#anyway i defs churned this one out faster than i thought i would so uh. sorry for any mistakes lmao

[direwombat]

“Eyes on me at all times, sweetheart.” + jacob/syb mayhaps <3

technically this is more of a followup to a fic that i have partially drafted, but since the porn spirits possessed me with this one, it's coming out first

tags/warnings: bondage, dom/sub, collars, vaginal sex, rough sex, creampie, orgasm delay/denial, light dacryphilia, implied squirting, and also some aftercare

wrapped (not in linen or lace, but leather) | explicit | ~2.1k | on ao3

It had taken some negotiating on Jacob’s part, but in the end, Sybille had agreed to the collar. She doesn’t wear it everywhere, of course. She isn’t exactly open about her relationship with the man she’s spent the better part of a month trying to subdue, and the last thing she needs is Adelaide — who would definitely recognize the choker for what it is — asking questions about it. She thinks she would actually curl up and die if she ever had to have that conversation.

So instead, whenever she isn’t at their cabin or his office at the Veterans Center, she wears a necklace. A simple chain with a cross pendant around her neck. It’s subtle enough to claim it’s a representation of her faith, while bold enough to carry the weight of what it actually means. That she’s taken. Bound. Chained to the person who manipulates the clasp, because she isn’t allowed to do it herself. 

She supposes there’s really nothing stopping her from disobeying and taking it off when she’s in the Valley or Henbane, but somehow it would feel wrong to do so. 

But when it’s just the two of them, she lets Jacob slip the chain from her neck and replace it with a leather collar instead. It rests snug against the pale column of her throat, loose enough that she never worries about her breath, but tight enough that she can never forget it’s there. When she wears it, she’s owned. 

And to make matters worse, she likes it.

If you’d asked her not long after the Reaping if she’d ever let a man treat her like this, her answer would have been an adamant and resounding “Hell, no.”

Yet, here she lay, her wrists bound above her head to the bed-frame with her own goddamned handcuffs as Jacob Seed fucks into her like a demon. She doesn’t know what it is about him that makes her act like this. It’s not as if his technique is anything special. He fucks her hard and he fucks her fast, all rough touches and biting teeth, but somehow, it makes her feel like her brain is leaking out through her cunt. 

There’s a raw power to him, a sheer animosity, that he isn’t afraid to embrace. Nobody, man or woman, has ever taken her own strength as a challenge and the way he succeeds in wrestling her into submission is oddly refreshing. 

And hot as fuck. 

The coils of the bed squeak obnoxiously beneath the thin mattress, and the headboard bangs loudly against the cabin wall. He hits that sweet spot inside of her with an almost pointed aggression. It rips a ragged groan from her throat and her eyes roll back into her skull. Her back arches violently, pressing as much of herself as she can against him. One of his hands snakes underneath her, holding her hips in place as he wrings every ounce of pleasure from her body. 

Her eyes squeeze shut, head falling back and her hands gripping the bars of the headboard, desperate to hold onto something as he uses her. But just as her head makes contact with the pillow, there’s a strong tug on her collar, yanking her back towards him. She gasps and her eyes fly open to find that Jacob has hooked his fingers through the D-ring sewn into the leather. 

Without breaking his pace, he crashes his lips roughly against hers. His tongue fucks into her mouth before he bites down on her lower lip and pulls away. “You know the rules,” he growls, dragging his teeth over the line of her jaw and sucking a bruise that she’s somehow gonna have to pass off as either the result of a fist fight or getting popped with the butt of a gun. “Eyes on me at all times, sweetheart. Look at me when I’m fucking you.”

He punctuates it with a particularly hard thrust. She bites back a whimpering moan as his cock drags just right against her walls. Heat coils in her gut and her poor, neglected clit throbs almost painfully. The sounds he pulls from her are broken and undignified, and fuck hearing herself make them only turns her on even more. 

He keeps his fingers hooked through her collar and he leans his forehead against hers. His breath is hot and wet against her face, and his pupils are blown wide with lust. Ragged moans and growls rumble in his throat and chest. She clenches around him, bucking her hips seeking any kind of friction against her clit, but her pleas go ignored. He just smiles wickedly at her, all teeth and teasing mirth. 

Sybille whimpers again, tugging fruitlessly at her restraints. All she wants is to bury her face in his shoulder and cum, but he’s not letting her do either of those things. He keeps her gaze locked on his, and it’s too much. Too intense. She wants to look away. She wants to touch herself. But both those things are against the rules, and the way Jacob holds her in place, make them impossible. 

He kisses her again, a bit more gently this time, and she shudders in his grasp. “You gettin’ close, Jackrabbit?” he asks, his voice harsh and rasping. “You gonna cum? You gonna fall apart around my cock?”

God, he has no right sounding as good as he does, all rough and ragged, like he’s barely hanging on by a thread himself. “Jacob,” she whines. “Please.”

And cruelly, he slows his thrusting, lazily moving in and out of her. He releases his hold on her collar, in favor of letting his hands roam, but he never touches her where she needs him to. “I know you can beg better than that, angel,” he grunts. “Tell me what you need.” A hand comes to rest warm over the scar tissue of her lower abdomen. It’s just enough pressure to get her bucking harder against him, so close and yet so far to where she wants him. 

“Fuck, Jacob,” she cries, and were she more aware of herself, she’d be appalled by the actual tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes. She rattles against her cuffs and rocks her hips in a feeble attempt to get him to start moving faster. “Touch me. Please. I need to cum. Fuck, Jacob, I need to cum so bad.”

He hums mockingly and leans in to lick the tears from her face. “You’ve been more convincing, but the crying is a nice touch.”

She’s not proud of the sound she makes at that. A desperate groan of frustration that feels like her ribs are cracking open. He plays her like she’s a goddamned instrument, and she would hate it if it didn’t feel so goddamn good. “I need you to fuck me,” she tries again. “I need you to fuck me until I can’t walk. I need you to make me cum so hard I can’t fucking see, please, Jacob. Jacob.”

A slow, lecherous smile creeps across his face and the hand not on her abdomen comes to rest at her throat, his fingers dancing across the leather. “That’s better,” he purrs, and fucking finally, he touches her. He thumbs rough, tight circles over her clit as he pounds into her without mercy. She pants into his open mouth, and her head falls back again only for him to hook his finger through the D-ring once more. “Nuh-uh,” he tuts. “You look at me when you cum. Wanna see those pretty fucking eyes when you come undone.”

Her face somehow flushes even more, and she opens her mouth to say something in response, but all that comes out is a fucking squeal. He rolls her clit brutally between two fingers. The feeling of him inside her, his hands against her skin, the intensity of his unwavering stare — her jaw locks in a silent scream, as he winds her tighter than she ever thought possible. Shrill whimpering sounds are punched from her, heat spools in her belly, and she’s so close to crashing over the edge. 

But he hasn’t told her she could yet. 

Her vision blurs with tears and she blinks them away, swallows thickly. “Jacob, sir, please.”

“You waitin’ for permission, sweetheart?”

“Yes, sir,” she gasps.

“Good girl,” he says, and then with the same authority a General would command his troops, he gives her the order she’s been waiting for. “Cum.”

She shrieks as she writhes beneath and seizes around him. Obeying his orders, her eyes never leave him, and even though they go wide, she can’t see a damn thing. Her vision goes white and her ears pop with the force of her orgasm, and she’s not sure whether the stutter in his hips is due to him being close too or if she’s simply gripping him so tight he’s struggling to move. 

The next thing Sybille knows, she’s limp against the mattress, breathing heavily and so wet with both his cum and her own that she feels like she’s pissed herself. Either that or her brains really are leaking out of her sore and abused cunt. They certainly aren’t in her head anymore. 

She moans, distantly aware of Jacob pulling out of her and undoing her handcuffs. Her wrists fall onto the pillows above her head, and she blinks dumbly at him. He’s speaking to her, but she can’t quite make out what he’s saying over the ringing in her ears. Her entire lower body feels numb, and she groans as he presses down on her abdomen again, causing her muscles to tense and making her squeeze out more slick and cum. 

Slowly, the world comes back into focus, just in time for her to accept the canteen of water Jacob holds to her lips. He looks at her with incredulous amazement, an astounded smile tugging at his lips. “So that’s what does it for ya, huh?” he asks. 

She barks a laugh and drinks her fill. “Guess so,” she answers. “Might’ve liked a bit more attention paid to my nipples, but overall? Yeah, that was good.”

“Noted,” Jacob nods with a smile, and he settles back onto the bed beside her. He takes a moment to rummage through the bedside table drawers and pulls out a roll of gauze along with some rubbing alcohol. Tugging gently at her raw and bleeding wrists, he treats the shallow cuts. One of these days she’ll figure out how to steal a pair of fuzzy ones from Adelaide. Hot pink or leopard print may not quite be their style, but beggars can’t be choosers. It’s not like she can order a pair online anymore and the closest sex shop is the next county over.

He finishes wrapping the bandages and she curls against him, throwing her arm around his waist. Her head comes to rest against his chest. He clicks his tongue, but she squeezes him tighter, refusing to let him go and leaning harder into the solid warmth of his body. “You know the rules,” she hums, her eyelids suddenly growing heavy. “I let you do shit like that to me, you gotta hold me for a bit afterwards.”

She feels his chest rise and fall with a heavy sigh, but his arms wrap around her and one of his hands comes to play with her hair. “You like it when I fuck you like that,” he says.

“Uh-huh,” she hums, “And you like it when I trust you enough to let you. This is part of that.”

He says nothing, but he presses a kiss to the top of her head. If he truly hates holding her like she’s some weak, fragile thing to protect, he has her fooled. She listens to his heartbeat as it slows, enjoying the silence and his company. But for as loose and fucked out as she is, she can’t quite relax. Not completely. 

“Hey, Jacob?”

"Mm-hmm?"

“Can you loosen the collar?” she asks. “Doesn’t have to be a lot. Just…just a little.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” he says, and he slips the leather through the metal buckle at the nape of her neck. He only loosens it by a size or two, but it’s enough to alleviate the pressure around her throat. 

“Thank you,” she sighs.

He just hums in response, pulling himself away from her just long enough to pull the covers up from where they had fallen to the ground, and dragging the blankets over their bodies. Sleep doesn’t normally come easily to either of them, but here in the afterglow, Sybille’s eyes drift shut, and she lets the sound of Jacob’s steady heartbeat and slowing breathing lull her into a well needed dreamless oblivion.