Moonlight Devotion

happy birthday squeej

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

free this man </3

“she’s got an AMAZING head of hair on her which she obviously gets from her daddy 😭” ughhhhh 😣😣😣😣😣 i wanna have his kids

Girl dad Lu headcanons 🩷

girldad lu headcanons 🩷

* ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖୨୧˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ when she was still in your womb, she would always kick like crazy when luigi was around :)

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖୨୧˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ when she was born he cried and could not stop staring at her, he was terrified at first when the doctors asked if he wanted to hold her because he thought he’d drop her 😣😣

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖୨୧˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ sometimes you’d come home from being somewhere after leaving luigi alone with the baby, and you’d see him just sitting on the couch with her just holding her and staring at her.

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖୨୧˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ loves cuddling on the couch with you and her because you’re his girls :(((

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖୨୧˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ her first word was “dada!” and luigi got sooo cocky about it and would not shut up about it for weeks

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖୨୧˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ loves tickling her, once he was tickling her when she was still a baby and he made her laugh for the first time 🥹🥹

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖୨୧˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ LOVES talking to her even when he can’t understand her, when she became a toddler and started actually walking and talking, she’d say some of her toddler babble to him and he’d reply and go “really? wow! that’s amazing!”

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖୨୧˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ loves every part of being a dad. especially during her baby days, he loved feeding her, getting up in the middle of the night to calm her down, he even loved changing her diapers

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖୨୧˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ when she’d cry in the middle of the night, luigi would notice just how tired you looked and he’d insist that he’d go deal with her instead so you could get more sleep

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖୨୧˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ is SO patient with her. you don’t know how he does it. when she’s being cheeky and won’t go to bed you’ve NEVER seen luigi get frustrated with her, ever.

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖୨୧˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ your daughter is the perfect mix of you and luigi, but she looks so much like you when she gets mad which always makes him laugh soooo much, because he just can’t take her seriously if all he can see is a mini version of you 😭

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖୨୧˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ she’s got an AMAZING head of hair on her which she obviously gets from her daddy 😭

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖୨୧˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ luigi absolutely loves introducing her as your daughter to people

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖୨୧˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ he genuinely thinks she’s the best thing you and him have ever done :(((

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖୨୧˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ your daughter is very curious toddler, always pointing at things and going “daddy wat that?” and luigi always takes the time to explain it to her

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖୨୧˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ one time when he was at his computer doing some coding stuff your little girl toddled up to him, saw what he was doing and asked “wat you doin daddy?” with wide eyes

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖୨୧˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ so he pulled her onto his lap and showed her all his coding stuff, and started explaining it in detail and even though she didn’t understand a word he was saying she was still like “woooooooooooooowwwww!!! reeeeeeeeeaalllllyyyyyyyyyy??????”

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖୨୧˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ loves taking her for walks through the park in her pram, especially when she babbles and points at random things and asks what they are

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖୨୧˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ when he’s not using her pram he’s using one of those slings where your kid is kinda strapped in front of you (please tell me you all know what i’m trying to describe 😭😭)

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖୨୧˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ speaking of walks through the park, he loves taking her to the duck pond to feed the ducks! she calls it the “duckie pond” so that means luigi has to call it that too 😭😭

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖୨୧˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ he gave her permission to eat one of the slices of bread they brought with them one day, and when he was watching her eat he couldn’t get enough of how cute she looked, so he told her to smile while she had her mouth full and he took a photo of her and sent it to you

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖୨୧˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ whenever she has a bad dream she always goes to you and luigi’s room and snuggles up in between you two

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖୨୧˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ once on valentine’s day he got her to give you the bouquet of roses he got for you

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖୨୧˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ he even coached her on what to say, she ended up saying “happy vawintines day mommy! these from daddy, daddy loves you!”

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖୨୧˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ once he took her into a jewellery store to pick out a gift for you, and she pointed at the prettiest bracelet ever and he ended up buying it for you 😣

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖୨୧˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ gets way too invested in the kid cartoons she watches😭 once you came home to him cross legged in front of the tv next to her watching one of the episodes

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖୨୧˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ when she gets upset, so does he. there’s just something about seeing his little girl sad that really tugs at his heartstrings

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖୨୧˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ on her 2nd christmas he dressed up as santa and walked into the room, and your daughter was so convinced that santa claus was actually in your fucking house, while you on the other hand could not stop laughing because it was so obvious that it was lu, and his santa impersonation was too funny

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖୨୧˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ when she’s out in public with him and gets nervous for whatever reason she hides behind his pant leg

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖୨୧˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ once he was doing his coding stuff on his computer and she randomly toddled up to him, tapped him on the shoulder and said “i love you daddy!” for the first time

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖୨୧˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ if she notices lu is stressed out about something she’ll toddle up to him, hold up her teddy bear to him and go “daddy want my teddy?”

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖୨୧˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ always falls asleep in lu’s arms when he reads her a bedtime story :(((

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖୨୧˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ whenever you’re all out shopping together, whenever she sees luigi from mario, whether it be a billboard, a poster, an action figure in a store, or a keychain, she always points and goes “wook! wook! wook! it’s daddy!”

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖୨୧˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ even though he might not be the best singer, he loves singing songs for his little girl. he loves seeing the smile that appears on her face :)

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖୨୧˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ he loves playing with her, one day you came home to him playing dolls with her, it was the sweetest thing you’d ever seen 😭

* ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

hope u guys like :,)

previous work

Luigi coded

!!!!

really over these characters that insert and establish themselves as ‘leaders’ of certain lu communities and then use their ‘position’ as some sort of policing authority to speak on and for a man they do not know!

ik w/ like the party girls and the legal fund, that’s ultimately a benefit and a plus for lu but wtf has ms clubmangione accomplished by attacking other lu supporters publicly and making fun of him on twitter (and in letters TO HIM) etc etc etc lmfao it’s ridiculous and embarrassing and i just had to get that out sorry

why do you think you are owed anything from lu or his team bc u started a twt space and helped minors write letters to him

😩😩😩😩

Wrong Time, Right Place

Pt1.

The last time she’d been in the Mangione house, she was nine, and someone had dared her to jump off the diving board.

She didn’t. She stood at the edge of the pool for what felt like an hour, heart hammering in her chest, goggles too tight against her face. Kathleen was laughing from the kitchen window, Luciana was sunbathing like a goddess on a striped towel, and Maria Santa had already done a backflip and was begging someone to “hurry up and go.”

She remembered Luigi too. Not as a boy she really knew—but as the kid who fixed things. Always barefoot, always squinting at something broken. He was quiet back then. Soft-spoken. Always carrying some piece of a gadget around with him. At some point that summer, he helped her dig a caterpillar out of a net and didn’t make fun of her when she cried. That was all she remembered. That, and the way the Mangione house smelled like lemon and rosemary, even when it rained.

Now she was 19, and back on that same porch. Only this time, she wasn’t here to swim or laugh or prove anything. She wasn’t a little girl anymore. She wasn’t even sure who she was lately. The door opened before she could knock. Her mom was already inside, calling out greetings like she’d never left. It was early summer, just past five, and Baltimore’s air had that heavy warmth to it, like the heat was sinking into the wood and staying there. She stood on the welcome mat with her duffel bag and her tote sliding off her shoulder, hair pulled into a lazy braid, lips dry, skin tight from the drive.

“Come on,” her mom called gently, waving her in. “Don’t just stand there.”

She stepped inside, and it hit her like it always did. The smell. Garlic and oil. Faint citrus. Something sweet baking in the oven. And the music, some old Italian record humming low from the dining room stereo, like the whole house had a pulse. For a second, her body didn’t know how to relax. It had been on edge for weeks. Finals. Projects. A roommate breakup that wasn’t even romantic but still felt like one. And the boy.

God. The boy. The one who kissed her like she was a secret and left her like one too.She hadn’t cried about him. Not really. But she hadn’t slept much since, either.bAnd now here she was. In a house she barely remembered but always missed. Kathleen appeared first, wiping her hands on a towel, smiling like she meant it. “You’re taller.”

“I’m literally the same height,” she said, setting her bag down. But her face cracked into a grin anyway.Kathleen pulled her in. It wasn’t one of those fake hugs. It was real, warm, tight, like she hadn’t just seen her grow up through Instagram. “I’m so happy you’re here,” she said into her hair. “You’re staying as long as you need. Okay? No pressure to be anything.”

That almost made her cry. She blinked it back. The kitchen was chaos in the best way. Luciana was barefoot on the counter, swiping wine from a bottle and yelling about how someone stole her favorite candle. Maria Santa was chopping tomatoes with a toddler balanced on her hip, pretending she wasn’t doing three things at once. Her mom was already laughing with Louis, Luigi’s dad, who was by the stove stirring a pot of red sauce and shaking his head fondly at the noise around him.

“This house,” her mom muttered, squeezing her shoulder, “I swear, it hasn’t changed since we were your age.”

And for the first time in weeks, she smiled and meant it.

~~~~~~~~~~~

They gave her Luciana’s old room. The one with the yellow walls and the creaky fan. It smelled like rose water and faded perfume. There was a bookshelf by the bed with random paperbacks and one photo of the three siblings taped to the wall—Luigi, Maria Santa, and Luciana, probably in high school, grinning at something off-camera. She unpacked slowly, half-listening to the sound of voices downstairs. Her mom had wandered off to help with something in the backyard. The Mangione sisters were still in the kitchen bickering like it was a sport. It was nice. No one was asking her to perform. No one was demanding to know how she was doing or expecting her to talk about school. She was just here. And that was enough for now. When she came back down, it was golden hour. Light spilling through the windows, Luciana now dancing in the dining room with a half-drunk glass of wine, Maria Santa setting the table, Kathleen humming along to the music with a dish towel slung over her shoulder.

“There she is,” Luciana called out. “We were about to send a search party.”

“She was unpacking,” Maria Santa said, smiling at her softly. “Let her breathe.”

“She can breathe while chopping basil,” Luciana joked, already pulling her by the wrist into the kitchen.

They handed her a cutting board and made room for her at the island. It was loud. Lively. Plates clattered, someone opened a bottle too fast and sprayed the counter, and Kathleen shooed everyone away from the oven like she had secrets to protect.

“You look so much like your mom,” Maria Santa said, dicing garlic. “But your mouth is all your dad’s. Sharp.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Luciana gasped. “She talks back! I love her.”

“She’s not quiet anymore,” Kathleen said proudly, pouring olive oil into a skillet. “She’s got fire now.”

She blushed a little. But it felt good. It felt like being seen.She wasn’t used to people celebrating the parts of her she didn’t have to hide. The back door creaked open, letting in the faint sound of cicadas and the warm breath of early evening air. The kitchen was already buzzing,Maria Santa stirring something on the stove, Luciana holding court with a glass of wine, and Kathleen rummaging through the fridge with her whole body like she was wrestling it.

She didn’t notice him right away. Not until Kathleen called out, casually, “Lu, tell your father to stop poking the sausages. They need to sear, not suffer.” And then he laughed. That sound, low, easy, familiar in a way she didn’t expect made her look up. He was standing in the doorway like he belonged to it. White linen shirt open at the collar, sleeves rolled once, skin warm and tanned from the sun. His hair was short, dark, cleanly styled, like he’d combed it once that morning and hadn’t touched it since. His jaw was a little sharper than she remembered. His smile, somehow softer. He looked like he smelled like sea salt and warm cotton. Like he’d been outside all day fixing something just because someone asked. Like the kind of man who wasn’t trying to be the center of attention, but always ended up there anyway. His eyes moved across the room,briefly, casually until they found hers And stopped. It was quiet, just between them. The kind of moment that doesn’t interrupt anything but still makes the air feel different. His brow twitched like he was trying to place her, then smoothed when it clicked.

“You grew up,” he said, not surprised. Just quietly impressed.

“So did you,” she replied, heartbeat climbing way too fast.

He smiled, tilted his head. “You’re not still afraid of the deep end, are you?”

She huffed out a breath. “Only when I’m tired.”

Kathleen’s voice cut through before he could respond. “Luigi, baby, grab the wine from the table and make yourself useful.”

He stepped past her, giving her a nod so subtle it barely counted, and moved toward the counter like he hadn’t just knocked the wind out of her. But before he reached the sink, he glanced back. Not to say anything. Just to look. And she wasn’t sure what kind of look it was—curious, familiar, maybe something else—but it landed in her chest and stayed there, warm and buzzing beneath her skin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun was just beginning to slip behind the trees when Kathleen announced dinner like it was a holiday. “Everyone out back! Shoes optional, opinions not.”

She followed the flow of bodies onto the patio, arms brushing shoulders, plates clinking, Luciana already halfway through a dramatic retelling of a Tinder date that ended in an emergency room. The long wooden table was set with mismatched chairs and wine glasses that didn’t match either. Candles flickered low, napkins were folded but already sliding out of place, and everything smelled like roasted tomatoes, lemon zest, and summer. She didn’t know where to sit. Her mom had found a seat next to Louis, deep in conversation about property taxes, and Maria Santa was balancing her toddler in one arm while waving a fork in the other. She hesitated at the edge of it all, unsure where she fit—until she felt someone step beside her.

“Here,” Luigi said, quietly, nodding to the last empty chair.

Next to him.

She glanced at it, then at him. He was already sliding into his seat, one arm resting lazily along the back of the chair beside his. Like it had always been meant for her.

She sat. Close enough that their knees almost touched under the table.

The food came in waves. Bread, salad, pasta. Kathleen moved like a magician between courses, and Luciana was already tipsy enough to declare herself “a saint for helping with the dishes later.”

Conversations layered around her like music—half-heard stories, laughter that built without warning, forks scraping against plates. It was loud and warm and beautiful in the kind of way you forget you need. And then Luigi leaned in. Not dramatically. Just enough that his shoulder brushed hers.

“So,” he said, eyes still on his plate, voice low enough that no one else could hear, “are you actually here for the summer, or did someone bribe you?”

She took a sip of her wine before answering. “Little of both.”

He smiled, slow. “I figured. You’ve got that look.”

“What look?”

“Like your brain’s still somewhere else.”

She turned to him. “And you don’t?”

His grin widened, but he didn’t argue. A pause settled between them. Not awkward just full. Like neither of them was in a rush to ruin it.

“I forgot how loud your family is,” she said finally, glancing at Luciana now singing backup vocals to the music playing through a tiny Bluetooth speaker. Luigi laughed into his glass. “That’s their quiet setting. You should hear them at Christmas.”

“I’m scared.”

“You should be.”

She found herself smiling without thinking. It was easy, being near him. He didn’t talk too much. Didn’t force it. But every now and then, he said something that made her feel like he really saw her. Not the version she was pretending to be. Just her. Kathleen came by and topped off their glasses. Luciana shouted across the table to say she looked “suspiciously good in this lighting,” and someone dropped a spoon that clattered like thunder. But all she could feel was the weight of his gaze when she looked down. Their arms touched again when they both reached for the bread. Neither of them moved away.

By the time dessert was cleared, the sky had turned completely dark. The candles on the patio burned low, flickering against empty wine glasses and half-finished plates, catching in the gold of Luciana’s earrings as she waved a fork dramatically and told a story she’d clearly told before. Her mom was yawning into her sleeve. Maria Santa had her youngest slumped against her shoulder, fast asleep, curls tangled and cheeks sticky with tiramisu. Louis stood to help her carry him in, and one by one, the others began drifting back into the house—laughing, brushing crumbs from laps, stretching their arms above their heads like the night itself had worn them out. She stood too, unsure where to go. Luciana kissed her on the cheek without warning and whispered, “You’re handling us beautifully.”

She smiled, a little dazed. “I used to think this family was loud.”

“Oh, honey,” Luciana said, looping her arm around her waist for a quick squeeze, “we’re just getting started.”

Inside, the kitchen was quieter now. Dimmer, too only the warm under-cabinet lighting left on, making the marble counters glow softly. There was a stack of dishes in the sink, a tray of burnt lemon rinds, and a towel half-crumpled near the sink like someone had given up mid-clean. She lingered there a moment, just taking it in. It was rare to see a kitchen like this when it wasn’t full of voices. When the energy had settled and you could finally hear your own breathing.

Then she heard footsteps behind her.

“Leave them,” Luigi said, his voice lower now, softer without the buzz of dinner around them. “You’re a guest.”

She turned. He was rolling up his sleeves further, collar still open, curls a little tousled from the humidity outside. He looked… relaxed. Like the night had worn him in all the right ways.

“So are you,” she said.

He reached past her for a dish and grinned. “I live here half the year. That makes me an unpaid employee.”

She hesitated, then grabbed the towel and bumped her hip lightly against his. “Fine. Then I’m your assistant.”

He raised an eyebrow, amused. “You gonna dry?”

“If you wash.”

“Deal.”

And just like that, they found a rhythm. He washed slowly, carefully, like someone who knew how to do it right—rinsing twice, stacking neatly. She dried, hands brushing his a few times too many. Neither of them mentioned it. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was… charged. Familiar in a way she hadn’t expected. Every now and then, he’d say something—point out that Luciana had hidden an untouched shrimp under her napkin or that Louis always left the forks for last. Small things. Observations. He noticed things. She liked that.

“You used to be scared of this kitchen,” he said suddenly, glancing at her with a little smirk.

“Only because Luciana threatened to throw me in the oven once.”

He laughed, deep in his chest. “She’s gotten nicer.”

“She gave me wine and called me hot. I’m terrified.”

He handed her a plate and looked at her a little longer than necessary. “She’s not wrong.”

She paused. The towel stilled in her hands. He didn’t look away. His expression didn’t change. And she wasn’t sure what to say—if she should joke, deflect, or pretend like her pulse didn’t just skip—but before she could decide, he turned back to the sink.

The moment passed. Quietly.

But it stayed there between them.

Humming.

By the time the last dish was done, her hands smelled like lemon and soap, and she was a little dizzy,but not from the wine. He wiped the counter with the back of his wrist and leaned against it, arms folded.

“You’re different,” he said softly.

She glanced at him. “So are you.”

A pause.

Then, like he couldn’t help it: “In a good way.”

Something in her chest tightened. The kind of ache that wasn’t sad. Just full. Before she could respond, Kathleen’s voice echoed from the hallway. “Luigi, don’t leave her alone in there. Give her the tour or something.”

He didn’t move. Just looked at her.

“You want the tour?” he asked.

“Only if it includes snacks.”

He smiled.

And led her out of the kitchen.

He didn’t really give her a tour. He started in the hallway, pointed vaguely toward a guest bathroom, then made some joke about Luciana’s old room being cursed—which, judging by the crooked closet door and permanent smell of vanilla lotion, might not have been far off.But after that, it was quiet. They walked slowly, barefoot on cool tile, the house creaking softly around them like it was falling asleep. Voices had dimmed behind bedroom doors. Her mom had gone to bed. Even the music had stopped. It was just them. He led her toward the back of the house, the older part,where the windows were thinner, the light more golden. The walls here were lined with photos, decades of family birthdays and anniversaries and blurry Christmas mornings.They paused in front of one without speaking. It was him,probably sixteen, holding a sparkler, grinning with cake frosting on his shirt.

“I looked like I had no idea what to do with myself,” he said, voice low, eyes on the frame.

“You looked like you were trying really hard not to smile.”

“I probably was.”

She tilted her head. “You were kind of quiet back then.”

“I’m still quiet,” he said, glancing at her. “People just stopped pointing it out.”

They stood there for a second too long. Then she shifted, brushing a finger along the edge of the photo frame.

“I used to love this hallway,” she said softly. “When I was little, I’d walk back and forth during parties pretending I was going somewhere. Just to be around it. The noise. The energy.”

He looked at her. Really looked.

“And now?” he asked.

“Now I think I came here to be around it without being in it.”

Luigi nodded slowly, like he got it. Like maybe he felt that way sometimes too.Then he turned, opened the last door on the right.The back den. She remembered it as the TV room,low couch, dark wood shelves, the leftover blankets always balled up in the corner. It looked the same now. Familiar. Safe. He stepped inside, but didn’t turn on the light. Just reached for the lamp in the corner and let it cast that soft amber glow across the room. She stood in the doorway for a second. He sat on the edge of the couch, leaned forward on his knees, looking out the window into the dark. She joined him, curling one leg under the other, the cushion dipping between them. Neither of them spoke for a moment.The quiet wasn’t empty. It pulsed with unsaid things. She turned her head toward him.

“You’re easier to talk to now,” she said.

He didn’t look at her. Just smiled gently. “You never tried before.”

“Maybe I was scared.”

His eyes met hers. No teasing this time.

“You don’t seem scared now.”

“I’m not.”

He nodded once.

Then, quietly: “Good.”

Her breath caught in her throat. She didn’t know what to do with the way he was looking at her. Like she wasn’t just some girl at the end of a long day. Like she was the thing he hadn’t realized he’d been waiting to find again. The silence stretched. And then he reached forward not dramatically, just instinctively and brushed a loose strand of hair from her cheek.

His fingers were warm. Calloused at the tips. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t move. Just looked at him. Let it sit there. Let it be what it was. And when he dropped his hand and leaned back again, she felt the absence like a string gently tugging at her chest.

They didn’t kiss.

Not yet.

But something settled between them anyway.Something neither of them had words for.

*+*+*+*+**+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+**+*+*+*+*+*+*+**+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+

This is just the first part I’m hoping you guys like it, still feel like I can do a lot better lol if you guys have any feedback I’d be glad to hear it (: someone please lmk if this feels rushed (:

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

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

Luigi crumbs 2024...

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.

Omg.

omg I saw this post and immediately drafted something… here’s a lil drabble ^_^ credit to the anon because I’ve stolen your idea and turned it into this :’)

@diors002 I love you because I can’t stop thinking about that picture of him looking up..

🍓

NSFW: p in v sex during second trimester of pregnancy, breastfeeding, lactation kink

The night had been slow and dreamy, one of those evenings where everything just felt perfect. After work, Luigi had cradled you in his arms as you cooked dinner, all broad shoulders and warm hands, voice soft and soothing as he told you about his day.

You fed him lasagna — simple enough, but he moaned like it was gourmet because his wife had made it. Afterward, he sat on the couch with your swollen feet in his lap, strong hands kneading gently, eyes drifting to your bump and your chest with that look that hadn’t left his face in months: awe, pride, hunger.

Eventually, the two of you had moved to the bedroom.

Now you’re here, on top of him, slowly rocking your hips, swollen belly rising and falling between you both. The sheets pool around your waist. Your body is flushed and glowing, dim light golden across your skin. His hands are everywhere — palming your ass, stroking your thighs, but mostly… your breasts.

He’s obsessed. Has been for weeks.

Luigi groans softly, mouth hot and open over one of your nipples, sucking lazily, like he could stay there forever. “They’re so full, baby,” he breathes, voice muffled. “So heavy.”

You giggle breathlessly, fingers threading through his curls. “Feels good — they’ve been so sore.”

“I know, baby,” he murmurs, nuzzling deeper.

He kisses down, then sucks again, harder now. You gasp, rocking a little faster, your body aching and oversensitive in all the right ways.

And then— suddenly you feel it. A warm, soft pressure… then a trickle. Luigi pauses. Freezes, actually.

He pulls back a little and blinks. You both glance down at the same time where a small wet patch glistens on your nipple.

Your eyes widen. “Oh—”

Luigi’s mouth falls open a little. He looks stunned. A drop of milk glistens on his bottom lip. His hazel eyes dart up to you — doe-eyed, boyish, totally gone.

“Luigi, what…” you start, breath catching. “What is — did I just…?”

His cock twitches inside you. Hard.

And instead of finding it strange and pulling away — he moans.

Then he leans back in. And sucks even harder.

You gasp, completely dumbfounded, hands on his shoulders as he latches on like it’s the most natural, necessary thing in the world. He’s all flushed and breathless and his hands are gripping your hips tighter, rolling them against his lap again like he can’t decide what he wants more — your tits or your pussy.

“Luigi—” you whisper, shocked and turned on and slightly overwhelmed. “What are you doing?”

He looks up at you, lips wet and pink, milk at the corner of his mouth, eyes half-lidded and reverent. “Tastes good,” he murmurs, voice thick. “Perfect, bambina… so sweet.”

You just gaze down at him, mouth slightly open, thighs trembling.

And then you bounce again, slow and deep, watching his pupils dilate as he cups your breasts, mouth returning to suck at the other nipple like he needs it.

The mix of sensation — your body filled, your chest heavy and leaking, his cock twitching inside you — it’s overwhelming in the best way.

You moan, breathless, hands tugging at his curls now. “Fuck, Lu — that’s it, baby, ‘m so sensitive.”

He just hums against your skin, the noise vibrating against the nipple he’s currently attending to.

“I want this with you forever. Wanna give you more of my babies. Stay buried in you. Taste you like this and keep you full.”

You shiver, overstimulated and melting.

This becomes your thing together. After a long day, when he’s tired, craving his wife, and you’re sore and achy, you’ll ride him in the comfort of your bedroom, nestled in the sheets as he sucks from you. He eases the needy and uncomfortable ache, nourishing himself equally in such deep intimacy.