Content / Tags: gn!reader, reader is attracted to men, gore descriptions, unhinged!reader, habit, and habit typical drama and violence, kidnapping, 3.2k words
if more specific warnings are needed, lmk and i’ll tag them immediately
You didn’t expect Habit to actually get you sushi, but he did. Granted, it was from a mystery joint you’ve never heard of and it was haphazardly thrown into the bag so you suspect he didn’t pay for any of it, but he still got it.
Whether or not you liked the sushi he picked out in this case was irrelevant; your actual goal was less about the food and more about testing how much Habit was willing to keep to his word. You wanted to see how far he was willing to bend to requests. He didn’t get mad that you took the flag from the “deformed-dog-thing” (as he so eloquently put it), and he didn’t even flinch when you demanded a food that was notorious for being specific, expensive, and best served fresh.
The sushi tray in front of you, at the very least, told you that he wasn’t unwilling to reward cunning behavior. He could’ve snatched the flag from you and made you trudge through the woods, but he didn’t. You could use that to your advantage.
Your chopsticks latch onto another piece, and you pop it in your mouth. You ate more cautiously at first, wondering if he poisoned it; but you were halfway through your first roll, and you hadn’t fainted, started sweating, experienced vertigo, or had any cold and/or hot flashes so you’re probably safe. Maybe. In any case, if it was poisoned, it can’t be that strong if it’s taking this long to kick in, right?
Habit sits across a table from you, eyes flat and analytical as he watches you eat. Upon closer inspection, you can see his lips are very subtly quirked up. Not quite a smile, but a smug and knowing look. When you presented the flag, he quietly looked at you before he let out a loud and abrupt cackle, snatching it from your hand. He didn’t say anything directly to you— though you did notice he has a habit of talking to himself. He muttered the entire way deeper into the woods, leaving you behind with the creature.
You and it engaged in a small staring contest before it surged forward and pounced on you. You braced for impact, possibly its sharp claws again, but it merely knocked you down and landed behind you. One of its gangly limbs grabbed the back of your shirt and started dragging you through the door.
It was sickly skinny and its bones were visible, but even so, its strength was uncanny. No matter how much you kicked or try to claw at it, it didn’t budge. For a moment, you wondered if it planned to eat you. It dragged you through the door, your vision immediately spinning as it did. You felt a weightless sensation in your stomach— not nausea, but the same feeling you get on an elevator.
When your vision adjusted, you realized you were on the kitchen floor of a home you had never seen. After it released you, it had scampered off toward the stairs. You remained on the floor, a dull ache in your limbs for a reason you’re unsure of, and looked around curiously. After feeling came back to your legs, you stood, intent on exploring the new place. You stopped dead in your tracks when you saw a bunch of boxes, one of which filled with royal purple duct tape.
The idea of this— this cozy, normal looking home— being Habit’s house was equally possible as it was ridiculous.
Your skepticisms were confirmed, though, when Habit walked through the door minutes later. There was blood on his knuckles and a rumpled brown paper bag fisted his hands, but you knew immediately it must be sushi when you saw Japanese lettering on the side of the bag.
“… Hello, Habit.” You greet quietly, voice a little hoarse, eyes glued to the blood on his hands. There was also some on the bottom of his boots that left smudges on the floor.
“Hello, rabbit.” He grunted, not really paying any mind to you as he tosses the bag onto the table and takes off his hat. Your eyes narrowed a little in befuddlement when he licked the blood off of his knuckles. He didn’t even bother to clean his face or boots of blood before he plopped down at the table and gestured for you to sit across from him with a theatrical little wave of his hand. He had been watching you eat ever since you started.
You meet his gaze and swallow the roll in your mouth.
“So… Do you like wasabi?” You ask, only when you’re sure your voice won’t shake or reveal any weakness. He was staring like he was trying to figure something out. Or possibly waiting for something.
“Yes.”
“Oh, really? How do you like it?”
“Straight from the tube.”
You go silent, your nose scrunching automatically before you smooth out your expression. Maybe he’s weirding you out on purpose? It’s hard to tell because his expression is blank. Were serial killers notorious for horrible taste? You aren’t sure. Maybe you can read up on that when you get the chance.
You slowly nod, deciding not to comment on that. Clearly he wasn’t planning to reward any attempts at small talk.
“That stunt you pulled.” He suddenly speaks, leaning forward on his elbows like he was discussing serious business. “I usually don’t mind smartasses during my games but I am a bit pissed. I wanted to make one of you fight for the flag ‘til you ruined it.”
“You wanted us to fight that thing? Can it be defeated?” You ask, thinking deeply about the monster you had seen. Not that most things couldn’t be killed, but you’re pretty sure it’s some kind of demon and demons are famously unmerciful and stronger than humans. Defeating it with no weapon or help wouldn’t be possible.
“Of course it can. Not by any of you fucks, but it can. I was really looking forward to watching one of you struggle and inevitably fail.” He sighs deeply, like he was genuinely disappointed. “I was thinking about punishing you for ruining it earlier.” He adds plainly, searching your face for a reaction.
“Will you?” You ask, keeping your hands steady, and answering in an even tone.
“I haven’t decided yet.” He leans forward on the table. “What do you think, hm? Should I punish you?”
“If you wish.” You say quietly, finally looking up and making full eye contact with him. You summoned all your will, trying to appear strong and calm. Your hands feel restless in the quiet that follows, fingers automatically moving to pop your knuckles a few times. The pressure on your fingers and the sounds help you remain present. That familiar instinct within you, the animalistic one that yells fight, run, and scratch in the moments where you’re most vulnerable, rears its head.
He holds your gave with a cold expression; you consider if he maybe wanted you to beg for mercy instead. He seemed like he got off on the power trip of holding other’s peace in his hands to break as he pleased. He was the type of person you’d expect to like the begging, screaming, and crying. The type to revel in the fact he can make someone tremble using just his words, without lifting a finger.
He suddenly slams his hands down hard on the table, pushing himself up. You flinch, heart pounding, and he meets your gaze with a wide grin.
“Bam, correct! That’s exactly right, rabbit.” He chuckles before sitting back down, legs spread open and arm thrown over the back of the chair. “Ok, I won’t punish you, just for getting it right.”
“… Thank you.”
You keep your eyes on him as you lift a water bottle, taking a slow sip from it. As much as you’d like to chug it, you know you should probably save it for later. You don’t know when he’s going to give you any more or how long until the water the others found would run out. Speaking of the others…
“One of us was supposed to die today. To that thing.” You state plainly after placing it back down. It was obvious that you flubbed his plan of killing one of you off during this mini-game. You knew the violence and bloodshed was coming, but for some reason, the news still makes you stop and process it. It could’ve been you, had you been a little dumber, and a little more desperate.
“Aww, don’t look so disappointed, rabbit.” He says in a condescending manner, grinning widely. “I know you’re eager to be the last one standing but you’ll get plenty of chances to make that happen later.”
“I guess I will.” You say quietly, going back to finishing your food.
“Not even gonna deny it?” He leans forward on the table, as if to size you up. “You prepared to kill for your victory?”
“I’m prepared to win.” You say, with absolutely no shame on your face or in your heart. If it comes down to you or them, you’ll choose yourself in a heartbeat. He gives you a wry smile.
“I’m gonna have to keep my eye on you, won’t I?”
“Not necessarily.”
“Really? Enlighten me, why not?” He scoffs, clearly skeptical.
“You’re… Well, I don’t know what you are exactly, but there’s something different there. Something that’s stronger than me at least. You don’t have to worry about me trying to fight you when I know if I do I’ll just get my ass kicked.”
You recall the metal chair. The rest of your group had been pretty quick to move on from it— likely because there admittedly are more pressing matters than a chair— but everytime something supernatural happens, your thoughts stray back to the chair. Crumpled in a heap, now, thrown in a fit of annoyance and ostentatiousness. It was an apt warning, and a promise for more unusual things to happen.
“And that rusty little slasher in your pocket?” His words give you pause. You thought you managed to slip that by him, but he somehow knew. Possibilities of how he could’ve figured it out run through your head; cameras, spying, some other supernatural shit? In a way, he just did you a favor, by confirming that even something this small wouldn’t fly over his head. It was good to keep that in mind, at the very least.
“I didn’t take it to use it against you. Just self defense in case anyone else decides to go ballistic. It could come in handy later, too.” You say, completely honest. You truly didn’t intend to use it against Habit. Maybe against someone else— you weren’t above it— but not him. He must know you’re telling the truth, because his chin dips in an approving nod.
“Smart rabbit. I was gonna take it from you, but you know what, I think I’ll let you keep it.” That slight condescension leaks back into his tone as he leans back in his seat in a relaxed and casual manner. Even still, you can see the way he’s watching for a reaction, his eyes scanning your face with an anticipatory smile.
“Much obliged.” You don’t give him one. At least, not the one he may have wanted. Your hands remain steady, your face is still, and your voice doesn’t waver. He may have the upper-hand here, but you intend to survive this. Survivors can’t afford to choke on their fear. Especially not in the face of someone who’d love to exploit it.
The grin he gives you in response to that is downright wicked. “Make sure to use it for something entertaining.”
“I’ll do my best.” You nod, intending to make good on that promise.
“I think I like you.”
“Frightful, but appreciated.”
Habit snickers before abruptly standing. “Alright, sit tight. I’m gonna go check on your friends.”
It’s ironic he keeps calling the other contestants that, given the nature of all the challenges he’s given you up until this point, including the original seven trials. They’re built to strip away individuality, sure, but also to isolate. You could tell immediately, because you already knew how to isolate yourself; you didn't need his cult to teach you how. Sever one tie, usually the rest are easier to clip. They go even faster when the ties you want to sever know each other. They start wondering and discussing why you ditched their wedding, or why you didn't care when they informed you of a funeral they were to attend. Then the questioning stops, and that's when you know you've won.
It eventually becomes second nature. Weave and sew people into your life, just to cut them right out of it without thinking twice about it. It's inevitable to end up alone when you become good at it; the ripple effect that shutting out one person has spreads to everyone in your life, and eventually, you don’t remember the last time someone wished you happy birthday or asked about your weekend.
You weren’t lonely. You didn’t feel things like loneliness. But sometimes you do drown in the consequences of being alone.
——
“PISS AND MOAN, PISS AND MOAN. YOU COMPLAIN AS IF THIS IS A GAME FOR YOUR ENJOYMENT: GET OVER YOURSELF.”
You refresh the SEVENTRIALS’ twitter a few more times, seeing if anything more is to come for today, but it seems the admin just wanted to complain a little about some of your fellow rabbit’s incompetence. While you, of course, already competed trial 3, it makes sense to you why many haven’t.
“Lose a friend, by any means necessary.”
It was a hefty ask, and the average person wouldn’t do it for some dumb internet challenge. Unfortunately for your boyfriend, you had been waiting for an excuse to land in your lap for a while now and this was the perfect out. He said lose a friend; but he didn’t say it had to be a friend. Besides, once you broke up with him, he could be downgraded to friend status, right? You did lose a friend… in a way.
Well, it didn’t matter now. You lost the deadweight you’ve been wanting to lose and you were put forward in the competition. Clearly, the admin didn’t care for the semantics of it all.
You chew the inside of your cheek, ignoring your phone buzzing like mad, only ever interrupted by a phone call you also elected to ignore. Perhaps you were too harsh— if you had spared his feelings a little, maybe he’d leave you alone.
You pick up your phone, scrolling through the slew of threats of suicide, self harm, homicide, and— of course— the begging. God, there was so much begging. It’s been nonstop for three days now, gradually getting more desperate and intense. You still ignore all of it. You block him and set your phone down. He wasn’t your problem anymore, and reading his texts and listening to his voice messages no longer appealed to your morbid curiosity. It’s lost it’s entertainment factor. Now, it’s time for dinner.
You ate sushi that night.
——
You blink, zoning back in when you accidentally brush the wound on your forearm against the table. The bleeding had stopped thanks to the numerous napkins the sushi place provided you, but it still stung and you were worried about reopening it. Habit hadn’t offered any bandages or anything— said that you were just lucky you didn’t need stitches. You suppose he had a point.
You debate snooping, at least for a bathroom, but decide it isn’t worth facing his wrath when you just got in his good— or as close to good as he gets— graces. You’d rather sit at a table for a few hours than fight for your life in the woods anyway. This wasn’t so bad. After you finish your food, you clean up after yourself, waiting patiently with your head resting in your arms.
——
BANG BANG BANG BANG.
“Who the fuck do you think you are, bitch?! Dumping me like that over the phone and then blocking me?! Open this fucking door!”
You stand in your walk in closet, a kitchen knife clutched close to your chest. Despite the situation, your grip and heart are steady. A part of you saw this coming.
Clearly, it was for the better that you dumped him. He’s always been a freak, but you didn’t know he was completely batshit crazy. You always seem to attract the wrong people.
“You think you can just do whatever you want and get away with it?! You always do this shit! You just use people and then throw them out like trash when you’re done! Emma was right about you, you’re an evil bitch!”
At that moment you feel your phone buzz in your pocket; the signature Twitter whistle can just barely be heard over his fists pounding hard on the door. Your breath catches when you feel him start to slam his shoulder against it between beat downs of the door. You recall the Tweet that sent the snowball tumbling down the mountain in the first place.
Lose a friend, by any means necessary.
“Open this door, I’m not fucking around anymore!”
Lose a friend.
“I’ll fucking kill you!”
Any. Means. Necessary.
The door to the closet rips open as you spin around, him busting it down now that you weren’t using all your strength and body weight to hold it back. Before he can even say anything, you lunge forward and plunge the knife into his chest. It sinks in easily. Then, you do it again. Again, again, again. You can’t stop— your body refuses to stop until it’s certain he’s dead.
By the time you’re off of him, blood is splattered up your forearms, clothes, even on your face. His eyes were stuck wide open in terror and his mouth was open from the scream and gasps that caught in his throat. Though he is no longer breathing, you whisper one sentence as your parting gift, breathing heavy and heart pumping loud.
“HABIT made me do it.”
——
You awake to the sound of growling. The creature from earlier sits atop the table, staring down at you. You squint at it in a judgmental manner, leaning back in your chair to make some distance. You must’ve fell asleep while waiting for Habit’s return. This whole situation was dredging up memories you were very hard to ignore.
Only when the creature sees you’re alert and aware, it hops off the table and scampers over to the door, looking back at you like it expected you to follow.
“Not gonna drag me this time?” You ask dryly, standing. It lunges forward and you stumble back, your whole body tensing up.
“That wasn’t an invitation! I can walk.” You're quick to add. You glare at it in annoyance.
You rub your eyes as you walk over, following it through a few doors. This place really made no sense. The kitchen opened into a bathroom and the bathroom opened into an ominous looking staircase. How the hell was anyone meant to navigate this without a map? Maybe Habit had one lying around; you remind yourself to keep your eyes peeled for one.
By the time you made it back to the warehouse where this all started, you were ready for more rest. The walk was disorienting, with the way reality itself seemed to bend and twist the further you went into the home. You scan over the people remaining in the warehouse.
You only count 4.
𖡎𓂃 𓂃✍︎
A/N: im ngl im sooo self conscious when it comes to mischaracterization so pls tell me if habit feels in/out of character at any point 💔💔 i really love his character so the last thing i wanna do is misrepresent him by accident. he’s so very dear to me
taglist (comment if you wanna be added) ⌯⌲ @jutulamafjord @akibeets @miss-dialup @soapmoon @asper-jpeg @uccidila
cw: stalking, gn!reader (let me know if i missed anything), reader is weird and toxic, habit is even more toxic, cnc + somno? (reader touches him in his sleep but doesn’t know habit is awake), handjob, blowjob, recording.
꧁⎝ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⎠꧂
habit had no idea what to expect from this. he obviously knew you were stalking him. you can’t expect to outsmart a stalker, nor a demon like him.
but you were a pretty thing, and he was bored, and so he let you tag along.
he kind of liked how weird you were. he knew you started stalking him when you met him for the first time outside of a cafe. you almost bumped into him, and when you apologised, he just grinned at you and walked off.
you were easy. and stupid. and also completely insane since you quickly decided to obsess over him.
he knew you had followed him home that day. he could hear how loud your heartbeat was, and you weren’t the best stalker out there, since you kept stepping on twigs.
not to mention how loud you breathed; small puffs of air gave you away after ten minutes, and he pondered to just grab you and eat you, because he was a lil hungry, but he decided not to.
he’s always been the stalker, he wanted to know how it felt like to be the one being stalked.
so he let it happen. again, and again. until one month passed. and one month became two months.
three months in, to his surprise and amusement, you started getting bolder.
you actually sneaked into his house at night. you walked slowly, almost bumping into things and forniture as you tried to map out his house and find his bedroom.
obviously, he was there. and wide awake. not that he needed to sleep, but he knew you’d get sad if you got caught, so he played along.
he got into bed, no shirt and black boxers, and pretended to be asleep on his back.
he had to get in character as he heard the door open. your quiet steps almost seemed to echo in the silence of his room.
he peeked an eye open and watched you as you looked around. touched his things without shame, as if they belonged to you.
the corner of his mouth twitched in an amused smile as you stole a pair of his boxers, putting the piece of clothing in your bag.
his eye closed as you turned to him, as if you felt him watching you. you walked to his bed and stood right next to him, looking down at his body.
he pretended to be asleep, and he could feel your gaze stare right through him.
he hoped that you’d get bolder than this. in fact, you brought your hand to his face as you let your fingers trace his bottom lip before bringing it down his chin and chest, feeling the bare skin under your fingertips.
your hand descended until it stopped on his lower stomach—fingers grazing the warm skin, slightly under the waistband of his boxers.
he could hear your breath hitch.
he had a fucking slut in his hands, that was for sure. lucky for you, he was into it.
while pretending to sleep, he strategically changed position fast enough to jerk his hips up, making your hand come in contact with the half hard bulge beneath his boxers.
he couldn’t see you right now, but he could just picture your face; wide eyed, flushed, jaw dropped.
your hand froze, not moving away. you knew it was wrong, and weird, and that you were probably going to hell for this, but it was just so exciting and intoxicating and you wanted more.
your hand slowly wrapped around his bulge, feeling it throb despite fabric in between. you kept watching his face, hoping he wouldn’t wake up.
your free hand slowly pushed the hem of the boxers down enough to wrap around his cock, finally bare. you got down on your knees next to the bed, eyes staring at the scene unfolding.
he was just so… big. not only big, but thick. veins throbbing every few moments with pre already leaking out of the bright pink tip. you were mesmerised by the sight that you completely forgot to check on his face.
habit, at that point, had his eyes open as he stared at you. his hands were on the back of his head, completely at ease.
you both watched as your hand kept pumping him in a slow peace. not really habit’s style, but he figured you wouldn’t be stupid enough to go fast and risk waking him up.
your hand moved to his tip, wrist circling slowly as you jerked his tip. he bit back a groan as more pre leaked out of him.
he watched as your free hand moved to your bag and you took out a camera.
he almost laughed. you couldn’t be serious.
you actually were. you settled it on the bed next to you, so it could record your hand jerking him off while also giving you a view of him in the background.
you could tell he was getting closer from how much he throbbed. you couldn’t risk getting his cum everywhere, or he’ll get suspicious.
so, to habit’s personal satisfaction, you moved closer and parted your lips around his tip, sucking it into your mouth.
he couldn’t stop a low groan from escaping his mouth, but he played it off with a sleepy tone. he felt you moan quietly as you slowly and oh so gently sucked the tip while your hand jerked the rest of him.
when he came on your tongue, he came a lot. load after load painted your tongue and you swallowed it all.
you moved away, fixing his boxers before getting up.
he figured guilt was getting to you from how fast you grabbed your camera and bolted out of his room.
although, when you rewatched the recording, you were able to see how his eyes were open, staring back at you with the same smile he gave you the first day.
and you surely didn’t miss the part where he mouthed a small “slut” at you!
꧁⎝ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⎠꧂
stalker!reader. toxic!reader. weird!reader. my beloved.
you’ll be barely lucid, hands reaching for anything to hold. your legs spread and aching, your lips glossy with his spit. the bed creaking and moaning with every push and pull of his hips.
he’ll loom over you, wicked smirk on his lips as he takes you.
the first time he did it was on a whim.
your hair kept falling over your pretty and flustered face, and he was not happy with that. so, in a fit of irritation, he yanked the hat off his head and put it on you.
it unlocked something primal in him.
you—bare, vulnerable, malleable, so sweet—crying for him while his hat rested on your head. he didn’t care if your sweat soaked the fabric, or if his hair was now getting in his face.
and when you’re riding him?
he’s all over you.
death proof cap pulled low over your face, the only visible feature was your parted lips as you bounced. his hands would dig into the plush of your thighs, groaning as he took what you gave.
and when it was over?
the two of you would breathe and bask in each other presence, and he would take his hat off you. he’d use the bill of it to lift your chin to him, kissing you before pushing it back over your hair and whispering:
Ik its not realistic guys but fuck realism. Im sick of only toby being the obsessed lover. Give me obsessed and loving Jeff the killer. Gomez addams type shit. (In a more twisted way). Devoted, possessive clingy jeff the killer. His girl is only his, he listens to her only, treats her like his princess...no his goddamn queen. I've never seen this in the fandom. He's always written like a Lil bitch. Guys do we wanna see that? Cuz fuck i do. I wanna explore it so bad. Would yall be okay with me changing my jeff similarly as such? Never seen this before i crave it. Guys please tell me I'm not alone in this. 'Doll/dollface' jeff the killer. Sees you as a goddess not some helpless girl💔💔💔 IF A FIC OR FANART OF THIS EXSITS SHOW ME PLEASE. If not I'll attempt to draw myself with him like that IF I can. AND I'LL WRITE HIM LIKE THAT. Witness the glorious moment I find out that I have free will. SEE MY VISION PLEASE.
baratheonpilled
gummygunk
