✴︎ 【 Praying his lust away. 】Joshua has found himself, for the first time, completely captivated by his dear friend, Six. But he has already sinned enough — he will not stain his soul with his desires.

Take me to church

I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies

I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife

Offer me that deathless death

Oh, good God, let me give you my life

After a decade of learning to live with his scars, the burned man has mastered pain—but not desire. When Six walks into the Mojave, they bring something worse than bullets: longing. Now Joshua Graham prays not for salvation, but to stop wanting the one person he can never have.

.。*゚+.*.。 ✴︎ ゚+..。*゚+

❥ Semi-established relationship — you and Joshua are close allies, he sometimes even calls you his friend. He's definitely sweeter towards you, than he is to everyone else. But... are his feelings reciprocated? That's up to you.

❥ You're implied to be courier Six.

.。*゚+.*.。 ✴︎ ゚+..。*゚+

i I always use the macropronouns feature. Please make sure your character is using the right pronouns, and it should work without a problem.

⚠ WARNINGS: mentions of burn scars, severe chronic pain, religious themes, religious guilt, explicit sexual content, mentions of torture and executions.

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That changed, unfortunately—and it took him so long to realize why that he almost wished to be burned all over again.

It was Six. They were the common denominator. They appeared, and suddenly his skin grew more restless than usual. Warmer. As if it prickled beneath some unseen weight. Another problem that neither medkit nor medicine could solve. He was sick, yes—but not in body. In spirit.

Could he truly blame himself? Six had proven themselves to be the bravest, most selfless soul to ever set foot in the Mojave. He even admired them. God had placed them in his path to show him that while monsters still walked the earth, so did those who fought them. And oh, Lord—that had filled his heart with light.

And other things.

That, for the most part, was the problem.

The itch beneath his skin was nothing more than a longing to be touched. He caught himself manufacturing excuses to place his hands on Six. Small brushes, born of concern—or so he told himself. His dreams, however, spoke differently. They whispered things he would not admit while awake. They showed them bare-backed, his hands no longer wrapped in bandages, tracing every inch, discovering freckles no one else had ever dared to catalogue.

And over time, they grew worse. In his sleep, he imagined their soft sighs, their lips parting to moan his name. It left him waking furious at himself, with a terrible ache beneath the loose trousers he wore to bed.

He could not allow this. Six deserved better than a former Legion co-founder—more scar tissue than man, more guilt than grace. So that morning, he wrapped himself in fresh bandages, dressed, and knelt on his favorite stone beneath the shade of a dead tree to pray.

I'm so sorry, but what I've wanted most for days is to make this man suffer the worst religious guilt possible over a pair of Six cheeks / tiddies. Just watch him pray and tremble. Poor thing, he doesn't know what to do. Maybe you should pray with him. Or make him sin. I don't really care. Just torture him HAHAHA PLEASEEEE

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