✦’’~ Your Jealous Boyfriend (Fem!Reader x Habit)
"Tell me you want him dead, that you only love me."
Every time you introduce Habit to someone new, no matter how nice they are. He doesn't like them—especially not the ones who are too stupid to catch the hint that you're his. But tonight, when you call him out on his behaviour, he doesn't exactly take it lightly.
Word count: 1.8k
Inspired by: ✦’’~ Habit Headcannon's: Unforgivably Jealous (Fem!Reader x JealousBf!Habit)
Content warning!!: Sexual content below, Viewing discretion advised!
✦ ~-─ {.⊹ ✦ ⊹.} ─-~ ✦
Now Playing: "She Keeps Me Up" by Nickelback
01:36━━━━●───── 03:57
✦ ~-─ {.⊹ ✦ ⊹.} ─-~ ✦
To everyone unfortunate enough to know him—including you—Habit was anything but charitable.
Sure, sometimes he was nice enough to "give" things—his Reese's, a blade that ‘reminded him of you’ or even a kiss that didn't feel like it was a threat to ‘choose wisely.’
But in reality? All of it was done to cover up what he was doing behind your back. What the news would eventually show you one Tuesday afternoon. That another one of your missing friends now found floating dead down a river.
Which really only made all that he'd done the past couple of days feel like anything but forgiveness and more like his way of savoring you for himself—comforting you with the biggest smirk on his face.
Because that's just what all of this was.
Jealousy.
You’ve already lost three friends to this rampaging jealousy in the past couple years and still he refused to admit that it was anything done out of such a "pathetically mortal emotion".
But you could see it—the way his hand grabbed you when people came too close, seen him glare at anyone who stared too long, noticed how you being his always became a part of conversations, even felt the way he'd kiss you in front of them. Harder. Rougher. Purposely leaving hickey's to bruise openly on your neck so your friends—everyone, could see who you belonged to.
Like he was proving a point.
As such? To keep him behaving since Habit met your new group of friends, especially your new guy friend, you'd sucked his dick enough times that you should've charged him an hourly rate to keep him from killing him.
All because each time they hung together it felt more like trying to combine water and oil. Impossible.
Despite the facade they put on to keep the group together—to keep everyone happy. They both hated each other and Habit refused to ever let you be alone with him. Always insisting on tagging along to “keep an eye on things,”
Always saying something along the line of, “Hey, yeah, I’m just here to supervise.” He'd mutter, “pretend I’m not even here.”
As if that were possible.
Because everytime you stepped away to go to the washroom, or to grab something for just a moment.
That's when the mask slipped.
That was when he showed it.
“Yeah, she’s pretty. I’ve seen a lot more than you'll ever, though.”
“No, trust me—you’re not her type. You look nothing like me.”
“Oh, sorry, what was that? My back’s killing me. She kept me up all night.”
And by the time you'd come back, he was all sweet again. His hand already locking back on your waist like he hadn’t spent the last five minutes dismantling someone’s self-esteem for sport.
Did it work?
Yeah.
Your friends would back off how he liked. They'd leave you all for him again. But like the three previous friends, not everyone took the hint and as expected, It happened again. Like clockwork, he was upset with the same guy—the same one that's been on his last nerves for the last couple of months.
Which, of course, you always missed. Missed the way he watched the sway of your hips when you walked in front of him, even heard the jokes he made about you when you weren't listening. But today? He had to listen to your little friend of yours try and offer to take ‘his spot’ while you were away, like it was a joke.
Unfortunately, it wasn't very funny.
So, tonight, after meeting up with your usual group of friends—he was already irritated.
“How do you always miss it.” He continued, already on his all too familiar tangent that had started since the moment you both got in the car to head home. But you only sighed, setting your keys down.
“What are you even talking about?”
“The way he was looking at you.” He shortly explained like it was obvious, like you should've already gotten rid of him since day one. Silently listening to the tightness in his jaw, as he paced that damn line in front of the couch. “I was two seconds away from ripping his damn eyes out if you stayed near him any longer.”
“Easy, Habit. It really wasn’t that bad.”
“Oh, no,” he snapped, turning his focus to look at you, down your figure, his chest heavy as was his breathing. “Not the way he was looking at you.”
"You're really overthinking this," You sighed, the words familiar on your tongue because you've said it nearly hundred times before you turned to walk past him into the kitchen, “Baby, this isn't anything to be jealous over,”
Of course you'd say that again.
Like you hadn't learned that he hated the word more than anything because to him, this wasn't just jealousy. You were his territory, and another man was trying to piss all over it.
So in the silence of the walk into the kitchen..the odd silence that he'd usually have filled with his voice by now you turned to look behind you.
"Habit?-"
But instantly, he stopped you. His arms grabbed you, pulling you back against him, flush to feel every hard line of him. His voice was now closer..lower. “Jealous,” he repeated, like the word offended him. “I’m not jealous.”
His grip tightened. Shifting only to grope the fat of your chest. “I just know exactly what I saw.” He hashly muttered, tilting his head to nip at your earlobe. "I know what I fucking saw (name). And I saw him looking at you like he forgot I was standing right there." He finally growled low, and threatening, his fingers plucking at your nipples through your clothes being sure to pry every deserving whine and shaky gasp from your lips.
"I was being so patient with him. With you (name).."
He muttered into your ear, almost sounding empathetic, but yet you felt it. Felt the threat hit all the same. In that same instant, his hold dragged down from your tits to grab your hips in a bruising grip, forcing you to step forward and flush into the kitchen counter. The front of him flush against your back, Your ass.
"O-okay, okay- you aren't being jealous," you gasped in response, breath catching in your throat in shaky breaths as your hands pressed into the cold countertop. "I'm sorry-"
But that didn't stop him. It'd take a lot more than this to distract him enough to get him to ease off. Especially when it came to something stupid like him being called out by you.
"Beg." He ordered onto your ear, making sure you heard him clearly, "beg me to let him live."
"What..?"
"Beg me to not find that fucker and kill him."
"Ha-habit wait hold on-"
“Beg for me,” but he only talked over you, repeating himself but quieter this time, which somehow made it more threatening, “to let him keep breathing.”
You stared at him and, because you knew what he was, knew exactly what he was capable of, “please,” you swallowed hard, your words shaky as was your heart. “He didn’t mean anything by it.”
"Bullshit." He quickly spit, his hand raising from your hip to grab your chin to turn your focus on him. Because he closed the short distance to kiss you roughly. Parting only when you were struggling for breath and panting into his lips.
The tent of jeans growing and pressing familiarly against your covered ass.
God, you always become a mess so quickly.
"If you care for him so much. Put in the effort to say that bullshit while im fucking balls deep in your cunt."
In an instant, he moved again.
Pressing you down by the large splay of his fingers on your back to force you face first and flat into the counter. Holding you still, mostly, as his other hand dragged the fabric of your pants down to puddle at your ankles, exposing the soft expense of your ass covered by your pretty lacy panties he loved so much.
"Fuck.." He groaned, smirking at the sight of your still bruised skin as he focused on himself, flicking his belt off and the button of his jeans before he reached into the scorching heat of his boxers to pull out his angry cock, nudging the hardness of his cock to adjust your panties out of the way.
"The shit you put me through (name)." He muttered to himself in a heavy sigh, clicking his tongue. "You do it on purpose, don't you?" His voice rambled while his hand slipped down your back to hold your still squirming hips.
His mind focused strictly on slowly dragging his cock. Savouring every whine and tilt of your head as the head of his cock coated himself in the wetness of you.
"N-no..I don't-" You managed to gasp.
"Yeah, keep saying that, sweetheart. It won't last long.." he smirked, before abruptly shoving his cock balls deep into you. Giving you only a couple moments to adjust around him until he started to fuck you into the counter.
Your voice quickly breaking into unsteady mewls and whimpers. As his hands on your hips, pulled you back into each movement of his hips, not allowing any distance between the lewd slapping. Your hands pawing, looking for anything to hold. As your legs began to tremble.
"Say it." He growled over the lewd sounds of skin slapping. Your breath heavy. Obviously, and very quickly, becoming a mess from how well he knew to use you. "Say you don't want me to fucking kill him."
"H-ha..habit- oh god.." You started to speak as he fucked you in a rough rhythm, that onky proved he was only looking for one answer. “Please..Habit. He means nothing to me. H-..He’s just a friend.”
But in the same instant you spoke, his hand reached to tangle in your hair, arching you off the cold counter. His cock still contuing his driving mission to prove a point.
"Try again."
"Pl-please Habit, he didn’t mean anything by it," you mewled, tears blurring your vision as his pace drew faster into you. the sounds of skin lewdly slapping blurring in your head so fast it made your head spin.
"You don't learn very fast, do you?"
And like he'd done before, it got worse, not with pace, or grip, no, this came with reaching his other hand in front of you to grind the rough pads of fingers into your clit. Circling the swollen nub like it owed him money. "Last chance..sweetheart."
"-ok..okay! Fu- uck..habit..." you panted finally, tears blurring your vision as pain confused with the pleasure soaking between your legs. "I- I won't see him again, I'm yours..please.."
But his rhythm didn't subside once. No, the feeling of him pounding against your cervix continued, the pulling on your hair felt sharper. All of it enough to make your legs nearly give out below you to make you depend more and more on the counter where your hands pressed.
"Atta girl.." He smirked, cocky as ever as he simply lowered his head to speak roughly into your ear. “Now keep making those pretty sounds for me. I want everyone to know you're mine.”
His touch lingered like a claim, every movement deliberate, every word a reminder of exactly who you belonged to.
So at least no one was dying tonight.
At least for now.
