#deputy x pratt

[imgnnafurgf]

Pratt: I think Jacob likes me.

Deputy: what? Why?

Pratt: he called me a dog and he loves his wolves.

Deputy:

Deputy: Staci, this is not-

[derputy]

Far Cry 5 as Community (with terrible closed captions) Because I'm Running Out of Ideas & I Thought It Kinda Fit || @racheljo47 @ms-rampage @i-am-the-balancing-point

[loserreinawriter]

Open Far Cry 5 x reader requests!!

Hi!! (New to this app so please excuse any mistakes) But I’ve been writing for years and want to take on some Far Cry 5 X reader ideas, even with a quieter fandom. Could be any human adult character, just send a prompt and request and I’ll happily oblige :D

Note: Reader will always be assumed to be the deputy unless requested to be otherwise, and will be written as gender neutral if not explicitly requested as otherwise.

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Chapter 54: Like Arrows in the Hand of a Warrior are the Children. Blessed is the Man Who Fills His Quiver with Them

Summary: Family drama continues for Kit and the kids at Saint Francis, but the decision is finally made to let them remain

Apologies for the nearly 2 months wait for another chapter, but I'm back with another installment with only six chapters to go from here.

Warnings for this chapter: general Kit instability warning, child endangerment, violence, mentions of past child abuse

[gaqalesqua]

When Deputy Jessie Dawn drags her boyfriend out of the mountains and into the Henbane for some Peggie-killing catharsis, she didn't intend to stumble through a Bliss field.

Neither of them are complaining.

[polyamships]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Far Cry 5, Far Cry (Video Games) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Deputy | Judge/Joey Hudson/Staci Pratt Characters: Staci Pratt, Deputy | Judge (Far Cry), Joey Hudson Additional Tags: Fluff and Smut, Rope Bondage, Polyamory, Threesome - F/M/Other, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Deputy | Judge (Far Cry) - Freeform, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Established Relationship, Pre-Far Cry 5, Oral Sex, Light Dom/sub, Femdom, Dom Joey Hudson, Sub Staci Pratt, Sub Deputy | Judge (Far Cry), Explicit Sexual Content, Masturbation, Voyeurism, polyamships' Polyam Shipping Days, Community: seasonofkink, Ficlet Series: Part 5 of Polyam Shipping Days, Part 1 of Season of Kink Bingo 2023, Part 195 of Polyamory Fics Summary:

Staci tries bondage with Rook and Joey for the first time.

[paradlselost]

i am so glad im finding another person who writes for far cry :)) if possible, can we see a jacob seed x gn!deputy who replaces pratt as his prisoner? it ends with jacob being their one and only, (even if its dubcon)

WIND — UP TOY

jacob seed x gn!deputy

⎨ 𝐀𝐍 ⎬ ty for being my first submission ! jacob and his region lowkey scare the shit out of me lmao 🙏 kinda a little fucked up but I mean it’s jacob seed . also sorry this took so long ); smut below the cut

no use of y/n , reader is referred to as ‘ deputy ’ . gender specific nicknames are replaced by ‘ pup ’ . not beta - read

⎨ 𝐂𝐖 ⎬ blasphemy , deputy is treated like a dog , implied forced cannibalism , implied death of a minor character , brainwashing , jacobs his own warning isn’t he ? smut : dub - con , degrading , oral ( m receiving ) , soft - ish sex , penetration , dacryphillia , one - sided orgasm .

It always crept up on him when he least expected it; when things began to have a sense of normalcy. His days a haze and his nights clouded with gunfire and explosions, dreams marred with blood and the guts of former comrades and men who died far too young. For what?

What is the American dream when the world is going to end anyways? What are the soldiers overseas fighting for when the rivers will soon flow with blood and the ground tarred with ash?

His hand runs over his face; rubbing tired eyes. Demons of his past prey on him while he sleeps, turning him weak. Two to three hours is good enough for him, leaves him rested enough for his eyes to focus on the maps in front of him.

Being the leader of the army of Eden’s Gate wasn’t an easy job, though he held it with pride - a cardinal sin - but Joseph would forgive him as long as the prophecies his little brother had bouncing around his head came true. Jacob didn’t know if he believed in anything, really, it was hard to imagine God was with the soldiers that clutched cross pendants behind HESCO barriers.

But where he might’ve drifted from the true meaning of the cause further and further, where he might’ve argued the existence of a higher power with Joseph; one thing grounded him to his purpose and place in the cult. The Deputy.

Joseph’s ramblings were insane to the layman and gospel to the believer - but it seemed right now they were damn prophetic. Everything he said the Deputy would do; they did, and left bodies in their wake. Sometimes, he would watch whatever the cameras picked up of them on his screens, how they traversed the Whitetails with an almost practiced knowledge.

Sometimes, he felt like the eighteen year old new enlistee again when he watched them. The blood, the gunfire. Jacob Seed was a tough man, righteous and brave, but he would look down at them in their cage and feel the fire on his skin from the ranch he burned all those years ago.

He hated the feeling, wanting to drive his pocket knife into his chest and carve out every semblance of memory he had. But then his music box would rewind, and he would hear the sweet sound of the Platters crooning through the wood and metal and maybe, just maybe, things would be okay for him.

So he watched the way the Deputy writhe behind those thick steel bars against the cold soil, not afforded the luxuries even the most depraved prisoners received. Weak and idiotic for attempting to save their friend; but a mind that could be molded with the right tune.

Staci Pratt was a good pet; Pavlovian in nature and willing to do anything for the oldest Seed brother, so maybe that’s why Jacob began to grow bored of the man. Maybe that’s why he entertained the cracks beginning to show in the conditioning, how Pratt’s eyes softened at the sight of their co-worker being taunted by the Herald and yet knowing there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

An escape plan, of course he knew about it, he had eyes and ears everywhere and could always tell when one of his dogs stepped out of line. A perfectly timed truck, the siren going off to alert that a prisoner had escaped, catching Pratt as he allowed the Deputy to leave without him. It was almost sweet, but moreover vomit-inducing, like a lamb.

Sheep are creatures controlled by their own nature, that’s why dogs have to herd them back into formation - like a general in charge of new recruits. Intolerables are discharged, lambs are taken to the slaughterhouse. Nature, the circle of life, the bad meat is thrown out for the poor and needy to pick through.

“Eat. You wouldn’t want to fall sick, would you?”

A tin was placed in front of the Deputy, they had been through this before. Starved for however many days Jacob deemed necessary - usually ten - before they are given nothing but raw meat to eat. Never did they think they would yearn for the peanuts and beer served at the Spread Eagle, but there was no position to argue about what they were being given here.

Some fell over the side as greedy hands shoveled clump after clump into their mouth, covering it in a pitiful yet successful attempt to keep it down. Never did they ask what kind of meat it was, choosing to instead assume it was from one of the many cow farms in the valley.

“You’re hungry, aren’t ya, pup? You’re lucky, that’s a nice cut of meat.” A grin played on his face as he leaned against the metal bars, fingers grazing over his music box. There wouldn’t be any culling today, no, he had a much better idea in mind.

“Where’s Pratt?”

“Not even a thank you for my generosity, aren’t you fierce?”

“Where is he?”

“Peaches’s little act of rebellion earned him a punishment, I mean; that’s only fair. In a war like this you can’t go sympathizing with the devil, no matter how well you knew them before.”

It’s not an answer, but there’s an unspoken understanding that that is the closest thing the Deputy will get to knowing. A huff falling from their lips, ever the ungrateful dog; but their bowl is licked clean and what more can Jacob ask for?

A soft tsk fell from his lips, cold and condescending because how could he be anything but? Did the thing below him deserve care and kindness? Maybe at some point when they were strong, when their mind was still their own, but now they were nothing but a lamb being fattened for the slaughter.

His fingers grasped their chin, forcing eye contact and no doubt leaving marks that would form bruises. How much had they been through? Chest slashed with the markings from Jacobs little brother and mind already foggy from the bliss that grew in the Henbane; but there was a certain pride he took in being the one to break them.

How much time had passed? Had anyone come looking for them? Jacob had often taunted them, used the fact that they were immobile against the conditioning he had given them to contact anyone. The rebellion would fall without their snake, maybe it already had, how would the Deputy know?

It wasn’t their place to think anymore, to simply let the oldest Herald put a leash around their neck and sit beside like a good dog. Their mind wasn’t their own, now it belonged to him and they had no room to complain.

“Look at’chu, open your mouth.” But he didn’t wait for them to comply, instead he bullied his fingers against their tongue, exploring over their gums and teeth. They could bite him, certainly, but they didn’t - wouldn’t.

Who was Jacob Seed but their owner? He had saved them from themselves, from the blood and the gore and the fire that threatened to burn the world to nothing but ashes. Joseph had greeted them in their new form, John had shown up to pout, but their eyes only ever stayed on the eldest.

“Such a good pup, ‘ did a wonderful job training you, huh?” He asked as if they could answer, as if they weren’t preoccupied by the fingers that traced their mouth like he was mapping them out.

A hum passed from his lips as he removed his fingers, instead moving to undo the buckle on his belt. Even in this state, the Deputy wasn’t stupid and could very clearly tell what was coming next. So, to hopefully avoid any wrath from him, moved to help undo his pants.

Leaning back in his chair and observing as they removed his pants, fingers trailing over the growing bulge in his boxers. Jacob was a stoic man, never did the Deputy know if they were really doing good, but he didn’t scold them so there was no stopping.

Hands smoothed out the black fabric a bit nervously, playing with the hem for a moment before a soft grunt from the Herald alerted them. Knowingly, their fingers hooked underneath the waistband and pulled it away from his freckled skin, letting it pool at his ankles along with his pants.

Wrapping around the base of his still hardening cock, their eyes fluttered up to meet his gray ones. A silent beg, a plea that they were doing alright and there would be no punishment later. All they got in return was a small nod; though there was no love or care behind it. More like a drill sergeant instructing a particularly moldable soldier.

Gentle, unsure licks placed against his tip, hand working against the base; fingers brushing against veins that worked overtime to pump blood to his dick. Jacob Seed was not one for taking his sweet time, his fingers tangled in their hair as he pushed their head down on his aching cock.

A soft gag fell from their lips, hands moving from him to settle on his toned thighs. A heavy breath leaving their nose as they tried their hardest to relax, nuzzling against his untamed ginger hair. He relished in the warmth of their throat, the tightness eliciting a groan as he pushed his hips up.

Their gagging was the sweetest sound he had ever heard, the soft whimpers and tears that emitted from the Deputy as they tried their hardest to just breathe through their nose. He loved the power he held over them, how those pretty tears fell for him.

“Cmon pup, look up at me.”

Fighting between lifting their head to meet his gaze and keeping their mouth wrapped around his cock, the Deputy managed to tilt their head up enough to see him. His smirk widened, cock throbbing against their throat as he watched the tears continue to fall from them.

Another few thrusts to the back of their throat before he groaned, pulling their head off his dick with a small ‘pop’. A trail of saliva still connected their lips, pre-cum mixed in with it. He couldn’t help the laugh that emitted from him at the sight of their swollen lips and heavy breathing.

“Poor thing. Don’t cry, I take care of you, don’t I?”

The Deputy couldn’t do anything but nod, and maybe it was a bit true. Jacob did care for them in his own sick and twisted way. In the back of their mind they wondered if this was how he treated Pratt behind close doors; more like a prized trophy than a lover.

His hands grabbed at their hips, pulling them onto his lap. The small barrier of whatever clothes they had been wearing on their lower half before was quickly removed, giving him access to everything he wanted.

Burying their face into the crook of his neck and wrapping arms around the back of him, the Herald lifted their hips once more to guide himself inside their needy hole before pushing them down onto him. Stretching, pain emanating from the sudden intrusion, he could feel the tears that fell from them and landed against his skin.

He cooed, a grin still wide on his face. His hands still settled on their hips, guiding them up and down on his cock. Gentle movements at first that quickly devolved to an almost feral extent. His pre-cum marred the inside of their hole, creating wet and sticky sounds everytime he fucked in and out of them.

It felt like a dam was about to break by the time Jacob decided he was finished. Loud sobs wracked their body as they cuddled closer to him, so close yet so far. His hips continued to move for a moment; stuttering and shifting a bit before he released inside of them, filling them with his cum.

The Deputy finally leaned back after a moment, tears still flowing from their now red eyes, sniffling - but they still attempted to move their hips over him. To get any kind of release as the Herald caught his breath. Needily grinding against his lap, hands clutching his shirt in a pitiful attempt that only made him laugh more.

“Oh, look at’chu. Pup needs to get off too, huh? Don’t worry, I told you I’ll take care of you.”

[aboyshapeddog]

WIP ⚠️

Jacob Gives Staci The Boyfriend Treatment

Relationships: Staci Pratt/Jacob Seed

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Drug Use, Smut, Unhealthy Dynamics, VERY Dubious Consent, Dom/Sub dynamic, Bliss = Slutweed, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Intox Kink, Dark, Massages, Rough S*x, Daddy Kink (kind of), PWP, Violence

Staci wasn’t allowed to consider refusing the Seeds, ever; the thought alone was in a territory his brain was no longer wired to reach. So when the Herald of the whitetails offered him a lit joint (what the fuck), his only questions were internal.

“Finish this for me will you?”, Jacob’s grumbling voice brought him to focus, the thing hadn’t been touched. Staci couldn’t remember the last time he’d smoked either. The familiar and just as unfamiliar smell filled his chest, it made his stomach twist. “Yes Sir.” Staci agreed like his words meant anything, then he reached for it, whatever the fuck it was.

“Aht aht aht.” His hands were both held still by one of Jacob’s own, whose movements always seemed to be a step ahead of his somehow. Instead the larger man pinched the burning piece between two fingers and brought it directly to Staci’s lips.

His voice was low, “Show me you know what you’re doing first, Deputy”. Staci didn’t hesitate, he leaned forward, wrapping his lips around the end of it, looking down as he took a sharp pull, to save himself from the intimacy of connecting eyes. He coughed into his hand, and smoke puffed out through the spaces between his fingers. Jacob smiled and let out a short laugh, “Been a while?” the personable part of Staci wanted to smile too, he didn’t. The joint was pressed back against his lips, he caught Jacob’s eyes this time; they were calculating, observant in the same manner he used to track deer, fowl, and rabbits; prey.

When Staci inhaled this time it was long and slow, like a well deserved drag from a cigarette; his mother would be sick at the sight. He was reminded of the D.A.R.E. t-shirts she’d gotten them both after attending a program at his high school. The smoke curled in his chest, he let it idle there before blowing it out of his nose with practiced grace. Sorry Mom. Jacob’s grin then was something Staci recognized too - wolfish, wild, and fucking ecstatic, the cat that caught the canary, he could be sick.

Jacob released the deputy’s hands and moved to his large oak desk, grabbing a clipboard off the top and clicking a pen. he motioned with one hand for Staci to approach, and Staci, like a good dog, silently took his position beside and behind Jacob.

The large man scribbled on the sheet in front of him, every once in a while pausing to think . . . creating a brief permeating silence before the scratching would continue. Jacob held the joint in his left hand, lifting it into Staci’s space with one hand while the other continued to jot notes. Pratt had to lean down to get his mouth on the thing, so he leaned.

As he took another long pull, Jacob turned to look at him directly; eyes like dissection pins, the thoroughness of the examination made him falter. Staci coughed again, and Jacob scratched another note on the clipboard. They locked eyes and Staci felt a nail through his gut, Jacob was studying him.

Knowing Jacob, this could be like his own personal project ARTICHOKE. Staci’s thoughts were already racing; jumping off the springboard of paranoia, and here he was, anonymous test subject PEACHES directly under Jacob’s thumb. No, that’s what angels were for, come on Staci. He took another big hit. Jacob hummed to himself “Only You”, glancing back at Pratt every once in a while. Staci stared straight ahead.

The nervousness clawed at his gut like it could tear out of him and save itself from whatever fate awaited its owner, he couldn’t stop himself, “What’s in that?”. His voice was hoarse from the smoke and disuse but he kept it steady, he cleared it and continued “uh, Sir.” Jacob ashed it before turning to face the deputy, “Worried about something?” He chuckled, only waiting a moment before standing to his full height and sticking the blunt between Staci’s parted lips. “It’s a personal blend, a gift.” He spoke with the same nonchalance he used when noting ration cuts and delivery schedules. “You’ve been promoted to my personal food tester, Pratt.”

Jacob sparked the lighter underneath it again, watching the cherry turn bright red as Staci hesitated. Exhaled. Then inhaled.

They stood in silence, the sound of the second hand of the old clock on the wall struck like thunder in Staci’s ears. “Tell me, how are you feeling?” What kind of question was that. How should he be feeling? He was lonely, tired, hungry, he couldn’t remember being anything else since his arrival. “Sore.” Oh yeah, that too. Somehow while he was stuck in his own head, Jacob had closed the distance between them again, staring down at his deputy and taking in every minute expression. “Sore.” Staci said again, his words seeming less and less of his own volition.

The redhead turned his partner around, pulling the small man’s back to his chest, and firmly running his hot hands down the younger mans sides “Here?” he asked. The sensation sent shivers down the deputy’s spine, he could feel his muscles twitch under the contact. “Umm, no actually. More near my uh neck, and shoulders.” Jacob released his hold and went to note something on his clipboard, Staci charted every movement. Then Jacob’s hands were on his shoulders, thumbs digging into his trapezius, the pressure, pain, and relief almost made his knees buckle. Jacob noticed “Right here?” his question was more of an acknowledgment, but Staci answered anyways. “Y-yeah. Right there” his voice was as low now as it was rough, jesus did he really sound like that.

He should stop, he thought to himself, really, but god his mind was racing. When was the last time somebody had touched him like this, when was the next time anyone would take care of him again, if there was a next time. “Stop thinking so much Pratt, I can smell the smoke coming from your ears.” Was he that obvious? Staci relaxed into the other mans touch, taking another drag of the “personal blend” and letting his head loll to the side. The deputy allowed himself to be completely hypnotized, eyelids fluttering shut, and taking deep, heavy, breaths.

Jacob worked silently, a silence the deputy had come accustomed to, diligently massaging the tight tissue; stretching and kneading the others tan skin under his fingertips. Staci let out a breathy groan, shocking himself out of his trance. He shot up to perfect posture. Only to be shoved down into Jacob’s chair, “I said relax, Pratt.” And he did, taking another hit, fuck he was already so high he was laying back nearly boneless in the Herald’s arms. “Now-“ the older man started, continuing to massage as he spoke, “How are you feeling?”. Staci sighed deeply. Warm, fuzzy “Good” he breathed out, “A little uh lightheaded, and uh”, horny- his eyes flitted open. Not now, not with half a mind in front of Jacob. Mot like he could help it but holy fuck now was not the time. “Good?” Jacob responded, running his hands up and down the younger mans sides. Staci tried to ignore the way it tingled in his gut “Yes Sir, Good. Thank you, Sir.” Jacob smiled. “Good.” He removed his hands from Pratt, who promptly began tensing and relaxing his closed fists on his thighs, while Jacob made another quick note on his board.

He was back, again, in the blink of an eye, now sitting on his desk across from Staci. The mountain before him leaned down slowly, taking the brunettes ankle in his hand and unlacing a boot, then sitting himself back upright, bringing the socked foot into his lap. “How about here Pratt, this sore.” His voice was lower now too. “Yes Sir.” Pratt answered too quickly, wanting needing Jacob’s warm hands on him again. Jacob smiled. “Alright Pratt, that’s good, i’ll take care of you.”

Jacob slipped off the man’s jeans and continued his slow methodical journey of tenderizing every bit of meat on his body; cracking toes, and rolling his ankles, then firm squeezes up around his claves to the pits of his knees. Staci was in heaven. Sinking deep into his seat still smoking like a chimney, he was reduced to muted gasping and groaning through a fist over his mouth, while the joint burned down to the filter. Jacob, ever the observer, took hold of it when the stoner started burning paper, casting it aside to his pristine ash tray before getting right back to work. “How are you feeling now, Staci?”Jacob’s voice tickled in the deputy’s ear, he smiled and puffed out the last bit of smoke he’d been holding through his nose, “I’m-“ he interrupted himself with a short laugh “I’m excellent.” He smiled wide before adding “Sir.”

Jacob smiled back, nowhere near as lighthearted. “Excellent?” he asked, and Staci knew that smile; he’d been on the receiving end every time a food can had been placed just far enough out of reach. But right now, body and mind singing praises for the earth Jacob walked on, he cherished it. His body seemed to follow his thoughts without filter, leaning closer to the Seed as he nodded “mmhmm.” Jacob let him, leaning even closer so he could whisper in the younger mans ear. “Well isn’t that nice. Unfortunately I don’t think that’s true, Peaches.” He slid a firm hand slowly up the muscle of Staci’s thigh, inching his way in to press his open palm hard against the fat bulge in the Deputy’s briefs. Staci gasped loud, shutting his eyes as a wave of pleasure crashed over his body, “Fuckin- mierda.” he choked. “You’re telling me you don’t want any help with this, sweetheart?” Jacob tutted, grinding the heel of his palm against Staci’s hard cock. “Dios mio, please.” Jacob loved it when he begged, with those wide brown cow eyes, long dark lashes, and pretty pink lips always a little wet and raw from being chewed on.

“Oh don’t you look pretty.“ He admired with clear condescension. “I’m gonna need you to use your words, Staci; ask me to take care of you.” The poor kids mind must have been a soup, Jacob knew it. The way he blinked slow, his eyes seeming to get stuck on one thing or another for too long. But now, he was pink, in his cheeks and his fingertips, panting with his legs spread wide for Jacob; his eyes practically crossing as he made contact. “Take, take care of me. Please, Sir.” Perfect. “Atta boy.”

For Staci it was a blur, hot hands everywhere, manipulating his drunk feeling body. For Jacob it was tying his own neck with a lobster bib, pulling the smaller man’s briefs down and spreading his knees over his own. Jesus, Jacob thought, the poor mutt was leaking already. He didn’t hesitate, sliding his hand over the top of Staci’s cock, and twisting his fist over the dripping head just so- “Ahnnnn fuckingh Jake-” there it was. “That’s right, i’m gonna make you feel real good.” Pratt really knew how to whet his appetite. Jacob spit directly on Staci’s cock, and used his free hand to squeegee saliva straight from his tongue. Staci just took it, lying still while Jacob violated his mouth, it made Jacob hungry.

He pulled his wet fingers out of Staci’s mouth and coiled them in his hair, wrenching his head back so Jacob could lick the inside of his mouth. Staci stuck his tongue out for good measure. “You fucking whore.” Jacob panted wet breaths into Pratt’s mouth, “You take off your pants for every man that gives you a joint?” Staci kept his tongue out. “This is all it takes to get you swallowing my spit and humping my hand, a little brain buzz and a few minutes of the boyfriend treatment. You are pathetic, Peaches.” The Herald ground his cock against his the other man’s ass as he spoke. The deputy’s wordless whines dripped drool on his uniform shirt.

Jacob used his larger size to keep Staci pinned in place, one arm holding him tight, and the other jerking his cock at a torturously slow pace. Staci begged and bucked his hips, dizzy with endorphins, but his cries fell on deaf ears. Well, not literally. Jacob heard every halted “oh god” “feelssso-“ “mierda” and reveled in it. “please, uhn- Jay“ Oh he was perfect wasn’t he. “Jesus you’re a fucking mess.” The herald chastised like it didn’t turn him on even more.

“You like it when a big man takes charge of you?” He lined up a slick finger with the smaller man’s hole “Hmm Staci?” and shoved it in deep. “Yes. Yes, Sir.” Staci would be mortified at the degradation if he weren’t on the verge of exploding. Jacob thrust his finger in and out of the deputy, switching their positions again so he could slip in a second. Now he had the younger man balancing on tiptoes, bent over his desk, hard cock hanging over the edge. Staci’s legs locked at the knees to present his wet hole like breeding stock. The deputy pressed his forehead against the cool polished wood.

Jacob fucked two fingers in, curling them as he slowly pushed in and out of Staci’s tight heat. “Alright, yeah. I’ll be your Daddy.” Jacob grunted, starting to work his own cock with oil and line it up with his partner’s entrance. Then so slowly, pushing the head in. “oh fucking God.” Pratt whimpered, and Jacob just as slowly rolled his hips, fucking deeper into the smaller man with every motion. Staci whined when their hips met, gasping, and hiding his face deeper in his arms as the clap of Jacob’s hips against his ass echoed through the room. Fuck this was so dirty.

The herald started picking up his pace, and force, the kid had his fun, now it was Jacob’s turn. He grunted with every thrust, leaning down to squeeze the deputy’s cock as he bottomed out, slamming deep against his prostate. Moans were pushed out of Staci’s lungs now, with every connection of their hips his back curled, shoving his body forward like dead weight. Jacob was so deep it almost hurt, “W-wait can you, uh Jay-“ a hand was thrown over Staci’s mouth “Not now sweetheart, it’s Daddy’s turn” he sounded as sympathetic as he could manage as he pinned into the other man with reckless abandon. A gargled moan with drool slipped through his fingers, he smiled wide, and pressed a kiss to the deputy’s back. He fucked into Staci like a toy, gripping his hips and pulling them hard against his own. Staci’s legs trembled, switching from one foot to the other to keep his ass high enough for Jacob’s liking. “That’s a good boy.” Staci whined again, causing more drool to pool beneath Jacob’s hand.

“Just like that.” And just like that Staci was cumming, choking out a moan and fat white puddles between Jacob’s uniform boots. His legs trembled and he fucked into nothing as he eked out the last drops.

This was overwhelmingly ignored, save for a low whistle Jacob let out at the sight, and it sure was a sight. Staci collapsed in from of him, hair slick to his face from tears, sweat, and smothered drool. Jacob fucked him mercilessly, still tugging at his pink cock as it dangled between his legs. “Please Jacob it’s too- it hurts, please I can’t.” In lieu of a verbal response the other man bit him, hard at first, before licking and nibbling his neck and shoulders; it mixed the sensitivities excruciatingly. Then Jacob was growling right in his ear, “I’m gonna get every last drop out of you, then i’m gonna breed your little ass”. It was all so much. The larger man fucked continually, hard and deep, pin pointing his sensitive spots with every thrust. His hand too, twisted around the head of his cock, teasing the over sensitive slit like he meant torture another orgasm out of him. “Please, I-“ his mind went completely blank, knees folding and collapsing again into Jacob’s arms.

It wasn’t long before Jacob joined him, thrusts becoming more sporadic, and harsh before “Fffuck.” Jacob panted, now directly into Pratt’s neck as he crushed the poor man beneath him. Staci could feel the warm semen dripping down his thighs, it made him shiver. He felt disgusting, truly, but Jacob all over him and inside of him it felt so so good. The older man grumbled above him, lifting himself off of the deputy slightly, and slowly pulling out his cock. More cum on the floor, now dripping directly out of his ass and Staci could feel it.

Staci made to stand up himself but Jacob pushed him back down, and said“Stay.” So Staci stayed, until Jacob came back with a damp cloth, wiping him down thoroughly with a gentle hand. Staci didn’t dare utter a word.

They were both dressed in no time, Staci itching to run and hide in the nearest shower or cage for eternity. “Before you go..” Jacob started, “Yes, Sir” Staci was too eager again, “How are you feeling?” The question felt heavy without the lip loosening that the drug had given him, he really couldn’t say, he really shouldn’t say . . . “Sore, Sir.” came out again, and he was. Jacob scribbled down another note on his clipboard, seeming to finalize whatever assessment he’d been conducting. “Good.” In his experience, Good could also mean Dismissed; Staci walked to the door before turning around, and pausing, “I think the blend is good, Sir. If you want to try it yourself. Sir.” They locked eyes, reading one another for what felt like minutes, and there was that hunters look again. “I’ll make a note of that, thank you, Pratt.”

[imgnnafurgf]

OK JUST HEAR ME OUT.

Deputy x John, but Deputy reveals themself as a powerful demon that was just having fun and randomly brakes ropes in the confession room

[inafieldofdaisies]

(WIP) Music Monday Tag | Tagged by @imogenkol and @simplegenius042

The rules: Post a song that is relevant to your WIP or inspires it. I’m also including the lyrics.

I walk my fingers on your back as if it was a street of my childhood city It was supposed to stay between my lips, but it slipped I'm pretty bad at keeping secrets A former conundrum, it's nothing short of the game for us And we both play, obey the rules It's pretty easy when you do In the glow of a blue light I wonder if this is right Or if I'm bound to drown My maraschino cherry Sweet, sweet, taste of midnight And I'll be gone when it drops Sweet, sweet, taste of midnight And I'm feeling so alive Pleasure comes to life My maraschino cherry

I'm a dead man, wide awake With a red hand and blood to pay Burnt out by the weight of tomorrow Cut the cord, man, tell me straight Are you hunter? Or are you bait? Will your knife cut straight as an arrow? You're a dead man, settled fate The prize on your head will pay my way A cold stiff at the end of a longbow A lonely life is the one I know Solemn nights in a state of broken hope Only time I'm not alone Is when you haunt me in my home Though my feet may rest Anxious eyes stay open, I feel it in my chest The nature of wolf inside my head

You said close your eyes, don't look down Fall into me and I'll catch you, darlin' We'll dance in the street like nobody's watching It's just you and me and the song on repeat in my head Playing over and over I'm drunk on your voice, high on the moment I'd fall for you twice if that's what you wanted I'd give you my life from now 'til forever I'm falling in love with you Over and over again

Well it's too long living in the same old lives I feel too cold to live, too young to die Will you walk the line, like it's there to choose? (Oh lord) Just forget the wit, it's the best to use Oh lord I said, oh lord Won't you follow me into the jungle Ain't no god on my streets, in the heart of the jungle Won't you follow me into the jungle

Tagging, @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat @killyourrdarlingss @strangefable @strafethesesinners

@wrathfulrook @purplehairsecretlair @cassietrn @voidika @theelderhazelnut

@rhettsabbott @shellibisshe @harmonyowl @aceghosts @thesingularityseries

@katsigian @derelictheretic @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @trench-rot

@dumbassdep @la-grosse-patate @g0dspeeed @justasmolbard

@simonxriley @captastra @icecutioner @raresvtm @carlosoliveiraa

@finding-comfort-in-rain @cloudofbutterflies92 and anyone that would like to share some songs this week <3

[wrathfulrook]

Wrathling - Prologue/Chapter 1

Fuck it, we ball. There will be no regular post schedule :)

Ok, with much ado, here's my Deputy's canon. Enjoy.

Series rating: E

Relationship: John Seed x Patience Ekner

Word count: ~2k

Read it on ao3.

John Seed stared at the bound deputy in front of him. His eldest brother had been given custody of Deputy Pratt, his sister had taken the Marshal, and the deputy in front of him, Joey Hudson, was entrusted to him.

The sheriff and junior deputy had eluded the Project.

While inconvenient, it would be fine. God had a plan, and the Voice had never led the Father astray. John was a devout man; he had faith in the Father. This would be resolved quickly, easily, in accordance with God’s will.

John chuckled lowly at the woman before him. “Crying already? But we haven’t even begun…”

As he advanced toward her, she shook harder with her sobs, and he smiled. He loved what he did. And it was time to save Deputy Hudson’s soul.

~~~

Deputy Patience Ekner stared at herself in the mirror for far too long. She looked more or less the same as she did when she last looked in the mirror early this morning. She was only slightly worse for wear. A bit dirtier, a bruise here or there. Her hair had been re-braided. Her black choker still sat snug on her neck. The only real difference was the change of clothes. She wore a pair of light jeans, a black tank top, and her green uniform shirt, stripped of badge and name, while the rest of her junior deputy’s uniform laid in a haphazard pile on the concrete floor.

Dutch had advised she lose the uniform, so lose the uniform she did.

She couldn’t discern any real visible difference from her now and her this morning. But she’d been shot at. She’d shot back. She saw a horde – because there’s no other way to describe it – a horde of people attack the helicopter she was in, throwing their bodies onto it. She’d killed today. With intention. She hadn’t even really realized she done it, pushed a woman from the helicopter, until she saw her getting smaller and smaller as she approached the ground. She saw a man willingly climb the vehicle, higher and higher, until the propellers…

She felt she ought to look different after seeing something like that.

“Oh shit… Deputy, I’m picking up something new out of Holland Valley. It’s a broadcast from John… You need to see this.”

She exited the tiny bathroom and found the older man in front of the ancient television set, tuning into the aforementioned broadcast. Patience rapidly bounced her leg but kept her eyes glued to the staticky screen as John strolled around, dictating on sin to the music of the world’s most insane infomercial. She attempted to tune out the background cultists, focusing on the Baptist, who was admittedly more attractive in motion than he was on flyers and billboards. He was the one to watch out for. The cult’s recruiter. But when Joey was marched out, her mouth duct taped shut, her eyes hard and defiant despite the mascara-stained tear tracks dried on her face… her focus was turned into horror.

“…we’ll come for you. Welcome to Eden’s Gate.” The broadcast ended, only to immediately begin airing again. Holy fuck, they had the thing on loop.

“Shut that guy up,” Dutch said, and Patience leaned forward to turn the dial to off.

“Do you think he has the others? Whitehorse? Pratt? The Marshal?” Patience rubbed her temples, trying to clear her mind. Answering her own question she said, “No. Why would he taunt us with just Joey if he had the others? I mean, I guess he could, I don’t know, I don’t know how his mind works.”

“Not understanding his mind is a good thing.”

She sighed in frustration. “Not if I want to get Joey back, it’s not.”

“Deputy, I understand you want to get Hudson back. Everybody else, too. But how do you expect to rescue anyone from John Seed? In case you missed that broadcast, there are a hell of a lot of Peggies.” Dutch’s gruff and no-nonsense tone didn’t inspire a lot of hope in the junior deputy.

“Yeah, thanks, I saw it,” she snapped. “But that was one of his stupid PR schemes. We have no idea where exactly she’s being held or, more importantly, how many people stand between us her.”

“Those are all cons, kid, not pros.”

Patience gritted her teeth, leg still bouncing up and down. “Joey is my friend.” Joey was her only friend. They weren’t overly close; the pair had only met once outside of work. But she was new in town and new to the force. Joey was the closest thing she had to a friend, both at work and outside of it, and she had no intention of leaving her in the clutches of John fucking Seed. The memory of his hand stroking her throat, almost lovingly, threateningly, made her want to chop the man’s hand off.

“There’s a reason he chose Joey, out of all the people he’s taken out of the county, to star in this little production.”

“Because she’s a deputy. And he’s trying to demoralize the people still fighting back against this cult,” Patience answered bitterly.

“Because you’re a deputy!” Dutch roared in response. “As far as we know, you’re the only one on the force who hasn’t been captured. Look, Dep, the Seeds don’t want law enforcement running around trying to stop them, especially after that public arrest attempt.”

“Whitehorse could still be out there. I saw Staci and Marshal Burke get grabbed. They have to be being held somewhere. I never saw Joey or the Sheriff get taken. Clearly Joey did, but that doesn’t mean-“

“John trying to lure you out. You and Whitehorse, if they don’t already have him. But you can’t just rush in headfirst. That’s what he wants. That video, it wasn’t made for the whole county. It was made for you. He’s ‘marked’ you. That the first of his four steps to recruiting cultists, kid. A personalized video.”

“That’s fucked,” Patience growled. “But I can’t just leave a fellow deputy there.” Dutch was getting on her nerves. What was the point of saving her if not to pit her against the cult?

“I’m not saying you should abandon her. I’m saying you should be smart about it.”

Patience put a hand on her leg to stop its incessant bouncing. She certainly couldn’t get Joey out alone. How many people in this county would be able and willing to help her? Dutch would be able. But willing? And who else? She didn’t even know anyone else in this county. Dutch was right. She had no idea what kind of help she would even need.

“What if I head out and do some recon around Seed Ranch? See what we’re up against? Would you be willing to help me get her out?”

Dutch shook his head. “Doesn’t matter how much info you can gather. I doubt the two of us would be enough help to take on the Seeds. But we aren’t the only people in this county that hate that damn cult. With communications open again we could reach out to some people.”

Patience’s thoughts were racing.

“Okay, wait. You’re right. We’re getting ahead of ourselves. I think I should stake out the place and figure out exactly what we’re up against. We can figure out everything else later.”

Not waiting for an affirmation, she stood up, heading towards the door.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to get Joey back.”

“Not tonight.” Dutch’s hand on her shoulder held her back. “It’s been a long day.”

“Understatement of the century,” she snorted.

“Exactly. Falling asleep in John Seed’s backyard isn’t going to help your friend. Stay the night. Then go.”

Patience nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

~~~

John threw his knife across the room, with a snarl, Deputy Hudson jolting when it clattered against the wall and floor.

“Confess!” He backhanded the woman across the face, and her scream turned into a sob.

He threw himself backwards, running a shaky, bloody hand through his slicked-back hair. He was close to losing himself to wrath. Losing himself to wrath, and taking it out on Hudson. And Hudson was not the deputy he was angry with.

He stormed out of the room, yelling, “Take her back to her cell!” as he went, trusting someone would hear him and take care of it.

The junior deputy had just blown up yet another one of his silos, and Joseph was starting to question his competence as a Herald. The deputy had been a holy terror since the day the Reaping began. She’d been destroying Project property and resources, hindering their preparations for the Collapse. She murdered untold numbers of the Project’s brothers and sisters.

Gleefully.

She was hell on earth.

And not he, his brothers, or his sister had managed to capture her. She had become a severe threat to the Project in a relatively short span of time, and it was rapidly coming time to make her pay. The horrors she had visited upon them could not be left unpunished.

~~~

Patience woke abruptly with a gasp, heart racing. She quickly tossed her head back and forth, not quite yet aware of her surroundings. The air outside her sleeping roll was cool, and she could just catch a glimpse of stars glittering above the pine needles. Calming down, she realized she could just hear Peaches’ even breathing on the ground, below her own perch on the tree stand.

She sunk lower into her covers. She was safe. It was all okay for now.

At least she’d woken up this time. The nightmares had been recurring, almost nightly, and they didn’t usually wake her up. At least the waking up was a reprieve. Not that she remembers the nightmare. Or nightmares. She wouldn’t know.

All she remembered were the feelings. The fear. The horror. The unrelenting sense of dread. The crushing weight of them usually stuck with her for a least a little while after waking in the morning.

Though she didn’t know exactly what the nightmares were about, she had plenty of nightmare fodder for her subconscious to draw on. The things she’d seen… The things she’d done…

The deaths on the helicopter had only been the beginning of the hell that was now Patience’s life. The broken bodies at the bottom of Joseph’s monument. The crucified and hanging people along the roadsides. The strung-up corpses that had so clearly been used for target practice. The immolated bones.

So many bodies.

And she’d created a fair few bodies of her own. She didn’t even know how many. Didn’t keep count. Couldn’t if she wanted to. She could still hear the screams of Peggies. Those she didn’t manage to kill with one clean shot. Those who watched their beloved friend or sibling or lover or whoever get taken down by her. So many bodies and so much screaming.

God, even the good guys were the stuff of nightmares. She kept company with multiple man-eating animals. Sharky, who was now one of her best friends, she met when he was luring those brain-dead Angel cultists to his trailer park to burn them alive. There were some pretty harsh rumors flying around about the Whitetail Militia’s conduct, too.

She hated it all. And the nightmares were eating her alive.

But she couldn’t stop. Every crucified, immolated, hanging corpse. Every Angel. Every scream she heard in the night. It would only keep happening and get worse. The goddamn cult was a threat to everyone in this county and she was one of the few people doing anything about it.

But for right now, she closed her eyes and attempted to sleep once more. She needed to be alert tomorrow. She was going to stake out Seed Ranch. See if she could figure out the lay of the land. See if she could determine where John Seed kept his prisoners. So she evened her breathing and hoped for dreamless sleep. It would all be okay.

She could suffer through a lot to save people. Even just one person.

She would suffer through a lot. Because that’s what it would take.

Chapter 2

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Chapter 45: For by Wise Guidance You Will Wage War

Summary:

The Father is coming to Saint Francis With John's safe return to the veterans center thanks to Kit's intervention, Joseph arrives to meet with his brothers. Plans for war are made, family dinner is held, and Kit is facing her issues with the father figures in her life

warnings for this chapter: misogyny (both internalized and external) Kit's daddy issues affecting her mental health Religious trauma mentions of past child abuse

[gaqalesqua]

Jacob catches Dita and Staci on the balcony outside his office.

[polyamships]

May and June 2023 Polyam Shipping Day roundup

Hi everyone - it's been a hectic past few months and we missed our May roundup, so here is the roundup for May and June for Polyam Shipping Day.

We had nine works for the month of June across eight fandoms, and 3 works for the month of May across 3 fandoms. All are linked below:

Boy Meets World: Trust Me (fanfic) by The_Lavender_Creator, ughdotcom (angela moore x cory matthews x shawn hunter x topanga lawrence-matthews)

Far Cry 5: Trusting Them (fanfic) by AutisticWriter (deputy x joey hudson x staci pratt)

Final Fantasy XIV: Clearing The Air (fanfic) by @theoreticalconstruct (thancred waters x urianger augurelt x warrior of light x y'shtola rhul)

Kamen Rider Geats: patiens (fanfic) by @flaim-ita (azuma michinaga x kurama neon x sakurai keiwa x ukiyo ace)

Kamen Rider Geats: The Star of the Stars of the Stars and His Co-Stars (fanfic) by @merryfortune (azuma michinaga x kurama neon x sakurai keiwa x ukiyo ace)

Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint: The Remaining Stars (fanfic) by@xnicowritesx (han sooyoung x kim dokja x yoo joonghyuk)

Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint: Trust During the Apocalypse (fanfic) by @xnicowritesx (han sooyoung x kim dokja x yoo joonghyuk x yoo sangah)

Sense8: You Have Us (fanfic) by ughdotcom (kala dandekar x rajan rasal x wolfgang bogdanow)

Sense8: will you touch me like you love me? (fanfic) by @heavensenthale (kala dandekar x rajan rasal x wolfgang bogdanow)

Sonic the Hedgehog: Trust (fanfic) by @sonysakura (amy rose x shadow the hedgehog x sonic the hedgehog)

Stargate SG-1: the journey home (fanfic) by @nonbinaryezrabridger (daniel jackson x sam carter x teal'c)

Ultimate Spiderman: stars (art) by @rolaplayor101 (danny rand x peter parker x sam alexander)

Thanks to everyone who took part this month!

Gentle reminder that if you want your fanwork to be included in the roundup it needs to either be submitted/@ us on tumblr or in the official ao3 collection, and if not uploaded on the day in question let us know what prompt it’s for. And if we've missed any items please send us a note and let us know.

[seedofjoseph]

only you can make all this change in me

Fandom: Far Cry 5

Pairing: Jacob Seed x F!Deputy

Rating: E (explicit)

Words: 2400

Warning: dub-con, drugging, animal death

Hope is a cruel thing.

It was hope that kept him on his feet even as they burned on the desert floor. It was hope that held his stomach in a tight squeeze. And it was hope that fueled the feral animal which fed upon the flesh of his fellow man.

The cruelest thing Jacob Seed could've done was give you hope.

Hope was a flask of fresh water he shared with you between the bars of the cage that morning. Hope was the bowl of berries he fed you by hand. And hope was his calloused fingers grabbing you by your scruff when you struggled to stand up on your own two legs.

After ten days of stewing in your own sweat and licking your own wounds, the cruelest thing he could've done was have Staci Pratt draw you a hot bath that evening.

"Don't mind Peaches," he hushed you when you hurried to cover your bloody, broken body from Pratt's pitying eyes. "He wasn't pretty to look at after his test either," his words were a cool breeze in the steam-filled bathroom. "Take 'em off before the water runs cold."

"I'm a big girl," you talk through a dried throat. "I don't need help washing behind my ears."

"Split lip, but she still got that mouth on her," Seed sighed, sharing a look with a sheepish Pratt. "Get in the tub, angel, before I bring out the hose."

As you stepped out of your jeans and almost stumbled on your short walk towards the bathtub. Seed had to hold you with one hand of his around the entirety of your forearm. And he also had to straighten your spine against his chest.

"We ain't washin' you and your clothes." His other hand hurried to pull off your panties and slide off your sports bra. "We got detergent for that."

You trembled against him, your thighs tender under his touch, and your chest following his fingers with a trail of gooseflesh. "Keep moving," you steadied yourself on your feet, fighting gravity by falling back against his firm form. "Gotta keep moving," you spoke to yourself.

"Keep movin'," Seed spoke to you, and only you. He pressed his lips against your lobe and spoke to your ear alone. "You're a warrior," he scratched the sensitive skin there with his bristly beard.

With his large body to lean back on, you took the last two steps towards the tub. With his eyes to watch over your shrunken body, you sunk into a sitting position.

Every cut was flooded with fire and every muscle melted into the water. Every nerve that had been knotted was unraveled and every pain you pushed down was floating to the surface. And every sound that bubbled out of your throat bounced off of the tile walls.

"When's the last time you had a girl moanin' like that?" Jacob Seed's rumbling voice pulled you out of your reverie. "First time for everything."

He was addressing Pratt who was acting more prudish despite you being the one bearing it all between the two of you. Hell, he didn't even lift his head from where he'd hung it between his shoulders, eyes on the clean change of clothes in his arms.

But Seed didn't have his eyes on him either. Those were for you and the peaks of your breasts that broke through the surface. "Water's just right, Peaches." He sat down on one knee and stretched out over the bathtub rim. "Not too hot. And not too cold." Now, he collected water in his cupped hands and poured it over your carved-up chest. "Tell 'im, Li'l Red Wrath."

The cruelest thing Jacob Seed could've done was wash away the sin his brother bleed out of you. It made you hope he'd heal you with his hands filled with soap, filled with barries. It made you hope he'd scrub away the pain with a back rub. He made you strong. He made you weak in the knees. He made you hopeful.

"It's just right," you closed your eyes in the caress of his calloused hands and it was the most merciful thing you could've done.

When you opened them up again, you were all alone in the cooling water, and his hands were hovering above you in the air. And when you blinked, your eyes focused on what they were holding onto and you froze.

"Lemme see those pearlies," he grinned, squirting minty fresh paste onto a toothbrush.

"Huh?"

"Barries're for scurvy, not cavities," he got down on his knees again, joints popping. "C'mere," he got a hold of your chin and pulled you closer to him. "Open wide."

"I can do it myself-"

"Wider," he forced your jaw open with a forceful grip and slide the brush inside to scrub at your teeth. "Wider." Then, it was your tongue's turn, and he took his time testing your gag reflex. "Spit," he finally freed you.

Through tears, you wiped your mouth of mint. Through blown-out pupils, he followed the rest of the white foam with his fingers across your lips. And he looked like dinner had just been served.

"Good," his voice was strained like he had been the one getting his throat teased. "Good girl."

You washed your face if only to cool it down, and he huffed if only to release the boiling pressure. And the only one to cut through the haze between the two of you was the third party.

"Umm, sir?"

Jacob Seed barked back: "What?"

"Umm," he precipitated, pointing out the walkie-talkie buzzing on the brink of the sink. "Sounds like they found Alpha, sir."

The cruelest thing Jacob Seed could've done was give you hope. Hope was him hurrying to meet his Chosen and reunite with his Judge. Hope was him scooping you out of the tub, wrapping you in towels, and carrying you to the cot he made for himself in the office. And hope was him ordering Staci Pratt to watch you while he's away.

"He'll be back," Pratt panicked, placing the pile of clothes he's been holding onto the bed next to you. "He always comes back."

You yawned into the hoodie, exhaustion catching up with you no matter how much you wanted to toss him over your shoulder and make a run for it. "Did you check the windows?"

"The windows?"

"I heard him lock the door," you pull on the pair of wool socks and scan the surroundings for a pair of boots. "He didn't bold the windows shut, did he?"

"Keep it down," he hushed you, heading back towards the cot with a cup of something hot in his hands. "There's Chosen everywhere. This room is impenetrable."

"There must be a way out of here," you blow into the herbal tea, warming your hands by holding the cup and letting Pratt's palms linger atop of yours. "Jacob's favorite maneater found it, right?"

"Alpha? He got separated from the pack while out on patrol," he said, sounding confused. "And that was weeks ago before I - before we landed in Peggie Country."

"He must've been crying himself to sleep every night," you take a sip, encouraging him to take one, too. "Still has his bed made every day and everything," you swing your head in the direction of the dog bed next to the cot the two of you were all but cuddling on.

"That's not Alpha's," Pratt pressed himself closer, hiding his face in the side of your hood.

"Which wolf's is it?" You asked before your ears caught wind of his whimper. "Pratt? Hey, Pratt? Stace? Stace, does he make you-"

"He makes me wear the collar, too," he whispered. "I went through the trials, I passed all his tests, and this is my prize." His laugh was broken and his entire body shook with it. "I was weak. Now I'm strong. He's making me strong."

And so does yours as he wraps his arms around it. "He got into your head. That fucker got into your head."

"You shouldn't have come back for me, rook," he exhaled into your shoulder, breathing you in. "Now he's in your head, too."

The cruelest thing you could've done to him was to give him hope. Hope was your hand in his hair. Hope was your noses brushing. And hope was the promise that the next drink you'll be sharing will be at Wolf's Den.

"Don't," he breathed into your mouth. "Don't give me hope," he refused your gift.

And before you could shove it down his throat, he escapes your embrace.

"Stace," you reached out, not ready to release him.

"He's back," he hisses, jumping off of the bed like it had burned him. "He always comes back. We have to be strong," he stands at attention, eyes focused on the door. "Father, lend us strength."

"God damn it, Stace," you spit, all but spilling the tea in your lap.

And the cup all but slipped between your fingers when the Jacob Seed in Staci's mind manifested himself at the other end of the room.

"Sir," Staci saluted.

"You're bleeding," you gasped.

"And you're goin' soft on me," he huffed, taking off his white and blood-red wool coat as he took slow steps ahead. "Or you're blissed out," he bared his teeth in an all-knowing, no-bullshitting grin. "Peaches been takin' good care of you," he looked down into the liquid you were cupping in your lap.

"What?"

"Bliss tea," Seed leaned down close enough for you to see the blood splatter all over his face and beard. "Eyes on me, angel," he caught your chin with a calloused hand. "You must be immune to infusions after all that skinny dippin' you've been doin' in the Henbane."

You tried to turn your head, but he wouldn't let you budge. "You had Pratt roofie me?"

"Heh," he grinned even wider. "You ain't goin' soft on me after all," he sounded too satiafied with himself. Too satisfied with you.

The cruelest thing he could've done was give you hope. Hope was his satisfaction with your remaining sanity. Hope was his dismissal of your undeterred defiance. And hope was his exclamation exhaustion.

So when he sent Pratt to sleep and didn't have that collar snug around his neck, you had hope. And when he didn't chain you to his bed before climbing in, you grew even more hopeful.

"Sis got you growin' a tolerance," he turned on his side to face your back. "That tea shoulda put you to sleep by now, but I hear you tryin' to even your breathin'," he drew closer, draping the blanket over both of your bodies. "Need me to read you a bedtime story?"

You snorted, blowing your cover.

"I know this one by heart," he exhaled into the back of your head and inhaled when you arched your spine and slotted yourself against his torso. "Once upon a time, there was a big bad wolf," his voice vibrated down your vertebrae and he groaned when you ground down on his crotch. "He went for a walk in the woods and never came back."

You dug your teeth into your busted bottom lip when his scraped at the scruff of your neck. It stung some, but your pride stung worse.

"Until one night, when the other wolves in his pack all went strollin' in the very same woods," his mouth climbed along the compromised column of your neck. "That's where they found him, but he wasn't alone," he made it behind your ear and bared his teeth again. "He had a mate and a whole new pack on the way," his canines caught your lobe and he tugged at it until you surrendered to him a sound.

"That she-wolf howled just like that," he freed your flesh, licking the swell of it. Then, with his hand on your hips, he held your ass in place for him to hump. "Just like that," his voice got meaner, as yours got whinier.

"Animal," you called him. "You fucking animal," you called to him, your mouth seeking him out, your lips looking to latch onto his.

"A fuckin' animal for a bitch in heat."

Your bruised ego grew numb with each lick of his to your bloody bottom lip, with each of fingers of his forcing itself into your pants. And your sense of self was lost the moment he mounted you.

"Ass up, head down," Jacob Seed ordered.

You obeyed.

"Good," he sounded pleased with what he found when he parted your folds. "Good girl," he sounded proud as his thumbs massaged your trembling thighs.

Submission wasn't a choice you'd made for yourself, it was a curse his brother's god placed upon you. It came naturally to you in a hatched-up circumstance. And that circumstance was your cunt crying out for the abuse the rest of your body has been put through.

"That she-wolf smelled just like this," he chuckled. "And felt just like this," he choked. "Oh, angel," his voice was strained from the grip you had around his girth. "She must've felt just like this to make a Judas outta Alpha."

The cruelest thing Jacob Seed could've done was give you hope. Hope was the heat of a wild she-wolf taming a Judge. Hope was the scale of power tilting. And hope was your cunt making a man howl.

"The big bad wolf could've brought her into the pack," he carried on with the conclusion of his tale. "But he betrayed them instead," he nuzzled into the nape of your neck, spooning you suffocatingly close. "And it cost him his bitch, his unborn pups, and his life. The end," he said gravely, gathering the cum that seeped out of where the two of you were still connected. "Say, what's the worst thing you can be?"

"Weak," you suckle his slick fingers absentmindedly.

"Peaches?"

"A traitor, sir."

Staci Pratt, who your absent mind didn't account for, answered from where he had been all night: the dog bed he had been conditioned to call his own by the man who convinced you to stand on all fours.

"Correct."

As soon as you got a taste of it, he threatened to take it away. You tried to hold onto it with your teeth, but he'd never let you have it back again.

Hope was a cruel thing.

[paradlselost]

CRIMSON.

JOHN SEED X FEMALE DEPUTY

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

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

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

2.7k words

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“H-hey! Not fair!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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