#Mello's coming home it's coming MELLO'S COMING HOME | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

overkeehl · 1 year ago

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HI EVERYONE READ THIS

DEEP COVER - m2 ♱ m for mature ♡

It wasn’t often that Matt heard him open the door. Not just because the time he spent at their dingy apartment was close to none, but because Mello moved silently. He forced the black rubber of his boot soles to fall noiseless as he ghosted down the hallways, and the faint squeaking of his leather gloves on the doorknob or the shifting of his heavy coat was typically the only thing that gave him away. But tonight—was it nighttime? Whatever time it was, Mello seemed to have no patience for his usual grace, and it was the loud jingling of his swinging keys that startled Matt awake.

He’d fallen asleep on the couch. His PSP slid off his chest and tumbled to the floor, providing a small halo of illumination to the otherwise pitch-black room. He managed to catch the time on his phone from the corner of his eye—8:34p.m. on a Saturday—before Mello’s overbearing silhouette appeared in their doorway, lit from below by the PSP’s artificial glow like a late-night horror-show host. Matt briefly appreciated the image before Mello burned it from his retinas, flipping the switch to their harsh florescent lights they kept meaning to replace.

“Morning, sunshine.”

“Hey.”

Matt tried to assess Mello’s mood through his bleary, half-awake state. He couldn’t quite tell. While there was a hint of irritation playing across his features, it was rare that there wasn’t.

“You were sleeping. I told you to be ready.”

“Huh? For what?”

“Didn’t you get my text?”

Matt sat up fully, pushing his goggles up to rub the sleep from his eyes as he grabbed his phone. There was a missed text: one, from a number he didn’t recognize. Typical. A sheepish heat crossed his cheeks before he could help it, which only provoked a deeper sense of embarrassment—why should he be embarrassed that he was sleeping and missed a text? Mello made a point of keeping his schedule unpredictable, and why did he have to be on-call all the time? It wasn’t his fault if he stayed up late and didn’t always operate on Mello’s time and—

“It just says ‘Be ready,’” he finally sighed, interrupting his own train of thought.

“Yeah. You don’t look ready.”

Mello sized him up. He was wearing a dirty t-shirt with the D.A.R.E. logo—which Mello was certain he thought was hilariously ironic—and a pair of ragged boxers he’d definitely had since their days back at Wammy’s. He cocked an eyebrow. Or rather, raised his brow in such a way that made his eyes uneven and judgmental, because where there had once been golden-blonde hair, there was instead only perfectly smooth forehead. Mello had apparently begun waxing them off to go along with his ridiculous new outfits.

“Ready for what?” he asked, still wondering how badly waxing your eyebrows hurt.

“Stop asking so many annoying questions and get dressed.” While his words were sharp, his tone was more playful than usual. When Mello’s voice took on that little sing-song quality, it always stirred a certain excitement in the pit of Matt’s stomach that meant things were either going to go very good or very very bad.

“Alright, just gimme a sec.” Matt heaved himself up the couch and moved to their bedroom, feeling Mello’s laser-beam stare melting holes in his back. He could quite literally sense the heat dissipate as Mello’s attention was diverted to the kitchen.

“Got anything to drink?”

Digging through piles of dirty laundry with increasing desperation and hoping that the sing-song wouldn’t be replaced by impatient irritation, he replied,

“Uh, yeah, soda I think—“

“I don’t drink soda. Don’t be disgusting. You shouldn’t either.”

Aha! This shirt kind of looked clean. It didn’t stink, at least. And it was black. Would Mello like that? Or would he think it’s stupid to match? No, it’s not ‘matching,’ stupid, anybody can wear black—

“I mean a real drink.”

The heat returned. Mello blocked the doorway, wrinkling his nose in his trademark sneer as he surveyed the room.

“Your bedroom is disgusting too.”

Matt rolled his eyes. “It’s your bedroom too, dude.”

While he waited for Mello’s protest, it never came. Maybe he did think of it as his room too. They always shared a room. He quickly changed shirts, keeping his back to the blonde, and begun the hunt for underwear and pants.

“And yeah, there’s, uh, whiskey in the cupboards somewhere.”

“God. You’re so gross. Out of anything you could have… no tequila…”

Fading footsteps. Mello was in the kitchen now. Underwear underwear underwear. Was that even important? Were the ones he had on now really that bad? Yes. He needed clean underwear. Especially with that sing-song knot still in his stomach. As he finally found a pair, he heard the gentle chime of clinking glass.

“And it’s the cheap stuff. You really know how to impress.”

Mello was standing over him now, two mismatched cups in hand.

“Here. Cheers.”

“What are we cheers-ing to?” Matt took the glass awkwardly, clean underwear in his opposite hand. He stood up so they were at near-equal height, though Mello’s stupid boots gave him a few inches of artificial advantage, and tapped the rims of their glasses together.

“Who cares?” Mello threw his back easily and without a change in expression.

He dragged a finger across his lips when he was done and Matt was hypnotized, watching the back of Mello’s glove glisten as it collected the remnants of the liquor. Mello seemed to recognize the effect he had on Matt as he used the same finger to point at his untouched drink.

“You’re supposed to actually drink it. And what’s taking you so long to get ready?”

Matt eyed the drink with apprehension.

“Y’know, I usually add, like, ice and coke and stuff.” He considered the irony of Mello complaining about the 5 minutes it took him to get ready when Mello took more than an hour in the morning just showering and doing his hair. He wanted to say something snarky, but the sing-song stomach-knot dragged his tongue back down his throat.

“Just hurry up. Drink it and get dressed.”

Matt then realized he didn’t particularly want to do either of those things in front of Mello. It’s not like Mello hadn’t seen him naked, but they were usually in the sorts of situations where Matt was not the center of attention. Guess he needed the shot after all.

“Uh, yeah, cheers.” He closed his eyes and choked down the liquor, trying his utmost to repress the contortions the awful taste was drawing to his face. Liquid courage and all.

Matt watched as Mello nudged a pile of laundry with his foot, bending down to draw out a pair of grungy black jeans. He did a cursory sniff of the crotch before tossing them across the room and smiling when Matt deftly snatched them out of the air.

“Those look nice. Wear them.”

So Mello was fine with him wearing black too. That was a relief. Now was the hard part. It’s not like he wanted to turn his back to Mello and have those eyes all over his ass either. He grit his teeth and pulled his dirty boxers off, mentally attempting to maintain what could be considered a perfectly normal speed to get undressed—not too fast like he was trying to hide anything and not too slow like he was trying to put on a show. Mello said nothing but made a point of giving him another thorough once-over, with just a hint of a bitten-back smile flitting around his lips. Whew. Hard part over. As he wiggled into his jeans, Mello disappeared again, back into the kitchen. Matt heard him pour another drink and presumably slam it, and he hopped out into the living room as he worked his foot through the tight pant leg.

“So you gonna tell me where we’re going?”

“No. I’ll tell you how to get there, though.”

Matt wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol going to his head (he hadn’t eaten anything that day, after all) or the rush of excitement he always got when he was with Mello but they were in his car before he knew it—another rare occasion, as Mello didn’t particularly enjoy riding in cars, nor did he appreciate Matt’s reckless driving habits. Slouched down in the passenger seat with the slightest indication of nausea creeping across his face, Mello rolled down his window and leaned forward to fiddle with the dials of the radio.

“Sorry man. It broke last month.” Silence, aside from the noises of the city. Matt eased off the gas, and this seemed to temporarily correct Mello’s woozy expression. He cleared his throat, wishing he could light up a cigarette but knowing Mello would complain about his proximity to the smell in the confined space of the car. “I’ll take it slow. I know you get carsick.”

“Take this exit,” Mello abruptly instructed.

“Wh—come on dude, you’re the worst navigator!” While his tone indicated irritation, he was secretly a little excited to have an excuse to show off in front of Mello. He was in the far left lane, and though the L.A. roads weren’t as congested as they usually were, there was still a good amount of traffic to get through in a relatively short distance. Already pushing 80, he revved it up to 110 and flew across the four lanes, earning a small discomforted groan from his friend as the blonde brought his hand to his mouth. He whipped along the ramp and allowed the car to coast back down to 80.

“You know I hate when you do that,” muttered Mello, though he did seem a little impressed—or at least, Matt hoped that’s what that expression was. “Speeding ticket’s a really stupid way to get your photo in some database.”

“Whatever. They’d have to catch me first.”

This earned a small chuckle from Mello, and Matt gave him a cheesy grin in return, riding his adrenaline high. It wasn’t as fun to drive fast when there was nobody to ride with him.

“Alright, where to now, boss?”

Though he couldn’t quite see Mello’s eyes, the roll was almost audible.

“Just keep going. We’re almost there.”

Mello’s arm was resting near the gear stick, fingers drifting up and down the leather upholstery of Matt’s seat in a lazy rhythm. He seemed distracted by something, but Matt knew better than to ask. Asking questions like that makes good-mood sing-song Mello disappear. And with how close those fingers were coming to his thigh, Matt really didn’t want that to happen. He didn’t want to stop watching Mello’s hand, thoughts wandering as he matched the rhythm of Mello’s absentminded fidgeting to his imagination, picturing pulling his gloves off and feeling his silk-soft palms warm and sticky with sweat—

“You just ran a red light,” remarked Mello. “I thought you were supposed to be good at this.” He glanced over and his hand stopped moving, effectively ending Matt’s daydream.

“Uh, yeah, I meant to do that.” Matt pulled out a cigarette against his better judgment and was surprised when Mello said nothing, unsure if it was because he was distracted, carsick, or just feeling generous. Though he’d hoped it’d take his mind off the thought—the nature of which was quickly becoming obvious through the denim of his jeans—the smoke mixed with the fragrance of Mello’s shampoo as he ran his fingers through his hair and made Matt picture the last time they’d been together. He remembered how soft Mello’s hair felt melting through his fingers, and the way the curled tips bounced against his thighs, and how every time Mello bobbed his head he could smell that shampoo wafting up toward him.

“It’s up here.” Mello’s ice-cold voice pulled him out of his warm thoughts and made him shiver. “On the left. Park in the back.”

Matt gave the building a good look. It had no windows, and no signage to indicate what sort of place it might be. There seemed to be plenty of cars around, but almost no people.

But no questions. He pulled around as Mello instructed and stopped the car. As they stepped out into the lot, Matt saw that there was one other person around—it was a small, ratlike man, talking into a cellphone with a hurried whisper. As Matt shuffled along after Mello, he wondered why the fuck he’d let Mello drag him to a weird windowless building in the middle of nowhere with strange crackheads in the parking lot. But as his eyes drifted down from the back of Mello’s bouncing blonde head to his ass, he remembered.

“Hey Kal. Open up.”

Upon seeing Mello, the man’s eyes narrowed and his entire demeanor seemed to shrivel up and sour. He whispered something into the phone and flipped it shut, his lips drawn in a taut, puckered frown.

“No problem, boss,” he said dryly.

Boss? Did this guy work for Mello? Ass or not, Mello knew that Matt wanted no part in whatever stupidly dangerous shit he got up to with his new friends. All of the excitement was draining away like a whirlpool bathtub in his gut, replaced with a deep-seated and quickly-creeping dread that Matt was going to be witness to some sort of real-life snuff film. When Kal finally managed to unlock the door, his hands shaking and Mello’s foot tapping impatiently, Mello pushed past him without so much of a glance and Matt muttered a very garbled ‘thanks’ as he rushed inside.

Once they were in the building, Matt could hear the rhythmic pounding of something. Music? They descended a dark cement staircase, and he could make it out—it was music. A club? Was this some sort of speakeasy disco?

When they reached the basement, Matt’s suspicions were confirmed. He was hit with a blast of body heat: it smelled overwhelmingly of sweat, and the music had become almost deafening. How did they keep it so quiet outside? He squinted, adjusting his eyes to the darkness in between the pulsing neon lights. He could barely see Mello—his black clothes made him blend in with the throbbing mass of people, and the dark orange tint of his goggles wasn’t helping. The only thing he could focus on was the crown of Mello’s head, his bright hair reflecting the rotation of colors—red-blue-green-yellow—

“I’ll be right back. Stay here.”

Those words struck a fear into Matt’s heart. Here? Alone? Why? As Mello’s blonde bob disappeared into the crowd, Matt suddenly became extremely aware of where he was, as well as how badly he wanted to be at home. There was a sea of bodies roiling around him, tossing him in every direction, and it took all of his strength to maintain any semblance of stability. A girl much smaller than him seemed to dance through the crowd with ease, but his amazement with her ability to move through the fleshy ocean was interrupted when she shouted, “cute goggles!” He turned red and looked away.

Upon attempting to replay the interaction (if you could even call it that) in his head, he could only hear it in Mello’s mocking voice. Mello made him wonder if every compliment was backhanded, sarcastic, cruel. Mello made him wonder how long he’d be gone for, because it felt like hours, days, years. Mello made him wonder why the fuck he did stupid shit like coming here.

“Oh, Mello,” he yelped as a body collided with his, having been shoved by another careless, drunk dancer.

“Hey, watch it fuckface,” Mello yelled, though his deep voice went ignored, swallowed by the stuffy air and the thump of the bass. Turning with the tiniest bit of a surprised gleam in his eyes, he realized he’d been pushed right into Matt. “Well look at that. Imagine seeing you here.”

Again, Mello was leading him through the crowd, this time to the back of the dance floor, toward the bathrooms. He was careful not to touch the handle as he kicked open the door to the men’s, which was small and dirty but surprisingly empty. They entered the stall furthest from the entrance and as it shut, Mello produced three small baggies from his sleeve like a card-trick magician—two filled with white powder and one with small multicolored tablets. Behind his goggles, Matt’s eyes lit up, but he tried to keep his cool. So Mello really was in a good mood.

“I brought you a present.” He dropped the tablets into Matt’s waiting hand, smiling affectionately. “Don’t worry. It’s good. I know the guy.”

As if he were doing something as casual as painting his nails, Mello tapped a small line of the powder across the back of his glove and sniffed it, careful and precise. He delicately pinched the tip of his nose with one hand as he slipped the bag away with the other, scrutinizing Matt’s face as the redhead popped open the tiny seal and stuck two of the tablets under his tongue. Matt held the bag out as an offer of return but Mello shook his head, remaining silent but drawing their bodies closer together. The sing-song knot in Matt’s stomach was quickly ballooning down to his groin but he tried to focus on his breathing so Mello wouldn’t sense how desperate he was. It had been weeks since the last time they’d done anything, and the time before that, Mello had visited in such a bad mood that they hadn’t done anything at all.

Once again, Matt’s recollection of their last visit was not entirely confined to his brain, and his pale freckled cheeks began to burn. Mello leaned in further, hot breath drawing across Matt’s jaw as he cupped it in his hand and extended his thumb to run across his reddened skin. Matt’s mouth dropped open involuntarily as the tip of the leather pressed at his bottom lip, and Mello elicited the smallest of moans from the other as he pushed his thumb along Matt’s tongue. Opening the third bag, the blonde withdrew his wet gloved finger and rolled it in the powder, proceeding to rub it along his own gums and all the while refusing to break eye contact. After he seemed satisfied, he popped his thumb back into his mouth, repeating the process but this time offering the powder to Matt, who had no idea how to indicate that he was accepting aside from simply opening his mouth further and allowing Mello to drag the small crystals along the edges of his teeth. The taste was salty, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the molly or the leather of the glove.

As Mello’s thumb worked its way around the insides of his cheeks, he drew even closer. Matt’s heart started racing. He slid his finger out and replaced it with his lips, feeling Matt softly panting into his mouth. They weren’t quite kissing. Matt wanted to kiss him very badly, but felt stuck to the wall, his mouth dry as rice paper. The x wasn’t all the way dissolved and his tongue felt covered in sludge. Had it been this hot in here the whole time?

Mello hooked Matt’s lower lip between his teeth, giving it a gentle tug as he used his body to pin the other to the stall. His thin thigh slipped between Matt’s legs but somehow managed to avoid his groin entirely—he was thankful that Mello couldn’t feel how hard he was already, and he put every ounce of his self control into avoiding his body’s urge to drag Mello against him and grind on his leg. His glove slid down the front of Matt’s shirt like liquid, making an abrupt stop once it reached the waistband of the black jeans he’d picked out. He extended a single finger, the same he’d used to dab away the liquor from his lips earlier in the evening, dragging it past the tarnished bronze button that was beginning to make Matt quite uncomfortable. While Mello’s attention had now moved from Matt’s face to the zipper of his pants, Matt watched closely as a very undeniable smirk of satisfaction lit up the other’s features.

And just as abruptly as their rendezvous had begun, it ended. Mello removed himself from Matt completely, unlocking the stall door and breezing out. Matt stumbled out after him, dumbfounded but desperate not to lose him in the crowds again. Why did Mello have to enjoy torturing him so much? And why did he let him?

Mello wove through the dance floor until he found a spot that seemed satisfactory—in the center, surrounded on all sides but hidden—and when he turned around to face Matt, it almost felt as though they were hidden; despite being in the midst of hundreds of people, they felt alone, together. The knots in his stomach were joined by more in his chest as Mello drew him closer, pressing their bodies together again, but this time much more softly—at least, as softly as Mello could manage, because his soft was sometimes like a fine sandpaper, grating so smoothly you almost wouldn’t notice until you were bleeding and raw.

Matt’s arms slipped around his waist and as his hands pulled across the small of Mello’s back, tracing the spot in between that obscene quilted vest and those low-rise latex-tight pants, he saw it. Just for a moment—less, even—a split-second, a nano-something, Mello’s guard fell and there was an expression in his eyes so genuine Matt’s heart could have burst. He looked happy. Loving. Innocent, almost, but that seemed too strange a word, like dressing him up in pure white, like putting him on a cross. Matt wanted to trap that look in his eyes forever.

The moment passed and his expression faded, replaced by his typical frostbitten face—drawing you in and all the while telling you not to touch. Matt wanted nothing more than to grab him by the shoulders and shake him as hard as he possibly could. To bring it back somehow. To make it stay. He wanted to beg him not to let that cold cruel flame in his heart eat him away any more than it already had.

Let’s give up. Let’s go home. Let’s go hide. Let’s be hidden for real this time. We don’t have to do this.

You don’t have to do this.

But if he said these things, and if Mello knew he felt these things, Mello wouldn’t love him. Mello couldn’t love somebody who didn’t understand. He was doing the things he did because he had to. Because he had no other choice. Matt knew that. And so he stayed quiet, tightening his grip and trying to drink in every millimeter of that brief cherubic vision. His head moved to Mello’s neck—he couldn’t look at his face, he didn’t want to be reminded of the light that used to twinkle in his eyes whenever he saw Matt in the hallways of Wammy’s, the times they’d sneak out into the forest behind the school, laughing loud and spilling secrets, the open admiration for one another they used to share. There was so much he didn’t know about Mello anymore. He’d gotten so cruel.

To stop his lip from quivering—god, you fucking pussy, don’t you dare—he ran his tongue along Mello’s neck, pushing aside the folds of his vest to bite the stretch of skin where his collarbone diverged. Mello responded with an involuntary and angelic sigh, eyes fluttering shut. Matt always knew the right spot. Still choking back bitterness, Matt sunk his teeth further into Mello, biting him harder than he’s ever bitten him, hard enough to make small maroon teardrops bead around the tips of his canines. No sound passed through Mello’s throat, but as his fingers dug into Matt’s shoulderblade, he could feel the crescent imprints forming in his skin through his clothes. Matt’s hand slides up Mello’s back to his hair, grabbing a fistful of blonde and gently pulling his head back, exposing more of his throat. Biting the same spot with the intent to bruise, he drew his teeth across Mello’s creamy skin, wanting to break the blood vessels below and leave a cherry blossom mark, to let everybody know that Mello was supposed to be his.

“Matt…” It was almost a whisper, but it made the noise of the club fade into oblivion. When Mello said his name like that, Matt would do anything. He would follow him to the ends of the earth. How could he be upset when Mello was whispering his name? As his mood shifted once again, he realized they’d been dancing for at least half an hour, and the molly was definitely kicking in, making it seem like no time had passed at all. He thought of Mello’s smiling face. They were in the sun-dappled forest, they were so young, and Mello was laughing, turning back at him and calling for him. Matt… Matt…

“Matt,” Mello said, more urgently this time. He pulled Matt away from his neck, fondly brushing the bloody bite, and grabbed the buckle of the redhead’s belt. “Let’s go.”

“Go?” was all Matt could manage before Mello was dragging him toward another door—a back door, some sort of emergency exit. He tripped over a ledge in the doorway as they walked through, bumping into Mello and causing them to both stumble into the alley. His body felt like it was vibrating, to the point where even their brutal collision sent shivers of pleasure through him. All he wanted to do was touch Mello—his face, his hair, his soft stomach—

As if Mello sensed this, he immediately pulled Matt toward him, forcing Matt to pin him against the graffiti-covered brick. There was no hesitation or coquettish teasing this time—Mello dragged him into a messy kiss, one toned arm around his neck while the other immediately got to work unbuckling his belt. Matt pressed his tongue past Mello’s lips, trying to memorize the curvature of his teeth, the angles of his cheeks, the remnant-chocolate flavor of his hot saliva. There was a loud clatter as his heavy metal belt buckle hit the concrete, and Mello had his pants unbuttoned in half the time. A combination of the cool night air and the crippling potential that somebody could walk out and see his dick in Mello’s hand sent a cold shiver down Matt’s spine. This terrifying thought was quickly outweighed by the sensation of soft, well-worn leather gliding down Matt’s bare abdomen and past the elastic of his boxers (which, thank god, were clean).

As soon as Mello’s hand was wrapped around his cock, Matt knew he didn’t care if the entire world was watching. He massaged in slow, languid movements, his eyes only occasionally drifting from Matt’s erection to his face. Mello couldn’t help but smile as he watched the flush of heat bleed down Matt’s neck, the heave of his shoulders increasing alongside his breath—he was too cute when he wanted it this badly. He was already shaking.

“Mello…” Matt groaned, mentally kicking himself for how desperate he sounded. “Will you—uh—take your glove off?”

Mello laughed, a subtle sadistic undertone playfully ringing through, the little sing-song devil that made Matt’s stomach do flips. He brought his hand to his mouth and pulled the glove off with his teeth, discarding it on the ground beside Matt’s belt. “That’s all you want, babe?”

To be honest, Matt couldn’t think straight enough to want anything more than whatever Mello was going to give him, regardless of how much torture he had to endure. He would have fallen over if the wall wasn’t supporting him; pressing his weight onto Mello, he buried his face in the blonde’s neck once again, attempting to stifle his moans. Mello’s hands were so fucking soft. Of course they were—he never did anything himself.

The bricks of the wall were leaving painful impressions in his forehead, but he didn’t care. He wanted to run his hands up and down Mello’s sides, his thighs: the molly made him want to rub everything, even the rough brick, but his body was overwhelmed, and he was afraid that if he moved, Mello might take his hand away.

“Is that it? Are you satisfied with just this then? Hm?”

God. When Mello got that condescending, it drove him insane. It made him mad. But his body didn’t realize this, and he twitched in Mello’s hand. Yes. I’m satisfied. I’m always satisfied with you. Anything. There was nothing he could say. No right answer. Even if there was. No brain left to figure it out.

“I know that’s not all you want,” cooed Mello, patronizing and saccharine. Matt felt like if he didn’t focus solely on not finishing, it was going to happen. And Mello would never let him live it down—cumming in his pants from a handjob like they were teenagers. When he was alone he could jerk off for hours without a problem but with Mello it felt like he could only last minutes. Mello’s thumb was drawing circles around his tip, smearing precum across his palm while he smirked expectantly.

“I… unh—“

“Come on. Use your words.”

“—tch… come on Mello…”

“’Come on’ what?” There was innocence on his face once again, but this time so obviously feigned and melodramatic that it almost made Matt laugh.

“You’re such an asshole,” he groaned instead, sucking on his teeth as Mello’s pace increased. “Please… come on.”

As slippery as ever, Mello easily ducked out from underneath Matt’s weight, dropping into a squat like a girl from a music video and deftly removing Matt’s full erection from his pants. Briefly sizing it up, he allowed it to sit half an inch from his lips as he looked up from under his eyelashes and asked,

“’Come on’ what?”

“Oh my god, Mello, just suck my dick, fucking ple—ah—“ He dropped the end of his sentence as he hit the back of Mello’s throat, and the low moan that rumbled from Mello’s chest traveled up through Matt, buckling his knees. The brick was digging into his arms now, cracking his nails as he scratched at it.

He cupped the side of Mello’s head, thumb affectionately massaging his temple and brushing his bangs from his eyes. He just wanted to touch him, kiss him, hold him. He wished they were in bed at home so he could lay on top of him and pin him down, to go under a blanket together and stay there, keep him there, somewhere warm, safe, somewhere soft that smelled like his shampoo and not an alley that smelled like piss, but beggars couldn’t be choosers and he was definitely begging for whatever change Mello was willing to spare him.

His hands were running up and down the thighs of Matt’s jeans, long black nails trying to tear through the denim, occasionally catching on the distressed patches and popping a string. Matt couldn’t look away. He was so fucking close. As though he could sense Matt’s enraptured stare, Mello looked up once again, locking eyes as he slowly—oh-so-slowly—pulled Matt’s cock from his mouth with a wet pop, allowing long trails of saliva to connect them and run down his chin. Matt’s abdomen tensed as what remained of his willpower forced his orgasm back. He could come on his face just like this. Mello wouldn’t even have to touch him anymore. His open mouth—he’s just begging for it—

The next thing he knew, Mello was on his feet again, turning his back to Matt and unlacing his own pants, whispering something Matt couldn’t quite make out but didn’t want to risk asking him to repeat. Snaking his arms around Mello’s waist once again, Matt hooked his finger on the ring of Mello’s vest-zipper, dragging it down enough to splay a hand across his bare chest and gently run his nails along its expanse. He wanted to kiss him, but would have to crane Mello’s neck to reach his lips, and didn’t want to risk hurting him.

Managing to work his pants down with record speed, Matt barely had enough time to appreciate Mello’s partially exposed ass before the blonde’s hand is at his hip, pulling him closer.

“We don’t have lube or anything—“

“Shut up. Hurry up.”

Matt can’t help but wonder how Mello can still be so bossy at a time like this, and he tries his best to coat his hand in spit but his mouth is still so dry, and Mello is so impatient—

He starts to slip a finger inside of him, but he’s interrupted by a sharp,

“No.” A hum of pleasure as Matt grabs his hip. “All of it.” Firmly, because he wants it that way. He wants fingerprint-bruises. He wants evidence. Matt’s afraid he’s going to tear him apart, because Mello is small, no matter how large his presence. And he’s certainly not one to brag, but his dick isn’t small. But Mello makes no sound aside from a small, contented sigh as Matt tries to ease inside of him—he watches the black polish chip as fingernails curl up against the brick.

“Is that… okay?” He’s breathing hard and afraid to start thrusting, afraid he’s going to see blood running down the insides of Mello’s thighs.

“Mmm-hmmm…” It’s a half-moan, half-confirmation, and enough encouragement for Matt to begin moving his hips gently, pushing Mello into the brick. He wants to kiss him more than anything. He really doesn’t want to hurt him. He wishes he could see his face. He carefully monitors what profile he can see when he leans in to bite his neck, watching for any sign of discomfort, any sign of anything at all, really, but Mello’s eyes are closed and his expression is impossible to read. As his pace picks up, Mello’s brow furrows slightly, eyelids fluttering—he almost wants to stop but he’s certain Mello would be mad—and so instead he thrusts into him harder, earning an abrupt velvet moan. Mello wants it rough. And if Matt knows one thing it’s that it’s always best to give Mello what he wants.

One of his hands works its way towards the undone laces of Mello’s pants while the other moves to his hair, and on a whim, Matt yanks his head back, craning his neck to kiss him, shoving him into the brick with such sudden force that his exposed chest is scraped bright pink. Mello gasps louder than Matt’s ever heard him gasp and as he pushes his full length inside, he feels the blonde’s knees give out completely, held against the wall by the weight of Matt’s body and the supporting hand on his hip. Mello’s long, breathy orgasm is far more than enough to send Matt over the edge, and he tries to choke back his shaky moans as his body melts but he can’t bite his tongue quickly enough to stop himself.

“I love you,” he whispers, biting the shell of Mello’s ear, holding up his exhausted frame, willing him to feel it too. He doesn’t want to pull out. He doesn’t want them to be apart.

Fingers gently tracing the raw rash on his chest, imprint of the bricks dancing across his sternum, Mello craned his neck back to kiss Matt, and replied,

“I love you too.”

#!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#DUDE HOLY SHIT!!!!!!!!!!#im back in cell service and this was AMAZING to come home to hOLY SMOKES #matt's anticipation?????? how mello has him so well trained to be on that knifes edge #the leather glove in his MOUTH i could SCREAM!!!!!!!!!!#if youre a sick dog for this im in the high kill shelter with you #fuck matts driving????? like i coiuld go on for ages #im being fed im eating well and im hungry for more!!!!!!!!

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ashthemadwriter-archived · 1 year ago

Text

Thought of this while eating the potato chips my dad had bought for himself😋

"This is what you're buying?"

Your boyfriend hands a chocolate ice cream and other snacks to the cashier, and nods.

"But you said it was an emergency and you really needed to buy some important stuff"

"I still mean it. Snacks can count as emergency too, on some occasions"

You watch him hand the cashier his credit card and raise a brow at his words. "But I have all the same stuff at home—"

The look in his eyes finally clears everything up.

"Oh my god you ate them all again you little shit, didn't you?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, pretty" He flashes you a somewhat dumbfounded look and shrugs his shoulder.

"I'm gonna take a look at the cabinet when we get home. If I don't find my snacks you're dead meat"

"Just remember that food can be replaced easily, but a kind and loving boyfriend is very hard to find these days"

You give him a threatening glare. "I'll come to this very shop and pick out ten different brands"

"You wound me so deeply sometimes, sweetheart"

DAZAI, RANPO (He'll make you pay for them tho, actually Dazai might do that too), Nikolai, Kaji, TECCHO, Tachihara, GOJO, Geto, BACHIRA, Rin, REO, Chigiri, NAGI, Tsukishima, NISHINOYA, Daichi, SUGAWARA, KUROO, Lev, BOKUTO, TENDOU, Osamu, ATSUMU, SUNA, OIKAWA, Vanitas, ROLAND, LIGHT, Mello, L

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chaostroberry1 · 6 months ago

Text

A heavenly body that isn't from outerspace (Imagines)

Lookism, blue lock, death note, seven deadly sins, Tokyo revengers, blood of zues, welcome home, viral hit/how to fight, obey me

Like this man is so foul to other people yet when it comes to you, all that just goes straight into the trash.

When it comes to stuff like violence, you only get the innie Winnie tiny bit of it, or almost none at all. But the other person? Well...that's a whole different story.

He'd pull someones hair back so disrespectfully, but you, who was right beside that certain someone—he'd just pull you by your clothes, without inflicting any harm to you.

Like bro. (Art by me btw)

Yeah he may have teased you or offended you in a little way, but comparing it to what he does to other people? Are you his own deity or something? Fucking someone up mentally/physically while you just stay there, completely unscratched and clean. Worshipping you and your body like it were heaven sent.

Nobody leaving the place if he ever found out you were harmed in any way. Like I can just imagine this man looking at a bunch of beaten up dudes groaning on the ground in pain, beaten to a pulp, but the moment he turns his head and sees you, he's immediately rushing towards you to check for any scratches, literally no fucks given to the "not very important" people who were bloodied up or beaten up.

—James lee lookism—Michael kaiser bllk—Alexis ness bllk—hades RoR—Poseidon RoR—Shidou Ryusei bllk, —Gun park lookism—Vin Jin lookism—Zack lee lookism—jaegyeon na lookism—taesoo ma lookism—Mello death note—meliodas SDS—draken Tokyo revengers—Apollo BoZ, —Hermes BoZ—Ares BoZ—wally darling welcome home, —Nathaniel killer peter—Taehun seong viral hit—Satan obey me—Solomon obey me—Hades BoZ

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pokado8 · 6 months ago

Note

Mello x female reader please

Paradise

mello x gn!reader

Things that make Mello fall for you even more

a/n: I didn’t know if you wanted headcanons or a oneshot so I just did a bit of both 😭

𑇍 mello loves it when you cook for him

𑇍 he likes coming home to you cooking dinner after not seeing each other for a while

𑇍 it makes him all soft because it lets him know that you were thinking about him and he just loves the domestic aspect to it

𑇍 whenever you cook for him just expect him to be a little more touchy than normal

Because of Mello’s occupation, there were times when he couldn’t be around to spend time with you as much as you both wished. You understand that he’s a busy person so you try to cope with not always having your beloved around. He comes home late a lot and he gets up early too so you rarely cross paths with each other but something that mello always notes is the plastic-wrapped plate of food that you cooked from the night before in the fridge. He always wondered why you went so far as to do something like this for him but he won’t deny how much he appreciates it. The time was 10:35 pm when mello came home and you were in the midst of cooking dinner for the both of you. “ I’m home,” mello yelled to you while taking his shoes off. He walked to the kitchen and saw you standing in front of the stove while stirring a pot of soup. “Welcome home, Mihael” you said as you turned around to face him. “How was your day?” Mello sat down on the chair and let out an exhausted sigh before saying that it was fine. Mello’s eyes glanced over to you and watched your movements closely as you cut up carrots, onions, and potatoes to add to the soup. “Did you eat today?” He asked. “Yes, I have” “So why are you cooking?” “Because you have to eat” mello stayed quiet at your response. To know that you cared for him that much made him feel good because he never really got the attention and love that he yearned for so long when he was younger. “Thanks” He got up and walked over to you and intertwined his fingers with yours then gave you a quick kiss on your forehead.

𑇍 mello loves it when you tend to his wounds

𑇍 the way you handle him with such care and preciseness makes him smile a little

𑇍 he pretends to be annoyed and angry when you nag at him for coming home bruised and hurt so much but he actually likes it a lot and doesn’t want you to stop

𑇍 The reason why he likes it so much is because it gives him more time to spend with you. Since mello is a busy man he’s always somewhere away from you unfortunately so when he gets to spend time with you like this it’s even more special

The sound of flickering lights, shuffling of shoes, and rugged breathing echoed throughout the hallway of your apartment. Mello’s vision was hazy from the fight he participated in while doing some business for work, everything hurt like hell and he was trying his hardest to get to you before he passed out. His nerves created niggling aches and pains throughout his body. It felt like an hour had already went by before mello had gotten to your door. He raised his hand with the little strength he had and shakily knocked on your door before dropping his hand back down to his side and leaning his head against the door as pondered if this was even a good idea. Just as he was about to shift his legs to turn and leave, you swiftly opened the door with wide eyes once you saw mello. His nose was bleeding and a little blood had smeared on his cheek from wiping it away, his hands had cuts and lesions on them, his knuckles were extremely swollen and were bleeding too, and he many gashes on his arms. “Mihael….” You trailed off as you held his face and caressed his cheek. He knew you never liked seeing him hurt and the worry that painted your face made his stomach churn with guilt. “Sorry” he whispered softly. Ignoring his apology you shuffled him into your apartment. You helped him settle into the chair in your kitchen before leaving to go get your first aid kit. Mello sat back in your chair while taking deep shaky breaths. It was quiet except for the clacking sound of hands occasionally bumping into other products in your bathroom. You came back out and started wrapping the bandages around his hands and knuckles. You twirled the bandage around his fingers and wrapped it around his knuckles before grabbing the end and beginning of the bandage and tying it. Your feather light touches assuaged mello. He had never been touched so gently before, he was so used to the rough treatment of the people he fought and had encountered. This feeling was different though. It was comforting. Mello lidded eyes shifted to a close as he relaxed more and more into your touch with a content smile on his face. He wears he’s never loved someone as much as he loves you.

𑇍 mello loves it when you both do your nightly routine together

𑇍 at first mello didn’t have one but that changed when he started dating you

𑇍 he might act like he doesn’t like it because of all the complaints he makes but he actually likes it

𑇍 it makes him feel really relaxed and cleansed especially after a long day

“Why are we doing this [name]?” Mello questioned after letting out an exasperated sigh. “Because it’s good for your skin and it’s fun” you replied. ‘Yeah right�� Mello thought. His slender fingers picked up one of your products and examined it. ‘Tea Tree Facial Cleanser. Sounds like some expensive nonsense you’d buy’ mello tell himself. You turned around to mello after sifting through products. “Okay let’s start with the cleanser” you take the small cleansing bottle from him and pour a little on your hand then sit it down on the counter beside the other products. You start smoothing out the product onto mello’s face, not missing the way his brows relaxed. “Feeling relaxed?” You teased. “Hm, a little I guess” he grumbled while looking away. Letting out a breathy laugh, you gave him a peck on his lips then went back to work. Mello feels so tranquil while feeling the sensations of you smoothing and rubbing in the cleanser on his face. You were so gentle with him and that was something Mello liked a lot. ”Don’t fall asleep Mihael we have one more to go” “I won’t and I’m not falling asleep” Mello mumbled. “Mhm okay“ you said with a smirk. Mello came closer to the sink after you motioned him to and rinsed the cleanser off of his face. “Next is the moisturizer” you say while popping the top off and gently squeezing the bottle. “This one smells like mint, it reminds me of toothpaste” he adds. You snicker before asking him if he was ready to smell like toothpaste to which he groaned and told you to shut up. “Let’s just get this over with” he said while sitting down. You went over to him and did the same thing, smoothing and rubbing the product into his face gently. Once again mello relaxes into your warm hands. It’s like he’s on cloud nine being pampered and caressed by an angel. “You’re enjoying this aren’t you mihael? You make it seem like you don’t like it but you actually do! How cute” you say while laughing in between sentences. “No I don’t! This is such a burden and it’s boring, why would I like this” mello turned his head away from you defiantly which made you laugh even harder. If you knew that he actually did like these nightly routines you’d tease the hell out of him, and he couldn’t have that now could he?

reblogs are appreciated!

#x black reader #mello x black reader #mello death note #mello x reader #mello x you #death note x black reader #death note

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zimt-deathnote · 3 months ago

Note

You asked for it, and here it is, Near scenario:

You mentioned a while ago that you imagined at some point Mello just lost it and injured Near seriously.

The fight is followed by a meltdown, a bad one like he hadn’t had in years. Near shuts himself in his room after receiving medical attention, his roommate his only contact with the outside.

He had gotten better at controlling his emotions and reactions since he got to Wammy’s, his self esteem had gotten slightly better since so many failures in public school. But losing it completely in front of all of his classmates, like some baby who can’t stand up for himself, is incredibly humiliating. He’s not angry at Mello. Not that he likes what happened, at all. Still, no matter how supportive his family is, how well Wammy’s taking care of him and helping him, he can’t help blaming himself every time he has an outburst.

Since the staff can’t manage to get him out, after two days they decide to call the family. He doesn’t want to speak to them. Not another failure, not after his parents had found some hope that he might manage on his own.

The day next, his sister comes. She comes into the room, Near’s roommate politely excuses himself.

Near’s in his corner/laboratory on the ground, keeping his hands and eyes busy by dismantling some toy robot. His face is all purple and bandaged.

After a while, his sister gets him to talk to her.

S (for sister, can’t remember her name): so, who do I have to kill? What happened?

N: Don’t be silly, if you want to commit a murder I should remind you that a school full of future detectives isn’t really the ideal place. Unless you want to become our new assignment of the week. You would make the children really happy though.

She asks if he wants to come back home, he refuses. It takes him a lot of effort to convince her that he was not being bullied, and that this was a very isolated accident. Yet, she insists on wanting to know what’s going on.

It’s afternoon, and yet the orange light does not come through the window in the isolated room that was picked just for his needs, sealing him away from his classmates.

Near shares his consternation at having been unable to read the situation before it escalated, and his shame for the meltdown in front of everyone. Of course he knows that it’s mostly Mello’s fault for beating him, but he also knows that if he wants to become a good detective he’ll have to know how to recognise a violent reaction when it’s arriving, or he’ll never be independent.

She smiles.

“Nate-“

“Don’t call me that, you can’t do it here.”

“Nate, when will you get it into that huge brain of yours that nobody ever is actually fully able to function on their own? All of us got blindspots, but not many are so aware of where they are, and not so many would be such sticklers in trying to make up for them. You are doing your best. That’s more than many people can say to do.”

N: “….I’ll admit I haven’t seen much improvement in Mello’s anger issues lately”

S: “haha definitely not, by the way where can I find him? Mom ordered me to-“

N: “whatever it is, please don’t.”

Near is not completely alone in his dark room for that evening.

That’s the gist of the scene. Hope it can be inspiring.

Thank you for reading ❤️❤️

I had this in my inbox for so long now cause I wanted to write that incident out better first but I couldn't get around to do it yet </3

But this here, this is the good shit ☝️ Thank you so so so much for this absolutely lovely scene, Anon 🤍

Sister's name is Alison btw!

----- My other socials Commission Info Let's drink some Ko-Fi! 🍵

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user73817 · 3 months ago

Text

matt dn fic

y/n is in the trenches of a situationship with early mid 2000s unintentional male manipulator loser gamer boy matt

cw: semi-toxic relationship, rough sex, choking, he cums in you (cw needed (?)), a lot of run on sentences idc

afab!reader, reader referred to as a 'girlfriend'

~ 500 words

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He always says it as he cums inside of you, almost inaudible, sliding off his tongue like another breath. “I love you.” he says. Yet, when morning comes, you always wake up to an empty bed.

In the dead of night he touches you so gently, whispers so kindly into your ear, feels the inside of your mouth with the very same tongue he uses to kick you out in the morning. When he says “I love you”, and fucks you like he means it, you really believe it.

But when he acts like you're his dirty secret when morning comes, talks bad about you to your face and behind your back, and has those nights where he fucks you hard with his hand tight around your throat, and only bothers to undo the fly of his jeans, pulling his cock out of his boxers, and leaving his belt to bang up the inside of your thighs as he carelessly uses you for his own gratification, you can't help but feel like just his whore. It’s on those nights when he doesn't even grant you the privilege of staying over for the night, or a ride back to your place, when you walk home in the cold night, scantily dressed, with your ripped tights on, shivering with the beginnings of fingertip shaped bruises on your neck and waist, your underwear wet with his cum, lip gloss nothing but a smeared pinkish tint all around your lips, and mascara running down your face, that you wonder if he just says the words “I love you” to keep you complacent and always returning to his unmade bed.

But there’s always such a sincere look on his face when he spends time with you beyond the realm of his dingy bedroom, the way he hangs onto every word you say even when he couldn't care less about whatever topic you talk to him about, laughing at all your jokes, even when they're not funny, and the way he always wants you around even if he’s just mindlessly gaming all day. Matt even asks for your help when he dyes his hair with that shitty black box dye. He always tells you to leave when Mello comes over to his place, yet seems to like the way you and Mello get along. You can never quite wrap your mind around the way you’ll spend a night crying and alone, wondering if you mean anything at all to Matt beyond a good fuck, and then the very next morning he’ll wrap his arms around you and kiss the back of your bruised neck as you make coffee in his kitchen.

You’d think he barely considers you a close friend, and you certainly aren't his girlfriend, but he’s always your most recent text message and phone call, and it feels like you spend more time with him than you do anyone else in your life. He once told you that you, Mello, and his plug were the three people he sees the most often. Yet nothing ever changes between the two of you, he never gets serious with you, never pulls you close, but never pushes you away either, always keeps you just at arm's length. You spend so much time with him but it still feels like you know nothing about him. You just don't get him at all.

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moral of the story - matt is probably your boyfriend and just bad at communication (mf got a 3/10 in social skills) but honestly who knows with that guy

#matt x reader #matt x y/n #matt x you #matt death note #mail jeevas x reader #mail jeevas #death note x reader #death note x you #death note x y/n #death note fanfiction #death note smut #mello #hes only mentioned like twice though #matt hcs #matt headcanons

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 3 months ago

Note

Do you think death note would be significantly different if Light (or L) was a woman? So much of Light's early characterisation is 'eldest son' how do you think 'eldest daughter' would change things?

Interesting question, that's very hard for me to answer actually. But let's try.

Sexism in Death Note

L is Woman

The thing about L is we don't know how/why Watari selected him. We don't know how they came in contact, why Watari set him up to be super detective and exactly how early that happened, and so on and so forth.

We do have a hint that L was around six or so when he was orphaned in that we get a hint of a flashback in the anime where Watari holds his hand when he's a small child seemingly at the gates of Wammy's, but we really know 0 about him other than that he did become this detective persona and that he keeps eating his rivals and stealing their names/business for himself.

Given L's incredibly young age and the successor program we see later run by a friend of Watari's who runs the orphanage, it seems like L was most likely Watari's idea and that Watari has a very particular vision in mind (that L does not always agree with).

What I'm getting at is, even if everything else is exactly the same, I don't know if a girl would be chosen as 'L' or an 'L' candidate by Watari and company.

The measurements on who gets to be L are deeply weird from the little we see of them. Neither Mello nor Near seem to have particularly relevant experience or much people skills. Mello's better in that respect than Near but it's clear this is... not valued highly given a) how L acts and behaves b) the fact that Mello is very clearly and narratively always second and never close to dethroning Near who has awful social skills. What seems to be most highly valued in an 'L' is 'intelligence' where that intelligence is measured... somehow. It's unclear if this is through puzzles like those Near solves, through academics, through intelligence exams, but what we do see is every successor we meet/L himself are men.

There's a panel where someone shouts "Linda" in the orphanage, but we never see this character and we can't assume they're part of the successor program at all.

And it wouldn't surprise me, from the little we do see, if the tests for who gets to be L aren't, either intentionally or not, geared such that men pass them more easily than women.

We also see that L has very few professional interactions with women. We don't see many of his contacts, but they are dominated by cis men. The few women we see are Wedy who is treated as... track suit boobs and Naomi Misora who is very brilliant/L acknowledges as very brilliant, but we don't see them interact at all (and if we take LABB is canon, when they did it was horrible).

L's is an incredibly masculine and cultivated world.

Basically, what I'm getting at is that I don't think a female L would have been selected to become L in the first place. She wouldn't have been supported by Watari, wouldn't have been given the endless funds and support needed to become the canon L, and Watari would instead be making someone else L (as he/Roger tried to do with Mello and Near).

L might become a detective, but I doubt she'd be reaching international acclaim and fame, certainly not as an anonymous detective. At most, and a generous most, she might be living a modern Ms. Marple lifestyle where this very weird woman shows up somewhere and oh no there's a murder, guess she's solving it.

Light is a Woman

You guessed it, I don't think she's becoming Kira.

The Yagami household is a modern but traditional household with traditional values. Sayu is the sweet young daughter who is supported but brilliant Light Yagami is the apple of the family's eye/especially his father.

It's a very male dominated household in that while we see Sachiko visibly upset by the Kira case destroying her family, she never openly comments on this, not even when Light disappears for months with no explanation, Soichiro stops coming home and the stress is visibly killing him, or later when Soichiro dies, Sayu is kidnapped, and Light himself finally dies.

Soichiro is all about his job where his family is there to support him in their given roles, Sachiko and Sayu in their roles, and Light in his more active role where he can join the police.

There is never any hint of discussing that Sayu should join the police force or should live anything but an ordinary life and get herself an ordinary boyfriend/husband.

We know before the series that Light had been involved, perhaps far more than appropriate, in the police with the support of his father. He geared his entire college education towards becoming a police officer and had had that goal since before the series began.

If Light's born a girl, I don't see her getting the same support, at all, by Soichiro. Soichiro does not want her or Sayu involved with grizzly homicide cases, doesn't want them becoming police officers in homicide, and does not want to discuss the details of any of his cases (which he never does canonically with the entire family/when it's not just Light).

Light is brilliant still and I'm sure Soichiro's very proud of her, but I imagine he'd want to steer her towards some other path, any other path. Light will go to a good university, will get excellent grades, will get a nice career, and then will get married to a fine young man (who perhaps is a cop).

And while a combination of ennui/mental breakdown was what fueled Light to become Kira, I don't know if female Light who's struggling to find what she wants to do with her life/somehow be the best that she can be and be acknowledged as better than everyone else will ever feel the idle curiosity to write in the notebook in the first place.

Though, if she does... I think she'd be all in for much the same reasons that Light was canonically, and with a lot of angst as

#death note #death note meta #death note headcanon #l lawliet #light yagami #soichiro yagami #meta #headcanon #opinion

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dn-imagines-in-2023 · 1 year ago

Text

DATE NIGHT

Light

Is pretty open to whatever you want to do. If you ask him to choose, he'll go with the classic dinner at a nice restaurant and maybe go to a museum or something.

He's a very good conversationalist. He loves to learn so he's very easy to talk to; he remembers details.

'Oh, they hate this color, I better pick a different tie.'

If you're doing something fun, he'll have a good time. But he's not a fan of the 'lay around on the couch' kind of dates, they make him feel unproductive.

He LOVES the lay around on the couch type of dates. They're a good safe option for him when it's not safe for him to be in public.

When it is safe for him to be in public he's completely shameless. All of his habits and quirks are out on display for the whole world to see and he does not care if he gets judged for it.

So if you can't handle the secondhand embarrassment of your boyfriend having his bare feet out for free, you're going to have a bad time.

If you do go out, he likes quieter, more private dates. A library, a park, places that aren't too crowded or chaotic.

Cafes and bakeries are always a win for obvious reasons.

Misa

She really goes all out. You have to schedule your dates with her, because they can be like 6 hours long.

She's a big fan of classic romantic dates. The 'dinner and a move' kind of thing.

I think she would absolutely love to take you to a masquerade. A chance to experiment with fashion and dance with you all night? She'd be all over it.

She would also like shopping dates. She loves to pick out clothes she thinks would look good on you and will let you pick out things for her too.

Takes lots of cute pictures through the night and displays her favorites in her room.

Mello *NSFW mentioned*

He’ll only go on dates with you on his off time- work always comes first. He has to beat Near by any means necessary, that means his love life comes second to that. In another world where everything was resolved neatly, he would likely be more willing to engage in romance.

Mello loves an adrenaline rush. His favorite dates are always a little risky and you always end up sweaty and out of breath (in a good way.)

I imagine he would like taking you out for drinks and going dancing- probably to raves rather than nightclubs.

The dark is a nice excuse to hold your hand- so you don’t get separated of course.

When you’re so exhausted and dizzy you can’t see straight, he’ll call you both a cab and you’ll do everything short of have sex in the back of it.

The real fun starts when you both get upstairs ;)

Matt

Matt loves relaxed stay-at-home dates. You hop on multiplayer on a really relaxing game like stardew valley or minecraft and just lay in a snuggly pile of blankets together.

I think he would also like dates where you make something together- trying a new recipe, or making an art project. It might not turn out great - he doesn’t have a sophisticated palette or a lot of artistic skill, but he would have a lot of fun.

He doesn’t mind going out once in a while, but he doesn’t like dressing up. He hates wearing ties. He’ll do it occasionally for your sake, but it’s not his favorite.

Near

He doesn’t really do specifically set out *dates*. You both just… end up in each others company.

It’s never a case of ‘Let’s set aside this Saturday at 7 for a date night.’ Usually, you just end up in his room while he’s working, you distract him, and you two end up spending the next six hours talking.

I imagine he would like that type of date, where you sit and have a really, really good conversation for hours and hours.

Especially since you’re one of the only people in the world who can really keep up with him.

He might bring out something for you two to work on together, some of his toys, puzzles, models, etc.

He likes meticulous, detail oriented work. Introduce him to knitting/crochet and you two can sit and knit together for hours. (embroidery would also work for this.)

Matsuda

Silly goofy guy.

He likes new experiences, he’s willing to try just about anything once. So if you have a really wild date idea, he’s probably down with it.

If he’s the one to come up with the date, he tries to put some thought into it and make it personal to you. But he has trouble coming up with new ideas so he tends to stick to what he knows - you two have a dedicated date night restaurant you both like.

I have no idea why, but I imagine he would love live theater? Like specifically musicals. Take him to see Hairspray, he’ll have the time of his life.

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mysicklove · 10 months ago

Text

i work at 6 am sunday-friday. i am not a morning person. somebody save me

#🔪 - mello talks too much #this is CRAZYYYYYYYYYYYYY #the microbio lab job tho is so chill #and my coffe job is fun #but like #my god.#and the fact that i go to school at 6am and then stay till 4/5:30pm and then come home and study #goodbye #sorry i keep complaining i #its only day 2 #i just wow #idk how i am going to survive tbh #i am so used to being lazy #winter break fucked me up

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kiyomitakada · 2 months ago

Text

Mello yanks the showering room's door open.

Oh. Oh, okay. He really is nude. Well obviously Mello had deduced that but it's still a bit of a shock.

"You're coming with me," he declares, resolutely dragging his gaze up to Teru Mikami's face.

"A taser?" Mikami's eyes flicker down to what Mello's holding, then back up. "That's hardly necessary."

Where the hell is he getting so much confidence from? He doesn't even have the notebook on him. "I beg to disagree," Mello says, and jabs him in the armpit.

Once Mikami has passed out and Mello's dressed and secured him appropriately, he picks him up — Jesus, he's heavy, Mello had come here expecting Mikami to be working at the gym because of his lack of muscles and incel-ness but nope, turns out he does have abs under that TV suit — and slings him over the shoulder. He heads out. Thankfully, Mikami has come at a frankly unbelievable time of day, so no one else is around except for the receptionist.

The receptionist raises an eyebrow.

"Guy's tuckered out," Mello lies. "He called me earlier. I'm taking him home."

"I was more curious about the ropes," the receptionist says.

"Hey, it isn't any of my business what he gets up to in the shower." Mello had only tied his hands together, anyway. The rest of the rope is wrapped messily around Mikami for now because it's hard doing bondage in a gym shower room.

The receptionist nods, slowly. "Haven't seen you around before."

Mello shrugs. "I moved back to the area recently."

"I see," the receptionist says, and smiles. "I never knew Mikami-san had a brother. He's lucky to have you."

Mello nearly spits blood. How the fuck could he ever be mistaken for this guy's brother? Mello's blonde, for god's sake! "Well we should be going," he says hurriedly, and starts walking briskly down to the locker room.

It's easy enough to press Mikami's gym wristband to the sensor; the machine beeps approvingly, and one of the larger lockers pops open.

…Teru Mikami has brought an honest-to-god suitcase to the gym.

Okay. Sure. Why not. This makes several things easier for Mello, actually. He pulls the suitcase out, sets Mikami unceremoniously down on the floor to check if there's anything else hidden in the locker — there isn't — and ducks back out, picking Mikami back up.

"Hrgh," Mikami mumbles.

"Hush now, brother," Mello mutters, then starts wheeling the suitcase out of the gym. He can check if there's a notebook in it later; he has a hotel reservation to get to.

---

a/n: before you say, "hey, what the FUCK kind of cursed AU is this," i am delighted to inform you that this is official death note canon(!) as of the death note german audio drama, which @mikami has kindly translated here (in reverse chronological order). that's right! there's an official licensed version of death note where mello canonically ties mikami up in a shower! isn't the world beautiful

[ @deathnotetober day 7: gym ]

#mello #mihael keehl #teru mikami #death note #deathnotetober #and before you say ''mello would never be stupid enough to just carry mikami out through the official entrance'': it's the audio drama.#if you read the translations you will understand what i mean by this

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winter-soldier-101 · 10 months ago

Text

Why me! 2

Word count: 1317

AemondxReader

Aemond has been watching you from afar since the day he told you he would kill you and your babe so you’ve stayed away from him since then.

“Are you going to talk to him?” Rhaenyra asks you.

“How can I talk to him when he told me he would kill me and our babe if the babe didn’t look like him all because he thinks your son Jacerys is the father so you tell me how could I ever look at him the same.” (Y/N) tells Rhaenyra.

“(Y/N) I know what he said to you but he does love you” Rhaenyra tells you.

“He told me that I let your bastard son touch me and of my babe looks like your bastard son he will kill us both that’s truly what he said to me so don’t fucking tell me that he loves me because he doesn’t love or care about me anymore” (Y/N) tells Rhaenyra and walks away from her and everyone else.

“(Y/N)” A voice calls out the voice of the one man she truly trusts.

“Elmo, is that really you?” (Y/N) asks as she holds him tight in a hug.

“How I’ve missed you so I miss seeing you run around Riverrun with Kermit” Elmo tells you as he lets you go.

Elmo Tully is like a second father to (Y/N) when her father died fighting in the StepStones with Prince Daemon, (Y/N) was thankful to Prince Daemon he had brought her fathers body back and paid mother some coin to help with everything.

“I want to go home Elmo” (Y/N) whispers out as she cries in his arms.

“I wish I could take you back home (Y/N) but I don’t want your mother and brothers to be in any danger” Elmo tells you.

“I do not want my child to know his or her father hates them so please if I die on my birthing bed take my child and never let Aemond near him or her” (Y/N) tells Elmo.

“I will do everything I can for you and your baby (Y/N)” Elmo tells you.

Aemond stood behind the wall of the secret passageway as he listened to your conversation.

“When Aemond told me he would kill me and the babe I thought about jumping from Maegor’s tower so we wouldn’t feel unwanted and unloved.” (Y/N) says as tears fall down her face.

Aemond listens to your cries and feels his heart break as you say you wanted to end your life because of what he said.

“(Y/N) it’s okay you can write to me and your mother any time and if you need me I will come.” Elmo tells you.

“I just want to tell the King that Jacerys is the father of my baby and let me and Aemond go away from each other.” (Y/N) tells Elmo.

“(Y/N) no you can not do that the King will punish you if he feels like you abandoned your vowels to Aemond” Elmo tells you.

“I know I just don’t know what to do.” (Y/N) tells him.

Three days later

“I have decided that my daughter and heir Rhaenyra Targaryen will be crowned Queen in a fortnight the ravens have been sent and all Lords and Lady’s shall be in attendance to celebrate their new Queen” Viserys announces to the masses and to his council members some shocked at the news.

“Your Grace, are you sure you don’t want to name your first son Aegon King?” Otto asks Viserys.

“Otto enough of this my daughter will be Queen and that’s final!” Viserys yells out making sure everyone understands.

5 months later

(Y/N) lay in her birthing bed as Maester Mellos tells the midwives to get some water and cloth as you begin to push.

“Princess get ready to push” Maester Mellos tells you as you let out a scream and push.

“One more push Princess” Maester Mellos tells you as you push one more time and stop when you hear a loud cry.

“A boy Princess” Mellos tells you as he shows you your son and gives him to the midwife to clean him up.

“Princess I need you to push one more time” Maester Mellos tells you as you push once again and hear another cry.

“Another boy Princess” Mellos tells you.

“Twins oh my Layla will you get Queen Rhaenyra.” (Y/N) asks her handmaiden.

“Twin boys Aemond” Alicent tells Aemond.

“Yes mother I’ve heard I’ll visit when I’m done training” Aemond tells Alicent as he leaves her alone standing there.

“Should I call you Queen Rhaenyra now” (Y/N) asks Rhaenyra.

“No you don’t have to call me Queen Rhaenyra (Y/N) your my good sister and oh your boys are beautiful (Y/N)” Rhaenyra tells you.

(Y/N) looks at her sons and sees both have white hair and not a single brown hair in sight (Y/N) lets out a little laugh.

“I don’t want him anywhere near my sons” (Y/N) tells everyone in the room as Alicent walks in.

“My dear girl, how are you feeling?” Alicent asks you.

“I’m fine Alicent where is my husband at?” (Y/N) asks Alicent.

“He went to the training yard for a-“ Alicent starts to tell you.

“Yes of course he did let him know he is not allowed in my room and he will not be allowed to see my sons” (Y/N) tells Alicent.

Three days later

(Y/N) holds little Aragon as Aeneys lays still in his bed but a soft knock wakes him (Y/N) puts Aragon down and picks up Aeneys and opens to see Aemond along with Jacerys.

“What are you doing here Aemond?” (Y/N) asks him angrily as Layla waits for you outside.

“Layla come in and take the boys please?” (Y/N) asks Layla.

“I’ve come here to apologize to you and Jacerys and see my sons.” Aemond tells you.

“No they are my sons not yours!” (Y/N) yells at Aemond and tries to close the door on him.

“(Y/N) stop I’m sorry I’m trying to make everything right and make it up to you.” Aemond tells you.

“No you don’t deserve to meet my sons” (Y/N) tells him.

“(Y/N) I’m going to see them so please move?” Aemond asks you.

“No, they are my sons, remember their bastards to you so leave me and my sons alone Aemond.” (Y/N) tells Aemond.

“(Y/N) let me see them now” Aemond says as he pushes the door open and makes way over to the boys.

“No stay away from my sons” (Y/N) says as she pushes Aemond away from the twins.

“(Y/N) enough!” Aemond yells as he pushes you to the floor.

“You will never put your hands on me again. If you do it will be the last time you have hands. Do you understand me?” (Y/N) tells Aemond as she gets up off the floor.

Aemond looks at you shocked as he holds his left cheek.

“You can see Aragon and Aeneys when I feel like you are ready to be their father” (Y/N) tells Aemond.

“You named them with me?” Aemond asks you.

“Yes I named my sons because their father wasn’t there for them when they were born” (Y/N) tells Aemond.

“(Y/N) I’m sorry that I hurt you and I’m sorry about what I said about you and the boys and Jacerys. I'm sorry for what I said about you and my wife and sons” Aemond says to you and Jacerys.

“I appreciate your apology, Aemond but I have not forgiven you yet.” (Y/N) says to Aemond.

“Thank you for apologizing uncle and I’m sorry about all the pain me and Lucerys caused you.” Jacerys apologizes to Aemond.

Taglist: @dc-marvel-girl96 @immyowndefender @izfrogzyy1 @lexi-anastasia-astra-luna @hc-geralt-23

#aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond imagine #aemond x you #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond x reader #aemond smut #aemond fanfiction

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