#can you tell the hyperfixation is getting bad

[merbear25]

Can you write something where Caesar gets tortured relentlessly by someone, then the f!reader character is like his knight in shining armor, trying to free him from captivity? (Of course without actual armor, I'm talking figuratively)

Basically whump/hurt-comfort, I've seen similar from you before but with the reader as the role of the torturer instead.

I'm in a whump hyperfixation and I there isn't really much whump with Caesar yet.

Ohhhh, how exciting to have another request involving torture and with Caesar?? What a nice bonus 🤩 Thank you for sending this in, I had fun writing it! I hope you like it 💜💜

With weapons as top grade as his, world leaders were all too willing to throw their money at the genius fueling war-stricken countries. Lavish parties that got out of hand had investors forking over much more than they intended, leading some to suspect the legitimacy of his promises. A sea of green hid the potential dangers of his bad habits, which was exactly what some dissatisfied customers were banking on.

CW: fem!reader, reader works for Caesar, torture mentioned, hurt-comfort, some fluff, kidnapping, no sexual themes.

A/n: the em dash is used to signal a short time skip

His saving grace (Caesar)

“Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something?��� He snapped when your footsteps grew nearer. You’d stumbled upon him planning yet another party which appeared as if it was going to follow the trend of each one being more extravagant than the last.

“My apologies, Master, but I’m afraid that you may be getting too comfortable with how much you’re…” a chill went down your spine when you saw him straightening his posture.

“Funny, I don’t recall ever asking your opinion. Besides, I can always squeeze more money out of those fools if need be.” He swatted away your pesky comment before flipping through more catalogs of women.

“Well, that’s exactly what I came to talk to you about.” You informed him of one of the investors that called. “They were threatening to come and collect if they didn’t hear from you within the hour, and they demanded for you to be the one to call them.” After all the excuses you made for him, your constant covering was clearly seen through as a lack of professionalism on his part.

“Tell them I’m busy.” The disregard in his voice stung more than you thought it would, since he knew full well you were dealing with the brunt of all his faults.

You did your best to remain composed, knowing it was a moot point that would get you nowhere. “Yes, Master.”

Similar to all the other festivities he threw, you were stowed away behind a desk trying to sort out the finances he seemed determined to set ablaze. With this party costing more than the others combined, you’d have no choice but to request more money to fund his projects. The pen fell from your cramped hand as you buried your exhausted face in it. He could be such a headache at times that it made you lose sight of why you came there in the first place. 

Now faded memories, your excitement to work under one of the greatest scientific minds seemed so distant after you were reduced to balancing his checkbooks. Propping yourself up, you dug deep to unearth the passion that was sinking more into the abyss with each passing day. You told yourself that it was only during benders like these when you were left to clean up his mess. Being here gave you opportunities others could only dream of, some which he was beginning to entrust you with. An exasperated sigh passed your lips, supposing that this treatment was a small price to pay.

Sudden screams barreling down the hall jolted you out of your chair. Panicked cries of your boss pierced your ears as your feet failed to carry you any faster. The room was trashed with empty liquor bottles and glasses as women cowered behind furniture from the violent encounter. You chased the trail left behind as far as you could, but it ran cold. The blizzard was picking up again and the footsteps were covered by the gail force winds.

Swiftly, you turned back to question the remaining women, believing that at least one of them could be of use.

—

A flickering light and the lingering scent of mildew was an assault on his senses. Caesar winced and scoffed, while his captor remained just out reach of the fluorescent rays. “You little wench,” he seethed.

She stepped closer with pure revulsion plastered to her face. “You should have trusted your gut, but you were probably too hammered to notice there was one more than you ordered.” The raging waves of the sea crashed against the side of the ship, making the low sitting lamp sway eerily. “I’ll make this real easy for you. You give me the product you owe us and I’ll let you go.”

The color draining from his face gave her little hope of this being anything but a quick job. “Well, that’s unfortunate.”

“No, no! I have it! Yes, I distinctly remember handing it to my assistant! If you could just…take me back, I’m sure we could get you taken care of.”

She slowly worked her way across the room. Running her finger along the mallet, she recalled her direct orders. “You see, I don’t think that’s going to work.”

“W-Why not?”

“Because I just don’t believe you.” With a swift movement, the shattering of his knee cap commenced blood curdling screams. She spoke firmly and with conviction, “And I’m sure your other business partners would love to know what you’ve been doing with their money.” 

His choked begs were cut off as another collision caused the bone to splinter in his mangled leg. With crimson streaming down his shin, the light in his eyes faded before he inevitably slumped in the chair. She slapped him across the face to wake him up, but it was no use. “How pathetic.” The slamming of the heavy door shook the wooden walls, sprinkling dust from the floorboards above.

—

The vague description of Caesar’s kidnapper led you to believe that she was tied to those who chewed you out earlier that day. They couldn’t have gotten far, but with the sea maintaining its relentless current, catching up to them any time soon was feeling less and less likely. You cursed at the razorblade-like flakes as you caught a few lucky waves. Painfully numb, your face and hands were urging you to call off the search, but you pressed on. With how many times your own stubbornness had caused some rifts between you and Caesar, you were hell bent on letting that side of you be the beacon of hope you needed to get him back.

Through squinting eyes, a large wooden frame was tilting back and forth just ahead. Every fiber of your being was pumping with adrenaline the closer you got. Hastily, you scaled the side and infiltrated the lower deck.

It was dark and clammy, but you could see a light peeking under a door down the corridor. The closer you crept, the more distinct the voices got.

“How many times are you going to use that excuse?” The feminine voice was muffled behind the thick wooden door. The high-pitched cries of agony that followed made you break out in goosebumps. Your breath caught in your throat when the door swung open, revealing a brief glimpse of the state Caesar was in. Scuffing of the woman’s shoes carried around the corner, and the dragging of her heels up the stairs ignited the bravery needed to break into the room.

You couldn’t help averting your gaze when your eyes properly settled on him. Bashed in nose, shattered knee and what looked to be burn marks scattered over his skin nearly made you forget who you were looking at. Never before witnessing the one you viewed as so powerful being reduced to a bloodied pulp, the pedestal you’d put him on was damn near obliterated. 

As you stepped closer, you softly called out his name, “Caesar?”

A shaky smile appeared on his battered face when he noticed you. “You came to rescue me!” When you rushed to untie his restraints, the praise pouring out of him made your heart ache in ways you never thought it would when it came to him. “Good girl finding me. I knew I could count on you.” 

When you got the last bit of rope off, you cursed at the sight of seastone. “Of course…” 

You weren’t going to be able to lug him off the ship without getting those damn cuffs off first. A quick search around the room pointed to all signs that they were still on the captor’s person. You picked up the mallet left out on the desk to examine it, noticing the indents and cracks that were caked with dried blood. It felt as if something was sitting on your chest. Your heart was tightly restrained, each beat painfully struggling to break free from the chains it suddenly found itself in.

“What's wrong? Why did you freeze?” The hope was quickly dwindling from his voice.

With the dragging of heels making their way back, you took cover.behind stacks of wooden crates. Caesar’s fearful whimpers covered your slightly heavy breathing. When the door swung open, chills prickled up and down your spine. She was wearing low-rise jeans with a belt that was holding a sizeable knife. Instinctively, you gripped your weapon and kept your eyes on the back of her head.

The sound of Caesar’s chains rattling from fear lured you out of hiding. A squeak from your footing made your heart race as she turned around, leaving no room for hesitation. The collision of the wooden mallet against her temple sounded off a loud crack. Following the thud of her dead weight, your shaky hands pawed at her pockets. The sweat collecting on your forehead was seeping into your eyes, burning them in spite of your efforts of wiping the beads away. Each raspy word of encouragement from Caesar faded into the background until that jingle of metal graced your ears.

—

Trying efforts and risks for the boss who was falling into the habit of overlooking your value left you conflicted. A man whose grim nature feared by many was now a whimpering mess of gratitude, groveling as you tended to his wounds.

“You know, I always tell everyone how great of an assistant you are.” He sniffled, while you cleaned him up better than he thought you were capable of. You continued to exceed his expectations, letting your earlier conversation sit heavy on his shoulders. When you didn’t respond to his statement, he fiddled with the loose string on the couch cushion.

“This is going to sting a lot.” Your warning did little to prepare him. He struggled to choke back his pained sobs as you finished up tending to him. You sighed when the final dressing on his wounds was complete and looked up at him with that same ache from earlier clouding your better judgement. “You don’t have to worry. I’m not planning on leaving.”

His face flushed a bright pink and he laughed nervously. “Worry? I wasn’t worried about that at all! I think your head’s getting too big for your shoulders if you think I was concerned about that.”

Your expression softened under his flustered hand motions and unconvincing smile. He really was a bad actor, but now wasn’t the time to call him out on that. Nodding in agreement that you were simply getting carried away, you then got up. “I should start working on damage control before they have a chance to try something like this again. I’ll be back soon, though.”

“Yes, you do that!” He crossed his arms, beaming with an unnatural amount of pride in his underling. That quick smile you gave before departing made his heart race. He drummed his fingers in the uncomfortable silence he was left alone in, his thoughts wandering and getting away from him. The gentleness and care from your touch lingered on his body. He looked around quickly before resting his hand on that warmed spot, carefully rubbing his thumb over the part he could still feel your fingers.

[verybadmutt]

In no means am I trying to stoke the controversy fire surrounding tom (carnivorekitty, niwinoodle, wtv the fuck)

but can anyone who used to follow his old tumblr please please please let me know if there’s anyway we can look at his old askbox responses I need jacob lore so badly I will start gnawing my arm pls and thanks

[coolnonsenseworld]

Samurai and Ninja in crappy pics because December here is under a constant cloud and I just want y'all to see them all golden and cute without learning how to take aesthetic pictures 🥴 💙❤️😆🥰

linktr.ee/Mezzy

[somewhereincairparavel]

im so emotionally attached to jason grace it's not even funny atp. i literally think about him all day, I'm not exaggerating pls someone tell me they feel this way too 😮‍💨

[autumnoakes]

i don't think difficulty and challenge should be a litmus test for whether or not a game is "good"

first of all, how good a game is entirely depends on the person. like a game that one person hates might be a game that someone else loves

second of all, remember the animal crossing craze when acnh came out? i don't think that's an especially challenging game, but it's still beloved. games that aren't challenging can be beloved

third of all, maybe those of us who suck at games maybe want a game that's easy for once? 🤷🏼

[destiny-in-the-universe]

Concepts for the Pokemon x RC9GN AU

Alright, this is officially take two of my attempts to explain this... weird crossover no one asked for!

as for the descendant Randy AU, that's going to be done completely separately so, let's get right on to it!

General Infodump

The Pokemon AU takes place in a fictional region that is supposed to replace Norrisville- and Norrisville is one of the towns of said region, but we start off with our two title leads - Randy and Howard - about to head off on their journey to become Pokemon trainers. Randy's parents are a little bit miffed about it for undisclosed plot reasons, but they don't stop him when he does decide to leave. I like to think the Sorcerer isn't literally a disheveled frog-looking thing but more so something else (brain isn't brain'ing right now-)

McFist and Viceroy are both part of an organization that is a little like, say Team Rocket but with more merit to what they're doing- and are one of the many foes that Randy now has to face, but to add onto all of this-

I literally don't know how to incorporate the Ninja lore into this unless I decided to have the Ninja as this protector of the entire region, instead of just Norrisville. Thinking that the bond between the Ninja and their Pokemon team is going to be more... ahems, magical? No- a word I can't think of right now, fuck English right now

The tengu was either a legendary or mythical bird Pokemon, of course with an element of fire because hello? We can't have anything less, but moving on! The whole thing with the stone still went down though I'm still trying to tie this all together to say the least

Additional Lore Bits

Stanked monsters don't exist in the same way as the RC9GN canon- that's all I got right now to be honest

The group that McFist and Viceroy are a part of- their goals are wanting to use Pokemon as their own personal army, and make them stronger and better in order to take on the Ninja. What they don't realize, however, is that there's actual significance behind the Ninja's appearance (tying this into cultural aspects perhaps? we'll see how this works out later-)

So, how does the Ninja work in this, you ask? I like to think that there were always warriors protecting Norrisville from imminent danger but nothing was ever as strong and dangerous as the Sorcerer. When Finja and his clan came to be, the Sorcerer was utilizing dark relics in order to take over the entire region but of course, like anything- this began going south which led to the intervention from the Norisu 9. Unfortunately, this ended up going extremely dire and Finja was the only one left- no one quite managed to figure out what happened to everyone else but using the feathers of a legendary Pokemon, he managed to create something no one had ever managed to do before

Now to keep this from being too similar to the RC9GN canon, I'm not sure what to do after this- but I still want to reference some stuff honestly? I can't tell you what that is yet, this is all just a prototype idea for now but this is where things get a little interesting...

Finja and the Sorcerer face off in a great battle, and the Sorcerer meets his demise- imprisoned- but Finja is left horrendously weakened and injured, and his fate- for now- will remain undetermined

Skip to modern day, and this is where we're introduced to Randy and Howard, the pair are heading off on their Pokemon trainer journey- Randy wants the glory of being a trainer, but he also just feels he needs to do what's right and getting to face the gym leaders gives him that sensation; Howard is only going because he doesn't want to be alone hahah, he hasn't quite figured out what he wants to do yet

As their journey continues, Randy ends up catching a lot of fighting and fire types, including one that's a poison type while Howard's tend to be a little different- i'm thinking fire at the very least but there are others

i'm going insane trying to write this in a way that actually makes sense, was too focused on finding trainer card templates and now i have to pick their Pokemon and add it to the card-

but okay, let's move on

Character Concepts

Randy Cunningham: 14 years old. Randy's the son of a retired Pokemon trainer, though he knows nothing beyond that- coughs, and his mother's a nurse for Pokemon! He starts his Pokemon trainer journey a little bit late, but he's determined to take on the gym leaders, like it's something he has to do. As he and Howard embark on the adventure, they end up having to deal with a weird... metallic Pokemon, and Randy's kind of losing his marbles (but he also is weirdly ecstatic about the whole thing-). Sometime during this, he encounters an ancient relic which apparently is a book and has everything about how to be a better trainer, how to fight with your team, all of it. The author's not written anywhere in it but he eventually gets the hang of it- even if he constantly misinterprets the lessons and takes twice as long to figure it out.

The deal with this kid is he's extremely impulsive and likes to blindly rush at danger- also the fact he immediately jumps to conclusions when something happens, because he'll accidentally warp the lessons into something that benefits him. Though, his bond with his team continues to strengthen- and if he happens to accidentally realize exactly how he can utilize this to his advantage, well, let's just say something interesting is going to happen. (my current plan is that he create a link with the Pokemon and active their powers for him to be able to use as well-)

Howard Weinerman: Howard is around the same age as Randy. He's not very interested in a lot of things- but he despises being alone and decides to tag on Randy's trainer journey with him, embarking on the strangest adventure he's ever had. Unlike Randy, however, he only seems to care about things that benefit him which isn't entirely the case as he seems to also worry about Randy's safety- especially with the amount of times that his friend just blindly gets into a fight with their enemies. Howard is exceptionally stubborn, though at the end of the day, he manages to do what's right too- albeit a little reluctantly.

And yes, I'm going to link him to the tengu- things might work out a little bit differently in this version for obvious reasons, but I will manage a way for it to work.

Debbie Kang: Debbie Kang is one of the other Pokemon trainers that accompanies Randy and Howard on their journey- unlike the boys, she's not trying to take on the gym leaders and seems more interested in becoming a reporter, attempting to grab the latest scoop on things happening around the region. Unfortunately, she gets involved in the current ploy McFist and Viceroy are doing- and, well, Debbie has no idea what she's getting into and she and her liepard are about to uncover something much bigger is happening. She happens to be relentless in her endeavors, preferring the sense of danger but needing to reel herself back in or risk endangering the entire party. [Details are still pending]

Theresa Fowler: On the other hand, we have Theresa- unlike Debbie, who's completely willing to throw herself into a path of danger for a scoop, Theresa is a little more cautious. She worries constantly about her friends, not wanting to see them get hurt and sometimes acts as the voice of reason (Debbie can be, but she also wants to expose McFist and Viceroy, and that gets in the way at times-). She frets a lot, but she also is a good fighter and will intervene if the rest of her team is injured.

I like to consider these four as the title characters, and that the other Norrisville High students are more in the background- although I'm also trying to figure something out with Julian.

Undeveloped Ideas

The Nomicon is an ancient relic- as mentioned before, it's a training tool for the current Ninja, or whatever adjacent theme is being followed; unlike the canon, however, the book has more of a connection with the user and can interact with them even via dreams and has a human form (though this isn't something that happens too often-). [Details still pending!]

Tengu - Legendary Pokemon/Fire Type. The tengu was always more of a neutral party in all of this, but things changed... and this led to certain events taking place- even before Finja managed to infuse the tengu's feathers into... something.

Shadow Warrior's Temple - central theme to the storyline. details still in the works- potentially some of the things from it will be used by Randy, but this is about as far as I got.

Unfortunately, this is most what I have- the idea came to me out of nowhere and I need to develop it more because this sounds and looks like garbled nonsense- I kind of would like some thoughts on it-? Though this isn't inherently necessarily at the same time-

I'm going to be fleshing this out eventually, just please be patient! Because apparently, I don't know when to quit-

I'm kind of more excited for building the Pokemon teams than the lore though hahaha

[jcryptid]

Currently in a state of 'stumbled across an old fic idea' that has me, for some indescernable reason, seized by the motivation gremlin late at night on what is technically monday morning

[alchemiclee]

sometimes I really miss having one person to have daily conversation with or just share random things throughout the day with even if we don't feel like actually talking. it was nice and kept me going for a number of years. but I haven't had that in at least a few years and I really feel it weighing on me me. it's been months since I had a satisfying conversation/connection with someone. I think i've only talked to someone not family 4 times since mid January. is that normal? is it normal to go months without talking to people? it kinda feels bad tbh. but I don't know how to human anymore. how do people just have friends and talk to others easily all the time fbdhjjddkke i'm tired of reaching out to people and not getting much back. no one reaches out to me first.

ah. sorry for the sudden random serious/negative post. I usually keep those over at my other blog and off this one. but lee having hard time right now, pls send happy thoughts and/or cute things. thanks. sorry 😭

[barnabybrainrot]

—-

[nexttothelamp]

...

[gelarshiesprofruitboarder]

arts so stupid whyd i have to choose it to be The Thing I Do

[theheelerhouse]

Autistic Littles!

Hello there! This post is for caregivers who care for littles who are autistic. Here's some ways to help with meltdowns or times when autism is being meaner than usual! (All from my personal experience as someone with autism! Not everyone is the same!)

First, let's start with some of the possible warning signs of a meltdown! 1. Sensory Issues worse than usual -> Textures may be described as "wrong" or "bad" -> Things may be perceived as louder than they actually are -> Things may be perceived as brighter than they actually are -> Room feels like it's closing in around you 2. May become more irritable -> May be more prone to snapping or having an attitude -> Could possibly be described as more "stubborn" 3. Trouble communicating -> Being non-verbal for a prolonged amount of time -> Trouble expressing feelings or emotions -> Could also speak faster than usual or slower than usual -> Saying things like "I don't know what's wrong" or "I can't figure out what's happening" 4. Difficulty taking care of self -> Forgetting to eat/not wanting to -> Not sleeping as they normally would -> Not having the motivation or energy to do basic tasks 5. Isolation -> This is a big warning sign! -> Not wanting to go out/leave the house/leave their room -> Struggling when they do leave their space 6. Increase in stimming (whether super noticeable stims, or more passive ones) -> Hand flapping, rocking, mouth popping, hair fidgeting, fidgeting with hands, etc These are some of the possible warning signs, but everyone is different. Now, here's some ways you can help a little experiencing this.

~Be patient and understanding. Autism can be scary outside of littlespace, but it can be scarier when little. Try not to get angry or frustrated. ~Avoid yelling or any other loud noises ~Don't force them to talk or communicate. Sometimes it's better to just have someone there ~Listen if they do try and communicate their needs. ~Going along with the one above, but don't feel hurt or like you did something wrong if they ask to be left alone or tell you they need space. Sometimes having someone around is too much and they might just need to process their emotions on their own. ~Communicate on ways to help once the meltdown seems to subside ~Remember that everyone is different. What you've seen work for someone might not work for someone else. It varies (which is why communication is good) ~Try to give suggestions if sensory issues is something that's a main struggle ("Try changing into comfy clothes" "Try a different blanket" "Turn off the TV?" "Turn off the lights?") Just trying to figure out what helps and what doesn't ~Offer a distraction if that's what they need (Ask about hyperfixations, even if you already know the answers to the questions. One of the good ones for me that always seems to come up is dinosaurs <3)

Remember: It's okay if something you do doesn't help. That's how you learn and you know not to do that thing next time. It's okay <3 You're doing great

[puppys-rhythm-heaven]

the tags on the last post are funny to me but also completely irrelevant to the post so.

here-

[bbeoms]

rugby!simon headcanons

hello, my sports hyperfixation this summer is rugby union, thus here i present you my rugby player simon riley brainrot! decided to write it cause why not???? someone needed to bring this idea to life. i hope you enjoy <3

fluff, suggestive, slight hurt/comfort

- plays as a forward (more specifically, second row/lock) so he’s always there during a scrum!

- and as we know, forwards are usually huge men 🤭 so 6’4 117kg simon is the perfect candidate

- you have to restrain yourself every time he’s in his kit cause have you seen how tight their jerseys and shorts are?????

- you can’t help but stare at how the fabric hugs his pecs and how the sleeves are lowkey cutting off circulation to his arms cause of how large his biceps are (and the way his tattoos peek out from the sleeves? chefs kiss)

- hikes up his shorts when he knows you’re watching and smirks when he catches you staring at the thick muscle of his thighs

- avoids wearing his kit around you when you’re ovulating cause he’s not sure he can control himself with the way you eye him like you’re ready to pounce

- (he learned his lesson after that one time you went to a match when you were ovulating. simon didn’t think it was possible, but you managed to milk him dry after you guys went home that night 💀 the hormones made you too feral until you managed to make him tap out lmao)

- anyone else become possessed by a succubus during ovulation?,,,,,, just me?,,,,, okay,,,,

- doesn’t usually wear a scrum cap during his matches

- but there was a couple of times he had to wear it (per the doctors recommendation) to protect stitches he had near his ear

- “ohmygod si you look like the end of a pencil ✏️”

- sulked at your teasing, he didn’t want to wear it either 😭

- you cooed and proceeded to shower his face with lil kisses until he forgave you

- felt his heart melt when you squished your cheek to his and took a selfie, your smile wide as you laugh at the way his blond strands were cutely sticking out of the cap (and how he still, looked like the end of a pencil)

- made it his lockscreen immediately

- being a rugby girlfriend isn’t always fun and games though

- it’s an extremely physical and dangerous sport and although you’d like to think simon is invincible, he’s still human

- it’s hard to believe but there are quite a number of players that are taller and heavier than him (you can’t say they have the same skill set though, simon is really good at his job)

- there’s always an underlying feeling of anxiety every time you watch him play

- injuries are a given

- split skin, bleeding ears and broken bloody noses are some of the more tame injuries you’ve seen simon get.

- simon coos at your tears and furrowed eyebrows whenever you tend to his injuries during rest days

- you don’t like seeing your man hurt!!!! :(((

- (okay but it is pretty hot when he gets all bloody in the face like in the first picture like hello??? lemme jump on you)

- straddling his lap while wiping the dried blood off his eyebrow

- “gimme a kiss”

- being cheeky and steals a kiss on your lips after you ignore his request

- reassures you that he’s alright and reminds you that he’s had worse injuries

- you give him a glare, silently telling him to not remind you of that time you thought he died on the pitch

- simon got hit with a high tackle, the fucker that was attempting to tackle him had his shoulder straight into simon’s neck (the guy got a red card deservingly) knocking simon back and motionless on the pitch

- you watched in horror as multiple bodies pile on top of him, not noticing that simon was out cold

- soon enough, the team’s medics were on field and stretching him away for treatment

- simon still feels your gentle touch on his face that day, thumb rubbing his cheek willing him to be okay

- he still remembers the look on your face despite being concussed. distraught, dried tears staining your cheeks.

- you were so scared, you didn’t know how bad his concussion was and what the aftermath of such injury would entail.

- he’d never felt such tenderness before

- he couldn’t believe that someone cared about him that much, didn’t think that he would ever find someone to love him like you do

- whispers i love you for the first time in his dazed state

- decides at that point that he won’t let you go, and has become a simp ever since <3

left to right pics: david pocock, tariq sims, chris robshaw (<- he would lowkey make a good simon riley imo)

[destiny-in-the-universe]

so, i have two bad end au's- both are heavy on the angst but the second one? i decided to rework on it and keep it from being too boring, and well, uh. i might have gotten slightly carried away; changes have been made with one of the villains and just- i am so sorry to anyone who has to deal with my bullshit, oops

[cupidkenji]

If you think I'm pretty

Pairing: Homelander x afab!reader CW: fingering, praise, slightly OOC homie, threats of captivity (he says hes gonna keep reader in the penthouse that's it I promise it's not genuine), cursing, sub!reader, porn without plot (I think this is applicable), they're in a relationship before this, reader says 'John' cause moaning homelander is funny as fuck Summary: Being a perfectionist, you're unsatisfied with a recent test score. Homelander has a cure for that. Disclaimer: reader is always thought to be chubby/fat but there are no physical descriptors here, just an FYI WC: 1,955 Genuinely idk I'd like to apologize for this. I fell out of my Criminal Minds hyperfixation like months ago and haven't written since so I'm really rusty. This is 100% a self-insert but reader is gn and not described other than the fact that they're AFAB. Also this was only proof read once so please point out typos if you see them <3

Your mother used to scold you for being too hard on yourself. Her face is virtually the only thing you can picture as your screen burns your eyes a bit. It’s too early for the high brightness of the device, having woken up before the sun could reintroduce your eyes to light. You’d set yourself up to wake slightly after midnight, intending to check the score of a huge test you’d taken months ago and simply go back to sleep in a matter of minutes. A rather stupid plan, in hindsight. You were questioning now if you knew yourself at all. Your phone had nearly been in your hand when you felt the cold burn of anxiety in your lungs. This test was a huge fucking deal. You were a hardcore perfectionist on top of that, trying with countless futile attempts to surrender your idea of the model score. You just needed to pass, not get your professor to memorialize you in marble for your pure genius. You’d gotten up instead of turning on your phone, brushing your teeth and making your bed before pacing the room slightly while you thought. Essentially, you were just allowing the mantra of ‘cope’ to bound back and forth between your ears for a couple minutes. You weren’t sure if you wanted to cope with the disappointment of a lesser score, or you were telling yourself to come down a couple pegs and be happy with getting by. The repetition of the word soothed that icy-hot feeling that had festered from your lungs to your fingertips, and you checked.

You were fine. Not the score you wanted, but you were fine. 

Mentally you writhed against the slump of your shoulders, but the weight of this self-inflicted shortcoming hit harder than you were capable of defending yourself from. The long sigh you let out was all frost as the tension left your airways. How underwhelming. You laid down on the bed you’d made not ten minutes ago, hearing the window slide open a few seconds into your pity party. You normally left it unlocked for him, knowing if anyone else attempted to enter your home, he wasn’t far. He told you himself that he seemed to have tuned into you specifically; swearing he’d be able to hear you on the other side of the city if you needed him.

“It’s way too early for you to already be having a bad day. The sun’s not even up.” He was closer now, fully sealed into your space and approaching you with comfortable footsteps. You never fully got over the irony of seeing America’s greatest hero flying through your window in sweatpants. “What’s wrong?” You always noticed the subtle way he changed how he spoke around you. In every interview or interaction you’d ever witnessed of his, he’d spoken like a character. For a man who hated having his words scripted, he spoke the same as every cookie-cutter movie he’d starred in. He didn’t talk that way with you, something you hoped was subconscious. A demonstration of the safety he felt around you.

You shrugged in response to the question. You acknowledged the trivial nature of your feelings, knowing you probably reeked of sadness to him but attempting to downplay it anyways. “Bad test score.”

He sat down next to you on the edge of the bed, allowing you the space to remain sprawled out. “Doubtful.” He laughed slightly as he said it, shaking his head and smiling. He looked at you, his eyebrows furrowing minorly. “What’d you get?”

“A four.”

“What were you hoping to get?”

Your voice was barely audible as you spoke, knowing he would pick it up but also trying to spare yourself the rush of immaturity hearing yourself speak would bring. “A five.”

He sighed - a sigh full of endearment that his eyes reflected as he looked at you. You told him once that his eyes were the first thing you’d noticed. It was sunny the day you’d met, and they looked practically ethereal. You’d seen such chaos reflected in them even from day one. The masses called him ‘soulless’ often, but you couldn’t understand such an accusation from anyone who had ever seen him. His eyes were practically overflowing with soul, every time you looked at him it was all you saw. They were capable of incredibly dangerous things but they were so entrancing. He was so fucking enticing. 

You broke the eye contact, but he nudged your leg and moved his head to try and follow your eyes. “Hey-” He called for your attention, so you looked back at him. “You know that’s a good score, right?”

You smiled small at him. “No- I know. I’m just…I don’t know- strict with myself.” You found it hard to put into words. You knew you’d done well, but the ability to feel pride felt withheld from you. Like your eyes bore into it but your mind refused to distribute the feeling it brought to something tangible.

“I think you’re just too much of a fucking perfectionist.” His hand was splayed across your upper thigh from where he sat. No matter which part of you he touched, he had a grip that made your head spin. He was so sure of himself, the strength demonstrated from such an unassuming form never lost the novelty that it’d held when you met him. “Can’t let yourself admit when you did good.”

You tried to be dismissive, but it was hard to fake anything with a man like him. “As if you aren’t, John.” His jaw got the slightest bit tighter at the use of his name. Such a miniscule action that easily dodges the eyes of people who aren’t looking. You couldn’t really imagine not looking at him.

“I’m serious.” His face was still relaxed, but the expression in his eyes had shifted. His pupils dilated and his full attention was on you. “You did good.”

The only con of being with somebody with abilities such as his was the lack of secrecy. You used to laugh with your friends about how grateful you were for the discrete nature of arousal when living without certain body parts. That went out the window when you started seeing him. He knew the second anything shifted within you. He had every perversion you’d ever dreamt about practically categorized by the time your two month anniversary had rolled around. One of his favorite pastimes was casually working a turn-on into conversation and just watching you squirm.

You fought the urge to pull away from his hand, feeling your stomach drop slightly at a declaration like that. “Thank you.” You looked away from him again. Something you knew he didn’t really like but choosing to try and save face over anything else. 

“Yeah…I don’t know.” You could see his focus on the topic increasing by the second. His disposition was happy, but he held serious and almost threatening undertones. He tightened his grip on your thigh and you looked at back to him, hesitantly following the silent command to keep your eyes up. “I think you should say it.”

“John-” His assertiveness was starting to get to you, it always did. You sat up on your forearms to be a little more level with him but he moved his hand from your thigh to your stomach and pushed you back down. The thought of having to lay there and explicitly state that you did well on your test felt like a kid having to write in repetition on a chalkboard in detention. 

He was looking down at you, the eye contact making you slightly dizzy. His face was kind, it almost always was when he was around you, but the conversation was derailing. “I just think it’s important that you understand this.” He was so good at making you want what he thought was best.

You inhaled, swallowing your pride and licking your lips. “What do you want me to say?”

That familiar, condescending smile was starting to creep onto his lips. “Just tell the truth.” His eyebrows raised slightly in a silent prompt. “Say you did good.”

His hand was descending from your stomach, making it’s way to the hemline of your underwear. You hadn’t bothered to change out of what you were sleeping in, only now realizing the vulnerability of it. You held your tongue for a moment, breathing out a quiet “I did good.” 

He tore the only fabric between his hand and you off your body as easily as ripping a sheet of paper and leaned in a little more. “Say it again.”

“John-” You said it as barely an exhale as he skimmed his hand over you. You hadn’t even registered just how sensitive or how wet you’d gotten in the few minutes you were talking to him.

“I don’t know why you act so fucking noble. You should be running Ashleys around in circles or giving interns your coffee order. Not any of this testing bullshit that you’re too good for anyway.” His tone elevated to that mocking, cocky tone that swept into the most shame filled crevices of your mind and tugged the most deprived parts into the driver seat. He thumbed at your clit while he spoke, increasing and decreasing the pressure whenever he felt like it and effectively snatching any remaining ability to form coherent thought from your grabbing hands. “You’ve been chosen by a God, honey. You can do anything, I can give you anything.” He got breathier as he spoke, seemingly soaking up the desperation you were excreting and matching it in a tenfold.

You felt two of his fingers enter you effortlessly and you couldn’t stop yourself from gripping his arm. You always felt the power imbalance most in times like these. A feeling like pulling an angel away from heaven just for yourself, combing through it’s wings with your fingers or trying to lap up a fraction of that status in a wildly inappropriate disregard for the natural roles of nature. He was so much more than you, but he just wanted you to feel good. You swore under your breath as he started circles on your clit. He never got hand cramps, never got tired. He would go until you couldn’t anymore.

“That’s it.” He had barely said it, more just exhaled the assurance under his breath. You were close, you’re sure he could feel it. “Gonna move you to my penthouse. Keep you braindead and needy.”

 It shouldn’t have hit you the way it did. Considering who he was, he could easily fulfill that promise with nobody at Vought even thinking twice. It was the way he said it, the way he acts. Always needing control and always right. The most powerful man alive spent his time fantasizing about control over you, and your stomach twisted in disgust at how badly it got you off.

He slowed his movements as your high declined. He was breathing heavy, but your heart was beating like a drum. He had the smallest smile on his face like the sound gave him a sense of satisfaction. You rose to your forearms, this time with no protest from him, and watched him stand up. He held the back of your head with the hand that wasn’t nearly dripping and kissed the top of your head. It was chaste and quick, but the domesticity of it made your throat ache. He uttered something about getting a towel to clean up, stating he’d be right back before exiting the room. 

You rushed the words out before he could leave. “But you didn’t-”

“Next time.” He just waved you off. “I just thought you deserved a little reward.”