I absolutely adore your fics! And I’m not sure if you’ve done this or not already but I was wondering if you could do a ‘nightbrothers when they’re jealous’ one? THANK YOU THANK YOU🫶💕
Heheh thank YOU for your sweet words and for this request!
The Nightbrothers - when they’re jealous
includes: Maul, Savage, Icarus, Scorn, Feral
warnings: nsfw 18+ violence, toxic behavior, jealousy
note: don’t take Mauls part too seriously guys, he’s volatile it’s not always like this ..it was on bad days, the voices won
Isn’t subtle about his jealousy, not one bit.
He wants you all to himself. Your joy, your pleasure, your laughter, your tears, your pain, every part of you belongs to him in his mind.
So when you cry because of someone else, anything else other than him. He just simply can’t stand it.
He watches with pure resentment simmering beneath his skin.
I could make you cry so much harder, he talks to himself as he paces the room. I could give you real pain.
The jealousy gnaws at him until he can’t think about anything else.
You’re sitting there in tears after a rough day, and suddenly he’s marching toward you. Before you even realize what’s happening, he’s backing you into the wall, voice growing louder with every step.
“You shouldn’t even be going there in the first place.”
“You let them do this to you.”
He turns around and storms out, slamming the bedroom doors behind him. The click of the lock follows right after.
You pound on the door, shouting his name, demanding to be let out. He ignores every word, sitting down on the other side with his back against the door, patiently waiting for the crying to start.
The second your sobs finally break through, he lets out the softest moan.
“Mm… now that’s what I like to hear.”
Both of his palms press against the wood, the side of his face resting against it as he drinks in every shaky breath, every sniffle, every sob now caused by him. His claws slowly drag across the door, leaving deep scratches behind with an awful screech.
He drools, right there slowly getting hard against that door. One of his hands slips into his pants, and he starts desperately stroking himself to the sound of your crying.
Because he locked you in, he scared you. He is the reason you’re crying. Finally, nobody else is occupying your mind, just him. Exactly how it should be.
Maul hates when you talk to other people. Especially when they get just a little too comfortable. That absentminded touch on your arm while they’re laughing. Their hand lingering on your shoulder.
And you laugh too, completely innocent, pretending you don’t notice. Pretending you don’t know exactly what they’re doing. Pretending you don’t know what it’s doing to him.
Maul crosses the room in seconds.The other person barely has time to react before he shoves them aside hard enough to make them fall to the ground. His hand fists into the front of your shirt, yanking you against him.
“Did you really think this would go unnoticed?”
His voice is low, trembling with barely restrained anger. The other hand closes around your jaw, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to make you wince.
“You didn’t what?” He doesn’t even let you finish.
You’re already being dragged away, shoved into the car before you can protest.
The drive home is unbearable, he talks the whole time.
And with every accusation, he only works himself into a deeper rage. Half the things coming out of his mouth never even happened, but they feel so painfully real inside his head that he can’t separate them from reality anymore.
His grip tightens around the steering wheel, his vision blurs. The anger slowly fractures into something desperate and wounded. By the time he pulls into the driveway, tears are already spilling down his face.
“How…” His voice cracks. “How can you do this to me?”
His hand curls into the fabric over his chest, clutching it like he’s trying to stop the ache.
He looks at you for a moment before glancing down again, closing his eyes shut.
The words leave him as broken whimpers, and you’re staring at him, frozen, all you can do is gently cup his face.
He leans into your palm without thinking, his shoulders shake. The anger melts away into quiet, exhausted sobs, and for the next hour he simply cries there, silently, against your hand.
“Tell me, love… was it worth it?”
The words barely register to you. You can’t think straight with his cock buried so deep inside you, he has stopped his pace completely. You tremble around him, clenching helplessly around the base of him, your fingers digging into his back as your body aches for him to move.
But he doesn’t, he seems so unmoved, cold to the overwhelming warmth between your thighs. Instead, his hand rises to cover your mouth, silencing you before you can answer or protest.
“Allowing him to touch you…”
Mauls voice is thick with rage now, getting more unsteady with every word that leaves him. He stays perfectly still, fully hard, refusing to give you even the slightest bit of movement.
“Is it not enough?” he asks through gritted teeth. “Me… beside you? Am I insufficient?”
He keeps asking questions, yet never gives you the chance to answer them. Your moans and desperate little whimpers are muffled beneath his hand, while his face twists into something between fury and despair.
“Why won’t you let me show you that I am enough?”
His voice crumbles by the end of the sentence.
“Please…” he whispers, tears beginning to spill down his face.
“Please… let me show you.”
His grip across your mouth tightens until it hurts.
You want nothing more than to rock your hips against him, to chase even the smallest bit of friction, but you can’t. He’s got you completely pinned beneath him. The only thing you’re able to do is drag your nails across his back. But Maul doesn’t budge, he simply stays there, quietly sobbing against you, refusing to move while remaining buried deep inside of you, every involuntary shake of his body caused by his sobs sending the faintest, maddening hint of friction through you.Just enough to make you crave more. And all you can do is lie there, unable to move, unable to speak, listening as he quietly falls apart above you.
When he’s jealous, someone’s bound to get hurt.Whoever was unlucky enough to get a little too close to you usually ends up beaten bloody by Savage.
You’re grabbed by the wrist and yanked away somewhere private.
“What was that back there, huh?” He mutters darkly as he corners you against the wall, caging you between his arms.
You lower your gaze, unable to meet his eyes.
“You got it all wrong… I didn’t..”
Before you can finish, his fist slams into the wall beside your head.
You immediately turn your face away, squeezing your eyes shut as you instinctively try to press yourself more into the wall, as if that were even possible.
He leans down close to you, his split, bloodied hand slowly leaves the wall before coming to rest against the side of your neck. He feels your pulse racing beneath his fingertips.
Seeing you afraid of him hurts just as much as whatever drove him to this point. He never wanted to scare you like that. He just doesn’t know how to deal with the jealousy twisting inside him. He doesn’t understand what it’s doing to him.
He hesitates there for a long moment, his thumb brushing gently over your damp cheek before his lips finally ghost across your skin.
“Don’t cry…” he rasps. “Crying won’t fix it.”
His fingers slide beneath your jaw, pulling your face back toward him. The moment your eyes meet his, you kiss him without another thought.
And the way you kiss him is straight up desperate, deep and hard, messy the way he likes it. Still sobbing into his mouth, trying to show him you’re his, really his only.
Without breaking the kiss, your hands fumble clumsily with his pants, undoing them before slipping beneath the waistband of his boxers.
He kisses back heavily, rough, uneven breaths spilling into your mouth as his tongue crashes against yours, forceful and possessive, never giving you the chance to settle into a rhythm.
After only a few moments of stroking him, he suddenly moves. In one swift motion, he turns you around and presses you firmly against the wall.
One firm hand at the back of your neck, keeping you in place while the other pushes your pants down before guiding himself inside you.
“Who do you belong to, huh?” he growls against your ear.
The answer breaks into a loud moan almost immediately, one he muffles beneath his hand as he buries himself deeper, his pace quick and urgent, desperate to finish before anyone happens to show up.
After seeing something that makes him jealous, he disappears. Just… gone, no texts, no calls, no explanation, nothing. You have no idea where he went, and you’re worried sick.
What you don’t know is that he’s watching you the entire time. Watching to see what you’ll do without him. Watching to see if you’ll turn to that guy now that you’re lonely.
It’s a test, one you don’t even know you’re taking.
He never loses sight of you, lurking just out of view wherever you go. The thought of actually leaving you never even crosses his mind. Even if his suspicions turned out to be true, he has no real plan for what he’d do.
Probably kill the guy, then punish you somehow. Remind you who you really belong to.
Those thoughts consume him day and night, twisting tighter with every passing hour until he’s left feeling devastated and broken.
Then, one day, you hurt yourself on a mission. Things got messy, your palm got slit open. You rushed home without telling anyone.
That’s when he finally comes back. He can’t stand watching you try to patch yourself up. What irritates him even more is that you never called anyone for help. This is the one time he actually wanted someone to be there for you, and instead you tried to deal with it alone. …Though, deep down, a part of him likes that.
The front door swings open, without a word, he walks inside, shrugging off his jacket, tossing it aside.
You stare at him in disbelief. “Where were you?”
He quietly washes his hands, grabs the first aid kit, and kneels in front of you. His movements are careful as he cleans the cut and wraps your palm in fresh bandages, but you can’t read his expression.
The moment he’s finished, he leans over you, gently pushing you back down onto the mattress. His fingers lace through yours, pressing your freshly bandaged hand above your head, pinning it there.
His grip tightens just enough to make you hiss.
“Is it because of that night? Those guys? …You know it meant nothing right?” You desperately mumble out.
You’ve spent days alone with your thoughts, replaying every little interaction until you’d convinced yourself you knew the answer.
His eyes widen for the briefest moment, then the expression is gone again.
His free hand slowly trails down your chest, over your stomach, disappearing beneath the waistband of your clothes. You shiver beneath his touch, you’re so damn horny for him, you missed him.
The moment his fingers begin working you open, soft moans are already spilling from your lips. He barely reacts to the way you squirm beneath him.
He takes his time, drawing it out. Watching as you slowly fall apart for him.
And every time you’re right on the edge, his grip on your injured hand shifts slightly. His fingers slip beneath the edge of the bandage, pressing sharply into the fresh wound.
The sting rips through you, sharp pain interrupting your high and causing you to yelp loudly.
He only lets out a quiet, amused laugh, never once breaking his slow, deliberate rhythm. Making sure you remember exactly who your attention belongs to.
Chooses what feels like the absolute worst possible moment to bring it up.
You’re straddling his lap on the couch, completely wrapped up in kissing him, grinding against him as you wonder why his hands haven’t already torn your clothes off.
You bite his lower lip as your hips rock against him, earning the faintest smile from him.
“Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”
His hands slide down the curve of your back until they settle firmly on your ass, holding you still.
“The way you talked to that guy earlier”
His hands lift for only a moment before they come back down in a sharp slap.
You jolt from the sting, but before you can pull away, he catches you by the hips and draws you right back down against his bulge.
“It didn’t mean anything- ow…”
Another sharp slap lands before you can finish explaining yourself, immediately followed by his hands squeezing the sore flesh firmly enough to make you yelp again.
“Then why did he seem to enjoy himself so much?”
You cup his face, leaning down to kiss him softly.
“Scorn… it didn’t mean anything.”
He returns the kiss just as gently. Then his hands land another firm slap across your ass. You quickly realize apologizing isn’t going to get you very far.
Steadying yourself with one hand against his chest, you lift your hips just enough to reach between you and undo his pants.
You free his hardening cock, wrapping your hand around it before stroking it slowly, guiding him against your entrance.
A low moan rumbles from his chest but the harsh line between his brows remains. The grip of his hands on you stays firm too, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to leave marks by morning.
He doesn’t let you tease him for long. The moment he feels the tip of him find you, both hands settle firmly on your hips and he slowly pulls you down onto him. A loud moan escapes you as he breaks inside, stretching you little by little until you’re finally seated fully in his lap in one long, firm motion.
You bite your lip to muffle your own sounds, and your face burns red as you meet his eyes. Instinctively, you duck your head, trying to hide your face in the crook of his neck.
Scorns hand immediately finds the back of your head. His fingers tighten there, gripping you by the hair before firmly pulling you back so you’re looking at him again.
“No.” His voice is low. “You stay right there.”
He keeps thrusting up into you, in that same slow, steady rhythm, refusing to let you look away.
“I wanna hear that explanation now.”
At the party, you suddenly lose sight of him. He’s just… gone, without a word. You hurry outside looking for him, only to find him behind the building, his back against the wall as he stares blankly at the ground, absentmindedly nudging a small rock around with his foot. Quietly crying to himself.
“Feral… why are you hiding back here?”
He doesn’t even look at you. Instead, he turns his back to you, leaning against the wall on his side. “Don’t bother with me… go back to your new boyfriend.”
“New boyfriend?” you ask in complete disbelief. “Feral, what are you- “
Before you can finish, he suddenly turns and grabs you by the shoulders, firmly pinning you against the wall. He’s so close to you now, holding you there, but his hands are trembling, tears streaming freely down his face. He doesn’t really know what to do or even what to say. He just knows he’s hurting. He doesn’t want to share your attention with anyone else.
He hesitates, his tear blurred eyes darting across your face, from your lips, to your eyes, then back to your lips again. With a shaky sigh, he finally closes the distance and presses his mouth against yours, kissing you deeply, desperately almost. Both fists clutch tightly at your jacket, pulling you closer as though he’s afraid you’ll slip away. A quiet sob escapes into the kiss, followed by another shaky sniffle.
Your hands rise to cup his cheeks, your thumbs brushing gently beneath his eyes, wiping away every fresh tear as it falls. You melt into the kiss, letting him hold you as tightly as he needs, letting him pour every ounce of fear and jealousy into it. A silent reassurance that you are his, and that he never had to doubt it.
