Manhandling
Synopsis: Caesar pushes you a little too far. You (have no choice but to) retaliate.
Pairing: Caesar x gn!reader
Warnings: profanity, (sensitive) horn grabbing, Caesar gets a lil too hot and bothered, reader has grabbable hair, reader’s kinda mean to him (please treat the meow meow with care). Caesar says “ma’am” once. Sadomasochism.
WARNING: THIS IS HIGHLY SUGGESTIVE. Read at your own risk.
Notes: I was chatting with @lairu while she was drawing Caesar’s 100% expression for the blushing meme, and this is what came of it! Enjoy!
The copy-pasting process from google docs was a little messy so please notify me if the paragraphs aren’t showing in the right order!
You’d like to say that you had developed a certain sort of tolerance for Caesar’s antics. You’d like to say that you’ve gotten used to it, that you know how the story goes. That you can handle it and find ways to avoid his eccentricity. The truth is, Caesar seems to find some twisted pleasure in catching you off-guard and annoying the ever loving shit out of you. Which you had at some point wished you could reciprocate; you were more than ready to stoop down to his level. However, any attention seems to be good attention for Caesar. And while you were prepared to get on his nerves, you weren’t ready to give him what he was so obstinately begging for at the moment.
Which is how you ended up here. About to reach your damn limit with him while he pressed all the right buttons to piss you off. You had given up on taking deep, calming sighs a while back.
Caesar slapped your work right out of your hands as if he were swatting away a pesky fly. “You know what you have to do,” he insisted, leaning over your shoulder, taunting you. There was no way in hell you’d actually entertain him and his constant need for attention. Because once you started, there was no stopping. You’d be stuck with his annoying ass until he deemed it was time for him to go. Which usually takes a long fucking time to occur. And there’s no shaking off once you participate in his games. So, you did the next best thing.
Silently, you got up to your feet, brushed yourself off, and walked right around him. If you walked far enough, maybe you could leave the room and get to another one. A lockable one. However, Caesar had other plans. While you expected him to object to your taking off, you hadn’t planned for him to grab the hair from the back of your head to keep you right where you were.
Your reaction was instantaneous. You weren’t going to sit around and let some attention-starved man drag you around by the hair as if your job was to entertain him. It was all too embarrassing to let him do something like that to you. So, with a quick hand, you grabbed his wrist and squeezed it hard enough for him to let go of your hair. You turned on your heels and, focused on giving him a taste of his own medicine, your hand that wasn’t currently letting go of his wrist reached up to grab at the base of his horn. You sneered at him as you pushed him backwards until his back crashed against the wall. Caesar let out a pathetic yelp as you kept him trapped between you and the wall, his shoulders tensing and his head tilting, trying to ease the pressure you put on his horn.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, you ruffian?!” He cried out, as if he weren’t in one great, big self-dug grave. You couldn’t even take him seriously; not with the way your grip on his horn was obviously affecting him. Flushed, tense, nearly hyperventilating, dilated pupils and upturned eyebrows. The touch, as well as the sudden domineering attitude you put forth was doing things to him and maybe you’d have taken notice of it if you weren’t as pissed off as you currently were. Still, he somehow found the audacity to speak as if he hadn’t brought this upon himself.
“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are,” you practically spat at him, pulling on his horn. Caesar let out a pathetic whimper when his head was forced back a little. Had you been in your right mind, maybe you’d have felt a little bad for him. Or maybe you’d have noticed that he had melted into your touch a little, as if he were enjoying the brutal way you were handling him at the moment. “But you do not get to fucking manhandle me around as if I’m merely here for your entertainment. Am I clear?”
Caesar’s chest was heaving up and down as his breathing had yet to calm down a little. He wasn’t in the right mindset to fully understand what you were saying, but you weren’t in the right mindset to comprehend that. So, instead, you gave another harsh tug on his horn. His knees buckled as he yelped. One of his hands came to weakly grasp at your wrist. “Please..!” He whimpered. The touch seemed to bring you back a little and you lessened the pressure.
“I said; am I clear?” You repeated. You’d gone this far; the least you could hope for is that this would at least bear fruit in some way. Caesar tried to nod, but was unable to do so. You still wanted an answer from him. “Am I clear?”
“Yes..!” He quickly replied, most likely saying this to save his skin more than anything else. You weren’t having that. You needed more confirmation of his understanding. So, shifting your hand down on his horn to firmly grasp it at the very base, where you supposed it was attached to his skull, you growled out a ‘yes, what?’. You’d expected him to confirm that he wouldn’t treat you like crass anymore. “Yes, ma’am!” He whined. His back slid down on the wall a little as his knees seemed to give out. His eyebrows scrunched together in some odd semblance of pain, though he seemed quite far from actually suffering.
You hadn’t expected that type of response, and you were a bit scared of the reaction it internally coaxed. Out of shock, you withdrew from him completely, frowning in slight confusion at him. “Just don’t treat me like that again.” You replied. You took a few steps away from him as Caesar tried to gain his bearings. He pressed a gloved hand to his face, as if trying to gauge how flushed he was at the moment, despite, well, wearing a glove and knowing it would prevent him from feeling temperature altogether. Though from the fact that he didn’t seem all that far from sweating, it should be enough of a sign for him to realize that he was incredibly red at the moment. He looked down at you with dilated pupils and slightly upturned eyebrows. His eyes were a bit foggy; not quite all there yet.
“You, uh…” He huffed out, catching his breath a little. He was still leaning against the wall. Now that you were a bit calmer, you couldn’t believe what you’ve done to him. The extent to which you… influenced him. That sort of power made you feel… good. Were you not a decent person, you might have tried it again on him, right now.
Instead, you decided to flee before Caesar could convince you to give in to your impulses.
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