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calicocat45 · 2 days ago

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HIS SOUL TO GIVE

Reader x Jason Todd

divider by: @cafekitsune & @thecutestgrotto word count: 1.3k synopsis: Death wasn’t the end Jason Todd expected. In a frozen purgatory where pain and sorrow taint the very air, he meets a demon. She offers him a choice: rise… or shatter. All she wants is one thing—his soul. a/n: I enjoyed this idea so much more than I expected. warnings: talk of death, demons

When Jason Todd died, he had expected pain. Or maybe fire. Something to match the way he’d gone out.

Yet, that wasn’t what the afterlife was, it wasn’t fire and brimstone like the stories said. It was worse. It was cold. Bleak. A wasteland stitched together from sorrow and regret, where the air hung heavy with the taste of eternal torment. The horizon bled endlessly into a cracked sky that neither brightened nor darkened. There was no sun. No stars. Just the dullness of a world that had no end.

Time was meaningless in such a place.

The condemned wandered endlessly, locked in loops of their own guilt—some weeping, some silent, some laughing as they tore themselves apart, over and over, because they thought they deserved to. And worse, some who didn’t think they did, who clawed at invisible cages until their hands were nothing but bone and denial.

Jason moved through this realm like smoke through cracks. He wasn’t bound like the others. Not yet. But the place pulled at him.

The land shifted with mood, bent to memory. One moment he walked through the hollow wreckage of Wayne Manor, its grand halls scrawled over with Joker’s laughter, family portraits slashed and bleeding—and the next, the concrete wreckage of Crime Alley stretching on endlessly, a tunnel of echoing gunshots and broken laughter, a cathedral of his failure. The ground was littered with rose petals. Or blood. It was hard to tell.

His final breath still echoed through the concrete. He could hear it—if he stood still long enough.

And that’s when she came.

The shadows peeled back like burnt paper, curling at the edges, revealing something that should not have been. A figure stepped forward—not a woman. Not really. But shaped like one.

Her hair fell in waves like onyx fire and rom her temples curled a pair of horns—like a ram’s, black and ridged, adorned with dangling chains and strange, delicate jewels that chimed softly with her steps. Her skin was the colour of polished midnight, gleaming with a purple sheen that shimmered between starlight and shadow, as if she were carved from obsidian itself.

And her eyes—God, her eyes. Jason couldn’t look away. They shifted between gold and blood-red, as if lit from within by coals that had burned for centuries and had yet to cool.

She walked barefoot, and the hem of her gown—dark as dried blood, light as smoke—dragged through the ash that coated the earth. If he listened closely, he could hear the whispers of it as it moved.

Jason was frozen at the sight of such a dark ethereal creature. He would’ve thought she was an angel if it weren’t for the large, bat-like wings looming upon her back, with sharpened points along the points. She was a creature from hell, fallen from the heavens he didn’t know.

Jason stood frozen.

The sight of her rooted him where he stood, breath caught somewhere between awe and instinct. A dark, ethereal thing—too terrible to be divine, too divine to be anything else. For a heartbeat, he might have mistaken her for an angel. But then he saw them.

The wings upon her back. Massive and bat-like, they loomed behind her. The thin membrane shimmered like oil slick, while the edges of bone curved into jagged, sharpened points at the tips.

No. She wasn’t an angel.

She was something fallen. Something cast down from a heaven he didn’t believe in, or perhaps risen from a hell he hadn’t yet learned to fear.

Every soul in this place was assigned a tormentor—and she was meant to be his. But the moment she laid eyes on him, she knew something was wrong. He wasn’t what she expected. The boy was young—no longer a child, but not yet a man fully grown, yet that wasn’t what made her hesitate.

His soul glowed too bright for a realm built on rot and ruin. It didn’t carry the weight of malice or cruelty. It wasn’t blackened by betrayal or blood. His was a soul marked by pain, yes—but not corruption. There was purity still lingering in him, one that had no place among dark and tainted.

It shone like a beacon to the damned—calling to every dark creature that skulked through this realm, ones who would tear him apart just to taste the light in his bones.

“You shouldn’t be here,” She purred. Her voice was like velvet.

The scent of his fear swirled through the air. But still, he lifted his chin, defiance smouldering behind such fierce eyes.

Her lips twitched with amusement.

He balled his fists. “Who the hell are you?”

She tilted her head, and the delicate chains laced through her horns gave a soft, musical clink.

“Names are meaningless things for mortals,” she said—voice light, almost bored. “But among the creatures of the dark, they hold value.” The edge of warning threaded through her words. A flicker of sharp white canines flashed behind her smile. “Still, if you need something to call me to soothe your pride, you may call me whatever suits your fear.”

She watched his throat bob with a swallow he tried to hide. Brave. But not foolish. He seemed to take the warning she gave to heart.

Her gaze dipped, and she stepped closer, leaning in just enough that her breath brushed the shell of his ear.

“You shine, little bird,” she murmured. “So bright, I’m amazed you haven’t been devoured yet.”

He tensed.

“You’re not like the others,” she continued, circling him with slow, deliberate steps. “The condemned cling to this place because they earned their suffering. But you…” Her voice trailed off as she came to stand before him again, head tilted slightly, gaze sharp and gleaming. “You’re barely tethered. You shouldn’t be here—which begs the question… why are you?”

She studied him in silence, eyes glinting with a hunger that wasn’t quite cruelty… but not quite benevolence, either. She wasn’t the worst of her kind. But she was still a creature of the hells.

Her question was answered as an unnatural green began to bleed into the blue of his eyes.

“Ah,” she breathed, a slow smile curving her lips. “That’s why.”

He gasped sharply, one hand flying to his chest as he collapsed to his knees. “What’s… happening to me?”

“Someone’s clawing at your grave,” she drawled, voice laced with dark delight, almost sing-song. “How lucky for you.”

Another cry tore from him as his hands flew to his head, fingers fisting in his dark hair. It felt like fire in his veins, like his mind was being ripped apart thread by thread.

Her smile faltered.

“How long have you been dead?” she asked, brows lowering just slightly.

“I—I don’t—” He choked on the words, barely able to speak.

With a sigh that rang with the weight of ancient boredom, she sank into a crouch. Chains and jewels clinked softly as she moved. With one sharp, lacquered nail, she delicately tipped his chin upward, forcing him to meet her gaze.

“It’s been too long. Hasn’t it,” She murmured more to herself, as she continued studying him. “The body may rise, but the mind will shatter. All that rage, all that passion and determination, all of it soon to be lost to insanity.”

“Please,” he whispered. He didn’t even know what he was asking for—relief, release, salvation—maybe all of it at once.

Her smouldering gaze narrowed, considering.

Then, she sighed. “You’re lucky I like broken things.”

She leaned closer, her voice smooth as sin.

“I’ll offer you a deal, little bird. I’ll give you strength—enough to rise again, without your fragile little mind devoured by madness. In return…” Her eyes gleamed. “I want one simple thing.”

She paused, savouring the moment.

“Your soul.”

A fresh wave of fire tore through him, stealing breath, breaking thought. He convulsed, the scream catching behind clenched teeth.

“Yes!” he gasped, eyes wild and unfocused. “Deal!”

A slow, dark smile curled across her lips.

“A kiss,” she purred, “to seal the deal.”

She leaned in. Her lips brushed his brow—warm and deceptively gentle.

For a moment there was nothing, and then suddenly Jason screamed as his body was consumed in flames of green.

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calicocat45 · 2 days ago

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DROWNING IN THE DARK

Pairing: Roy Harper x Reader

divider by: @cafekitsune word count: 1.6k synopsis: You come home to find Roy spiralling into the darkness a/n: it's angsty and read the warnings! warnings: reference to addiction, depression, abandonment, dark themes

The apartment was dark when you walked in. Instantly, you could feel something was off. Heavy. Dense. Drenched in silence so thick it nearly swallowed your breath the moment you stepped inside.

You found him in the corner of the living room.

Hunched over, elbows digging into his knees, fingers trembling where they clutched the edge of the couch. His jaw was locked tight, but it did nothing to conceal the tremor running through his shoulders. His cybernetic arm gave a sudden twitch, the soft whir of its mechanics barely audible beneath the shallow, uneven rhythm of his breathing. Outside, the city lights pulsed against the window, casting fractured reflections across the metal where skin used to be.

“Roy?” you called gently.

He didn’t look up.

You took a step closer. “Roy? What’s wrong?” Then another. “Talk to me.”

“I’m fine,” he muttered.

You stopped just beside him, lowering your voice. “You’re lying.”

He let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “What gave it away? The radiant joy pouring off me—or the fact that I’ve been sitting here for three damn hours, thinking about every stupid decision I’ve ever made?”

Your heart clenched. “What’s going on?”

“I want it,” he said, eyes flashing up at you, wild and broken. “God, I want it so bad. I don’t even know if I want the high or the numbness more. Anything that’ll shut up the noise.”

You stayed still. Let him spill what was bothering him.

“My head won’t stop,” he bit out, dragging both hands down his face. “I haven’t slept. I can’t eat. I feel like I’m crawling in my own skin. Everything itches. Everything aches. And I keep thinking—just one hit. One. Just enough to take the edge off.”

His breathing grew harsher, chest rising fast, voice thinning to something hoarse and desperate.

“But I know it won’t stop there,” he said. “It never does. I’ll fall. I always fall. And then what? What happens to Lian if I disappear down that hole again?”

You stepped forward, slowly, arms outstretched—but he shot to his feet before you could touch him, pacing like he was being hunted by his own shadow.

The cybernetic arm flexed again, stiff and unnatural, whirring with movement that didn’t feel like him.

“I look at this fucking thing—” He lifted it as if the very sight repulsed him, as if it didn’t belong to him at all—“and I don’t even know who I am anymore. It’s not mine. It doesn’t feel like me. It’s just a constant reminder of how badly I fucked everything up. Of everything I’ve lost.”

He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, tugging at the strands like he could claw the frustration out of his skull.

“Oliver left. My arm’s gone. My life’s a fucking disaster,” he rasped, each word scraped raw. “And I’m just supposed to… cope?”

His voice cracked on the last word—sharp and bitter.

“I needed him,” he whispered. “After everything I went through, after everything I did to claw my way back—he still left. Walked away. Didn’t even look back.”

He turned to face you then, hands clenched, knuckles white.

“You know what that felt like? Like I wasn’t worth the trouble. Like I broke, and he decided I wasn’t shiny enough to keep anymore.”

Your breath caught.

“I gave him everything,” he said, voice breaking under the weight of it. “Believed in him more than I ever believed in myself. I saw him as family. And he left. He left when I needed him most. And now…”

He swallowed hard, like it hurt.

“Now I’m terrified I’ll do that to her. To my daughter.”

His voice fractured on that last word. Daughter. It sounded sacred. Like it was the last thing tethering him to whatever goodness was left inside him.

You didn’t hesitate this time.

You crossed the room and gently placed your hands on either side of his face. He tried to look away, but you held firm.

“You’re still here,” you whispered. “That means something.”

Roy trembled under your touch. “I’m not strong enough.”

“Yes, you are,” you said firmly. “Because no matter how bad the craving feels, you still haven’t used. No matter how bad it’s hurting. You haven’t given in. That’s strength, Roy.”

One of your hands trailed down to stroke his metal arm.

He looked down at the metal limb and your touch in despair. “I can’t feel it. Not really. And when I do, it’s like it’s not mine. It reminds me every second of what I lost. Every mistake. Every fucking thing I can’t take back.”

Your voice softened. “It saved your life.”

He looked up at you again, eyes glassy and burning red at the corners. “But at what cost?”

You dropped to your knees in front of him, one hand still cupping his face. Your thumb brushing his cheek. He didn’t flinch, but he didn’t lean into you either. Not yet.

“You’re here,” you whispered. “You’re alive. You’re fighting. That’s more than most people could do, Roy. That’s more than you think you’re doing.”

His throat worked. “I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” He whispered quietly in admittance.

“I know,” you murmured. “But you’re not alone.”

He shook his head, harsh and almost childlike. “I don’t want to drag you down with me.”

“You’re not dragging me anywhere,” you said firmly. “I chose to be here. I choose you.”

The silence between you stretched. It thrummed with everything unsaid, with the war still raging behind his eyes and the steadiness you refused to let go of.

Roy’s gaze dropped. “You say that now,” he muttered. “But what happens when I fall apart again? When it gets worse?”

You didn’t let go. Not even for a second.

“Then I’ll sit on the bathroom floor with you at two in the morning and remind you to breathe,” you said softly. “I’ll hold your hand when your hands won’t stop shaking. I’ll fight the goddamn ghosts with you if I have to, Roy. You don’t scare me.”

He blinked fast, jaw tightening. “You should be scared.”

“No,” you said, and your voice didn’t waver. “What scares me is the thought of you doing this alone.”

That made him freeze. The tension in his shoulders locked up, like your words had found a part of him too raw to touch.

“I don’t know how to be okay,” he whispered. “I don’t even know what that looks like anymore.”

You leaned your forehead against his, gentle and steady. “Then we figure it out. Together. One day at a time. One hour, if we have to.”

His face finally crumpled.

Like he’d been holding himself together with thread and hope, and both had finally snapped. A ragged sound tore from his throat and he reached for you—not with the cybernetic arm, but with the other, pulling you into his lap like he was drowning and you were the only thing tethering him to shore.

You wrapped your arms around him instantly, guiding his head to your chest as his body began to tremble.

“I’ve got you,” you whispered, one hand running through his hair, the other rubbing slow circles into his back. “It’s okay. Let it out. I’m here.”

His breathing hitched against your collarbone. You pressed a kiss to his temple. Then another to his cheek. “You are not your addiction,” you told him gently. “You are not broken.”

He let out a soft, choked sound.

“You’re allowed to feel this. You’re allowed to hate what happened. But you don’t have to face it alone.”

You kissed his hair. “I love you,” you said, lips brushing his skin with each word. “All of you. The scars. The rage. The metal. Every part of you.”

His head was still buried against your chest when you felt the tears soak through your shirt—quiet, shame-filled things that didn’t come with sobs, only shuddered breaths and a muffled exhale.

“I can call Jason,” you said softly, brushing your fingers through his hair. “He’s with Lian. He’d want to know you’re—”

“No,” Roy rasped, the word sharp but not cruel. Just… scared.

You hesitated.

“He’s with Lian,” he murmured, quieter now. “She’s probably laughing her head off at whatever stupid voice he’s using to read to her right now. He deserves that. She deserves that. I don’t want to ruin it.”

“You wouldn’t ruin it, Roy—”

“I would,” he said, finally lifting his head to look at you, eyes raw and rimmed red. “Jay’s already done enough. I can’t keep being his problem. I’m his best friend, not his fucking burden.”

Your heart cracked open at the words.

“You’re not a burden. Not to him. Not to me. Not to anyone who loves you.”

He swallowed hard, the words barely sinking in.

“I’ll still tell him later,” you added gently. “Not to worry him. Just so he knows. But right now, he’s got her, and I’ve got you.”

Roy let out a shaky breath, like he was holding onto too many things at once—shame, guilt, fear—and he didn’t know where to put them.

You kissed his forehead. Then his cheek. Then the corner of his mouth, lingering just long enough for him to feel it. Real. Steady.

“You’re allowed to need help,” you whispered. “You don’t always have to be the strong one. You don’t always have to be okay.”

His eyes fluttered shut. His shoulders dropped the smallest degree.

“You’re allowed to fall apart,” you said, your voice no more than a breath. “Just don’t do it alone.”

Slowly, the tension in his body began to ease. His breathing evened out. His grip loosened—not from pushing you away, but from finally letting go.

You leaned back just enough to meet his eyes, now calmer, less stormy.

“I love you,” you whispered again, and kissed him—softly, slowly, like an anchor against the pull of the void.

When you pulled back, his eyes were closed. And for the first time that night, there was peace in his expression.

He whispered, barely audible, “Don’t let go.”

You tightened your arms around him.

“Never.”

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calicocat45 · 2 days ago

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THIS IS WHY THERE'S ONLY ONE BED

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader x Roy Harper

divider by: cafekitsune & omi-resources word count: 4.1k synopsis: Caught in a storm after a mission, you, Jason, and Roy are forced to share a motel room—where they end up helping you sleep in more ways than one.

a/n: It's 3 am and I'm half asleep editing this so I blame that for any errors or if anything sounds weird. To my Anon who requested this, I hope you liked it ♡ To my under 18 readers, sorry guys this one is not for you.

warnings: Dom Jason & Roy, DP...

The rain was biblical. A curtain of water hammered down from the sky as if the heavens themselves had opened up. Your boots sloshed through ankle-deep puddles as you sprinted from the abandoned warehouse to the rusted-out pickup Roy had hot wired earlier. Jason was right behind you, muttering curses under his breath while stripping off his soaked gloves.

“Hell of a storm,” he growled, slamming the door shut behind him.

“No shit,” Roy snapped, wringing out his drenched red hood. “We need to get off the roads before we hydroplane into a ditch.”

You leaned back in your seat, arms crossed, watching lightning carve jagged veins across the sky.

The only open place for miles was a flickering roadside motel that looked like it belonged in a slasher flick. Faded sign. Buzzing neon. A cracked Vacancy light sputtering in the window. The lobby smelled like mildew and nicotine.

“There’s only one room left,” you announced flatly after speaking to the man at the desk, dropping the key onto the table between you three with a dull clack.

Jason blinked. “You’ve got to be kidding, let’s just sleep in the car. and save the cash”

You shot him a look, arching a brow. “You want to sleep in a metal death trap during a lightning storm?”

He didn’t answer, but his scowl deepened. For someone who always claimed being adopted by a billionaire hadn’t changed him, his inner snob was definitely showing.

Roy leaned against the wall nearby, shaking rain from his hair. He let out a sigh as he dropped his soaked cap to his side, water dripping onto the already stained floor. “We’re lucky there’s anything at all,” he said. “I vote we take the room. Worst case, I steal a pillow and sleep in the bathtub.”

Jason’s jaw ticked. “I swear to God, if you snore—”

“Then you can sleep outside, princess,” you snapped, snatching the key back off the table with a roll of your eyes. “Let’s go.”

The three of you braved the torrent once more, pushing through the downpour as you made your way across the lot and veered toward the exterior staircase. Rain lashed at your backs, soaking through already-wet clothes as you climbed up to the second floor, your boots squelching against the slick concrete.

You were halfway down the corridor, counting the faded room numbers, when a figure stumbled toward you from the opposite end.

A man—middle-aged, soaked, and reeking of alcohol—swaggered closer, barely keeping his balance. His grin was crooked, yellowing teeth on full display as his bleary eyes landed on you.

“Well, aren’t you a looker,” he slurred, gaze crawling across your body without shame. “Hey honey, if those two can’t fuck you right, good ole Earl’s just next door.”

Before you could even respond, both Jason and Roy stepped in closer—shoulders squared, jaws tight, their bodies a wall between you and the leering man.

Jason’s glare could’ve shattered glass. Roy didn’t say a word, but the murderous glint in his eyes said plenty.

The man didn’t seem to get the hint—or maybe he was too drunk to care. His gaze dragged over you once more, slow and shameless, before he gave a greasy wink and turned, staggering toward the room directly beside yours.

The second his door clicked shut, Jason muttered, “I’m not above committing a felony tonight.”

Roy cracked his neck, still watching the door. “If he even says one more word, and I’ll help you bury the body.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes, brushing past your two overprotective best friends as you stepped up to your own door. The key rattled in the lock, and the motel door creaked open with a long, miserable groan—hinges rusted and squealing like the place hadn’t seen a maintenance crew in a decade.

You stepped inside first, flicking on the light—and froze.

Jason nearly ran into you. “What—?”

“There’s only one bed,” you said flatly.

Roy squeezed past the two of you, tracking wet footprints across the peeling linoleum as he took a good look around. “No couch either,” he muttered. “Figures.”

Jason scoffed and crossed his arms as thunder rumbled overhead, rattling the thin windows. “Great. This just keeps getting better.”

You groaned and scrubbed a hand down your face. “Okay. Someone takes the floor.”

Jason didn’t hesitate—his gaze snapped straight to Roy. “You.”

“Excuse me?” Roy scoffed. “Why me?”

You arched a brow, unimpressed. “What happened to stealing a pillow and sleeping in the tub?”

He paused. His gaze drifted toward the cracked bathroom door. Slowly, cautiously, he stepped closer and nudged it open wider. The second he got a full look inside, he recoiled in horror and slammed it shut.

“Absolutely not,” he declared. “That tub is fucking filthy. I’m pretty sure it’s harbouring the next stage of biological warfare.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Then floor it is.”

“Like hell,” Roy snapped. “I’m not waking up with roaches in my sleeping bag. Again.”

You looked between them, already regretting every choice that had led you to this moment. One bed. Two stubborn idiots.

Roy huffed and paced a few steps, running a hand through his wet hair. Jason muttered something under his breath that you didn’t catch—but whatever it was, it made Roy’s head snap back around.

Roy threw his hands up. “You always have to make everything harder than it needs to be, man. You’ve been bitching since we started this mission—either deal with it or go pout in the rain.”

Tension crackled in the air again, and then—predictably—the arguing began. IIt went on for over five minutes, neither of them backing down, and when it showed no sign of slowing, you sighed—loudly—knowing you had to step in before someone got thrown off the balcony.

“Yeah? You’ve got a big mouth—why don’t you use that to talk yourself into a better hotel next time?” Jason hissed, stepping forward.

“There was none available, genius,” Roy snapped. “And I didn’t talk to the man, she did!” He jabbed a finger in your direction, then took a step forward himself. “If you’ve got such a problem, go sleep in the damn car like you wanted to in the first place!”

“I don’t have a pillow!”

Roy threw his hands up with a dramatic huff. “You’ve got a bulletproof jacket. Fold it and use it as a pillow. Problem solved.”

You’d had enough.

“Enough!” you snapped, throwing your arms in the air. “Jesus. You’re worse than children.”

They both blinked, caught off guard.

“We’re all tired. We’re all soaked. And we’ve all nearly died at least once in the last twenty-four hours,” you continued, stabbing a finger toward the bed. “We’ll just share the fucking bed.”

Jason grumbled something under his breath. Roy muttered a reluctant, “Fine.”

You gave them both a look—sharp and full of warning—and they wisely dropped it.

Reluctantly, all of you agreed that you needed to wash off the blood and grime clinging to your skin and clothes. There was no arguing about it—just the silent, shared understanding that you couldn’t crawl into bed like this, no matter how dingy the bathroom was.

Jason went first, then Roy, each emerging from the tiny bathroom with damp hair and towels slung around their necks. Steam still curled out behind them in thick waves, spilling into the room. The scent of cheap motel soap mingled with warm skin, leather, and something distinctly masculine.

Finally, it was your turn.

You sighed, grabbing one of the boys’ extra shirts and a clean towel before slipping into the bathroom. The water was lukewarm at best, but it did the job, washing away the dried blood, grit, and hours of sweat clinging to your skin. By the time you stepped out, the storm was still howling outside, thunder rumbling like distant cannon fire—but the room itself had gone still.

Too still.

You tugged at the oversized shirt you’d pulled on—one of Roy’s, judging by the faint cologne clinging to the collar. The hem brushed your thighs, your panties just barely concealed beneath it. Barefoot, hair damp, you crossed the room slowly, wringing out your towel as the air shifted.

You rolled your eyes when you saw the narrow gap left between them on the bed—just enough space for you, if you didn’t mind wedging yourself between two immovable, half-naked walls.

Jason sat propped against the headboard, arms crossed, grey sweatpants slung low on his hips, a muscle shirt clinging to his chest like a second skin. Roy was sprawled on the opposite edge of the mattress, shirtless, his joggers slung low, hair still wet and clinging to his forehead in messy strands.

Both of them looked up at the same time.

And neither of them looked away.

You felt it—their eyes tracking every step, every slow drag of your legs across the floor. The cling of cotton to your still-damp skin. The subtle lift of your shirt as you moved, just enough to tease the curve of your ass before you dropped your towel on the back of the chair.

Jason’s jaw flexed.

Roy’s eyes moved slowly over you, lingering just a beat too long before flicking back up to your face.

It wasn’t like you’d packed pajamas before this mission. The plan was to get in, get out, and be home in time to crash in your own bed—if the storm hadn’t stopped you.

Sighing, you moved to crawl between the boys, sliding into the narrow space they’d left for you. The mattress dipped beneath your weight, and for a moment, no one said anything. Just the low hum of rain against the windows and the occasional creak of the storm-battered building filled the silence.

But after a few minutes, the cold crept in.

The blanket was too thin to be of any real use, and the motel’s ancient heating system had clearly given up when the power flickered earlier. The chill slipped through the walls and into your bones, slow and merciless. You curled in tighter on yourself, trying to breathe through the shivers—but it must’ve been obvious.

Roy shifted beside you with a quiet sigh. “Please don’t kick me.”

You blinked, confused. “What?”

Before you could ask again, he reached over and gathered you up, tugging you firmly into his chest. His arms wrapped around your waist. The heat of him hit you instantly—bare skin, warm and solid, radiating through the thin fabric of your borrowed shirt. You gasped softly, surprised by the sudden closeness, but he didn’t let go. One hand slid to the small of your back, holding you steady against him.

“You’re freezing,” he murmured, the words more to himself than to you. His voice was quieter now, thick with sleep and something else—concern, maybe.

Then, behind you, the mattress dipped again.

Jason didn’t say a word as he moved in, slipping in close and tucking himself against your back. One arm draped over your waist, his palm brushing lightly against Roy’s where it still rested. You were surrounded now—bracketed on either side by heat and solid muscle.

It should’ve felt crowded. Uncomfortable.

But it didn’t.

Between the two of them, the cold started to fade, your shivering easing bit by bit as their warmth settled into you. Roy’s hand remained firm on your waist, his thumb tracing slow, absentminded circles against your hip. Jason’s chest pressed flush to your back, his breath ghosting across your neck with every exhale.

None of you spoke.

But your heart was pounding now—not from the cold.

From awareness.

From the way Roy’s thumb dipped lower, brushing beneath the hem of your shirt—lazy and unhurried—before retreating back to a more respectful place on your waist. To the way Jason’s fingers curled just a little tighter around you every time your body softened against his

Your thighs squeezed together. You tried to focus on the storm outside, but it was nothing compared to the quiet heat building between the three of you.

You swallowed hard, lips parting. “Thanks,” you whispered.

Jason hummed low against your ear. “Anytime.”

Time passed. Outside, the storm continued its relentless assault, but inside the room, everything remained still—except for your heartbeat, quick and erratic beneath your skin.

Jason’s breathing had evened out behind you. Roy’s grip had gone slack in front of you. For a moment, you thought they’d both drifted off.

But you hadn’t.

Not even close.

Trapped between their bodies—warm, solid, far too tempting—you were painfully awake. Every brush of breath against your neck, every inch of bare skin against yours, kept your nerves lit like live wire. The heat that had started as comfort was now simmering beneath your skin, licking up the inside of your thighs.

You shifted, slowly, unconsciously. Just a little, enough to press your legs together. Seeking relief. Something. Anything.

You nearly gasped when Jason’s grip tightened around your waist with bruising intent.

“Stop moving,” he growled low in your ear, his voice rough with sleep—or something very close to it.

You froze, pulse skittering. “I can’t sleep,” you whispered back.

Jason’s lips grazed your shoulder, and the quiet rumble of his breath rolled against your skin as he leaned in.

“You keep grinding against me like that, sweetheart,” he murmured, darker now, “and you’re not gonna be sleeping at all.”

Heat surged low in your belly, a sharp pulse of desire cutting through the haze.

Your breath caught as you felt Roy stir slightly in front of you, shifting just enough to press his thigh between yours again—close, far too close. You weren’t sure if he was awake. You weren’t sure if you cared.

Jason’s hand spread across your stomach, fingers splayed low, thumb stroking slow against the edge of your shirt. “What do you need, then?” he asked quietly.

“I—” You swallowed. “I don’t know.”

A beat passed. His lips grazed your skin again. “You want me to stop?”

You shook your head before you could think better of it.

Jason’s breath hitched. “Then keep still, baby,” he murmured, teeth grazing your shoulder now. “Or I’m gonna.”

Behind you, he pressed closer, his body fitting against yours like it belonged there. His hand moved, slipping past the curve of your waist, between your body and Roy’s.

And then under the hem of your shirt.

You sucked in a quiet breath as his fingers dipped lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your underwear. The touch was slow—testing, giving you a chance to back out but you only shoved your ass back into him, silently urging him to continue.

Jason groaned low, his lips brushing your skin. “Fuck,” he muttered, voice rough with restraint. “You’re soaked.”

You whimpered, barely audible, your hips twitching in response—but his hand tightened against you, holding you in place.

“Uh-uh,” he whispered darkly. “I told you to stay still.”

Your eyes fluttered shut, heat pooling deep in your belly, thighs squeezing around the hand still lazily exploring.

And then Roy stirred.

You felt the shift of his muscles in front of you, his hand moving to your waist—just inches from Jason’s—and his voice came low, hoarse with sleep and suspicion. “What’s going on back there?”

You opened your mouth to answer but at that same moment Jason slipped a finger inside of you and all that came out was a breathless sound caught halfway between guilt and desire.

Jason, maddeningly calm, murmured, “Someone couldn’t sleep.”

His tone was casual—too casual—for someone whose fingers were moving so deliberately, stroking you from the inside like he had all the time in the world.

Roy’s eyes opened fully now, sharp and glinting in the low motel room light. He looked down between you, the pieces falling into place with startling clarity. His voice dropped to a knowing murmur. “Well, shit, baby… you need help sleeping?”

Your body jerked when Jason curled his fingers just right, brushing a place inside you that made your head spin with pleasure.

You whined as Jason curled his fingers towards that soft spongy part inside of you.

A helpless sound left your lips, needier than you meant.

“Use your words,” Roy said, voice smoother now, dangerous in its ease. his gaze met Jason’s in the dark and Jason immediately stopped moving.

You pushed your hips back instinctively, trying to find relief—but Roy’s grip held you firm.

Jason’s lips were at your ear now, breath hot. “We’re not doing anything unless you ask for it.”

Your throat worked around the ache building in your chest, in your stomach, between your thighs.

“Yes,” you gasped out, breathless. “Please—don’t stop.”

Jason’s fingers started moving again, slow but deliberate—teasing, then pressing deeper, dragging along every sensitive spot with calculated precision. He alternated his touch, one moment stroking inside you, the next circling your clit with maddening care.

Your breath came faster, soft sounds escaping before you could bite them back.

In front of you, Roy had pushed your shirt up with one hand, the fabric bunching beneath your arms. He groaned when he got a full view of you in the dim light, his palm splaying across your ribcage, thumb brushing up toward your breast.

“Fuck,” he murmured, voice dark and reverent. “You’re so damn pretty like this.”

You squirmed in their grip, overwhelmed and desperate for more, caught between Roy’s roaming hands and Jason’s sinful fingers.

Jason’s mouth was at your ear again, his voice low and rough. “Think she likes the attention.”

Roy leaned in, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your collarbone as his hand gently cupped your breast. “Think she needs more.”

You whimpered, body caught in a tug-of-war between their hands, their mouths, their voices—both of them touching like they wanted to learn you from memory.

“You still with us, sweetheart?” Jason murmured.

You nodded shakily, voice barely a whisper. “I want…”

Roy smirked against your skin. “Yeah?” he murmured. “Then tell us, baby.”

But your words dissolved into a moan as Jason’s thumb found just the right spot—and from the way Roy’s eyes darkened.

“Come on, baby, use those words or we’ll stop and leave you all needy and aching.” Roy urged with a croon as he leaned down to a suck a nipple.

Your back arched off the bed with a cry and shakily you said, “I want you both, I want you both to fuck me.”

Jason stilled, his breath catching. Roy’s eyes darkened as he looked up at you with a gaze full of sin, “Then you’re gonna get exactly what you asked for, baby.”

In one smooth motion, Jason hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and tugged them down. The fabric slipped down your legs, discarded somewhere in the dark. Then he shifted behind you, his hands firm as he guided you up and over, so you were straddling Roy.

You hadn’t even realized he’d shed his sweats.

The heat of him pressed against you, your thighs trembling slightly where they framed his hips as your pussy leaked all over him.

“Grind down on him—get that cock all nice and wet,” Jason ordered, guiding your hips down against Roy’s throbbing length.

Roy groaned, his hands replacing Jason’s on your hips as he began to guide you, sliding your slick pussy along the length of his shaft. You whimpered, each pass of his crown catching your clit and making your thighs tremble.

Behind you, Jason shifted again, gently pushing you forward, folding you over Roy, and began trailing hot, wet kisses down your spine—deliberately going slow—until he reached the curve of your ass. At the same moment Roy latched onto your nipple, nipping sharply, Jason sank his teeth into your flesh, drawing a cry from your lips.

“If I didn’t want to be inside of you so bad,” Jason muttered, voice thick with restraint, “I’d spend hours marking this body.”

Roy groaned his agreement, mouth full of your tits as he alternated between them—sucking, licking, worshipping each one with desperate, hungry attention. His hands forcing your hips to keep grinding down on him.

Jason pulled back just enough to swipe two fingers through your arousal, then spread it across your tight entrance. He took his time, gentle and slow, as he began teasing you open.

You barely had time to breathe before he pushed a finger inside—right as Roy finally sank into your pussy.

A keening whine escaped you at the stretch, at the burn, as both of them filled you. Your arms shook as you tried to hold yourself up, overwhelmed by the way they began immediately moving—one slowly thrusting in as the other eased out, keeping at least one of them buried deep inside you at all times.

Jason soon slipped in a second finger, slowly stretching you wider. Your lashes fluttered, breath catching with every movement, all thought drowned beneath the mounting pleasure.

“It’s too much,” you panted.

“Come on, baby,” Roy murmured against your skin, his voice thick with teasing heat. “You haven’t even taken Jason’s cock yet.”

“Too big,” you panted, voice breathless and shaky. “You both won’t fit.”

God, Roy was barely fitting already—the stretch had you trembling, every nerve lit as you struggled to breathe through the fullness of his cock and Jason’s fingers.

“You can do it, doll,” Jason crooned, mouthing kisses along your neck before his lips brushed your ear. “Don’t you want to be a good girl and take us both?”

A cry slipped from your lips as Roy suddenly snapped his hips upward sharply. You could only nod—dazed, dizzy on the sudden pleasure—barely processing what you were agreeing to.

You whimpered when Jason pulled his fingers from you, and then Roy eased out too, leaving you feeling suddenly cold and achingly empty.

“Patience, baby,” Roy murmured, gently shushing you. “It’s Jason’s turn to get his cock all nice and wet.”

Jason sank into your pussy slowly, thrusting just enough to coat himself in your slick heat before pulling out again, dragging a moan from your throat.

Roy returned almost instantly, pushing back inside you in one smooth motion, his grip tightening on your hips to keep you still and filled—right where he wanted you.

Your body tensed again as you felt the head of Jason’s cock line up behind you, pressing against your stretched entrance. He went slow, easing in inch by inch.

Your arms gave out beneath you as a cry tore from your throat, the stretch and burn overwhelming. “Oh fuck… it’s too much.”

Roy’s fingers found your clit, rubbing slow, soothing circles as he whispered gently, “You can do it. That’s it, baby… you’re taking us so well. Just relax for Jay, and push out against him.”

You were so tight around him that Jason had to grit his teeth, jaw clenched in restraint, holding himself back from sinking into you in one hard thrust.

All three of you let out a collective sigh as Jason finally bottomed out inside you. You were so fucking full. For a moment, neither of them moved, giving you time to adjust to having them both buried deep inside you.

Eventually, it was you who broke the silence with a low, desperate whine, trying to shift your hips—seeking friction—but failing, too overwhelmed and too thoroughly impaled to properly move.

Jason and Roy shared a grin at your needy state.

“Does our greedy girl need more?” Jason teased.

“Please,” you begged, all but sobbing. “Please, please, please.”

Your eyes rolled back as they finally started moving. They found a rhythm quickly—deep and stead strokes. The friction of both their cocks dragging along your walls was nearly too much, specially as their pace quickened, slamming into you and forcing screams of pleasure from your throat.

“Yeah, there we go, doll,” Jason grunted, his voice rough and ragged. As he hauled your limp body up by the throat. “Scream for us. I want that sleaze next door to know exactly how good we’re fucking you.”

His hand tightened around your throat while his other hand snaked in between you and Roy, fingers finding your clit, rubbing in tight, relentless circles.

It didn’t take long after that.

Your body stiffened between them as the tightening coil inside you finally snapped. White-hot pleasure surged through your veins, stealing the air from your lungs and washing your vision in blinding light. For a moment, the world slipped away, your awareness fading into static. You barely registered their own release—hot and sticky—painting your skin as they followed you over the edge.

When you finally came to, you were cradled in Roy’s arms, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath you, while Jason knelt between your legs, gently cleaning you up carefully.

“You back with us, doll?” Jason murmured, his voice low and warm.

“Fuck,” you croaked, a tired laugh bubbling past your lips. “This is one hell of a way to help a girl sleep.”

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