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poisoned-cupcakes · 23 hours

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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. “Goddamit, 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

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poisoned-cupcakes · 24 hours

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My coochie was crying tears of joy

finding bliss in the bliss *.✧

— pairing: jacob seed x fem!reader

— type: ficlet

— summary: jacob seed takes your virginity in a field of bliss

— tags: porn w/o plot tbh

— tw: sex, loss of virginity, drugging, fingering, cussing, dubcon (reader asks about protection, but jacob makes the decision for them both to bareback it)

— word count: 4,544

— a/n: well, this ended up being way longer than i initially expected it to be lol. i hope i kept him in-character!

(this scene was initially going to be used in a much larger fic where the the reader (originally an oc) meets john first during one of joseph's sermons that she went to out of curiosity & generally feeling lost/alone in life. she eventually is taken in by john/eden's gate, bc john has been having dreams about her, & believes she's his soulmate. but bc he knows jacob needs someone good in his life as well, he has her go stay with him at his cabin in the whitetails as he "works" on his silo sometimes, so that she's kept safe while he's away from the ranch. in reality, he's hoping they'll connect & also fall in love. & they do and they're all a happy throuple. but this scene initially ended with jacob trying to pull his cock out of his boxers & she freezes, telling him she wants john to be her first & he gets super hurt & upset about it.) anyway!

You swear, that the more you walk, the more you can hear a faint humming sound coming from up ahead. Once the two of you break through the trees, you see where it'd been coming from. Before you is a massive field of flowers, moths flitting along them, and behind the field is a row of greenhouses, to the right of them a huge marble-and-stone building.

You look to Jacob. "Where are we?"

He nods his head toward the large building. "That's the factory where we make all our bliss. And while there's plenty of others throughout the region, this is the largest field of it that we have."

You balk. So you're both standing before a giant field of hallucinogens.

"W-Why did you bring me here?"

He looks down to you, his hands in his pockets. "You were the one who was curious."

Your brows furrow. "I expressed that curiosity in the truck—meaning you were already headed this way."

"No, originally I was going to take you to Sabre-Tooth Springs. We're just making a detour right now."

He steps away from you then, walking closer to the field.

You panic. "Jacob," you nearly yell his name.

He turns back to you, one brow raised. "You wanted to know what it was like."

"I didn't think I'd be finding out tonight..."

He doesn't respond.

You take a small step closer to him. "What if...what if I have a bad trip?"

He determines it a small victory that you're not going to fight him on this experience, but, rather, are willing to let it happen.

He steps back over to you, his broad form towering over your own. He nearly smirks at how small you are compared to him. So vulnerable...

"I'll be right here the entire time. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

You glance to the alluring field of flowers, illuminated only by the moon above and the lights from the greenhouses in the back, then back to the large man before you.

"Do you really think my first time doing it...it being in a field of it, is a good idea?"

He shrugs. "No one's ever had a better one."

You nearly roll your eyes as he turns away from you. You quickly reach out, gripping his right hand in your left and his head jerks in your direction at the sudden contact.

You look up to him with wide eyes. "Can...can I hold your hand?"

Your own is shaking, he notes.

He nods.

You take a deep breath, then another as you step closer and closer, until, finally, you're at the beginning of a path, which leads down the middle of the garden.

You grip his hand tighter as the two of you begin down it, your head quickly beginning to spin as you breathe in the strong-smelling flowers which surround you. Your other hand comes up to wrap around his arm, sparkles filling your vision. "I feel so dizzy. Light-headed." You look around you, your vision swimming, heart now pounding. "Everything looks funny. I don't like this."

He drags you along, further in, cutting across the path until you're completely surrounded by the angel's trumpet flowers. "Just relax. Everything you're feeling is completely normal."

You shake your head, trying to center yourself, but it causes the entire world to spin instead, so you press your forehead against Jacob's upper-arm, desperately wanting it to stop.

"Here, just sit down and ride it out."

Ride it out? There was no riding it out, so long as you were sitting in a damn field of it.

Nevertheless, you do as you're told, taking a seat beside him, swaying side-to-side as you watch the world around you ebb and flow, as if you were underwater.

"Hey, look at me," Jacob says as he gently places his index finger under your chin, turning your face in his direction, causing your vision to fill with small silver sparkles again.

"Yeah, your pupils are blown."

Your heart jumps and you swallow nervously as you reach up to your face. "Is that bad?" You ask with a whimper.

He smirks. "No, just means it's working."

You wonder what he means by that, but find yourself completely unable to concentrate long enough to try and figure it out.

"Lie back."

You do, closing your eyes, willing yourself to calm down. Wait—hadn't he said it helped do just that? No. That happened when you found the correct dosage, which this most certainly was not.

They smelled so lovely, though...

Finally, when you open your eyes, you notice that Jacob is now leaning against his left arm, looking down at you. "How do you feel?"

You blink up at him. "Warm."

"So take a layer off."

You giggle, then cover your mouth, wondering where the hell that had come from. You lower your arms back down to your sides. "Are you trying to get me to take my clothes off?"

His brow raises. "You're wearing a hoodie."

You flush. "Oh. Right."

You unzip it and Jacob's eyes darken when he notices you're not wearing a bra beneath your thin t-shirt, but you don't see his reaction as you sit up long enough to slip the article of clothing off, lying it beside you before you lie back down again.

"Better?" He asks.

You look up at him again, suddenly feeling warm all over. Was that a normal reaction?

"No, still warm."

His jaw flexes, then, "So take something else off."

Normally, you know you would be beyond upset at such a suggestion, would make a scene over it. Would never do it, but you simply...don't care in this moment. You feel a way you never have before. Calm, euphoric. Happy.

So you sit up again and grip your t-shirt at the hem, lifting it up over your head and Jacob watches, his face betraying nothing as he takes in your now-naked breasts.

You lie down yet again and giggle, covering your shapely breasts with your hands. "I'm naked."

"Not technically." He replies, his tone completely serious.

"How are you not...do you not feel as good as I do right now?" When you speak, your voice sounds little like your own now. It's playful, lilted, breathy... Alluring.

His jaw twitches. “Let's just say I've developed a bit of an immunity to it.”

You wonder how that's even possible. How much of it someone would have to do to even achieve that. But because it's him—Mister Always-in-Control—you're not surprised by this fact.

You reach down to the waistband of your sweatpants and begin to wiggle out of them, not even caring as your underwear goes with them.

You look up to Jacob then, and his gaze is trained solely on your face now.

“Now I am.” You say, your entire body warm, a flush spreading lower than just your face, but to your neck and breasts as well.

He simply replies with a “Mhm.”

You laugh at him, then mimic his serious disposition by pursing your lips and furrowing your brow. “So serious.”

You close your eyes again and breathe deeply, heat now pooling between your thighs.

Jacob, while your eyes are shut, uses the moment to take you all in. Your breasts, your soft stomach, your round hips and supple thighs, and your sex between your legs.

When he looks back to your comely face, your wide eyes are open and watching him.

Before he can think or do anything, you're on top of him—straddling him—your legs bent at the knee on either side of his waist as you come down to rest directly over his throbbing erection, which strains painfully beneath his jeans.

He leans back on both his elbows as you rest each of your arms on either of his shoulders, your breasts nearly in his face.

"The hell are you doing?"

You shrug, feeling unusually bold. Obviously. Or you wouldn't naked, on top of Jacob Seed, in a field of psychedelic flowers right now. "Not sure yet." You giggle again, running your fingers through his hair.

"You're a naughty little thing, aren't you?"

You feel your core heat at that. "Not usually."

His lips twitch. "I'm aware. Had I known all it would take to bring your walls down would be some bliss, I would've brought you down here days ago."

You scoot a bit closer, your chest nearly against his and he groans at the sensation as his cock twitches underneath you.

"Why?"

He's broken from thoughts of fucking you senseless for teasing him like this. "Why what?"

"You've barely spoken to me for the past week, not that you're ever home, so why do you care about my walls?"

His cock hardens at you talking about walls, him wondering what the ones between your legs would feel like clenching around him. He doubts you could take all of him anyway.

"Does that upset you, me not paying attention to you, sweetheart?" He asks in a mocking tone.

Normally, you'd fill with embarrassment or shame. But right now? You simply shrug.

"Is that why you're naked and on top of me? Because you don't need my attention?" He asks, thinking he finally has the upper hand. How wrong he is...

You grind down against his erection and sigh. "Mm, actually I want this."

He raises a brow. "To dry hump me?"

He could give you a lot more than that, you need only ask. But he wasn't about to admit as much.

You hesitate for a moment, then nod.

He glances down to where your sex is already making a wet spot on his jeans, directly over his cock. He then looks back up to you, eyes hooded. "Go on, then."

It's all the encouragement you need before you reposition herself overtop of his left leg instead. He lowers it until it's flat on the ground, and then you do exactly what he said. You rub yourself against the leg of his pants, your head thrown back in ecstasy, your eyes closed, lips slightly parted.

For awhile, Jacob simply watches you, arms behind his head, content to let you do this all night if that's what you want.

Then, Jacob sits up for a moment, reaching behind you to slip the band around your ponytail free and your hair falls in soft waves down your back. Her briefly considers how it would feel wrapped around his fist.

You don't stop your ministrations for a moment, continuing to whimper and sigh and moan as you take what you want, perhaps need.

Finally, you opens your eyes and Jacob sits up a bit. You wrap your arms back around his neck again and crush your lips to his.

You open your mouth, moaning into his own over and over. God, you'd never felt so good, so free, so alive before. You understood why people took bliss now. Who wouldn't want to feel like this forever? You could get lost in it. Wanted to.

He flicks his tongue against yours , then brings his rough, calloused palms to rub up and down her bare back and you shiver, gasping against his lips at the heightened sensation.

Then, he grips your hips as you continue to ride him, wishing he could get some fucking relief himself. He wasn't usually this generous, in that, if he was with a woman, they were both getting theirs. Not just one of them.

You begin to ride his leg faster then, your breath coming in soft, short pants. He suddenly flips you onto your back "Oh no you don't."

Your eyes shoot open, as well as your mouth, but before you can speak a word of protest, Jacob is lying on his side, leaning against his left arm as he spreads both of your legs with his right, then reaches between them with that same hand, running his index and middle fingers between her soaking folds before plunging them inside of you.

You gasp at the unexpected gesture, then throw your head back against the ground.

Jacob brings his other arm to press down on the lower portion of your stomach as his fingers frantically fuck you, barely allowing you to catch your breath.

You bring your right arm up to grip his jacket, unable to so much as speak, only able to make the most embarrassing noises—which included those coming from between your thighs...

Jacob suddenly curves his fingers upward and you moan his name in response, causing him to smirk in satisfaction before easing yet another finger inside of you.

It doesn't take but a few minutes more before you finish, his palm covered in you as your back arches and you spread your legs wider. Sparks explode against your eyelids, your entire being set ablaze, your cunt contracting wildly against him.

He doesn't even bother stopping, until your hand comes down to grip his wrist. "Please," you whisper, trying to catch your breath, trying to calm your pounding heart.

His movements cease and he removes his fingers from inside you and you watch as he immediately places them in his mouth, your eyes going wide as he sucks your juices from them.

Only once he's cleaned them does he settle his arm over one of her lowered thighs. "Do you have any idea how fucking good you taste?"

You open and close your mouth like some stupid, gaping fish, before closing it and opting to simply shake your head.

He runs two of his fingers between your hot, dripping folds and your body jerks in response before he brings them up to your lips. "Open."

You obey and he eases his fingers into your mouth and you suck on them before he removes them a few seconds later. You don't find there to be anything extraordinary about how you taste, but perhaps he had a different palate than you.

You then decide that you sound ridiculous, and have no idea what you're even on about.

"So, did you get what you needed? Or do you need to go again?"

You're surprised he's offering you a second orgasm. But pleased he is nonetheless. The first had been...unlike anything you'd ever felt before. Had been mind-bending. Your entire body had been at his mercy.

You look at him shyly. "Maybe."

He brushes one of his calloused thumbs over your nipple. "Oh yeah?" He says with mild interest before gazing at you.

You spread your legs again, nodding. "Mhm."

He sighs. "What am I going to do with you?"

You bite your lip. "Whatever you want."

He shakes his head, chuckling. "Don't tell me that or I'll fuck you within an inch of your life."

You still, somewhat wishing he would.

Then, you climb back on top of him again. He leans back like before. "What are you up to now, darlin'?"

You unbuckle his belt and his hand shoots out to grip your wrist in an iron clasp.

You look up to him, your heart pounding wildly with excitement.

"You sure about this?" He has no condoms on him and he wasn't about to even consider the pullout method. When he came, it would be deep—with his cock buried as far inside of you as he can get it—every drop of his cum filling you. And if your coupling resulted in something...more...he'd deal with that then.

All he could think was everything he wanted to do to you right now. Consequences be fucking damned.

You look at him, a smile playing on your lips. "Trust me."

Him trusting you wasn't the problem right now. Sure, bliss no longer had the effect on him that it once did, but there was still an impact on his body when he got near it. And being here with you like this in a field of it? He was liable to lose control once he was finally inside of you.

Once you have his belt fully undone, you then unbutton and unzip his pants and you kneel next to him and he lifts his hips as you slide them down to his ankles.

Before he can toe off his boots, wanting to fuck you completely bare, you've climbed back into his lap and are reaching for his erection over his boxers. You stroke him a few times before rubbing the tip of him against your cunt.

He looks at you in confusion. "What're you doing?"

You continue rubbing him against you and his cock twitches—once, twice—and he wants nothing more in all the fucking world than to finally sheathe himself inside of you.

"Are you trying to be a cock tease?" He asks, irritation lacing his voice.

You give him a mischievous grin and shrug before rolling your head to the side, your hair coming to slip over the front of your shoulder.

Jacob sits up, his chest pressed against yours and you wrap your arms around his neck then. He relaxes some. You'd just been trying to ready yourself, that was all. He reaches under you and starts trying to pull his boxers lower, trying to free his erection, but you still and pull away, looking down.

"I..."

He stops. "What?"

If you were about to ask 'what about a condom', so help him God almighty above...

"I've never..." You trail off.

Realization dawns on him. You were a fucking virgin. Even if you sure as hell were not acting like one right now.

"You're still a virgin, sweetheart?"

You nod, suddenly embarrassed.

He squeezes both of your hips firmly in his rough hands. "You want to fix that tonight?"

You just stare at him, running your fingers nervously through his hair.

He moves his hands lower, gripping your ass. "Hm? Would you like that?"

Your cunt was throbbing between your legs and you were so wet that you were dripping. All you could think about was all the things he might do to you if you said yes.

Why had you been waiting again? With your head so light and fuzzy, you couldn't remember anymore.

Finally, you nod.

He gently sets you to the side and you watch as he unlaces his boots, then tugs off his jeans the rest of the way. He then pulls his shirt off over his head and you feel a pang in your chest at the scars littering his abdomen. What had happened to him?

Your feeling sorry for him is cut short, however, when he pulls his boxers off, freeing his erection.

Oh God. It'd never fit. Never ever.

He gently grips your hips in his hands again and you sit back on his thighs and gingerly take his erection in your hands, holding it up against your stomach. It came up above your navel.

Jacob could nearly laugh from the terrified look on your face.

"Something the matter, honey?"

"It's too big," you look up to him, eyes wide and full of innocence. "It's not going to fit."

It twitches in your grip and you nearly unhand him when it does so.

"Oh, I'll make it fit, baby. One way or another."

You look into his eyes again.

"So, you want to be on top, or should I?" He asks, his tone patient as you decided.

"I...I don't know."

He sits up, wrapping his arms around you, your hands still around his dripping erection. "You want me to decide then?" He grabs your ass again, squeezing. "Want me to do all the work and you just enjoy yourself?"

You nod, hesitantly.

He leans forward, trailing his lips, then his tongue along your neck and you let out an unexpected moan, making his hard cock twitch again. Once his lips are near the shell of your ear, he speaks. His voice is low, gravely, full of lust. "Lie back and spread your legs."

He quickly grabs his jacket, fanning it out and you lie back on it, doing as you were told, spreading your legs wide for him.

He kneels before you, resting back on his haunches as his hands first grip your breasts, massaging them, then he uses one of his hands to grip your hip, the other palm-face down, running between your breasts, down your stomach, finally coming to rest overtop of your sex.

"This what you want, darlin'?"

You watch as his cock bobs between his legs. You nod, silently.

He slowly eases two fingers inside of you and you grip the jacket beneath you.

"Oh, yeah, that's what you want. Nice and wet and ready for me, huh, baby?"

You bite your lip, whimpering as he teases you like you had teased him.

Your eyes pop open when he removes his fingers, now rubbing the tip of his cock against your entrance instead, slapping it gently against your pussy a few times.

"What about-"

"What about what, sweetheart?" He asks, brow raised in mock-interest at what you have to say.

"Protection."

"We don't need it," he states, pushing inside of you before you can protest.

The pain isn't as bad as you had imagined it would be. Perhaps some mild discomfort at first, but he gives you a moment to adjust to the size of him—you'd been stupid in thinking those first few inches would be it, though.

As he eases himself the rest of the way in, the feeling is unlike anything you'd ever felt before.

You'd fingered yourself before, even used the handle of a hairbrush a few times, watching with fascination as it bobbed inside of you as you clenched around it, but this...you'd never felt so completely filled.

Jacob lets out a low swear and you look up to him in worry, until he speaks. "You're so fucking tight, Jesus."

He looks down at you, where your bodies are now joined, his length completely hidden inside of you. You'd done far better at taking every inch of him than he'd previously anticipated. "That feel good, sweetheart? You like that?"

"I feel so...so full."

He smirks. "I bet."

He begins to rock his hips against yours, slowly, using every ounce of self-control not to just fuck you raw like he wants so desperately to do.

He lowers himself on top of you, one of his hands holding himself up, trying not to crush you. He uses his other to slide down your thigh, lifting it onto his back. He sinks impossibly deeper and curses.

He looks down at you as you wrap your other leg around his backside. "Do you know how good you feel like this?"

You shake your head, eyes now glazed over, face and breasts splotchy with a sex-flush.

"First one to be inside of this pretty little cunt, hm?"

If you weren't already pink and red all over, you'd flush from the words leaving his lips. "Y-yes."

He eases out and back into you a few more times, your cunt squelching from how wet you are. "Such a needy little pussy, isn't it? Bet it doesn't take much to get it soaked, does it?"

You shake your head, licking your lips. "It's kind of annoying, actually."

He chuckles. "Only for you. You have any idea how much use I'd get out of it if it belonged to me?"

You grow quiet, mortified at the way he was talking about your body, even if it turned you on all the more.

He crushes his lips against yours, using his tongue to tease you for a moment before pulling away, sitting up again, cock still firmly inside of you. He reaches down, brushing the pad of his thumb along your lower lip, before easing it into your mouth. "You look like you could use something to suck on, darlin'."

And so you do. You suck on his thumb, hollowing your cheeks, wrapping both of your hands around his, and he groans at the sight, imaging how his cock would feel in there. God, you were fucking perfect.

He rams his cock into you a few times and you just moan and sigh in pleasure.

He pulls out a few inches, admiring his glistening length, completely covered in you, and then he shoves it back in. You clench around him and take note of how he hisses at the sensation.

You do it a few more times, completely on purpose now and he curses, and not quietly. "Fuck, Y/N."

Eventually, he grips your hips again, rolling over so that you're on top and he begins to tug your hips forward, then back, trying to encourage you to ride him again. You start to do so, the feeling of him settled inside of you, feeling him moving with you...it's such an odd sensation, but it feels so good.

He lies back, reaching up, taking both of your breasts in his hands, fondling them as you rock your hips against his. He begins to tug against your nipples, gently pinching them and smirks when he feels you clench at the feeling.

"You like that, baby, that feel good?"

You nod fervently. "You're doing such a good job riding my cock, sweetheart. That's it." He grips your hips again, having you bounce on it. He throws it head back. "Fuck, just like that. God—fuck."

You settle both of your hands, palms face-down, on each of his pectorals, settling onto his cock again and then you begin to roughly buck your hips against him, riding him as hard as your body can manage.

So much for letting him do all the work...

He says your name over and over again, eyes closed, a curse escaping his lips every-other word.

He's gripping your hips and sides so hard you're sure he'll leave bruises, but you don't dare tell him to stop. Finally, he sits up, crushing you against him, his face buried in your breasts, taking one, then the other into his mouth, gently biting down and sucking on them as you continue to ride and ride, his breathing become more erratic, his hips bucking up into you, the tip of his cock plunging against your cervix.

"Fuck, baby, just like that. Good girl. Ride my fucking cock. Just like that, honey."

Finally, you climax, your walls clenching around him over and over again, the first time you'd come from anything other than clitoral stimulation.

Jacob quickly follows you over the edge, his cum shooting inside of you, hot and plentiful as he moans into your hair.

Once the two of you settle, coming down from your orgasms, he slowly eases you onto your back once more, removing his cock from you inch-by-inch, his cum spilling out of you, onto the ground.

"There's so much of it," you say, surprised, looking up to him, noticing his member was coated in it, sticky cum dripping from the tip still.

He smirks, looking between your spread legs where your cunt was now just a messy red hole—covered in him—needing to be filled again. "And there's plenty more, trust me."

#jacob seed x reader #jacob seed imagine #jacob seed x you #far cry 5 x reader #fic: far cry v (jacob seed x reader)#far cry 5 x you #far cry 5 #far cry 5 fanfiction #Jacob seed

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His flower is so hot 🌼

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I like to think Danny knows a couple of neat cigarette tricks he learned as a teen (like blowing rings) and probably uses them to entertain baby!Legion when they bug him during his smoke breaks

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— nah, jeff can't accept that someone stole his spotlight in a beauty and best criminal contest

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#LMFAO WTF IS THIS #memes #dark humor #dark humour tw

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A Heart Deceived

Title: A Heart Deceived

Fandom: Far Cry 5

Characters: Jacob Seed x Reader (female)

Summary: AU where soulmates share the same marking and Jacob doesn't have to brand you any further.

Word count: 2900+

Notes: soulmates, yandere!Jacob Seed, Reader is not the Deputy, captivity, violence, emotional manipulation, dub-con kissing, scars and injuries description: Reader has a mutilated ear and facial scars from a wolf attack and is not happy about it, a mild form of Stockholm Syndrome.

His fingers are surprisingly gentle. You don't expect it from him, the gentleness, Jacob is not kind or caring. Jacob is not warm, not nurturing, not indulgent. Yet his thumb skims across your jaw with quiet focus. Down the side of your neck, up your chin to follow the slanted line there, then it repeats the whole procedure on a different scar. They had long healed by now and turned into uneven ridges of mismatched tissue.

It hurt when the damned wolf bit you, the next day, and for many following days; the effective and precise killing machine aimed for the throat, and if you didn't twist the last moment, would have succeeded.

Jacob never punished the wolf, it was serving its purpose, while you, you were supposed to think before acting and understand the possible consequences.

The pain could be endured and later forgotten, what could not was the humiliation of lying on the dirty ground and the shiny view of Jacob's boots growing larger until they stopped in the line of your vision. A moment of painful awareness: the escape attempt which failed so abruptly and so brutally had become laughable. Jacob grabbed your hair and shook you like a disobedient puppy. "That's on you, sweetheart. Be wary of the quiet ones, they say."

Those last words sounded as if he were talking to himself, rather than anyone else.

"I warned you."

He did.

Jacob is right, not in everything, but in many things. One can try and deny it, another can scoff, but the bottom line is the same: Jacob is right in many things, and at times it's better to listen. Even despite an involuntary gagging reaction.

Your heart hammered and every single beat of it brought to the surface what you already knew — there would be no other attempts. The paleness from fear or perhaps blood loss must've shown on your face, because he let go of you and crouched down. "Pathetic."

It lacked genuine heat, disappointment, or any emotion. Being disappointed would mean that Jacob expected something in the first place. He pulled off his jacket and pressed it to your face, stemming the bleeding. The ground seemed more interesting than ever, dry soil dotted with rocks and grass blades scattered everywhere, trampled by people's feet.

You don't want to look at him or acknowledge the touch to a small sword on your wrist, identical to the one above his left elbow. The mark is a clean reminder and a binding claim for life. You don't want to see it or remember how Jacob's face twisted when he realized just who you were.

Like someone had slapped him.

A lot has happened; Montana turned different from what you saw on TV and the world suddenly shifted under your feet, rearranged from a little road trip across the states into his territory, his commands, his people. A part of you — a foolish, soft part — wished you could've met under different circumstances, in a different place and you told him once about it in a moment of weakness. Jacob stilled at first, but then kept cleaning his gun. "We're here, sweetheart. Nothing we can do 'bout it."

Could've beens and never happeneds weren't worth wasting thoughts on.

Now Jacob is tracing your scars. He's not handsome, not really, there's too much roughness to the lines of his face, dark circles and untrimmed beard, but... you frown. You don't know how to describe Jacob Seed or why you even bother trying. It's odd to think about him this way. Weird.

Jacob catches your eyes. "What?"

You close them. "Nothing."

He makes a noncommittal sound, then leans in. The kiss to your forehead is unexpected and brief. A lot of them are — quick kisses on your temple when Jacob thinks you're asleep, on your nape when he leaves the bed before dawn. They make you wonder just what he wants from you.

He never expects affection back.

Doesn't try anything further, and you both are suspended in this limbo, neither being the first to break it, nor acknowledge its growing significance with every passing day. One part of you craves it, to yield in a different way, not because it is required, but because you want, yet Jacob doesn't ask, so perhaps it's for the better.

Another gets nauseous. He breaks people. Like dry twigs, discarding the pieces when they have no more use. You've seen his Chosen training until they begged, cried and crawled, their pride crushed along with the body.

There are days you can't bear looking at him.

***

Sometimes, sometimes, you wish him dead and gone from the world, then the mark on your wrist aches like a fresh wound.

"When will you take off the chain?" You ask and wiggle your foot a bit. It's long enough to reach the bathroom, to wander around the quarters, but not to walk outside. Jacob doesn't look up from his book. The cover is worn out and you suspect he read it many times already, military stuff. Strategy. Survival tactics, you have no idea.

"When I know you've learned your lesson."

So, not today.

You sigh and roll onto your stomach. "It's stupid."

He doesn't respond.

It's annoying more than anything. Reason — you're his soulmate, not some runaway cow ready to get lost in Montana wilderness — didn't help and only gained you a blank stare followed by a lock click. The chain rattles with each movement, loud and distracting; Jacob just keeps reading as if nothing happens.

Sometimes, sometimes, you catch yourself thinking that this isn't so bad after all. He treats you well for a cult leader: fed, clothed, clean, sheltered. Compared to the cages his future Chosen sleep in, you don't get to complain. You have a comfortable bed instead of cold dirty floor, normal meals rather than a chunk of raw meat, privacy and silence without old school music 24/7.

You frown. No, it's not nice. It's Stockholm Syndrome, plain and simple. You should be free, away from this place.

"Are you angry?"

Jacob turns another page. "No."

His room smells of pine wood and gun oil, with an undertone of metal. The furniture is scarce and practical. A wardrobe, a desk with a radio placed on top, one bookshelf. Bare walls except for a giant map pinned opposite the bed; you've memorized all the markings on it during your stay. The areas which got liberated by Deputy are red, his outposts are circled in blue. Jacob doesn't talk about Deputy much, but the way he clenches his jaw over the radio frequency makes you think they must be a real pain in the ass.

Secretly you hope they blow Eden's Gate HQ to pieces soon.

What would it mean for you?

These are questions, vague and inappropriately timed, coming to mind. What if Deputy happens to eventually tear the Project apart? They escaped John, escaped Jacob and you were to personally witness his foul mood for two days straight. You overhear bits and pieces of conversations, the Chosen talk if they think no one listens — Deputy is strong and clever. Persistent and cunning. Maybe that's the reason Jacob's so obsessed with them.

What if...

You glance at him from under your eyelashes and rub the mark. They say there's a connection between soulmates. If one dies, another experiences it on a physical level. Jacob said that was bullshit. His brother didn't confirm or deny when you asked him after a sermon.

Joseph Seed unnerves you. Not just because he believes himself to be God's vessel. There is something in his voice, quiet and soothing like the distant rolls of thunder, it raises goosebumps when he starts preaching and you're forced to sit through it. Something in his eyes behind yellow-tinted glasses sends shivers down your spine, very little to do with his religious fanaticism.

What would you feel if Jacob died?

The thought creates an unpleasant twist in your stomach, unwanted bond or not, it leaves you queasy. You curl on the bed. Jacob has reading glasses, you barely held back a snort the first time you saw them propped up his nose. He shoots a flat look from above the pages but doesn't comment on your inquisitive stare.

By now you know when to speak and to remain silent (mostly). He dislikes unruly ones and finds satisfaction showing them just how insignificant they are, how mistaken in every single sense. Weak. That's why you annoy him mildly when feeling particularly brave or in need of interaction, but never play soldier or power. It triggers something which is best avoided, gets people punished, then shot in front of others. Or sent for trials, you're not sure which is worse.

Jacob marks a page and sets the book aside. "What?"

"What 'what'?" You ask back, fiddling with the hem of a grey camouflage shirt. It's way too big on your frame, Jacob likes the look of it, judging by how much of your wardrobe consists of his stuff now that you don't leave the room.

"I can hear the wheels in your head turning, spit it out."

"What would happen to me if something... happened to you?"

You're afraid of saying 'if you die' because it's final, even though Jacob seems invincible most of the times. A mountain against hurricanes. Yet everyone dies eventually and the Deputy keeps winning against all odds set before them.

"Nothing. Joseph takes care of you."

This is news, and frankly not the answer you hoped for.

('You'd go free' was. He didn't say 'I won't die' either.)

Tension seeps into your shoulders without a conscious thought. "Why? I am nobody to him."

"You are my soulmate," Jacob replies, simple as that, like it explains everything. Perhaps in their cult world it does, but not yours.

"So?"

He pats his thigh.

It's a gesture without much interpretation required, but you stay rooted on the bed. Cautious. You've grown familiar with each other after living together for months — sharing a space tends to do this to people — still tonight is different, full with awkwardness you haven't felt since that time he walked in on you changing.

Jacob's stare is intense. Heavy, cold blue eyes linger on your wrist where the sword surrounded by flames peeks from under the long sleeve. You swallow a lump in your throat and get up on unsteady legs.

"So he will do it out of memory. You're family, pup, whether you wish it or not."

With the same caution you sit on his lap, war memories written in pink-red skin decorate his face. Just like yours, you think, the only difference is the place and origin. There's something intimate about being like this. Jacob holds you in place once you settle down, not comfortable, but not exactly uncomfortable either.

"Never took you for a cuddly type," you say to shield yourself from growing unease. "Why the change?"

Jacob's thumb presses to the corner of your lips. "Got tired of those puppy eyes staring at me the whole evening, sweetheart. You can have a closer look."

"I don't have puppy eyes. And maybe I like looking from afar."

"Yeah?"

His beard has a prickly feeling to it.

You know your face will never be the same after what happened. From his point of view, Jacob can probably see where the scars begin in the hairline, then continue downwards only an inch away from your eye; small miracles and such. Half of your ear is missing, a good solid chunk. It's not a nice look.

"Don't touch them," you mutter.

You don't mean to share your thoughts in such an abrupt manner, but these intimate moments become a source of discomfort, like a sharp, twisting knife. Jacob doesn't flinch at the sight, he probably saw worse things, still it feels humiliating being reminded of your shortcomings and the fact that this is your face — permanently marked.

Jacob doesn't stop.

"Beauty dies fast, darlin'," he says slowly. "This here... this'll stay."

He never sugarcoats anything. Never lies to spare feelings, ruthless and pragmatic with a clear understanding of what matters and what doesn't. Only the weak need empty reassurances; his words. You hate this side of Jacob just as much as admire it on occasion, right now you wish he said something else. Beauty dies fast.

"Thank you Jacob, very comforting. Top ten phrases you should tell someone who got mauled by a Judge." You cross your arms, wondering why the hell are you talking about this. With Jacob. The worst choice possible to bring up sensitive topics, or maybe the only one, since there's not a lot of people around anyway.

"I ain't here to stroke your ego, sweetheart. This," he traces a scar, "is a lesson to remember. Next time when thinking 'bout running — think again and think good."

There will be no next time regardless of how he phrases it. The chain rattles every night when you shift under the blankets and falls down with an annoying bang as soon as you get up. There's nowhere to run too, the Whitetail Mountains belong to Jacob, he rules them like a king would rule his kingdom, with iron fist and strict order, and who knows what the local Resistance will do to you if they catch you first.

If they figure out whose soulmate you are.

You're trapped between the Deputy destroying outposts and Jacob hunting them across the region, like a mouse stuck in a corner while cats keep prowling around.

The sky outside has an orange-pink hue, casting Jacob's face into soft light and deep shadows. He takes off his glasses, setting them on the book's cover, then wipes a stray tear from the corner of your eye. "You gonna cry over looks?"

You sniffle. "Yes. I wish I never met you."

He stiffens. For a second you worry it might have pushed a wrong button. Jacob never hurt you physically, still there's a healthy dose of fear, not necessarily born out of past experiences. At times his presence just radiates off in silent waves so thick you can feel them crashing into yourself before he walks away and doesn't return for days, leaving you alone with the Chosen stationed behind the doors to watch over and report back to their Herald.

Jacob leans closer until your foreheads almost press into each other.

He doesn't initiate touch often. Once in a while he lets you sleep on his arm instead of a pillow or allows you to sit closer than usual during meals, but that's it. There are boundaries set, most of them are unspoken rules which you picked up along the way: you can ask questions and be generally yourself within reason — as long as it doesn't border on disrespect, Jacob will tolerate occasional attitude in very small doses; you can request certain items provided he approves; he prefers silence during breakfast.

Never challenge him publicly and don't talk bad about his siblings.

This confession can't be taken back, nor do you wish to, because it's true. You regret meeting him, and it was much better to wonder and guess, create images of a faceless man somewhere in the depths of your mind and fantasize about possibilities. How does one even go back to normal life after this?

(Not that any chance of doing so exists in the foreseeable future.)

"I figured, darlin'," Jacob says finally. His voice lacks anger, as if he expected those words one day or another, Jacob isn't naive or stupid and is surprisingly aware of himself in a lot of matters, of the fact that very little would want to end up where he dragged you and being imprisoned under the heavy metal chain doesn't add to fond memories either. "Fair enough."

In all months you two lived together, sharing food and space, in all months, he never kissed you.

Now he does.

His lips are chapped, dry and slightly rough.

You find yourself going rigid at first, unsure what to make out of it. It's different from what you imagined, the fantasy version seemed more... violent and harsh, less intimate and private. He breaks the kiss briefly and then resumes it again.

Slow-slow-quick, Jacob steals your breath away bit by bit until your head spins, until your hands feel clammy and then, when you think you can't take it any longer, he pulls back.

"Won't apologize 'bout the scars, pup. You deserved a lesson."

Your throat feels parched.

"But not of this kind. Never wanted it for you."

It doesn't sound apologetic, neither regretful, but it is what it is, probably the closest to it Jacob will ever be capable of. His hand strokes the back of your neck in slow and repetitive circles, and in an odd way, it does seem soothing.

He takes you to bed minutes later, maneuvers you closer under the sheets and turns off the light. The window is open letting in the sounds of evening wildlife: crickets chirp loudly nearby, some owl hoots in the distance; Montana smells different than other states. Sharper, wilder. You lie like this for a bit, curled against his side and he's always so fucking warm, a human furnace incarnate.

"The moment I saw the marking — I wished you never met me too."

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