Death Note Anonymous Kink Meme

[dn_kink]

Welcome to the Death Note Anonymous Kink Meme!

How it works:

* Comment anonymously with a kinkfic request. All requests must contain a character or pairing/threesome/moresome (any combination of guys/girls/shinigami/whatever are OK, crossovers are fine too), and at least one kink. If you need inspiration, check out this huge list of kinks by eliade.

Comments

[anonymous]

i don't even know guys

i don't even ship it

but I really want lazy-morning-in-bed fluff where Mello and Near share a kinder egg. what the hell, those things were designed with this pairing in mind

[anonymous]

I don't ship it either and yet I agree with this 150%. 0_0

[anonymous]

Are you me!? But you're not *ahem* Thirded! I've been thinking that for months...

[anonymous]

Fourthed from another non-shipper. This is FREAKING ADORABLE.
and omg those things are so good.

[anonymous]

Omilord, the love I have for this prompt~!

*might just have to write it* XD

[anonymous]

IT MUST BE WRITTEN ;^;

[1/9]

[anonymous]

A/N: I have idea what happened, but this got long, oops. It's a random, unexplained AU (Kira never happened; Near is about eighteen or nineteen), and I sort of doubt that this was exactly what you had in mind, hah, but I hope you enjoy it regardless...? :3

[Also, yes, it starts with Mello's POV, then shifts to Near's for the body of the story, then goes back to Mello's.]Soft blankets and the comforting rustle of cotton sheets, warm skin against warm skin, and only the faintest touch of morning light permeating in through the folds of the curtain at the window. Mello listens to the hushed rise-fall-rise of his own breath, and the breath of the boy beside him. He keeps his lashes close to his cheeks, though, when Near touches his shoulder and whispers, “Are you awake

[2/9]

[anonymous]

Near has always prided himself on being a quick learner, and it's not as though he hadn't imagined, but he still hasn't quite managed to get his head around just how nice Mello's hands feel. He likes them, very much, when they're on him like this, wandering his skin as if it belongs to Mello too now. “Yes,” he says, when Mello asks him if he'd slept well, because it's the truth, but the topic doesn't really interest Near very much now that he's awake, and he has a suspicion that Mello doesn't really want to know any more than that anyway. Near slides a little sideways. He likes how warm Mello is, too, and how Mello doesn't seem to object to having Near close against his; even if Near himself had found it slightly strange at first. He lets his right leg slide down to rest between Mello's legs. He can feel Mello against his thigh, not exactly hard, but not exactly soft either, and he likes that, too, though he hadn't been entirely sure that he would.

Mello raises his eyebrows, and rubs at Near's ankle with the arch of one of his feet.

“

[3/9]

[anonymous]

The chocolate egg fills Near's palm snugly, when he cups his fingers around it. It feels impossibly light - he remembers having thought that the night before, too, as he had carried it so carefully, not wanting it to break. He pulls it back beneath the blankets, uncertain as to whether Mello has seen what he is holding or not. When he looks up, Mello's gaze is curious and open. Near wonders at the warmth that that simple curiosity slides through him, from his fingers to his toes and then back to his core, where it pools in a ball of sunshine at the base of his stomach.

“It isn't a very interesting present,” he feels the need to qualify. He slides deeper beneath the blankets, so that he can prop himself up on one of his elbows. He wonders at that too. The need to qualify something is not part of his nature. It's strange, the way that Mello is looking at him in that way - looking at him as if Near could do no wrong right now - is so much more unsettling than all of the frowns had ever, ever been. Near looks away again, his fingers

[4/9]

[anonymous]

“Oi,” Mello complains, though his hips have titled up pleasantly against Near as Near slides down him. Near can feel Mello growing firmer against the softness of his own upper belly. He wants to put the egg aside and just slide lower, lower, and take Mello's dick tentatively in his hands - he can see it, in his mind, can imagine what it might be like to tip his head forwards a little, place his mouth against it, maybe suck - the thought makes him tingle, and he wonders if Mello can tell that he's aroused. He wants to know what Mello tastes like, except that he's not sure that he's quite game enough for that yet. It bothers him that he can't make up his mind, and so he frowns and frowns, and orders his body to do as he tells it, and peers up through the sheets. He mutters, “You can't just take it like that, Mello.”

“You said it was a present.”

Mello is looking at him with eyes that make it perfectly clear that Mello is just as conscious of Near's dick as Near is of Mello's.

Near wonders whether his lips will always go dry when Mello

[5/9]

[anonymous]

Mello looks at him, now, the curves of his mouth almost teasing, but his eyes gleaming in a way that makes the ball of sunshine in Near's belly flutter worryingly, so worryingly, as if Near had swallowed a furry little creature and now it was scrabbling to climb back out. And suddenly part of Near wants another year or two to work this out, or at least eight months or so. But most of him still just wants Mello, actually, and so he reaches his free hand up and tangles it in Mello's hair and says, “Please.”

And almost every inch of him hates the obvious contradictions in his actions; within his own mind. He hates how illogical it is, how Mello can turn things around like this, because this was supposed to be Near doing something for Mello, and somehow it's as though it's become Mello doing something to Near instead. But as much as it frustrates him, Near is starting to develop the ghost of a conviction, in the corner of his mind, tucked away in a mental filing cabinet labelled I'm not sure, that this might be how life with Mello is

[6/9]

[anonymous]

Near lets out an undignified noise as Mello is suddenly the one beneath the sheets, the blankets pulled even more crooked, and oh God, oh God, is that what it feels like? Mello's mouth is so hot against him, one of Mello's hands wrapped close around the base of Near's dick and his tongue and lips doing things - God - things - that make Near buck up against him and it takes every ounce of his self control not to clench his fingers around the egg and crush it. “The ch-chocolate-” Near begins, but Mello just presses his free hand down against Near's hips to stop him from jerking upwards too hard, lifts his head long enough to say, voice muffled from beneath the sheets, “It's not going anywhere. You're first course, it can be dessert.” Near lets out a shuddery moan as Mello's mouth sinks back down onto him, sucking him in, and Near reaches his hand back and drops the egg onto the other pillow before shoving roughly at the sheets, pushing them down. He tells himself it's because he's suddenly hot, and it's true that the cold air is

[7/9]

[anonymous]

“Smells nice,” Mello murmurs.

Near grins slowly. “You think that all chocolate smells nice,” he says. He smoothes the wrapper out flat, and places it neatly on the bedside table. Mello watches him silently. Near just watches the egg, studying it carefully, and remembering his concern that the egg might just explode if he attempts to crack it with his fingers. He's too conscious of Mello's attention upon him, too conscious of the heat of Mello's body against him, and so he licks at his lips again, sets his teeth to the egg's narrowest point, and bites out a small hole as delicately as he can.

Mello exhales in a stuttery way, and his dick twitches against Near's hip. Near glances up at him in surprise.

“May I?” the blond breathes out, his eyes bright with want. Near's own eyes widen, but he nods mutely and simply opens his mouth a little, the chocolate smooth against his tongue, and Mello puts his hands against Near's face unsteadily, and kisses him. It's a warm kiss, so warm, and Near just gives in and closes his eyes, sinking into the

[8/9]

[anonymous]

“I want...” Near searches for the words, but to find the words he would first have to find his own explanation, and he's having some difficulty with that. “I want to leave it... unopened,” he says. “I've never had something I didn't know the... workings of. Before now. I want to... keep it like that. I… don't know.” He finishes, pathetically, and hopes that Mello won't laugh at him, because that might actually hurt a little bit.

Mello doesn't laugh. Mello closes his eyes and presses his face down against Near's chest with a frightening silence. Near wants to cry at the sheer frustration of not being able to understand himself, let alone the rest of it, and he's ruined it now, hasn't he?, but then Mello is looking at him again, and crooking his thumb beneath Near's eyes, and dabbing at the betraying saltiness there, and Near feels like a fool, and he hates it, hates it, hates being so suddenly inadequate after a lifetime of knowing exactly where he stood.

“Hey,” Mello is saying, “Hey, hey, hey.” He has his hands on Near's face again. “

[9/9]

[anonymous]

**

The midday sun plays across Near's bare ribs as he sits on the edge of the bed and towels his hair dry. Mello watches him surreptitiously, enjoying the feel of Near's eyes upon his own shirtlessness, as he searches through his bag for something he feels like wearing today. Mello likes the shift of Near's arms as he works at his hair, too; he likes the self-contradicting softness and masculinity that line Near's body, though he's entirely certain that Near himself is oblivious to it. He has a suspicion that even now Near still sees himself as a child, despite the fact that the robot on the dresser has stayed there, forgotten, since they walked into this room.

Mello doesn't think he minds. He thinks he's happy to see what nobody else can see. To see what even Near cannot.

It reassures him somehow.

“Where should we go next?” Mello finds himself asking.

He smiles as Near studies him for a long, long moment, then lets the towel hang loosely around his shoulders, his curls damp, and shrugs. “I don't mind.&rdquo ;Then, “I've always wanted

Re: [9/9]

[anonymous]

[Anon!writer despises posting anonymously because now she can see a thousand and one errors, and can't fix them. *sobs*]