Soft Girls Don’t Stay

luigi and traveling to Latin America is a need 😣

Latiendo por ti

They were supposed to be off the grid,two weeks away from everything. No alarms. No deadlines. No noise.Just sun. Sweat. And each other.But he hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t expected her like this. Luigi leaned against the sun-warmed wall of a faded coral building, hands tucked in his pockets, sweat gathering at the base of his neck. Across the street, she was laughing with the old woman at the arepa cart, speaking Spanish so quickly it sounded like singing. Her hands moved just as much as her mouth, and her voice rose and dipped like a melody.

He didn’t understand a word.

But God, he understood her.

A tu manera, descomplicado,

en una bici que te lleve a todos lados…

The lyric drifted from a nearby radio. Someone had the volume up. He recognized the song now,it had been playing in different corners of this town since they got here. On balconies. In taxis. In little shops packed with fruit. The rhythm always the same. Joyful. Free. She turned and waved him over, barefoot again, hair wild and windblown.

“Bebé—come try this! Es como el de mi mamá.”

He blinked. “You said… this is like your mom’s?”

“Yes,” she laughed. “And also that if you don’t come eat it, I’m gonna give it to someone else.”

“Rude,” he muttered, crossing the street.

She handed him the arepa with a proud little smile, and he kissed her cheek, still warm from the sun. He took a bite, and closed his eyes.

“Oh my god.”

“I told you.” She looked smug.

“No, seriously. I don’t even know what this is. But I want ten.”

“That’s what happens when you trust me.”

“You’re impossible,” he mumbled, full-mouthed.

“And you are lucky I love you.” She bumped her hip into his. “Even if you still say ‘arepa’ like you’re ordering a spell.”

He groaned.

“Una cartica que yo guardo donde te escribí…”

The lyrics spilled from the same speaker.

She hummed along without thinking, the song clearly embedded in her bones.

“What’s that part mean?” he asked.

She glanced at him, surprised. “You actually wanna know?”

“I mean… it’s been stuck in my head for three days.”

She stepped closer, slipping her fingers through his. “It means… ‘a little letter that I keep where I wrote to you…about how I dream of you, and how I love you so much.’”

Luigi didn’t say anything. Just stared at her like his chest had been split open.

“Jesus,” he whispered finally. “That’s beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful,” she said quietly. “Trying to keep up in this world that isn’t yours.”

“I’m not keeping up,” he admitted. “I’m just… watching you. And hoping I don’t mess up anyone’s name again.”

She laughed. “You’re doing good. My tía likes you. My primos think you’re exotic.”

“I’m exotic?”

“Yeah. With your white boy Italian Spanish and your confused face.”

He dragged a hand down his jaw, mock offended. “That’s cold.”

“Latiendo por ti…”

The chorus hit again.

She leaned up, whispered: “That means ‘my heart beats for you.’”

His throat went tight.

That night, they rode bikes down the edge of the coast. Hers was a turquoise cruiser with a little basket in front. His was borrowed from her cousin and squeaked every time he turned left. They passed mango vendors, kids playing with string balls, and palm trees swaying like they were part of the rhythm.

The sky was painted with the last blush of day, the ocean shimmering beside them.

“Race me to the pier?” she shouted.

“You’re gonna lose,” he called back, already pedaling.

She caught up, cursing him in Spanish,half of which he didn’t understand but all of which made him want her more.

Puedo ser feliz caminando relajada entre la gente,

yo te quiero así y me gustas porque eres diferente…

They parked their bikes at the edge of the sand and ran down the dock barefoot, breathless and laughing. She stopped near the edge, chest heaving.

“You’re faster than I remember,” she panted.

“Muscle memory,” he smirked. “Also, I really wanted to kiss you.”

“Then do it.”

He did. Hard and full of salt and sweat and mango and need.

“You belong here,” he whispered into her mouth. “You’re a whole different person when you’re barefoot and dancing and bossing me around in Spanish.”

She kissed him back, deeper now. “You’re the only thing I’ve ever brought from home that fit better here.”

“Take me everywhere,” he breathed. “I wanna know every version of you.”

She tugged his shirt off. “And I want you,” she said, laying him down on the towel beneath the pier, the stars already burning above them, “in all of them.”

They moved together slow, in time with the sea. Her hips found his. Her lips found every inch of him. And when she leaned down and pressed her forehead to his, whispering “mi vida entera” like it meant everything—

He knew it did.

Later, she traced circles on his chest while the waves crashed and that same chorus played again in the distance.

Que hace rato está mi corazón,

latiendo por ti, latiendo por ti…

“You hear that?” she murmured.

He nodded. “I don’t understand all of it. But I think I get it.”

She smiled. “That’s enough.”

Because maybe he didn’t speak the language.

But he spoke her.

And her heart had been beating for him long before he ever knew the words.

_______________________________

Luigi wasn’t sure what time it was.The street had turned into a party.The music kicked up just as the sky went pink. There were paper streamers tied to the trees, a plastic table full of tamales and mango slices, and two speakers balanced on upside-down buckets. Her tío was on grill duty, her abuela was watching from a rocking chair, and kids were darting through the legs of grownups with juice dripping down their chins.

Luigi stood in the middle of it all,sweating, smiling, overwhelmed,and trying not to stare at her.

He failed.

She was dancing barefoot in the street, skirt twirling just above her thighs, sweat catching in the hollow of her throat. Her cousins clapped along, egging her on, but she was in her own little world. No choreography. No performance. Just the rhythm. She didn’t see herself. Not the way he did.

Ella es la favorita, la que canta en la zona…

The lyric slipped through the air, and it was like the song was singing about her.

She was the favorite. The one everybody knew. The one who made kids smile and old women laugh. The one who carried history in her laugh and sunshine in her skin.

Se mueve en su cadera como un barco en las olas…

Luigi couldn’t look away.

Her hips rolled with every beat like she was made of water. Her hair whipped around her face when she spun, and when she stopped,panting, glowing, wild…..she looked right at him like she knew exactly what she was doing.

“Lu,” she called, cheeks flushed. “Come dance.”

“I don’t know how to dance to this,” he said, shaking his head.

“Just move.”

“I’ll embarrass myself.”

“You already do that every time you try to say Barranquilla.”

He huffed, but he was smiling, and when she reached for him, he came willingly. The music surrounded them, faster now, electric and alive.

Tiene los pies descalzos como un niño que adora…

He looked down. Her bare feet skimmed over the concrete like she was floating.

“You’re not real,” he murmured.

She raised a brow, teasing. “What was that?”

“Nothing.” He swallowed. “Just… you don’t look real.”

Y sus cabellos largos son un sol que te antoja…

He couldn’t explain it. The way her hair stuck to the back of her neck. The way she didn’t shy away from the heat or the noise. The way the whole street turned to watch her without her even trying.

“You’re—” He shook his head. “You’re not just in your element. You are the element.”

She laughed, low and rich, and leaned in so only he could hear.

Le gusta que le digan que es la niña, la Lola…

“My tío used to call me La Lola when I was little,” she whispered, pulling him closer. “Said I danced like trouble.”

Luigi smirked. “He wasn’t wrong.”

Le gusta que la miren cuando ella baila sola…

“I’m not the only one watching,” he muttered, glancing around.

She tilted her head, lips brushing his ear. “Let them look.”

He almost lost it right then.

The chorus came back strong, and she grinded against him like it was instinct, like she already knew how to pull every sound out of him without lifting a finger.

“I want to say something cool in Spanish,” he gritted, trying to focus on the music and not the way her ass moved against him. “But all I know is, like, muy caliente and gracias.”

She laughed and bit her lip. “Muy caliente does work right now.”

“Jesus Christ.”

Le gusta más la casa, que no pasen las horas…

He pulled her in tighter.

“You wanna go home?” he asked, lips grazing her temple.

“I want to stay in this moment,” she said, chest rising and falling against his. “Forever.”

Le gusta Barranquilla, le gusta Barcelona…

The beat slowed, but neither of them let go.

“She likes Barranquilla,” he repeated, trying to catch the words, “and Barcelona?”

“Yeah,” she whispered. “But I like you more.”

He kissed her then….deep and hot and full of everything he didn’t know how to say.

When they broke apart, the street was spinning with laughter, smoke, and music.

Luigi looked around, dazed.

“I feel like I just got possessed.”

“You did.” She ran her fingers through his curls. “By the rhythm. By me.”

“Mostly by you.”

She smiled. “You did good.”

“I didn’t even dance.”

“You moved with me. That’s all that matters.”

That night, when the party wound down and everyone was too full and too tired to keep the music going, she pulled him upstairs by the hand.

They stood in front of the fan, bodies sticky, still breathing heavy.

“I saw the way you looked at me,” she said softly.

“I couldn’t help it.”

“I like that you don’t try to blend in,” she added. “You’re just… you. Watching. Learning. Wanting.”

“Wanting,” he echoed.

“You don’t need to speak the language,” she whispered, stepping into him. “You already hear me.”

He cupped her jaw, kissed her slow. “Latiendo por ti,” he murmured.

She smiled into his mouth. “Say it again.”

“Latiendo por ti.”

And when she guided him into bed, every touch, every kiss, every desperate sound she pulled from him was a new verse. A new line in the song he was learning,body to body, skin to skin, heart to heart.

Her hands slid beneath his shirt like she knew his body better than he did. She tugged it up, slow and messy, lips still on his, and he let her take everything she wanted,his breath, his rhythm, his control. The fan above them spun uselessly. The air was thick. The kind of heat that made everything feel heavier, closer, more dangerous.

She pushed him back onto the bed.

Didn’t ask.

Didn’t wait.

Just climbed into his lap like she was claiming territory. His hands fell to her thighs, then slid up,greedy, reverent, anchoring himself as she kissed him harder.

“Take this off,” she whispered, tugging at her dress.

He helped her,clumsy with how badly he needed her,pulling the fabric over her head and tossing it somewhere behind them. No bra. No panties. Just sweat-slick skin, hot and soft and glowing in the yellow light coming through the window.

His mouth dropped open.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You’re unreal.”

She leaned forward, hips grinding into his lap. “You keep saying that.”

“Because it’s true,” he groaned, rocking up into her.

The friction made her gasp.

She reached between them, undid his shorts with practiced ease, her fingers brushing over him once,just once,and it was enough to make him shiver.

“You gonna be good for me tonight?” she murmured, rolling her hips again, dragging him right to the edge.

“I’m always good for you,” he said, voice wrecked. “Only for you.”

He lifted his hips as she tugged his boxers down, then watched with wide, dark eyes as she sank down onto him,slow, steady, deliberate. Her mouth parted in a moan, and his head hit the pillow with a choked curse. She was so warm. So wet. So tight around him it made him shake.

Neither of them moved for a moment. Just breathed. Then she started to roll her hips.

Slow at first…grinding down into him, her hands splayed on his chest, her thighs flexing with every movement. Her rhythm matched the song still playing low on her phone.

Lleva, llévame en tu bicicleta…

He gripped her hips, holding on like he’d drown without her.

“You feel that?” she whispered, voice wrecked. “That’s how I dance for you.”

He nodded, mouth open, eyes locked on where her body was swallowing him whole.

“Say it again,” she moaned, riding him a little faster now. “Say it.”

“Latiendo por ti,” he gasped, hands digging into her skin. “Fuck—latiendo por ti.”

She moaned, deeper this time, leaning down to kiss him,open-mouthed, needy, desperate.

She fucked him like the music. Like a song she already knew the ending to but wanted to replay anyway. Every stroke of her hips had purpose. Every little gasp was a lyric. Every broken groan he gave her was applause.

He flipped them suddenly,breathless, eyes wild,and pressed her into the mattress, slipping back into her like he’d die if he didn’t.

“I’ve got you,” he said against her throat. “I’ve got you. Just—just let me.”

And she did.

She wrapped her legs around him and let him take control, his pace hard and slow, like he was trying to memorize how she felt from the inside out. His hand slipped between them, found her clit, and rubbed lazy circles until she was clawing at his back, whispering please against his shoulder.

Her body shook beneath him. She came with a sharp cry, voice breaking, fingers tangled in his hair.

He followed right after,groaning her name, hips stuttering, his whole body trembling as he poured himself into her.

They lay there, tangled and slick, their heartbeats thudding against each other’s ribs.

Still moving. Still alive. Still listening to that damn song.

Que hace rato está mi corazón…

Latiendo por ti…

He was still inside her.

His body pressed heavy against hers, heartbeat finally slowing, his breath cooling where it hit the sweat-slicked skin of her shoulder. She’d gone quiet, arms wrapped around his back, legs still locked at his waist like she didn’t want to let him go. Not yet.

Not ever.

Luigi kissed her jaw. Her cheek. Her temple. One hand slid up her side and settled just under her breast, holding her like something fragile.

“You okay?” he whispered.

She nodded against his chest. “Better than okay.”

They stayed like that for a long time. No rush. No phone buzzing. Just the hum of the fan above them and the sticky warmth between their bodies. The air was heavy, but neither of them moved. Not until he shifted slightly, slipping out of her, and she let out a quiet sound—half protest, half pleasure-drunk sigh.

He kissed the corner of her mouth. “Be right back.”

She watched him walk to the bathroom,naked, hair wild, back muscles moving with every step,and closed her eyes like she needed to record the image in her brain.When he came back, he was carrying a cool, damp washcloth and that look on his face,the one that said you don’t have to ask me for anything. I already want to do it. He cleaned her up gently, fingers lingering just a little too long between her thighs, mouth twitching when she squirmed beneath him.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she whispered, breath catching.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re already hard again.”

He smirked. “That’s ‘cause I am.”

She laughed, tossed the pillow at him, but didn’t pull the sheet over her body. She knew he liked seeing her like this—flushed, undone, still open from the way he touched her. He climbed back into bed and pulled her onto his chest.

“I was serious last night,” he said after a beat.

“About what?”

“You’re the rhythm. Everything else just tries to keep up.”

Her throat tightened.

She buried her face against his skin, lips brushing his collarbone. “You’re gonna ruin me if you keep talking like that.”

“Too late,” he murmured, kissing her hair. “I’m already ruined.”

Her hand slid down his stomach, teasing lower, fingers lazy, knowing. He let out a low groan.

“You want another round?” she asked, voice soft, sweet, dangerous.

“Always,” he said, flipping her onto her back again. “But this time, I go slow. Real slow.”

“Like last night wasn’t slow?”

He grinned. “No. Last night was you dancing on my dick. This time, I’m gonna make you beg.”

Her breath caught.

And then he kissed her again,deeper, filthier,and started to keep that promise.

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

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

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

OMFG 😣😣😣😣

Wait 💀his sister or something catching him going into your room at night she’s like what the actual fuck 😦I mean yes you don’t want to talk to him but ur still fucking him OBVIOUSLY YOUR THOUGHTS NOW PLS

I know this is from a few days ago omg but this is MESSYYYYYY (and I love it) because what if one of his sisters caught him sneaking down the hallway in nothing but his boxers, heading to your room like a thief in the night, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the coast is clear, only for her to spot him while she’s in the bathroom brushing her teeth?

She’s standing there, toothbrush still in her mouth, like:

“…Luigi?”

And, there, he halted in his tracks like a kid caught sneaking out in the middle of the night.

She squinted. “Are you serious right now?”

He tried, badly, to play it cool. “What?”

“What?” she repeated, pulling the toothbrush from her mouth. “You’re supposed to be giving her space, not sneaking into her room like it’s high school. Jesus Christ.”

He groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, really? So you’re just casually visiting the mother of your child at 11:45 p.m. in your boxers to talk about co-parenting? Do you remember the part where she said she needed space? Or did that get lost somewhere between you ‘checking on the baby’ every hour? You’re a fucking joke, you know that?”

And then, not even moments after she confronted him, he still went ahead and entered into your room. Now you’re in the middle of fucking each other, engaging in some risky business that you shouldn’t even be doing, especially not here, in his parents’ house. He’s breathless, lips brushing your ear between kisses, whispering, “You gotta be quiet, baby…” and “Remember, he’s right there—don’t wake him up.” But now that one of his sisters knows what you two have been doing, sneaking around and still hooking up after everyone’s gone to sleep, the weight of that confrontation hangs heavy on his conscience. Still, he’s the one making noise and not being quiet—thrusting into you, moaning against your skin, whispering praises in your ear while you struggle to stay silent, biting back sounds that don’t even have names. And when he feels you slipping, he would press a hand gently over your mouth, whispering, “Shh… shh…”

anon you did summ here 😮‍💨

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 (:

first saw it because we know luigi hasn’t seen his own mom in a while, so it must feel really comforting to be able to find that kind of parental spirit in his counsel :-(

True !!! I find it kinda funny and kinda cute that all of the Agnifilos that work in law are on this case 😭 really gives off family vibe and they use it to their their advantage too. They also went for the family optics that the arraignment with the Karen and Luigi's matching sweater and Marc's matching tie. random fun fact (?) : Jacob also has a decades long working relationship with Marc, they have worked on so many cases before and he finally jumped the ship and joined the Agnifilo firm as a partner to work on this case.

the WHOLE agnifilo team came out for this one LMAO if i’m not mistaken i think even karen’s daughter is serving as a paralegal? or something to that effect? i remember seeing that somewhere ALSO i never noticed marc’s tie!!! 😣 that’s so sweet

i didn’t know any of that about jacob + marc’s working relationship but the fact that this case has like united all of them is just soooo 😓😖🥺 idk it makes me so emotional

so hawt 😣

EoO

The bass inside the club was already in her bloodstream, pounding through her chest like a second heartbeat. She wasn’t even trying to dance anymore,she was just feeling it, letting the song move her hips.

“Perreo, baby. Sobeteo, baby.

Tra-tra, baby. Hasta abajo, baby…”

Her hands slid down her thighs. The green dress clung to her sweat-slicked curves. Every step was deliberate. Every sway of her hips was meant for him.

Luigi.

He hadn’t looked away once. Leaning back on the VIP couch, broad arms stretched across the top, teeth sunk into his bottom lip. That look in his eyes? It was a warning. A promise. And a breaking point all at once. He didn’t say a word when he stood. Just moved. Straight through the crowd, like no one else existed. When he reached her, he didn’t ask. He didn’t wait. His hand wrapped around her wrist, and his mouth brushed her ear as he said, “You think I’m just gonna watch you dance like that?”

He pulled her through the bodies, through the heat and flashing lights, to the curtain behind the velvet ropes. The VIP room pulsed with muffled music, red lighting, and privacy,barely. The walls were thin, and the bass still slammed like a heartbeat in heat.

“En la disco, baby, yo te cojo, baby…

Tra-tra, baby. Tra-tra, baby…”

He shoved her back against the couch. His mouth was on hers in an instant,biting, devouring, filthy. The kiss was a declaration. Of need. Of claim. Of every unspoken thing they both wanted.

“Turn around,” he rasped. “Now.”

She obeyed,hands braced against the cushions, dress shoved up, panties already soaked. Luigi undid his belt with one hand and shoved his jeans low. He ran two fingers through her folds and groaned at how wet she was.

“Dale, mami, pégate, vírate…

Si me miras mucho sabes que voy a besarte…”

“You’ve been teasing me all fucking night,” he hissed, lining himself up behind her. “You wanted this. You earned it.”

And then he slammed into her,deep, rough, unapologetic. She gasped, grabbing the couch for support, eyes fluttering as he set a brutal pace. Every thrust hit with the rhythm of the song outside. It wasn’t just sex, it was perreo incarnate.

“Mani, yo sé que tú te vuelves loca

Cuando el perreo te azota…”

He was grinding into her like the beat told him to. Skin slapping, her moans rising in time with the chorus. The song dripped through the walls, dirty and perfect.

“En la disco, baby, te lo meto, baby

Aquí mismo, baby, delante de tu baby…”

“You hear that?” he growled in her ear, fucking her so hard her knees shook. “They’re playing our song. This beat? It’s mine. Just like you.”

She moaned something desperate,his name, a plea, a yesyesyes lost in rhythm and sweat.

“Te lo tiro en la espalda, body paintin’…”

“I should finish right here. All over you. Paint your back like the lyrics say,” he panted, fingers digging into her hips. “But you’ve been too fucking good. You want it inside, don’t you?”

She nodded frantically, barely able to speak. He grabbed her throat lightly, still moving inside her, rough and deep. His voice dropped to a snarl.

“Say it.”

“Inside, Lu—please. I want it inside.”

“Bellaqueo, baby. Tú y yo solos, baby…”

He was losing it. He thrust faster, harder, until she was screaming his name into the velvet. Her orgasm hit like a wave. Her whole body trembled. Legs shaking. Eyes rolled back. Luigi came with a grunt,deep inside her, teeth gritted, muscles locked. It was messy. Loud. Perfect. Silence,except the final line of the song bleeding through.

“Perreo, baby. Tra-tra, baby.”

He didn’t pull out. Just leaned into her, breathing hard against her back.

“You dance for me like that again,” he whispered, “and I’ll fuck you in the middle of the floor next time. Song or not.”

Her thighs were still shaking. Every step back into the club sent a soft aftershock through her core,warm, sticky, his. But she held her head high. Smirked. Adjusted her dress just enough to cover the bruises on her hips, even though the hem clung higher now. Even though the gloss was wiped clean from her lips and her mascara was threatening to run. Luigi followed close behind, chest still rising, hair a little messy, jaw clenched like he was fighting the urge to pull her right back into that room.

“En la disco, baby, te lo meto, baby…”

The beat hadn’t changed. Still Bad Bunny. Still EoO. Still echoing with every filthy thing they’d just done.

And she didn’t wait.

She stepped back into the center of the floor, right under the lights, and started moving again. Hips slow. Deliberate. Not performing this time,owning it. Luigi froze. Eyes locked on her like she’d just slapped him across the face with her pussy. The crowd moved around her, but he saw nothing else. She turned, backed into him, ass pressing against his jeans, and threw her arms around his neck.

“You gonna fuckin’ behave now?” he muttered, voice low, lips brushing her temple.

“No,” she whispered back, grinding against him. “Not when you’re still hard.”

And he was. Already. The second her body met his again, the second that song kept going.

“Bellaqueo, baby. Tú y yo solos, baby…”

He slid his hand down her side, over the curve of her ass, gripped tight,and pulled. Right there, in front of everyone. She gasped softly, head falling back to his shoulder.

“You’re dripping down your thighs,” he growled. “You came so hard for me, and now you’re out here shameless.”

She turned her head toward his and smiled. “I want them to see what you do to me.”

That broke him. Luigi’s hand slid under her dress again,right there, on the dance floor. The lights stuttered, the bass slammed, bodies pressed around them like smoke and heat and sweat.

His fingers grazed her inner thigh, then higher.

“You want me to finger you right here, baby?” he murmured, breath hot against her ear. “With my cum still inside you?”

She choked on a gasp. “Lu—fuck.”

And he did it. Slid two fingers between her legs and felt the slick mess he left inside her.

“Tra-tra, baby. Tra-tra, baby…”

“Goddamn,” he whispered. “You’re fuckin’ soaked.”

She gripped his arm, trembling.

“Keep dancing,” he ordered, lips brushing her ear. “Let ‘em watch. Let ‘em know.”

She moved her hips. Slowly. Sensually. And he kept his hand under her dress, fingers stroking her just enough to make her clench. Just enough to keep her right on edge. They were in the middle of a crowd and she was about to come again.

“You’re disgusting,” she moaned softly.

“You love it,” he smirked.

“Aquí mismo, baby, delante de tu baby…”

She didn’t come,not yet. He pulled his hand away before she tipped over, sucked his fingers into his mouth, slow and filthy, right as a flash of lights hit them.

“I’m not done with you,” he whispered, licking her taste off his knuckles. “We’re not even close.”

They barely made it past the bathroom door before he was on her again. The bass from the club still echoed through the walls, thudding like a pulse behind them. She stumbled back, hand on the sink, chest heaving. Her eyes were glassy. Her lips swollen. And Luigi looked like he was starving.

“You didn’t come on the dance floor,” he said, voice low, dangerous, eyes raking down her body like he was about to ruin it again. “That’s a problem.”

Before she could answer, he spun her, lifted her up by the thighs, and sat her on the cold porcelain sink. Her dress bunched around her hips. The mirror behind her caught everything,her dazed expression, his broad frame between her legs, the sweat shining on both their skin.

“Lu—someone might come in,” she whispered.

“I fuckin’ hope they do,” he growled, sinking to his knees like she was an altar and he was born to worship. She gasped when his mouth met her thighs,soft at first. Open-mouthed kisses, biting gently. Then he dragged his tongue through her folds and groaned like he was tasting her for the first time.

“You still taste like me,” he whispered. “So fucking messy. My good little slut.”

She moaned, thighs trembling, grabbing his curls with both hands.

“Quiet, baby,” he teased, looking up at her with those ruined, desperate eyes. “There’s someone in the next stall.”

She heard it then,a toilet flush. A shuffle. The slam of a door. Someone was right there, unaware,or maybe not. But Luigi didn’t stop. Didn’t even slow down. His tongue moved fast, filthy, circling her clit while two fingers slid inside her like they belonged there. She bucked against his face. Tried to hold back her moans but failed. He licked, sucked, pumped her full until she was grinding on his tongue.

“You wanna come?” he asked, voice muffled against her cunt. “Then you better do it fast and quiet, baby. I’m not stopping ‘til you soak my face.”

She came hard, legs clamped around his head, hand slamming over her mouth to muffle the scream. Her whole body locked, trembled, then slumped against the mirror. Luigi stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes dark with satisfaction.

“You should see yourself,” he smirked. “You look like sin.”

And she did,smudged, wrecked, and glowing. She hopped off the sink, legs wobbly, dress clinging to her damp thighs.

“You done with me?” she asked, breathless. His hand gripped her waist, pulling her flush to him.

“Not even fucking close.”

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

LMAO

Bro knew he had one final serve left in him

Luigi Mangione inside the New York Criminal Court today, February 21st.