sporkdefender
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Summary
It feels rude, or at the very least disrespectful, doesn’t it? This, being hunted by something you hope remembers to play nice, wanting the chase instead of fearing it. Begging for it, even. If you could see them, if you were to think about what the souls here have seen or endured, it’d leave a bitter taste in your mouth. You wonder if anyone has died in this exact scenario before, or if you’d be the first.
Or, you and HABIT have a chase scene out in the Candleverse.
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There are about twenty—thirty, even—different reasons why he should’ve left you at the bar. Brian chooses to ignore them. Maybe he chooses to gaslight himself into believing that there isn’t even a list, and that he’s not a murderer working for an eldritch entity. He’s about to tell you to get out of the drying mud, but you’re on him before he can get a sound out.
Or, Brian's truck breaks down and he borrows your phone. You then hook up in his car.
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This is the first time he’s heard your voice since he left over four days ago.
Call him needy if you want, but Habit didn’t realise how much he missed you until you started blindly rambling about workplace drama.
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Or, HABIT's in the middle of dragging someone through the forest when you call. HABIT proceeds to jerk off in front of a dying guy.
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You need to make Habit come to. You need to force him to behave.
If he wanted to act like a mutt, you were going to treat him like one.
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Or, HABIT doesn't know how to mind his mouth and gets muzzled. -
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Summary
Porn was never his thing. It felt impersonal. Degrading. Humiliating. Ironically, it left the trafficker disgusted.
That's why he resorted to... Less favourable methods.
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Makarov masturbates to you. That's it, that's the fic. Also known as I can't figure out what to write for the summary.