Black Horse (John Seed x Reader)

chapter four

Things were not easy for you after that night.

Apparently (for some reason) John didn't necessarily like your back-talking. Or your questions. Or anything for that matter. You seemed to bug him quite a bit. It made you smile.

You had been in the bunker for about a week now. Most days went by with John interrogating you about your sins and the importance of confession. Blah, blah, blah.

The two of you had been staring at each other for a few good hours now. It got like this sometimes. When he was tired of yelling at you or tired of reading from the Word of Joseph or tired of preaching about the joy of confession and atonement, he would simply sigh and slump into a chair.

John's antagonizing blue eyes would search your face as he leaned forward in the chair, his elbows resting on his knees and his knuckles pressed against his mouth. You would return his gaze with a blank stare, unchallenged and unfazed.

"Are you ready to confess your sins?" He mumbles, his tone airy and callous. You rolled your eyes, scoffing. John closed his eyes for a moment, sighing deeply. He was getting tired of you. Good.

Suddenly, he stood up from his chair with enough force and momentum to send it flying backwards and land on the floor with a thud. You flinched. Reaching into his vest pocket, the Baptist extracted a small pocket knife and flipped out the blade quickly.

You gulped. Was that always there? You thought he was going to hurt you for a second (even though he had barely laid a hand on you this entire week for some strange reason) until the man bent down to your ankles and sawed the rope off of your feet.

"Get up," he ordered, staring down at you with a look of disdain. You gritted your teeth, refusing to make his eye contact. When you didn't comply, John growled and yanked you to your feet by the wrist, "Get up."

As soon as your full weight settled on your feet, your knees instantly buckled. John stood in shock as you collapsed into his arms, your face pressed against the crook of his neck. He hadn't realized the effect of being constrained to a chair for a whole week without moving. Your feet must've lost circulation and your arms were definitely strained from being pulled behind your back.

A wave of guilt suddenly washed over him as he held you, but after a second the emotion was completely gone. His anger was back with a vengeance. Gripping you by the waist, the Inquisitor guided you back until you hit the wall.

Your feet stumbled as you moved, and your head pounded against the concrete as he pressed you against it. "So uncooperative," he snarled, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head. He was confused when you yelped, then realized the irritated red ring that circled your wrists.

Handcuffs. He smiled.

"Will you ever learn who's in charge around here?" John chuckled under his breath, now tightening his grip around your hands. Your face contorted with pain as he dug his nails into the sensitive area of your wrists.

"Fuck you," you hissed through clenched teeth. "Well, I love a good challenge," John winked at you, your faces now inches apart. You could feel his hot breath hitting your cheek as his gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips.

Unexpectedly, one of his hands drifted down to your hip and settled there while the other still grasped both of your wrists. You inhaled sharply, your back slightly arching off of the wall. You brushed against his warm chest, and you noticed his breathing quicken. Or, maybe that was you.

Your limp body began to tremble uncontrollably. Your breaths mingled when he whispered hoarsely, "What's your name, Deputy?" The slight beg in his voice was incredibly sexy. You swallowed hard, noticing how difficult it became to breathe.

"(Y/n)," you shuddered, your voice sounding like a mere whimper. John instantly sprouted a smirk, slipping the hand that rested on your hip between your thighs. You instantly crossed your legs, attempting to wriggle away from his touch.

He chuckled faintly, his eyes still glued to yours. His hand didn't travel upwards, thank God. It just sat there, cradling your inner thigh. He could feel the heat radiating off of you, and it drove him crazy. You held your breath to stop from panting.

"Where is lust on you, John?" You whispered, your eyes scanning his body in search for the scribbled sin. A slight groan left his throat before John suddenly smashed his lips against yours. You gasped, instinctively trying to wrap your arms around his neck.

The Baptist pinned you harder against the wall, making your attempt at moving impossible. The hand that was once planted between your legs was now pressed against the small of your back. He wanted you closer. He needed you closer.

Your back arched into him, and you parted your lips to moan. John, still not being satisfied with the distance between you, growled and released your wrists to cup your face with both of his hands.

He urged you towards him, his fingertips circling around your cheeks and pulling you closer by the neck. You grinned at his sudden covetousness. "Where is greed on y-" You began to snicker as his lips left yours to scatter across your neck.

He quickly cut you off by clamping his teeth into your delicate skin, making you yelp loudly in his ear. Your nails dug into his hair as you squeezed your eyes shut in pain. You knew he had drawn blood. He was even chuckling about it as he continued to kiss your neck.

"Where is pride on you, sinner?" John mumbled into your skin, reaching down and scooping your legs to wrap around his waist before you could reply. With more leverage now, the Baptist pressed you further against the wall. His hands ran up and down your thighs, exploring them.

You moaned once again into his mouth, feeling a smirk sprout on his lips. The same heat he felt before radiated off of you. You should feel ashamed. You should feel guilty. After all, this was the man who tortured your friends for an insane religious cult...

But he was also the man who could break every single value you hold dear with those fucking eyes.