#john seed x female deputy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

evilvvithin · 9 months

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silent despair

pairing : john seed x reader (i wrote it as f!deputy!reader but it turned out to be gn too) warnings : blood and injury | implied sex but not detailed | love hate | possessiveness word count: 2,497 summary: What would happen if John was the one to survive the collapse? ➤ AO3 link | masterlist

In the first moments of coming back to your senses, the mix of strong cologne and smoke hit your nose. The air seemed heavy, almost hard to breathe and you felt like suffocating. Taking a deep breath, a sharp pain shot through your ribs and made you yelp out in surprise. "Finally," a familiar voice filled the silence and ringed inside your aching head. Stars danced at the edges of your vision as you tried to sit up. As if a restless swarm of bees was inside your skull, causing it to vibrate uncomfortably. Arms and legs numb you had to look down at your limbs to make sure they were really moving when you told them to. They weren't. Your hands handcuffed to the metal leg of the bunk bed, you tried to wrestle against them with no luck. "Still eager to fight despite your situation, I see. Some things about you never change, deputy."

You felt venom in his voice, anger, hidden behind his kind and peaceful mask he called a face. He smiled widely as he walked towards you, squatting down to your level.

"Where-"

"Shhh sh sh."

His eyes piercing through you, fingers trailing the handcuffs, the stupid smile on his face. The time stopped and your eyes gazed down to his shirt which used to be blue. Just like his eyes. Now it was almost completely covered in dried blood. Pushing away the thoughts of kicking your knee into his stomach for tying you up, you wondered what had happened, looking around the room you were in for any clues.

He noticed how you calmed down, how your eyes jumped across his chest and the walls behind him. Looking for his bunker key at his now bruised chest. Pulling out another key from his pocket, he freed your hands but grabbed your wrists immediately, squeezing them painfully. You hissed in reaction, but got the message - don't do anything stupid. You didn’t even plan to. You just wanted to know what happened as your own memory was failing you due to its fogginess. Checking your ribs for any wounds or source of the pain you felt after waking up, a loud explosion deafened you and the whole room started to vibrate, dust falling down from the ceiling. There was your answer to what happened. The pictures of mushroom cloud, fire and death blinked through your head. All the screaming, pain… your friends…

"The collapse," John looked up, the same smile on his face still. "Joseph was right, you know? He knew the whole time… my brother…"

The mask of the baptist started to fade away - he didn't have to pretend anymore. The smile slowly disappeared as his whole expression hardened, jaws clenched. His eyes glowing with rage, but there was something else.

Sadness. Softness.

Cursing through gritted teeth, he grabbed you by the edge of your shirt and forced you up against the wall, hand squeezing your throat right after.

"You killed them. If only you listened to them! We could’ve been - “

The pressure built up in your head from the lack of air and vision started to blur, yet you didn't try to fight his hand.

"Doesn’t matter. Tell me one reason I shouldn't do the same to you!"

His voice was calm but still sounded like a yell to you. You started to half laugh half cough, making his eyebrows furrow even more in fury. He was killing you with his gaze, not his hands. In his mind his hands squeezed your throat hard. Knuckles on his hand white, he’d release the grasp so you could catch a single breath just to cut your wind pipe again.

Oh, he would do so many things to you.

"Why didn't you? Before?" You coughed. "You had so many chances."

He sighed and let go of you by throwing you further into the wall, though not so aggressively as before to kick air out of your lungs. You knew he had the reply, knew why he didn't kill you when he had the chance. But he wouldn't admit it.

Would you? Would you admit why you didn’t kill him when you had so many chances?

John knew well you chose to hunt his siblings down rather than him. Playing cat and mouse, but both of you were the cat. Lots of unfulfilled threats that led only to one thing - the collapse. You being stuck with him in a bunker underground.

The longer you tried to keep standing against the wall, the more your muscles burned. The desire to lay down, close your eyes again and forget about everything again was overwhelming but you were determined to not show any kind of weakness. Your coughing and laughing filled the room. Have you lost your mind? Are you really gonna be down here with John? It wasn’t like you could change it.

You didn’t want to.

The shirt started to stick to your skin where you felt the sharp pain before. Your fingers felt the wetness when touching it and you didn't have to look down to know what it was.

"Come."

Following John to the table across the room, you were sure your legs would fail you any step you took. He was watching you - was it a concerned look you saw on his face? Your blurry vision playing tricks on you?

He was in fact concerned, watching every step of yours ready to grab your arm for support whenever you were about to fall. He didn't want you to know, he didn't want you to see his soft side. Not yet. He liked to believe he had none except for his brothers - he was lying to himself the whole life. He always had a soft side, buried deep inside him. Abandoned by his choice. Softness had no place in the life he lived before Eden’s Gate. No place in Eden’s Gate. It was a weakness and he locked everything making him weak deep inside.

Till you showed up and made him weak. Vulnerable. He hated you for it, but at the same time admired you. You were untamed, wild fire that could make him both weak and strong and he realized rather quickly that capturing you like the others would not help him get stronger, no. You required a different approach. Approach that he thought he would never be able to do - to have feelings for someone, to feel vulnerable.

The mutual feelings of you two, the connection of your souls and leadership - that’s what he visioned in his dreams. How perfect you two would be for Eden’s gate. At first, it seemed like a great plan, but the further John tried to make you join him, the more he started to care about you. Did he care about you more than about the project? No, he would never… He doubted himself in that question. Nevertheless he’d make everything work in the end. And he did, without even trying to.

Grabbing bandages out of the emergency box, he waited for you to raise your shirt enough to expose the cut. Starting at your ribcage going down your belly, it wasn't deep but it was bleeding a lot.

"Just do it quick."

Swallowing your pride, you let him circle you, touch you, wrapping the bandage all around your torso. Feeling his warm touch on your bare skin, you never realized how soft his hands could be. You believed all they could inflict was pain and torture.

"Want it harder?"

The stupid smile on his face.

"Fuck you, John."

~~~

"You'll get us both killed!" John hissed and caught your hand that tried to steal the bunker key from his neck. He started to wear it with him at all times since you found the spot where he hid it. And he was way more alert during sleeping than you thought.

Saving your life and you still tried to get away from him, still fought him. Still… after all the days you two spent in close proximity. Or was it weeks? He liked it at times though. It spiced things a bit here under the ground, but he'd still rather receive obedience from you. Just like his followers in Hope County… but you weren't one of them. The knuckles whitened on his hand and you squinted as his grip became painful. The harder he held your wrist, the more you squeezed the key in your hand being as stubborn as you were usually, refusing to let go of it.

"Go then, do as you want."

You almost lost balance and fell down at his chest when he released your hand. The tone of his voice was vile but the sparkle of hope that shined in your eye overcame everything else. You looked down at the key and hope was quickly replaced with a darker feeling - reality. John scoffed and murmured something to himself as the key landed back on his chest.

You didn't want to die. Not today at least.

~~~

Warm breeze locked the naked skin of your upper body. The blanket must've slid down while you were sleeping.

A breeze of fresh air… in a bunker?

John's fingertips trailed up and down your arm softly, thinking he was gentle enough to not wake you up. His movements were slow, lazy. Your heartbeat raised a little and you hoped it wouldn't reveal you were awake. Your back turned to him, you laid still and your breath was shallow. His breath was warm against your skin. He seemed to be murmuring something to himself but you couldn't make a single word out. He was humming some kind of melody.

All kinds of scenarios rushed through your head when he pulled the edge of your shirt down your shoulder. Pretend to be asleep no matter what? Then you'd be allowing whatever he planned on doing. Jump up and slap the soul out of him? Maybe, but you wouldn't know what he wanted to do… and mainly, why.

Did you want him to stop?

Did you want him to know you were awake?

The adrenaline rushed through your body as your mind was filling up with certain scenarios, making you change position in an attempt to hide it. John's hand retrieved and his murmuring stopped. You felt his gaze boring into the side of your head. Leaning closer to your face, his hot breath tickled your ear. If you turned around, you could taste his lips easily. Before you could do something you might regret later, the weight on the bed behind you disappeared as John walked away, silent like a cat.

You were left alone with your cheek and ear burning, the gentle touch of his fingers still printed on your skin. It's been so long since you experienced any kind of intimacy, kindness in general. Past few months were nothing but an exhausting fight for your life and the lives of the other members of resistance. The few joyful moments that occurred? You were too tired to appreciate and enjoy them fully. Cursing yourself you didn't do anything when John was creeping above you, you played with the scenarios in your head for as long as sleep didn't take your consciousness away.

~~~

"What did you do to Hudson?!" Blood was coming out of your mouth from John's punch, but the rage you felt numbed all possible pain. "You bastard!"

Him and his typical maniac smile.

Everytime you two met before the collapse and fought each other, he had this smile on his face whenever you could've ended him. Laughing. Not really fighting you back. Almost like he wanted to die… or he didn't care if he did at least. Or he knew you couldn't kill him. He knew it and laughed at the absurd power he had over you. You hated him for it, you hated him because he was right.

"Hudson's gone now anyway, isn't she? What's all this about, then?"

Clenching your fists around the edge of his coat, half choking him with the fabric cutting into his throat, you stopped in your rage for long enough to think about what he said. You hated to admit it but he was right.

He seemed to always be right.

Things that happened before the collapse? They were all meaningless now. What really mattered was this bunker, you, him and the danger levels outside. Were you truly angry about what he did to Hudson or did you just want a reason to start a fight with him? Did he want to start a fight when he told you, out of nowhere?

Taunting, teasing, getting expected reactions from others just to remind himself he has power over them. Power to manipulate through emotions. Maybe he truly believed he was emotionless and nothing bothered him except his family - he lied to himself the whole time. He cared too much about you. He could've had you at any time before. Yet he didn't take you, no. He didn't want to take you, he wanted you to need him. To desire him. Give up to him.

John grabbed your wrists to make you let go of his coat, his face unchanged. The smile… he won. He had all the reasons to smile - you were here with him, craving him, needing to feel the warmth of his body. The burst of emotions. There was no need to say it out loud. Letting your arms go limp in his hands, you leaned closer to his face.

"Fuck you, John."

Raising one of his eyebrows, the smile only grew bigger.

"That's exactly what I was thinking," he let your hands go and pulled you closer by the back of your neck.

You let yourself fall into the kiss - like a boat going down the river you didn't try to go against the stream at all. You still hated him but what you felt for him was growing stronger. Something you could not define with simple words. The iron taste of your blood filled your mouth and your tongue found his. The taste was somewhat hypnotizing, driving you further into the kiss.

The satisfied grunt from John didn't surprise you a bit. You had an idea he'd like the taste of blood. That it'd turn him on. Violence in general. You heard the stories about Hudson and other Falls End people that managed to escape his bunker. You were there yourself after all, you spent more time with him than you'd like to imagine.

It was all your choice - to let him live every time, let him get close to you. Let yourself fall for him. Let your lust win.

As the clothes on you both fell down to the ground piece by piece, you weren't bothered by the chilling air. You were on fire, you both were. Fire that needed to be put down and only one way of doing so. Everything about it was rough. Maybe you were still trying to kill each other but then decided not to, over and over again.

Hate and anger being overcome by love and lust and it made you want to get lost in the moment forever. Get lost in John.

Your fingertips copied the edges of his scars, his skin still rough on touch from all the bruises that didn’t heal yet. The moans resonating within the thick concrete walls sounded like they were miles away from you - silenced by you replaying all your past choices that led you to this moment.

Your nails clawed into one of his fresh scars causing John to whimper in both pain and pleasure. You didn’t do it on purpose. He knew. He felt the same joy, the same pleasure as you causing him to twitch and grasp onto you uncontrollably. It was like an out of body experience - like a bottle being constantly filled with water for years before finally overflowing and exploding. Exploding and being free.

You both were finally naked in front of each other - no more lying about your feelings, no more hiding of your thoughts. No secrets.

Bruises forming on the soft skin of your neck where John buried his head into, the sweat of your bodies becoming one. The jolts of pleasure shooting through your body, heavy panting, trembling.

"I haven't forgiven you, John."

"I know."

#far cry 5 #far cry #john seed #john seed x deputy #john seed x reader #john seed x female deputy #x reader #fanfiction #far cry 5 fanfiction

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fr0gg3rrr · 28 days

Text

BOLD AND BRAVE

john seed x fem!deputy

smut warning. no explicit consent given. choking. hair pulling. biting. fingering. some oral (f receiving). p in v.

4.8k words.

Soft sounds echoed off the wooden walls of the secluded cabin, walls that had heard far too much, that would sooner be chopped to pieces and shoved through a chipper than be allowed to spill the secrets it held. John Seed was a holy man, and cleanliness was close to godliness, so he made sure never to leave things unkempt. Nothing ever had a trace of him, even his glasses back at the ranch were cleaned of fingerprints every night. Call it germophobia, call it paranoia, whatever plagued his thoughts when he was alone in the comfort of his pressed silk sheets didn’t seem to leave him now either.

Though more pressing matters seemed to be on at the forefront as he pressed her head down against the pillow, the small grunts that usually escaped his lips at this point didn’t bother trying, he was too busy in his mind. He shouldn’t be doing this, he knew that fornication wasn’t allowed, and as a Herald, he had to make an example for others, though that had never stopped him before. Now only contempt nipped at the back of his neck where unrequited love bites had been left. Sure, he could be upset at how Joseph wouldn’t be happy if he found out his little brother went against the cult rules, but that didn’t seem to be it either.

He stopped himself suddenly, not even bothering to let himself finish. It was a shocking act for even him. John Seed, silver tongue of the cult who always took what he wanted not even caring for his satisfaction? Well, it certainly seemed to shock the woman under him, who turned to look at him through her eyelashes.

“Why’d you stop?” Her voice called up to him, a whine in her tone that made his stomach churn. He looked at her with disgust in his sharp blue eyes, a look she had not been accustomed to from him. “What’s your problem?”

She sat up now, pulling a loose sheet over her exposed body as she tilted her head at him. She was a beauty, really, she was, but that didn’t seem to be enough for him tonight. Sure, John felt a little bad for how he constantly treated her, but her own beauty didn’t do it for him anymore. He needed something he felt he couldn’t outrightly take, he would seem far too pathetic if he chased after what he really wanted, so he settled for a shotty substitute.

“Did you cut your hair?”

She gave him a quizzical look, raising an eyebrow. Maybe it was a compliment? He noticed something other than the quickest way to rip her shirt off this time. “I did, do you like it?”

“How many times have I told you not to change the way you look, Holly?”

His words were sharp as he sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on his jeans with a glare in her direction, it seemed neither of them would be able to finish tonight. She scrunched her nose up at his words. It wasn’t rare for him to be an asshole to her, in fact, it was becoming a much more common occurrence with the recent resistance pushback against the cult, but she still didn’t appreciate his tone.

“I don’t know why you’ve been so adamant about it lately. I wanted to try something new, what do you care?”

She scoffed as she stood up, letting the sheet fall off her body as she grabbed her shirt and underwear, pulling them on. John reached out and roughly grabbed her wrist, making her turn to look at him. He had never put a hand on her without them both being in the middle of John getting his rocks off in her bed or against her wall or vanity, and his sudden touch startled her.

Good, that’s what he wanted to see. The Pepper girl seemed to forget her place constantly, John was a Herald, she was just someone attractive he could see from time to time to release pent-up frustrations.

“You don't look like her anymore. Your hair frames your face differently now.”

Holly scoffed at him, pulling her wrist away from his reach. She never really cared about being more than a fling to him, she liked the distraction it gave her from the newfound loneliness she felt in this cottage and maybe sometimes she did wish he wouldn’t see someone else when he slept with her, that he wouldn’t moan someone else’s name when he fucked her, but she ultimately knew it would go nowhere with him. John Seed was a man obsessed with someone she couldn’t be.

“Who, the Deputy? Well, news flash, I’m not her.”

“I know you’re not, but it's not a crime for me to pretend, and you changing up your hair doesn’t fucking help the vision.”

“The vision.” She scoffed, crossing her arms at him. Her tone was one of mocking, like he was stupid for even dreaming she could fill the role of the one person he couldn’t have. No, because if it wasn’t her hair today then it would be her legs tomorrow, that they weren’t as toned as the Deputy’s, or that her eyes weren’t the right shade. It was constantly ‘Deputy this, Deputy that.’ But Holly Pepper wasn’t enough. “I think you should leave.”

“I’m gone.”

She didn’t have to convince him to rebutton his silk blue shirt or throw on his belt with the large ‘EG’ buckle on it. She didn’t need to persuade him to tie his boots and walk out her front door, into the cool Montana night, he simply left. Trekking down the dirt trail and getting into his car, he slammed the door shut and took off through the wooded back paths. He absolutely despised driving on anything other than the clearly marked main roads, especially when it was dark. He made special exceptions for the nights he went to visit Holly, but being that he didn’t finish, his anger was only elevated.

A truck passed, headlights shining into his windshield and honking as he swerved out of the way to avoid being hit, grumbling curses under his breath that he certainly would have to atone for later, but he would happily do it when he was back in the comfort of his warm, lavish ranch. The truck was the only other car on the road, and through his headlights, he could tell he was going the wrong way. Another curse, this time to himself, no way was he allowing himself to get lost in the middle of fucking nowhere redneck woods. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he pulled over to the nearest building he could find, a clinic. Silently, he hoped someone in there didn’t particularly hate him and would give him directions.

He pulled over with a huff, looking around his car for a map, and without seeing one, opened the door and got out, slamming it behind him. The evening air was cool, and unlike when he had left the Pepper residence, he was able to now take a breath and calm himself down. Though he doubted too many people were around at this time of night, he still wasn’t a fan of making a spectacle of himself when just trying to get directions. Gravel crunched underneath his boots as he made his way to the door, hand stopping just short of the handle as he heard a voice.

“I wouldn’t bother trying to get service right now.”

He didn’t need to turn to know who was speaking to him, he could feel the air still around him at the sound of her voice, the one person he hadn’t expected to see, not after he had falsely assumed he put the fear of god into her, not after he carved the sin out of her chest and forced her to display it for everyone who came across her. Her own personal scarlet letter, though this one being born of the crimson her blood was.

“Hello, Wrath. What are you doing here at this hour?”

He kept his tone friendly and light as he stepped over to the wall beside her, tilting his head down at her. She leaned against the brick, a cigarette hanging loosely from her lips as she watched him. He put on a facade, his silver tongue making a comeback as he spoke to her, though he knew well that she wouldn’t fall for his words. The best he could hope for was for her to relax slightly, to let him speak without drawing a weapon, and, at the lack of Peggies surrounding their ever-so-holy leader, she seemed to do just that.

“Just saw Nick and Kim off. Despite you and your peggies constant terror, it seems some good finally came to the Rye household.”

“Ah, so Kim delivered fine then?”

“Mmhm.”

“I should send a present, something for the little tyke.”

“Yeah right.” He earned a little laugh from her, even if it was sarcastic, he couldn’t help the small smirk that etched onto his features at her voice. Yes, John Seed was a man obsessed with someone he couldn’t have. “Kim told me you tried to convince everyone the baby was actually yours and not Nick’s.”

“I was just having some fun, they shouldn’t have taken it so seriously. Besides, that was months ago.” He shook his head, leaning back against the wall beside her, his goal of going to ask for directions now gone as he was in her presence. Despite his nature, she consumed his every waking moment. Every thought of his belonged to her, every word he spoke had her name etched onto it. He was pathetic.

“I’m sure it just added to the list of things you’ve done to fuck with them.” The Deputy rolled her eyes, amber ash falling from the head of the cigarette and onto the ground below them. He liked watching her supple lips part to welcome the taste of nicotine into her mouth.

“I’m a Herald, Deputy, everything I do is for the good of others.”

“Mm, remember the time you told me you’ve never lied to me?”

“Yes? What about it?”

“There's a lie right there.”

He smirked slightly, watching her with his deep blue eyes, and shook his head. He couldn’t help the way his heart fluttered in his chest at this moment. There was no chase, no cat and mouse game, just the two of them standing underneath the moonlight, with no one but god as their witness. “Well, what if I believe it's true?”

“Then you’re a liar and you’re delusional.” She hummed, looking back at him. There was a silence for a moment as she offered him her cigarette, a certain intimacy in his lips touching the filter where hers had before. He felt like a schoolboy again, though this time without the threat of his parents looming over him.

The crickets chirped around them as they took turns with the cigarette, it seemed to be a peaceful night. After a moment or two, she let him have the last of what was left in the bud and stepped forward towards her truck. Curiously, he stamped the cigarette out and followed after her.

“Where are you going?” He asked, sounding almost pathetic, like a puppy kicked away from the door his owner was walking out of. He craved this normalcy with her more than he thought he would, though part of him yearned to get back to the cat-and-mouse games.

“The Spread Eagle, probably. Gonna chase down the nicotine high with some of Mary May’s whiskey.” She shrugged as she opened the door to her truck, moving her AR-C aside and disturbing the indents of where Boomer always slept during long rides through the county.

He watched her body as she bent over to move her gun from the seat, how her hips swayed slightly. He bit his bottom lip slightly, his blue eyes never leaving her figure. Part of him yearned for his life before he reunited with Joseph. Maybe he wasn’t truly happy then, and maybe the Deputy incited withdrawals from him that he thought he had gotten over years ago, but alcohol sounded great right now.

“You seem so quick to leave my company. You’re always like this, I open my arms to you, let you into my bunker, and offer you atonement, but you’re always itching to leave. Do I make you uncomfortable?” He tilted his head as she stood up, turning to face the Herald once more.

He didn’t bother hiding the fact he had been staring at her ass for the better half of a minute, nor did her care about subduing his tone that was increasingly growing more and more lustful as he stepped closer to her. He wanted to feel her under his touch, to smell the gunpowder and blood that lingered on her. This time, it would really be the Deputy, he wouldn’t have to pretend.

“Let me into your bunker? Last time I checked you had your Peggies shoot me with bliss bullets and strap me to a chair there. You don’t exactly have a warm and welcoming nature, Seed.” She replied, crossing her arms slightly. He knew she was quickly losing her patience with him when she referred to him only by his last name.

“I just want you to reach atonement, Deputy. I want you to be better, for yourself, for the father.” His voice dropped to a whisper as he stepped closer to her, so close he could lean into her ear to speak. She grimaced slightly at the mention of the Father - Joseph.

“You don’t need to call him that, he’s your brother. And you shouldn’t speak to me about atonement, who gave you those marks on the back of your neck?”

He blinked a few times at her words, reaching his hand back to feel the indents that had been left. He hissed softly, of course, Holly had left marks without his say-so. She seemed to enjoy doing what he told her not to. Not to change her appearance so he could imagine it was the woman in front of him he was fucking, not to leave marks that he would have to explain to his followers - or worse, his brothers. But did she listen? No.

“Not you.”

Now it was the Deputy’s turn to be confused, her eyes fluttering up to meet his dark blue ones. She cocked her head to the side slightly, just enough to really examine him. He seemed confident in his words, but of course it wasn’t her, what was he trying to get out of this? “Yeah, obviously? Are you feeling okay, Seed?”

Again with the last name, it was starting to get on his nerves. He wanted nothing more than to grab her at this moment, to press her against the peeling upholstery of the old truck she drove around, to make her scream his name for everyone to hear - for her to call him not by a shared surname, but by his name. And suddenly he understood Adam and Eve, with a snake tempting him so sweetly, he’d be a fool not to take a bite of the apple, wouldn’t he?

“Why can’t you just say Yes, Deputy? Why do you have to make this so difficult? Why do you have to make me stoop into the sin you so freely roll around in?” He cocked his head to the side slightly, taking a step closer to her. His leg slid between hers as she pressed herself back against the side of the seat.

But she didn’t tell him no this time, she didn’t shove him off or slap him. He heard the breath that caught in her throat, he saw the way her eyes fluttered between his and the skin of his chest exposed by the undone buttons of his silk shirt. Sloth, written over his chest, crossed out. How would the scarred skin feel under her touch? How would the ink of the countless tattoos on his body be complimented by the scratches she would leave on him?

“You don’t need the ego boost, the day I say yes to a monster like you is the day my dignity dies.” Oh the Deputy, always a fighter. He would help her with that, gladly, a burial inside the truck for only John and God himself to witness. A small smirk played on his face as his hands trailed over her hips, a ghost of a touch but enough to ignite a fire in her eyes.

He wouldn’t need her to say yes, she would be screaming it by the time he was done. He would drag orgasm and orgasm out of her till her atonement was spelled in the arousal that would coat the truck's upholstery. He would make a saint out of her yet, make the only words that fall from her lips holy and pure till they were alone. She would never have to worry about the bullets that grazed her skin or the wounds that marked her flesh, he would wash away her sins.

So many dirty thoughts from the Herald, but he couldn’t control himself now. His hands belonged to the devil as they trailed up from her hips, one caressing her neck - which he would make sure to have covered with as many marks as he could by the time he was done with her - and the other slipping beneath her shirt. He tilted his head down at her, smug yet coy as his fingertips brushed the wire band of her bra, yet another barrier between the two.

Her eyes weren’t on him, though. They studied elsewhere, fixed on the door to the clinic and the road. What would others say if they saw the two together? Sharky and Adelaide had to have been just joking when they said she should get with the youngest Seed brother - that it would save the resistance’s ass. She bit her inner cheek, doubting that that would be the truth. John Seed was a sadistic monster who reveled in other's pain and suffering, but something about his touch made her want to melt.

“There’s nothing but me to look at, Deputy. For right now, you’re mine.”

If John was a man obsessed with someone he couldn’t have, the Deputy was cut from the same cloth. She couldn’t have him, not really, even if she accepted his atonement, even if he cut the sin from her body - John Seed would always be obsessed with an idea of her, she was his greatest conquest because she never said yes to him, and if she stopped fighting he would lose interest.

But tonight, under nothing but the moonlight and the roof of her truck? Tonight, she could have him.

So she didn’t protest when he stepped into her more, when he pushed her back against the worn seat and kissed her neck with the fervor of a man starved. She said nothing because her breathing spoke for her, the way it picked up and became laced with soft whimpers as he grazed his teeth over an old scar. Yes, he relished in her pain, he couldn’t help but smile at her burning in the cleansing fire of his love.

His fingers tangled in her hair, pulling it back to expose her neck. He sat up over top of her, a small smirk playing on his face as he looked down at her. She looked so pathetic under him, her neck colored in flushed pink and dark red, a product of him. He trailed a hand down over the forming hickeys, pressing his fingertips against the sides of her neck. Not enough to choke her, but enough for her to part her pretty lips to breathe through her mouth.

The Herald reveled in the power he had over her, her life balancing in the palm of his hand. It would be far too easy to kill her now, to make up for the anger he felt every time a silo was blown up or an outpost was overtaken. How easy everything would be if she gave her life force over to him, cutting the head off the snake that was the resistance.

But it was far more fun to keep her alive, to toy with her like a cat would a mouse, to shed her of her shirt and unclasp her bra and run his tongue against her sensitive, budding nipple. To relish in the sounds of her soft whines that overtook her breathing, to feel her fingers tangle in his slicked-back raven hair.

“Fuck.”

An understatement, her words breathy and sweet, as if she was reciting a prayer meant only for his ears. His blue eyes fluttered to look up at her, enjoying the way she looked down at him, lust building on her features. She would atone for him, but not with her words.

He trailed down her body, lips catching on every old scar and bullet wound, every imperfection left on her beautiful body. She would be cleansed of all of these when he was done with her, she would be born anew with him right by her side. His fingers caught on the waistband of her jeans, dirtied with blood and grass stains on the knees, not proper attire for her baptism, so he shed those from her as well.

Left in only her underwear, shivering against the cold that seeped into the truck, she looked down at him with a frown, grazing over the silk of his blue shirt. He was overdressed, though he made no moves to match her. With his head in line with her pelvis, he grasped the fingers that worked on his buttons, giving her a pointed look which she matched with a soft whine.

“Deputy.”

“John - c'mon, it's not fair…”

“I’ll decide what's fair and what’s not. When I want it to come off, it will. For now, hands off.”

A sigh left her lips but she complied with him, letting go of the buttons he wore and instead focusing on him as he moved lower, as his fingers trailed over the growing wetness seeping through her underwear. She recoiled slightly, feeling the cold of his fingers through the warm fabric, and was met only by a soft tsk from John.

He watched her, studied every reaction as he slipped off the last remaining article of clothing that blocked him from getting a full view of her. She was something out of an oil painting, crafted by God specifically for him. How had he gotten so lucky that she was his rival? How had they both gotten to this point, surely from the tensions built every time he would kidnap her, when he would clean her chest with a sponge to prepare for the marking he hadn’t gotten around to doing quite yet.

Grazing over her folds, catching her clit in his grasp, he relished in the sounds that the truck filled with. Soft gasps giving way to needy moans as he gathered her slick and coated his fingers in it. His eyes hungry as he peered up at her through his eyelashes, tongue swiping over her once and then twice before spitting. Her fingers tangled in his hair harshly as he pushed a finger inside before it was quickly joined by a second, humming when greeted by how tight her walls were.

“Funny, I expected you to have more experience.” He grinned, his perfect snake in the garden, reaping what she had sown. John had earned every hitch of her breath, every noise that fell from her lips belonged to him. Patience is a virtue, after all.

“Kinda ha-h… hard to get some privacy when you’re the resista- fuck!”

He couldn’t help but smirk as she was interrupted by the curling of his fingers, brushing against a certain bundle of nerves as he stretched her out in preparation for his cock. He hummed in response, teasing her. How sweet it was to have the big bad Deputy be putty in his hands. John absolutely adored the fact that he was her only in a long time, it stroked his ego lovingly.

When he was satisfied with the moans that fell from her lips and how she could hardly focus on anything other than the sensations he was providing her, he pulled out. Chuckling at a needy moan she gave him at the feeling of emptiness, he licked the coating of her slick from his fingers, tsking and looking down at her.

“Patience, Deputy. Be a good girl.” Once his fingers were properly cleaned and the taste of her arousal was set on his tongue nicely, he unbuckled his pants and allowed them to pool at his ankles, his lips fluttering over her exposed neck while he worked on pulling his shirt off.

Perfect tattoos decorated his body like the ceiling of a temple, each one telling a different story. John Seed was a man who had his life mapped out on each limb, allowing for her to trace all of him, to know all of him. He pulled away from her neck, bullying his two fingers past her lips and having her suck on them, tasting herself.

He focused on the way she sucked, how soft moans escaped her, and how her eyes fluttered closed, content to have this soft moment. God, he wanted to ruin it for her. He did not pull away yet, not as he ran the head of his hardened cock over her folds, precum mingling with her own fluids. When he did pull his fingers away from her, he made sure she watched as he lubed himself up with her saliva.

He could’ve come at the sharp gasp elicited from her as he pushed inside, inch by inch till he bottomed out and she was left in a state of bliss. He groaned softly at how perfect she was, how her walls were practically made for him, dragging every noise from his lips. The Deputy never thought she’d see the day when John Seed was moaning for anyone - especially not her. She considered herself lucky that the Herald was coming undone simply by the feeling of her.

Though, her smugness faded as he began to move. Shallow thrusts at first that were quickly replaced by deep, rhythmic movements. His mouth latched onto her neck once more, his teeth dragging over her soft skin in an effort to leave his bite markings against her pretty flesh. Her nails drug against his back, sharp, stinging scrapes that complimented the dark ink of his tattoos well. He never let others mark him as she had, but she was special - he would be proud to show off what she left on him.

Her legs wrapped against his waist, pulling him impossibly deeper inside her. She was practically screaming in his ear, the truck shaking with his movements. Thrust after thrust, he abused her G-spot well, toes curling and legs trembling in his wake. She pistoned her hips up to meet his, arching her back and letting him latch onto her breasts now.

“You gonna cum f’me?” He groaned out, blue eyes focused on how she shook, how her walls clenched around him at his words. She was close, teetering on the edge, and he wasn’t far behind her. Her nods weren’t good enough, neither were the little noises she attempted to choke out between her moans. No, he wanted to hear her speak. “Use your words.”

“Yes! Fuck - yes please-” Manners and all, he grinned at her response. He had gotten her to say it, just as he knew he would. That allusive ‘yes’ he had been waiting far too long to hear. He really couldn’t help himself now as a tattooed hand moved from her hips to rub her swollen clit.

Thrusts becoming sloppier and sloppier, if this was heaven the Deputy was more than happy to atone for it. Her legs spasmed slightly, walls clenching around him as white toyed at her eyes, orgasm crashing down against him. It didn’t take much longer for him to follow suit, his own cum mixing with hers, white beading at the base of his cock as he pressed himself inside her, having her take him all.

She whined softly, panting and looking up at him with those pretty eyes of hers. His breath was heavy, fingers running through her hair as they both caught their breath, inevitable guilt creeping up in the Deputy’s chest. John Seed was the enemy, he was a monster, and she had just let him fuck her into the best orgasm of her life. Stupid, stupid.

But John, he seemed far too proud of himself. He didn’t need her to say anything anymore, he didn’t need the taped confession for his older brother. No, now he had this, her atonement that coated his softening cock. He would always have this over her, how she screamed yes for him, and she seemed to realize that.

“You know - that ‘yes’ doesn’t count.”

“Oh? Should I make you say it again?”

#john seed x female deputy #john seed #john seed x deputy #john seed x reader #far cry 5

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seedofjoseph · 1 year

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The Beer & The Baptist

(link)

#far cry 5 #john seed #john seed x deputy #john seed x female deputy #the deputy #deputy rook #I spent waaay too much time #on this shitpost #not that I didn't have fun #working on it winded me down before bed #WHY DOES TUMBLR KEEP MESSING UP THE QUALITY OF MY MEDIA #?#fanart #my art

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strangefable · 1 year

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I had the absolute joy of commissioning the amazing @redreart for this incredible piece of Micah when she's giving up being a deputy and turning herself over to join the Project and be with John again, for keeps this time.

I could not be more blown away or more happy with how it came out. It's absolutely perfect. <3 I can't recommend anything higher, so if you get the opportunity, do it!

And if you'll indulge me, below the cut is a snippet of the scene from my still unreleased fic.

"You barged in here shaking and dripping like a wet dog! Will you fucking tell me why you're here ruining my furniture, my clothes, my-"

"Yes." She shifted against him, clutching at the collar of his shirt. "Yes." She gazed straight into his eyes with a smile trembling on her lips.

For the first time in years, her eyes were the vast open golden meadow he remembered. No more shadows, no more suspicion or anger. Only the shine of gold flecks dancing through the green irises. Open windows.

He cupped her face with his hand and lifted one eyebrow. "Micah..."

She tightened her grip on his shirt, crumpling it and risking tearing it. "I'm here. No more badge. No more Resistance. No more..." She sighed and slid her finger over his skin, tracing the scar on his chest. "Yours. I'm saying 'yes.'" She hesitated. "I only have one condition."

His eyes narrowed. "Conditions? That's not-"

She dropped her head and buried it against his neck. He felt the hot rush of her tears on his skin. "Jacob. Keep him away from me. I want to be yours again, John, but I need..." She stopped and looked up at him. She dragged her tongue over her lips, her breathing suddenly shallow and ragged. "Keep me safe from him. It's the only thing I ask."

#fc5 #far cry 5 #john seed #micah hale #john seed x female deputy #awesome art #commission for me #my oc #the first art i've ever commissioned and i'm in love #i've been screeching to myself for days #also yes i did cry #i love it so so much #thank you for bringing them to life #my beloved murder gremlin otp #please look at them #<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

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englass · 1 year

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Plains and Valleys

Pairing(s): John Seed x Deputy/Reader

Warning(s): John is his own warning; Possessive/Obsessive Behaviour; John being creepy; Stalking; kind-of Crack, this isn’t taken all that seriously; Not Beta’d; Experimental Piece; NSFW/Explicit, my first (and likely only) attempt at smut -- please kindly let me know if there’s anything else I should warn of here, I don’t know what I’m doing.

Word Count: 4,020

A/N(s): The title is basically a placeholder for while I was writing this because I had no idea what to name it... and truly, I can’t be asked to think of something better for a piece that only exists to see if I can write smut (spoilers: I can’t, but I’m not letting a completed piece rot away in my docs just because I’m embarrassed; I worked and spent time on this damnit!).

On another note, I was gonna just give this piece over as my contribution to WIP day that @derelictheretic was kind enough to tag me in, but decided against it. I’ll post a proper response and WIP later this week or next, so bear with me please hun! Just wanted to get this out there first.

- - -

John had a problem.

Well, he had many problems. Not least of all his growing frustration at the continued resistance from the Fairgraves' in his pursuit for the deed to their ‘establishment’. He also had been unable to play with Affirmation as regularly as he would have liked, so that put him in an even fouler mood than usual. And he wasn't going to even think about the stress he was starting to feel with his brother constantly breathing down his neck; always questioning his actions as though he were a child constantly getting into trouble and needing twenty-four hour monitoring, always asking after the progress of things that take time. A lot of time.

John may have a substantial amount of money at his disposal, but that does not mean he can work miracles.

Not all of the time, at least.

And his problems don’t stop there, oh no. Despite what many likely thought of him (and what a stroke to his ego that is, knowing that people think of him) John was well aware of his problems, his faults. He’d spent a lot of time getting intimate with them, after all; and every now and again they'd crop up like daisies, weeding their way to the surface yet again. He’d become rather good at managing them, if he said so himself, but even John wasn’t perfect (he was damn close to it though, as many would agree). And one fault he hadn’t quite been able to trim back was his tendency to fixate on things; obsess.

He obsesses over his plane, over its upkeep and maintenance, its flight records, the slightest scratch that wasn't there the day before-- how the fuck did that get there!?

He obsesses over the details on the manifestos he’s given, the contracts he’s made, dates and times for resource collection, rotations, their members' personal records (he denies having those), PR management, expenditures and everything in between.

He obsesses over his home, the décor, the colours and lighting, materials used, the whole aesthetic. How he presents himself, the clothes and brands he wears (it’s vain but he needs those creature comforts), his posture, his presence, his overall look that creates an identity that just screams nothing but John.

He obsesses over things.

He knows he does. It’s a faulty blessing.

And he has found something new to obsess over.

John has had a few run-ins with the local Deputies of Hope County in the past. Mostly Joey Hudson, delightful as she is, but ordinarily he doesn’t think too much of them. After all, he’s untouchable and they all know it. There’s no reason to worry about them, let alone waste his precious free time (what little he gets of it) thinking about them. They’re insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Nothing but an inconvenience, an annoyance at most. Completely irrelevant.

But then he saw her.

Standing there, innocuous, looking out at something (for something? Nothing?) in the distance.

There’s a hitch, the catch of a stilted breath.

Where they were keeping her hidden he has no idea, but he is taken the moment he catches that rogue glance of her.

And, strangely, he doesn't know why.

Sure, John and his brothers have been in this County for a good while now and he has never seen her before, so it’s perfectly normal for him to be curious about the unfamiliar face in town. Nothing wrong with that, it’s innocent enough.

Except there’s everything wrong with that.

Because that’s not it.

He can’t even blame his wandering eyes on her appearance; she’s wearing that drab uniform that even a charity shop wouldn’t take, and it does nothing to enhance whatever natural beauty she may have hidden underneath it. Although, the girl-next-door look she gives off is begrudgingly cute (if he dared to utter the word unironically).

Honestly, she’s not the type of woman that he typically would have paid any special attention to back in his lawyer days. Fucked her stupid maybe, for the extra notch in his bedpost, but he likely wouldn’t have taken her number or thought too much about her afterwards. Relegated to just another lay in a long line of bed partners that he doesn’t remember all the names of.

To be blunt, she isn’t anything special.

And maybe that’s part of the appeal, what hooks him in. Because she is different; unassuming and uncomplicated, modest to a point of simplicity. And yet there is something about her that he can’t actively see or name from his spot across the street that has drawn him in without even trying. And he doesn’t know what or why.

It’s as infuriating as it is intriguing.

Perhaps there is some iota of truth in what Joseph had said to him a while ago, John supposed silently to himself at the time: the simplest of things can be beautiful, in their own unconventional ways.

Although his brother could have said as much with far less words, verses, and vague allusions to a potential future that might never be-- a spark of sudden change that sets a new course in motion; scales tipped by the most consuming of emotions; scorched by a soul so deceptively unremarkable that no one would have thought to believe just how uniquely special they would become--

…

……

… Huh…

John creates a special slot in his increasingly hectic schedule just for her from then on out.

He goes out of his way to find more reasons to harass and bother the local population, all in a fruitless attempt to get lucky and have her answer their call for aid and come and tell him what a bad boy he’s being. (Annoyingly she never turns up, though.)

He makes calls and pulls some strings to the businesses he’s procured, makes inquiries to anyone that would listen to him, including those doing menial tasks or even going through their Atonement (they don’t understand the relevancy of his questioning and he may have been a little harsher with them than he should’ve been because of it), and all in the name of his personal investigation into her.

After all, he had argued to himself in front of a cork board covered with documents and pictures of her with a feverish flavour, what sort of Herald would he be if he didn't know everything about everyone living in his-- their, his and his brothers, soon-to-be County?

His invasive and not completely legal search into this new Deputy (and she is new it turns out, freshly transferred in fact) goes on for a full, nonstop month before -- during one of his totally-random-and-not-planned stops into town -- he discovers something else about her.

When he first saw his Deputy (and doesn’t that feel good to say) she was alone, leaning against the wooden beam of the Sheriff’s Department’s porch and staring out into the distant fields; the late afternoon sun haloing her figure in its golden warmth, its light making the colour of her eyes blaze bright and her hair shine silkily. The perfect picture of ease.

This time, when he finally manages to spy another in-person look at her, he finds that she has company. She’s standing next to the ever friendly Hudson, posture held strong by an understated confidence and arms casually crossed beneath her bust, an amused smile on her decidedly pretty face as Hudson talks animatedly about something that he can’t hear.

And she’s looking up at her.

John blinks, and blinks again.

He’s definitely seen her file, he even remembers glossing through her medical records (which he would most assuredly deny having if anyone asked), so he knows how tall she is. But for some reason it apparently hadn’t quite registered to him until now what that would look like in a physical comparison between the two of them.

He knows that the lovely Hudson is a couple of inches shorter than him, not too far off from meeting him eye-to-eye. His Deputy, from what he can see, is about a full head shorter than Hudson. Which would put her, what, roughly just about eye-to-chest with him...?

He thinks about it. Thinks about her next to him, imagines what that would look like. Thoughts surprisingly innocent as he wonders after clichés of reaching for something that she can’t reach, of cocooning her in his arms as he effortlessly wrangles her into his lap. Envisions the domesticity of easily resting his head on top of hers as he holds her from behind, slotting himself into the mould of her figure like matching puzzle pieces, perfectly meant to be and belong…

A high pitched, shaky sound slips free at the mental reel.

It’s not a secret the type of life that John used to live. He has been with numerous types of women, something he used to take a great deal of pride in, and has indulged in and explored his fair share of kinks in the comfort of expensive silk sheets. But who would have guessed that the former playboy, John Duncan now John Seed, would have a thing for domestic bliss.

Or rather, domestic bliss with little. ol’. her.

John makes the executive decision then and there to talk to his Deputy as soon as possible. Preferably alone. Without interference.

It feels like forever before he gets the opportunity.

A week later, on a daily walk through Falls End that has only admittedly become a thing in order to check up on the lucky woman of his blazing affections (I am not stalking her, Jacob, he had grounded out menacingly to his accusing older brother over Sunday dinner; who proceeded to look on at John with a slow quirk of an eyebrow), he finds his ever elusive Deputy resting around the corner of the Sheriff’s Department’s building. Eyes closed, head down, arms crossed, and safely concealed in the shade; unsuspectingly calm in her desired time alone.

And John is quick to ruin it.

He can’t help himself, he really can’t. The opportunity is here and he would be remiss to let it pass him by.

Even if she does look rather serene.

He's seen a few photos of her, more than a few actually-- albums worth even, so he knows what she looks like up close. He even printed one out (it’s a favourite of his, a near perfect replica of the first time he saw her) and has it framed on his bedside table; but it turns out no amount of photos quite do the real her justice.

The closer he gets to her the more he notices how petite she is, how the loose yet deceptively form-fitting hug of her bland uniform subtly accentuates the curves and slopes of her modest figure; the daintiness of her fingers as they rest against the exposed, smooth skin of her arms; that familiar magnetic draw snapping to life in the colour of her eyes as they lazily open, sparkling as he gets closer and she looks up at him, wide and wondering.

Innocent.

Oh, he was so wrong about her, he realises wondrously. Did her such a disservice in his initial judgement of her all those weeks ago. She is far from average.

And being here in front of her, close enough to touch, to be able to easily reach out and trap her against the wall and between his arms if he so wanted to, safely protected under the cage of his form -- her neck craning back in order to comfortably gaze up at him, meeting his eyes as he stares down at her…

It makes something inside him go wild.

John lays the charm on quick and swift, hand attractively running through his hair as a practised but handsome smile lights up his face, eyes twinkling through his lidded gaze with an aweing hunger he knows he is failing to keep hidden.

Getting the first word in, he leans close to the wall, not quite putting his full weight against it (his shirt was expensive) but close enough to allow him a moment of privacy with her by limiting her field of view to only him. Blocking out everyone-- everything else with his taller frame (and doesn’t that thought spark a sudden twitch of interest) as he eagerly monopolises her attention.

Daringly he edges further into her space while he talks ardently to her, truly basking in the unexpected pleasure he gets in watching her unintentionally baring her neck to him; being so beautifully submissive for him without consciously realising it. Amusement colouring his tone in pale notes as he watches the way her pretty eyes darken and narrow at his progressive disturbance and invasion of her time and space.

Fuck. He didn’t know it would be this intoxicating to be so close to her.

Even as he dances through conversation with playful words and hinting remarks, becomes enamoured by the soothing intonation of her voice as she is dragged along with guarded comments and wary retorts, he can’t stop the way his mind ever so sinfully wanders…

It really would be so easy to have her up against this wall. To crowd her in with his frame on all sides and her vision filled with nothing but him. The centre of her universe and attention, him; and his hers. The concept of that sort of all-encompassing intimacy and devotion makes John shudder. Hungry all the more for it and the woman that has unknowingly given him a taste of what it could all be and become, of what that level of pure, unadulterated want is inspiring in him.

He could easily have her against this wall. Have her looking directly skyward up at him as if he were her moon and stars, as he looks directly down at her-- his entire world and more.

Snatch her thigh and hoist it up towards his waist. Have her balancing precariously on the tips of her toes and clutching desperately at him, trusting John to help hold and support her and keep her steady as he shields her from the world around them. Hides her away from the unworthy just as the unworthy have hidden her away from him. His lips sweetly latching onto hers, her taste finally on his tongue after all these weeks of wanting, involuntarily grounding his hips into hers as a desperate sound breaks within his throat.

Oh, John can visualise it now: the two of them breathing in each other's air, bodies flush as he tugs and pushes closer, her shirt riding up as it's snagged by the rough brickwork at her back, arching into him on an unsteady foot to escape its harsh bite. Teeth nipping teasingly at her lips and tongue licking moreishly into her mouth as his free hand roams down her stomach, pulls the rest of her shirt loose and fumbles in his eagerness with the buttons of her jeans, yanking the zipper down and shoving his hand below the waistband and into her underwear. Hearing her whine sweetly into his mouth as he feels just how wet she is for him, how much she wants him and how eagerly she welcomes him into her as he plunges his fingers into her slick cunt with a needy and quaking moan of his own.

Would she want it quick and rough? His fingers thrusting knuckle deep as he presses tight circles to her throbbing clit, teeth at her throat as he claws into her thigh held tightly in the dip of his waist. Listening to how her moans get higher, her breathing gets quicker, turning into desperate little gasps before he tugs his fingers free of her; lips devouring hers in quick apology as he battles to pull his aching cock free, cursing lowly against her lips as his slick covered fingers slip on the metal of his belt. She’d help him, he knows she would -- such a good girl --, nipping and kissing him back with wanton sounds as she bats his hand away, revelling in the noises he makes for her -- only for her, only ever for her -- as she pulls him free; rolling her hips until his cock catches on her slit and he’s thrusting home into her.

Only then -- while feeling her walls flex around him, mouth hanging open as they both bask in finally, finally being so intimately connected to one another -- would he finally hike her other leg up to wrap fully around his waist, fully supporting her weight and driving himself deeper into her, one of his arms coming up to press into the wall beside her, hand caringly slipping behind her head; bracketing her in. Shivering as her breath warms his neck and she cries out for him.

And considering her height… fuck, he can only imagine just how tight she’d be for him, chocking his cock as she squeezes him, milking him for all he’s worth until his teeth are stained red against her lovingly maimed neck. His hips snapping into hers with a guttural growl, panting sensual snarls of encouragement into her ear as he demands and begs in equal measure that she touch herself for him, dexterous fingers chasing her end as he chases his own until-- she’s coming around him with a high and shuddery keen. Her soft walls sucking him deeper into her, legs locking tighter around his waist and keeping him there as he spills himself into the back of her hot cunt with a strangled moan. Claiming her as his as he presses in closer, plugging her full with his cock and cum and praying that it’ll take--

…

……

… Huh.

He will definitely be exploring that at a later date…

Or perhaps she wouldn’t want it like that. Wouldn’t want him to be so rough and careless with her. Maybe she would want him to go slower, to be gentle-- to be good for her, to take his time and truly enjoy and appreciate every sweet beg and whimper that falls from her perfect lips. Perhaps she wouldn’t want to fuck him at the back of her shabby place of work, or even anywhere out in the open; maybe she would prefer privacy, for him to make love to her. Would want him to steal her away into his home, to carefully lay her out on his bed and unwrap her like a delicate gift, hands tracing teasing paths along her body before spreading her wide for his tasting pleasures. Taking his time to truly savour her unique flavour on his palette, wanton sounds pressed into sensitive flesh as he takes her throbbing clit into his mouth and sucks.

Broad strokes of his skilled tongue parting her lips and drinking her down, fingers firm as they hold onto the soft meat of her thighs and hips, thumbs rubbing soothing motions into her skin as he opens her up for him. Urges her with hot breathes, praising words, the flick of his tongue and the dip of his fingers into her wet heat, to cum for him; pleads with sound and touch and a greedy haze over his lust-darkened eyes. The gravel in his gluttonous voice vibrating into her, in love with how she reaches and cries out for him as he tells her how good she’s being for him, how badly he needs her to cum for him-- a debauched sound choking out of him as she does. Completely enraptured as she reaches the height of pleasure -- pleasure he brought her, that he will always strive to bring her --, bearing witness to his own personal God-given vision as he watches her writhe against his sheets and listens to her songs of praise, easing her down from that divine high and back into his devoted embrace.

Kissing a line up to her bitten lips, answering her mewls with soft coos and grounding touches, brushing over a nipple before taking the perky flesh into his mouth with a brief suck and fleeting skim of teeth, letting go with a lingering kiss before moving across and repeating the process to its twin. Reluctantly drawing away to playfully nip and press wet kisses into the column of her throat before letting her taste the tanginess of her juices on his tongue. Languidly kissing as he strokes her sides, writing indecipherable words of affection into her skin, content to let her enjoy the bliss of post-orgasm before he slowly pulls away, descending back down the line of her body with a husky, ‘one more, just one more for me, darling...’

John knows he wouldn’t stop at just ‘one more’ though. Hopefully she’d be generous enough to give him a few more before he finally slakes his need for her.

And hopefully she doesn't see the hard-on he’s now sporting after such vivid fantasies.

In a particularly bold move, temptation spurred into a fever from improper imaginings, John reaches for her; fixates on a strand of hair that has become untucked from behind her ear. She tenses, muscles coiling tight as she gives him the most suspicious look somebody has ever given him before. He’s actually rather offended. And very hurt.

But it’s sobering, in its own way. Because suddenly he can hear Joseph’s voice in his head from last Sunday (what a turn-off…), advising him that if he wanted to pursue a relationship with this Deputy that he was so smitten with then he needed to be gentle, considerate.

John may have done his ‘research’ on her, extensively so, but that did not mean that he was entitled or even deserving of her affections. He could not expect her to be on the same page as him, especially considering he had yet to even interact with her at that point. She may not have even heard of him yet, Joseph had speculated-- John and Jacob quietly sharing a disbelieving look. Everyone in the County knew their names, and with her being a Deputy there was no way she hadn’t heard of them.

Regardless, Joseph’s point still stood: if John wanted a genuine chance with her then he needed to soften himself, to be delicate, more tactful with her. Demonstrate that he can hear and see her for all that she is and can be, and that he accepts her without reservation.

Think of it like Atonement, Joseph had supplied sagely, fingers steepled, she needs to willingly give her confession over to you, John. Her affections. You can’t just take them.

And to Joseph’s credit, that actually made sense to John.

Atonement was all about accepting one’s sins, confessing them to another whom they trusted would never condemn nor judge them for their past actions or choices; unburdening themselves so they may be reborn pure and untainted for the hopeful future ahead of them. In that regard, his pursuit of his Deputy wasn’t too dissimilar.

So in that brief moment, in that flash of hurt as she steels herself against his considerate gesture and where John remembers Joseph’s words, he pauses. Convinces himself to go slower, to not try to grab at her like a spoiled brat reaching for things that weren't his-- yet. Reigns himself in enough so he doesn’t give her anymore of a reason to potentially be wary of him, to which he has very likely just given her quite a few. Trying in his own distinct way to smooth over her obvious distrust of him.

John knows he’s made mistakes throughout his life. Many would say he’s not a good man, and he wouldn’t necessarily disagree with them. But seeing and learning of her, of recalling his brother’s words and advice, of the many fantasies he’s had before and even during meeting her in this moment, he thinks he could change that. Knows that, if she would have him, if she gave him the chance, he’d be good. He’d be good for her.

Joseph always talks about love, about the power and control it wields over people and-- admittedly, John doesn’t completely get it.

But with her? For her? He thinks he just might.

…

He thinks he already does.

#can you tell i didn't know how to end this?#what a mess #plot is less than half baked #but hey i had fun with it so that's good #also #because i love ruining people's day #i can't help but read that first line in Jeremy Clarksons voice. makes this whole thing that bit funnier to me #oh and if anyone would like to draw a certain scene of John and a cork board that would be most appreciated #absolute pinnacle of me going silly with this fic #love it #also also #i was aiming to get this out for halloween because of how scary the writing is but i'm an hour late :(#very typical of me but i'm still disappointed #but it's okay i have my bed waiting for me so all is well lol #john seed x reader #john seed x deputy #john seed x female deputy #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #fc5 fanfic #far cry 5 fanfiction #far cry 5 fanfic #tw: obsessive behavior #tw: stalking #tw: possessive behavior #don't feel like he's that possessive in this but still tagging just in case

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socially-awkward-skeleton · 1 year

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smut prompts: 143. “You like messing with my head, don’t you?” “Only because it clearly turns you on.” baptist and the blade

Can you believe it, I actually finished one of these smut prompts from forever ago ghgjfksdl

Anyway, here's some Kit and John being the weirdos they are

Can also be read on AO3

MINORS DNI - smut under the cut

His arms were numb, pins and needles prickling his skin. He assumed he must have slept in an awkward way, stress often resulted in him sleeping in odd positions. When he went to move, he was brought to his senses as his wrists shook above his head.

"What the f-"

"Hello, John."

There was that sultry tone he so craved to hear. Having to sleep alone in his king sized bed just wasn't the same, he'd much rather have her coiled up in the sheets with him. Pale blue eyes stared out from the dark corner of his bedroom. Moonlight reflected off the point of the blade in her hands as she spun it against the cedar dresser she leaned up against.

"Deputy!" He suddenly didn't feel so bad about his predicament, knowing she was the one to stick him in such a situation. Trying to sit up, he shook his wrists a little harder. "These aren't just for show, are they? These are the real thing!"

She stepped into the silver light coming in through the open window, and the long line of her legs came into view. Bare, pale and smooth, her tattoo and scars on show for him.

"Straight from my belt."

Her knife gleamed as she ran its tip against her thigh, pulling at the skin but not enough to break it, just to leave a trail behind from where it kissed her flesh.

"Are you going to punish me, Deputy?"

She scoffed, "It's hardly punishment if you're asking for it."

"Am I being rewarded then?" He asked, barely able to contain his amorous glee at the entire scenario that was being played out. Pushing himself back against his pillows, the blanket slipped down his abdomen, revealing his own scars and tattoos in an odd sort of mating dance as his Cheshire grin spread across his lips.

She stalked towards the bed, climbing on to the foot of it, hands and knees dragging slowly towards him. Bright eyes flashed at the sight of the gold cross dangling between her curtains of red hair. She rarely ever wore her hair down, he was more used to seeing that damn braid of hers. Climbing onto his lap, straddling her thighs on either side of him, his cock was already getting hard and pressing up against the toned muscles of her leg.

Wearing only one of his shirts, he swallowed at the swath of cleavage he was given to feast upon with his eyes, and that mark of WRATH he'd personally carved into her skin above it as she placed her hand upon his shoulder, leaning down her mouth grazing against his.

"Hope you don't mind me borrowing your clothes. I didn't have anything else to wear and I didn't want to dirty the sheets with all that blood."

He swallowed, adam's apple bobbing as the cold bite of her knife dragged along his chest. "Hebrews 13:16. And do not forget to do good and to share with others, for with such sacrifices God is pleased."

"God, I love it when you talk dirty to me, John." She husked.

He smirked up at her, his grin as slimy as his personality. "Why am I not surprised that the sinner decides to mock me?"

"Why do you keep letting me fuck you then? Hardly the act of a devout man."

"You do so enjoy playing with my head, don't you?"

"Only 'cause it clearly turns you on."

Her hand slipped from his shoulder and caressed the length of his abdomen before falling between his legs, running her fingers over his cock through the blanket, making him hiss.

"So sensitive," she teased.

"You've left me wanting for so long, Kathleen. You can hardly blame me."

"Suppose that's true. And since those hands of yours are out of commission, guess it's all up to me to solve the matter, hmm?" Bringing the knife to his shirt, she slowly popped buttons free and the material fell away from her, exposing her bare breasts.

They weren't the largest he'd seen, but what they lacked in size they more than made up for in how perky and firm they were. Her nipples were the same shade of strawberry pink as her lips, already getting hard the longer they were exposed to the cool air of the room.

He licked his lips, expecting to wrap his mouth around each bud, pulling each little desperate moan and whine from her as she pulled at his hair as she so often did.

"I know where you're looking, John. My eyes are up here."

His ocean eyes dragged up to look at her smirking face as she toyed with the cross pendant around her neck, dragging it back and forth along the chain.

"Say it, John. It's just one word."

"Please?"

Her teeth dragged over her lower lip, pulling the pump pout along with them. Strawberry pink shifted into cherry red as the flush that started in her chest rose up to her cheeks.

"Such a good boy."

He whined at the praise as her nails clawed along his chest, catching against the scar tissue and his nipples. Gently stroking back up to his neck, as she grabbed at the hair on the back of his head.

When his lips finally connected with her it was like being given a little taste of heaven, that small bit of honey that helped make the rest of the tedium of the Reaping go down easier. Pulling and sucking on her nipple, teeth dragging over it as it became stiff against his tongue lashing against it. His eyes shone up at her, as he watched her eyes close and her breath begin to pant. Her hips starting their slow grind against him, grinding into him, using the folds of his blanket for the extra friction. All the while tugging on his hair, her nails digging into his scalp.

God, how he wished his hands were free to roam against her now, to feel every shift of the muscle below her skin, to grab at her other breast and show it the appreciation it deserved. To bless her entire being with his touch, but instead, he was forced to make use of the meager scraps he'd been given.

So lost in his own contemplation, he hadn't noticed the blanket had slipped down his hips, and she was now grinding against him, it was only once her slick began to drip down him that he took notice. His eyes falling to between his legs as the auburn hair of her cunt met with the black hair that tufted around the base of his cock. Her mound slid against the length of him, veins rubbing against her clit as she dragged it against him with long, slow strokes.

His eyes rolled back into his head just at the feeling of the wet caress of her cunt against him. Mouth slipping free from her with one last stroke of his tongue against her breast.

"Please?"

Looking up at her with the biggest eyes he could muster, desperate and pleading, bright blue darkened by his blown out pupils.

"You want me to fuck you, John?"

"Yes," he hissed.

Grabbing the base of his cock, she stroked her hand up against it, squeezing against it as she brought her fist up to the head, his pre-cum already dribbling from the tip. Leaning over, she spat down onto it, despite the fact that it was already glistening with her own arousal, rubbing her saliva up and down his shaft, coating him in her.

A gasp escaped him, as she stroked him, staring into his eyes like she wanted to fucking eat him.

"Please?"

"So impatient."

He dug at the metal that connected him to the headboard, hands slipping with sweat, he could barely get a grip. Tossing his head back against the wood, his hips thrusting up towards her hand, fucking into it deeper, chasing his release.

She tutted her tongue at his vulgar display. "John, please, you're embarrassing yourself. You're the Herald, you have an image to protect."

"Fuck you!" He snapped.

Her cruel laugh only made him more desperate for the torture to end. He was doing what she wanted, did as she asked, he was willing to beg for his release.

"Say it again."

His eyes narrowed, his mouth pulled into a straight line. "Please?" The word pulled from him begrudgingly.

"Just remember, you're the one who keeps asking me to come back. You got yourself stuck in this mess. You've only got yourself to blame, Baptist."

"Harlot."

She lifted her hips, and the sheen of her was spread along her inner thighs. Sliding the head of his cock against her soaking wet pussy, pushing it up inside of her as she slowly sunk down onto it, letting him fill her.

A low, guttural moan fell out of his mouth, as he could feel her clench around his length.

"Fuck." The word dragged from him slowly as he bit down on his lip, wishing he had a fist free to use instead. "Use me."

"Love to."

Her pelvis moved in circles, as she rode him, stroking his cock with the wet lips of her cunt. She knew exactly how to move her body to pull his seed from him, all while using him to get herself off, having him rub against that magical point inside of her that brought her to heaven right along with him.

He clawed at the chains of the cuffs, thrusting his hips up into her, driving himself mad as he panted heavily, desperate for more of her, all of her.

“Yes. Yes. Yes.”

He chanted it again and again as he was brought closer and closer to his climax. His head lolled back against the pillows and his eyes closed as an extended moan leaked from his mouth.

Fingers wrapped around his throat, her nails dragged down his chest over his scar. “I wanna make you scream.”

“Oh my God. Yes!” He fought to get the words out as his cock twitched inside of her. His muscles all flexing at once as he pushed himself deeper inside her velvet walls, rocking in and out of her, not letting himself slip free.

Driving her hips down onto him, she flipped her head back letting her flowing mane of red hair spill down her back, beads of sweat dripping down her chest and abdomen. Her muscles rippled under the skin, her scars and tattoos flexing right along with them.

She was a succubus straddled atop him but he didn't have the power or the restraint to tell her no. With each shuddering breath a high pitched moan squeaked from him, he was getting so close now.

His brow furrowed, his mouth falling agape as he squeezed his eyes shut. "Oh Yes! Deputy, yes!"

But before he could release, he felt the bite of the cold night air on his still twitching cock. He peaked with one eye, and she smirked down at him, looking all too pleased with herself.

"Can't have you getting off before I do, John. That's not how you treat a guest. Bad manners."

He threw his head back against the pillows and let out a frustrated groan. "Dammit, Dep –"

But before he could get another word out the slick lips of her cunt were pressed to his mouth. Now this was a treat he had yet to receive from her, and he was all too happy with his gift, making sure he showed her his appreciation.

His tongue lapped at every glistening morsel of pink flesh it could reach, licking long stripes up and down her, using her moans as a guide. Finally wrapping his mouth around her clit, her fiery red pubic hair scratching against his nose, her scent filling his nostrils.

There was nothing attending to his needs, not even her hand, but that didn't stop him from thrusting at the air around him as he closed his eyes and ate her out, moaning against her.

Big blue doe eyes stared up from between her thighs, checking to make sure she appreciated his efforts, and he was well rewarded with her fingers dragging through his hair, ruffling up his moussed locks, followed by a long drawn out moan that was music to his ears.

"Yes, John! Yes!"

#far cry 5 #fan fiction #smut prompt #john seed #john seed x female deputy #oc: kit cross #ship: the baptist and the blade

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darlingor · 1 year

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Where are y’all hiding the John seed fanfiction🤨

#John seed #farcry5 #far cry #john seed x rook #john seed fanfic #john seed x reader #john seed x female deputy

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flare-queen · 8 months

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Some fun screenshots from the arcade, with the Seeds and Deputy Riley Colt.

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feyroon · 2 years

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reposting all my John Seed art + a little John/Maeve. what can I say, I love fucked up guys with dark hair named John.

#farcryingart #art #sketch #digital art #fc5 #far cry 5 #far cry 5 oc #fc5 oc #far cry #john seed #oc x canon #john seed x maeve #oc #original character #john seed x female deputy

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inafieldofdaisies · 12 days

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Ship Edit | John x Sabrina | Ship AU: Lady Luck and Lady Justice are both not on your side

"We're having a redo of our date as soon as possible.", John said as he gazed into [Sabrina's] eyes. "Why? I thought it was lovely…" "You see, when I asked to take you out, I meant just you, not letting someone wanting a 'three-way' to tag along, too." "I will have you know, Oliver is very sought after. Quite the ladies man. He's not your type?" "I don't care about his golden bachelor status, Detective. I don't like sharing."

@socially-awkward-skeleton @strangefable @dumbassdep @onehornedbeast @aceghosts @corvosattano @voidika @nightbloodbix @josephseedismyfather @josephslittledeputy @la-grosse-patate @purplehairsecretlair @trench-rot @strafethesesinners @shellibisshe @gearvmac @theelderhazelnut @amalkavian @carlosoliveiraa @direwombat @cassietrn @captastra @marivenah @simplegenius042 @wrathfulrook @finding-comfort-in-rain @cassietrn @g0dspeeed

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jacobseedvaas35 · 1 year

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John Seed’s final goodbye:

#far cry 5 #john seed #fc 5 #farcry5 #deputy rook #fc5 #johnny appleseed #far cry 5 obsessed #john can lay me on his coat too #sorry john seed #john seed can torture me any day #john seed x female deputy #Johnseed

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fr0gg3rrr · 3 days

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CRIMSON.

JOHN SEED X FEMALE DEPUTY

Sort of a dump, I was really debating on just publishing this as a WIP but I was halfway through the smut and decided to just finish it. Not my best, but I tried to go for a more canon accurate John, which means he’s a major freak in this sorry :/

I mentioned it in the fic but didn’t go too deep, I kinda love toying with the idea of a more selfish deputy - humanizing them. If I were to ever write a longer fic with more of an oc-ized version of the deputy would anyone read? Let me know.

I probably won’t post about John Seed or FC5 for a little while after this. I have ideas for a Black Noir (my bbg) fic and then a Father Paul Hill one from Midnight Mass cause I love religious trauma as y’all can tell. I do also like indoctrinated!deputy so maybe maybe eventually I write about that.

2.7k words

content warnings: mentions of cutting into flesh. smut — dubcon, choking, blood play (John being a freak sorry), dryhumping, oral (m receiving), fingering, debauchery in a house of God.

She should’ve known from the start, when the crackle of her radio sounded, interjecting her music with his voice; that this request was nothing but trouble. But rage had blinded her, wrath seeped into every pore in her body, selfishness.

It was never the Deputy’s plan to become the symbol for the resistance, even after the blades of the helicopter stopped, and smoke and fire billowed out from the engine. Even after Dutch saved her and enlisted her help, and despite the stories from countless other resistance members, she only really had one prerogative; save her friends.

Hudson, Pratt, Whitehorse. Trapped in the claws of the cult, it was her duty to get them back, and despite the help she had been giving to the resistance, those were the only three people she cared about.

He knew this, stalking her like a cat preparing to pounce, he watched every facet of her life from the moment she ventured into Holland Valley that he could. A selfish little thing, ripe for his obsession.

John Seed was a proud man, bold and brave as he had so eloquently begged Jacob to put in his song. His pedestal as a Herald inflated his ego, the knowledge that without him Eden’s Gate wouldn’t have prospered nearly as much fueled his narcissism, which is why he surrounded himself with only the peggies who would do anything for him.

He isn’t sure whether new members are supposed to pledge their lives to him and the cult, but it sounds so sweet when the floor pools with the blood of their atonement and he coaxes those little words from his new followers' lips. His tongue is coated in silver, he loves this new power, and she threatens to take that from him.

He knew she wouldn’t be as proactive if he crooned to her that he had a resistance member or two, and she would swing in guns blazing if he claimed to have Hudson right beside him. So, instead he played on her curiosity, that little nudge in the back of her mind that forced her to seek him out whenever he called. Like a moth to a flame.

“Fuck you, Seed!” Voice so filled with venom it might’ve burned a hole in the floor, he tilted his head at her profanity, a sadistic grin playing on his face.

Hope County was filled with little white churches, chapels with steeples that attempted to reach to the heavens above. She assumed they were much more lively before, now most were barren except on Sundays, when the peggies who could not fit onto Joseph’s compound would listen to him under random roofs of God.

This. He chose to be under the white ceiling specifically, to call her into the thing she had been fighting against. To hear her screams echo against the chipped painting that decorated the walls, for her blood to be stained on the old wooden floorboards.

Curiosity killed the cat. She was stupid enough to venture into his trap, falling to the ground when hit hard enough over the head, and now she was stupid enough to attempt to fight off the peggies that held either arm.

“Such profanity. You’re in a house of God, Deputy, mind your tongue.” He scolded her as if she was a misbehaving child, as if everything she had ever done could be chalked up to that. A spoiled rotten brat.

His fingers danced over the tools he had brought with him, his trusty tattoo gun being at the top, but an assortment of knives he also deemed fit for this occasion. Oh, the blood she would spill for him, he became giddy at the thought.

“Get off of me-! Woah woah woah- hey stop!” Yelping, she still attempted to fight off the peggies that held her arms, she shied away when he advanced toward her, tattoo gun in his hands. He had tried this before, she knew what he was doing.

“No one here to help you now, Wrath. Don’t try and fight, your atonement will hurt much less if you cooperate.” He was too calm for this situation, a practiced art he had been through hundreds of times. It was a skill, making people spill their most intimate secrets, a skill he had perfected.

The Deputy was a fighter, through and through, though John could understand Jacobs words. She was weak without her companions, without pastor Jerome stealing her from her atonement, or Nick Rye strafing his armed convoy, she was nothing now - and it was almost endearing to him.

With her hands bound, she resorted to spitting that same venom that she held in her words, marking his perfect face with her saliva. He grimaced, wiping it off his cheek before it trailed down to his beard, pretty blue eyes flashing with that same bloodlust that dictated his every waking moment.

It was shocking to even the peggies that held her when he grabbed her by her throat, pinning her to the ground and straddling her hips. His hands shook with anger - the same wrath that he deemed consumed her now making an appearance in himself. Two sides of the same coin, two heads of a snake.

Her head ached now, body feeling as though it was echoing. A second blow to the back of her head that surely would’ve knocked her out if the pain of his tattoo gun wasn’t keeping her grounded. She didn’t know how fast he had ripped her shirt, or how long it would take for him to carve her skin, but she was reduced to pained whines and pleas for him to stop.

And he relished in the noises she made. The blood that covered his hands and trickled down her chest wasn’t an unusual sight for the herald - but her being the one under him made it all the more exciting. His Deputy, his wrath, his perfect rival. The peggies that stood above him now didn’t matter, and what are they to him anyways? Expendable followers he could use, the Deputy was everything.

“Yes yes, c’mon, keep pleading…” How could he help it? Her eyes half lidded as she looked up at him, hands no longer bound by the peggies now loosely grabbing the wrist that held the tattoo gun in an attempt to stop him. She looked so pathetic under him, so why shouldn’t he grind himself against her when his pants were so uncomfortably tight?

Her words didn’t quite reach his ears, not as he waved his followers out - who hurriedly scrambled in embarrassment. The old church was silent, save for her soft sobs and his intense breathing. His hand still placed over her neck made her choke on her words, which only fueled his desire. He could crush her windpipe, her life rested in his hands, and maybe he would’ve if the nagging reminder that she was the only way he was getting into New Eden wasn’t playing in the back of his head.

His ticket, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t have some fun with her.

He removed his hand from her neck as he finished carving into her pretty skin. WRATH, her own personal scarlet letters. He hummed, looking down at her with lustful eyes, fluttering between hers and the blood that pooled on her chest and trickled down her body to the wooden floor below.

She hated the feeling that bubbled in her chest as the pain subsided, now only a dull ache danced with the look he gave her, how he rubbed the tent made in his pants against her. No doubt, a mark had been left on her neck - his handprint, a reminder. The world felt silent at this moment, when she should've pushed him off.

Selfishness. Prioritizing that small ache he gave her over what she should be doing. Finding anything to act as a weapon against him.

But she didn’t, not as his head lowered and she was greeted with his perfectly slicked back hair, shaking hands reaching to play with a strand. A soft grumble came from his throat, tongue lapping at the blood that trickled down the valley of her chest, tasting what he had drawn out of her.

“What are you doing-?” Her voice was soft, he barely heard it over the ringing in his ears. Too long had he been subjected to resorting to his hand when he thought about her, or messing up his silk pillowcases with his pretty ropes when she teased him over the radio. He had her under him, he wasn’t going to let her go now.

“Shh.” His voice was more scolding then he meant it to be, his tongue traveling from the blood he lapped at down to her budding nipple. He wasn’t gentle, and why should he be? After everything she had messed up for him, he felt it justified to bite down on her pretty flesh, pulling at the bud as much as he wanted.

He relished in the pretty, pained moans that fell from her lips, how her back arched into it. Two sides of the same coin, both reveling in whatever pain was brought to them.

The Deputy’s head tilted back, allowing him a chance to latch onto her neck as a vampire would, smearing the blood on his lips all over her pretty skin. He bit, marking her with his teeth over the forming bruises from his handprint. His hands, decorated in the crimson from his hold on the tattoo gun traveled down her body, painting her in her own red.

He slipped his hand below the rough fabric of her jeans, being met with a contrast, soft and delicate and slightly damp. A soft grumble left his lips at the feeling; which were still pressed against her pretty neck. He felt the way her breath hitched as he ran digits over her most delicate areas. Being so close to her neck, he felt how her muscles tightened and how her breath hitched in her throat.

Lifting her hips to meet his tattooed fingers, a small admission of need. She bit her bottom lip to suppress the noises that tempted to fall from her lips - not wanting to give him the satisfaction. They were still enemies, still rivals, at least to her.

John on the other hand seemed to be on cloud nine, relishing in how she moved against his hand, grinding herself through the fabric of her underwear. He bit down once more, slipping her out of her jeans and grabbing her hips, sitting up and pressing his pelvis against hers.

“John- John cmon…” Head thrown back, panting as she grabbed at the blue silk of his top. He tilted his head down at her, a sadistic smirk playing on his features.

He always took what he wanted, no matter who it was, and the Deputy was no exception to this. To him, it was God's Grace that placed them both here, that gave him the opportunity to rut his hips against hers.

The bulge in his covered jeans met her underwear, fucking himself against her covered cunt. He leaned down overtop of her, panting against her ear. Hot breath on her neck, the sounds of his soft moans mixing with his heavy breaths, and of course his restricted cock grazing just over her clit every couple of thrusts, it was enough to make any girl's eyes roll back.

He stopped, only for a moment, but long enough for her to let out a needy whine, lifting her head to see what he was doing. Tattooed fingers worked the EG belt off, letting his pants pool at his ankles. He wasted no time once they were off, underwear meeting underwear as the outline of his dick was much more pronounced.

“Fuck fuck, put your head back. Fucking-… good girl.” He groaned out, one hand leaving her hips and grabbing at her pretty hair, pulling her head back against the cold wooden floor of the church. She ached, head pounding and echoing from the injuries earlier - but the feeling of him fucking himself against her needy cunt kept her grounded.

In this moment, she needed him, needed this feeling to not pass out.

He tilted his own head back, sweat casting a slick sheen over his skin. A hand dipped against the drying blood on her chest, gathering what he could over his fingertips before bringing them to his lips, sucking on the bloodied digits. He groaned around his fingers, muffling the moans that threatened to fall.

The head of his cock strained against the blue fabric of his boxers, hips thrusting sloppily against her as his hand tightened on her hips, leaving pretty marks in his wake. One thrust, another thrust, and finally another before white pooled at the head, spurting out of the tiny holes in his underwear.

Panting, he finally moved his fingers out of his mouth, cleaned off the blood and tilted his head down at her almost mockingly; he got to finish, the cum that leaked from his underwear dripping down onto hers, and she didn’t get to. He relished in that, that power he had over her.

“H-hey! Not fair!”

“Oh, Deputy. Come here, maybe I’ll let you get off.”

He grinned as he stood up, fixing himself before moving back onto one of the pews, watching her scramble over to him. He had her eating out of the palm of his hand as she kneeled in front of him. Her head pounded harder, eyes a little woozy.

“Poor baby, rest your head, sweetheart.” He teased, a sadistic grin on his face as she nodded and rested against his thigh, looking up at him with those pretty eyes of hers. He couldn’t help himself, not if she looked so pretty right there in his grasp.

He tangled his fingers in her hair, watching her confused expression as he moved the blue fabric off of his legs, dick springing up as it was freed from the confinement of his underwear. Guiding her head over it, watching her part her pretty lips to suck on his leaking tip.

Milking his cock, swallowing the spurts of salty seed that spilled onto her tongue. She drained him for all he’s worth, looking up at him as he ran his fingers through her hair. He was soft and gentle in this moment, noises falling from his lips that told her how good she was doing. She shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be sucking off John Seed of all people.

He grinned as he watched her, once he was satisfied with the way she suckled on him, he grabbed her chin and pulled her off of him. Guiding her up to her feet, he let her loom over him. She wasn’t intimidating like this, he didn’t know if it was because he had just fucked her over their clothes or because she was relying on him for an orgasm, but she seemed almost adorable.

His lips found her neck once more as she leaned against him, nuzzling her head into his shoulder. He forced her to stand, to spread her legs to allow his fingers to feel the now wet fabric of her panties. He hummed in satisfaction, moving them aside and tracing a finger over her slick folds.

A soft gasp left her lips, grabbing onto his shoulder and attempting to move back to look him in the eye. He grumbled, forcing her in that same position as he bit down on her neck, pushing a finger inside of her at the same time. He loved the moans that fell from her lips as he pumped a digit deeper inside of her.

Another finger stretched her out, deep enough to hit those nerves that made her legs tremble. She whined, shaking against him and propping herself up as he continued to pump in and out of her. He pulled away from her neck for only a moment, watching the way she buried her face against him and laughing softly.

He added one more finger before her legs fully began to tremble, grabbing onto his shoulder. Pumping more, fully reaching those nerves, which caused her to spasm around him, her orgasm flooding around his fingers. She rocked against him once or twice, chasing her high.

“Look at you, Deputy, needing me. Did I make you feel good? Use your words.”

#far cry 5 #john seed x deputy #john seed x female deputy #smut #john seed #</3 #fc5

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seedofjoseph · 5 months

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hellbent (WIP)

Author's Note: After posting homebound (link), I immediately began working on a ficlet featuring the overprotective love interest trope starring John Seed. However, I've only picked it up again this week, so I'm posting this early on WIP Wednesday.

The whole of Holland Valley knew John Seed as a madman. You? All you knew was that he was mad. Wrath he called you, though it sounded like it suited him better. Especially during his last radio call.

“Wrath,” he screamed through the static. “Goddamit, Wrath! Where are you?”

“Language, Seed,” you shot back, not being able to see if you’ve hit your target, but hearing the words had wounded him instead. “Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain.”

“I’ll find you, girl,” his words were muffled, his mouth probably planted close enough to kiss the microphone. “Even if I have to burn down every dive bar and liquor store in this valley to draw you out, I’ll find you.”

“Thought you let me break curfew so that I could go bar hopping,” you smirked. And, while he couldn’t have seen you do so, he sure as shit heard it in your tone. “I thought you let me out so that I could indulge in my sins.”

“I did and you have,” he answered, the coolness of it making him out to be as inhuman as the receiver his voice was coming out of. “And now I’m coming to save you from yourself.” Before you could press the button to press his buttons, John Seed went completely cold as the receiver went silent.

Feeling only a little bit frustrated by his lack of fire on this chilly night, you finally dismount your bike and let it recline on the stand instead of your legs. After, you unfasten your leather jacket on your short walk to the rest stop entrance, feeling only a little bit heated. Then, taking in the neon-lit shelves and the yellow-stained floors, you cool off with the thought of a cold Coke.

The truth is that you didn’t set out to indulge in anything else besides caffeine tonight. And the lie is that you bask in the fire your wrath left in its wake. That is the lie you fed to John Seed through your shared frequency, the target you put on your back as you drove away from Holland Valley, from everyone you wouldn’t want to be in his crosshairs. And the truth was that businesses that you were a patron of were going up in flames.

So you sigh in sweet relief as the taste of the sugary drink elevated some weight off of your heavy shoulders. “Needed that,” you paid for the half-emptied bottled as soon as you made it to the counter. “Keep the change.” And you exit before the kid on the other side of it can lift his head and recognize you.

All you knew was that John Seed was mad and you wouldn’t bet a poor boy’s life on him not blowing a gasket along with the rest stop.

“That you, Deputy?”

The door slammed loudly behind you, but it’s a shouting human voice that startled you.

You shake your head frantically and walk back to your bike briskly. “Not tonight I’m not.”

The man is indignant and you can tell from the sound that comes out of his throat. Because you weren’t facing him. You couldn’t face him. Not after what happened the last time you did.

“It’s me,” you hear him hop out of the pick-up and bounce back on his boots like he’d lost his footing. “It’s Jean. But you called me Jaaawn,” he slurs like he’d forgotten how you speak. “Yes, Jaaawn. Fuck yes,” he spits your own drunken words back to you.

It’s like he’s getting the both of you shitfaced again. It’s like he’s in your face and up your shirt and in your pants again. Like you never shoved him off of you and locked him in the bathroom stall. Like the bar is still up and running and not in ruins after some Peggie recognised you stumbling out of it and gave John Seed the excuse to indulge in his wrath.

“I’d buy you a drink, buuut,” he stumbles between you and your bike. “But John made them all go BOOM.”

Jean didn’t look much like John Seed tonight, so that drink he’d bought you was strong enough to make him shape-shift before your very inebriated eyes. Though he stands at the same height and combs back the same dark hair with fingers covered in just as much ink, his eyes are more murky green than clear blue. And though he stands before you untouched by the collateral damage your indulgence has caused, you don’t hesitate to lay your hands on him and shove him to the side.

“I’m going sober,” you decline, determined to quit drinking Coke, too, and drive off.

“Least you could do is moan my name,” he spits. “My real name. While I'm fingerin’ your pussy. That was me, bitch, not John fuckin’ Seed.”

The whole of Holland Valley knew John Seed had eyes and ears everywhere. All you knew was that Jean’s slurred speech had summoned him and the empty rest stop you’d pulled into is now crawling by his cavalry.

“Oh, my God,” Jean tries and fails to find his footing and stumbles backwards into your bike. “Oh, my fuckin’ God,” he turns around and takes you in, eyes filled with fear. “Don’t let him kill me, deputy. Please don’t let him kill me.”

Your voice is steady as you instruct him to get inside, even as your heart is rattling the cage that is your chest. And your body shields the entrance, even if your soul threatens to make its escape. But you won’t let it or yourself get away. And you won’t leave another trail of fire in your wake.

“Wrath,” he calls you, but this sin burns brighter in his words than they ever did in yours. And he hops out of the van in a hurry, already heaving like he’d been chasing you on foot through the Valley. “How many more lives have to go up in flames before you’re satiated?”

“None,” you raise your hands in front of you, adding more distance between the Reaper and the two lives. “Not a single one. I’m done.” Then, you stretch your arms above your head. “I’m done, okay?”

You were far from done, far from having your eyelids ripped open, the furthest you can be from amazing grace. And his big brother would’ve called you blind still, but you needed him to see you as enlightened right now.

What your blind eyes do see is something strange in John Seeds eyes, something which resembled a comforting warmth and not a punishing fire.

“It’s suffocating, isn’t it?” His voice is horse like he’s been shouting, and your throat dries like he is right. You are suffocating. “Your wrath has set the world on fire and you’re the only one left to breathe in the ashes.”

The little air left between the two of you is enough for you to exhale: “Yes.”

TO BE CONTINUED

#far cry 5 #john seed #john seed x deputy #john seed x reader #john seed x female deputy #deputy rook #the deputy #WIP #fanfic #my fanfic

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wrathfulrook · 8 months

Text

Oh John

Part 3 of the Whistling Beaver Voicemail Series but can definitely be read as a standalone.

Pairing: Female Deputy (Patience Ekner) x John Seed

Rating: E

Warnings: Dubcon at best, because Bliss :)

Word count: ~1.8k

Summary: Faith offers John 24 hours of access to her special Angel as a peace offering. And John never turns down a gift.

Read on ao3 here!

Faith leaned back and relaxed in bed while the former deputy dutifully licked between her legs. She really needed to unwind.

John had been a holy terror these past few weeks. Micromanaging her outreach, being short with her at services, radioing her at all hours of the night to complain about how she was running her region. He was throwing a temper tantrum.

She knew why, too. It was obvious. He was jealous.

Not that he’d ever admit it.

John had always been at least little jealous of her. After all, she’d replaced him as the baby of the family. Then she’d completed the Path, she’d perfected the Bliss, she even completed Joseph’s Word, essentially replacing him as the favorite. That had surely been bad enough in his eyes, but he kept his envy in check. He remained brotherly, kind, even friendly. They’d gotten along well.

And then she had elevated the deputy.

Her brother had many strengths, but subtlety was not among them. She’d known his interest in the deputy had gone beyond that of a baptist and potential convert. But she certainly hadn’t expected him to throw a fit. And definitely not a fit lasting this long.

He had wanted the deputy, but too bad. Faith had cracked her first, elevated her to an Angel, and now had her all to herself. You couldn’t always get what you want.

Still though, John was grating on her nerves. And she’d never admit it to him, but he’d been her favorite brother before he started acting out about this. She wanted that relationship back nearly as much as she wanted some peace and quiet. And although she was very much not the one at fault here, she could be the mature one and extend an olive branch, she’d be willing to share.

She turned her hooded eyes to her Angel, still buried between her legs. “You’d like that wouldn’t you, Angel…”

~~~

John looked disdainfully down at the head bobbing up and down between his legs.

What a waste.

She could’ve been so much more, so much better, than just another braindead Angel of his sister’s. If only she hadn’t been hiding away in the Henbane. If only Faith had played fair, instead of drugging her out of her mind…

He could’ve easily brought her into the flock if he’d only been given a chance. He could’ve cut the wrath out of her and molded her into a perfect disciple of the Father. And she, just like every other sinner he converted, would have adored him.

Perhaps then she would have been working between his legs of her own volition, and not because her Bliss-addled mind made her so suggestible.

Instead, Faith had shown up at his door this morning, the brainless former deputy in tow. His sister had practically shoved the other woman into his arms. She’d made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that the Angel was completely his for 24 hours, in exchange for the return of peace between the siblings. Though John absolutely felt Faith had a part of the blame to share, he was never one to turn down a gift.

John brought a hand down to the blonde hair below him, pulling the woman off his hard, leaking cock and guiding her a bit lower. As she focused her mouth on his balls, a string of precum caught in her hair. She was determined, single-minded. He had no complaints about her technique, per se. Her tongue licked up the seam between his balls. She sucked them into her hot mouth, releasing each with a wet pop. Yet, there was something missing…

John pushed her off of himself, and she fell to the floor. Tucking himself back into his pants, no easy task in his current state, he looked down at her with an eyebrow raised, waiting for her to react in some way to being pushed to the floor like refuse. She didn’t. She simply righted herself and sat back on her heels.

That was the problem. Her lack of reaction. Her lack of enthusiasm. She was like an automaton, just going through the motions. He didn’t know what value his sister could see in a toy like that.

“Follow me.”

John turned and headed up the stairs to his bedroom. He didn’t look back, trusting she had been trained well enough to follow.

As he entered the bedroom he told her flatly, “On the bed. Kneel.”

The deputy knelt on the edge of the bed, facing him as he stripped off his clothes. He wasn’t putting on a show for her, but still, her lack of reaction was… unsettling. John had undressed for many people before, and he didn’t think it was prideful to acknowledge that his body tended to be… appreciated. Instead, she stared at him with her pink lips slightly parted and her gray eyes vacant and glazed over, almost green-tinted from the Bliss poisoning.

Standing before her, completely bare, John narrowed his eyes as he searched hers. He was looking for something, anything. But her eyes were completely blank. He was suddenly overcome with the urge to ejaculate directly onto her unfocused, uncaring eyes. A small, sadistic smile tugged at his lips when he realized he could do exactly that. He could do anything, and she’d sit there quietly and take it. Perhaps Faith’s preferences weren’t to be totally dismissed…

His eyes scanned the pale, freckled flesh kneeling before him as he approached the bed. He fisted a hand in her tousled hair and yanked her head back, pulling her long neck taut and forcing her face to look directly up at him. His eyes swept down her form, but stopped at her breasts, which were rising and falling rapidly.

Why rapidly?

Curiously, he brought up his other hand and brought it down in a harsh smack against one of her breasts. In addition to the sound of skin on skin, John unmistakably heard the former deputy’s breath hitch.

“Ohhhh,” he crooned softly into her ear. “You’re not so unresponsive after all, are you?”

He lewdly licked a wet stripe up her neck, still pulled taut by his hold on her hair, and watched in fascination as her pink nipples stiffened in response. Dropping his hold on her hair, he brought his tattooed fingers up to pinch and play with them, admiring the contrast of his inked skin on the smooth, unmarred expanse of her.

She was like a blank canvas.

A wicked idea entered his head. He doubted Faith would appreciate if he took a knife or tattoo gun to her toy. Depending on where…

John twisted her nipples, hard, before ordering her to stay and leaving the room. When he came back a few minutes later with his tattoo supplies, she remained obediently on her knees, a red mark beginning to form where he’d slapped her.

Setting up everything he’d need, he felt certain Faith wouldn’t mind this. She may even like it. And even if not, it would be discrete enough that she’d forgive him easily. Especially discrete on someone who never spoke.

With the gun ready in his right hand, he held out his left to her and said simply, “Tongue.”

He smirked when she stuck her tongue out without hesitation. He pinched it between his forefinger and thumb, holding it snug. He glanced quickly to her foggy eyes, warning her to be still, before he was inking her, tracing the same lines he had drawn over and over, on so many believers.

She stayed obediently still as he worked, even keeping her tongue out when he put the gun away and came back to clean the new tattoo. He smiled as he backed up to take in the full, finished picture: the mindless deputy, kneeling naked on his bed, eyes vacant and tongue lolling out, the Project cross bold and black on the pink tissue. She looked perfect.

“Come here.” He crooked a finger to coax her over, chuckling when she kept her tongue out as she did so.

John brought up a single finger to push her tongue back into her mouth before harshly gripping her hips and pulling her soft, warm, naked body to press against his. He backed up, keeping her close until the back of his legs hit an armchair. He fell back into it, pulling the Angel down to straddle his lap. Reaching between them, he grabbed his cock and slipped it easily into her wet, waiting heat before pulling her forcefully down until he was fully hilted inside her.

His fingers gripped her hips with enough strength to bruise as he let out a laugh. “That wet? What was it? The tattoo? Do you like pain, Deputy?” He let go of her hips and wrapped a hand around her neck, roughly pulling her face to his. “You’re in the right place, then.”

He squeezed her neck, firmly. He felt a smile form slowly on his face as her face reddened with a lack of air, then tinged with blue. Her eyes were wide, but she didn’t fight back. She sat there on his cock and let him choke the life out of her. Eventually he laughed and released her, leaning back in the chair and giving her only seconds to recover.

“Ride me.”

Face still red, her breath barely caught, she began bouncing up and down on his lap.

He laughed at how eagerly she obeyed his orders. “Good girl…”

John leaned back and enjoyed the feeling of her gripping so tightly around him, sliding up and down his shaft. He watched her breasts swing up and down as she worked him with her body before eventually bringing his hands up to play with them.

“You feel amazing,” he hissed so lowly he was unsure if she could hear him. “You know, this isn’t the path I would have laid out for you, but I’ll admit it suits you. You make a much better toy than you do a deputy.”

She continued to ride him, lips parting, becoming more and more frenzied as she did, and he laughed loudly in surprise.

“Yeah? You getting excited? You were made for this. The perfect little cockwarmer.” He nearly growled at her when he said, “You’re fucking wasted on Faith.”

He grabbed her hips and forced her down on his cock once again, grinding her down onto him as came deep inside her. He laid back, trying to relax, but she kept twitching around him, clearly desperate for own release.

“You want to come, too, Deputy?”

He smirked at her, brought a hand up to lovingly tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. And then slapped her across the face.

“We still have nearly 20 hours together, my dear. Let’s see if you earn it.”

#my stuff #john seed x deputy #john seed x female deputy #john seed x patience ekner #john seed fic #john seed #oc: patience ekner #the whistling beaver voicemail #far cry 5 #far cry 5 fic #fc5 #fc5 fic

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socially-awkward-skeleton · 1 year

Text

The Baptist and the Blade

This one’s for you @roofgeese! Thank you for asking me to write some more John smut! I can never get enough of that little murder gremlin.

I found a prompt that I thought fit John perfectly - “Your eyes are already saying yes, now I just need your mouth to tell me the same.”

Lemons ahoy!! 18+ NSFW, Minors DNI

Please forgive any typos or grammatical errors :)

Warnings: minor bloodplay, p in v intercourse, M!receiving oral, lots of religious imagery, two morally reprehensible people going at it

Words: 2515

Pairing: John Seed x Female Deputy

She stood in the thick boundary of trees watching him, silently, tracking his every movement. How proudly he stood on the shore watching his newest batch of sinners be baptized into the loving embrace of the cult. She waited for her moment to strike, when he was all alone. Her prey.

“We must wash away our past. We must expose our sins. We must atone, for only then may we stand in the light of God and walk through his Gate unto Eden.”

The newest recruits were dragged up from the water into the mayonnaise white vans, his men following close behind, and as the headlights faded off into the distance she could finally make her move. Her boot snapped the thin twigs that scattered the ground and he snapped around to face her, bright blue eyes glued onto her in the dark.

“Deputy, out for a stroll? He snapped the bible in his hands closed. "It is a lovely night.” Placing it down on the large boulder behind him.

“Coming back to the scene of the crime.”

His eyes trailed up and down her, “What would your resistance think if they found us out here together? Alone.” He clasped his hands behind his back, tapping the toe of his boot against the stones below.

“You seem to have no problem radioing me on a public channel so I'm sure most of them wouldn't be too surprised actually. Hell, I’ve had Sharky and Adelaide telling me for days that we should just get this over with.”

“Get what over with?” He prodded her to continue, teasing her with the flick of his eyebrow.

“You’re really gonna make me say it?” Her scowl deepened as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Yes.” He grinned from ear to ear like the Cheshire cat.

She sighed heavily, “They think we should fuck.”

His eyes seemed to sparkle with her use of such crass profanity. This wasn't love, this wasn't sentiment, this was a promiscuous need, a desire to be fulfilled. Base and brutal, like an animal in heat, she was reaching out to the suitable male available to her.

“Would you agree with that sentiment?” He inched in closer towards her, his shoes crunching through the gravel beach, as his hips swayed like a prowling tomcat.

“Would you?”

“I asked first.” He leaned in towards her, crystalline eyes made dark with his own libidinous desire.

She rubbed at the back of her neck, feeling like an open wound, a dark cavernous hole only he seemed to be able to see the bottom of. “I think we both know where I stand on that.”

He reached out and ran his thumb against her lip. “So you enjoyed our kiss then?” Pride swelling in his chest.

“You only did it to fuck with Joey.” Her eyes stared into his, staring him down. “I’m well aware.”

He placed his hand to his chest, rubbing his long fingers against his bare skin. “On the contrary, Deputy. I did it because of you. Your sins, I know them well, I have shared in them. If there’s one person who could ever truly understand you, it’s me.”

“What happened to wanting to cleanse me of my sins?”

“That will come in time.” He smiled, so sure of himself, so sure that she would see sense - the way Joseph had promised.

She stepped forward, invading his personal space, if he even had a notion about what that was. They stood nose to nose, eye to eye, toe to toe. She’d never give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much she enjoyed staring at him - at his stupidly pretty face.

“How would we go about doing that?”

His eyes fell to her chest, his hand brushing away the loose waves that sat at her shoulders, having fallen loose from her braid. “I’d need to mark you first, but you ran before I could.”

Pulling off her jacket and her flannel, she tossed them onto the rocky beach. Wearing only a white tank top, no bra, her nipples were hard with the cold September air.

His focus remained solely on the cleavage of her firm breasts. He licked his lips as his palm spread against her skin. His voice dropped lower in his throat, “Right here. Near your heart, for all to see, the badge of honor.”

“You mean like yours?” She slid her fingers in past the collar of his shirt, half unbuttoned already, running her fingertips against the scar tissue left behind.

“Yes.”

His heart raced under his ribs, blood pumping, rushing through his veins, flooding his system. She could feel it drum against her fingertips, she could taste his adrenaline perfuming the space between them. Dragging her tongue across her teeth, her breath hitched in her throat. “And then would you cut it out of me, staple it up like the others?”

“No, I wouldn’t want to ruin such a -” he cleared his throat and looked back up at her. Her pale stare was deadly, fed by blood lust. She looked at him carnally, like he was a meal and she was starving.

“Then what?” her voice was low, husky, a whisper on the night air.

“Then I'd wash you, purify your soul.”

“Out there?” She nodded in the direction of the water, lapping feet away from them.

He nodded as she began to lean down and untie her boots, her mouth was so close…God help him. She kicked them away from her and unbuttoned her jeans, unzipping the fly, sliding them down her thighs. Her coiled snake tattoo on her leg bared its fangs for him, and her scars that scattered her flesh shone white in the moonlight.

The air was cold and biting, a crisp autumn night, and she was wearing barely anything at all. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him into her embrace, kissing him as his hands slid over her muscular thighs and ass, grabbing at her, fingers dragging over her bare skin. He moaned against her mouth as his hands trailed against her.

Sliding up her hips, his fingers glanced up her tank top, touching the first hint of scarred tissue. She groaned and bit his lip until she tasted pennies in her mouth, and then felt his cock pressing against her - rock hard with the taste of pain. She stepped back, trying to pull away, but he grabbed at her harder, dragging her back towards him, he wasn’t letting her go so easily this time. His fingers dug into her, marking her skin with crescents and bruises.

“Don’t tease me, Kathleen.” He rasped.

“Don’t fucking call me Kathleen.”

He smirked, licking his lips, blood on his tongue. “What are you trying to hide from me?”

“You won’t find that out until I say yes.”

“Ka - Kit…” He smiled again, slipping back into his smooth demeanor and not the corrupt believer he truly was. “Your eyes are already saying yes, now I just need your mouth to tell me the same.”

“I don’t give in that easy, you know that.” She slid her hands down his arms, grabbing him by the wrists and pulling him off of her, eliciting a groan from him with the strength she used against him.

She walked backwards towards the edge of the water, the icy cold waves biting at her heels as they lapped against her skin. She waded in until she was knee deep, sliding her panties down, she threw them back up to the shore. The balled up material landed at his feet.

“Coming to join me, Baptist?”

He curled his hands into fists, relaxing and flexing several times before walking towards the waters edge. Trying so hard to maintain some sliver of control, an ounce of respect.

She shivered in the water, her lips turning purple, but she didn't care, she liked the sting and seeing the hunger in his eyes made her forget about the cold.

“Another sin to add to your skin.”

“Where would you mark me with that one?” She grabbed his hand and slid it over the flat of her stomach, landing at the curve of her pelvic bone. “Here?”

A hiss escaped between his teeth as she took his hand and slipped it between her thighs. The dark waters acting like a mirror below, he could see the reflection of his fingers running over her soft, wet lips.

“You said the greatest gift we have is to give…and you like to fill -”

His mouth crashed against hers, making her stumble back in the water, her hand curving up around his neck, fingers knotting into his hair, pulling on his strands. He pressed his thumb to her clit, rubbing rough, hurried circles against it. “I’m going to have you saying yes by the time I'm done.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

He slid his two fingers up into her cunt, while still focusing his attention on her clit, gliding in and out of her. The heat spread from his fingers up her spine like a wildfire. He was well-practiced, knew how to use speed and force to coerce her to speak, even if it was nothing more than a string of nonsense and curses. Her body shuddered, shivers turning to sparks and flashes of lightning as if the Lord above was working through the Baptist. His mouth dragged against her cheek, his hand wrapped up in her hair, tugging her head back.

“Which would you prefer?”

“Whichever I deserve.”

His mouth wrapped around her neck, sucking on her skin, dotting her with bruises. She whined against him. He brought his mouth down on her shoulder and bit, hard enough to draw blood. He smiled up at her and licked her blood from his teeth, staining them pink. Tasting the sweet ambrosia that fueled her, iron and copper spilling down his throat. A blood pact between two debauched creatures.

He pulled his fingers from her, dragging his tongue against them, keeping his eyes affixed on her, watching the flush float up her skin from her chest to her cheeks and up to the tips of her ears - all nearly as red as her hair. Sucking his fingers clean, he closed his eyes and forced himself to memorize her taste.

“Are you seeking penance, Deputy? Is your guilt finally weighing down upon you?”

“I don’t feel so guilty anymore.”

He scoffed, “Such a sinner.”

“Maybe.” She dropped to her knees, water now around her waist. She looked up at him through her eyelashes, doe-eyed, innocent.

He pressed his hand to her face, cupping her cheek, her teeth chattering under his touch. His adam’s apple bobbed at the sight of her before him. Supplication.

Her fingers were growing numb from the cold, but she still managed to unbuckle his belt and pull the fly down his jeans without fumbling. Her eyes went wide at the sight before her, what he lacked in height he certainly made up for in other areas.

He smirked at her reaction, she was feeding into another one of his sins, he’d pray on it another time. For now he was much too busy doing God’s work, helping her to reach atonement.

She looked up at him, desperate eyes pleading for forgiveness, opening her mouth to accept his sacrament. Her lips wrapped around the head, bobbing up and down along his length, inviting the host inside of her, taking him in as deep as she could go.

The warmth of her mouth embraced him, sheltering from the bite of the autumn cold outside. Her eyes never left him, watching him with the ferocity of a predator. But in this moment he held the leash, he was her salvation, her chance to be allowed access to Eden.

Her saliva pooled at the base of his cock, dripping down into the dark waters of the lake that surrounded them. Holy water. She fought to swallow, struggled to breathe as she got caught up in her own rhythm, taking him in and out, her jaw growing sore, but she couldn’t stop, not yet.

He pulled her mouth away, he didn't want to finish, not like that. She had offered him her holes to fill and he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity to enter her gates. He pressed her against him, her wet skin spreading its dampness onto his clothing, her body vibrating against him. She knew what he wanted and without a word of direction she slid her leg up the outside of his, wrapping it around him. His cock pressed against her slit. Rocking her hips, she began to grind against him, spreading her slick along the length. Thrusting up into her, he filled her. Her velvet walls tightened against him, squeezing.

She bit her lip and stifled the moan that threatened to escape her, pressing her forehead against his. Her weight supported by him, he fucked up into her, hips snapping forward and back, violent and stabbing, the same unbridled madness he used when wielding a knife and she was at his mercy. She cried out into the night, a scream building in her throat.

“Say it, Kit. Just say it.” He spoke breathlessly. “Say it for me.”

Her nails dragged down his sides, leaving long red scratches in her wake. He groaned and hissed, his hair falling free from its normally coiffed style, more the feral being she knew he was underneath. Grabbing at his thin waist, burning his skin as her fingers squeezed. She was getting so close now. So close and she couldn’t hide, couldn't pretend, not with him.

“YES!”

He kissed her hard, forcefully, full of command. His thrusts were deeper, his pace slowing. He came inside her, tainting her, moaning a hymn against her mouth.

Her head fell back as their mouths parted, panting up into the night’s sky. A million stars, the lights of angels twinkling above. Her muscles spasmed and the strength to hold her leg up around him gave way. She could have fallen back into the water if she didn't think he might drown her.

He kept her upright, tight to his body. One and the same, they were connected, entwined.

“This can never happen again…”

“Regret, already?” He looked at her like he could read her mind. Like he knew it was all a lie. She lived so many, she could hardly separate the truth from them anymore, but he could always see through them. See her for what lay beneath her rotting layers.

She pushed him off of her and stormed back up to the shoreline, picking up her clothes and her boots, heading back to the treeline as if what had just occurred between them didn’t happen at all.

“Kit, you have no reason to be afraid,” he called up to her, “We love you and we will take you.”

She didn’t spare another second to look back, running into the woods, the branches of trees scratching at her skin, leaves whipping against her. Punishment. It was what she deserved for what she had just done.

#lemons #far cry 5 #fan fiction #smut #john seed x female deputy #john seed #oc: kit cross #kit x john

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