Latest Posts by luigisbambinaaa - Page 2

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

oh my god HAWTTTT

remember who you belong to

luigi mangione x reader

SUMMARY: part two to a short imagine i made, which you can read here. luigi and you had finally broken up after putting up with his toxic behaviors for quite some time. your friends egged you on to posting a tiktok about it, which you obliged to. not thinking he’d even see it, he’s about to make you regret ever hitting upload on such a post.

WARNINGS: dubcon, cnc (?), toxic!luigi, dark!luigi, p in v, slight stalking?, alcohol

the strobe lights pouring from every each direction mixed with the amount of alcohol in your system was definitely not in your favor at the moment.

you were surrounded by your friends, cranberry-vodka in hand, drunkenly swaying to the loud club music. this was your... seventh shot of the night? or was it eight? you couldn't remember.

you also didn't necessarily want to remember, so you continued on sipping bits of your sour-tasting beverage. you didn't care if one more sip is what threw you over the edge into the territory of a blackout mess.

"y/n!" your friend, sophia, shouts your name through the loud thumping of music. "look over there." she cranes your neck to the bar, where a tall, light-haired man stands. his eyes lock onto yours, and you feel your face flush as you look back towards sophia.

"what about him?" you slur, resting your hand on her shoulder for some balance. you were extremely drunk, yet still drinking.

"he's been eye-fucking you all night long, we've been watching," sophia shouts, nudging you to separate from the group. "we couldn't tell who he's been staring at, but it's been you. the entire night!" she exclaims.

"if he's so interested, he can make a move on me." you give her a partial lie. you didn't want to explain how your heart was still in the hands of an italian boy, who used them to crush and destroy it.

"uhh, y/n..." sophia's face contorts with confusion as her eyes look past you.

"and besides, i don't need anyone, soph. i am doing just fine on my ow-"

your voice cuts out just as you feel a light tap on your shoulder. turning on your heels, you are met face-to-face with the man from the bar.

"good luck!" sophia blurts in your ear before darting off to the rest of your friend group.

"what's your name?" the mysterious man grinned down at you, towering over you quite a bit. he wore jeans and a black and white flannel, and had a very pretty smile.

"y/n!" you yell through the noisy music, stood on your tip-toes so he can hear.

"i'm isaiah," he pauses, eyeing you up and down. "do you wanna go upstairs to the lounge? much quieter!" his voice is deep yet loud.

"fuck it," you mumble to yourself under your breath. "why not?" you give the man a small smile.

he turns around, sly grin still spread across his face, as you turn back to see your entire friend group watching the two of you like hawks. they all clap and applaud, cheering you onto this mysterious, but attractive, new man. you roll your eyes playfully at them before following isaiah close behind.

he pushes through a sea of drunken college students, looking back every so often to make sure you're still there.

"i'm gonna hold onto you!" you shout, grabbing a fistful of his flannel as you continued to follow him.

"good idea, wouldn't wanna lose the company of such a pretty girl."

you giggle at him, finally following him up the stairs. once you both arrive at the top, the scenery is much different. it's still a bit loud, but now you can actually hear yourself think. he makes his way towards the bar, sliding a chair out for you, then himself.

a half an hour passes, and you are wasted. you and isaiah spend the time talking, laughing, just casually getting to know each other while sipping drinks. that is until he found his hand rested upon your inner thigh, squeezing you lightly. it sent jolts of electricity to your stomach, and you were too drunk to decide if you liked it or not. you certainly did, but you also certainly only felt nothing but a friendship with this man.

a hookup couldn't hurt, right?

you're leaned back in the bar stool, laughing a little too loud at something isaiah said, when you see him.

a figure dressed in all black is stood just across the bar from you, far away enough that you can't see his facial expression clearly, but you know who it is.

it's your ex-boyfriend, luigi mangione.

his arms are folded neatly against his chest, and he's watching. just watching you, a scowl present on his hollowed face.

your laugh hitches in the back of your throat, blood running cold; your somber expression leaves isaiah laughing by his lonesome.

"i- uh," your voice is small as you look away from those beading eyes, turning your attention back to isaiah. "i've got to go. it was really nice meeting you." you spoke hurriedly, gathering your things and pushing yourself from the bar chair.

"woah woah woah," isaiah spoke, his hand wrapping around your wrist and tugging gently. "did i say something wrong?"

"no—" the corners of your lips tightened into a forced smile. you look back at the spot luigi was once stood, starring at you— but he's gone. there's nobody there. "here, take this. maybe i'll see you around." you sloshed your words rapidly.

you lazily scribble your number on a half-soaked napkin, pushing it towards the man before jerking away at his grasp. he lets you go without putting up anymore of a fight, and you're left stumbling around trying to find the exit.

you could feel your heart fervid in your chest; what the fuck was he doing here? luigi was always one to go out for a few drinks, but he'd never choose to go to a place like this. overcome with turmoil, you finally found the entrance to the stairs. you begin breathing heavy, a panic-attack forcing its way into your system. all you wanted to do was find your way back to your friends to let them know you all needed to leave urgently.

walking— no, more like staggering down the dimly-lit staircase, you're able to contain your heavy panting as you successfully escaped the one who ruined you.

you're about to turn the corner to enter the main floor, where you can hear screams and chants of whatever club-life song is playing.

until you don't.

until, a hand covers your mouth and slams you against the cold, concreate wall of the place.

"what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

it's luigi, and he stares down at you with intense indignation; he gazes at you as if you had just murdered his entire bloodline. deep brown eyes piercing your own, if looks could kill, you'd be a dead woman.

"mmphm," you mumble against his hand, eyes glazed with terror. he drops the hand, but his body is still pressed tightly against your own. "i'm moving on." your voice shakes.

"posting that little tiktok knowing i'd see it, getting all of your friends to rally for you, it's pathetic."

you don't know what comes over you; maybe it's the alcohol or the tumultuous setting, but you are sure filled with rage at the comment. "me, pathetic? look at you, i mean, did you follow me here?" your voice holds more power this time, emphasizing every word to potentially make him feel insane.

to your adversity, it didn't work. or maybe it did, and his reaction was how he camouflaged it.

"don't act stupid, you knew i'd come looking for you. i've been looking for you, sweetheart." his voice booms through the hallway you both are in, completely and utterly alone.

"you're crazy, lu!" you cry over the music, and without warning, you shove him backwards with you're entire force. luigi falters back, catching himself as you turn on your heel to leave. maybe luigi could watch you have the time of your life from a distance.

a hands-reach away from the door, two strong hands pull you backwards, spinning you around shockingly gracefully for how inebriated you are.

he had an insatiable hunger in his eyes this time, holding you in front of him by your shoulders. it wasn't enough to hurt you, but you knew if you tried to move, it would be.

"you wanna see fuckin' crazy?" luigi explodes, tilting his head. "i'll show you crazy." the darkness in his expression sparks something within your chest, and you can't tell if it's terror or euphoria. luigi yanks you behind him, giving you no choice but to follow sheepishly. you can barely walk properly as he lunges for the exit, pushing through the huge crowd of sweaty club-goers.

"luigi! what the fuck are you doing?" you yell over the music, exasperated. he doesn't turn to answer you, only pulls you behind him with much more drive. "my friends!"

finally outside the nightclub, luigi turns to face you, releasing his grip on you. it's like he knew you weren't going to try and escape him.

"good thing we'll have a long enough car ride that you can text them and let them know you went home with whateverthefuckhisnamewas." luigi seethes, furrowing his eyebrows down at you.

"you fucked up!" you scream back at the man in bewilderment. "and now i can't move on? fuck you."

"oh yeah?" he taunts, interlocking his hand with yours and dragging you around the corner of the joint, pinching you between him and the cold wall. much like he did inside, except this time you were outside in an alley-way. "you're gonna want to watch how you talk to me, baby."

excitement, no— you're not sure what it is, but the feeling you have is unlike anything you've ever felt before.

"or what?" you sloshed back at the man, helpless beneath his grip. you wanted things to be different, yet you always found yourself drunk on his persuasion. and at the moment, also drunk with the extensive amount of shots you had taken earlier.

"you're about to find out." luigi spoke solemnly, his voice much more tranquil now that he's got you right where he wants you. 

you open your lips to respond, until luigi's frivolous hands find their way beneath the tight, black mini-skirt you had on. a small gasp escapes from you, eyes widened at the man. he keeps the tiny piece of clothing on, yet eagerly pushes your underwear to the side, his hand sliding against your core. 

this provokes a reaction from you; you try, not very hard, to push his hand away, but to no avail, luigi advances. 

"luigi-- someone's gonna see-" 

"yeah? maybe like that fucker trying to get with my girl?" he hisses, impatiently finding your clit. he uses his long, calloused middle finger to rub circles around your sweet spot, eliciting a moan to escape from your throat. “i hope he sees.”

"i'm not your girl!" you cry out, slowly succumbing to how good his finger feels working on you. it was pathetic; since he knew every exact spot that electrified you, you melted right underneath him. the way your body grinds against his finger defies the harsh words you speak to him. 

luigi removes his touch from you're core, leaving you trembling. "aww," he coos as you look down at your feet, clearly ashamed. "ah, ah." he shakes his head in disapproval as he takes your chin between his pointer finger and thumb, forcing you to look up at him. "tell me you want me to stop." 

nothing. you said... nothing. you blinked up at him innocently, eyes wide as saucers. you take your bottom lip between your teeth and he grins cockily, poking the side of his cheek with his tongue. 

he leans in, his mouth pressed against your ear. "that's what i thought," he growls at you, nipping at the tip of your earlobe with his teeth. it sends shivers down your spine as he plants wet, sloppy kisses down the side of your neck. "come on sweet girl, come home." 

again, you say nothing. luigi appears happy to take this as an invitation to literally sweep you off your feet, bridal style. the motion makes you quite dizzy, making the only thing you're able to focus on is his face. 

"i knew you'd be such a good girl, my bellissima. look at you." he smirked down at you before placing you in the passenger seat of his car, which was parked right out front. it was almost like this was his plan the entire time. 

it all hit you like a truck; you were aware, but not to the fullest extent. beaming car lights flying by you on the busy road all suddenly swirled into a blurry mess. you crane your neck towards the driver seat, an action that costs you the rest of your vision. 

you needed to get it together, to stand up for yourself and march out of this car, but the alcohol had it's claws sunken deep into you. or maybe, it was luigi, as he smoothly slides into the driver seat and clicks your seatbelt over you, then his over himself. 

"l-let me go," your voice quivers, and you're wondering how angry luigi would be if you potentially threw up in his car. 

"you're free to go, pretty girl." 

you look at him, then the sidewalk, busting with drunken and disorderly college students everywhere. you glare at him before sinking down into the passenger seat of the car you knew all too well, eyes fluttering shut. 

good thing you didn't see the smirk apparent on luigi's face as he shifted his car into drive, taking off hurriedly. 

you drifted in and out of consciousness, taking precise notice to every time luigi's hand travels to your upper thigh and squeezes softly. it's truly the only thing keeping you from completely passing out in this man's car, a soft whimper escaping you every time he hits a bump and brushes your heat with his fingers.

after a short drive, you don't exactly remember going inside. you don't remember leaning on luigi for balance, allowing him to escort you to his college apartment, up the stairs and to the right. you don't remember allowing luigi to help you out of your shoes, your socks, and certainly not your skirt. 

at least, that's the story your friends were going to hear after tonight.

"the second i saw you in this," luigi hissed under his breath, his hands roaming the entirety of your body, gripping at the fabric of your skirt. "i knew i was going to be the one taking it off of you tonight, not anybody else." 

you lied sprawled on your back on luigi's bed, letting him touch all over without putting up a fight. as much as you wanted to, it felt so good. 

"luigi," your voice was frail. "stop, please." you begged, finally mustering some strength to roll out of his grasp and to the edge of his bed.

"uh uh," he shook his head, quick to hover over you. your eyes widened as he leaned in, his warm, pink lips only inches away from yours. he runs his tongue over your bottom lip before taking it into his own mouth, biting down on you softly as if he was claiming you. "you knew i'd come for you, don't play stupid now." 

"we shouldn't, lu," you whine, his lips only persuading you to stay. this time, luigi fully interlocks his lips onto yours, moving at an achingly slow pace. he kisses you so deep, with so much passion, you can't help but dip your tongue into his mouth, fighting against his before hesitantly pulling back. "we're not together anymore." 

"oh, yeah? we're not?" he challenges, licking his lips as if it was an attempt to taste you again. in seconds, luigi's got your skirt and underwear pooled at your ankles, leaving you with just your crop top on. without warning, luigi begins sucking and kissing on the inside of your thighs. "come on baby, i just wanna talk." he mumbles against your skin, tickling you.

you gasp, the motion sending quivers throughout your core. he kisses all the way up to your heat just before abruptly pulling back, leaving his emptiness cold. 

it doesn't take long for him to eagerly put his lips back onto yours, his hands tracing the designs on your shirt. 

that is, until he takes both of his hands, grips the fabric at the top of your shirt, and completely tears it in two, tossing it to the floor. 

"hey!" you raise your voice, sitting upwards and now feeling much more vulnerable with zero clothes on.

"always fuckin' hated that top," luigi growled, ignoring your annoyance. he rests his hand on your stomach, pushing you back so you're lying down again, underneath him. "hated seeing you go out in that..." he trailed, his hands making their way back down to your core. 

"we- we can't do this!" you plead, leading luigi to insert two of his fingers inside of you. your mouth gaped open, and you let out a deep breath as you felt the entirety of his fingers reach deep inside of you. 

"shhh," he purred, his eyes locked onto yours as he slowly pushed his middle finger and pointer finger in and out of you. "how wet you are for me says otherwise, you little slut." his voice is in your ear now, fingers picking up the speed as you squirm beneath him. every so often, he'd curl them upwards, reaching a sweet spot that almost had you screaming his name. “is that guy at the bar gonna make you feel like this, huh?”

"fuuuck," you drag out breathlessly; the overwhelming pleasure of his large fingers is hard to be upset with. “n-no… he’s not, lu.”

“that’s what i thought.” his tone is dark. his motions of in-and-out turn rapid, his hand becoming slick with you. "you are such a little fuckin' slut for me," luigi says arrogantly, and you move your hips to be in-synch with the movement of his fingers. "my little play-toy, all mine." 

"god lu-" your voice hitches for a second. "god, i- fuck you!" you try and hold your ground beneath him, but let's face it, at this point it's worthless. 

"aww, fuck me? your wish is my command." luigi smiles smugly before ridding himself of his shirt, sweatpants, and underwear, his large member springing out of them avidly. he spends no time flipping you onto your stomach, and grabbing you by your hips so they're arched in the air, against him. "god, love seeing you like this, y/n. there's nothing you can do to get away from me, from us." 

luigi aligns his dick perfectly with your slit, dripping wet from his actions previously. he teases you by running the length of himself against your heat before plunging into your core, earning loud gasps from the both of you. 

"ow— fuck!" you scream as his tip barely hits your cervix. he stays deep inside of you, relishing in you, for a second before ramming into you again. "l-lu, it- hurts." you whimper, causing him to grab a fistful of your hair and lean into your ear.

"and i don't care," he snarls, pumping in and out of you steadily. "you're gonna take this dick with no complaints, yeah?" the way he's stretching you feels otherworldly, pressure building within your lower stomach. 

"who's gonna fuck you like this, baby? huh?" luigi taunts, using his other free hand to wrap around your neck. he squeezes and you see black spots, wailing at every spot luigi manages to find inside of you. it sends bliss through your entire being with every pump he takes, every time he manages to hit your cervix. the entire room is filled with the smack of his skin hitting yours and the two of you panting, yearning and aching for a climax.

"fucking answer me." he lets go of your throat, expecting a response. he juts into you deep, lingering for a few seconds.

"n-no one but you." you stutter, choking on built-up spit in the back of your throat. luigi wraps his hand back around your neck, pulling on your hair, hard. 

"mhm, good girl." he praises, and you let yourself become lost in pleasure.

luigi fucks into you like you're the last two people on earth, like he's never going to see you again. your world spins, feeling yourself closer and closer to the edge of what luigi has started. 

"i'm so close— lu." you're practically pleading at this point. 

"not yet, pretty." luigi's fast-paced thrusts stop abruptly. he stops, only to flip you over once again, now facing him. "gonna cum all over you, i want you to watch." 

he's quick to bury himself inside of you again, a deep guttural moan spilling from the man's mouth as he does so. "so good, y/n, how the fuck do you always feel so good?" he grins down at you, beads of sweat running along his forehead as his fast-pace returns. 

"mmm," luigi moans before taking his thumb to your cheek, embracing you. that is, until he tugs at your bottom lip with it and you oblige, opening your mouth. he slips his thumb onto your tongue, and you swirl it around before closing your lips and sucking. "take it baby, take it just like that." he continued. 

it slowly was becoming far too much for you to handle. the pressure building within your lower stomach started to feel like an itch you needed to scratch, a finish line you needed to chase. with every time luigi's dick hit deep inside, you began to feel yourself coming completely undone beneath the man. 

"that's it baby, cum for me, remember who you belong to." 

"i'm gonna— fuck!" you screamed. he knew you so well. how your mannerisms changed just as you were about to finish; your moans got louder and your hips bucked themselves into luigi, like you needed more of him. 

your lower body began to shake dementedly, that feeling in your stomach exploded and reached every other portion of your body, from the tip of your toes to the top of your head. 

as if on cue, luigi's moans picked up as well. his breathing became rapid-- until it hitched completely and he pulled his length out of you, glistening white cum spilling onto your arched stomach. you gasped at the sight, sending you over the edge. your body twitched with glee, your slit left throbbing. 

"fuck." luigi hissed, using his hand to jerk the remaining white liquid from himself and onto you. 

breathing heavy, luigi used what seem to be his last bit of strength to plant a sweet, gentle kiss on your forehead before plopping down next to you on his back.

"let's get you cleaned u-" 

turning his head to the side, you were completely passed out now. on your back, breathing softly as the alcohol took you from cohesion to restful sleep.

not that you were aware, but luigi quietly cleaned you up. he slipped one of his t-shirts over you, careful not to wake you. you looked so peaceful, especially after recent events. 

"sweet dreams, bellissima," luigi cooed, stroking your hair as he draped an arm around you. "we'll talk in the morning." he said to nobody.

Mana indulge with me for a second and just imagine his orgasm face AYYYYY SANTO DIOS MÍO 😫😫 imagine that stunning face as he cums ahhhhh

That man’s orgasm face??

Una obra de arte.

That sharp jaw clenched, his lips parted just enough to let out those ragged, desperate moans. Eyes fluttering shut, then flying open when it hits him hard, like he didn’t expect you to ruin him like that. His brows knit together like he’s in pain from how good it feels. His hand tight on your hip or your throat or the back of your head, holding on for dear life.

And the sounds?

That low, “fuck, baby, fuck—don’t stop, don’t stop,” turns into a strangled gasp, maybe even your name, maybe even a prayer whispered in Italian as he loses it inside you.And then….then…..he stays buried deep, twitching, panting, whispering, “Santo cielo… cazzo, ti amo tanto…” because it’s not just his body that gave out, it’s his soul.

I had to think of what exactly i wanted to say to this Because dear Jesus I saw this earlier before I fell asleep again and had to dream about this .

OMG I’ve never seen this photo before 😭 HIS CURLSSS 💞💞💞

HIS CURLS HERE 😭😭😭😭

Source: Twitter

Luigi with virgin!reader that has the filthiest mouth ever🫣 shocking him every day with a new, filthier phrase

I just know he’d look at you exactly like this, amused, every single time something new and unhinged flies out of your mouth LMAO

Moonlight devotion

They hadn’t touched each other in weeks.

Not properly. Not the way they used to. Not the way that made her breath catch and his hands tremble and the room go quiet.

They still loved each other…deeply. That was never the issue. It was everything else that kept building around them: work, burnout, family, long stretches of silence. Even their kisses had started to feel muted, like they weren’t reaching far enough in. Like their bodies were together but their hearts were just barely holding on.

So when he booked the trip, he didn’t ask.

She saw the confirmation email pop up while folding laundry.

“Puerto Vallarta. 4 nights. Just us.”

That was all it said.

No questions. No pressure. Just an offering.

She accepted.

By the second night, the villa had softened something between them. They spoke more. Touched more. Still not enough,but more. He watched her all day like he was trying to remember her skin. She let him. And when the sun dropped past the sea, and the sky turned that deep bruised purple, she finally felt something shift in her chest. They’d eaten on the terrace,barefoot, still damp from the pool, eating mango with their hands and laughing at nothing. He’d looked at her with that look again. The one that said I remember who we are.

And when the song started playing,soft and low from the speaker she barely touched…she froze.

“Finishing eight or nine?

Tell me, what’s the perfect time?”

It was Champagne Coast.

She hadn’t played it in front of him before. It felt too intimate. Like a confessional. But hearing it now, floating through the warm air, did something to her. She stood up without saying a word.He followed when she walked down the path, past the villa, past the pool, barefoot across stone and sand, until she was in the ocean.

The waves welcomed her like they knew her name. She walked in slowly, the water curling around her ankles, her knees, her thighs. The silk wrap slipped off her body and was left behind on the shore. She turned to face him. Bikini barely clinging to her curves. Hair wet from the ocean breeze. Chest rising slowly, like she was waiting for something.

And Luigi…..he just stood there, staring. Shirtless. Silent. His chest rising like he was about to speak, but couldn’t.

He stepped into the water.

“I told you I’ll be waiting

Hiding from the rainfall…”

The lyrics floated behind him as he reached her, hands trembling slightly as they came up to cup her face.

“You’re here,” he murmured, like he didn’t believe it.

“So are you.”

He swallowed. “We haven’t really been, though. Not for a while.”

“No,” she agreed softly. “But we are now.”

And then she kissed him.

It started soft.

Slow and familiar, lips parting just enough to feel the heat. Her fingers curled into his hair, his hands sliding down her back, and they stayed like that—kissing in chest-deep water with the tide pulling them gently, quietly back into each other.

“Tell me, what’s the joy of giving if you’re never pleased?”

He broke the kiss, breath shaky. “I kept giving and giving. You wouldn’t take it.”

She looked up at him. “You were giving everything to everyone else.”

He paused. Nodded. “You’re right.”

“On my last strength against all that you believed…”

Her eyes glassed over, not with tears—but with recognition. She wasn’t angry anymore. Just worn down.

“I don’t want to fight about it,” she whispered.

“Me either.”

“Then show me.”

He pulled her closer, kissed the side of her neck, and slid his hands under the water, down her sides, around her thighs.

“I want you,” he rasped. “Right here.”

She nodded. “Take me.”

He didn’t even pull her bikini bottoms off. Just pushed them to the side underwater and lifted her legs around his waist. He slid into her slowly, inch by inch, and her head fell back with a gasp that barely left her mouth.

“Jesus,” he hissed, gripping her ass tighter, holding her in place. “You feel… fuck. You feel like everything I’ve been missing.”

“Come into my bedroom

Come into my bedroom…”

Her lips brushed his ear. “We’re not in your bedroom.”

“You are my bedroom,” he said, thrusting up hard enough to make her cry out. “Wherever you are, that’s where I rest.”

The ocean rocked them. The song played on. The night stood still.His movements were slow, deliberate,like he was relearning her. Like he wanted to fuck her, worship her, and apologize all at once.

“Say you’re mine,” he whispered against her mouth.

“I never stopped being yours.”

His voice cracked. “I thought I lost you.”

“You couldn’t.” She clenched around him just to prove it. “You’d have to kill me first.”

“Tell me, what’s the perfect time?”

“I told you I’ll be waiting…”

He groaned into her neck, hips stuttering as he felt her getting closer. “That’s it. That’s my girl. Let go.”

“I’m—fuck—I’m gonna—”

“Yeah, you are.” He kissed her hard, eyes locked to hers. “You’re gonna cum for me and then I’m gonna hold you all fucking night.”

She did.

Clutching his shoulders, crying out into the sea air, her legs trembling around his waist as he spilled into her with a growl that echoed across the water.

“Young as I want to know

I will never let you go

Trading a baseball lover

As I face the snow…”

They stayed in the water, forehead to forehead, breathing each other in.There were no promises spoken. They didn’t need them. He kissed her softly, reverently, like he was grateful. She held him like she was home again. And in the distance, as the moon sank lower and the ocean cradled them, the last lyrics played faintly from above:

“So tell me, what’s the joy of giving if you’re never pleased?

On my last strength against you

Baby, tell me what you need…”

The sun crept in slowly. It warmed the gauzy curtains first, then the edge of the sheets, and finally the curves of her body where she lay curled half on her stomach, her thigh slung across the center of their bed. Her skin glowed golden, freckles from the sun just starting to bloom, lips parted around shallow breaths, hair fanned out across the pillows like she’d melted into the mattress. Luigi had been awake for over an hour, just watching. He hadn’t meant to be. But sometime before sunrise,after they’d rinsed off in the outdoor shower, after they dried each other with too-small towels and slipped under the white sheets still damp with salt, he’d opened his eyes and seen her like this. And there was no going back to sleep.

She looked wrecked in the best way.

His scratches were still faint along her hips. Her throat was peppered with light red kisses. Her legs had that subtle tremble that came from being held and taken and adored in deep water. And beneath all that,beneath the curve of her ass and the dip of her back,he could still feel her heat, like the ocean hadn’t washed any of it away. He shifted under the covers.Slowly, quietly, he slid lower, one hand smoothing over her calf, the other parting her thighs.She sighed in her sleep, but didn’t stir. He dipped his head beneath the sheets.

And just like that….his lips were on her.

She moaned low when she felt it….barely conscious, hips rolling forward against his tongue before she even opened her eyes.

“Lu…”

He didn’t stop.

Didn’t say a word.

Just groaned softly as he tasted her again, licked a slow stripe through her folds, and wrapped his arms around her thighs to keep her still.

She tried to twist. Tried to push at his shoulder. “Too early—fuck, wait—”

“Nope,” he muttered into her pussy. “Not after last night.”

“You’re insane.”

“And you’re soaked.”

“You made me sleep with your cum inside me,” she mumbled, breath catching. “I haven’t even brushed my teeth.”

“I’m not kissing your mouth,” he said, teasing. “I’m kissing the part of you that cried for me in the ocean.”

She whimpered.

He flattened his tongue against her clit, circled slow, then sucked gently until her back arched off the mattress. Her hand tangled in his curls, pulling tight. “You’re not allowed to do this—be this gentle and disgusting at the same time.”

“I’m making up for lost time.”

She gave in after that. Let him part her legs further. Let him feast on her slowly, like he had nowhere to be. Like she was his favorite thing in the world,and she was. He edged her for ten minutes, stopping just when she started to tremble, licking softly over the ache, then diving back in until her thighs clenched around his head.

“Luigi,” she gasped. “Don’t—don’t stop—”

He didn’t.

Not this time.

She came with a broken cry, legs shaking, her fingers slipping from his hair as she collapsed fully against the pillows. He kissed her thighs. Her stomach. Traced a lazy path up her spine before crawling beside her, mouth shining, eyes dark and still hungry. They laid there for a while, her chest pressed to his, fingers drawing slow circles over his side.

“You always wake up like that?” she asked eventually.

“Only when you’re here.”

She tilted her chin. “You miss me that much?”

He looked at her…really looked. Like the sun finally lit up something he’d been afraid to admit in the dark.

“I never stopped missing you,” he said. “Even when you were right next to me.”

Her lips parted. But she didn’t pull away. She leaned closer. Pressed her forehead to his. Closed her eyes.

“I don’t want to go back to how it was,” she whispered.

“We won’t.”

“You promise?”

“I’ll show you,” he murmured, brushing a kiss against her temple. “Starting with breakfast. And then maybe we fuck on the kitchen counter.”

She laughed,really laughed this time.

“God, I missed your brain,” she said, curling closer, voice sleepy and sweet.

“You missed my dick more.”

“Shut up.”

But she was smiling. And he was already reaching for her again.

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

The way he’s sat with his legs spread like a WHORE 🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦

Creds to @/prosperluigi on twt!!

THE GODDAMN BEARD ARE YOU KIDDING ME SOMEONE HOLD MY HAND PLEASE

credit to prosperluigi on twitter

😣😣😣😣 would love to be kneeling between his thighs

Luigi crumbs 2024...

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

after reading kfa’s new motion

Can’t stop thinking about his head bobbing between your legs with his lips sealed around your clit just sucking and licking on it at the same time

Trying to grab your hips just to keep you still so he can finish what he started uggh😩bonus points when he slips a finger in I NEED THAT MUNCH

watching his head go back and forth while also moaning straight into your pussy . i’m so convinced luigi forgets youre even there when he’s munchin, he just enjoys himself down there lol😮‍💨

LMAO

Bro knew he had one final serve left in him

genuinely

only luigi mangione could serve in 20 pixel body cam footage 💔💔💔💔

😩😩😩😩😩

You Know What That Does to

You started it. You knew you did. You could always tell when you were pushing the line. When his eyes would flick up slowly, like he was clocking the shift in your voice, like he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or grab you by the throat and pin you to the nearest surface.Tonight, it was the name.

You were sitting cross-legged on his couch, eating something lazy he cooked, the TV low in the background. He was still in his work clothes—dark slacks, sleeves rolled up, top button undone, hair pushed back messily like he’d run his hands through it too many times.You didn’t even say it to provoke him, not at first. But you’d been a little bratty all day—teasing, deflecting, poking at him when he got too close. And now, when he reached across you to grab the remote, you leaned back, tilted your head, and said it:

“Luigiiii.”

Soft. Sweet. With that smug little lilt that said I know what I’m doing.

He paused. Just for a second.

Didn’t answer.

Just sat back, resting the remote on his thigh, and slowly turned his head to look at you. You didn’t flinch. But your heart thudded. He smiled,barely. Just one corner of his mouth tugging up. But it wasn’t a warm smile. It was the kind that made your thighs press together under the blanket.

“You think you’re cute, huh?” he said.

You licked some sauce off your thumb. “I know I’m cute.”

His eyes dropped to your mouth. Stayed there.

You smirked and added, just to push him over the edge, “What? Don’t like your name now?”

He didn’t answer. He just got up slowly. Quietly. Took your empty bowl and walked it into the kitchen. And for the next half hour, he didn’t touch you. Didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t do anything at all. And that was how you knew.

⸻

The shift happened just after ten.

The dishes were done. The lights were low. You were half-scrolling on your phone when he came back into the living room,barefoot now, the cuffs of his slacks hanging low on his hips, shirt untucked and unbuttoned at the top, his sleeves rolled to the elbows like he had every intention of putting them to use.

“C’mere.”

His voice was soft.

You looked up. “What?”

He just tilted his head. Didn’t repeat it.

You got up slowly.

When you reached him, he turned you gently by the wrist and walked you backward,step by step, no resistance,until the backs of your knees hit the mattress.

You looked up at him. His eyes were warm.But his jaw was tight.

“You wanna use that voice on me, huh?” he asked. Still soft. Almost sweet. “That little ‘Luigiiii’ voice? Like you don’t know what it does to me?”

You opened your mouth to answer—

He pushed you down. Not hard. Just enough. You landed on your back, arms falling to your sides, eyes wide as he crawled over you,knees sinking into the mattress, palms planted on either side of your head.

“You’re gonna say it again,” he murmured, brushing his nose against yours. “And again. And again.”

He kissed you slow. Just once. Like a reward before the punishment. Then his hand slipped down,down the line of your chest, past your stomach, right between your legs where you were already soaking through your panties. His fingers pressed there gently, teasing, circling.

You gasped.

He smiled.

“Now,” he whispered. “Say it again.”

You hesitated.

“Luigi.”

He arched his brow. “That’s not how you said it earlier.”

You swallowed. Licked your lips.

“Luigiiii.”

His hand slid under the fabric, fingers dragging through your soaked folds like he was testing just how wet your teasing had made you.

You moaned.

He leaned down again, lips brushing your ear.

“God, you’re dripping.” His fingers circled your clit slowly, barely-there pressure, enough to make your hips jerk but not enough to push you anywhere close to the edge. “From saying my name like a little slut?”

“Please—”

“No, no, no.” He kissed your cheek. Your jaw. His voice stayed gentle, affectionate. Mean. “You don’t get to beg yet.”

You whimpered.

Then gasped when he slid two fingers inside you, slowly. Deep.

Your back arched off the bed. He curled them.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Let me hear you. Let me hear that mouth you like to run.”

You choked on a moan, hands fisting in the sheets. He started fucking you with his fingers, lazy strokes, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. His thumb rubbed your clit just enough to light a fire, never enough to stoke it.

And then?

He mocked your voice.

Right against your ear.

“Luigiiii.”

Thrust.

“Luigiiii please.”

Curl. Grind.

“Oh, you can beg now,” he whispered. “Beg me to let you come.”

“Please, Luigi—please—”

“Yeah? You want it?” He pulled his fingers out.

You cried out.

He licked them clean. Then shoved them back in. He fucked you with them until your thighs were trembling, until you were soaked, breathless, teetering—

And then he stopped. Pulled away completely. You sobbed.

He grabbed your jaw gently. Tilted your face to his.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asked, lips soft against yours. “Something you need?”

You nodded desperately.

“I can’t hear you.”

“I need you.”

“Need what?”

“You—please—your cock—”

He undid his belt with one hand. Pushed his pants down just enough to free himself. Thick. Hard. Veined. Red at the tip. He pumped it once, slow, your slick still shining on his fingers. Then he lined up. Pressed the head against your entrance.

Waited.

“What do you say?”

You sobbed.

“Luigiiii.”

He slid in. All the way. Bottomed out with one brutal thrust that had your hands clawing at his back.And in your ear, breathless and mocking and so goddamn in love with ruining you, he whispered—

“That’s my girl.

He didn’t move at first.

After he bottomed out,deep, unforgiving, thick enough to punch the air from your lungs,he just stayed there. Buried inside you, hands pinning your hips down, chest pressed against yours, his breath hot and steady against your cheek.

“You feel that?” he whispered, kissing the corner of your mouth.

You nodded, but it wasn’t enough.

He wrapped a hand around your throat,not tight, just enough to hold your attention,and pulled back enough to look into your eyes.

“Tell me who’s inside you.”

“You,” you breathed.

“Say my name.”

You hesitated.

The corner of his mouth curled.

“Say it how you said it before.”

Your stomach flipped. Your cunt clenched around him.

He groaned.

“Luigiiii,” you whispered, soft and bratty and trembling all at once. His fingers flexed around your throat. His hips snapped forward, driving deeper. You gasped.

“Oh, that’s the one,” he said, voice low and mean and so fucking fond. “That’s the little voice you used when you thought I wouldn’t do anything about it. Like you wanted me to lose it.”

“Lu—please—”

“Please what?”

“Please move.”

“You want me to fuck you?”

“Yes.”

“You want me to ruin you?”

“Yes—fuck, yes—”

“Say it right.”

You blinked up at him, tears lining your lashes.

He leaned closer, lips brushing yours.

“Say it like you’re still bratting.”

You swallowed.

“Luigiiii,” you whined, full of broken heat.

He snapped his hips again. Deep. Cruel.

“Atta girl.”

And then he moved.

Rhythmic. Rough. Full-bodied thrusts that had your legs shaking, your nails clawing into his back, your cunt clenching so tight around him he cursed under his breath.

“That’s right,” he hissed, fucking you harder. “Fucking teasing me with that voice, like I wouldn’t recognize the sound of my name coming out of your mouth.”

His hand on your throat tightened just a little—enough to make you dizzy.

“You know what that does to me,” he growled. “You know it gets in my head. You like pushing me. You like when I fuck you like this, don’t you?”

You moaned.

“I said don’t you?”

“Yes—yes, I love it—”

“Of course you do. You’re such a fucking brat.” His voice dropped into something darker. “But you’re mine.”

He slipped his hand between your bodies, found your clit, and started circling hard, fast, filthy.You screamed.

“I’m the only one who gets to hear you say my name like that.”

He thrust again. Again.

“You hear me?”

“Yes—Luigi, please—”

“Say it.”

“Luigiiii—”

“Fucking say it.”

“Luigiiii—fuck—Luigi, I’m cuming —”

You shattered. The orgasm hit so hard you couldn’t breathe. Your legs spasmed. Your back arched. Your pussy clenched around him like it never wanted to let go. You were sobbing now—honest, wrecked tears slipping down your cheeks as he fucked you through it.

“That’s it, baby,” he moaned. “That’s my fucking girl.”

He wasn’t far behind. His thrusts grew wild. Sloppy. He was losing control and didn’t care.

“Where do you want it?” he panted. “Tell me.”

“Inside,” you begged. “Please, fill me..want you to cum inside—”

He groaned so loud it was almost a growl. And then he slammed in one last time, burying himself so deep you felt it in your throat—and came with a full-body shudder, his hips jerking, cock pulsing as he spilled inside you.

You were both breathless.

Sweaty. Shaking.

His arms were still around you.

Still inside you.

Still holding your body like it was his favorite thing on Earth. You were quiet for a while.He brushed the hair from your forehead. Kissed the tear trail on your cheek. Let you melt into his chest while his cock stayed buried in your sore, aching cunt.

And when you whispered, soft and broken, “Luigiiii…” again—

He smiled. Pulled out slowly. Watched the mess spill down your thighs.

Then kissed your jaw and murmured:

“Careful with that voice, baby.”

“Next time, I won’t be so gentle.”

@luigis-wetdream @iinfinitelimits @luigisbambinaaa

“377 people were murdered in New York City in 2024; only one, however—the December 4, 2024, shooting of United Healthcare CEO Brian Thompson—has led to a legal tug-of-war between state and federal prosecutors as they fight for who controls the fate of 26-year-old Luigi Mangione.”

The introductory statement provided in the overview of the recent affirmation in support of the motion filed by Karen Friedman Agnifilo, legal counsel for Luigi Mangione, seeking to suppress evidence related to the New York state case charges.

Newly released screenshots from body cam footage taken by Altoona PD on the morning of December 9th:

In this motion, filed by Karen, she is seeking to suppress evidence related to the New York State charges:

You can read the full motion here.

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.”

askbox

karen dropped the pre trial motion in the state case!! https://www.luigimangioneinfo.com/updates/

why isn't he free and receiving sloppy head from hundreds of thousands of grateful people

😩😩😩😩

imagine letting Luigi push your breasts together with his giant hands while he makes that phd do a wet-and-wild disappearing act in the cleavage... and you kitten lick his tip every time it gets close to your mouth 💚🌼

Ohh anon I love!!!

he’s holding your tits tight, knuckles white, trying to keep them pressed around him while his hips stutter and his breathing gets messy. you’re barely touching him, just slow, soft licks every time the tip slides close enough. deliberate. playful. cruel in the sweetest way.he keeps trying to hold eye contact but he can’t. he’s twitching, leaking, biting back whimpers. every time you lick him, his whole body reacts like it’s too much. like he’s not built for this. like you’re the only one who’s ever touched him like this loved him like this, and when he finally loses it? it’s quiet. drawn out. his mouth opens but nothing comes out. just a gasp, a moan, and the sound of his body giving up under your hands.

omg 😩😩😩

luigi mangione - the man that will stop fucking you because he knows he’s about to nut too fast so he eats your pussy to calm himself down before continuing 😣

OMFGGG 😣😣😣😣

thinking about bf!lu who decides to maintain a scruff for awhile and you watch it gradually become lighter cause he goes down on you so much

-🫃

STOPPPP omg this is so hot i literally just had to take a lap around the library lmfao

okay like what if ur the one to suggest it after he goes a few days longer than usual without shaving during a super busy week. you’ve only ever known him as relatively clean shaven and you think his scruff is soooo sexy and he looks so mature that ur like 🥺🥺 baby please for me 🥺🥺

and ofc when he does u both realize maybe it’s not the most practical thing ever and he gets concerned that he’s hurting you one time he starts to go down on you and you make the tiniest noise of discomfort and the sensation of his scruff against ur thighs and his head shoots up like >:( and gets up to shave right then and there

Prof Mangione who has his home screen on his MacBook Pro set to a picture of you and him posing and smiling together at the top of a hiking trail—you in your cute two-piece workout set, and him in just shorts, shirtless. One morning, when he connects his laptop to the lecture hall’s projector and monitor, the photo pops up on the big screen and the whole class lets out an “Aww,” and he gets so fucking bashful 😭😭😭😭

stopppp this is so effing cute mama omfg😭🥺

i love the idea of his students shipping the two of you and ooohing and aaahing at every little moment between you both!!!! anytime you make even the slightest appearance during his lectures they tease you guys and probably throw around a “when are you two getting married?” gahhhhhh😣

Luigi being married to a Latina? Two cultures coming together.

Married Life with Luigi HCs

content warning: brief mentions of sex, breeding

an: hi! i saw you sent two separate asks about married life with Luigi and also him being married to a Latina so i decided to combine both! Hope you enjoy! i had to rewrite this so many times lol. where my latina luigi girls at tho??? ❤️

——————

• has his eyes stuck on you the entire wedding. your lips, hands, your laugh— he’s in awe

• loves seeing you use his last name on everything— new IDs, reservations, forms, even packages

• loves calling you mrs. mangione in private and in public

• every time he sees your wedding band, he can’t help but toy with it— letting his thumb brush over it and bring your hand up to press a kiss

• cums all over your wedding band at least once to mark you, “all mine. my fucking last name on you now.”

• buys the cringiest mr & mrs mugs, insisting you guys use them

• updates your contact name to “my wife ❤️”

•absolutely loves introducing you like, “this is my wife, my girl, mrs. mangione.”

• goes straight to hug and kiss you after a long day of work whispering a little “missed you so much baby”

• literally falls even more in love hearing you speak spanish, gets so turned on hearing you scold him in spanish

• secretly LOVES being called papi no matter if casual or sexual

^ reminds me of our girl lujajaja saying he’s probably be so turned on hearing you say “ay Que rico papi” in bed (miss her sm)

• imagine him picking up your slang to match your energy like “que rico mami”

• definitely LOVES being around your family and learns the little traditions like greeting and hugging everybody when arriving at a get together

• i feel like he’d have SO much fun going back to your home country and meeting your extended family and exploring there

• just like the italian pet names, he’d start using names like bebe, amor, mi vida, princesa

• this man ALWAYS has his hands on you no matter where you’re at

• def gives you kisses before leaving for work no matter how late he is or if you’re asleep

• gets sooo hard hearing you refer to him as “my husband”

• he def texts you throughout his work day like “hope you’re having a good day baby, can’t wait to see you tonight” or “can’t wait to come home and bend u over the mattress”

• he’d def start teasing you about trying for babies, “let me fill you up real good tonight baby. lets make it official”

• you going to bed in nothing but his oversized tees and it ruins him. all like “God, baby, you look so fucking good in my clothes” and then him bending you over the bed mumbling “gotta take care of my pretty wife”

can i just say i had a dream i was trying to escape a toxic ex bf in nyc and my friend told me they knew someone that was good at disappearing and i met luigi in my dream and as we were leaving he was so set on stopping by Dunkin’ Donuts and while we were in there i was like yeah dude i see why you got arrested in McDonald’s the first time and he told me to shut up lmaoooo

how are y’all dreaming about him pls let me know 😭🙏🏻 I wanna be part of the club too cuz wdym I’ve been down bad for this man for the better part of the year and still haven’t had a dream yet???

lol literally like wtf... im having fomo