Cyber Sex

dealer!lu who's a mutual friend of your upenn roommate, sophie. you're smoking with her in the days leading up to midterm exams to manage your stress levels and not overthink, and her weed is GOOD. better than anything you've ever had from your shady snapchat plugs, so you ask her, "hey, this is really good. where do you get it from?" she puffs out some smoke before responding. "this guy in 3rd year named luigi. he's one of my boyfriends friends. some engineering guy, but apparently he's cool. i can ask brian to get you in touch with him if you want?" she says. "yeah, that'd be great." you smile, passing the joint back to her. a few weeks later, sophie asks if you want to go over to brian's for a small post-midterms celebratory get together. you had always heard about it from her previous stories; video games, board games, and a whole lot of alcohol and weed. you'd never thought of going before, but you and sophie had gotten a lot closer this term because of your schedules lining up and actually seeing each other around the dorm more. you agree to go, and after getting dressed, you and sophie are making the walk over to brian's dorm. he opens the door after a few knocks and the marijuana smell hits your nose immediately. "hey babe. hey y/n." he smiles at both of you, before wrapping an arm around sophie and leading you both inside. sophie wasn't kidding when she said the get together would be small. it's literally just a few of brian's friends and some other girls you had seen around campus. you take a seat next to sophie and she whispers who everyone is in your ear. "...that's patrick. he's majoring in business. funniest guy you'll ever meet." she points at the guy in the red t-shirt with the brown hair. "....and that's luigi. comp sci major, i think. he's the plug with the good weed. he doesn't really talk much though." she points to the most gorgeous man with the curly hair and adidas hoodie on. as if he's heard your conversation, he turns over to you and meets your eyes. his eyes hang low, a slight red tint to them. your eyes flicker to his hand to see a roach. he puts it out and takes a slow sip out of the red solo cup in his hand. you force yourself to look away, but as you meet sophie's eyes again, you see the teasing glint and smile on her face. "someone's got a crush." she smiles. "no i don't!" you deny, all too quickly. "hey, maybe you should get with him, then i can finally stop begging brian for weed. you could get it directly from the source." she winks, nudging you. "yeah, yeah..." you walk off to pour yourself a drink at the homemade bar, when you bump into him. as cliché as it sounds, you manage to spill the drink on him. "fuck. i'm so sorry, i didn't mean to do that!" you panic and start wiping the drink off him with a paper towel. he grabs your wrist, "it's fine, you worry too much" he smiles at you. you find yourself lost in his gaze, again. you couldn't help it, he's so gorgeous. "wanna smoke one?" he offers. "...yeah" you smile nervously. luigi leads you out onto the balcony. on your way out, you take a glance at sophie, who winks at you. brian, who has his arm around her, is giving you both the biggest smile you've seen all night. you both take seats on the chairs outside and he pulls out a fat one. he lights it up and passes it over to you. you smile at him letting you take the first hit. the smoke hits your lungs instantly, and you smile at the familiar feeling before passing it back to him. the conversation went on, and time passed by as the joint died out. you learned that luigi was an over achiever and had many accomplishments you could only dream of. you both spoke about your respective programs among many other things. the night ended, and you left with luigi's number in your phone and the offer of free weed whenever you needed, because in his words, you were "cool". little did you know what was in store for you...

-gymrat anon hehe I HAD TO GET MY THOUGHTS ON THIS OUT IM SORRY

GYMRAT ANON OMFG. omg never apologize i was giggling kicking my feet reading this 💖💖 i love ur mind

absolutely obsessed with the idea of him having the best weed bc he ofc just would

omfg his hooded dazed eyes, slightly red kinda a permanent half smile on his face even with ur vodka lemonade all over his hoodie… and his voice would be so low u

ugh to get high with him 😫😫 he’d be like “how is it?” and ur so high feeling so good with this absolutely gorgeous man beside you cold air against ur warm skin and ur like “so good”

and you’d get to talking about ur majors and then how he was his fancy high schools valedictorian and last summer was a camp counselor at stanford… and tbh you’d feel a little bit intimidated… just a bit

but he doesn’t act pretentious or arrogant, he’s interested in you, in your major and what you want to do… he asks you a lot of questions and then apologizes with a shy laugh saying, “i didn’t mean to interrogate you”

you just smile as you tell him “it’s nice when someone’s interested in you”

and he’d grin like “well you’re interesting. i just wanna know more about you.” AHH

he would look into ur eyes in such an intimate way

omfg the offer of free weed anytime what a man 😣

WHAT WAS IN STORE cliffhanger killing me i can’t figure dealer luigi out

okay so sorry i just typed out my reactions/thoughts bc this really is that serious to me

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 .

oh my god i had to screen record this because i needed to show u guys so bad and if i linked it i’d dox myself IMAGINE THIS WITH LU :’(

why are we all still just as horny for this man as we were in december LOLLLL

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

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

!!!!!!

“It’s easy to indict. Less easy to convict.” -Sarena Townsend on tiktok

Sending love!!!! 🫂

wait okay ty i needed to hear this 💘💘 sending sm love back

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