#The Million Year-Old Soul Virgin

[lewmagoo]

soul as sweet as blood red jam | rhett abbott

part of the million dollar man universe

listen to the playlist here

description: in which a silver haired cowboy finally pledges himself to his little darlin'

pairing: rhett abbott x f!reader

warnings: 18+ only, age gap (reader is in their 20s, rhett is in his mid 40s), slight miscommunication trope, references to unhealthy past relationships, food mention, innuendos, mention of birth control, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, squirting, unprotected p in v sex, begging, creampie, overstimulation, crying, after sex jitters

notes: this is a prequel of sorts to the original million dollar man sex scene. it entails the first time rhett and little darlin' sleep together! this is not a virginity trope but reader is a little inexperienced.

It had been six months since that fateful day that Rhett Abbott walked through the doors of your workplace and swept you off your feet. 

Six months since he’d taken you away from your old life and given you a fresh start. Six months since he’d taken care of every debt and outstanding balance you owed. Six months since he’d changed your life.

You had never known such peace and security before. Instead of waking up on a rickety old mattress every morning, you woke up in a plush bed surrounded by cotton sheets and more pillows than you knew what to do with. 

You didn’t have to worry about where your next meal was coming from. The fridge was always stocked with good, whole foods. Foods you didn’t have to worry about preparing for yourself, if you didn’t want to, because Rhett would make them for you. 

Because he had been living alone for so long, he had taught himself how to cook. His meals were nothing fancy, but they were hearty and healthy, complete with vegetables from his garden. 

You had all the clothes you could ever want or need. Plenty of toiletries and personal products. Brand name things you never would have been able to afford before. Rhett spared no expense when it came to you. His money was hard-earned and he was content to spend it on you. 

It was important to him that you felt safe and secure. Lord knew you had endured enough fear and uncertainty in your life. He would be damned if he didn’t get to provide that safety you so desperately needed. And because he was so adamant about you feeling comfortable, he kept himself at a slight distance from you. 

He knew your history with men. Knew you had been ridiculed and shamed in the past by them. And he had no desire to make you feel any discomfort. While, yes, he did harbor feelings for you, and had since he met you, he hadn’t made any moves regarding those feelings. He didn’t want to overwhelm you while you were getting settled into a brand-new life. 

However, you wanted him to make a move. You knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that you had strong feelings for him. How could you not? He was your knight in shining armor, and he had been nothing but good to you. Who wouldn’t fall in love with him? 

You appreciated him giving you space to get acclimated, but it had been six months, and all he had done was kiss you. You knew he was attracted to you. The tension you shared was palpable, and had been since the beginning. But Rhett never took things further. 

You wondered why. Was it because he still hadn’t moved on from his wife, despite their relationship having been over for well over 15 years? Was he just not ready for sex again? Or did he not want to sleep with you because he thought you were inexperienced?

You pondered these things, but you were a little scared to ask him. Not because you thought he would react in a bad way, but because you still felt so shy about it. He was so much older than you. He’d been with multiple partners. He knew what he liked. 

You were by no means virginal, but you were intimidated by Rhett’s experience. And that intimidation kept you from outright asking him about sex. You weren’t quite sure how to approach the subject. 

You didn’t even sleep in the same bed, for goodness sake. You had your room, and he had his. You’d never spent the night in his bed, or he in yours. He was so respectful that it almost felt over the top. 

You tried to come up with a way to approach him about it. But you still carried the timidity that came with youth. Every time you thought you had worked up the nerve to bring it up, you chickened out and decided you’d ask another time. 

But you were dying. It felt like it, anyway. Your hormones were all over the place, and you wanted him so badly. He always smelled so good. A subtle, sophisticated scent that was also somehow rustic. 

When he went out to assist his ranch hands or carry out work around the ranch, he wore a flannel with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a pair of ratty Wranglers that hugged his hips just so. He looked delectable. 

Around the house, he wore relaxed jeans and a t-shirt. But it was what he wore to bed that always drove you wild. Oftentimes, he’d wear sweatpants or plaid lounge pants. You knew that you shouldn’t stare. That your gaze shouldn’t go south. But, much to your own shame, you could tell that he was well-endowed. 

You found yourself imagining what he might look like under those cozy-soft pants. How big he was. If you’d be able to fit it in your mouth. And every time you were struck with such lewd thoughts, you shook them off, body growing hot with embarrassment. 

However, you couldn’t help but wonder if he had those thoughts about you, too. Did he imagine what you looked like naked? Did he fantasize about you? Did he touch himself to the thought of you, the way you did when you thought of him? 

You were ashamed to admit the amount of times that you had found yourself with your fingers between your thighs, wishing they were his fingers. So long and thick. You knew they’d fill you just right. 

Could you ever tell him that you’d touched yourself to the thought of him? Would you ever dare to speak those words? You thought you might die of embarrassment if you did. 

How silly you felt. How immature and clueless. But the thing about Rhett was, he didn’t make you feel those things. No, he made you feel seen. He listened to what you had to say. He didn’t dismiss, infantilize, or patronize you. You were free to be your own person around him. 

You supposed that was partly why you found him so maddeningly attractive. It wasn’t just his physical traits that attracted you to him. Of course, he was beautiful. Silvery hair, the bluest eyes you’d ever seen, striking features that could make anyone weak in the knees. But who he was as a person added to that beauty. 

He was a successful rancher, but he came from humble beginnings. He’d grown up poor, and his family had always struggled to stay afloat. Now that he was much older, and well-established, he was able to invest his funds into the things that he cared about. 

His father had long since passed, but his mother was still alive, and he took care of her, making sure she was able to live comfortably. He also put his finances into causes such as a local shelter that rehabilitated horses, and a charity dedicated to victims of domestic violence. 

Though he appeared rough and tumble, he had a tender heart. as was revealed to you when he made the decision to get you out of the situation you were in. You had been desperately trying to save your money so that you could leave your hellish job and move elsewhere to better yourself. 

But waitressing at the local diner only paid so much. In fact, your boss thought he could get away with paying you a measly sum. He took advantage of your situation and mistreated you. You felt so beaten down and burnt out that you didn’t have the energy to fight with him. 

When Rhett came into your life, and offered to take you away from all of it, it seemed too good to be true. But he had quickly proved to you that he was genuine and kind-hearted. Not once had you regretted your decision to go with him. 

In your heart, you knew that you would be with him for the rest of your life. You didn’t want to be with anyone else. You’d never put much stock into believing in soulmates, but Rhett had made you reconsider that belief. If soulmates were real, then he was yours.

But again, there was that shred of self-doubt festering within you. Fear that you were not enough. That you were too inexperienced. Eventually, it would all come boiling over, like a pot left too long on the stove. 

It happened one night when he let his guard down. You were on the deck, stargazing together. Your head was resting upon his shoulder as he pointed out different constellations to you. He’d spent many a night under the stars, he knew them like the back of his hand. 

Listening to him talk about the stars with such wonder sent a warmth blooming through your chest. He was so knowledgeable. So intelligent. Oftentimes, people didn’t give him enough credit. They expected him to be a dumb cowboy who’d come from a poor family. 

But he was so much more than that. You were in awe of him. 

Maybe it was brazen of you, but as you lifted your head to watch him talk, his face illuminated by the pale moonlight, its beams complimenting his silver hair, you were overcome with the strong desire to kiss him. 

He smelled so good, fresh out of the shower. He was cozy and warm and inviting. If only you could trail your mouth down his jaw, if only you could suck and nip at his prominent collarbones. 

“What’re you lookin’ at?” His voice startled you out of your salacious thoughts. 

You caught his gaze, and you hoped he couldn’t see the heat of desire burning in your eyes. “I…” You weren’t sure how to reply. 

His mouth lifted into a knowing smile. “You were starin’ at me, weren’t you?”

“I wasn’t.”

“You were.”

You were suddenly keenly aware of how close you were. You could feel the warmth of his body against yours. He seemed to realize this too, because his eyes flickered to your lips. Your heart fluttered in your chest. You’d kissed before, so this was nothing new. But that moment before never failed to awaken butterflies in your stomach. 

“Now you really are starin’,” he murmured. He was inching closer. So were you. 

“Uh-huh.”

You didn’t know who leaned in first. But before you could register what was happening, his lips were on yours, and you were melting against him like a popsicle left out in the summer heat. 

Kissing him felt familiar and right. It felt like coming home. 

He tasted faintly like the cherry tobacco he’d smoked in his pipe after dinner. Perhaps it wasn’t the healthiest habit, but it was something he’d picked up from his grandfather. And you had to admit, he looked sexy while smoking it. 

Pair that with the reading glasses he wore to read the newest issue Working Ranch Weekly, and he was walking, talking wet dream. You weren’t sure why you found such simple, mundane acts sexy. But there was an ache between your legs and you knew there was only one way for it to be soothed. 

Maybe tonight would finally be the night that he would fuck you. All your wishing and pining would come to an end and you would get what you’d been wanting for months. 

But as you whimpered against his mouth and tried to pull him closer by the collar of his shirt, he broke the impassioned kiss. 

“We…we should turn in,” he breathed. 

You stared at him, your heart sinking in your chest. He looked away, moving to stand. And that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. 

“Why don’t you want me?” You asked. You hadn’t intended to sound so small and petulant, but your voice was wavering and you could feel your eyes welling with tears. 

He froze, eyes widening, flabbergasted. 

Suddenly, you felt terribly pathetic. “Nevermind, forget I said anything.” You jumped up from your seat, turning to rush toward the sliding glass door that led back inside. 

But he caught you, his large hand closing around your upper arm. He gently tugged you toward him, and in a low voice, he said, “Stop.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

“Look at me.” He tipped your chin up so you’d meet his gaze. “Y’ think I don’t want you?” His tone was incredulous. “I do want you. All this time, I’ve wanted you.”

“Then why do you always push me away when things get heated? It makes me feel like you don’t want me.” Your voice was wavering, but you fought the urge to cry. You wouldn’t cry over this.

Rhett’s face softened, and sadness filled his eyes. “Oh, little darlin’. I wasn’t… I never meant t’ make you feel like I didn’t want you. I’m so sorry.” He wanted to kick himself. How could he have been so clueless? He hadn’t stopped to think that maybe you would take his hesitancy as a sign that he didn’t want you. “I guess I just – well, I didn’t want to make ya uncomfortable, or make it seem like I was tryin’ to take advantage of you.”

Your shoulders dropped as realization washed over you. “Oh,” you dumbly spoke.

He breathed in deeply, choosing his next words. “I know that you’ve dealt with assholes in the past who had no respect for your boundaries. I never wanted t’ make you feel like they did. I’d rather cut off my own fuckin’ arm than be the reason you felt uncomfortable.”

The tears you’d been holding back began to spill forth then. How silly you felt. Here you were, thinking he didn’t want you, when in reality, he was afraid of making you feel uncomfortable. But he had never made you feel that way. From the moment you met him, he exuded safety and kindness. 

“Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry,” you whispered, afraid that if you spoke any louder, your voice would break. “I never should have… oh, I’m so stupid, I can’t believe I just assumed–”

“Hey, no, don’t you apologize. It ain’t your fault. I should’ve been more up-front with you instead of just brushin’ you off. I just never wanted things to go too far, didn’t want you to feel like you couldn’t say no.”

“I never would have felt like that, Rhett,” you replied with conviction. “I feel safe with you. No one’s ever made me feel protected like you do. I know you’d never do anything to hurt me.”

He smiled softly, and by the light of the moon, you could see his eyes shimmer with emotion. Just knowing that he made you feel those things made his heart swell within his chest. It was all he’d ever wanted to be for you.

“‘m glad you feel that way,” he murmured lowly. 

“I want to be with you. You’ve done so much for me and I’m so grateful. I think I…I’m in love with you.”

He dipped his head, leaning in closer. “That’s good, ‘cause I think I’m in love with you, too.” He felt like a teenager all over again, professing his feelings to his first love. It had been so long since he’d been in a relationship. He hardly knew what to do with himself. 

You let your hands rest upon his chest. “Then I guess we’re on the same page.”

He gave an almost imperceptible nod, and a low hum, even as his eyes flickered to your mouth. “I guess we are.”

You weren’t sure who leaned in first. But before you knew it, his mouth was on yours again, and this time, he didn’t pull away. 

He kissed you deeply, lovingly, pouring all his emotions into the action. Your body felt warm all over, as if you’d just stepped into the light of the sun. 

When you parted, you were both breathless, and there was a palpable electricity thrumming between you. Rhett smiled, and the lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled.

A steady hand came up to rest against your neck, his thumb pressing lightly into your pulse point. With his lips inches from yours again, the atmosphere shifted, and you shuddered at the words he spoke next. 

“As much as I want to, I’m not gonna fuck you tonight, little darlin’. Need to keep ya waitin’ one more night. Tomorrow, I’ll take y’ to bed, and I’ll touch every inch of your pretty body. I’ll do whatever y’ want me to. But we need to do a couple things first.”

“Oh?” You kissed at the corner of his mouth. 

“Uh-huh,” he breathed. Now that he’d admitted his desire for you, it was harder to practice self-control. “Gon’ take you to the store and we’ll buy some things.”

“What kind of things?” You gasped as his tongue lapped at your bottom lip. 

“Things like lube,” he replied, pausing to kiss you fully again. “Need to make sure y’ ain’t gonna get hurt while I’m inside ya.”

At that, you whimpered involuntarily.

“Gotta get some condoms, too. Been a long time since I’ve done this so I’ve gotta stock up on some things.”

You shivered, though your next words were slightly timid. “What if…what if I said I didn’t want you to wear one?”

“Are y’ sure?” He asked. 

He was aware that you were on birth control, and had been since before you’d known him. And now, it was even more accessible to you, because since you’d started with him, he had begun paying into your health insurance, out of the kindness of his heart. You didn’t have to pay anything out of pocket. 

“I’m sure. I want…I want to feel you. All of you.” You were more than certain of this decision. You had fantasized about it many times, and now that you were finally able to choose the option, you wanted him bare when he made love to you.

“Okay,” he hummed. His eyes fluttered, lips parting as he moved to kiss you again. He lingered, lips entwined with yours for a beat longer, relishing in the feeling of you against him.  

“Tomorrow,” he breathed, “I’ll give ya everythin’ you want.”

“Uh huh,” you sighed against his mouth.

“We should…we should head inside.”

“Yeah.” You continued to kiss him, and he returned the affection, his hands moving to rest against your hips. But he didn’t pull you any closer, no matter how much he wanted to. 

He was afraid that if he did, he’d decide to give in and take you right there on the deck, and he didn’t want to jump in headfirst like that. When he fucked you, you would be spread out against the softness of his king size bed, where he could lavish you in the way that you deserved. 

So he forced himself to pull back. “C’mon now, little darlin’.” And he guided you into the house. 

As you climbed the stairs that led up to your bedroom, you were struck with the realization that it was finally happening. You had spent all these months overcome with desire for him, and tomorrow, you’d be able to fulfill those desires. 

But now that you had the promise of getting what you wanted…would you be able to go through with it? Or would you grow shy and decide you weren’t ready?

You’d traded one personal dilemma for another. You could only hope that you wouldn’t let your insecurity get the better of you yet again. 

That night, as you lay in bed, sleep wouldn’t come to you. You were thrumming with eagerness and apprehension, all at once. You felt so ridiculous, making such a fuss over this. It wasn’t as if you’d never had a sexual partner before. But you’d never been with one that you loved before. This felt like an entirely new ballgame. 

What if you weren’t everything he was hoping for? What if you didn’t satisfy him? What if, what if, what if?

You were plagued with those thoughts as you tossed and turned. You only drifted off for a few hours before the sun shining through your window awakened you. 

It was early, but you knew Rhett would already be awake, tending to the horses. You were certain that you wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep, so you got up, wrapping your robe around yourself before you made your way downstairs. 

Perhaps cooking breakfast would get your mind off of the situation at hand. So, you sauntered into the kitchen and set about preparing a wholesome breakfast spread that you knew Rhett would enjoy. 

You timed it perfectly, because as soon as you finished preparing everything, Rhett came through the door. As he kicked his boots off, he breathed in, a smile reaching his face as he caught the scent of what you were making. 

“Sure smells good,” he mused as he padded over on socked feet. 

“Thought you’d be hungry when you came back in,” you replied as you set a cup of black coffee down at his usual spot at the table. 

“You thought right. I’m starvin’.” He took his seat, immediately reaching out to bring the mug of coffee to his lips. “Thank ya, darlin’. You sure know the way to my heart.”

He was grateful for your thoughtfulness. It had been so long since he’d had a loving touch in his home. Living on his own had been a boring, lonely existence. Now that he had you, he felt as if new life had been breathed into him.

In turn, it gave you great joy to see him enjoy what you made for him. He always expressed appreciation when you cooked for him, or did anything else for that matter. Knowing he’d been alone for so long made your heart ache. Every time you thought of what his wife had done to him, you felt a pang of anger toward her. 

Not only had she gone behind his back and committed the offense of cheating on him, but she had done it with his brother, of all people. You could only imagine the utter despair that Rhett had felt when it happened. 

But he had moved on. After all, that was fifteen years ago. Now, he was in a much better place. Even more so now that he had you. 

You truly believed that the universe had brought you together. And that was when it hit you. You had no reason to be anxious about what was going to happen later that night. You knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you were meant to be with Rhett, and he with you. There was no cause for fear, and certainly not when it came to the man who made you feel more safe than you ever had ever felt in your life. 

So the tension melted from your shoulders, and you let yourself breathe. Everything was going to be just fine. 

“Sit down an’ eat,” Rhett spoke up, pulling you from your reverie. “Wanna enjoy breakfast with my girl.”

My girl. You were certain that if you could see yourself in that very moment, you would be glowing like the sun. 

You sat at the table and did exactly as he said, relishing in a quiet, calm morning with your cowboy. So this was what true contentment felt like. You had been missing out on it your entire life. Now that you had it, you didn’t ever want to let it go.

After a peaceful breakfast, you moved to clear the table while Rhett slipped away to shower the barn smell off of him and finish getting ready for the day. He wanted to take you into town sooner rather than later. 

While you put the dishes in the dishwasher and put all the ingredients you’d used away, your mind drifted to the trip to the drugstore you would be making, to purchase lube, of all things. 

But then a thought struck you. What if he preferred lingerie? You didn’t really own any sexy undergarments. Although you had access to all sorts of frivolities thanks to Rhett, you hadn’t really spoiled yourself, outside of basic necessities or treats here and there. 

And up until now, you hadn’t had an occasion to buy lingerie. But now you were so close to finally letting him see you naked, and you hadn’t stopped to consider that he might like it if you wore something sexy. 

You sauntered upstairs to get ready with this thought on your mind. 

You spent a little extra time getting ready that morning, hoping to entice Rhett all the more with your outfit, and your perfume. Once you were dressed and feeling a little more put together, you took a deep breath and then exited your bedroom. 

You found Rhett downstairs, seated at the bench that was near the front door, putting his boots on. He was freshly showered and smelled so clean. He looked handsome in a light blue t-shirt, his gray hair still slightly damp, a stand of it curling against his temple. 

He’d told you once that his father had gone gray early in life. Part of you was glad he’d inherited it from the man, because in your opinion, it made him all the more attractive.

Rhett looked up as you approached, and his mouth curled into a smile. “Y’ sure do look beautiful,” he mused, eyes twinkling. 

“Thanks,” you murmured shyly, smoothing your hands over your outfit. 

He stood and opened the front door before he motioned for you to step out first. “After you, little darlin’.”

Smiling, giddiness swirling in your tummy, you ducked your head and stepped outside into the warm spring morning. It was a gorgeous day. The skies were clear and brilliant blue. The hue reminded you so much of Rhett’s eyes. 

You followed him to his truck, allowing him to open the door before you climbed inside. As you got settled, he quickly rounded the other side, tugging open the door and sliding into his seat with ease.

He glanced at you as he turned over the ignition. “Y’ buckled?” He asked. He always liked to make sure you were safe, in big and small things.

“Yep!” You replied, as the buckle clicked into place.

With a nod, Rhett put the truck in drive and pulled down the long driveway that lead to the main road. His ranch was situated nearly thirty minutes outside of town, so you had a little bit of a drive ahead of you. This left you plenty of time to sift through the different radio stations, trying to settle on one that was playing something worth listening to. 

Once you were satisfied with the station, you settled back into your seat, your gaze shifting to look out the window at the expansive land that surrounded you. Wyoming truly was a breathtaking place. You still weren’t tired of the view, even after living here for half a year. And Rhett, who’d lived here his entire life, wasn’t tired of it, either. 

But your mind quickly drifted elsewhere as you staired at the sprawling plains. “Rhett?” You softly spoke up.

“Yeah?”

“Do you, um…” you hesitated, still feeling a little shy about bringing these things up. “Do you want me to wear lingerie for you tonight?”

He glanced at you, pausing a moment before he replies. “Darlin’, I ain’t picky. Wear whatever makes ya feel good about yourself. I promise, I’ll find you beautiful no matter what you’re wearin’.”

Something about his words struck you. They took your breath away, and out of nowhere, you felt tears welling in your eyes. You tried to keep your emotions at bay, but it was futile. Rhett noticed your tears, and immediately, he pressed his boot against the brake, putting the truck in park in the middle of the deserted road.

“Hey now, what’s the matter, sweetheart?” He gently asked, turning his body toward you.

You shook your head, your eyes downcast, staring at your hands. “I don’t…I don’t understand why you’re so good to me.”

“Look at me.” 

He had to reach out and coax your face toward him. When you caught his gaze, you saw what you could only describe as love in his eyes. “Because you deserve good things. Too many people in your life have failed you. I ain’t gonna be one of those people, you hear me? I’ll be damned if I don’t take care of m’girl and show you the way you’re supposed to be treated.”

It was clear that Rhett had so much love in his heart to give. The fact that he was bestowing it all upon you was a bit overwhelming. Even all these months later, you were still floored by it. But you knew that he had not always been able to give that love so freely. Much like you, many people in his life had failed him. He didn’t really have anyone left to care for.

His niece, Amy, was grown and married, and no longer needed him to look after her in the way that he had when she was younger. There was his mother, of course, but she lived on her own, and even in her old age, she was still healthy and spry, as well as stubborn, and refused to let him hire an at-home care nurse to watch over her.

His father was dead and gone, and his relationship with his brother had never been repaired. So, essentially, he was alone. Until he found you, that is. 

In the beginning it was a little difficult to get used to him taking care of you.

It wasn’t that he thought you couldn’t take care of yourself. He knew you were capable of doing so, but he also knew how exhausted you were from fighting just to keep your head above water. He simply wanted to help alleviate that burden. 

Now, as you sat in the cab of his truck, you were overcome. “Oh, Rhett,” you whispered. “I love you.”

You’d never spoken those words to him before. The way you felt about each other had mostly remained unspoken until now. But as soon as the confession left your mouth, his lips curved into a smile. One that reached his eyes. “I love you too, little darlin’.”

And somehow, that was all you needed to hear to put you at ease.

He put the truck back in drive and resumed the trip into town, but this time, he let his hand rest upon your thigh as he drove. 

The tension seemed to have melted, and you fell into comfortable, quiet conversation for the entire ride. Being in Rhett’s presence was a comforting thing. His demeanor was relaxed, and it put you at ease. 

But all too soon, the calm car ride came to an end as he pulled into town and found a parking spot right outside of Walker’s Drug Store. 

He wrenched open the driver’s door and hopped out of the truck, striding around the front to open your door for you. You slid from the leather seat with ease, feet landing on the solid concrete beneath you. 

Rhett led you into the store, and you had to admit, you felt just a little awkward perusing the intimacy aisle, but the ice was quickly broken when he began reading some of the descriptions on different boxes aloud. Words and phrases that were meant to sound appealing and enticing, but ended up sounding terribly cringeworthy when spoken out loud. 

“You’re going to get us kicked out,” you whispered through your giggles. You felt like a pair of immature teenagers, laughing at innuendos. It did wonders to put you at ease, which was Rhett’s intended purpose in making you laugh. 

When it was time to check out, you were infinitely grateful that this drugstore had a self-checkout station, because you were more than certain that the older lady at the only other open cash register would heavily judge you for what you were purchasing.

You walked out of that store together, your items in a bag, and your hand resting in the crook of Rhett’s elbow

“Y’ wanna get somethin’ for lunch?” He asked you, as he guided you to the truck. 

“I’d like that,” you replied. 

So he took you to Goldie’s Diner, where you enjoyed all the French fries your heart desired. You sat across the table from Rhett, and he watched you in awe as you recounted a story from your childhood. He was so in love with you, it was ridiculous. 

He felt like he was back in school, pining after a girl. It was an odd feeling. He’d spend all these years alone, and now that he had you, he hardly knew what to do with himself. After the way Maria had broken his heart, he was certain that he was destined to never find love again. 

But here you were, sitting in front of him, munching on fries and sipping a soda, and he’d never been more enamored with anyone in his life. 

He could just kick himself for making He could just kick himself over the fact that he had made you feel like he didn’t want you. How foolish he felt, getting into his head like that.

He was determined to show you how much he truly wanted you later that night. He couldn’t wait to ravish you. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t imagined what you would look like, naked beneath him. Now that daydream was becoming a reality.

“What are you thinkin’ about?” Your voice pulled him out of his reverie.

He smiled shyly. “You,” he confessed.

You ducked your head, flattered. “Oh?”

He didn’t dare admit that what he’d been thinking wasn’t suitable to utter in public. Instead, he reached across the table, placing his much larger hand over your own. “Go on, finish your story. Promise I’m listenin’ now.”

So you did, and he listened with rapt attention. When it was time to leave, he left a generous tip on the table, as he always did. It gave you a flashback to one of the first times you’d met him. He had given you a one hundred dollar bill, insisting you keep the change as a tip. You had been amazed, because in your line of work, you were lucky to get a few measly dollars as a tip, let alone one hundred dollars. 

It wasn’t just for show. You had seen him leave servers hefty tips several times since you’d known him. It was a testament to how kind and gracious he was. 

You walked out of that diner with a smile on your face, so grateful that this man had been brought into your life. Since last night, things felt different between you. The barrier that had been there, a wall put up because of his fear of making you uncomfortable, and because of your fear that he didn’t desire you, had been torn down. 

There was no hesitancy. No more walking on eggshells. You simply felt at ease. And that was exactly how you were supposed to feel with a person who truly loved you. It had taken you so long to come to that realization. The love that Rhett bestowed upon you was the love you deserved. 

As he drove you back home that afternoon, you found yourself leaning over the center console, your head resting on his shoulder. He placed his hand on your thigh, his touch comforting and warm. 

At the feeling of you relaxed against him, Rhett couldn’t quell the joy that washed over him. It felt right, having you tucked into his side. Like you were always meant to be there.

You made yourself so comfortable, in fact, that you ended up dozing off against him. Sometime later, he gently coaxed you awake. “We’re home,” he murmured as you stirred.

Home. Warmth flooded your chest at the mention of it. The place that Rhett had built with his own two hands. 

Humming sleepily, you waited for him to come around and open your door for you, as he always did, before you hopped out onto the gravel driveway. The warm sun shone on your face as you followed him up to the house, and you basked in it for a moment while he unlocked the door. 

As you headed inside, he kicked off his boots, setting them on the shoe rack near the door. He held the bag from the drugstore in his hand, and you glanced down at it, wondering when you’d put its contents to use.

Rhett hooked his fingers beneath your chin and lifted your head so he could catch your gaze. “Here’s what I’m thinkin’,” he murmured. “I wanna do this right. Make y’ feel special. So I’m gonna make you dinner tonight. Want ya to get yourself all gussied up, put on that pretty blue dress I got you a while back. How’s that sound?”

You nodded in agreement, though you were a little dizzy at just how close he was standing. “Sounds good.”

His eyes narrowed slightly as he ducked his head forward, lips enticingly close to yours. “An’ then after dinner, I’m gonna lay you down in my bed and make love to you all night. Alright?”

You went weak in the knees, caging your bottom lip between your teeth in anticipation. “A-alright.”

He smiled and tapped your nose lovingly. “Good. Now that that’s settled, ‘ve got some boring ranch paperwork to do. How ‘bout you go for a swim while I’m at it?” He suggested. 

A dip in the pool sounded rather inviting. So you slipped away, allowing Rhett to head to his office to pore over financial papers while you went upstairs to put on your swimsuit. In the process, you grabbed your Bluetooth speaker, carrying it outside with you so you’d have a soundtrack to listen to while you lounged in the pool. 

Rhett had worked closely with a local architect to design this house. It was an A-frame house that resembled a cabin, but it was much bigger. The front had floor-to-ceiling windows, but despite its loftiness, the house felt so cozy inside. It was all rounded edges and worn wooden finishes. Deep jewel tones made up the color scheme of the decor. 

Rustic art pieces decorated the log-paneled walls. There were masculine touches, such as bearskin rugs stretched across the floor and animal heads mounted to the walls. It was so stereotypically cowboy, but at the same time, it felt like Rhett. He had many beautiful pieces in his home, but none of it felt over the top or impractical. Everything had a story behind it, a thought process for acquiring it. 

Living here, you felt comfortable and safe. Walking through its halls felt like walking through home.

What a relief it was to be able to feel that way. To say that you belonged somewhere. 

That thought brought a smile to your face as you sauntered out onto the back deck, toward the in-ground pool that was situated in the expansive, private backyard. You retrieved a towel from the standing wardrobe that was positioned on the deck, tossing the fabric down onto the concrete floor beside the pool. Then you set your speaker up and selected a playlist before you crouched down on the edge of the pool.

You dipped your toes in, testing the temperature before you finally decided to take the plunge. The cool water swallowed your body, and you welcomed it, sighing at the feeling. What a charmed life you led. 

You stayed in the pool for hours, climbing out only to grab a raft, which you promptly climbed onto and let yourself float around until the sun began to sink low in the sky. You lost track of time, entirely engrossed in your playlist, nearly dozing off as you lay sprawled on the raft.

“You gon’ stay out here all night, missy?” Rhett’s voice startled you slightly, and you lifted your head, catching sight of him standing on the deck. He was smiling knowingly at you.

“I lost track of time!” You exclaimed, sliding off the raft and hurriedly swimming toward the ladder. Rhett remained on the desk as you climbed out of the water, his eyes on you as you bent to reach for your towel. 

Your swimsuit clung to your body, and you knew that it left little to the imagination. You caught Rhett’s gaze, and you purposely lingered, deciding against drying off quite yet. Struck with a sudden surge of boldness, you walked up to him, holding your towel in one hand, swaying your hips as you moved. 

You stepped up one step. Then two. He looked down at you, eyes narrowing, mouth parting. Then, you stretched your arm out, pressing your towel into his chest. “Wanna help me dry off?” You asked. 

You didn’t miss the quiet, but sharp, intake of breath. Wordlessly, he took the towel, shaking it so that it would unfold completely. Then he began drying you off, patting the fabric into your glistening skin, dragging it lower and lower, until he was kneeling before you, gazing up at you in a way that made the breath vacate your lungs. 

Slowly, he patted each leg dry, moving up, up, up, until he paused. Instinctively, your hand came down to tangle in his silvery locks, and he took that as permission to lean forward, pressing a loving kiss to your exposed midriff. 

You stood frozen in place, watching him. And then, his tongue darted out, tasting salt and the remnants of chlorine on your skin, laving at the spot just beneath your navel. You gasped, your knees growing weak. Then he left another kiss where his tongue had just been before he pulled back.

Slowly, he stood, never breaking eye contact as he did. Then he dipped his head low, mouth just barely hovering over your own. “If I don’t stop now, I’ll end up ravagin’ you right here.”

You were embarrassed at the whine that escaped your throat. 

“Now g’on, go get dressed up for me. When you’re finished, I’ll have supper ready.”

Pulling away from him felt like trying to escape a strong magnetic field, but you managed to tear yourself away, walking on unsteady legs into the house. The cool air inside made goosebumps prickle across your flesh, and you shuddered, but it wasn’t from the chill.

In a haze, you went upstairs, going through the motions as you got ready. You took a shower, used the body wash and lotion you saved for special occasions, spritzed your favorite perfume behind your ears and a little on your inner thighs in anticipation of what was to come.

As you put extra time into making sure your outfit looked impeccable, you caught the scent of dinner cooking downstairs, and you realized then just how hungry you were, after spending all that time in the sun. 

But at the same time, your tummy was churning with anticipation and anxiety. Would you even be able to stomach anything, knowing that very soon, you would be in Rhett’s bed, entirely naked before him?

You tried not to psych yourself out, forcing your best foot forward as you completed your outfit. It was now or never. So you headed downstairs slowly, your hand trailing down the wooden banister, hand-carved by Rhett himself. 

Then you stepped into the kitchen, and Rhett stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you. His sapphire eyes softened, and he smiled, beaming as if a ray of sun had just been cast over his face. “Just look atcha. You’re beautiful, little darlin’,” he breathed. 

To your embarrassment, you giggled like a schoolgirl. “Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself, cowboy.” It was a modest way of saying he looked incredible.

He had changed into something nicer, too. His nicest pair of Wranglers hugged his hips. A navy blue pinstripe shirt was tucked into the denim, finished off with a black leather belt, a polished old rodeo buckle fastened to it. His hair was combed, but still had some wave to it. God, he looked handsome. 

He had the nerve to smile shyly, and then he pointed the wooden spoon he was holding at the table. “Have a seat, I’m just puttin’ dinner on.”

You nodded, moving to take a seat at the table, pleased to find that he’d set it with his nicest dishes. When he still lived under his parents’ roof, his nightly job was to set the table for dinner. His mama had taught him a very specific way of doing it, and he still hadn’t lost his touch to this day. The place settings were neat and orderly. 

He still owned the nice china that had been gifted to him and Maria when they were newly married. Even though she’d been gone for years, he hadn’t gotten rid of any of it. He wasn’t much for entertaining, but he certainly was glad that he’d kept the china, because it gave him an opportunity to impress you. 

He wanted to do this right. Wanted to treat you to a good meal, wanted to romance you and make you feel special. He knew that this wasn’t just a fulfillment of sexual attraction. This was so much more than that. 

He should have known from the moment he saw you in that diner all those months ago, that you’d be it for him. The one he would spend the rest of his life with. 

What a strange feeling, to come to that conclusion after spending so much time alone. He remembered how broken he’d been after Maria betrayed him. It was agony. He’d pined after that girl since he was sixteen years old. And to catch her in the act, sneaking around with his own brother, had destroyed him. 

It had taken so long for those wounds to heal. Now, it was simply part of his past. It had shaped him into the man that he was. And to think, if he hadn’t gone through that time, he never would have met you. He didn’t put stock into spiritual things, but if God or the universe had worked this out for him, then he was eternally grateful. 

Now here he was, making you dinner, while you sat at his table, dolled up for him. Not even because he’d asked you to do so, but because you wanted to. 

“Um…Rhett? I think your pot is boiling over,” your gentle warning pulled him from his thoughts. 

He jolted, turning on his heel to find that the pasta he was cooking had begun to boil over. Quickly, he turned the flame down, reducing the heat. Then he glanced over his shoulder at you with a sheepish smile. “Guess I was a little distracted by the pretty gal sittin’ at my table,” he admitted. 

You shook your head, but couldn’t deny that you were charmed. He certainly had a way with words. 

As he finished making you dinner, pausing to pour you a glass of water, how could you not be enamored with him? Watching his strong forearms on display as he went about such a domestic task, it was enough to make you think about what it would be like for him to bend you over the kitchen table and have his way with you. 

You jolted slightly at the thought, because you’d pictured it so clearly. 

“Y’ alright there, little darlin’?” Rhett asked as he set a bowl of fresh, green salad down on the table. 

“U-um, yes,” you peeped, shifting in your seat. When you glanced up at him, there was a knowing glint in his eyes. Oh, god. 

You shook yourself out of your salacious imaginations, leaning your back against the chair as Rhett set everything out. A starch, a protein, a vegetable. It was a balanced meal, and although it was simple, you knew it would be delicious. 

Sure enough, it was. Together, you thoroughly enjoyed your time at the table, talking about anything and everything. And although this was a form of foreplay, it didn’t necessarily feel like that. As always, Rhett expressed genuine interest in what you had to say. 

Sometimes it was difficult to hold his gaze when you spoke. The undivided attention was almost too intense. Brilliant blue staring back at you often made you lose your train of thought and stumble over your words. 

Rhett thought it was the most adorable thing, the way you’d get all bashful. It made his chest swell with pride, knowing he had that effect on you. 

He wondered if you would get shy like that when he took you to bed. He couldn’t wait to see the way you reacted to his touch. Couldn’t wait to hear the pretty sounds you made for him. 

Silently, you yearned for each other, thinking of what was to come soon after dinner. Rhett only fanned the flames of desire as he reached across the table and placed his big hand over yours, as he flattered you and bestowed a look of adoration upon you.

It made butterflies flutter in your belly.

The subtle touches, the pointed glances, his body language. It all made your head spin. He flirted and he teased and he made you feel like the most beautiful woman in all the world. And to him, you were.

Then, it was time. Supper was finished. Complete with dessert - apple crisp. It was delicious, but you couldn’t finish it, because you were thrumming with anticipation. And when Rhett moved to begin clearing the table, you shot up out of your seat a little too quickly, offering to help him, to distract yourself.

But he declined. “Here’s what I want y’ to do, little darlin’,” he spoke, voice low, smooth as velvet. “Go up to my bedroom. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be up soon.”

“But you made the meal, the least I can do is help clean up,” you tried to protest.

“I’ll take care of it.” Then, he leaned in close, lips barely brushing yours. “Just go up and sit nice and pretty for me. That’s all I need ya to do for me.”

“O-okay.” You cringed inwardly as your voice came out in a squeak. Your legs felt like jelly as you turned on your heel and began walking toward the steps on autopilot. Your feet carried you to the end of the hall, where Rhett’s bedroom was. With trembling hands, you turned the doorknob and opened the oak wood door. 

As you stepped into the room, feet landing on plush carpet, you were met with the soft glow cast by the bedside lamps that flanked either side of the king-size bed. The bed was adorned with a handmade quilt, displaying different wildlife silhouettes, all surrounded by shades of deep green and burgundy.

The bedroom was cozy, and it was Rhett. 

Tentatively, you sauntered further into the room, trailing your hand lightly over the edge of the carved wooden dresser to your right. Personal touches decorated the top of it. A wooden tray held all of his cologne. A watch stand was home to all of his wristwatches. A glass display case boasted of various belt buckles, several of which he’d scored during his riding days. 

There was a stand for his pipe, hand-carved and passed down to him from his grandfather Abbott. It was where he’d gotten the not-so-nice habit of smoking tobacco. You didn’t mind, though. He smoked cherry tobacco, and to you, the scent was strangely comforting.

All of these things – the decor, the personal belongings – sent warmth spreading through your body. It was all so domestic. Being made privy to these things made you feel that much more connected to Rhett.

You took your own tour of his bedroom before you finally decided to take a seat on the bed, your body buzzing, warm to the touch. You let yourself fall back, closing your eyes as you let the softness of the quilt beneath you envelop you. The bed smelled like him. The bed that you would soon find yourself naked upon.

“Comfortable?” His voice startled you, and you gasped, sitting bolt upright. He hadn’t meant to scare you, and he told you as much. “Sorry, thought y’ heard me comin’.”

“That’s okay,” you murmured in reply. 

He shut the door behind him, eyes glimmering in the low light. You watched as he stepped over to the dresser to remove his wristwatch, which he then placed directly on the watch stand you had just been looking at moments prior. 

His eyes narrowed slightly, mouth parting as he gazed upon you. Your mouth went dry as he approached, and you almost felt like an innocent prey animal at the mercy of the big, bad wolf. But you knew that this wolf’s bark was worse than his bite. 

He lifted his hand, knuckles lovingly stroking down your cheek before he tipped your chin up. “If y’ wanna stop at any point, if it gets to be too much and you feel the least bit uncomfortable, then just say the word, and I’ll stop. This is a safe space, alright?”

“Alright,” you breathed.

“Now I need y’ to tell me, sweet girl. How many times have you done this?”

You swallowed, suddenly very aware of your own trepidation. “I…I’ve done it a handful of times. It was never really that good,” you admitted.

His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip. “It wasn’t? Why do ya say that?” His fingers traced over your jaw, touch warm.

“The guys, um, just cared about their own pleasure. They didn’t really focus on mine.”

Then he leaned in, bending so that he was eye level with you. “Tell me, little darlin’,” he continued. His voice swirled through your head like the smoke from his tobacco pipe. “Did any of ‘em ever make you come?”

You thought you might burst into flames beneath him. You were scorching. “No,” you said. “They didn’t.”

“Oh, honey.” He knelt before you, and you realized that the blue of his eyes had gone several shades darker. His hands came up to rest upon your thighs. “I can make y’ feel good. Give it to ya better than anyone else ever did. Will you let me?”

Where was your voice? It seemed to have abandoned you as you attempted to reply. When you found it again, it came out as more of a croak. “Y-yes.”

He couldn’t repress the soft groan that escaped his throat. When he moved to kiss you, you happily accepted it, relaxing into the slot of his mouth against yours.

As he stood, you chased his lips, not yet willing to pull away. But then he was towering over you as you remained seated on the bed, and suddenly you felt very timid. Then there was his belt buckle, shiny and perhaps a little gaudy, but in that moment, its addition to his belt was the sexiest thing you’d ever seen. 

Instinctively, your trembling hands came up to unfasten it, and Rhett watched you, chest heaving slightly at the sight of your focused expression. But all too soon, he stayed your hands. 

“I need ya to say it,” he gruffed. “Tell me you wan’ it. Gotta hear the words.”

“I want it, Rhett,” you replied. 

He grabbed your face in his hand, squishing your cheek slightly. “No. Not like that. Say it.”

This was it. This was how you died. Death caused by Rhett Abbott’s fiery gaze. What a way to go. “I want you to fuck me.” 

It was simultaneously for him to hear your spoken consent, and to listen to the dirty words leave your mouth. 

He pulled you to your feet, your body pressed to his. His hands rested against the small of your back. You were suddenly very aware that he was hard in his jeans, bulge pressed against your belly. 

He stepped back, only to bend forward, fingers curling around the hem of your dress. The pretty blue you had been admiring a few weeks ago, only for it to show up in a neatly packaged box on your bed, with a note from Rhett telling you he saw you admiring it and wanted you to have it. 

That same dress was now being lifted from your body and discarded on his floor in a heap. You didn’t care where it landed. 

That left you standing there in the middle of his bedroom in just your undergarments. Already, you felt exposed, and you fought the urge to cross your arms over your body. But then Rhett was taking your hands and placing them against his chest, silently urging you to unbutton his shirt. 

So you did, fingers unsteady as you undid each button, revealing a white undershirt beneath. His button down floated down to some unbeknownst place, and you tugged his undershirt from where it was tucked into his jeans. He shrugged out of the cotton, leaving his torso bare to you. 

You had seen him without a shirt before. But this was different. This was up close and personal. You could see his minimal tattoos. A bill and rider on his right pec. Two skeletons kissing on his ribs. 2013 written on his bicep. 

Without thinking, you smoothed your hands over his chest, tracing the bull and rider before you went lower. Palms trailing over his abdomen. Down toward his belt again. You put your focus into removing the buckle, but soon grew frustrated with yourself. It should have been simple. Why were you struggling? 

But Rhett stayed your hands. “I’ve got it,” he murmured. You watched as his fingers undid the buckle with ease, undoing his belt in the process. Then he was popping the button of his Wranglers and easing the zipper down and you thought you were going to go lightheaded. 

He eyed you, and said, “G’on. Take it out.”

Fuck. Your knees went weak. Your hands still shook as you reached into his jeans, pushing his boxers down so you could free him. You gasped softly when your fingers wrapped around his shaft, and your gaze flickered down to take it all in. 

Thick and heavy, rounded and pink at the tip. You never thought to describe a cock as beautiful. His was. Even in all your imaginations, you had never pictured this. You couldn’t decide whether to drop to your knees and take it into your mouth, or fall onto the bed and beg him to fuck you with it. 

He made the decision for you. “Y’ can have it in your mouth another time. Right now, we’re takin’ it slow.”

“O-okay.” It came out as a pathetic whisper. 

He took your moment of distraction to rid himself out of his jeans and underwear entirely, heavy hardness bobbing between his legs as he then reached out to help you out of your bra. Your panties came next, and he knelt down to remove those, meeting your gaze as he gently urged you to lift each leg so that he could pull the fabric off. 

One hand rested behind your knee, thumb tracing circles, warm and gentle, comforting. He gave you a moment to gather your wits about you before he stood again. You were entirely bare to one another. This was what you had been dreaming about for months. Now that it was finally happening, you were a little overwhelmed. 

He was so close you could smell his cologne, and the underlying natural scent that was simply described as Rhett. You could feel the heat of his body. Hear each intake of breath. He was beautiful like this. The most beautiful man you’d ever seen. Freckles dotted his skin. Years of running around with a shirt off as he carried out ranch work. You thought perhaps you might be able to connect each freckle and make a constellation out of them. 

Did he find your body’s intricacies attractive, too? Your random scars and marks. The uneven parts of your skin. The things that made you, you. 

His finger hooked beneath your chin. Guiding you to look at him. To meet his gaze. Then he gently grasped your wrist and brought your hand against his aching cock. “This is what you do to me.” 

You whimpered. Heat pooled between your thighs. You clenched around nothing. But you still had the wherewithal to take his other hand and guide it to where you needed him. And this is what you do to me, you wanted to say. But your voice failed you. 

He could feel it, though. His fingers parted your folds and he swiped each digit through. Your sharp gasp as he circled your clit was music to his ears. “So wet already? Y’ need it so bad, huh baby?” His mouth was hovering against your ear. “Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of ya.”

He felt the way your cunt pulsed that time. 

He carefully led you to the bed. When the backs of your knees came in contact with the edge of it, you nearly fell backward, but he caught you, easing you down as if you were floating into a cloud. 

As you got yourself situated against the mattress, he joined you, body soon hovering over your own, so broad above you. You glanced down at the sight of the considerable length of him, and knew that very soon, it would be enveloped within you. 

He pulled your attention back toward him as he kissed you again, pushing your thighs apart so he could slot his body between them. He wasn’t finished with his foreplay yet. He still wanted to savor you. 

“Do ya have any idea how fuckin’ beautiful y’are?” His fingers danced down your side. “Soft, too. Like a peach.” Then his mouth curved into a smile as he ducked his head to kiss at your neck. “Bet ya taste like one too.” 

When his teeth nipped at your flesh, you whined low in your throat. His cock pulsed against your thigh. He began his descent of your body then, tongue and teeth exploring, tasting. When he reached your breasts, he swirled his tongue around a nipple, his hand attending to the other one. 

“This okay?” He asked. 

“Uh-huh,” you sighed, eyes fluttering shut as he wrapped his lips around the pebbled bud. 

“You think of me?” Came his next question. 

“Wha…?” It was growing harder to form words, your mouth loose around the vowel. 

He lifted his head to look at you. When had you tangled your hands in his hair? You had no recollection, but his silvery curls were mussed, and your fingers were the culprit. 

“When y’ touch yourself. Is it to the thought of me?”

Oh, god. “Y-yes,” you peeped. 

He kissed your abdomen, nuzzling into its softness. “What am I doin’, in your imagination?” Another kiss to your hip. Then directly over your pubic bone. 

“I…you’re…”

“Is it this?” Fingers parted your folds, swiping through your arousal. He offered a kitten lick to your sensitive bub. 

You had imagined him doing that, yes. But usually you pictured him splitting you open on his cock. 

“S-sometimes.”

“Oh? What am I doin’ other times, then?” Another lick. Lips wrapping around to suck it into his mouth. 

“You’re…well—”

“Say it, honey. S’just me and you.” A reassuring kiss to your inner thigh. 

“I think about your dick inside me.” There. You’d said it. 

“Gotta give me more than that.”

“You’re making me come around it. Showing me what it feels like to be fucked by a real man.” Speaking the words out loud felt silly. But Rhett’s reaction made you realize he thought it was anything but. 

You didn’t expect him to growl low in his chest. A deep sound, gravelly in pitch. He came back up so that his face was just inches from yours, noses bumping, lips brushing. 

“Y’ want me to show you what it’s like to be fucked by a real man? Cause I’ll show you, baby. I didn’t come to play. You give me your pussy and I’ll treat her right.”

“Please, I want it! I want it so bad, I’ve wanted it for months now,” you gasped, rolling your hips, trying to feel him. 

His hand against your lower abdomen kept you still. “And I’ll give it to you. Gotta be patient now, I ain’t about to rush this and hurt you.” Punctuated with a kiss. Then another. 

He pulled back only briefly, reaching over to the bedside table. Your eyes followed him and you realized he was grabbing the bottle of lube you’d gone into town for earlier. Oh, you’d forgotten about that. 

“I’m takin’ my time with this pussy. Because as much as you’ve thought about me when y’touch yourself, I think about you, too.” There it was. “I close my eyes and dream about your pussy, clenchin’ around me. Drippin’ all over the place.”

You whined. 

He opened the lube and poured a good amount into his open palm. You watched, hypnotized, as he wrapped that big palm around his cock, smoothing the liquid down his shaft, ensuring that he was slick from root to tip. Then, he poured a little more on his fingers, letting his body temperature warm it before he carefully smoothed it over your pussy, making sure to put a little extra around your already-soaked entrance. 

“Gotta get her nice and ready f’me.” 

You gasped when he slid his middle finger into you, testing the waters before he added his ring finger into the mix. The stretch wasn’t painful, but it was there, and you shuddered. 

His brow furrowed in concentration as he began moving his fingers. “Tell me how y’ like it. How should I move my fingers, baby?” He experimented with angle and pressure, curling the digits upward. 

You knew what he was trying to do. But you had been disappointed too many times in the past by guys who didn’t know what they were doing. Thinking they were making you see stars with just their fingers when you quite literally felt nothing. 

You’d convinced yourself that the alleged g-spot didn’t exist. It was just a myth. 

But Rhett seemed determined to find it. “C’mon now, honey. Talk to me. S’been a while since I’ve done this. I’m a li’l rusty.”

“D-don’t bother, you’re not gonna find it,” you told him, shaking your head, slightly embarrassed. 

He looked at you, and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “I don’t make it a habit to back down from a challenge.”

He angled his hand a little more, pushing his fingers deeper into you. His other hand came up to rest lightly upon your mound. 

“It should be right about…” He went deeper and crooked upward, and all of the sudden, you yelped and jolted beneath him. He had the audacity to grin. “Here.”

He built a rhythm, faster and deeper, all while you lay there with your mouth hanging open, eyes wide, trembling as he fucked you with his fingers. The squelch of your wetness was lewd. It almost made you want to cover your face in embarrassment.

But how could you, when he was gazing down at you as if you’d hung the moon and stars in the sky? “Look atcha. So pretty. All f’me.” When he said those words, when he told you how beautiful you were, he spoke with such conviction that you believed him.

You couldn’t bask in the praise, though, because you were quickly losing yourself. “Oh my g– ah!!” You were clutching at the quilt beneath you, fingers clawing at the fabric. God, you were dripping, you could feel it. Briefly, you worried about staining the quilt. But that was what Rhett wanted. 

You swore, you’d never been so wet in your life. Not even when you touched yourself to the thought of him. Yes, the added lube helped, but it was more than that. You were soaked because of him. Because of your desire for him. Because of the affect he had on you.

But you could see the effect you had on him, too. Through hazy eyes, you glanced down, catching sight of the way his cock twitched against his thigh as he knelt on the bed. You wanted it inside you. 

As if on cue, his fingers slowed within you. Absently, his thumb circled your clit. You whimpered. “One day I’ll make this pussy squirt for me. But right now, I gotta get her nice an’ ready. Make sure she can take me.”

He leaned down to kiss you languidly as he slid his fingers out of you. Then he pulled back, holding eye contact with you as he wrapped his mouth around those same fingers, moaning deeply as he sucked your arousal off of them. 

“Mind if I make y’ come on my tongue first, honey?” He asked. 

“I…I…” your voice failed you. 

He raised a brow. “I ain’t gonna do anythin’ unless I hear the words leave your mouth.”

You had to focus to get your reply out. “Y-yes, you can use your tongue,” came your gasp.

He smirked sofly, eyes glimmering. “Atta girl.” Another kiss before he descended your body yet again, leaving kisses in his wake. Large hands pushed your thighs apart as he slotted himself there. “Need ya to tell me what feels good, alright? If you ain’t grindin’ all over my face beggin’ me to keep goin’, then I ain’t doin’ it right.”

“O-okay.” Your stomach clenched in anticipation. 

Carefully, his fingers parted your folds, and he lowered his head, licking a flat stripe up your slit before he swirled the tip of his tongue around your twitching clit. He didn’t give it direct contact, however, only teasing the outer edge. It was maddening, and you found yourself trying to push your cunt against his face, searching for more.

“Uh-uh, lemme enjoy myself,” he murmured against you, hands holding your hips steady. Then he dove back in, resuming his teasing.

You shivered, squeezing your eyes shut as you focused on the feeling of his tongue against you. He noisily slurped at you, humming in satisfaction. You realized that he was getting as much pleasure out of this as you were.

When you lifted your head to gaze down at him, he locked eyes with you, and finally wrapped his lips around your neglected bud, sucking firmly, tongue flicking against you amidst the suction. 

“Oh!” You yelped, back arching off the bed as your hands came down to tangle in your hair.

He went at you like a man starved, sucking and licking, kissing and nipping. You felt as if you might float away, up into the clouds, straight toward heaven. Warmth was beginning to bloom deep within your abdomen, growing more intense with each passing moment. 

You hadn’t realized you were subconsciously making sounds, whines and whimpers and moans, but they were music to Rhett’s ears.

“Y’sound so pretty,” he spoke into your cunt, his voice muffled. He lifted his head only to kiss your inner thigh. A small gesture, but it did wonders to ground you. “How’s it feelin’ for ya?”

“G-good,” your mouth felt like it was made of jello. You weren’t sure how you were even able to form a response.

With a satisfied smile, he went back to business. His thick fingers delved back inside you as his tongue lapped at you, eager to draw a sweet, sweet orgasm out of you. He wouldn’t properly fuck you until he got it. He was remiss in his duties if he didn’t draw at least one out of you before he got his cock inside you. 

You shuddered as the intensity mounted. With his fingers and tongue working you over, you knew that you were going to plummet over the edge very soon. The tingle started at your fingertips, but it quickly spread to your other extremities. Warm and fizzy, as if your bloodstream had turned to shimmering champagne.

With your fingers gripping his hair, your brow furrowed as you focused on the way he was making you feel. You pulsed around his fingers, and he groaned, very aware of how quickly you were losing yourself.

“C’mon now, honey. Give it to me.” His fingers went deeper, faster, thumb coming up to rub at your clit while his mouth was occupied with speaking. “Wan’ feel you let go around my fingers, on my tongue. Gimme that sweet fuckin’ cum.”

“Rhett!” You cried out, jolting as if you’d been struck by a bolt of lightning.

Victorious, he wrapped his lips around you again, fingers undulating inside you as he drew you to the precipice, and finally, sent you tumbling, hurtling, soaring over the edge.

You blacked out, it was so intense. 

You were unaware of how tightly you were tugging at his hair, unaware of how you shoved your pulsing cunt against his face, riding him for all he was worth. He growled unabashedly against you, drinking from you, taking all you had to give as your cunt twitched and pulsed around his invading fingers. 

You were trembling, convulsing, unable to control your body’s response as you wailed and sobbed and went silent as it rendered your brain into a mess of white noise. He didn’t let up, continuing the caress of his tongue and fingers until you began to float down from the blinding heat. 

When you came to, Rhett was hovering over you, face gentle, eyes kind. “Hey there, honey. That was a lot. Y’ alright?” He asked, tone sweet.

I’m fine, you tried to say, but it came out more like “‘m fuh.”

Cautiously, he stroked his fingers over your warm cheek. “Did so good f’me, but I need your words. You want me to keep goin’, or do ya need a break?”

“K-keep going,” you managed. Why were your cheeks wet? Were you crying? 

He wiped the tears away. “Hey now, you’re safe. I’ve got ya.”

“I kn-know.” You reached for him, and he let you wrap your arms around his shoulders. 

He sat up, pulling you with him, hugging your body close to his, holding you until your unexpected bout of tears subsided. 

“How you doin’? Wanna take a break?” He repeated.

You leaned back to look at him, laughing slightly at yourself as you gathered your wits about you. “I’m okay. Not sure why I’m crying. That’s so embarrassing.”

But he shook his head. “Don’t apologize, little darlin’. That was a lot for you, I get it.” He kissed your temple. “Maybe we should continue this later.”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “I want to keep going.” There was no doubt in your mind.

“Okay,” he relented with a nod. His lips captured your own, and you melted into him. You could taste yourself on his tongue. “How do y’want me, then? Wanna ride me? Want me on top?”

You hesitated, considering the options. “Can, um…can you be on top?” You wished to be enveloped in the sheer size of him, safe and warm beneath his broadness. 

His mouth curved into a smile. “Sure thing. Lemme get you situated.” He eased you out of his lap before he moved to grab a pillow from the bed, putting it down in just the right spot. Then he patted the pillow. “S’for your hips.”

He guided you so that you were spread out against the mattress, your hips elevated slightly by the pillow. Then he reached for the bottle of lube again, drizzling more of it onto his cock, as some of it had wiped off against the bed when he’d been between your thighs. “Kinda jumped the gun, puttin’ this on earlier. Didn’t think I was gonna take a detour. But when I saw this pretty li’l pussy, I just couldn’t resist,” he admitted. 

Again, he smoothed more lube onto your puffy cunt as he spoke, and you whimpered at the sensitivity. But you were quickly distracted by the sight of him wrapping his fist around himself, offering a few firm strokes as he shifted to hover over you. 

He took a moment to gaze down at you, face a mask of adoration. He didn’t take this lightly, the fact that you wanted to give yourself to him like this. You trusted him implicitly, and it made his heart soar. 

“I’m gonna take it slow, honey,” he hummed, as he guided his cock through your slick. 

You gasped at the feeling, shivering beneath him. Pulsing with the desire to be full of him. His gaze remained focused on the way your folds parted to accommodate him. Oh, how he couldn’t wait to be inside you. 

His tip caught at your entrance once, twice, as he slid over you. Just as you were about to plead with him to fuck you already, he aligned himself with you. 

With one big hand placed lovingly against your lower abdomen, the other still wrapped around his shaft, he slowly began to ease into you. Your brows pinched together at the feeling, and with every inch, you felt the stretch. Faint at first, but growing as he filled you further. 

Although you had loosened up considerably with the help of your orgasm, the sheer size of him still took your breath away. He wasn’t so big that it was painful, but it was certainly a lot to adjust to. 

His jaw clenched, and he had to hold himself back from thrusting forward without warning. “You’re so tight, darlin’. Fuck, oh my god, you feel s’good.”

It had been too long since he’d been in the confines of a warm, wet, inviting pussy. His hand and the silicone stroker he used in his alone time were nothing compared to the way you felt. 

You could only whimper as he continued to bring his hips forward. Now, even now, it felt right. As if this was where he was always meant to be, buried within the deepest part of you, one with your body. Strangely enough, it felt so comforting, so safe. Filled to the brim, shivering beneath his weight. 

Your thighs trembled around his hips, and you cried out when you realized he’d bottomed out, given you all he could, all that you could take. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck and Rhett nuzzled his face into your neck, sucking in a sharp breath as he relished in the way you felt wrapped around him.

“How y’ feelin’, huh? Talk to me,” he rasped against your skin, tongue tasting the salt of your sweat. 

“F-full,” you whined. “So full. So big.” 

He gave you a moment, allowing your body to relax beneath him. Soon, his mouth was on yours again, kissing you sweetly. “Tell me when you’re ready,” he encouraged. There was no hurriedness in his tone. He wanted you to take it at your own pace. 

The tension melted, replaced by an itching, burning, deep desire. You knew you were ready. You’d never been more so. “I’m ready,” you confessed, clutching at his shoulders. “Please, want you to move.”

He braced himself above you, arms bracketing either side of your head as he pulled back and then shunted his hips forward. Slowly, not too fast, but it still drew a squeak from you. 

He swallowed the sound, mouth open against yours as he drew back again, only to fill you right back up. Tears pickled behind your eyes. Heat licked at your skin. 

The drag of his cock was so slow it was almost maddening, yet nearly too much all at once. You were so fucking full, and he drove himself deeper still. You could barely focus on anything else but him. His warmth, his scent, the sound of his sighs and grunts, the heave of his chest against your own. 

“Faster,” you pleaded. “Harder.”

He obliged you, jaw set in focus as his rhythm picked up. Your eyes rolled back, body undulating as he drove into you repeatedly. But he wasn’t satisfied just yet. A little shift of your hips, pulling you up toward him, angling you a bit better, and then, “Oh my god, Rhett!”

He grinned, breathless, victorious. “That’s your spot, ain’t it?” 

He already knew the answer. 

You lost yourselves in each other that night, in the warmth of his bed. All that had been building for the last several months came forth, as if a dam had been broken. 

Now that you were joined in such an intimate way, you didn’t want to part. 

Rhett let his forehead rest against your shoulder, mouth open to let out his moans and grunts, his eyes shut tight as he fucked into you. “Take it, take it, take it,” he gruffed, head spinning, strong thighs shaking as he drove himself into you. 

He licked at your collarbone, teeth grazing soft skin, sending pleasurable ripples through you. You felt lightheaded, each of you gasping, heaving. He was impossibly deep inside of you, connected to you, to the point where you couldn’t tell where you began and he ended. 

He owned you, and you let him. You’d never dreamed it could be like this. A connection so intimate, so loving, yet so primal. No one had ever given it to you like this before. No man had ever been able to make you feel like this with just his cock. 

But Rhett was not just any man. He was everything. Your sun, your stars, your moon. Your universe. 

“I love you!” You heard yourself cry out. Not of your body. Not of this earth. You were somewhere else. Somewhere ethereal. Heavenly. 

He groaned breathlessly, and the pitch of it changed, almost to a whimper, high in his throat. “I love y’too, honey. So much.” His hips stuttered. He had to focus on lasting just a little longer. 

“So fuckin’ perfect,” he gritted out. When he lifted his head, his hair had fallen against his forehead in fair curls. “Y’feel so good. I can hardly stand it.” He kissed your tears off your cheeks. “Gon’ have me coming for you.”

“I-I want it,” you squeaked, eyes wide, pleading. “Want you to fill me up, please!”

“And I’ll give it to ya, promise,” he murmured, voice strained, “but y’gotta let me get you there first.”

He switched his rhythm, grinding deeply against you, and your twitching, puffy clit brushed against his pubic bone with each movement. It immediately pulled a sharp cry from you, and your body catapulted into his as if you’d been struck with a live wire. 

You buried your face against his shoulder, biting at the skin, sure to leave a bruise. It felt so good, so good, so good. But how could you properly describe it? There were no adjectives in any language to fully, accurately describe the way you felt. 

You lost control of yourself, experiencing a sort of out of body sensation. You were floating, but he kept you grounded. You were going to shatter into a million pieces, but he held you together. You were consumed with wildfire, but he was the cool summer rain calming the flames. 

Rhett’s voice was rough in your ear. “Atta girl, baby, shit,” he grunted. You couldn’t hear him over your own sobs of euphoria. He was so strong and steady above you. A great big immovable force of a man, even as he lost himself. “I can feel you squeezin’ me. Are y’close?”

“Uh-huh!” You weren’t even sure how you managed that when you barely had a single coherent thought going through your mind. All you could think was Rhett, Rhett, Rhett. 

He was losing himself. “Please, darlin’. Let go f’me. I’m gonna come so hard, gonna fill you up, but I need you to do it first. Just let go, I’m beggin’ ya honey.” Pleading, ready to fall apart, barely hanging on. 

You were a thread being pulled taut. Tighter, tighter, tighter. Any more and you’d snap. But then his mouth was against yours and he offered one last please. “Come for me, baby. Come all over my fuckin’ cock.”

Maybe it was his words that sent you over the edge. Maybe it was that one last thrust deep within you. Either or, you were freefalling. Hurtling straight off the edge of a cliff. You tried to cry out, but when you opened your mouth, no sound came. 

All you could do was let it wash over you in deliciously intense waves, even more intense than your previous orgasm. It seemed to last forever, yet not long enough. Wonderfully dizzying, yet comforting, as if you were floating down into a warm hug. 

You must have blacked out again, because when you came back to yourself, Rhett’s face was buried against your breast, mouth open against your skin as he pulsed within you, emptying his seed deep within your fluttering cunt. 

The feeling brought a lazy smile to your face. Oh, how far gone you were. 

But as he came down from his own euphoria, you noticed something. It started in your thighs at first. A subtle twitch. But then it intensified, spreading further. Within seconds, you were full on trembling, so much so that your teeth had begun to chatter. 

“O-o-oh my god,” you whimpered. “I-I can’t stop!”

Rhett hummed, strong arms wrapping around your torso as he pulled you upright, softening cock still seated within you. “Hey, I’ve got ya. Was just intense, ‘s all.”

You had no control of your extremities, all you could do was curl into your man’s embrace and wait for the tremors to pass. “Th-that was so insane,” you spoke against his shoulder. And then, all at once, a flood of emotion hit you out of nowhere. 

Now you were crying, on top of shaking uncontrollably. You felt like an absolute mess, sobbing in Rhett’s arms. He was so patient with you, soothing you, cradling you close as your body processed it all. 

“You’re okay. You’re safe. I’m right here. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.” It was his velvet drawl that soothed you and brought you back to yourself. His strong, work-roughened hands were gentle against your skin, familiar and careful all at once. 

You had no idea how long you stayed like that. When you finally lifted your head to look at him, your thighs were slick with your combined released, and gravity had long since released his cock from you. 

“Hey there, sweetheart. Welcome back,” he murmured, smiling kindly. “How you feelin’?”

“Like I ran a marathon,” you replied with a sleepy smile. “In a good way.”

“Yeah?” He nuzzled his nose against yours. 

“That was…I’ve never felt like that before. I can’t even describe it. You…you’ve ruined me for anyone else.” 

That made his chest swell with pride. But he didn’t take the time to bask in it. Instead, he guided you off his lap. “Need t’ get cleaned up before you fall asleep on me, alright?”

You stood, but your legs were unsteady, and your first few steps were much like a newborn fawn’s. Rhett bit back a smile as he guided you to the bathroom. There, he helped you clean up. You weren’t sure that you could handle a shower in the state you were in, so he lovingly wiped you down with a damp cloth. 

After you were situated, he led you back to the bedroom. “You need some jammies,” he mused. “Wan’ me to go grab ‘em for you?”

“Would you?” You asked, grateful for his offer. “They’re in the middle left drawer of my dresser.”

“Sure thing.” After he threw on a pair of plaid lounge pants, he disappeared from the room, leaving you alone for a moment. 

You took that time to gather your wits about you. You had just experienced the most wonderfully intense sex of your entire life. Never in your wildest imaginations did you think it would be like this. You’d literally gone into a shaking fit after the fact, he’d given it to you so good. 

Part of you felt a little mortified at the way you had reacted, but it wasn’t as if you could help it. It had quite literally been involuntary. But Rhett has soothed your worries, offering you understanding. 

For him, your involuntary trembling and tears had reassured him that he’d done his job right. And as he searched for a pair of pajamas, he couldn’t help but smile to himself. Everything was out in the open. You’d both taken that leap and now, there was nothing keeping you apart. 

He was glad that your miscommunication between each other hadn’t done any damage. Now that you’d talked it through, you each knew where the other stood. There were no more guessing games to play. 

As he sauntered back to join you in his bedroom, he felt a sense of relief. All was as it should be. 

“Thank you,” you told him, as you reached for the pajamas. You’d wrapped his quilt around yourself, shielding your nakedness from him. Although you had just allowed him to fuck you, you felt a little shy in the aftermath. 

Rhett allowed you a moment of privacy, slipping into the bathroom to brush his teeth while you put your pajamas on. Once he returned, you were sitting cross-legged on the bed. 

You were staring at a wet spot in the fabric. “Guess we made a mess,” you bashfully mused. 

He smiled, shaking his head. “Guess we did. Don’t worry, I’ve got another blanket in the closet. I’ll wash the quilt tomorrow.” He leaned down to kiss you before he tugged the quilt off the bed. “Next time I’ll put a towel down.”

Next time. 

“Rhett?” 

“Yeah, darlin’?” He was already halfway across the room, searching for a blanket in his closet. 

“Thank you. You, um, you made me feel really safe during that. And you didn’t make me feel stupid for getting all shaky like I did.”

He paused, blanket in hand before he made his way back to you. He set the blanket aside as he took a seat on the edge of the bed. “I’d never do that to ya. Hell, if I fuck you, and you’re tremblin’ that hard after the fact, then I know I did my job right.”

You ducked your head, smiling brightly at his admission. “Even so, thank you.”

He tipped your chin up. “You’re welcome.” But then his face grew serious as he rested his hand on your knee. “I need you to know that when you said I ruined you for anyone else…that’s what I want. I don’t want there to be anyone else. Just you an’ me, for as long as you’ll have me.”

“Good, because me too.”

His eyes shone, happiness glimmering within them. “Glad that’s settled.”  And then, “by the way, I was thinkin’…would you wanna move your stuff down the hall and start sleepin’ in here, with me, from now on?” Then he caught himself. “Unless of course you’d rather not, that’s okay too. Don’t want y’ to feel any pressure.”

“Rhett.”

“Yeah?”

“I’d love to move into your room with you.”

He grinned, clearly pleased. “That’s what I was hopin’ you’d say.”

You leaned in, kissing him sweetly. “I hope you know you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Rhett Abbott.”

He pulled you closer, big arms wrapping around your waist. “And you’re the best thing that ever happened to me, little darlin’. Don’t you forget it.”

You sighed, melting into him, entirely relaxed. For a man who had such a rough and tumble air about him, he had a soul as sweet as blood-red jam. He was so good to you, kind and patient, sparing no expense to make sure you were taken care of. 

After all, he was your million dollar man. And you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

-

tagging (those who might be interested):

@milesmillergf @rhettabbotts @peachystenbrough @withahappyrefrain @up-thereinthesky

@attapullman @sebsxphia @damrlova @lovinglyeternal @laracrofted

@bobfloydsbabe @sugarcoated-lame @sunblchdfly @fragilefearnie @floydsmuse

@blindedbythelightt @princess-vibes25 @rockstxr-x @phoenixhalliwell @xdaddies-babyx

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I know the König x secret admirer reader is not gonna be officially continued but I was wondering if you could maybe explore part of it😭 there’s a part that mentioned that König gets laid in the military and I was wondering how angsty it would be if reader found out?🤭

Yes of course! ^^ It would be angsty... and fluffy! These two are the silliest people who ever lived tbh 🩷🐥

König is young in this AU (around his early 20s) and wildly inexperienced compared to some of the other recruits his age.

His first time was with a girl who joined the army when König had been there for about 1.5 years already. Desperate as he was with hiding the fact that he’s still a virgin, he tumbled into bed with this lady after a night out at the bar. She thoroughly seduced him, and König’s instincts told him she was only looking for fun, but he went with her anyway because, well. Loneliness can kill you, you know?!

He tried to woo her a bit after that until it became quite clear that this woman was not planning to settle down anytime soon. If anything, she was looking for a new conquest – and it’s fine, totally fine, except that König had surrendered a tiny piece of his heart to her along with his dick... That’s just how he is, and it took him more than a few months to get over the fact that it was “just a shag” and he “shouldn’t take things so seriously”.

That’s also why he closed off from people again, decided to concentrate on work and training and gym – until our cute little angel stumbled into his life like the prettiest saving grace! König was a goner from the start because this girl's approach was very different, so gentle and sweet compared to grimy shot glasses and smudgy lipstick and raunchy jokes. It’s a given that he was a little shocked when she sent her that pic 🙄 reminding him of promiscuous women who are not looking for a soul but a body, but because he is what he is the first thing he did was crank things up a notch and send her a dick pic back…

Yes, he’s desperate, but he’s also an go hard or go home man and this time, König is relatively sure he’s dealing with a lovely, delicate soul. Someone who wouldn’t just leave him out in the cold after getting what she wants.

And everything is like a fairytale between these two until she finds out he’s not a virgin despite he seemed a bit… like one… (in this scenario I think reader is a virgin and she thought König was one too because of obvious reasons? lol) And it’s fine, totally fine for her as well, except that the image of König having the night of his life with some military babe is haunting her from dusk till dawn.

There’s bound to be some drama when she starts asking timidly whether she’s still there… Whether they see each other every day. If they talk to each other, if he trains with her, etc. What if they test rifles together, or go out again with the sniper crew and get drunk and König feels… a little lonely?

She knows he would never cheat on her, not in a million years, but knowing how much of a wet dog he is she can’t promise that she’ll be all calm and relaxed during weekends, knowing her boyfriend is out there, full of testosterone and heart, his heart somewhat susceptible to female influence… Maybe even good old seduction…

And what’s even worse is the jealousy, the envy.

What if she’s more badass than her? That doesn't take much... She must be fierce if she’s in the military, something completely different, a forbidden apple König might want to taste again. It’s maddening, and when she finally opens up about it to him, spitting it out one night when he asks what’s bugging his sweet angel, there’s a big fat silence that follows.

König can't even believe she has torn her heart to pieces over something like this, alone and upset and ashamed when she's a literal angel. He sits her nice and pretty in his lap and talks her ear off about how he has nothing against this woman, truly, but that she is nothing compared to his first (and hopefully last!) girlfriend. Their love could never be compared to what happened between him and that girl, these things can’t even be spoken together in the same sentence. If he’s completely honest, his first time was... disappointing. Awkward, humbling, a total drunken mess of which he remembers nothing except that the woman wasn’t completely present either and that he was ashamed that his first time had to be like this.

Honestly, he felt like he lost his virginity on the night when he came to see her. She’s everything he’s ever dreamed of, all he thinks about these days... It’s quite annoying, actually, because he’s supposed to concentrate on how the wind blows and that the ammo doesn’t get wet and that he’s properly concealed.

He could be lying in a ditch with dummy rounds whirling past him and all he could think about are her eyes and lips and giggling and tits and, and… that. How warm it is, how nice it is, how he would just want to curl himself next to her when he hops back to his bunk in the evening. Her smile is the last thing he sees before he dreams, her voice is what he hears. All the things she said, all those sweet, silly little things, chime in his ear before he sleeps.

And all the precious moments they’ve already spent together, the times he made love to her under the trees... There’s nothing like that in the whole world and if she thinks something else can top that she's even sillier than he thought. He could comb through all the continents and he would never find a girl like her.

So tell him again... Why would he go to a shot glass of saltwater when he has a jar of wild honey right here at home?

[gloomygloworm]

thinking about the sandman and DBDA - primarily in an edwin is in hell context. do you think lucifer knows every soul in hell? all of their names? do you think lucifer knows about edwin payne, dragged to hell in a ritual sacrifice on a technicality? do you think lucifer knows edwin doesn't belong there? do you think lucifer cares? do you think in the grand scheme of things that edwin "doesn't matter" in the huge sprawling eternity that is hell?

do you think if edwin ever encountered lucifer and asked "do you know who i am" that lucifer would say "of course i do, of course i do, how could i not?" or do you think they would scoff and say "of course i do, of course i do, but why do i care for one soul when there are millions suffering just the same?"

if lucifer traced a deadly sharp nail down sixteen year old virgin sacrifice edwin payne's cheek, do you think it would be an act of love? or an act of cruelty?

(this was inspired by hannaloony and their gorgeous art piece of edwin payne sitting with lucifer)

[thenightfolknetwork]

I am an antichrist.

The Real thing, born to a seventh virgin daughter after her soul was consumed by my father, Satan, in a ritual of fire, glory and light.

I was raised as instructed by The Book— Don't ask which Book, you don't want to know, the knowledge would melt your eardrums— to be the destroyer of the world, the prince of sins and the devourer of souls. I am the One Who Will Bring Fire to the earth, I am the One who will run the blood of innocents through the streets and boil the sea with my mere desire, I am the dark side of the moon, I am humanity's nightmare, I am—

I am 12 years old.

And I'm at school.

I just learned about ecosystems: The delicate balance of a food chain, the harmony that exists in the earth when a network of fungi extracts nitrogen from the earth and a rotting tree leaves the soil rich for next spring.

I found out about corals recently too. They are alive and an extremely complex life form for something that will never move, corals don't die as long as nothing kills them, isn't that a strange and wonderful concept?

I always wanted to be the World Destroyer.

It never occurred to me that bringing hell to earth would mean no deer or bees or coyotes.

If you increase the average sea temperature by more than two degrees, millions of corals will die. I don't know if I want to boil the sea if that's the end result.

But I am the Antichrist and I like being the Antichrist. I like to be Apotheosis, the crack in the glass, the rotten apple, the mercury in the water.

But I also like the world as it is, even if it doesn't bow down to me in fear.

What do I do?

(What do I say to my father?)

This is the problem with prophecies – they always put the subject under such a tremendous amount of pressure! I feel sure that, if your father had simply not mentioned his plans for your future, you would have grown up without these anxieties and likely gone on to fulfil your unholy purpose without a second thought, in a time frame that felt sensible and natural to you.

Instead, you've been burdened with a terrible and unreasonable amount of responsibility. No wonder you're feeling torn! This is more than any twelve year old should have to consider.

The important thing to remember is that you don't have to make a decision about this right away. You are the Antichrist and you will remain the Antichrist while you take a little while to decide the best course of action for you. The end of the world will still be there when you're ready for it.

As to the apocalypse itself, this is the other reason prophecies can be so frustrating. They are simply never specific enough to be helpful. Yes, you may be destined to end the world – but which world, exactly? And how much of that 'blood of innocents, boiling seas' stuff is literal, and how much is just a religious scribe getting carried away with himself?

In my experience, there are many, many ways a person might fulfil a prophecy without having to bring a fiery demise to this particular realm of existence. You might take a short hop over to another reality and destroy an uninhabited world, for example.

Alternatively, you might take your prophecy in a more metaphorical sense. “The world” we live in today is one that allows billionaires and business magnates destroy our environment in the name of profit. Perhaps you could fulfil your great purpose by destroying the social and political structures that make that world possible.

I understand your trepidation about bringing this up with your father. However, I really do think that you should consider it. Looking after you is his job, after all, and I'm sure he wouldn't want you struggling with these feelings alone. Reach out to him, and let him know how you feel.

You don’t have to decide this all at once. Whatever else you say to your father, you need to make it clear that you will not be embarking on any sort of apotheosis until you've at least finished your GCSEs. You are a child, and you deserve to have a proper childhood, whatever the future might hold for you.

[For more creaturely advice, check out Monstrous Agonies on your podcast platform of choice, or visit monstrousproductions.org for more info]

[sunbookie]

“We need the historian and philosopher to give us with trenchant pen, the story of our forefathers, and let our soul and body, with phosphorescent light, brighten the chasm that separates us. We should cling to them just as blood is thicker than water. American Negro must remake his past in order to make his future.”

... 

Arturo Alfonso Schomburg, collector, archivist, writer, activist, and important figure of the Harlem Renaissance was born in San Juan, Puerto Rico on January 24, 1874. His mother was a black woman originally from St. Croix, Danish Virgin Islands (now the U.S. Virgin Islands), and his father was a Puerto Rican of German ancestry.

Seventeen-year-old Schomburg migrated to New York City in 1891. Very active in the liberation movements of Puerto Rico and Cuba, he founded, in 1892, Las dos Antillas, a cultural and political group that worked for the islands’ independence from Spain. After the collapse of the Cuban revolutionary struggle, and the cession of Puerto Rico to the United States, Schomburg, disillusioned, turned his attention to the history and culture of Africa and what we know today as the African Diaspora.

In 1911, as its Master, he renamed El Sol de Cuba #38, a lodge of Cuban and Puerto Rican immigrants, as Prince Hall Lodge in honor of the first African American freemason. The same year, he founded, with journalist John Edward Bruce, the Negro Society for Historical Research which gathered African, Caribbean, and African American scholars. In 1922 he was elected president of the American Negro Academy.

Schomburg firmly believed that “The American Negro must remake his past in order to make his future.” The first part of this process was to reclaim history by evidencing Black people’s contributions to history and culture. Working as a mailroom supervisor at a Brooklyn bank, Schomburg spent his free time and resources, and his retirement after 1930, collecting materials on Africa and its Diaspora. He traveled through the United States, Europe, and Latin America, amassing over 10,000 books, manuscripts, sheet music, photographs, newspapers, periodicals, pamphlets, and artwork.

The second phase of Schomburg’s project was to bring this knowledge to the public. He lent numerous items to schools, libraries, and conferences and organized exhibitions. He wrote articles for a diversity of publications: Marcus Garvey’s Negro World; the NAACP’s The Crisis edited by W. E. B. Du Bois; The Messenger, founded by Socialists A. Philip Randolph and Chandler Owen; the organ of the National Urban League, Opportunity; and Harlem’s newspaper, The Amsterdam News.

In 1926 the Carnegie Corporation bought Schomburg’s collection for $10,000 (about $125,000 today) on behalf of The New York Public Library. The collection was added to the Division of Negro Literature, History and Prints of the Harlem branch on 135th Street.

From 1929 to 1932 Schomburg worked as a curator at Fisk University’s library and was instrumental in expanding its collection from 100 to 4,600 items. Back in New York, he was appointed curator of The New York Public Library’s Harlem Division. He held the position until his death on June 10, 1938 in Brooklyn. He was 64. In his honor, the Division was renamed the Schomburg Collection of Negro Literature, History and Prints in 1940. Arturo Schomburg’s enduring legacy was further acknowledged when the Collection became the Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture of The New York Public Library in 1972. With over 11 million items, it is one of the world’s foremost research centers on Africa and the African Diaspora.

Legendary.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Colette Colfer

Published: Jan 17, 2024

A slow-burning religious revolution is transforming Ireland. The Catholic Church has waned to a smidgin of its former significance and much of the enormous space it once occupied in the Irish psyche has been vacated. A gap has appeared. We need to mind this gap.

At the same time as Catholicism is declining in importance, a new belief system centred around the concept of gender identity is gathering momentum, thrusting roots deep into the cultural fabric of Irish society, and filling parts of the expanse previously occupied by Catholicism.

This new belief system has implications for all sectors of Irish society including education, sports, legislation, and the media. It also influences popular individual understandings of the self.

‘I am large, I contain multitudes’ wrote Walt Whitman (1819 – 1892) in his famous poem Song of Myself. The kaleidoscopic complexity of the individual is often eclipsed when those espousing gender identity theory magnify gender identity out of proportion to other facets of the self.

Although the idea of gender identity is considered secular in nature, there are many religious parallels. A certain level of faith is required to believe in the existence of the scientifically unfalsifiable intangible internal essence that is the gendered self. This disembodied sense of self, elevated in importance above the body, mirrors ideas about the soul. Sacrificial rites involving the removal of healthy organs assert the primacy of gender identity that is bestowed with a sacred quality.

There are echoes of holy days and religious seasons in new calendars listing dates associated with gender identity. These include Agender Pride Day (19th May), Non-Binary Awareness Week (in July), International Pronouns Day (20th October), and Transgender Awareness Month (November). There are also quasi-religious symbols, priest-like leaders, slogans that sound like mantras and compulsory articles of belief including that sex is ‘assigned’ at birth, that everyone has a gender identity, and that social transition and affirmation are the path to finding one’s true self (or salvation).

Societies are always changing. When 108-year-old Florence Pannell was interviewed on UK television in 1977 about growing up in Victorian England, she was asked what had changed most during her lifetime. Florence responded: ‘Everything! Nothing is the same! Everything is changed!’ To be alive is to be caught in a web of change. The rate of religious change in Ireland is happening faster than the rate of population change. The Irish population rose 46% from 3.5 to 5.1 million between 1991 and 2022. During the same period, the number of people with ‘no religion’ increased by over 1,000 per cent.1

Ireland in the 1900s was steeped in Catholicism. Church steeples punctured skylines symbolising the highest societal value and pinpointing the geographical locus of the community. Streets and remote country roads were dotted with grottos of the Virgin Mary. Silhouettes of huge crosses were visible on hills and rocky outcrops. Weeks revolved around Sunday mass. People’s entire lifelines were patterned with religious rituals.

Catholicism in Ireland reached its peak in 1961 when Roman Catholics made up a phenomenal 94.9 per cent of the population. Since then, however, the proportion of Catholics has been in decline. By 2022 it had dropped to 69% and since then, the tide of Catholic belief has been receding further still.

Receding tides require attention. In 1907, a tidal wave resulted in the deaths of 70% of the inhabitants of Simeuleu in Indonesia. Survivors told the story of an earthquake followed by a receding sea and then a tidal wave. They referred to the sequence of events as smong. Stories of smong were passed down through the generations in popular lullabies and poems.

When a devastating tsunami in the Indian Ocean on the 26th of December 2004 killed an estimated quarter of a million people, the island of Simeuleu was an anomaly in the region as there was only a minimal loss of life. Just seven victims were recorded from the population of almost eighty thousand. The high survival rate was accredited to the stories of smong. Islanders had recognised the signs of the retreating sea after an earthquake and had rushed to higher ground.

Declining religious adherence has potentially important implications. Sascha Becker and Hans-Joachim Voth point out, for example, that: ‘As the role of religion in public life declined from the late 19th century onwards, new ideologies and totalitarian world-views spread’. Becker and Voth mention that the ideologies of both Communism and Naziism were more popular in highly secularised areas of interwar Germany.

The decline of Catholicism in Ireland and the concomitant increase of those with no religion warrants careful consideration. Catholicism has faded significantly from the public sphere, scarpered from centre stage to a quieter corner in the wings. The stage is now peopled by those proclaiming the new gospel of ‘equality, diversity, inclusion’ and the stage is festooned with sacralised Progress Pride flags signalling the adoption of gender identity theory. The ideology of nationalism has more recently made a notable public appearance side stage and new belief systems or older ideologies could also emerge and rise to prominence.

Ireland’s National Census of 2022 indicates a religiously heterogeneous society with over fifty separate categories of religion outlined. This compares to the National Census of 1981 when just eight separate categories of religion were recorded and all the Christian denominations combined constituted 99.4% of the total population. A look at just some of the 2022 categories and numbers of adherents gives an indication of the level of religious change: Islam: 81,930; Hindu: 33,043; Taoists: 200; Scientologists: 132; Satanism: 189; Jedi Knight: 1,800, Jehovah’s Witness: 6,332; Buddhist: 9,053. A low-key online campaign in the run-up to the 2022 Census encouraged those with concerns about gender identity theory to identify their religion on the census form as ‘Believer in Biology’. Although the official census data did not publish details, a Freedom of Information request showed that at least 163 of the 8,064 in the ‘Other stated religion’ category identified their religion as ‘Believer in Biology’.2

Minding the gap vacated by traditional religion that is currently being filled, at least in part, by gender identity theory involves paying careful attention to the latest top-quality research on gender dysphoria, following best medical practice, developing guidelines based on evidence rather than ideology, allowing space for a diversity of beliefs and for healthy civil discussion that allows open conversation and respectful dialogue about the implications of gender identity theory on wider society including on single-sex spaces, sports, and children’s psychological and physical well-being.

The highest point in the urban skyline of Ireland today is the satellite pylon rather than the church steeple. This signals a switch in societal values and the locus of community formation. Social media is where new belief systems are promulgated and where younger generations are most likely to seek and find meaning. The trains of communication in the internet era are fast-moving. Mind the gap.

-

According to the National Census, 66,270 people had no religion in 1991. This rose to 736,210 in 2022 – a difference of 1,011% ↩︎

The numbers for ‘Believer in Biology’ only include records processed after November 2022. ↩︎

==

This speaks to the "Substitution Hypothesis," which suggests that as traditional religions decline, other quasi- and religious-like practices fill the void to satisfy human tendency towards religiosity.

[francisversion2]

Imagine ur 18 years of age

(Tw: minor child abuse)

Your 18 and you just got a offer to escape ur abusive household.

Last year of my high school, we had a exchange teacher, he was Italian a history professor at a university. From the start of the year I did great, I was best in history... I was close with the teacher I wasn't aware at the time it was bc he realized my family situation.

It's June ... No more needs to study only inpatient waiting for the school graduation.

My history teacher approaches me telling me I got in few universities I apply for but he tells me a thing that would change my life for ever. He told me tmw he is leaving for Italy back to his old university job , he got me to graduate early and asked me one question.

"Visne libertatem gustare?"

(Do you want to taste freedom)

He informed me that I could, leave my abusive household behind and leave with him tmw. I agreed ofc I felt the freedom at the tips of my fingers.

I ran home trying to hide my happiness, when I enter my dad is home, he yells at me for smiling before trying to hit me with a beer bottle, that shatters in million pieces of green glass... I entered my room. Pull out my bag...

It hits me, what should I pack?

How am I supposed to know I never ran away from home ...

I opened the bag and start shoving clothes, a sketch book ( I had two but I left behind one) ...

My mother came behind me unhappy as always with that stupid belt, I don't fight I let her do it... The reason she did it I later remembered it that i skipped religioun class...

When she leaves I grab few books:

• The secret history, it was falling apart, blood on some pages, tear stains...

•dead poet society, It had blood too from the same incident , grip marks I held the book so tight once that it left a mark

•virgin suicide , damaged too

•the great Gatsby, blood smeared over the cover

...

The books left, I regret not taking with me ... But I couldn't...

I shove them in the bag , shoving my phone in there too.

I looked around the room, panicking what should I pack. Even though I was 18 I grabbed a plushie I had since I was a kid shoving it in there....

That night I couldn't sleep, no matter what I did , how many times I turned, i didn't fell asleep.

In the morning I ran away...

We were driving in his car, I felt a strange feeling, was it freedom, happiness... Sadness...

Maybe they would miss me when I am gone ... I overthinking to myself...

When we arrived , I stayed in his apartment for the whole summer learning Italian to a expert level...

I hopped they would come looking for me at least miss me a bit...

But on 11th of July, my history professor came , sat me down and gave me the paper... I was disowned

It was no surprise... I expected it surely I did... But why did my heart shattered in so many pieces when I read it... They didn't care I knew that... But deep down I hoped they did...

I cried for days , I longed for the comfort I never had from them...

Few days later he gave me another paper... Legal guardian... He became my legal guardian... Well he didn't.. he needed me to sign it for him. I didn't think twice scribbling my name on the paper... Ofc I didn't need to do that since I was 18 years of age but I did ...

I changed my first name and last name, it was my choice. Now every time I hear someone calling me by my old name I feel blood freezing in my veins.

Ofc my life got better, I go to therapy and I am doing better mentally...

But the memories the slightest touch , a flash back bring me back into that dark place, into my bedroom...

I love the love that I receive now , but sometimes the guilt and feeling that I am selfish for not being satisfied with the love that I received ...

Deep down in the darkest bits of my soul lives a unfulfilled desire for that unfulfilled parentale love I never received.

All I wanted was for them to love me and still I crave at nights their love I never got...

[heartbeatan]

Crimson Park (Chapter 13)

Return to Chapter 12.

Return to Table of Contents.

Return to Desperado Series.

Return to Jungkook Fanfictions.

Return to Masterlist.

Chapter 13

You held your forehead in your hands as you rode the porcelain bus. After the auction, which the Chairman won for a whooping two million, you excused yourself quickly and rushed to the women's bathroom to empty your stomach. After an eternity, you were sure there was nothing left, but you needed your body to stop trembling before you stood up. That's when you heard retching coming from a stall a few doors down.

"Fuck," you said under your breath. You peeled yourself from the floor, flushing the toilet and making your way to the vanity to clean up. Your eyes were bloodshot, your mascara trickled down your eyes in tear streaks, and your lipstick was all but gone. You reached for the complimentary products displayed in wicker baskets across the counter, finding makeup removing wipes, eyedrops, and individually wrapped toothbrushes.

You heard the toilet flush from the stall where someone else had been vomiting, and were somewhat surprised when Zoya stepped out, instead of an inebriated patron.

Your eyes locked for a moment in a wordless conversation and exchange of empathy. She pulled up silently beside you, following your lead of tidying herself up.

"I don't know if I can do this for much longer," she said remorsefully. "And I'm nowhere in the position you're in. How do you do it?"

"Years of practice and selling off my soul one piece at a time."

“That was so messed up.”

You both moved onto brushing your teeth, and it was actually nice to have another person's misery as company.

"Listen," you spoke just as you began to apply your lipstick. "If you're having doubts, then you should consider leaving before it's too late for you. You're the best in your field, and he's going to notice that soon."

She nodded softly, deep in thought. "What's going to happen to you?"

"Well, first I need to pay my debt to that Chairman. And after that - I don't know."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's not your fault. I can handle it. I'll be fine, as always."

⁂

"Guys, if we don't do this, then I won't get paid, and that would be a total disaster," Sheyanne - better known as your barely 20 year old auction prize, was now seated in the backseat of the SUV, pleading with you and Jungkook who rode in the front back to the city.

"You will get paid. I'm the one who manages the money and the rules said that the winner gets you for a night, and they specified that I got to do whatever I wanted. And what I want to happen is for you to tell me where I can take you that is safe, so that I can go to bed."

"Seriously, if you're worried because I'm a virgin, that's a total lie. My uncle said that it would raise the price."

"What do you need the money for anyway?"

"To pay for college."

You groaned. Dongnam was more than capable of paying for her college.

"Well, you have a lot more money now than you need for just College. You don't need to be doing this anymore.

"And seriously, I am so grateful. I will absolutely do this if you want to. You two are a hot couple - I'd be totally into it."

"No," Jungkook shook his head immediately, a soured curve to his lips. You almost laughed at how repulsed he was by the idea. You placed your hand on his arm to console him.

"Why? Am I not pretty enough for you?" she spat, offended by his reaction.

"It's just not our thing," you told her, excluding the one-hundred other reasons why it was in fact a "hell, no."

"All right well - I get that. People born in the 1900s aren't as sexually free as my generation is."

You physically recoiled at the remark. After everything you experienced, heard, and witnessed in your life, a barely new adult had been the first person to truly shock and offend you. You could see Jungkook’s lips twitching as he held in a laugh. He placed his hand on your knee - now to console you.

"I love your dress by the way," she looked up from her phone to pay you the compliment. "It's very like that woman on that awards show that was really popular - but, like, with more glitter."

"Jennifer Lopez," you said, irritation lining your answer.

"Yeah, that's the one. She had good style.

"Well, at least the 1900s were good for something."

Jungkook snorted.

"So, where can we take you?"

"Well..." she sighed. "There's this guy I've been seeing who’s throwing a party. This other bitch he likes is going to be there, so... it would be nice to surprise him and get him before she does. At least someone in this car will be wheeling tonight.

"Just wear a condom, lord, please," you groaned again.

"Can we stop at a store?"

"There's some in the pocket in front of you," Jungkook chimed in.

"Do you stash those things everywhere?" you lowered your voice and hoped she wouldn't hear.

He shrugged, "I like to be prepared."

"That's so hot!" Sheyanne piped up, gawking at the two of you. You rolled shut the partition.

⁂

"Why did I do this again?" you grumbled after you dropped Sheyanne off at some house located in a one-horse suburban town.

"I was hoping you would enlighten me to that answer - because I suspect it came at a big cost."

You pursed your lips - you hadn’t had the time to prepare yourself for how you would explain this to him. "That was so fucked up. Adult or not, she’s his niece."

"She's not technically his niece. She's the old bookkeeper's daughter."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really," your voice became solemn, and the atmosphere in the car shifted as you slipped into a reclusive state of existence."

"You wanna talk about it?"

"No."

"Will you tell me about it anyways?"

You exhaled, "Maybe sometime."

Your thoughts began to flip through all the worst case scenarios. This was obviously some sick and twisted vendetta of Dongnam's, against a man who was in his grave. What was going to happen if he found out you ruined it? Could you keep the Chairman quiet? But then the Chairman would hold it over you. Fuck... you sold yourself to the Chairman - but you couldn’t deal with that right now. Perhaps you should tell Dongnam yourself about Sheyanne, if he hadn't figured it out already. Would he make you suffer for it? Would he demand your head on a silver platter? Did he already commission your hit?

You stayed plastered to your seat staring out the window at the dark trees, lost in thought as they reminded you of the stupid poster in the casino office, and cringing at every scenario wherein Dongnam would torture and murder you. You didn't notice at first that the pavement had turned to gravel, and the SUV was now bumping left and right, up and down as the forest line closed in around you.

"Where are we going?" you asked, but he didn’t answer.

"Jungkook," you sat up, alarmed, "Where are we going?"

"Don't worry about it."

This is it, you thought to yourself. Dongnam did put a hit on you, and he sent Jungkook to execute it. He was probably spying on you for him all along.

"I knew I shouldn't have trusted you," you hit him three times hard with your purse.

"Whoa, whoa," he chuckled in surprise.

You pulled at the door handle, but it didn't budge. "Who the fuck are you working for?" you shouted as you clicked the lock.

"No, God, no, Y/N - I'm not abducting you. We're just going to the beach."

"What?" you looked back at him.

"There's a secluded beach at the end of this road," he pointed into the blackness ahead.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. It’s a nice night out and you won't go camping with me."

"Jesus Fucking Christ, Jungkook," you exhaled in relief. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"I was thinking of being spontaneous, but lesson learned. Don't take mobsters down side roads without their consent."

"Yeah, no shit. Turn around."

"I can't, the road is too narrow. We'll have to turn at the beach."

You placed your palm over your beating heart, trying to calm it. "I really fucking hate you right now."

"Well, at least you can hate me while we drink," he reached between your legs and under the passenger's seat, retrieving a brown bag with a bottle of liquor.

You inspected the expensive vodka, "Where did you get this?"

"I stole it from the party."

"Good, now I can report you for misconduct."

"We'll stay an hour tops. It'll be fun."

"I don't do beaches. And who goes to the beach when the sun isn't out?"

"I wasn't exactly thinking we'd work on our tans."

"I'm really not in the mood for sex right now, Jungkook."

"That's cool. It wasn't on my mind either."

"Mm hm," you hummed in a timber that let him know you didn't believe him.

⁂

"I stole some food too," Jungkook returned from the SUV with a floor mat to drape over a damp log for you to sit on. Calling this place "a beach" was a bit of an overstatement. There were a few square metres of what could be considered sand, but was brimming with un-retreated foliage and rock, and was near completely guarded by thick trees. But of what you could see of the sky and lake was stunning. The moon was almost full, and it illuminated the soft ripples of the water, and the stars were endless and bright, streaking the night sky in brush strokes of white clusters.

You sat down, smoothing your dress to avoid dirt stains, and tugged his jacket snug over your shoulders. Jungkook handed you a pathetic finger sandwich, before taking a seat on the sand next to you. He opened the vodka, then cracked open a soda, and poured them into empty travel mugs he had commandeered from the SUV.

You both sat quietly, drinking in the view and letting yourselves be serenaded by the cicadas and bullfrogs. You felt yourself relax in a way that made you realise how tensed you had been for days.

"I traded myself for Sheyanne," you said quietly, somewhat hoping he wouldn't hear you. "To the Chairman." Jungkook didn't say anything. Instead, he just sipped his drink and looked out over the water. "I have to go to Hvar with him. For four days." He sighed long and soft, leaning back against the log, then reached to you, placing his hand over your knee and giving it a small squeeze. "Aren't you going to say something?"

"Something." You scoffed. "I don't know what to say," he sounded defeated.

"Anything."

"I know you felt you had too. I just wish I knew why. I wish you would let me help."

"I needed to... because she was up there because of me. I'm the reason why her father isn't around to have prevented this."

"What happened to him?"

"I set him up," you paused to take a sip of your drink. "His men beat him to a pulp. He was in a coma for a few weeks, then they pulled his life support. It’s how I first got my nickname."

"Did you order them to do that?"

"No. I didn't have that kind of power. But I knew it was a possibility. And I didn't care."

"You wanted his job?"

"What I wanted was to just do my job. But he didn't exactly hire me because of my brain. One day I got tired."

"Does Dongnam know?"

"Yeah. He didn't find out until after though."

"Was he mad?"

"Times were different back then. The two of them were basically equals, and Dongnam wanted him gone but needed a reason that wasn't linked to him - or else he would be overthrown as well. So, he was quite pleased, and I knew he would be."

You could hear the gears turning in his head, and you were both curious and terrified at what he was possibly thinking."

"I deserve whatever happens in Hvar."

"No. You don't. No one deserves that. You were protecting yourself. You didn't decide what would happen to him - the people who beat him did. And the auction - that was all Dongnam - not you."

"This is who I am, Jungkook. You're just trying to justify sleeping with a monster."

"You're not a monster, Y/N. I've seen monsters - you are not one of them."

"How can you say that?"

"Because I've seen you."

For a moment you felt tears prick behind your eyes, and it made you want to run - but it also pulled you closer to him.

You slipped yourself off the log, then crawled to him, laying your head on his lap to curl up and look out over the lake. He stroked your hair with long, soothing brushes of his fingers.

"What are you thinking about?" he whispered.

"Scary things."

"Like what?"

"Like... I'm glad you're here." He drew his hand down your arm, then laced his fingers between yours. "What are you thinking about?"

He thought for a long while - you could tell he was wrestling with a lot of things he wanted to say but was trying to narrow it down to just one. "That I wish I knew the right thing to say."

You wished for that too. "Let's stay here for a while."

Go to Chapter 14.

[moneeb0930]

THE BLACK MADONNA.

Isis was a Black African goddess of Nile Valley civilizations whose worship eventually diffused to most of the ancient world.

Isis was worshipped by the Nubians well over 300 years before the first Egyptian dynasty.

The Egyptians then gave the Isis religion to Greece, Rome, and Western Asia.

Gerald Massey says that the religious records of all the worlds religions including Hinduism, Buddhism, and Christianity are nothing more than copies of the religious records of the Black goddess Isis, her son Horus, and her husband Osiris.

For example, Horus was the first child born from a virgin mother's Immaculate Conception, and he was said to have walked on water just as Jesus later did.

The Black goddess Isis is also credited with resurrecting Osiris after he was murdered.

The first "Black Madonna and Child" statutes and portraits were of Isis and Horus, and these were taken throughout the world by the Roman Empire.

When other religions became more popular, these statues were not destroyed, but simply had their names changed.

In India, Isis and Horus became Maya and Buddha in Buddhism or Devaki and Krishna in Hinduism.

The Chinese called Isis Kwa-yin, and the Japanese changed the name to Kwannon.

In his 1985 book entitled "The Cult of the Black Virgin", Ean Begg was able to identify over 450 images of a Black virgin and child in Europe with over 190 statutes in France alone.

J.A. Rogers says that Paris was actually named for Isis because Para-isis means "Place of Isis." He also says that Note Dame means "Our Lady" and that the cathedral is nothing more than an enlargement of the original Isis temple.

Millions of pilgrims visit the Black Madonna shrines annually because they are believed to possess magical powers, although the statues are now called Mary and Jesus.

It is believed that only the Black statues are magical and all pilgrimages stopped whenever the statues were painted white.

The Black Madonnas have been credited with healing towns of plagues, bringing dead babies to life, making infertile women pregnant, and saving nations during wars.

Many crutches have been left at the feet of the Black Madonnas, who presumably gave their owners the power to walk.

One of the most devoted pilgrims of the Black Madonna shrine in Poland is the current Pope John Paul II.

He prayed to her image while recovering from his gun shot wound.

She is credited with thousands of documented miracles including saving Poland from Russia in 1769.

In 1968 alone, the Black Madonna shrine in Poland received over 66,000 thank you letters for healing and other miracles. Pilgrims frequently leave gold watches and rings at the feet of the Black Madonnas in appreciation.

Church literature absolutely refuses to acknowledge any association of Black Madonnas with Africa.

Church officials claim that the Madonnas are Black because of smoke from candles and from dirt and old age.

Church officials would never admit that the ancient Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans made pilgrimages until 536 AD to the Isis temple at Philae, Egypt to seek the same miracles that current pilgrims seek from the Black Madonna shrines.

Isis was recognized as a supreme miracle and magic worker and is also credited with teaching mankind the art of curing disease. Isis was able to restore life to the dead as she did with her husband Osiris and later with the infant Horus, who was brought back to life after he was killed by a scorpion's sting. Isis was the goddess of corn and grain, water and navigation, and even clothing. She was also called a divine granter of salvation for souls of mankind. The ancient Black Egyptians acknowledged Isis as the source of all their prosperity, including the Nile River.

Isis worship was so strong in Europe that Roman citizens ignored Emperors Augustus and Tuberous, who outlawed Isis worship and persecuted her priests.

Emperor Caligulia finally bowed to public pressure and re-established the Isis worship.

Emperor Justinian caused an unsuccessful armed insurrection in 536 AD, when he ordered all Isis temples permanently closed.

[moviehealthcommunity]

Here is the entire list of films from Admin Brandon’s Vudu/Fandango account that have not yet been evaluated by Movie Health Community, which will be getting evaluations in 2023. All of these are original theatrical versions unless otherwise stated.

21 Jump Street

22 Jump Street

The 40-Year-Old Virgin

50 First Dates

Ace Ventura: Pet Detective

The Adjustment Bureau

Airplane!

American Psycho

Analyze This

Anastasia

Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy

Apocalypse Now

Armageddon

The Artist

Away from Her

Batman: The Dark Knight Returns

Beetlejuice

Big

Big Fish

Big Hero 6

The Big Lebowski

The Big Short

Billy Madison

Blow

The Blues Brothers (Unrated)

Blues Brothers 2000

The Breakfast Club

Bride of Chucky

Casablanca

Casper

Child’s Play 2

Child’s Play 3

Citizen Kane

Coneheads

Corpse Bride

Cult of Chucky

Curse of Chucky

Demolition Man

The Devil Wears Prada

Dirty Dancing

DodgeBall: A True Underdog Story (Unrated)

Dredd

Dumb and Dumber

Encino Man

Enemy

Escape from New York

Escape Plan

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

Ever After: A Cinderella Story

Exodus: Gods and Kings

The Expendables

The Expendables 2

The Expendables 3

A Few Good Men

Fight Club

Get Smart

Ghost

Good Will Hunting

Grandma’s Boy

Happy Gilmore

The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey

The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug

The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies

Hot Fuzz

The House with a Clock in its Walls

I, Robot

Ice Age

Ice Age: Collision Course

Idiocracy

The Imitation Game

In Bruges

Jason Bourne

Jupiter Ascending

Just Mercy

Kick-Ass

A Knight’s Tale

Last Action Hero

The Last Samurai

Lilo & Stitch

The Little Mermaid (1989)

Little Nicky

The Long Kiss Goodnight

Look Who’s Talking

Looper

A Madea Christmas

Madea Goes to Jail

Madea’s Big Happy Family

Madea’s Family Reunion

Madea’s Witness Protection

The Mask

Mass

Meet the Parents

A Million Ways to Die in the West (Unrated)

Moulin Rouge

Mrs. Doubtfire

Muppet Treasure Island

My Cousin Vinny

My Hero Academia: Heroes Rising

The Nice Guys

Now You See Me

Now You See Me 2

O Brother, Where Art Thou?

Office Space

Paranormal Activity

The Phantom of the Opera

Phone Booth

Pineapple Express

The Prestige

The Producers (2005)

Quest for Camelot

Rambo

Reindeer Games

RoboCop (1987)

Rock of Ages

Rudy

The Secret Life of Walter Mitty

Seed of Chucky

Seven Psychopaths

Shanghai Noon

Shanghai Knights

Shaun of the Dead

Sicario

Signs

So I Married an Axe Murderer

Soul Survivors

Spaceballs

Stargate

Super Troopers

Superman: The Movie (Special Edition)

Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street

Ted

Tenacious D in The Pick of Destiny

The Terminal

Titane

Tombstone

Total Recall (1990)

Total Recall (2012, Director’s Cut)

Tropic Thunder

Tucker & Dale vs. Evil

Unbreakable

Valentine’s Day

Walk the Line

War Horse

Wayne’s World

Wayne’s World 2

The Wedding Singer

The Wolf of Wall Street

The World’s End

[dankusner]

August 29, 2003

The real deal

Mariah can sing — just Ignore the showgirl crap

Mariah Carey unleashes her five-octave Howitzer during "Vision of Love"

With her reputation as a true diva at stake, Mariah Carey scored major points when her tour stopped at NextStage on Tuesday night.

The 33-year-old pop queen has a lot to prove: Two years have passed and Glitter still remains a box-office punch line, and the failure of that blockbuster eventually led to her much-publicized "emotional and physical breakdown."

And who can forget that Virgin Records gave this powerhouse vocalist a $28-million settlement to not sing for them anymore?

Perhaps her troubles are behind her, because the new Mariah still sounds fantastic, and she's never looked prettier or happier.

You just wish she'd realize that she doesn't need a bunch of onstage junk to distract from her best assets — that crystalline and silvery voice combined with a woman who can evoke the supernatural by nailing amazingly written power ballads with Olympian key changes and progressions.

Her onstage set was like funky living room decorated in what could best be described as "all over the place."

The entire concept was like a watered-down Las Vegas revue.

Flashes of Moulin Rouge, marionettes, circus clutter, espionage spoofs and a back-up dance crew that looked like The Wiz gone horribly wrong only distracted from the good stuff: Mariah.

However, the costume changes were fun.

Girlfriend went from ghetto princess to hooker-chic to red-carpet Soprano Barbie who dropped to her knees wearing a floor-length gown.

She can still hit those notes that only dogs can hear, but all the onstage craziness reeks of an insecure star.

The girl has still got it — it's all just so pointlessly flashy and excessive.

— Daniel Kusner

Cher, Foreigner among inductees into Rock hall

NEW YORK — Mary J. Blige, Cher, Foreigner, A Tribe Called Quest, Kool & The Gang and Ozzy Osbourne have been inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, a class that also includes folk-rockers Dave Matthews Band and singer-guitarist Peter Frampton.

Four of the eight nominees — Cher, Foreigner, Frampton and Kool & The Gang — were on the ballot for the first time.

Cher — the only artist to have a No. 1 song in each of the past six decades — and Blige, with eight multiplatinum albums and nine Grammy Awards, will help boost the number of women in the hall, which critics say is too low.

Artists nominated this year but who didn’t make the cut included Mariah Carey, Lenny Kravitz, the late Sinéad O’Connor, soul-pop singer Sade and alt-rockers Jane’s Addiction.

The induction ceremony will be Oct. 19 at Rocket Mortgage Fieldhouse in Cleveland.

[drmaqazi]

JEWISH TERRORISM & GENOCIDE OF PALESTINIANS IN OCCUPIED HOLY LAND (PALESTINE) SINCE 1948, AND CONBTINUING TILL TODAY BY KILLING OF HELPLESS & INNOCENT CHILDREN, WOMEN & OLD PEOPLE UNDER THE EYES OF IMPOTENT, SO-CALLED WORLD LEADERS, GOD FORBID, AMEN.

Historical Myth Justifies Israel’s Golan Heights Occupation

Institute for Historical Review

1974, Israeli terrorists attack civilian aircraft; desecrate Christian shrines including Church of the Holy Sepulcher, stealing the diamond crown of the statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary

September 1982, massacres of the Sabra and Shatila refugee camps, 800 women, children, and elderly killed, victims were axed, shot, and raped, many bodies were found mutilated

http://sjlendman.blogspot.com/2013/05/lebanons-victory-day-of-national.html

http://maxblumenthal.com/2010/08/how-to-kill-goyim-and-influence-people-leading-israeli-rabbis-defend-manual-for-for-killing-non-jews/

… and then Prime Minister Yitshak Rabin gave permission for a memorial to honor Goldstein (photo at right)

Responding to the massacre, Rabbi Yitzhak Levinger stated, “I am sorry not only about dead Arabs but also about dead flies.”

The Hebrew inscription on Goldstein’s grave monument reads, in part:

“The revered Dr. Baruch Kapel Goldstein… Son of Israel. He gave his soul for the sake of the people of Israel, The Torah, and the Land. His hands are clean and his heart good… He was assassinated for the Sanctity of God”

http://mondoweiss.net/2013/07/murderer-baruch-goldstein#sthash.gwBpXH2y.dpuf

On Feb. 27, 1994 Rabbi Yaacov Perrin eulogized Goldstein and stated,

”One million Arabs are not worth a Jewish fingernail.” [N.Y. Times, Feb. 28, 1994, p. 1]

Murderpedia’s entry on Dr. Goldstein: http://murderpedia.org/male.G//g/goldstein-baruch-photos.htm

Epitaph on the mass murderer’s government-approved monument: ”Here lies the saint, Dr. Baruch Kappel Goldstein, blessed be the memory of the righteous and holy man, may The Lord avenge his blood, who devoted his soul to The Jews, Jewish religion and Jewish land. His hands are innocent and his heart is pure. He was killed as a martyr of God on the 14th of Adar, Purim, in the year 5754.”

February 27, 1994, Israeli Mossad bombs Our Lady of Deliverance Maronite Catholic Church at Jounieh, Lebanon, 11 killed.

Aftermath of the 1994 Israe li bombing of Our Lady of Deliverance Church in Lebanon

April 18, 1996, Israeli massacre of civilians at Qana, Lebanon

April 14, 2000, homes of civilians bulldozed (actions admitted by Ha’aretz and praised by the canonized “Holocaust survivor” Elie Wiesel

[tilbageidanmark]

Movies I watched (and books I read) this Week # 143 (Year 3/Week 39):

Jules, E.T. for senior citizens. A simple (and simplistic) story about 79-year-old Ben Kingsley (with a head full of hair) and early onset dementia who discovers an alien ship in his back yard. More of a character study that sci-fi. It's nice to see a light movie about old people. 4/10.

🍿

2 documentaries from a 'different' New Yorker list, Richard Brody's '62 Films That Shaped the Art of Documentary Filmmaking':

🍿 The Lenny Bruce Performance Film (1967), more of an interesting historic document, than a funny-ha-ha stand up of the iconic rabble-rouser. His next-to-last live performance, at a small San Francisco cabaret hall, consists mostly of readings from the legal transcripts of his prosecutions. Paranoiac ramblings, strung on drugs, intense. Born 30 years too early.

🍿 A Plate of Sardines, (1997) a short Syrian poem about Quneitra, a city at the Golan Heights that was razed to the ground by the Israeli army in 1974. Disturbing (but not a very good).

🍿

The last film I saw in Israel, Tel Aviv on fire, only my 3rd Palestinian movie. It's an implausible story about a soap opera of a Palestinian spy who falls in lave with an Israeli general. Filmed in Ramallah, it is popular with Arabs and Jews alike. A low-level production assistant on the set becomes a writer, and is forced to use input for the plot from a soldier who mans the checkpoint he must drive through every day. An intriguing premise which predictably ends as a light soap opera itself.

I had a hard time with the more realistic parts of the movie, showing the oppressive humiliations that the Arabs have to go through every day, as they live "side by side" with the occupying soldiers. It's the first film I've seen that takes part on the eastern side of the border wall.

🍿

(Completely unplanned) 2 With minor character actor Guy Boyd:

🍿I've seen all but one of Charlie Kaufman's eight features, but I can't say I'm a big fan. His 'mysterious', unexplainable I'm Thinking Of Ending Things didn't win me over. Creepy Jesse Plemons brings his new girlfriend to meet his bizarre parents at their secluded farmhouse, and "nothing is what it seems" there. I liked the enigmatic ballet and "revelations" at the end, but the 'snowstorm from hell' and intellectual, unsympathetic characters turned me off. 3/10.

(From a list of '96 Best Thrillers')

🍿Body double, one of the old Brian De Palma Hitchcock homages, felt like one of the worst movies I ever saw. I know it wasn't, but it felt like it. 80's gratuitous "voyeurism", trashy prurient porn-parody, with a young Bill Maher-clone who can't act as the protagonist. Just horrible. 1/10.

🍿

2 X London gangsters action from the early 2000:

🍿Snatch, my first crime comedy by Guy Ritchie. All macho and bravado, bad accents and testosterone-fueled attitudes, wise cracks and brutal mayhem.

"In the quiet words of the Virgin Mary… come again?" 8/10.

🍿"Listen, I know it’s not your thing, but if you ever have to kill someone, never ever tell a living soul."

Layer cake, another highly-quotable story from the same source, with the same people and the same sensibilities. The film that helped Daniel Craig land the role of James Bond. Terrific entertainment all around with a shocking last scene. 8/10.

RIP, Michael Gambon!

🍿

7 more shorts:

🍿 Shall we kiss? (On s’embresse?), one of my favourite French shorts. (Video Above).

🍿 How to count a wolf, a short conservation documentary, about the process of tracking wolves across many seasons in Washington state.

🍿 Encarnación, a New Yorker documentary: A Ninety-Five-Year-Old Shares Her Secret to Happiness.

🍿Also, 4 more of Wes Anderson shorts:

Now that Netflix spent £500 million for Roald Dahl's works, we'll see many more of them. The swan, The rat catcher and Poison are 3 adaptations from his short stories. I've seen nearly all of Wes Anderson's films, features, shorts and commercial, and he is indeed a real 'auteur', but (Like Kaufman above), his work, except of small brilliant moments here and there, leave me cold.

Castello Cavalcanti is actually my favourite of today’s bunch. Another stylish Prada advertisement, a Fellini product placement, rustic Italy for nostalgic tourists.

🍿

Alice Kuypers’ Life on the Refrigerator Door, a British book about a 15-year-old and her single mother who discovers she has cancer. It features a unique 'hook'; The story unfolds 100% via a series of notes the two leave for each other in the kitchen. It’s a very light, 240 page / 40 minute read - 7/10.

🍿  

(My complete movie list is here)

[lesfeldickbiblestudy]

  Through the Bible with Les Feldick LESSON 2 * PART 3 * BOOK 74 CONNECTING THE DOTS OF SCRIPTURE - PART 7 Genesis through Revelation Okay, all of you out in television, come and see us sometime.  We have a great time on these Wednesday afternoons. Again, we always like to remind you that we’re so appreciative of all your prayers, your financial help, and your encouraging letters.  My goodness, how we love our mail time! Okay, we’re going to come right on with the theme that we’re showing the attributes of this physical, political Earthly Kingdom over which Christ is going to rule and reign.  And all these Old Testament promises will finally become a reality.  This isn’t just pie in the sky.  This is going to happen, because it’s the Word of God. All right, we’re going to jump in at Jeremiah 31 and verse 11.  Now all of these verses are applicable.  They’re all speaking of this glorious coming time for the Nation of Israel.  I’m just sort of hitting the highlights.  In your spare time read the rest of these chapters. Jeremiah 31:11a “For the LORD hath redeemed Jacob,…” Now stop a minute.  Will there be any unbelieving Jews going into the Kingdom?  No.  The Lord made it so plain in John chapter 3 when He was speaking to Nicodemus.  What did He tell him?  Nicodemus, you should know this.  No one goeth into the Kingdom unless they be born again. Or what we call now and I prefer, born from above. So, there’ll be no unbelievers going into this Kingdom.  It’s going to be a Kingdom of righteousness, and it’ll be a righteous government.  It’s going to be a righteous environment.  We’ll be looking at some more of that when we finally get into the New Testament description of these things.  But here we have the redeemed of Israel who will be going into the Kingdom. Now, let me just throw some numbers at you.  We know from Zechariah chapter 8 that one third of Israel is going to come through the fires of the Tribulation and go into the Kingdom.  Two thirds are going to be lost.  All right, Israel today is around 15 million people.  One third means five million.  That’s a pretty good chunk of people.  That’s more than Dallas or Fort Worth put together.  All right, that will be the remnant of Israel going in on the front end.  Now then, from all the other nations of the world there will just be a smattering of survivors who are believers that will go into the Kingdom as Gentiles.  And that’s what you always have to remember.  The millennial reign will be primarily Israel’s thing.  They are going to be the head nation of the nations by virtue of numbers.  But all the other nations are going to be represented with a few and the population, of course, will grow from all directions. All right, so that’s what we talk about when we speak of the inhabitants of this glorious Kingdom.  Okay, now I’m going to start reading in Jeremiah 31 verse 11 again. Jeremiah 31:11-12 “For the LORD hath redeemed Jacob, (or the Nation of Israel) and ransomed him from the hand of him who was stronger than he. 12. Therefore they shall come and sing in the height of Zion, and shall flow (That same word that Isaiah used – all the nations shall flow into it.) together to the goodness of the LORD, for wheat, and for wine, and for oil, and for the young of the flock and of the herd: and their soul shall be as a watered garden; (Are you getting the beautiful description here?) and they shall not sorrow any more at all.”  It’s going to be Heaven on earth.  Now that’s the only way I can put it.  It’s going to be Heaven, but on planet earth, for a thousand years.  All right, verse 13. Jeremiah 31:13-14 “Then shall the virgin rejoice in the dance, both young men and old together: for I will turn their mourning into joy, and will comfort them, and make them rejoice from their sorrow. 14. I will satiate (or I will actually fill) the soul of the priests with fatness, and my people shall be satisfied with my goodness, saith the LORD.”  I’m just going to keep reading for a few more verses.

Jeremiah 31:15-16 “Thus saith the LORD; A voice was heard in Ramah, lamentation, and bitter weeping; Rahel weeping for her children refused to be comforted for her children, because they were not. 16. Thus saith the LORD; Refrain thy voice from weeping, and thine eyes from tears: for thy work shall be rewarded, saith the LORD; and they shall come again from the land of the enemy.”  In other words, the Jews are going to be coming back from wherever they had been scattered. Jeremiah 31:17 “And there is hope in thine end, saith the LORD, that thy children shall come again to their own border.”  The Jews are going to all be where they belong. All right, now let’s just skip across in this same chapter to verse 31, where we now have the spiritual conditions of the Nation of Israel.  Verse 31, this is what we call the New Covenant. Jeremiah 31:31a “Behold, the days come,…” Now, I can’t refrain from reminding you, what does that tell us?  It’s going to happen.  I don’t care how much they scorn or ridicule.  You know, Christianity is under attack like almost not since the Dark Ages.  Our media hates us, and they falsely accuse us of everything but the truth.  And we’re just going to have to learn to live with it, because we’re not going to turn them around. Jeremiah 31:31 “Behold, the days come, (Because God has promised it.) saith the LORD, that I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel, and with the house of Judah:” In other words, the whole Nation is going to be involved.  All the tribes. Not just Benjamin and Judah, all of them.  Now verse 32, this new covenant will not be: Jeremiah 31:32a “Not according to the covenant that I made with their fathers in the day that I took them by the hand to bring them out of the land of Egypt; which my covenant they broke,…”  In other words, this is not like the covenant of the Ten Commandments that Moses got at Mount Sinai.  This is a totally new agreement between God and Israel. Jeremiah 31:33 “But this shall be the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel; After those days, (In other words, after these last 1,900 and some years of dispersion.  After the horrible seven years of Tribulation.  After all those years have gone by--) saith the LORD, I will put my law in their inward parts, and write it in their hearts; and will be their God, and they shall be my people.”  That’s God’s promise.  Now verse 34: Jeremiah 31:34a “And they shall teach no more every man his neighbor, and every man his brother, saying, Know the LORD:…” In other words, as it was in Deuteronomy.  When they got up in the morning, what were they to do?  Memorize Scripture.  When they sat down for noon time lunch, what where they to do?  Memorize Scripture.  When they went to bed at night, what were they to do?  Memorize the Scripture.  In other words, study it.  That won’t be necessary, because every Jew will have it automatically.  All right, that’s what He means here.  Verse 34 again: Jeremiah 31:34 “And they shall teach no more every man his neighbor, and every man his brother, saying, Know the LORD: for they shall all know me, (It’s going to be a given.) from the least of them unto the greatest of them, saith the LORD: for I will forgive their iniquity, and I will remember their sin no more.”  Israel is finally going to arrive.  Verse 35. Jeremiah 31:35 “Thus saith the LORD, who giveth the sun for a light by day, and the ordinances of the moon and of the stars for a light by night, who divideth the sea when the waves thereof  roar; The LORD of hosts is his name:” He’s the Creator, remember?  And it’s Jesus Christ in the New Testament. Jeremiah 31:36 “If (that’s conditional) those ordinances depart from before me, saith the LORD, then the seed of Israel also shall cease from being a nation before me forever.”  In other words, if the universe that’s been there for however long you want to put on it—if you’re a creationist, it’s less than ten thousand years.  If you go beyond that, it could be billions of years.

  But whatever, however long it’s been there it has never deviated.  The sun has never moved out of its place.  The planets have never moved. You know, I had an interesting experience.  I shared with you in our last taping that we had a couple people come over to visit us from England.  We were outside one evening and standing on the deck.  It was a beautiful, Oklahoma, clear, starlit night.  You city people don’t know what it’s like.  The stars were just like they were a hundred yards up.  And this Brit said, “There’s the Big Dipper. It’s in the same place as it is in England!”  And you know, it is kind of a shocking thing.  We know that from textbooks, yes.  But to actually hear it from someone – it’s in the same place that it is in England.  Well, of course.  But has it ever moved?  No.  It’s exactly like it’s been since creation. All right, so what God is saying is that it’s just as apt to fall out of its rightful place as it is for Israel to lose their identity.  Now you Preterists out there, I know they are listening. I get books from them all the time.  One of them even expected me to autograph it.  Ha!  Sorry, fellows.  I will never condone Preterism.  Because, you see, Preterism says that Israel disappeared in A.D. 70.  Well then, if that’s the case, then the Bible is a lie.  Or they’re a lie.  Now you decide.  But this is what God says. That if the ordinances of creation: the sun and the moon and the stars and the planets and the galaxies; if they disappear or “depart from before me, saith the LORD, then shall the seed of Israel.” Well, I guess if the universe falls apart, everything goes, doesn’t it?  You and I included.  But this is what God is saying: that His promises with Israel are just as secure as the universe.  Now isn’t that enough?  How in the world can mortal men say that this is a lie?  But they do. Jeremiah 31:36-37 “If those ordinances depart from before me, saith the LORD, then the seed of Israel also shall cease from being a nation before me for ever. 37. Thus saith the LORD; If heaven above (And we don’t even know where Heaven is.  We know it’s there, but we don’t know where.) can be measured, and the foundations of the earth searched out beneath, I will also cast off all the seed of Israel for all that they have done, saith the LORD.” Now isn’t that amazing?  So, will God ever give up on Israel?  Never!  His promises are secure with the Nation of Israel.  And I’ll take it one step further.  If God can’t keep His promise with Israel, do you and I have any assurance of our salvation?  Well, of course not.  If He can’t keep His word with Israel, He has no reason to keep His word with me or you.  But oh, beloved, He will not break His word with Israel.  He will not break His promise with us.  We are safe for eternity, because His Word is true.  I’ll stand on that until the day they shoot me.  His Word is true.  All right, now I’ve got to finish the chapter, I think, and then we’re going to move on to another one. Jeremiah 31:38-39a “Behold, the days come, saith the LORD, that the city shall be built to the LORD from the tower of Hananeel unto the gate of the corner. 39. And the measuring line shall yet go forth over against it…”  In other words, all these Kingdom promises are going to be fulfilled.  All right, verse 40: Jeremiah 31:40 “And the whole valley of the dead bodies, and of the ashes, and all the fields unto the brook of Kidron, unto the corner of the horse gate toward the east, shall be holy unto the LORD; (In other words, all of the things that were ravished in those closing days of the Tribulation will disappear.  It will never be remembered in this glorious Kingdom.) it shall not be plucked up, nor thrown down any more for ever.”  All right, now let’s just turn the page.  I want to go to chapter 33.  Let’s see, I want to drop down to verse 7.  You know, I just had a hard time picking out some of these key portions, because it’s all full of these Kingdom promises. Now, when we get to the New Testament, I’m going to give you a verse that I’ve used over the years.

  But hopefully, it’ll mean a lot more now than it did before.  All right, Jeremiah 33 and we’re going to drop in at verse 7. Jeremiah 33:7-9 “And I will cause the captivity (or the bringing in) of Judah and the captivity of Israel to return, (In other words, by an act of God, and we’ve already seen it.  That’s why they’re back in the land.  It was providential.) and will build them, as at the first. (Now look at this promise.) 8. And I will cleanse them from all their iniquity, whereby they have sinned against me; and I will pardon all their iniquities, whereby they have sinned, and whereby they have transgressed against me. 9. And it shall be to me a name of joy, a praise and an honor before all the nations of the earth, which shall hear all the good that I do unto them: and they shall fear and tremble for all the goodness and for all the prosperity that I procure unto it.”  That is, unto the Nation of Israel. Well, I’d like to just read all these verses, but I’m afraid people might get a little bit impatient.  So let’s just skip on down to verse 12.  My, there are some good verses up there.  Verse 11: “the voice of gladness, the voice of the bridegroom, and bride,” and all that makes up a common, ordinary human society.  Now remember, they’re not angels.  They’re humans.  All right, now verse 12: Jeremiah 33:12 “Thus saith the LORD of hosts; Again in this place, which is desolate without man and without beast, and in all the cities thereof, shall be an habitation of shepherds causing their flocks to lie down.”  Now, what are you gathering from this?  Seemingly what kind of a society or a community will the Kingdom be?  Agrarian. Have you noticed that?  Agrarian.  It’s not going to be metropolitan.  It’s not going to be urban.  It’s going to be agrarian.  There’s a verse back there someplace that says, “every man will sit under his own (What?) fig tree.”  In other words, there will be orchards.  It’s going to be agrarian.  We’re going to have the beauty of the country. Now, I’ve never been a city dweller.  Neither has my little wife.  And every time we go through one, we just can’t imagine the horror of living in a big city.  But you know, when these city dwellers come out and we take them around the ranch, you know what flabbergasts them?  All the open space.  We can go for miles and not meet a car.  Well, they just can’t imagine that.  But I think that’s what the Kingdom is going to be.  It’s going to be so beautiful.  There’s not going to be that beehive of contracted dwellings and so forth.  From the language, I get at least, it’s going to be agrarian.   Okay, let’s move on.  Verse 14. Jeremiah 33:14-15 “Behold, the days come, saith the LORD, that I will perform that good thing which I have promised unto the house of Israel and to the house of Judah. 15. In those days, and at that time, will I cause the Branch (See, there’s that word again.  That term of God the Son in the Old Testament.  He’s called a Branch, whenever you see that with a capital ‘B’.) of righteousness to grow up unto David; and he shall execute judgment and righteousness in the land.” There’s not going to be any sin.  No wickedness.  No immorality.  It’s going to be glorious.  But it’s still going to be in a human environment.  Families.  Husbands.  Wives.  And children.  But no Satan.  No death.  No curse.  All right, verse 16. Jeremiah 33:16a “In those days…”  That is during these thousand years.  Now, I’d better emphasize.  The Old Testament does not put us in a time frame.  We have to go to the Book of Revelation to get that.  And that’s where we get the thousand years.  And after the thousand years, so on and so forth.  So always remember that.  The Old Testament does not give us a time frame, but the New Testament does. Jeremiah 33:16-18 “In those days shall Judah be saved, and Jerusalem shall dwell safely: and this is the name wherewith she shall be called, The LORD our righteousness. (And again, that’s the Hebrew term Tsidkenu.) 17. For thus saith the LORD; David shall never want a man to sit upon the throne of the house of Israel; 18.

Neither shall the priests the Levites want a man before me to offer burnt-offerings, and to kindle meat-offerings, and to do sacrifice continually.” Now, there will be some sacrificial offerings in the Kingdom, and that’s hard to reconcile.  And I for one cannot do justice to it, so I just sort of leave it alone.  But, yes, there will be a certain amount of animal sacrifice.  It’ll be limited, of course, but I think it’ll be a memorial much like our communion table.  All right, verse 19. Jeremiah 33:19-21a “And the word of the LORD came unto Jeremiah, saying, 20.Thus saith the LORD; If ye can break my covenant of the day, (Now, here we come back again to God proving that He will never let go of Israel.) and my covenant of the night, and that there should not be day and night in their season; 21. Then may also my covenant be broken with David my servant, that he should not have a son to reign upon his throne;…” Now, here is a good statement.  When we speak of the throne of David and Christ as a Son of David, this is where the connection comes from.  Christ is genealogically the Son of David. We pick that up, of course, in Matthew’s genealogy.  So always put those two together, that Christ will sit upon David’s throne as the Son of David, genealogically.  Not losing sight of His Deity.  All right, verse 22. Jeremiah 33:22-25 “As the host of heaven cannot be numbered, neither the sand of the sea measured: so will I multiply the seed of David my servant, and the Levites that minister unto me.  23. Moreover, the word of the LORD came to Jeremiah, saying, 24. Considerest thou not what this people have spoken, saying, The two families which the LORD hath chosen, he hath even cast them off?  thus they have despised my people, that they should be no more a nation before them.”  In other words, I think he’s referring to the two kingdoms before they would be brought together: Israel in the north and Judah in the south. Jeremiah 33:25-26 “Thus saith the LORD; if my covenant be not with day and night, and if I have not appointed the ordinances of heaven and the earth; 26. Then will I cast away the seed of Jacob, and David my servant, so that I will not take any of his seed to be rulers over the seed of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob: for I will cause their captivity to return, (or their control of his people.  He’s going to bring them back.) and have mercy on them.” Okay, now we’ve got time enough.  Let’s jump one more to Ezekiel chapter 36, and I’m going to jump down to verse 24.  Now, this is still another prophet.  See, we’ve had Isaiah talk about it.  We’ve seen Jeremiah speak about it.  And now here comes Ezekiel. Probably in our next half-hour we’ll have time to go on up to Daniel. Then in our next taping we’ll take a look at how the New Testament approaches this Kingdom economy.  All right, Ezekiel 36 verse 24, and look at the promises here.  Oh my, they ought to just give you goose bumps, because we’ve seen some of this already take place. Ezekiel 36:24a “For I will take you from among the heathen,…”  The Gentiles.  Now, I think we looked at that some time ago.  In fact, I think in my seminars in Florida I started every one of them with the same verse in Matthew 16, “you can discern the signs of the weather, but you can’t discern the signs of the times.”  Isn’t that what I was on?  Yeah.  And what is the major sign of the times for you and me today?  The return of Israel to their homeland.  That’s a sign of the times!  Because the end-time could not even begin until Israel was back in the land.   They have to be there, because that’s where the Lord is going to return and set up His Kingdom.  All right, now Ezekiel says the same thing. Ezekiel 36:24 “For I will take you from among the Gentiles, and gather you out of all countries, and will bring you into your own land.”  How can anybody deny this?  It’s beyond me, but they do.  You know how they deny it?  I sent you the book.  They claim they’re not Jews at all.  They’re Czars from the Russian Steppes, and that they simply took over the Jewish libraries and synagogues.

  That’s what they do with the Scriptures.  That’s what they claim, that these aren’t Jews at all.  They’re imposters.  Well, who in the world would want to be an imposter and step in to all the hatred that the Jews get? Ezekiel 36:25a “Then…” Now, they haven’t done it yet.  Even though Israel’s back in the land, they’re not experiencing these spiritual blessings yet.  They’re still there in unbelief.  They’re secular.  Many of them are even atheists and agnostic.  But they’re in the land, so the rest will come.  Don’t worry. Ezekiel 36:25 “Then I will sprinkle clean water upon you, and ye shall be clean: from all your filthiness, and from all your idols, will I cleanse you.”  Now of course, the Babylonian captivity, I think, broke them of idolatry.  But nevertheless, it’s still in their background. Ezekiel 36:26-28 “A new heart also (Remember what the covenant was in Jeremiah 31:31?  I will put it in your heart. You won’t have to memorize it everyday. It’ll be there.  It’ll be a given.) will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you: and  I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and I will give you an heart of flesh. 27.  And I will put my spirit within you, and cause you to walk in my statutes, and ye shall keep my judgments, (or my ordinances, or my government) and do them. 28. And ye shall dwell in the land that I gave to your fathers; and ye shall be (What’s the pronoun?) my people, and I will be your God.” Now, do you remember in Israel’s past, when Israel was out in rank unbelief and the prophet or whoever it was that was writing, what would God tell them to call them?  “Your people.”  He wouldn’t claim them.  But the day is coming when once again God will say, “My people.”  See, what a difference that makes?  To Moses He said, they’re your people.  To Daniel He said your people.  But the day is coming. That’s why the pronoun is so important here.  The day is coming when you shall be, verse 28-- Ezekiel 36:28b-29 “…my people, and I will be your God. 29. I will also save you from your uncleanesses:  and I will call for the corn, and will increase it, and lay no famine upon you.”  In other words, if we get time and get to Amos yet this afternoon.  I don’t know whether we’ll make it or not.  But what does Amos speak of?  That the reaper will follow the planter and the planter will follow the reaper.  In other words, it’s going to be a continuous production of food and fiber with no opposition from insects or weeds or thorns.  It’ll be easy.  No sweat of the face.  That’s why I maintain that I think it’s going to be an agrarian economy.

[readingreylo]

Summer Reylo Fics

I know, I know, I know -- Summer is almost over 🙃

Balm by asongforjonsa | Explicit | 2k | Oneshot | PWP | Modern AU | Summer Vibes: Summertime, Beach house, Sunburn | Friends to lovers | Nasty sunburn | Ben POV | " Ben's got a terrible sunburn, and Rey has just what he needs to feel better."

sharp-dressed man by audreyii_fic | @audreyii-fic | Explicit | 3k | Oneshot | PWP | Modern AU | Summer vibes: Summertime | Neighbors | Enemies to lovers | Misunderstandings | Pining | Multi POV | "Kylo's stuff keeps getting shipped to Rey's apartment, and the resultant miscommunications threaten to destroy their lives -- or, you know, at least their summer."

melatonin by sevenofreylo | @sevenofreylo | Explicit | 3k | One shot | Modern AU | Summer Vibes: School vacation, Summer cottage | Enemies-to-lovers | Bullying | Teenagers(?) | Awkward virgins | Masturbation | no p-in-v | Bunkbeds | Rey POV | "Rey can’t sleep, not with Luke’s nephew in the same room."

🥵 Dog Day Open Hydrant by LinearA | @linearla | Explicit | 4k | One Shot | PWP | Modern AU | Summer Vibes: Summertime, Unbearable heat, Fire hydrant, Ice cream | Strangers to Lovers | Antagonism | Fireman!Ben Solo | It's too hot for this shit | One Night stand ??? | Ben POV | "Ben's come to close an open hydrant. The kids playing in it don't want him to, and a pretty girl on the street is backing them up."

Summer by ianixela | @ianixela | Explicit | 5k | One shot | Modern AU | Summer Vibes: Summer fling, School vacation, Hiking, Swimming | Audulty | Neighbors | Alcoholism | Physical Abuse | Spousal Rape (not explict) | Angst | HEA | Rey POV | "Rey is too young. Too young when she marries to an older man she doesn't love. Too young when she moves in that big empty house. Too young and she yet she feels a million years old. Rey might be too young, but Ben Solo is just her age though. And he's just moved next door."

Sweet Home by Violetwilson | @violetwilson | Explicit | 8k | Oneshot | Modern AU | Summer Vibes: Humid heat, Cicadas | Strangers to lovers | Southern USA | One night stand | Good samaritan | Waffle House | There was only one bed | Rey POV | Rey helps out a handsome stranger stranded in town-- by letting him sleep in her bed.

that green light, i want it by SecretReyloTrash | @lyresandlasers | Explicit | 9.8k | Two shot | PWP | Modern AU | Summer Vibes: Unbearable heat | Strangers | Random hook up | Public Sex | Public Transportation | Communting | ch 1 Ben POV | ch 2 Rey POV | "Maybe it’s being baked alive inside public transport, but there’s something dreamy about her, unreal. Or too real, in a time that he paid little attention to the people around him, just music or a book or staring at the streets out the window. He accepts the impulse. The closeness of her, her bare shoulders, the way her clothes fit over her skin. He tries to prevent his legs from brushing hers, but it’s the fit of the tiny seat and his large body. But she doesn’t glare at him when it happens, like some women do. She doesn’t flinch away, like she’s been burned. Ben has a long commute home. Rey enjoys the ride."

Thirty One by ianixela | Explicit | 11k | Complete | Modern AU | Summer Vibes: Summer fling | Coffee shop | Montreal | Stranger to lovers | Unplanned pregnancy | Rock star!Kylo Ren | Heartbreak | HEA | Multi POV | "Ben Solo needs a break from "Kylo Ren", his rockstar alter-ego. The first flight out of Los Angeles takes him...to Canada, where the young woman he meets on an early Summer morning flips his entire life upside down, in the hardest, and ultimately best of ways."

They don't get your soul or your fire by CoinToYourWitcher | Explicit | 11k | Complete | Modern AU | Summer Vibes: Summertime, small town, fire season/wildfires, thunder storms | Romantic Mystery | Firefirghter!Ben Solo | Childhood Angst | Enemies-to-lovers | Falling in love | Secrets | Angst | Bittersweet HEA | Character death | Multi POV | Rey is working the fire look out this summer and firefighter Ben is keeping an eye on her. A past tragedy links them together but Rey is oblivious and Ben wants to keep it that way.

💖 your boots beneath my bed by irridesca | @earstwo | Explicit | 12.5k | Oneshot | Modern AU | Summer vibes: summertime, Roughing it/camping, Waterhole/oasis | Ranching | Cowboys | Strangers to friends to lovers | hair braiding | smut | Rey POV | After the death of her former boss, Rey gets a job as a wrangler at Skywalker Ranch-- where she crosses paths with the prickly forman Ben Solo.

The Long Summer by deedreamer | @deedreamer | Explicit | 13k | Complete | Modern AU | Summer Vibes: School Vacation, Sticky heat, Skinny dipping, Sunburn | Older brother's best friend | Sexting | Sexual Tension | College students | Garage Band | Multi POV | "He’s Rey's older brother's best friend. He watched her grow up and still teases her mercilessly. It's summer break, and the heat finally gets to Rey as she works up the nerve to flirt with Ben Solo -- the boy she grew up with who's quite suddenly become a man. Soon, she's skinny dipping, swapping secret dirty texts, and thinking all kinds of insane thoughts. And then one day, Ben sends Rey a picture of his perfect, huge... Whoa. Damn, boy. DAMN! Now, Rey can think of nothing else but getting her mouth on him. EVERYWHERE."

Orion by ianixela | Explicit | 14k | Complete | Modern AU | Summer Vibes: Desert | Strangers to lovers | Slowish burn | Photojournalist!Rey | Guide!Ben Solo | Ex-military!Ben Solo | Amputee!Ben Solo | PTSD | Implied/referenced abortion | Past Adultry | Desert | Oasis | Stranged togther | HEA | Reylo Baby | Rey POV | "Rey Niima finds herself in the Saharan desert trying to heal wounds from her life, and Ben Solo is there too, fixing himself along the way."

The Lazy River by NoeticEdda | Explicit | 16k | Complete | Modern AU | Summer Vibes: Summertime, Public pool, Swimming | Strangers to lovers | Overactive imagination | Humor | Crack-ish | Lifeguard!Ben | Undercover agent!Ben Solo | College student!Rey | Strangers-to-lovers | Rey POV | Rey has too much time in her hands this summer, lazing around the local water park before grad school, and becomes convinced that the new lifeguard is a spy.

Something From Nothing by lifeofsnark | Explicit | 18k | Complete | Modern AU | Summer Vibes: Summertime, Fireworks, Hurricane | Flashbacks | Growing up together | Friends to lovers | PTSD | Amputee!Ben Solo | Family Drama | Multi POV |  Ben returns from his naval service missing a hand and missing a purpose in life. While reclimatizing at his uncle's ranch he runs into childhood friend Rey who now builds tiny houses.

💖 between two lives by neonheartbeat | Explicit | 31k | complete | Modern AU | Summer vibes: Scorching heat, Bonfire, Outdoor sex | Strangers to lovers | Fashion Model!Rey | Mechanic!Ben Solo | PTSD | military backstory | sexual disfunction | psychological trauma | Rey POV | Rey Niima, a model driving from Chicago to New York, finds herself broken down in the middle of nowhere, Indiana, without any way to fix her rented car. Ben Solo, the big, silent, resident jack-of-all-trades in Kirby, a town with almost two hundred people, happens to come across her on the road, and offers her a place to wait for a tow, but Ben has a secret he's not willing to share, and Rey is determined to find out what it is...

💖Just You by charcuterie | @chimichangasaredelicious | Explicit | 35k | WIP | Last updated: 2022-05-29 | Modern AU | Summer vibes: Summertime, Countryside | Neighbours | texting | Strangers to friends to lovers | Banter | Pianist!Ben | shitty-childhood-angst | multi POV | Rey and Ben are two strangers, across an alley way, who bond over Ben's piano playing. Their souls connect before they even see each other's faces. When they finally do meet face to face sparks fly! or Two imperfect people who fall in love over texting and piano music drifting across the alleyway.

rain shadow, evergreen by frak-all (or_ryn) | Explicit | 33k | Complete | Modern AU | Summer Vibes: summertime, national parks, tourists, swimming, camping | Enemies-to-lovers | Road trip | Rey POV | Rey is road tripping to Portland and stopping at the Parks along the way, but she keep running into an asshole in a black RV...

💖 Cupcake Wars by crossingwinter | @shmisolo | Explicit | 36k | Complete | Modern AU | Summer vibes: Unbearable heat, Beach day | Enemies-to-lovers | Bakers | Rivals | Hate Sex | Rey POV | Entirely by accident, Rey ends up fucking someone who works for Snoke's Cupcakery. She's just blowing off steam. It doesn't mean anything at all. It certainly won't come back to bite her in the ass. | or Rey and Ben work at rival bakeries, and are hooking up for hate sex on the side. What starts as casual slowly becomes anything but.

Out of Water by AquaWolfGirl | @aquawolfgirl | Explicit | 39k | WIP | Last updated: 2021-08-04 | Modern AU | Summer vibes: Summertime, Lake house | Mermaids | Enemies to friends to lovers | Food Porn | Ben POV | "When ex-rocker Kylo Ren buys a lakehouse, he expected to relax near where he spent his summers as Ben Solo. He expected peace and quiet, with fresh fish and lazy days spent enjoying the sun. He most certainly didn't expect for a vicious mermaid to insist this part of the lake is hers, and to get the fuck out."

😘👌The Worst of Me by hajerika | Mature | 45k | Complete | Modern AU | Summer Vibes: Destination Wedding, Beach, Hiking | Wedding | Tropical Island | Drunk Hook up | Antagonism | Past Finn/Rey | Strangers-to-lovers | Feral!Rey | idiot!Ben Solo | Friend group dynamic | Drama | Character Study | Personal Growth | Rey POV | Multi POV | "Rey did not anticipate that she’d be having sex this weekend, but she really should have. It’s a wedding, her ex is here with his new girlfriend, and she’s a single woman in her twenties with low self-esteem. I mean, honestly, go figure. But if anyone had told her that it would be with Ben Solo - her boss’s son, her ex’s worst enemy, and the bane of pretty much everybody’s existence - she would’ve laughed in their stupid face."

💖 here grow the roses by neonheartbeat | @urulokid | Explicit | 46k | Complete | Modern AU | Summer vibes: Summertime, Outdoor sex, Farm life | English countryside | City girl meets farm boy | Strangers to lovers | author/poet!Rey | Mute!Ben Solo | Virgin!Ben solo | Shitty-childhood-angst | Past abuse | Rey POV | T.S. Eliot Prize winner Rey Palpatine is intrigued by the mute caretaker of her late grandfathers country estate. As she gets to know Ben and his demons Rey must reflect on her own past as she struggles to write a new book of poetry.

for what it's worth (it was worth all the while) by tayloremrose (need ao3 account to read) | @earstwo | Explicit | 53k | Complete | Modern AU | Summer Vibes: Summertime, summer camp(and all that entails!), swimming, hiking, Texas heat, fireworks | Enemies-to-friends-to-lovers | Boss/employee dynamic | Past child abuse | Mention of domestic abuse | Character Growth | Underage drinking | ANGST | Mistunderstandings | HEA | Rey POV | "Rey flies to Texas from the UK to be a summer camp counselor at Skywalker Ranch. Ben is the prickly new Summer Camp Director with a complicated past."

Summer Heat by IshaRen | Explicit | 56k | incomplete | Alternate Modern AU | A/B/O | Alpha x Beta | Summer Vibes: summertime, cabin on a lake | Strangers to lovers | Slowburn | Loneliness | Discrimination | Angst | Canada | Multi POV | "A lonely young woman arrives at the cottage she inherited from her grandfather on a remote lake in northern Ontario, to find her neighbour is a rare Alpha, a relic of the old days when humans were ruled by their designation. Across a long hot summer, they connect over their shared history, and she finds that the past may not be as far away as she assumed." | Incomplete but absolutely worth the read

endless summer afternoon by SecretReyloTrash | @lyresandlasers | Explicit | 63k | Complete | Modern AU | Summer Vibes: Summertime, Swimming, Pool sex, Hammock sex | Roommates | Adopted siblings vibes | Secret relationship | Past substance abuse | Alcoholism | Homlessness | ANGST | Asshole!kylo Ren | trying-his-best!Han Solo | Father figure!Han | HEA | Rey POV | Rey moves into Han's spare room only for his estranged son to return from rehab. | Ch 1-6 are main fic Rey POV, ch 7 is xmas epilogue from Ben POV,

is this called home by reylonly | @reylonly | Explicit | 67k | Complete | Modern AU | Summer Vibes: School vacation, BBQ, Swimming | A/B/O | alpha x omega | Boss/employee dynamic | Neighbors | Mutual Pining | Secret relationship | Nanny!rey | College student!rey | Single dad!Ben solo | Professor!solo | Multi POV | Rey embarks on a secret relationship with her neighbor Ben, whose son she has been minding this summer while she is home from college. Their connection is undeniable but Rey struggles with loving Ben (and his son) and wanting a future for herself outside of her designation.

🤣 Peacock by AttackoftheDarkCurses | Explicit | 72k | Complete | Modern AU | Summer vibes: Summertime, Swimming, BBQ, Camping | Neighbors | Rivals to lovers | Pranks | Misunderstandings | Fake relationship | Multi POV | Rey and Rose move in nextdoor to Ben and his whole world is turned upside down. A prank war escalates into a fake engagement. Now they are playing chicken with a marriage. Who will back down first?

May Divorce Be With You by SpaceWaffleHouse | Explicit | 83k | Complete | Modern AU | Summer vibes: Summertime, Outdoor wedding, Beach wedding | Strangers to friends to lovers | Bets and wagers | Wedding planner!Ben Solo | Divorce Lawyer!Rey | Weddings | Romance | Wedding!Porn (think Four Weddings) | Side Rose/Jannah | Rey POV | Drinking buddies Rey and Ben make a wager about whether true love really exists. As Ben takes her to more and more weddings that he has planned Rey's cynical view of love (shaped by being a divorce lawyer) takes a sharp left turn. She is without-a-doubt going to lose this bet... because she is falling hopelessly in love with Ben Solo.

💖The Heart of Hate by SevenBetter | Explicit | 119k | Complete | Modern AU | Summer vibes: Summertime, Ice Cream, Beach town, Outdoor wedding | Multi POV | Enemies to Lovers | Hate Sex | Neighbors | Small Buisness Owners | Rey owns an Ice Cream Parlor | Ben makes Whiskey | Secret Relationship(s) | Ben is a terrible communicator | Rey is aggressively cheerful | Family Drama | Angst | Personal Growth | Falling in Love | Dramatic Family Thanksgiving | 80s Prom | Secrets revealed! | HEA | Side pairings: Hux/Phasma, Finn/Rose, Poe/Zorii | Rey POV | Multi POV | "Rey and Ben are each hard-working small business owners in a quiet beach town, determined to succeed, whose feuding and fighting lead to one other F-word that they also do together."

Enjoy!

☀️🌊🍉🌴⛱️🍦

[jackrrabbit]

Adversary /// Overhaul x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: You make a deal with the devil to save your life, but it turns out Overhaul’s not interested in your soul.

A/N: Remember when I said I was going to do a fantasy collab and then dipped for like 9 months? Hahaha…anyway…

@pleasantanathema @ present-mel @shadowworks—if it’s not too late, here’s my part for the Pleasant & Strider Fantasy AU Writing Collab from a million years ago. Go check out the masterlist and gorge yourself on these amazing pieces!!

Tags/Warnings: dubcon, demon fuckery & occult things, big heresy/sacrilege/perversion of religion, sex in a church ft. Catholic sex guilt, other than that it’s not that bad lol, inexperienced reader, mild degradation, shameless camp and demon-fucking clichés, Overhaul calls you “little girl” 👉👈

He doesn’t look like a demon.

Not that you really know what demons are supposed to look like. But…red skin, right? Fangs and claws and swirling masses of bad energy. Maybe cloven hooves for feet. Yes, that’s the Disney version—but even if you didn’t expect a cartoon personification of evil, you didn’t expect this.

He looks like a doctor, you think. Lab coat hanging open, surgery mask pushed down under his jaw, stethoscope draped over his shoulders. No, he’s a little young to really look like a doctor…an intern, you amend, shifting back in your hospital bed. He looks like he fits right in here, not a hair out of place. Except for, you know, the polished black horns curling out of the sides of his skull.

Overhaul. It was written in the book. That’s the only thing you have to call him in your head.

He’s standing in the center of the sigil you drew at the foot of your bed before midnight, surveying the room critically without meeting your gaze. He looks annoyed—that’s not a good sign, is it?—but then again, of course he’s annoyed. You’d be annoyed too if you got summoned out of your cozy hell dimension in the middle of the night. According to the book, you’re lucky he even showed up…although ‘lucky’ isn’t really how you’d describe yourself most days.

“So,” Overhaul says after a long moment of silence in which you question every choice you’ve made in your relatively short life. “You’re dying.”

You nod.

“And you don’t want to be.”

You nod again, wondering if you’re supposed to be contributing more to this conversation. It’s a bit difficult when your mouth is so dry it feels like you’ve been eating dirt, but you suppose being in the presence of an unholy servant of Satan will do that to a person.

“Fine.” He sighs, frowns, and then finally lowers his gaze onto yours—and you shiver.

Those eyes. No human has eyes like that.

“Make me an offer,” Overhaul tells you, and through his open mouth you catch a flash of sharp white teeth.

Okay. Okay. The chirping of the heart monitor speeds up (as if it weren’t obvious enough that you’re terrified) and you fold your knees up to your chest and fidget with your ring and think. He’s giving you a chance to establish parameters. You’re supposed to start with his end of the deal, the thing you want from him. That’s what it said to do in the grimoire, aka the 19th century demonology volume your creepy cousin brought back from her pagan anthropology research trip in rural France. The one you keep hidden under your bed because your mother would burn it if she knew you were reading about summoning demons.

Offer nothing to a hell creature without first telling him your price. You know the words by heart, both the winding calligraphy of the original French from the grimoire and the rushed scrawl of the English translation your cousin left for you in sheets of lined paper layered between the pages of the book for you to read. Really, this is her fault. She was the one who slipped you the book, who told you that it worked, who snuck you the ingredients for the summoning. She was the one who left a bookmark at the chapter on this particular demon, one that specializes in ‘Contrat pour Remédier au Déséquilibre des Quatre Humeurs’, which she said meant a contract to cure any illness. Even his ‘name’ is translated in her hand, practically an afterthought in the margins of the page.

‘Le Malin qui Ravage et Rebâtit’— Overhaul?

You looked up the literal meaning of this phrase on your own. It did not reassure you.

“Girl.” His voice is cold, irate. Your eyes snap back up to his and it feels like that burning gaze is laser-beaming into your skull. “Do not test me. My time is limited…as is yours.”

You swallow. “How long do I have left?”

“Less than a single human year,” he tells you without a trace of sympathy. “Seven months, twelve days, three hours. Or so. You’ll be too exhausted to leave this bed in four months, and the pain will become intolerable in six… By the end, you’ll wish—“

“Stop,” you breathe out. The heart monitor is beeping wildly and you squeeze your knees into your chest, trying to calm down your breathing. “Stop, I—I want to live.”

“Of course you do.” Overhaul’s lip curls. “How very predictable.”

Be specific, you remind yourself, doing your best to ignore the stifling disapproval from the man—the demon—in front of you. Something about him (maybe how clean-cut he looks, maybe the indisputable authority in his demeanor) makes you want to impress him. But you didn’t turn your back on your religion—you didn’t draw pagan symbols on the floor in chalk, fill silver cups with various questionable substances (including your own virgin blood), and turn the crucifix your mother hung over your bed upside-down so you could let a demon make you feel guilty for wanting to survive. “I want to be cured. I’m okay with whatever natural death I have instead when I’m older, I just don’t want to die of this illness. I want you to make me healthy.”

“Simple enough. What else?”

‘Simple’? Your heart surges with something you’ve felt very little of since your initial diagnosis—hope. “T-That’s it. Just the cure.”

Overhaul glares at you. “Humans… Every vice in the world available to you, and you limit yourselves to the basest priority of survival.”

“But you can do it? You can cure me?” you persist.

Overhaul steps forward (quiet, so quiet you wonder if he really moved) and holds a hand out to you past the foot of your bed—you hesitate, and a second later you can see the muscles in his hand flex, stretching the latex of his plastic gloves tight over his knuckles.

Just do it. You give him your hand. Carefully. Like you’re scared the contact will burn you. It doesn’t (although his skin feels warmer than yours), but after a moment his grip tightens, sliding down past your hand to circle the fragile bones of your wrist and squeeze.

“Ow?” You wince.

The demon’s eyes flicker closed for a second, lips moving silently like he’s talking to himself—and then he drops your hand unceremoniously back onto your lap. “You could be cured before the sun rises this morning. I doubt your stay in the hospital will extend past the end of the week.”

He sounds bored, voice as flat and passionless as it was earlier, but your heart is soaring. Cured. You’ve lived with this illness for so many years, you can’t remember the last time someone told you you could be cured. And getting out of the hospital that soon? You can just imagine taking down all the decorations from the walls of your room here and setting them up in your old bedroom at home. You could see friends on the weekend and not take an oxygen bag, you could get a job or—or apply to college, you could have a life—

“That is…assuming you have something to offer me in exchange for the cure.”

Your stomach drops. You’d almost forgotten about the other half of the deal.

“Don’t tell me I came all this way for nothing.” Overhaul steps back, and the orange light of the candles you set sends strange shadows over his arrogant face. The fires look brighter now, and you find yourself tracing the lines of those shining black horns. In an odd way, they look natural—so organically framing his temples that you can’t imagine him without them.

“N-No, of course not. I have some money—I mean, my mom has some, and I can get it for you…” Which is half the truth. If you know anything, it’s that your mother’s spent most of her savings on your treatment and care. You probably have more debt than you have money in the bank right now—you’d try to get rid of that, too, if you hadn’t read in the book how important it is to keep your request as simple and straightforward as possible.

…Although it’s apparently not enough. Overhaul’s eyes narrow, molten gold irises carved into slits. “Even if I had a use for human money, do you really believe your life is worth so little?”

“No—no,” you say quickly. “I just thought—in case you were interested—”

The air crackles with energy, the candle flames spark bright blood-red, and the hair on your arms stands straight up. “I am not.”

“Okay! I get it.” You wave your hands back and forth, pulling your IV line from side to side with the motion. The book was very clear about staying calm and rational while you work out the terms of the deal, but that’s easier said than done when you have a real live (live?) hell creature in front of you. You always knew this was going to be the hard part—all the stories say there’s only one thing that a demon would be interested in, and no matter how inviting the prospect of living past this illness is, you know you’d rather die than sell your immortal soul to the devil. “I’ll give you anything except my soul! And—and don’t hurt anyone I care about, or— just don’t hurt anyone, okay? Other than that, if there’s anything I can give you, I will.”

Overhaul’s lip curls, baring a thin strip of those unnaturally sharp canines. “And is your soul really so valuable?”

This throws you for a loop. Isn’t that the standard deal? A soul for a wish? That’s how it’s supposed to work—at least in this twisted version of reality where you can summon a demon to perform unholy miracles for you. But if you think about it, it doesn’t really make sense, does it? Why would your soul be valuable to him? You can’t form an argument, especially since you’re not willing to barter it away in the first place.

Your mouth is pursed open as you search for a response, but Overhaul doesn’t seem willing to wait. A gloved hand wraps its way around the railing at the side of your bed, and he leans in closer. “Little girl…what makes you think you possess anything I desire?”

Little girl. You’re not a little girl, you’re a grown woman—and yet there’s no untruth in the statement. In front of him you feel insignificant, immature, weak. You have nothing real to offer, and something tells you that you’re not going to get rid of the demon you summoned without a sacrifice you’re not willing to make.

You twist your ring around your finger—the nervous habit you haven’t bothered to break because you’ve always had more important things to worry about—and the glint of silver in the candlelight must catch Overhaul’s eye because before you even notice him moving, your delicate hand is trapped in his larger one to give him a better view of the tiny piece of jewelry. “What is this?”

“It’s—um, a ring. A purity ring.” Has he never seen one before? Well…actually, that makes sense.

Overhaul turns your hand over in his without touching the band of silver. He’s looking at it closely, inspecting the lovingly engraved cross in the design and the inscription on the other side. “Matthew 5:8,” he reads out.

“…Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God,” you recite cautiously. It feels wrong to speak the words in front of him, but somehow you can’t help yourself.

Overhaul’s hand doesn’t leave yours. “This ring is important to you.”

“It’s a symbol of a—a promise I made to God. To save myself for my future husband.”

“To ‘save yourself’? To save what?”

You can’t believe you’re explaining this to a literal demon. You close your eyes and inhale slowly and taste smoke. “My…virginity. It’s a promise that I won’t have sex until I enter into a biblical marriage.”

At this, Overhaul is quiet. You give him a moment to answer, half expecting him to question why you think God cares about your sexual status (honestly, you’d be lying if you said you haven’t wondered this yourself), but he stays quiet until you peek up at him to try and gauge the look on his coldly handsome face.

He’s still staring at the ring. He hasn’t touched it—maybe he can’t, because of the cross?—and through the latex, his skin feels hotter than a human’s is supposed to be.

“Is there…” you start, but you trail off when you realize you have nothing to ask. You give a little tug to try and take your hand away and you’re surprised when your wrist actually slides out of his grip to fall back on the nest of sheets in your lap. You didn’t think he’d let you go so easily.

Overhaul turns his head to the side, eyes drilling into you so you feel like you should lower your gaze. The candlelight flickers in strange shadows over his horns. “This will do,” he says quietly.

“What?”

“In exchange for your cure.” The demon taps his own left ring finger, the place where the purity ring sits on your hand, and your heart soars. He actually wants that? It’s just a simple silver band, not worth much, but you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe it has some special significance because of the religious connotation. Your mother will be angry you’ve lost it, but you’re happy to cope with that if it means living to actually get married!

“Yes!” you blurt out before he has a chance to rethink his offer. Sure, you’ll miss the purity ring—you’ve had it since you were a kid, after all—but there’s no question you’re getting the better end of this deal. At least in your opinion.

Something flashes through his yellow eyes, something you don’t even want to try and identify. “The contract, then.”

You barely have time to notice that his voice has gentled, that it’s practically silken in comparison to before, when the candlelight flickers again and suddenly the contract is everywhere. Everywhere. Writing appears on every surface in the room, covering the walls, stretching over the ceiling, coiling around the sides of the hospital equipment and decorating your bedsheets until you and Overhaul are the only untouched surfaces in sight. The characters are inscribed in red, dark red like—don’t think about that, you tell yourself squeamishly. You can make out some of the letters, even a word here or there—French, you recognize, mixed with what looks like Latin and interspersed with what you can only guess are runes.

“I can’t read this,” you tell him, fidgeting with your ring for what you now realize will be the last time.

“I only need your name,” he purrs, and then you feel a fragile weight in your hand: a feather, pearl-black and glossy and too large to belong to any bird you can think of, its angled tip glistening with wet ink. There’s an empty space in the writing before you, and Overhaul’s gloved hand comes to yours again to guide you into place.

This feels wrong…then again, of course it does. Even if you’re getting off relatively easy and just losing your ring rather than your soul, you’re still making a deal with a demon. You sign your name, forcing yourself to think about the future you have ahead of you rather than a disapproving white-bearded caricature of The Man Upstairs wagging his finger at you for haggling with a literal servant of Satan. People have done worse things to survive, haven’t they? It’s just a ring.

You set the feather down and Overhaul sighs, thick black eyelashes obscuring his intense gaze for a moment—and then the contract is gone, leaving your hospital room as blank and sterile as it’s supposed to be (well, aside from the candles and all the other ritual stuff you threw together to summon a demon in the first place).

“Are you going to cure—heal me now?” you ask.

“…Patience, little girl.” He’s pulling his glove off, peeling it down his fingers to bare the pale skin of his hand. You catch your breath and wonder what this is going to feel like, and then the tips of his fingers meet your cheek and—

you stop breathing.

It doesn’t hurt.

Or if it does, you don’t remember the pain a second later when breath floods back into your lungs. What you do feel is energy. Strength in your muscles, blood pumping through your veins, every inhale and exhale as light as a bird and freer. You feel healthy. You’re surprised you even remember what health feels like but you do: it’s like you’ve only been half alive, and now life is surging into you and through you and around you, bubbling up in your core like a spring overflowing. You blink rapidly, thinking you might cry from the sheer pleasure of it, but when you open your mouth it’s laughter that comes out. You’re healthy. You’re alive. You barely notice the IV line literally falling off of your skin because the hole where it entered your vein is sealed shut and healed perfectly.

No more needles. No more hospitals. Even without all the monitors beeping out your heart rate and measuring your vitals, there’s not a shred of doubt in your mind that you’re cured.

“Thank you!” you laugh, looking up at Overhaul and for the first time, not caring that he’s evil incarnate. “I feel—I’m okay! It worked!”

“Of course it did.” His expression is inscrutable, but he lets you have a few moments to enjoy your newfound health.

You roll your shoulders back, flex each muscle you can isolate one by one to test, make fists with your fingers and then run them over your hair, which is already thicker and shinier than it was a moment ago. Your body thrums with energy—you want to run, to feel the ground against your bare feet and the cold night air on your face, and you think you could do it! Your legs are already swinging over the side of your cot, ready to run barefoot out of the hospital if that’s what it takes, but before you can stand up Overhaul’s pushing you back down onto the bed.

“Have you forgotten your end of the bargain already?”

Honestly you did forget, but only for a second, only because you were so excited to just be outside again. “Oh, yeah. Of course.” Your hand goes to your left ring finger, ready to slip the ring off and hand it over, but Overhaul shakes his head.

“Not here.”

“What—?”

You’re falling. Your hospital room is disappearing, the image of your walls and your window and your bed disintegrating into yawning black, and you’re falling through it into nothing, into emptiness, and Overhaul’s still-bare hand in yours is the only anchor you have so you clutch onto it and squeeze your eyes shut. You want to scream—that’s the sane thing to do when you’re falling through miles and miles of empty space, right?—but when you open your throat the sound is swallowed up just like the light was…

Overhaul’s hand burns into yours, an improbable lifeline that you pull closer more out of terror than conscious thought. The slick, empty air rushes around you and you think I am going to die like this and then, incredibly, as soon as you’ve accepted your imminent demise, you feel your back mold onto a chilled, flat surface, vertebra by vertebra up to the back of your head, as if you’ve been lain down onto it.

Your heart thuds in your ears and you brace for an impact because your body hasn’t quite accepted yet that it’s not falling anymore—but at the same time, you know you’re lying down on something. You pry your fingers away from their vice-grip on Overhaul’s arm and feel around blindly for what’s underneath you, and when it seems reasonably tangible you let yourself open your eyes.

Way above, vaulted dozens of feet over your head, is a ceiling studded with gilt-edged frescoes and stained glass. It’s raining (even though it wasn’t in the hospital, you think) but through the massive panes of colored glass there’s enough oily blue light to make out that you’re in a church.

You’re in a church, with a demon. Isn’t that against the rules?

You sit up stiffly and look over at Overhaul, who’s standing at your side and looking down at you…which is how you realize the soft, cold surface you’ve been deposited onto is the blanket on top of the altar in the sanctuary. “Where...did you take me?”

“You should know this place.”

And you do, when you look around. It’s empty now and you’ve never been here at night, but this is a church your mother would bring you to when you were little, back before the disease got so bad you couldn’t risk traveling to it anymore. This is where you took your purity vow…the ring feels heavy on your hand. “Why—why—“

“I can’t stand human hospitals. Filthy places… How that reek of illness and death doesn’t bother your kind, I’ll never understand.” Overhaul pulls his latex glove back on. He’s dressed differently now, no longer impersonating a doctor—black shirt, black pants, and a…bird mask in red leather and gold. So are you, as a matter of fact. Instead of your hospital gown, you’re in a gauzy white dress that’s already been pushed up to pool around the tops of your thighs.

The slip is too thin for the cold, and you can feel your nipples standing up under the cloth so you fold your arms over your chest and hug yourself. “Why did you take me here?” The sound of your voice echoes off the walls eerily and you wish you hadn’t spoken so loudly. The reflection of your words sounds girlish, nervous.

“I told you. Your side of our contract.” Even in this dark, the angular features of his face are clearly concentrating—on you. “Are you already having second thoughts? Such a fickle little thing…”

“You mean the ring?” You reach for it again, ready to tear it off and throw it at him if that’s what it takes to see your deal through, but Overhaul snatches your hand away, pinning it above you.

“Not the ring,” he says. “The promise.”

The…promise?

A chill makes its way down your spine despite the heat radiating off the demon’s body and onto yours. “I don’t understand.”

“The promise,” Overhaul repeats—and you hear a sound almost like wings flapping and then he’s on the altar with you, knees straddling your hips as a single hand holds both your wrists above your head. “To remain a virgin until marriage. Your promise to God.”

A streak of lightning cracks down on the other side of the stained glass window behind the altar, illuminating the room briefly in spectacular pits of red and orange and yellow…and then it’s dark again, and the only color you can make out is the gold in Overhaul’s eyes.

“I’m going to break it,” he murmurs, lowering his head toward your ear right as the answering thunder rolls through the sanctuary, up through the altar, up into you.

///

Méfiez-vous de son piège, the grimoire said. Beware of the catch.

Of course it wasn’t just a ring.

Overhaul’s fingers are in—inside you, his middle and ring finger pumping through the length of your cunt like they belong there, like you were made to be touched this way. A mixture of your juices and your own spit cling to the latex because he made you suck his fingers before he put them in you and he hasn’t bothered to take his gloves off—not that you asked. You’ve been too busy biting your lip to try and muffle the moans that he keeps forcing out of you. He’s bracing himself on top of you with one hand and fingering you with the other, so your own hands are free to push into your eyes and hide your face…until he yanks your arm back and stops.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes are screwed shut and you shake your head back and forth, the movement shuddering your whole body right down to your pussy wrapped around Overhaul’s fingers. He slows the movement and kneels back, pushing one of your thighs up into your chest as he does it.

“Look at me.”

And you’re not sure whether it’s some unearthly power he has over you or the plain old deterioration of your willpower, but you can’t refuse him. You crack your eyes open and he’s glaring down at you, skin pale as ice in the blue light. Once he’s satisfied that you’re watching, the demon leans back in to fuck your cunt with his fingers, slowly at first and then quicker when he hits something inside of you—a spot, a place on the inner wall of your pussy that makes you feel like you’ve been shocked— heat blooms through you like blood in water and you gasp and he curls his fingers up to pet over that spot again.

“Wait—wait, that’s—it feels—weird!” You’ve never felt like this before. You’re not supposed to feel like this, it’s wrong.

“I understand you’ve never touched yourself, but don’t pretend you don’t like it.” Overhaul says, voice as indifferent and calm as ever even though your cunt is dripping clear sticky liquid over the plastic of his glove.

He pushes back in and grinds his palm over the little button on the top of your pussy—your clit?—and you want to scream. “No, I—I don’t—nnhh...”

Do you like it? The demon’s body is so hot next to yours, like he’s running a fever except you’re the one going out of your mind… You’ve heard metaphors for sexual pleasure before (that it’s like having something to drink when you’re dying of thirst; or that it’s the ultimate act of intimacy, love in physical form) but all of that’s a fucking lie. There’s nothing to compare it to, no reference that makes sense, because it doesn’t make sense—you don’t even want him to keep going, do you? You’re only doing this because you signed your name on a devil’s contract, because you don’t want to die and there’s no alternative…but that doesn’t explain why you feel so warm from the inside out, why you’re squirming and your hips are rocking involuntarily no matter how much you try to keep still. This isn’t right. You feel like you’ve been lied to.

A good girl wouldn’t like this.

Overhaul isn’t going to let you close your eyes, so you don’t—but the sounds coming out of your mouth are so…indecent (and how can you think these things about yourself? the word feels like someone else is saying it when you hear it in your head) that your hand is drifting up to your mouth before you can stop yourself, trying to stifle all of it…

“Let your voice out. I want you to hear yourself moan.”

Long fingers slide their way out of your pussy and then move up to rub quick little circles around your clit and you moan, like a whore, like a girl getting her cunt rubbed by a demon— “Oh, uhhhn—something, it’s—coming—“ There’s something building up in your core—a peak, a climax, something that makes you fist your hands in the nightgown he put you in (so tight you’re surprised the thin fabric hasn’t torn) and tilt your hips up into him, begging without words because you don’t have any to express what your body is asking for…

But he doesn’t give it to you. Overhaul takes his hand away from your pussy and the shock of the cool air after his too-hot touch is almost enough to send you over that edge—almost. Not quite. And without it, you’re left shivering and quaking, thighs twitching as your baser instincts beg you to just put your hand between your legs for once and hump your fingers to completion if the demon won’t do it.

You’re not going to risk that, though. Not when Overhaul’s dragging your body closer, bunching up the blanket on the altar under your spine, so your pelvis is angled to his… He’s already shirtless and you hear him unzipping his pants but you can’t bring yourself to actually look at him, even when you feel something hard and hot nudging up against your inner thigh and then aligning to your sticky wet slit.

“This will hurt a bit, but I want you to look,” he says, and you don’t even understand at first until you make yourself feel it—his cock, pushing up against your tight cunt to finish this, this perversion of what your first time was supposed to be…

And what was it supposed to be? Roses and candles and soft kisses? A nameless, faceless husband unzipping your wedding dress and making love to you with the lights off? The way the demon touches you should be cruel in comparison but it isn’t, it’s lighting fires under your skin and turning your brains to mush, so how is your body supposed to tell the difference?

It’ll hurt, you know that, you’ve heard enough about sex to know that it always hurts the first time for girls…women. It was already a stretch to fit his fingers in your virgin pussy, so of course his cock is going to hurt. You turn your head toward the window at your side and try on look out at the rain drawing rivulets like veins over the glass, something to focus on instead of him.

“I said look,” the demon hisses, and his hips push forward a bit and you bite off a whimper of pain. “Watch me take your virginity…look at your tight little cunt swallowing me up just like it was made to.”

“N-No—“ you whine, even though it’s not like you can ignore it. “Don’t make me, don’t make me look, I can’t—“

“Then look at me.”

It’s what he wants, some kind of wicked satisfaction he gets off on, but you’re lucky enough to even get an option so you choose that one, shifting your gaze up into his face instead of the place where his cock is pressing deeper and deeper inside you. Overhaul’s eyes are half-lidded and it’s hard to tell from behind the mask but the look on his face is…pleasure? No, that would be too human. Restraint, at least. He could just thrust up into your body in one stroke, but he wants you to feel it for some reason.

Maybe because it’s a worse betrayal of your chastity if you want to get fucked.

Lucky for you, though, you can barely feel anything aside from the pain. The heat you felt building earlier is draining out of you even as Overhaul tilts deeper, layering his chest over yours. You’re almost grateful for the modest barrier the dress provides between your torso and the solid muscle of his abdomen. His cock in your pussy feels like it’s too big too deep too much and it’s the first time you’ve felt like your body wasn’t created specifically for this purpose so you hold it tight.

“Does it hurt?”

A second of clarity makes you want to snarl (of course it fucking hurts, I’m losing my virginity to a demon I summoned from hell) and you dig your fingernails into your palms to stop yourself from saying it out loud. Overhaul pulls out a fraction of an inch and then pushes back in and you feel like the breath’s being pushed out of your lungs. “Yes! Yes, it—it hurts—“

“I can make you enjoy it…for a price,” he sighs, settling into a slow rocking motion of his hips pushing into yours.

And you want to, every sore muscle in your cunt is telling you to give in and give up, give him what he wants so you can enjoy it like he says—but you’d rather hate every second of this than make another deal. You shake your head quickly and because you’re still too afraid to look away from him, you don’t miss the look of surprise that flits across his face before he tamps it down. “I don’t—I don’t want to—like it,” you gasp out between thrusts. “It’s better if—if it h-hurts…”

This time it’s obvious—his eyes really do widen, and you feel some petty triumph at having caught him off guard like this. Who’s predictable now? you think—and then he’s lifting one hand off the altar at the side of your head and tugging his glove off with his teeth, and you don’t even have time to be afraid of what he’s going to do to you because it’s too late, his bare fingers are already stroking over your mound and onto your core, massaging into the flesh of your stomach so he can feel his own cock sliding in and out of you—

and it doesn’t hurt anymore?

You only have a second to try and understand—he cured you, he healed the pain from your first time just like he healed your illness?—before he hooks his grip under your thigh and folds your legs into your chest so he can fuck into you harder than before. His cock slaps into your pussy and you can hear it, hear how wet your filthy little cunt is, smeared through with your juices. It’s sick—the sound of skin against skin, and the moaning you can’t hold back, you sound like a woman in a porno and you wish the pain would come back just so you could keep hating what he’s doing to you. “What—what did you do—“

The demon ignores you. “It feels good, doesn’t it.”

“Nn—“ It’s deeper like this…deeper and rougher and you can feel it. Now that the pain’s been reduced to the dull ache of a stretched muscle, you can feel everything—his cock sliding against that same spot in your cunt that makes you want to squeal, the friction of his body moving against your clit, all of it, everything you wanted to block out— he pumps into you and you hear your breath sobbing out a moan a second out of rhythm, the sounds of you bouncing on demon cock echoing over the walls. “Please—ah, ahhh…”

“‘Please?’ Are you begging—me, little girl?” Overhaul pushes your thigh up and drags his cock through you, excruciatingly slow, forcing you to feel the thick head slide over every gummy wall in your slick pussy.

You shake your head, mewl, try to force your hips to stop rocking back into his and grinding your clit against him. But you can’t. You’re a—you were a virgin, for fuck’s sake! Overhaul’s immortal. Probably thousands of years of experience on how to make you feel like you want this, like you’re only alive in the places he touches you… You’re at his mercy, if he has any. You never stood a chance.

“Then are you begging your god?” His body lowers directly onto yours and like you’re being controlled by puppet strings your arms fold around him and rake your fingernails uselessly into the smooth skin of his back. You can feel the vibration of his mirthless laughter through his chest. “It must hurt terribly…to know he isn’t listening.”

“Don’t—stop, please,” you sob. “Don’t say—don’t stop—please!”

“Listen to yourself, girl—“ Overhaul’s breath is faster now, but you don’t have time to question it because you feel your peak coming again, the tension rising up through your cunt and your abdomen, harsher and crueler than when his fingers were in you but you want it just as much. More. “Has he ever answered your prayers? Has he...ahh, fuck—who’s the one giving you what you need?”

“No— please, please just let me let me, please—“ You’re talking nonsense now, begging for the release—at least then it’ll be over, and you need it, you need it so badly you feel your muscles locking up, cramping, your ankles crossing each other behind Overhaul’s back.

“Good girl,” the demon breathes, and then he lifts off you so he’s kneeling upright with the two of you still connected, his thick, heavy cock still speared in your pussy, and his fingers come down again to rub at your clit. Everything’s so wet you can hear the motion of his fingers slicking themselves through your juices, sliding up and down the little button over and over and it feels so good that a tiny part of you almost wants to drag it out, to savor it, but the rest of your body is going to die, is going to go crazy if the demon doesn’t let you cum right now, right now, right now!

And he does. Praise the Lord. The pads of Overhaul’s fingers pass over your clit one last time and your head rolls back, your throat moves but you can’t even make a sound, your legs shake and you cum.

You didn’t know it was like this.

Your cunt squeezes down on his cock, throbbing and pulsing and your toes literally curl (you didn’t think that was a real thing!) and your vision goes black for a moment and—oh fuck oh fuck i want this i want more how is it possible that i’ve never felt like this—you understand, more intimately than ever, why sex is wrong:

because nothing that makes you feel this good could possibly come without a cost, could it?

///

It must take longer than you thought for you to come back to your senses, because when you regain awareness of your body you’re in your hospital bed. You’re clean, too, and you wonder for a second if Overhaul bothered to clean you up? Or no…he probably just snapped his fingers and transported you back to your room. You’re not really sure how it works.

What you are sure of, however, is that you just got fucked by a demon. You’re sore in places that you didn’t know it was possible to be sore, and there are already bruises forming on the flesh of your thighs from how tight he was holding you. You don’t really have time to inspect these, though, because apparently your…ordeal (if you can call it that) isn’t over.

Overhaul’s still here.

He’s facing the hints of sunrise through the east window, dressed again in the immaculate lab coat and surgeon’s mask. “You’re awake,” he says without looking at you.

You nod hesitantly. You’re not really sure what the protocol is in this situation, but at least you’ve finally held up your side of the contract, right? And so has he. Despite having been up all night doing sinful things, you’re still itching to get out of this bed and test the limits of your healthy body. “You’re…going to leave, right?”

“Yes—”

At that, you sigh in relief and settle back into your starched bedsheets.

“But there’s one more thing you owe me.”

“Goddamnit,” you swear for the very first time in your life. After what you just did, taking the Lord’s name in vain seems like a relatively minor sin.

Overhaul’s mildly irritated expression doesn’t change, but he holds his hand out to you, palm up, the way you imagine someone would if they were helping you out of a car or requesting a dance at an old-fashioned ball. And really, you want all of this to be over—you want to get out of this hospital, you want to taste what the air outside is like, you want to distract yourself from what you just gave up in exchange for a future. At this point you’re just going to have to hope God isn’t as picky about the whole premarital sex thing as you grew up believing.

So you put your hand in Overhaul’s.

Slowly, carefully, like he’s afraid it’ll burn him, he slides your purity ring down your finger and balances it in the palm of his bare hand. It sizzles when he touches it, glowing orange until it eventually burns down into a ash-black circle in the center of his palm. Once he’s satisfied that your pretty little ring has been reduced to nothing more than a scorch mark, he closes his hand around yours and you feel something sharp, painfully hot, etching onto your finger.

It’s over in a second, but you still yelp and yank your hand away from him as soon as he lets you. “Ah—ow, what was that?”

He burned you, he literally burned you! He’s already healed it, but there’s still a thin, pale scar, an intentional one left wrapping around the skin at the base of your left ring finger. Like a wedding ring.

When you look close, you can make out a symbol on the back of your finger where the cross used to sit—and even though your conscious mind doesn’t recognize it, the sight of it rings out something inside your ribcage, deeper and truer than flesh and blood. It’s the devil’s mark, you think. It’s his.

“…A promise,” Overhaul says softly, and even though it’s a chilly morning, you can feel the heat of his hands on yours a long time after he vanishes back into the dark.