#Jacob seed fanfiction

[shalotttower]

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."

[underwhelp]

Wishes Do Come True

It was like you'd been given as a gift.

When you'd first been pushed to your knees infront of Joseph and his band of merry psychos, you'd just survived your car being run off the road. The wound on your forehead pulsed but atleast it had stopped weeping. This was supposed to be a calm trip toward the cabin you'd rented, lake view and all but instead you'd been kidnapped and brought to a church in the middle of nowhere.

It really did feel like a Stephen King horror story.

You'd tried to catch the eye of the people sitting in the pews, but they were too content to stare in awe of the speaker. He held the room at will, a soft voice that had range and a pretty unassuming face, you had a sudden thought of human sacrifice.

His speech turned to sinners when he opened his arms and stepped towards you.

"We must push through, and find our strength in our lord to survive the rapture that is apon us." His stare was intense and focused behind his yellow aviators. "We welcome all the lost into our embrace." At this the crowd rose and cried out their agreement.

Behind the main man stood two others and a woman. Only one mattered though, for he was someone you'd met before, a long time ago when he'd been in need. You felt like you both shared a look but you weren't sure if he'd decide you were worth saving.

Between then and now, you'd been 'baptized', drugged and made to listen to Joseph's nonsense. It was only after three days of never being left alone to escape that Jacob arrived for you.

You'd been placed at the dinning table, made to eat and drink the drugged food and listen while Joseph thanked you for the care you'd given his brother all those years ago. Then the talk started of how long we'd be under ground when all came to a head, how you'd have to repopulate. That's when Joseph told you that you'd be married that evening to a man you hadn't seen in years. A man you'd only spoke to a hand full of times.

Jacobs face didn't tell you much when you looked at him, he was still and watching you back. A steely gaze, the same as it had been in the shelter. You'd asked him if this was what he wanted and he'd smirked.

"You made it clear that you'll have me at my worst," Christ, he made it sound like you'd fucked at some point. "You'll make a decent wife."

You didn't have the strength to argue, your vision was constantly blurring at the edges and Jacobs eyes would change from blue to red everytime you'd blink.

The next thing you remember was the feeling of someone removing your underwear, your arms being moved for a dress to be pulled over your head. Then you were standing back in that same church, right at the front. Jacob stood there too, his brothers and sister at the head once again. The congregation was bigger, people gathered and surrounded by heavy artillery.

You were made to kiss him, you remember the feeling of his beard and the smell of the wax he used on it, and the church bursts into sparkling snow and white fog.

Later you asked Jacob how he could've possibly have remembered you, he told you while tickling the stretched skin of your belly that the night you'd brought him his dinner, it had been the first full meal he'd had in nine months. That you'd looked him in the eye and said nothing, just nodded and let him eat.

He looked into your eyes then and told you that he never forgot the feeling of wishing things had been different, for wishing he'd had a future with someone like you. His lip curled up then.

And you knew that down in that bunker, swollen with the child he'd bred you with, that he'd gotten his wish and maybe you were just a little thankful when you thought of what your life would've been like if he hadn't.

[valenli]

Headcanons for some of my favourite men in franchises (Games)

As I said I made more, and i need more ideas from games. However here are a few

Jacob Frye (ACS)

Jacob loves being sarcastic. He often teases his S/O lady with his funny remarks, though he does his best to time them right

Jacob goes drinking with his S/O in order to have fun, and fight off any templar crooks who may try harming her

Even when he's older, his charismatic nature doesn't hide from his S/O. He let's her know by telling her jokes quietly or with letters filled with jokes

He boasts about his S/O to Evie though he used to tease her about 'Greenie'. However he does seem very compassionate about his S/O

Jin Sakai (GOT)

Jin is pretty protective of his S/O. He let's her know this by holding her wrist in dangerous places or by holding his blade handle

Jin enjoys visiting hot springs with his S/O. Often to recover after his many battles with the Mongols and to get through his worries

Jin brings S/O with him to shrines they visit. Petting foxes is a must on their travels when passing through nature

Jin limits himself when drinking to make sure he's always sharp, but he let's S/O drink comfortably, even joking with her

Ignis Scientia (FFXV)

Ignis often makes S/O her favourite dishes in order to avoid having to go to expensive places, also because S/O prefers his cooking

Ignis takes S/O around Altissia when possible, showing her the nicest areas and buys her small gifts with significant gifts

Health is important to Ignis. He makes sure his S/O is maintaining her health and staying clean

Even after losing his vision, he often let's his S/O know that it doesn't stop him from his old hobbies and he still does his best

Joseph Seed (FC5)

Joseph often does bible studies with his S/O. They share their favourite verses together or discuss meanings

Joseph talks about his S/O to the followers, but mainly to his siblings. It's clear he loves her as he describes her in great measures

After the collapse, he'd probably live with his S/O. Enjoying the beauty of the Eden tree or the water from the waterfall

Joseph and his S/O would help the village against the highwayman as they'd have experience through the years against the foes

[undeadcannibal]

Summary: While escaping with a cult vehicle, you forget to turn off the radio and are captured and turned over to Jacob. Only this time, you wake up somewhere you don’t recognize, tied down to a chair and left to the mercy of Jacob Seed -- and his hunting knife.

Pairing: Jacob Seed/Reader

Genre: Smut, one-shot

Word count: 1,891

Warnings: mentions of brainwashing/conditioning, slight(?) dub-con territory, knife play, ‘nsft’ content, AFAB reader, no use of y/n, spoiler free, not beta read

A/N: Look at me, finally touching up and finishing a draft from 5 years ago. After finishing Far Cry 6, I had the urge to replay Far Cry 5 and recalled this old draft I had. Figured why not rewrite it and post it, y’know? Hopefully y’all will enjoy this little piece. ( Gif credit: xxx )

It was too late when the realization of the mistake you'd made sunk in.

After managing to sneak off with one of the Cults' trucks, you'd forgotten to turn off the radio. Before you could switch it off, you could hear the familiar song begin to play throughout the speakers. Within little time, you could feel the brainwashing effects being to take over you...

Shortly after the first lyrics rang out, your head began to ache; vision blurring red at the edges whilst confusion was soon overcome by a surge of pure, animalistic rage. Jacob had - unfortunately - done well with conditioning you. Once the effects began to kick in, there was nothing you could do to stop it. You could only hope that no one knew where you were so he didn't send any of his hunters after you. It'd been some time since you'd received his last message for you on the radio. Maybe he'd been so pleased with your last round of 'culling' he felt he didn't need another round of it so soon. You really doubted that though.

Beginning to lose control of your muscles, your body began to twitch and jerk before going slack entirely. Your vision starting to fade as well. Grunting, you watched as your vehicle began to veer off from the street into the woods. Barrelling through bushes and small trees. You couldn't see much after that, your head falling back to slump against the headrest of the driver seat.

The last thing you heard before losing consciousness was the sound of the truck's tires rolling over rough terrain, then the impact of steel colliding with wood and glass shattering.

-------   -------   -------   -------   -------   -------   -------   -------   ------

When you finally came to, you couldn't recognize your current surroundings. However, you were able to determine it wasn't any of the locations Jacob had taken you to before.

Instead of filthy cages with humans - and sometimes animals and corpses - inside of them in the sweltering sun, you were in a dark room with dim lighting. And, as you began to struggle, you also came to discover that your limbs had been tied with a rough rope-like material at your wrists, thighs, and ankles.

Quickly glancing around the room, your eyes eventually adjusted to the dark and you managed to notice a small table nestled off in the corner. A leather-bound book with the cults' insignia stamped on it in the middle laid atop it as well as that damn small wooden box Jacob used. The same one that played the same song that had gotten you in this predicament in the first place...

You had to find a way to get out of here immediately.

Attempting to jerk and struggle in your binds, you briefly wondered if you would be able to wriggle your way out of them if you tried hard enough.

"Funny thing about the vehicles..."

Stopping all movement entirely, your blood ran cold and you could feel the hair on the back of your neck and arms raise with fright.

You didn't need to see who it was to recognize the owner of that voice.

Jacob Seed was a bastard that was difficult to forget.

The sound of heavy footfall nearing you made sweat begin to bead at your temples. You really weren't eager to discover what he had in store for you tonight.

As your breathing picked up and your pulse quickened, you finally saw him step into the light. Standing in front of you with a strict posture, his expression unreadable as ever.

"When we first got them, John suggested equipping them with tracking devices," Jacob explained as casually as if he'd been discussing the weather. "I told him there was no point at first, but eventually he talked me into the idea, so we decided to add 'em anyway."

Your jaw tensed and relaxed periodically whilst he spoke to you.

"Guess they proved to be pretty handy after all, huh?"

Rolling your eyes, you shook your head. Jerking your arms once more in retaliation.

"Fuck you, Jacob."

"Oh," He tutted at you, clicking his tongue with a shake of his head. "Don't worry, we'll get to that part soon enough. But first--" He reached down to a strap attached to his thigh, producing a large Bowie knife with a black handle.

You watched him laugh at you as your eyes frantically flit back and forth from his face to the knife he was wielding.

Jacob stepped forward and slowly began to walk around you. Stopping just behind you before you felt the nipping edge of sharp steel press against your clavicle through the flimsy blouse you'd chosen to help yourself blend in. Swallowing the lump in your throat, did your best to remain still. Even as Jacob began to move the tip of his blade up to your throat. Scraping it across the delicate flesh there before moving to repeat the same motion across your throat and the underside of your jaw and chin.

Unable to help yourself, you found yourself breathing faster. Almost panting even whilst your thighs pressed together. Unsure if your reactions were fear or arousal based at that point.

Your knife play kink really picked the worst time to flare up, didn't it?

Jacob Seed could kill you with a flick of his wrist. Have your throat sliced and you'd be able to do nothing but cough and gurgle as you'd slowly asphyxiate with your own blood...

Yet, you never felt the horrible sting of the blade piercing your throat.

Instead, you felt Jacob pull his blade away. Watching curiously as he knelt before you and began to slice through numerous parts of your pants until was satisfied. Peeling away the filthy denim till he had you in nothing but your underwear for bottoms.

"W-What the fuck do you think you're doing, you fucking pervert?!" Baring and gritting your teeth at him, you lunged forward only to be stopped short by your bindings. Unable to do anything as he smiled up at you.

"Don't act like you weren't just squirming when I had my knife against your throat, Deputy. Besides," He smirked, glancing down at your lower body for a brief moment. "I'm trained to recognize the small reactions you might not know you even do. Don't worry though, pup. Secret's safe with me."

Not bothering to wait for your reaction, Jacob slid his knife beneath the waistband of your underwear. Slicing through it before repeating the same on the opposite side. Afterward, he grabbed the remaining shreds of your panties, bringing them up to examine the cloth without an ounce of shame.

As you groaned and turned your flushing face away, you could hear him make comments that had you biting your tongue.

"Can't deny it, girl. The crotch of these are soaked."

Jesus fucking Christ.

Maybe you'd have been better off if he'd just slit your throat...

Surely anything was better than this humiliating and arousing situation.

Slicing away the cords restraining your thighs, Jacob freed them only for him to stand up then.

With your legs apart, you forced yourself to stare up at the ceiling as he leered over your naked form. Bright, cold eyes unable to look away from your flushed and glistening slit.

"Look away all you want, there's no denying you're clearly gettin' off on this just as much as I am..." Jacob taunted as he knelt before you again. Though, this time, he didn't move in with the hand that was wielding his weapon. Instead, he reached down and spread you open with a calloused thumb, causing you to gasp and your muscles to go taut. Unwilling to cave and give him any sort of further reaction.

Still, that didn't stop him from making things worse with his words. Verbally taunting you as his thumb seized spreading you to instead drift up. Circling your puffy clit till it was wet with your own juices before he moved away. Stroking the thick pad of this thumb all the way down to your hole then gliding it back up to your clit again. Repeating the motion over and over till your back was slightly arching off the chair you were tied to. Your hips weakly jutting forward in a poor attempt to chase the pleasure his thumb was providing. Yet, Jacob seemed to be as cruel as ever. Pulling his hand away right before you could grind yourself against it.

God, you were going to need so much therapy after all of this...

Huffing through your nose, you watched with wet, fearful eyes as he removed his bare hand and returned with the hand wielding the knife. Holding it by the blade-end skillfully as he brought it between your quivering thighs and held it inches away from your cunt.

Quickly shaking your head, you pleaded, "Please, for the love of God, Jacob... I'll let you kill me, just any other way than t-that."

The tears that'd welled up in your eyes finally spilled down your cheeks as you tried not to sob and hyperventilate.

Jacob didn't move as he glanced up at you with a cold, halting expression.

"Stop your whining, pup. I'm not going to hurt you. At least, not in the way you're thinking..."

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

Shaking in the chair, you could only watch as Jacob finally moved. Pushing the handle of the knife against your mound and moving it up and down your slit. Every so often, he would pause at your opening just so he could push the slightest amount of the end of the handle inside of you. Fucking you once, twice, three times with the first few inches of the handle before pulling out. Smearing your arousal all over your slit and clitoris till your thighs shook and your mouth finally parted. A soft cry left you as he continued to work you over with the end of the knife.

"J-Jacob..." You panted, glancing at his face and back to the blade between your legs.

"Shh... it's okay. I know whatcha need, Dep'."

Now, Jacob was only grinding the edge of the blade against your wet slit before he finally brought his other hand over. Using his thumb again, Jacob circled and worked your hypersensitive clit until you were openly whining and moaning. Your body finally gave in and writhed for him within its bindings as you pleaded for more with red, flushed eyes.

By all means, you shouldn't have been this close to cumming because of Jacob Seed, of all people in Hope County.

Yet, you couldn't hold your orgasm off any longer.

With a disappointed and wanton cry, your hips began to rock back and forth as you desperately fucked yourself against Jacob's hand and knife. Thick, muscular thighs quivering as waves of pleasure began to overtake you. Thankfully, he didn't stop moving and was at least kind enough to help you ride it out. Continuing to stroke and grind against your moving mound till you begged him to stop. Transparent and slick cum covering not only his hand and knife but your thighs and the chair as well.

"Good girl~" Jacob cooed whilst wiping his knife clean on the front of his pants.

"Was it that hard to just give in?"

Yes.

Yes, it absolutely fucking was, you thought to yourself. 

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Skelly's Masterlist

Updated to include only fandoms I am actively writing in: Call of Duty, Far Cry 5, Baldur's Gate 3

All my fics can be found on AO3 as well. If you're here for the art you can search #skelly sketches (my art tag). All of my fics and art are oc and oc x canon based.

My two main ocs are: Kit Cross (FC5) and Rory Sinclair (COD: MW reboot)

To be added to the general writing tag list [opt in/out here], to be added to the art tag list [opt in/out here], to be added to the cod tag list [opt in/out here], to be added to the NSFW tag list (must be 18+ I will block otherwise) [opt in/out here]

**All fics considered 18+ - Minors DNI

Ten Years Earlier... (18+ smut)

All Along the Watchtower (Complete)

Evening of Score (Complete)

Homecoming (18+ smut)

Injury Kiss prompt

Comfort kiss prompt

Merry Christmas Darling -2023 COD Holiday Challenge (18+ smut)

Protective prompt

Enjoy the Silence (18+ smut)

I'm Your Man (18+ smut)

Penumbra - Ladyhawke AU (ongoing)

American Beasts (Ongoing Fic)

Kakia (Herald/Role Swap AU - Ongoing Fic)

The Animal in Me (Werewolf AU) - *ON HIATUS*

Only You (Soulmate AU) - *ON HIATUS*

The Wolf and the Wildcat (Jacob Seed x Fem!OC)

Wind Me Up (18+ smut)

The Hunt (18+ smut)

The Game (18+ smut)

Prompt: "I told you to stay still" (18+ smut)

Prompt: "I think you lost your underwear somewhere" (18+ smut)

Adaptation (18+ smut)

House Broken (18+ smut)

Great Motivation (18+ smut)

Will to Power (18+ smut)

Reunion Kiss prompt

The Baptist and The Blade (John Seed x Fem!OC)

The Baptist and the Blade (18+ smut)

Just Say Yes (18+ smut)

Temptation (18+ smut)

Absolute Opposites Attract Absolutely (Staci Pratt x Fem!OC)

This is Love (18+ smut)

And When You Move, I'm Moved (18+ smut)

Untitled snippet

[gaqalesqua]

There's blood on her face and a voice in her ear. There's waves and waves of hostile foes coming for her, and she can't even remember her own name

[megraen]

Before, I made reaction GIFs just for John, but I've decided to add all the siblings. The following are things I've said while writing my Farcry 5 fanfic

And as a bonus...

@alwayssunnyinedensgate got them done :D

[deputylightning19]

I am preaching to the choir when I say @redreart is an AMAZING artist!! I cannot recommend her enough!! This is from a scene in a fanfic that I started awhile back and I'm determined to finish!

"P-Please......." Rook whispered, his eyes hooded in a longing look."

"What was that?" Jacob mockingly asked, as his hand went back to...."

[devik1346]

WIP Daddy Joe!!

[grimmylover7]

Exert from Chapter 1 - Chokehold

Smut: 18+ Only

She was up in the Whitetails for the morning, hunting for rabbits and deer to bring back for everyone. Staci had mentioned he hadn’t had fried deer steak before and at her demands that he was missing out on a damn good time, she’d set out that morning on a mission to correct that atrocity. It also gave her something to do on her day off rather than sit and stew in past pains. She’d already taken down several rabbits, the game tucked away in a cooler in her trunk but she’d yet to find a good buck to shoot. Just some fawns, a few doe’s; nothing she wanted for meat. 

With one last sip of her drink, she slid off the hood and grabbed her rifle, heading back into the brush, determined to find a suitable target. It took some patience and sharp hearing but eventually she stepped out from behind a tree to see a gorgeous buck grazing in a small clearing. At least a sixteen pointer with a quick glance at his antlers. She raised her rifle with a breath, aiming in a split second down the medium scope then pulling the trigger on the exhale. The buck went down gracefully, a clean shot right through the head taking it out quickly. 

She was almost to the kill when a quick movement off to her flank sounded in the brush. Under normal circumstances she would’ve ignored it, no worries to what could be shifting around in the bushes but when a low growl followed it? She tensed. Slowly, carefully, she turned to meet the eyes of a wolf prowled low to the earth, clearly stalking her by the way it bared back its maw to flash its fangs at her. She didn’t move for a moment, simply deciding whether killing it was a good option or if it would leave her alone. She’d wrestled with bears, bobcats and cougars, hell- she even had a particularly horrible nemesis of a wolverine that seemed to find her often. She didn’t have the heart to kill animals idly- only for food. Never for sport. 

The wolf seemed to be gaining the nerve to attack but rather than giving it the chance, she pulled her knife from her thigh holster, never letting her eyes leave the wolves as she stepped backwards towards the buck carcass. Without needing to see her hands, she carved her way through the flank of the deer, noting how the wolf ceased its snarling to instead watch her hands intently. Hungrily. The poor thing looked to be starving once it actually crept from the brush completely. With a huff, she tore off the meat from the back leg then shook it at the wolf to gain its attention from the bulk. 

“Alright. Here ya go.” She tossed the meat across the clearing, the wolf's ears perking up in excitement as it thudded against something unseen, “Now go on– get.” She shooed just as the wolf sprinted after the meat. 

The sound of ravenous chomping filled the quiet morning air a few seconds later, making her smile as she readied to carry the buck back to her Jeep. She was just finishing tying off the bindings when there was another rustle from the bushes, and she half expected the wolf to come traipsing out but instead she was met with a different sight. An unexpected one. 

A mountain of a man stepped from the shrubs instead, a bright red rifle slung over his shoulder and a pistol strapped to his thigh. His red hair, beard and deep inset eyes piercing in the early morning light. He looked as though he’d just glanced back to where the wolf had run to but stopped when his sight landed on her. In a matter of seconds, she realized two very important details as they stared each other down. 

One. He was former military, had to be with the faded army jacket over the bloodied shirt he was wearing. The boots, the knife at his thigh similar to her own. Even the rifle looked to be military grade but personalized. 

Two. His shirt was freshly bloodied. In such a way it looked like he’d been hit by something. 

Her eyes widened just slightly as a slow mortified sensation flooded her, gaining momentum when his eyes narrowed down at the buck at her feet, the missing flank chunk then back to her with a solid glare. It all happened in a matter of seconds but that was all it took– quick to tuck her knife away so she could wipe her hands off and stand to apologize. Not that she got the chance. 

“You make it a habit of hitting strangers with raw meat?” He groused, clearly analyzing her with the way his gaze scanned her from head to toe. Not in a man checking out a woman— more like a predator scoping out prey if she was being specific. The attempt to unnerve her paled in comparison to her struggle to not crack up at what she’d done to him. 

“No. Gotta say, you’re the first…” She tried valiantly not to grin, biting her bottom lip just slightly as his gaze fell flat at her. Unimpressed but thankfully not pissed like she worried. 

“Not even remorseful about it either.” He shook his head, a twitch of a smirk showing behind that beard of his making her huff out a short laugh she tried to cover up. 

“Shit. Nope. You caught me-- I am sorry though just… fuck, of all the places you could’ve been you were really in a bad spot.” She snorted. 

“No regrets you launched a wolf at me then?”

She wanted to say yes. To apologize for that too but instead she made a point to look him over, all 6’2 of him with obvious muscle and hands that clearly held his guns often. He was scarred enough to show he’d been through some shit too, definitely worse than a measly wolf jumping him in the shrubs. Instead, she smirked out right. 

“Hmm...nah. You look like you can handle yourself.” 

He let out a bark of a laugh at that then, the two of them sharing a moment between strangers that had her feeling warmer in the chilly morning air. With a chuckled agreement, he was sauntering back his own way through the woods, the two of them exchanging a simple goodbye leaving her to finish with her morning hunting. 

Yeah. She was definitely enjoying Hope County. 

Another month went by, instances passing with her, Victor, Joey and Staci managing to have all sorts of wild times between the four of them with only Whitehorse to give a shake of his head at their antics. Between getting to catch up with Victor, settling into her new home and enjoying her new job, Rook felt more alive than she had in ages. Even more so when she went out hunting and seemingly always stumbled across the same giant mountain man she’d decidedly labeled “lumberjack”. Every so often when she was out, there he was too, the same red rifle taking out his own kills or meandering the woods like a predator himself.

At first, they had yet to share more than a few simple words between them on occasion, but somehow that was more than enough to get a feel for who he was. 

“Ah I see you’re still here.” She hummed, stumbling upon him first this time.

“Foods not gonna put itself on the table.” 

“True that.”

“I saw that shot from across the field. Nice.” He said in passing, already traipsing through with his own kill.

“Thanks. Woah, damn that’s a big buck.”

“Yeah, got him just a bit ago. Gotta get him back to my truck.”

“Trying to one up me, lumberjack?”

“Ha, not much to take on, shortstack.” 

Their most recent run-in had changed things though, the moment happening while she was out and about on the eastern border where the Henbane brushed with the Whitetails. 

She’d just managed to find a good lookout point when out of nowhere her arch nemesis of a wolverine found her and went on the attack immediately. She was so surprised she’d yelped and been barreled over by the damned thing, rolling through the bushes wildly to try and wrangle the beast. 

Several scratches and attempted bites later, she had the bastard by the scruff and front legs, holding him away with a scowl on her face as she trudged through the trees to a clearing. Her breaths were heavy in an attempt to simmer down her anger at the little fucker so she didn’t strangle it, but also to focus so she could keep a firm grip, so it didn’t escape. Needless to say, she was far more keyed up than she should’ve been that early in the morning, causing her to snap. Just a little. At a Wolverine no less. 

“Look here you angry little shit— I don’t appreciate you stalking me, attacking me! Go fuck with someone else!” She hissed, shaking the vermin threateningly and about to scold it some more until someone cleared their throat behind her. 

“Huh… Can’t say I’ve ever seen someone get after a wolverine before… Or catch one like that.” Lumberjack was back, deep voice filling the air along with a hearty chuckle that had her turning just enough to glare at him too. 

“This little bastard has been after me since I moved here. He even followed me up from Holland Valley just to jump me today!” She scowled, shooting her fierce gaze back at the hissing beast. 

“How do you know it’s the same one…? They’re all pretty rabid.” The man snorted, coming closer to inspect the creature at her side. 

“You see the scar on the top of his head? That was from me. I got him with a rock the first time we crossed paths.” Rook’s glare simmered down a little more after that and the Wolverine seemed to follow, realizing it was not going anywhere in her firm hold and would have to bide it’s time to escape. Lumberjack let out a low whistle. 

“Well damn, how many times has he come after you?” Their eyes met, her face flushing just the slightest from his pale gaze. Up close he was quite a looker past the menacing look he displayed but she wasn’t about to start thinking that train of thought. Not this early in the morning anyways, and certainly not with a damn pest in her hands. 

“This is the eighth time.” She grumbled. 

“Why not just kill it then? Would save you the trouble.” The man shrugged, eyeing the creature blankly without a hint of fear normal people would show for such a thing. She shared that sentiment. She wasn’t quite normal herself either and wasn’t the slightest bit phased by rabid animals in the forest. She’d throw down with a moose if she had to, without batting an eye. There were just some strange things you had to accept in life.

“Despite what the military trains us to believe, sometimes there’s better answers than killing an enemy.” She sighed, shooting the thing a petulant look. She didn’t know what that better answer was, per se, but she hoped she found it before she cracked the fuckers head open. 

Lumberjack remained silent, merely regarding her intently in a way that had her flush creeping its way down her neck and chest. She didn’t want to acknowledge that though so instead, she tightened her hold before moving away, readying herself to give a tight spin before launching the wolverine several yards away into the far trees and field, where it would hopefully fuck off for a while. The noise it made as it flew through the air had her positive that it may just finally do that– a high pitched screech that left her and lumberjack shooting each other scrunched looks for a long moment. They were bursting into loud laughter in seconds, never having heard such a noise from an animal but it also wasn’t everyday Rook decided to launch one either. 

That was as good an icebreaker as any and had somehow led to them walking together, despite still hunting their own prey. Not that she minded. She didn’t even know his name, but it felt comfortable around him, easy to talk to even though he was blunt and sarcastic, meeting her own quips head-to-head. 

They wandered all over together that morning, exchanging hunting stories, shooting game together and shit talking about each other's shooting skills when they’d seen the other up close. He was damn good with a rifle. She wasn’t even confident on who the better marksmen was at that point but she didn’t rightfully care, only interested in seeing more of it. The way he pressed the butt of the gun to his shoulder, one eye sliding shut to gaze down the scope. The same breathe in, aim, exhale, shoot she learned reflected in his shots but just a slight bit faster. It was definitely just the method, not the look of his face and how handsome he was while in the zone. Handsome in a burly, rugged sort of sense too, which was right in line with the kind of man she’d learned was her type (aka the opposite of the kind of man her ex-husband was). Plenty of times he’d caught her staring when it happened, but she’d tried her best to act like it was nothing; even more so when she noticed his intense gaze mimicking her own when she went to shoot her marks. 

By the time noon hit, they were making their way back to where her Jeep sat parked, strands of conies bundled in their hands and a buck over his shoulder that she’d killed before he could pop off the shot first. She’d agreed to split it though, just because the look he’d shot her when she teased him was so worth it. 

“Bet you don’t even know how to skin a deer properly, shortstack. Can you even reach it when it’s strung up?” He snarked, clearly taunting her right back in a way that had her rolling her eyes at him. 

“Been doing it since I was five, lumberjack. Probably can do it better than you.” She threw back, leading the way to the trunk of her Jeep, him hot on her heels. 

“That a challenge?” He gruffed.

His voice had gone deeper, rolling low in her ears and gut, making her head spiral. Jesus– she hadn’t had urges like the ones he gave her since she was nineteen. Shaking it off, she glanced back with a coy look, brow twitching up just enough to make it clear she was still teasing. 

“Why? Wanna get your ass handed to you?”

There was a tension in the air that followed her words, bubbling under the surface as he dropped the buck onto the tailgate along with his strands of rabbits. She set her own down too, merely busying herself with the motions of getting stuff loaded up but actively feeling his heated gaze on her the whole time. Simmering. Heating her up from the inside. The chilly morning air did nothing to tame the heat that rushed her cheeks, hoping it just seemed brought on by the hiking and not by him. He must’ve been able to read her better than she thought. 

“You’re a mouthy brat, aren’t you?” He rumbled, somewhere just behind her right ear. The growl to his voice had her core fluttering wildly, breath catching just the slightest. She wasn’t sure if he was just commenting or… flirting. The only way to find out was to test the waters but fuck she hadn’t flirted since she was a teenager. Ever since the horrible mistake that had landed her with, she hadn’t dated since– too much trauma, too much sadness to think about it– but here? Now? She could want for it now. 

“Always… Got a problem with it?” Her voice was breathy, glancing over her shoulder just slightly to eye him. Sharp blue eyes were waiting to find her gaze, intense and heated as they observed her. 

“Oh no... I’m skilled at taming wild animals, you’d be no different.” He murmured, closing in on her just enough that she could feel him at her back, pressing her to the tailgate. Testing the waters too. Inching ever so slightly into the mood they were making. 

“I’d love to see that.” She huffed, on the edge of a soft laugh but it died in her throat as he pressed into her fully, trapping her against the trunk and allowing her to feel every inch of him at her back. All hard edges and muscle, solid and big, encasing her form and making her breath hitch out of her chest. Fuck. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this wet, if ever, nor the last time she’d had sex, but her libido was on overdrive at the feel of him. She didn’t even know his goddamn name but couldn’t care less, just knowing she had a giant lumberjack behind her, and he was definitely interested in her climbing him like a tree. 

Which... is exactly what she did. 

She’d yanked him into the backseat of her Jeep the second he kissed her, both fumbling into the other like starved teens. There wasn’t even time to completely strip– just feral grinding and hands tugging at clothes impatiently. Her tank top was pushed down just below her breasts, bra unclasped by quick fingers then tossed while his jacket was shucked off and his jeans and belt undone with her own nimble touch. It was completely rushed and crazy, but she felt she’d earned such a wild spur of the moment tryst after all this time so, she went with it. Especially when it meant she got to enjoy him fingering her skillfully to her first orgasm in ages. Then a second when she got his pants down just far enough to ride him like her life depended on it. To say it was a good ride would be blasphemous. He’d rocked her entire world (and her poor Jeep) that day. Grabbed her by the hair, fucked her silly on his stupidly thick dick and praised her through the whole thing in a way that had her thighs quaking for days afterwards. Or maybe that was thanks to the second round, when he’d flipped her to the side and fucked her into the seat with deep punishing thrusts that had her seeing stars and howling for the whole woods to hear her. Every inch of skin he’d had access to had been left in bites and bruises, no part of her chest spared leaving her with plenty of good memories to keep that flutter going. 

Whatever the case, he’d added an even brighter warmth to her new life, and it seemed like the hell of her past was finally letting her go up in the north. She warmed at the memory from two days prior, the last part of their meeting being the highlight really. 

“I think I’ll take your word on those skills, lumberjack.” She’d panted, still trying to get her wits about herself while he nipped at her neck with a soft hum. 

“Jacob.” He rumbled, pressing his nose into her neck almost like a nuzzle that had her melting into mush. 

“Mm pleasure to see you in action, Jacob.” She said cheekily, enjoying the way he pulled back to shoot her a heated look. 

“You got a name, shortstack?” He huffed, nipping at her bottom lip before kissing her a few more times to leave her dazed and unfocused. 

“Call me Rook.” 

She melted a little more into her seat. Life was finally starting to go well for her. "

[some27-url]

[A Different Kind of Love]

Far Cry 5 • [Explicit] • [Graphic Depictions of Violence] ••Jacob Seed/female Deputy • Eli Palmer/female deputy•• Whump • Physical Violence • Brainwashing • Eventual Smut

Jacob's boots appeared in her line of sight. When he leaned down far enough to make eye contact she couldn't help but squirm at the sight of him hanging over her, looking like destruction personified. He was covered in soot from head to toe, though some had been cleared from around his eyes, and his copper hair struggled to peek out from under all the dust. She yanked frantically on her restraints. “Where's your first aid kit?” he asked, shouting like he was trying to reach her through a bad connection. “I'd like to stitch your goddamned head before you bleed out.”

“Eat shit,” she sneered.

Rook and Jacob end up in a bunker alone for the collapse. Hilarity ensues.

X x X x X

[sup-dilfsandmilfs]

Let you down

Jacob Seed x Reader

Not proof read, angst 

Inspired by the song ‘let you down’ by Dawid Podsiadło

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I land punch after punch on Jacob, the wolf beacons still flashing their bright neon red lights. The dream like hallucinations of Jacob continue to swarm me, spewing an onslaught of 'your weak' 'the weak are culled' and 'its hunting season' before suddenly it all stops and clears 

And before me is Jacob, the real one. My bloody fists reach out for him, this time open. I clutch to his jacket as we drop to the ground in a heap 

"You should've never come here" he grumbles out as his arms wrap around me, one hand coming up to stroke the back of my head "I'm sure fate would've let us meet another way" 

"I know, I know. But I'm sure even now we can still find a way to be together" my words go from reassuring to chocked hope

He let out a hoarse chuckle "that day can't come any sooner"

"It can, we'll make it come! We can just leave now, we both know how to fly we can escape together Jacob...please" I practically yell and plead as my grip tightens on his jacket 

His hand cupped my cheek and pulled it up from his chest "you hold onto that dream dep... I'll meet you on the other side" with a smile his hand slowly slipped from my face, I grabbed it and held it back up but it wasn't the same 

The hand slowly turned cold as my tears fell faster "please" I whisper to the gods, any that will listen "please!" I yell up into the sky as tears fall from my eyes

A wolf howls atop the mountain but there is no moon to hear it's cry's, just as there is no god to hear mine 

[strawberryscorner]

Forgotten Sins Chapter 12

Tags: Amnesia, Stockholm Syndrome, Drug Use (Bliss), Religious Cults, Fluff and Angst, Car Accidents, Family Member Death, Manipulation, Emotional Manipulation

Series Masterlist

John opened the doors to the church and gestured for you to walk in first. Joseph was sitting on a pew in the front talking to Jacob while Faith was rearranging the flowers decorating the wall.

“We were just going to come to you,” Joseph said, standing up as John shut the door behind us. “Were you able to take care of everything?”

“Yeah, but that’s not why we’re here,” said John, gaining odd looks from the rest of his family. “Dawn heard something when she was taken.”

“What did you hear?” Joseph turned his eyes to you; it was like he was devouring your soul.

“People were talking, the Resistance is about to get outside help, some police officers. I don’t know when, they didn’t say. They just said they were coming and that it’d be soon.”

Faith looked bored; Jacob shared a look with John before they both turned their attention to Joseph who looked very calm at hearing the news before finally nodding his head. The only evidence that he had even heard what you had said.

“I knew this time would come; I didn’t know it would be so soon but…We are prepared.” He placed his hands on your shoulders. “Thank you.”

He took a deep breath and excused himself, he needed to prepare for his sermon, needed to change his speech due to this new knowledge. Faith smiled at you, glared at John then left with Joseph, saying she wanted to discuss if the flowers needed changing as well.

“Someone’s waiting to confess,” Jacob told John. “I need to get back to training those soldiers so they’re ready for what’s coming.”

Jacob left you both and John took you to where he held his confessions. There was a man waiting there with his head down, looking at the ground in shame.

“Stay here,” John said and went to take the man’s confession. You were pacing outside the door, you could hear the man crying, you weren’t sure if it was from shame or whatever John was doing to him. You prayed it was from shame.

You almost started biting your nails again but shook your head, that wasn’t a habit you needed to start. You needed to think about what you would do. Would you stay and fight with Eden’s Gate? They’d done so much for you after the accident, Faith and Jacob seemed like friends now, John too or at least something close to friends. Joseph still scared you though.

But now with the Resistance getting help to stop, possibly kill all these people, you couldn’t leave them. You had to stay, which meant you’d have to confess and be baptised. All you could do was hope John wouldn’t hold you under the water too long like he seemed to have a tendency to do sometimes.

You had to think back, had you done something to make John that mad? Or would he just dip you and it would be over quickly and nicely? You were still wearing his clothes, so he couldn’t be too mad at you, right? You didn’t think you’d share your clothes with someone you were mad at.

The door swung open which pulled you from your thoughts, the man stumbled out, holding some cloth to his stomach and thanking John. You were sure the cloth was turning red as they said goodbye. Hopefully, there were doctors around he could see.

“I want to confess,” you said. John looked at you in surprise.

“Think you remember that much?” You nodded, not entirely sure but you had to do this. You remembered enough. He smiled softly, tilting his head. “Ready to commit to the family?”

That made you pause for a second, were you ready to commit to the family? Were you rushing into this? But the way he was looking at you, you felt yourself nodding, you were ready. If it were Joseph, you weren’t sure your answer would have been yes, but John’s gaze was very different from Joseph’s. John’s seemed to calm you and pull you back into yourself when you wanted to flee.

“Yes. I’m ready.”

He nodded once and held the door open wider for you to enter the room. It wasn’t pleasant. It made you want to run away; it looked like nothing good could come from this room. But then he placed his hand on your arm and guided you to the chair near a desk. The chair wasn’t comfortable, just a plain wooden chair. John kept his eyes on yours, not saying a word, letting you start when you were ready.

You took a deep breath; you weren’t sure what your sins were. You had taken lives, but it was in duty, you weren’t sure if that counted as wrath or any other sin but that wasn’t your job, that was John’s. So, you’d let him figure it out, you’d just confess.

You started off by telling him some of the other war stories you had shared with Jacob, the ones that were bloodier and more violent, less pleasant. The ones that made you wish you could forget them again. You kept your eyes on your hands that were clenched into fists on your lap as you told your confessions, tears forming in your eyes, but you kept going until you felt a hand gently brush against your cheek. You looked up and John smiled softly at you, letting you go on.

Once you were finished with your stories, he asked if you had confessed everything, and you shook your head. You started to tell him about the jealousy you had felt seeing families around the ranch or when you visited Faith’s or the church. You missed yours so much even if you couldn’t remember then still, you missed family, you saw what family was and you wanted it back. You were mad at the one who took your family away from you, you were mad at God for taking them away from you so quickly, so easily. You wanted a family; you wanted your family.

“Now, I’m done,” you said, looking at him, scared, of what you weren’t sure. Scared of what he thought of you now? Scared of what he was going to do to you now that the confessions were done? A mix of both?

“There are three sins I sense in you, princess,” he said, picking something up from the table. “But for today, let’s just focus on one and we’ll see if you can control the other two.”

He got on his knees in front of you, lifting the shirt covering your hip and asked you to hold it up for him, which you did. You closed your eyes, not wanting to see whatever was in his hand or what he was going to do. You jumped slightly when you felt a stabbing pain above your hip. He shushed you gently, trying to get you to be still as he finished.

“All done,” he said, and you looked down at the word envy bleeding above your hip. You felt a wave of shame and guilt wash over you. How dare you be jealous of families? Was everyone meant to lose theirs just because you did? No, this wasn’t fair to them and certainly not to you. Now that you’ve confessed and gotten branded by your sin, you could learn to move on.

John held his hand out, you placed yours in his and he helped you up to your feet before straightening your shirt, so you were properly covered. “You did good,” he said gently.

His words turned your cheeks a shade of pink and filled your body with a warmth that fought back the shame and guilt that had surfaced earlier. “Thank you,” you said, unable to hold eye contact.

“Let’s go home,” he said, placing your arm in his, leading you to the door.

***

Back at the ranch, there was a box waiting inside by the couch. John told you to go upstairs, and he carried the box, walking behind you to the bedroom. Once inside, you were unsure what to do so you just sat on the bed and watched John.

“These should all fit,” he said, placing the box on the floor near you and crouching down, pulling out dresses in various colours and cuts and placing them besides you on the bed. Your eyes grew wider with each item he pulled out, it was almost never-ending. It didn’t seem that big of a box at all.

“Try them on and we’ll see if we need to replace any,” he said, helping you back to your feet even though you were more than capable to do that by yourself. You hadn’t injured your legs.

You looked around and there wasn’t another room to sneak off to so I could change and he didn’t move, he just kept his eyes on you and sat on the bed.

“Aren’t you going to…I don’t know, leave? Or something?” you asked, causing him to chuckle and shake his head.

“Once again, this is my room princess, you can’t kick me out and don’t worry, I’m just here to make sure everything fits well, if it’ll make you feel better, I can cover my eyes,” he suggested while covering his eyes with his hands.

You tilted your head and watched him before waving your hand in front of his face, when he didn’t react you decided to just trust him. After all, he did think you were abducted by the Resistance from the safety of the ranch while under his care, this was probably just fear it might happen again considering Joseph most likely wouldn’t be pleased to hear a repeat of the incident. John would probably be stuck to you even more now.

You winced a bit as you lifted your shirt off, the motion causing your envy mark to stretch. You noticed John peeking through his fingers at the sound of you wincing but didn’t say anything, he was unbearable enough without trying to defend or deny his actions. You slipped on dress after dress. John praised you in each one, letting you know how beautiful you looked in them or how well they suited you. All of them fit, and all of them covered you well, not making you feel too exposed or vulnerable. The only issue was, how were you meant to help fight what was coming in dresses? Though, you supposed if Faith could, so could you with the military training you had forgotten you had.

Once all the dresses had been tried on, John hung them in his wardrobe. It was hitting you that he really wasn’t letting you move out of the ranch, or into another room, you passed a few doors on your way to this one. At least one had to be another bedroom, but it seemed like you were staying here.

[fanficmaverickpodcast]

The latest episode of The FanFic Maverick podcast is out! The show is available through the link above and also on Apple Podcast, Google Podcast, Spotify, and iHeartRadio.

In this episode I got to chat with fanfiction writer 221BFakerStreet about their Far Cry 5 one shot called 'May Mercy Follow.'

Thanks for coming on the show, @221bfakerstreet!

Keep on rollin'!

Link to 'May Mercy Follow' is here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51525715

[gaqalesqua]

The Project at Eden's Gate does not believe in fornication, and poor little Deputy Bachchan has indulged herself to excess.

TW: noncon

[megraen]

Abigail describing John: His penis is like a directional compass and true North is a woman’s vagina!

John: