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fr0gg3rrr · 1 month

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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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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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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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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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alliddewrites · 11 months

Text

Pervy!TF-141 x Reader Headcanons

Content disclaimer:

Smut,

Inappropriate/creepy/disgusting behavior,

Voyeurism,

Recording without permission,

Abuse of ranks,

Underwear stealing,

Very ambiguous consent,

Female reader

Masterlist

Reader discretion advised. You're responsible for your own media consumption.

Gaz

Kyle has several cameras set up around your room. The feed gets recorded and stored in case he can't see something live. Never wants to miss a single second when he can see your perfect body.

Loves watching you pleasure yourself, unaware that you're being watched by him. He gets so hard watching you touching your wet pussy. He always times his orgasm with yours, imagining himself pouring his hot cum into your tight cunt.

Takes pictures and videos of you every chance he gets. He has a collection of you doing just about everything. - You innocently asleep in your bed. - You in the showers, water droplets running down your pretty body, looking oh so enticing. - You working out, tits perfectly squeezed together by your sports bra, sweat running down between your breasts. - You running on the tracks, tight ass bouncing so beautifully.

He has all of these files organized in folders so he can pick what to get off to depending on his mood.

After the others find out about this whole ordeal, he will reluctantly share the files with them, just so they don't tell you. Now all of them get to jerk off to your unaware self.

When he's with you, he gives you fleeting touches in inappropriate places. He either plays it off as an accident, or he just simply plays innocent.

Loves touching your ass the most, he just wants to grab it and massage it in his hands. "Oh! Sorry! I really didn't mean to do that."

Price

John takes full advantage of his rank, ordering you around to do things for him, sometimes inappropriate things.

Makes your train with him. After all, what is everyone else going to do? He's the captain, what he says, goes, no matter how much the others on the team complain. Since he has more strength than you, he has the advantage every single time. Pins you down in ways where his pelvis is touching you in some way. You can feel his hard cock through his pants, pressed up against you each session, grinding into you slightly. He might even pin you down in a way where his dick is brushing against your face.

Has a really hard time restraining himself from absolutely destroying you on the training mats. You're just so close to him, so submissive and helpless, completely at his mercy. His cock gets hard just thinking about it, precum dripping from the tip of his throbbing shaft.

Gives you orders every moment you're with him. Clean this, go fetch that, sit on his lap, keep him company, etc.

If you happen to mess something up, you're going to receive a punishment. As much as he wants to punish you by absolutely ravaging your body, he'll settle on spanking you until your butt is red. "Now bend over, and count."

Ghost

The silent one out of the group is the one that's the least obvious about his pervertedness.

Simon is the one that steals your, usually used, panties for personal use. Loves smelling your scent while he jerks his painfully hard, throbbing cock to the thoughts of you. When he's nearing his climax, he wraps your dirty panties around his cock. When he finally reaches his climax, he does it directly into the fabric, soaking it in his semen.

When he's done using one of your panties he puts it back into your laundry hamper, between all the other used clothes, in hopes that you'll notice it's covered in his virile seed.

He acts totally normal around you. You wouldn't even know his true feelings if he didn't have his rare slip ups that happen when you tease him. -Showing off a lot of skin, like tits or ass, bending over, acting all innocent and submissive, will get him extremely turned on, rock hard and tip drooling precum, but you will also be playing with fire.-

If you do some of those things, intentional or not, it will push him over the edge. He will pin you to a wall and threaten you, barely keeping control of his desires. "If you're going to act like a slut, we're going to treat you like one."

Soap

The most direct and most obvious out of all of them. Johnny is not ashamed about being a total pervert towards you.

Very touchy feely with you. There is not a moment when his hands are not on you. He might start out at your waist all innocent, but they will either wander up to your tits, or downwards towards your crotch. He gets so hard in these moments that he has to excuse himself so he can go and jerk off, so he can release a nice thick load and all that tension while thinking about you.

Will come up behind you and press himself against you, wrapping his arms around your waist, making sure you can feel his throbbing cock against your ass.

He's drooling over you 24/7, eyes never leaving your beautiful figure. When you catch him staring, which you will, he'll just wink at you, not embarrassed at all. He'll be even hornier and happier if you notice his bulge, barely contained by his pants.

He's not afraid of making comments about you and your body. Inappropriate comments, dirty jokes, explicit observations, the things he'd do to you, etc. "I have a bit of a problem. Won't you help me out, lass?"

I do not, to any extent, support this kind behavior in real life. This is pure fiction.

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zablife · 11 months

Text

Tachipen (Part 6)

Part 5

Tommy x female reader

Summary: John reacts to the news of his betrothal and Y/n finally learns of his true feelings. Seeds of a rivalry are planted between the two brothers. In 1924, the jealous actions of their past come back to haunt them as the vendetta begins.

Author’s Note: Tommy meets y/n in 1919 and the story goes thru present time which is the year of the vendetta, 1925. I'm borrowing some events from canon S3 & S4 with a few changes and condensed storyline.

Warnings: language, violence, arranged marriage, mention of arson, kidnapping

1919

"You've done what?" John asked, blue eyes narrowing in the dim light of the parlor. Tommy only nodded in confirmation and John looked away in disbelief. "Christ, Tommy!" he exclaimed.

"It's the only way forward, John. You can end this war," Tommy stated, eyes darting to John's clenched fists. The anger beneath the surface was threatening to spill over as it always did when he was being told what to do. His younger brother abhorred his sense of authority.

"A war you fucking started when you brought Y/n here!" John shouted, the toothpick in his mouth wobbling precariously. Then he stopped short, staring ahead as he remembered your offer to talk to your aunt. "Is this why she took you to see Zilpha?" he asked, voice now eerily calm.

Tommy swallowed thickly, recognizing a look of hurt wash over his brother's face. It might have been a shift of smoke from the fireplace, but he swore he saw John's eyes turn glossy as he awaited an answer. "Tommy?" John insisted.

Tommy let out a frustrated sigh in response. "You didn’t ask for Y/n to come live with you. What's the difference if it’s another girl now?” he reasoned.

John clenched his jaw as he turned his gaze toward his brother. "You have no idea what I want because you never ask. Did you ever think I might care for Y/n?"

"So much you were fucking Lizzie last week?" Tommy retorted.

John lunged toward Tommy and Tommy grabbed him by the shirt front, slamming him against the wall.

On the other side, you jumped at the sound of the commotion, one hand coming to rest over your heart. The voices of the two warring brothers carried through the thin walls loud enough for you to hear in the kitchen and you stopped to listen despite your better judgment.

"What the fuck are you doing, eh? Do you love Y/n?" Tommy asked, searching his brother’s face for the truth as John pushed against him.

John gulped, fight leaving his body under Tommy's firm grasp. "I've loved her since she arrived, but Pol said to let her alone," he confessed, hanging his head when Tommy’s hand fell away from his throat.

Tommy stepped back, tugging his shirt sleeves back into place as John staggered along the wall to stay upright. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Tommy sighed with exhaustion, knowing there could be no other outcome once a pact had been made.

He opened his eyes to find John leaning over the sofa, plucking one of your discarded hair ribbons from the cushion and clutching it in his hands so tightly his knuckles began turning white. He stared at Tommy with the desperation of a man who still held out hope, despite already knowing the verdict.

“Doesn’t matter now, it’s done. The Lees will hold us to it or there will be bloodshed,” Tommy warned as he approached his brother cautiously.

"It's what the Lees want or you, Tommy?" John asked, as he caught his brother gazing at your black, velvet ribbon.

"It's what Y/n wants. She made the deal with Zilpha, not me," he confessed in a low voice.

"She did?" John asked with a loud sniff, hand brushing his nose harshly as he tried to keep emotion at bay.

Tommy confirmed with a nod.

John pitched forward, allowing his head to hang low and breathed deeply, the thought of your rejection stinging far worse than Tommy's betrayal ever could. After a few moments, he stood to his full height and addressing his older brother in the same flat tone he used during the war, he repeated back the orders given to him like a good soldier. "I'll marry Esme Lee."

"Good," Tommy agreed.

You held your breath as you listened to John leave the house, the door crashing against the frame forcefully as he went. A single tear slid down your cheek as you whispered, "I'm sorry, John. I love you too."

——————————————

On the morning of John’s wedding, you helped the children dress and you took special care with Katie, braiding her hair and intertwining wildflowers you’d picked together as an added adornment.

“All finished,” you proclaimed, attempting an encouraging smile as you turned her to face you. There hadn’t been many words exchanged, a tinge of sadness around the edges of the day where happiness ought to have been.

As you held her small shoulders, you felt an almost imperceptible shake, then you noticed her lashes dampen with tears threatening to overspill her deep blue eyes.

“Why do you have to go?” she questioned, a few tears escaping as she furrowed her brow in a mixture of confusion and anger as if she might force you to stay by her will power alone.

“It’s time,” you answered simply, reaching up to dry her damp cheeks gently with your fingertips.

“Because you and dad have been fighting?” she asked, looking up at you with sorrowful eyes.

"Oh, Katie...," you exclaimed, inhaling sharply, knowing she had probably overheard more than she should have in recent days as you and John sniped at one another under the stress of making new arrangements and the dreadful ache of emotion left unspoken.

“Your father is remarrying so I have to go live with Aunt Polly and help your Uncle Tommy in the betting shop,” you began, but you knew she was a clever girl who would need a bit more than that. “But you’re right, we haven't been getting on as well as we should. Things will be better with your new mum. You'll be happy, you'll see,” you promised her, reaching out to give her hand a reassuring squeeze. As an afterthought you added quietly, “I hope your dad will too.”

She threw her arms around you, hugging you tightly as though she’d never let go and you patted her back comfortingly. “I’ll be mad at him if you want me to,” she offered between sniffles, voice muffled by the thick material of your dress.

You laughed silently at her act of solidarity before answering, “I’m not mad anymore, just a bit sad like you, but I’ll be alright. Come on, we have to go or we’ll miss the ceremony.”

——————————-

The deafening crack of fireworks exploding overhead woke Henry who had been peacefully sleeping in your arms since the dancing began. Blinking in confusion and rubbing his eyes with chubby fists, the toddler immediately burst into sobs. You tried to quiet him with gentle rocking and his favorite lullaby, but nothing seemed to help.

No one paid much attention as the party was well under way and most everyone was too drunk to care about a crying babe. You scanned the crowd for Polly, hoping she would be ready to leave, but you couldn’t find her as you dodged whirling skirts and men shooting celebratory gunfire up to the sky.

Pressing your hands to Henry's ears, you sought peace and quiet away from everyone just as a soft voice called out to you. “Would you like me to take him?” You turned to find John’s new bride with her arms outstretched toward you and you nodded hesitantly. Feeling as though you couldn’t deny her, you passed the child to his new stepmother and much to your astonishment, he stopped crying long enough to capture her veil between his fingers, rubbing it against his cheek as she giggled.

“Looks like John, don’t he?” she remarked, stroking Henry’s blonde curls. You nodded again, unsure what you should say to her. Did she know who you were? It seemed foolish to explain now if she didn’t.

Before you could say anything more, Tommy strode toward you from the dark shadows between vardos, eyes fixed on you determinedly as though he’d been searching you out for some time. “Y/n, may I have a word?” he asked.

Seeing Henry babbling away happily to Esme, you crossed to join Tommy by a large bonfire.

“Enjoying the festivities?” he asked, fishing his cigarettes from his pocket.

“I was thinking of leaving actually,” you said, pulling your arms into your body as you realized how chilly the night air had become.

Noticing your shivering form, Tommy removed his jacket and placed it around your shoulders. As he came close, you breathed in the scent of tobacco and whisky, so like John, but with a tinge of something earthier as though he’d just come from the pasture. It was oddly comforting and you focused on the scent to calm yourself, feeling a rush of emotion return to you as you watched John approach his new bride and place his arm around her with Henry squealing in delight between them.

“I know why you proposed that particular strategy with your aunt,” Tommy said, interrupting your thoughts. He looked down at his cigarette before daring to find your eyes in the glow of the firelight.

You swallowed harshly thinking about where your fit of temper had landed you, watching the man you loved speak his vows to someone else. “Maybe it wasn’t the right thing,” you mused, your whispered regret carried away on the wind to Tommy’s ears like the closely guarded secret it was.

He shook his head softly, “No, this was meant to be.”

Your turned to look at Tommy with trembling lower lip, but no words would come out.

He stepped closer to you, rubbing his large palms up and down your arms soothingly. “Hey, look at me,” he instructed and your heart skipped a beat as you found the courage to look into the hypnotizing blue of his eyes, like a tide drawing you inward. “You did what was best for the family. I know you were angry at the time, but what you did took courage and sacrifice. I won’t forget that.”

“And John? Will he forgive me?” you asked, blinking back tears.

“He’s gained a good wife in Esme. I’ve no doubt he’ll thank you for it in time,” Tommy said, reassuringly. It seemed as though he wanted to add something, but stopped himself and you stood together for a moment in awkward silence before he dropped his hands to his sides and shoved them back into his pockets.

You dried your eyes and shifted the coat around your shoulders as Tommy led you to his car, offering a ride home. He said he didn’t want his newest employee wandering the streets of Birmingham alone in the early morning hours, but you had to wonder. His protection over you seemed like more than a formality.

----------------

1924, The Grace Shelby Institute

"You alright?" you asked as Tommy guided you toward the room where tea and cake were being served after his speech.

"I fucking hate speeches," he muttered as you passed a group of ladies associated with his charity. "Grace was better at this sort of thing," he mused.

You nodded in understanding as he fidgeted with his tie nervously. You pressed a hand to his shoulder, stopping him before he entered the room. "Let me," you offered, shifting Charlie to your opposite hip and reaching up to straighten the silk knot to your satisfaction.

Tommy grasped your hand in his, searching your eyes for a moment before admitting, "I'm sorry about the other night. It won't happen again."

Feeling a heat rise in your cheeks, you bit your lip unsure of how to respond. His advances hadn't been unwelcome, but you wondered if it was merely the grief causing him to act.

"Don't be sorry," you said with a small shake of your head. Just then the door swung open and your eyes locked onto Linda, standing in the corner and surveying everyone with a judgmental stare. "It's just...what would your family say?" you asked, hesitantly.

Grasping your chin and turning you to look at him, Tommy stressed, "We haven't done anything wrong, eh?"

You nodded, wishing you could agree with his sentiment, but you knew no one would ever believe that. "Maybe it's too soon though," you suggested with soft eyes, hoping he would trust you in this.

Tommy studied you for a moment, unsure if you were in need of more reassurance or distance. There had always been a fine line in your relationship, your agreement with one another shifting over the years until he could no longer think of the right word to describe exactly what you were to him.

Rushing toward you with a giant smile on her face, Ada triumphantly proclaimed, "Tommy, there's a woman who wants to discuss a two hundred pound donation with you."

"Go ahead, I'll entertain Charlie," you assured him.

However, the task grew more difficult as the afternoon wore on. The child was growing more restless by the minute as ladies gathered to coo at him and pinch his cheeks adoringly, taking turns to express their condolences or offer praise for Tommy's parenting.

When it was clear that Charlie needed a nap, you excused yourself and weaved through the dense crowd in search of Finn who was supposed to drive you home. Struggling to hold an ill-tempered Charlie, you suffered his kicks and jabs as he refused to be contained within your embrace. Finally, he pushed against you with the strength of ten children, suddenly sliding down your body and hurrying off on chubby little legs before you could grasp him. He toddled away precariously in between people’s legs as you rushed after him, calling his name.

“Charlie, come back!” you cried, but he only squealed excitedly at your game of chase and ran faster. With no other family members in sight, you hurried after him on your own, wishing you'd chosen more sensible shoes.

As you rounded the corner toward the empty offices, you heard his tiny shoes squeaking against the polished floor and heard his giggles as a door opened suddenly. Perhaps he was finding a place to hide to try and continue this little game, you thought, but that particular activity would have to wait. You were determined to get him home.

“Please, Charlie!” you called a bit more softly, hoping he would peek his head out and come running back to you upon hearing your distress.

“Sound so sweet when you beg,” a low voice rumbled behind you. The imposing figure removed his fedora and you gasped when you recognized one of Angel’s men, Enzo, looking down at you in amusement.

Your heel wobbled under you as you tried to back away from him and you stumbled in your hurried attempted to regain balance. “What do you want? Did Angel send you?“ you gulped, trying and failing to conceal your fear.

Your reply only infuriated the man. He captured your arms in a painfully tight grip, pulling you into his large frame, before leaning down to hiss in your ear, “Angel’s dead, you fucking puttana. You ought to know, you started all of this.”

You felt your mouth go dry and your hands began to shake as you thought back to the night John set Angel's restaurant ablaze. There had been no peace with the Italians since, only an escalation of violence. In the wake of Grace's death you should have known the Shelbys would retaliate and now, according to the tradition of the vendetta, they would pay dearly in return. It was in this moment that you remembered Charlie and prayed he was hiding himself well as Enzo slowly dragged you toward the exit.

To your horror the empty hallway soon filled with the sounds of a screaming child and the sight of a second man holding Charlie’s wriggling body in his arms.

You thrashed wildly against Enzo to reach the boy as you pleaded, “Take me and let him go. Please, he’s just a child. Don’t hurt him!”

Unwilling to hear any more, Enzo silenced you by placing his large hand over your mouth and nose. You continued to struggle until you could no longer breathe, the room spinning around you and black spots dancing across your vision before you gave into the darkness.

---------------

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#Peaky Blinders fanfic #Peaky Blinders imagine #Tommy Shelby #John Shelby #Tommy Shelby x you #Tommy Shelby x y/n #Tommy Shelby x reader #John Shelby x y/n #John Shelby x you #John Shelby x reader

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reevesdriver · 20 days

Text

Mr. Dutton: Part 2 (NSFW)

Anon request: "John Dutton X reader have been dating for a while now and they’re sneaking around the house like teenagers, but they get caught by Beth. They could be caught making out in his office late and she barges in."

Word count: 996 (Bit short I know)

Reader: Female reader

Character(s): John Dutton

Warning(s): NSFW / 🔥🔥🔥 / Smut / Secret Relationship / Shower Sex / Dads Best Friend /

Support Me: Kofi

Part 1

Ever since that heated night where you took your best friends dad for the ride of his life John was unable to keep his hands off you. A few subtle glances here and some touching there drove the both of you mad. A few weeks had passed since that night and you hadn't had the chance to spend time with one another since the house was almost always full.

After a long morning of tending to the horses and doing housework around the Dutton ranch you opted for a hot shower to wash all the dirt and grime off of you. The house was empty, aside from John who was sat in his office on the phone to someone. Deciding not to disturb him whilst he was on a call you turned the shower on and waited for it to get warm before stripping your clothes and jumping in under the spray of water.

You looked down at the grime and first that was being rinsed down the plughole when you heard the bathroom door opening. "John?" You ask to the figure on the other side of the glass.

The sound of heavy fabric hitting the floor made your cheeks flush red and soon your question was answered when John pulled open the door to the shower and stepped inside, immediately embracing you. "You could've told me you were havin' a shower darlin', I would've joined you sooner."

"You were on the phone, didn't want to disturb you."

He hummed. "I'd rather be with you than dealing with bullshit." He says before kissing you softly. "Been a while since we've had anytime to ourselves."

His hands wander from around your body down to your waist and then over the curve of your ass where he grabs handfuls of the flesh pulling you against his body roughly. You feel his hardened cock prodding your soft belly, running a hand from his back you traced his sides before taking a hold of his cock in your palm.

"Quit teasing' me." John hissed as you gently squeezed his length. You laugh and in an instant he has your legs wrapped around him and your back pinned to the wall of the shower. His cock is sheathed inside of you and your arms instinctively wrap around the back of his neck as he manages to life you up and down on his length.

He may not look it but John was a strong man. Years working on the ranch had worked in his favour and you knew that you didn't have to worry about him dropping you as he fucked you harder. "C'mon baby." He says between pants and kisses. You clench around his cock as you cum and John follows soon after, his seed dripping out of you when he pulls his cock from your throbbing pussy.

The pair of you share more kisses in-between getting each other washed under the spray of water before eventually John drags you out of the bathroom to get dried and dressed. You slip into some comfy clothes and dump your dirtied ones into the laundry basket ready to be washed later on.

Later that day, when the house was clean and you'd finished putting your laundry away you found yourself walking to Johns office. With a gentle knock at the door you heard his gruff voice call from the other side telling you to enter, John sat at his desk with a cup of coffee in his hand. His cowboy hat had been taken off and placed beside a stack of papers that slowly piled up on his desk.

"Hey darlin'" He said with a smile as he sat back in his chair and watched as you closed the door and crossed the room. Picking his black hat up you dropped it on your head and sat perched on the edge of his desk in front of him. His hands immediately wrapped around your frame and you pulled him to your chest. "You're lookin' mighty stressed again John, anything I can do to help?" You say with a smirk.

"I'm sure there's a few things you could do for me." He laughs and you hum in content. Lifting his head from your chest John moves to capture your lips with his, he stands and pulls you off the desk and to your feet so he can hold you against his body easier. The height difference between the two of you barely affects the kiss since you stand on your tip-toes to reach him.

Your breathing deepens and as you press yourself to him the pair of you fail to hear the thudding of boots as Johns only daughter, and your best friend, storms her way to the office with a determined look on her face. “Daddy I can’t even tell you how mad I am.” She says entering the office. You jolt away from one another and turn to face the youngest Dutton who isn’t at all fazed with what was in front of her.

You stare at her, like a dear caught in the headlights and Beth laughs. "Don't look so worried, I already knew you two had a thing going on. You might wanna be quiet next time you're fucking."

Heat rises to your cheeks in embarrassment and you quickly return Johns hat to the spot on the desk that you took it from. Moving from your lover you hastily leave the room and head back to your own and shut the door behind you. Throwing yourself on your bed you stare at the wooden beams spreading across the ceiling when there's a knock at your door.

As you sit up the door opens and Beth takes a step into the room. "Beth, I-I'm sorry. I should've told you sooner." You stammer out an apology and she smiles.

"You've nothin' to apologise for, not seen my daddy so happy in a long while. Just don't break his heart."

"I won't."

#mine #mywriting #John dutton #Yellowstone #beth dutton #John Dutton x reader #John dutton smut #John Dutton x female reader #female reader #reader insert #Yellowstone imagine #John dutton imagine #Kevin Costner smut

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aeoncss · 1 year

Text

crave | professor!john price x f!reader

a/n: hey! first time posting my writing abt price on this account so i’m a teensy bit nervous, but i hope y’all enjoy this small drabble regardless.

warnings: smut (MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY), ‘forbidden’ relationship, female reader, fingering, not proof read lol

based off of this song

it was so easy falling into the space of john’s arms without ever thinking about the consequences.

the smell of his aftershave and the lingering scent of his woodsy cologne blocked all your senses of thinking clearly – inhabiting any coherent thought that you had about him, and about the relationship the two of you shared.

you two fell into a rhythm so easily – starting with longing stares from across his classroom, to idle touches whenever you stay a few minutes after his lecture to ask a simple, easily answered question.

you didn’t care. all you wanted was john’s attention, and without you ever knowing, he wanted yours as well. craved it every second when he would see your innocent smile from your seat.

but the two of you know better. know that it’s a horrible craving that either of you can’t crush, can’t bring yourself to break away from because the addiction is too much.

too pleasing.

so the thoughts of morality and future endeavors escape your head when everything about him fills your senses, leaving you wreck-less. it’s pathetic, almost; the way your brain can’t seem to gather it’s circulation when john whispers such filthy murmurs into your ear, two fingers curling slowly inside your slick walls. he pumps them to the tune of your heartbeat - his breath fogging against the curve of your neck as you flutter around him, completely surrendering yourself to him.

“price..” his last name slips so easily from between your lips, and the older male sitting below you can only reply in a seductive hum.

“yes, love?” john’s voice grows rough, more timber when the taste of lust coats his tongue.

it truly drives you mad.

“don’t—“ your words cut short when his middle finger gently presses against a spot he’s abused several times before, leaving your head spinning, lips parting in a desperate gasp. “don’t s-stop, please.”

your professor smirks against the your sweat-sheen skin, his warm tongue barely slipping past his swollen lips to deliver an open mouthed kiss to your bare collarbone. your body shudders on top of him, john’s eyes adorning the sight of you slowly coming undone, and he hasn’t even started with you yet.

this addiction - he’ll never bring himself to step away from it. not when your breathy moans are so pretty. not when the sound of you whimpering out his name is forever engraved into him.

he’s a lost cause, all thanks to you.

it’s a restless cycle that leaves you feeling breathless without him next to you - without feeling his embrace, no matter if it’s only raged by pheromones and the promise of his seed. you’ll keep finding yourself back to the place you call home, where the name ‘john price’ is stamped right above it.

consequences? damn them to hell.

#captain price #captain john price #john price #mw2 #mw2 2022 #mw2 price #captain price smut #cod mw19 #call of duty mw19 #mw19 #mw2 smut #call of duty mw2 #mw2 captain price

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englass · 1 year

Text

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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user405203 · 2 months

Text

The little sister (JJ x Female reader) Smut

Summary: You're John B's little sister, just for 1 year, but he's supper overprotective with you and doesn't like boys approaching you, he trusts in JJ because he thought that he saw you like a little sister, but he was wrong.

Warning: Smut, getting caught, unprotected sex (please don't do that), choking, riding...

Word count: ~570

-I'm going with Sarah to the mall, she wants some stuffs, and she also wants to go with me, so please JJ take care of my sister-. John B told to JJ like I was a 5 years old.

-I'm only 1 year younger, not a baby, John B-. I told him.

-I know, but you're going always to be my little sister-. He said, hugging me.

-Don't worry, John, I'm going to take care of your sister and do everything so she is happy and okay-. He told to John B and then wink his eye to me. I chuckle a little, and then John left.

After John B left I couldn't say anything because JJ grab my waist, slammed me against the wall and kiss me desperately.

-I've been waiting all day, so I could do this-. He starts to kiss down my neck.

-Mmh, I love this, keep going-. I moaned to JJ.

-Let's get to your room so we could fuck-. He brings me to my room, throw me on my bed and starts to take his clothes off and me too.

He starts kissing me again, and I roll us, so now I'm on top.

-I want to ride you daddy, I want to feel your huge and hard cock-. I groan.

-Do it if that's what you want, fucking slut-. He said, and then spank my ass two times.

I guide his hard cock to my entrance and put it in slowly.

-Aah, is getting inside, mmh it's so big ahh-. When all of him was inside of me, I've to stay there for a while to get comfortable, and then start to ride him.

-God, you're so tight that I think I'm going to cum right now, mmh-. He groans.-What do you think your brother will say if he saw us uh, he will freak out, looking how all of me is inside of you mmh-.

-Aah I don't care what will he think, I only want your dick-. I moan.

He flipped us so now he's on top.

-Yeah, you don't care fucking whore, you don't care getting caught by your brother-. He said after start choking me, I couldn't respond, I only could roll my eyes.

He continues pounding on me when I hear the door opening.

-Aah JJ, I think my brother is back ahh, you have to stop-. I pleaded.

-I don't think so darling, you said you don't care, so I'm not going to stop-. He keeps going.

-Hi, I left my wallet here-. John B said.-Hello, there's someone here?-. He asked.

He was getting closer, so JJ start to thrust harder and faster.

-Stay quiet and be a good girl for me-. He demands.

I couldn't hold it any longer I roll my eyes and curl my toes, he continues to squeeze my neck.

-Ahhh I'm cumming, daddy yees mmh-. I moan and then JJ starts to go faster, and I felt how his seed was getting inside of me.

-God I love this mmhh-. JJ said.

I turned my face and I saw John B standing on the door in shock, then his expression change and angrily shout.

-JJ get off my sister now! You both, clothes, now, and we're going to talk-. He left, and JJ and I look at each other and laugh. There's nothing we could do now that we've been caught.

#outer banks smut #jj maybank smut #jj smut #obx smut #jj maybank

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shalotttower · 5 months

Text

🍎Rules

📚 Remember that everything you're reading here is entertainment fiction, and not real.

📜 Masterlist, AO3, Shalott's Attic: my other blog for everything else that doesn't fit yandere topic. Viewer discretion is still advised, but yandere isn't the main focus there.

🖋️ Content Focus:

- Yandere fiction

- Dark fantasy

- Psychological thriller

- Dark romance

- Dark Soulmate AUs

- Female reader x Male character

🔞 Viewer Discretion: Please note that the content on this blog is intended for audiences aged 18 and above. Some posts may contain mature themes, violence, dubious consent and explicit content. Viewer discretion is advised.

📚 Fandoms:

- Far Cry 5 (Joseph Seed, John Seed, Jacob Seed)

- Far Cry 4 (Pagan Min)

- Death Note (L Lawliet)

- Slashers (Michael Myers, Brahms Heelshire, Billy Lenz, Booba Sawyer, Asa Emory, Pinhead, Candyman)

- Hunter x Hunter (Chrollo Lucilfer, Illumi)

- Resident Evil Village (Lady Dimitrescu)

- Original works

- Monster (Johan Liebert)

- Outlast (the Twins, Richard Trager)

- BTD, TPOF (Ren Hana/The Announcer/Fox)

- John Doe Game (John Doe)

- Hannibal NBC (Hannibal)

📝 Submission Guidelines:

- Feel free to submit requests, prompts, or ideas related to the mentioned genres and fandoms. I don't promise to write for all of them, but might fish something out of this list when I'm out of ideas. I reserve the right to accept or decline requests based on my comfort level and availability.

- If you're leaving a request, please start it with "hello" at least. It makes me feel a little bit better and being nice hasn't killed anyone yet, even on the internet.

- I will not write rough non-con, underage characters, necrophilia, water sports and related.

🚫 Rules:

- Do not repost my content without credits.

- Minors' blogs DNI, ageless blogs DNI, I'll block you if I spot you.

- If you regard writers as your personal entertainment monkeys, please don't approach me, I'll block you.

If you have any questions, feel free to ask.

Have a nice day!

#rules #navigation #content #fandoms #submissions

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seedofjoseph · 1 year

Text

but you choose death and company

Fandom: Far Cry 5

Pairing: John Seed x F!Deputy

Raiting: E (explicit)

Words: 3700

Warning: dub-con, intoxication, bondage, blood & injury, guilt-tripping, gaslighting, love-bombing & other indoctrination tactics

John Seed hasn't been seen on his ranch since the snow slid off of the rooftops this spring. Since the day began to grow and the night all but withered away, he has been sowing fear and reaping rewards.

The moon looks on in silence as he unloads an armory's worth of bullets into your sanctuary: Spread Eagle Bar.

"If you want your drink," Mary May Fairgrave coughs, emerging from the smoke. "John's serving it at Seed Ranch," she hisses as you hold her, skin still sizzling from the Molotov cocktail that burned down her life. "Son of a bitch reaped my entire supply."

Not a single star hears your death wish over the angry roar of your engine.

"I know you're parched," John Seed slurs over the static. "I know there's nothing like a cold drink after a hot summer's day of sinning," he breathes down your neck, out the radio receiver on your shoulder, as any suicide co-pilot would. "You want seconds? Thirds? I've got enough to last you the Collapse, so won't you share one with me, Deputy?"

Just as rumoured, the Reaper is nowhere to be seen on Seed Ranch. There is no trace of humans welcoming the trespasser either. There is nobody but the cold moon to spot you sneaking across, up, and onto a balcony. And there he is, in the warm light of the master bedroom, the beacon in the night.

"Deputy?"

Or, rather, a pale reflection of the Baptist who had you hooked with piercing blue eyes from star-studded waters all those nights ago. Tonight, he looks to you like a faded photograph, like a man drowning in shallow waters. Even his eyes shine like the moon, like a mere mirror of the sun.

"Welcome," he throws his heavy hands towards the ceiling. "To your atonement," he dropped them to his hips, but they slipped on the silky robe falling in blue waves on his sides. "You're here," his voice is small, like he is on his last breath. "You're really here."

Tonight, he looks like Death.

Drawing your handgun, you step out of the night and into the light. "You invited me."

"And you RSVPed," he blinks, his wax face melting before your solid apparition. Slowly raising his hands from where they hung like weights at his sides, he points to the silver tray floating on a sea of blue sheets. "Thirsty? You must be thirsty."

Drawing closer, you take note of the lack of a holster under his robe, and you don't jot down the absence of undergarments. But you can't help taking in the black ink on the white canvass of his calves that are being revealed to you as he turns on his heels. Or the sway in his step on the short walk to the bed.

"And you must be drunk."

"Nine years," he snarls, snatching two full glasses and swiveling around. With his face now reddening at the edges, he starts spitting fire and almost pours out the alcohol onto the sheets. "Nine years of sobriety down the fucking drain," he empties one glass and stretches his arm out towards you with the other. "Because of you. You've done this. All of this," he narrows his eyes, struggling to stare you down. "You've lit a fire inside me, Wrath. Which lit a bigger fire in Fall's End, which-"

You cock the gun. "You steal businesses, you ruin homes, and you take lives," you raised your voice with a vengeance. "You're the one sowing wrath, Seed, and it's about fucking time you reap it." But, before the barrel can rise between his clouded blue eyes, two rifles are pointed at either side of your temple. "What the-"

"Didn't see it coming, did you, Wrath? Hah! You've been blinded by your sin," John Seed raises both hands, one for each sentinel stationed on either side of his balcony. "But I can heal you. I can open up this festering wound, I can fill it up, up, up," he brings the glass back between the two of you. "And I can put this fire out once and for all," he splashes the spirit between your eyes.

"Fuck," you fire off the gun in the darkness behind your burning eyes.

"Fuck," he echoes.

"Brother John," one voice rings in your right ear.

"Your face," a second voice sounds off in your left ear. "Your face is bleeding."

"Fuck my fucking face," John hisses. "Get that fucking gun away from her before she fires off another shot into the equipment."

There are footsteps stampeding all around you and both of your eardrums follow the rhythm. There is also a dark shape blocking the light burning your eyes as you open them.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you hear John hyperventilate. "The FM transmitter is fucking fucked."

"We can still record it."

The shape splits into two: one secures you gun and the other binds your arms behind your back.

"Yes," John's voice gets louder and louder. "Yes, brothers, the camera is still rolling."

Your blood boils hotter and hotter the closer and closer you're being dragged. "Camera?"

"Your atonement is a matter of public safety, Wrath," he sounds suffocatingly close now, like he's breathing down your neck unfiltered by the transmitter. "And of public interest. The fire you've started, your little resistance, needs to be extinguished county-wide and it needs to be done tonight."

Once he gives you back your space, his speech is distant and cold again, like the moon. They are both watching you wrestle the hands pulling yours above your head and pushing them into the matress: "This is the will of the Father."

"Make it a public execution then," you scream to the ceiling, or the skies, or the stars. "Because I won't confess, I won't beg for forgiveness, and I'll die before I say yes," you scream to whoever might be looking down, to whoever your blind eyes can't see.

"And I will die before I martyr you," he sounds questionably sober and definitely wrathful, like the bullet you misfired had brought him back to life.

"I bet you would, Seed," you sound like Wrath herself. "I bet you sent security home and brought along your little camera crew for it," you snarl left and right and all around you at the feeling of your wrists being fastened to the bedpost.

"And I bet you came here with no plan, no backup, and no hope that you'll make it out alive," his words fall heavy on your ears. "But you can beg, and plead and pray all night. I will not damn your soul to hell," his thighs are weights on your torso as he sits astride. "I will descend into the deep dark depths. I will flood you with pain and drown every demon in my wake," he roars over the ripping of your cotton shirt and your spandex sports bra. "I will cleanse you."

"No," you bellow, bucking your hips up into his which rut back into yours. "No," you wail, wiggling your wrists in the rope. "No," you choke, curving your spine and pouring your chest into the cups of his hands.

"Yes," he screams, squeezing your supple flesh. "Yes," he persists, pinching the peaks, pulling them up along with your pitch. "Say yes," he insists, inducing a fever inside of you.

"No," you burn - eyes, body, soul and all.

"Say you want me dead more than you want your barmaid to live," he rages, your fire spreading through him. "Say you want to die taking me down more than you want to live by her side," he releases your breasts only to bring back his hands on them with a slap. "Say it." And another.

"Yes," you cough, your throat tightening. "Yes, bastard, yes," you sob. "Yes, I want to burn with you more than I want to drink with her tonight," you cry, putting out the fire in your eyes.

"Ah," John Seed exhales, cooling off your hot tears. "There she is," he inhales, taking your breath away. "There's my Wrath," he whispers, confesing his own sin in the confines of your open mouth, his thick beard raking up against the sore skin of your chin. "She's really here," he pulls away his face and his hand from yours.

After his withdrawl, your sight returns everything comes into focus: the zoom of the camera lense on your face, the blood red graze of your bullet against his, and the heavenly blue of his eyes. No longer is he reflecting the yellow light hanging from the ceiling. Now it's shimmering with unshed tears and a glow all their own, as the sun itself would.

"You won't regret this," he speaks to you, but his eyes turns to his side. "I promise," he nods, summoning the other santinel along with the silver tray.

"You're not here to surrender your life," he takes a swing of the bottle before bringing to your mouth. "You're here to receive a new one," he wets his lips as yours wrap around the rim. "A life free of sin," he smiles as you suckle. "For I will scrub you clean of every one of them," he pulls away the drink and pours the rest all over your chest. Licking up the liquor with his eyes as it runs between the valley of your breasts, he replaces the empty bottle with a loaded tattoo gun. "Starting with the one you already confessed: wrath. After, we'll go with gluttony since I already indulged you. Then, we see where the night takes us. So, my dear, what do you say?"

With a cleared vision, you watch him. Yet, it isn't what your eyes see that clears your mind, but what you don't see: wrath. There is no wrath lighting the fire in John Seed's sweat-slick chest, or his blow-out eyes, or even the heat of his velvet cock under his silk robe, atop the pit of your burning belly.

With a cleared voice, you speak.

"Yes."

John Seed hasn't been sleeping in his own king-sized bed since winter came to an end. Since the sun started rising earlier, so has he. And, at night, he sets alongside it, over the horizon and down into his bunker.

The sun catches you sleeping in the Seed Ranch master bedroom the morning after your atonement. The morning after, the master himself is also spotted in there.

He grumbles, gathering your bandaged body into his arms. "How's the hangover?"

You snort, seeking out his heat through the thin sheet separating your skins. "Believe it or not, I've had worse."

"Oh, but I believe it," he runs one hand across your thrumming temple. "I've also had worse," he grabs a glass with the other. "Only water for you from now on," he offers.

You accept.

The sun catches you drinking in the sight of his Adam's apple bobbing. And your tongue tasting your own lips while his press up against the impression of them on the rim. And it couldn't have missed the buck of his bare hips into your covered crotch. You had just squeezed your thighs around him, your own body betraying your truth as it did throughout the night.

"My dear," he grits his teeth, gripping the glass tight. "What was that about you being a good girl?"

"Oh, John," you suck your bottom lip and squeeze your eyes shut. "I thought you washed away the bad."

Before the sun caught you in bed together, John Seed had carved out of you a confession of carnal desire for Mary May Fairgrave. And for him.

It was the last of the seven sins he exorcised out of you, the sin he exposed between your hipbones, into your womb, and onto a digital camera's memory card. It was the sin he shared with you, just out of frame, as he exorcised it out of himself, exposing his big burning erection to you and erupting between your blood-stained thighs. After your Atonement, he washed away his sin as well as yours with a cold sponge, but not before burning Lust with the salt of the two of them combined.

And now, after the sun caught you, he traces it with trembling fingers through the white sheet and the bloody bandage coming between your bodies.

"I did, didn't I?" He hisses, just as thirsty, hungry, and touch-starved as you. "Yes, I did. This can't be Lust. This can't be sin."

"How is this not sin?"

Because you bled it out all over your scarred stomach and trembling thighs. He scrubbed it clean with his hot seed and a cold sponge. Your body throbbed like you'd been training until your muscles burned, like you were energized by the endorphins flooding your bloodstream. Because the old you died under the moon last night, and a new you was born in the sunlight this morning.

"Because I choked it out," he presses his open palm to your pelvis and his forehead against your own. "And I breathed life into you."

He has to believe that. And you? You also have to believe that. After you gave up your life to be born again, to bleed out on his mattress and wake up in his bed, you have to believe that. You have to believe him.

"Your urges," he sniffs, the smell of you seeping through the sheet. "My urges," he swallows, the taste of you soaking up his tongue. "They are from God."

He has to believe in Him. And you? You have to believe in Him, too. As sure as the sun watches over you this morning, He is your witness. And you have to believe in Him.

"My dear," he brushes his nose up against yours. "As God is my witness, I gave you life," he presses his lips against yours. "I gave you my life," he pushes each word into your mouth. "As God is my witness, you were reborn in my bed last night," he growls, gripping the sheet and the bandage with one hand and ripping them off of your torso.

"Yes," you now share his breath as you've been sharing his bed. "Yes," you now share his breath as his fingers force your windpipe close. "Yes, John, yes," you now choke as he constrains your airwaves.

This can't be sin. You have to believe it. You have to believe him.

You have to believe he'll revive you after strangling the life out of you. You have to believe his deadly hands are scrubbing you clean of sin. And you have to believe his seed is disinfecting your sin as his cock spills it all over your stomach.

"My dear girl," he marvels at you. "You're all clean now," he runs his fingers over the sore spot he just squeezed. "You're pure," he rubs his come into each letter he carved and then mixes it with yours as it pours out of your pussy. "Immaculate."

"Brother John?"

"Yes?"

The door stays closed, but the voice bursts through it all the same. "The Father is requesting permission to land."

"Joseph is here?"

"The Father is here."

They can't remember the last time Joseph Seed stepped foot on the ranch. Though they do remember he didn't approve of any alcoholic beverages being stocked in the kitchen pantry or served on silver trays. And John Seed does remember swearing out his sin when he first arrived in Hope County.

"Shh," he smoothes back your shower-soaked hair. "I washed it all away," he towels off your torso, careful not to cause any of your scars to spill. Though he does take his time with Gluttony, the sin he disinfected using the last bottle of your favorite beverage when he spilled it all over the letters on your lower back, turning the liquor into holy water. "Joseph will see that."

And Joseph Seed can't wait to see it.

The voice returns and brings along knuckles rapping at the master bedroom door. "Brother John?"

"Yes?"

"The Father is downstairs."

Slicking back his wet hair, John looks down on you and sees that you are still damp. "If you hadn't shot the FM transmitter, he wouldn't have to be here," he says, eyes burning with a fire that cannot be Wrath, even if the angry scar on his cheek stings of that very sin. It stings of your sin. "He will see that," he repeats himself, retracing the word he carved into your chest and reigniting the pain he used to purify you.

He will see it, just like John said. And he will see it, but not through a thin bedsheet or a bloody bandage. Joseph Seed will see it through a white cotton dress.

"I won't ask if you have a bra laying around," you caress the Eden's Gate cross that is splayed out onto your chest. It doesn't cover your breasts or the nipples which poke at it like needles, and you won't ask who'd worn it before you, even as you trace your Envy tattoo. "But what about-"

"You won't be needing any," he smirks, stuffing himself into a pair of underwear that seems too small for him and too large for you. He smirks because he caught you staring at his bare body, shimmering in the sunlight.

"And you won't be needing shoes either," he answers before you ask, pulling his pants over his boots.

The rapping at the door comes back for an encore.

"Coming," he calls towards the door, his biceps bulging under the blue shirt sleeves he's rolling up. "Come," he calls to you, offering you his arm.

When you stretch out both of yours to meet him, you feel the fastenings you fought against last night and watch your rope-burnt wrists as you wrap them around his forearm.

"Look at you." And when you look up at the man who had you bound to his, you see none of the wrath that he had to wrestle into submission last night. Instead, you see another fire you've ignited within him. "You're perfect."

The morning after your Atonement, you see nothing but clear blue skies and the sun catching in his eyes. And, on the same morning, you see Joseph Seed in daylight for the very first time.

"Good morning," John Seed declares, descending the stairs with you on his arm. But the man on the first level remains reclined in his chair and as silent as the animal trophies on the mantel. "And what a good morning it is. Sorry for keeping you waiting, brother," he hurries to the bottom step and only halts to help you off of it. "There is no rest for the wicked," he holds his breath, holds your hands in the crook of his elbow, and your bare, sore feet on the hard, wood floor. "And this one kept me up all night."

You look up to him, searching for something to cool your nerves inside of his eyes, but failed to find it. The moon wasn't there, nor was the sun, but there was a fire. And they were watching the Father, burning holes into the back of his head as he stood up.

"I see," he speaks but doesn't look back. His eyes are captivated by the camera display, the details of your delay up on the small screen, and under his scrutiny. "You've been working yourself into an early grave, John," he slams the screen shut, the sound of which startles you both. "The last I heard from you was a gunshot," he sets the camera down on the coffee table, right next to a handgun and a badge. "Then, static."

"It was the deputy," John jumps to defend himself, making you jerk. "She was one step away from falling off the edge," he braces himself, bracing his hands where they're gripping him by the bicep. "I pulled her soul away from the precipice of hell itself," he looks at you, at where your fingers are intertwined and where his own joined them. He looks at you and his muscles, along with his nerves, unknot. "I saved her, Joseph. The deputy is dead."

"I see," Joseph speaks. And, following John's line of sight, you arrive at the aviator sunglasses and the light catching in them. "Bring her to me."

This morning, you see Joseph Seed in daylight for the very first time. On the same morning, he sees you, the real you. While you have your white dress to hide behind, there is nothing but yellow glass standing between your body and his naked stare. And while you walk to him with John Seed's warm hands on your shoulders, a chill climbs up your spine in time with his eyes reaching yours from all the way down your bare toes.

"God is watching," he stares you down, lifting your face up with both of his hands. "He saw you opening your heart, shedding your skin, and baring your soul," he descends onto you, his forehead falling atop yours. "He saw you have embraced His gift and He has graced you with a new life," he smothers your nose with his. "Will you trust me with it? Remember God is watching us."

"Yes," John soothes you by spinning circles into your wing bones. "Say yes," he thumbs the Pride tattoo through the thin thin cotton.

"Yes," you whimper into his mouth, which is only a word away. "Yes, Father, yes" you exhale, all the air in your lungs now lost between his lips.

"My child," he inhales and moves his mouth before it can meld with yours. And you're breathless as it presses against your furrowed brow. "The Gates of Eden are now open to you," he exhales over the wet outline of his kiss. "Your Brother John will march you right through."

"Yes, Joseph," John joins in, kissing the crown of your head and compressing your tenderized body between their two hardened ones. "I'll keep her safe," he joins his and the Father's foreheads, sighing in relief and ruffling your hair. "I'll protect our Family."

The sun catches you under the Father's chin, your nose in his shirt collar, and his scent on your tongue. And it couldn't have missed Brother John's hand on your stomach, over the knee-length skirt of your dress, and the still-sore Lust scar. And God sees everything.

The junior deputy was last been seen alive driving over the speed limit in the dead of night. Only the sun and God Himself watch over her now. And every eye in a Hope County household with a plugged-in TV set.

#far cry 5 #john seed #john seed x deputy #john seed x reader #john seed x female deputy #the deputy #deputy rook #here it isss #named after 'speechless' by lady gaga like I've been rambling about for a week now #while the initial post is cracky #you've been warned about me taking my own bullshit seriously while writing this #enjoooy #fanfic

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