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drbased · 3 months ago

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This is probably a little too personal, so I completely understand if you don’t want to answer, but I just saw a post of yours about how you were previously in the kink scene and how that strengthens your current stance on BDSM and the like.

I was exposed to that sort of thing at a really young age, and just accepted it as normal, but more recently discovered radical feminism. Do you have any advice on coping with previous relationships/ distancing yourself from that sort of thing? It’s really messed with my perception of relationships and sex and everything.

I'm not going to be able to answer this as fully as you'd like me too, I'm afraid.

Deconstructing the unspoken ideologies of BDSM are what has helped me the most. And it's fortunate that most of them can be summed up pretty easily:

forced orgasm, cnc, bondage: ask yourself to consider why it is that the idea of being a fully conscious, present, active and desiring human being isn't more erotic for you. feminist theory really helps with this - patriarchy says that the most 'erotic' thing is an erasure of our agency, our dehumanisation. patriarchy is necrophilic; it seeks death, and will accept symbolic death - that is, destruction of all things resembling living human agency, even when real death isn't available. instead, then, changing your mindset to recognising that the most erotic thing about you is that you're alive and vibrant and make choices and interact with the physical world and you're always you even when having sex; if that seems 'cringe' then you can embrace that, because in cringe lies true authenticity.

d/s roles: embrace the humility and vulnerability of true, unscripted interactions between human beings - bdsm for people is described often as 'safe fear' akin to watching a horror film, but unlike a horror film the 'safe fear' from participating in a d/s 'scene' replaces a much more potent fear of true human eroticism. additionally, doing kink in day-to-day life is another way to numb one's self to the chaos and discomfort of living.

punishment and rules: I've described kink as a form of symbolic state before, and this is why - bdsm, especially the whole concept of 24/7 d/s, is an opiate that substitutes the complicated chaotic world of real vulnerable human interaction where you are entirely responsible for your life choices is watered down to a set of rules you can follow for the rest of your life. you never have to worry if you're doing the 'wrong' thing, because your relationship path is laid out for you. And that fear of getting things 'wrong' is where the symbolic state begins to be formed - because there is no 'wrong'; there are only actions and consequences, and what you personally value. do you value the consequences of your actions? as with all symbolic states, there's a narcissistic childishness at play; you don't want to have to value the consequences of your actions - instead you want to believe that there's some external source of judgment you can always follow. because if you valued the consequences of you actions, suddenly you'd have to stop with the loathing of them - you either embrace them as truly a part of yourself, or you stop. the simplicity of that is hard but as with all hard things, it's deeply rewarding. the 'freedom' that people find in d/s is the escape from having to actually engage with their own personhood, but as with all symbolic states that's a trap. and especially as women, we recieve all sorts of mixed messaging and are punished much more harshly by society for our transgressions, so it's easier to give up and embrace that societal messaging. but it makes you vulnerable to it, and nothing beats the impenetrability of 'I don't care about x' vs 'I do care about x, so I will do something about it'

I'm not one of those radfems that will state with full confidence that all fetishism is bad in some ontological sense - I think the ubiquity of fetishes including those that seem to having nothing to do with dominance/submission, and those that start in childhood, says to me that there's something about fetishes that makes them part of the human experience. But then, as I often say, we don't live in a world where we got to have a healthy understanding of sex first: we live in a world where the default understanding of what 'sex' is for the majority of human history has been some form of rape; a man claims a woman, and her 'consent' is the point at which she submits to him, and as this consent is not an expression of her personhood it can be replaced with something as mundane as a legal contract (marriage) or financial transaction ('sex work').

Men know that rape is a perfect tool of mass terror to destroy the psyche, so it stands to reason that we feminists are not being hyperbolic when we acknowledge the importance of consent for true realisation of the self - and bdsm's hyper-focus on 'consent' seems to me a very liberal application of this idea; a deliberate refocus of excited feminist energy into something more palatable for society that still seems libertine enough to quash any sense of real rebellion (which, from what I've learned, has been a through-line of bdsm from the start). I've noticed that bdsm-ers talk a lot about how bdsm was the first time they were able to really recognise their own agency, and all I can think is how bdsm is offered to women specifically as a compromise: if you do all the sex things I want that just so happen to mirror real-life abuse and rape, then I will dress up for you, I will give you fun, spontaneous, adventurous sex, I will focus on your orgasm, I will make you the center of my attention always, I will discuss boundaries with you.

We should take with a huge grain of salt the ethics of any sexual norm in this society, including those which seem to go against the grain (remember that said grain is man-made, and thus any rebellion against it that men seem to embrace will always be more about their own rejections of the contradictions within the structures that they have built and actively benefit from; this is why feminist critique of bdsm and 'sex work' will always be more true and well-realised than any right-wing hatred of it). Even the word sadism is from the marquis de sade - a man who raped and tortured women and wrote propaganda on how being a true libertine means accepting rape. That's not an interpretation - that's literally what he did; there's no way that the women he was torturing were consenting or able to consent. And I think it says a lot about societal misogyny that you can look at what he did and see it as some sort of expression of secret liberty - it's so transparently misogynistic and patriarchal, once again inexplicably sold to women as freeing just in the same way that being a tradwife is freeing. There's a reason that there's a 1950s housewife kink.

So even if there's a version of fetishism that exists out there outside of patriarchial necrophilia and misogynistic dominance, rape and abuse, unfortunately we don't live in a world where we can find that out. The most basic, pg-13 symbol of kink - the fuzzy handcuffs - are a symbol of a woman being trapped and unable to escape. That is, whether or not anyone wants to accept it, a symbol of rape. And as for those childhood kinks I mentioned - I wrote a whole post a while back on how we seem to see a lot more kinks in kids' shows than anything else; the role of kink as another way to sexualise and exploit women and children, perhaps as punishment for a belief in the madonna/whore complex and assuming that our desire to be taken seriously as human beings means we're weakly protesting our purity, and there's an excitement in breaking those barriers down. So the question always remains; to what extent our supposed kinks that we 'consent to' in the bedroom are even our own, or how many of them are simply agreeing to entirely fabricated constructs of the male mind? And with that in mind, how meaningful can our consent ever be in that context? Or is 'consent' in a bdsm context perhaps a lot less like freedom and a lot more about that patriarchal understanding of consent as an agreement that can replicated? People laughed at 50 shades for the 'contract' but fail to recognise that d/s roles function in essentially the exact same way.

I would wholeheartedly recommend Pornography by Andrea Dworkin and Pornograph and Silence by Susan Griffin, as well as Against Our Will: Men, Women and Rape by Susan Brownmiller for some background on the enormity of this subject and a sense of how high the stakes are.

#my writing #symbolic states #wisdom posting #kink tw #kink critical

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boku-no-anime-phase · 8 months ago

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I was about to joke that Laid Back Camp doesn't get enough recognition for being queer-friendly (not to mention feminist!) anime, but you know what? Forget the joke, I'm saying it for real.

Laid Back Camp doesn't get enough recognition for being feminist, queer-friendly anime.

I don't have a ton to add to that. I haven't watched the show with a dedicated "is this queer friendly" mindset, but as a queer person I can't remember any moments that made me uncomfy, and I can remember several moments where a lesser show would've easily made queer people the butt of the joke, and this one didn't.

Also I think even though we don't actually see whether Nadeshiko and Rin get together in the end, what we DO see is a beautiful relationship of mutual trust and affection, handled with care by every aspect of the show, developing between them. Their natures compliment one another and their sharp edges soften into one another as they grow closer. All of the relationships in this show are important, but the one between Nadeshiko and Rin is the real heartbeat of the whole thing.

I definitely think there should be more expressly queer representation in all media including anime, but I also enjoy and am comforted by this kind of ambient queer-friendliness. Where anime typically keeps me on my toes as far as objectionable content and badly handled tropes go, it's nice to be able to just relax into a show like you'd relax into a nice camping chair in front of a fire. I love Yuru Camp

#yuru camp #laid back camp #queer anime #feminist anime

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ruinedbylanadelrey · 1 year ago

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as good as you are at writing the whole "losing virginity" thing, how about you write something sort of like that but with a twist? Frankie with a college-aged reader. she has never had good sex in her life, because all of the college aged boys she has done it with make it about themselves rather than her. so she lies to Frankie and says she has never had sex before, thinking if he thinks it is her first time, he will take care of her. then when the night comes to have sex for the first time, he gets the room all set up with candles and nice sheets and chocolates and lingerie and so forth. reader lets slip that she is not a virgin and explains why she lied and is afraid Frankie will be mad at her. he is not. he is angry at the college boys obvs, but he promises to take care of reader. then they have sex for the first time. (maybe a bit with that daddy/little girl caretaker thing that reader and Joel had in ceilings).

Hot | Frankie Morales x f!Reader

I wrote this while high. My mind is powerful

Hot by Avril Lavigne inspired me

Happy friday, y'all!!

masterlist

warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI, SMUT, oral (f rec.), anti feminist!reader, frankie is the pussy eating king, DIRTY TALK, unprotect p-i-v sex, pet names (baby, little girl, sweet girl), DDLG, HEAVY DADDY KINK

Frankie was a walking Greek god to you. He was beautiful and capable of taking care of you. When you came into his life, he showed you how older men are better college boys. you loved how you realized how much you love the stereotypical housewife who lives to serve her husband, obey him, and submit yourself to him.

When you dated college boys you thought it was stupid to submit to the opposite sex. it should be the other way around, women should be the ones who could be promiscuous in nature and men should be the ones who are shamed for being slutty, women are simply better than men.

How did all this come about? Well, you lied to Frankie about being a virgin when that wasn't entirely a lie because you hadn't experienced an orgasm from another person. Frankie had the whole thing planned out, he took you on a nice and very experienced date and then brought you back to his place.

He had the bedroom lit up with candles and a bottle of champagne. You couldn't help but become overwhelmed by the romantic gesture. "Frankie," You gasp, your hand muffling the sound. You just looked at him and saw how he holds the moon in your eyes. "I want to show the pleasure that I've been waiting to show you, baby," His eyes darken and the look in his eye went straight to your aching core.

This will be the first time you sleep with Frankie since you guys started dating. Your heart was beating out of your chest, he is thinking that he was taking your virginity. Frankie set this whole thing up so you could feel special. His hands brush your hair as he pushes the strap of your dress down your arms.

Frankie hums while your body becomes exposed to him. You shifted under his intense gaze. "Frankie..." You took a deep breath and now decided to tell him the truth. "I'm not a virgin..." you said as you step out of your dress, wearing the baby pink lace lingerie set. You look like a doll with all the lace decorating your figure.

"I'm sorry for lying...I just never had someone make me feel good..." You continue to speak too quickly and Frankie crashes his lips into yours, "Don't be sorry...I'm sorry that you haven't had an experience where you're taken care of..." Frankie said into the lip lock. The hunger of the kiss was animalistic, Frankie licking into your mouth, his hands roaming your body, your hand fists in his hair.

"Let me take care of you, baby...let daddy do his job..." Frankie whispers into your ear, you could feel yourself submitting to the other sex. You whimpered when he called himself 'daddy' it made you tingle all over. Frankie leads you to the foot of the bed and laid you out before him. You were like a ragdoll, letting him position how he wanted you. You grew wetter at the thought of just being a submissive frail woman for a man...that man being Frankie.

He just oozed masculinity, just strong and knows what he is doing...that's the military in him, he was taught to never second guess his actions. They are fulfilled with the purpose of that either killing someone who is a threat to the ideal American life (drugs or communism), a threat to your life or the other purpose was to give you the pleasure that you deserve, from being a good girl your whole life, by saving your first orgasm for him...a good girl waiting for her daddy.

"You are breathtaking, sweet girl." He purrs while his hands start at your feet and massage their way up to your thighs, close enough to feel how your submissive pussy is drenched with arousal. You smiled at the praise, and start to feel lightheadedness...was it you slipping into a space of vulnerability or was it you losing brain cells every time you thought of submitting to the lesser sex?

"Thank you, Daddy," You batted your lashes, the innocence of your tone had Frankie at his knees with his face between your legs. Inhaling your scent through the sopping wet lace. His mouth opens and kisses your core through the panties. You sighed just watching Frankie crumble to his knees, kissing your clothed pussy and worshipping your cunt. He pulls away and rips the lace with his fingers so effortlessly. You gasped as the sound of fabric tearing filled the air, then you giggled as Frankie kisses each hip bone.

"Daddy wants to eat your pretty pussy, princess...you're dripping...so pink..." Frankie says as his finger holds you open so he could see all of you, he leans down and practically makes out with your cunt, your juices coating his beard and the tip of his nose.

It was so primal how he just made out with your pussy, like he was kissing your mouth, the way his tongue would fuck your hole, his teeth lightly grazing your clit. His lips move to your thigh and his teeth sank into your plush thigh with light pressure. Frankie wanted to devour you, your moans coaxing him into never letting you go.

You threw your head back when two of his thick fingers slip into your entrance. "Oh fuck, daddy…i’m coming!" you whined as his finger pumped in and out of you, his mouth latching on to your clit. Your flutter around his finger, your moan growing closer together while you tried to breathe. The familiar knot in your stomach is about to snap.

Frankie replaces his fingers with his tongue and his thumb pressing down on your clit. Your skin broke into a sweat, the knot snapped and a wave of white-hot pleasure flows through your body and Frankie lapped up your release. The sounds of the room were filled by Frankie's animalistic drinking from you, your moans added the lewd noise.

Your mind was gone, all you can think about was how amazing it felt to receive pleasure from another person, how beautiful you felt with Frankie between your legs. "Can daddy fuck you, baby?" Frankie stands up, his gaze not leaving yours while his hands unbuckling the belt, his hair sticking up from your hands playing in the locks.

You nodded biting your lip and watching Frankie undress. A smirk grew on his lips when he wraps your legs high on his torso. You smiled at him, just loving how he is such a beautiful person, how he takes care of you like a man should.

"Okay, baby...Daddy is going to fuck your pretty pussy now," He talks you through it, his length sinking into your warmth. Both of you panting while he bottoms out, your pussy clenching around him making Frankie feel lost in a sea of bliss. You could feel him in your stomach, you looked down to see his tip bulging a bit.

"F-fuck you're so deep, Daddy" you stuttered when Frankie pulls out and slams himself back inside you. Frankie grunts with each thrust, being so hard and rough. His pace picks up, Frankie pounding into your cunt, "Fuck, you're creaming, little girl," Frankie moans when he looked down at how his cock coated in a white cream. You were feeling so light while his hips slam into yours.

You sat up to reach Frankie's lip, your mouth lazily molds into his, and you could taste yourself on his tongue. Your moan flowed into his mouth and you swallowed his whimpers and pants.

"Say you're mine, baby, please" he begs still chasing his climax, his hand sliding between you and his thumb rubbing your clit. You jolted against him, you cry out as another wave of bliss seeps out of you. "I'm yours, daddy...all yours." You submitted entirely. Frankie thrust into you deeply and his seed spills into you. The feeling of being full with his cock inside of you and his cum flooding your pussy made feel you overwhelmed with love.

#frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales fluff #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x f!reader #pedro pascal

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aurum-rays · 8 months ago

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When you rewatch most childhood movies, the cult classics, the nostalgia rides, I realize how sexist and problematic they were and I was secretly hoping Veer Zaara wasn't one of them(I watched it when I was like 10 so I don't remember). This movie surprised me.

Veer Zaara features strong, resilient female characters. Be it our protagonist Zaara played by Preity Zinta or the catalysts of the love story Saamiya (Rani Mukherjee) and Shabbo (Divya Dutta) or even Zaara’s mother (Kirron Kher) and her Bebe (Zohra Sehgal).

Zaara Hayaat Khan is a feminist, one who is against the societal norms laid for a woman. It's refreshing to see this in her introductory song "Hum to bhai jese hai wese rahengey" sung beautifully by Lata ji, but as this 3 hour musical drama progresses it gets disappointing to see Zaara whittle herself away to the same norms she was against in the first place.

Everyone around her constantly tells her it's her responsibility to be a good wife and a good mother and to guard the respect of their families. Zaara crosses the border to fulfill a final wish of her ‘BeBe’(grandmother) all by herself.

In the midst of a rescue operation, she demands her things be lifted off along with her all while hanging on to an Air Force professional in his uniform.

She pushes the crowded men away and speaks with authority "I have a ticket and I need to get on this bus". In all these instances Zaara is scared yet heroic. She phones her mother and tells her that all her life she didn't do anything and probably won't in the future too and will probably end up being just like her mother - a good wife and a good mother, so she wants to do this one thing so she can respect herself. This is what irked me. I understand she's from an orthodox family but she can still have dreams and ambitions. From the start of the movie, she is portrayed as a rebel, one who doesn't comply with societal norms and laughs in the face of stereotypes. I can only imagine how curious she would have been as a child. That alone is enough to give her some dreams.

She fearlessly tells Amitabh's character what he is doing is unfair to the girls. If I went to someone’s house for a day especially someone I barely knew I wouldn't even dare to question their acts. Zaara does and she makes him spellbound. She doesn't go “I'm just here for one day so I’ll just mind my own business and leave”. She questions the injustice. "Imagine what girls could do if they were given the right education. Some of them might even surpass Veer".

I loved Zaara in all these scenes. She fearlessly stands up against mistreatment and calls them out no matter who the other person is. All this makes you root for her until it doesn't.

In a scene where Saamiya visits Veer's (Shahrukh Khan) hometown and finds Zaara there, she says to Shabbo "Yeh kis sadi ke log hai… ?" (transl. “Which century are these people from?”)

That's exactly how I felt too. “Kon hai ye log? Kahan se aate hai?”( transl. Who are these people? Where do they come from?) Spending their whole lives in the name of the person they never got to be with. Sacrificing everything and working to fulfill someone else’s dream. Zaara has always been that kind of person. She crosses borders to fulfill her bebe's wish and gives all her life to fulfill Veer and his Tau’s wish. She keeps doing everything for others. She spends her life making others’ dreams come true. She lives her life in the memory of her lover. This also reminded me of Sita aka Princess Noor Jahan from Sitaramam (also maybe Madarasipattinam's Amy).

If Saamiya saw these women she'd again say "Kon hai ye log?"

Even after decades of releasing love stories on-screen this "sacrificing" trope hasn't changed and remains to be a classic which I am not a big fan of. Why do these characters not have any characterization of their own? (Zaara) even if they do, it all changes when a man comes into her life (Sita/Noor Jahan). Ultimately the heroin has to either die or spend her whole life in the memory of her Romeo. (Remember what Mr. Dashwood says to Jo in 2019’s Little Women?)

Maybe I don't understand love stories. Maybe I don't understand love? I don't know. But I think in real life none of us are that insane to write our whole life in someone else’s name and live and breathe just reminiscing our lost lovers, at least I am not. Maybe that is why these movies will remain classics because they are too insane to happen in real life.

#veer zaara #sharukh khan #preity zinta #rani mukherjee #hema malini #amitabh bachchan #sita ramam #mrunal thakur #amy jackson

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thehummingbirdpost · 7 months ago

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Jewish Voice for Peace Advocates for Palestinian Rights

Dale Colleen Hamilton

[email protected]

April 2024

My friend Esther Farmer has lived in Brooklyn her whole life. Her parents, Palestinian Jews, immigrated there in the 1920s. Her father, a politically progressive activist, was labelled a communist and black-listed, making it difficult for him to find work. Her mother was way ahead of her times and her support for the Palestinian cause was loud and often fierce and she battled sexism fearlessly.

Esther calls herself culturally Jewish, religiously atheist, politically non-Zionist and passionately pro-Palestinian. She’s been involved with Palestinian rights organizations for decades and is on the leadership committee of Jewish Voice for Peace, whose membership has exploded since the war on Palestine began. Their protests have attracted thousands of people and have included shutting down Grand Central Station and the Manhattan Bridge.

On my recent visit to New York City, I went with Esther to several pro-Palestinian anti-war demonstrations. She says there’s some form of pro-Palestinian protest almost every day, so there were plenty of choices. While I was there, she did a reading from a book she co-edited, A Land with People as well as several zoom presentations. She lives and breathes Palestinian rights these days. One of the most moving things I’ve heard her say is that her grandmother told her that Palestinians, Jews and Arabs used to live just fine together in Palestine, until in 1917 the British decided, in their imperial “wisdom,” to "declare" that Palestine should be a Jewish state through the Balfour Declaration.

The first protest we went to was intended to take place in front of the Brooklyn home of Chuck Schumer (Democratic Senate Majority Leader) but police in riot gear blocked his street. Schumer is being targeted, in part, because he was given over $100,000 in campaign contributions by pro-Zionist AIPAC (American Israeli Public Affairs Committee). In response to the police blockade, the effigies of dead swaddled children being carried by the protesters were laid at the feet of the police. And the protesters read aloud a list of 64 names of dead Palestinian children. These names represented one tenth of one percent of the children killed since Oct 7th. It would have taken 24/7 for 2 days to have read all the names. As the names were spoken, I found myself watching the faces of the police officers for any glimmer of support or remorse, but they were well-trained to show no emotion. However, as the procession wound through the Saturday farmers’ market, many people stopped and quietened respectfully.

Another protest we attended was staged in front of the United Nations in Manhattan. Again, riot police were in full force. Although no arrests were made, Jewish Voice for Peace always has a lawyer present and a team of members ready to support anyone who does get arrested, as was the case during the Grand Central Station action, where over 300 people were arrested. To me as a Canadian gentile outsider, the most striking element of this protest was the range of participants, including Armenian and Kurdish rights activists, an Iranian Feminist group and about a dozen Orthodox Hasidic Jews, who have been demonstrating for Palestinian rights and denouncing Zionism and the Jewish state for years. It was the Sabbath so they aren’t allowed to take public transit or drive, so they had walked from Williamsburg, over 6 kms each way. Although Hasidic Jews are sometimes criticized for sexist practises, I couldn’t help but admire their dedication to the Palestinian cause.

In between demonstrations, we had the best Middle Eastern food I’ve ever experienced at a Palestinian restaurant called Ayat on Cortelyou Road in Brooklyn. Their menu includes a call for an end to the occupation and asks diners to “pray for peace for all”. The meal we had there felt sombre, but it also felt like a celebration of the swell of awareness and support for Palestinians and a rethinking of what it means to be Jewish and Israeli and the role US-made armaments play in the genocide.

By a stroke of dumb luck, I got the last rush ticket to see a sold-out play called The Ally, at the Public Theatre in Greenwich Village. In keeping with the apparent theme of my trip, it was a play about the Palestinian Israeli conflict. It presented all sides of the issue, which left my head spinning. In the lobby after the performance, a man who sounded like he knew what he was talking about said he thinks it will be remounted, which makes sense, seeing as it’s such a timely and important topic.

And oh yes, by way of contrast, while in New York I also experienced cherry trees in bloom (eerily early), an earthquake (4.8 magnitude centered in New Jersey) and the solar eclipse, which we watched grow to 90% totality in Prospect Park. And after the intensity of the protests, back at Esther’s each evening, we’d sit on the couch and watch Democracy Now and Aljazeera, trying to make sense of a world apparently on a collision course with itself.

#jews for palestine #jews for ceasefire #jews against israel

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limeade-l3sbian · 2 years ago

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Ew just saw one of my favorite blogs talk about how radblr is just “incels” for girls. What is it about handmaidens always comparing feminist to violent misogynistic men? Literally just saying the same old “feminist women are just angry bitches cause they can’t get laid” as if any woman wouldn’t be able to “get dick” as if men had any kind of standards that it’s so hard for women to find an ugly worthless moid to fuck if we really wanted to like??? And the worst of it all is that this girl used to be on radblr and that is exactly what happens when you get your info on an app instead of picking up a book or going to outside sources and making your own opinion instead of saying in your weird echo chamber on the internet. So tired of spineless women, women also contribute to maintaining the patriarchy, Im tired of pretending we have no play in it just cause we’re the victims of it. Sorry for the rant, honestly but it’s mind blowing to me how downright stupid some people are 😪

Don’t be sorry, anon. Bc it is frustrating.

I don’t entertain that notion that radfems “just need to get laid” the same way I don’t accept that incels “just need to get laid”. Neither instance fixes anything.

Radfems are not inciting and acting on violent thoughts towards their chosen effigy (women, in the case of incels). Radfems are not encouraging the systematic violation of men’s bodily autonomy as well as celebrating their mass harassment in all corners of the world. Radfems goals do not even center on seeking equality with men, but seeking liberation from the system they have constructed and walled the whole of the world within. Radfems are not demanding something unearned or unowed from men; they are demanding to either be treated as the true second half of the human race they are, or to be left the fuck alone.

In that same breath, incels are not oppressed based solely on their sex. Being denied sex and the spoils of an active social life because you have poor hygiene and bring up porn in casual conversation is not oppression. I’d call that ‘consequences of your own actions/inaction’, but whatever. They don’t seek to change the system they allegedly suffer under. In fact, they champion those men higher up in their constructed hierarchies of “high value” men, and agree with the “high value” men who call them (the incels) losers. They don’t want things to change, they just want to benefit from the current system. They may complain about “chads” or whatever tf, but ultimately it is “Stacey” who is to blame for not lowering her standards and doing her due diligence of giving every guy a chance but also not being a raging slut who deserves nothing.

Incels and their baseless ideology is a sword swinging in the wind, angry at everyone but boy holding the sword. Radical feminism is the shield. It has always been the shield.

#ask

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dhaaruni · 2 years ago

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i'm curious to hear your thoughts on the demisexual podcast

So we're talking about this article, and its corresponding podcast.

Here's my response under the cut.

I read the article and listened to the podcast and I still honestly think demisexuality is fake lmao. It doesn't make you queer or otherwise ~unique that you wait to have sex until you know and trust the person, especially as a woman where there are substantial risks to casual sex, and I don't just mean pregnancy and STIs. I said this a while ago but for the first month or so when I'm seeing a guy or going on a first date, I always let someone know, whether it's a friend or my parents, because the reality is that many men are violent, and having sex with someone you don't know puts you in a vulnerable state where it's easy to be victimized. The way I frame it to men, namely those who'd never dream of being violent to women, is that 1/4 of women are victims of sexual violence but 1/4 men are not sexually violent since most predators are serial assaulters. Does that make sense?

I totally agree with the idea that it's really cringe and even harmful that we're encouraging teenagers to construct permanent identities to temporary feelings. Plenty of young teenagers are uncomfortable about sex, and claiming that state is permanent will only mess with their minds as they grow older and more comfortable with their sexualities. If you're 14 and uncomfortable with the idea of sex, you aren't demisexual, you're just 14 lol. I think parents should validate their children's identities obviously but allowing them to define themselves on things they may not even feel in a few years is detrimental to their development.

I think that there is kind of a tie between demisexuals and incels, both male and female. There's been a lot of focus on male incels, who want to have sex with women but can't do so for a number of reasons, but I think that female incels do exist although of course, a major difference is that male incels traditionally blame women while female incels blame themselves. It's not female incels who are shooting up colleges over not getting laid, it's the Elliot Rodgers of the world. But that said, I almost feel like female incels will cling onto demisexuality or even asexuality in a way to detract from the pain of social rejection. Like, if they're demisexual or asexual, they can rationalize their not being considered sexually attractive by others as a moot point since they only feel sexually attracted to those they have emotional connections with anyways or not at all. It's kind of a coping mechanism, you know?

There's also something to be said about adults who still identify as demisexual like it begs the question: why? Why do you need a unique identity that literally means "I only have sex when I feel comfortable with my partner?" That doesn't make you unique, that makes you a normal person. I think there's something to be said where women are uncomfortable being like, sexual adults but not sexually available like it's almost as if women are conditioned to feel apologetic for not being sexually available at the beck and all of men, so they construct this whole silly identity so they have an excuse to say no so to speak.

Speaking anecdotally, I've honestly a lot of hate for being selectively sexually available like I 100% got more slander (so to speak) in college than either women that were celibate or women that were very promiscuous because I always had agency. It was my choice, and I don't mean that as a feminist statement or anything, I just was conditioned to not do anything unless I felt like it, and that carried over from not taking my medicine as a little kid and ending up in the hospital with pneumonia as a result to refusing to have sex with people in college unless I felt like it in which case I'd have sex with them 2 hours after meeting them lmao.

Sorry for rambling but I hope this was interesting to you! Let me know what you guys think as well.

#answered #anonymous #sex cw #podcasts #links

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sissa-arrows · 8 months ago

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That french show "j'irai dormir chez vous- Algérie" received so much (negative) attention, when they posted the teaser it was already the most number of views the show had gotten, but a lot of people expressed their deception after watching the whole thing and many speculated the episode was made specifically to tarnish Dzayer's image.

Antoine had been to Kabylie and Ghardaïa , hadn't met police there, when he went to our Sahara close to the borders he was asked to have a local guide, he refused so instead of kicking him out, the police proposed that a civil followed him from afar to ensure his safety , he did not refuse, he then wanted to get a permission to adventure outside of the city that was refused.

The security agents had all been dressed in civil and calmly talked to him, they shouldn't have been filmed yet he filmed them, they explained that they weren't worried about the city or its lovely people, that it was safe but they wanted to be extra safe, the country is just opening up to tourism and receiving so much hate, it also has troubled borders, so while it is safe tourists (even Algerian) need to be accompagnied with a guide in the Sahara, a lost or dead journalist would not do good to the country's image.

With all that in mind, Antoine really said: oh i get it now you want to keep me safe to give Algeria a good image, no problem i'll give you a completely different reason to worry. And it become a subject of trends between all those journalists outside who has a job to criticize everything relateed to the country, they need to earn money after all.

All of this doesn't bother me, French ppl who come here have the tendency to bring out the worst in us, we are used to it, the police should have been more subtle or told him off right off the bat, altho you do imagine that they'd still be criticied no matter what (if they didn't care and something bad happened , if they were more stern, or laid back) But the realiy is that this whole fuss is made because a white man ws stopped in a third world country.

It's easy to reverse the situation, if i, an Algerian had been to France to film an emission and the police stopped me from going to a certain place alone, worried about my safety, and filmed it, i would be the one criticized for being irresponsible for not cooperating. But when a white man does it, he he is denouncing corruption and toxic behavior , while he sounds objectively completely insane (not to mention offensive with his offhanded comments on M'zab women and the Kabylie status) Even though we all know how are people can be treated aboard, it is always assumed it is our fault, but never the fault of the more responsible white man on backwarded countries.

Also just one thing, the security wasn't aware he was a jornalist at first and Algerians are also stopped when they want to wonder alone in the desert, it doesn't have to do with nationality, although yes french channels are usually kept abay, it doesn't have to do with colonialism as much as their more recent behavior . Also there has been a case of a european tourist dying in the desert last year, i assume security was blamed then.

(sorry for info dumping ;-; the previous anon made me think, i didn't know where to put this)

The first time I wandered alone in the Sahara with my grandparents we wanted to cross the border with Mali, we had the paperwork and all but the border agents said no. They said only my grandpa could cross the border but not my grandma or me. The feminist inside me got angry and then the border agent was like “My sister, the Malian authorities told us there was potential terrorists near the border and that it wasn’t safe for women right now that you could get kidnapped. So sit down I’m not letting you cross the border.” The feminist inside me immediately calmed down 😂

But yeah all of that to say that if he was in the Sahara it 100% makes sense that the authorities were watching over him. Some places are protected too and only Kel Tamasheq/Touareg can go there. There’s also the area around Tindouf and the border with Western Sahara…

Anyway thank you for all the informations!!

#ask #algeria #france #j’irai dormir chez vous

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greengrungeemo · 1 year ago

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Why Hayley Williams is among the most BADASS people I know of

So, I've recently been to a Paramore concert with someone just as badass and amazing and had the best time ever!! Hands down the best concert I ever been to (I've been to 4 now)! It was of course, amazing because of the perfection that is Paramore's music, but what was far more extraordinarily compelling was Hayley herself.

I'll post ALL of my recorded concert vids soon so you can see for yourself, but she is the epitome of feminism and women empowerment. Think about it! She's been touring since 2005, and the amount of ENERGY she has compared to previous artists I've seen! Night and daaaaay! The highlights for me were her mood-lifting dance moves and running in place while she performed! It made an introvert like myself get the zoomies and really just... express myself at a concert! So hype and made me so happy. I cried twice during this concert too! xD

Another oustanding thing to note was her understanding and connection to the crowd, you'll see in vids I'll post, but like she said on stage: "Thanks for spending your money here, seriously! I'll make sure to make the whole thing worth it" She knows the struggle out there in this economy. It takes a lot to see a concert when there's just so much to worry about in this world, especially financially! With everything in the world going on, she adds, "Let's just forget all of our worries for these 4 hours. Completely forget it all together." To some, that may not seem like much of a statement, but to those suffering from anxiety, trauma, depression, among a whole lot of other things, this helped create a bubble of escape. Admittedly, even in this trip down to the U.S, I still have a lot on my mind on a daily basis. A lot of inner demons to battle, regret, guilt, worry for others, etc etc. Hayley helped put that on pause, especially with a statement like that!

Men can learn A LOT from women, and if they tried to take a page out of Hayley's book, it'd make a big difference, because this next point is on social issues! A huge highlight was a really tear-jerking and awesome statement she made. She made us all hold up our 2 pinkies! We all held them up, and she said, "This is a promise. To hold people in higher power accountable." I got goosebumps and was in pure shock and delight. What a powerful statement and thing to do. What's even better, is that she followed up with, "and let's also remember, to vote. Let's not vote for people with small dick energy please?!" Absolutely true. All of those politicians so insecure about how people simply wish to identify as or express themselves? It hurts, knowing there's people who feel trapped out there that just want to come out of their shell and feel happy for who they are. I will retain this double pinky promise for as long as I live. As a man, I will understand my privilege and do my best to voice myself and protect friends and all under LGBTQ++ and their rights. I will stand by women and be a proud feminist, and voice myself whenever I see injustice. I will educate other men when I see them being shitty, when they denigrate, dehumanize, or categorize women as any lesser than them. It bugs me so much. It's important. I will also vote thoughtfully where it counts!

Hayley has also pointed out the massive amount of misogynistic criticism laid out to her over the years. Again, since she's been performing in the early 2000s, you can imagine how bad it must have been, being a woman and head of the band? A bunch of sexist males criticizing what a "real band should be", etc. She proves what a real band is. She carries it with her whole heart. 🖤 She even made fun remarks about how she's just a girl, "I got long hair? So what? I brush it. Actually, Taylor(?) brushes it." Referring to one her band mates teasingly. Loved it. Women power right there!

There's so much more to say, but I will keep it brief, Hayley Williams is and always will be among my heroes for her inspiring words, her addictively fun energy, and reminding me to be a proud feminist. It doesn't take a lot of effort to be kind, and to treat others well. Do your part as a man, do your equal share at minimum, and stand up for what's right!

#hayley williams #paramore #personal thoughts

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papirouge · 2 years ago

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papi, I keep hearing about how evil women who want divorce will learn what it means to be lonely but most divorced women I know seem happy to be single or if they do pursue romantic partners, they don't end up marrying them. meanwhile divorced men are far likelier to remarry

a lot of this rhetoric just sounds like a cope, like most manosphere stuff is. like they'll assume every woman seeking divorce is doing it for entirely selfish reasons and take great (and perverse) delight in thinking of her being miserable somewhere down the line. I am sorry but what sex has entire movements obsessing about being miserable and lonely? most women's movements are about looking forward and improving themselves and society, or about being away from men, men's movements meanwhile seem very vindictive and focused on punishing women for not wanting to be around them anymore. it's like MGTOW... most MGTOW and MGTOW-adjacent social media content I ever see are about how mad women make them lmao and you could say the same for feminism, but at least that's grounded in women having grievances against male-run civilizations treating women poorly. the manosphere has like two legitimate points and the rest is just "I'm so mad I can't get a girlfriend"

then there are those who think women shouldn't get anything in a divorce settlement, as if every married woman is a stay at home wife and only her husband is bringing in money... I'm sorry but most women contribute financially to their households nowadays. so why is she supposed to get nothing in a settlement?? is that not her property too lmao

like, idk, I've never known a woman who wanted to get a divorce for no reason, or worse just to make her husband sad lmao (I've heard stories of people seeking divorce out of spite but it seems split pretty evenly between the sexes). three of my female relatives divorced because their husbands either became abusive or started cheating, and divorced female friends of mine have similar stories, that their husband was a piece of crap. but the divorce was a last resort, they tried to make things work before giving up entirely. there are absolutely women who ruin their marriages (I've known women like this too) but the way people just vilify EVERY divorced woman and blame her for the failure of the marriage is weird to me

sorry for the rant. I hope you're doing well

Hi ! yeah I'm doing well - currently trying to edit my next youtube video but my laptop is so slow I'm lowkey losing it lol

Of course all of this is a major cope. Reality & stats actually prove that MEN are those suffering the most from female rejection : Dating app are dominated by males, clubs have to offer free entry for women to appeal to them, males literally created a movement to whine about how they couldn't get laid.... Men ACTIVELY pursue women, but they're trying to gaslight women into thinking that it's the opposite and that if they don't lower their standards, they're going to end up old and alone, when none of this is backed up by actual reality. Don't you find interesting that those incel NEVER bring up actual objective evidence about "women hitting the wall" ? they only bring up older men age preference, but NOTHING about how actual WOMEN live their singleness at older age. It's just pure projection ; they assume that because older like younger women, then older women feel misrable about, which is untrue. Actually, those men are the first to seethe at silly tiktok of childless mature women enjoying their life..... Sorry but their behavior betrays their words. Meanwhile, there are plentiful data available about how men outnumber women in dating app- and let's not forget sexual violence because men "need" women for their sexual depravity. So it's pretty obvious which sex is actually desperate to find companionship.

Say what you want about feminist, but at least they're consistent in advocating for a certain emotional independence from men (there's a whole discourse about removing ourselves from the male gaze, internal misogyny, etc.) but most male activist movement are seething against women.....while actively seeking fulfillment FROM women. It creates a cognitive dissonance (those men seek to dominate women, but by relying on female sexual availability, it ultimately makes them dominated by women) that why Which is pretty funny to witness considering that those men pretend being the rational sex....🙃 That's why female movement like FDS/hypergamy are actively attacked by men (FDS reddit got routinely raided by scrotes to the point they left the platform) because they are threatened by the idea of women elevating their standards, because that would mean even less sexually available women for them. It's no coincidence MGTOW caught less traction than the incel movement (+ all these dating coach/"how to become an alpha male" grifters) because the former is for men trying to remove themselves from dating women, but men cannot stop themselves from being reliant on women sexually speaking, so they'd rather whine about it online than learn to seek independence.

#answered

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midnightsslut · 3 months ago

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okay finding a swiftie and scandal/olitz blog just made me super happy and now i need your season rankings and scandal hot takes

omgggggggg I am very excited to answer this. I am obsessed with this show rn. disclaimer: I am a huge fitz stan and will defend him in almost every situation but I try to be rational I promise. that man is crack for me. I feel like shonda studied my brain before writing him.

rankings first:

season 3 > season 2 > season 1 > season 5 > season 4 (would’ve been top three without the fuckass kidnapping plot > season 7 > ninth circle of hell > season 6

now my hot takes. I typed this up after I finished the show for the first time about a month ago (I’m rewatching rn). I’ll put a cut bc I don’t wanna bother y’all

- this goes without saying but I love fitz. I enjoyed his character thoroughly throughout the show and he never really did anything to annoy me. he gets a LOT of shit but does the least egregious things out of all the characters except mellie. I will defend every single one of his actions and he gets a lot more interesting when he grows a backbone instead of acting like a human ping pong ball that his wife, mistress, and chief of staff use (so after his son dies and his mistress leaves him to go be on an island because idk. reasons). he needs to get up though. post-rewatch update: he’s not a ping pong ball at all. he is manipulative as hell and idk how I couldn’t see it during first watch. however, he’s also a great president and generally i do believe that he’s a sincere, warm romantic who gets gradually corrupted by his time in office especially during his second term. he is super warm and supportive towards the end though. the scene in season 7 where he tells olivia that he sees the old her again even though she doesn’t made me cry.

- this brings me to mellie. I adore her until she’s president. she is one of the best developed characters in the series (even though I think the rape plot could’ve been done better bc it was clearly not planned/later shoehorned in). her presidency was built up for six seasons only for her to whine about girl power, deserving a presidency she was never elected for, and wanting to get laid. at least fitz was actually in love with olivia. meanwhile Mellie is now a doormat bc ??? this is really Shonda’s fault bc you can tell trump being elected threw a wrench in her plans. also the feminist speeches are so bad. ‘shattering glass ceilings’ okay cut your hair into a hillary clinton bob while you’re at it. the modern day political commentary is a bit much during the latter half of the show as a whole but I digress.

- this brings me to olivia. I always root for her even when she annoys the shit out of me. Kerry Washington is an incredible actress with boatloads of charisma (same as Tony). sometimes she’s entirely irrational but everyone worships the ground she walks on anyway until season 7, where she does one bad thing and gets crucified for it. unpopular opinion but I enjoyed the dark olivia arc and her ultimate redemption. she’s kinda horrible a lot post-kidnapping but no one gives a shit because everyone loves her which can be frustrating until they all do too much to ice her out in s7 (except fitz bc he’s fitz).

- everyone on this show has daddy issues. every single person. olivia’s daddy issues are interesting but they’re never resolved

- papa pope is incredibly inconsistent. sometimes he will send a man to his daughter’s bed. other times he will kill her boyfriend’s son because he took his child from her (????). really he ruins her psychologically for multiple seasons but gets away with it because she kills one innocent person and he crawls to fitz to save her (??????)

- jake was my third favorite character until season 7. they butchered him at that point. shonda makes it exceedingly clear that Olivia will never choose him but it’s a bit much sometimes. his ending is also horrible and undeserved

- the ending in general is ????? we deserved a little more than a damn hi. why did David die. why did Cyrus get away with everything. also ik that portrait scene is supposed to be powerful but it doesn’t make a ton of sense. also papa pope gets away with everything because the senators are worried about the optics of being controlled by a black man. also the whole ‘papa pope was the mastermind behind everyone and everything because he could manipulate people’ thing was very tired

- Shonda does not understand her own characters because wdym Cyrus Beene isn’t a villain? Maybe in the first few seasons when he’s loyal to fitz but after? he’s the worst person in season 7

- I love Quinn and Charlie. I mostly enjoy huck but we needed closure about his damn family. I love abby too but her ending was also meh.

- overall I very much enjoyed the show even when it annoyed me and made no sense

- the scandal subreddit watches an entirely different show based on the conclusions they draw. one thing we agree on is that the ending sucks.

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lavender-history · 1 year ago

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Empty Chairs at Empty Tables

(A candlelight vigil for those who died in the AIDS epidemic, dated May 30, 1987. Source)

AIDS - A pandemic of the past?

A lot of people have written about the AIDS epidemic. Raging against Reagan, breakdowns of the biases that left people dying in hospital rooms alone, essays on why Rock Hudson and Princess Diana had such huge impacts - it's been written on before. But what about the women of the aids pandemic? How do we remember them?

Ever heard that lesbians were the 'nurses of the AIDS crisis'? It's not wrong - medical caretaking was a huge part of activism at the time. However, according to Yale University Library, in 1991 40% of HIV positive people were women, and due to the CDC's focus on masculine symptoms, "65% of HIV-positive women died without ever being diagnosed with AIDS" (Source).

Pride was a riot. Mainstream recollections of the fight for queer rights, however, is not one of direct action. Many think 'gay marriage legalized" and their mind goes towards the Supreme Court, not the tireless people who worked to get the case there in the first place. How were the die-ins on the Capital steps organized in the first place? Well, lesbian activism was not just the fight for gay marriage or helping men dying from AIDS - it was organizing fundraisers, getting involved in local government and being loud and proud. An intresting example of this is the The Lesbian Avengers Dyke Manifesto - a flyer put out by the Lesbian Avengers in 1993.

(Source)

Everything is included here - tips on direct activism, how to be safe while engaging in activism, information on how to access more resources, and talking about all the places lesbians have been involved in social change.

An article written by Arawn Llwyd in 1990 says "Fighting Aids is More Than a Fashion Statement". He writes :

"Historically, the lesbian and gay men's communities have been divided by serious differences - in fact, it's been a long time since there was anything that looked even vaguely like a united lesbian and gay movement. The AIDS epidemic has opened up a new dialogue between lesbians and gay men. We're working together for the first time in many years. Yet, lesbians who have contributed so much in the fight against AIDS are viewed with suspicion by men who dominate the movement. Women have had to fight tooth and nail to be seen as anything more than junior partners... Yet, ironically, it was the feminist critique of health care, developed by the women's and lesbian movements in the early 70's, which laid the very foundation for our own response to AIDS." (Source)

An example of how lesbians continued to work on fighting against the medical field's biases and issues can be seen in the Lesbian AIDS Project's LAP notes, of which I have selected the 1999 issue as an example. This issue breaks down scientific research looking at AIDS at the time, specifically in regards to how it interacts with and impacts lesbians.

(Source)

This newsletter switches between discussing science, to obituaries for women who passed from AIDS, to first-person perspectives of being involved in research - they quote one lesbian, who says "I would really like to know, when I get asked the question, "Can a lesbian transfer HIV to another lesbian?" that I can give a concrete answer of definitely yes or definitely no."

Looking back at the AIDS epidemic, it can seem black and white. Regan left queer people to die of the 'gay disease', and queer people banded together in response to ensure their community's survival. Yet, that's not the whole story. Nuances often get lost, and individual voices are hard to find, but one thing's for sure - there was more to lesbians and AIDS than what mainstream accounts say.

Further resources:

Yale University Library's Women and the AIDS Crisis and Lesbian AIDS Activism

Barnyard Center For Research on Women's collections Lesbian Activism from 1970s to the Present and Feminism and Sexual Health

The Digital Transgender Archives

Vice - The Women Who Fought AIDS: 'It Was Never Not Our Battle'

New York Public Library's Gay and Lesbian Collections - AIDS/HIV Collections

#history #AIDS #aids crisis #queer history #lesbian #queer #lgbtq #aids #newspaper #magazines #1980s #1990s

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borrovved · 3 years ago

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warned you p.sh

pairing: tutor!sunghoon x fem!reader

genre: smut, but at most suggestive for now

wc: 3k

warnings: mature content, cursing, mentions of erection, mentions of casual sex, y/n saying she’s screwing someone’s dad but she doesn’t lmfao

synopsis: y/n needs to pass calculus, and sunghoon needs to get laid

part 1/???

You were going to your snobby and strict private school, just walking to the beat of Sunmi blasting in your headphones. The pigtails got in the way of the headphones but you made it work. You were aiming for the cutesy innocent look today, regardless of if your whole grade thought you were some harlot. You’d rather call yourself a femme fatale, but what you’re really trying to reclaim as a raging bratty feminist is a bimbo.

Bimbos definitely need to keep their head up high with confidence, but seeing the latest AP calculus quiz on your desk with its 37% marked in red severely irked you in that it made you feel dumb, and not the good kind, the very small and insignificant kind. Bimbos don’t like feeling like that. You twirled your pigtail in your hand and tried to keep a neutral expression, holding in the heavy sigh you so badly need to exhale out. That’s when you heard it.

“How did she manage to score that low?” someone snickered.

“All that time spent on her back and not at a desk really paid off.” another person snickered. You really wanted to say you’ve actually got railed by their dad on his desk and that you’re quite adaptable on where you do it, but you didn’t wake up and choose violence today...and plus the teacher would’ve sent you to the office. Giving them attention would just fuel the fire that you can’t put out when you’re up against slut shaming vermin when you’re only a team of one. The bell rang, signaling your next class and before you were able to stand up and go, you were asked to stay for a few minutes afterwards along with someone else. That someone else being Park Sunghoon. You and Sunghoon walked to the desk of your teacher and stood before her.

“Now Y/N, I know that you haven’t been doing well in class so I decided to pair you up with Sunghoon as your tutor. I feel as though you would have great improvement after a few study sessions, considering big chapters are coming up to wrap up the semester, and now is the best time more than ever to get some aid that I can’t provide.” You peek over to Sunghoon and he glances at you briefly before looking back at the teacher.

“Is this mandatory?” you ask.

“If you want to pass this class, I strongly recommend that you let him help you. An alternative explanation could help.” You really had no other choice but to nod your head yes and go along with it.

“Good. Now that both of you are informed, hurry along before you’re late to your next class.” After both of you scurry out of the room, you walk ahead to your next class and feel a tap on your shoulder.

“Hi, I’m Sunghoon, but you already knew that.” he says awkwardly while he hands you a post it note in neat handwriting. You eye it, then look up.

“You’re giving me your number?” you ask. He nods.

“Texting is the most efficient way to communicate with me since I have ice skating practice and student council related things to do.” he iterates. Before you even say a word, Sunghoon is already off to his next class, but you don’t miss the way he turns around to wave at you and yells “Text me!” in the hallway. You’ve gotten many stares before, from the way you carry yourself and from the way you purposely pull your uniform skirt higher because you think it would look best as a mini skirt, but this time, you heard whispers.

“Why is he talking to her?”

“Must be doing charity work.”

You smile. You can’t wait to tell your best friend Sunoo what just happened at lunch.

“The ice prince is doing what now?” Sunoo says with fruit gummies in his mouth.

“He’s helping me with calculus. And gave me his number.” you say while grabbing for a piece of candy to which Sunoo lets you grab a few.

“So…what’s the plan here?” Sunoo says with an eyebrow raised.

“I’ll text him right now and have some fun.”

“You whore! What do you mean have some fun?” Sunoo asked not subtly with his booming voice.

You roll your eyes. “You know the drill. I think he’s an easy target. I’ll be my cute charming self and see what happens.”

“You mean you’ll be a man eater and devour that poor innocent boy whole?”

“You know me so well.” you say, grinning ear to ear. You whip out your phone and compose a text.

You: Hey Sunghoon, it’s Y/N, are you free after school today?

Unknown: Hey, and yes. Where would you like to study?

You: I’m more comfortable at my house where there’s less distractions. The library is too quiet for me and I like some white noise.

Sunoo peeks over your shoulder and says, “He responds fast.”

You smile, “Right?”

You start typing right away, but notice the three dots before you get to send anything.

Unknown: Sounds good, I’ll meet you after school :)

Sunoo gasps. “A smiley? A smiley!” You giggle at his reaction.

“It’s just an emoticon silly.” you say.

“It’s going to be water droplets and eggplants soon though.” Sunoo said in a sing song voice. You can’t help but laugh at your easily giddy best friend. You had big, big plans to get your prey, and you were going to have your fun in the process of passing calculus while you’re at it.

English literature wasn’t the most fun class in the world with talking about MacBeth and all, however, the fun part was daydreaming about Sunghoon. You have fancied the boy for the longest time casually but thought he was a little too vanilla for you. And you don’t like admitting it, a little too good for you with being a smart hardworking boy with his head on steady shoulders while yours just bobbled to whatever. Anyhow, you needed danger. A little spice, and everything delectably nice. He didn’t seem the type to be rough enough.

He was however tall, lean, and achingly adorable. Handsomely crafted, so soft spoken, and knew when to shut up unlike every boy you’ve slept with thus far. He’s a nice target.

The bell rang, and you were quite surprised to see Sunghoon standing by your locker while you’re on your way there.

“Sunghoon!” you say cheerfully, making sure there was a bounce in your step, very glad you’re not wearing a bra today. For some reason the air conditioning wasn’t working today at school so you used this as an excuse to unbutton a few buttons earlier on your white crisp button up. You can see very clearly Sunghoon gulp and you can’t help but do your eye smile at this, and he does a soft grin in return.

“How did you figure out where my locker was?” you say as you tilt your head. Sunghoon couldn’t help but think the simple gesture of a head tilt was so charming.

He shrugs. “I was going to text you but I knew you would be in class, so I looked at some documents to find out which locker it was. You know, student council perks.”

“Ah.”

“Please don’t find it creepy.”

“I won’t, you dork.” You bend over to reach your locker since it was on the bottom row. Sunghoon stepped aside to let you open your locker, and his breath hitches in his throat. Seeing the back of your thighs in a skirt that was hiked up higher than it was supposed to was bewitching. He felt like he was in a trance and lingered his eyes on your legs for quite a while. Your skirt was just at the edge of the curvature of your ass, leaving some to the imagination but not much. You knew exactly what you were doing. You had many cheap tricks up your sleeve, and you were going to use them to your advantage. You could practically feel his gaze on you and you can’t help but smirk as you grab your calculus textbook along with your pencil bag, still bent over taking your time putting the items in your backpack. Sunghoon knows he has to stop staring or otherwise this won’t look good for him.

“Ready to go?” you say with a smile. It takes a moment for him to process what just happened and he’s all the while wondering how did your legs not hurt when you didn’t crouch to the ground all the way.

“Of course.”

The walk to your home was pleasant, you looked down at your shoes often and Sunghoon mapped out what sections you two were to go over in the textbook, including the homework that was assigned today. You asked him how his classes went and he responded after pausing to mull over his thoughts.

“It’s okay. Nothing exciting happened other than right now.” he says, looking at you while giving you his undivided attention. You can’t help but admire the beauty that is Sunghoon. His soft looking hair that frames his face nicely and the way he has his hands shoved into the pockets of his uniform slacks make him look so boyishly handsome and breathtaking.

It takes a moment for you to respond. “What about right now is so exciting?”

He gently smiles and looks away from you. “I don’t tutor people often. Every once in a while I get asked to help students about a few things but never really spend enough time with them to consider it tutoring. And the change of pace on how I manage my time is much needed. I don’t interact with different people often, so this is...nice.”

Your heart races as the clouds take over the blue sky slowly. You notice just how pretty the cute moles on his face are as your gaze lingers on them for a bit. He does that stupid charming smile that makes you giddy and you blush, picking up the pace. You start turning while walking backwards just to give him your undivided attention.

“We should walk faster, Sunghoon. It might start drizzling.”

Both of you entered your home and took your shoes off at the front door. Sunghoon took a quick glance at your home, to which he said “this is a cozy house.” You tell him your bedroom is the coziest spot in the house, and let him trail behind you as you go up the stairs, and he doesn’t miss the way your pretty and dainty hand smooths over the railing as you walk up. Entering your room, he noticed the pink canopy bed right away, and the pink heart shaped pillow on it. There were so many details in just one spot, with the floral comforter and lights attached to the tulle. It was pretty and graceful. Light and airy. Soft.

“You can sit on the bed. Let me get changed out of this uniform, it’s so hot in this blazer.” you say as you start to strip in front of your closet, looking away from Sunghoon. Now, Sunghoon doesn’t see himself as a pervert, so therefore, when he noticed you unbuttoning your white button up and could only see the smoothness of your back and notice there was no bra in sight, his cheeks flushed. He quickly turned the other cheek and looked anywhere else but you. Unfortunately, perhaps fortunately, you had a full length mirror with fake pink roses running along its sides across your room. Sunghoon tried really, really hard to look at the curve of the pink petals and not at the curve of your breasts when you turned to the side slightly, but he failed so horribly. He could see himself and his cheeks were beet red. The bulge in his pants was so noticeable too. He quickly placed his backpack on his lap and winced at how heavy it was against him. Why did that kinda feel good?

You turn around wearing your school uniform skirt still but this time with a bright red crop top and of course, no bra. Sunghoon is dying and he can’t help but stare at how prominent your nipples are through the thin material. You take the pigtails down and he loves the way your hair cascades down your shoulders once it’s out of its confines of a scrunchie. He blinks once, twice, many times. Maybe if he sees only the back of his eyelids long enough he will stop picturing you naked. It doesn’t work, and you just stand with your hands on your hips and a lilt to your voice.

“Are you thirsty?” you say sweetly, knowing your tricks are working.

“Uh, y-yeah. Do you have water? Can I have water please?” Sunghoon is so precious.

“Of course you can.”

You really are a chintzy whore at best. Your excuse for not sitting at the desk of your room to study was that there was only one comfy study chair, and that you didn’t feel like bringing the dining room chair upstairs. That’s understandable, right? You could’ve however used the chair at your vanity, but that’s just a padded stool with no back to it. Wouldn’t want you or Sunghoon to forget and lean back too far and fall to your doom. So you told Sunghoon that you would rather study in your bed.

You played a little playlist in the background, something mellow and soft and not too distracting. Every once in a while Sunghoon will ask what song it is, and you respond with a chipper in your voice.

“Oh, this one is Sex and Sadness by Madi Sipes and the Painted Blue!”

“That’s one hell of a title.” he chuckles.

“It sure is. The lyrics are so...pretty? I can’t put it into words. The part where it talks about ‘stained glass loved lace’ gets me every time. And ‘whispering words into the singer’s skin.’ It’s romantic.” Sunghoon notices how there’s a certain dazzling feature in your eyes as you talk about the song. He wants to stare in your eyes, but alas you have to finish this one problem. Sunghoon prioritizes responsibilities over such silly, frivolous things that only he notices.

“So tell me how you’re going to solve this problem.” Sunghoon says swiftly while grabbing the glass of water on your nightstand.

You stare at the problem and try your best to concentrate. You really do. But you can’t help the way Sunghoon’s hand looks lazily placed on his thigh. Without much thought, you trace a finger on the back of his hand and say, “Your hands are so veiny.”

“Y/N.”

“And big.”

Well that’s a first, Sunghoon thinks. He knows he’a good looking, a bunch of girls swoon over him at school and at the rink all the time. The most common compliment he gets is on his eyes, and maybe hair, but not on his hands of all things. You’re fascinated by them, and you won’t stop tracing along the veins. Your touch sets his skin ablaze, and it doesn’t seem like you’re finishing this problem any time soon.

“Let’s take a break. I think you’re getting distracted because your brain is all fried.” Sunghoon says softly, still letting you continue playing with his hand.

“I’m getting distracted because I have a pretty boy in my bed.” you giggle. You finally look up and see how pink his cheeks are from blushing.

He starts to stammer “You’re the one that wants to study in your bed!” His voice is a little pitched and you can’t contain your laughs.

“Do you want to move to the desk then?” you ask.

He shakes his head and mumbles a “no.” A few moments pass and you almost didn’t hear what he says next because it’s under his breath.

“I’ve never been called pretty before.”

“Gasp.” you say, lightheartedly.

“No but like, I’ve been called handsome, smart, a little weird, but not pretty.” Sunghoon replies. A moment of silence passed, and you started to ponder.

“There’s a song called Pretty Boy in my playlist somewhere.”

You go over to your laptop and click on The Neighbourhood song. You sway your hips gently and get lost into the music. Sunghoon just gazes at you as you move along to the steady pulse of the music and let the melodies feel you instead of the other way around. You do a little twirl and waltze your way to your bed, grabbing his hand.

“Dance with me.”

He obliged, wordlessly.

He takes in the words of the lyrics and closes his eyes. If he can’t see how close he is to you right now, it feels less real. It feels less scary. Not that you’re scary, Sunghoon doesn’t think girls with pink heart shaped pillows are scary. What’s scary is you laughing at his boner because he hasn’t been this close to a girl before since a random winter formal he had in grade school. The girl wasn’t all that nice since she dipped to dance with his friend. You’re much softer and nice. More delicate. You even smell nicer. God, your little hands enclosed together behind his neck and his big hands on your waist feels too good to be true. He can feel your gaze on him.

“Sunghoon, open your eyes.” He does, and his breath hitches and you look down, because you definitely feel something poking you and it wasn’t there before.

“I have to go, I have a curfew and it’s getting late, I’ll walk myself out.”

“Sunghoon I can at least walk you down-“

“No, seriously. I can go by myself. Thank you though.”

He’s so wide eyed and his cheeks are so rosy and he dashes away like his life depends on it. And you didn’t even get to kiss him.

#sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon scenario #sunghoon suggestive #sunghoon smut #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon imagine

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

Text

An Officer and a Gentleman

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; oral, anal, cheating (sort of), name-calling.

This is dark!(silverfox)Lee Bodecker x (married)reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Your after hours work gets in the way of your day job.

Note: I had the first half sitting around and finished it so here ya go. It takes place in the 70s so Lee is older and it was inspired by an article I read about the creation phone sex lines by a housewife in the 70s (which now of course I can’t flippin find). But anyway, here you go.

Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The sheriff sat down in his usual spot as you wiped your hands on the rag tucked into your apron. He set his hat on the table and tidied his greying hair. Even at his age, his locks were thick and looked soft. Strands of brown lined the shining silver and shone under the diner lights.

He came in at the same time every day, only an hour into your shift. You approached and flipped the cup on its saucer before you filled it. He took only sugar, no cream

or milk. You smiled as you watched him read over the menu, he never ordered anything but the waffles.

“Good morning, sheriff,” you said as you held the carafe aloft. “Lookin’ to try something new?”

“‘Dols Leck’?” Lee Bodecker mispronounced the French words, “What’s that?”

“Dolce Leche,” you corrected, “It’s caramel.”

“Hmm.” He rubbed his ruddy cheek and reached for his mug. He drank and held out the menu. “Waffles with strawberry.”

“Extra cream,” you finished for him. He nodded and had another gulp as you walked away.

You put in his ticket after you replaced the coffee pot on the burner. You checked on the few other customers along the counter and wiped down the empty tables. The bell rang and you went to grab the sheriff’s breakfast from the window. You set the plate down before him as he folded the newspaper and replaced it in the little holder at the end of the table.

“How’s Eugene?” He asked as he unwrapped his cutlery. “And the boy?”

“Gene’s still on nights.” You lamented and subconsciously touched your stomach. “Little Ezra’s almost a year now.”

Your boy was buxom and buoyant. You smiled as you thought of his round cheeks and warm brown eyes. You only wished his father was around more to take him off your hip as you cooked and cleaned in your spare hours after work. Eugene was asleep as much as he was at the factory. You saw each other in passing as you scraped for ends meet.

Ezra was with Eugene’s mother during the day. You’d pick him up and take him home to wait for your husband to wake. If you were lucky, you got a kiss before he grabbed his lunch pail and headed out for his twelve hours. You hadn’t gotten more than that since before Ezra came. Neither of you had the time or energy, though the want was there.

“And you sheriff? How are you doing these days?” You asked before you could get lost in your self-pity.

“Ah, you know. The same old. Patrol’s ain’t too exciting.” He cut into the stack and licked his lips. He was a man with a sweet tooth, a substitute for his former alcoholic habit.

“Well, you enjoy, sheriff, you know how to get my attention.” You left him and did a round of refills for those eating and greeted the new arrivals.

Lee was always alone when he came in. He never brought any of his cadets or officers, he just sat, read the newspaper, and ate his waffles. He wasn’t married and had no children. Nearly fifty years on his back but he seemed content on his own. You almost envied him as you struggled with your small family.

🚔

You laid Ezra down carefully in his crib. He was getting big. You tickled his forehead and watched him for a moment before you left the room. It was late. Eugene was gone and the phone would ring soon. You had to prepare yourself for your night time duties.

It started small. An idea found in the pages of one of those feminist magazines, the very ones your husband called good kindling. A woman lost her job, still hard-fought for the domestic sex, and found herself in a similar way as yourself. Money was always needed and harder to come about. So she started her own service for the lonely men. A phone line with illicit intentions.

You read about it in the late stages of your pregnancy and laughed at the idea. It was so stupid. So scandalous. But once you were back to work and Eugene was on the late shift, you grew lonely and your checkbook was harder to open.

You hand wrote the little cards after a visit to the phone company. Eugene didn’t know about the second line. The number redirected to your main line and was active for only three hours a night, after your husband was gone. It was registered as a commercial line so each incoming call was billed to the dialer and a percentage was refunded on your own invoice.

You left the number around town, certain not to be seen as you dropped the cards in the car shop and the bar. At least, you hoped you hadn’t been seen.

The first night had you addled and sleepless until your shift began at the diner. It was hard to keep up the sultry voice and the lies. Difficult to act like the whole thing didn’t make you cringe. The men called and said their dirty words as you encouraged them with moans and little prods. “Oh yes, baby.” or “Tell me more.” It felt like you were cheating on your husband but it kept his plate full and the house warm.

The phone didn’t ring right away that night. Later in the week, you got more calls but one or two was better than none. The real profit was keeping them on the line as long as you could, but there were times you had to end abruptly to see to your wailing child.

You were half-asleep when the first call came in. You fumbled with the receiver and batted away your fatigue with your lashes. You held in a yawn and your sleepiness added to the allure of your put-on voice.

“Hello, mister, what are you longing for tonight?” You laid back on your pillow and played with the spiral cord.

“Well, I…” You blinked and held the phone against your ear. He sounded familiar, as many of the men did, but his timbre made your ears prick sharply. “I don’t know. I never did nothing like this before.”

You squinted and thought. You knew him but you couldn’t place the twinge in your head.

“I can start for you, darling,” you offered. “Mmm, tell you what I would do to you?”

He cleared his throat and you heard movement. He was nervous. So many of the men sounded the same. Most of them were afraid of being caught by their wives or uncertain about their desires. At first, you had the same fears but had since grown indifferent. It was human nature, as natural as one’s instinct to quench their thirst for water.

“How do you like it, darling? You like it when a lady bends over? I like it like that. Or maybe you want to start with me on my back.”

He groaned and you heard the receiver scratch. He let out a strained breath and moved the phone to his other hand.

“I want to use your mouth.” He said at last. His voice was low and gristly. “I want to push your head down in my lap as I choke you with my cock.”

You stared at the ceiling as you reclined and hummed. “Oh yeah.”

“Shut up.” He snarled. “I don’t want to hear your voice, I just want your mouth on me until you can’t fucking breathe. I want to hear you struggle. I was your tears streaming down your face and salting the taste of me on my tongue. I want to hold you down and cum until it’s deep in your belly.”

You parted your lips and raised your brows. You were still focused on trying to recognize the voice. His tone made you quiver. He was more forceful than most men. A lot of them just talked about sucking on your tits or went straight to fucking.

“I’d love that, darling.” You lied and bent one leg over the other as you swayed your foot.

“I said shut up!” He hissed. “I want to hold you down with my hands around your neck. I want to fuck you until your screaming. I’ll fuck you until you bleed. Until you beg for me to cum again.”

His breath was furious and you heard something else. The phone was moving against his chin as he moaned and you were certain you could hear his hand somewhere else; lower. It set your cheeks on fire and you sat up. His voice, his breath, the sheer anger and lust laced in his rasps. Your throat tightened as if he was truly choking you.

“But I want to cum in your ass. I want to make it hurt. I want you to cry as I tear you apart from the inside.” He growled and coughed as his voice fizzled out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He stroked himself furiously and the receiver dropped with a thump and you flinched. “Fucking bitch, yeah, you want my cock deep in your ass. Fucking whore.”

Your fingers hurt as you gripped the phone tightly and listened. His curses streamed steadily until the line clicked and died suddenly. You lowered the receiver and stairs at the little whole clustered together on the mouthpiece. You set it in the cradle and turned to sit on the edge of the bed.

It was unlike any call you’d had. It was terrifying and made your blood curdle. You felt as if it had actually happened as your chest was heavy and your heart raced. You blew out a shaky breath and reached to silence the ringer.

That was enough for the night.

🚔

The next day at the diner, you couldn’t stop yawning. You hadn’t slept much as the call replayed in your head over and over. The man’s voice was so clear in your mind and every time you started to drift off, he spoke in your ear. You dragged the rag over the top of the counter as Amelia spoke with the elderly couple in that corner.

The door chimed and you looked up. Sheriff Bodecker took off his hat as he entered and nodded at you. With the coffee pot in hand, you went to his table, already set for his arrival. You wished him a good morning and filled his cup. His voice was thick as he muttered his response and picked up the menu. He looked as tired as you felt.

“Strawberry, sheriff?” You prompted.

“Hmm,” he scratched his chin, stubbly from a missed shave. “This Dolsay Leckay. I’ll try that today.” He held out his menu. “I’m trying new things this week.”

You took the menu stiffly and nodded. “Waffles with dolce leche sauce. Right away, sheriff.”

You turned and walked off to write out his ticket. You returned the coffee pot to its place and set down the menu as you took out your pad and pen. Your hand shook as you scribbled out the order. You stuck it in the window and leaned on the counter.

It couldn’t be him. You were crazy. You didn’t get enough sleep and you were wanting to hear that voice everywhere. Your reassurances were weak and only made you shiver as you righted yourself and continued wiping down the tables.

You angled yourself to look at the sheriff as he squinted down at the newspaper. He stuck his tongue out as he read to poke his top lip and tilted his head coyly. He cleared his throat and coughed as his order rang in the window.

You went to grab the plate and struggled not to fumble it. It was him. The way he coughed, the gravelly scratch of his throat, the deep and firm undertone. You couldn’t deny it was him. You were stunned you hadn’t recognized him at once.

“There you are, sheriff,” you said as you set down his plate. “Enjoy.”

“I think I will,” he rubbed his hands together. “I’m starving this morning.”

“If you need anything,” you made your usual offer.

He looked at you and smiled. You noticed how his eyes strayed to your name tag and the buttons of your blue dress. He turned to his waffles and took out the knife and fork.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he said as he ran the tines of the fork through the dark caramel. “I think I’m just fine.”

You left him to eat and straightened your apron. You were confident you’d changed your voice enough that he didn’t have the same epiphany. Even so, everything about him was different. At least in your head. He was no longer the desolate sheriff, he was desperate and demanding. He wasn’t who you thought he was. He was a man with a lot of power and a hunger to use it.

🚔

It was several days before you dared to leave the ringer on after Eugene’s departure. Your husband was loving but almost entirely absent. Since Ezra was born, he’d only grown more distant and work could not excuse him completely. When you ate dinner late with him, he barely heard you as he kept the radio on and those nights he didn’t work, he didn’t touch you.

You felt worse for your own misdeeds. The phone line made you shy and sullen with him. You should tell him but you didn’t know how and truly, you couldn’t. You knew he wouldn’t take it well and even if he was barely there, you couldn’t lose him. You were already painfully alone.

That night, he volunteered for overtime and so you hardly saw him before he headed out. He said you needed the money but your books were well balanced from your own after hours work. You’d done it to take the burden off of him but he still took the extra time, even as you argued that your bills were in good standing.

Was it you? When had it all grown so cold?

Ezra ate his mashed peas and you set him down for the night. You heard him cooing still but you kept to your schedule even when he was wide awake. He always tired himself out and never fussed very long.

You sat on your bed and read. You checked the time. The phone would start soon and that night you couldn’t leave it off. You needed the money and you couldn’t be picky about where it came from. The month would be over and there would be a whole new batch of debts to account for.

You jumped as it rang. You kept the volume low so it didn’t carry through the whole house and you answered after several rings. You gave your usual greeting and breathed a sigh of relief when it was one of your regulars. You closed your book and picked your nails as you went along with his routine.

When he finished, you wished him a good night. You were dead tired but one more call wouldn’t hurt. You waited and grabbed the receiver on the first ring.

“Hello, mister, what are you looking for tonight?” You made your voice higher and breathier.

“Shhhh.” The long hush chills your veins. “Don’t talk.”

You quivered. It was him. You looked at the phone cradle.

“Don’t hang up.” He said as if he could read your mind. “You want it, don’t you? You want to feel me inside you. Down your throat, fucking the whore out of you.”

“I…” you uttered.

“I said be quiet.” He barked. “I want my cock so far down your throat I can feel it as I choke you. I want your spit all over me, I want you gasping and gulping until you pass out and I’m fucking your mouth lifeless.”

Your eyes widened and you listened in disgust. He growled and his hand slapped off his thigh as he pleasured himself. You sit paralysed as fear bubbled in your chest and you felt as if he could see you. You crossed your legs and huddled down over the receiver.

“I want to fuck your cunt until it hurts to sit down. I want to hear my body slam into yours, I want you to beg me to stop and keep going at the same time. I’m going to fuck you until you can’t make a noise, until all you can hear is my cock pounding inside of you.”

“Please…” You wanted him to stop. You wanted to hang up and yet you were terrified to move.

“And I know you want it too, whore. I know you need it. Not these words, not these calls, but you need me,” he shuddered “and I need it just as bad.”

He grunted and the line grew still. He hissed and cursed.

“I’m a fucking mess,” he sneered. Another silence and you think he hung up. His voice startled you when he spoke again. “Who’re ya?”

“Wh-what?”

“I ain’t stupid. You’re some lady in the county. Maybe some lonely housewife. Ain’t sound like no prostitute I ever knew.” He sniffed and let out a groan. “Maybe you some dumb teenager playin’ games on the telephone, huh?”

“I don’t-- No. I--” You hung up.

You stood and pulled the line out of the phone and dropped down heavily. You put your head in your hands and shook it. Fuck!

🚔

The next morning at the diner, you served the sheriff with a false smile. Every time he spoke, you heard the words he said to you on the phone. Although his tone was placid, his fervour played over and over in your ears. And when you overpoured his coffee, you apologized only to have him assure you it was alright and let you mop up the mess with your rag.

He left you his usual tip and you cleared his table. The newspaper was tinged from your spill and you dumped it on his plate. As you did, a card slipped out onto the table and your handwriting stared back at you from the carefully cut rectangle. You hid it quickly in the newspaper and rushed to toss it all in the trash and drop the plate in the bin.

It must have been a mistake, you assured yourself and excused yourself for a breath of air. The chef, Carson, was already by the kitchen doors and you said yes to a smoke from his pack. You lit it after the third try and inhaled the tobacco deep into your chest. You would go to the phone company tomorrow on your day off and shut down the second line. Your lesson was learned. It wasn’t worth the spare pennies.

Your day dragged by as all you could think of was the line. When you got to the phone company, you were jittery with worry. It was easy enough to shut it down but the fee cost you your tips for the day. You checked the clock before you left, bound to be a few minutes late picking up Ezra.

As you came out onto the street, your open jacket flapped in the wind over your uniform and your mary janes clacked on the pavement as you rushed to get to Enid’s and pick up your son. When you stopped at the corner to wait for traffic to pass, a flash and a honk made you jump.

Sheriff Bodecker pulled up to the curb and rolled down his window. He waved and leaned his arm on the door as he peered out at you.

“You needa ride?” He asked.

You smiled awkwardly and clutched the handles of your weathered purse.

“Sheriff, no thank you, I’m not goin’ too far,” you waved him off.

“Nonsense, you on your feet all day. It’s the least I can do.”

“You must be busy.”

“Radio ain’t goin’ off,” he slapped the door, “now come on.” He reached down and opened the door, stepping out with a groan, “Get in. You always are so nice down at the diner.”

You swallowed and your lips quivered as you tried to hold your smile. You followed him around the other side of the car as he opened the door for you. You got into the vintage cruiser and crossed your legs as you cradled your purse on your lap. He closed the door and dropped in on the other side.

He shifted into gear and pulled off. You thanked him and fiddled with clasp of your purse.

“No problem, but uh, I just needa know where you’re goin’,” he chuckled as he slowed at the next four way.

“Oh, I gotta get Ezra from his gramma’s,” you explained, “She lives just down Carsbee.”

“Not far at all,” he commented as he turned the wheel, “So, how was the rest of your day then?”

“Not so bad,” you said breathily as he looked at you in his mirror and you focused on the pedestrians on the street, “and yours, sheriff?”

“You can call me Lee if ya like,” he offered, “And wasn’t so bad either. Which number is it, sweetheart?”

You sniffed at the pet name, he was usually so formal at the diner with his ma’ams.

“21B,” you answered as you wiggled your foot nervously, “you can just drop me off. It’s not too far to home.”

“Don’t be silly, I wanna meet your boy,” he intoned, “you talk about him so much.”

“Oh, uh, of course,” you murmured as he pulled up along the front of your mother-in-law’s, “I just gotta go get him then.”

You hooked your purse over your elbow and slid over the seat. The sheriff kept you from opening the door as he bid you stay and got out quickly as he rushed around the front of the car. He opened the door like a gentleman and removed his hat.

“I’m old but I haven’t forgot my manners,” he nodded and waited for you to step out.

You got to your feet and thanked him again before you strolled up the crooked walk to the front door. You knocked and let yourself in like you always did. You could hear Ezra babbling as he played with wooden toy cars. Enid sat in her usual spot and rocked as she watched him.

“How was he today?” You asked as you grabbed the bag you always left with him and packed up the loose ends beside it.

“Loud,” Enid muttered, “hyper.”

“Well, he’s at that age,” you grasped your purse and Ezra’s bag in one hand and picked him up from the floor as he reached out for you. “Alright, Ez, say buh bye to grammy.”

He waved and cooed as you held him on your hip. Enid said buy in her grumpy way and got up to see you to the door. You came down the single step as Lee waited by his cruiser. Ezra buried his face in your shoulder as he turned away from the sheriff.

“Don’t be shy, Ezra, this is the sheriff, Mr. Bodecker,” you tried to shake him upright but he clung to you and hid.

“Ah, don’t worry, I’m used to that,” Lee laughed and opened the door, “people see the badge and they’re not so friendly.”

“He just goin’ through a phase,” you assured as you sat with Ezra in your lap.

As Lee shut the door, you let the bags lean against it and the car dipped as he got in the other side. He turned the engine and you gave him your own address as your son squirmed in your lap. At the first corner, Ezra found the courage to look at the sheriff and the officer looked back and stuck out his tongue.

“He looks like you,” Lee said as he pushed down on the pedal, “real cute.”

You accepted the compliment and hugged Ezra tighter. You could barely process the sheriff’s words as your mind returned to those he spoke the night before. Every time he spoke, you heard him, hissing and cussing at you.

You were relieved when he came up to your house and you turned to grab your bags. You felt a tug on your elbow as you balanced Ezra and your things. You looked back at Lee as he held your arm.

“I’ll get the door,” he said, “you just stay put.”

You waited as he let you go and once more, opened the door for you. He took the bags as you climbed out and you protested that you were fine. His hand settled on your shoulder as he pulled you to face him.

“Well, sweetheart, you gonna invite me in for some coffee?”

You were shocked by his boldness and couldn’t hide it. You blanched and looked at Ezra as he tugged at your jacket. You laughed awkwardly.

“Eugene’s still sleepin’ for his shift, I don’t--”

“We got some things to discuss and I think the least you can do after I was so kind as to drive you home is a coffee.”

You squinted at him in confusion. “Maybe another time, sheriff, I’d really hate to wake--” you reached for your bags and he stopped you with his grip firm on your wrist.

“Does he know?” Lee asked in a gristly voice.

“Know what?”

“Know you a whore?” Lee sneered.

You reeled and tried to twist from his grasp. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You can’t say them words on the phone and not mean ‘em,” he leaned in close, “Now I think you know what I want to talk with you about so you invite me in and I’ll be real nice about it but if you keep me out here, I can’t promise your neighbours won’t get a show.”

You pouted and rocked Ezra as he began to fidget, sensing your discomfort. “Please, I got Ezra--”

“You put him in the next room so we can discuss,” Lee insisted.

He let go of you and you nodded dumbly. You watched him wearily as you turned and led him up the walk. You unlocked the front door and he followed you inside. He hung his hat on the rack with his leather jacket and you hurried into the bedroom to set Ezra down in his crib. You distracted him with his stuffed rabbit and left him. He was usually due for a nap around then anyway.

When you got back to the front room, Lee sat on your couch and you went to the kitchen to start the coffee. You waited for the water to boil and filled the percolator as you dreaded what would come next. You poured a mug and set it out on the coffee table with the sugar dish.

Lee leaned forward and spooned the sweet powder into his mug as you stood and wrung your hands. How had he figured it all out? How long had he known? Was he going to tell Eugene?

“Sit,” he said as he inhaled the savoury scent and took a cautious sip. His mug made a deafening clink as he set it down and you sat. “I s’pose you went by the phone company to end your little game.”

You sucked your lip in nervously and nodded as you looked down guiltily.

“Mhmm,” he hummed, “you know I was down there a few days ago and they just hand the records over if I say I got a warrant. They ain’t look close enough to realise it’s just a receipt.”

You gulped and kept your head down. You ran your tongue against your lip and blinked away the moisture in your eyes.

“How long you been doin’ all that?” he asked.

“Couple months,” you admitted, “I just needed some extra money. Ever since Ezra was born…”

“But you could get another job.”

“I gotta be home for the boy. Eugene never is.”

“Now a woman don’t be talkin’ like that if she happy. If she not alone.”

“Stop, please. It was a mistake. I’m sorry if you feel like I--”

“Sorry?” he interrupted, “you’re sorry? You think Gene would accept that?”

You sat in silence and picked at the button on your jacket. You hadn’t even bothered to take it off. “You gonna tell him?”

He let out a heavy breath and took another drink of coffee. “Now where’s the fun in that?”

You looked at him and furrowed your brow in confusion. You shook your head as he smirked.

“I will if you make me but if you want me to stay quiet--”

“Sheriff--”

“Shhhh,” he raised a finger, “now, you want me keep my mouth shut, you be waitin’ for me tonight after he goes.”

You stared at him in terror as your heart threatened to jump up your throat.

“And then we’re done talkin’. Then you do all those things we spoke about.”

“You can’t-- I got a son.”

“And a husband but you still be talkin’ to strange men about your pretty little pussy, don’t you?”

You blew a shaky breath between your trembling lips and sank down in the chair in shame. “I thought you were a good man, sheriff.”

“I am, don’t mean I’m not lonely.”

He drained the rest of the mug and coughed. He stood and adjusted his belt, his hand lingering on his belt. You watched his finger trace the barrel and your eyes crept up to his face.

“I’d hate to wake your husband, sweetheart, so I’ll be on my way.” he retreated around the couch and paused by the door, “but I’ll be around.”

🚔

The night went by faster than any. You never felt like you got much time with your husband but it was almost as if he was gone as soon as he woke. He left you with a peck on your forehead and dread in your chest. You thought of telling him, you wanted to confess and fix everything that had broken, but you couldn’t. You were too ashamed.

So when he was gone, you put Ezra down for the night and hoped the Sheriff was just trying to scare you. He couldn’t be serious, could he? You’d known him for years and he was only every sweet at the diner. He was a solitary man but was never unkind. That afternoon, he had been an entirely different man.

You sat on the couch, no radio, no nothing, and picked at the lines of your hand. You were certain you would sit up all night and laugh at yourself in the morning. He was just making sure you stopped, that had to be it.

But then the knock came and your whole body went rigid. You waited until it sounded again, harder, louder. You got up and went to the door. You didn’t need to look out to know who it was. You opened up and Lee watched you with his menacing blue eyes. They were no longer the gentle gems you knew from the diner.

“Sweetheart,” he drawled as he stepped inside and you backed away from him.

He closed the door and locked it then he removed his hat and jacket, just as he had earlier. He bent to ease off his boots and stood as he cleared his throat. He peered behind you and looked around your small house.

“I’m just in time, huh?” he mused as he touched your side and let it slip down to your hip. “What you shakin’ for?”

“I thought…” you rasped. “Sheriff, you know me. I’m not a bad woman.”

“You ain’t?” he snickered. “I do know you. I’m the only one in the county who knows the real you.”

“I don’t understand why you’re doin’ this,” you whined.

“I’m old but not decrepit,” he took your hand and raised it, “and you’re a beautiful woman. I daresay,” he kissed the back of your hand, “motherhood did make you even sweeter.”

“Please,” you begged.

“You get in that bedroom before I lose the last of my will,” he bit his lip as he looked you up and down and released your hand.

You shivered and backed away from him. You went blindly to the bedroom and stopped in the doorway. You couldn’t, not in the bed you shared with your husband. Lee came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your middle. His hot breath tickled your ear as he leaned into you.

“I wanna see what you hide under that dress,” he purred, “now don’t make me ruin it.”

You gasped and drew away from him. You neared the foot of the bed and unbuttoned the top of your dress. Your fingers were ungainly as you struggled and you pushed the sleeves down your arms with a stifled sob. You shoved the fabric past your waist and hips and his growl made you stand upright with a snap.

Your stockings were held up by fraying garters and your old underwear added to your shame. Your brasserie was pointed and too tight. You hung your head and balled your hands into fists.

“Turn around, I wanna see you,” he said.

You reluctantly obeyed and stared at the floor. He hummed and his thumb ran over his belt buckle. A sudden cry made your blood cold and he scowled. Ezra was awake.

You moved to go to him and the sheriff blocked the door.

“I gotta go to him. He must’ve had a bad dream.”

“I’ll take care of the boy. You just be waitin’ when I get back.” he ran his tongue under his teeth, “naked.”

He pointed to the bed and didn’t leave until you took several steps back. You listened as he went to the small room attached to the master. You worried he might hurt the boy but his coaxing voice surprised you.

“Shhh,” you heard the distant tone, “it’s okay, son, it’s okay.”

You reached to unhook your bra and sat to roll your stockings off. You needed this man gone. If you abided him, he would be away sooner. You dropped the last of your clothing to the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. Your nails dug into the blankets and you closed your eyes.

It was over a year since you’d been touched. That alone made you shy but that man made you terrified. You heard him enter but didn’t look up at him. “You get up on all fours and ready that mouth for me.” he ordered as you heard his buckle tink, “yeah, I wanna start there.”

You swallowed and did as he said. You felt like some lowly animal as you stared at the floor. You heard the flutter of fabric as he stripped and when he came close, you shut your eyes. He grabbed your hand and jerked you to the edge. He tapped the tip of his cock along your lips.

“Now, open up, sweetheart,” he snarled, “I know you remember every word I said.”

You parted your lips and he forced his way into your mouth. He poked at the back of your throat but didn’t relent. You gagged as he sank down your throat and your entire body twitched. His hand went to your neck as he drew back and pushed back in. He felt himself as he invaded your throat over and over.

“Ah, yes, that’s it,” he uttered, “you can’t tell me you’re not a whore. You take me like one.”

You tried to swallow around him and breath and it made him groan. He kept fucking your face as his hand squeezed your throat. Your spit spilled out and smeared across your face and his pelvis. He kept your head bobbing until you were dizzy and dazed.

He stopped, deep down your throat, and grunted. He let out a shuddery breath and pushed you off of him. You slipped down onto your stomach and gasped over the side of the bed.

“Hoo, I almost blew,” he huffed, “oh, you bad, bad girl.” He trailed his hand down your back and slapped your ass, “turn around and get back up.”

You whimpered and lifted yourself back to your knees. You moved stiffly around and wiped your mouth as the taste of him stained your tongue. He grabbed your hips and pulled you back. He kneaded your ass with hungry growls and pinched your thigh. He felt along your cunt and tutted.

“You wet for me,” he taunted, “just from a taste, sweetheart.”

You dropped your head and he moved closer. He pressed the head of his dick against your folds and ran it up and down as you slickened. He lined up with your entrance and his large hand gripped your hip. He slid into you with a sigh and you let out a startled cry. Maybe it was because it was so long but he felt massive. You quivered around him and clenched your teeth.

“Oh, fuck, you want it just as bad as me, don’t ya?” He bucked his hips and you exclaimed, “how am I suppose to hold back with you squeezin’ me like that?”

He didn’t hold back as he caught his stride. He hammered into you as your flesh slapped loudly. You feared the noise would wake your son again, or worse, be heard by the neighbours. He groaned and grunted as he rammed into you and your thighs quaked. Ripples rolled over your spine and multiplied down your legs.

He stretched his hand over your back and slid them up to your shoulders. He bent over you as he forced your arms to fold beneath you and pushed your head into the mattress. He stilled and wiggled his hips until you moaned. He pulled one hand away from your shoulder as the other spread over your neck.

He slid out of your cunt and spread your juices up and down. He guided his dick between your cheeks and leaned into to pant in your ear. “I didn’t forget about your ass.”

He pushed against your hole and you tensed. His hand tightened on your neck and he poked harder.

“You relax or it’ll hurt more,” he coaxed, “come on, almost…”

He pushed past your ring and you both gasped. Your eyes filled with tears and you sniffed as he urged himself deeper past your resistance. He let out a long breath as he advanced inch by inch. He drew back each time before adding more and when he was at his limit, you sobbed and clawed at the mattress.

“Oh, oh, fuck, oh, shit,” he swore as he rocked his hips, “you know, urgh, I wanted to do this for so long. Even ‘fore I called.”

He growled and built a steady pace as he stretched you. Your tears seeped into the blanket as his grip threatened to break your neck. His belly bounced against the top of your ass as he rutted without restraint.

“I always thought ‘bout you over that table. Always thought-- Always thought you deserved better than that husband,” he rasped out, “but I never thought you’d feel so good.”

He slammed into you harder than before. Your legs fell out from beneath you and he was quick to descend over you, covering you with his body as he bent his arm across the back of your head. He fucked you into the mattress as your head began to spin and your body reacted to his.

You’d never felt anything so intense as the maelstrom of pain and pleasure building inside you. You moaned and muttered until the sudden tide swept you up and had you murmuring like a fool, drooling onto the bed as he kept on.

He planted his hand on either side of you and lifted himself. He dropped his hips down into your ass over and over. The symphony of flesh filled your mind and you succumbed to the afterglow of tortured delight. He sank as far as he could and spasmed.

“Shit, oh, sweetheart, sweetheart,” he slowed and lowered his sweaty body onto you. You suffocated beneath him as his heart beat against your back. “Oh, you made me… made me blow.” He tilted his hips. “You feel how I filled your ass?”

You let out shallow breaths and turned your face into the blanket. He grunted and raised himself off of you, his cock slipping out easily and his cum trickling down after. He fell onto his back beside you and tried to catch his breath. He reached over blindly and let his fingertips dance along your ass.

“Really it ain’t your fault,” he said as his fingers crawled along the top of your thigh, “a man must be crazy to leave you all alone at night.”

#lee bodecker #dark lee bodecker #dark!lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #The Devil All The Time #fic #dark!fic #dark fic #one shot #au #70s

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