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❇ FARCRY-TOBER IS HEREEEE ❇

Is there a better name for it? PROBABLY!

❇ Day 14 : Lust ❇

John Seed X Trans Masc Reader

Remember when I said I would write a John Seed mirror sex fic? Well, here you go!

word count : 4631

Being one of the leaders of the resistance against Eden’s Gate meant taking risks. Y/n knew that. It was his job to take on what the others couldn’t. As the cult grew, he had to take on more and more. Everyone’s lives were plagued by various doubts and struggles. Y/n watched as his friends left town, and others caved to the desires of Eden’s Gate. Yet, y/n stayed. This was his home, and he couldn’t just leave it. The remaining people of Hope County deserved nothing less than perfection, and y/n was determined to give that to them. When Jerome told him their primary source of information had been taken down during the peak of Seed Family's violence, y/n knew he had to act.

He was given a simple mission, although far more dangerous than most. With the resistance’s efforts finally paying off, they would be targeting John’s bunker in no time. Y/n was tasked with finding where Eden’s Gate was the captured members of the resistance. Normally, if they couldn’t reach their informant, the resistance would rely on overhearing bits of information from peggie radio chatter. But that had led to one to many set ups as John started to catch on.

Y/n steadied his breath as he watched the peggies guarding the large bunker door, a smooth rock held heavy in his hand. Before long, there would be a shift change; it wasn’t long enough for a group to get in through the main door so Jerome ignored it. But it was a risk y/n willing to take.

As the door creaked open, y/n tossed the rock between two barrels of bliss. The loud metallic clank had the guards rushing over, giving the young man the perfect chance to sneak inside.

Y/n had studied the blueprints to John’s bunker hundreds of times, yet the identical blue striped halls felt more like a labyrinth than a bunker with every step. Y/n counted hallways and turns as he moved, following the red line marking the way to where he suspected his friends were being held as best as he could.

“Our maps are out of date. With how fast Eden’s Gate grows we can’t keep track of all John’s upgrades. Who knows how much we are missing.” Jerome’s words echoed in y/n’s mind as he crept along the shadows. “It’s too dangerous to attack now.”

Adrenaline filled y/n’s veins, leading him deeper and deeper in a direction he could only hope was right.

“-still has that girl tied up. Figured her friend would have come for her by now.” Y/n leaned against the cold concrete wall, closing his eyes as he listened to a group of peggies around the corner.

“Those sinners are all the same, so incredibly selfish. John will set them straight.” Y/n took a shaky breath, fighting the urge to leave the cultist an unrecognizable mess. After coming this far undetected, it wasn’t worth the risk. They would see. By the end of the night, everyone would be safe, and all of Hope County would get to hear John bitching about how they got away. Y/n smirked as he heard the peggies move further down the hall. He readied himself to move further into the bunker; it wouldn’t be long before everyone was back home.

“You should know,” Y/n froze as John spoke, the shadows of his chosen creeping into view. “it’s awfully rude to show up uninvited."

“So, tell me, what sins do you hide?” John’s intense blue eyes looked straight through y/n as he spoke, “You parade around Hope county like a paragon. But we both know that’s not true.”

Y/n struggled against his restraints, head throbbing as he tried to imagine being anywhere else.

“The others will come, John.” The youngest Seed brother looked unamused as y/n spoke, twisting his knife slowly in his hands. “Surely neither of us want a fight. It’s never worth the aftermath. Be civil John, I beg you.”

“Civil?!” Y/n flinched at John’s bitter laugh, “I think I know your sin. Pride. You give all of those sinners faith, leading them to believe that you know best. Better than the Father, better than God.” The cold edge of John’s knife glided carefully over y/n’s forearm, careful not to break skin. John’s gaze calculating as he studied the sinner bound before him. Y/n fought off a gasp at the jolt of his chair which left y/n inches away from John’s face. “You have been such a pain, a true thorn in the side of Eden’s Gate. I am going to enjoy cleansing you of your sin, I may need to be more– thorough to do this right.”

John dragged y/n’s chair through the halls of his bunker, the metal scraping loudly against the cold concrete floor. Various peggies filled the halls, the scars of their sins shining ominously under the fluorescent lights. Some of the cultists looked vaguely familiar, friends and neighbors from what felt like a lifetime ago. Some avoided y/n’s gaze as the duo passed; others sneered in his direction, not bothering to hide their disgust. Y/n held his head high as he watched, a measured expression painted upon his face.

The drop of y/n’s chair jerked his attention back to John who was flipping through a key ring, carefully picking one that matched the matte black knob of the door before them. This door was nothing like the mass produced metal ones that littered the rest of the bunker: it was carefully carved, wood stained with a deep blue and framed with black hardware. John Seed’s personal quarters. Y/n stifled a laugh, this was the man who wanted to lecture him about pride?

Y/n’s eyes strained as they struggled to adjust to the darkness of John’s room, doing his best to track John’s movements behind him. John’s eyes met y/n’s through the mirror as he locked the door they entered only moments ago. The small lamp on a large wooden dresser cast dramatic shadows around the room, its light absorbed by the deep colors John clearly preferred. “Don’t worry y/n, no one will hear you now, confessions are meant to be private after all.” John stalked closer to y/n, every movement oozing a sense of confidence and purpose.

“Let’s try this again. What sins are you trying so hard to hide? Your pride is obvious, it clouds your mind. Leads you to make rash decisions and, well, I don’t have to tell you how that ends.” John placed his head on y/n’s shoulder, a smirk drawing at his lips as his eyes wandered over the younger man in the floor length mirror. “Do I?”

“You don’t have to do this John-”

“Oh but I do. To let you continue down this path of sin would only be a symbol of my own failure. And as a soldier of God, failure is not something I can afford. By the time you leave this bunker, your sins will be exposed. Every single one of them. You will hide no longer. Not from me, not from your little resistance and not from yourself. Only then, may you begin to atone.”

“And if I don’t?” Y/n took a shaky break as John’s words settled over him. “If I choose not to atone after it all? What then?”

Y/n had seen the aftermath of John’s little confessions. It was almost as if you could tell who gave him a hard time, who struggled to keep their sins under wraps. Their scars were deep and jagged. Y/n always imagined the pain that caused them couldn’t compare to what they showed. They served as a warning. Resistance would only earn you endless pain at the hands of Eden’s Gate.

Others had scars that were neat and precise, deep enough to leave a mark but shallow enough to avoid unnecessary suffering. These were the scars of people who rolled over and gave themselves willingly to Eden’s Gate. It was shameful, but it was easy. It was safe. Y/n briefly thought about confessing, doing only what was necessary to leave John’s bunker relatively unharmed. But he knew John wouldn’t let him go so easily, not after everything he had done.

“I can’t make you atone, but until you have been guided to the steps of Eden’s Gate, I may not rest easy.” John moved between Y/n and the mirror, speaking in a hushed voice while leaning close enough y/n could see his reflection in those icy blue eyes. “Your sin infects those around you, bringing us all down. Spreading like a vicious disease, one only you can prevent. You just have to say yes. Let me help you.”

“Help me?” John’s eyes grew dark at the abrupt laugh that left y/n’s mouth, “I’m tied up while you threaten me with a knife, and you think you are helping me? I always heard lawyers were good at persuading people. Guess this is why you didn't make it, huh? Your poor clients, they never-”

Y/n’s eyes began to water as the hard feeling of concrete met his head, his feeble groan sounding foreign as it flooded his ears. John’s frame moved into his blurred vision as the man straddled him, legs fitting perfectly on either side of his chair.

“I left that life behind for my family; that was my sacrifice. One of my many steps toward atonement. A step you will be taking today,” Warm light reflected harshly off the metal of John’s knife. A shiver ran up y/n’s spine as the cold blade made its way across his skin for the second time that night. “Your pride will be put on display for the world to see. It’s almost poetic, isn’t it? Such a perfect little sinner being exposed, unable to hide from your shortcomings. What a mighty sacrifice indeed.”

“John, please, don’t do this.” Y/n pulled against the ropes still holding him in place as John untied him just enough to secure his forearm into a more accessible position. “Anywhere else, anything else, please.”

“Oh? Did I hit a nerve?” The too familiar edge of John’s knife paused on its newfound home against y/n’s forearm, “I’m afraid you don’t get to pick where your sin is displayed. The atonement, it's all symbolic. Humility embraced by those with pride, charity given by those most driven by greed, and diligence shown by those who were once plagued by sloth. Soon you will see exactly how it all fits together. And how you fit within it all.”

“Maybe it’s something else. My sin, what if it isn’t pride? What if you’re wrong?” Y/n knew it was a long shot as the words left his mouth, but John’s laugh still caught him off guard.

“We both know I am not wrong, not about this.” John tilted his head, stray hair falling onto his face. “But I suppose if you are willing to make a proper confession, we could hold off on marking you with something so obvious. Though you should know, very few sins manage to hide once they have made their way onto your flesh.”

The key around John’s neck swayed in almost a teasing manner as it caught the light. John’s weight pinned y/n in place; even with a free arm, he had no way to escape. Freedom was within y/n’s grasp, but he wouldn’t dare to risk taking it. The only way out was confession, John had made sure of that. Y/n’s mind raced as he studied the herald’s wicked grin, flinching as cold metal lazed its way across his neck. John was growing impatient; y/n didn’t have long before a choice would be made for him. Surely being stuck under a less attractive man would make finding an escape so much easier.

Y/n felt a heat rush to his face, praying that John hadn’t noticed his sudden shift in demeanor.

Sure, being in the resistance took up a lot of his time, leaving less for certain… extracurricular activities. But he wasn’t that desperate, was he?

Y/n studied the man above him, trying not to be painfully obvious about where his mind had wandered. John Seed was many things, and given his promiscuous past, who could really say he wasn’t attractive? All of the Seed brothers had a certain edge to them, now that y/n thought about it. And by god, those eyes didn’t make things easier.

“Come now, y/n, don’t tell me you’ve given up so quickly?” Blood began to bead under the sharp edge of John’s knife as he pushed it against y/n’s throat, “Your atonement is still within reach, you just need to confess.”

Y/n laid his cheek on the cold concrete ground, shutting his eyes tight as anger made its way into John’s voice: a reflex he hoped the man would mistake for fear. Of all the things he should be feeling right now, lust certainly wasn’t one of them. “This is getting out of hand-”

“Look at me.” John’s firm hands forced y/n to face him fully once again, “Your life is about to change, and I won’t let you forget this moment.”

Terror flooded y/n’s senses as a sudden look of recognition flashed across John’s face. “Ah, I’ve seen your type before.” John stood, returning y/n’s chair to its upright spot in front of the mirror. “I must commend you, y/n. Of all the things I’ve heard about you, tales full of wrath and greed, never once did anyone mention your lust. It’s a sin that runs deep, calls to us from far within. To deny it as you have,” John places his head on y/n’s shoulder, meeting his eyes in the mirror, "it's a mighty task indeed. But avoidance doesn’t absolve you of sin. I do.”

Pictures of scarred friends and cultists flooded y/n’s mind as he desperately tried to remember seeing anyone branded with lust. Only one person came to mind. Joseph Seed. Y/n had no doubts that the youngest of the Seed brothers shared a similar scar, especially considering his reputation. But if Joseph’s was anything to go by, it wasn’t a sin that was carved into visible places. This was it, his easy way out.

John chuckled darkly, as if sensing y/n’s train of thought, “Of course, confession is only the first part. A step you still haven’t taken. But being the merciful man that I am, I feel I should warn you.” Was John giving him an option? John’s entire thing was confession; y/n just had to choose what to confess. Surely lust couldn't be worse than accepting pride. Y/n waited with bated breath, doing his best to convince himself it was from the seriousness of the situation and not the feeling of John’s breath on his neck and the all but hungry look the herald didn’t bother to hide. “Lust is a difficult sin for several reasons, and it is just as difficult to properly punish. You see, it is up to the sinner to embrace virtue and leave behind the life they once lived. The scars only serve as a reminder, both to the sinner and the world.” John let his knife wander along y/n’s clothes, dancing its way across his body. The comforting tightness of y/n’s binder turned troublesome as John rambled on. Various members of the resistance knew y/n was trans, but it wasn’t exactly something he felt comfortable openly expressing amongst the overly religious cult. “But to advertise lust, well, it makes it easy for certain temptations to find their way to those most weak. So lust gets carved into a place that encourages a chaste lifestyle. Somewhere only a lover would see. Willingly sharing that one has been scarred with a sin so intense takes courage. Courage that not many have.”

Y/n’s mind began to race. He had heard somewhere that John was some variety of queer, and the outright sinful look in the herald’s eye certainly confirmed that. Best case scenario, John wouldn’t mind y/n’s little secret, and he would avoid an overly pretentious lecture about ‘honoring the body god gave him’ while being all but carved open. But if y/n knew anything about John, the man was a gossip. Anything he knew would spread amongst the cult like wildfire. Even if John chose to be uncharacteristically kind and not spread y/n’s innermost secrets, at the very least Joseph and Jacob would be aware before sunrise. Exposing a vulnerability to some incredibly powerful individuals. Risky was an understatement.

He still had time; John wouldn’t move forward without a confession. They both knew it.

Surely the herald would be less than amused if y/n confessed to pride. Either way, he was leaving here with John having the upper hand should they meet again. How long could y/n really avoid confessing to his lust? And how much more would John make him suffer for it? But Pride? The longer he held off, the longer he proved the man right. But returning to the people who held him with such high regard, a feat that was not easily earned, visibly and violently marred by John, seemed impossible. To them, he was perfect. And perfection didn’t walk around scarred by John Seed.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, John,” The herald’s eyes sparkled as y/n took a slow, unsteady breath, “I was never much for religion. Certainly not one that requires all this.” Y/n felt impossibly small as he spoke, “I don’t know how to confess.”

“You are far from the first to have this problem. Even the most devoted of us often struggle with finding the right words. Start small. Say yes. Tell me your sin and I will draw from you what I need.”

“Yes, John. I–” Y/n tried to focus on anything other than the warmth in his face. His eyes fell to the floor, desperate to avoid the mirror that reflected far too many vulnerabilities. “I struggle with lust. It comes into my mind at the most inconvenient times, pulling me into sinful fantasies when I need to be focused.”

A soft moan escapes John’s lips as a hungry grin covers his face, baby blue eyes glinting mischievously. “That is why you must atone. Hiding our sins can only get us so far. Lust has a way of rearing its head at the most unexpected of times. The only way out is to bring it into the light. Embrace it so you may cast it away.” John’s hand pulled y/n’s hair, forcing him to look back into the mirror. “Tell me, did you ever indulge in your lust? Or are you really as pure as you make yourself out to be?”

“Yes, John, I have." Y/n closed his eyes as he spoke, only to be met with another harsh pull of his hair, a whine escaping his lips before he continued. “I haven’t had the time to– indulge recently. You and your brothers have certainly made sure of that.”

“I am sure my family will be ecstatic to hear our efforts have begun to encourage such a prominent sinner towards a holier path.” Y/n had seen that shit-eating grin countless times, though somehow seeing it up close had a different effect. Not that he wouldn’t give anything to slap it off the herald’s face, it would be far worth the ‘wrath’ scar such an act would earn. “Before we were there to guide you, when you were so full of sin, did you sin alone? Surely someone as salacious as you had no problem finding a partner.”

Y/n couldn’t help but laugh at John’s accusation, “I was hardly salacious, I am lustful, but I’m not a total whore.”

“I refuse to believe that for even a second. Should I remind you how interesting of a reaction you had when my knife was at your throat? I could have killed you, we both know I’ve killed men for far less heinous acts than what you’ve put my family through.” Y/n fought the urge to look away as the dull side of John’s knife smeared blood from its recent cut over his neck. “Answer the question. Did you sin alone?”

“John–” Y/n hated how he all but whined out the herald’s name, “I’ve already confessed. Stop dragging this out, please.” John’s icy blue eyes turned dark as he circled y/n, meticulously scanning the man bound before him. “Confession is a process, one that takes great effort from both parties.” John placed his hands on either side of y/n’s head, leaning in close to look directly into the sinner’s eyes as he spoke. “I ask questions to better understand your sin. You answer them to absolve yourself of guilt and shame. Then, armed with knowledge and faith, I bring your sin into the light in a way that perfectly reflects your struggles.”

“Yeah right, you just like sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.” Y/n continued to speak as John grabbed his chin, pulling him dangerously close. “I’m sure your brothers would love to hear your reason for knowing the specifics of my lustful endeavors."

“Why you little-” John shoved y/n away, moving to grab his knife once more. “Why must you insist on making everything so difficult? I ask you simple questions and expect simple answers. But no.”

“Lust is best placed where past lovers roamed, somewhere with an undeniable draw, so the next time you engage with your sin, you will be unable to hide. The process of confession draws this information from you and puts it into my hands.” Y/n struggled to read John’s expression as he slowly paced across the dark room. “Though if you really insist on resisting, I will gladly take matters into my own hands. I’m sure my brothers will forgive my unorthodox methods.”

“Wait-” Y/n protests as John stands behind him, knife pulling at the seams of his sleeves.

“Patience is a virtue my dear, but I’m afraid we are far past that.” A curious look filled John’s eyes as the edge of his knife met y/n’s binder. Y/n closed his eyes, letting his head fall onto the herald behind him. John’s free hand carefully ran over the tight fabric, listening carefully to y/n’s reaction as his fingers lightly explored the outlines of the young man’s chest. “It’s interesting what you are willing to expose to avoid facing your pride.”

“Do you ever shut up?” Y/n’s face grew hot as John snaked a hand beneath his binder, pushing it up while unashamedly watching the mirror as more of y/n’s body met the warm glow of the lamp. His tattooed fingers lightly rubbed over the man’s nipples as he cut away the rest of his binder, a sinful grin covering his face at y/n’s soft gasps.

“You should be the one talking; this is your confession after all.” Y/n met John’s penetrating gaze for only a moment as the man spoke, looking away quickly as he saw his own reflection. “Tell me, who has seen you like this? Who have you bathed in your sin?” A soft whine fell from y/n’s lips as John once again forced him to look into the mirror, the sight undoubtedly more scandalous than before.

“Fuck off.”

“I try to give you what you ask for, and even that isn’t enough.” John tsked as he dragged his knife over y/n’s flushed chest, committing every choked off noise to memory. “There's just no pleasing you.”

Y/n watched with growing desperation as the herald’s blade dropped further, light marks making their way down his body, stopping just above his waistband. His hands continued their exploration as y/n struggled to stay still. “Is that why you sin? Are you truly so depraved that your lovers aren’t enough? Do they leave you wanting more?”

“John, please just-” Y/n held back a moan as John’s hand moved down his body, carefully unbuttoning his jeans.

“Just what?” He teased, head resting on y/n’s shoulders, looking innocently into his reflected eyes. “Tell me what you desire. Expose your sins so your true self can finally be set free.”

Y/n glared at their intertwined reflection, the dim light making it difficult to see where he stopped and John began. His defiance cut short as John pulled his pants as far down as the position would allow him, his knife sliding under the band of his boxers before slicing through the thin fabric. John’s mouth found its way onto y/n’s neck as he worked, cutting off the stiff fabric of his jeans. Y/n refused to meet John’s eyes as he let out a dark laugh at the sight before them. Both he and his desire were fully exposed. There was no denying how much John had affected him, evidence dripping onto y/n’s chair.

“All this for a man you claim to hate. Either your lust is truly stronger than your pride, or you have been lying to yourself.” Y/n watched as John’s hand moved carefully towards his sex, fighting to stay silent as the man’s fingers gathered his arousal. John’s hand danced carefully over him, fingers threatening to push inside. “What will you have the courage to confess to?”

A breathy whine escaped y/n’s lips, the shame building up inside him doing little to sedate his lust. John was right. He should hate him more than anything. Countless lives have been lost at his hands: friends, family, people he’s known his entire life. Yet right now, he wanted nothing more than for those same hands to be inside him. Whether that made him a slut or a liar, he didn’t know, nor did he care. “I need you, John, please- I need more.”

“There you are.” John allowed one of his fingers to slip inside, slowly sinking further into y/n as he groaned at the sensation. “You’ll endure the lust until its very end while I carve it into your flesh.”

Y/n felt his eyes roll back as John inserted another finger, a slight twist pulling his mind away further into sin. A moan left his lips at the sharp sting of John’s blade against his thigh. Y/n struggled to watch as the cool metal wrote out his sin letter by letter. Blood mixing with slick as John continued pumping his fingers, the wet sound of arousal and his light sobs had y/n dizzy. He couldn’t tell when the hot tears started falling down his face or what exactly he felt as John ran his tongue over his already wet cheek. All he knew was the aching pain in his leg and the desperate need to cum growing by the second.

“John-” Y/n gasped as he tried aimlessly to grind against the man’s hand, ropes holding him still. Part of him was aware of how debauched his actions were; if any of the resistance were to find out about this, he would be outcast. But as he met John’s eyes, filled with hunger and something else y/n didn’t dare to name, he couldn’t find it within himself to care. “I’m right here, y/n. Let go, give yourself to me.” John didn’t need him to be perfect; he just needed him.

This was going to have a different ending, but it wasn't supposed to get over 2k, so here we are. It's been a hot second since I've written anything so I hope this was okay!

As a friendly reminder, most of my fics are x male reader or trans masc, I am open to writing x fem stuff or gender neutral reader upon request! Feel free to edit my fics to fit your needs and gender preferences, just don’t forget to give credit if you upload them somewhere!

When I put it on AO3, the link will be here!

Happy Far Cry Tober Y'all!

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