#pleaseeee be mindful of the tags and concept

[daisyofwaterdeep]

[Accidental Confessions]

!NSFW! Rolan/Femcis Reader Mutual Pining, Aphrodisiacs, Dubious Consent, Dirty Talk, Vaginal Sex 5.3k

Rolan accidentally spills a love potion on himself. When you come to visit him, he can't hold himself back.

~~~ Being an employee at Sorcerous Sundries has it's perks--getting to hang out with Loroakan's new apprentice being one of them. You often muster up the courage to chat with Rolan during work hours, and though he seems stiff and nervous at first, he quickly warms to the environment. But when the beatings start, he starts withdrawing again. You try to talk to him about it, you show concern and worry, but he bats it all down with a few curt words. It absolutely breaks your heart. And then Loroakan dies. Rolan is busier than ever--you hardly ever see him at the ground floor, but that's fine by you, because when you do see him, he's happy. Tired and overworked, sure, but so happy that your heart aches with your own happiness. You do get a chance to chat with Cal and Lia quite often, and you live off of the scraps that they nonchalantly give you about their brother. How he can be quite stubborn. How he's a picky eater. How he snores. All of these tiny little glimpses of Rolan, filling out your fantasies of what life could be like, if only you had the courage to actually confess. When Cal and Lia are out of town, though, you try to check on Rolan a few times a day, bringing him food and drink, because you know he would forget to nourish himself otherwise. Even though he's neck deep in work, he always expresses appreciation with a soft smile during these moments. You tell yourself that it's all you need.

But one of these visits goes quite differently.

You worry your hands over your dress one last time before you go through the portal, a tray of tea and cake in hand (you always try to indulge Rolan's sweet tooth when you can). Rolan doesn't appear to be on the first floor, and a quick glance at the desks on the various balconies brings up nothing. Wondering if he may have slipped out while you were busy downstairs, you carefully make your way up the nearest set of stairs to get a better look, pondering if you should call out his name.

But then you hear him-- a low, pained groan, followed by hurried breathing. Your head turns to the sound, and you spot a pair of feet from behind several stacks of books on the ground.

"Master Rolan?" You hurry over, tea sloshing. It looks that he had been removing all the books from one of the shelves, likely to sort and catalog them. Did he fall and hurt himself?

Worry clots your throat as you round the stacks and he fully comes into view at your feet. He's got his back propped against the half-empty bookshelf, his legs sprawled out in front of him, his hands clawing weakly at his robes. And his face-- well, you don't really know what to make of it. He looks to be in pain, but even with his furrowed brow and panting mouth, you know in your core that that's not entirely correct.

"R-Rolan!" You nearly throw the tray down as you fall to your knees beside him, hands fluttering over his heaving chest, not sure what's going on or what you can do to help.

Rolan's eyes flick up, as if only just noticing your presence. The rest of his body seems desperate, out of control, but his eyes...they're assured, steady, unblinking. And, you note with a chill, they're almost entirely black. His pupils have blown so wide that only the smallest sliver of gold rings around them, like an eclipse. "You," Rolan gasps, his hands stopping their incessant grabbing of his own clothes to grab at you instead, "Of course it's you..." He gives a short bark of a laugh that dwindles into a breathy sigh as his arms wrap around your back, drawing you close with a surprising strength, "It's always been you, hasn't it?" Being pulled into an impromptu hug by Rolan would have sent you into a tizzy in any other circumstance, but right now you know that you can't be distracted by your own feelings. Something is wrong, very wrong, and Rolan isn't in his right mind. What was he even talking about? Are you the cause of this, somehow?

"M-Master Rolan," You try to pull free from his grip, and as much as it pains you mentally to do such a thing, it seems to be nothing compared to the wounded sound that Rolan makes when you finally wrestle free.

"Please," Rolan begs, dark eyes never leaving yours, his hands still on your sides, "Don't leave me, I--" Rolan bares his teeth as he fights to catch his breath, "Something...something's wrong."

The absolute desperation written across his face has your own breath struggling to come and go.

"What happened?" As you say it you grab his hands, ignoring the little thrill it gives you, and hold them between the two of you. "Talk to me, Rolan. Are you hurt?"

"Hurt..." Rolan's head hangs but his eyes are still on your face, as if it's his duty to look at you, "It hurts, yes--" He groans, a mixture of pain and aggravation, and his back arches away from the bookcase as he draws your hands to his chest with a near painful grip. "Please touch me, touch me..."

You're too flabbergasted to fight back as your hands are forcibly dragged down his torso. Rolan moans at the contact, as if the touch is all that he's needed. Even through the fabric of his robes, you can feel him-- the hard ridges of his infernal ribcage, then the softness of his stomach, and then-- You yank your hands away before they get lower, heat flooding your face and cold waves of shock wracking your frame.

He's turned on. The revelation smashes into you like a hammer to the back of the head. There's no way, right? Rolan, strong, proud, perfect Rolan is currently writhing beside you with need. Your crush, your infatuation, your beautiful, unattainable daydream of a man...There's no way that he's currently drawing your hands back down, bringing them to the distinct outline that presses from under his robes, and it even gives a twitch as he catches you noticing it.

"Please?" Rolan's voice is nothing but a hoarse whisper as he stops your hands right above his erection, "Please, just...a little, I only need a little bit..." His hands squeeze your own as he pleads.

Your body is covered in goosebumps and you can feel your thundering heartbeat in your throat...and between your legs. But despite that, you know you can't take advantage of the situation. It would be too easy to give in, to touch him in all the ways you've fantasized, but you know just how wrong that would be. Because you know there’s something else at play here. Rolan isn’t like this–he would never lose his faculties in such a way.

"I-I can't."

His face goes slack, a look of completely devastated disbelief. You squeeze his hands back, trying to ignore the pang of guilt at making him look so, so heartbreakingly sad.

"Rolan, please listen." You clear your throat as his eyes look unwaveringly into yours. "You're not yourself. You don't want me. You're under the influence of something--a spell, or maybe a potion..."

Rolan shakes his head as you speak, first softly, then with more force, denying everything that you say.

"Yes, Rolan." You say firmly. "Please, I need you to think. You were clearing this shelf before I came in, weren't you? Did you open an odd book, scroll, anything?"

"No, you need to listen." The helpless desperation that Rolan's been soaked in up until this point disappears in an instant. His body stiffens as he sits up, sharp claws digging into the tender skin of your wrists as he pulls your hands to his chest. You can feel the hectic speed of his heart. "I want you," He groans and licks his lips, eyes darting down to your mouth for a brief moment before locking back onto your eyes with a fiery resolve, "I've wanted you for so long." He grimaces, eyes glossy with emotion, "Please. Please believe me."

Oh, he's making this very, very difficult. The sincerity that drips from every word threatens to swallow you into this fantasy-- but that's what this is. Some manufactured fantasy spun by some incredibly potent magic.

But even still, your resolve is wearing down, and fast.

You have to get help, but the risk of ruining Rolan's reputation puts you in a very tricky predicament. You can't go and fetch just anyone. If word gets out about this, Rolan would surely be embarrassed. Perhaps Tolna is still downstairs...she might be able to help?

You raise up on one knee, making to leave, but your foot connects with something on the floor. You snap your head to the side just in time to see a potion bottle roll unceremoniously across the carpet. It's uncorked, but the tapered neck has kept some of the contents inside-- a nearly translucent pink liquid sloshes inside of it before it connects with the handrail of the stairs with a small clink.

So it was a potion, after all. Even if you knew that Rolan was under the influence of something, there's the tiniest part of you that feels hurt. Crushed by your own naivety. Even if you know that it's a ludicrous notion--Rolan would never bother with someone like you, and even if he did, it certainly wouldn't be like this-- there was some thread of hope there, somewhere deep in your heart, that maybe he really did feel something for you.

But of course not. Ridiculous. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Did you drink that?" You turn back to Rolan and try to gesture to the bottle with your hand, but Rolan still has it in a death-grip. You nod towards it with your head instead. "Why would you do something like that?"

"What?" Rolan huffs, eyes never leaving your face, "What are you...?" He grimaces and tugs at your hands, a note of frustration furrowing his brow, "Are you teasing me?" That causes a flicker of happiness to light up his face, easing the tension from his jaw, "You're toying with me, aren't you?" And again his face shifts, taking on that serious edge of desperation he had before, his voice falling to an intimate hush, "You want me to beg for you, don't you? I can beg for you, if that's what you wish--whatever you want."

He's hardly making any sense-- you're really not sure if he's just too far gone to remember, or if he really didn't drink it. You can't think of why he would take such a potent love potion, so perhaps it fell on him while he was clearing the shelf....that makes far more sense. And with Loroakan being the bastard that he was, it doesn't surprise you in the slightest that he'd have something so nefarious on hand.

The story starts to fall into place, as well as a course of action. You need to take the potion bottle downstairs. Hopefully Tolna will still be at her counter, but if not, you can run over to the nearby apothecary. Once the potion is identified, you can get an antidote, and then everything will be okay.

But first...you have to pry yourself free from Rolan. That might be the most monumental task of all. But you have a little plan for that as well.

"Rolan," He perks up as you say his name, a small, hopeful smile shaking on his lips. "I need you to stay here, okay?"

"No." This smile disappears just as quickly as it had appeared. He shakes his head like a petulant child, sweating palms pressing your hands more firmly against his chest, "You're not leaving me."

"Just for a moment," You assure him, forcing a calm, even tone. "You said you'd do anything for me, didn't you?"

"Not this," Rolan frowns so hard that his chin dimples and his eyes shine with desperation. You realize that he's on the verge of tears. "Y-you can't leave me..." His eyes rake over your face, looking for any shred of mercy, before he hoarsley croaks out, "Please."

Oh gods. This might not just be a monumental task--it's shaping up to be an impossible one.

It's time to switch gears. Playing the calm, collected one isn't getting you a single inch, but playing his game might get you somewhere.

And it's for Rolan's sake. Completely for his sake. You aren't doing it for your own desires. Just merely...playing the game.

"Listen to me...darling." Your voice trembles at the edges and prickles of heat bloom on your face and chest, "I need you to be good and stay right here." You swallow thickly before adding, "You want to be good for me, don't you?"

The groan that leaves Rolan nearly fogs your brain completely over. He leans his head back against the shelf, his horns clacking dully against the wood and his adam's apple jerking roughly as the noise from his throat dwindles into a low, needy whine.

"Please," He pants, body rolling up in a pseudo-thrust before collapsing back to the ground in a mess of shivers, "Good boy...I'm your good boy..."

Such a simple phrase, and such a strong reaction...the excitement that wracks through your body is so potent that you actually feel numb.

No. No. You have to rein yourself in. You can't let yourself get swept up in Rolan's condition. If you took advantage of him right now, he would never forgive you. Fuck, you wouldn't be able to forgive yourself.

"Th-that's right." You hurriedly say, mouth dry, "Be good for me, and stay right here." The squeak of your voice diminishes any sort of authority you hope to convey, but it's the best you can muster.

You've still got one foot on the floor and make to stand up fully, hoping the action will finally pry your hands free of Rolan's grasp--

"No!"

The force of the word is only matched by the force of which you're pushed back, tumbling to the floor unceremoniously and landing on your bottom. A shocked exclamation leaves you, but it's jerked from your lungs as Rolan pounces you, his full weight knocking you flat on the floor and pinning you.

All at once, the dynamic has shifted into something far more dangerous. Rolan's hair is falling out of it's neatly styled coif and frames his face as he looks down at you, a predatory glaze shining in his dark eyes. With his hair obscuring the light on his face, the angles look much more severe, and the gold of his irises damn near glow with their intensity.

What do you do? Do you fight back? Cold, brittle panic rises in your throat as you realize just what sort of position you're in. His hands are on either side of you, caging you in, and your legs have been rendered useless with his knees between them.

"Don't leave me," Even if his position gives him dominance, his voice is still pleading, desperate. "I-I need you. So please..."

"Rolan," You say carefully, voice tight, "Don't do anything you'll regret." You think to put your hands on his chest to keep him at bay, but fear touching him might send him into a frenzy.

"Regret...?" Rolan searches your face, trying to glean more understanding but seeming to come up short. "I don't regret adoring you."

He truly doesn't seem to understand the situation he's put you in. And perhaps you don't either, because your heart beats faster at his words, magic-induced as they may be. The initial fear you felt is now melting away into an uncertain excitement-- Rolan is on top of you, his knees pressed against your inner thighs, his lips parted and eyes glimmering with admiration. How many times have you dreamt of just this? How easy it would be to believe his sweet words, to believe that the man above you truly does want you.

"You don't." You're not sure if you're saying it more for his sake or yours. "Rolan, you don't adore me. You've been drugged and aren't thinking clearly." The words taste bitter, but you suppose truth often can be.

Rolan growls in frustration, and you hear his tail smack against something behind him.

"Why don't you believe me?" There's tension in his face, but it loosens as he shakes his head slowly, "What do I need to say for you to believe me?"

"You don't--"

"I do." Rolan drops from his hands onto his forearms, bringing your faces mere inches apart, "Fiercely."

Feeling his hot breath mixing with your own has your mind clouding over. All you can muster is the same two words.

"You don't..."

"Every day I look forward to you bringing me tea. To the point that I've been getting less work done, just waiting to see you." Rolan exhales harshly, in something like a disbelieving laugh, "Sometimes, I'll come downstairs just to watch you work. Just to catch another glimpse of you."

There's been plenty of times when you've been in the shop and caught him on the second floor balcony, but had he really been watching you? You'd always be too flustered to do nothing more than a cursory look before awkwardly continuing your work.

You don't have time to ponder it for too long because Rolan pushes on, his eyes commanding your attention with their fiery glow.

"I spend so many days sitting at my desk thinking of your smile....gods, and your laugh." He smiles at the memory, a soft, tender look that makes your stomach tumble, "The way your nose crinkles when you're really laughing. And the way you always fuss with your hair after you set a stack of books down."

Do you really do that?

Rolan's smile eases away. "And during everything with Loroakan, you always made sure I ate. And the washbasin under the desk-- you put that there for me, didn't you? So I could clean up after his beatings." His jaw clenches and a brief storminess darkens his eyes before softening, "You cared for me during that time, even when I pushed you away… I was horrible to you."

"You weren't horrible," You whisper, afraid your emotion will break your voice if you raise it any higher than this, "You were going through a lot."

He had been talking so coherently that you had almost forgotten the current situation, but reality comes crashing back when he whines deep in his throat and his body rocks above you.

"I don't deserve you," Rolan's body trembles and his eyes shine as they glance down at your lips, "You've shown me such kindness, and in return, I do nothing but defile you in my thoughts..."

His words catch you off guard to such an extent that you gasp--a breathy, deep noise that ignites Rolan's eyes. You've made a mistake. A very, very bad one.

"That's right," Rolan is matching your whisper now, body still impatiently rocking above you, "Every night I lie in bed thinking of you. Aching for you. You, under me... just like this." A groan rumbles deep in his chest and his nostrils flare, "Imagining how you'd say my name as I touch you. Taste you--" He practically hisses the word out as his body trembles, "Fucking my hand, wishing it was your pretty cunt stretched around me..."

"Rolan--" You practically wheeze, liquid fire rushing into your stomach as your hips jerk up from the floor, like they have a mind of their own.

"Yessss, ahh-- j-just like that," Rolan's eyes roll closed and his chest brushes yours as he lowers down. When his eyes flick back open, he almost seems like a different man. Starved-- that's the word that comes to your mind, and it's an apt one, with the way the tip of his tongue dips out and curls, as if tasting the air between you two. "Again...say it again."

Don't. Don't do it. Do not stoke the fire. The warning’s buzzing through your brain, but there's a larger presence in your thoughts, chanting for him to do something. To prove that he wants you. To make good on all of his sordid fantasies. Even if it's all a lie, even if it's the potion's spell, you want it. Even if you shouldn't, you do. But somehow, you're still hanging on by the thinnest of threads.

When it's clear that you aren't going to say his name, Rolan whines deep in his throat and you can hear his claws scrape against the carpet on either side of you. It seems that he's holding onto the same thread.

"Please," Rolan leans down and brushes a heated kiss against your lips, "Fuck, please--" Another kiss, "Please, please..."

He's kissing you. It's not a daydream, even if the warmth and softness of his lips don't feel real to you. All you can do is lay there, slack, your brain rapid-firing with the sensations. The hot, hurried puffs of his breath from his mouth. The tickles of his hanging hair on the sides of your cheeks. The press of his perfect nose against the side of your own.

Even if your shock-induced limpness is both involuntary and possibly the best course of action, it backfires on you almost immediately.

As Rolan's kisses grow firmer, his lips push yours open, making the wetness of your inner lip catch on his own. That little touch of heated moisture has Rolan mewling, and all at once, his tongue is inside your mouth.

Your eyes fly open (wait, when had they closed?) and your hands come up to Rolan's chest to push him away, but his muscles are taut and he's locked in place, his hot, hungry tongue pressing past your teeth to lick along your own tongue. The muffled sound you make is a mixture of panic and surprise, but Rolan seems to take it as pleasure with the way he moans in response.

But maybe he's not too far off the mark. Even if you want to deny it, his tongue is divine. The way it tastes, the velvet feel of it, the way it pushes in deep before pulling away with a wet roll of his lips, only to enter you again. It's like your mouth is being fucked by him, and it's all you can do to not tip completely into ecstacy.

"Stop--" You try to break the kiss by turning your head, but his mouth only finds the curve of your neck, "Stop, Ro--aah!" His sharp bottom teeth drag roughly under your jaw before being soothed with a hot, desperate lick. "Stop," You gasp, though your hands ball into his robes, begging him not to, "R-Rolan, you have to--"

Your words choke off into a shameful whine as Rolan finally gives in and lowers his body to press against yours. He slots in perfectly between your legs, his hard cock pressed firm against your aching sex. The both of you stiffen and freeze, as if mesmerized by the mutual throbbing you can feel from underneath your clothes.

"O-oh," Rolan almost looks drunk with the way his head sways and his eyes glaze over, "Oh g-gods...I can't--"

It should be a comfort to hear. At the brink of ruin, Rolan has managed to regain himself. But the sigh you let out--from relief or disappointment, you're not sure which-- is cut off on a choked gasp as Rolan yanks the bottom of your dress up.

"Wait--" Your hands fall between you both, tangling in your dress as you try to pull it back down, "Wait, R-Rolan!"

It's like he can no longer hear you. His shaking hands push the front of his robe to the side and nearly snaps the lacings of his pants as he tears them open. You only get a glimpse of his cock before he thrusts his hips forward, rubbing the heated length of it against your panties. But what a glimpse it was-- thick, ridged, and damn near maroon with how blood-swollen it is.

Your mind reels as you're assaulted both physically and mentally with Rolan's body. The heavy drag of his erection against your clothed pussy. The soft scrape of teeth and wet heat of his tongue trailing down your neck to your chest. And the sounds Rolan is making-- he's groaning with such intensity that it rumbles in your ribs.

"I can't..." Rolan says again, but after another grumbling moan, he finally finds the remainder of his words, "I can't hold back anymore..." He raises his head with a lust-drunk sway to lock eyes with you once more, his brow bunched with his desperation and loose strands of his hair sticking to the sheen of sweat on his forehead "I need you--fuck, I need you."

You want to get lost in those words, to savor the soft, needy delivery of them, to pretend that they were said under less dire circumstances, but you have no time for any of that. Because as soon as Rolan says it, his hand darts between you both and yanks your panties to the side and then you feel the maddening heat of his cock against the bare wetness of your pussy.

You try to cry out, but the sudden blast of fear racking through you grips your throat, only allowing a pitiful squeak to escape.

Please--" Rolan begins rutting into you, hips grinding fast and hungry, spreading your lips with his ministrations and easily gliding through the slick that's drenched your sex, "Wet, oh gods, so fucking wet--" He's babbling now, his words shifting between low groans and high, tight whimpers, "Wet for me-- you need this too, don't you? You need me...oh gods, need me to fuck you, f-fuck your pretty cunt, please--"

The head of his cock catches on your entrance, and you feel a pulse of hot liquid shoot from him, dribbling down your ass. Then all at once, he's inside you. It happens at a dizzying speed-- the deep burn of being stretched quick and full, the hot gush of semen, the snapping hips dragging you across the carpet in hiccuped jumps, the claws that grab and tear and sting your arms, all the while Rolan weeps, crumbling his body weight entirely on you.

"No," Rolan gasps in big, aching breaths as he sobs into your shoulder, "Nonono, I c-can't--" Hot tears fall on your neck, "Forgive me, p-please, forgive me--"

He raises his head and looks at you, his face twisted in equal parts despair and adoration, wet tear streaks carving shining paths down his gaunt cheeks. It's a direct contrast to the beastial breeding of his hips-- lovestruck emotion against mindless, animalistic instinct. And there's pain there, too. He came almost immediately, but his body just won't let him stop. His cock is still stiff and slamming into your cunt, the wetness of your sexes sucking and slapping lewdly under the chorus of his whimpers and cries.

A sob of your own retches from your throat. It's all too much. Even if it hurts, the churn of his desperate hips grinds against your clit with delicious abandon. And the way his hard cock curves and roughly drags inside of you, reaching so much farther than fingers ever could, stroking your walls with greedy need. It's all terrible in the most exquisite way-- the pain a sear, but the pleasure a rolling wave of heat that grows thicker and deeper with every thrust.

You're disgusted with yourself, even as you wrap your arms around Rolan's back and your heart sings with the warmth of his cheek against your own. You shouldn't be enjoying this. It was your responsibility to not let things get this far. But you wanted it. From the moment you knew what was happening, a part of you wanted exactly this. To have him cling onto you and tell you all the sweet things you've fantasized about countless times. To fuck you.

"Sorry," Your voice comes out in a hoarse whisper as the heated tension in your gut begins tipping through your body-- "I-I'm so s-sorry, R-Rolan--"

And then your world shatters away as your orgasm is wrenched from you. Every synapse in your brain goes cold and your body shakes and tightens, his name cried out through numb lips as you clench hard around him, your body as desperate as your mind to keep him right where he is. Rolan. Rolan. Rolan. Every part of your being is consumed by him in that moment, and nothing else matters. Nothing else exists, other than him.

"That's it," Rolan's voice finds you in your pleasure-haze and enhances it with it's sweet tremble, "That's it, yes--fuck, ahh-- please, love you," He buries himself in you and stills, lips meeting yours as he babbles and his cock twitches and throbs deep in your cunt, "I love you, o-oh-- love you, please--"

Your climax had begun it's descent, but the feeling of those words sighed into your mouth makes another rush of rapture overtake you. You're only somewhat aware of the way you mewl, a wounded noise that dwindles and rises as your tongue finds Rolan's once more. Even with the hard edge of his desires satisfied, Rolan kisses you with no less passion, his moans of relief rattling your bones with their sheer intensity.

You could happily lay there kissing him like this for eternity, but now that the warmth of your desire is ebbing away, reality is setting back in. Disgust curdles in your stomach, sapping away any last dredges of an afterglow that remained.

You turn your head to break the kiss and Rolan pulls back, his eyes still uncharacteristically dark but more level than they had been since you found him. But with the beginning return of his facilities, you can't help but feel that he looks...lost. You can see the weight of the situation slowly creeping over him-- the distress. But even still, there's still heat behind those despairing eyes. The understanding of what's happening, but not the strength to stop himself.

"D...do you feel better?" You croak out, your throat feeling a wreck.

Rolan's lips move, but his voice fails him. For the first time, his eyes willingly leave your face, focusing instead on the carpet beside you. "It...hurts." He finally manages, his words so soft that they're almost inaudible.

That's enough to finally move you into action. Your entire body aches as you gently guide him off of you, the both of you hissing as his cock slips from you with a wet squelch. Rolan makes no effort to get up, instead rolling onto his back to look up at the high ceiling of the tower. You can't help but think that he looks gorgeous like this--chest heaving, hair in disarray, cock still twitching and stiff and slick with you. And then the disgust comes back and propels you to your feet.

"Sorry," You stammer, a fresh bout of tears threatening to spill down your face, "I'll...I'll get help."

Rolan whines deep in the back of his throat before he can stop himself. He drapes a hand over his eyes, like he wishes to shut out the world.

"Please," He gasps, voice gravelly with suppressed emotion, "Hurry."

You start to walk down the stairs you had ascended only shortly before. Each trembling step you take brings you a fraction more into reality. Regret, horror, revulsion....they build in your gut with each passing moment. By the time you make it to the other side of the portal, you're running from the tower, wishing you had never gone up to begin with.

[aroace-poly-show]

hello friends we are starting this kind of early cause i have. a lot of mutuals. so. taking in requests now for the

marlo mutual christmas/winter gift doodles

putting this above the read more so people see it: ‼️‼️you do not need to celebrate christmas for this!! if you’re one of my mutuals that doesn’t celebrate christmas but you still want one you are still included ‼️‼️and if you really don’t want one then just like the post without commenting please ‼️‼️ otherwise i might assume you just haven’t seen the post and dm you to be sure aifbksnfnd (or let me know directly. comment or dm or ask or whatever you want. i just need to know that you’ve seen it and don’t want one)

i did this last year. really simple concept. you give me a few characters you like and i will draw a silly little doodle for you and send you an ask (or dm or tag you in a post with if i can’t send it in an ask for whatever reason) on christmas day!! i will have this post queued to go up multiple times a day so hopefully people don’t miss it sorry if it gets annoying fast LMAO

some answers to potential questions and clarifications here:

-you are not required to give me a doodle in return, you can if you want but you do not have to!! there is no pressure to!!! if you do want to make a return gift though then characters i like i’ll list them at the bottom

-begging you. if we’re mutuals and you want one pleaseeeee respond in the comments. it keeps things all in one place for me, and if i am not sure whether you want one or not i will just ask you directly and i get Anxious so if you want to save yourself the trouble of me bothering you in dms for it pleaseeee don’t feel like you’re not included in this, and just comment on the post

-id appreciate like. a handful of characters you’d be happy to receive a doodle of and not just One, since i might have trouble drawing some and i don’t wanna send you a really shitty doodle or stress myself out trying to get it right in time fjnskdnsk

-they do not have to be characters i know about!! literally any you like!!

-i’m doing this really early so i can give myself enough time for it but if you change your mind on the characters before just let me know!!

ummm. if i need to add more i will. but i think that’s it for now!! praying i’ll actually be able to go through with this i am so sorry if i end up having to give stuff out late 💔💔

anyway if you really do want to give me one in return. i think i’m pretty obvious about who i like and you’re free to do others i didn’t mention here that you know i like too, but here’s a few jic anyone wants a list: anyone from wonderlands x showtime, mafuyu asahina, basil from omori, vflower, siffrin, loop, mirabelle

[formulawolff]

Would love a blurb on this if you can -

gg getting baby fever watching Jack with Toto over a home race weekend… something she hasn’t considered until being with Toto, given we’re in Austria this weekend, I’m in my feels 😂

me thinking about this concept:

here’s a short blurb for you! (and for me too let’s be honest here)

“he asked if we could come by the garage,” susie shoots you a wink, “ever since he figured out papa’s new girlfriend is also his favorite driver, he’s been asking to see you nonstop.”

jack shuffles over to you, a crumpled paper in his hands. he sways on his feet, a bashful grin apparent, “i-i have this for you.”

kneeling to the concrete, you’re at eye-level with the youngest wolff, tenderly accepting the paper out of his hands, “why thank you, jack. that is so kind of you to bring me something!”

“he made it with the nanny,” susie states, fishing her phone out of her pocket, “so god only knows what’s on that paper. i apologize in advance if—“

“daddy!” a squeal catches your attention, your head lifting towards the entrance of the garage.

there stands toto, engulfing his youngest in his arms, hoisting him onto his shoulders. at the massive grin on toto’s face, signature dimples and all, your heart flutters. yet, the team principal’s eyes are on you, his gaze softening the moment your eyes meet.

“guten tag!” susie chirps, “i see jack found you.”

“it was a surprise visit,” a chuckle rumbles in toto’s chest, “i was planning on meeting with some journalist for an ‘exclusive interview’ but they rescheduled for tomorrow. it must not be a pressing matter. so, i had some time and figured i would—“

“come and see your lovely lady?” susie teases, folding her arms across her chest, “you’re not subtle, toto.”

at her remark, you can’t help but notice the crimson hue dusting his cheeks, flourishing into his neck, “well — i, um. yeah. that was my plan. after this quick visit i was going to—“

“meet with us.” susie finishes, her tone light and airy, “well, looks like it all worked out because jack was begging for us to come by the williams garage.”

“would you like some lunch?” toto shifts his body, jack fiddling with his hair, “i was thinking of bringing you some anyway. you need to eat. you have a busy day ahead.”

“how about the three of you all have lunch together?” susie suggests, checking her watch, “my partner is going to be coming in at any moment now, and i need to meet up with her. this is her first grand prix so i want to ensure she has a good time.”

“will you bring her by the paddock?” you arch a brow, jutting out your bottom lip, “pleaseeee susie! i want to meet her!”

“maybe,” susie puckers her lips, “if things are going well, yes. she’s a little nervous. i don’t want to overwhelm her.”

“we’ll handle jack,” toto offers, “we’ll get him some lunch too.”

“thank you,” the corners of her lips curl into a wide grin, “both of you. this means a lot!”

“go get your girl!” you stick out your tongue, “and make sure she comes by the williams paddock!”

“no promises,” susie starts to stroll out of the garage, her voice carrying, “i will try my best!”

taking numerous steps forward, you wrap your arms around toto’s muscular torso, nuzzling into his polo as jack pats your head, giggling.

tilting your head upwards, you can sense toto leaning in instinctively, pursing his lips for a kiss. yet, jack intervenes.

“no kissing! mama says you have cooties.”

“who?” toto inquires, “me? surely i don’t have cooties. you might be the one who has cooties!”

at the raised octave in his voice, you can’t help but melt. keeping jack on his shoulders, toto motions his head towards the mercedes paddock.

“come on, let’s go get some lunch.”

at the playfulness in his interaction with jack, your mind can’t help but wander.

maybe you would want your own child with toto.

or two.

two wouldn’t hurt.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

. . . 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐲.

[ 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 & 𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 ] —

please read thoroughly before you follow/interact!!

✦ 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭-𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞

this is a smut-free blog!! the reason i say that instead of just sfw blog is because i occasionally rb suggestive content (whether it’s fanart or fics), and write + post mild dark content (mild gore, other horror elements, twisted dynamics, yan stuff, etc). those posts are usually tagged with cw dark content or cw suggestive! some of my general posts might also be suggestive/dc-leaning. 

in other words:

i won’t write or rb full on smut, but that doesn’t necessarily mean all my content is sfw. please mind the distinction!!

and with that being said — please don’t tag me in smut / explicit fanart / heavy dc, or send me any nsfw asks!! :’) suggestive stuff (jokes, tension, bare bodies, suguru’s tits, etc) is obviously fine, but i’d prefer to keep this blog free from anything too explicit </3 (additionally, i’m uncomfy around pregnancy/childbirth topics!!)

i understand that the line between sfw and nsfw can be really thin, so don’t hesitate to shoot me a dm if you have any hesitations or questions!! i don’t want anyone feeling like they have to walk on eggshells around me, especially those of you who regularly write/interact with nsfw content!! i’m sensitive to quite a few smut tropes and dc topics, but still an avid supporter of smut/dc writers, and very anti-censorship in general :)

✦ 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰?

minors can follow and interact, but once again; please please mind any suggestive/potential dark content that i might rb or write!! :’) i would ask that you stick to the sfw stuff for my peace of mind… i don’t curate this blog to be a safe space for anyone other than myself, so i can never guarantee that the content i post is suited to you + won’t make you uncomfortable — if it does, then you’re always more than encouraged to unfollow/block! i never take it personally, so please don’t hesitate!!! even if this blog is typically on the sweet side, it’s still run by an adult!!!

in the same vein, bloggers who write/interact with smut and dark content are always welcome to follow/interact — just please mind my own boundaries and understand that i might not be comfortable following back depending on how sensitive i am to the particular content you post, and how you tag it!! it’s never ever personal, just for the sake of curating my own safe space on this website <3 but i’d love to chat with you either way!

this seems like a good place to say that i thoroughly support blocking, softblocking & unfollowing for any reason at all!! if my content makes you uncomfortable, or if you find me annoying, or if i’m spamming your dash — or anything else — pleaseeee do whatever you want to do!! never feel pressured to follow me just because you like my writing, or because we’re mutuals, or for any other reason. i will literally never ever take it personally!!

✦ 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 / 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬

i don’t take requests, but you’re always more than welcome to drop by my inbox with brainrot or concepts <33 or for any other reason at all!! i don’t bite!!! (neither do the mice…. probably……..)

if you’d like to pick an emoji or title to go with your asks, then feel free :3 so far these are my anons:

🐑 , 🌙 , 🌖 , 🍰 , 🐟 , 🦐 , 🌺 , 🪷 , ❄️ , 🍓 , 🪄, 🐰 , 🎀 , 🧸🍪 , 🫧 , 🃏, 🌷, 🦈, 🥭, ☕️, 🪼, 🪅, 🫀, 🧠, 🙂‍↕️, 🌱, 🪐, 🐰🩺, sleepy anon, stsg anon and arinon!!

with that being said: please don’t send me hateful asks, whether they’re directed towards me or any other creators + asks with uncredited fanart attached!! i’ll delete them and block you based on the severity of the ask :’) please understand. and please keep in mind that my brain is a big mess — sometimes i might answer your ask instantly, other times it could take me weeks. it never has anything to do with you or your asks, i promise!! i love receiving them and thinking about them 🥹 just pls be patient with me!!!!

✦ 𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐬

many of my favorite characters are awful human beings <3 i’m a lover of all villains and that extends to characters like kenjaku and sukuna, but also ones like makima (csm) and mori (bsd)!! 

if that makes you uncomfortable, or if you think that equates to me condoning their actions / that liking them reflects my morality irl, then please block me!! i post about my blorbos regularly, and i’d hate to make anyone uncomfortable, but this is my little blog bubble at the end of the day. look after yourselves!

✦ 𝐝𝐧𝐢

last, but not least; please do not interact if you are bigoted (racist, ableist, queerphobic, misogynistic, pro-israel, etc) + if you harass people over the fictional content they create or consume!! (under any circumstances)!!!!

(thank you sm for taking the time to read all this, i appreciate it more than you know 🥹 if you have any questions, feel free to send an ask/dm!! i hope i made everything clear & concise!!!)

[disacurveball]

im a little lost on what exactly is harmful about drawing japan in hatsune miku get up? he's canonically an otaku and would like that kind of stuff. it's a silly show and not everyone likes historical stuff

the wording on that post was kinda more in a joking manner, my point was in the tags. there’s nothing wrong persay with the hatsune miku getup in particular, I was just using it as a joking example of the kind of behaviour I don’t really like seeing.

To say hetalia is just a silly show is…not a take I agree with. The very concept of personified nations is nationalistic at best, straight up propaganda at worst. If use them in human or non-nation AUs, that’s a whole separate thing, and not what I’m talking about here. Additionally, POC fans who use the characters/nation OCs to represent their own heritage and history is also not what I’m talking about. What I am saying is to attach certain personalities and headcanons to characters who represent nations can lead to dangerous perceptions

For HWS Japan in particular, the soft boy-ification of him insome fan content is not great in two areas:

1) even outside of the nation context, there is a history in the West of the infantilization and emasculation of Asian men. Which, you know, is racist. I often see Kiku get infantilized a lot in ships with the white men of the show (AMERIPAN, but I have seen it with us too Asakiku fans so please stay alert with the content you make)

2) completely erases what Imperial Japan did

That last part actually isn’t entirely the fault of the viewer, if they are simply taking hetalia at face value (pleaseeee don’t). Because Himaruya himself, at least when he began Hetalia, was a Japanese nationalist. And one of the goals of Japanese nationalists is to cover up all the atrocities of the Japanese empire, often utilizing soft power.

Japan’s soft power image, a lot of the cultural exports like anime “otaku” type beat, was very much originally engineered to change the world’s image of the country. So it’s important to recognize that in Hima’s characterization choice to make Kiku into that.

Himaruya has had a history of nationalist and anti-Korean sentiments. Just look up how the South Korean government banned Hetalia for the depiction of their country in it. Look up MOEKAN, which was an early comic by Himaruya which features a Korean protag whose entire point is to show that Koreans are unjustified and should just get over what Imperial Japan did to them.

Hetalia is not just a silly show when Himaruya’s characterizations are directly impacted by his own political ideas. Without deconstructing the way he wrote HWS Japan is to replicate some of those nationalistic choices that he made.

TLDR: The concept of hetalia is so steeped in history and nationalistic biases that even if you “don’t like historical content” you can’t ignore it. Ignoring it when writing personified nations can lead to dangerous perceptions about history (which you know effects real people, especially the people who have directly been victimized by the actions of a lot of these countries), especially when solely relying on Himaruya’s characterizations, because he VERY much writes the characters with his own biases in mind.

[prettyboykatsuki]

i wanna say something kind of controversial

[monstrouslyobsessed]

Concept: A cannibal cook is in love with the little pie-maker next to restaurant. His little lady loves his meat pies and always ask him to give her his secret, and all he says is “everything is in the meat”. —anonymous

a/n: sorry about the inactivity, haven’t been feeling too well the past few weeks;; i’m going to do my best and get another concept out by tomorrow after this one. enjoy!

—tw / tags: gn reader, cannibalism, unknowingly being fed human meat, meat eating, murder / death, mentions of feederism?, gore, general yandere themes, sfw, long post, unedited —featured character(s): cannibal butcher / chef

“It’s all in the meat, darlin’.” His chuckle was a boisterous one, the kind that warmed your chest in a funny way and had you sticking out your bottom lip in a pout. His crooked grin told you he had no intention of sharing his secrets with you.

You thrummed your fingernails on his glass countertop and kept your pouting. “Oh, come on, I shared my secret peanut butter pie recipe with you! Can’t you throw me a bone just this once?” You wrung and huffed, puffing your cheeks out like a child.

You were being silly—though exchanging one of your secret recipes for his financial support to keep your little bakery floating during a hard time was cheap trade-off (he wouldn't accept anything else when he caught winds of your bakery facing the risk of being closed down for good). The chef didn’t owe you a single thing.

 Still, his pulled pork was to die for. The best-tasting one you ever had, and it was even better than your uncle’s! You had to know how he bested over your uncle’s masterpiece.

The chef snorted, his smile beaming through his bushy beard. “Sorry, suga’, ‘fraid I can’t.” He teased, leaning closer to you with his elbow pressing on the shiny surface.

“Pleaseeee?” You pleaded, craning your head to meet his twinkling gaze and shooting him your best puppy-eyed look. You need to know.

He burst out laughing again and poked his finger on your forehead, dragging a scowl from your adorable face. “Lemme think about it, eh?” You flustered at how deep his voice was.

A quiet ding interrupted your parting lips, and the chef pulled away, glancing over to the roaster over in the back (or you think was a roaster oven, you weren’t sure) to where you couldn’t see. He slapped his hand on the countertop and clicked his tongue. 

“Your lunch’s about ready. Gimme some minutes, darlin’.” The chef pardoned himself and ducked away from his position into his kitchen. For a hefty guy like him, he was awfully quick on his feet.

While bustling himself around through the open window you peered through, you debated on whether to buy additional meats to cook at home. You weren’t low in your meat stock yet, but your uncle might appreciate rising to the challenge to beat the chef’s. 

When the chef emerged from his kitchen with a white Styrofoam box in hand, you pointed at one of his wrapped meats in his refrigerated sections, “Can I have the pork shoulder to go?” You accepted the box and absentmindedly handed over your card for the payment.

“Sure thing, hun. 5 pounders be okay?” The chef accepted your eager nod as his answer. He made quick work of it all, packing your newly acquired meat in wax paper. Settling your pork atop your styrofoam box, glancing your way with amusement when you rolled your eyes at how casual he was about propping it in your hands—literally, the chef rang you up.

Returning your card and tucking the paper receipt between your fingers, he leaned on his surface and grinned at the determination you wore on your expression, “Gonna try to beat out my secret recipe, eh?” He teased.

“It had to be your sauce.” You decided, replacing your card where it belonged, and minded your goods. You needed to hit up your uncle and see if he’d be up for experimenting with you.

“Sure, sure,” the chef’s chuckle was deep, rousing a strangely comforting feeling inside your chest. He waved you off, startling you out from your effort to sort out what exactly it was that settled in your heart. “You should get to eatin’, ya lunch won’t stay hot for long.”

“Oh, right!” You needed to get back to work—the baker’s work never ends. You scurried to the door and spread your fingers from your heavy box in an awkward wave. “Thanks, I’ll see you later, okay?”

“See you in a couple of hours,” the chef returned, resting his elbows on his countertop again and watching you hurrying back to your bakery through his storefront window. He’d have to wipe his surface down again, smearing it with some greases from his arms, but that was alright with him.

It was worth it seeing you. Worth knowing you’d be eating his meat that he worked so hard to perfect, just for you. Thinking about the image of you eating, had him salivating in his mouth.

He wished he could’ve watched you enjoying your lunch, knowing how oblivious you are to the truth of his secret recipe. It made his heart flutter and stirred something funny in his lower half.

You were a darling little thing. And he, was not.

He considered himself a tad on the ugly side, large and round, packing both fat and muscles. He was not a man most would consider perfect husband material (he certainly was not a pretty boy) nor did he have many clamoring to put a ring on his finger through his door.

Still, as he entered his kitchen and wandered inside the massive walk-in freezer he kept, he was keen on trying. To be that perfect husband material for you. Gazing across his hanged meats, most with exposed ribs and dark red meat ready to be cut and collected, he hummed and counted how many “pigs” he had left.

They were barely skeletons now, their heads absent from their bodies and tucked away elsewhere. Their brains were good ingredients for multiple recipes but weren’t popular with most common folks. What a shame, the chef absently thought, they were delicious when done right.

Anything else, like eyes and skin—all the soft bits he couldn’t make into ingredients, he’d ground up and feed to his hunting dogs. They enjoyed chewing on the uncooked bones too, though he made sure to get rid of anything far too big for them by bashing them into smaller pieces and throwing them into the grain feeds and old leftovers to the pigs he kept at his farm. 

Especially the teeth, fingers, and toes.

A shriveling sob, teeth chattering, had his head turning. He tutted and crossed his beefy arms, crinkling his leather apron, at the sight of a naked man balling into a corner. His skin was pale from the cold, with a layer of frost growing, and his white breaths were so thin that the chef wasn’t sure he was breathing at all.

One side of his head was bloodied though, with the red color frozen on his face. 

He didn’t use enough force earlier, it seemed.

“Pl—please…” the man begged, shuddering and rocking in a fetal position for what little warmth he had left.

Granted, the chef shook his head, he was in the rush to make his darlin’ the perfect meal, and didn’t hit him hard enough to kill him.

He should remedy that.

Closing in, he curled his hands into fists and pulled one over his shoulder. 

“No—no!”

Thwack.

Thin blood splashed the wall, but it was so minuscule that the splatter was hardly noticeable because of the cold. Scrubbing it off would be a pain in the freezer, but doable. The entire freezer was due for a good deep cleaning and proper look-over anyway. 

The man limped over to the floor and was no longer breathing tiny clouds of white. Gripping one of its arms, the chef dragged it off the ground and examined his latest addition.

He’ll need to gut it and slice off the good cuts.

It got good meats on it too, though some bits might be a mite too chewy. Even tough meats still have their places as good proper ingredients. They were especially good in stews, marinating in broth for hours until they become so tender they’d fall apart in your mouth. Ooh, that sounds so good…

A smile curled his lips at the thought of cooking this meat for you. 

As the saying goes, 

the quickest way to win your heart is through your stomach.

—end

[warnadudenexttime]

The Assistants - chapter 1

Beta: The lovely @madly-handsome

Author's note: This is based on my assistants au, the original post is here _ 

I highly suggest you read it to understand what the concept of assistants is about :D

Word count: 1278

Warnings: none that I can think of but, if you notice any please alert me!

Next

“So…” I heard Roman breaking the comfortable silence between us. “Your birthday is coming up-”

I groan loudly alerting all tables near us at… whatever this place’s name is, I never bothered checking the name of this coffee shop while walking in.

“Hear me out Virgil! I know you don’t want anything big for your 29th birthday.”

I interrupt to jog his memory despite him totally not needing it, I just need to tell him yet again my solid reasoning. Maybe then he’ll leave me alone about it. But that is just ol’ stubborn Roman. “As it just reminds-”

“Reminds you of the impending doom that is aging or dying or blah blah blah.” He mimics as throws his hands in the air though, swiftly putting them back down to tap on the table. “Like hold on and give me your attention for a solid… minute!”

“No.”  

“PLEASE!” He begs, trying to pull puppy dog eyes on me. You'd think after being friends with him since high school he would have learned that I don't fall for such a trick. Alas, Roman isn't the sharpest tool in the shed.

I groan even louder than last time “Fine… fine… just get on with it before I fall out of reality again or some shit like that.”

“Well!” he starts. “Patton and I have produced a very important presentation for you!”

I scoff audibly, “You and your little ai.. Robot thing?”

Roman gasps incredibly deafening, in a highly offended manner. Oh great, I’ll get another speech again ughh. At least this stalls the birthday ‘presentation’ or whatever.

“I’d have you know I take GREAT insult to that! You know he’s more than that!”

“Oh pleaseeee it’s not like it has emotions or whatever, someone must have had to program that thing.”

“Patton’s literal function is care about my emotions Mr. Black Parade!” Suddenly Roman’s phone’s camera lights up as the 2-D figure, known as Princey’s assistant pops up from his holographic projection.

“Roman, you called? Are you ok kiddo? I’m sorry for not coming out sooner I was looking over some self help books for-”

“I’m fine Patton thank you for caring, you can calm down.”

I give off an awkward cough waiting for my best friend’s attention back. I guess pappy Pat catches wind of this and quickly turns arounds to face me fully instead. P.a.t.t.o.n goes from bug eyes of worry at Roman to more cheerful soft ones.

“Hey Kiddo, didn’t see you there!” Joy oozing from every word he speaks. Yep Pat is definitely a care giving, emotional assistant alright.

“Y’know Roman you sure have gotten attached to it, after only having it for a couple of months.” I pick up a tiny sad sigh probably coming from Pat after I ignore him, I almost feel kinda guilty…. almost.

“Oh come on Virge you can’t blame me, look that cute little face. How can I not get attached?!” P.a.t.t.o.n beams up at Roman.

“Daww Kiddo you’re too sweet! But remember who else is adorable!”

Roman huffs, however answers Pat back. “I am-“

“Exactly! See you are improving!”

I cough yet again, “As much as I hate the presentation you brought up Princey I’d rather see that than being stuck here watching you two in silence for an hour.”

“Oh right!” P.a.t.t.o.n perks up, “Roman can you begin the introduction while I start setting up?”

“Of course!” He smiles as he starts speaking. “As you and I are aware, you aren’t the fondest of assistants.” I nod slowly in agreement, what’s he getting at?

“Are you proposing that I attempt to hang out with Pat again?” Key word there, attempt. “Because if you don’t remember last time-“

That was a totally disaster, Roman left Pat and I alone in his house for a while. We just had sat there being quiet with P.a.t.t.o.n trying to make conversation for a second before giving up as it wouldn’t stick.

“Yes I remember all of the event that happened.” He rolls his eyes, “Yet, we were leaning more towards the idea of getting you, for your birthday an-“

“ASSISTANT! YOUR VERY OWN ASSISTANT!” P.a.t.t.o.n shouts his holographic arms wave up in surprise but he quickly put them over his mouth. “Oops.. sorry Ro that was supposed to be your grand reveal wasn’t it?”

Roman releases a soft giggle, “No no it’s fine Pat you can do your part now.”

P.a.t.t.o.n’s eyes light up, “Will do!” Patton disappears for a solid minute hopefully coming back with his preparations I assume. He pops back up and pins a couple digital documents to the screen that has tons of bullet points on it. He pushes his visor up, “While I know you don’t particularly want one-”

“And that's the truth.” I sneer.  

“Nevertheless, an assistant is what you need!”

I raise an eyebrow in response. I highly doubt that, but, Roman seems so happy about this so I may as well give it a chance for him. I sigh, give a small smile and say “Ok, go on then.”

Immediately both of them grin greatly and Pat continues on his marryway.

“Well Ro has noticed your amount of anxiety has risen recently, your snarkiness has as well increased and while that is just your personality it’s even more than usual. Which, is a sign to me that your mood has been lowered as of late.” He takes a deep breath. “Now that I look at you, you seem to have eyebags from probably lack of sleep AND THAT ISN’T EXACTLY HEALTHY KIDDO. My job maybe to worry about Ro, but as you are important to him, by extension I must do the same for you.”

I’m left kinda speechless, how do I respond to that-

Sir-sing-alot awkwardly chuckles “Wow Patton… that was better than we practiced.”

“Thanks Roman, I just got a little too emotional there, but I can’t change my function currently.” P.a.t.t.o.n rubs the back of his head awkwardly. “Please Virgil, just try an assistant out? I promise you ten cookies it’ll be worth it!”  

“Fine-”, I grunt but agree anyway.

Both of them take a sharp inhale probably ready to scream in delight or something, I cut them off before they can do so however.

“Now! Before you two start throwing a party or whatever I do have one condition!”

They before nod, silently waiting for what i’m about to say.

“I only have to keep it for a month.” I utter.

Pat speaks up, “A year at minimum.”

“2 months.” I retort

Roman chimes in “6 months!’

“3!” I shout back, getting some odd stares in the process. “Take it or leave it!”

P.a.t.t.o.n whips around to give a look to Princey and gets the same look back.

They both at the same time say, “We’ll take it!”

A sad expression washes over Pat’s face, “Roman your phone is about dead, Should I shut off?”

“If you don’t mind that Patton.”

The light that once held P.a.t.t.o.n shuts off and he vanishes as quick as he came. Roman picks up his phone and puts in his pocket. “I’m really happy Virge, you’ve made the right decision!”

“Is it because you care?” I snort.

“That- and I may have already ordered an installment of an assistant that should be coming to your house tomorrow…”

Yeah, that sounds like something he’d do. “Of course you did.”

-

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