Fandom: Far Cry 5
Rating: High E; the Highest of E's
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Characters: Female Deputy | Judge (can be read as a Female Reader-Insert), John Seed
Pairings: Female Deputy | Judge/John Seed
Additional Tags: One Shot, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, POV First Person, Present Tense, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha John Seed, Omega Deputy | Judge (Far Cry), Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mating Bond, Rape/Non-Con Elements, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, Vaginal Sex, Animal Instincts, Knotting, Unsafe Sex, Breeding Kink, Emotional Manipulation, Sexual Coercion, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Complete
Summary: I tug on my collar again, just for the burst of calmness it brings. I usually leave it alone, pretend like it doesn’t exist and that I’m a Beta just like three-quarters of the population. Pretend that I’m not some subservient, submissive animal masquerading as a real person. Pretend that I don’t have to load up on heavy medication if I want to stay sane and rational and normal. When – because it’s not a matter of if – I run out of my supply, I’m going to have to go underground, give up the fight.
Because the second I miss my daily dose, I’m going into heat. Not me or polite society or even God can stop it. Only the little off-brand white pills I’d raided from Lorna’s Truck Stop can keep the monster locked away.
And I have less than ten left.
*Excerpts below the cut (possible spoilers)*
Excerpt 1)
That’s an understatement. The tub is big enough that a person could probably practice the doggy paddle in it. John could probably host a whole pool party in his bathroom, complete with pointy party hats and those little blow noise-maker-thingies. I almost laugh, picturing the sleek and distant lawyer surrounded by disheveled Peggies in swim trunks.
“Funny,” I remark. “I didn’t think you were even capable of sharing.”
“There are very few people that I let touch my things. You should consider yourself lucky.” Lucky because I’m allowed to touch? Or because I’m one of the ‘things’ he won’t let others have? I find that I’m happier not knowing the answer. “Get in the tub, Omega, before I drag you in myself.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
He sighs heavily, like he’s dealing with a stubborn child. “You’re acting like a brat.” Yup. My intuition was right on the money.
“You aren’t exactly the pinnacle of maturity yourself, John.”
Despite that, I find myself getting closer to the edge, entranced by both the curl of steam in the air and of its single occupant. The mating bond lingers like a fuzzy pink cloud, lulling me into something almost resembling complacency. I’m drawn to him.
Then again, hadn’t I always been? Drawn to his destructive nature like a moth to a flame. And he’d only mirrored my strange obsession. John kept an ear to the ground, lurking on his radio station when I was in Holland Valley, taunting me over the airwaves with a sort of manic glee. And me? I’d especially enjoyed ruffling John’s feathers, had reveled in it almost. We’d been each other’s worst enemies. But we’d enjoyed the fight like it was foreplay.
John and I had been fixated on each other from the night I’d tried to arrest Joseph Seed; Adelaide and Sharky had clocked it from the start, Grace had mentioned the tension, and even Hurk Jr. had commented on the way we violently danced around one another. Throw in the volatility of biology, and it’d been a recipe for disaster. The dance had mirrored and twisted, until its shape no longer resembled hatred and rage. Hormones and pheromones had altered the course, and now the path ahead is fraught with a terrifying sort of ambiguity.
He looks so disarming like this, so vulnerable. Head tilted back, eyes closed, scarred chest rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm.
I want to reach out and caress his cheek; I want to claw out his eyes.
I want to sink into the water, lacing myself around him like poison ivy; I want to hold his head under the surface until he goes still.
Excerpt 2)
John is probably the most bloodthirsty and vicious person I’ve ever met, even more so than his eldest brother – who’s a trained soldier and a literal cannibal. Of all the Seeds, John is by and large the most unhinged and least reasonable.
What would a long-term relationship with him look like? What would a family with him be like? What would his family be like?
My mind’s eye pictures Joseph Sedd welcoming me with open arms, but the other siblings? I balk at the mental image of Jacob and Faith at a Seed family cookout or a night in playing board games. I roll over, staring out the window. There’s a Peggie out there, back against the alarmed portal and gun held between their hands. There are Peggies at every exit. I doubt I’ll ever be allowed to leave, to see my old friends again.
I can’t escape to help them. I can’t do anything.
I don’t know if I even want to anymore.
My heart clenches in my chest, the ache of something being squeezed too tightly. I feel like I’ve been put through a juicer; there’s nothing left to give. The empty bed beside me is a taunt that I can’t ignore. Three nights on my own, away from his bed, have felt like ants crawling on my skin. The new bond is aching as I leave it unfulfilled.
I’m tired of fighting.
My Omega biology leads me down the dark hallway to the room next door. John doesn’t say anything as I curl up in bed beside him. For a moment, we face each other. His eyes glint in the filtered moonlight, irises ringed in shining silver. The soft evening glow highlights all of his profile, though. A silver lining to my own terrifyingly dark cloud. A hint of purity, just at the peripheries.
He’s vulnerable, easy prey. I could wrap my hand around his throat and squeeze. But blanketed in the comforting weight of his scent and presence, my hand reaches out with gentle intentions.
Fingertips ghost past his exposed throat, through the soft brambles of his beard, then up to cup his cheek.
“If I stopped fighting the bond, what would our life look like, John?” I ask softly. “Do we even have a future?”
His hand covers mine, fingers lacing together. He presses a kiss against my palm. Leans in to breathe the scent that emanates from my wrist. He’s so soft, so sweet. A monster only allowed to be a man in the sanctity of this house.
I want to tear myself away from him and run from the room like a frightened rabbit; I want to get as close as I can to him, to let him devour me.
“You’re a lawyer, John – I want to draw up a contract.” I swallow thickly, throat tight. “The terms of my surrender. I have conditions.”
There’s the expectation of triumph, the anticipation of celebration. But John simply stares at me with quiet approval. “I expected nothing less from my Wrath,” he praises. And then he’s rolling over, pulling me on top of him. He tilts his head back, eyes closed and neck open in submission. “Anything I can give you. Just say yes to me, Sweetheart.”
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@Chibiwriter I tried to draw Chibiwriter's character Grisaille from her fic Shades Of... especially since she's been reblogging clothes for them. Idk how to tag people so hopefully that worked.
