#john seed x rook!reader

[seedofjoseph]

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. “Godammit, 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

[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.

[darlingor]

Where are y’all hiding the John seed fanfiction🤨

[swampbrick]

chapter one of in place of hymns should be up this week I am positively vibrating with excitement

the chapter is?? roughly 95% complete, including editing! very very hype about this 🥳

[yeyinde]

Hi! Hope you're doing well. I just have to say that you're my favorite writer and a huge inspiration to me. Everything you write, even the small little snippets, just make me so happy.

Are you by chance still doing the WIP snippets? Cause I go feral for Jacob Seed, and when I saw you had a WIP for him I can honestly say I almost fell out of my chair.

Hiya! This is so sweet!! Thank you so much 🖤😭

Jacob Seed is one of those characters who I'd very much like to chisel open. He's so intriguing. His ideologies are so unfounded but his conviction and his reasons for them are what I find really appealing.

This is quite a deviation from what I normally do—third person, technically no reader-insert (I kindaaaaa made an OC? Oops) a bit darker (dragging me back to my slasher roots), and pulls a lot from a pseudo-religious upbringing. It is really fun to write, in theory, but is one of those fics that is mentally taxing in the sense that every piece is part of a bigger picture. Despite that, though, I could probably talk about this fic more than any others because of all the weird influences it draws from—Siken (it was originally gonna be titled war of the foxes but I felt that was a little too on the nose so I changed it to wishbone which is even more on the nose), bible mythology (in particular, the warring interpretations of Abaddon, iyjyk but also??? Abaddon and Michael, though???? 👀), and um. Cult shenanigans.

Here is a little bit about it!

He's in her head now, a sickness polluting her grey matter until it's shaded the same colour as the burning auburn around his wicked mouth. The one that splits wide, and croons about her failures, her destiny, until the rasping slur of his words are skeined tight around her gyri. Festering like a cancer she can't clove. One that sounds more like a truism each time she hears it.

Jacob has his finger on the trigger of a loaded gun with the barrel pressed tight to her cerebellum. A tool, he said. One without a master. Until now. Until him.

She can't fight him. Can't get rid of him. 

She wonders if she ever even tried.

And for some Rook x Jacob (kinda sorta but in a weird and twisted way):

Jacob doesn't give an inch even with the barrel of her Whitetailer pointed at his heart. A beat, then, where the world around her seems to shiver at the smirk he sends her way, his own hand fixed, deadly and calm, on the butt of his garish rifle. Red. 

(Of course. Of course.)

He stands on his tower, a castle of rock in the middle of the Whitetail Mountains, surrounded by unfathomable wilderness, and the broken remnants of his wolf beacons, his fallen men. His Judges. 

They lay by her feet, discarded offerings to the man who vultured her sense of self, her agency, until the person she was before all of this was lost, collateral to a war she never agreed to. She feels it sometimes, the putrefying remains of idealism and hope clawing at her skull until the tissue shreds and bleeds. Feels it like a second degree burn, a scab she can't stop picking at, and then pushes it back into its sarcophagus. It's an effigial prison in which she's both a warden and cellmate. 

It rears, now, as her patent yellow boots sink into the ribcage of a man torn to shreds by her bullets, her fists, mourning the loss of who it once was—a person of empathy and compassion. Someone who would have recoiled at the sight of viscera staining her laces, bone crunching under the soles of her feet. 

But it's gone. All she feels is annoyance. Disgust. 

They rendered it out of her. All of them pulling and tugging until bits of herself ripped apart, left behind in their regions, in their hands. Faith holds her belief. John, her compassion. Joseph, her fear. And Jacob—

Well. 

She tries not to think about what she lost in his cages. The gaping hole where her humanity once sat is heavier now that it's empty. 

It doesn't matter. Not anymore. 

Everything has been culminating to this point. To this moment. She feels the weight of it, the truth, in her bones. Unlike John, unlike Faith, only one of them will walk away from this still breathing. Her fingers tense. A proxysm. 

She finds, as the sky fades back to an endless blue and the mournful call of a loon breaks through the coppice, that she isn't entirely sure she wants it to be her. 

"Everything, all of it, has been leading up to this moment," he calls down to her, answering the unspoken assertions that bounce around the bruised fibres of her head. Hunt. Kill. Sacrifice. She gets it. She hates that she does. Hates him, she thinks, even more for making her see, for turning her into his executioner so easily. "So, Deputy, what will you do?"

If it were Faith, there'd be something about the path. About choices. About submission and surrender. Giving up agency and self in the single-minded pursuit of devotion to the Father. John, maybe a taunt. A sotto voce about atonement and true self. Of life admit the torture. A baptism in pain. 

But Jacob is neither of them. 

"Are you gonna kill me, angel?" 

She thinks about it. Really does. Lets it grind down into her synapses as she imagines a world without him. A place in Hope County where they celebrate his death and burn his body on an altar, unwilling to let the cult take him back until he's charred bones and ashes. Sure, then, that he's gone. Forever. Always. No more. 

Jacob will burn. 

She thinks about it, and she shudders. 

It feels anticlimactic despite the effort he put into setting it all up. Moving beacons and men and cages and wolves. Tracking her down through the forest until she led them to the Wolf's Den, and put a bullet in the head of the only man who made her feel some sense of footing amid a crumbling world. A place that wasn't quite home but it was something. Purpose, maybe. 

It stands in sharp contrast to the dogfight between them. Jacob and his soldiers. A commander playing a game of war from the comfort of his sanctuary. They're gone, now, and she hates that she isn't, too. That no matter what she does, how open she leaves herself, he still lets her sneak up the side of his perch until she's crouched behind a log, until she can hear the weight of his footfalls as he searches for her across the blood smeared landscape. 

It's a fallacy. He knows where she is despite the engineered confusion in his tone. What was that? He asks. Come out and fight me, Deputy. You know I'll find you—

The red dot follows her, always just a few inches from where she's hiding. A farce. She hates it. Hates that he isn't really fighting her. A marksman, he said (hoorah), but the only bruises he gave her are in her mind. Mental scars. Stupid. She hates him. Despises him. 

(Hates herself even more.)

It feels like muscle memory when she peers over the ledge, her bloodied knuckles leaving smears of her fingerprints behind. He's there. Waiting. 

Killing Eli, killing phantoms. Killing men. Killing him. It all congeals in her marrow. Effortless. Easy. She's killed him so many times already that she's sure, now, she could close her eyes and find her mark. 

Over and over again, he turned to a nebula of dust when she jumped on his back, wrapping nimble fingers around his neck. Mocking words haunting her as he dissolved into the aether. The Father will protect me. You need me. Don't fight it. Just let go. You've served your purpose. Let's say you get out of this. What's next? You go back to running errands for a teenager and a housewife? You are nothin' without Eli. 

"Come out, come out wherever you are, honey," his crooning taunt makes her hackles raise. A part of her hindbrain prickles with unease. Jacob brings a certain terror out of those dormant depths—an atavistic fear coils around her jugular. "Let's finish this." 

She wants to end him. To kill and maim and bend and break until nothing is left but bones and tissue. She wants to ruin him. Wants him to ruin her. To end this conflict at the top of a precipice she never wanted to climb. 

She says nothing—not to him, to them—but scuffs her feet against the gravel for no reason other than to make him look. He whips around, hand steady on his rifle. 

"Finally done hiding, Deputy?" 

The red dot hasn't left her vicinity since she prowled after him, unleashing hell and gunfire on the men—his Chosen, his best—that tried to keep her away from him. Hiding, she thinks, and wonders if those words are a projection. 

The Whitetailer—the only anchor she's had since she found it laying behind in an abandoned cabin—hums under her fingers. Pulses with the blood rushing through her veins. It's always been heavy. An SA50 isn't easy to carry across a landscape she mostly ventured on foot (as the near constant ache between her shoulders can attest to), but it feels both heavier and lighter than before. Another contradiction of many since she walked out of the Den and into a world on fire. Since she slit his throat and watched him turn into cosmic dust. 

It's steady, though. Unwavering. There's a gash on her arm from one of his Chosen. A bullet in her thigh. The unhealed wounds—bliss bullets and arrows—twinge with pain when she tenses her muscles, breathes in deep. Her broken ribs scream. She feels like more like a throbbing contusion than she does an actual person, still caught in the tendrils of her conditioning where his voice echoes in her head, the last notes of a song that turned her world into ashes. Only youuu… he'd crooned.

Only you. 

Only ever you. 

She gets it now. 

Or, she wishes that were true. It isn't. It isn't because maybe she's known all along. Since the bunker. Since Pratt. One, two, three. One, two, three. And then he's got you. Since she blinked into cognisance surrounded by the fallen bodies of the militia who didn't survive the training, who had bullet wounds that matched the shots she took in Jacob's trial. 

Since she went back to the Grand View and walked through the rows of cages in the parking lot. 

She gets it. 

She knows what she has to do. 

Her grip doesn't falter when she aims up. Up. His stomach. His lungs. His heart. 

"You can't. You're done. You've served your purpose, and now it's time to accept your place, Deputy. Where you belong." 

She thinks of Tammy. Of Wheaty. There's nothing left for her. Not anymore. 

Nothing except—

She wonders if there's a flash of panic in his cerulean eyes. A brief flicker of fear. But all she sees is contempt. 

"If I die, you'll be lost forever—"

She pulls the trigger. 

[madnessismylover]

Decided to make my own pinned post because I actually have stuff to link now. 

My name is Anna. My most used username is CrimsonAdri (Youtube/Twitch/AO3) and so I also go by "Crim". She/They but still consider myself as cis and not nonbinary. Demisexual Pansexual. (Though maybe more accurate phrasing would be Demi-Sexual and Pan-romantic?) My Ko-Fi.

DNI (Do Not Interact) List

The list includes but is not limited to:

Anti-LGBTQIA+ of ANY kind even if you are one of those letters, Any kind of “phobe” if it pertains to another person whose business is none of your own, Terfs, Swerfs, Radfems, MAPs (Pedos or apologists), anti-abortion, racist towards ANYONE, See full list here.

AND Do Not Interact with anything of mine that says 18+ on it if you are UNDER 18.

I’ve made the bulk of this post under the read more.

Below you will find links to my writing, masterlists, gifs, videos, and possibly other things I haven’t thought of yet.

ROTTMNT Gifs

(always give credit when using someone else’s gifs and only if they say you can. You can use mine but only if you give credit.)

Episode: Mystic Library - Donnie's Rap (above is 1 ver.), Raph ready to punch the mirror,

Episode: Mind Meld - Leo drowsy on phone,

Episode: Breaking Purple - "Hug it out" thought bubble,

Episode: Hot Soup: The Game - Mikey jumping around,

Episode: Pizza Puffs - Raph reacting to Mikey,

Episode: Late Fee - Looking at Donnie's arm screen,

More to come...

My Writing Masterlist(s)

(I have many side blogs for most fandoms I write for, but there’s a few I don’t and that stuff goes here but side blogs are linked further down.)

All characters depicted and/or mentioned are 18+ unless stated otherwise.

All of my writing is also on my AO3 (but you need to be logged in to see it).

💜🧡❤️💙🐢TMNT🐢💙❤️🧡💜

(T-c*est DNI)

All 4-1 Challenge:

January: Embarrassment (Rise!Leo x F!Reader)

February: Romance (Bay!Donnie x F!Reader)

March: The Joys of Spring! (Bay!Mikey x F!Reader)

...

Charming Shadows (Magic!OCs: Maeve & Calcifer & Circe) - to be added

Seeing as I've posted TMNT stuff on this blog already I'm going to put this fic here instead of on doll-in-the-walls which is where the other two fics with these OCs are posted. This is a Multi-Chapter WIP. This fic is up on AO3 as of rn but I'll post it here at some point.

✈️Far Cry🦈

(These are posted on my sideblog: candles-are-now-illegal)

Little White Planes (John/F!Rook)

Headcanons for The Seeds (&Rook) having a streamer s/o

💗Detroit Become Human💗

(This fic - sans the first chapter - is posted on my sideblog: danieldeservedbetter)

Rhodonite - (row·duh·nait) is a stone of compassion, an emotional balancer that clears away emotional wounds and scars from the past, and that nurtures love. It stimulates, clears and activates the heart. Rhodonite grounds energy, balances yin-yang, and aids in achieving one’s highest potential. It heals emotional shock and panic. - A fic about a young woman who gives out little stone hearts to androids. Will either be x Simon or X Daniel by the end.

Side Blogs (Where I also post writing things. Links are to the Masterlists.)

doll-in-the-walls  - Horror/slasher (i.e. Lost Boys, Stranger Things, etc.) [There are 18+ Works - Minors DNI]

Charming Eternity (Poly!Lost Boys x Maeve)

Strangely Charming (Eddie x Maeve & Steve x Calcifer)

reddeadrevival  - Red Dead Redemption 2 related works. (I no longer take requests but I have a bunch posted.) [There are 18+ Works - Minors DNI]

realworldhobbitimagines - Where all my Hobbit imagines are. Kinda like a what if the company was transported to the real world and this random OC and her brother have to deal with it. [There are 18+ Works - Minors DNI]

avengersageofimagines - All my Avenger themed works. [There are 18+ Works - Minors DNI.]

"____ as Unus Annus" Videos

(I've made quite a few of these)

Far Cry Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Obey Me

Red Dead Redemption 2

Rise of the TMNT Part 1, Part 2

(Moon dividers by firefly-graphics)

[flaggermuser]

First line meme

Rules: post the first sentence of your last ten fics. If you haven’t written ten fics, share as many first sentences as you have.

Tagged by my bby @possumteeths <3 mwah mwah mwah

Locked in - Fallout 3: Female Lone Wander x Butch Deloria This is a dubcon fic - Lorelei and Butch are stuck in his quarters until morning

Lorelei sighed; her hand raised to knock on the door of the DeLoria’s quarters.

Devotion - Far Cry 5: Female Deputy x Joseph Seed The Hope County Sheriff's Department is freed.

The Project never sleeps.

An Assassin Calls - Assassin's Creed Syndicate: Beatrice Crane (OC) x Jacob Frye This one is my baby, I am very proud of it. Jacob and Evie meet up with a childhood friend

"Over the years I have established a number of connections across the city.”

As I Went Down To The River - Far Cry 5: Lily May Proctor (OC) x John Seed

John Seed sees a pretty woman and wants to sleep with her, Joseph says no. The title comes from a traditional American song.

Tranquillity.

Atonement - Far Cry 5: Female Deputy x Joseph Seed Heed the tags - Joseph Seed lovebombs Rook

“Bless the name of those who have dealt you blows. Be grateful to those who have caused you harm. For it is these sufferings that have led you to me.”

Kindred Spirits - Far Cry 5: Ivy-Rose Leigh (OC) x Jacob Seed

A woman goes to Hope County to die, is dragged before the Judge and he saves her life. The first line is from a song called This is War by Smile Empty Soul - Ivy-Rose is a veteran.

‘I'm just a normal man, I wouldn't hurt nothing at all, but here we are’

Down With The Devil - Stranger Things: Reader x Eddie Munson Local preacher's daughter corrupted by adorable metalhead. Fic starts with the opening monologue from Number of the Beast by Iron Maiden

Woe to you, o'er Earth and Sea.

For He Is My Shepherd, I Shall Not Want - Discord Slasher: Reader x Kyle Shepherd This fic has non-con elements - Reader is the final girl who is pursued by a man in a sheep mask

They’re dead.

Now You're Mine - The Boy 2016: Octavia Burrell (OC) x Brahms Heelshire This fic is dubcon - Octavia learns the truth about Brahms, loses her mind and stays with him

Octavia braced herself with her hands firmly clutching the sink, her head bowed as the tears fell and the full realisation of her situation finally sunk in.

A Wife For Tommy - The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: Reader x Tommy Hewitt This fic contains slurs - Self-indulgent fic where the reader is my height (5ft 1in/155cm) and becomes Tommy Hewitt's teeny tiny wife.

Fuller, Travis County.

Tagging with no stress: @ventiswampwater @visceravalentines @brimbrimbrimbrim @languidcryptid

[deputyash]

Wake Up, Deputy

Pairing: John Seed x Deputy (Could be read as Dep!Reader)

Word Count: 998

Warnings: Implied Drinking 

Summary: When the Resistance members ditch their beloved Deputy after a wild night, someone else comes in to...save the day?

Tagging: @xmisswolfx

A/N: Ahh, it felt so good writing again! I missed writing my beloved John! I’m so sorry it’s been awhile! Also, thanks for the Idea, @krenee1drful :D I hope you like it!

Hope Ya’ll Enjoy! :)) - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It had been a long day for John. His mind was still buzzing with thoughts of paperwork and reports. He was absolutely exhausted. Not to mention the fact that his region was currently being tormented by the County’s very own Wrath. They’ve been in his region for only a few weeks and already they’ve destroyed two silos and a multitude of outposts. As much as he’d love to sink his claws into them and rip their sins from their body, it would have to wait for another time. Right now he needed to relax his mind.

Of course, he would need to find alternatives to his old habits, especially since Joseph had scolded him just a few days earlier at the Deputy’s cleansing. John opts to go for an evening drive.

He gets in his charcoal-tinted truck and starts off down a random road.

He drives for only a few minutes when he notices banners hanging from posts and papers blowing across a field. John’s curiosity gets the better of him and he parks his truck beside an abandoned baseball field. He gives a once over of the area. It seemed that the people of Fall’s End had some sort of party.

John can’t help but scoff. Heathens, all of them. They were nothing more than hedonistic sinners.

Just as John was about to pull away from the field, something, or rather someone, catches his attention. There laying on the ground was the Deputy!

It was as if God himself had left him a reward for all of his dedicated work!

John couldn’t help but grin to himself as he turns off the ignition and steps out of the vehicle.

This is absolutely perfect! They were laying there practically inviting him to carry them away.

It was almost too easy.

John pauses his stride and takes a cautious look around.

It is rather strange that those sinners would just leave their beloved Deputy on the ground like this. There’s obvious evidence that there were others here, so why would they just up and leave the Deputy in the dark?

John scours the area for any possible signs of an ambush, but when he sees none, he continues walking towards the unconscious Deputy. He looks them over before crouching down beside them. He hovers his palm above their mouth. He feels their soft breath fan over his skin.

Well, they were alive.

“Wake up, Deputy.” John says, smacking their cheek lightly.

He watches as they let out a quiet groan and turn away from him.

“Have too much to drink, Hmm?” John says, catching the scent of alcohol that emanated heavily from them.

“Leave me alone.” Rook replies and sends a surprisingly powerful smack to John’s arm.

“Ow!” He growls out.

John lets out a huff and sits back on his heels. He rubs his arm as he thinks about what he should do with his trouble maker. He should just drag them to his truck and take them to his bunker. He should start their atonement now just for all the trouble they’ve caused him.

But he doesn’t, instead he stands and begins reaching down to them.

“Come along, Deputy. Let’s get you up off the ground.” John says, surprisingly soft and uncharacteristically caring.

They only murmur out a whiny Mmm as he hooks his arms under theirs. John begins pulling them upwards, expecting them to help. He lets out a huff as he struggles to pick up their dead weight.

Rook can’t help but grin a goofy smile. They glance up at him through hazy eyes, “Havin’ trouble there, John?”

“Shut up...You’re lucky I’m even helping you.”

The Deputy only lets out a laugh and turns their head lazily to the side as John continues trying to drag them up towards their feet.

“I swear, Deputy. If you don’t help, I’m going to drop you and leave you here with the pigs.”

“That’s mean.” They pout.

“Well, that’s what your friends did, is it not?”

Rook goes silent as they finally help with standing up. It wasn't a lie...

Together they finally stand and John begins leading them towards the truck.

“Why are you helping me?” Rook mutters as they sway drunkenly.

John keeps them upright as they reach the truck. He opens the passenger’s side and helps them up into the seat.

“Because...I’m not as bad as you think I am.” John says as he gives them a final look and shuts the door.

Rook can only watch as he moves around the vehicle and gets in on the driver’s side. John pushes his hair back into its usual position and turns on the ignition, all while feeling the Deputy’s gaze on him.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He says, looking over at them.

They shake their head.

“It's not that.” Rook replies, “It's just...you were willing to help me. Not like my friends who just...left me.”

This was the perfect opportunity for John to say “Hah, I told you they were ungrateful sinners.” and take this as a victory. John would finally have the satisfaction of being right.

John lets out a sigh.

Maybe it was just his exhaustion catching up with him, but the next words that come from his mouth are far from prideful.

“I remember wishing I had someone to scrape me off the ground when I could barely think, let alone walk… I wasn’t about to leave you there, even if you do deserve to sleep with the livestock.”

Rook let out a short laugh before going quiet again. This time they let out a breath.

“Thank you. Thank you for not leaving me, John.” They murmur.

The truck is silent as they both just sit there. John clears his throat and quickly puts the truck in reverse. That was a long enough heart to heart for now.

John glances at Rook one last time before pulling out of the parking lot.

“You owe me one, Deputy.”

[cherryplasmids]

───far cry 5 masterlist;

for each character, posts are from newest to oldest [2019]

♦ total posts: 3

♦ total word count: 5,270+

♦ key: ☄= new, ★ = favorite, ⊝ = smut

【 Jacob Seed 】

big wolf, my savior ☄ “that’s a lot of blood” + “to be honest, i’m suprised i’m not dead”

【 Joseph Seed 】

coming soon!

【 John Seed 】

could you stay a little bit longer? despite being rook, john asks you to stay

all that could have been it's about time john knows how you truly feel, but it couldn't have come at a worse time

[candles-are-now-illegal]

Headcanons for The Seeds (&Rook) having a streamer s/o

Jacob

Would be confused as hell.

Low-key thinks you've gone insane the first time he hears you streaming from the other room

Will burst into the room if you scream

Has to check if you're streaming all the time so he doesn't break your door down again

Watches in the same room. Silently. Sometimes in camera view just to scare the viewers.

If you play multiplayer shooting games he'll give you tips

Will decline your offer to play the game with you

Secretly practices

Joins a game once he's super good, immediately snipes you and just chuckles into the mic (you recognize that chuckle immediately)

His username isn't exactly being subtle though

" Only_You_Can_Cull_The_Herd "

"Are you trying to sound like Smokey The Bear?"

Joseph

Is also confused but asks a lot of questions.

"Who are these people watching you?"

"Uh..People."

"What people?"

"People...people."

"Why is there a tiny martini glass on your screen?"

"It's for bits."

"Bit-? What-? What is a bit?"

"*Sigh*"

He watches and the moment a troll pops into chat he's offering to be a mod (after you explain how a mod helps)

You have to stop him from writing huge paragraphs about how they (the troll) should put their time towards helping others instead of trolling

You also have to explain what a troll is to him

John

Will tune in on his phone even though he's in the same room just to talk to you via chat.

Especially when he wants your attention

Everyone in chat knows him

He is very popular and everyone spams "oh John" when he first pops into chat

Not so subtly loves when the chat goes crazy when he walks into frame

Will be a mod for you

Will design emotes for you, including one for himself that's just a big YES

Then chat spams "oh John" and YES when he shows up

Faith

Is very excited to watch

Sits just off screen but still next to you

Bounces in her seat (she cannot sit still)

Promises to be quiet but asks many questions

Gets so happy when chat says hi to her when they know she's there (which is all the time)

Ends up sitting in your lap more often than not

Will look things up to help you if you get stuck in a game

Rook

Pokes their head into view of the camera all. the. time.

If there's a lot of room behind your chair they will come up with any reason to walk by behind you.

Wearing a big cowboy hat for no reason ✔️

Walking by twirling handcuffs✔️

"They're not for- They're a cop! Calm down."

Working out with hand weights ✔️

Dancing with Boomer ✔️

It happens so often you end up making a Rook emote that the chat spams when they see them.

They'll mod for you and even hop on the game to play with you if it's co-op

[seedofjoseph]

a garden locked up is my sister, my bride

Fandom: Far Cry 5

Relationship(s): Polyseed feat. F!Deputy

Rating: M (mature)

Words: 3700

Warning(s): displays of non-platonic affection between non-blood relatives; polyamory; traditional gender roles; more corn than a field; more crack than a backroad

Author's Note: The following fanfic is loosely tied to both canon and my own headcanon in the form of an E-rated one (link). And it has even looser ties to Valentine's Day.

Eden's Gate does not recognize any saints save for every Project member who ever took a bullet for the Father. There are as many martyrs as there are guns in Hope County, and some of them might've even been Valentines.

On the last day of summer and what could've easily been the first day of the Collapse, the Seeds reunited on their Ranch in Holland Valley for a feast. They were to eat, drink and enjoy life in the name of their dead Family members. And to celebrate the newest addition: you.

"I see yooou, girls," John threatened you with a sweet song, but not as sweet as the chocolate hearts you and Faith smuggled from his stockpile. "Don't be greedy," he followed your bare footfalls out of the kitchen, and your giggles all the up the stairs. "You're supposed to share."

"We are," you laughed, leading Faith into the master bedroom. "One box for the both of us," you came around the king-sized bed and cut the rug on your way onto the balcony.

"Oh, no," Faith feigned concern at being cornered. She even shielded herself behind you, sneaking a peak at John over your shoulder.

"Oh, yes."

He cracked up, catching his breath. However, he wasn't in a hurry to put his hands on either of you, choosing to extend his arms on either side of your only exit and entrance.

"Nowhere left to run," he leaned on his right foot. "Nowhere left to hide." Then, on his left.

"Brother," she spoke up when you couldn't stop snickering for long enough to do so yourself. "This isn't my fault," her hands slid along your arms and clasped the heart-shaped chocolate box you wore like armor over your chest. "She made me do it."

"What?" You turned, your cheek brushing up against her batting eyelashes. "I thought we had a Thelma and Louise thing going on," your indignation was audible and only drowned out by her sweet snickering. "Help me out here, Faith."

"I'll help you," his words were velvet wrapping around the two of you while both of his hands reached out. "I'll help you both. All you have to do is atone for your sin through an exercise in virtue," his tongue was dipped in honey while he put one foot in front of the other. "Charity."

"He wants it," she whispered into your ear, winding you up along with your arms. As she moved them like a marionette's, you saw them both before you, outstretched. "Let him have it, sister." And, as she pressed her chest against your back, her hands pulled at your own and the heart-shaped chocolate box opened before him. "You want a taste?"

"Want a taste?"

John was only another slow and sure step away from snatching the entire thing, but he stopped and stuttered when all three of you opened yourself to him. "What?" He narrowed his eyes and bunched up his brows. "What are you two playing at?"

"Charity," Faith blew air like a summer breeze behind your ear.

"Charity."

He didn't bite, but he did try for a taste test. With his eyebrows now raised and his eyes digging into the box, John placed his palms atop yours.

"Let him have it," she extracted her hands from underneath his and surrendered yours for direct skin-to-skin contact.

As soon as she slithered her way down your spine and over your sides, he bound your wrists in a brisk move that had the heart-shaped box falling between your fingers and shattering in chocolates all across the balcony. Her esape plan has been a success, leaving you trapped.

"Judas," you called after your partner-in-crime who was crawling away from the chaos she'd created.

"Look at what you did," John joined both of your wrists into a single grip of his. "Look at what you made me do," he lifted your arms above your head and spun you around, slamming your back against his chest as he pulled you into a crushing caress. "Now nobody gets to have a taste."

"John," you screeched, more thrilled than tortured by his manhandling. "John, stop," your voice shifted to a higher pitch, the shrill sound of it a stranger to your own ears. "I almost stepped on one," you balanced yourself on your bare feet while being dragged across the sun-kissed balcony.

What felt right at home was the hot and heavy breath at the back of your head. "I said I would help you, didn't I?" And the sensation of his strained arm muscles maneuvering your body back into the bedroom. "All that processed sugar is bad for you," he squeezed the side of your thigh he tightened his arms around, crumpling the crispt white skirt of your new Sunday dress he had scavenged Holland Valley for.

"Let her go," you heard Faith before you saw her. She stood taller than both of you, up on the bed, but chose to come down from there by landing and latching onto John's back.

"Fuck," he screamed, swiveling and stumbling with you handing off of his arms and her hanging off of his shoulders. "Fuck," he fell to his side, cushioning the both of you as your bound bodies bounced atop the mattress.

"Let us go," she threatened, untangling his now limp limbs from around your torso before binding him with his back against the sheets and his wrists in each of her small hands. "Or else."

"Fuck," John heaved, his chest moving up and down, lifting and lowering her as she straddled it. Still, while he strained to breathe with her sitting atop of him, he didn't even bother to wrestle his hands out of hers from where they wound up: over his head. "You know I can't do that, Faith."

From where you lay across the mattress, stretched out on your side next to him, you saw a man more than content to have been captured by a couple of women. Though he did make a show out of the sweet struggle of being suffocated by the strands of the perfumed hair draped over his face.

"Then we can't let you go," you laughed, looking at your sister-in-suffering who had joined forces with you once more when she dipped her head next to yours.

"Girls," he exhaled, not even bothering to move his mouth when you stole the last of his air from his lungs with a short and sweet peck. "You're going to be the death of me," he inhaled, the Bliss clinging to Faith's hair tickling his nose.

A fourth voice raised above your girlish giggling and his heavy breathing. "Ladies," it boomed and bounced off the bedroom walls. "This asshole bothering you?" It brought your attention to the door that none of you had bothered to close.

"Brother," your sister freed your other brother, flying off of him and over to Jacob Seed. "You made it," she smashed against his side.

"'Course I made it," he smiled, none of the hard lines you saw illuminated in the moonlight all those nights ago showing themselves in the afternoon sun. "It's Valentine's Day," he stroked her hair, his large, calloused hand sliding smoothly against the crown of her head. "C'mere, angel," he beckoned you. "Jonny can't hurt you while I'm around."

"Don't let Joseph hear you call it that," you hear John comment cooly from the emptied bed while you bounced to his brother's other side, warming up to his body heat.

He snorted, swinging his arm over your shoulder. "Let's wish each other Happy Holiday within earshot. Just to be safe."

"Where is Father?"

"He's wishing everyone else a Happy Holiday," Jacob looked down at Faith, rubbing calming circles into her sad, slumped shoulders. "He was closing in on the church in Fall's End the last time I radioed him."

"I thought we'd all be there for the potluck," you looked over the chocolate hearts melting out in the sun. "Is that still happening?"

"Everyone's coming over here for dinner," Jacob followed your line of sight all the way to the balcony. "Is that what you were fighting them over, Johnny? Candy?"

"I was teaching them about charity," the youngest brother defended himself, dry and parched for attention. "That candy was supposed to be passed around at the table, not hoarded."

"He thinks I'm hoardin' you," the oldest brother whispered, winding each of his arms around your middle and whisking you both off of your feet. "Here's your charity case," he huffed, hurrying towards the bed where John still lay.

All three of you landed in a heap of laughter, latching onto the fourth with greedy, grubby hands and starved smirking mouths. Now it was you and Faith on either side of John, leaving Jacob alone and above the scene, on his hunches, hollering.

"How's that for a treat, Johnny?"

"Damn it," he answered from under the adoration he was being showered with. "God damn it," he tossed his head back when your lips slipped into his collar where it was getting hot and stuffy.

"That sweet, huh?" Jacob moved off of the mattress and made a short trip to the scene of the crime to recover the surviving chocolates.

"More like blasphemous," John's chest shook under your mouth as he chuckled. "Sinful." And he licked the corner of his mouth where Faith had kissed him. "Deadly," he smirked at the sound of her squeak. He had snatched her up by the nape of her neck. Then, he tenderly tongued at the corner of her mouth, tasting the seam of it.

"Aww," she provoked him, pressing her forehead against his. "We've been too hard on you."

"Hard?" He slid his hand down your spine, slipping it under the skirt and slapping your uncovered cheek so hard your thigh trembled where you had thrown it over his obvious bulge. "I haven't been hard enough on you."

"Thought today was supposed to be about tender loving care," Jacob joined you on the bed, hicking his knee up at the foot of it. "And treats," he plucked a heart from the similarly shaped box. "Johnny, think fast," he tossed it towards him.

To everyone's surprise, including his own, John caught the treat between his teeth. In response, Jacob barked out a laugh, Faith pulled away far enough to bring her palms together and clap, and you slacked your jaw.

"Atta boy!"

"Father be praised!"

John, with his mouth full, couldn't respond. At least, not verbally. As if to cover up the crevice that was your open mouth, he gave you half of his heart to bite.

Jacob plucked another one and popped it into his own mouth. "There's that charity you were teaching 'em about," he chewed.

"It's a virtue," John licked his lips and laid down, high on the sweetness he'd been served.

You went as far as to demonstrate the lesson, by cupping Faith's cheek and carefully passing half of the chocolate chunk to her.

"Good," the older brother gave his approval, approaching the both of you with another heart to share. And it was Faith's turn to tear into it and feed you half. "Good girl," he groaned when you glazed his chocolate-covered fingers while wrapping your lips around them. "Shit," he choked out as you sucked him in.

"That sweet, huh?" The younger brother teased.

"Loving care and sweet treats," he cleared his voice, closing the now empty box with his saliva-slick fingers. "And gifts," he tossed it towards the entrance where a rucksack rested. "Fetch."

You and Faith stared at each other for no longer than a second before sprinting toward the bag of goodies. While you shoved the door hard enough for the wind to shut it, she snatched a strap and pulled it across the floor and to the foot of the bed. And under both brothers' eyes.

"Don't tell me you went shopping."

"No," he shook his head as if turning over the idea inside his skull. "Did you?"

"I did," John draped one arm over his shoulder and dropped one atop your white sleeve. "A new dress for our new sister."

"Fancy," Jacob murmured, watching you kiss his brother's knuckles in gratitude. "Musta been expensive."

"Not more expensive than Faith's," John looked over at her, and she swung her arms in the air, her new loose sleeves fluttering like wings..

"I went huntin'," Jacob said suddently, startling you.

Locking eyes with Faith again, you slowly sunk your hand into the rucksack while she silently unzipped it.

"And pickin' flowers," Jacob leaned down, taking the lead and taking out the two newspaper-wrapped boxes.

"What? What kind of flowers growing up there anyway?" John snorted while the two of you tore into the gifts. "Did you chop down a three for each?" John inquired further, now faced with two wooden boxes, blessed with the blood-red paint of Eden Gate's Cross.

"Will you wait for 'em to open the damn things or are you just gon' guess my ear off?" He raised his voice and his posture, tensing up. "A'ight," he clutched his knees, digging his jagged nail into his warn-out jeans. "Ladies?"

Silently, the two of you made a truce to break the tension, lifting up the lids at the same time. Gasping, you gathered your gifts which consisted of a rabbit foot silver pendant and the wildflowers laid to rest in raisin at the bottom of the box.

"Went huntin' on the last full moon, when this jackrabbit jumped out," he rubbed his palms against his pants as if to dry them further. "They're supposed to be lucky charms, though those feet didn't take 'im to no pot of gold," he toyed with the foot hanging from his neck, slumping over and steading his forearms on his thighs. "Made 'em myself. And the boxes. Painted 'em. Poured the raisin."

John joined him, crossing his arms atop his thighs. "You have an artist's eye," he joined their foreheads and Jacob's frown was smothered between their skins. "Runs in the family."

"He does," Faith showed off her flowers to you. "He made us still life paintings."

You traced them through the transparent surface. "They're beautiful."

"And poisonous," she added, now adorning the taxidermied charm around her neck. "It's bittersweet nightshade."

"Poetry runs in our blood," John smiled and Jacob joined him in the end. "Beautiful and deadly."

"They are." He reached down for the both of you, and you each rested your cheek in one of his cupped hands. "Like a couple of little ladies I know."

"Thank you," Faith fluttered her lashes and kissed his thumb while it traced her sweet smile.

And you took your time nuzzling into the warm nook that was the palm of his hand.

"Do you hear that?" John perked up, peering over Jacob's bowed head and out towards the balcony.

"Cavalry's here."

Faith was fast to react, running across the floor and reclining over the railing. "He's here," she jumped on her bare feet, joining in the outdoor choir. "The Father's here," she waved down at them, then waved over to you.

The Father was preoccupied with the praise of every other sibling downstairs to spot either one of you up on the second floor. It was Jacob's whistling that diverted the direction of his eyes from the driveway and focused his split attention on a singular point. And it felt like you were in the crosshairs of a firearm instead of a heated gaze.

Your heart was racing so fast, it competed with the rabbit's foot pendant you wrapped around your wrist. And it stopped altogether when the sun highlighted the slight curve in the corner of his mouth. If it weren't for your sister squeezing your hand, you might've melted down to your feet like the chocolates still scattered on the balcony.

"Joseph," Jacob exclaimed. "See you downstairs," he enunciated.

Joseph Seed answered with a big wave and a small smirk.

"C'mere, Johnny," you caught the oldest brother's words as they slipped through the cracked open bathroom door. "You chocolate all over your mouth."

"Damn it, Jake," the sound of the youngest brother sighing had you and Faith smiling silently at each other. "I'm not a fucking child."

"Oh, shit," you heard her swear for the first time, right before she grabbed a toothbrush - John's toothbrush - from the sink and furiously cleaned her chocolate-stained front teeth. "Make it fast," she passed it to you along with the paste. "Father's probably done wishing Happy Holiday by now."

"Gimmie a second," you sighed, still shaking from the earlier sighting. "Just need a second," you tremble as you thread your fingers through your hair.

"Here," she smoothed her fingers against your scalp and behind your ears. "He loves this fragrance," she stroked the spot with the scent she chemically engineered herself and had bottled especially for you in a glass vial. "He won't even notice the nervous sweat."

"Shut up," you lean back against her, laughing.

"I like it," she stared you down, over your shoulder, meeting your eyes in the mirror. "You smell like you did back when you lept off of Joseph's Word," she nuzzled the strip of skin she rubbed the Bliss-based spray into. "You were so scared," her lips latched onto your earlobe. "But it was worth it, wasn't it?" She whispered over the wet flesh and you whimpered. "Now you're one with the Father."

You remember it like a dream or a nightmare. Sister Faith had you take a leap of faith like every other Devoted, but it wasn't enough to keep on the Path. In the end, it wasn't Brother Jacob who brought you to your knees. It was Brother John who filled you with fear, soaked you in your own sweat, and make you bow before the Father.

Now, with a trembling on your lips and a thrill up your spine, you toss your head back, resting it on her shoulder, and taste sweet trepidation behind her tongue and sucked in a minty tongue.

"Your second's up," she pulled away, pulling a pained sound out of you.

"One more," you spun around, snatching her up and sitting her atop the sink.

"You're bad," she giggled while you gathered up the white lace into her lap and shoved your satin skirt-covered thighs in the sweet, slick space between hers. "Such a bad influence," she puffed, pushing her pelvis forward.

"Shut up and kiss me," you spoke into her gaping mouth, grinding down on he groin.

Your tongues had only just passed each other when reality came rapping at the bathroom door.

"Ladies," Jacob sounded faint like he'd been the one stealing breaths away. "Joseph's downstairs."

"In a minute," your sister spoke for the both of you, sliding off of the sink and smoothing down her dress skirt. In a minute, she combed through your mushed hair and cooled down your boiling blood. "Take the leap," she laced her fingers with yours and took the lead. "It'll be worth it."

John escorted you, holding the bedroom door open. "Take a good long look, Jake. That's the last we'll see of them."

"Just turn your head around, jackass," Jacob followed in your footsteps.

"You know what I mean," you heard John closing in on you and the first flight of stairs. "Daddy's home."

"Startin' to think it's you who needs to learn how to share," he lowered the volume of his voice the further down you went. "Bet that bed back there could fit five."

Faith feigned ignorance, swinging the bound arms between the two of you as she skipped her way to the sofa where Joseph Seed sat with a guitar in his lap.

"Father!" She bounced onto the bear rug and you followed, feeling the fur tickle your toes. "Look!" Turning towards you, she unfurled your fingers and thought you how to twirl.

And you mirrored her, moving counterclockwise, and pausing with your hands on each side of your skirt. "Mine has pockets, too," you slipped them inside.

"Brother John got them for us!"

Looking over her shoulder, she smiled at him and he hesitated at first, but eventually smiled back.

Like you, John picked up on the guitar pick pausing, and the strumming stopping. The Father was about to speak.

"Beautiful," his sky-blue eyes lit up behind the sun of his glasses like he already knew where to look for the 'deadly' that 'beautiful' was paired up with. Lifting the guitar off of his lap, he sat each of you on either side of him. And so, he hoisted your leg up on his thigh, while you folded the other under you and cozied up into the cushions.

"John always had an eye for the finer things in life," his voice was warm and his breath was hot as he spoke against the slope of your neck like he already picked up on the perfume.

"Runs in the family," John's smile was sincere as he came to sit at your side.

"You'd have to be blind not to know a pretty little thing when you see one," Jacob took you by your hand and showed off the silver pendant nestled in the palm of it. "Killed this one for 'em. And for good luck."

"Is that blood on your hands? Joseph focused on his thumb, the sweet stain still clinging to it.

"Chocolate," he chuckled after taste-testing it. "We shared a box full of 'em."

John smothered a laugh between your shoulder blades and Faith hid her face under Father's chin.

"I see," the Father unfurrowed his brow, relaxing his rigid muscles underneath your tentative touch. "I do hope you saved room for dessert."

"Doncha mean dinner, Joseph?"

"I mean cupcakes," his smirk returned, a hand running through your hair, tucking it behind your ear while he took another whiff.

"Oh," Faith brightened up, bouncing on his knee. "You've been baking again?"

"No," he pecked her pouting lips. "We'll be baking. All of us. As a family."

"A'ight," Jacob's joints popped as he plopped himself next to Faith. "Long as the baby doesn't go anywhere near a stove."

"The baby?" You were confused, but only until John cleared the fog you found yourself in.

"There he goes again. Jake, I'm your kid brother, not an actual kid."

"You are the man of the house," Joseph said solemnly, with only a sprinkle of sarcasm. "Thank you for hosting us this holiday, John."

"Happy Holiday," you wished him, just as you and Jacob had agreed.

"Happy Holiday, my child," he murmured into your mouth, gifting you your first kiss on the last day of summer.

And, if God is good, it would be the first day of the Collapse.

[thot-writes]

if you could do any content for bratty john seed i would owe you my life

you know what? i owe YOU MY life anon. i am so grateful for you. also @applepieandacherrycoke asked me to tag them in this so i will!!! more femdom john porn to come!!! >:)

P.S. bratty sub john is just canonical john, don’t @ me unless ur agreeing

John Seed Bratty Sub Headcanons (NSFW);

John, despite sleeping around frequently, has yet to experience a satisfying submissive experience. I imagine he ends up on top more frequently than he would like either due to his partners, his mood (if he just wants a quick roll, y’know?), or maybe even his pride.

Don’t get me wrong, dude has definitely been on the receiving end of things before, it’s just never impressed him. He’s quite hard to please.

In fact, I’m gonna take it a step further and say John has probably only ever had mediocre - “pretty good” sex in general. Just because he fucks a lot doesn’t mean he fucks a lot of experienced people. Maybe he’s had one or two instances that stand out among others, but not fuckin’ many.

The Deputy, though? You cannot TELL me that she’s anything less than a sexual demi-god. John has the hots for her, Faith has the hots for her, Sharky has the hots for her, Joseph has the hots for her, Jacob - well, I don’t know about him but he probably has the hots for her. That shit’s just in the game, homegirl doesn’t even say one full word the entire game and she’s got p/bussy lining up at the door, are you kidding me? The Deputy fucks. (Also I could talk at length about our favourite Dep so feel free to ask for that lmfao)

John is already pining for Rook throughout the game, he’s always trying to lead her to salvation, he’s always fucking calling her, he always goes the extra mile when it comes to her - all this is just canonical content. Dude sets up a fucked up faux wedding for you right before he straddles your hips like he’s riding your strap.

So is it any surprise that John, whether he admits it to himself or not, is desperate for whatever punishment she deems appropriate for him?

In the scene where he’s choking you out, I imagine a part of him, somewhere in his brain, is just waiting for you to bust out of your binds and ravage him for his misdeeds. In front of Hudson, who gives a fuck, John don’t care.

In a sexual relationship with the Deputy, John will crank the shit-talking levels up to 100. You thought he was at 100 before? Sike, bitch! Not even close!

Once he first gets the taste of you - the forbidden fruit - his body just aches for more, he becomes almost impossible to satisfy.

He’ll egg you on just so you break, let loose that untamable wrath of yours and show him a side of you only he’s ever seen. He’ll feel so special from that, it’s like he has you all to himself (which is what he wants).

He becomes distracted and almost clumsy in how he handles himself compared to before. The cult sees it, his siblings see it, but only he knows the extent of how bad it truly is. His mind is occupied with you, he wants to see what your limits are, he wants to taste you, feel you, he wants your hands around his throat and your bite marks on his thighs. 

With you, unlike anyone he’s been with before, John can actually let go. All his inhibitions, his ego, his moral dilemmas, it simply evaporates when it’s with you.

With his sex addiction, that was a means to an end. It was a distraction from his pain and the person he’s hiding from, the one that believes he’s inherently wrong, sinful, deserving of ostracism. While he loves the beatings you give him, he senses no malice in you when you do it - and perhaps that’s why he loves it so much. 

John has committed atrocities, absolutely, and against you especially. It’s different compared to, say, his childhood abuse at the hands of his father and then his adoptive parents. There he was a blameless, innocent child who was taught he was wrong without actually doing any wrong.

But by the time you meet him, he has done wrong. He’s done a lot of wrong. Who better to render judgement on him than the prophesised Bringer of Hell?

Being with you is freeing to him, even if a lot of the time he ends up bound and at your mercy. 

You honestly can’t even look at the big-ass YES sign in Holland Valley anymore because you just get horny. Memories of John’s frenzied, breathy cries of “Yes, yes, yes!” flood back into your mind and you just have to find an excuse to meet with him again. 

He quickly realises what’s going on (because he’s a smartass), and not only does he fucking love it, but he’ll gloat about it.

Even when you’re fucking his brains out and he’s half a second away from cumming, he’ll still manage to look you in the eyes and ask “Is that it?”

It’s very easy for your relationship to turn from just sexual to romantic, the only question is how do you both go about it? That future is uncertain, and up to you, but whether or not you two become committed doesn’t change the fact that you’ve successfully tamed the infamous John Seed.

And let’s be real, he’s tamed you too.

[rookthewrathful]

So, this is really important to me....

Does John Seed have freckles??

It’s a genuine question, I can’t tell

[you-can-call-me-darling-dear]

Why I gotta love cult members...?

[deputyash]

Marry the Plates

Pairing: John Seed x Reader

Word Count: 408

Warnings: None! :)

Summary: You and John are taking a nap, but your darling can’t seem to stop talking to you.

A/N: Thank you for the cute Request, Anon! I hope you like it! :D

I Hope ya’ll Enjoy! :))

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

The bedroom was dark. The only source of light was the slight glow that crept out from behind the blinds on the windows. Soft snores come from beside you. You and John were taking a nap. Neither of you slept very well the night before, so now you’re both making up for the missing time.

You turn onto your side and bury your face in John’s chest. His arms unconsciously wrap around you. You take in a deep breath, inhaling his sultry scent. You intertwine your legs with his and hug him close. You reach a hand up and softly tread your fingers through his hair. It was messy and beautiful. Just the way you like it.

You close your eyes and let out a relaxed sigh. You were finally drifting off to sleep.

Just as your thoughts float away, John’s voice recaptures your attention. You open your eyes and look up at him. His eyes were still closed.

You were about to write it off as your imagination, but you hear it again.

“Mhmm...Y/N...”

Is he...sleep talking?

John’s arms tighten around you, “Y/N...lllungh…marry...the plates...”

You smile to yourself and giggle. He is sleep talking.

“John?” You whisper softly.

He lets out a little hum, “Y/N? Did you do it?”

“Did I do what?” You ask, smiling and biting your lip to keep from giggling again.

“M-marry the plates! Did you?”

“No. I didn’t.”

“Yes! I want to see them happy…”

“I don’t thinkー”

“No! Marry the plates…”

You reach over and lovingly brush John’s hair back.

“Okay. I’ll marry the plates.”

“Good...Will you invite them...to the party?”

“Yes, John.”

John lets out a sleep-infused laugh.

“You’re good...I like you.”

“Thank you, John. I like you too.” You say, smiling as you feel a fluttering feeling in your stomach.

He is so sweet. This is really cute.

“You know somethin’? I luuve...Y/N… So fun...and pretty.”

John suddenly yanks you close, “But don’t tell...Shhhh...It's...a secret.”

Your eyes widen and your face flushes as he gives you his confession. You smile sweetly at his sleeping form.

“I love you too John.”

“No! I said don’t tell Y/N!”

“Okay. I won’t, but Y/N loves you too, you know?”

“You think so?”

You nod.

“I know so. Y/N will tell you later when you can remember, okay?”

“Okkaay…Good...I really love Y/N…”

[naromoreau]

Snowed in

This one is for @seedsplease, you asked me for soft nsfw in front of the fire place at the Ranch. I hope you like how this turned up, because I don’t know where all the angst came from XD. Thank you! ________________________________________ Pairing: John Seed x Reader, John Seed x Deputy Raiting: NSFW You dragged the dead weight of the rifle slumping down your body, the muzzle carving a zigzag pattern on the fresh mud, and the strap digging a painful crease on the flesh of your shoulder. Maybe leaving everyone behind at Fall’s End wouldn’t be counted among your greatest decisions yet still you got what you wanted.

Striding under the heavy rain, your legs grumbled for the harsh treatment while the last rays of the winterly pale sun riddled through the foliage like through a sieve. The chill air seeped through your jacket, gnawing at your very bones, the freezing sensation magnified by your soaked clothes. If you could only find a fucking truck, before the drowsiness took over your brain, and even the voice in your head started to slur your panic.

The inclined path followed for a few yards carpeted by interspersed turfs. You lost your footing stepping into a divot, cursing between clicking teeth, until you spotted a wooden building greeting you in the distance. “Well, fuck me.” With no map and no GPS, you managed to land your ass at the front of Seed Ranch, the first place you wanted go, yet the last place it was good for you.

You hid a growl making your stealthy way around as much as your pained ankle allowed it, noticing that due to the unbearable cold all the guards had been removed. You dashed among crates and barrels while above you the now purple sky unleashed a cleansing fury, every drop of water drubbing in staccato over you, like under the direction of an overexcited conductor.

Your lungs fought to give you the air you needed, and well, perhaps it was time to actually rest for a bit. The flooded surface splashed under your boots as you sought an almost dry spot, and crouched in a secluded corner. Around you the rain turned into soft snow, delicate flakes carried by the wind, and you glanced at your nails. They were blue. It wasn’t that bad, you thought, as you forced your fingers to grip the flesh of your own arms and your teeth chattered uncontrollably, biting the tip of your tongue. The coppery flavor of your blood swamped in your mouth but the pain was almost nonexistent. The edges of your sight blurred into jagged black, before you catched faint, muffled footsteps approaching you. If you could only move your hand.

“My dear Deputy, what do I owe this honour?” John Seed ducked next to you before reaching a hand to touch your almost comatose body. “Shit, deputy, you’re freezing!” His voice tapped in your ear, the mocking tone completely gone and replaced by strained anguish as he got rid of his coat, putting it over you in a swift movement.

He lifted you from the ground, cradling you against his chest, protective hands grasping you hard. “It’s ok, my dear, everything is going to be alright,” he reassured you whispering into your ear, and the only thing you could do was shudder like a newborn pigeon.

Now he was almost running into the house, but his words still reached your words under a steady rhythm. “Hey, darling, hey!” he muttered as your conscience balanced at the edge of oblivion, “focus on my voice, don’t fall asleep Deputy, don’t!”

You tried, even if half your mind wanted to, just because it was him, and you’d go to great lengths to sour his life, but the desperation running on every word was a whiplash in your face. It must’ve been important.

“How do you get yourself in this kind of–” he trailed off, clutching you even tighter against him and you leaned into him. “It’s alright, sh, you’re safe now,” he said with a sense of finality.

You crossed the threshold of the house once you saw as an enemy fort, securely in his arms, and it irked you how good it felt. His spicy mint scent was one of the few things you were still able to recognize and it grounded you, every little wisp traveling to your haggard brain, reminding you who you were, who he was, even if you were still too weak to respond.

He placed you on the bearskin rug in front of the big fire at the center of the living room, tossing carelessly his soaked coat aside. Your entire body shuddered as he peeled the layers of sodden cloth out of your body.

“Listen to me, deputy, I’m not going to harm you,” he said taking off your boots and pulling down your jeans, “but you’ll die if I don’t get these off you,  you hear me?”

You locked eyes with him, and it striked you the deep concern etched in his brow, blue eyes surveying your face almost with pain. You lied naked on the rug in no time and he dashed off your side just to comeback ten seconds later carrying two magnificent wool blankets he placed over you. He was as soaked as you, and you lifted a dainty finger to point at him.

“John,” you finally said with a gruesome effort, “your clothes– wet–cold.”

He chuckled, grasping your hand. “My dear, you’re at the verge of dying yet you still worry about me, even though I haven’t treated you in the most gracious way.”

His hands made short work of his vest, and his shirt, and kneeled as he was next to you, you reached your fingers to trace the skein of tattoos and scars. The numbing cold was dissipating slowly, but now all you wanted to do was wrap your arms around him, to live again the fleeting moment when you were able to hear his heartbeat.

“Come,” you said, blinking slowly, “please, I’m cold.”

He looked at you as if he couldn’t believe your words, and quickly shuck off his trousers, sliding next to you under the blankets. He was warmer than you and between the strong fire at your back and the maddening heat in front of you, you finally felt a bit more alive.

You closed your arms around his body, pressing every inch of you to every inch of him, and he rubbed your arms and back, trying to diminish the shivers and goosebumps that flared on your skin. You tilted your head up, catching the blush on his cheeks, as your feet bumped against his shins and your muscles relaxed.

“Are you feeling better?,” he asked you with a wavering voice, and it only took you a roll of your hips to know why.

“Yes,” you said with the faintest of whispers, “but– I don’t– why are you doing this?”

He heaved a hard sigh, that mingled with yours, his arm possessively tugged around your waist. “I– don’t know, I don’t know really, maybe you’re waiting for this groundbreaking reason, but the truth is I don’t know.” He shifted in your arms, holding you even tighter. “Maybe is a sin, and it clouds my mind, but when I saw you there, dying out of cold, I told myself I couldn’t let that happen.”

“Because of Joseph?” you offered.

“No, no, no,” he said placing his chin on the crown of your head, “no, little bird, because of me. What if I told you, you changed something,” he grabbed your hand and placed it over his heart, “in here? You unburdened me, but I know I’m a sinner, and you’d never say–”

“Yes.” You gave your hips another roll and trapped his hard cock between your legs, his chest heaving with hitching breaths.

“Are- are you sure?” he gruffed, blue eyes delving deep into yours.

You kissed him as a whole answer, his tongue warring for dominance and you let him, your hips rocking with his rock hard cock rubbing between your folds. His mouth trailed down your neck, teeth nipping at your skin hard enough to bruise. He flipped you on your back and pinned down your wrists to the rug, your thighs clasping at his hard on.

“You really have no idea what you do to me, don’t you, sweetheart?” He whispered with a sliver of something wicked in his voice, and god in heaven, a gush of liquid trickled down the apex of your thighs.

A moaned escaped you, as he palmed one breast, diving down to catch your nipple in his mouth, his other hand stealing down your abdomen, his fingers trickling at your entrance and curling over your clit. “A little excited are we not?”

You wanted to respond, but your words were dulled by your whimpers, his voice soaking into your skin. He thrust forward, the friction of his dick against your clit, dragging small hums of pleasure out of your throat.

“Please, John,” you begged, your fingernails raking as he moved, pressing against you in all the right ways.

Your legs fell open, circling around his waist and now it was his time to gasp and groan as you closed your hand around his dick, to align him to your entrance just so. He devoured your lips as he slid slowly inside you, giving you time to adjust to every inch intruding in you. And you were certainly thankful for it, because he was by far the biggest you’d ever take. Your rough exhalations fanned against his neck and a growl tore from his throat unbidden the second he was fully inside you.

“My dear, you feel like heaven,” he grunted against your lips, now rocking his hips and you realized this was going to be a very short trip to the end line. Every ridge and vein in his cock stroked in all the right angles, his tip hitting against your sweet spot making you writhe and cry out with every thrust of his hips.

You were bracketed between his arms, his body arching against yours, and your legs closed tighter around him. You wanted him closer, wanted to trip over the line of your orgasm, grazing at it with every pump, with every assault of his cock to your cunt.

“Don’t fight it,” he mumbled, and it didn’t surprised you when your walls clenched around him, your back arching as the spark of white flared up behind your eyelids.

He kneeled between your thighs, hoisting your hips up and slammed every inch of that delicious dick inside you. “God, you feel good, so wet, so tight,” he breathed to the empty living room, “and just for me, my Deputy, my little bird.”

With a feral growl he came inside you, his body shaking apart until he finally collapsed on top of you.

He propped on one elbow, kissing every free spot in your face, tucking your hair behind your ear. “I didn’t save you for you to be bound to me by an obligation,” he said with a neutral tone but a possessive hand curled around you, fastening you to him, and you suspected that pushing him away would swiftly bring back the Inquisitor from deep within him. “You can leave if you want.”

It was really lucky that what you felt, was solid enough to keep yourself steady under those hypnotic blue eyes. “I want to stay, John, because of you, not because I’m bound to,” you said, reveling in the sensation of his come now dripping down your thighs. “I’m yours.”

He smiled giving you a sloppy kiss, all fervor and yearning, as through the window the flakes eddied down in the freezing wind.