#they can't be expected to understand what's going on if you never use apostrophes to indicate possession or whatever

[pa-pa-plasma]

I just really want to say, the reason good & accurate grammar is important in writing isn’t because it makes you look smart, it’s to make your writing as easy to read as possible. I (& many other people with certain disabilities) can’t read your writing when the paragraphs are longer than my phone screen & several people are talking at once with no commas or apostrophes.

#i'm not saying this to put people off writing i'm saying this because i'd like to read some people's thing but physically cannot #because of the above example #i've seen people complain about how ''good'' grammar doesn't exist & whatnot & like. true ya #but also no. 100% completely false #grammar is made up but that doesn't mean it isn't important #like. the point of good grammar is to get your idea across to the reader. it is to help them understand what's going on #they can't be expected to understand what's going on if you never use apostrophes to indicate possession or whatever #plus not using commas & apostrophes can lead to. interesting results. #best example would be that ''lets eat grandma'' one. you're either a cannibal or you're inviting your grandma to eat #& yes the reader can figure out which one you mean regardless of whether you use the proper grammar but like. #you don't put all that onto the reader. it pulls them out of things & now they're thinking ''wow okay we're eating grandma lol'' #they're no longer in universe. they're now just reading words. you pulled them out with that #i'm begging for people to read books. any books. don't just write & read fanfiction please just go to the book store & pick a book #that looks good & bring it home & read it. analyze the writing style. incorporate the parts you like. repeat #please im begging you people to get past a 1st grade level English class. you're a 20yo native speaker #you've gotta know how to use punctuation at this point. or you gotta know you need to learn at least #okay sorry the more the think about it the more frustrated i get. writing is a hyperfixation

[branded-witha-j]

You go to church with the sheriff, he's there every Sunday, hearing the word, same as you. Your mama says it's not proper, for your face to heat up and your belly to tingle every time he tips his hat in your direction asking in that low drawl if there's anything he can do for you. You know she wouldn't approve of you and him at the drive-in with no chaperone--but he's the sheriff for goodness sake! And if you're not safe with the sheriff, then who are you safe with?

😈

Congrats on 7k! Thank you for the prompt and here is my submission for the Monkey's Paw challenge. This is my first time doing a writing challenge and I had so much fun writing this for everyone. I hope you enjoy it! 🖤

18+ only! No minors! This is a dark fic!

• Dark!Sheriff Bodecker x naive!reader •

• Word Count: 1.3k •

•Warnings: dub/non-con, age gap (reader is of age), manipulation, degradation, dumbification, loss of virginity, breeding, southern grammar where I throw a bunch of apostrophes and the letter A around to make it sound twangy, stuff where Lee is being Lee. •

•Summary: You're his buttercup and he can't wait to pick ya. •

Beta read by @nocturne-pisces 🖤

Hell is empty and all the devils are here. - William Shakespeare, The Tempest

Sheriff Bodecker's gaze creates a flush of heat that you can't never seem to hide, your Mama none too happy every time he tips his hat in your direction. She liked to say that ‘the Devil lives among us, disguised with lies and saccharine temptation’, and that's how she sees the Sheriff, uneasy ‘bout his intentions with you.

He always takes the pew in the back, his gaze eventually falling on you, and remaining there for the entire service. Lee Bodecker is a weekly repentant devil with a badge, also known as the most powerful man in Ross County. His smile is a little too broad for some folks, but for you it's as sweet and tart as a wild blackberry ripened to perfection on a thick bramble. His temptation is swollen fruit on a vine, his thorns hidden and ready to snag skin.

He gives you buttercups, each one pressed between the pages of your worn bible every Sunday night. He does it when your Mama is somewhere catchin' up on the weekly gossip, tucking the yellow wild flower within your hair as honeyed words fall from his wicked lips.

"When’re you gonna let me take ya out, buttercup?"

He's persistent, but gentle about it, each picked flower and brief touch winning you over more and more, until your Mama's words are all but forgotten.

He always smells of smoky aftershave and a cigarette he sneaked off to have after Sunday service. But it's hypnotizing, even just the slightest whiff of tobacco in passing on Main Street makin' you think about him. And, boy, do you ache for the attention of Lee Bodecker. He's made sure of it, each brush of his fingertips bringing you closer until his words are exhaled hotly in your ear.

The heat is sweltering, a hand wafted in front of the face only stirrin' the hot air around. The smell of drive-in popcorn and burgers is almost nauseating, a much needed reprieve given in the sound of your name. It's the Sheriff, and the sight of him sauntering up with his hands on his belt has a coil tightening within your belly. It's a feeling you can't get used to, a sensation only associated with him.

He gets you away from your friends with a fib about your Mama, something about her needing you home. He escorts you by the arm to his cruiser, the white car tucked away in a secluded corner of the lot. When he tucks you into the passenger seat, you expect him to do as he said he would and take you home, but the engine remains silent.

"Sheriff Bodecker?"

He says nothin' for a few seconds, pulling off his campaign hat for safekeeping on the backseat. You don't quite understand what's going on and a fresh buttercup presents itself under your nose, a delighted look crossing your face.

"A buttercup for my buttercup."

He tucks it away into your hair, the little bloom forgotten as soon as his lips ghost along your jaw, your hands coming up to brace at his broad chest. You can feel the starch in his shirt and the pointed tips of his badge, your world flipped as he lays you on your back against the bench seat.

"Sheriff–" His palm silences you, a click of his tongue emphasizing his disapproval as he shakes his head.

Keeping you gagged, his other hand slips up beneath your skirt, bunching it up to expose your cotton panties. Fingers trace along your thigh and you tense, whimpering against his palm.

"Shhh, buttercup. I just wanna make ya feel good."

His thorns snag your flesh, pulling you in deep, and when the metallic jangle of his belt fills the narrow space, your thighs try to clap together. You trap his hand between them and gasp as his fingers touch you for the first time, rubbin’ against the damp cotton.

"Why you wet? You'a whore for ya Sheriff?"

He keeps your legs parted with his hips and the gentle man you once knew is truly the devil as he tears down your panties, letting them hang from one ankle. He releases your mouth to work his pants down, gripping himself as his tip drags against your swollen cunt.

"Sheriff...Lee... my Mama won't–" A sharp pinch cuts off your words, and a whine is released into the collar of his shirt, the seat creaking as he slams himself deep. You try to speak again, but his hand returns to your mouth, steel blue eyes looking into yours as he snarls.

"Shut your fuckin' mouth." Eyes well with tears and he punctuates each word with a thrust. "You're mine, buttercup, and there ain't a goddamn thing that Mama a’yours is gonna do about it."

The Devil is inside you and you invited him in with your sweet smile and melodic laughter. You pant and clutch to the Sheriff, his mouth hot at your ear as you cry out for a God that ain't listenin’ no more.

"I'm gonna fill this hot 'lil snatch up. Send ya home to your Mama with my cum drippin' out of ya." His words make you clench, and you don't understand why, his groan of satisfaction vibrating through you. "You want my baby, dontcha? Stupid girl too goddamn dumb to listen to her Mama. I'm gonna fill ya up nice and full. You want that, buttercup? Want me to put my baby in ya?"

He fucks you. Not the slow, gentle way you always imagined, but frantic and bittersweet. He burns with every thrust of his hips, your cries of his name making his eyes roll back in head. He revels knowing this was worth the wait, worth all the sweet-talkin', worth every buttercup plucked from the dirt. 

"Oh, God-" His tongue delves into your mouth to swallow your cry for deliverance, showing you that he's the only one you should be worshipping.

"I knew you was a tight 'lil bitch the second I seen ya. Just perfect for the pickin'. Gonna make the perfect little housewife."

The heat that spreads through your gut is as hot as the brimstone and hellfire you pray nightly to avoid. But you're lost to it, the forked tongue of temptation burning his mark within your womb, claiming you as his for eternity. The Sheriff is silenced by his violent release, thrusting until every last drop of his seed is where it belongs.

The windows have fogged up, condensation turning them opaque. You don't know what time it is, if the movie is still playing, or if you should cry. As the Sheriff lifts himself from you, head ducking down to watch you separate, he groans at the sight of his cum spillin’ from your pretty, sore, fucked-out cunt.

"I filled ya up good, buttercup." He falls back against the driver's door with a loud exhale, reaching down to tuck himself away before tugging his pants back on. You move to sit up, but he clicks his tongue, nudging you back down onto the seat. "I just wanna look atcha. For just a bit longer."

You feel his hand trailing along your leg and the panties danglin’ from your ankle are balled up in his fist to be shoved away in his pant's pocket. You want to protest, knowin’ your Mama will notice they're missing, but he shakes his head, telling you they're his now.

"You're all mine, or did ya forget already?" He starts the cruiser, rolling down his window to see through the fog, and looks down at where you still lie beside him. "I think it's time we tell your Mama you ain't her little girl anymore. You belong to me now."

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan fic #lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #dark!lee bodecker #dark!lee bodecker x reader #dark!sheriff bodecker #dark!sheriff bodecker x reader #the devil all the time #boxofbonesfic 7k Monkey's Paw challenge