They Say Lip Color Is Tip Color Babyyy

happy early birthday to luigi and i 😋

Birthday Boy

TW: breeding kink, dominant reader, oral (m receiving), worship kink, soft filth,overstimulation, mirror sex, riding,praise kink, deep obsession, slow burn filth

⸻

He didn’t even make it to the bed.

You had him sitting on the edge of the couch in just his dress shirt, barely unbuttoned, chest flushed, eyes already heavy like he’d been begging for hours.

“You’re not allowed to touch,” you told him, straddling his lap with a slow smirk, your nails dragging up his throat as he swallowed hard. “It’s your birthday. You let me take care of you.”

He nodded, jaw clenched, hands fisting the couch cushions instead of your thighs.

Good boy.

You kissed down his chest slow, each button undone with your mouth, not your hands, until he was exposed and twitching beneath you. And then you dropped to your knees. Luigi’s head dropped back the moment your mouth wrapped around him, a shaky breath leaving his lips as he whispered, “Fuck—” like he hadn’t been touched in weeks. You took him deep, let him hit the back of your throat just to feel him buck under the pressure, your hands holding him still. You didn’t stop. You wanted him shaking.

“Not yet,” you whispered when he started to come undone, your spit coating him, lips swollen, eyes wet.

“You don’t get to come until I’m on top of you.”

He was already wrecked when you climbed on, guiding him in with a slow grind of your hips. His hands immediately flew to your waist, and you slapped them away.

“What did I say?”

He bit his lip hard, whimpering now, hips twitching up into you. You rode him slow at first, just enough to tease, then faster when he started moaning like he was gonna lose his mind. One hand dragged through his curls, the other gripping his jaw.

“You gonna cum for me, birthday boy? Gonna fill me up like a good fuckin’ gift?”

He nodded, eyes glassy. “Yes... fuck...please, let me—”

You leaned in, kissed him slow, and whispered, “Then give it to me. All of it.”

And he did with a cry, a curse, and his head thrown back like he’d just been blessed by God himself.

You didn’t stop moving.

You never stopped.

You barely made it to the bedroom before you decided he hadn’t seen enough. His body was already flushed and trembling, chest rising and falling like he was still trying to catch the breath you stole from him on the couch. His curls were messy, his shirt still clinging to his shoulders, soaked with sweat from the first round. And his cock?

Still hard. Still leaking.

Still yours.

“Sit.”

Your voice was soft, but the command in it was sharp. You nodded toward the mirror on the closet door.

“Back against the wall. Legs spread. Hands behind you.”

Luigi didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. He followed like he’d been waiting for this exact moment all year. You stepped toward him, completely bare now, slick still coating your inner thighs, chest rising slowly and confidently. His eyes dropped between your legs, tongue wetting his lips like he was praying for a taste. But you weren’t giving him that yet. You straddled him again, knees planted on either side of his thighs, the cool wood floor grounding you both. You reached down, ran your fingers along the length of his cock twitching, desperate, soaked with the mess he’d made of himself and dragged it through your folds. He let out the quietest, broken little moan.

You smirked.

“Eyes up, birthday boy.”

You tilted his chin up, forcing him to look forward into the mirror.

“I want you to watch how pretty you look while I fuck you again.”

And then you sank down onto him. Slow.Devastating. You took every inch until your hips met, and he gasped — head falling back against the wall, hands twitching behind him.

“Fuck—” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Baby, I can’t… I just came—”

“Shhh.”

You started to move.

Up.

Down.

Up again.

Every bounce made the sound between you louder wetter, filthier — like you were trying to fuck the breath from his lungs. And it was working.

“Look at your face,” you whispered into his ear, breath hot. “Look how desperate you get when you’re inside me. That pretty mouth open, your eyes begging. You like being used, don’t you?”

He whimpered actually whimpered, nodding like he couldn’t remember a single word of English. You grabbed his face with one hand, your other hand clawing into his chest for leverage as you rode him harder. His thighs trembled beneath you, his cock twitching so deep inside you that you could feel another orgasm building.

So close.

So fucking close.

“You gonna cum for me again, baby?” you purred. “You gonna fill me up till I’m dripping down your cock, huh? One more for me, birthday boy.”

His mouth dropped open like he was gonna respond but then he came.

Hard.

With a grunt and a sob and a strangled gasp of your name. You slowed your movements, grinding down on him, dragging it out, making him feel every second of it. He looked up at you, completely wrecked, pupils blown, sweat clinging to his skin.

But your hips didn’t stop.

And neither did your voice.

“Don’t think we’re done yet, baby.”

You leaned in, kissed him slow and deep, tasting his moans as he trembled beneath you.

“I want one more. I want you crying while I take every last drop.”

Hope you guys enjoy. Drop a though on what I should write next or maybe not it’s ok 👍🏻

holy fuckkk 😩😭

indulge me i don’t even know with what but god there is is a DROUGHT

getting even

summary: you and your ex boyfriend luigi cuck your current idiot of a boyfriend after you catch him in bed with a HOOKER 😱

warnings: male tears, cucking, head (f!receiving) luigi is cocky asf and a munch

notes: please ignore. way too high and thought this was profound

“are you FUCKING kidding me?”

there your boyfriend was, in bed with a hooker. you couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

well that’s a lie, if anything you knew this would come eventually, you’d just been way too naive to admit it to yourself.

malcom’s eyes widened as he scrambles to cover himself, his face flushing red.

"b-b-baby, p-please," he stammers, tripping over his words like an absolute numptie. “it’s n-not what it l-looks like!"

you cross your arms, a bitter laugh escaping your lips as you mock his pathetic stutter. "b-b-bullshit, m-malcom! i let you live here r-r-rent f-f-free and this is how you r-r-repay m-me???”

your eyes darted to the prostitute still sprawled across your bed, clutching the sheets like they’d save her.

with a voice sharp enough to cut glass, you snap, “and you, get the fuck out of my house, NOW!”

the woman flinched, scrambling to gather her scattered clothes in a frantic heap. as she stumbled to her feet, she shot malcom a venomous glare, spat directly on his chest, and hissed, “DICKHEAD!” clutching her belongings, she bolted out of the room, her footsteps echoing down the hall.

you turn your gaze to malcom, who sat frozen, the spit glistening on his chest, his mouth agape like a fish out of water. with a voice cold and steady, you murmur “put some clothes on and pack your shit.”

malcom’s eyes glisten with tears, his lip trembling as he looked up at you, desperation in his voice. “no.” he chokes out, shaking his head weakly.

your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, a smirk curling your lips as you lean n slightly. “no? you sure?” you said, voice dripping with mockery. “alright, i’ll just give luigi a call then, heard he’s back in town.”

⊹˚✧₊‿︵ʚɞ︵‿₊✧˚⊹

luigi, your ex boyfriend, was someone you parted ways with not because of any betrayal or lack of chemistry, but simply because the distance between you became too much to deal with. you met him a few years back when you were both at the same college, and the connection was instant. electric, even.

he was charming, confident, and had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the room. but when he moved across the country for a job, the strain of a long distance relationship wore you both down. late night calls and sporadic visits couldn’t sustain the spark, so you mutually decided to end it, though you stayed on good terms. there was always a lingering "what if" in the back of your mind when it came to him.

now, standing in front of malcom, the contrast between the two men couldn’t be starker. sex with luigi was something else entirely… passionate, intense, and deeply satisfying. he knew exactly how to touch you, how to read your body, and he took his time, making sure you were left trembling and breathless.

with luigi, you never had to fake it, he could make you cum effortlessly, sometimes multiple times in a single night, leaving you blissed out and craving more. it was like he had a map to your desires, and he navigated it with ease.

malcom, on the other hand, was a disappointment in comparison. sex with him was lackluster, rushed, and entirely focused on his own pleasure. you couldn’t remember the last time he’d even come close to getting you there.

it was mechanical, predictable, and left you feeling more frustrated than fulfilled. where luigi was a maestro in bed, malcom was like a clumsy amateur, fumbling through without a clue.

⊹˚✧₊‿︵ʚɞ︵‿₊✧˚⊹

malcom’s teary eyes narrow at your taunt, his voice shaking but defiant. “you wouldn’t dare.” he said as he tried to call your bluff.

you smirk, unfazed, and pull your phone from your pocket. without breaking eye contact, you scroll to luigi’s name, tap the call button, and put it on speaker.

malcom sits there on the bed, frozen in shock, his wide eyes locked on the phone as if it were a ticking bomb. his mouth hangs open, the spit on his chest still glistening, his earlier defiance crumbling into pure panic.

after a few rings, the call connected, and luigi’s warm, familiar voice fills the room.

“hey you,” he says, his tone casual but laced with a hint of surprise and affection.

“heyy,” you reply, your voice smooth and deliberate. “heard you were back in town. been thinking about you lately.”

luigi chuckles, his voice dropping playfully. “oh yeah? you miss me?”

you lean against the wall, letting your tone turn flirty, a teasing edge to it. “yes, in fact… come over and fuck me.”

malcom’s jaw dropped further, his face paling as he stares, utterly speechless.

luigi pauses for a beat, then asked “what about that guy you’re with? whats-his-face?”

you rolled your eyes, glancing at malcom with disgust. “i just caught him in bed with a hooker,” you said flatly, watching malcom flinch as if you’d slapped him.

luigi burst out laughing, the sound rich and unrestrained. “i warned you about him.”

you sighed, a wry smile tugging at your lips. “i know, i’m an idiot, okay? i own up to it. shut up and come over. i miss your dick.”

luigi’s voice dropped, thick with heat. “well i miss how your pretty pussy tastes. it’s all i think about whenever i jerk off.”

you purr into the phone, “i know, baby.”

he chuckles darkly. “how about i eat you out while he watches?”

malcom lets out a choked sob, his hands covering his face as fat tears stream down his cheeks, his body shaking with pathetic whimpers.

you glance at him, then smirk. “you know what? that’s a good idea.”

luigi’s tone is all business now, laced with anticipation. “i’ll be there in 10 minutes.” the call ended with a click.

you toss the phone onto the bed and fix your gaze on malcom, who’s still sobbing, his face buried in his hands. “hear that?” you say, your voice sharp and unyielding. “and you’re gonna stay and watch. understand?”

malcom shoulders shake, but he lifts his head just enough to nod, tears streaking his face, his eyes hollow with defeat.

your anger flares, and you step closer, voice rising. “say you understand!”

malcom flinches, his voice barely a whisper through his sobs. “i understand.”

you smile.

“thank you.”

⊹˚✧₊‿︵ʚɞ︵‿₊✧˚⊹

ten minutes later, a sharp, confident knock reverberates through the house, pulling you from the haze of your fury.

you stride to the front door, pulse hammering in your veins, and fling it open. there stands luigi, looking like he stepped out of a fever dream. he’s even sexier than you remember, his dark hair slightly tousled, his jawline sharper, muscles taut under a fitted black shirt that clings to his frame.

his eyes lock onto yours, sparking with that familiar mix of mischief and hunger. a slow, dangerous smirk curls his lips, and before he can say a word, you grab the collar of his shirt, yank him toward you, and crash your lips into his.

the kiss is fierce, all heat and urgency, your tongues tangling as his strong hands grip your hips, pulling you flush against him. You’re still standing in the open doorway, the cool night air brushing your skin, but the world beyond him doesn’t exist.

he breaks the kiss just enough to lean in, his breath hot against your ear as he murmurs, “missed you.”

“i missed you too.” you reply, your voice a sultry purr, thick with want as you linger close, your fingers still curled in his shirt.

his smirk widens, and he tilts his head, glancing past you into the house. “so, where’s the asshole?”

you chuckle, a dark edge to it, and step back, offering him your hand. “right this way.”

you lace your fingers with his, his grip warm and firm, and lead him through the house, your heels clicking on the hardwood floor. the anticipation builds with every step, a delicious coil of heat tightening in your core. when you reach the bedroom doorway, you pause, taking in the sorry sight before you.

malcom is still slumped on the bed, a sniveling mess, his face splotchy and red from crying. tears stream down his cheeks, his hands tremble in his lap, and he’s too paralyzed by shock to even move. he looks like a broken toy, discarded and pathetic.

luigi leans casually against the doorframe, his smirk sharpening as he sizes malcom up. “hey man.” he says, voice smooth and taunting. “i’m luigi. what’s your name?”

malcom’s head jerks up, his bloodshot eyes blazing with a mix of shame and fury. “you know my name! we went to penn together!” he snaps, his voice cracking, the words half swallowed by a sob.

luigi lets out a low, mocking laugh, unfazed, and steps closer, his presence commanding the room. he looms over Malcolm, his tone shifting to something colder, more pointed. “now why the fuck would you cheat on someone like her?” he asks, gesturing toward you with a tilt of his head.

“look at her, she’s smart as hell, kind, gorgeous, the whole package. what kind of idiot throws that away?”

you roll your eyes, the flattery stoking the fire already burning inside you. stepping toward luigi, you let your hand trail across his chest, your voice dropping to a sultry, impatient drawl. “kiss me.”

⊹˚✧₊‿︵ʚɞ︵‿₊✧˚⊹

you’ve always dreamt about having sex with luigi again, the memory of his touch haunting your late night fantasies long after you parted ways.

his hands knew exactly where to grip, his mouth where to linger, his cock hitting every spot with relentless precision until you were a trembling, moaning wreck. he’d fuck you with a rhythm that felt like it was carved into your soul, deep, deliberate thrusts that stretched you perfectly, his fingers teasing your clit in sync until you shattered, screaming his name as your pussy clenched around him.

no one else ever came close to that kind of ecstasy, least of all malcom, whose clumsy attempts barely registered. but as much as you craved luigi’s body again, you never imagined it would happen like this… in front of another man, with malcom’s pathetic sobs as the backdrop.

currently, you’re sprawled on the bedroom floor, the cool hardwood pressing against your back as luigi’s face is buried between your thighs. his tongue is a fucking revelation, lapping at your dripping cunt with a hunger that makes your toes curl. he’s sliding two fingers deep inside you, curling them just right to hit that spot that sends electric shocks through your core.

his lips close around your swollen clit, sucking hard, then flicking it with quick, precise strokes of his tongue, each one pulling a desperate moan from your throat. your juices coat his chin, glistening as he groans against your pussy, the vibration making your hips buck.

he’s relentless, his fingers pumping in and out, slick and fast, while his mouth works your clit like he’s starving for it, teasing every sensitive nerve until your vision blurs. your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, grinding your core against his face as you chase the edge of oblivion.

malcom’s still there, slumped on the bed, his tear-streaked face a distant blur. his whimpers are white noise, drowned out by the wet sounds of luigi’s tongue and the ragged gasps spilling from your lips. you didn’t expect this, luigi devouring you on the floor while malcom watches, broken and irrelevant but the raw power of it, the sheer dominance, only makes your pleasure sharper.

his fingers thrust deeper, curling inside your soaking cunt, stretching you just right as he pumps them in and out, the slick sounds mingling with your ragged moans. he pulls back for a moment, his lips glistening with your arousal, his eyes dark with hunger as he growls, “missed doing this.”

you moan, your voice thick with need, “i know.” your hips buck toward his face, desperate for more, and he dives back in without hesitation. his tongue lashes at your clit, flicking it in rapid, teasing strokes before he sucks it hard, drawing a cry from your lips. his fingers don’t stop, plunging deeper, faster, the wet squelch of your pussy filling the room as he works you toward the edge. he’s messy, ravenous, his chin drenched with your juices as he licks and sucks, his groans vibrating against your sensitive folds.

he lifts his head just enough to glance at malcom, his voice dripping with mockery. “see, asshole? this is how you please a woman.” his tongue dives back in, lapping at your dripping slit, tracing every fold before sucking your clit again, harder this time, making your back arch off the floor. his fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot with every thrust, sending sparks of pleasure through your core.

malcom’s sobs grow louder, a pathetic wail that cuts through the haze of your pleasure but doesn’t dim it. he’s still slumped on the bed, his tear streaked face twisted in anguish, but he’s nothing. just a shadow in the room as luigi claims you.

luigi doesn’t stop, his tongue relentless, swirling and flicking your clit while his fingers fuck you deeper, the wet sounds obscene as your pussy clenches around him. his lips graze your folds, sucking them softly before diving back to your clit, teasing it with quick, precise licks that make your moans turn to screams. your hands claw at his hair, pulling him closer as your thighs tremble, the edge of release so close you can taste it.

“i’m gonna cum!” you gasp, your voice hoarse, desperate, your pussy clenching around his fingers as the pleasure surges.

luigi’s eyes flick up to meet yours, dark and feral, his lips glistening with your juices. “yeah, cum in my mouth,” he growls, his voice low and hungry. “i want it all.” he dives back in, his tongue lashing at your swollen clit, sucking it hard before flicking it in rapid, teasing strokes.

his fingers pump faster, deeper, curling just right, and the wet sounds of your pussy fill the room as he pushes you over the brink.

your orgasm hits like a tidal wave, a scream tearing from your throat as your body convulses. your pussy spasms around his fingers, gushing as waves of pleasure crash through you, your juices flooding his mouth. luigi moans, his tongue lapping up every drop, greedy and relentless.

he doesn’t stop, his lips sucking your clit softly now, then licking along your slick folds, drinking in every bit of your release. his fingers slow but stay buried inside you, coaxing out the last shudders of your climax as your body trembles, your chest heaving with ragged gasps.

his chin is drenched, glistening with your cum, and he groans again, savoring the taste as he licks you clean, his tongue tracing every sensitive inch of your pulsing cunt.

you collapse back against the floor, your body spent, the afterglow washing over you like a warm tide. luigi stays between your thighs for a moment, his breath hot against your skin as he presses a final, lingering kiss to your clit, making you twitch.

then he shifts, stretching out beside you, his body warm and solid against yours. his hand rests on your thigh, possessive, as you both lie there, the air thick with the scent of sex and the quiet hum of your shared satisfaction. your heart still races, your skin tingling with the memory of his touch, and you can feel the slickness between your legs, the evidence of what he’s done to you.

luigi turns his head, his eyes narrowing as they land on malcom, still slumped on the bed, his face a mess of tears and snot, his crying having now subsided.

his voice cuts through the room, cold and commanding, dripping with disdain. “i think you should get the fuck out of her house and never come back.”

ur all probably gonna read this and be like “palmy what the fuck” but i had to get this out of my system idk😭

tags: @alleviatcd @luigisbambinaaa @diors002 @corrodeddeadlydoll @contrarianshitstan-blog @weegeewifey @mangionesdoll @mangobabygirl @luigisnumber1fan @fligniuz @number1yearner @soulsmangione @ohsorrythen @bbyelle12 @briarloves @mangionesdaisy @thm12 @purplebadd1e @kikigoogoogaga @daydreamingwithluigi

masterlist | previous work

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.

When he does that lil tongue in cheek thing

saving this to definitely write something later…

https://x.com/sloppyslvt/status/1898950058516639994?s=46

lu fucking you in his dorm just like thisss

“shh, don’t want people walking by hearing you”

“stop being so fucking loud, you’ll get me in trouble” as he shoves his fingers down your throat 😣

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

Pretty huge Dick

treacherous || luigi mangione

genuinely spent so much time pondering how to write this out, thank you to the anon who sent the request i really love how it turned out :,) also in my head luigi loves taylor swift, hence the ending mwahahaha

WARNINGS: none, fluff, a moment where luigi snaps from stress, f!reader, kinda (not really) proofread

SUMMARY: After being freed from prison, Luigi has plenty to catch up on and he tries his best to reply to letters from supporters, but between keeping up with them in a timely manner, having a new girlfriend and other things he’s trying to do — he snaps at you.

WC: 2.1k

It had been over a year since he walked free. Through thick and thin — it had been endless hours of pondering, worry and prayers to a higher power; unsure if they were even listening. By some miracle, the verdict fell on the courtroom like an angelic tune: “not guilty.” His legal team had spent so much time in understanding every aspect and working through so many kinks that they encountered. But they did it.

It was you he found in the midst of it all, an escape from the hells he suffered through, when he saw you, when he read your letter – he felt like he had found heaven. There was something about you that fascinated and intrigued him. He impacted you equally – the male’s image, what he stood for… Something almost revolutionary that somehow united a split nation. Your heart ached every time something new was revealed about his case, the way he had been treated was diabolical. A disgrace to the country – to the world – to the people.

Strong as a tree he stood, resilient and kind despite his circumstances. Even behind bars – he was such a darling before it all happened. You always believed in his innocence. The mere thought of support made his heart cheerful, even in the strange, various ways people expressed it. He was proud to bring people together.

So, now that he sat in the comfort of his own home, still haunted by the memories of the life he endured inside that prison – he kept a smile on his face and continued to spread positivity, more than happy to keep in contact with those who showed him nothing but love in a time of pain. It was difficult to write back to what seemed like over a thousand different letters, but he kept persistent and worked diligently day in and day out to be sure everyone received a response from him. He was writing a letter back to a mother, to whom he pondered his reply for a few days now. It troubled him more than most letters normally would, considering these types were always heartbreaking. The ways the healthcare system treated families was so dehumanizing. It was a sad reality.

He wasn’t all for the public eye and attention on him, he never was – he appreciated it nonetheless, he would never not be grateful for people caring. It was a rocky process, getting out so many responses. Sometimes he’d get a bit stressed because of it. Today was one of those days, he had a major hand cramp, a slight headache on the left temple and a sudden stump. His fingers trembled, causing a shake through the pen he jotted with; a cramp in his back made him sit up straight forcefully and he glanced out the apartment window – a little break for his eyes.

When sense finally sunk back in and he focused on the paper, you had walked back in from running a few errands. Luigi had been so indulged in keeping up with his replies for weeks. It became a little annoying for you, not necessarily because you needed his attention – okay maybe you did; but all he did lately was write. Day in, day out. He tried not to overwhelm himself with anything else so it didn’t disturb his thought process while reading then replying to letters. Perhaps tonight you would cook something for him, and he could take a break to talk with you. His routine was just: wake up, clean up, read through letters, have lunch around noon, then he’d start responding to all of those letters he spent reading during the morning. He’d grab a snack for dinner or order out for you both, and still be writing.

Sure, his dedication was endearing, however it could be too much on you. It felt like your partner had just become another person in the house rather than what he was before he decided: “I think I’ll start replying to all of those letters.” 

“Hey Lu,” you said softly as you hung your keys on the hook by the door, kicked off your shoes and sat your bag on the couch. He doesn’t reply, just hums something as he writes. You sighed and carried the bag of groceries to the kitchen, then sat them on the counter. “I’m cooking dinner tonight, so we can sit together and eat. Maybe you can tell me about your letters?” You smile, placing some refrigerated things in their place; and all you’re met with is a nod from the back of his head. Shaking your own, you slowly pad off to the bedroom. You had been ready to shower since you got up, while you were out, you went to the gym. 

After, you winded down. Drying your hair carefully, applying skincare and dressing comfortably. Maybe an hour went by – you weren’t entirely sure. You stand, sliding into your fuzzy slippers and emerging from the bedroom, no surprise that Luigi’s still sitting there silently. “Hey, I’m gonna start cooking now, I know it’s a little early but I was thinking we could have a movie night.” 

No response … You continue on with what you please. 

He was hyper-focused on making the best response, and all he heard was the nose you were making. Clanking a pot or two, rustling food packages, popping oils, every sound sinking into his ear drums and driving him nuts. Accidentally, you dropped some tomatoes, they were just the small cherry ones. “Shit,” you muttered, they rolled around and scattered. Luigi rubs his temple. When dinner was finished, you were so content with it, you glanced over at Lu. “I’m done with supper, are you ready to eat?” ...  “Luigi.”

Silence. “Babe.”

Nothing. Again. “Luigi,” You call, and he turns, staring at you. He then rises up, comes over and picks up the plate you were holding for him. “Mhm.” He hums and walks back off to the desk. Like getting a toddler’s attention – the casual span of a gnat of course, Luigi plops back down in his chair and eats while reading another letter. You dine alone at the table, quietly. The only sound to flow throughout the room is the gentle scrape of the silverware on the plate, or small swallow. You offer Luigi seconds, but he denies. So, you take his plate and begin cleaning up – normally he would assist with that, or do it himself if you cooked; alas, tonight he wouldn’t.

Your hands are rushed over by warm, soapy water as you scrub the plates, the silverware, the pan and pot you used. Then carefully wiped down the stove, the countertops and the table despite you being the only one who sat there tonight. You were able to sit down, just let out relief knowing that was all set and done – in the corner was Lu, writing again. After dinner you guys would relax on the couch and watch a series or movie together, soak in life. He was able to enjoy breathing freely again when he’d sink into the cushions and throw pillows – wrap his strong arm around your side as you lay your head on his broad chest, your serotonin bursting out as you burrow in his embrace.

It's the opposite, you don’t lean into anyone, no extra warmth, no company, just you, the couch and the black TV screen you hadn’t turned on yet. You wanted to wait, perhaps he’d change his mind tonight, he’ll set everything aside and come to you. Tuck himself behind your body as he cradles you into his side, cover both his and your legs with a fuzzy blanket, pet your hair until you eventually fall asleep right there so he’ll carry you to bed.

Not tonight.

You take yourself back to bed after TV time – if you even consider it that. The TV stayed on mute as to not disturb your boyfriend’s intense writing session in the corner of the apartment. It only bothered you somewhat. 

What finally tipped the iceberg was waking up at 2 AM and finding the illuminating light from a small lamp on his desk still on. His eyelids droopy, his pen hovers over the page hesitantly, shaking ever so slightly. Luigi was one blink away from passing out.

“Lu, come to bed will you?” Your voice replies gently – there’s no visible reaction from the male. “Luigi,” you repeated. He draws in a breath, sitting up, his back cracks quietly, causing his face to contort in a reflection of mild discomfort. Being hunched over the desk all day is equally worse to being hung over a laptop or phone all day. Which he normally was against doing to himself. He cut a connection with electronics at a certain point in his life, and he swore it was one of the greatest things he did to help his mental and physical health. Now here he is, sleep deprived and ruining his posture simultaneously 

“Please come to bed, you look so exhausted.” 

He tilts his head and continues to write (what you’re assuming is) a new letter. You just missed him, you wanted to cuddle to sleep and know he was there in the bed by you as you close your eyes and let peace swallow you whole. Your heart aches to be without him – even if he is there. You love him too much. 

“Luigi, babe–” “Oh my god, don’t you see that I’m trying to write these letters?! Just shut up for five seconds, I’ll go to bed when I’m ready!” He snaps at you, the tiredness is clear as day on his face. Normally his skin is a gentle tan, slowly losing its color – going pale again. HIs eye bags were saddening and as you stared in disbelief that he snapped at you like that. It’s truly painful to you. You understood he was busy, overly stressed trying to respond to more letters than possible every day. He needed to slow down though. He was driving himself crazy by not sleeping enough and not socially interacting only through letters.

He sat silent after his little snap, he sighs as immediate guilt crept over him and he looked at your expression. Never used to that, he never gets angry or upset with you, he always talks it out slowly, genuinely, lovingly. He had no idea what came over him, but now – staring at you – his beautiful, tender-loving girlfriend who he probably just startled by yelling at – was eyes-wide and arms folded. 

“Baby, I’m so, so sorry – I didn’t mean…” His apology is delayed when you walk off to the bedroom. He rubs his aching face, then combs his fingers through his curls and stands – finally. After hours. He swallows a lump in his throat as he makes his way back to your shared room and leans against the doorframe. “Look, baby…”

“I don’t want to talk to you, Lu.” Your voice is muffled by the way you lay against the pillow – facing away from the door. “Look – I didn’t mean to snap at you okay? I’m really stressed right now… That’s not an excuse though, I should never yell at you, bellissima.” He murmurs, sitting beside your feet at the edge of the bed, his weight sinks the mattress awkwardly. His hand reaches out, lanky fingers wrap around your leg and he gives it a squeeze through the fabric of your pajama pants. When you don’t respond, he clenches his jaw, he has no idea what to do other than to give you attention. He should’ve done it before, never ignored you, he felt horrible.

“I’m so, so sorry princess.” He whispers, crawling up on the bed behind you. He snaked his arms around your waist, his breath heats the side of your neck as he begins peppering kisses right there. All he knew was he wasn’t letting either of you go to bed until you were happy again. He squishes your back against his front. “Dolcezza,” he sighs, “Please talk to me.”

You shake your head slowly, he kisses your jawline. “You’re my princess,” his breath tickles your skin. “I’m gonna make time for you, I shouldn’t prioritize anything else in the world over you, my love. Even cheesy letters.” He says, you turn onto your back and he immediately grins, the corners of his lips turn up, his cheeks blush every time he sees that pretty face of yours. He inches towards you, resting his chin in the valley between your breasts, harmlessly.

He flaps and flutters his big hazel eyes, those flawless lashes – like a new puppy. “Oh fine, you big baby.” You smile, but his smile’s brighter. He leans up and plants his plump rosy lips against yours. “So treacherous.” His eyes meet yours again.

You squint and raise a brow, “Was that a Taylor Swift reference?”

“Maybe.”

“You actually like Taylor Swift!”

“All too well.” He says cheekily.

🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹!!!!!

The legal fund has officially surpassed $1M! 🎉