#I have yet to see anything about Luigi Mangione

[hayleythesugarbowl]

omigoshh hellooo, I just found your blog and I adore your ian fics!! I also saw that you're taking requests, so can I please have a story ( ? ) request with ian and like a bubbly enthusiastic crew member? she's very sweet and always have a smile on her to make everyone's time at work better <33. but when she's on camera, she's a bit shy especially when on tntl gauntlet! but everyone just loves her like a mom hehe. sorry that this is long, no pressure in writing this btw! love you and your work lovely💕 <3

Roasted || Ian Hecox x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist  ⋆˚｡⋆୨୧⋆

summary: you, a crew member at smosh, appear on your first TNTL gauntlet and have a surprise for your boyfriend ian

word count: 1.3k

warnings: none

a/n: ok so sorry for the delay darling but it’s here! i took this idea and turned it into a full on tntl bit + roast. hope u enjoy!!

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     “Up next is (Y/n)!”

     People clapped as Emily called out from behind the camera.

     You walked out from behind the divider, a smile on your face as you approach the six people on the stools. 

     You had been working at Smosh for nearly a year now, but you had yet to appear on camera. When you had been asked to appear on one of the TNTL Gauntlet episodes with the rest of the crew, you were hesitant but had ultimately agreed.

     You looked at your friends waiting for you to begin your bit. Your eyes lingered longer on Ian, your boyfriend of nearly four months. He gave you an encouraging smile and thumbs up. 

     “Hey guys,” you waved awkwardly, “Wow this is so exciting, I’ve never been on camera before!”

     Shayne turned to face the camera from his stool. “(Y/n) is one of our writers and producers, for those of you that don’t know.”

     You nodded as Ian said, “And my girlfriend!”

     Everyone clapped and you felt yourself blush. “That’s news to me,” you teased.

     “(Y/n), you’re making me look bad on camera,” Ian stage whispered.

     “Doing that all on your own buddy,” Angela said, patting his shoulder.

     Shayne, who had already started to take a sip of water, spit it out, laughing at her comment.

     This made Courtney and Damien spit their water out and soon everyone was laughing.

     “Ok guys, shut up, let (Y/n) do her bit,” Ian said, nodding at you.

     “Ok, dad,” Angela rolled her eyes.

     Once everyone had water in their mouth you answered him. 

     “Funny you should say that Ian,” you said, smiling sweetly as you looked at him. 

     He raised an eyebrow. You shot him a wink. Now that everyone’s attention was on you, waiting to see what you would do, you were suddenly nervous. You focused on Ian as you continued, 

     “So, um, as Ian told you, we’ve been dating for a little while now. And so I wanted to make this bit especially for him.”

     “Oh my god I can’t wait for this,” Amanda said, around the water in her mouth. 

     “Since I wasn’t a part Smosh yet when Ian had his funeral,” you continued, still smiling brightly. “I thought I’d take this opportunity to give him my roast.”

     Shayne clapped loudly and you looked at everyone’s widened eyes. Ian shook his head at you, eyes smiling.

     “Ian don’t worry,” you turned to him. “I’m going to keep it light. I’m not going to say anything offensive or inappropriate—which I know is something you’re not familiar with so let me explain it in terms you’ll understand: 9/11, Columbine, that’s what she said, and something about Luigi Mangione?”

     Shayne spit out his water, looking shocked. Ian played along, shrugging. You tucked your hair behind your ears—you were just getting started.

     “But Ian isn’t all dark humor and Challenger’s references. As I’ve gotten to know him, I’ve really gotten to see who he really is. Which is some combination of the kid from Toy Story and Jared Bailey if he was depressed and looked like Matt Walsh.”

      Everyone else spit their water out now, except for Ian who crossed his arms at you, feigning offense. 

     “This is so good!” Angela yelled. You continued.  

      “No, but Ian is amazing. And he’s a really great boyfriend. He’ll tell you that you look gorgeous and give you lots of affection and he’ll make you feel so loved and desired—

     You paused for effect. 

     “—or so Anthony’s told me.”

     Ian spit now, laughing with everyone else. “No need to out me like that.”

     “This is insane,” Shayne wheezed, wiping his eyes.

      “But all jokes aside,” you started. “Ian is really special and he’s contributed a lot to society…and to science. I mean, as the only person to breastfeed until the age of 13, he’s  been so useful to so many studies.”

      “This,” Amanda said through her laughter, “is actually so crazy.”

      “You’re getting owned,” Courtney shoved Ian’s shoulder playfully. 

      You smiled, feeling encouraged by their laughter and not feeling nearly as nervous as you had at the beginning.

     You glanced at Ian. He was shaking his head at you, a proud look on his face. 

     You cleared your throat.  

     “And I know everyone likes to give Ian crap for his fashion sense—probably because of the gum-ball machine chic chains and the ‘piña colada threw up on me’ vibes—”

     “Hey, that shirt is fire,” Shayne defended.

     “Thank you!” Ian exclaimed.

     “—but I think Ian does have a good fashion sense. I’m sure all the bi girls are so happy that you stole their style and somehow made it so much more white trash.”

     “It’s too real,” Angela said through tears of laughter as Damien blew out an astonished breath. 

     “What I’m trying to say, Ian,” you said, turning to him. “is that I’m so glad we’re together and I know you would never cheat on me—or at least I think. Last time I asked you about it you just shot yourself with a water gun so I’m not really sure what…”

     You trailed off as Ian threw up his hands. 

    “Anyway,” you said, smiling brightly at Ian as he grinned back at you. “I love you Ian and I can’t imagine my life without you in it and I’ll always want you around—even if Angry Birds 2 didn’t.”

     As you finished, the cast on camera and the crew off camera burst into applause and you felt your cheeks warm as you did a little bow.

     “Damn,” Shayne cursed once the room had quieted, looking shocked and impressed. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard 

(Y/n) say anything bad about someone ever.”

     “Ian how do you feel?” Damien asked. 

     “Yeah my guy, you were just annihilated,” Courtney giggled.

     Ian looked at you as he answered them. “I’ve never felt better.”

     “Awww,” Amanda cooed, nudging Angela. “They’re weird and in love!”

     “Ew,” Angela joked. “That’s mom and dad you’re talking about.”

     You laughed, catching Ian’s eye as you walked backwards off the set and back behind the divider. 

     “Seriously though, that shirt slaps, dude,” you hear Shayne saying as you walk away. 

     You beamed to yourself. All in all, you’d say your first TNTL was a success. 

     ₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

     You found Ian immediately after the episode was finished filming. As you passed people, you were showered with praise and comments about your roast. 

     It felt good, having your first time on camera go so well. For so long everyone had known you as the shy, quiet type. Always having something kind to say to someone, an encouraging word to offer. It was nice knowing they all now knew this side of you too. 

     You walked up to Ian, grabbing his hand. “How’d I do?” You asked him. 

     He leaned in and kissed you. “Mmm, you were perfect. I’m questioning my whole identity.”

    “Yeah? I didn’t go to hard on you,” you mumbled against his lips.

     “Nah, everything you said was probably true,” he joked in between kisses. “And I love you even more because not only is my girlfriend sweet and caring and incredibly sexy, she’s also insanely funny and one of the most talented people I’ve ever met.”

     You smiled against him. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

     He pulled back, his hand trailing down your arm. “Really? I thought I was immature and unstylish.”

     “And I love you even more because of it,” you teased.

     “Hey, (Y/n)?”

     You turned to find Amanda standing behind you. You grabbed Ian’s arm, pulling him close to you as you focused your attention on her.

     “Don’t mean to interrupt but—can you write my roast for Angela’s funeral? You’re so good at it and I can’t think of anything that rhymes with ‘drank paint’.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ this is me manifesting an angela (and arasha and chanse and spencer and trevor) funeral roast 🧘‍♀️

[hunnyy-bunnyyy]

One of the funnier parts of the Tiktok ban is that it was almost definitely executed too early. It went dark on the night of the 18th, only to be back up again the morning of the 19th with blatant censoring. The message it disappeared with tried to set us up to praise Trump, should the app be unbanned. Consequently, when the app was unbanned, a message praising Trump for saving the app popped up.

[jjkbambi]

is it new years yet? luigi mangione x reader (18+)

summary!!! you run into ex-boyfriend!luigi mangione at a nye party! smut!

warnings: fratboy!luigi, darkfic (very much implied he slips something in ur drink), cnc?, long fic, mentions of calvin harris music, inspired by the fact that he had to nominate himself to win this category

masterlist

the new year was meant to feel different.

yet, the doors at phi kappa psi open for you and a chances of anything more seems to slim. a record number of beer cans trashed in the hallway, the kitchen buried in chaos, and the overwhelming stench of beer clings to the air, impossible to ignore. you were surprised at how easily they’d let you enter—the bouncer was known for being a bit mean, strict on names and IDS and ages and sorority associations, yet one short smile was enough to get you and your best friend, lacy, into their annual new years eve party.

there wasn’t a second break from avicii or calvin harris, the crowd bouncing with red solo cups in hand. about a dozen of drinks were spilled on you already, and you were sure this was an indicator of a good night.

“is that him?” your friend’s nudge proves your prophecy wrong. your stomach drops immediately as you turn to the direction she was staring in—and yes, there he was, shirtless and six-packed on new year’s eve, surrounded by his pack of fraternity brothers.

the world suddenly feels so much smaller. you turn quickly. “lacy, he cannot see me.”

“have you spoken since the breakup?”

“if i had, id be in classier heels,” you retort, shaking your head.

you show her the reason you’ve been off your phone so much recently. about 34 days since you’ve seen each other in person, and a stunning 78 texts and 29 missed calls left in lieu of a breakup conversation. it honestly felt like too little an amount considering how long you’d been dating, but perhaps that was the least of your relationship problems, seeing as though you’d caught him making out with another girl at a football game.

she groans. “why’d we have to come to this house?”

“free entry? fireworks?” you come up with a lie that’ll make the both of you feel better. “i honestly don’t think we’ll run into each other. it’s such a big place.”

“he’s walking over here.”

“aaand we’re moving,” you sing, dragging her into the crowd of calvin harris enjoyers. for two hours, slipping in and out of the chaos seemed to be a surefire solution in avoiding your ex-boyfriend. that is, until you turn and suddenly your best friend isn’t there. you stiffen immediately, backing into the kitchen. in that step back, you bump shoulders.

“y/n,” an all too familiar voice says.

oh for fucks sake.

you smile tightly at the sight of luigi, trying not to make this already awkward situation more awkward. he looks different than he did the last time you’d seen him. his usually short hair had grown out longer, his beard more prominent. he looks… grown.

���hey!” you say, attempting to make a swift getaway. “happy new year, man!”

“get back here.” he grabs your wrist, pulling you right back to him. “what’re you doing?”

“it’s new years!”

“what are you doing here? wearing that?”

you smile, feigning innocence. “getting a re-fill!”

luigi’s eyes were dark and his grip firm. your air of innocence is almost completely defeated at his warmth, his body leaning into you, intent. “i’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

no, you can’t do it. this was gonna be a new year for you. no setbacks, no cheating ex-boyfriends.

“i’m surprised you even noticed, with all your other distractions.”

luigi’s head tilts. “what does that mean?”

“you know what it means.” you pull away from him with as much force as possible. “seriously, lu, it’s over.”

“no, it’s not.” he argues. you shake your head as you walk away. “y/n, we’ve got to talk about this—“

“just leave me alone!” you leap out of the kitchen as soon as opportunity arrives, and pour the entirety of what’s left of your cup into your mouth. the wicked sting of alcohol had never been so relieving.

minutes pass but the sound of avicii is constant. phi kappa psi has promised fireworks and began to gather in the backyard and you want nothing more than to join in on the party—but lacy. your best friend. you need to find her. the recovery mission begins with a stumble down the hallway and a headache. it’s more than a headache, it all of a sudden feels like you reallyreallyreally need to take a nap.

“hey, hey, i’ve got you,” it’s luigi again. you can tell by his warmth and his scent and the way he grabs your hand. “where are you going?”

“lacy.”

he takes the drink out of your hand, then lifts your arms to wrap them around his neck. and suddenly, the warmth of his body isn’t so intimidating anymore. “that’s not my name.”

“i know.”

he leans in closer. “come on then, what’s my name?”

“lu,” you murmur. “i need to go.”

“you’re not going anywhere.” luigi promises you.

within a second, his lips are on yours, and suddenly his warmth is everywhere. you whimper into the kiss, trying to spell out protest but you’re too weak. “relax for me,” he tells you.

you were entirely too relaxed. any reasonable part of you wouldn’t allow for him to be this close. but before you can stop him, his hands slide down to grip your thighs, pushing them apart to accommodate him, and you gasped at the feel of his length pressing against you. he’s so hard.

“i love this dress on you,” he murmurs.

desperate, you try to push, “no, no, we need to find—”

“we’re taking care of her, too, baby, don’t worry.”

you squirmed underneath his touch, which only made the friction hotter. “what?”

he doesn’t care to tell you anything more grinding into your resistance mercilessly as his hands clamp around your hips, rocking your body back and forth on his thigh.

“you’ve got some fuckin’ nerve, you know,” he grumbles into the kiss, his voice so low and gravelly, you felt its deep tenor roll down your spine and settle in your core. every kiss he gave you was hungry and heated, and you gasp when he goes to nip at the sensitive skin of your neck. “walking around my house dressed like a fuckin’ slut. got me all worked up in front of everyone.”

you despise the helplessness that washes over you as he holds you down. tears sting at your eyes as you beg, “lu, stop.”

“pull your dress up,” he orders, drinking in your scent. his scruff scratches your skin.

“no.” you shake your head again, though his kisses are persistent. “luigi, we can’t.“

“you’re right,” luigi agrees, chuckling into another kiss. “i’m not fuckin’ sharing you.”

his lips don’t leave yours—theyre all over your lips, your cheeks, your neck, your tits—as he carries you into the nearest room, and you’re too lost in the moment to notice whether it’s his own. your dress hits the floor and his hands are all over your nude. the mix of confusion and pleasure leaves you breathless. before you can process it, you’re on the bed with your ex-boyfriend on top of you.

“you know how many other guys were looking at you tonight?” he growls as he flips you over. “swear ill fucking kill them”

he was so big and your body was so unprepared that you’d screamed, which only made luigi laugh. a choked gasp left you, and your mouth was soundlessly parted as he started to thrust into you, hips snapping against yours every time.

“fuckin’ knew it,” lu groans. your teeth sink into your lips as you tremble underneath him, his hard length relentless in its assault. “knew you’d take it f’me like this, yeah? like a good fuckin’ girl.”

the bed shook beneath you as he pounded into you. he goes to bite your neck, his curls tickling your skin. he feels so good, but the weight of how wrong it is lingers in every touch. “lu,” you moan.

“what?” he says, smug. “what d’ya wanna say?”

“it hurts,” you whine.

”i don’t care,” luigi says in your ear, grinding his cock into the depths of your cunt until you were whimpering beneath him. “you know how fuckin’ long it’s been since ive had you? no, you’ve got no clue. drove myself crazy thinking i’d never have this pretty pussy again.”

“it’s your fault—“

“shut the fuck up.” his hand comes down hard on your ass and a whimper slips from your lips. he growls low, feeling how tight you’re holding him. “you’re mine,” he grunts. “don’t you ever forget that.”

“luigi, wait,” you moan, your mind going blank. it’s too much—wrong in every way, yet too good to resist.

you feel him smirk against your neck. despite yourself, you felt your cunt clench hard around his stiff length as a flood gushes from your trembling core. he chuckles darkly, mocking your resistance. “can’t take it? too much?”

“lu, please.” your voice was embarrassingly breathless. he goes faster, which felt entirely impossible.

he must’ve heard the plea this time, because he doubled his efforts. he picked up the pace of his thrusts, fucking you hard and fast, spanking your ass mercilessly while his other hand went to massage your clit. you could hardly breathe.

“so good,” he groans. “be a good girl and cum for me, princess. all over me, come on.”

“please,” you whimper again. you’re not sure what you’re asking for, but it hardly mattered. the most devastating orgasm of your life was building deep within you, an unstoppable force growing stronger with every moment—and you were desperate to chase it.

“you’re all fucking mine,” he laments. “i wanna hear you say it.”

you couldn’t possibly. your mind goes blank as he ruts into you, pounding into your cunt and ass so hard that the clapping of his hips against your skin was filling the room and almost drowning out the sound of the new year celebration.

“tell me what i wanna hear.” he demands.

“yours,” you mewl.

“good girl.” he bit out, his mouth brushing against your cheek, his stubble rasping against your skin and making you shiver. he fucks you harder, faster, slamming into your slick cunt like he was trying to leave a mark inside you.

you couldn’t take it anymore. your pride snaps inside you and you felt liquid gush between your thighs, coating his massive cock in your cunt. pleasure consumes you until all you knew was the sensation of ecstasy drowning out everything else. he groans at the sight of your orgasm, his cock still driving into you, his thrusts turning wild and desperate as he growled in your ear.

luigi grumbled a soft, “fuck,” and then pressed deep, burying his cock deep into your still pulsing cunt as he came. he let out a long moan, his cock twitching against your inner walls while he emptied his balls into your pussy, the warmth of his cum filling you up.

“i’m so glad you came around, so glad,” he murmurs, turning you over to kiss you over and over and over again. “i love you, baby, you know that, right?”

the day after

[viasdiary]

☆ i'm yours (luigi mangione x reader)

☆ word count: 2.4k

☆ warnings: slightly toxic, smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, not really proofread

☆ after taking a break from each other, you decide you should make it permanent. you invite luigi over to break up with him but he's got something else in mind.

luigi was so wrong for you, but you couldn't get enough of him. even after you'd broken up and gotten back together time and time again, you'd always end up back with him. this time was different though. you'd found someone to take your mind off of luigi, someone who made you feel so good about yourself. you were finally ready to let him go.

sitting on the couch in your living room, you pick up your phone and call luigi. he picks up after the first ring.

“hey what’s up,” he says, aiming to sound nonchalant but miserably falling short. he sounded like he'd been longing to hear you so badly.

“hey lu,” you say, feeling a pang of intense guilt. he has absolutely no idea what’s coming next.

“i’ve been meaning to uh-” you begin to say, before realizing you just don't have the heart to break up with him over the phone.

"why don't you come over tonight?" you suggest, your voice softer now, as if you’re bracing yourself for the weight of the words. "there’s something i’ve been meaning to talk to you about”

“uh yeah, i can probably be over in about an hour”

you nod, even though he can't see you. your fingers grip the phone a little tighter, and you press your lips together, trying to steady your breathing.

"okay, yea. i'll be here," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

the call ends before you can say anything else, and the sudden silence in the room feels almost suffocating. you stare at the screen of your phone, the echo of luigi’s voice still lingering in your ears. an hour.

you sit there for a moment, trying to gather yourself. you fidget with the hem of your sweater anxiously. the weight of what you’re about to do presses down on you, and you wonder if you’re making a mistake. but deep down, you know this is the right thing. you’ve been holding on for too long, and it’s time to let go.

the clock on the wall ticks louder than usual as the minutes slip by, each one pulling you closer to the moment when you’ll have to look him in the eyes and finally say the words. the words you’ve been avoiding, the ones that will end everything.

you stand up, pacing the small space of your living room bathed in the amber glow of the sunset shining through your window. you're not sure what to do with your hands, or your mind for that matter. the thought of luigi showing up here, of seeing him and feeling that familiar pull, makes your stomach twist. it’s always been like this—he’s always been like this. he’ll look at you with those wide brown eyes, and you’ll almost forget why you need to let go.

but you can’t forget. not this time.

the doorbell rings, pulling you back to reality. your heart skips a beat as you take a deep breath, walking toward the door. you hesitate for a moment before pulling it open, the sight of him standing there in a navy sweater and baggy jeans, his dark curls slightly disheveled, still somehow perfect in his own way—makes everything inside you ache.

"hey," he says softly, his voice carrying that familiar warmth, but there's something different now. he doesn’t know it yet, but things are about to change forever.

you open the door wider, stepping aside to let him in. "come on in."

as he steps over the threshold, you brace yourself. this is it.

before you can open your mouth, his hand finds its way beneath your chin, slightly tilting your head upwards as he plants his lips onto yours. you melt into the kiss, placing your hands against his chest as he pulls you closer, and for a moment, you forget everything. the warmth of his touch, the familiar scent of his cologne, the way his body fits perfectly against yours—it all comes rushing back, threatening to sweep away your resolve.

but then you remember why he's here, why you called him over. with a sharp intake of breath, you pull away, gently pushing against his chest. luigi looks at you, confused.

"what's wrong?" he asks, his hand still lingering on your waist.

you step back, creating some distance between you. the space feels charged, heavy with unspoken words.

"lu, we need to talk," you say, your voice steadier than you feel.

his thick eyebrows furrow, and you can see the concern etched across his face. "okay," he says slowly, following you as you lead him to the couch.

you sit down, leaving a little space between the two of you, and you just let it all out.

“i don't think this is gonna work for us anymore. i’ve been talking to someone else and i've kinda just had some realizations about us and i think we've outgrown this.”

its impossible to read his face as you continue speaking.

“i care a lot about you and i'd love to stay friends, maybe even-”

before you can finish he interrupts you with a soft chuckle.

“you think you're gonna sit me down and kick me to the curb? yea, that’s just not how tonight's gonna go.”

you feel a chill run down your spine at his words, his tone shifting from the warmth you're used to into something colder. your heart begins to race as you realize this isn't going the way you planned.

"luigi, please," you start, but he cuts you off again.

"no, you listen to me," he says, leaning in closer. his eyes, usually so soft and inviting, now hold a glint that makes you want to shrink away. "we've been through this before. you think you want to leave, but you always come back. always."

you shake your head, trying to find your voice. "this time is different. i've changed, we’ve changed"

"changed?" luigi scoffs, his hand suddenly gripping your arm. "you haven't changed. you're still the same person who needs me, who loves me. you're just confused right now. you know you fucking love me.”

your gaze shifts to his lips, pressed into a hard line, and then to his strong jawline.

you want so badly to tell him he's wrong, but he's not. you still love him, and as he's sitting on your couch next to you and as you look at his handsome face, you know exactly why you chose him.

you feel your resolve weakening, your carefully planned words crumbling under the intensity of his gaze. luigi's grip on your arm loosens slightly, his thumb now tracing small circles on your skin. the familiar touch sends shivers through you.

"i..." you start, but the words catch in your throat. you want to tell him he's wrong, that you've moved on, but the lie won't come.

luigi leans in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. "tell me you don't love me," he whispers, his lips barely grazing your ear. "look me in the eyes and tell me you don't want this."

you turn to face him, your noses almost touching. his brown eyes are full of anger, hurt, and desire. you open your mouth to speak, to end this once and for all, but no sound comes out.

instead, you find yourself leaning into him, your lips meeting his in a desperate, passionate kiss. your hands tangle in his curls as he pulls you closer, erasing any remaining space between you. the familiar electricity of his touch ignites something within you, and for a moment, all your doubts and reservations melt away.

but as quickly as it began, reality comes crashing back. you break away, gasping for air, your mind reeling. "no," you whisper, more to yourself than to him. "no, we can't do this."

luigi's eyes flash with a mix of triumph and frustration. "we already are," he says, his voice low and intense. "you can't deny what's between us. you never could." 

he places his hand behind your neck and pulls you close again, his lips brushing yours. you melt into him. god, you missed him so much, his touch, his voice, his body. with every movement of his lips, every stroke of his hand, he was righting his wrongs. his hand trails up your thigh, pushing up your skirt. 

the way he touches you feels so nice, and your body responds against your will. his fingers trace patterns on your skin, sending shivers through you. as his hand snakes higher up your leg, you feel an aching need for him.

he breaks the kiss as he gently pulls you onto his lap, his hands planted firmly on your thighs as he places kisses along your jawline and down your neck.

“you’re so perfect for me.” he says, barely a whisper.

“and i know i’m perfect for you too,” he continues, his eyes scanning your face as he says it. he looks so beautiful like this. the golden light of the sunset bathing him in an amber glow, shining through his curls and making his dark brown eyes shimmer.

he finds the hem of your sweater and slowly slips underneath.  he runs his large hands across your bare skin skin.

as he begins to lift your sweater, the realization of what's happening hits you, and you place your hands on his chest, prepared to push away from him, but you can't. you hate that he feels so good. you hate that you want him so badly.

you lean forward and kiss him, hard. luigi moans against your lips, and you can feel his erection straining against his jeans.

you break the kiss and begin to lift his sweater, running your free hand over his abs, eager to feel his bare skin against yours. he helps you get his sweater off, and then reaches for your sweater. in one swift movement, he pulls it off, tossing it aside. he pauses, his gaze raking over your exposed skin, before leaning in and planting a kiss on your collarbone.

he cups your breast and starts sucking on it. you bite your lip, trying not to moan.

he stops and looks up at you, his eyes burning with desire. 

"god, i've missed this," he breathes.

"i missed you" you admit breathlessly.

you run your fingers through his soft, dark curls, the smell of his cologne intoxicating you as you move yourself back and forth slowly, rubbing yourself along his leg. the thin fabric of your underwear begins to dampen, and the friction only heightens your desire.

you lean in and kiss him, the taste of his tongue in your mouth making you shudder with pleasure. he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer, the feel of his skin against yours is unreal.

luigi slides his hands up and down your thighs as his mouth finds the delicate skin on the side of your neck.

"look at you, so fucking impatient. riding my leg to get yourself off" he says against your skin.

"he's not fucking you right, is he?" he whispers, his hand creeping under your skirt and finding the wet spot in your panties.

"no," you admit.

"that's too bad," he says, sliding his fingers under the edge of your panties and brushing them against your clit.

you gasp at his touch, grinding yourself against him.

your hips buck at the contact, and you let out a small moan.

"you're fucking soaked for me," he breathes, slipping a finger inside of you.

"luigi, please," you beg, grinding against his hand.

he adds a second finger, and you moan, arching your back and pressing yourself against him.

"god, look at you," he whispers, his voice thick with lust.

"i know he doesn't make you fuckin' sound like this" he says, more intensely this time.

"please luigi, just fuck me."

"not yet." he says, continuing to finger you and using his thumb to rub circles on your clit.

"lu," you whine, squirming and bucking your hips.

"so fuckin' needy," he says, a smirk spreading across his face.

you whimper, biting your lip and grabbing his shoulder, desperately clinging to him.

he keeps working his fingers, and you can feel your orgasm building. you can barely breathe, the feeling of his fingers inside you is so intense.

"fuck, lu," you pant, your nails digging into his skin.

he speeds up his pace, and you can feel your orgasm approaching.

"lu, i'm so fucking close," you say, the words slightly catching in your throat as he sends you over the edge.

you cry out, the sensation overwhelming you. he holds you close, kissing you as you ride out the waves of pleasure.

you rest your head on his shoulder, panting and trying to catch your breath.

"i'm not fuckin' done with you yet." luigi says, gently pushing you off his lap and back onto the couch.

he stands up, and you watch as he unbuckles his belt, pulls off his jeans and boxers, freeing his thick cock. you lick your lips, taking in the sight of him.

he sits back down, and you crawl onto his lap, straddling him. he takes himself in his hand, stroking his length and guiding himself inside of you.

"oh god," you moan, feeling him stretch you.

"that's right," he breathes, his voice low and husky.

he begins to thrust into you, and the feeling is incredible. you wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face in his hair and breathing in his scent.

"fuck," he groans, his hands gripping your hips as he pulls you onto him.

you feel the pressure building again, the heat in the pit of your stomach growing with each thrust.

"lu," you whimper, the sensation almost too much to bear.

"tell me," he says, his voice strained. "tell me how much you fucking miss this."

"i miss this so much," you say, your breath ragged.

"tell me," he pants, his rhythm getting faster and more erratic. "tell me you want this, tell me you need this."

"i need this, lu, fuck, i need you," you moan, the heat in your stomach growing.

"say it," he demands, his voice tight and strained.

"i'm yours, lu, i'm fucking yours," you cry, the pressure becoming unbearable.

he moves mercilessly, and with every thrust you feel him stretching you out, your slick spreading up and down his cock. he grabs your ass firmly with both hands, moving you up and down roughly, the lewd sound of skin on skin filling the room.

"where do you want it, baby?"

"fuck, please cum in me" you beg, your legs wrapping around his torso as he continues using you, roughly gripping your ass as he fucks you.

"good fuckin' girl. want me to fuck a baby into you, huh?" he says breathlessly. luigi groans deeply, his fingers digging into your hips as he thrusts up into you one final time. you feel him pulsing inside you as he finishes, filling you with his warmth. you come undone, the intensity of the orgasm tearing through you.

he buries his face in your neck, his breath hot on your skin as he releases inside you. you both sit there, breathing heavily, holding onto each other.

he lifts his head and gazes into your eyes, a smile playing at his lips.

"i guess this means i'm not getting rid of you, huh?"

[mrsmangi]

petition for violet please my love hehe

forever, always - luigi mangione

♡ flower prompt: violet - a daydream about the future - meaning: loyalty & faithfulness ♡ w.c.: 1.3k ♡ a/n: highly requested prompt, it's 2am. pls have mercy on me. i love you all. enjoy!

♡ send me a flower & i'll write a drabble based off the prompt ! ↪ prompts that have been requested

You’ve always hated the question, “Where do you see yourself in ten years?” 

What a trap, you think. It’s a polite way for people to pry their dirty fingers into your business–your uncertainties. It’s not like you avoid thinking about the future (sometimes you feel like you think about it too much) but answering that question always feels impossible. Ten years is so abstract, after all. It’s too vast, too distant to feel real. Yet, here you are again, the question living in your head, free of rent. 

You look across the café table where Luigi sits, blissfully unaware of the chaos in your mind. He’s staring at the menu, brows furrowed in concentration as his fingers hover over the laminated options. You know he’s not actually interested in the coffees, not when the boy doesn’t even like caffeine. He’s scanning for something else: a tea, maybe, or a fruit smoothie. Something simple. His lips twitch into a pleased smile when he finally spots what he’s looking for. 

“They’ve got a chamomile blend,” he says, glancing up at you, voice warm. It reminds you of the way sunlight feels on your skin after a harsh, long winter. “What about you? Are you already set on something?” 

You raise your glass of water to your lips with a small smile. “Just the usual,” you reply, warmth grounding you in the moment. The café around you hums softly with conversation and the quiet clattering of cups, but none of it registers itself in your head. Not when Luigi looks at you like that, his attention is completely yours. 

“You’re staring at me,” he says, tilting his head slightly, bemused. 

“Just thinking.” 

“Dangerous,” he teases. He doesn’t push you, though, just watches you with a quiet patience. It makes you feel like you can tell him anything, like he’d hold your words carefully as if they were fragile and delicate. You feel understood and seen under his gaze alone. His head tilts once more, a silent invitation to speak if you’d like to. 

You do, but how could you even begin? The future feels like a fragile thing, one you’re afraid of vocalizing. Still, the thought of it remains, persistent and teetering on the tip of your tongue. 

“I think,” you start, words unsteady at first, but growing firmer as you continue to speak. “I’ve been thinking about what it feels like to be happy. Content. To have everything feel right in your life, even if it’s not perfect.” 

Luigi sets down the menu, eyes softening with curiosity. “Uh-huh.” 

“I don’t really have a plan for it or anything,” you continue, nearly stumbling over your own words. “It’s more like a feeling I have. I don’t know if I could ever really have that, but the idea of it is stuck in my head. It won’t go away.” 

“What do you picture when you think of that feeling?” he asks gently. 

“A house,” you blurt abruptly. He blinks, eyebrows lifting, intrigued. “A little one that we own together. It’s not too big, but it’s warm and cozy. There’s a garden in the back and it’s a bit overgrown, but we both agree that it’s still beautiful. You’d probably spend all your time out there, trying to tame it.” 

Luigi’s lips curve into a soft smile. He props his cheek up, fist rested against it, with his elbow on the table, gazing at you. “Sounds like a losing battle to me,” he says. 

“Maybe,” you reply, smiling. “You’d come in with dirt under your nails, and tell me about how you finally got the roses to climb the trellis, even though the weeds just won’t quit.”

“What about inside?” 

“Inside…” You pause, trailing off. “It’s a different kind of mess. We have bookshelves overflowing, little trinkets and postcards I’ve collected scattered everywhere. We have a record player because I told you how much I always wanted one as a kid and you bought one for me. You purposely buy vinyls with weird covers just to make me laugh. The walls are covered with little pieces of us. A lot of photos, some art. It’s not perfect, but it feels like it’s alive. Like it’s been lived in. Loved. And there’s always laughter,” you continue. Luigi leans forward slightly. You recognize something unspoken in the way he watches you, like you’re sharing something more important than just a daydream. “The type of laughter that makes your stomach hurt because you’re so happy, you don’t even care. It’s messy, but it’s ours.” 

 “It doesn't sound messy," he says. "It sounds wonderful. Is that where you see yourself in 10 years?”

There it is, you sigh internally. That dreaded question. You’ve spent so much time resenting it, the way it forces you to confront how little you have figured out about your life, how impossible it makes it feel to predict the kind of person you’ll be then or the kind of life you’ll live. Sitting here with Luigi, you wonder if maybe you’ve misunderstood the question all this time. Maybe it hasn’t always been a test, but an invitation–a chance to dream aloud, to let yourself want something even if you don’t know what the future carries. You’ve always been afraid to answer because it feels like committing to something intangible and fragile.

His hand covers yours suddenly, thumb brushing over your knuckles. You glance up at Luigi, his unspoken patience pulling you out of your thoughts. The weight of his hand in yours feels like a lifeline to you, something solid holding onto you in the middle of your uncertainty. And suddenly, the question you’ve disliked for so long doesn’t feel like such a trap after all. 

Luigi makes you feel like your answer doesn’t have to be perfect, and it doesn’t have to include every detail of your imagination. It only has to be yours. For the first time, it doesn’t scare you and it doesn’t feel like an impossible demand. 

“I don’t know,” you admit to him, honestly. You glance down at your joined hands, curling your fingers to interlock with his. “I don’t know where I’ll be in ten years or the kind of life I’ll lead or the kind of person I’ll be.” 

You pause, lifting your gaze to meet his, words spilling out of you before you can second-guess them. “All I know is that I want you there. Forever, always.” 

Luigi blinks, surprise flickering across his face before his expression softens, lips curling upward. It’s tender. His thumb brushes over your knuckles again before he speaks. 

“Forever, always?” he repeats, like he’s testing the words in his mouth to make sure they feel as solid as they sound. 

“Yeah,” you say, “I don’t know where I’ll be living or what I’ll be doing, but if I have you…I think I’ll be okay. Better than okay–I will be happy. Content.” 

His lips curl further into a smile so genuine it makes your chest ache. “I think I can promise you that,” he says, voice steady. “Forever, always.” 

“You can promise me that?” you laugh quietly, tilting your head. “You don’t think I’ll drive you crazy in ten years?” 

“Oh,” he chuckles, shaking his head gently. “I’m sure you will, but if I’ve learned anything, it’s that you’re the kind of crazy I don’t ever want to live without.” 

You don’t find it in yourself to look away from him. For the first time in your life, the future doesn’t feel like a vast, unknowable, daunting thing–it feels manageable, hopeful. Beautiful, even. No matter what happens, you know one thing is for certain: you want Luigi by your side.

“Forever, always,” you repeat, the words rolling off your tongue like an oath. With your hands intertwined with Luigi’s in the small cafe you sit in, the world has never felt so right. The question you’ve hated for so much of your life feels like an open door now–all because of him. It’s a chance to step into something messy and imperfect and entirely yours with the love of your life.

[light-the-spark-of-dawn]

Bruce Wayne being the owner of the Daily Planet is just about the only reason I can believe Clark Kent would still have a career as a news reporter. And to be clear, this isn't a joke about his salary (which would probably be decent anyway since he's a senior reporter), but rather a commentary on the compromised integrity of American journalism.

Consider the news surrounding the United Healthcare shooting. The murder of a healthcare company CEO was immediately met with universal public support for the killer. Pretty much everyone in America despises the predatory healthcare system so much that they celebrated Brian Thompson's getting gunned down in the streets of Manhattan as being well-deserved, in spite of major news media trying to paint the bastard as an innocent victim and family man

Literally, the best defense of Thompson's character that they could come up with was that he was a father, husband, and a successful CEO who expanded the company. None of the articles mention that he had been separated from his wife for years. They conveniently leave out that under his leadership, UHC was criticized by the American Hospital Association and used AI to automate claim denials, forcing thousands of people to go without medical care.

The dead are lionized all the time. But this was a man whose life's work was built off the suffering of others and had virtually no good deeds to speak of. And yet the narrative that news reporting is trying to push is that the public joy at his murder is "disturbing" and "ghoulish" and even "un-American" (genuinely the most tone-deaf take I've seen thus far).

And now that Luigi Mangione has been arrested as a suspect in the case, the news have shifted to dissecting his whole life and laying it bare for people to see. He's a well-read and intelligent guy who graduated from an Ivy League college. He's a 26 year old tech bro from a wealthy family and was the valedictorian of his private school. He wrote a review of the Unabomber's book and gave it 4 stars. He had a traumatic back surgery and afterward became depressed and withdrawn. He wrote a manifesto condemning corporate America. He played Among Us (the fact that a major news company published a whole ass article about this is both hilarious and depressing).

Whether Mangione was the killer or not, the media is airing out any and all details of his personal history. But most of the articles I've seen aren't trying to analyze what would have led to an otherwise normal guy to assassinate a healthcare CEO. Because it's obvious to anyone who knows anything about American healthcare. Instead it's all talk about how he was "yelling at the press" and not about what he was yelling ("This is completely unjust and an insult to the intelligence of the American people and their lived experience").

90% of American media is owned by 6 conglomerates. It's in their best interest to diminish sympathy for someone like Mangione, who spoke out against the corporate robber barons. It's in their best interest to make people think he's a radical nutjob, a privileged college snob, a violent right-winger- anything that makes him less relatable to the people who are supporting him. And it's working.

Already we're seeing people across the political spectrum getting hung up on whether Mangione is a hero or not because his cousin is a Republican, his family was wealthy, he was college-educated, he's a cis straight white male, etc. It's worth noting that he hasn't even been extradited from Pennsylvania to New York yet, much less been put on trial or found guilty. And even if he was, his identity is not the point.

We must stop looking at the trees and take a step back to see that the entire forest was planted to prevent us from seeing the palace behind it.

[vershautece]

im the anon from faggotfungus posts. i wont bother dming you or saying this on ur posts bc i can tell not only you but anyone who defends the tumblr luigi sexualization, is way too slow to even try to understand what me and faggotfungus and people like us's point is

but i just need to reply to ur response to my anon question. celebrities consent to being in the limelight. luigi mangione did not. you say celebs didnt consent to being sexualized but they did and ACTIVLEY continue to be in the public eye knowing the craziness it brings. luigi did not consent to that. he is not comparable to a celeb no matter how you try to rationalize it. and the fact that ur justifcation is "he wont read this" is so.... IJBOL. as if that makes it any better. even if his friends/fam never see what u n other sexualizing blogs do, it doesnt make what u do normal.

no one says u gotta talk about his case only all day. normal thirsting is fine but u & a few other blogs are on a deranged level. faggotfungus already posted all the other deranged blogs so i mentioned urs as they didnt and ur always clogging up his tag w some nonsense. i get his attention is gonna die down til trial but the way ur so passive ab it in ur response.... u dont give a shit about him LOL

anyway tldr you're in a severe parasocial relationship and maybe dont do that with a regular civilian who hasnt been convicted of a crime yet.

idk what you’re talking about because not every single celebrity consents to being sexualised. that’s like saying it’s ok that harry styles has been sexualised constantly since he was 16, because he ‘put himself in the limelight’. im not trying to insinuate luigi is anything like a celebrity at all, im saying that these people are all human beings, who by your logic all should not be subject to over sexualisation.

i don’t think the fact he’s not gonna read any of this is ‘rationalising’ what im doing - im just struggling to understand why u give a fuck. you feel uncomfortable or sorry for luigi or whatever, but why do you have to care? my point is that if he can’t see it, if you block me, and if anyone else that doesn’t like my posts blocks me too, then why does it matter? im literally just posting my thoughts - yes they’re explicit, but it doesn’t actually harm anyone. shouldn’t you be worrying about the freaks sending him weird parasocial letters constantly? he will actually read those, and they’re coming from women who think they might marry him or something.

‘on a deranged level’ lmao as i said we’re all just horny please if ur ok with some level of thirsting then just why is it an issue for me to make any of my posts?

& can i ask how i can possibly be in a ‘severe parasocial relationship’ with someone i don’t give a shit about?? i was passive about his current situation in my response because i was pissed off, so many of u on here think that finding him attractive means u don’t actually support him, and it’s just so not true. i don’t want to talk about his conditions and the possibilities of the trial’s outcome because im scared for him and it depresses me to think about. 80% of people are going to completely forget about him in the next couple of months, and be obsessed with him again when the trial begins, and the thought of that pisses me off so much, it’s so fake. literally don’t tell me i don’t give a shit about him when u have no idea how i feel LOL.

[georgierre]

Were Pierre and George close at all in the final version? Even before or after the fic actually takes place!

so i flailed in bed seeing this question.

i will spoil stuff for possible future fics, so bewarned!

tw: heart attack (not anyone major)

pierre and george are good enough friends, not acquaintances, not vulnerably close, but they can get along if they're stuck in the same situation together.

this is inspired mostly by george saying he wished he got to hangout with pierre more, because he thinks pierre's the nicest guy in the grid. they've eaten dinner together, had parties. it's clear they match well, it's just that they seem to not have their paths cross that much.

i'll say, george in my fic does not even consider pierre as a partner. i want to experiment with the idea that george is within the aromantic spectrum, not really understanding his own perception of romantic attraction. but also, he does not find anything too special with pierre, because again, not close.

but pierre— i vaguely mentioned that pierre took up the gpda position after george left, and the reason mostly is that he's trying to reciprocate what george has done for him as a gpda director.

i'm specifically talking about suzuka 2022. i have an abandoned fic which i will absorb into this universe wherein pierre gets overwhelmed at a party after suzuka because he's not really over the traumatic experience that happened earlier— both the crane and the fia's indifference— and george runs into him in the bathroom and helps ground him.

it's such a simple interaction it kind of makes pierre. fall in love. but he doesn't really realize that until george left f1 in 2027 because the comphet is Real. the struggle he then faces is the empty space in the gpda that no one wants to take up willingly, so he does, because he wants to do what george did for him back then.

the only time they talk though would be halfway or a little past halfway of 2028, only because i think that's when pierre realizes he doesn't know what to do. but he wants to do bigger things— bargain for salaries, advocate for safety protocols. i mentioned earlier that he has this whole radicalization arc (thanks luigi mangione for the inspo lol), and i think it's because i feel one of his colleagues dies of a heart attack on the job, while pierre himself also crashes and gets a broken arm.

so pierre would have his turn on the introspection, of what does it actually mean to have a union in f1. he calls george for help, and well. i don't think they immediately hit it off well because while george is over f1, he's conflicted about busying himself with gpda business because it might just grow into another responsibility he'll worry about endlessly.

i don't have a concrete plot yet, but i really want to explore sexuality and capitalism and camraderie in pierre's storyline. i don't think they would end up together, not in the traditional sense, but this is where the whole phone call au becomes applicable as pierre consults george on a series of decisions he wants to make.

[milaawritess]

Chapter One

•

A loud clattering of glass sent you shooting upright from your sleep at witching hour—3 AM. Immediately, you were nearly hysterical in the moment, your chest raised up and down dramatically as you frantically scurried to peek over the edge of your raised bed. You worried that your worst fear was about to come true: being killed in a home invasion.

Your bedroom had a fire escape, but you could not escape because that was the window that had been damaged. As you wait a few moments, with no further sounds emitting, you crawl out of bed. Squatting down, you examine a rigid red brick.

“My bad,” an exhausted yet still husky voice calls out. “I need somewhere to stay.” You take a second to assess the situation. It’s a male voice, yes, but they don’t sound like they’re of any danger to you. But then again, if it’s anything you’d learned from true crime podcasts, it’s that those kind of things don’t matter. The best criminals are great actors.

Slowly, you use all the courage left to lift your head up. Your left hand grips the dusted, hard red brick for dear life. Your eyes fall upon soft brown ones—belonging to a white man with black curly hair, a defined nose, and dear God—great bone structure.

“Hate to rush the introduction” He chuckled, only slightly. He’d been wearing an orange jumpsuit. “But I’m sure helicopters will make their rounds at any moment now.” You struggle to swallow the excess saliva pooling in your mouth as you force a nod. Your legs tremble as you get on your feet, using your free hand to lift the window open. The hole that the brick had made was only small enough to fit a head through.

“I’d like to introduce myself,” he began once inside, “but that brick being in your hand is making me a little uneasy.” You shook your head, rather erratically.

“I’m—”you started out in a stutter, catching your breath. “I’m not letting go. Not until you tell me who you are and why you’re here.”

He pouted, though the look one his face was one of someone who’s impressed. “Smart girl you are” he smirked, looking down at you. His eyes trailed your body, an eyebrow raising slightly to indicate focus. Suddenly, you remembered what you’d worn to bed: lingerie, with a dainty matching robe on—barely on. It hung off your shoulders, exposing your bra and panties. Awkwardly, with your one free hand, you attempted to hold two parts of the robe together.

“Already saw it” he mumbled, “you look good. Anybody ever tell you to get into modeling?”

You rolled your eyes. The moonlight illuminated the room, the one reason you could see. “Can you tell me why you’re here, and who you are?” You raised the brick in the air, “I would hate to have to use this.”

He invited himself to sit on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry” he apologized, “I honestly thought you’d know. Seems all of America does right now.”

“I don’t want the news.” You folded your arms, brick still gripped tightly in your left hand. While you were demonstrating bravery, you were actually terrified. But you couldn’t let this man see that. “So talk.”

“Luigi Mangione” he answered, “the alleged CEO killer.” Your eyes shot wide open as you realized. Yes, you’d seen a picture of him in passing, but the situation hadn’t really caught your interest, so you didn’t pay it much mind. He smirked at your reaction. “Seems you do know about me.”

“A co-worker talked about it and showed me” you scoff, “so don’t get a big head.” You huff as you think, remembering what your co-worker had told you. They believed Luigi was innocent, and while you were taught to be wary of strangers, you felt pretty safe in his presence, too.

“Why did you escape?” You lowered your gaze, taking note of the deep red cuff indents in Luigi’s wrists. “If you’re innocent, why not prove that on trial?”

“I’m not getting a fair trial.” Luigi shook his head. “They’re giving me federal charges. If I lose the case, which has a higher likelihood since my trial isn’t expected to be fair, I will then risk the possibility of death penalty.” His leg began tapping at the possibility of being executed. In a near-silent whisper, almost as if he were talking to himself, he said “I didn’t kill him.”

“I guess you can stay here for the night” you didn’t think much of it. You were a regular girl who worked at a grocery store, still in college. You had three-hundred followers on social media and usually only posted your cat. Who the hell would think that you’re harboring the Luigi Mangione in your small apartment?

“But after, you need to make a long term plan” you advised Luigi. “You’re not all that far from where you’re being jailed. You can’t go out in public.”

“I know” Luigi conceded.

You sat down beside him, watching as he wiggled his arms out of the orange jumpsuit. Beneath, he’d been wearing a white muscle shirt. “Like what you see?” he nearly scoffed, bringing you back to reality. You’d been staring. “Oh” you stuttered, “I—I was—um..”

“Yeah” he leaned his head close to yours. For a second, you thought he was going to kiss you. You’d only kissed two guys, one of them being a dare. So for a moment, you panicked. But he stopped.

An inch laid between your noses as he ran his left hand thumb across your face. “You have soft skin” his tone turned sultry. You briefly folded your lips in, gulping once more. You could feel a slight tingle in your clit. “What’s…” you trailed, “going… on?”

“I don’t know how much freedom I have” he admitted. “A day, a week… I’m not sure.” He briefly looked back at the broken window. “But what I do know is that I asked God to help me hide, and felt compelled to come to this very apartment—all the way on the third floor.” You nod slightly, indicating that you’re listening.

His finger slowly slid down your face and toward your jaw, then to your neck and finally collar bone. “Maybe…” he tilted his head slightly, attentive of what he was doing. “Maybe there’s… a reason for that?” You unconsciously held your breath as you watched and listened. When his eyes made their way back up—staring into your soul—you nodded slowly.

“Yeah” you barely smiled. “I think so.”

Your lips collided with his, unsure of who made the move. He pushed your abdomen against the bed gently, still kissing you for a moment. You hurriedly removed your panties, now desperate for Luigi.

As he removed the rest of his jumpsuit, an aroma filled the room. Even though he’d been incarcerated, he smelled so fucking good. With his dick protruding, bouncing up and down at every breath, he clasped his hands on the back of your knees, pushing your knees against your chest. The moon’s glimmer made the arousal fluid on your clit glisten.

You watched as Luigi discreetly licked his bottom lip, taking a second to acknowledge the trickling fluid. You so badly wanted to say “just fuck me already,” but didn’t want to give him a big head.

But it’s almost like he could read your mind. Because as he got closer, resting his throbbing manhood on your uterus, he made a request: “beg for it.”

You groaned, plopping your head back flat against the bed. “Not doing that,” you mumbled, instantly met with a dominant thrust. You’d been so wet that you barely even felt it going in. “Fuck!”

He pulled back out, suddenly.

“What?” You flexed your neck upward again.

“Beg” he jerked his head forward. “For. It.”

“Fine” you groaned. “Please fuck me.” It was the most sarcastic comment you’d ever made.

“Okay.” Luigi scoffed, getting on his knees. He stuck two fingers in your hole, licking your clit in a circular motion. You made attempts to limit your sound, pride stopping you from admitting that his method was working. As he alternated between licking and sucking your clitoral hood, you couldn’t stop thinking of the three strong, passionate thrusts he gave you.

“Okay!” You breathed. You sat up, “please” your chest rose. “Please… fuck the shit out of me.”

A genuine smile spread across his face as he pushed you by the abdomen back onto the bed, inserting himself as he pinned your legs against your chest once more. “I knew you’d cave in.”

“Just shut up and fuck me” you hardly mumble with your eyes shut tight before the pace quickens, balls smacking your butt as the bedframe creaks. You barely have the ability to think in the moment, his dick is hitting your walls full force, every other second. You manage to maneuver your boobs out of your bra, grasping them tightly as sound involuntarily escape your mouth.

“Look at me” he demands, forcing you to open your eyes. The look within his own are of determination. “You’re so fucking sexy.” His breathing gets louder and louder, suddenly reaching an apex. “Fuckkkk” he lets out, gripping your shoulders as he’s hunched over you. He uses them to pull you closer. You can feel a warmth in your insides.

He rests on you for a minute or two, and you wonder if it’s comfortable. You’re positioned on your back, on the edge of the bed. His legs are pressed up against said edge, his abdomen leaning on the back of your legs. But the thoughts go away as your eyes lock once more. He slowly gets up.

“Yeah” he breathed out with a grin, “I don’t intend on going back to jail anytime soon.”

[hoobleboodle]

(READ UNTIL THE END)

The problem is that so many Americans, myself included, have tried what we are told what we should do to stand up against our government and none of it ever works. At the very least, nothing sticks until a new administration reverses whatever the old one did or a couple of rich people lobby politicians to never let it happen in the first place. The alternative to a lot of the corrupt for-profit systems we have right now is that the government takes it over to make it universal -- and we can't trust our government for shit.

You mention people in the streets and how we should do that, but that's easy for you to say when you come from a country where people aren't known to shoot or drive through crowds of protesters they don't agree with. We also somehow have the freedom to protest yet every time it happens you'll see articles of police showing up arresting (or sometimes macing) protestors even if they aren't doing anything wrong. I see it happen all the time.

The people actually have very little power. Everything our government does is just one big pissing contest with the other side. Our freedoms are an illusion. All of us are tired.

...But this is what they WANT. They want us to be tired, distracted, and hopeless. It is no reason to stop trying. The reactions we're seeing from all the higher-ups in response to our reactions in the CEO shooting proves that they are afraid. They know they've fucked up. The news is doing everything it can to paint Luigi Mangione as a supervillain. Our politicians are doing everything they can to make it a partisan issue to take advantage of our dividedness and make us blame each-other instead of them.

Yet, we are seeing anger from both sides. I can confidentally say that I've never seen reds and blues be on the same side like this in my entire life. The absolute worse thing we can do at this point is become silent or start casting blame towards anyone other than the oligarchs ruining this nation.

All these posts about their hypocrisy, corruption, manipulation, exaggeration, and greed that we've been seeing? MAKE THOSE VOICES HEARD WHERE THEY TRULY MATTER! @ your state representatives, submit your experiences and opinions to news agencies who are polling people for content that can be used in their articles, spread resources, if you live in a big city keep an eye out for protests you can support - do whatever you can to get your voice out there safely and legally.

I know we as Americans have fallen into the habit of giving up and not doing anything - just think about all the people who didn't even vote this year and look how that went - but I am begging you not to be complicit in whatever happens next.

STAY ANGRY!

honestly? yall Americans should be out on the streets. Throwin block parties, blasting crab rave, parting and dancing and visibly celebrating the Untied CEO assassination. Make it absolutely clear that yall are happy about this, that the gunman has your support, and that CEOs, particularly of companies that do active harm to your communities, should be scared.

when Thatcher died, the Brits partied in the streets and got Ding Dong the Witch is Dead to the top of the charts. Bring that energy back.