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Sonya Massey was a paranoid-schizophrenic woman who turned to the police when she was scared and suspected an intruder inside of her home; she was a Black, mentally ill, woman shot dead and executed by a white police officer solely because she said "I rebuke you" over a pot of water. she was DUCKING DOWN behind a counter repeating the words "I'm sorry" as he advanced and, eventually, killed her. Sean Grayson, a white police officer, executed her.
her name was Sonya Massey. she was a human being who deserved to live. say her fucking name. Sonya Massey.
edit: please do not erase or negate the fact that Sonya was schizophrenic. Black schizophrenic people are more likely to die at the hands of the police as well as be brutalised by them, and by negating the fact that she was schizophrenic, you are erasing that this was an execution fuelled by BOTH racism & saneism. please have some respect and continue to say her name, thank you.
Happy birthday to the loveliest and badass Bex! Her fiancé secretly commissioned me to make the fic cover for Isolation (which is like, my fav dramione fic ever), so if you haven’t read it, then definitely do!!
Simon's never fucked a virgin before. never had an appetite for them, really. the type he prefers are easy prey. the ones who'll let him rut his fat cock into them until he cums, who always marvel at how big he is. everywhere. who wimper through the stretch, brows pinched tight and fists balled up, but can't fight the victory in their eyes when they reach the bottom, taking him to the root. proud, then, that they conquered this particular beast. he's fine with what he has. really—
but then he finds you. and it's over when your little fawn eyes fall on him, bringing this massive beast to his knees.
the only problem is. he's too big. much too big for you.
he can't fuck you properly so he pushes his cock against your slit, squeezes your thighs tight together, and ruts you like this. a pale imitation of the real thing, of course. but he gets off on how small you look under him, how he pushes out from between your thighs with each stroke, leaking precum all over your belly. marking you.
sex with you is him breaking your pussy in on his thick, rough fingers. one has you wincing, teeth clenched tight. like you've never been touched before. fuck. sweet as pie, aren't you? then two. a tight fit, but he makes it work. suckles on your clit until you gush around him, pussy knotting up around his knuckles like a vice. three is evidently more than you can handle. you howl into the sheets as he forces another finger inside, tongue laving over the stretched skin of your cunt. makes it up to you by wringing out several orgasms with his fingers pressed inside of your cunt, his tongue glued to your clit. his jaw, chin, and neck are drenched, and he basks in tang of you while you wimper against his chest, little sniffles dying out as he cuts his big palm over your pussy, holding you like that. owned. claimed. (almost) all his.
when he isn't fingering you, or spreading you over the sheets, thighs stretched wide over his shoulders as he buries his face into your sweet, sweet pussy, he likes to tap the head of his cock against your slit, admiring the sheer vastitude of your differing sizes. his cock slides between your thighs in a way that it almost garish to look at. awful. strokes his cock the sight of it as he makes you suck on his fingers, and play with your nipples. cums all over your chest, your face. makes you cum all over his, too. it's only fair, after all.
or it's just the tip—literally—because that's the most he can push inside of you before you're whining his name, little fists pounding his chest, pushing him back, trying to get this battering ram out of your sore, stuffed pussy. so he settles for working you open on three fingers, his tongue. loosening you up as much as he can before pushing the head of his fat cock inside of you until you start whimpering out his name. too much, too much, too much—
and then he leans back on his haunches to watch as your hands stroke along his shaft, letting just the head of his cock shallowly fuck into you, stretching your cunt out around him. it's obscene. lewd. he thinks he can smell brimstone clogging his nose, flaming licking his skin, with each inch he forces you to take. gets off on the sight alone, of him greedily giving you another inch. and then another. another. can already see the bulge in your belly. the heavy outline of his thick cock splitting you apart.
he cums inside of you like this. just the tip, fuckin' hell. cumming in your pussy as you masterbate his cock and whine at the too full, overstuffed feeling of him filling you up.
he can't help but to imagine what it would be like when you finally give in, when he pushes the full length of himself into you, splitting you apart around his considerable girth—
feels his cock pulse in response, spitting more spend out into your drenched cunt, plugged up nice and tight around him.
Simon knows you were made for him (and him alone). it's just that some toys need to be broken in before you can play with them. he'll see to it that you're broken in just right.
buck finding out that eddie's cheating with deepfake shannon and getting angry at him, feeling hurt, and they're yelling at each other and it's awful, and buck doesn't really know why it feels like this other than he had eddie up on this pedestal in his mind even though he knows that's not fair, but eddie's a good guy, eddie wouldn't do this, this isn't who they are
and then eddie hits him with the "you're one to talk", and buck feels like he's been slapped because "that was years ago, and one drunk kiss isn't the same as whatever the fuck it is you've been doing, lying to marisol, lying to me, sneaking around behind my back"
and it already feels so much like a breakup, which is crazy – insane, because they're not. they're not, but eddie's looking at him like he's the one who's hurt, and he just shakes his head and says "that's not who i was talking about" and everything goes quiet, and they're staring at each other and they're staring at each other, and buck's heart is in his throat, and then he deflates, shakes his head and turns around and walks out the door without another word, and he doesn't look back because he can't, end season
pre-buddie | 1,634 words | rated m | infidelity/angst
Buck hates that he was here for this.
He hates that he was here for this, Eddie and his girlfriend and the fucked up thing with the woman who’s not Shannon, and Buck just standing there in the middle of it, the four of them trapped together in Eddie’s living room on a random Thursday night like something out of a soap opera because they all happened to converge at once.
when the metaphorical house burns down, you don't want to be the only one left standing in it
[Image ID: four gifs of Eddie Diaz in the hospital from 9-1-1 episode 6.11, “In Another Life.”:
GIF 1: Eddie looking down at Chris and Carla sternly, his hand propped on his hip.
GIF 2: Eddie telling Chris that he knows that children aren’t allowed in the ICU.
GIF 3: Eddie explaining what all the machines connected to Buck are doing, his elbow propped on one, forehead resting on his hand. He looks upset.
GIF 4: A tear escaping Eddie’s eye as he listens to Christopher talk to Buck. He quickly wipes it away before Buck can notice, his throat working as he swallows back tears.
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