. But you were already holding the weight of everything he’d survived. You weren’t going to let this birthday pass like it didn’t matter. Because it did. He did.

—

He’d barely mentioned it.

Didn’t remind you. Didn’t act excited. Just shrugged the day before and said, “It’s not really a big deal.”

But you saw the way his voice dipped when he said it. Saw how he wouldn’t meet your eyes. Saw the quiet ache in his hands when he rubbed the scar near his wrist, the one he never talked about. You knew what the silence was trying to hide:

He never thought he’d make it to 27.

And if he was being honest, he never expected to be loved through it.

So you didn’t throw a party. You didn’t make a big public thing. You didn’t post him, didn’t tag him, didn’t perform your love.

You just woke up early.

Slipped out of bed while the world was still dark. Let the cold floor shock you awake. Wrapped his favorite hoodie around your body,still warm from his skin, and stood barefoot in the kitchen, hands trembling as you lit a single cinnamon candle. The flame flickered against the quiet. You tried to breathe. Today mattered. He mattered. And if no one else had ever shown him that, you would.

—

You made him chilaquiles the way your mamá taught you. No shortcuts. Real salsa. Fried tortillas. Over-easy eggs with the yolk just a little runny, because that’s how he liked it, even if he’d never say so out loud. You didn’t even realize you were crying until you felt a tear hit the back of your hand.

You weren’t sad.

You were overwhelmed. With the weight of his survival. With the memory of the first time you ever heard him talk about prison and how small his voice got. With the way he still flinched when someone knocked too loud or got too close from behind.

He was here.

And you’d be damned if his birthday felt like just another day.

—

He came out of the bedroom quiet.

Sweatpants. Hoodie. Messy curls falling into his eyes. You didn’t say anything at first, you just looked at him. Like it was the first sunrise after the storm.

He froze.

“…Did you do all this?”

You smiled softly and turned back to the stove. “I didn’t do anything.”

He didn’t move right away. Just stood in the doorway with that look on his face, like he didn’t know how to receive love without wondering when it would be taken away. Eventually, he walked over. Sat down. Looked at the plate you set in front of him like it might disappear if he blinked.

You didn’t rush him.

You just poured him coffee. Sat down next to him. And reached across the table to wrap your fingers around his wrist.

“I’m proud of you,” you said quietly.

His eyes dropped.

You squeezed gently. “I know you don’t like birthdays. I know you don’t think you deserve any of this. But you do. You made it through hell. And you’re here. That matters. You matter.”

For a long time, he didn’t speak.

And then

“…I didn’t think I’d live long enough to see this.”

His voice cracked on the last word.

You stood, walked around to his side of the table, and pulled him into your arms without hesitation. He buried his face in your hoodie and let himself break open quietly, shoulders shaking, fingers clutching your waist like he was scared you’d vanish if he let go.

And you just held him.

Because you’d never let him go without knowing: he was loved.

—

That night, when the sun dipped and the world settled, you lit a different candle.

Not for him.

For you.

Because you needed the reminder too: that softness could survive after everything. That love didn’t always have to hurt. That this, this quiet life, was real. Luigi was on the couch, scrolling through a book of old family photos his sister had mailed. He didn’t say anything when you grabbed the speaker and played a slow song, something old, Spanish, romantic.

You just offered your hand.

He raised an eyebrow.

“You really want to dance?”

You nodded. “Yeah. In our living room. Right now.”

He sighed dramatically, but you could see the smile tugging at his lips. He stood up slowly, cracking his knuckles like it was a chore, but when he pulled you close—one hand on your lower back, one cradling your jaw—it was the softest you’d ever seen him. You danced like the world didn’t exist outside your walls. Like he hadn’t been through hell. Like love could be slow and quiet and safe. He pressed his forehead to yours halfway through the song, and whispered:

“I feel like I’m dreaming.”

You smiled into his cheek.

“No, babe. You’re just finally waking up.”

—

Later, in bed, his voice broke the silence again.

“I know I didn’t want anything big,” he said, lips brushing your collarbone. “But this… this was the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

You ran your fingers through his curls.

“I know.”

He turned to look at you, eyes tired, but glassy with something too tender to name.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

You shook your head.

“You don’t have to earn me. I’m here because I want to be. I love you, Luigi. Not in spite of everything. But because of it.”

That’s when he cried again. Not because he was broken. But because for the first time in years, he felt whole.

—

And on his 27th birthday, Luigi Mangione didn’t need cake or noise or applause.

He just needed you.

And he had you.

Completely.

@snoopy184 @luigisbambinaaa @mangionesdaisy @luigis-wetdream @daydreamingwithluigi

happy birthday squeej

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

happy 27th gi 🍓💕💕 we love you baby

free this man </3

happy birthday to our angel and the only man that exists 🤓🤖💭💤🤍 i love you

i hope today is good to lulu, i really hope he’s doing well <3 thinking about him today

🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹!!!!!

The legal fund has officially surpassed $1M! 🎉

make a *pop* sound on his shroom tip :)

trail of spit hanging too 💗

oh yes please im feeling even more unhinged than usual idk if its bc his bday is tomorrow or im hormonal but i cant stop thinking about sucking his dick and blowing his mind :(

fuuuuuck 😩

Birthday Boy- pt2

dom!Luigi, power shift, rough sex, breeding kink, face-fucking, overstim, possessive obsession, marking, messy filth, emotional tension, soft rage

You saw it before it even happened. His hands had stayed obedient for two rounds. He let you ride him, ruin him, make him cry while he came. He let you own him. Let you tell him where to look, how to sit, when to come.

But now? Now his hands weren’t behind him. Now they were on your waist. Gripping. Tight. And his eyes…

Fuck

You didn’t even get the chance to smirk before he was flipping you over onto the floor, your back hitting the hardwood with a gasp, hair splayed out around your face. He hovered over you, his chest rising, lips parted, pupils blown wide like he couldn’t even see straight anymore.

“You don’t get to tease me like that,” he growled. His voice was deeper, rougher, wrecked, and raw. “Not on my fucking birthday.”

Your breath caught. And then you smiled.

He snapped.

Luigi grabbed your thighs, dragged your soaked body toward him like he needed to be inside you now, and pushed your knees back until they hit your shoulders. You felt the head of his cock smear through your folds, hot and slick, before he slammed into you in one brutal thrust.

“Lui—fuck—!”

He didn’t wait.

He fucked into you like he had something to prove. Like he’d been patient long enough. Like you’d broken the last thread of control he had left.

“You think you can make me beg all night?”

Thrust.

“Make me sit back while you take what you want.”

Thrust.

“Now you’re gonna take what I give you, bella. Every inch. Every drop. Every fucking breath.”

You moaned so loud it echoed. Your hands scrambled for something, the floor, his arms, the edge of his shirt still hanging off his shoulders. He bent down, lips crashing into yours, tongue filthy and fast, his hips never stopping.

“Gonna fill you up again.”

His words were slurred against your mouth, his voice unsteady but so intense it nearly burned.

“Wanna make you so full of me you forget who you are.”

You clenched around him, and he felt it. He growled into your mouth, hand sliding up to your throat.

“You like that? Huh? You like being my little fucktoy tonight? You wanted this. You knew what you were doing. Bouncing on my cock like you owned it—” His fingers squeezed, not too tight, but enough to make your vision flutter.

“You’re mine.”

And then he pulled out.

You gasped, ready to protest, but he was dragging you to your knees, standing above you now, eyes burning.

“Open your mouth.”

You obeyed.

He shoved his cock between your lips, one hand gripping your hair as he fucked your throat like he’d been dreaming of it since the minute he saw you in that tight little outfit hours earlier.

“So fucking good,” he moaned, head falling back, sweat dripping down his neck. “God....your mouth is fucking heaven, principessa. My good girl. My perfect little birthday present.”

Tears pricked your eyes as you gagged around him, spit trailing down your chin, your thighs squeezing together from how ruined you already felt. And then he pulled out again, just to throw you back on the bed, shove two fingers inside you, and whisper:

“I’m not done. Not till I fuck a baby into you. Not till you can’t walk tomorrow.”

Your body was already trembling. His fingers were still inside you, slow and curling with purpose, drawing out every last moan you had left, but it was his voice that wrecked you.

“Not till I fuck a baby into you.”

Not till you couldn’t walk. Not till you were full. Not till he was sure you were his. And that’s what made the words tumble out of your mouth like a prayer.

“Lu…” your voice cracked, barely above a whisper. He looked up, sweat slick on his chest, pupils blown, lips parted like he was seconds from losing it again.

“What is it, baby?” he breathed. You blinked, heart pounding, hands gripping his wrist where it was still between your legs.

“I want it,” you said. “I want you to give me your baby.”

He froze.

Like, he didn’t even believe you said it at first. And then, fuck, he groaned, low and wrecked, like the sound had been building in his chest all night.

“Say it again.”

His voice was hoarse, ragged. Desperate.

“Please. Say it again.” You sat up on shaking limbs, wrapped your hand around the back of his neck, and whispered it slow and dirty against his lips.

“I want you to breed me, Luigi. I want you to come inside me until it sticks. I want to carry your baby.”

His breath shattered. And then he snapped.

Again

He yanked his fingers out and shoved his cock back inside you in one brutal, greedy thrust, burying himself to the hilt like he needed to be there, like your pussy was the only place in the world he belonged.

“You want it?”

He thrust deep.

“You’re gonna fucking take it.”

His hands gripped the backs of your thighs, spreading you wide open as he pounded into you, skin slapping, breath ragged.

“I’m not stopping till I feel you leaking all over this bed. Gonna keep filling you up ‘til your body gives in and keeps me.”

You moaned loud, your nails dragging down his back as he fucked you into the mattress. You couldn’t stop clenching, not when he was this deep, not when he was talking like that.

“That’s it, baby. Just like that. So fuckin’ tight—god, your pussy’s begging to get pregnant.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him even deeper, your voice wrecked:

“Don’t pull out.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

He was grunting now, fucking you slow but hard, dragging his cock out just to slam it back in every stroke dripping with filthy, desperate devotion.

“Gonna fuck you every night. Gonna keep you full ‘til I see your belly swell with my baby. You’ll be dripping around me, and I’ll still push it back in. You’ll never be empty again.” You cried out, loud, needy your cunt spasming around him like your body wanted to give him what he asked for. And he felt it.

“You’re cuming ?”

He didn’t even let you answer, just fucked you through it like it was his goddamn purpose.

“Good. Cum on my cock while I breed you, bella. Give it to me. Fuckin’ take it.”

His thrusts turned erratic, his hands shaking.

“I’m close—shit, I’m close—”

You pulled him down, your mouth hot against his ear.

“Come inside me, Lu. Give me your baby.”

And he lost it. He came with a deep, broken groan, hips pressed flush to yours, cock twitching as he spilled inside you full, warm, so much so much it spilled out around the base and onto your thighs. But he didn’t move. He stayed there. Inside you. Breathing hard, holding your face, forehead to yours.

“You meant it?” he whispered, voice shaking.

You nodded, barely able to speak. “I want to be yours forever, Lu.”

And the way he kissed you after that? You swore it tasted like forever. You didn’t realize how badly you were shaking until he finally stilled. His cock twitched inside you, so warm and so deep, his chest rising heavy against yours as you laid there, legs spread, wrecked in every sense of the word. You could feel his cum dripping out of you, thick, slow, pooling between your thighs, slipping down your ass and onto the bed. But he didn’t move. Didn’t even flinch. He just stayed inside you. Like he belonged there. Like that’s where he wanted to die. “Don’t move,” you whispered, voice hoarse and raw. “Please, just… stay.” He kissed your forehead like it hurt him to hear your voice wrecked. “I’m not going anywhere, baby.” His hand slid down between your bodies, fingers gentle as he stroked your inner thigh, like he was soothing your overstimmed nerves. But he didn’t go near your pussy. Didn’t risk pulling out. Didn’t want to see anything spill.

“Still so full,” he breathed. You could feel him pulse inside you as he said it.

“God, look at you… keeping all my cum like a good fucking girl.” You whimpered, soft, ruined, and shifted your hips just barely. He hissed.

“Don’t.”

His hand pressed into your lower belly. “You’ll spill it. I need you to keep it, bella.” Your breath caught. So did his. His mouth hovered by your ear now, voice low and warm and cracked with something deeper than just lust.

“You’re gonna take, baby. I know you are.” He kissed the spot below your jaw. “Gonna get round and soft for me. Gonna carry what we made tonight.” You turned your head, eyes glassy, lips brushing his. “Lu…” You kissed him soft. Then again. And again. “I meant it. I want it. I want to have your baby.” His throat caught. And for a second, you thought he was gonna cry. “Then you will,” he said. “I swear you will. I’ll keep you full every night if I have to.” He reached down and cupped your tummy, like he was already imagining it, already dreaming of you growing, stretching, glowing with his baby. His other hand laced with yours. And then? He started to move again.

Slow.

Barely pulling out. Just enough to fuck it back in. “Let me give you one more.”

His lips ghosted over yours.

“Let me make sure it takes.” You could barely keep your eyes open. Your body was soaked, wrecked, trembling, and still, somehow, he hadn’t stopped. Luigi was moving inside you slow, so slow, like every inch he gave you was holy. His cum was thick between your thighs, and with every deep, unhurried thrust, it spilled out around him only for him to fuck it right back in. “Don’t waste it, baby,” he whispered, voice all gravel and devotion. “Keep it warm for me. Keep it safe.” You whimpered. A breathless, tired, please... fuck...me..softly...kind of whimper.

And he smiled. “Shhh, it’s okay,” he cooed, nuzzling against your cheek as he rolled his hips. “I got you. I know you’re tired, bella. Let me take care of you. Just lay there and let me fuck you full.” Your body tensed again, another tiny orgasm creeping through your overstimmed nerves. He felt it. Of course he did. “You’re still cuming for me?” He kissed your jaw, then your lips, his voice softer now, drunk on you.“Even now, you’re still milking my cock like you need it. Fuck, baby… You do need it, huh?” Your nails dug into his back. His hand slid down between you, pressing over your lower belly. “It’s gonna take, you know that?” His voice cracked, soft and sure, like he already saw the future. “You’re gonna be so fucking beautiful. I’ll take care of everything. You won’t lift a finger. I’ll cook, clean, rub your back, kiss your stretch marks....fuck, I’ll worship every inch of you while you carry my baby.” You let out a broken moan, hips shifting just enough to take him deeper. And he groaned. “That’s it. Let me stay inside. Let me fall asleep in this pussy.” He stopped thrusting altogether, just buried himself deep and still, lips brushing your temple, hand resting over your tummy.

“You’re mine now,” he whispered. “My baby mama. My girl. My fucking everything.”

You smiled through the haze, and that’s how the night ended. His cock softening inside you, his cum sealed in deep, and his arms wrapped around your waist like he’d never let go.

@luigis-wetdream @luigisbambinaaa @multi-culti-girl @mangionesdaisy @snoopy184 @daydreamingwithluigi @iinfinitelimits

part 3 will be out later tonight

OMG

https://x.com/notwiiiemdafoe/status/1919497737562640858?s=46

This is what she send him about that phd (allegedly)

I’m-

“I’ll let you sit with that information” AYO-