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Absolu♱ion

Pairing: John Seed x Fem!JuniorDeputy!reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, non-con, dead dove, vomit/very slight emetophilia, choking, blasphemy kink (it's on full display here bruv), lots of religious talk and manipulation, bondage, creampie/unprotected sex, allusions to past sexual and religious trauma, torture/bodily harm, blood, so many bible quotes, light scent kink, John being a yapper (canon tbh).

Word count: 5.3k

Summary: Captured by John for the second time since coming to Holland Valley, he doesn't seem too keen on letting you go...

Notes: She's baaaack! Hey guuuyyss, I'm back I missed you all like a mf. Okay listen I know this wasn't one of my currents wips or requests, but I couldn't help myself! I started playing fc5 to see it was interesting and if I should add it to my list and oh boy was it ever. I'm obsessed, I have the far cry brain worm. I mean it's prolly obvious by now that I have an extreme blasphemy kink and just a fetish for all things religious imagery and southern gothic. So, I bring this gift unto you, please enjoy <3 (P.S. I have read more bible this past few weeks to write this porn than I have since I was in elementary school)

You flinch at the terrified shrieks coming from your fellow deputy, echoing down the worn metal halls as she’s dragged back to her cell, crying for mercy, for herself— for you.

You were clumsy, you got too comfortable, and you got yourself caught— again. You had barely avoided getting taken to his bunker last time as you were rescued by Pastor Jerome and his divine timing; A second chance you had apparently wasted as you were now in that very same bunker, bound and gagged deep in the belly of the beast.

It had all happened so fast, your fingers had hardly managed to graze your walkie as you attempted to radio for help. That was before you felt the impact of a Bliss bullet welting the skin of your shoulder and saw specks of white light filling your vision, fading to black as your body smacked against the ground.

No one was coming.

They didn’t know you were gone and by the time they figured it out… it would be too late.

A shiver courses through you.

You were fucked.

Completely and utterly fucked; Now, the only person who could save you was you. You try to push the panic overwhelming your senses down as you look down at your bare chest and rope bound wrists.

The ominous red lighting of the room licks at your bound figure.

The warm glow illuminates the wet skin of your bare chest as the torn remnants of your shirt lay, pitifully, at your feet— John had made sure of that.

He had aggressively pulled at the garment until it came apart in his grasp, leaving your breasts to spill from your ruined top; His prying eyes never leaving the peaked swells of flesh as he washed the area just above, preparing it for confession.

Trying to wrestle your hands free was a lost cause, the angry red burns peaking from beneath where rope digs into your skin served as proof enough. Your attention turns towards your lap, your eyes following the path of your legs until they stop at your feet…

Your ragged breath catches.

They were unrestrained.

You still have a chance to make it out of here.

Any rational line of thought of how unlikely the odds were that John would make such a careless mistake on purpose are drowned out by the overwhelming wave of relief that you still have a chance to get out of this, of knowing that he hasn’t won just yet.

You kick your legs, dragging the rickety office chair you were tied to, forward. Every kick earns you another inch closer to your potential escape, a door just opposite of you. More red light pours in from just beyond its threshold, beckoning you closer like the doors of heaven themselves had opened for you.

Your movements grew more frantic, all you had to do was make it to that door and everything would be alright; You’d free Hudson from her cell, you’d make it out together— one step closer to taking Hope County back from these Peggie fucks— It all seemed so easy in your head, your brain addled by optimism and still hazy with Bliss.

You’d already managed to pull yourself halfway across the blood splattered floor, freedom was so close you could almost taste it, the sweet taste mixed with the sick coppery tang of blood in your mouth and urged you to go quicker— you were almost there.

“Where do you think you’re going, Deputy?”

Those words are all you hear before you were suddenly being dragged backwards, making your heart drop.

You try to dig your heels into the frictionless metal floor to no avail as the chair’s squeaky wheels clack beneath you, John’s sturdy grip on the backrest pulling you right back to where you sat previously— right back to square one.

Your legs flail wildly, struggling against his movements.

Your throat goes raspy as you try to scream, to insult him, anything, but the words are muffled by the duct tape firmly affixed onto your lips; Any sounds you make come out as stifled, pathetic whimpers.

John steps around you, hands trailing from the back of the office chair to the nape of your neck, drawing a line all the way up until his touch rests on your chin, gripping it harshly and forcing you to look up at him.

“After all the trouble I went to arrange this meeting— To save your soul, and you think I’m going to let you run away?” John lets out a raspy chuckle as he releases your chin from his grasp, making his way towards a workbench that sits to your right, “Oh no Deputy the time for running is over. You will confess. You will be saved.”

You grit your teeth, your eyes widening on their own accord as you watch him, grab something from its wooden surface.

“You know, God opposes the proud and favors the humble. I think you could use a little lesson in humility, Deputy.” John makes his way back to your side, his fingers brushing over the back of your hand as it grips the armrest nervously. His other hand stays hidden behind his back, holding something.

“Dogs surround me,” John holds your trembling digits still as he brings his other hand forward, revealing his own tattooed fingers gripped tightly around the base of a screwdriver, “a pack of villains encircles me— They pierce-”

With that John brings the metal head of the screwdriver down on your hand.

Through your hand.

Your lips pull against the adhesive of the tape stuck to your mouth, fighting to scream as pain shoots through every nerve in your body and blood pours around the wound, coating the palm of your hand in its warm stickiness.

“My hands... Pain is the first step on your road to forgiveness— to purity.” John circles you like a shark at the first scent of blood, grinning from ear to ear at your pained expression.

The corners of your vision fade in and out as your heart hammers against your ribcage, adrenaline pumping through your veins as your body attempts to stop you from drifting out of consciousness.

“You have the power to make this stop, Deputy… All you have to do is confess. All you have to do is say; Yes!” He pulls the metal rod from your hand with a sickening squelch, offering you a brief respite as he presents you with his alternative.

You glare up at him, eyes filled with all the hatred and defiance of a petulant child— you wouldn’t give into to him, you refuse to— you’d rather die before you ever gave him the satisfaction.

John chuckles again— a dry, humorless sound that makes chills run up your spine.

He leans in close to you until his face rests right next to yours, the coarse hairs of his beard scratching against your skin as he brings his mouth to your ear.

“I promised Joseph I’d save your soul and I intend to make good on that promise.” John whispers, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end as his warm breath tickles your skin.

John’s hands find your face again, cupping your cheeks in his palms. The look on his face is one of affection— of love.

Coming from anyone else the look would have been comforting but the softness in his face made you even more unnerved.

“Your atonement— Nay, your salvation has just begun, and it is going to get so much worse for you before it gets better.” His words are followed by excruciating pain as he stabs through your other hand before you even have the sense to try to pull away.

The screwdriver lodged in the middle of your hand was sure to leave a nasty round gash in the center of your palm, same as your other hand.

The wounds mimicking stigmata.

“Deliver me from the sword.” John breathes, reaching for his chest where a cross would hang, with one hand and keeping a tight grip on the screwdriver’s handle with the other.

Your stomach churns, chest heaving as you try to take in as much air as your nose will allow. You feel yourself gag behind the barrier on your lips, your breathing growing more rapid as you try to stop bile from rising in your throat.

You almost think you’ve managed to push down the urge, but John would never be so merciful.

John twists the handle, grinding the screwdriver onto nearby bone and tissue, making a sickening wet scraping noise that you can both hear and feel.

You jerk forward violently as you retch, going as far as your restraints will allow. Keeling over your mouth fills with the sour, digested contents of your stomach.

You squirm as vomit begins to fill your airways, going up your nose as the tape over your mouth acts as a wall keeping it all in. The room fills with the ugly desperate noises of your choking as you struggle for breath, your eyes red and pleading as your vision begins to fade again.

“Fuck! No, no, no! You’re not getting away that easy, it’s not your purpose to die here today— We will make it to Eden’s gate. I won’t let you take that away from me.” John grumbles, crouching to your level and gripping the shiny gray edge of the duct tape before ripping it off in one fluid move.

The pain of dry skin tearing from your, now bloody, lips is overcome by the relief that you weren’t going to die here, drowning in your own vomit while he watched.

The pent-up liquid spews from your mouth in a rush of coughs and heaves, spilling onto the floor and coating the front of your pants and shoes.

“Not so proud now, are you? You’ve made a mess of yourself— You disgust me— you’re nothing but a grotesque, filthy, sinner.” John spits.

Before you can even attempt to resist him, he grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back and slamming his lips on yours, forcing his tongue deep into your mouth. The kiss is a violent assault on your senses; You try to pull back only for him to tighten his grip on you, screwdriver clattering to the ground as he abandons the weapon for the soft feel of your breast beneath his hand.

Your lips are sticky against his; The residue of adhesive, blood, and bile combine on your pallet into a nauseatingly heady mixture, making you grimace. John’s tongue traces over your teeth as if committing each one to memory; You groan as his tongue slides against yours, biting down on the wet muscle as hard as you can.

John throws you off him, anger and betrayal weighing heavy on his features as he brings a hand to his lips, covering his mouth.

“Fuck you! Get your fucking hands off me!” You scream, readying yourself for his retaliation. You wait for him to hit you or pick up something else to drive beneath the thinness of your skin, but the pain doesn’t come. Instead, he smiles; A sharp-toothed grin that showed off his bloodied teeth.

You had drawn blood.

“You see, that is the sin living inside of you— Corrupting your thoughts, making you violent— This cleansing could not come soon enough; Your soul is filled with rot, and we need to cut it out.” John steps closer to you once more, bending at the waist to meet your eyes once more as he goes on another rant.

“Why don’t we start with these clothes, hm? Garments as worldly and dirty as you; How many of our brothers and sisters have you killed while wearing these? How many men have slipped their filthy hands down the front of them?” John snaps. His hands find the waistband of your pants as he begins tugging them down along with your underwear.

“No! No, please— Don’t!” You beg, trying to wriggle out of his grasp but John ignores you as he pulls the last of your remaining clothes off— your last line of protection.

“There we go! Your sin has nowhere to hide now— Laid bare before God’s eyes, before mine.” John hands trail over your newly exposed flesh, eager and breathless as his eyes follow his own movements, “I’ve waited a long, long time for this, Deputy and now it’s time for us to rejoice… God will forgive me as he will you… Joseph will forgive this indulgence.”

His fingers follow the path of your abdomen to your chest, greedily groping at the plushness of your breasts. It’s not long before his mouth joins his hands, taking your pert nipple in the warm, wet cavern of his mouth; A needy whine escapes the threshold of your lips as his teeth tease at the delicate bud, making your already flush cheeks glow brighter beneath the room’s red light.

You almost wish you still had the tape stuck over your mouth, keeping you silent, and stopping the sounds of your body reacting on its own to his touch.

You don’t know what to do.

What to say.

You were in the last place you ever wanted to be…

Completely at his mercy.

“Stop… Please, please, please just stop— I’ll be good, I promise, just please don’t hurt me.” Your voice shakes as you plead with him as softly as you can manage, biting back the angry sobs and insults that threaten to escape your throat.

“Hurt you?” John releases your nipple from between his lips, indignation filling his voice, “I’m doing just the opposite, my dear—See, that’s your problem, you don’t seem to know what pain is… What it truly means to hurt. But don’t worry, I’ll teach you. You will be my lamb, and I your shepherd. By the end you’ll see. You will give in to me, you will say yes.”

John suddenly squeezes at the meat of your thighs, his movements erratic as he pulls your hips forward until they rest at the edge of your seat. He hooks his hands under your knees, pushing them upwards until the front of your thighs press against your chest.

The office chair creaks beneath you, threatening to tip over and send you crashing onto the ground but John’s vice-like grip on you keeps you upright.

John kneels Infront of you, hands never leaving your body as he settles on his knees. From this angle he was practically face-to-face with your bare cunt. His eyes pry between your legs; His light blue eyes almost look black from how blown out his pupils are— eyeing your folds how a starved man eyes a hunk of meat.

You cringe as the stagnant air of the room meets your molten center, the heat of your face reaching your ears in the state of overwhelming humiliation you feel beneath him. You try to force your legs shut around his hands to save any shreds of dignity you had left inside of you, but john pries them back open.

Your body was no longer under your control, at this moment it belonged to him, to explore and leer at as he wishes.

John tears his eyes from the heaven that lies in front of him, looking you straight in the face as he begins to speak.

“Blessed are those whose transgressions are forgiven.” His crazed eyes stay on you as his face nears your core, delving eagerly into your cunt as you’re forced to watch.

The tip of his nose nudges between your folds as he inhales deeply, savoring your scent as if it were the finest of perfumes.

The musk and sweetness of your arousal fills his nostrils making his cock throb desperately. His mouth waters, close to drooling like a rabid dog as he pushes his face flush against you, invading the most intimate part of you.

He peels himself from you reluctantly, groping at the bulge in his pants as he stands— the outline of his erection pressed against his fly, eager to be freed from its confines.

“Under my touch you will be reborn as a virgin, you will be as sweet and as pure as before you allowed yourself to be defiled and you will give yourself to me; You will belong to me and me alone.” His hands go to the buckle of his belt, and you watch in horror and trepidation as he begins to undress.

Your body betrays you again, clenching around nothing as arousal spills from your entrance while you watch him expose himself to you.

You feel sick.

You were revolted by yourself, disgusted by your own biology for reacting this way.

John strips himself bare, sharing your nudity. Your eyes trail down the front of his body, taking in the scars and tattoos littering his skin. His length hangs heavy and red Infront of your face, begging to be engulfed in your warmth.

You turn your head, focusing instead on the insignificant intricacies of the bunker’s floor as you avert your gaze from him.

“Don’t turn away. I want you to look at me— Look at me!” John grabs your face, his fingers digging cruelly into your cheeks as he forces you to look at him once more.

“… I hate you.” You hiss, your blood boiling with the shame and rage festering within you.

“I know that... If the world hates you, keep in mind they hated me first.” John’s lips meet yours in another unreciprocated kiss, briefer than the last.

He pulls away, walking back towards his workbench, a twisted smirk on his face as he grabs the staplegun sitting atop it.

A lump forms in your throat as you watch him return to your side; staplegun in hand.

He drops to the floor, grabbing your hips as his knees meet the ground. He drags your body forward until you’re forced off the chair, falling ass-first into the still warm puddle of your own puke as your body meets the ground. Your arms twist uncomfortably in their restraints, making you wince as your upper body contorts in an effort to keep your shoulders in their sockets.

John shows mercy for the first time since you woke up inside the bunker; lowering your bound hands further down the armrest they’re tied to and twisting your wrists in the restraints to face forward— a position that hurt considerably less.

“I’m gonna show you what it means to be filled with love— Don’t resist me, you’ll only make it so much worse for yourself,” John warns as his hand returns to your neck, your life at his mercy as he squeezes around your windpipe, “got it?”

You nod your head as best you can beneath his grip, the lack of oxygen starting to make your vision blur as you struggle for air.

“Good girl, Deputy— We’ll make a believer out of you yet.” John’s hold loosens, his touch leaving your throat as it trails down the front of your body.

His fingers stop at the mound of curls just above your cunt, teasing them closer to your slit as he palms at the coarse hair.

The careful attention he pays to your naked figure as well as the almost gentle ‘loving’ touches make you want to crawl out of your skin in a horribly familiar way to you.

You wish he would just go back to hurting you instead.

Cutting, stabbing, bruising— Shit, you’d take anything as long as it wasn’t this suffocating sense of intimacy he forced onto you, as long as he stopped looking at you like that, and as long as he stopped making you relive memories covered in glass-shards and soul-gutting shame. Every touch was another old wound opened, every word another gouge to your delicate skin, a feeling that only worsens when his focus shifts to you,your actual face rather than just your sex or your breasts.

“Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow… Don’t you want that, Deputy? Don’t you want to atone? To be absolved and free of sin?” John asks, though you’re not sure if he expected an answer— You know no matter what you say, this will still end the same.

“Please… shut up… Just take what you want and shut up…” You beg defeatedly, as you try to swallow down the lump forming in your throat as tears tease at your waterline.

“Oh, but my dear, lost, lamb what I want from you isn’t just your flesh— It’s your mind, your devotion. I want you to be better, to leave behind your sin, and embrace Joseph— embrace me.” John lays a hand over the center of your chest, your heart beating hard beneath it…

“I won’t let you turn me away because that, my dear Deputy, is love… Love is patient, love is kind.”

You almost laugh at that last part.

Kind…

Absolutely nothing about this was kind.

“I don’t want to be saved and I sure as hell don’t want your love.” The last word oozes from your lips with vitriol. You try your hardest to steady your voice, to make yourself out to be tough instead of the scared little girl you were reverting to under his scrutinizing gaze.

“Don’t worry, you will.” As the words finish leaving his lips, you feel the cold metal of the staplegun slide against the skin of your thigh with a click.

You let out a yelp as a staple embeds itself in your skin. Thrashing around, you try to push him off you and you almost start to think your efforts aren’t in vain as John pulls back.

You’re proven wrong when John’s hand cups over his hardness, griping at the base of his cock; The small patch of hair above it is as well-groomed as the rest of him, irritatingly so.

He gives himself a tentative pump, groaning as his hand works along his shaft.

Your hips buck forward involuntarily as you feel wetness seeps between your folds, your body seemingly detached from your mind as it prepares to invite him in with no resistance.

Placing down the staplegun for a moment, his fingers dig into the fat of where your hips meet your ass, holding you in place.

“Blessings of heaven above…” John starts, aligning himself with your entrance. The round mushroom tip of his head catches on your slick opening, making you instinctively arch forward to his delight and to your further humiliation.

“… blessings of the breast and womb.” He finishes the verse with a chuckle turned moan as he pushes past your entrance, burying himself the rest of the way inside of you with a snap of his hips.

Dread weighs heavy on your body as he fucks into your gummy walls. You can’t even tell what exactly it is that you’re feeling at this moment.

Was it fear? Embarrassment? Or maybe it was even hesitant pleasure creeping its way into your senses…

You don’t know, all you did know is that tears had made their way back into your eyes as John pushes soft cries and moans out of you.

He grunts on top of you, eyes screwed shut as he loses himself in the rapture your body brings to him. Obscene, wet noises fill the room as his heavy balls slap against the flesh of your ass, coated in the juices of your dripping arousal.

Despite yourself your mind starts to fill with countless guilty thoughts…

You wonder how many women have been in your position beneath him in this very same room, if he had done the same things to Hudson as he had done to you. The thought makes you ill in more ways than one as some twisted form of jealousy tugs at the worst, subconscious parts of you.

Maybe John was right, maybe there was something wrong with you; You had to be warped and perverted in some way for those thoughts to even cross your mind.

You’ve always been wrong in the head, girl…

That low voice always plaguing the back of your mind mocks.

You tremble harder beneath his touch as your sobbing intensifies, sniffling and hiccupping between involuntary sighs of pleasure.

Click.

With that sound you were yanked back into your body, your mewling interrupted by another shriek ripping through your throat as he pushes yet another staple in your skin— this time closer to your inner thigh as he brings your leg to rest over his shoulder.

“God… you’re gonna make me come if you keep crying like that— You’re so fucking sexy.” John huffs as his head falls against your shoulder, burying his red face against the sweaty skin of your neck.

The words felt odd coming odd coming out of his mouth considering he usually only spoke in vague scripture and threats.

You hated it.

It almost made the situation you were in feel normal, like this was just some casual hookup after a night out at a bar, when nothing about it was even remotely close to normal.

John grinds his hips into yours, making a breathy gasp escape you as his pubic bone rubs against your clit. You tense around him, making him groan as he repeats the movement and draws more pathetic noises out of you as you give up on biting them back.

A cold shiver runs through you as you begin to feel the sickening feeling of pressure building within your lower abdomen, a sensation you haven’t felt in God knows how long, and telling by the growing sloppiness of John’s thrusts you could tell he was close too.

Your body rocks back and forth uncontrollably, your back slick against the ground with your own mess, stomach acid and chunks of broken down food clinging to your skin as John handles you like a ragdoll; The force of his hips smacking against yours making the wheels of your chair squeak angerly behind you as the back of your head smacks against it

“I love you… Fuck, I love you… say it back— tell me you love me too” John pants, his eyes looking pleadingly up at you as his pace falters.

You keep your mouth shut, refusing to say the words. Meeting his gaze, defiance burns bright behind your eyes as you scowl at him.

“Go fuck yourself.” You seethe.

John slams the side of the staplegun into the back of your hand, hitting right against the puffy dark red puncture wound he had adorned you with; Your fingers twitch as the adrenaline from earlier starts to wear off and you begin to feel every torn layer of muscle and chipped bone scream at you as blood trickles down your wrist.

“Say it.” John demands.

You hesitate for a second, making John raise the staplegun again— as a threat.

“I… love you.” You give in, deciding that your pride wasn’t worth your hands being crushed into useless sacks of fleshy pulp.

He holds you closer as he ruts into you, leaning forward and pressing his damp brow to yours.

Forehead-to-forehead you’re effectively trapped, unable to look away as he fills your line of sight, his eyes wide and filled with lust or maybe even adoration as you breathe the air from each other’s panting mouths.

“I love you, John.” He reprimands, landing another excruciating blow on the same hand and watching as your face twists in pain.

“Ah— God-fucking-dammit! I love you… John.” His name sits bitter on your tongue like acid.

“Scream it.” His hips work at a breakneck pace, each thrust more fervent than the last as he barely pulls out of your cunt before shoving himself back in.

“I love you, John!” Your voice echoes off the dank, rusted metal roof, loud enough you were sure others must’ve heard.

Oh god they would know.

Others would know what he was doing to you…

The thought fills you with even more panic as you’re drawn closer to the edge.

“I said SCREAM IT!” He shouts, his spit hitting your face as his heavy breath ghosts over your features.

“I LOVE YOU JOHN!” Just as his name finishes leaving your mouth you feel something snap inside of you, your eyes screwing shut as your body convulses beneath his.

Your orgasm is as devastating as it is unfamiliar, the final nail in the coffin of your body’s betrayal.

Your wetness gushes around John’s cock, soaking the hair of your mound as well as his, as it drips down from your spasming cunt all the way to where the meat of your ass meets the floor.

“Yes… yes... Oh yes, God!” John exclaims losing himself as your walls clamp around him tight.

His hips stutter, a spew of soft yeses and low curses leaving his lips as he holds you against him— your pelvis flush to his as the tip of his length nudges at your cervix. He clutches at you like he were Jesus and your body was his cross, his fingers leaving red indents on your skin as he releases himself deep inside of you.

Milky ropes coat your walls, spilling slightly at the edges of where your bodies connect. Your eyes shoot open, alarm bells blearing in your head as you come down from your high.

“No… no! Get off me, Get off me!” Your head hits the ground with a loud metallic thump as John lets you go, chair clattering behind you as it follows your path to the floor.

A moment passes before he pulls out of you unceremoniously, pushing himself up off the ground and leaving you alone as he collects himself.

He picks up his clothes from the floor, almost completely ignoring your presence all together as he wipes himself clean with the torn remnants of your clothes and begins to redress.

You pull your legs close to your body, curling up into a ball—save for your still bound wrists. Shivers run along your skin as you rock back and forth. His cum drips slowly out of your still gaped entrance, joining your puke and the blood leaking from your hands on the ground.

Fluids soon to join the collection of dark smears and dried stains already decorating the bunker’s floor as a reminder of what he had done to you in this room; a notion that makes a broken sob rack through your body.

“…Why?” You finally break the silence, your voice shaky as another sob threatens to spill from your throat, “why couldn’t you just kill me and be done with it?”

“I already told you…” John walks back over to you as he finishes doing the buckle on his belt, kneeling beside you as you weep, “I love you, Deputy. I will see to it that you make it to Eden by my side.”

John’s touch meets your forehead where your hair mats to your sticky brow, brushing the damp hair away from your face.

“Whether your wicked soul wants to admit it or not, you need me— I am your salvation.” He runs his fingers through your hair one last time, letting each individual strand fall from his grasp before he opens his mouth again.

“I’ll allow you a few minutes to compose yourself, when I return it’ll be time for you to confess— and oh man, do you have a lot to confess to.” John jokes, laughing under his breath as he stands and walks away from you.

His mocking tone bounces around in your mind as you listen to his footsteps get farther and farther away. The door behind you screeches open, letting a sliver of the white, fluorescent lighting lining the halls outside this room fall over your skin.

But just as quickly as it appears it’s gone as John slams the door shut behind him. As silence falls back over the room you realize that for the first time since your failed escape attempt, you are truly alone.

Helpless, naked, and lying in a pool of your own vomit.

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