#sexy luigi

[tesseractrave]

I couldn't unhear this and now neither can you

[jaydove-writes]

This song has more relevance after what happened recently.

[fuzzyfangz]

just give him what he wants and you can have meeee whatever you want if you pay you can staaaAAAAAAYYYYY

luigi and bowser has rotten my brain from the inside and there's no going back

[pompatat]

Leguizamo Luigi

✨Leguigi✨

[goldyluna]

Today I decided on two things. I will draw slightly cursed drawing of Luigi and something for Welcome Home.

Don't know what will be first. I don't know if I want to know. Pray for me.

[jjkbambi]

the morning after luigi mangione x reader (18+)

summary!!! part two of is it new years yet because you do not get back together just cuz he has good dick OMG 🖕🖕🖕🖕😒 he also has a great personality and loves eating pussy

warnings: smut, kinda angsty, he’s manipulative but honestly he’s such a nice guy, you should really give him a second chance

^ not edited let’s alll just practice gratitude 🙏

seven days, thirteen hours, and nine minutes and thirty six seconds.

that’s how long it had been since luigi had seen you. not that he’d been counting, he was truly trying to be normal about the distance this time around.

he replays the morning after on a loop, searching for the slightest hint he’d done something wrong to no avail. as a matter of fact, your quiet body was beside him until deep into the afternoon, nothing but soft snores exchanged between the two of you. he wakes before you, kissing your forehead before taking his leave. his frat brothers whistle at him as he enters the wretchedly messy house, throwing him a water.

“happy new year, big guy,” one of them, hasan, greets. “did’ya spend your night thinking about new goals or scoring the same one?”

luigi rolls his eyes. “fuck off.”

another brother chimes in, bright-eyed. “when are we meeting her?”

“in your dreams.”

he had no intention of sharing you in any way; the thought of anyone else even looking at you irritated him. but starting the new year off by your side was far too great a fate to be stoic about. he grabs a plate of what’s left of their shitty communal breakfast (jar salsa from the night before, scrambled eggs, and two pieces of mostly burnt toast) and brings it into your room.

“y/n,” he calls out while entering. the door to the bathroom is now closed, and he sees your shadow shuffling around the room.

hesitant, the door creaks open. youre back in your black minidress, holding onto your heels. “hey, pretty.”

“hi,” you say tightly, the mistakes and soreness from the night before lingering in your mind. you’ve just wiped away the tears still streaked on your face, yet your ex-boyfriend hardly looks hungover.

“dressed up just for me?” he jokes, kissing your cheek. he offers you the plate of food but you shake your head.

“lacy’s waiting for me. i’ve got to go.”

“stay,” he says, his voice honey-sweet, like the boyfriend you knew months ago. it makes you feel sick, the familiarity of it all suffocating you. the room feels too small.

you push away from him. “i have to go.”

“baby,” he drops everything he’s holding to grab you again. “what’s wrong? is everything alright?”

he always blows your mind with his audacity. “no, everything’s not alright, luigi,” you spit back. “we shouldn’t have—none of that should’ve happened.”

“what do you mean?”

“luigi,” you sigh. “we’re over, alright? it’s done.”

“y/n—”

“i mean it,” you raise your voice so slightly, but still it breaks. “you cheated on me, then pulled all this shit, i can’t do it anymore.”

“you can’t do it anymore? are you serious?”

“yes!”

“you ignored me for weeks then showed up at my fucking party, dressed like that,” his voice was low, but angry. brows furrowed, he doesn’t lose his grip on you. it scares you. “you can’t tell me you weren’t bartering for my attention.”

“i wasn’t.”

his jaw sets. “then who’s?”

“oh my god. nobody’s!”

“don’t fucking lie to me—”

“lu, stop, seriously.” your voice trembles this time, and you both notice it. he drops your hand.

“i didnt mean to hurt you,” he says, soft at your upset. “i swear—i dont remember cheating on you. i’m not gonna mess up like that again, i promise.”

he leans in to kiss you, to seal the pledge with his gentle touch, but you pull back. “it doesn’t matter that you didn’t mean to hurt me—you did. you can’t just pretend it didn’t happen.“

his big brown eyes bear into yours and he swears, “i can make it up to you.”

“luigi,” you hadn’t even realized you’d been crying until he brings his hands up to wipe your tears away. “i just don’t think this is a good idea, i’m sorry.”

“come on,” he says, frowning. “i love you. only you.” his lean-in to kiss you is successful this time. the kiss feels much better—softer—than last night’s. he’s gentle with his desperation, intent on making you stay. “‘m sorry, okay?” he says between kisses. “let me make it better.”

“no, luigi, we shouldn’t—”

“you’ve got to hear me out, y/n,” he takes your lips again. his hot kisses move down your neck—and it all feels so different this time around. even the air in the room feels lighter. his voice is against your ear when he swears, “i’ll be good to you, sweetheart, i promise.”

saying no to him is near impossible—it’s why you shut yourself off of him for weeks, avoiding places he frequented, deactivating your social media, ignoring his constant stream of messages and calls. now, he has you, and within minutes, you’re pressed against the wall again.

“feels good?” he teases, grinding his hard-on into your core. you melt underneath him, you can’t help it, he’s so warm.

“lu,” you whimper. you’re still sensitive from how selfishly he took you the night before, you can’t help but react to his touch so quickly. it felt so raw.

“wait—” he never does. his hands are on your hips again, moving your body against his.

“just let me take care of you,” he says, trailing kisses down your neck again. this time, he was sure to leave marks.

he keeps the dress on this time. he places you back onto the bed, and as you gather the courage to take him in again, he moves beneath you.

“knew i recognized these,” his voice hot against the fabric of your panties.

you told yourself the lacy black panties were just meant to match the dress, but it all seemed so intentional—the party crash, the kitchen drive-by, the fact that you were wearing his valentines day gift. whether this was a manifestation of your greatest fear or desire, you couldn’t tell.

he kisses your thighs, then runs his tongue against your core through the fabric of your panties before ceremoniously ripping them off. he kisses and sucks at your wetness. you tremble at the suddenness of his movement. his big nose is so prominent in your pussy, you can’t help but grind yourself against his perfect face and whine as he drinks you in.

“you’re such a fucking mess,” luigi says, smiling into your warmth. his unshaven stubble tickles your sensitive cunt, sending a tremor through you. “so wet, i’ve barely even touched you.”

“i can’t help it,” you whimper.

he grabs your ass, pulling you closer to his relentless mouth. it’s ridiculous how good he feels. he’s completely shameless in his endeavor to ruin you.

“look at me,” luigi orders, so you do. you look down to see him, finding that he’s already gotten to touching himself. his hard length at the edge of the bed, furiously red, as he strokes himself. “i think about you everyday,” he admits in between licking at your core. “i missed how this pretty pussy tasted. i missed having you like this. holding you down so you can’t squirm away. missed hearing you beg.”

you’re almost there, fidgeting underneath his hands. “luigi, please. it’s too much.”

“you’ve taken worse,” he growls into you.

he feels like he’s on fire. one hand moves up and down along his cock fervently, while the other lends itself to fingering your frothing pussy. you mewl at the sudden entry, back arching.

“luigi,” you whine. “please.”

“i’m trying to do a nice thing for you, y/n,” he hums, “but you want me to be selfish, hm? want me to take you?”

“yes,” you say, breathless.

“fuckin’ slut,” he grumbles, pulling himself away from your wet cunt. he grabs your ankles and pulls you to the edge of the bed. “what d’you want from me, huh?”

“want you.”

“course you do,” luigi says, surprising you with hard slaps against your sensitive clit. you cry out at the sensation, the unfamiliar storm of bliss and torment, and he chuckles darkly. “you fuckin’ belong to me.”

he grabs your chin and forces you into another kiss, your wetness now staining you both. he lifts your leg up and slides himself back into your wet warmth. “you’re dripping,” he praises as he pounds into you. the exhilarating pain sets your senses alight, you grip onto him tighter without even realizing. “all for me, yeah?”

“all for you.” you nod. this is not how you expected this conversation to go. you writhe at how big he is, how hard.

“you can take it,” he grunts. he’s not fast, this time—his thrusts are agonizingly slow and tortuously deep—just as you think it’s all entirely too much, one hand grips your clothed tit, the other lifts to cradle your chin, forcing your lips to part open. he spits into your mouth. “swallow,” he orders.

you do.

“good girl,” he places sloppy, wet kisses along your jaw, your neck, then goes to bite at your tits. “so fuckin’ pretty.”

“i thought about you too,” you admit sheepishly, out of your mind. he looks up at you, raises his eyebrows, urging you to go on. “i missed you.”

to your surprise, he scoffs. “fuckin’ bitch.” he suddenly loses the interest in being gentle with you, returning to your body rough and angry. his fingers massage against your clit, unraveling you. “you’re just as crazy as i am, you know that? running around town like you don’t belong to me. like you don’t touch yourself late at night thinking about this cock. wishing those fingers were half as good as mine, huh? fuckin’ idiot.”

“luigi,” you cry out. was this him being nice?

“be a good girl f’me,” he grunts. he feels you pulse around his cock and drives into you with even more force. “cum all over me, baby. have my fuckin’ kids.”

“luigi,” you mewl again, desperate for release.

“come on, pretty, show me how good it feels.”

his lips return to yours, hot wet and desperate, as he cums inside of you. you’re a complete mess—squirming and whimpering as you unravel onto his cock, he catches your moans with kisses and leaves you shaking underneath him.

“good girl,” he hums, kissing your forehead.

for a fleeting moment, the two of you are perfect. everything feels just right. he slips into the spot beside you, the disarray of tangled sheets forgotten as he pulls you into his warmth. you sink into the nape of his neck, and though there are no more words spoken, the air is thick with an undeniable love, quiet but all encompassing.

but when he stirs awake, reaching for you, all that lingers is the soft, fading smell of your spring perfume.

MASTERLIST send requests ! <3

[ef-1]

his mug shot bc he's arrested for murdering a CEO when the real threat is that killer face card 🫦

[aishabellasbigblogofeverything]

Seeing people lust over Luigi Mundane Mangione just because he killed the CEO(“fuck capitalism!” my ass because lbr if a Black person killed the CEO y’all would hate them so much) and then the very next day seeing people shit on the cutest Black girl you ever did see and call her ugly, masculinize her, and compare her to animals, all for not looking like a zombified facelifted mugshawty Barbie sex doll.

This is what it’s like to be a Black girl. Constantly having your dignity and womanhood and value tarnished and dragged through the mud, and being reminded time and time again that the world hates your very existence and considers you the fundamental opposite of everything a beautiful and feminine woman is. Everyone walks all over you, everyone sees you as a despicable subhuman monster who doesn’t deserve or need protection and care, everyone uses you to get a one-up and prop themselves up because you’re seen as easy picking and nobody defends you when the going gets rough because to them you’re just there to remind them that they’re better than you because “at least I’m not a Black girl”. And when you complain you’re “aggressive” and “dramatic” and “it’s not about race/gender” “people can’t help what they’re attracted to, Black features are inherently more masculine anyway”. I hate it here.

[jaydove-writes]

This song hits different after December 4th 2024

[judas-isariot]

If I draw bowser, I have to warn you, it's going to be homoerotic.

[justmuscle4u]

Luigi de Pisapia 🇪🇺🇮🇹

[giddlygoat]

idk how superstar saga will end but this is my prediction. i pray to god i called it ngl

[swimfan-2001]

[saffitaffi]

Bowser tries something new with princess(?) peach(?)

[justsumtransdude2000]

How would everybody feel if a woman who had chronic back pain committed a radical act of defiance against the elites, subsequently landing her in prison, just for everyone online to only be focusing on how hot she is/her boobies/her flat stomach/how she fits into the beauty standard crafted by the very elites she set out to defy?

We can all, collectively say that it would be undermining her work to reduce her to how she can please us aesthetically. We can all say that the way she looks isn't the point, the point is class consciousness, is what her radical act of defiance represents, is how fucked everything is right now, right?

So why is it okay to reduce Luigi Mangione to how he looks, therefore undermining his defiance? I'm not saying you can't think he's fine, I'm saying that isn't the point. I'm saying it doesn't need to be brought up incessantly. I'm saying that this is a problem. We cannot idolize everyone by sexy-fying them. We cannot build a movement on the back of thirst edits. People are not commodities and they don't have to bring sexiness, or hotness to the table for us to respect them.