#slenderverse fluff

“you want me to hug you?” habit asked, staring at you like you’d lost your mind.

you tilted your head, eyes still teary and your hands bunched in the cuffs of the hoodie you wore. you’d had one of the worst days of your life, and all you wanted was to be held.

“you always hug me,” your voice cracked a little, a fabric-hidden fist lifting to wipe at freshly fallen tears, “do you hate me now? am i too clingy?”

habit slowly, very slowly, pointed at the body slung over his shoulder, “sorry, is there not a fuckin’ guy on my shoulder right now? you want me to group hug with my dinner, sweets?” your reddened eyes scanned the body, a wave of sadness making your shoulders droop.

then, he saw the gears clicking in your head.

“don’t you dare,” he spat, “don’t you fucking do it.”

“please?” your eyes, watery and utterly devastated, met his. the body fell to the ground with an unceremonious thud, and you were grabbed. habit’s teeth sunk into the covered area of your shoulder, grumbling in disdain as he held you.

“just can’t say no to you. pitiful pathetic thing,” he groaned, pulling away. he ignored the minimal blood and grime that had smeared against the front of the garment. his hand reached up, fingers digging into your cheeks and gently shaking your head, “only person in the damn world who pisses me off like this.”

you smiled cutely, and a deep purple hue passed through his irises. habit’s gaze dropped to the ground, boot pushing against the body, “guess i’ll starve. y’need me too much to let me eat, huh?”

he noticed the way you almost curled in on yourself in shame, eyes averting to the floor. “so sensitive today, sweetheart,” he muttered, bending slightly to pick you up. you blinked and the body was gone, and you assumed it was now in his basement—where he would later reconvene.

“how bad a’day was it?”

“the worst,” you whispered as he plopped on the couch. he kept you in his lap, letting you nuzzle up to him. as a result of your hands gently tracing the lines of his palms, habit internally cursed when his chest began to unwillingly rumble with purrs.

he was starving, but he, and he will never tell you this, preferred to cradle you like this over anything else. it inflated his ego majorly, your need to seek him out after a bad day only proving that you do need him.

and he supposed it was nice to be needed.

“love you,” you sleepily mumbled, stifling a giggle when habit heavily sighed.

“you’re a fuckin’ handful.”

he wouldn’t have it any other way.

but don’t tell him that, he hasn’t accepted it yet.

DON’T touch habit’s reese’s cups.

habit has his own jar of candy, filled to the brim with reese’s cups. he loved them, ate one after every meal and carried them around like they’re mints. he kept the ceramic jar on the counter for easy access, and when you’d quietly snuck to grab one while he was gone—

“whatcha doing?”

you remembered flinching so hard it made him cackle. you were on your period, simply craving any form of chocolate you could get your hands on. you knew your boyfriend was greedy, greedy in the way he hunted, greedy in the way he practically fused himself to you.

but god forbid you eat one reese’s cup.

“just one?” you whispered, looking up at him pleadingly. he hummed in faux thought, deciding to entertain your begs. his fingers traced along the hem of your (his) hoodie, tickling your soft skin, “what do i get?”

“huh?”

“come on, sweetheart,” he groaned, canines sharp as he grinned, “gotta give me somethin’. i’m givin’ you something.” you laid your head on his chest, and he could see you debating. he knew he was being cruel—it was a reese’s cup. “what do you want?” you murmured.

habit decided to be merciful.

“go get one. but don’t eat it yet, bring it back here t’me.”

you shot up fast enough to make him chuckle, returning with the orange wrapped sweet in your hands. he guided you to straddle his hips, watching you get nervous as you handed him the reese’s. his hands found your thighs, thumbs pressing into the plush skin to help soothe you.

“open it.”

you tore the packaging, gently tearing the second skin off the chocolate. you waited.

“good girl,” he smirked, “now feed it to me.”

you tried to stop yourself from frowning, the cramps in your stomach intensifying and your cravings slowly growing more unbearable. “don’t pout, sweetheart,” he opened his mouth, and you pushed the treat between his teeth, “now, c’mere.”

before you could mourn or question, his hips thrusted upward, forcing you to fall forward against him. your lips connected, and you squeaked in shock at the sudden taste of chocolate, peanut butter, and something purely habit.

when the treat had dissipated in the warmth of your mouths working against each other, the only smear of chocolate left behind was the tiny bit in the corner of your lips. habit’s tongue lolled out, licking your mouth clean.

“y’sweeter than the damn candy,” he mused, “could barely taste it over you.”

habit loved his reese’s cups, but he much preferred this now that he’d gotten a taste of it—the chocolate swirled with your saliva was addictive, and he couldn’t imagine you would touch his reese’s jar without kissing him ever again.

he wondered what he could get you to do next time.