Legal Team Part One Luigi Mangione X Reader
legal team part one luigi mangione x reader
summary working on luigi mangione’s legal team has its benefits
warnings unedited, I do not like this hair on luigi and speak about it 2x, rpf haters are not gonna like this one, surprisingly safe for work
he doesn’t see you every week.
meetings with his attorney are rare enough. meetings where you’re there too—sitting off to the side with your notepad, eyes lowered—are even rarer. still, he notices you every time. how careful you are. how you listen without pretending to. how you somehow make the cold concrete room feel a little less dead.
he remembers the first time you walked in: frostbitten, soft-spoken and sweet. you were bundled up in a heavy coat, scarf loose around your neck, hair tangled from the wind. you looked too soft for this place. too alive.
his attorney—well, she insists he just call her karen now—she notices. she makes these meetings feel less like depositions and more like conversations. she listens closely, looks for patterns. she sees the way his eyes flicker when you’re mentioned, how they lose focus when someone else enters the room. she caught the way his jaw tensed when she introduced him to her senior paralegal. the way his shoulders dropped, relieved, when she reassured him you weren’t gone—just reassigned, temporarily, to a different stack of documents.
“y/n isn’t here this week,” she says gently, like it might break him.
luigi blinks. he hadn’t even sat down yet. “sorry?”
“she’s still on the case,” karen says pointedly.
the hazel-haired boy sits stiff in his seat. he should be offended—should feel insulted that his attorney finds it necessary to clarify something so trivial, so far from the gravity of his trial. his greatest anxieties should be occupied with the outcome, the press, the sentence hanging over his head like a blade.
but they aren’t.
his fingers twitch against the leather of the chair. he doesn’t look at karen when he asks, voice quieter than before, “so she’ll be back?”
karen nods. “next week, maybe sooner. depends on how fast the paperwork clears.”
he leans back, but only slightly. eyes drift to the window behind her desk—rain tapping gently against the glass like it’s trying to pull him out of the room. he can almost picture you in it. red scarf, crooked smile, hands too small for the amount of documents you had to carry. the soft clumsiness of someone not built for law offices and depositions, but for poetry, maybe. for gardens. for late afternoons with nothing scheduled.
“good,” he murmurs.
she re-arranges the paperwork in front of her, glances at him. “from what i read, you two went to penn together?”
he nods once.
“same year?”
“she graduated early.”
karen nods, making a note in the margin of the document in front of her. “that tracks. she struck me as someone who doesn’t waste time. sharp, efficient. very focused.”
luigi lifts one shoulder in a shrug. avoids her eyes. “we weren’t friends,” he says quietly. the first piece of his real life he’s given up in weeks. “i TA’d for one of her classes.”
karen’s smile comes smally. it’s cute, she thinks. and undoubtedly useful.
“i’ve worked with women like her,” she goes on. “sharp, composed, polite on the surface—but give them a red pen and a narrow margin and they’ll eat you alive. i’d bet she rewrote half your comments.”
a faint smile flickers across his face, the kind that men of his class fight to hide.
“you’re aware, of course, that casual conversation is permitted,” karen says, tone returning to a neutral cadence.
he looks at her now, uncertain.
“with her,” she clarifies. “should she return. which she will. next week.”
he doesn’t respond, but she sees the way his jaw shifts.
karen nods, satisfied. “just thought i’d mention it. in case you were under the impression that you had to admire her silently.”
the next week, karen is back—with her daughter in her place, the senior paralegal. she’s grown on luigi more than he expected. he likes the way her hair is always curled like she’s got somewhere to be after this, and the way she talks back to her mother. in a lot of ways, they’re similar. she knows how to talk to people. she knows how to talk to him.
the rain hasn’t let up all month. it swallows the edges of new york, turns the windows into blurred watercolor, makes the concrete sweat, seeps into his bones even though he hasn’t stepped outside in weeks. it makes the bad days worse. heavier. slower.
they’re mid-review when karen needs to step out for a phone call. he slumps back in his chair and sighs without realizing.
“bored?” sofia, the paralegal, asks, not looking up from the file.
“no,” he says. then, “yeah.”
she snorts softly. “we could ask the court to make the evidence more entertaining.”
“maybe add a soundtrack.”
“sure. live orchestra. i’ll have my father write the motion.”
luigi almost smiles.
she gives him a once-over. almost looks unimpressed. “you’ve let your hair grow out.”
he shrugs. “not much to do about it in here.”
“well, you’re about three inches taller now. we’ll have to update your profile. or adjust the lighting so the media doesn’t notice the awful new hair.”
he exhales through his nose. “very nice.”
and then—
the doors open.
soft voice, familiar cadence, gentle thank you’s to the guards as you step inside, coat dripping at the sleeves, coffee in hand like a peace offering.
“sorry i’m late,” you say, breath still uneven from the run. “you’ll never believe what happened on the train before this—“
luigi doesn’t say anything right away. he barely registers what you’re even saying. he just watches as you tug the scarf loose from your neck, tuck your damp hair behind one ear, offer that half-smile you give when you’re tired but trying.
“you made it,” sofia says. “thank god. our client was getting dramatic.”
you glance at the table, doe-eyed and sweet. “mr. mangione?”
“he sighed like four times,” she says. the two share a glance, where luigi feels himself glaring. surely this was confirmation this family gossips about him at the dinner table.
sofia smiles in his face, a glimmer of mischief sparkling in her chocolate brown eyes. “if there’s ever a tell-all, i’ll make sure the section about your terrible attitude is thorough.”
“i sighed once,” luigi mutters.
the paralegal nods. “yeah. loud enough for me to count it four different ways.”
you draw your presence closer and hold out your hand. a cup of coffee.
“it’s cold. but it’s yours.”
he takes it, fingers brushing yours. he didn’t like coffee, but he liked the gesture. the idea of you going out of your way for him—stepping off the train in the rain, weaving through the checkpoint, explaining yourself to two bored guards just to get through the door and hand him something warm—did something to him. something soft. something stupid.
he smiles up at you. “i’m sure it’s better than anything i can get in here.”
sofia wants to laugh, but doesn’t. she lingers by the table a second longer than necessary, pretending to run through her notes.
“actually,” she says, too suddenly to be believable, “i need to step out. quick call.”
luigi doesn’t look up. “to who?”
“clerk’s office.”
you glance at her. “you already spoke to them this morning.”
“right. well, something might’ve changed.”
“since an hour ago?”
“these people are unpredictable,” she says with a shrug, already slinging her bag over her shoulder. “besides, you’ve got time.”
before you can respond, she’s halfway out, nodding at you, “it’s good you’re back. he’s nicer when you are.”
then she’s gone.
he watches you peel your coat off—slowly, like it’s sticking to your sleeves—and drape it over the back of the chair. you shake the rain from your hair. it clings to your collarbone, a little frizzy from the weather. your pretty eyes wash over his tired face.
“karen said you were a little miserable last week.”
“those women talk too much,” he murmurs. luigi then takes a sip of the coffee, hoping it’ll give him something to do with his hands, but it’s cold. watery. he grimaces.
you arch a brow, sifting through the mountain of documents in front of you. “you mean the ones building your defense?”
he exhales through a crooked smile.
“alright. they talk just enough.”
you take a pause to watch over his expression. “did you want something else?”
“what?”
“you don’t like the coffee?”
“it’s fine.”
“there are vending machines outside—”
luigi takes another swing of the coffee. it’s terrible. “really,” he tells you. “it’s fine.”
“you’re making a face.”
“this is my grateful face.”
you laugh, short and real. it knocks the air out of him, a little.
“that’s your grateful face?” you ask.
“what, you don’t like it?”
“it’s alarming.” you say, teasing. “almost as alarming as your new hairstyle.”
he immediately runs his fingers through his chaos of light brown curls, self-conscious now. “you noticed?”
“how could i not?” you say, already reaching for one of the papers, your eyes flicking over the page like this is just another tuesday. like this—being here with him—is ordinary. he watches you, struck by how easily you settle into the space, how you speak to him like he’s just a man across a table, not a headline or a case file. something about that makes his chest ache a little.
luigi smiles, trying to make it seem like it’s no big deal, but he’s suddenly acutely aware of how unkempt he probably looks. “you think it’ll divide the jury?”
“i dunno, i liked it shorter,” you say, casual, distracted.
luigi nods. “i’ll let the barber know.”
the conversation lingers for a second longer than feels professional. he’s not sure if it’s the cold coffee in his hands or the way your eyes keep landing on him—steady, warm—but there’s a looseness in his chest he hasn’t felt in weeks.
“it’s… really good to see you,” he says, softer now.
your voice has that tired warmth he remembers—not from knowing you, not really, but from watching you closely enough to wish he had.
“yeah,” you reply softly, looking at him with a small smile. “good to see you too.”
the next week, the rain clears.
you arrive in the first minute of morning, your coat slipping off one shoulder, a soft crease still pressed into your cheek from your pillow. there’s a grogginess to your expression—half-lidded eyes, slow movements—that he finds endearing. he watches you walk in with a bundle cradled in your arms, and it takes him a second to realize it’s for him.
“good morning, mr. mangione,” you mumble, voice still heavy with sleep. his mouth lifts slightly at the sound of it. you’re the only one who still calls him that—no teasing, no irony. just soft and sincere, like you still believe in titles, in dignity.
“you know you’re the only person who calls me that,” he murmurs, watching you from under lowered lashes.
his chestnut brown hair is shorter now, clean at the neck, the mess finally tamed. you notice right away, your eyes flicking up as you set the clothes down on the table. the new cut brings out the angles of his face more—sharper jaw, clearer eyes—but there’s still something boyish in the way he looks at you.
your innocent eyes meet his, head tilted. “do you want me to stop?”
he shakes his head once. slow. deliberate. “no. i want you to say it again.”
your lips part slightly, caught off guard—not just by the words, but the way his eyes are on you now.
“we have people waiting, mr. mangione,” you decide on saying, sliding him the cloud of clothes. his fingers tighten around the bundle like he’s anchoring himself to it. he disappears behind the divider, the makeshift dressing area tucked in the corner of the room. you hear the rustle of fabric, the soft clink of the belt buckle. silence, mostly. then his voice, low but clear:
“you didn’t have to bring the tie.”
you smile. “they like it when you wear green.”
he chuckles under his breath. when he steps out, the shirt’s still slightly wrinkled, but it fits. the blazer straightens his posture. the tie—crooked. he frowns down at it, then at you.
“this is not my skill set,” he says.
you stand, stepping in front of him, fingers reaching to adjust it. he goes very still. you tug it straight, tighten the knot gently, smoothing the line of fabric down his chest. he’s watching you the whole time. his eyes aren’t sharp anymore—they’re soft. warmer than you remember.
“better,” you say.
“i like when you do that,” he says quietly.
you glance up, eyebrows raised. “tie your tie?”
“fix me.”
you smile. but you notice it. the air shifts between you—tightens. neither of you moves, but the tension grows sharp. your hands are still at his collar, and his gaze dips to your mouth, just for a second.
his eyes linger on you longer than is professional. there’s something about your face this morning—fresh and undone, your lips still pink from sleep, your eyes impossibly doe-like. they blink slowly, sweetly, and he wonders how it’s possible you look softer now than you did when he first saw you in the frost of december.
“you’re going to be late,” you say, clearing your throat.
“just one thing first,” he says, and before you can ask, he leans in—slowly, giving you the chance to stop him—but you don’t.
his hand curls firmly around your waist, the other finding your jaw, thumb brushing the edge of your mouth before his lips replace it. he kisses like he’s starved for it—slow but deep, tongue sliding against yours in a way that makes your knees give a little. he feels it, steadies you with a hand at your hip, pulling you closer, pressing into you like the taste of your mouth is something he doesn’t want to lose.
you gasp softly into him, but he doesn’t pull back. just breathes it in, groaning quietly when your fingers tangle in the short hair at the back of his neck.
you’re heat and rain and tension in his hands. everything about you is soft but decisive—the way your hips press into his, the way you lift your head and open up under him, the way your skin flushes like it’s just for him.
“you cut your hair,” you breathe against him, lips swollen and glazed.
he brushes his nose against yours, smirking. “you hate it?”
“it’s terrible,” you joke.
“yeah?” he murmurs, mouth skimming your jaw, voice rough. “still kissing me, though.”
you laugh, quiet and shaky, breath hot on his throat. he pulls back enough to look at you—just look. your eyes are glassy and soft and a little dazed. doe-like. he’s never seen anything sweeter.
“how late can i be?” he asks.
“i’d prefer if you didn’t make me explain the delay to a room full of cameras,” you say, pouting.
he laughs, but it’s soft, breath still mingled with yours. “we’ll have to be quick then,” he says smoothly, warm hands wandering. “you’re gonna have to work with me here.”
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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.
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@luigisbambinaaa @luigis-wetdream @multi-culti-girl @mangionesdaisy @snoopy184 @daydreamingwithluigi @iinfinitelimits
Last fic for the weekend maybe (:
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
Luigi Mangione inside the New York Criminal Court today, February 21st.
Running my fingers through Luigi’s curls while he lays and rest on my chest 😩.
omggg yes i need this so bad. want to call him my pretty boy with face smushed against my chest 🙂↕️ and his pretty curls all tousled and messy. and if u stop playing with his hair? he just blinks his bleary eyes open at you and pouts and mumbles “why’d you stop” <333
bent over the table
summary: a pool game with your boyfriend ends with him bending you over the table and making you squirt.
warnings: smut, cunnilingus, squirting
'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'
you’re leaned against the wall, doing a poor job at pretending to give a shit about the game. it’s your boyfriend thats got you distracted.
there’s something almost erotic in the way he moves… deliberate, focused, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, hands sure and practiced as he lines up the cue. every motion is smooth, controlled, confident. the ball sinks with a soft thud, and he straightens like it’s nothing. but it is. it’s everything.
there’s a slow heat curling low in your belly, a restless ache that makes you want to drag him close and kiss him until his lips are black and blue. you wanna see just how easily you’re able to break that nonchalant facade that he’s currently putting on.
you’re not here to win. you’re here for him.
so you make a decision.
when he offers you the cue stick, you take it slowly, eyes wide and innocent. “okay… so, um, remind me how to do this again?” you ask, feigning confusion as you glance down at the table. “where do i… stand?”
he raises an eyebrow. “you told me you’ve played before.”
shit. he’s onto you.
you shrug, giving him a sheepish smile. “might need a little refresher.”
you feel his burning gaze, it’s almost as if he sees right through you. but he doesn’t call you out on it. not out loud.
instead, he steps in behind you so close your breath stutters. his hands cover yours, firm and slow, adjusting your grip, but your focus splinters the moment his chest brushes your back. he smells like cedar and warmth.
slowly and deliberately, you press your hips back, letting your ass graze him. he stills, just for a second, and then you feel it. the way his breath catches, the way his cock hardens and begins to rub against you… but you ignore it. for now anyway.
“relax your grip,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. “you wanna feel the cue, not fight it.”
you nod, trying to focus on the game, but it’s hard to do so when he’s this close. you can feel the heat radiating from him, and as his hands gently correct your stance, you feel his breath tickling your skin. you swallow, trying to ignore the growing heat between you. his chin rests on your shoulder and his lips brush your cheek in a soft, fleeting kiss, leaving you with a lingering warmth.
“just like this,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady. you feel his cock get stiffer behind you, like he’s DYING to be inside you right here, right now. the slow rhythm of his movements send a pulse of desire through you, and you try to keep your breath steady, but it’s harder than it should be.
you take the shot, the ball gliding smoothly into the pocket. but it’s not the game you’re thinking about anymore. you can feel him still, the subtle shift of his weight, the way his hand lingers on yours. you want to turn, to look at him, but the pull of his presence keeps you right where you are.
“nice shot, bambina.” says, his voice a little rougher than before.
you finally glance over your shoulder, catching his eyes, and for a moment, the game fades into the background entirely.
you turn to face him fully, your gaze locking with his as you finally notice the faint blush coloring his cheeks. the warmth in his skin only adds to how breathtaking he looks, every feature highlighted in a way that makes him seem even more captivating.
“lu?” you ask, your tone playful. “what’s wrong? something on your mind?”
he doesn’t answer with words, he just closes the distance, hands landing on your hips, thumbs brushing the bare strip of skin above your jeans. you suck in a breath, heat pooling low as he presses in.
then his mouth is on yours, hard and messy. you can taste the whiskey on his breath, sharp and burning, mixing with the heat of the moment as it leaves a burning, lingering trace on your lips.
you kiss him back just as fierce, fingers twisting into his pink button up, nails scraping his chest through the fabric. he groans when you bite down on his lip, and it’s like a switch flips. next thing you know, he’s spinning you around, fast and rough, making you squeal as your palms slap the table, allowing you to catch yourself.
you’re bent over again, ass pressed back against him. the pool balls scatter, rolling lazy across the felt as you shift, while whining.
"please lu,” you gasp, "i need you so badly… please fuck me."
"god bella, i’m gonna have you squirting all over the place.” he murmurs, voice all dark like honey and sin. he slides your jeans down your legs at a torturously slow pace, letting them crumple at your feet like a forgotten promise.
you hear him sink to his knees behind you, the soft thud sending a shiver up your spine, before his fingers catch the lace of your panties, pulling them down with a teasing drag, his breath a warm, fleeting kiss against your bare skin, setting your nerves alight.
his hands clamp down on your hips, thin fingers sinking into the soft meat of your flesh, as he yanks you back against his face with a force that makes your knees buckle. your ass is high, your thighs are spread wide, and you’re completely exposed. cunt glistening, swollen, and dripping before he even starts.
he groans at the sight, a guttural sound that rips out of his chest, and you feel the puff of his hot, shaky breath wash over the back of your thighs, teasing the slick that’s already smeared there. “fuck… i wish you could see yourself,” he mutters, “such a pretty pussy.”
then, he dives in like a man possessed.
his lips crash against your core, rough and greedy, stubble scraping raw against the tender skin as he spreads you open with his thumbs, pulling your folds apart until you’re gaping for him. he doesn’t ease in, his tongue plunges straight into your hole, thick and wet, thrusting deep with a sloppy, obscene squelch. you can hear it, the filthy wet sound of him fucking you with his mouth.
“tastes so fucking good.” he rasps, voice muffled against your flesh, and he’s panting now, breath hitching as he grinds his face into you, licking and sucking like he’s trying to devour you whole.
you’re moaning like a pornstar, loud and shameless, legs shaking, voice dripping with a desperation you can’t contain.
“oh lu! yes! don’t fucking stop!” you wail, the sound bouncing off the walls, mingling with the clack of yet another ball rolling somewhere across the table.
he pulls back for a split second, just enough to spit on your sopping cunt, it landing right on your clit before he smears it with his tongue, flicking hard and fast over the throbbing nub.
your hips jerk. “hold still.” he snarls, pinning you harder against the table as he sucks your sweet spot into his mouth, teeth grazing it just enough to make you yelp. his lips seal around it, pulling with a wet, rhythmic suction.
the pool table creaks under your thrashing, your palms slapping the wood as you brace, nails digging into the green felt. he’s relentless now, tongue darting back to plunge into your heat, thrusting with a force that has your walls pulsing.
he batters your cunt with rapid, ruthless strokes that leave you dizzy. his nose presses into you, his growls vibrating through your center, and the heat’s swelling, a tight, burning knot forming low in your belly. your thighs shake, slick with sweat and the mess he’s coaxing, and he shifts, lips sealing harder, sucking with a rhythm that steals your breath, leaving you panting.
“you’re getting close, aren’t you? i can feel it.” he rasps against you, voice dark and dripping with need, his tongue pausing just long enough to let the words sink in. “c’mon angel, squirt in my mouth, fucking give it to me… i want it.” then he’s back, relentless, tongue lashing faster, sucking fiercer, chasing that trembling pulse hes stoked.
your hips buck, desperate, and the wet sounds grow messier, with his spit and your arousal blending, trickling down your legs, pooling on the tile floor beneath you.
the coil in your lower belly snaps, white hot and overwhelming, and you’re right there. “baby… fuck! i’m-” you gasp, words crumbling as you break, a raw scream tearing free as you squirt hard into his waiting mouth. it’s hot, wet, gushing over his lips and tongue, as he moans low and guttural, lapping it up like it’s his lifeline. he doesn’t ease off, he keeps sucking, licking, drinking every shuddering pulse as your body convulses, legs collapsing beneath you.
he finally pulls back, just enough to rise from his knees, his presence looming behind you as you feel the shift of his weight. his hands slide up from your hips, tracing the curve of your waist, steadying you as your body still twitches with the echoes of release. then his lips find your shoulder, warm, tender, a stark contrast to the ferocity of moments before. he presses a slow, lingering kiss there, his breath fanning over your damp skin, and you feel the faint scrape of his stubble as he nuzzles closer. “you did good, baby,” he murmurs, voice low and husky, laced with pride and something softer, almost reverent.
'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'
…me after i finished writing this
previous work
he’s so “i love my gf” coded
Okay here’s a lu thought for you: imagine he’s never been in a relationship before you and has only had casual sex. Like probably a decent amount of it, but never real intimacy with someone he has a bond with. And the thing that surprises him the most about being with you is how often you kiss him?? Yes, during sex, but all the time as well? Like he wouldn’t have expected how badly you want to kiss him and hold his face all the time… And he’d grow to enjoy and need it so much. Making out with you for the sake of being close to you and feeling your mouth on his. He’d probably be kinda shy about it at first but it would very quickly become his thing :((((
OMG love love love this sooo much <3
this reminds me of the goodreads quotes he liked! i will pull them out again and again lol like he's such a loverboy:
he'd never realize how much he wanted (needed) intimacy with someone that wasn't just sex; totally knowing someone and loving them anyway... loves all your different types of kisses and displays of love: you'd love to kiss him, cuddle him, cradle his pretty face in your hands, just such casual physical intimacy 😫
he’d get so used to ur touch and would become so clingy like just hangs off of you when your cooking or doing something around the apartment
happy early birthday to luigi and i 😋
Birthday Boy
TW: breeding kink, dominant reader, oral (m receiving), worship kink, soft filth,overstimulation, mirror sex, riding,praise kink, deep obsession, slow burn filth
⸻
He didn’t even make it to the bed.
You had him sitting on the edge of the couch in just his dress shirt, barely unbuttoned, chest flushed, eyes already heavy like he’d been begging for hours.
“You’re not allowed to touch,” you told him, straddling his lap with a slow smirk, your nails dragging up his throat as he swallowed hard. “It’s your birthday. You let me take care of you.”
He nodded, jaw clenched, hands fisting the couch cushions instead of your thighs.
Good boy.
You kissed down his chest slow, each button undone with your mouth, not your hands, until he was exposed and twitching beneath you. And then you dropped to your knees. Luigi’s head dropped back the moment your mouth wrapped around him, a shaky breath leaving his lips as he whispered, “Fuck—” like he hadn’t been touched in weeks. You took him deep, let him hit the back of your throat just to feel him buck under the pressure, your hands holding him still. You didn’t stop. You wanted him shaking.
“Not yet,” you whispered when he started to come undone, your spit coating him, lips swollen, eyes wet.
“You don’t get to come until I’m on top of you.”
He was already wrecked when you climbed on, guiding him in with a slow grind of your hips. His hands immediately flew to your waist, and you slapped them away.
“What did I say?”
He bit his lip hard, whimpering now, hips twitching up into you. You rode him slow at first, just enough to tease, then faster when he started moaning like he was gonna lose his mind. One hand dragged through his curls, the other gripping his jaw.
“You gonna cum for me, birthday boy? Gonna fill me up like a good fuckin’ gift?”
He nodded, eyes glassy. “Yes... fuck...please, let me—”
You leaned in, kissed him slow, and whispered, “Then give it to me. All of it.”
And he did with a cry, a curse, and his head thrown back like he’d just been blessed by God himself.
You didn’t stop moving.
You never stopped.
You barely made it to the bedroom before you decided he hadn’t seen enough. His body was already flushed and trembling, chest rising and falling like he was still trying to catch the breath you stole from him on the couch. His curls were messy, his shirt still clinging to his shoulders, soaked with sweat from the first round. And his cock?
Still hard. Still leaking.
Still yours.
“Sit.”
Your voice was soft, but the command in it was sharp. You nodded toward the mirror on the closet door.
“Back against the wall. Legs spread. Hands behind you.”
Luigi didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. He followed like he’d been waiting for this exact moment all year. You stepped toward him, completely bare now, slick still coating your inner thighs, chest rising slowly and confidently. His eyes dropped between your legs, tongue wetting his lips like he was praying for a taste. But you weren’t giving him that yet. You straddled him again, knees planted on either side of his thighs, the cool wood floor grounding you both. You reached down, ran your fingers along the length of his cock twitching, desperate, soaked with the mess he’d made of himself and dragged it through your folds. He let out the quietest, broken little moan.
You smirked.
“Eyes up, birthday boy.”
You tilted his chin up, forcing him to look forward into the mirror.
“I want you to watch how pretty you look while I fuck you again.”
And then you sank down onto him. Slow.Devastating. You took every inch until your hips met, and he gasped — head falling back against the wall, hands twitching behind him.
“Fuck—” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Baby, I can’t… I just came—”
“Shhh.”
You started to move.
Up.
Down.
Up again.
Every bounce made the sound between you louder wetter, filthier — like you were trying to fuck the breath from his lungs. And it was working.
“Look at your face,” you whispered into his ear, breath hot. “Look how desperate you get when you’re inside me. That pretty mouth open, your eyes begging. You like being used, don’t you?”
He whimpered actually whimpered, nodding like he couldn’t remember a single word of English. You grabbed his face with one hand, your other hand clawing into his chest for leverage as you rode him harder. His thighs trembled beneath you, his cock twitching so deep inside you that you could feel another orgasm building.
So close.
So fucking close.
“You gonna cum for me again, baby?” you purred. “You gonna fill me up till I’m dripping down your cock, huh? One more for me, birthday boy.”
His mouth dropped open like he was gonna respond but then he came.
Hard.
With a grunt and a sob and a strangled gasp of your name. You slowed your movements, grinding down on him, dragging it out, making him feel every second of it. He looked up at you, completely wrecked, pupils blown, sweat clinging to his skin.
But your hips didn’t stop.
And neither did your voice.
“Don’t think we’re done yet, baby.”
You leaned in, kissed him slow and deep, tasting his moans as he trembled beneath you.
“I want one more. I want you crying while I take every last drop.”
Hope you guys enjoy. Drop a though on what I should write next or maybe not it’s ok 👍🏻
“Historically, Courts rightly presumed that the Executive branch ‘properly discharged its official function.’ With a few exceptions, for over two hundred years the Executive Branch earned the presumption of good faith. Over the last two months, it lost it.”
oh Agnifilo Intrater LLP is NOT fucking around
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 :(
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