Mana Indulge With Me For A Second And Just Imagine His Orgasm Face AYYYYY SANTO DIOS MÍO 😫😫 Imagine

When he does that lil tongue in cheek thing

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

what im envisioning for part 2 of my massage therapy fic 🫣

Pretty huge Dick

Running my fingers through Luigi’s curls while he lays and rest on my chest 😩.

omggg yes i need this so bad. want to call him my pretty boy with face smushed against my chest 🙂‍↕️ and his pretty curls all tousled and messy. and if u stop playing with his hair? he just blinks his bleary eyes open at you and pouts and mumbles “why’d you stop” <333

omg italy showing up for our boy 🥹🥹🥹🥹

legal team part two luigi mangione x reader 18+

part one

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

warnings p in v sex, rpf smut, unedited

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

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

"you forgot the tie."

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

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

you flinched, breathless. “the guards—”

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

you let him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you can take it, baby.”

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

“cause i’m gonna make sure you do.”

goddamnit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you wanna cum baby?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i understand,” you say, quietly.

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

you nod in agreement, and that settles it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“take your time,” luigi calls after her.

you shoot him a look.

the door clicks.

masterlist / talk to me

weak for you

summary: after you send luigi a soapy titty pic, he decides to jerk off to it.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

luigi’s phone buzzes against the nightstand, the soft vibration cutting through the heavy silence of his hotel room. he barely hesitates before reaching for it, already hoping it’s from you.

and sure enough, your name glows on the screen, followed by a message that makes his heart ache in the best and worst way.

you: i miss u :(( can’t wait for u to come home tomorrow ❤️

he misses you too. hes been away from you for about a week now, away on a work trip that he didn’t even want to go on in the first place, all shacked up in a shitty, overpriced hotel room bed. it’s too cold without you. too empty. too unfamiliar. he’s used to your warmth, the way you curl into his chest, the way you fit so perfectly against him. now, when he reaches out at night, all he can find is cold sheets and silence. and he hates it. thank god he’s able to come home to you sooner rather than later.

his fingers move quickly as he types back.

luigi: miss you too, can’t wait to see you tomorrow baby

luigi: what are you doing right now? :)

a few seconds pass before another buzz.

you: just got out of the shower :) <3

he shifts uncomfortably in bed, running a hand down his face as his mind betrays him. the thought of you, fresh out of the shower, skin warm and dewy, hair damp as you wrap your warm body in a towel sticks in his head like a dream he can’t shake.

he’s suddenly hyper aware of just how how hard his cock is getting, shielded underneath his boxers. he sucks in a sharp breath, forcing himself to think, to type out a response, but it’s impossible when all he can focus on is thought of you, all naked and beautiful.

luigi: oh yeah? can i see? ;)

just a few minutes later…

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

you’re an evil, evil woman.

that’s the first thought that crosses luigi’s mind as he stares at his phone screen, jaw slack, fingers frozen over the keyboard like his brain just turned to mush.

you were beautiful, that much he knew. but in the photo you just sent him? he doesn’t know the right word to adequately describe just how you look now.

there you were, your breasts smothered in delicate, frothy trails of soap, pearlescent in the dim bathroom light. remnants of warm water made everything look impossibly soft, almost unreal.

hes always loved your breasts, sometimes he thinks that the universe made them just for him. they’re soft, and fit perfectly in his hands. they make perfect pillows too. if luigi could choose when he was to die, he’d choose to die wrapped up in your arms, head burrowed against your breasts like a baby, while you caressed his curls, lulling him.

but the more he stares at the picture you sent him, the more he realises that he can’t ignore the throbbing problem in his pants.

he can’t help it, he reaches down and frees himself from his boxers, feeling the cold air of the hotel room pierce against him, and begins to stroke himself slowly while staring at the picture of you on his phone.

he lets out a soft whimper and leans his head back against the pillow, holding the picture up in the air. his mind begins to exhibit various scenarios to him, one being laying next to you in bed, his head resting against your chest, his mouth feeding from your breast while you stroke his cock with one hand, while threading your fingers through his hair with the other.

he wishes it was your hand stroking him instead of his own.

his mind also shows him bending you over the kitchen table and absolutely wrecking you, dominating you. he has your hair in a makeshift ponytail, and he’s rutting his hips into you so desperately while you scream and beg for more. his free hand repeatedly lands harshly on your ass, leaving behind scarlet marks and making it sting.

luigi has always loved fucking you from behind.

he strokes his cock faster, it now being red from the over exertion.

“feels so good baby, yeah…” he whimpers, letting out a breathy moan as the intense burning in his stomach slowly begins to get bigger, more intense.

then, he gets an idea.

he’s still holding his phone with his left hand, so he presses the X button on the top right corner of the photo you sent, and taps the microphone to record a voice message, all whilst still fucking himself with his free hand.

he lets loose. all you’ll hear when you receive it will be the obscene sounds of profanities, moans, and whimpers. but he doesn’t care, he wants you to hear how weak he is for you.

he hits send.

“shit.” he moans, his cock tingling, the coil in his stomach so close to snapping. he stares intently at his phone, awaiting a response from you as he fucks himself all the way to the edge.

letting out a final noise of satisfaction, his toes curl and he finally hits his climax, spilling hot white ribbons of his seed all over himself as he whimpers your name like a prayer.

he’s coming down from his high, thinking that hes finally satisfied, until three dots pop up on his phone screen. snapping him back to reality.

you’re typing. that means you’ve listened to what he sent you. you’ve heard him.

his phone buzzes twice, followed by your two messages flashing on the screen.

you: i love you baby

you: facetime me now ;)

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

this is so fucking rushed… and it’s the first time i’ve ever written anything smutty too omg forgive me

previous work

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

soft haven

summary: you and your boyfriend unwind in bed together after you both had tough days.

warnings: fluff, kissing, cuddling, david lynch mention, twin peaks mention, laura palmer mention, kyle mclachlan mention

notes: i dedicate this to @mangioneee and everyone else who sent me a request regarding cuddling with lu in bed :)

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

your room is your safe haven tonight, a cozy shield from the heaviness in your heart. you’re curled up tight in the middle of the bed you share with your boyfriend, wrapped in the quilt that smells like a mixture of his cologne and your perfume.

you’re lying in bed, propped up by a couple of worn pillows. a folded throw holds your laptop across your lap, its dim glow casting light over your face and the tangled sheets. you’re watching your favourite show, twin peaks, with agent cooper’s steady voice coming through the laptop. it’s been a rough day, and the heavy feeling lingers. your eyes wander, hardly focused on the screen, lost in your thoughts.

for some reason, you felt numb all day. and all your mind was fixated on was getting home to your warm bed, and unwinding with your favorite show. work plodded along, conversations drained you, and all you wanted was to just go home.

you miss luigi and can’t wait for him to walk through the door.

as if the universe somehow managed to read your mind, sure enough, the bedroom door swings open, and there he stands, a gentle smile spreading across his face, instantly brightening the space.

“hey baby,” luigi says softly, his voice a balm. his gaze locks with yours, weary yet warm, and he moves silently to the bed. “missed you today.” he murmurs, leaning close, his lips grazing yours softly at first, then deepening into a heartfelt kiss, each one easing the heaviness of the day.

you sink into him, your hands resting on his shoulders as the kisses deepens. his fingers graze your cheek, drawing you nearer, and the world slips away. honestly, you could kiss luigi for hours and not get bored.

amidst the kisses, you manage to murmur, “how was your day?” your lips still grazing his, unwilling to break the moment.

he hesitates, his forehead pressing gently against yours, a faint sigh slipping out. “awful.” he admits softly, his tone sad, before his lips find yours again, the kiss deeper, as though seeking refuge in your closeness.

you relish in the kiss briefly, but concern for luigi tugs at you. slowly, you ease back, your hand resting gently on his cheek as you look into his eyes. “why, what happened?” you ask tenderly, voice full of care.

you lift the blanket, beckoning him closer. “cmere.”you say softly, guiding him in. he slips beneath the covers beside you, his warmth close as you pull the blanket over you both, ready to hear him out.

luigi nestles closer, his shoulder grazing yours as he exhales softly. you shift to face him, the faint buzz of twin peaks playing on your laptop fading into the background, your attention focusing on him.

“tell me what’s wrong.” you whisper, your hand slipping under the covers to find his, squeezing gently. he leans in, nuzzling his face against your chest, seeking comfort. you run your fingers through his curls, stroking them softly.

his breathing evens out, his face still nuzzled against your boobs. after a pause, he mumbles, “i keep overthinking at work.” his voice carries a hint of frustration. “it’s like… i’m second guessing every move i make, worried i’ll mess something up. today was just… too much.” he presses himself closer, as if your warmth could untangle his mind.

your fingers run through his curls, gentle and calming. “lu, you’re so smart.” you murmur, your voice full of warmth. “and i’m not just saying that because you’re my boyfriend, there’s really no need to doubt yourself when it comes to anything. you’ve got this incredible mind, one that’s extremely rare to find in people.”

you pull him closer beneath the blanket, the laptop’s faint glow forgotten, hoping he can feel how much you believe in him.

he lets out a soft sigh. “i guess…” he mumbles, his tone uncertain but softening. after a pause, he shifts, his voice quieter. “anyway, that’s enough about me and my bullshit. what about you? you seem sad.”

you hesitate for a second, your fingers slowing in his curls as the day’s weight settles back in. “i’ve just felt… off.” you confess, your voice faint. “i’ve got no clue why, but i just felt so shitty all day, and nothing seemed to shake it.” you lean into him, feeling soothed by his warmth.

luigi lifts his gaze to yours, his eyes warm with quiet concern. “i’m sorry baby, it really hurts me to know you felt that way.” he says softly, his voice sincere. he places tender kisses on your breasts, his arms tightening around your torso. “how about we just stay in bed together for the rest of the evening?”

he pauses, glancing towards the glow of your laptop. “watcha watching?”

your expression brightens, a flicker chasing away your prior sadness. "it’s twin peaks!" you say excitedly, voice warming as you gaze at him. "david lynch directs it, and basically, this girl called laura palmer gets murdered, and kyle mclachlan plays this fbi agent who goes to the town to investigate it, and sooo many weird and supernatural things happen."

you glance at him, anticipating his response, only to find him fast asleep, his head nestled against your chest like a cozy baby.

you roll your eyes, giggle and kiss his head, pulling him closer.

your silly, silly boyfriend.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

hope u all like this :,)

previous work

“In terms of mitigating factors, Mr. Mangione’s background reveals an exemplary life in every respect. He was, and is, a loved and cherished son, brother, uncle and cousin in a large, close, loving family. He was the valedictorian of his high school where he led the robotics team to the Eastern Regional Finals. He graduated from the University of Pennsylvania in four years with both a Bachelor’s and a Master’s Degree in Computer Science. He spent his life playing soccer and baseball; he ran track and wrestled. When compared with Mr. Mangione’s life of love, support and excellence, and no criminal record, the sole statutory aggravating factor pales in comparison. The Justice Manual requires that the aggravating factors sufficiently outweigh the mitigating ones. Because they do not, a capital prosecution is not warranted.”

A statement made by Luigi’s legal defense team—Karen Friedman Agnifilo, Marc Agnifilo, Jacob Kaplan, and Avi Moskowitz—in their motion to preclude the government from pursuing the death penalty.