i made this to reblog fic

Name's Are. 25. they/him. 18+. Minors DNI. I will block you if you don't have your age in your desc. If I like without reblogging it's cuz I need to get to my comp to properly spam love into the tags or I got interrupted n have to come back later to finish reading. All characters are aged up to their mid 20s or higher.

[theplaceicommitmysins]

18+ He’s The Next One: 10 - F!Reader X L Lawliet

No gendered language is used (Probably).

Wordcount: 1.9k

Contains: Second person POV, self harm, penetrative sex, the reader is a serial killer.

(technically the last chapter but I've got an idea for one more lil jokey one that might follow)

The click of your heels as you pace the hallway outside of the private hospital room L is in is downright cacophonous to your ears, echoing back to you discordantly until it sounds and feels as if you’re running from something.

Three days. Three entire days since you killed him, however briefly, and you still haven’t been allowed in to see him. The doctors keep insisting he needs to stabilize and be monitored, that any excitement could be detrimental to his recovery.

Without thinking you reach up and claw welts down the side of your neck, manicured fingernails digging in until your skin nearly breaks beneath.

It calms you.

You comfort yourself with the knowledge that not even Watari has been permitted inside, eyes darting to see the old man sitting in stoic vigil across from the door.

He didn’t react to your little display of self-harm. Never does.

You might hate him. You might hate everyone.

You killed L. You told yourself you would kill him next and then you did so why-

When the door to L’s room opens you freeze mid-step, eyes locked on the doctor as she heads out, giving you a gentle smile before saying, “Mr. Ryuga is ready to take visitors now.”

She’s still talking when you brush past her, nearly bowling her down as you rush into the room, an apologetic Watari on your heels.

And you see L.

He’s sitting up in bed with at least two dozen empty pudding cups on the side table while he works his way through another, spoon held between thumb and pointer finger in that weird way he does.

His skin is that usual sickly grayish color he has, worsened by the hideous florescent lights of the hospital room and the dark circles under his eyes are the same as ever. Instead of a blackish blue his lips are pale, you note, as the tip of his soft pink tongue darts out to lick away the remnants of pudding. No longer glassy, his flat black eyes somehow manage to catch none of the ghastly light in the room.

“Watari. M.”

Then he smiles, cute as ever and you’re bouncing on your toes with restraint as you let the old man go to him first, digging your nails into your palms through freshly changed bandages until you’re certain you’ve reopened the wounds. When Watari moves you follow, only a half a step behind.

“Ryuzaki.” Watari’s voice is warm in a way you haven’t heard before. And you swear you can see him get younger. His posture, his eyes, everything about him coming to life as he sits by L’s bedside and gazes at him, taking in the same details as you had and coming to the same conclusion.

Alive.

He’s alive and he’s here and he’s not going to lose his surrogate son.

You are going to lose your…

Yours.

You aren’t going to lose what’s yours.

“You’ve followed my instructions, I assume?”

Watari nods, “All of M’s personal effects have been sent to England. They will arrive before we do.”

What? Qué? Nani?

“Excellent.” L smiles that cute smile again and you’re already dismissing your own curiosity as irrelevant. For now. “And the Kira case?”

“Ms. Amane’s case has been formally dismissed with prejudice. Her actions of the past year will not come back to haunt her. As for Light Yagami…” Watari’s eyes flick to you for the barest moment and you will your lips not to twitch up into a smile at the look of disgust they hold, “He is... Deceased. With a full confession captured by our cameras.”

L looks to you then, expression blank even with three days of eyebrow growth, and says, voice as flat as his eyes, “Speak with the doctors about my release and get the jet ready for us, Watari. That will be all.”

Watari stands stiffly, bowing his head in a display of acknowledgment and respect, then you hear him leave, your own eyes refusing to budge from L’s.

It isn’t until your hear the click of the door shutting behind him that you let yourself clamber onto the bed, plastering yourself to L’s front and flattening him against the hospital mattress, shaking like a leaf as his thin arms come up around you, though his hands hover, still holding the pudding cup and spoon.

“You haven’t slept.”

“You slept too much.” You mutter into the side of his neck, before pressing a kiss to his cold skin.

Not cold. Not really. Cold is what he was when he was dead on the floor in front of the monitors.

Compared to then he’s practically burning up.

Alive.

L shifts arms leaving you, provoking a desperate whine, only to come back moments later, clinging to you properly this time, fingers sinking into your back like he’s trying to dig his way inside of you. “I can say with all honesty that this is the first and quite likely last time that will ever be the case.”

You feel his grip loosen but not leave as one hand trails up the back of your neck, playing with the wispy hairs there with the very tips of his fingers. You sigh in contentment at the feeling, pressing another kiss to the skin of his neck and he lets out a groan.

Oh?

Pulling back you meet his eyes again, one hand braced against the bed and the other going up to cup his cheek, tip his head back slightly to better meet your eyes.

It’s always hard to see his pupils, dark as his eyes are but by the way his lips are parted, quick puffs of hair coming out and the highest points of his cheekbones are beginning to flush you know that they must be blown wide.

Your eyes go to the various machines the hospital has him hooked up to. The heart rate monitor in particular.

And you wonder how fast it would need to go before you’re interrupted.

It’s as if L reads your mind, eyes fluttering shut and head dropping back to the pillow with another groan, his hips rolling up beneath where you’re sitting, the interested press of his stiffening cock grinding into the cleft between your hips and your thighs through his hospital gown, the blankets and your panties.

You’re sure your grin is manic, your eyes frightening and bloodshot and exhausted and all of it backlit by hospital fluorescents. But somehow that doesn’t seem to matter to L, who’s eyes crack open again to look up at you, straddling him, and lets out a sound of need at what he sees.

“He died.” You think. “He died because I killed him and now he’s here and he’s so fucking-“

“Alive.”

Your expression falls into one of confusion, as you look at him, leaning into the hand he brings up to cup your cheek as he reiterates.

“You’re alive.”

He was worried about you.

You planned his own murder with him so that Kira couldn’t have it and even though he was dead he was worried about you.

The kiss you give him hurts, crushing your lips together like you want them to bruise, to split open and break and bleed and he’s reciprocating with the same force, grabbing your waist with all his strength “Stronger than I look” and you’re certain there will be marks for days afterwards. Certain that’s the point.

In an awkward mix of scrambling and kicking on both of your parts the two of you manage to shove the blankets off the bed, and his hospital gown up and out of the way, the only barrier between the two of you now being your panties as you grind yourself down against his bare cock, pink and dripping as you slide your clothed cunt over the length of him in a steady desperate roll of your hips that has both of you whining and gasping broken sounds into each others mouths.

His fingers, cold against your hot skin but still so alive, dip under your panties and drag them to the side so you can feel each other directly. It’s only when he shifts his hips to catch his tip against your entrance, parting you with the blunt head of him, flushed and wet with both of your need, that you rock up onto your knees, pulling away and breaking the kiss.

“Please-“ He gasps out, voice high and reedy, sounding like he’s about to sob, but you don’t care, grabbing his jaw in a vice like grip and digging your fingers in, the bloodied tips of your manicured nails pressing indents into his cheeks.

With your forehead against his you hiss out, “You don’t ever leave me again.” Like you aren’t the one who killed him.

And as always he acquiesces to you, eyes fluttering shut as he nods, but you don’t accept that. “Look at me.” Your voice cracks as you say it, pressing your forehead down against his own as his eyes open once more, gaze meeting yours unbreaking.

“No one gets to have you. You’re mine. You don’t leave me. You don’t die.”

“Yours.” He agrees, whispered against your mouth, and with that you rock your hips back again, catching his tip and sinking down to the base in one slow roll, savoring all of him.

The way you move with one another is practiced, no longer desperate but certain. The way your cunt hugs his cock as you rock up contrasting with the wet greedy glide of you sinking back down has both of you reduced to animal need, quicker than you thought possible.

Mine.

Yours.

You breathe the words back and forth between the two of you as you pick up your pace, the sound of your bodies pressing together and coming apart accompanied by the rapid beeping of the heart monitor.

It could be minutes or hours that you spend like this, feeling like one person in two bodies, desperately trying to correct that mistake by joining together. Time loses all meaning as you stay like this, a warmth deep in your gut building up between of you, waves lapping at a shore in the same steady strokes of your movement until all you can do is press your lips to his, gasp into his mouth, and come apart, pussy squeezing his cock over and over as you fall apart around him.

You’re still shaking when he finds his release, sucking your lower lip into his mouth and biting down as he spills himself inside of you, buried to the hilt yet rocking his hips up into yours like he wants to be deeper.

Both of you lie there afterwards, his arms wrapping around you to hold you to his chest as he softens inside of you, though you angle your hips to keep him in place, not wanting to part just yet. The heart monitor slows as the two of you come down, picking up for a brief moment when you press a kiss to his jaw in a way that makes you smile and him blush scarlet.

Alive.

“So… England?”

“Yes. Most cases don’t require I travel, but in many ways this one has been an exception.”

So he’s from England.

Damn. This really is happening isn’t it?

This is the kind of personal detail you thought L would never willingly give up, but here he is, soft cock keeping you full of his cum as his gently traces nonsensical shapes against your skin, and tells you things you never expected to know.

“… I’m gonna have to learn English aren’t I?”

You feel him smile and the faintest huff of a laugh against your forehead, “It would be beneficial, yes.”

[softp3ach]

Stupid comic based on that one meme

[theplaceicommitmysins]

18+ He’s The Next One: 9 - F!Reader X L Lawliet

No gendered language is used (Probably).

Wordcount: 3.1k

Contains: Second person POV, violence, the reader is a serial killer, major character death.

(Don't hate me I promise it's gonna be okay we got two more chapters bay bee)

You wake up to fingers tracing your skin.

L arranges Misa’s pardon.

You wake up to fingers tracing your skin.

Misa agrees to lie to her boyfriend for her hero.

You wake up to fingers tracing your skin.

L orders Watari to get you anything you ask for. No exceptions.

You wake up to fingers tracing your skin.

Watari installs a hidden drawer underneath L’s desk and the two of you lock the Death Note away until the time is right.

You wake up to fingers tracing your skin.

You have sex. More sex than you can remember having at any point prior and you don’t want to let go when it’s over.

You don’t want this to be over.

—-

You wake up to cold, thin fingers gently tracing your features; eyelids, nose, lips, jaw and back again. It’s a routine you’ve started getting used to. Ever since you’d been let out of solitary L’s been noticeably clingier, holding you to him as if you’re a parachute, grip tightening whenever Kira or Rem were in the room, as if he’s moments away from being pushed out of a plane and you’re the only thing that can keep him from a crunchy, messy death.

It’s nice.

His body is cool against your own, keeping you comfortable beneath the tangled sheets the two of you are wrapped in as you breathe out a contented sigh, the changes to your breathing alert him to your having woken up and he presses his thin chapped lips to the side of your neck. Despite how cool he is, the places he kisses always feel warm in the moments afterwards.

“Good morning.” He murmurs, voice scratchy from sleep, and less monotonous than when others are around to hear. More of a soft hum.

“Good Morning.” You respond, turning in his arms to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, feeling it twitch up into his weirdly adorable smile. Your hands come up, sliding over his bony torso, tracing his collar bones and over the sides of his neck so you can cup his jaw and draw his lips firmly against your own.

L's arms twine around you, pulling you in until you’ve completely molded your bodies against one another, heedless of the stickiness last nights activities have left between you.

When you part, his black eyes meet your own, open to you in ways you never would have imagined when he had you afraid for your life in a bathroom stall.

“It’s today.”

He says it casually, like he’s remarking on the weather, but his arms are desperate in the way he clutches you to his chest, and you can feel his heart beating against you, rapid as a humming bird.

It’s clear to you he thinks he’s going to die soon. And given the package you’d requested from Watari came last night, he isn’t wrong.

You nod and bend your neck to press a kiss to his forehead this time, soft and lingering, before whispering, “Only if you’re ready.”

The hands on you twitch, fingers pressing firmly into your flesh and he buries his face into your hair, taking a shuddering breath as he tries to compose himself. You let him, brushing your fingers through soft hair, still surprising to you, occasionally catching at the slightest of tangles and picking them apart.

It doesn’t surprise you when he rolls you onto your back, hovering over you with his knees now bracketing your hips, nor when his hands shake as he cups your cheeks, then traces them down your body, mirroring the path you took on him until he’s resting his hands on your hips, and scoots himself back to sit on your plush thighs.

You know he’s memorizing you, and you don’t blink once as you do the same.

What does surprise you is when your own hands shake, reaching down to grab his and bring them back up, peppering them with kisses, and he let’s out a little sob, his face crumpling in a despairing rictus you’ve never seen on him before.

And given your violent proclivities, you’re intimately familiar with despair in its many forms.

You sit up, pulling him further onto your lap and wrap your arms around his head, as if that can somehow shield him from the inevitable. And shield you from all he’s feeling.

You don’t want it.

You don’t want his fear, his anguish, his desperation, his pain, but he gives it to you anyway, lays himself bare before you, literally and figuratively as he shakes in your lap, though he doesn’t cry out again.

Your Target, Frog, L, Detective shouldn’t break like this.

It’s not fair like this.

But you both, however ignorantly, signed up to play a game with peoples lives, your own included. So here you are.

Sunlight creeps through the small gap in the curtains, cutting a slash across the two of you in the dark of the room and you wish it would stop there. That the earth would cease turning and you could stay in this room with your Toy, Pet, Lover, Detective. It would never get later, and the two of you could just… Breathe.

But the light continues to slowly shift, until it doesn’t touch you at all, until the mark of it stretches across L’s face and he pulls away, dividing his features like fractured glass yet still not catching his dead black eyes.

“I’m ready.” His voice is flat in the way it was when you were strangers and you hate it but you nod, giving him one last more squeeze.

I’m not. You don’t voice the thought, just smile at him as you push his hair from his forehead, pressing a quick kiss to the space between the stubble of his overnight eyebrow regrowth.

You twist, grabbing his hips and rolling him onto his back, then poke him in the forehead, “You shave while I get dressed and we’ll meet with the others in five.”

L nods, and that’s what you do.

—-

It’s only when you’re alone in the bathroom of the private suite you never bother using, since you and L are more than content to share that you loosen your mental leash, looking into the shattered mirror, broken since your confinement, and let out a guttural scream.

Without meaning to you find yourself slamming the palms of your hands against the mirror over and over and over, breaking it further as the cracks spread and worsen and catch the delicate skin of your palms making you bleed.

The pain centers you, somewhat, as you look at the bloody broken mess in front of you, and your reflection in it. A large crack crosses your features in the same place the sunlight crossed L’s.

Was that from before, or is this crack a new one?

You stick out your tongue and blow a raspberry.

It takes longer than five minutes for you to get dressed, prioritizing bandaging your hands so you don’t get blood all over yourself and you make a half-assed attempt at cleaning up the broken glass before remembering you don’t have to give a shit after today.

This whole building could burn with almost everybody inside and you wouldn’t miss a thing as long as you got out with your prize.

Grabbing the package Watari left for you on your nightstand you slide it open, and slip out two capped syringes, one going up each of your sleeves.

Standing at the door of 'your' suite you have to stop and take a deep breath in, reminding yourself on a shaky exhale. “If this works, I kill Kira.”

Another deep inhale, “If this doesn’t work,” you flick the syringe out of your sleeve then back in, practicing the already familiar motion, “I kill Kira slowly.”

—

Entering the main observation room of headquarters you look at the inhabitants, eyes nearly twitchy from how tightly wound you are in this moment as they lock on the key players of this tragedy. L sits in his usual seat, Kira beside him and Rem hovering just behind, with Matsuda standing pressed up against the farthest wall from her as he could get.

You flick your gaze between the two of them quickly before asking, voice deliberately droll, “You traumatized my puppy, didn’t you?”

“It was necessary to get a second set of eyes on the notebook. If I was the only one who saw her, it could just be madness. I am around the age when major psychosis symptoms start to present themselves.” L’s head turns towards Light, intentionally creepy, as he locks his eyes on the younger mans, “I would hate to give Light-kun the impression that I’ve gone mad.”

“Her? Who exactly is her?” Information he didn’t have. The perfect bait to get Light Yagami on a hook.

Ignoring Kira, and nearly speaking over him with the quickness of your response, you saunter past and lean against the desk in front of L, eyes flicking condescendingly up and down him as you say, “As much as I hate the kid, Light would’ve handled it better than Matsuda, no doubt.”

“H-Hey-“ Matsuda calls out in an extremely shaky protest only to squeak into sudden silence when you and Rem shoot him the same glare at the same time.

“I’m sorry," Kira cuts in again, not apologetic in the slightest, "I thought I was supposed to be a part of this taskforce, so why am I being kept in the dark about this? You mentioned a notebook, like the notes both Kiras left? How exactly am I supposed to help if I don’t know what’s going on, Ryuzaki?”

“Point, Light.” You say, holding up a finger as if keeping score.

The unimpressed look L gives you nearly makes you laugh but you hold it back as he speaks, also ignoring Kira, “While I understand your reasoning, M, if it turns out my initial hypothesis is correct then allowing Light-kun access to the notebook could result in all of our deaths.” He says it so plainly, and you taste bile at the back of your throat, forcing your face to remain apathetic. L turns back to the monitors and types something into the command terminal, “Which would be much more traumatic for the puppy, if you consider it that way.”

Kira opens his mouth but you speak first, “Or it could prove him innocent and we could stop wasting resources on a regular teenage sociopath.”

The look on Kira’s face is so outraged it takes all your self control not to cackle, the nerves making you feel manic and hyper in a way you don’t know how to handle. You want to point and mock him directly, and lunge at him and tear his throat out with your teeth and-

That can’t happen yet. You can gloat when he’s a corpse. Or damn close to being one.

“I’m not-“

“Regular,” L interrupts, waving his hand dismissively, “We’re aware. But the risks-”

That he's still taking a moment to make a dig at L and pull a huff of laughter from you has your eyes starting to sting.

Fucking Frog.

Twisting so your body is Between L and the screen you pull out the hidden drawer and retrieve the notebook, fingers picking at the fresh edge of the pages, before holding it up with one hand. “-Are far outweighed by the benefits.”

L bugs out his eyes in a frankly disturbing way and he lunges for you, slower than you both know he can move, but you’re already turning, hopping up to sit on the desk and planting a foot against his chest to shove him away.

You let out a shaky exhale as you deliver your next line in this tragedy you're playing out, entering the final act, “Catch.”

Light Yagami reaches out and catches the Death Note from the air.

And the very moment his fingertips touch the cover, Kira looks up, locking eyes with you.

He knows you know.

Slowly, Kira drags his gaze around the room, going tense for a moment when his eyes land on Rem, then just a second too late he starts shrieking like a damn hyena, stumbling back and away from her.

“See,” you gesture, tone and body language blase “You’re probably not crazy and he’s probably not Kira.”

Rem groans out a sound of pure disgust at the show you're all putting on for her and the cameras and drifts out of the room through the wall.

If you weren’t so shit-scared of her you’d consider than an accomplishment.

It’s so very helpful of Kira to be predictable as well, Watari coming in with a tray of cupcakes on cue at the noise he's making, looking to the falsely histrionic teen and, voice far too calm for the situation, says “Miss Amane has returned from her latest photoshoot and is asking to see you.”

And Kira’s eyes flash with what you consider to be blatant triumph- Amateur -then he slaps a hand to his chest, still holding the Death Note and stumbles towards the door. “R-Right. Misa. I’ll go see to her.” He’s still warbling his voice in that high-school-theater-terror kind of way and you and L make no move to stop him or even remark on the fact that he still held the notebook.

With a nod of your head towards Matsuda you pipe up, tone gentle, “You can go get some air if you’d like.” Pointedly flicking your gaze to the door and with a grateful smile he nods and hurries out after Kira.

It’s several moments after the door clicks shut behind him that you ease yourself off of the desk, approaching L cautiously then all but collapsing into his lap when he opens his arms and lowers his knees down for you.

You can't help it when you press your ear to his chest, listening to the rapid thumping of his heart, counting the beats. You breath them aloud as a cold hand smooths down your hair, but both of you freeze when your phone pings.

You pull the cellphone from your pocket and look at the ID.

Princess: both names, five minutes, him first

With a shaky sigh you, press your forehead to L’s, slipping the phone back into your pocket and bringing your hand up to his neck, gently resting your fingers against his fluttering pulse point, “Ready?”

“I suppose I have no choice.”

Then you sink the syringe into the muscle of his neck, between shoulder and collarbone, and inject, starting a mental countdown.

Kira comes back in and you’re looking at the monitors, standing on the far side of the desks and trying not to go insane as you alternate focus on the sound of L’s unsteady breathing and the tic-tic-tic of the wall clock. You don’t really see what’s on the monitors though, instead staring daggers at the slightest reflection of Kira looking at his watch.

What kind of teenager wears a fucking watch anyway?

You see Kira grin, and then L gurgles, and slumps, falling forwards out of his chair.

Whipping around, you look between L and Kira where he stands holding the notebook by his side, “I win.” His voice is as crazy as his eyes, and he’s looking at his watch, then back to you.

You count the seconds, wondering when the usual cold is going to kick in. When you’ll go into predator mode but all you feel is the rapid tap of your own heart palpitating, beating against the inside of your ribs like a trapped insect.

He’s doing a villain monologue. You can see it, see his lips moving, but the only thing you can hear is the sound of distant wind, or maybe fire, or- Your own blood. Rushing quickly through you as the world goes red around you, and it isn’t cold this time. It’s hot.

When several seconds go by and nothing happens. his face falls, and you grin.

Even though the cold didn’t come, and this burning heat in it’s place is foreign to you, you’re still a killer. And a damn sight better one than Kira is. So he doesn’t stand a chance when you lunge at him, aiming low and taking his legs out before scrambling up his body, interlocking both of your hands together and double slamming both fists down into his windpipe.

Then you do it again.

And again.

Your own blood is soaking through the bandages around your hands, dripping down the sides of his neck as you continue to wail on him, having reopened your wounds from earlier.

You wonder, through the heat and the sound of blood rushing in your ears, and crunching cartilage and bones, and bubbling liquid-y screams that turn to choked wheezes if you could beat him so hard you decapitate him, flesh does split when struck hard enough, but your eyes are as fixated on the second hand of the rooms clock as he had on his own watch and you’re on a tight schedule.

Kira’s unlikely to go anywhere, pulpy meat bag that he is now, but you hate the bitch and understand the necessity of being thorough so heaving yourself off of him, you grab Kira by both ankles and drag him towards the nearest coffee table, dropping both feet on it before jumping up and stomping hard down on his knees, breaking his legs backwards.

When he screams, it’s barely a sound at all.

Then you turn to see L, slumped on the floor at a horrific angle in front of his seat, completely limp.

Honestly when you’d planned this you thought it wouldn’t be hard to face. He’s sickly enough looking on a day to day basis that you figured he’d barely look any different. Like he was just playing dead.

You think about this morning, his eyes on yours and his hands shaking, to last night, cheeks flushed and pink tongue parting pale lips.

You never realized how very alive he looked before.

Now he looks dead.

L’s skin is somewhere between blue and purple and his lips and nails are even worse, nearly turning black. You don’t bother checking for a pulse before you slide the second syringe out of your sleeve, tap the artery in his neck directly, and inject him with Narcan.

Pulling his phone from his jeans, you hit send on the pre-written text to Watari, then you toss it to the side and begin chest compressions.

“Stay alive.” 104 BPM, You think, “Ah, ah, ah, ah, stayin’ alive.”

You don’t stop until the paramedics Watari had waiting outside are physically dragging you off of him.

There’s crimson against the white of his shirt, over his heart, the blood from your hands has soaked the fabric, and you know it’s stained irreparably.

Watari helps you off the floor, his expression distraught as he guides you into L’s usual seat and out of the way of the men loading Kira and L onto gurneys.

Watching as they cover Kira with a sheet.

As they take away your first kill since L’s heart stopped beating.

You thought you’d want to brag. To cackle and gloat and misquote Kira’s stupid villain monologue to rub it in but. You don’t.

Before they leave the room you stand on your knees, craning your neck as you seek L’s eyes, finding them glassy instead of the usual black holes that refuse to catch light.

When Watari places a hand on your shoulder you feel yourself break.

[theplaceicommitmysins]

18+ He’s The Next One: 8 - F!Reader X L Lawliet

No gendered language is used (Probably).

Wordcount: 2.7k

Contains: Second person POV, violence, penetrative sex, the reader is a serial killer.

“Sweet mother of fuck!” You pick up the lamp from your (L’s) bedside table and hurl it at the monster hovering a foot away from you, eyes going wide with horror as it passes straight through and smashes against the wall.

“So I’ve stopped straddling the line between sane and crazy and have fully picked a side to land on. Great.” You think, as you stare at the creature before you. Bony and white and tall and weirdly hot, nope not going there, it lifts an inhumanly long arm up to point at you, the motion as fluid as the creation of Adam if Adam scared the absolute fuck out of god.

Then when it she? opens her mouth to speak, the first thing she says is your full name.

Shit.

There’s a long pause as she waits for you to acknowledge her with something other than abject terror before you manage to croak out, “Yup.”

Then you let out a shriek and scramble backwards, trying to escape her sudden approach, landing on your and L’s bed with a bounce and scooting as far away from her as you can without falling off the other side, snatching up a pillow as a shield like that will somehow protect you.

“I have seen something strange.” She says, voice inhuman in how it somehow doesn’t seem to fit the space you’re in, like the air she expels and sound waves she produces aren’t actually hitting the walls, or the windows or the carpet. Like the sound exists only for you to hear.

It rips a shudder from you.

“Same.” You think.

“All humans die. Their lifespan is set, hovering above their heads for gods of death to see,” Shinigami. Noted. “Unchanging. But yours changed.”

“Can… Can they do that?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“Yet your lifespan keeps shifting before my very eyes.” The clawed hand reaches out again, fingers lackadaisically drifting through the air above your head like she’s testing the temperature of water and satisfied with what she finds. 

“Every time I decide to kill L.” You inhale sharply, shocked by the speed with which the cold overtakes your body, the swiftness with which you are prepared to kill, “Your lifespan shrinks to nearly nothing.” The shinigami pauses for a moment and her freaky yellow monster eyes flash in the dark, “Whenever I change my mind…” She pokes the air above you, “You live a long, long life… For a human.”

“… Cool?”

The look she gives you is flat but it also makes you want to cry from fear, “Do you know what this tells me?”

“That when L dies Kira kills me?”

“It tells me that L lets you live.”

“That was a given,” you think, then pause, because no it wasn’t. Was it?

“You have taken human lives and faced no consequence, as Kira does, yet even with evidence L does not turn on you. Should he survive, you will escape this situation hale and whole.”

“Or with a life sentence in prison.” You snark under your breath to yourself.

Her presence begins to feel more oppressive, like the air in the room has started to crush you and the pillow you held as a shield you now hold like a child clutching a stuffed toy for safety.

Now you’re hyperventilating to the point where you know you could lose consciousness if you don’t calm down.

“You have the power to shift L away from his principles.”

But that’s not what matters to her, you realize. Not truly.

“There’s someone you don’t want to die.” You whisper it, afraid that you might offend this literal deity into smiting you, or whatever it is she does.

Her chest expands like she’s inhaling sharply, though you note that at no point prior to now has she seemed to breathe, like the motion is more habitual body language than out of necessity.

The next pause is longer.

You think you might be sick.

“You have protected Misa Amane to the best of your ability, and her lifespan has remained… Static.”

“Short.” You think she means.

“If my lifespan can change, hers could too. You want me to get L to pardon Misa.”

Hesitation and then a nod of confirmation.

“… How- How am I seeing you? How does Light kill? Why-”

She’s suddenly looming and you get the impression questioning a literal god isn’t the smartest move.

Once again that feeling of life ending terror seizes you and you quickly blurt out some justifications., “L isn’t going to spare Misa for just a pretty please, but if I can give him Kira,” She looks furious and you flinch, “Yagami! If I can give him Yagami, he’ll be far more likely to listen to me!”

You hold your breath, clutching the pillow like a lifeline and wait to see how short your life truly is.

“You touched my death note.” She gestures towards the nightstand where an innocuous black journal lay face down.

“… Death note?”

She just sort of hovers and stares at you so you slowly move towards the nightstand, crawling across the sheets till you can reach it with the very tips of your fingers and pull it to you, wanting to maintain a safe laughable distance. Your eyes dart between the book and her, but when she remains unmoving you relax an iota, flipping the journal open to the first page.

A list of instructions greets you.

And suddenly, so much of how Light’s been getting away with this makes sense.

“Motherfucker… He was cheating the whole god damn time!”

You look up, having more questions than answers now, and… She’s gone. The shinigami, whoever she was, disappeared into thin air, just as she appeared.

Hands clutching the book you read the rules again, then flip to a blank page.

You could kill him. Kill Kira with his own powers. It would be almost poetic.

The paper crinkles beneath your shaking fingers, as you clutch the death note nearly tight enough to tear it in half.

—

With a soft thump you bop L on the top of the head with the Death Note.

Turning around, spoon full of pudding hovering in that weird grip he has in front of his face, L looks at you with undisguised confusion. The dark circles under his eyes more prominent than you’ve ever seen them before, and they’ve been getting worse every day he hasn’t been cuffed to Kira.

Dangling the book before his eyes in a two fingered grip, mimicking his physical mannerisms, you say, “A shinigami showed up in our room and gave me the murder weapon.”

He blinks once. Twice. Then snatches the book from your hand.

—

L has Watari lock you in your original room on your original floor and you take it as a meditative opportunity to smash all of the furniture in the place.

—

You’re sitting on the floor five days later, using a broken table leg to punch holes in the drywall. So far you’ve drawn a sun wearing sunglasses, a cat, and a dick. And now you’re working on a dog to add to your gallery.

You can hear the door open but you don’t look up, continuing to punch a row of holes into the wall, wondering what type of tail to give the dog.

The footsteps behind you are cautious, picking through the carnage of splinters and glass on the floor to protect bare feet. There’s no way he wasn’t watching through the cameras so he should’ve worn shoes. His fault. Not yours.

“Property damage doesn’t fit your M.O.”

L sounds tired.

You ignore him.

After a moment he gently bops you on the top of your head.

Your next stab at the wall nearly puts your fist through it as well.

When you go to pull back spidery fingers, long and thin and creepy and perverted and cold snatch at your wrist, twisting you around to face him, leaning against the ruin of a wall behind you and you glare, fist going tighter around your makeshift wooden stake.

The frogs eyes are as flat and dead and blank as ever as he just looks at you, before placing the death note to the side. “You didn’t write in it.”

You quirk a brow at that statement of obviousness, and he continues, “None of the handwriting in the book matched yours. None of the ink was newer than Miss Amane’s capture. And when I reviewed the footage of our room,” The casualness with which he says our hurts your heart. “You brought it straight to me.”

He sounds awed and he’s looking at you that way he does again.

Gives you that weirdly cute little close lipped smile.

You shoot a foot out and kick him in the stomach, shoving him backwards away from you with a scowl.

The air punches out of him in a whoosh and you stand up, hands trembling and you don’t feel cold this time.

You’re burning.

Pivoting before you can do something permanent you twist and launch the chair leg like a spear, making a hole in the far wall from the both of you as you struggle to catch your breath in what feels like a damn near blinding rage.

And your vision is blurry you realize. The room seeming to wobble and melt around you and it must be the rage that’s making your eyes sting. The wetness escaping down your cheeks has to be anger, that has to be why the burning in your chest hurts so much.

Despite the fact that L’s the one who got kicked, you both need a moment to catch your breath before you turn and look at him, lying back on the floor, propped on his elbows and staring up at you with what you’re sure must be an unreadable expression because you still can’t see it through the tears rage.

“You put me in solitary confinement for five days.” You tread towards him, heedless of the debris and stomp on his shoulder, flattening his back to the ground with a thump. “Five fucking days, because you didn’t trust me.”

Your chest feels tight and your voice sounds wrong to your own ears, watery and choked from anger.

Anger. Anger. Anger. It’s anger, it has to be-

Your shoulders shake when a sob is torn from your throat.

“You’ll sleep next to me- Fuck L, you’ll sleep inside of me but you won’t trust me?!”

Some of the blurriness fades and you can see wetness on his face. You’re crying on him. Literally onto him.

Pathetic.

You ball up your hands into fists and press them into your eyes, shuddering through the pain you’re feeling.

It’s anger. Not pain. Anger.

Get angry. Get angry. Get Ang-

Long delicate fingers wrap around your ankle, the cold soothing against the burning you feel as they trace up your leg, pinching at the hem of your skirt and tugging gently, until you concede and kneel above him.

Your own crying sounds pathetic to you, noisy like a child and rocking your whole body with it as L draws you down onto his chest and wraps his arms around you.

He nuzzles his nose against your wet cheeks, gently nudging your hands away from your eyes and kisses at the tears as they fall, the cool press of him soothing even as you burn burn burn burn burn-

He says your name, your real name, whispered against the shell of your ear like a prayer to keep you safe and you wrap your arms behind his neck and pull him into a kiss.

You’re mean about it, teeth clashing, biting his lip till he hisses and pulling his hair like you want to rip it out.

Angry.

He doesn’t respond the same though, every time you relent for even a moment he’s gentle. L presses soft slow kisses to your mouth like you’re something precious.

You see tears on his face clearly now that you’re up close and you know they’re yours.

L traces the very tips of his fingers across your cheekbones, catching your hurt as it falls and brushing it away.

Sad.

God damn it.

“Tell me what you need.”

You sniffle, going damn near limp in his hold as you murmur, “Misa needs a full pardon or the Shinigami’s gonna kill you.”

His hand stills for a long tense moment before drifting to the back of your neck and pulling you close so he can press a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. “Okay.”

You tip your head to look up at him with big watery eyes, “Really?”

The sigh he releases feels like resignation against you, but nevertheless he breathes out, “Really.”

He pulls you back into a kiss. Soft, slow and gentle, and you can’t help but press your own little pecks and kitten licks against the bruises you’d left on his lips. Apology and gratitude melding together.

“Tell me what else you need.” He speaks the words into your mouth.

“You.”

His hands smooth down your back as he presses more worship into the skin of your neck, ghosting lower and lower until her can dip his fingers between your thighs and trace his fingers against the fabric of your panties. Barely there touches that leave you rocking your hips back against his hand, whispers of “Please.” Falling from your lips without prompting.

And he obliges, always so obliging when it comes to you, presses the palm of his hand against your core and rubs a slow steady pressure against your heat.

You can feel the way your desire dampens your panties, the moment you soak through to cling to his hand highlighted by the shuddering exhale you feel against the skin of your cheek before L is pressing more open mouthed kisses to you, quicker now, needier.

L hooks a finger under your panties and twists his wrist to press the tip inside but you shake your head, murmur, “No.” And he immediately halts, pulling his hand back to rest on your lower back, thumb brushing little circles as he steadies his breathing.

It takes him a moment to gather his composure, voice thick as he asks, “Do you want to stop?”

But you shake your head, and smile, reaching between you to flick open the button of his jeans and pull the zipper down. “No. Just need you.”

L’s eyelids flutter shut and he rolls his head back, letting out a long, shaky breath. His lips part, slightly swollen from your bruising attention, and you reach up to brush your fingers against them, smiling when he kisses the tips without hesitation.

“Can I?”

“Yes.” He says it before you can even finish the question, and with that you pull him from his boxers, shift your panties to the side, and sink down onto him in one languid stroke.

He feels perfect like this, just the right amount of stretch, filling you to the base and making you feel full without it being too much. A perfect fit.

You roll your hips in a steady motion, the wetness of your arousal easing the movement as your grind yourself against him, never really lifting off of him, not wanting to lose the feeling of being completely together in the way and you just…

Look.

Look at the lovely shade of pink that dusts L’s cheeks, ears, and collarbones. The way the muscle in his jaw and the tendons in his neck flex and strain with each of your movements, as if his body were an extension of your own, a natural chain reaction. You drift your hands to the bottom of his shirt tugging at it until you can push it up far enough to watch the muscles in his scrawny abdomen flex and shift as you rock your bodies together.

“Mine.”

L nods, lips parted around soft moans, so very pretty coming from him and he cups your cheek, pulls you down so your foreheads are touching, breathes his answer into your mouth.

“Yours.”

—

Later you pout at L from your seat next to him in the HQ’s main monitoring room, tossing the death note back and forth between your hands, “How come Watari didn’t lecture you?”

L pops a cherry into his mouth with a hum, “I didn’t put holes in the walls.”

“I didn’t put holes in the walls.” You parrot back, tone mocking.

[theplaceicommitmysins]

18+ He’s The Next One: 7 - F!Reader X L Lawliet

No gendered language is used (Probably).

Wordcount: 1.9k

Contains: Second person POV, noncon exhibitionism, bdsm adjacent, The reader is a serial killer.

It takes mere moments for your eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room, eased by the faintest sliver of streetlights breaking through the curtains, highlighting and glinting off of the chain connecting L to Kira where they sleep side by side.

Your steps are silent as you make your way across the room to Kira’s side of the bed, eyes sweeping over and tracing the contours of his face, and the smooth fall of his hair against the pillow beneath his head. The feeling of hot rage followed by cold calculation rushes through you, making your ears ring, tunneling your vision until all you can see is him.

Kira.

“It would be so easy.” You think, “Killing you while you sleep.”

You slowly lower yourself to your knees, kneeling beside the bed and resting your chin on the mattress, your face so close to his you can feel the breath from his nose on your cheeks.

“Easier than you deserve.” You mouth out into the silence of the room.

It takes ten deep breaths in, and ten deeper breaths out for you to gain a handle on your control again. To remember your promise to L.

So you get up and make your way over to your detective instead, sleeping on his back like some creepy dead bug, and you smile.

It would be just as easy to kill L.

As easy to kill him as it is to watch him. To stand beside the bed he shares with a mass murderer and hover your hand above his skin, fingers tracing the air above the bridge of his nose, the rise of his cheekbones, the curve of his lips.

Pale, parted, and slightly chapped, with a split from one of Kira’s luckier hits, you can feel the wisps of his breath, even and slow brushing against your skin and it sends a shiver tracing down your spine, skirting across you like the brush of long thin fingers.

He looks so pretty like this, a little beaten up, and a lot defenseless. Almost as pretty as when he was making Kira bruised and bloodied. Eyes somehow darker than even their usual void, and chest rising and falling faster as he catches his breath.

The cold of your killing instinct is slowly being washed away by heat, by want, lapping against you like waves on a shore, or tongues on flesh. A wet drag, over and over and-

Your hips are grinding against nothing.

His tongue briefly dips out of his parted lips, wetting them and you can’t help but let out a sigh.

He really is so pretty.

Your movements are fluid as you ease yourself onto the mattress, one leg resting beside L’s shoulder and the other quickly thrown over to brace you above him, hovering over his face, with your shin pinning the chain connecting him to Kira.

His eyes don’t flutter open. They don’t squeeze or squint. He seemingly wakes up all at once, the only suggestion of surprise on his part, of any sudden change in awareness, being the sharp inhale you can feel between your legs.

You reach down and thread your fingers through his hair, pushing back his bangs for him and smile gently.

“Open.” You mouth.

And obediently your detective does, lips parting fully for you and hot breath washing over the wet cotton of your panties.

It feels right to let your weight drop, to press your cunt to his tongue as he presses it back against you and to rock against the soft warmth of his mouth.

You feel a hum of contentment more than you hear it as his eyes slide closed again, his unchained arm coming up and over your thighs to press you more fully against him as he laps at your aching clit through the fabric of your panties, his spit and your wetness through the panties combining to do little more than frustrate you, lessening the friction of the act.

You rock your hips, rolling them in a wave like motion to grind your pleasure out against his tongue, which he sticks out and flattens, letting you use him and you groan, drawing a similar noise from him in response.

Letting go of his hair, you bring your hand down to tug your undies to the side, giving him more access to you and L pulls his tongue back just long enough to press a quick peck against your cunt, it feels like gratitude and affection.

His tongue comes back out, the warm soft heat of it parting your pussy to drag slow swipes up to your clit, only to drop back down and tease your entrance, only just pressing the very tip of his tongue inside before lapping your wetness back up again, and you let your head tip back, let your eyes shut, let your sighs of pleasure go freely in the quiet of the room.

L eats pussy like he eats ice cream or cake, not like he savors it but like he’s entitled to it. Like parting your legs and giving your cunt to him is a given. He doesn’t speed up, or chase your sounds, or go fast and hard. The way he enjoys you is with his complete attention, licking and sucking and drinking down all your pussy has to offer like this is for him, like the fact that your hips are twitching with every press of his perfect tongue against your sensitive clit is incidental.

And he just keeps going. The heat of his warm mouth against you, so soft and so worshipful builds up through you, slowly at first then faster, compounding as your need grows and your rock your hips against him harder, press his head firmer against the pillow to try to take what you want only for his arm to tighten vice like around your thighs and hold you still.

You look down and make eye contact with him, his eyes flat black in the dark of the room, and it’s like you can read his mind.

“I’m not done yet.”

He doesn’t say it but you can hear it in the sound of him pressing his tongue up and into you, the slick sticky noise of him getting you wet with your cum and his spit cacophonous in the quiet of the room and you can’t help but choke out a moan , thighs squeezing either side of his head before you nod.

He shuts his eyes again and focuses back on his treat.

You cum.

The way he eases you through it isn’t kind, it’s indifferent. He doesn’t change his pace. Doesn’t slow down. Doesn’t stop when you’re doubled over his head, fists clamped down on the pillow and mouth hanging open as you pant for breath in between needy noises.

He just keeps going.

Your hips rock again and the chain digs uncomfortable into your skin where your leg is pressed to it and the reminder draws your eyes across the length of it to the other side of the mattress.

Your eyes meet brown ones. Wide open and unblinking.

Even in the dark of the room, even past the black eye and bruises, you can see the way Kira’s cheeks are flushed.

Kira scrunches up his face in a rictus of disgust and outrage and scorn.

He’s also hard.

“You wanted to know what L looks like satisfied?” You think to yourself, a grin splitting your face as you roll your head to the side to look directly at Kira, “I’ll show you a satisfied L, motherfucker.”

The pleasure hasn’t stopped, L’s attention unwavering as he pleases himself by pleasing you and you dig your fingers into his hair again, yanking hard until his lips pull away with a smack, and you force him to look you in the eye, though you’re briefly distracted by the sight of a string of your wetness still connecting the two of you, clinging to his mouth and chin.

“Need you inside baby.” You let your voice sound as wrecked as you feel.

Without breaking eye contact L let’s go of your thighs, reaching past you to shove the sweatpants he was sleeping in far enough down to expose his hard cock, a string of precum breaking away from the fabric as the wet skin of him is exposed, flushed nearly red and standing at full mast.

Kira makes a choked noise next to the two of you and you quickly move down L’s body, grabbing his cock and pressing the tip to your puffy, oversensitive cunt.

With your grip on his hair you don’t let him turn to look at the other murderer in his bed. You refuse to share his attention.

You have to ease yourself onto the tip of him slowly, your sensitivity heightened by the previous overstimulation and you whimper at the stretch.

L groans at the feeling and you grin again, taking pride in the sound.

Once you get the tip all the way in the rest of him is easy enough to take. You’re certainly wet enough as you drip down the length of his cock, easing the glide as you start to ride him.

“Feels so good when you fill me up baby.” You whisper, as if you’re unaware of your audience, and moan when you feel his cock throb inside of you at the pet name, “Only you stretch me this good.”

L moans at full volume at your words, seemingly not bothering to make the effort of pretending to respect Kira’s sleep. His hands come out, thin fingers singing into the flesh of your hips and you have to hold in a laugh as the chain yanks Kira’s arm closer to the two of you, an endeavor made easier when L lifts you up his cock, then drops you back down all at once, tearing the breath from your lungs in a throaty moan.

“Fuck- L!” You feel him shuffle beneath you as he braces his feet against the mattress and raises his knees, and in time with the next to him lifts your up his cock and drops you down, he fucks his hips up into you, filling you to the fucking brim.

You forget Kira after that.

“I’m stronger than I look.” You hear his words from before in your head and all you can think, all you can say, is “God yes, fuck yes, L, yes!”

And he keeps fucking you like that, using your body like it’s his own hand as he strokes his cock with you and you rock your hips to make your clit grind against his hips own when he’s got you pressed to the very base of him.

It doesn’t take long for you to cum again.

And again.

And things go fuzzy after a while of this, of the drag out and the press in and the wet hot heat and the-

—-

In the morning when you wake up, L’s arms are around you and Kira is facing the other side of the room with his pillow over his head.

You can’t help but giggle at that, then sigh as you feel thin lips press to the back of your neck, “Good morning M.” 

Mine.

“Mmm. Morning baby.” You shift slightly, starting to turn to face him when you feel the wet drag inside your cunt, and you freeze, clenching down on something half hard and hearing L hiss behind you.

“Did… Did you stay inside me all night?”

“It was warm.” His voice is scratchier than normal from sleep and his nuzzles his face into your neck, heaving out a content sighs before curling his hips to press back in deeper.

“Holy shit, that’s so hot.”

Muffled by a pillow you distinctly hear the words, “Just kill me already.”

You cackle.

[mew-ya]

big cat

[coastalmangoes]

erasermice

[brawltogethernow]

Key to my understanding of L is I think he's profoundly autistic and hasn't experienced stress about it since being orphaned. If he's like "polyester is an evil texture" watari is just like "u_u yes king" and not only does L not have to wear polyester, nobody else in wammy's house gets to wear polyester even if they want to. watari is convinced this will make the children smarter. L doesn't have an opinion on that or care.

[splo0shh]

them

[theplaceicommitmysins]

18+ He’s The Next One: 6 - F!Reader X L Lawliet

No gendered language is used (Probably).

Wordcount: 2.5k

Contains: Second person POV, Violence, The reader is a serial killer.

With gentle strokes you brush through the braid you’d just put into Misa's hair combing until it falls loose so you can start again, over and over. The repetition of it is serving the dual purpose of giving Misa the attention she needs as well as giving yourself something to do with your hands.

“This is the worst date I’ve ever been on,” Misa drawls out, pouting.

Leaning forwards from where you’re perched on the back of the couch behind her, you twist yourself up enough that you can press a peck to her cheek, “I'm sorry baby, I promise I’ll take you somewhere you deserve as soon as this Kira nonsense is done with, okay?” Before returning to your previous task, fingers passing through her hair, silky in spite of the amount of bleach it’s been subjected to. She snuggles back into your touch, seemingly perking up at that.

Across from the two of you L snorts a laugh into his cup of sugar with a splash of tea and Kira scowls back at you from where he’s sitting handcuffed to your Frog. “Is there a reason you’ve been acting closer with my girlfriend than I do?”

“I'm not acting.” Your voice sounds sugar sweet with a smile as you affectionately rub your cheek against the top of her head, eliciting a giggle, whilst shooting a smirk at the murderer.

Whether from obliviousness or indifference to his feelings, Misa completely dismisses his concerns with a chipper, “Don’t be jealous Light, you’re my boyfriend so I like, love you and stuff, but M is my hero! It’s a totally different thing.”

You can’t help but bury a smirk into her shoulder eyes meeting L’s again, as you listen to the sound of near confusion, or maybe reluctance, In her voice as she says she loves Light. Understandable given her hero worship has shifted focus, and given that her connection to Kira was entirely based on that…

Quickly brushing out her hair again to free your hands you wrap your arms around Misa and hug her from behind, eliciting a squeal of glee. “If I’m your hero does that make you my princess?”

The chain connecting the two men across from you rattles as L quickly brings a hand to his face, attempting to stifle a snort, clearing his throat after the sound and intoning flatly, “It’s somewhat dusty in here, don’t you agree?”

Looking around at the literally immaculate room of the newly built headquarters you grin at him and chirp out, “Nope!” before squeezing Misa again, “Feed me some cake, princess?”

“Why don’t you do it yourself?” Light asks, voice growing more irritated as Misa ignores him, leaning forwards to grab her plate and pulling you down with her as you continue your Koala cling, “You’ve got two perfectly good arms.”

“Well yeah, but my hands are full.” You reach up and smoosh Misa’s cheeks between your palms, drawing another bell like laugh from the girl.

“I was hoping to eat that actually.” L says, eyeing the fork Misa’s already feeding you with, and you can't help but feel pleased when you notice his eyelids drooping slightly at the sound of a pleasured hum you let out, savoring the flavor of the cream on your tongue.

You take your time to lick the frosting from the fork as well as dragging your tongue across your lips, not wanting to miss a single speck before responding, “You shouldn’t hope to eat someone else’s food Ryuzaki.”

“And yet.” He answers, vocal fry dragging the words out.

You snort.

L lets out a deep sigh, like an elderly dog who doesn’t know what taxes are and yet thinks he’s got the weight of the world on his shoulders regardless, “But I’m depressed.”

Your smile drops at that, brows furrowing as Kira looks at him and asks, sounding more confused than concerned, “What for?”

Pouting out his lower lip, your Frog sticks an arm forwards and swings the chain back and forth by the cuff, “I thought that you were Kira and my entire case hinged on that fact. I guess I just can’t get past the fact that my deduction was wrong…”

You huff out another laugh against Misa’s hair before turning your head so she can feed you another bite of cake, alternating between you and herself. A genuine smile crosses your face as she does a happy little wiggle after her next mouthful.

It took you weeks but you managed to convince her that someone as sweet as her should eat as many sweets as she likes, that she’ll always be your Misa Misa.

And that if her management gives her shit for it you will literally kill them.

“…Although having said that, I’m still suspicious of you.”

Your and Kira’s eyes snap to L.

“Oh no,” you think, mouth twisting up in a funny way as you bite the inside of your lip, “He’s not getting enough enrichment in his enclosure.”

Another bite of cake and another happy hum.

“Then again neither am I.”

“That’s why we’re wearing these.” Then your frog flicks the chain at Kira, like one of those crossfit ropes.

“Ryuzaki….” Kira says as he stands, and you can feel your own gaze sharpening slightly at the tone he uses, already shifting your feet to brace them against the cushions beneath you as you heft Misa up into your lap, perching the both of you on the back of the couch.

By the time Kira’s fist meets L’s cheek you’ve scooped Misa up and placed her out of the way of the fighting behind the couch, your eyes flicking to the plate of cake she’s still clutching, relieved to see it hasn’t fallen, as she lets out a shriek of surprise. Misa watches in horror as the stupid chain hauls Kira after L and he knocks over the coffee table, a lamp, and a plant.

You have to fight back a cackle of outright glee.

“You know, That really hurt.” L’s voice comes out as a confused groan from where he’s sitting up from the floor.

“That’s enough! You don’t feel like doing anything just because your genius deduction was wrong and I’m not Kira?” Light sounds like a pissy teenager, likely because he’s a pissy teenager, and the muscles in your cheeks twist as you struggle to take the situation seriously.

“Finally giving me an excuse.” The thought is almost fond.

Letting Misa out of your embrace, you take the plate of cake from her, setting it on a side table out of the way before murmuring lowly in a soft voice, “Lock yourself in the bathroom princess okay? I’ll come get you when it’s over.”

She nods, pigtails bouncing before running straight for the restroom, the click of the lock sounding so very satisfying to you.

“Fine, perhaps I phrased it the wrong way. I meant it would be pointless for us to make a move so we shouldn’t even bother.”

Looking back to your Frog and the murderer a warm rush of anger and adrenaline floods through your tense body followed by a familiar comforting wash of cold. Technically you don’t have an excuse to step in at just this moment. Not yet. Kira may have started it but you still need a reason to step in and finish it if you don’t want a lecture or an assault charge.

“If we don’t chase Kira he’ll never be caught, is that what you want?!”

That's right, keep working yourself up. Give me an opening, Light.

“If you were just gonna give up then why did you involve all of those innocent people?!” Kira reaches out and grabs L by the collar, hauling him up, and the grin you can feel stretching across your face, ear to ear, is feral.

Finally.

“More importantly what was the point of putting Misa and me behind bars?!”

You’re already crossing the room, fists clenched and adrenaline rushing as this wannabe death god screams in L’s face, footsteps silent more from habit than necessity.

“I understand. But still, whatever the reason…” Just before you can actually reach them L kicks a foot out, well above his own head, and lands a hit directly to Kira’s face with a dull sounding thud that sends the bitch flying.

His eyes were ice cold, voice sounding dark, not so much angered to the point of violence as entitled to it.

Holy shit.

“An eye for an eye, my friend.” L’s eyes are locked with yours as he says it, more softly than the situation necessitates, and your thighs squeeze together involuntarily.

You don’t think you’ve gotten wetter faster.

Then the cuff linking them hauls L’s scrawny ass after Kira, yelling in surprise like his entire career isn’t built around recognizing chain reactions.

Thankfully this time they only knock over an entire fucking couch.

“It’s not my deduction that was wrong,” The way L sounds when he’s out of breath shouldn’t be doing the things to you that it is but here you are, “The fact is, I can say that Light Yagami is Kira, and Misa Amane is the second Kira, but it won’t be enough to solve the case, and that’s why I’m a little depressed. Is that so unreasonable?”

“Yes,” Kira hisses back, “Yes it is. Besides you should hear yourself. It’s as if you won’t be satisfied unless I am Kira.”

“I won’t be satisfied unless you’re Kira?” L’s eyes flick to yours and you quirk a brow, “Well there may be some truth to that.”

Rude.

His gaze drifts back over to Kira, almost lazily, “In fact now that you mention it, you’re right. I think I wanted you to be Kira.”

Before the next punch that Kira throws can connect, you grab his arm with your far one, hauling him around towards you by it, and throw your other elbow back into his face with a cacophonous crack.

The sensation of his nose breaking against your blow is satisfying, but not nearly as satisfying as it’s going to feel after you follow the motion through, your arm swinging past his head, then back again, grabbing him by the hair and throwing him down face first towards the floor, at the same time as you bring a knee up, into what's left of the already damaged cartilage and bone.

Another crunch can be felt as you fuck his nose up further and you grin at the feeling of blood soaking through denim.

His cry of pain is a god damn symphony to you.

Kira glares up at you and even though he’s been off for a while, more Light than dark so to speak, his watering brown eyes look blood red to you once again and it doesn’t surprise you at all when he lunges at you, teeth bared in a rage and pain fueled grimace.

What does surprise you is L once again kicking him across the fucking room.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t touch my consultant.” It’s the closest you’ve ever heard to him outright emoting and if you had to pick a word to describe it you could quite handily go with seething.

Instead all you can think is, “That’s so fucking hot.”

Meeting your eyes, L’s expression lifts very briefly into a soft smile, the one that’s too cute for him, and says, “I’m stronger than I look.”

Then the stupidly long chain reaches it’s limit and once again he’s hauled across the room.

The fight drags on and you find yourself delighted with how two versus one makes things so much easier.

At every opening L gives you, you get you land a blow to Kira, going for weak points, making it hurt.

A Jab to the kidneys using his own momentum as he throws himself at L. A kick out the back of his knee so he can't kick L when he's down. Ripping out a chunk of hair pulling him off of L.

Wrapping the stupid chain around his neck and pulling it tight from your end.

Kira thrashes in the restraint, L and yourself giving him enough wiggle room to breathe, but not enough to keep attacking.

Heavy breaths heave out of all three of you but you and L aren't paying attention to Kira, not beyond what it takes to keep him relatively still.

Your eyes trace a bead of sweat as it rolls down L's necks and your tongue darts out to trace against your bottom lip.

You watch his adam's apple bob as he swallows thickly.

Then the room's phone rings.

L sighs as the moment is cut through by the sudden noise and goes over to the phone and you fold Kira like a towel, kicking out his legs and slamming his cheek down onto the floor, hand fisted in his hair to keep him still.

It almost makes you feel better about the interruption... Almost.

“Yes?” L's voice is bored once again, though his body language comes off agitated form where he squats by the phone.

Pfft. Frog.

A pause.

“Oh. I see.”

L let’s the phone drop from between thumb and forefinger, hanging it up.

“What was that?” Kira asks, having gone limp beneath where you have him pinned. Although it's more accurate at this point to say he's limp beneath where you're sitting on him, since neither of your are fighting at the moment.

“Matsuda’s acting stupid again.”

Then L crab walks over to Misa and your's cake, scooping up frosting with his bare fingers and sucking them clean.

Your eyes bug out at the absurd display

“What did I just say about other peoples food?!” You try to sound outraged, or incredulous, but as you take in the way he's treating himself to your treat, you can't help the way your gaze locks onto his little pink tongue as it parts his thin lips and dips between long pale fingers, dragging up and in between, swirling around and then sucking them deep into his mouth, cheeks hollowing.

Kira makes a scoffing noise between you and you smack a hand between his shoulder blades, contented by the sound of the air whooshing out of his lungs.

When L finally withdraws sticky fingers with a pop, he sighs out, “You told me not to hope. You didn't say anything about starving myself.”

If you were sitting on anything other than Kira you’d be grinding your hips.

Narrowing your eyes in a mock stern expression, you stand up off of Kira, still winded from how you hit him, and with one last tug of the chain you let go and head for the bathroom, “You owe Misa and me more cake.”

“Of course, M.”

The emphasis is distinct in a way that forces you to pause in your steps.

M.

You had always just assumed it meant murderer, but it comes out sounding different.

It comes out sounding like “My consultant.”

It sounds like Mine.

[theplaceicommitmysins]

18+ He’s The Next One: 5 - F!Reader X L Lawliet

No gendered language is used (Probably). The reader is described as wearing a dress.

Wordcount: 3.8k

Contains: Second person POV, NSFT, BDSM, Restraints, Blindfolds, Power Imbalance, Vibrators, Overstimulation, Aftercare, The reader is a serial killer, Good Boy, Kink Not Negotiated.

L has been keeping secrets from you and he doesn’t even have the manners to hide it.

The moment you turn the door handle to the current hotel room the task force is calling headquarters you can hear him say, “Cut the audio and visuals.” And by the time you’re inside the monitors are off and the task force is avoiding eye contact.

So it’s something bad.

Matsuda in particular looks sick to his stomach and the one time you manage to catch his eye he looks close to tears and fully turns around to face away from you.

So it’s something bad involving a woman.

They haven’t mentioned Misa in the past three days.

You don’t doubt L would keep you out of the investigation if he felt the need to do something you wouldn’t approve of,  and you have even less doubt that asking him directly would prove fruitless. So rather than confront L, you stalk Watari.

Stalk may be a strong word for it actually. You spent an hour before sunrise waiting outside the hotel for the man to emerge and when he did you told him, “I’m coming with you.” And one forty-five minute drive later you were entering a high security facility, passing rows and rows of inmates and noting how the cells are less and less populated the further in you go.

So they’ve caught the second Kira, Misa, and for some reason L doesn’t want you to know that. It’s several more minutes of walking, passing through high security doors and clearance checks before Watari gestures for you to enter a cell at the very end of the hall and-

What the sweet french fried fuck.

Misa Amane is strapped to some kind of vertical gurney, arms restrained not only by leather straps that are more reminiscent of a bondage harness than any sort of medical restraint, but by some kind of straight jacket dress that’s been ripped off barely a third of the way down her thighs. There’s a metal blindfold holding her head up and a wave of nausea rolls through you at the sight of her little idol brand pigtails poking out from the top of it.

Across from her is a camera on a tripod.

You kick it over, the clatter loud in the overly large empty room with its metal walls and she flinches.

“Kill me.” Misa’s voice is small at first, then desperate as she begs, “I can’t take it anymore, please just kill me!”

“Oh someone’s gonna die for this honey, but it sure as shit isn’t you.”

It’s been a while since you’ve felt this exact feeling. This wave of heat that rushes from your ears down into your chest, only to be washed away by the cold that always follows. Your hands go from shaking with rage to perfectly still. A provoked animal becoming a predator lying in wait.

“What? Who are you? You aren’t the man from before.”

The sound of the camera being crushed underneath the sole of your shoe as you stomp out the lens is soothing to you, plastic and glass twisting and fracturing until it’s unrecognizable.

Watari watches on impassively.

You pick up the tripod and swing it like a bat, at the only other ‘furniture’ in the room, a metal cart with wheels covered in tools and ‘medication’ you have no doubt this girl was subjected too and the sound of the glass of the bottles shattering and the contents scattering on the floor soothes enough of your wrath that you can find your voice again.

“No, I’m not. You can call me M. I’m going to get you out of here.”

“M-“

“Shut up.” You bite out, cutting Watari off. “You know who I am, Watari.” You can’t find yourself giving a damn if that’s his real name or not, even in the second Kira’s presence, “You know what I do. So you know exactly the lengths I am willing to go to when I say that I am going to release Ms. Amane.”

Heading over to the discarded contents of the torture cart you pick up a scalpel before going to Misa, and starting to slice through one of the leather straps, being careful to insert the blade sideways, then twisting it to face you before drawing it down.

“He knows exactly who you are? Who are you? Why are you helping me?”

“I’m a murderer.” You wouldn’t state it so bluntly if you didn’t know she was one too. “I kill perverts and predators, anyone who preys on those they see as defenseless really.”

You cut through another of the straps.

“This is some kind of trick isn’t it, you’re just lying because you think I’ll tell you something if-“

“I don’t give a shit what you do or don’t say Amane.” Another strap is severed. “My being here is quite simple. Kira stole my kills,” Stole my denial, “So I am going to kill him.”

“No!” You have to quickly jerk the scalpel away as Misa begins to thrash her head, “I won’t let you kill Kira! Kira’s a hero! He killed the people who killed my parents!” With a sigh you work on the straps near her hips while she rants, “Over and over the court did nothing to punish the man who took my family from me! I was just a kid and he killed them in front of me! He-“ Tears escape from beneath her mask as she sobs and the sound tears into your heart, “ He killed them and then the courts- They just pushed the case back year after year and then-”

…Wait a goddamn minute.

“He was acquitted.”

“He- How did you-”

“Was the name of the man Satsujin Namae?”

“Yes! But how-“

“Motherfucker!” The rush of hot rage floods your system again and this time it doesn’t cool down as you spin and hurl the scalpel across the room, dissatisfied by the way it pings ineffectually off of the metal of the wall. A laugh tears it’s way from your chest at the sight and you double over, the sound horrific and strained even to your own ears as you all but cackle, “Of course he hasn’t just stolen my kills he’s stolen my fucking credit too!”

You laugh again, tears nearly falling from your eyes with the force of it, before you scream, “Fucker!”

“Your- Your kill?! How dare you! Kira is the one who saved me! Kira is the one who brought him to justice, he-“

“Had a heart attack because I injected him with enough liquid potassium chloride to kill a horse. An overdose causes heart spasms and in a toxicology report it just looks like the muscle tissue released potassium into the bloodstream since it does that when damaged anyway.”

You sure are cutting her off a lot. Oh well, you’ve never been accused of having good manners. Only murder.

“…You killed Namae?”

“I’ve killed a lot more people than just him.” Your words come out almost melancholic as you fetch the discarded scalpel, smiling slightly at the blunted tip, then return to slicing off her restraints.

It’s quiet for a while, Misa processing, you freeing her, and Watari likely reporting everything to L via text. You’ll either deal with or damn the consequences later.

“So, If I was the second Kira… Then Kira lied to me. About my parents, I mean.”

You shrug, unbuckling her ankles, “Maybe. He’s killed several thousand people at this point, he might’ve just assumed Namae was one of them.”

The last thing to come off is the blindfold and you smile at Misa warmly. This is the Kira that only needs a face to kill, but it’s also the Kira who devoted her life to the person who killed her parents. “I’m gonna get you out of here now, okay?”

She’s looking above your head at first, then her watery eyes drift back to your face and she lets out a sob, all but flinging herself into your arms on unsteady legs as you catch her, arms wrapped tight around her waist, “I’ve got you Amane, you’re safe now. It’s going to be alright.” One hand comes up to pet her greasy hair and you cringe slightly at the feeling but keep up the motion, “The people who hurt you will never hurt you like this again. Or anyone else for that matter.”

Another sob is choked out into your shoulder and you aren’t surprised when her legs give out from under her. Thankfully she’s tiny enough that you can lift her up, scooping her into your arms in a bridal carry as you turn to face Watari, all the while stroking a thumb soothingly across one of her shoulders, “Bring the car around so we can retrieve her things and bring them to my hotel.” You aren’t stupid enough to leave the girl unsurveilled but she doesn’t need to know that.

Watari gives a half bow of his head and the three of you leave the facility. Misa’s whispered gratitude never once stops, until she loses consciousness in your lap in the car, having sobbed herself past the point of exhaustion.

---

“Was Satsujin Namae one of yours? Truly?” L is standing behind you, looking over your shoulder at the security feed of the Yagami duo’s cells, watching Light sleep and Yagami-san stare off into space, while you lounge in L’s usual seat.

“He was. Didn’t premeditate it though, I just recognized him and happened to have one of my little backup plans in my bag.”

“… I wasn’t aware of that one.”

You let out a little huff of amusement, turning to peer over your shoulder with a cheeky smile, the look turning genuine at his expression of near befuddlement, “If you give me a list of the ones you know I can give you a number for how many you missed.”

You don’t expect what happens next, but L blushes. Very suddenly, nearly as much as the last time the two of you…

Interesting.

“Did you plan for me to find her?”

“I had accounted for the possibility.”

“But was it the plan?”

The blush reaches his ears.

---

“M!” Misa hugs your arm, “Let me paint your nails!”

She’s a sweetie, even if she does tend to cling.

---

“M!” Misa jumps up and down on her knees in your bed, “Let’s have a slumber party!”

You tense up then smile and nod, “Sure, Misa.” listening to L’s footsteps retreat behind you, your… Plans for the night are now canceled.

---

“M!” Misa’s arms wrap around your shoulders from behind, “You could totally be a model! Do you wanna come to a shoot with me?”

You choke on your toothpaste and drop your brush on the bathroom floor in your surprise, “Misa, I’m not even wearing pants!”

“You can borrow one of my skirts!”

---

L lets out an 'oof' in surprise as you unceremoniously climb into his lap, hand going to his throat as you press two fingers to his pulse point and count under your breath.

“Can I help you with something, M?”

“Just checking.”

“My pulse?”

“Yup.”

“I see.”

You let your hand wrap around to the back of his neck as you pull yourself in close for a cuddle.

“…And Miss Amane is alive?”

“Yup.”

“That’s good.”

You snort.

---

Socked feet skid on the floor as you slide your way across the room, arms windmilling as you stumble to a stop, latching onto the back of L’s chair. “Misa and Matsuda are on set today!”

“Yes, they are-“

You grab the back of L’s shirt like you’re scruffing a kitten and drag him out of the room’s lounge and into the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind you with a slam.

“You’re eager, it seems.”

“Something like that.” There’s an edge to your smile that you can feel, that you know L notices when he slowly starts taking steps backwards. “I’ve been waiting weeks for this. What was it you said before?”

He bumps into the edge of the bed, falling backwards but catching himself with his forearms.

“Oh yeah!” You drag the words out as you make your way over to him, shoving your knee between his to push his legs open as you crawl over him. “You’ve been bad.”

L moves to sit up but you place a hand on his collar bone, fingers at the base of his neck, and push your full weight down, flattening him to the bed and drawing out a sharp gasp from between his parted lips.

“What am I, L?”

“A killer.” No hesitation. Rude, but fair.

“And who do I kill?” He tenses at this. As if you would try to kill him in a room adjacent to a bunch of cops. The door isn’t even locked for goodness’ sake.

“Perverts.”

“I kill perverts.” You parrot back, nodding your head and smiling at him encouragingly, free hand coming up to pat his head like a well behaved dog. “But we made a promise, L. I’m not going to kill anybody so long as your heart continues to beat.” As you say this your hand drags down the front of his chest, nails digging in and scratching through his shirt, pleased by the flutter you feel beneath the tips of your fingers, “But there are other ways to punish somebody.”

The man doesn’t even wear socks so you knew better than to expect a belt.

That’s why you’ve been wearing one with every single outfit since you freed Misa.

You brush your palm over the length of him through his jeans before tracing up your own body to your waist, unbuckling the belt you’ve cinched your dress with and slowly pulling the leather free, dragging it out just to hear the soft sound of it whispering against fabric. It pleases you to see the rise and fall of L’s chest as he takes sharper breaths than before. His eyes are locked on your belt and his tongue flicks out to wet his lips when it finally falls free.

“Wrists next to your head, palms up.” The backs of L’s fingers skim against the sides of your thighs before he moves his hands up as he’s told, obeying your order and you smile at him, leaning forwards until your body is pressed against him, allowing him the privilege of feeling every curve, “Good boy.”

His hips jerk up.

You bring the belt up, drawing it down behind his head, then up and over his wrists, looping back around until the buckle and the length of it can meet at the front, restraining his wrists and covering his eyes as you pull it taut. As the leather cinches around him and tightens you enjoy the feeling of him shuddering beneath you, feeling the hard press of his interested cock against your lower belly.

“I’ve always been someone who likes the idea of karmic balance. The thought that what goes around, comes around.”

With that you climb off of him, smirking as he grunts and rolls his hips up, chasing the feeling of you.

You don’t waste time divesting him of and discarding his trousers and the boxers he wears beneath, tossing them to the side without care before climbing back on top of him and straddling his thighs. With a smile you pull the front of his shirt up over his abdomen, admiring him as he’s revealed to you.

He’s noticeably lean, not svelte like a dancer or lithe like an athlete, but gaunt, like a man intermittently starved. Bony and angular with skin so pale it looks ashen underneath the mid-morning light that filters in through sheer curtains, colorless save for soft pink nipples that harden under the attention of the AC. You can’t help but run your fingers across him, barely brushing his nipples then feeling the jut of his ribs, just nearly visible, tracing around his navel then trailing down to where a light dusting of black hair grows, getting thicker until it meets the thatch of hair at the base of his cock.

You suspect others might find the sight of him sickly.

Maybe you’re the sick one.

It’s still unfair how pretty it is, you note to yourself. There’s a bead of pre-cum at the tip of his cock and you pull back at the foreskin to expose more of the pretty pink head, letting out a small giggle into the quiet of the room when his cock twitches against your fingers and the pre-cum drips down, falling until it clings to your fingers. Bringing that hand up you let your dirtied fingers dip in between L’s parted lips, cooing gently to him as he licks the taste of himself off of your fingers, “Good boy.” You watch his cock twitch again and lean to press a kiss against his cheek, to appease the fuzzy feeling the sight puts in your chest.

“To truly give you what you deserve I’d have to ask you questions and abuse your poor pretty cock when you don’t give me the answer I want… But there’s really nothing I want to ask you.”

“Pretty?” He sounds so breathy and you wonder if he’s been waiting for this too.

“The prettiest. ” Reaching into a pocket you pull out something you’ve been saving just for L, a small bullet vibrator, nearly the same pretty pink shade as his cock, and press it against him, the tip of it nestled just beneath his glans, then wrap the cord for the remote around and around until it’s held in place. “Can you guess what this is, detective?”

He swallows and darts his tongue out to wet his lips before responding, “I would assume a toy of some kind. Likely one that vibrates?” He sounds a bit nervous, or maybe excited? His body language certainly screams anticipation.

With a bright grin that L can’t see you reach out and flick the dial on it to the first setting. “Good boy.”

---

Stretching out to reach the side table you turn the bedside lamp on with a soft click, bathing the room in a soft warm light before turning back to your book, the soft light alleviating some of the eye strain you were beginning to feel as the light from outside steadily dimmed.

You’re sitting cross legged in the middle of the bed with L’s head and still restrained hands in your lap, your panties shoved in his mouth, completely soaked through with spit, as he thrashes and sobs. You turn the page of your book, as if it’s held any of your attention whatsoever, then card your fingers through L’s hair, pushing it away from his sweat soaked forehead, with a gentle hum that he responds to by curling in on himself and heaving for breath, drool spilling out past your panty gag and further soaking a wet spot on the hem of your dress.

The vibrator doesn’t match his cock anymore, it’s stayed the same of course, but what was once a pretty shade of blush pink is now somewhere between a furious red and a freshly bruised purple underneath layers and layers of cum that pool on and dribble down the sides of L’s stomach.

It really is getting late now, the sun having set about half an hour ago and when you look at the pretty picture L makes in your lap you think this is enough for now. You lean over him and brush against the toy, Pulling back when L flinches and cries out through his gag, “Shh… it’s okay sweetheart, We’re almost finished… I’m just going to turn this off now, okay?”

L’s breathing so fast it’s a wonder he doesn’t lose consciousness but after a few moments as his cum drunk overstimulated mind processes what you said he nods his head in a repeated jerky motion, like he’s forgot how to move his body by his own volition. It makes you smile.

With a click you’ve got the vibrator turned off, and you slowly unwind the cord from around his cock, humming out soothing sounds and brushing sweat soaked hair away from his face once again as you ease the toy off of him, “Very good, L. You’ve been so good for me through all this.”

Tears fall from beneath the belt around his eyes and you lean in to kiss them away.

“All these tears even though I was so much nicer to you than you were to poor Misa.” Your hands go to the belt buckle, easing it open to uncover his eyes and freeing his wrists, “But I think you’ve learned to be nicer to those who can’t fight back, right sweetie?”

L shudders as you reach forwards and pinch your panties between two fingers, pulling them out from between his teeth and tossing the drenched fabric over the side of the bed, to be dealt with later. His arms are shaking as he twists to lie on his side, draped over your lap, and clings to you, pressing his face hard against your side as he struggles to catch his breath.

You go right back to petting his hair and cooing out gentle reassurances to the man using your free hand to rub against his wrist with a thumb, gentle circles to make sure the circulation is good and working. All the while his sobs die down into whimpers, then pants, then soft little huffs of breath.

You’ve never seen him do it before, knowing logically he must be capable of it, but you’re still somehow surprised when L falls asleep.

Gently, you ease him out of your lap, moving quietly so you can tiptoe to the en suite bathroom and wet a hand towel with warm water from the tap before returning quickly to his side.

Softly, with gentle movements you take great care to clean him up, starting by washing away his sweat then the layers upon layers of dried cum, before ending feather light at his abused cock. He whimpers and twitches when you touch it, still asleep, so you reach out with your free hand to run your fingers through his hair again, soothing him until he stills.

“He let me do this,” You think to yourself. “He could have raised his arms at any point and he would have been free. But then I’d still be upset with him.”

You toss the washcloth to the floor, press a gentle kiss to his forehead, and fall asleep in the wet patch, holding L in your arms.

---

When the light from the curtains pours in you quint against the evil daylight, burrowing your face further into the spot you’ve tucked yourself against L’s chest and smiling at the warm chuckle you hear a quiet, “Good morning.”

L’s voice is scratchy from overuse, and low from sleep.

Tipping your head up you press a soft kiss to his lips, whispering back, “Good morning."

[theplaceicommitmysins]

Just read your L fic and just wanna say I'm absolutely loving it and can't wait to read more

Glad you're enjoying it!! There should be another chapter up today or tomorrow!!

[theplaceicommitmysins]

i

may have writers block

[theplaceicommitmysins]

Just read your L fic and just wanna say I'm absolutely loving it and can't wait to read more

Glad you're enjoying it!! There should be another chapter up today or tomorrow!!

[theplaceicommitmysins]

18+ He’s The Next One: 4 - F!Reader X L Lawliet

No gendered language is used (Probably). The reader is described as wearing a panties and a skirt.

Wordcount: 5.4k

Contains: Second person POV, NSFT, BDSM vibes, Frottage, Power Imbalance, Vaginal Penetration, Vaginal Fingering, The reader is a serial killer, Dirty Talk, attempted murder (barely), Sub Space, Kink Not Negotiated.

Your situationship with L is built on a solid foundation of two key things; Mistrust, and stalking. So when L leaves to go outside of his own volition of course you follow him. The old-timey, absurdly expensive car he’s driven around in makes it beyond easy to do so, even on foot. All you have to do is ask literally any passerby if they've seen an old rich person car and you get pointed in the right direction.

This method leads you all the way to To-Oh University.

To-Oh is impressive enough, you suppose. It's Known for its output of lawyers and government employees as well as its high bar to be accepted, but you just don’t see what could be in it for L.

You doubt any student, or professor for that matter, could hold the frogs picky attention so what reason could he possibly have to be here?

The only thing L cares about is catching Kira, and Kira is Light Yagami so…

Looking around at the well dressed flock of teenagers filtering in through the front of the building you rapidly sort through and mentally discard anybody with irrelevant traits; Height, build, gender, hair color-

“The entrance exam is starting in ten minutes, so you’d better hurry up!”

He’s probably already inside-

“It’s fine. I planned to get here three minutes before the test. I hate waiting. I’m here too early.”

It’s going to feel so fucking good watching the light, heh, leave his eyes.

Top button comes undone. Skirt is rolled up a notch. You fall in step with him, a calculated, admiring smile gracing your features, “You don’t like to waste time either, huh?”

If elevator eyes were enough to make your hit list you’d be dragging Kira off the path this very moment to turn this animal into goddamn meat...

But then L would have the book thrown at you, and you can be patient.

Theoretically.

You haven’t tried before but other people do it all the time so it’s probably easy.

“There was less foot traffic than I anticipated.” Kira's eyes flick past you and up and you follow his gaze, seeing nothing but feeling your skin prickle with tension for a reason you can't discern.

Unconsciously you take a step closer to Kira, and want to stomp his foot when he smirks. Instead you give him a close lipped smile, cheeky, and nudge his arm with an elbow. “So, what are you going to study, Mr. Impatient?”

“Criminal Law. My father is the Chief of the NPA,” Name-dropping son of a self-righteous old bast-, “I suppose stopping criminals is a legacy for me.” He smiles at you in a way you know is supposed to be disarming, his voice sounding sheepish in a way that’s so fake you have to bring a hand up to your mouth to cover a scowl.

Forcing a giggle you play off the gesture as shyness, “Wow… I knew a lot of important people come from To-Oh but I didn’t realize I’d be meeting any so soon.” You look up at him from under your lashes, a practiced move that’s melted many predators before him and undoubtedly will do the same for many after, “Maybe we’ll be in the same class. It’d be nice to have a friend right off the bat, don’t you think?”

The incredulity in Kira’s expression is almost- Scratch that, is extremely insulting as he asks you, a hint of humor in his voice, “You’re here for the criminal law program?”

If I were a self obsessed man child with a god complex that’s gotten murderous what would I want to hear?

“Sure am!” You make sure your big fake smile reaches your voice, pretending not to notice his condescending tone, “I’m going to become a prosecutor and work my way up to a position as a judge. I’m going to become someone who actually sees to it that criminals get what they deserve. I-” You let out a squeak and wave your hands frantically, adopting an embarrassed affectation as you rapidly speak, “I didn’t mean to ramble! Please forget I said that…”

“Forget it? Why?”

“Well… A lot of people think it’s a bit excessive… Y’know, wanting to see people punished?” You make a point to wilt like the helpless flower he’s labeling you as in his itty bitty mind.

“Well I think it’s admirable.” No shit. “You've seen a problem with society and you’re actually doing something to better not only yourself but the whole world. Or- The whole of Japan I should say.” He rubs the back of his neck at what he likely sees as a minor slip.

And what you see as the blatant projection you were fishing for.

“Exactly!” You need to seem flustered. L’s wide eyes as he leans back and pants out ragged breaths, cum cooling on his skin- That’ll do it. “Maybe we have more in common than our dislike of waiting?”

Kirasmiles, and the calculating way it comes across makes you feel a little nauseated, “It would seem so.”

You’re already at the room the exam is going to take place in and to seal your progress on this target you bump the back of your hand against his, quickly linking his pinky with your own, “I’ll see you at the opening ceremony, Mr. Impatient.” Before all but fluttering away, taking a seat near the back, off to the side.

The security here is kinda shit, you not. You didn’t even have to actually sign up.

The seat you chose is perfect for your needs. You can see L, seeing Kira.

Papers are passed around and the proctor calls for the applicants to start, and with that permission you begin to doodle absentmindedly, filling the page with eyeballs and hands and random objects you can see around the room. It’s around the same time that Kira turns around that you recognize something in the back of L’s posture and lean to the side to see-

L, if you don’t get your nasty ass goddamn grippers off the fucking desk-

Your expression twists in disgust as you stare in open mouthed horror before making eye contact with Kira.

You point at the backs of L’s head and mouth, “Life sentence.”

Kira whips back around to face the front of the classroom so fast you’re surprised you can’t hear his neck crack.

—

You leave before the exam is called, not wanting to confront, or more accurately be confronted by, L in public. Slowing to a stop you look into a store window…

—-

For the betterment of humanity you buy a pack of mens socks.

—

It’s agony waiting for the entrance ceremony, languishing on a plush couch and being brought an endless parade of sweets by an attentive butler, all the while counting down the days until you’ll be close to your target again. But you persevere, your patience staggering, a testament to your unparalleled maturity and poise.

You ball up the paper remnants of a sugar packet and try to toss it into Yagami-san’s tea from across the room.

It plonks off the back of his head and he turns around, shouting, “Will you stop that?!”

“I’ll run out of wrappers eventually if that’s what you’re asking.”

L clears his throat to hide a laugh.

—

“Would you care to join me, M.” You pout, he knows your name but has refused to say it since giving you the moniker, ‘for your safety.’

Jerk.

“Join you?”

“Watari will be driving me to To-Oh university’s entrance ceremony. If you wish to arrive on time it may behoove you to arrive in the car, rather than behind it.”

“... You’re no fun.”

Watari opens the back door for you.

—

You make a point to have Watari drop you off two blocks away from To-Oh, not wanting to be seen arriving with L, and thank the man profusely. This time you don’t sit far in the back, you sit exactly one seat behind L and wait patiently. You're unsurprised when Kira takes the seat next to him, front and center like the Special Boy he is.

You don’t actually pay any attention to the ceremony, utterly indifferent until Kira and someone called Ryuga are called to the stage to give a speech, and Kira and L stand up.

Your frog is a fucking moron, too stupid to know when to play dumb. If he doesn’t do this right he’ll end up on Kira’s radar.

Without thinking about it you start biting your thumbnail, repeatedly nibbling at the very end.

The speech is as blandly inspirational as any other, although you can’t help but want to laugh at both the way L holds his notes and the tone he reads them with. If he weren’t intentionally putting himself in so much danger you’d be ecstatic, laughing your arse off at the show he’s putting on.

But he’s standing next to Kira who’s looking at him like something sticky attached to the bottom of his shoe, like he's subtle, so you bite your nail harder instead.

When the two of them are coming back to their seats you can see L talking to the back of Kira’s head and you want to pick up their vacated folding chairs and throw them.

You bite through the nail. And since you can’t very well spit in public, you swallow. Ew.

Exit strategies, character analysis, mental manipulations, and desperate acts of violence all flit through your mind as you try to think of a way to undo whatever damage L is undoubtedly doing all without knowing the details and you hate this frog, you hate this frog, you hate this frog-

“I want to tell you, I’m L.”

God damn it!

The pause that follows is tense and you hold your breath as you wait to hear what happens next.

“If you are who you say you are, then you have nothing but my respect and admiration.”

Snort.

The sound makes both Kira and L turn around and you quickly pull your phone out, looking at the screen and pretending to have read a text.

L waggles his fingers at you in greeting before continuing his conversation with Kira, as if he’d never been interrupted.

You tune them out, already knowing what needs to be done, everything else is just fat to be trimmed.

You need to kill Kira before he can kill L.

Only you get to kill L.

—

You make a point to stay out of sight when L leaves with Watari, waiting for them to round the corner before you half jog to catch up with Kira.

“Hey! Yagami-kun!” The grin you direct his way is stunning, you know because you’ve practiced it enough times in the mirror, and you hug his arm when you reach him, “I knew for sure you’d get in but I didn’t realize you were, like, an actual genius!”

Kira smiles, brown eyes looking blood red to you as you give his arm a light squeeze before letting go, skin crawling. “I’m glad you had so much confidence in me. Although, I can’t accept being called a genius when I only tied for first place.”

You huff and scrunch up your nose a bit, “I’m gonna go ahead and assume you’ve got more emotional and social intelligence than the weird guy and add it on top. You’re definitely better.” Looking side to side, you make a show of checking that no one is watching before leaning in close to his ear and whispering, “Did you see him put his toes on the desk?”

Kira laughs. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“So, which way are you headed?” You’re at the gates now, intentionally standing slightly too close to the murderous ego maniac.

He points a thumb over his shoulder to the left, “I’m taking the train that way to head home.”

“Me too!" A lie. "Well actually it’s my bus route, but it’s in the same direction. Wanna walk together for a bit?”

“That works for me.”

—

You keep up a string of conversation with the mass murderer, bubbly and babbling as you follow him towards the train station. There’s a bus station next to a cafe about three blocks from the metro, and you know from experience that particular cafe has metal cutlery. So convenient for you, especially since your bags are checked any time you enter or leave HQ.

When you reach the bus station you smile at Kira and tug his sleeve to get him to stop with you, “This is me. Thanks for walking with me.” He smiles back and pats your hand.

“We could make a habit of it, since we’ll be classmates.”

“That sounds great! I’m looking forward to it.” L panting a broken moan into your shoulder as he angles his hips to get just a little deeper- there’s the blush. “I’ll see you in class?”

“Definitely.” He smiles one last time in that way you know he intends to be charming before turning to leave.

The moment Kira rounds the corner you set a brisk pace back the way you came from, passing close by the outdoor dining of the cafe and swiping a cloth napkin from one table and use it to grab a knife from the next. It really is a nice cafe.

You turn to the alley between buildings and make your way through, parallel to the route you know Kira will need to take to reach the station. However as soon as you make it out of the mouth of the alley on the other side and turn to intercept Kira a hand covers your mouth and you are dragged back into it, shoved against the nearest wall, stucco unfortunately, leaving scratches on your cheek.

A second hand grabs your wrist where you’re already maneuvering your knife to stab him and pinches at it oddly, causing your hand to spasm and the cutlery to drop. You thrash against the grip and growl, biting hard into the flesh this scum had the nerve to put so close to your teeth and-

“I’m glad you had the foresight to put something between you and the would-be murder weapon.”

Oh for the love of-

You reach up and tap the back of his hand two times, and L lets go.

“L. What. The. Fuck?”

“I could ask you the same thing... Save for the L. And I’d likely use more robust vocabulary-“

“Save it frog.” You twist your neck so you can look at him, and he blinks in shock. “I wouldn’t be doing this on such short notice if you hadn’t told Kira who you are to his goddamn face.”

“I have taken all the necessary precautions before making contact, and you shouldn't be doing this,” he kicks the knife further down the alley, “At all.”

He… He actually sounds angry.

The pout you can feel forcing its way onto your face as your lip threatens to jut out is humiliating.

“You’re in danger.” It isn’t supposed to come out as whiny as it sounds.

“Yes.”

Don’t cry.

Don’t cry.

Don’t you fucking-

Long, thin fingers come up and swipe gently beneath your eyes, one at a time, feeling wetness there.

“You are upset by the thought of me dying.” There’s a hint of something to his words, whether it’s the tone or inflection you can’t decide, that makes you think of one word. One word spoken softly while you knelt at his feet-

“Kira doesn’t get to have you.” The words are bitten out, the growl of anger, of possessiveness, undercut by the watery waver to your voice.

You hadn’t realized he was still holding your wrist until he tightens his grip, squeezing down until it aches.

“Nor will he have you.”

The ‘you’re mine’ is unspoken, on both your parts.

You can hear the dull hum of an engine and tires on pavement and turn to see Watari pulling the car up. When L leads you by your wrist into the back of it, grip turning gentle, you don’t protest.

“Headquarters, Watari.” Is all L says before pressing a button that rolls up the car's divider. He buckles you in like some kind of child but doesn’t bother doing the same for himself like… Some other kind of child.

The silence between you is thick, highlighted by every creak of the leather seats as you shift uncomfortably look out the dark tint of the windows at each street you pass, pretending you can’t see L’s reflection just as clearly as the people and buildings outside. But you can, and you focus on it, tracing his features, expressionless to most, and finding very little to read into. It’s upsetting. You’re normally much better at this, and it strikes you that you may very well only be able to read him the way you do because he lets you. Something achy in your chest twists at the thought.

“I had thought the terms of our agreement were clear, but it seems I may have left out a crucial detail.”

His eyes lock on yours in the reflection and it makes you feel embarrassed to think about how obvious you are to him, especially contrasted with how opaque he is to you.

“Until my heart stops beating, you will not under any circumstances take another life.”

“I hate you.”

His mouth falls open and with it his expression. Shock?

“… Truly?”

You’ve never heard him sound small before.

Fuck.

The click of your seat belt buckle breaks the silence as you quickly shift your way over to him, shoving at his knees until there's enough space for you to seat yourself in his lap, which you do. “No.”

The honesty is uncomfortable for you and you suspect it’s equally as uncomfortable for him so you add on, “And you should be able to tell that since you’re such a master detective.” Mockery. Familiar territory.

He braces his feet against the back of Watari’s seat and slouches further, bringing his knees back up to support you more and wrapping his arms around your shoulders, pulling you close until your face is pressed into his neck.

“I do not hate you either.” He speaks it into your hair, and you feel a kiss pressed against the side of your head, so you respond with a kiss of your own on the only spot you can reach. His neck.

L shudders beneath you, then lets out a shaky breath, arms tightening their hold like he thinks you have somewhere else to be before ducking to murmur against your ear, “The divider is not nearly as soundproof as I would prefer so I will have to whisper, but I wish to make my intentions entirely clear...”

You nod against his neck to indicate that you heard him and try to turn to kiss his jaw but he reaches up with one of his hands and grabs your hair in a tight grip, holding you still.

“When we return to head quarters, I am going to fuck you.”

The breath you take in through your nose in your surprise is louder than the words he spoke. There’s a heat in your cheeks that you can feel spreading down your chest and lower as you inhale shakily, before taking a calculated risk and rolling your hips against his as you murmur, “How?”

His hand briefly tightens in your hair and you can feel your pussy getting wet, “How am I going to fuck you?”

You nod, and he exhales slowly, you inhaling in time with him, your chests moving together.

“I think I would like to fuck you like this,” the hard press of his interested cock is made obvious as his hips roll up against yours, denim jeans against cotton panties and you bite your lip to stifle any verbal reaction, “You will be on top but I will be holding you still. I’ll take my time I think, maybe have you ride my thigh first so I can observe the pace you’d like me to set.”

You’re hips are rocking back in forth in small little ruts now, panties clinging to your needy cunt with your body's reaction to his voice and the press of his cock, “Please-“

“Of course I won’t fuck you how you’d like me to.”

Pardon?

“You’ve been bad,” Holy fucking shit.

L’s hand tightens in your hair as he pulls your head back to meet your eyes, his own heavily lidded as he murmurs, his lips nearly brushing your own. “I’m going to fuck you slowly. I’m going to teach you patience.”

“You’re a sadist.” You speak solely to feel your lips brushing against his.

“I’ve been called worse things. Less accurate things as well.”

The car rolls to a very sudden stop and if it weren’t for L’s arms around you and his legs behind you, you would have fallen in between the front and back seats, folded in half like a humiliated napkin.

When Watari opens the door for L, you’re back in your own seat, resenting L’s composure as you shake like a leaf, wondering how visibly fucked out you look for someone who hasn’t even been properly touched yet. You’d read Watari’s expression to find out if you could bring yourself to meet the man's eyes. He holds out a hand to help you out of the car and you thank him quietly before trailing behind L like some kind of stray cat he’s fed.

The elevator ride is excruciatingly long to you, even though it can’t have been more than thirty seconds and as soon as you make it into the hotel room the task force calls headquarters you and L head directly for the door to the bedroom, not acknowledging the presence of the others. You try very hard not to think about how embarrassing it’s going to be to face them later.

L places his hand on your lower back as he walks beside you, pressing you forwards until you’re in the room, looking at meticulously made sheets, and you know that this is going to be the first time since L stationed himself here that he lies in that bed, the sheets likely immaculate not due to Watari or one of the hotel’s cleaning staff coming in and making the bed, but entirely because of disuse.

You can hear him kick the door shut behind you and the hand on your back slides down past your skirt, to bare thighs, fingers dragging upwards, rucking up the fabric until he reaches the top of your panties and presses beneath, hand grabbing and pulling at soft flesh before making his way down once more, fingers cupping you as they glide forwards between your legs to press into your wet cunt.

The pressure you feel as he fills you, starts to roll his wrist against your backside, as he repeatedly rocks his slender hand against you. Starting with two fingers stings a little, but it’s a good sort of sting so you lets your hips rock back against him, trying to pull him in further, the sound of your wetness around his fingers loud in the quiet of the room.

His free arm wraps around you and pulls you in close to him, standing at the entrance of the room and holding you like he needs a hug all while fucking his fingers into your cunt, drawing vulgar sounds from between your legs and between your teeth. When his lips press against your ears your cunt clenches down around him, warm and hot and he's gotten you so fucking wet even before he starts to speak again.

And then he does. “If I could keep you like this I would. If Kira would simply spontaneously drop dead and save us the luxury of having to catch him I would steal you away with me back home. I would keep you as the most satisfying reward I have ever received for solving a case.” L’s lips trail down your neck and you let out a sound that's painfully close to a sob as he draws his fingers from your cunt and from your panties before walking you forwards towards the bed, turning when he reaches it and sitting you in his lap, facing the closed door.

One of his thighs is pressed between your own and his arms settle around your shoulders in a lazy hug as he nuzzles his nose against the side of your cheek, “We can get started once you've cum." He speaks in such a matter of fact way, keeping his voice light and unbothered, even though you’d already felt the hard press of his cock behind you.

You want to be a brat about it, to talk back and throw a fit, to deny him the satisfaction of taking the lead and to ride him till he’s shooting blanks and begging you to give him a break.

Or more accurately, you want to want that.

The press of his denim clad thigh against your needy aching clit, through your drenched panties, slick with cum, makes your head feel floaty, and you move with the feeling, leaning forwards and bracing both hands above his knee before your start to slowly roll your hips back and forwards, humping yourself against him and letting out little breathy noises from between parted lips.

One of L’s thumbs starts to brush gently back and forth against your shoulder and this time you do let out a sob, the sound turning into a whine as L presses the ball of his foot down on the floor, slowly rocking his leg up against your pussy.

His lips brush against the side of his neck as he murmurs, “You’re doing so well. Doing so well for me.” His breath is coming out heavier against your neck and if you could focus on anything other than the slow pulsing of warmth and pressure and pleasure against your cunt you’d feel pride in that fact, but all you can do is what you’re told.

So you ride his thigh, shuddering out a gasp as one of your hands trails down his towards yourself, fingertips tracing against the wet spot forming on his jeans. Your mouth hangs open wider as you let out a soft moan in between pants for breath that don't seem to do anything at all.

That’s all me.

“Does it feel nice?” There’s a hum in L’s voice, he sounds curious as he leans forwards, hooking his chin over your shoulder to look down at where you’re getting yourself off against him and you nod. You can feel his smile against your neck “I’m glad.”

You stay like that for a while, L holding you softly, and you grinding slowly against him, your hips slowly picking up pace until the heat inside of you builds, and builds, and builds, and-

You cum.

“Very good.” His voice sounds far away to you, far away from where you’re floating and you let out another sob, hands reaching up desperately to cling to his arms.

Why is he so far away?

The sound is muddled and murmured and it takes you a while to drift back into the hotel room, into yourself, into L’s arms and when you do you find yourself lying on his chest further up the bed, still straddling him, but now faced towards him instead of away.

“There you are.” He’s back. Or maybe you are?

When his hand comes up to brush away tears you hadn’t noticed on your cheeks you lean into the touch, turning slightly to press a kiss against the palm of his hand, and taste salt.

“Would you like to stop now? That looked like it was a lot for you.”

Immediately, you open your mouth to say yes but the word doesn’t come out. Why not?

You’re still a little floaty as you try to figure out what you’re feeling, to find the words to articulate and pinpoint what exactly you want and it takes a few moments, L waiting patiently all the while.

“No. Want you.”

L nods at that, a small smile replacing a look you realize was one of concern, and the hand on your cheek trails down until he can reach your shirt, stripping you of it quickly. Your skirt is next, and then your undergarments, and you expect him to stare at your body, more exposed to his gaze than it's ever been before, but it’s your face he looks at. He studies.

“If this becomes too much for you, if you start to go away again, promise you will tell me.”

You look at him beneath you, you’re still shaking a little, fully undressed, and he’s fully clothed. The only sign of what you’d been doing so far is the surprisingly large wet patch you’d left on his jeans.

“Promise.” You respond. Reaching out and grabbing one of his hands to lock a pinky with yours.

When you start to let go of his hand he snatches it back, intertwining your pinkies once more and holding them together like that, his free hand coming up to your face, drawing you in far enough that he can kiss you.

Earl Grey with too much sugar, chocolate and whipped cream, strawberries. He tastes like dessert and you sigh with contentment as his lips press against your own. They’re thin and a little dry but the soft press of them against yours warms your bare skin against the chill of the room and you bring your own free hand to his chest, only to inhale sharply in surprise at what you feel.

His heart is racing. Somehow it's never occurred to you that was something that could happen to him.

You press more heavily into the kiss, lips parting as you lick against his own, and let out a pleased him as his tongue meets yours. The kiss stays soft for a while but inevitably grows more heated.

Dragging your hand down his stomach you reach the button of his jeans and stop, only continuing when you feel his pinky squeezing your own, then flick the button open and drag the zipper down.

 His cock feels good in your hand, soft skin slick with pre-cum and warm to the touch, but it feels even better when you raise your hips up far enough that you can position the head of his cock against your entrance and then slowly push down against him, sinking into the full feeling of his cock pressing into you, until you’re once again sat in his lap.

The only sounds in the room are the quiet creaking of the bed frame and the slow wet glide of your cunt around him as you roll your hips down against him and he rocks his hips up into you, and the smack of your lips parting as you catch your breath before coming back together again, tongues teasing each others mouths.

You aren’t sure how long the two of you stay like this, moving and breathing with each other, but it’s as slow as he said it would be.

You wouldn’t call what the two of you are doing fucking, though.

You don’t have the courage to call it what it is.

When L cums, he says your name. Not M. Not any other alias you’d used before. He says your name. Whispers it into your mouth and you breathe the word in from his. Tears fall from your eyes at the intensity of it all and you cum with him, pussy wrapped around his cock in a wet plush press, like a kiss.

You feel sticky with the way you cling to L, all tears and sweat and spit, as you tremble in his arms, cunt continuing to twitch around his softening cock as the last of your orgasm washes over you and fades away. L holds you through the whole thing, his own arms shaking and his breath as quick as yours as he comes down alongside you and it’s quiet for a while.

It takes a few long moments for you to fully come back to yourself, noticing an orange glow starting to filter through the sheer curtains of the hotel's bedroom windows and realizing that the sun must be setting.

L looks more alive like this, the warmth of the light of golden hour bringing a healthy glow to his otherwise corpse-like pallor and you find yourself just staring at him, taking the sight in as his breathing evens out to a healthier pace, dark eyes fluttering open to land on yours, gazing back.

Under his attention you expect to feel studied like an insect, or dissected like a frog, but all you feel now is all you felt when…

‘Hagoromo.’

Before you can really think the words through You hear yourself, in a voice soft enough to fit the silence the two of you soak in, “Until your heart no longer beats?”

“Yes.”

And it’s clear to you why you’re here. What your purpose is.

You’re here so that even if L loses, Kira doesn’t get to win.

“Okay.”

L and you never once let go of each other's pinkies.

[theplaceicommitmysins]

18+ He’s The Next One: 3 - F!Reader X L Lawliet

No gendered language is used (Probably). The reader is described as wearing a bra, panties, and a dress.

Wordcount: 4.9k

Contains: Second person POV, NSFT, Teasing, Mutual Masturbation, Power Imbalance, Biting, The reader is a serial killer, bukkake, Semi-Public (task force headquarters).

Integrating yourself into the Kira Task Force went about as smoothly as you could have hoped, the vague way L described your role as a ‘consulting specialist’ was undercut slightly when an older gentleman handed you a box clearly labeled Plan-B. At least any suspicions they might have about why you’re here will be relatively innocent. Relative to murder anyway.

It’s been a few weeks of this now, the uncomfortable side eye from the older members of the team interspersed with fumbling and blushing from the puppy of the group, a boy named Matsuda who’s hair can’t possibly be regulation for a police officer.

It’s a little boring to be honest, surrounded by cops and completely unthreatened.

It certainly doesn’t help that all there is to do is people watch cops. L and Watari don’t like you leaving the building, for reasons that are daily obvious and that you mentally concede too even if you maintain a consistent verbal denial of guilt, and the officers you ‘work’ with are just dull. Aizawa’s rude, Mogi’s so boring you forget he exists most days, and Yagami-san makes you want to back flip dive out of a window like there’s a pool waiting for you at the bottom.

“Puppy?” You call out from across the room where you’ve draped yourself over a couch. Matsuda jumps in his ridiculous blue embroidered seat beside L and then twists around to look at you with wide fearful eyes.

And that’s just because he thinks you let L hit it raw.

You decide he doesn’t need to know that he’s correct… Technically L decided that, asking you to maintain 'A professional level of deniability' around the same time he told you to keep at least an eight foot distance between yourself and the young officer.

“The fool is even more accident prone when you’re nearby. But until we have more information catching Kira is in part a numbers game.” You smirk as you remember what he’s said next, “Do try not to break him.”

“Is there something you need M-san?” He sounds as hopeful as he does nervous, flinching away when L huffs out a breath before leaning forwards to drop far too much sugar into a concoction that can only generously be referred to as tea.

You raise both of your eyebrows and blink slowly at the boy, trying to achieve a look that’s a mixture between offended and amused as he quickly corrects himself to, “M-kun.” and after a moment of hesitation, “... M-chan?”

“Matsuda, despite what you may think this is in fact a professional environment.” The bored drawl of L's voice comes quickly enough, and you enjoy watching Matsuda curl into himself at the sound of it. Poor thing. From the place you’re lounging you can’t see the side eye but you can certainly feel it. “Do try to contain yourself around my expert consultant. You may either address M properly or not at all.”

“Yes L, sir of course. Was, uh- Was there something I could do for you… Consultant M?” The sweet boy hesitates as he guesses at what would be appropriate to call you and you grin, though you quickly pull the expression back into a more reserved, friendly smile.

“What’s your sign?”

“Gemini.” L answers on Matsuda's behalf before he can.

“Oh that’s good, Kira’s a Pisces.”

“O-Oh. Is that so?” Matsuda smiles nervously at you as if he understands what you’re talking about.

So you nod as if he does and continue, “That’s why you’re so bad at communicating with Light, but the sexual tension is off the charts.”

“The- Huh?!”

His eyes are practically bugging out and it takes nearly the entirety of your self control to maintain a straight face as you nod, pretending not to notice his surprise.

“Quite true.” L intones, once again deadpan.

Matsuda looks like he’s about to fall over as he jumps up out of his seat, nearly toppling and barely managing to catch and right the chair he had been sitting in, looking distraught at the beleaguered sigh L lets out beside him, never once having turned away from the monitors.

“I-” Matsuda damn near shouts when he tries to speak and quickly clears his throat before trying again, “I’m going to go check if the chief is here yet for his shift. Excuse me.” He bows a perfect ninety degrees at the waist before speed walking to the door like a middle aged woman in the park.

It’s only after the door shuts that you let yourself laugh and relax from what Yagami-san had once had the audacity to refer to as your ‘Vixen Posture’, chilling more comfortably on the overly expensive couch.

“That was mean.”

You choose not to comment on the smile you can hear in his voice.

“That was fun .”

And this is the part you stay for. For all that L is insufferable, and inscrutable, and all around weird , this frog can be fucking hilarious when he feels like it. And if your observations are anything to go by, he usually does.

For a while you thought that maybe he was just testing the people around him but in the short time you’ve been here you’ve come to the same conclusion L has. These people couldn’t collectively deduce their way out of a wet paper bag. So every time he cracks a joke and the old butler, W, or Watari, huffs in fond amusement, the rest of the room is usually left staring on in absolute horror. With the exception of yourself of course. You watch the chaos unfold with glee.

You hear the door and shift your posture, from house cat to tiger as you look to see who’s here.

The Puppy and The Chief.

Which means the next four hours of your life are going to be Super Duper.

You roll your eyes away from where Matsuda, his cheeks a dark shade of flaming red, is nervously reporting to Yagami-san their total lack of progress.

L squats like a frog in front of an absurd amount of monitors, you mentally place bets against yourself each morning as to whether or not another will appear, and one corner of your lips twitches up as you look at the absurd view.

There’s no way he can actually monitor all the screens at once and it wouldn’t surprise you if the set up was entirely for the benefit of the Task Force. And loathe as you are to admit it, it isn’t for a lack of mental capacity. The only thing slowing this frog down is a lack of an extra several sets of eyes.

Hence the task force. 

As he tips back some of the sugar slurry he calls tea you can feel yourself smile and forcibly yawn, hiding your affection amusement behind fatigue.

You bet to yourself that he thinks he looks so cool.

A nervous laugh and the click of the door opening and shutting as indicates the exit of Matsuda and Yagami-san takes The Puppy’s post, stiffly seating himself in the chair beside L and paying you no mind as he passes by. A scowl twitches across your features briefly at the back of the man’s head and you restrain yourself from letting out a long string of increasingly vulgar expletives at his very presence. 

Kira’s father, and Yagami-san is Kira’s father, the seventeen year old little shit lacks subtlety beyond belief and you have absolutely no doubt as to why L seemed so dismissive of their abilities of observation, irks you. The rest of the task force tout him as some kind of paragon of virtue and yet he’s managed to raise a mass murderer in only seventeen short years, all the while maintaining his own blissful, stubborn, ignorance of the facts.

All the arguments you've had with this man play on loop inside your head whenever he has the audacity, the hubris, nay even the chutzpah to breathe the same air as you.

The FBI agent tailing the kid dies the day after Light changes his pattern of behavior.

Coincidence isn’t causality.

It was an armed bus jacking that the kid was on with Penber behind him.

These things happen.

It was a shuttle bus to a theme park.

Well… Criminals aren’t known for their intelligence.

The only person to spend any time with him in between the events of that day and his heart attack at the train station disappears, presumed dead, after going to the police station and stating she has information for the Kira Task Force?

What are you some kind of conspiracy theorist?

Light’s mother and sister confirm he left home thirty five minutes before the death, which is roughly the time it would take to walk from their home to the station, give or take a few minutes to make the kill, and returned home roughly the same amount of time afterwards.

When did you talk to my family?!

The person in the CCTV footage was filmed following him leading up to the event of his death, avoided showing his face but has the same height, build, and hair color as Light and is wearing clothing that he owns?

...

Maybe the real Kira was the fast fashion we bought along the way.

Setting your jaw to keep you from grinding your teeth, you slink your way off of the couch, treading silent footsteps over to the other side of L, intentionally putting him between you and Yagami-san, just to see the self righteous old bastard twitch.

Leaning your hip against L’s chair, practically sitting on the arm rest, you flick your eyes between the monitors. “Kitamura or Yagami today?”

You already know the answer since you’ve been monitoring the same empty house for hours, but hearing Kira’s father huff in annoyance as you pointedly ignore him is satisfying.

“Yagami. You will be needed to monitor the daughter should she require the facilities.”

“Under no circumstances will M-” You snort at the moniker, knowing that L introduced you that way as a shorthand for Murderer, “- be watching my daughter when she’s indecent!”

“I suppose I could do it myself if you insist, unless…” L turns his head to him and blinks up at him with those flat dead eyes and you can see his look of feigned dawning horror in the reflection of one of the screens as he continues, “Yagami-san it may not be appropriate for you to participate in the continued surveillance of your own household.”

His voice is as unaffected as ever and you cackle, gracing Yagami-san with your attention just long enough to see the look of shock, disgust, and pure unadulterated rage on his stern features.

However many years in the police force and this man genuinely doesn’t realize that L is fucking with him?

You laugh harder.

“How dare-”

L, with the social grace and poise you've come to expect of him, cuts Yagami-san off, “Light has returned. Let us do the job we're here for and observe what he does.”

That cuts your laughter short as you glare at the monitor, at the child who stole so many of your kills.

He’s acting normal, like any other teenager tired after coming home from school, something you don’t consider suspicious until he pulls out a dirty magazine, stashed away in what looks to be a collection of books on architecture. It isn’t the magazine on its own that’s suspicious, in fact if anything that would have reassured you that he wasn’t aware of the cameras. But the thing is, he is acting .

You watch first with a bit of uncomfortable apprehension and then surprise as he lays down in bed and flips the magazine open to an extremely revealing image of a gravure model arching against rumpled bed sheets as her breasts all but spill out of her too small red bikini. And he just… Looks.

He just looks.

You’re struck with the image of a school girl lying on her stomach and kicking her legs back and forth as she writes in her diary and you double forward so hard in your laughter you have to slam your hand down on the coffee table in front of the three of you to catch yourself, knocking L’s tea to the floor in the process.

“Oh my god!” You can barely get out anything in between your peels of laughter and you laugh louder when you hear Yagami-san scolding you from his own seat. L ignores the disruption and the tea, continuing to watch in his own silence.

“This is a serious investigation M,” Yagami-san spits the name he was given with venom, “I don’t know what’s so funny to you that my son-”

“Knows about the cameras?” That cuts him off as you force your cackles down into mere giggles.

“How can you possibly know that?” Yagami-san sounds befuddled and L just stares ahead. You would think he hadn't been listening to your discussion if it weren't for the faintest crease forming above his nose as non-existent brows push together in concentration.

“I want you to think back to when you were seventeen Yagi-san-”

“Detective Yagami-”

“-Yogurt-sama, back to the mid-paleolithic era when you were but a wee lad in the throes of puberty.” You grin at him, your smile all teeth, not reaching your eyes, “Now picture you’ve come home to your cave and the rest of your tribe is out for the afternoon and you’ve got the Female Figure of Hohlefels stashed away in your room, because this cave has rooms and also doors and also you put traps on the doors to know if anyone’s gone in your cave room…”

He glares at you instead of responding, though his expression is fading from one of outrage to despair.

“... How do you spend the next fifteen to twenty minutes?”

You shoot L a grin that falters when you notice his current micro-expression, something you’ve been making a point to try to learn about him, the furrow between his not-brows deepening and his dull lifeless eyes widened slightly as if that will somehow help him process more information.

He’s confused?

Now you’re confused.

Does he not get it? How does he not get it?

The room is quiet now, no laughter and no shouting, and you all return your attention to the monitor. Light moves to sit on the edge of his bed, a casual slouch to his posture as he rests the magazine in his lap and casually flips through it, like a bored patient in a doctor’s waiting room.

“If Light-kun is in fact aware that he is being surveilled there is little point in continuing to monitor him. We will only ever see what he wants us to see.”

“Unless he slips up.” you add, and L nods at your response.

You pointedly don’t look at Yagami-san, not wanting to see his reaction.

It’s another few hours of this, of watching a whole lot of nothing happen in silence before Yagami-san’s shift is over and he turns in for the night, heading home. You can’t help but to heave a sigh of relief when the door to the hotel room clicks shut behind him, practically climbing over L to throw yourself into the vacated chair, your legs hooked over the arm nearest to him so you can nudge at his shoulder with your foot.

“Ask.”

L turns his head towards you in acknowledgement but his eyes remain on the screen. On Kira. In the brief time you’ve known him L has never missed a clue and the awareness of his confusion, of your superiority over him in this matter burns you up from the inside. You lean further back in the seat until you’re draped between the arms with your ankles interlocked in between his thighs and his stomach.

You suspect it’s this physical imposition that prompts the response.

“What is it you wish me to ask?”

“How I know he’s acting for the cameras.”

There’s something pleasing about the way his eyes snap from the camera to you, unblinking, and somehow against all possibility still flat, not catching the light as he stares at you with the same attention he had given Kira.

Suck it Kira.

“How?”

Slowly, ever so slowly, you uncross your ankles, dragging one foot up his chest and over his shoulder until you can rest your calf on the back of his seat, legs spread open for him to see.

His eyes are no longer locked on your face, though he still hasn’t blinked.

“I can demonstrate for you if you’d like. A practical way of learning, though you would need to cooperate to prove my hypothesis.”

He does a weird little twist in the garishly ornate hotel chair, not quite a hop but something adjacent, as he shuffles to face you directly. “What do I need to do?” The words are addressed to the crotch of your panties.

A grin spreads on your face, cheshire wide, as your fingers raise to your collarbones, slowly tracing down in feather light spirals as one by one you undo the button-down dress you’re wearing, until it hangs open at the front. And you roll your shoulders to ease it halfway down your arms. His lips part ever so slightly as he traces the movement, and then your figure, outlining you with his eyes like an artist planning a painting.

You hum out a content little noise as the foot that had been in his lap moves to his shoulder , framing him between your legs. Then you give him the only rule necessary for your experiment, “Don’t touch.”

He blinks, and your grin turns into something darker, hungry, eyelids growing heavy as you let the very tips of your nails drag across the flesh of your chest until you reach the cups of your bra. It’s a lacey thing, thank you laundry day, and he breathes in sharply through his nose and you have the pleasure of seeing him hold his breath while you drag your fingers slowly back and forth across the skin where it meets the lace.

“You’re attracted to me.”

It’s a statement of fact but he breathes out a yes like it was somehow up for debate, the sound causing your pussy to clench around nothing. He’s so pretty when he’s needy. You let your hands cup the flesh of your chest, briefly squeezing, pushing them up and together, intentionally dragging your bra up with the motion to leave a bit of yourself exposed at the very bottom before you slide your hands down your stomach. Your fingers are feather light again as you reach your hips, grabbing and digging in for a moment.

“What does this make you think of, L?”

His entire body twitches when you call him that. One day you’ll figure out why.

“I think of how it felt to fuck you.” Your cunt clenches down hard at the vulgarity and you can feel your eyes go wide, thankful that his own remain locked on your hands so he won’t have seen your surprise. “I look at the give of your hips under your fingers and remember how they felt under mine.” His eyes, flick up to yours and you school your expression. “I remember the bruises that were left there. You winced when you leaned against anything for the entire week following our... Coupling.”

You let out a disappointed huff at the word choice before hooking a finger on either side of the front of your panties, dragging them up between the slick lips of your cunt with a whine, “Feels so fucking good .” You’re exaggerating your reactions slightly as you rock your hips in a wave like motion dragging your clit against the clinging fabric of your panties. You note that they’re granny panties and an entirely different color from your bra, thank you laundry day, but if the visible way L is tenting the front of his jeans is anything to go by you don’t think he minds.

“I want you to picture something for me L, okay?” He nods and you continue, “Good boy.” You watch his fingers dig hard into his thighs where his hands rested and make a note of that.

“I want you to picture me laid out on a set of tangled up white sheets.” Your breath hitches as your head rolls back, “Picture me slick with sweat, in nothing but a little red bikini, at least two sizes too small.”

His hand starts to drift down again and you snap, practically hiss out, “No touching.” Causing him to freeze, before you continue, voice as needy and breathy as if he’d never moved, “I want you to picture the way it would press into my skin, like your fingers, how it would dig in and leave marks if I took it off for you.” A whine escapes your throat as you let go of your panties to run your hand down and over your pussy, dragging against it with an erotic sound, petting yourself as you rock and whimper, the legs of the chair squeaking with each roll of your hips.

“You-” L needs to stop to clear his throat and that fact makes you bite your lip, “You said this was a practical demonstration. Those are typically referred to by laymen as being hands on.”

You laugh and the grin you shoot at him is wicked, “Why do teenage boys look at dirty magazines?”

It takes a second for him to process the question, his eyes looking glazed over from where you’re sitting, dilated more than normal which is saying something for him but he manages to respond exactly how you wanted him to. “Because they are attracted to the models.”

“Good boy.” His eyelashes start to flutter but they don’t close, like he doesn’t want to miss a moment of this and you reward his clever mind with another pretty picture, hooking your fingers into the side of your panties and dragging them over, exposing your dripping cunt. You can only imagine what you look like from his perspective, the light of the monitors illuminating your body as you expose yourself to him. As you expose yourself for him.

“What would you be doing right now if we were completely alone, knew that no one would see you, but you still couldn’t touch me?”

He blinks as the realization occurs to him. “I would touch myself.”

You know your expression must look smug but you can’t help it as you say once again, “Good boy.” Before dipping your middle and ring fingers into your dripping cunt, pressing slowly until they’re buried up to the last knuckle. “You- ahn- You can feel free to con- nnm- sider this the end of the practical dem- mn- demonstration.”

With that you let your head fall back as you roll your hips against your hand, grinding your fingers in and out of your pussy, the wet slide of cunt being fucked into noisy in the empty headquarters. You let your moans spill out freely, as the heel of your palm presses against your puffy clit. You and your frog both earned this reward. Him for being so clever and you for being so patient.

L takes half a moment to process what the demonstration coming to an end means before moving to sit like you are, knees hooked over the arm of his chair as he leans back against the other arm rest. You wonder if his abysmal posture makes that comfier for him than it does for you but push away the thought as he unbuttons his baggy jeans, lifting his hips long enough to shove them half way down his thighs, fishing out his cock with no hesitation.

And there’s the real prize for your patience. Pale, slender fingers wrap around that pretty pink cock that you know from experience feels thicker than it looks and you can’t help but whine when you see the absolute gush of pre-cum dripping down from the flushed tip of him, dirtying his hand.

His fingers seem to press harder as he strokes them over the faintly visible forking veins and when his hand reaches the top he rubs the palm in a quick jerking circle over the head, sticky strands of pre-cum clinging between his fingers and dripping down as he strokes his cock with a rapid, jerky pace. His mouth hangs open and you can see his tongue wet with spit as he all but drools over the sight of you fucking your own pussy and you intentionally slow your strokes, dragging your fingers out to the very tip before slowly pushing your way back into your warm wet walls, soft and accepting as your body expects, borderline demands, to be fucked.

The whine he lets out at the sight has you pulling your fingers out entirely, holding them up to his eye level and spreading them apart to see the way your cum clings and drips, coating you in your own mess. His hips hump up and he reaches with his other hand to tug at his cock, pulling the foreskin back so he can focus more on the tip, rubbing rough circles around the darkening head of him and swiping a finger down the slit to collect more of his pre-cum. He’s so fucking messy and loathe as you are to admit it you want to lick every last drop up.

You choose to think of it as an opportunity to learn your enemies weaknesses.

Grabbing the side of your chair you pull yourself up and over the arm to kneel next to him, leaning forwards with your mouth open, tongue already hanging out only for him to grab your jaw in a shaking grip as he hisses out, “No touching.”

And all you can do is partially nod as he fists his wet cock in front of your face, crossing your ankles beneath you and sitting back against them so you can grind your soaked pussy and needy clit down against your own leg.

As he rolls his neck to the side, pressing his head against the backrest as he starts to rock his hips up into the motion of his stroking, a wet slap accompanying every individual thrust you lean your forehead against one of his knees and whine before nuzzling back and forth against the worn denim. You jerk with surprise as the hand that was holding your jaw lets go to pet your hair gently, in stark contrast to the rough way he’s fucking his own fist.

Your hips jump and you press down harder, faster, rougher as you try to get more friction against the wet slide of your cunt against the back of your leg. You feel like you’re melting, like you’ve been hit by a sudden fever bad enough to put you in a hospital, as you pant against this damned man frog. 

You’re going to come like this, you realize with a pang of resentment.

You’re going to cum, kneeling between his legs as he pets you like a fucking cat.

The anger this makes you feel doesn’t stop it from happening.

It does however inspire you to lean forwards and bite down hard on the inside of his thigh as you cum, the feeling of it rolling over you in waves until your vision blurs and you’re choking moans around the pale bruising skin trapped between your teeth.

The way L tries to jerk his leg away but can’t because of the chair only results in his hips bucking up sharply forcing his thigh further against your open mouth. You blink a few times, dazed, before looking up and locking eyes with him, easing your teeth away from the bite before passively pressing a kiss to it, as if in apology.

That’s when he cums. And he looks so pretty like this, cheeks flushed and chest heaving like he’s had the wind knocked out of him, gazing down at you like you’ve changed the whole world in a moment. When he looks at you like that you almost don’t notice…

The bastard got cum in your goddamn hair.

You’re going to kill-

“Hagoromo.”

…

“Huh?”

Those long, pale fingers, disgusting with his own filth, reach out towards you and a hair's breadth away from the skin of your arm he hesitates. “It’s the way the fabric of your dress drapes across your arms. Like a Hagaromo scarf. That’s what I see when I look at you. I was wondering earlier...”

His arm drops back to his side and he rests his hands on his knees like always, like his hair isn’t more disheveled than usual, like his cock isn’t out and blushing from the abuse it just took, Like there isn’t cum sticking to and drying on his shirt.

You’re kneeling at this man’s feet, his cum in your hair, very likely on your face as well, flushed and panting, hair and clothing an absolute mess…

And when L looks at you he sees divinity.

In the dark of the room, with the light of the monitors finally catching and reflecting in L’s eyes, for the very first time you think to yourself, “He looks human.”

[theplaceicommitmysins]

i outlined actual plot and character growth/slash relationship development for the death note L fic but i'm also delirious w fever so if anyone wants the next 9 chapters poke me w a stick like once a week i gotchu

[theplaceicommitmysins]

18+ He’s The Next One: 2 - F!Reader X L Lawliet

Surprise! I'm not dead! And this is beta read!

No gendered language is used (Probably). The reader is described as wearing panties and heels.

Wordcount: 3k

Contains: Second person POV, NSFT, Teasing, Edging, Just The Tip, Also The Rest, Enemies To Lovers, Power Imbalance, Dubcon (Alcohol and lying was involved in the first chapter and this is a direct continuation), Penetrative Sex (Reader Receiving), Biting, The reader is a serial killer, Creampie, Semi-Public (Club Bathroom).

Summary/Excerpt: “Should you agree to the terms presented,” You hear a deep shaky breath behind you, “I will see to it that you will be minimally sentenced, and you will be tried with the understanding that you were mentally unwell for the duration of your crimes, believing yourself to have acted in self defense.”

You growl against his hand, fury sparking inside of you as you feel your nearing orgasm begin to slip, only to stop and hold your breath when he hooks his chin over your shoulder and whispers, inflection barely traceable in his voice but present, “Agree.”

For all that it’s a definitive statement, a command more than anything else, you can’t help but think he sounds desperate, like he’s begging.

And if sticking around means you might get to hear him beg for real?

Raising your hand you tap his wrist with two fingers and his grip eases, allowing you to get out the word, “Agreed.”

You aren’t sure exactly how things spiraled to this point with the frog. You were damn near ready to dissect him moments ago. Yet as L pins your wrists above your head with one hand, long fingers so pretty it’s not fair slip your panties to the side, the last thing on your mind is violence. Well, maybe not the last thing but it's not in the top ten. A string of slick connects the lips of your cunt and the crotch of your underwear, breaking off and sticking to the inside of your thigh as he shifts them to the side and rocks his hips against you, rutting until his cock head is pressed against your core.

“For fucks sake-” Your voice breaks at the end, scratchy and used, and with his face this close to yours you can make out the muscles where his eyebrows should have been twitch up as he asks…

“Frog in your throat?”

You are going to fucking end this little man.

But first you’ll need to finish him.

Shifting your hips, you rock down against him, pressing until you feel the dull ache of a slow stretch, the pretty pink tip of the frogs spit slicked cock teasing the opening of your cunt, only to be forced to a stand still as he crushes his weight against you, pinning you against the door.

If your legs weren’t otherwise occupied you’d be stomping your feet about now. For all that you can successfully stalk your prey you wouldn’t consider yourself a patient creature, preferring to get things done yourself as soon as possible and this pervert is denying you the cock kill you rightfully earned. “Just,” Your voice is still scratchy and you’ll be damned if there aren’t tears starting to build up at the corners of your eyes, “Fucking move already.”

You disdain the whine you can hear in your demand, loathe to secede any control but you can feel the steadying breath he takes as he pulls his hips back slightly until the head of him dips slightly out of your entrance before easing back in, slowly fucking himself inside of you.

Shallow thrusts press your entrance open over and over again, just the tip dipping into you and splitting your cunt wide as if the fucker thinks you need to be eased into this, the feeling forcing a needy whine from your mouth as you use the leg not taking your weight to pull his hips towards yours, rolling down and dragging him another inch deeper.

L grunts at the motion, clearing his throat as if to pass off the sound and remain disaffected but you grin a cheshire smile at him, not falling for his mask of indifference.

“So, L-”

“Ryuzaki,” He rudely cuts you off, voice starting to sound a bit strained as he eases another inch of his thick cock into your tight walls, the slick, vulgar sound of the way he presses his body into yours drawing even more heat to your cheeks. “It’s important to remain-nh- discreet in public.”

That startles a snort of a laugh out of you as you jerk your head forwards and to the side before he can react, nipping at his earlobe before trailing kisses down to the stretched out collar of his shirt while continuing to roll against him in a way that feels so fucking good yet so painfully unfulfilling. You unconsciously twist your wrists in his hold as your body demands you be a more active participant, breaking off from the bruises you’re sucking into his ghastly, ghostly, pale skin only long enough to purr out, “Discreet, huh? Nn-Noted.”

Sharp, breathy huffs leave his parted lips as he continues to roll his hips against yours, rocking up against you like he had on the dance floor as he eases he cock deeper and deeper, making you tip up onto your toes to try to get the leverage to rock yourself down and take more of his length inside. For as much as you want this, to fuck and to feel, you need information and he's vulnerable right now so you ask, attempting and failing at his same tone of indifference, “How- Ahn- How exactly am I su- Mmn- Supposed to catch Kir-ahhn-”

L drops your wrists, bringing both his hands to your waist and he drags your hips down towards him forcing the last few inches of his cock into you at once, slamming you to the base of him where he’s thickest and holding you there as he pants into your neck, spit clinging to your skin from parted lips as he finds his words, “I will be bringing you into the team as a consultant in the relevant field.”

You’re glad to have your hands free, needing one to cling to the side of the stall, holding you up, and the other to cover your mouth as your cunt clenches down on the sudden intrusion. He feels thicker between your legs than he did between your lips and the stretch of your muscles as he all but splits you open has you gasping short little breaths into your hand to keep any too loud sounds inside.

Beyond the muffled thump of the bass from the club music, and the ragged breaths of your the frog against your neck as he gathers his composure the bathroom is eerily quiet. So much so that you manage to hear a very soft sound.

A single drip.

Rolling your head back and to the side, whining when L takes this as and opportunity to latch onto the skin of your throat and bite down, not nearly as gently as lovers in the past had done, you look down to see the place where the two of you are joined, the pink of his cock flushed a darker color, the hideous fluorescent lights catching on the spit and slick and pre-cum and- You watch as a drop of your mixed mess slowly drips off in a long strand before breaking and falling to the floor of the restroom.

Your cunt clamps down again and you moan as you press your hand harder against your mouth, wondering passively if you’ll have finger shaped bruises to cover in the morning.

Wondering if they’ll be yours or his.

The feeling of you suddenly wrapping tighter around him as he tries to gather himself plucks at one of his strings of self control, and with a grunt L pulls out halfway, leaving you mostly full, but whining at the retreat before using the grip on your hips to pull you back down to him. The wet slide and slap of flesh on flesh is terribly loud in the empty bathroom, and it draws all of your focus to the spot between you and the way he slides into your cunt like he owns it.

He’s kissing your neck again and your voice hitches in your throat, feeling where his lips press against the rapidly bruising skin and shuddering as a hum passes through his lips, “Fu-uck-”, It’s hard to banter like this, hard to cling to your wit and find a witty reposte as this man, this frog, fucks into you, carves a space for himself as if he has the goddamn right.

I didn’t even get to sit on his face. Yet.

You mentally scramble to remember what you were talking about, what he said, as he rearranges your insides in a public restroom, trying to keep your eyes from rolling as the steady stroke of his cock, and fuck it’s a pretty cock, lavishes the inside of your cunt. The wetness of your pussy cuts down on the friction, only making you more desperate. It takes more than a few foggy moments of skin against skin and dripping sweat, his hands gripping your waist hard enough to leave bruises, and so much heat built up between the two of you, but you eventually manage to quip out a broken, “That better hn-not be how you phra- se it to the cops.”

His lips break away from your skin and his response begins with a cut off moan, and he pauses to take a breath before licking a stripe up your throat, starting as low as he can on your chest and nibbling when he reaches your jaw, before managing to get out, “I wouldn’t worry.” His voice is getting raspy and you feel his chest heave against your own, as he tries to catch his breath and maintain his pace, and his train of thought at the same time, “For all that my team is good at take- taking…” His eyes flutter shut and you note that for later, “… orders, I find initiative is something- mmn- that they struggle with. They won’t deduce anything I don’t spell out for them.” The emphasis he places on ‘I’ is decidedly smug, not in his tone but in the way he drags it out, in the slightest twitch at the corner of his lips, shiny with spit and why aren’t you kissing him?

Like this his lips are nearly as pretty as the tip of his cock, flushed a similar shade of pink, and you lean in and his eyes flick down to your lips, expression slightly softening as he realizes your intentions.

Only for his hips to twitch, and a squeak of a noise to be torn out from his throat as you bite down on his lower lip hard enough to bruise, before sucking it into your mouth and laving your tongue against the indents to ease the pain.

You take a small bit of satisfaction and the way he has to pause, to pull away and gasp for breath like the air in the room has gone thin. You track the bob of his Adams apple as he swallows between gasps, eyes looking a little glassy as they lock with yours, expression flat save for the flush on his cheeks and ears. He can try to pretend to be unaffected all he likes but when you intentionally squeeze your cunt around his cock again, nearly knocking your own breath out from the feeling of being so goddamn full, his knees shake and he lets go of your waist to slam a hand next to your head and brace himself.

L brings his face nearly to yours, flat brown eyes, or maybe black, that don’t seem to catch any of the awful lighting in the bathroom boring into your own as he says, “You will be moved into the task force headquarters where you will remain- uhn-under my w-atch for the duration of the Kira-ah case. Should I have any reason to believe that you…” his eyes flutter shut and he fucks a particularly hard thrust into you, the sound of the stall door slamming into the latch as you’re fucked harder against it making you flinch, before he’s back to gazing into your eyes, unnervingly, “… would assist Kira, the arrangement will be ter- mmn- inated, and you will be arrested for your- hah- previous crimes.”

You drop your hand from your mouth and after pressing your lips against his ear, while moaning feverishly, you damn nearly drool out “Re-mmn-membered what you ca-ame here for, L?” The words are stuttering and halting as his thrusts become sharper and shorter, angling up to hit the front walls of your cunt, the pressure making you dizzy as you struggle for air, a tightness that’s been slowly winding up inside of your pulsing in time with his thrusts, vision starting to blur and ears ringing.

His mouth drops open the moment you call him L, eyes squeezing shut as his hips jerk against you twice out of rhythm before he shoves himself back from you, pulling his dick from your pussy and a whimper from your throat. Quickly the sound twists into a gasp as he grabs your hips and turns you around, shoving you back against the door with a bang as he lines his cock up again, shoving the tip against you hard enough to press in only to hiss and pull back out with a shaky breath.

He’s still gripping your hips, fingers shaking where they dig in against the soft flesh there and the sound of his open mouth panting behind you fills the room.

“Goddamnit- L-”

One of the hands at your hips lets go, snapping up to wrap around the bottom half of your face in a tight grip, silencing you., “Should you agree to the terms presented,” You hear a deep shaky breath behind you, “I will see to it that you will be minimally sentenced, and you will be tried with the understanding that you were mentally unwell for the duration of your crimes, believing yourself to have acted in self defense.”

You growl against his hand, fury sparking inside of you as you feel your nearing orgasm begin to slip, only to stop and hold your breath when he hooks his chin over your shoulder and whispers, inflection barely traceable in his voice but present, “Agree.”

For all that it’s a definitive statement, a command more than anything else, you can’t help but think he sounds desperate, like he’s begging.

And if sticking around means you might get to hear him beg for real?

Raising your hand you tap his wrist with two fingers and his grip eases, allowing you to get out the word, “Agreed.”

The you shove your hips back against him, forcing the head of his cock to push your dripping cunt open again, and reveling in the grunt he lets out, more than a little proud of how steady your voice comes out as you say, “Now make me cum or I’ll make your life a living hell.”

You feel a shaky breath against your neck and the shifting of his head as he nods before sinking his cock all the way into you in one long stroke. The sound of your sweaty skin pressing together makes a shudder roll through your body, your back arching into his chest as he lets his free hand fall to your shoulder, before digging in harshly and dragging you back onto his cock in time with a sharp thrust;, driving a choked off scream out of you.

His pace is relentless, and when you let your head drop, moving with the motions of his fucking and just relaxing around him, letting the stimulation build back up, you can’t help but notice the shitty trainers he’s still got his feet half stuck into and grin.

You still might kill him for that alone.

The pressure in between your thighs is building in waves as L lets out grunts with each hard buck into your dripping pussy and you let one hand drop down between your legs, the tips of two fingers brushing against the hood of your poor neglected clit only to have the hand smacked away.

L had let go of your hip and replaced your hand with his, the pads of his fingers, slick with your combined cum, rubbing frantically from side to side over top of your slit, making your jerk and twitch and cry out at the sudden onslaught of sensation. L doesn’t seem to care, enjoys the reaction even if his unrestrained moan is anything to go by, and it’s that sound, the sounds of the threads of his composure definitively snapping that caused the build up of tension at the base of your spine to release.

You cream on his cock, clenching arhythmically around him as your hips jerk intermittently away and towards the sensation, mouth hanging open and eyes screwing shut as the repeated build up and subsequent denial is finally, finally, over and you let yourself go boneless on his cock. You earned this orgasm and you decide to shove aside and compartmentalize the background radiation of surprise you feel that it’s the frog who gave it to you. You let yourself float in the moment as you find both of L’s arms moving to wrap around your waist and hold you up as he continues to fuck into you from behind, grounding you and sinking his teeth into your neck right before you feel the sensation of warmth spilling deep in your cunt, timed perfectly with his suddenly imperfect thrusts.

With a last cry of pleasure he pulls away from your neck and stumbles back against the toilet, down onto the seat, taking you with him to land in his lap. Both of you grunt on impact.

L’s arms stay wrapped around your waist as you both take a moment to rest, your eyes shut and chest heaving as your breath and heart rate slow, coming down from your mutual high. The feeling of his cock slipping out of you as he softens draws a hiss from you, the sensation unpleasant as a result of your overstimulation, only to feel him twitch against you again, not quite getting hard but definitely expressing interest.

You blink your eyes open sleepily and turn your head to look at him, then follow the path of his eyes down to where you were previously joined, a little inhale audible from you as you take in the sight of his cum slowly dripping out from your puffy, soaking wet, abused pussy.

“Fuck.” You whisper, tensing up when you feel a soft kiss placed against the side of your neck and feel the arms around your waist tighten.

“Not to worry. Watari will acquire emergency contraceptives after he’s finished collecting your things.”

“Who- Wait, after what?”

Flat, dark, empty eyes lock with yours as you turn to face him, “As previously stated you will be moved to task force headquarters. I presumed you would want your possessions with you so I have taken the liberty of having them retrieved.”

“But… I just agreed! You couldn’t have known-”

The frog interrupts you again, this time by holding a cell phone up in front of your face, pinched between thumb and forefinger.

On the screen is a text message consisting of three emojis to someone listed as W.

A thumbs up. A pill. A baby.

Read.

You are going to kill this goddamn frog if it’s the last thing you do.

Bonus with permission from my beta: