I keep thinking of Habit grappling, eughh PART TWO !! (with a drawn demo lol)
Habit loves to smother. Yeah, rear naked chokes are cool, but since it’s a blood strangle, his victims get slept faster, more peacefully—this isn’t really what he wants. Smothering is a more demoralizing way to put someone out, especially when he uses someone’s face as a canvas to smear the blood off his hands.
He likes the panic, the thrashing, and the ability to deplete his victim's energy when he smothers.
His favorite would be the ‘muffler’ position, where he can have the most control—because he’s able to immobilize his victim’s arms. One arm would be trapped in his legs performing a body triangle and the other in his grasp. Habit’s free hand would cover the nose and the mouth with so much pressure that they wouldn’t even be able to part their lips.
He’s doing his little monologue throughout the entire ordeal, gassing out his victim, who is trying to kick and free their trapped arms. If he’s feeling meaner, he’d intentionally lift his thumb or pointer finger for them to get just the bare minimum amount of air through the nose—so that he can keep them conscious for a longer time.
He’d definitely go for a Mother’s Milk smother too just for the lols.
I had made a post about Habit using grappling to his advantage when he’s killing or taking someone hostage a few weeks ago. Well something more suggestive came to mind as I was trying to sketch it out and it had my tail wagging. I said it would be slight NSFW but I lied, it’s a bit dirtier than I anticipated.
This started as a drabble then I got lost in the sauce sorry (it’s still short)
I’m not very knowlegeable on tags or those fancy -philia words but here’s the menu: NSFW, dub-con(?), implied (unhealthy) relationship, triangle chokes, physical violence, afab reader, asphyxiation, blood-kink, mentions of limb breaking, limbs almost breaking, sadistic Habit ofc, lowk masochist reader, arm bar, humping
Writing in detail about combat sports is difficult so I sketched the position Habit will have the reader in this post at the bottom to make it easier to visualize. Reader is strong asf in this
⭑.ᐟ
Habit had tackled you down onto your back, crawling his way up to sit on your chest. His tight hold around your wrists now restrained the balled fists you attempted to throw at him—you were sure you were going to get bruises from that alone.
You two kind of got into a scuffle in the woods—it led to you punching him in the face and giving him a nosebleed that you know all too well would heal quicker than you’d like. You would be lying if you said it wasn’t satisfying to see his puzzled expression; you even managed to knock the cap off his head with that hit. Now that you’re underneath the drop of his weight, you’re starting to second-guess whether or not the sight was even worth it.
He lifted your back from the ground slightly, using the same grips on your wrists; in what seemed like a second, he let go of one and threw his leg over your shoulder, tucking it underneath your head to secure his submission. His movements were cobra-like—you couldn’t have imagined the position he would have you in. Habit had put you in a mounted triangle choke; his foot is tightly locked under his other knee, so there’s no way for you to escape. You try to fight, but the weight of his body feels compressing, and the lock of his legs around your head and trapped arm makes it almost impossible to breathe.
You curse and flail the limb that’s locked in between your head and his legs. Habit is looking down at you with that sinister, tight-lipped smirk on his face at your pitiful effort to hurt him now. You feel heavy droplets of warm blood oozing from his nose land onto your face, which was starting to become beet red from the pressure. The one thing you managed to do from here was shove his face with the thrashing arm you had in between you two while your other arm desperately tried to pull his thigh from squeezing tighter around your neck.
As much of a hassle you were, you were no match for his strength—not the way you were now, at least. His face was now far from your reach, so you could only grab hold of his flannel jacket, tugging hard to try to lower the level of his head. You wouldn’t be able to do much, but there was a chance you’d be able to give him a good double eye poke.
He breaks your grip on his flannel with ease, taking control of your wrist and pulling it up forcefully. He exposed the perfect extension of your arm, pressing your clenched fist tightly against his chest. His heart was racing with excitement, and he bit down on his bottom lip; he was now in full control.
“Open your hand.” He commanded in a low voice that couldn’t sound any less threatening.
He’s not trying to choke you out just yet, but at this point, your blood vessels are beginning to rupture around your eyes. Fortunately for you, these little red spots will go away eventually, but your loved ones will question whether you’ve had an allergic reaction lately.
You deny his request, proceeding to kick and squirm—your attempts are futile.
He begins to move his hips forward against your arm, making sure your elbow is hyperextended and your forearm pressed firmly against his sternum.
“Open it, or I’ll break your fuckin’ arm.”
It hurts like hell. If you weren’t going to pass out from the choke, then you’d be conscious enough to feel Habit break your joint or rupture your tendon. You were unsure if he would actually kill you this time, but you were certain he would give you long-term injury if prompted.
Habit leaned back to ease the pressure on your chest—of course, there wasn’t much of a difference in discomfort, but at least the spots in your vision eased up. You couldn’t be stubborn today. You chose to listen and relax your fist —at least you tried to—exposing your palm with trembling fingers.
“That’s a good rabbit,” he cooed.
You’re sure Habit can feel the pounding of your heart from grabbing hold of your now blood-stained hand. His thumbs pressed on the firm pads to get a feel of your racing pulse— it’s like music to his ears; he then proceeded to crouch down to press your twitching fingers onto his blood-stained lips. There’s a wet warmth that coats the tip of your ring and middle finger— a gasp slips in between your rigid breathing when you realize it’s Habit’s slick tongue licking your digits clean.
A low growl erupts from Habit’s throat—his groin is conveniently pressed against your tricep, and the bucking of his hips is gradually increasing.
His lids flutter shut as his wet muscle drags down to the center of your palm, flattening it and lapping the last smears of dried blood. His now-bruised nose is peeking between your fingers, and his heavy breath across your cupped skin sounds louder, less controlled.
Habit finally pulls away and opens his eyes to meet with yours; your eyes looked glossy, your skin was damp, your brows were furrowed, and you were taking shallow breaths with an open mouth. You were so helpless like this. If he could, he would stick his fingers down your throat to toy with your breathing some more, making you gag and sob as he’d dig for spit. But knowing you—you’d bite them off; then he’d really have to end you. If you were nicer, he’d reach back to unbutton your pants and tease your aching cunt. However, today you were a pain in his ass; you didn’t deserve that. You deserved to have your back against the dirt with the crushing weight of his body on top and the squeeze of his legs around your strained neck.
In his eyes, you were a constricted, defenseless rabbit in the tight grip of a cold-blooded python, kicking and thumping with no chance of survival.
You could no longer ignore the bulge that was practically digging into your arm at this point. A sharp hiss slips past your lips as Habit pulls on your arm again, forming that painful extension once more. This time, Habit isn’t licking your hand, but instead, leaning back, grinding up against your straightened arm and peering down at you.
Every buck of his hips served as a physical reminder of how dangerously close he was to breaking you.
Habit spoke to you with that fake pity voice you hated, making fun of you and the position you were in, how stupid you were to think you’d get away with it. You’d never say it out loud, but you didn’t have to. You know Habit can sense your arousal caused by the humiliation, the humping, and the restriction of your breath.
A whine escaped from you when you felt a soft pop from the stress put on your UCL. You could feel a twitch from Habit’s cock underneath the thick denim the moment he heard those exhilarating sounds.
“Fuck..” he sighed. He could feel himself getting close.
Your vision was getting spotty again. Shit. You might actually end up passing out.
He threw his head back, parting his blood-smeared lips, and let out a shaky moan of pure bliss. He sloppily rode out his orgasm against your arm with hips that twitched uncontrollably—he was too disoriented to realize that your arm had gone limp in his grasp.
You were fine; nothing a slap couldn't wake you up from.
Maybe it’s just me but I lose my mind when Evan/Habit refers to someone as ‘brother’. In general, I find it so attractive when men say this to each other. It sounds so respectful and sweet arghhhh
Tumblr won’t let me add more than one vid but he’s said it a couple of times throughout the series. One day I’ll rewatch it so I can compile all the times he does
