SAGAU and co-oping w/ your friends
Because I can't write anything unless it's mildly chaotic.
[Reader isn't a god in this scenario, the characters are simply just aware of yours, and their existence.]
[TW/CW; swearing, bad grammar, my brain kind of just melts halfway through the first sentence]
How had this happened, again?
Diluc had been battling against some hilichurls, an energy that felt like they were boring into him guiding his movements. However, after a moment the world seemed to pause, and the 'eyes' that circled him swiftly turned their attention towards something else.
Diluc peeked towards you, ---- who was messing with the menu -- before turning his attention to the motionless hilichurls.
Suddenly all of Teyvat snapped back a few moments, three more figures -- and by extension, three more mysterious voices -- appearing.
"OH EM GEE, HI GUYS :D"
"omg deeluc. so hawt"
"U all cant retrain your excitement, can you?"
From that point onward, everything went downhill.
You and your friends had swapped to a team of him, Kaeya, a member of the Fatui, and a middle aged man.
"AYYYYOOOOO, WHAT UP? IT'S YA BOI, CHILDEEEEE"
Diluc never liked the Fatui. Or your friends.
There aren't many things that can scare Aether
But the three Lumine's, who are all circling him like some type of cult?
That terrifies him.
He doesn't even know where these sadistic beasts came from.. they kind of just appeared, each being followed by another being, like how you'd follow him.
These voices began yelling out profanities as soon as they appeared, swinging their vessels' blades directly through him.
You would scream and strike back, but after a bit, you had suggested dueling against Andrius.
This appeared to have appealed your comrades, as they all quieted down, agreeing.
Although it didn't last long, as they soon directed their attentions towards the Wolf of the North.
"AY AY AY AYA AY DUDE STAY BACKPLEASEMYPOORBABYHASLIKE2HP" "**************************"
"lmao just get better at the game"
"tell that to ur lvl 12 xiao"
"dont talk to me or my son ever again"
Hey! I’m new to your page but I love it so much and your writing is literally amazing!! I don’t want to say you have talent because that under mines all the hard work you’ve put into writing but you are amazing :< My request is a one piece fluff with Sanji, Zoro, Luffy, Kid, Law, Robin, Nami, Killer and and any of your favorite characters too ^ I don’t know if this is considered modern or not but basically them asking you to go grab their wallet and you see their drivers license or ID picture and it’s such an old crusty caught off guard picture like (sanji’s wanted poster bad) and they get embarrassed about it once they see you start laughing 😭. It can be modern or even within the one piece realm I just thought this would be so funny since this just happened to me 💔 Have a good day!!!
TEENAGE DIRTBAG - SANJI, ZORO, LUFFY, KID, LAW, ROBIN, NAMI, & KILLER X READER
Warnings : modern AU, cursing, lighthearted teasing from the reader, Kid always has a couple of empty threats at hand, they are all disasters, this is not proofread, reader is gender-neutral!
Genre : fluff, crack
Word count : 2.4K words (oh shit)
Additional notes : Ahhh, you’re being so unbelievably sweet! I’m so so glad you enjoy my writing. I loved this idea so much because it’s the perfect mix of playful and cute. Sadly, I’ve only ever seen Killer like twice and he’s barely said anything, and I haven’t really graspd his personality yet, so please excuse me if he’s OOC🥲 I just wanted to give you a heads up that I only write for a maximum of 6 characters per post, and in headcanon form. If fluff pieces were what you wanted, then I only take single characters per post I did them all anyways and as fluff pieces because I’m sure you didn’t know this, given that you’re new to my blog. I hope you enjoy this, nonnie! Let me know what you think💗
Requests : Are open! Check the rules over here.
Want to support me financially? Here’s my CashApp!
“Could you grab me my wallet from my bedside table, sweetheart?” Sanji called from the kitchen, “I’m a little busy at the stove right now, and the set of knives I ordered last week should be here in a few minutes. They’ll need my identification.”
“Sure thing.” Getting up from the living room couch, they went to snatch his wallet off his table. It was a little messy, filled with tiny coupons and various credit cards (yes, including the ones he froze years ago after his estranged biological father had practically forced them upon him). Struggling to pull out his ID amidst all this jumble, they said, “You really should sort out the stuff you don’t use anymore. I’m pretty sure at least half of these coupons have—“
They paused, their fingers finally picking at his ID. “Oh my fucking God,” they choked out, before a wheezing laugh escaped them, “Sanji, what on earth is this?”
“Hey!” he cried out, thumping sounds coming from the stove as he no doubt was switching the knobs off, “Stop looking at that!”
“It looks nothing like you,” they laughed, as he ran to their side. “What’s with the terrible frown? And why did they edit your face to look so… boxy? And—“
“Yes, yes, very funny dear,” he scowled even deeper than in the picture, cheeks burning red with embarrassment. He snatched it from their fingers, as they continued to shake with laughter. “Stupid shitty photographer didn’t even give me a chance to blink before he took it.”
“You do look like you had your eyes open for hours,” they chuckled behind their hand, trying to stifle the sound as he stuffed it back into the wallet, preferably for burial. Shaking their head, they sweetly kissed his cheek, enjoying his raging flush.
“Oh well, might as well keep your handsomeness for my eyes only.”
“Zoro, did you pay our taxes?” they asked, frowning as they stared at the letter that had been sent to their mailbox.
“…No, I forgot,” their boyfriend grunted from the next room, continuing to deadlift in his little private gym, “Just use my phone and do it online.”
“Fine,” the sighed, making to get up, “Where do you keep your wallet? I’m gonna need your ID.”
“Probably on the coffee table.”
Humming in response, they followed his instructions and began to take out what looked like his ID, before they loudly cursed bloody murder.
“What’s wrong?” Zoro’s voice was worried, and he soon appeared in front of them with a concerned look on his face, drenched in sweat and a little flushed with the exertion of effort.
“This fucking jumpscare,” they managed to cry out, choking on a laugh as they thrust the ID in his direction, “You look like you’ve been convincted of twenty cases of homicide. What are you glaring so hard for?”
“Shut up. It’s only cause I couldn’t see well,” he grumbled, blushing furiously as he stomped over to reach for it.
Swooping out of his way, they snickered at him, “Was your “not seeing well” also the reason behind the tongue in your cheek and hardened jaw? Or is your face just programmed to permanently look like you want to deck someone?”
“Should’ve done these taxes myself if you were gonna be a little shit about it,” Zoro swore, his entire face blooming red down to his neck. The mortification won over, and he grabbed his ID.
“You probably should’ve, yeah,” they giggled, leaning over to kiss his jaw, much to his chagrin, “Guess you’re not photogenic. Doesn’t matter, you’re the best looking man to me.”
When Luffy asked them to go for a trip of snack scourging at the supermarket, the implication that they would buy booze was very clearly there. His hands busy with all the bags of food they’d bought, he’d pointed out the bottles of sake and beer he’d wanted, but hadn’t been able to pull out his wallet with his hands full.
“My hands are full, can you get that for me?” Luffy begged, after having huffed and puffed for a few minutes trying to pull it out of his pocket with only his pinky finger.
Chuckling, they nodded and did as their boyfriend asked, before glancing at his ID photo and choking on their spit.
“Holy shit, babe,” they wheezed out, body trembling with their laughter as they handed it over to the cashier, “What’s with that face? Constipated much?”
“Listen, I was hungry,” he moaned pathetically, one of his busy hands pressing onto his stomach as he pouted at them, “Like right now. And the man kept stalling for no good reason. I thought I was going to pass out.”
“So you somehow ended up looking like a wilted flower?” they arched their brow at him as they carried their drinks and tugged him by the arm. “Should I worry about you dying out on me now?”
“Yes, if you don’t hurry and drive us back quickly.” Luffy looked dead-serious as he started moving so fast that it turned into him pulling them along and not the opposite. “Unless you want me to eat the snacks right now—“
As per their almost-monthly usual, they got pulled over by the police in the middle of the road, and Kid could only grit his teeth and hiss out a “Fine” when asked for his driver’s license (because past experience taught him that calling an officer bringing him in for speeding a “cunt” was a sure fire way to end up in jail).
He fumbled with his pockets, before realizing that his wallet wasn’t there as it usually was. Before he could ask for it, they found it in the space between the driver’s seat and the gearstick. They quickly pulled out his driver’s license, briefly glancing at it once before their eyes blew comically wide and they slapped a hand on their face, trying to muffle their laughter.
Kid murderously glared at them, before finishing the routine up with the officer. As soon as they drove past him, they let their hand fall and howled with laughter.
“The fuck do you find so amusing?” he growled after they grew increasingly more hysterical.
“Your-your face!” they cried out, tears now falling down their face, “You never told me you had an emo phase! The black bangs, piercings, smokey eye…” they trailed off, interrupted by their loud laughter.
“I think I’m going to actually fucking kill you,” he hissed, despite the light dusting of red on his cheeks, which only fueled their amusement even further.
“Was this another one of your catchphrases in your teenage years?” they chortled, wiping away their tears and very clearly enjoying this.
“I’m parking right fucking now and kicking you out of the car.”
“Got everything?” they asked Law at the doorstep, pulling their suitcases along behind them.
He nodded, but still went on to flit through his waistbag, checking the stuff along as he did. Their flight was still in a bit, but he didn’t want to turn around halfway through the drive to the airport. “Passport, visa, cash, credit cards, ID… wait. The driver’s license.”
Cocking their head to the side, they looked a little confused. “What do you need that for? We’re vacationing abroad.”
He gave his partner a very pointed look, and they shrugged and went to get his license nonetheless. “Weren’t you the one who insisted on visiting every single monument around the city? We’ll need a rental car for that, and I’m the one that has an international driver’s license.”
Before he could say anything else, a howl of laughter erupted from the bedroom, growing louder as they came up to him. Exasperation in his eyes, he turned to them, already knowing the reason behind their extreme amusement.
“Yes, haha, very funny, Law’s squinting at the camera,” he drawled, holding his hand out, “Now could we get this over with? We’ll run late.”
“Oh no, you’re not getting out of this,” they smirked, clutching the license close to their chest and taking another peek. “The squint’s not so bad, honestly. I can tell you just weren’t wearing your lenses. My problem’s with the god-awful hair.”
“Mullets were a thing when I was 18,” he snapped, trying to come up with an excuse—and clearly failing, if their peels of laughter were any proof. “And most teenagers don’t have much of a sense of style.” Law finally snatched the driver’s license from them, and took his suitcase rolling behind him on the way to where their Uber would pick them up.
Locking up behind him, they grinned, shaking their head. “Not much of a sense of style now either, love…”
“Robin, darling, I love you, and I would buy you anything you ask for, but we’re going to find ourselves broke by the end of the month if you keep spending ludicrous amounts of cash on book shipments,” they sighed, hurrying over to the bedroom where their girlfriend sat perched on her armchair, book in hand, “I think you need an intervention.”
The girlfriend in question chuckled, setting her reading glasses down, “Oh dear, that must’ve been last month’s ARC package. Let me get my wallet.”
“I already paid for it, but they asked for your ID for confirmation of the delivery. Is it in your wallet?”
Robin looked thoughtful for a moment. “No, I think I left it out on the coffee table when I came back from buying wine for our date night.”
They nodded and made their way out. It was silent for a few moments, before they snorted with laughter. “Oh God,” they choked out, before muffling the sound and opening the door once again. Moments later, it shut behind them, and they exploded into a fit of laughter, bursting into their bedroom.
“What’s so funny?” Robin smiled patiently, watching them fail to catch their breath.
Patting their chest, they finally managed to speak. “Y-your-your face! Why do you look so murderous?”
The woman chuckled, closing her book and walking up to them to glance at the ID. “I think I’d been woken up pretty early that day to take this picture, so I was rather grumpy. The photographer had made an inappropriate comment, and this was the only way I could express my displeasure.”
Their laughter quieted for a moment as they mumbled, “Fucking bastard,” before they glanced at the picture again and giggled, “And what’s with the half-shaved head?”
Robin shook her head, swiftly taking the ID from their fingers and pocketing it stealthily. “Let it be a reminder to not let teenage bullies stick gum in your hair.”
“There’s a lot to unpack in that statement…”
“I’m telling you, sir, I’m definitely old enough to be driving this.” Nami gritted her teeth, trying her best to smile sweetly at the police officer. “As a matter of fact, I’m old enough to carry out every single legal procedure in this country.”
“No driver’s license, no passage,” he firmly said, though he did hesitate for a second afterwards, probably after noticing just how stunning she was as she fluttered her eyelashes like that.
They placed a hand on her arm. “It’s alright, Nami. I’ve got your wallet in the drawer. Brought it just in case.” Pulling it out, they began to rifle through her numerous cards, before blurting out, “Holy fuck,” and bursting into laughter that they desperately tried to muffle behind their hand, their other hand giving their girlfriend her license.
With a look that could kill, she snatched it and gave it to the waiting officer, who soon sent them on their way. Revving the car back up, Nami glared at them.
“What, you didn’t expect me to comment on that picture?”
“What do you say we forget about that and turn on the radio?” Nami forced a big grin on her face, though the vein in her forehead remained prominent.
“Aw, it’s not that bad,” they cooed, before cracking up, “I mean, of course there’s the outdated perm, and the garish blue glitter eyeshadow, and the very obvious fact that these are not the eyes of anyone even remotely sober…”
“You’re paying for today’s date and next week’s one too,” Nami snapped, before exhaling loudly and slumping in her seat. “God, why’d you have to see the worst photo I’ve ever taken? I’d even had a terrible acne breakout then, so my face was in pain the entire time.”
“It’s alright, love. I still think you’re the most beautiful girl in the world,” they said as they leaned across to kiss her cheek.
Tension left her body, but she still managed to say, “You’re still paying for the next two dates.”
“Fuck, I’d been hoping you’d let that go.”
Killer had been stopped at the entrance of the concert arena as usual. With his mask almost always on, the security guards always needed to check he was of age by asking for his ID. He didn’t say much, knowing that this was a routine procedure, but he did tense a little with annoyance at having to take time out and possibly miss out on the best seats up front.
“I’ve got both of ours’ here,” they nodded from beside him, taking out both their wallets from their pockets and pulling each of their IDs. When it came to their boyfriend’s, however, they couldn’t help the snicker that left them at the sight of his picture.
“You’re having too much fun with this,” he grumbled, before taking it and handing it over to the man, briefly lifting his mask for a second for him to confirm his identity.
As they began to walk in, they toom his hand in theirs, still laughing a bit. “Not my fault you never told me you used to imitate Kid’s punk style.”
“He was the only friend I had, of course I’d want to look like him,” Killer shrugged, “No one told me that straightening hair like mine does that much heat damage though…”
“Can’t believe you had a side part, Jesus,” they chuckled, shaking their head, “Not to mention the patchy beard. And what’s with the panda makeup?”
“Again, Kid’s idea,” he sounded a little annoyed, a light dusting of pink climbing down his neck, “He was all for the kohl-rimmed eyes, but neither of us knew how to apply it—hence why it got all smudged.”
They hummed, squeezing his arm lovingly. “Love the bright red lipstick-hair combo, by the way, but I still prefer the light purple lipstick on you. It’s very… you.”
Killer cocked his head curiously in their direction, wondering what they meant by that. With one last chuckle, they said, “As… interesting as other colors look on you, purple suits you best because it goes well with your pretty blue eyes.” Before he could get flustered and grunt that they were being foolish, they began to drag him by the arm. “We gotta hurry, there’s only 2 front row seats left.”
A tiny gift...(and happy October everyone)
@melkors-big-tits....Thank you for being a friend and for having my back and holding my hand...
You are an exceptional artist who always inspires me greatly and I am honoured to have been granted the privilege of writing a terribly irreverent and VERY cracky ficlet about your adorable picture.
The art in question 🖼️ here 🖼️
Warnings: irreverent towards the Valar, Manwë/Ulmo implied, sexual innuendo...this is complete and utter CRACK
How trick-or-treating was invented
“You look just like your brother when you make that face,” Ulmo exclaimed, his voice crashing like tempestuous waves against the impassive form of Manwë, Lord of a lot of winged things.
“Uh-oh,” one of the tadchicks – neither entirely tadpole nor truly eaglet – whispered conspiratorially to the bobbing flock of their siblings, “they’ve invoked Melkor, The Great and Terrible.”
It was always a bad sign for the atmosphere in the Undisturbed Lands (which were shaken by the various disagreements of its inhabitants on the daily) when Manwë’s brother was mentioned. Melkor was a last-ditch insult betraying despair and lack of inspiration, akin to a series of phenomena ending in “-phobia” in another world they knew nothing of yet.
“I’ll show you how alike my brother and I are,” Manwë howled after a moment of silence; just like the winds he controlled, he took a long time to take a deep breath before unleashing the violence of his anger.
“Bring it!” Ulmo cackled derisively just as one particularly forward tadchick – small and a tad more rotund than was the norm – nudged their unofficial leader.
“We should go and seek out this Melkor-creature,” the brazen youth piped up, “and see for ourselves if he is evil incarnate.”
Acquiescent murmurs broke out among the unusual creatures (for there were neither accidents nor abominations here since the departure of the self-same Melkor who was kept alive and present by the incessant gossip of the Valar) who were as of yet unnamed due to their vast number and the lack of inspiration of their genitors.
Clearly, their minders were otherwise occupied and hence, they theoretically could sneak out unseen to make their way to the legendary fortress of Utumno. As children of any kind and species were wont to do, they believed in the feasibility of their hare-brained plan and were blissfully ignorant of their glaring lapse in judgement: if Melkor was indeed the most terrible and cruel of all existing beings, it would undeniably have been a woefully injudicious decision to call upon him unchaperoned and unprotected by the might and power of their parents.
Invigorated by their own enterprising spirit, they were about to set out on their epic quest when a truly pathetically small tadchick suggested that they might want to disguise themselves for good measure. How they expected to fool the Lord of Utumno, brother and almost equal of their esteemed father, by such a subterfuge remains a mystery to this day, but – deciding that Varda’s white-faced anger was the most frightening sight they could think of – they attempted to recreate that horrifying sight by covering their heads with thin blankets, woven of tears and starlight and other immensely precious elements that should never be defiled in so callous a way.
“There’s someone at the door,” Mairon declared, stretching out lazily on the chaise longue to make it very clear that it would fall to Melkor to check who dared disturb them in their bubble of carnal intimacy.
Watching the godly – in shape, in temperament, and in nature – creature get up wearily, Mairon chirped: “My dear Lord, would it not be judicious to clothe your magnificence?”
It was highly unlikely that their foes – lazy, self-indulgent, and highly superstitious idiots that they were – would present themselves in the middle of what he supposed had to be “night” to them, but it was still better to pre-emptively eschew a situation in which Melkor would have to wrestle a handful of suicidal Eldar while naked.
Not that Mairon would have minded the spectacle; the mere thought of that image made his body prickle with nascent arousal, and he decided that, once this loathsome interruption was dealt with conveniently, he would coax his master into another romp between the sheets.
Getting up reluctantly from his comfortable sprawl, he crept closer to the door in which Melkor – clad in an array of bright violet strands of fabric impersonating a dress and a pair of plush slippers Gothmog had gifted him – stood like the wrath of…like his ownall-consuming wrath, listening to whoever was outside.
From time to time, he nodded very seriously which would have made Mairon curious if he allowed himself such feeble-minded weaknesses.
After braving darkness and an unexpectedly chilly climate – they turned out to be much more coddled than they had expected themselves to be – the tadchicks were rightfully appalled to discover that the great and powerful Melkor turned out to be much less a frightening monster worthy of fireside stories and much more a huge, fleshy, broadly grinning Vala in fluffy slippers.
Summoning all their courage, they had banged their tiny arm-like appendages against the solid door with as much authority as they had been able to muster, waiting with bated breath for it to swing open to reveal a fanged, clawed, fearsome monstrosity.
After all the mumbled and hissed references and insults haunting their home like vengeful phantoms, they had expected something truly awe-inspiring and were just the tiniest bit disappointed by the almost friendly smile adorning that angular but not unhandsome face.
Remembering their own inherent power and pointedly ignoring the undignified sign demanding they wipe off their feet (as if they would set a single foot into that unholy fortress), they started howling and screeching to – if that was somehow possible – scare the Evil Lord out of his loathsome ways.
Judging by the fond expression passing over his face, their success was middling at best; temerity overcame them and – to mitigate that partial failure – they redoubled their efforts at frightening Melkor into being a decent being once more.
“Adorable,” he commented in a raucous, gravelly voice and shouted for his lieutenant over his massive shoulder; a moment later, a lithe, fire-haired creature appeared.
If Melkor’s appearance made his proclivity for chaotic violence abundantly clear, this sly, feline predator, stalking towards the open door with the lethal grace and the flashing eyes of a big cat, was a different kind of evil altogether though. They didn’t like the look of that other one and – this came as a shock to everyone – they much preferred the half-naked apparition leaning casually against the doorframe.
In their expert opinion, the similarities between Melkor and their father lay mainly in size and girth, even though they could not deny that his generous mouth did remind them of the endless litanies and reprimands Manwë frequently spouted with so much gusto that one would have thought that harsh words tasted like candied apples to him.
The tadchicks shivered as the realisation of how much danger they really were in struck them for the very first time in all its amplitude.
“Mairon,” the not all that fearsome Vala of darkness and destruction purred, “go get some treats for the little ones!”
His words were honeyed but the commanding tone left no doubts as to his supreme power and position in the lumpy and oddly misshapen fortress he called his “home” (he did at that; there was a crooked, hand-painted sign swinging listlessly above the gaping abyss of the open door).
“Treats? Master, do you mean to insinuate that you’ll guerdon these miscreants with waffles and candy for their insolence?” Mairon made a face that might have looked cute on someone who was not eyeing the tadchicks as if theywere the midnight snack he craved.
“Don’t pout,” Melkor laughed and grabbed the narrow chin of his officer between his thumb and forefinger playfully, “and do as you are told.”
The assembly of terrified rather than terrifying youngsters took a deep, relieved breath unisono when the one named Mairon slunk back into the shadows.
Not long afterwards though, he returned and handed his master a basket full of delicious, tasty delights that were promptly handed out to them patiently.
Unnamed and untamed as they yet were, the tadchicks started pushing and elbowing one another in their puerile eagerness to snatch up the most sought-after delicacies.
“You’re worse than the Balrogs,” Melkor chuckled, evidently taking great pleasure in discovering that his oh-so-high-and-mighty brother had not managed to bully or shame his own progeny into the level of perfection seemingly expected of every breathing thing around him either.
“And I am the Lord of Chaos,” he muttered under his breath mockingly when he saw one of the squirming creatures take a bite out of their sibling, painting the flimsy sheets they were wearing crimson.
“Tut tut,” he chided and handed the wailing victim an especially well-shaped waffle – Thuringwethil’s secret weapon – to comfort him; he knew only too well how it felt to be beaten into obedience by a slightly stronger sibling and he commiserated with the poor mite.
Reconciled, the brave little tadchick hugged their beautiful waffle to their strange chest - looking both shiny as if wet and finely feathered – and nodded their veiled little head in wordless gratitude.
"Who sired you?" Melkor then asked softly as he handed his empty basket back to the still menacing, fire-eyed naysayer who hovered at his elbow like a leashed jaguar.
Another round of shoving ensued before half of them called out the name of one of their fathers and the other half claimed the parentage of the other.
“Indeed,” Melkor hissed between clenched teeth; for a moment, the world seemed to stand still, and then he threw back his head – dark hair swirling madly around him – and laughed heartily.
“Let me give you something for them as well,” he smirked and, after disappearing very shortly (for which they were truly thankful for that Mairon-creature was eyeing them with a mix of hatred and hunger), he returned with a neatly packed bundle that was entrusted to the biggest and sturdiest of their party.
“Those are their favourites,” Melkor explained, “now run home before they get too worried about you.”
Another wave of murmuring stirred the tadchicks into a whirlpool of frantic motion as the offering was handed around, sniffed thoroughly, and approved as exceptional.
They were truly agog to find Melkor to be not only shockingly comely instead of tear-inducingly repulsive, but also generous, humorous, and even kind.
“Shoo now,” Melkor repeated cheerily, waving his massive hand enthusiastically at the group that was slowly making their way back home, bobbing up and down in their eagerness to analyse and discuss every hair on the dark Vala’s head.
“They’ll be livid,” Mairon chortled from behind Melkor’s broad back, raking his fingers down the ropes of tense muscle teasingly, “but I suspect that this was what you had in mind?”
“Nonsense,” his master contradicted, “cuties get treats! That’s a rule. And as I am the undisputed King of Cuties, I get the most!”
Turning around quickly, he grabbed Mairon’s chin once more and pressed a passionate kiss on those primly pursed lips about to open to let out a sharp riposte.
“Who could truly blame me if my most selfless goodwill ends up corrupting their little creatures?” Melkor chirped innocently, underlining his words with a nonchalant shrug, and – hips swaying invitingly – returned to the chaise longue that had been deserted by Mairon.
He threw a single melting, languorous look over his shoulder as he sank down on it with surprising grace.
“You want waffles too, right?” Mairon cocked one eyebrow.
Shaking his head, the dutiful, loyal lieutenant decided that he’d drown the baked goods in so much syrup that it would be positively impossible for Melkor not to drip all over his barely clothed chest.
It would fall to him to clean his master and get him into a proper state – worthy of his birth and station – before bedtime. What one didn’t do for duty!
He bit back the chuckle and joined Melkor on the couch, sinking into his luminous, mesmerising eyes as much as into the soft cushions.
“Open up wide, King of Cuties,” he scoffed and tore off a tiny strip of waffle to taunt Melkor into that second round he had been aiming at this whole time.
So, this kicks off October for me.
Have a nice month and - if you enjoy my rambling - I'll do an October ficlet run for the @fellowshipofthefics Fotfictober Challenge. You can already go look at the pairings.
And...I might just combine the one or the other with the corresponding kinktober prompt. Who knows? Stay tuned.
Lots of love from me <3