[ruvniee]

Nate River, with that annoyingly pretty long hair of his, lets you fist the white strands to keep his face buried right where you need it. Forcing his face deeper into your cunt as he eats you out like the whore you are. His brilliant tongue works your pussy with a calculated precision that has you seeing stars, your thighs clamping around his head to keep him right there. He doesn't let up, devouring you whole until you're sobbing. You can feel his quiet, satisfied hum against your clit as you completely come undone. As your climax shatters through you, you feel his clever smirk pressed against your soaked folds—proof that he's the master of this game too, and you're the one puzzle he truly enjoys solving.

[ruvniee]

L just finished his third slice of cake, the only thing left was the strawberry and cream from the top. He plucked it with his fingers, of course, and his dark eyes flicked between the fruit and you—face down on the couch, skirt hiked up over your ass, kicking your feet in the air like the good girl you are. He murmurs about not wasting sugar, pushing your panties aside. You gasp as he uses the strawberry like a plug, stuffing it into your tight hole, the cream smearing everywhere. He spreads you open with both hands, his tongue immediately licking into you, devouring the sweet mess he made. A much more entertaining way to clean his dessert, and you're just his willing, trembling plate.

[ruvniee]

L Lawliet letting you sink onto his cock right there in his desk chair, the leather groaning under the shift of weight. His usual crouch is abandoned, back pressed against the seat as he buries his face in your neck, inhaling the scent of you instead of the stale sugar of his case files. His mind, a relentless machine dedicated to the singular purpose of catching Kira, finally whites out. No deductions, no theories—just the wet, slick sound of you taking him deeper, your thighs trembling around his. His long fingers dig into your hips, guiding your rhythm, his quiet, calculated hums turning into sharp, choked gasps against your skin. The greatest detective in the world, utterly solved by the clutch of your cunt.