L X Y/n - Tumblr Posts

Death Note Masterlist

Started: 7/16/22

Last Updated: 10/10/22

Requests: Open

• ───────────────── •

L Lawliet

-My Beacon of Light | L Lawliet x F!Reader comfort

-Comorting Touches | L Lawliet x F!Reader comfort 2

-Vows | Self-insert | angst

-L with a S/O who bakes

-Kodoku | L x fem!reader | angst

-L x gn!baker!Reader -F!S/O has a nightmare | Angst, Fluff

Light Yagami

Relationship HC's | gn!Reader | Angst, Fluff

Mello

-Trans!Mello x fem!Reader | SMUT -Mello x fem!Reader | Angst -Jealous/Possessive!Mello x fem!Reader | Angst, Fluff -Getting f!S/O a kitten | Fluff

Matt

-Nothing here yet!

Near

-Nothing here yet!

• ───────────────── •

Match up info:

Tell me: fandom (I do Death Note, Genshin Impact, Demon Slayer, Jujutsu Kaisen, Attack on Titan, Fullmetal Alchemist and Creepypasta), gender preference, personality, likes, dislikes, description of yourself I am not doing smut matchups. These matchups are purely romantic.

• ───────────────── •

What I will write: Fluff, NSFW, SFW, poly, mlm, gender neutral, etc.

What I will NOT write: Characters not included, pedophilia, suicide, extreme kinks, more than four characters in a scenario, being drugged, drugging someone else, homophobia, or racism.

• ───────────────── •

Here is my Grand Masterlist, where all of my fandoms are listed.

Be sure to include: Gender of reader (I do male, female, and gender neutral), plot, character(s) you want (no more than four characters per ask), and what specifically you want (fluff, angst, smut, etc.)

Thank you, and request away if you’d like <3

My Beacon of Light | L Lawliet x F!Reader

I really need this right now. I planned for more fluff yesterday, considering yesterday was my birthday. But, instead something happened and I needed this.

~*~*~*

Content: Female reader

Warnings: Brief mention of some kind of trauma regarding your father

Notes: Established, but hidden relationship.

~*~*~*

L doesn't have a lot of social awareness. Watari made that much very clear. But, his observancy skills are impeccable. He can spot the signs almost immediately - how her eyes wouldn't meet his, how you'd wrung your hands together, how quiet you'd been, reserved, closed off and sitting farther away from everyone else.

L wondered if you'd pick up on his awareness. Something was happening, and you weren't okay. However, he was smart enough to keep quiet until the two of you had been alone. He'd asked you to stay back to go over some documents.

"Your fresh and rested eyes will be able to spot anything I may have missed." L spoke in a serious tone.

Matsuda, ever the sweetheart, asked if you'd like him to wait for you so he could make sure you got home safe. Before you could answer, L spoke up for you.

"That wont be necessary, Matsuda. If it gets too late, she'll just spend the night here."

"Oh, okay." He nods, mumbling as he leaves. "Matsuda...?"

As soon as the door closed, L pat his hand against the cushion next to him. You sat, looking at him expectantly. Instead of him talking to you about the Kira case, his hand slowly slid into yours.

"What's the matter, love?" His tone was notably softer, and filled with concern.

L had been worried about the task force knowing about your relationship. Instead, he made a story about how you're Watari's neice from a foreign country, and was only here to help. He also went through the trouble of creating an alias for you.

Sighing softly, you squeezed his hand, leaning on his shoulder. "Ryuzaki-"

"Please, we're alone now, (Y/n)."

Nodding, you continue. "...'m been having nightmares again, L."

"About your father?" He asks.

You nod, keeping your stinging eyes on the computer instead of him. He brings his other hand up, keeping his arm draped over his bent knees, thumbing your cheek gently. "Love? You can talk to me."

After a few minutes of hesitation, you sigh. "Can I just...sit here for a minute? I need to gather my thoughts, L."

He nods. "I understand. Take all the time you need. You know I wont go anywhere."

If this were the first time he'd learned about your trauma responses, he would've awkwardly sat there while he watched you weirdly. Luckily, with time and communication, he now knows what to do and what to look for.

Eventually, you tell him about what's going on, context and all. L listens intently, for once not focused on the case at all. He nods along, showing that he's listening. When he's done, he squeezes your hand again.

"Do you want advice, silence, or sweets?"

This time, you answer readily. "...sweets, please."

L nods and lets go temporarily, reaching forward to grab a slice of cake. He watches you eat it, then leans over to steal a bite. "Mmh, tastes good. Is it sufficient?"

You stare at him in slight shock, then you begin to laugh.

"Hm? Why're you laughing? Have I...ruined the moment?"

“No, no.” You waved off. “I just didn’t expect you to take a bite as I was eating.”

L quirked a brow. “I’m not quite sure how that’s funn-“

But you didn’t let him finish. Instead, you placed the plate down and wrapped your arms around him, holding him close to your chest, pressing a kiss to his temple. He relaxed in your embrace, relieved that you didn’t seem to be as upset anymore.

“Have I told you I love you today?” L pipes up.

“Just now.”

“I love you.” He looks up at you with his usual wide eyes, but they’re full of affection.

“I love you too, L.” You press a kiss to his forehead. “Thank you.”

Comforting Touches | L x Fem!Reader | Comfort

~*~*~*

Content: Female reader, written in the second person.

Warnings: Brief mention about potential mommy issues (I'm projecting lol)

Notes: It can be seen as a part 2 to this. I also just needed to comfort myself.

~*~*~*

It was happening again. L could see your demeanor growing weak. Unfortunately, he was more tired now than the last time he had seen your depressive episode. His eyes stinging from the screen, head barely being able to be kept up.

Seeing L's state, you mustered your own social courage to address the task force. "Alright, we should call it a night. Everyone go home and get some rest, spend time with your families."

You specifically eyed Aizawa, Soichiro and his son Light.

The men all nodded, packed up their stuff, and left for the night. L sighed and visibly struggled to keep his eyes open. You leaned over the chair, gently putting a hand on his shoulder.

"C'mon, hon, I'll help you to bed."

Knowing he had no choice, L nodded and got up, leaning on you as you went. L collapsed on the bed - he'd been up for almost six days. L kept his eyes closed as he heard you walk about, going through your nightly routine.

L heard you stop, sigh, and get into the bed next to him. He threw an arm over you and nuzzled into your neck.

"Oh. I thought you'd fallen asleep already."

"Mmh, no. Not yet." L yawned. "I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry I caught it so late."

"Caught what?"

"Your episode. I've noticed you've been getting sad again."

"Oh...yeah." You'd muttered quietly, bringing one of your hands up to play with his hair. "Don't worry about it, okay? I'll be fine."

L shook his head and looked up at you. "Talk to me. Please."

You both stared at each other before giving in to your boyfriend's wish. "...alright."

You'd told him about your troubles with your mother recently. L listened as intently as he could. He hummed and nuzzled back into your neck again.

"I dunno how to help you...I never actually had a parent to do these things..."

"I know, Lawliet...jus' want you to hold me, okay?" You squeezed him close to you for a second.

L nodded wordlessly. Usually he hated when you'd call him 'Lawliet,' for alias reasons. But he was too tired to argue now, and he also wanted you to feel better.

So, he settled for wrapping his slim arms around you, falling asleep partially on top of you, trying to plan out how he could make you feel better in the morning.

Vows | Self-insert | Angst

I’ve been having a block. So have this as an apology.

Based off the song: Bleed for Me — Crape

~*~*~*

Content: I’m using a self-insert (J) instead of (Y/n) for this one because I can’t imagine this being an x reader. But J is still reader-ish so whatever. I also just need to write this out and put this SOMEWHERE. Forgive me <3

Warnings: Heavy character death, aggressiveness, spoiler warning for Death Note

Notes: Y’all don’t gotta read this if you don’t wanna. It wont hurt my feelings at all. I just need to get something written or I’m gonna explode. I’m blanking on ALL of my requests. I’m also throwing you into this. Also also, if the format is weird, its cause im on my phone. It’s also 3:37 am where I am.

Some info on J: She grew up with L in the orphanage. Later got into a relationship with and married L. Adopted Matt, Mello and Near with him later on.

~*~*~*

J sat, in shock. Her eyes wide as she stared at the news screen. It felt like she wasn’t breathing, that her heart stopped. She honestly wished it had.

It was almost as if Kira had gotten her.

The news report showed a car. A red one. One she didn’t recognize, but she recognized the driver. The car was littered with bullet holes, the class broken and shattered. A body laid limp against it, a young man. He was in the same shape as his car, but with blood all over him.

His own blood.

She knew that young man. Tears began to gather at her eyes, her hands began to shake, and she finally felt herself breathe. But it hurt. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to live.

The young man was her son, Matt.

“Mom?” Her youngest son, Near, called from the floor behind her. “Are you alright?”

She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want to turn to Near and have him see her in this state. He was old enough to, but that didn’t mean she wanted him to see it.

Near got up and carefully stepped over his toys at his mothers silence. He was able to see the news. He knew he just lost his brother. He wrapped his arms around his mother, pressing his face into her hunched over back.

J finally began to break down and cry into her hands. Matt was gone, and Mello was who knows where. They were always inseparable, but she couldn’t help but worry for her eldest son.

Losing one son was enough. It felt as if her whole world was crashing. Again.

She’d already lost her husband four years ago — how much more loss can she take?

She twisted her body to hold Near. J wanted to comfort her son as much as Near wanted to comfort his mother. Near never hated his brothers, even though they ganged up on him after L practically chose Near.

J sobbed into Near’s shoulder. Near kept calm, but so desperately wanted to call out for his brother. J wanted it to be a prank, a stupid, very elaborate one that Matt would always pull.

But he would never get back up again. He would never pull another prank on them again. J’s lungs seized at that thought, making her crying worse. Matt was gone, and he was never going to come back home.

~*~*~*

A few hours later, J was getting off the phone with the police and making arrangements to have Matt’s body transported to England for his funeral. Her eyes puffy, mouth dry, and throat sore.

Anthony and Gevanni grimaced at the sight. In the time they’d known J, she was not one to cry. She was always a very quiet, stoic, yet verbally aggressive woman. If Near had brown hair, they’d think he was her biological son.

Gevanni handed her a glass of water. “If there is anything you need, just let me know, okay?”

She nodded to the raven haired man. “Thank you.”

Gevanni nodded and comfortingly rubbed the woman’s back for a moment before turning to Near on the floor. He’d been more quiet since Matt died. He had no idea that Near had brothers. All Gevanni knew of his family was his mother, and that his father died four years ago in Japan from Kira.

“Near, are you—“

J’s cellphone rang. She picked it up and saw it was Halle. Halle was tailing after Mello when he took Kiyomi Takada. She’d lost sight of him for a while before, J guessed she’d found him now.

“Halle, did you find—“

“Miss, I…I’m so sorry.”

J assumed she meant about Matt. But then she realized, Halle wasn’t here when J told Gevanni and Anthony about Matt. Her heart suddenly dropped to her stomach again.

“What…what do you mean?” Her voice grew shaky, earning the attention of Near.

“Mello, I…he…Takada, too…” Halle seemed to be traumatized. “They…they…”

“Spit it out, Linder!” J snapped, feeling tears gather up again. “What happened?!”

“Mello and Takada…are dead.”

For the second time that day, J felt everything shatter. For the second time today, she was rendered into a shock. Her grip on the phone was so tight she was sure she’d break it. Near thought her eyes were so wide that they’d pop out of her head.

“Mom? What happened.”

“M-Mello…” She slowly turned to look at her son. “Mello’s dead, too.”

~*~*~*

J had never gripped a counter so hard in her life. Her nails dug into the material. Her face wet from the sink water, brown hair draping over her face. The guilt swamped her head.

Four years ago, Mello and Matt had landed in Japan in secret to help the Kira case behind L’s back. J usually kept her cases as far away from her children as possible, but Mello is— was a very stubborn man. Never took no as an answer. And Matt never stood for being left behind, so he tagged along.

J had no choice but to let them do it.

After L died, just after his funeral, Mello and Matt wanted to officially join the task force. J refused, said she’d stay in the orphanage and help. Mello then wanted to join some antagonist group to counter Kira and fight him. J fought him on that decision, they had an argument, and Mello took off with Matt. That had been the last time she’d seen Matt, and the last time she’d seen Mello until he came to retrieve his picture.

‘I didn’t even get to say goodbye.’

J let out a whimper before sinking to her knees. She pushed her knees to her chest, feeling the guilt continue to swim around her.

‘L…L, I failed. I failed our children, I failed you.’

She let out a sob before putting her head down, crying for the third time that day. It had been about a week since she buried her two sons next to their father, L, and grandfather, Wammy. Roger had tried to offer support, but it honestly meant nothing to her.

She appreciated the older man, but she needed to go through this process alone.

‘But what about my only surviving son?’

Near’s face flashed in her mind. Her eyes shot open. Suddenly, J became terrified that she’d lose Near next. Her grief and guilt quickly turned to anger. She narrowed her eyes, still crying.

‘No. I may have failed L, Mello and Matt, but I will not fail Near. He needs me now more than ever.’

With newfound definitiveness, she stood and finally turned the sink off. She looked at herself in the mirror. She looked like shit, as one would if they lost their husband and two eldest sons.

There, J made two vows. The first being she would catch Kira, even if it meant she’d lose her life next. It was better than Near dying. J would not allow her only family left to die. She needed to remember L’s take on the case.

Light Yagami. He was the suspect.

‘Light Yagami,’ J growled to herself. ‘I will rip you, and anyone you love, to goddamn shreds. That I vow.’

Light Yagami would feel the same pain J felt. She was sure of it.

Could I request L x reader who bakes? One part of my love language is gift giving but specifically giving people things I bake. This can range from cookies baked using pre-made dough to completely homemade by scratch baklava!

Anon I am foaming at the mouth. Was literally about to write something like this <3

(also I bake too so LOL—)

~*~*~*

Content: GN reader

Warnings: none

Notes: PURE FLUFF AS AN APOLOGY FOR MY LAST POST IM SORRY also I’m on my phone which is why my format probably looks a little weird

~*~*~*

Hehehe

Okay. So. First things first

This is how you’d get closer to L. Y’know the saying, “the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach?” That is entirely true with L.

If you’re baking during the Kira case, I can definitely see Matsuda coming to find you and trying to steal a cookie or two and you gotta smack his hand away

Definitely helps Watari out, too. Watari doesn’t need to spend as much money on sweets or time baking anymore with you around

L gets all happy when he sees you bringing him a plate of cake, and gets even happier when he can feel the plate is a little warm, spotting the steam rising from the slice of the cake.

L loves when YOU take care of his sweet tooth. He’s always wanting you to make something

If he’s not working and you’re baking, he’s gonna come up behind you and hug you until the stuff is ready to eat

If you learn to make chocolate bars and lollipops or whatever, stuff Watari usually just buys at a store, he’s gonna propose to you right there

L hates when you give your baking to anyone else, especially if that “anyone” is Light, Misa or Matsuda. He’s actually kind of okay with sharing the desserts with Watari, Soichiro and Mogi though, but he’d prefer to keep it for himself

If you’re with him before the Kira case, and before Matt and Mello ran off, the kids’ll want you to make stuff for them too

L doesn’t like sharing desserts with them too, but they’re just kids so he’s forced to be quiet about it

His sons end up liking you more than him (Mello especially) and L is all like :/ what the fuck that’s my S/O

Watari will be your taste tester. Usually loves helping you as well. Will also try to help you in forcing L and the kids to eat actual meals (Matt and Near have less of a problem with separating from sweets, whereas Mello and L practically fight you both on it)

L will also love if you get like, cupcake flavored chapstick or any kind of sweet perfume. Cuddling and kissing are about to become a constant if you do that

L will start to call you “my little baker” and “cupcake” and “muffin.” Also, instead of calling you the light of his life, he calls you “the slice of my cake” ???

He thinks it makes sense but it doesn’t

When you gift him sweets, he may cry later about it. Obviously in the moment he wont, but later when he’s thinking about it he will

L is used to people not wanting to be around him, much less give things to him. Yeah he’s got “sons” and Watari acts like a father, but his sons don’t exactly interact with him and two of them grow to detest him. L, in reality, is a very lonely man

So for you to give him something, sweets especially, made his heart swell so much

It doesn’t matter how long you two are together. Every time you give him something, it makes him want to cry later.

He really savors the gifted sweets, eating them slower than usual. He really wants to cherish the moment

It also, strangely, makes him a lot sleepier. So once he’s done eating your gifted sweets, he’ll lean against you and fall asleep

If you gift them while he’s working on the Kira case, the Task Force are all going to be horrified at the little smile L has on his face

Its to the point that Aizawa will fucking hunt you down to make L sweets and gift them to him if L’s been in a bad mood

“I’ll even go buy the wrapping paper right now, just— please, Ryuzaki is verbally beating the shit out of Mastuda and it’s even making me wince.”

L will get upset if you comfort Matsuda while he eats the sweets you gifted him. Matsuda is fucking crying in the corner and you’re hugging him, and L is thinking fucking Matsuda…>:(while eating a cookie you gifted him

Overall this little froggy man LOVES your baking, even if its a flavor he doesn’t particularly like or if its a little burnt. It just makes him really happy knowing that you care so much for him <3

Hiii! can I request fluff with tiny angst hcs of L and Mello when they wake up to their gf crying in the middle of the night because she had a dream of them dying?

Absolutely! Been craving angst lately anyway <3

• ───────────────── •

Content: L x F!Reader; Mello x F!Reader (separate)

Warnings: Spoilers for the series, character death

Notes: This has been in my drafts since July lol btw do y'all know that death note is getting TAKEN OFF OF NETFLIX SOON??? I'm so angry. (In the US area)

• ───────────────── •

❥L Lawliet

L doesn't sleep. We all know and we all agree on that.

So when you wake up in your shared bed, alone, from a particularly brutal nightmare, for a minute you thought it was real.

L had been caught by Kira.

He fell out of his chair and you'd been there to catch him, and it didn't take a genius to know he was suffering from a heart attack from how he suddenly dropped.

He died in your arms, you sobbing your eyes out

Now, in the real world, you laid on your bed and began to sob again, eyes stinging from how much you'd already cried in your sleep

Your throat felt dry - you might've screamed in your sleep

Sitting up, you cried into your hands some more before deciding to get up and grab some water

However, as if on cue, L walked in with a full glass of water in hand

"(nickname)? I heard you scream." L spoke softly, walking closer. "Are you alright?"

You'd never been so relieved in your life

Flinging yourself out of bed, you embraced L (careful of the glass) and held him tight, burying your face in his shoulder

"(Y/n)?" L asks again, wrapping his free arm around you

"I h-had a nightmare..." You shook in his hold.

"Here, drink some water. I had a suspicion that the scream was from a nightmare. I heard no other thuds and there is no way someone could have snuck in here to attack you without my knowledge." L offers up the water.

You keep his arm around your waist, drinking the water carefully.

"Do you feel any better?" L asks after a moment.

"...barely. Can you come to bed?" You ask, voice raspy with sleep.

L glances over his shoulder at the computer he left on. After a moment, he looks back at you and nods.

"I'm pretty much done for tonight, anyways. Lead the way."

L tangles himself in your embrace, placing his face into your chest. You laugh at his antics, and he looked up.

"What?" His voice comes out muffled, since his mouth was covered by your clothed chest.

"Nothing, nothing." You say, carding your fingers through his hair.

"Mmh...m'kay..." L yawns. "Sleep well, love. I'm here now."

"I will." You kiss his head. "Love you."

"Love you too." Is the last thing he mutters before falling asleep with you.

• ───────────────── •

❥Mello

It didn't feel like you belonged in the room, with what you just witnessed

No dialogue was exchanged. You only saw Mello standing over a cowering woman with short, black hair, then he suddenly falls over

It doesn't take long for you to realize you just witnessed your lovers' death

The woman then turned to you, wrote in a black book, and then your chest began to burn

Due to dream logic, you'd lived longer than Mello, allowing you to crawl to him with tears in your eyes

"Mello...Mello...Mello, please, I'm sorry..."

Mello didn't respond

The woman watched tears run down your face before you screamed for Mello before dying

Shooting up from your spot on the couch, Mello's attention was quickly snapped to you

"Hey, now." Mello saddled next to you. "Are you alright doll?"

Looking up at him, you felt yourself tear up again before hugging him close and tight.

"Woah, woah, what's the matter?" Mello loosely wrapped his arms around you. "Nightmare?"

You nodded numbly, not speaking

Mello softly sighed then tightened his hold around you

"Wanna talk about it?" He asked, before you shook your head no.

Mello nods, and moves so that you're pressed flush against him, not really knowing what else to do

He gave you a peck to your temple, hoping that would satiate any kind of nerves you had

"Mello?"

"Hm?"

"You're not going anywhere...right?"

"No, why?"

You didn't respond before hiding your face in his neck. Mello sighed again before going back to holding you

It didn't take a genius for him to realize you probably had a nightmare about him, or with him in it. But, as long as you didn't wanna talk about it,

"Did you wanna go back to sleep?"

he wouldn't push you about it.

"Yeah."

• ───────────────── •

Here is my Masterlist in case you want to request, or look for more of your favorite character!

This was literally so sweet and wholesome

Like the cute awkwardness of them being together and him being overly analytical about what he wanted to do was just too much💕.

I absolutely could NOT be just friends with L after that. I would fall in love.

Hii! Not sure if this counts as a request exactly but I just wanted to say I love your works about L and thank you for feeding the L fans. I'd gratefully eat up any more L smut or anything L related you ever feel like giving us in the future. 🙏❤️ Also I don't like to give my *exact* age but I'm well into my 20s lol.

ahhh thank you. I absolutely adore him and I haven't been able to stop thinking about him since I watched Death Note. I've had this story rattling around my head for a while! I hope you like it. Also I'm sorry it took me so long to respond to this ask but I wanted to respond with the story.

Pairing: L x f!reader

Content guidance: NSFW. This is kind of a fix-it fic set post-canon. Light was arrested, and L has come home to you, his dear friend with whom he decides he'd quite like to try having sex. Cunnilingus and vaginal intercourse. Zero mention of contraception lol I let my demons take over. Approx 3750 words

You turn the page on the book you’re reading, balancing it between the edge of the diner booth table and the heel of your palm. Of course, you’re aware that L is staring at you; he often is. Ordinarily it’s simply because he feels comfortable with you, because those wide saucer eyes need somewhere to focus and you’re a safe option. But you could swear there’s something unspoken and unfamiliar between you today. He’s more talkative than usual.

“Two years, three months and… a week? Is that right?” he mutters to himself. “I believe so. That’s not exactly long in the grand scheme of things. But is it long enough?” As usual, he crouches with his bare feet on the seat, thumbing his lower lip with one hand while the other rests on his knee.

You’re used to the way L talks to himself when he’s working through something, so you don’t comment on his little monologue. “Did you decide what to order yet?” you ask, slotting a postcard from Tokyo between the pages of your book to hold your place. 

“Chocolate cream pie.” L’s eyes dart down to the makeshift bookmark. “Ah, you kept it?”

“Of course. I never throw out any of the postcards you send me from your trips.”

The barest hint of a smile curves his lips as his gaze lifts back to you, wordlessly letting you know that your gesture means a lot to him. Over the years, you and L have grown close; comfortable in each other's company, often seeking each other out simply to be near to one another. He’s the type of friend you can spend hours just sitting beside, watching raindrops slide down the windows, neither of you speaking, the silence between you as comforting as conversation.

L eases your anxieties and you– at least you hope– ease his. Though earning that trust and camaraderie has been a slow process; one which has taken two years… three months and… a week.

“That's how long it's been since we met, isn't it?” You ask, picking up your water to take a sip. “That's what you're thinking about.”

“Yes.” He picks up the sugar shaker and pours it into his teacup. “You should know, I'm debating whether to ask you if you would be willing to have sex with me.”

He doesn't even flinch when you splutter into your glass. Surely you heard wrong. “Huh?”

“It's something I'm considering,” he says, stirring the sugar into his tea, pincering the teaspoon with his thumb and forefinger and watching it intensely as he speaks. In all the time you've known him, you've never seen him grasp anything with his whole hand. “I've felt the urge and lately it's become quite persistent. And if I were to explore that avenue I would want it to be with someone I trust. That really only leaves Watari and the people I grew up alongside, which is completely out of the question, a handful of colleagues, which is… a little better but hm… no… or you. And I'll admit, I have a significant desire for it to be you.”

The world stops spinning for a moment, your racing heart drowns out your thoughts. “Huh?”

“Don't worry. I haven't decided if I'll ask you yet.”

“Uh huh.”

He looks up with genuine concern in his eyes. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No! No… it's just… I didn't expect it.”

“Well that makes two of us,” he says, sipping the tea with an audible slurp. “A lot happened in Tokyo, as you’re aware. It gave me a lot to consider, and… if I’m honest, brought home the fleeting nature of life.” He takes another sip and then stares directly into your eyes. “I think I will ask you.”

“...okay…”

“Will you have sex with me?”

“Yes.” Your face heats as his dark eyes continue watching you, his expression completely neutral. You have to admit, in the two years, three months, and a week since you met him you've wondered about it, but it wasn't until he asked that you realized just how badly you want him. “Yes I will.”

“Thank you.” He lowers his gaze to the menu in front of him, worrying his lips with the tip of his thumb. “Maybe I want strawberry shortcake instead of chocolate cream. Hm… that’s a conundrum.”

“You could get both?” you suggest with a playful smile, trying to relieve a little of the tension you’re feeling. “You successfully cracked the Kira case, and got home safely. We should celebrate.”

His wide eyes dart to you for a moment, shock registering over his face as he considers it. “Yes, you’re right. Both. One for now and one for after we're done. That sounds like it could be nice.”

“You want to.. um…do it tonight?”

“Yes. I was thinking we could after we're finished here. Is that alright?”

You nod, still a little thrown off kilter by this sudden turn of events. But is it really all that sudden? You’ve felt something more than friendship toward L for a while now, and he’s comfortable around you, he likes to spend time with you; you’re soothing to him in a way, just as he is to you. 

And, to be frank, L’s handsome. And completely unaware of it which only makes him hotter. 

However, you can’t help but question whether it will change things between you. Will your friendship suffer for the sake of one night?

“I promise I won’t be weird about it,” L says, his gaze fixed on you once more. He always has had a way of figuring out exactly what you’re thinking, almost as if he can read your mind. But no, he’s just that smart and that good at reading people. “We can go right back to being friends afterward if we wish. Communication is key. And of course, if you’re in any way uncomfortable or hesitant–”

“I’m not. I want this.” Your sudden admission makes his eyes widen and your heart skip. Yes, you want it. You want him. Bad. 

***

It’s a little after eight when Watari drops you both off at a hotel. 

“I figured a neutral place would work best for us,” L explains as you step into the elevator beside him and the porter presses the button for the top floor suite. “That way either of us can simply leave if…” he trails off, staring straight ahead for a moment before his gaze turns back to you. “I’m sure we’ll have… It’ll be… hm… is fun the right word? It sounds wrong.”

The air between you grows heavy as you stand side-by-side, the porter’s presence holding you back from saying everything you want to. An overwhelming need to reassure L, to make sure he knows that you want him to feel good in every conceivable way, from physical pleasure to comfort and safety, fills you, but the words sit behind a dam at the back of your throat.

When you glance over at L, he’s watching you, his wide eyes studying your facial expressions. And then he side-steps closer to you, the back of his hand nudging yours; such a simple and casual gesture that lets you know he’s there. 

“Fun, yeah,” you say. 

“Okay, so if you start laughing it means I’m doing well. Understood.” 

He delivers the line so flatly it makes you splutter, drawing the attention of the porter. And just like that he sets you at ease; L, your strange, brilliant, enigmatic friend. 

Your friend who takes you up to the hotel's penthouse suite with every intention of fucking you, but who first gives you a tour, opening the fully stocked refrigerator and telling you to help yourself. 

“I asked them to provide refreshments. Sex burns calories and it seemed polite to make sure your energy reserves were replenished,” he says, pushing aside a plate of chocolate eclairs to place his strawberry shortcake from the diner into the fridge.

He then takes you to the bathroom, instructs you on how to turn on the shower and adjust the heat. Then demonstrates the functions of the TVs remote control and the numbers to dial for room service as displayed on the phone by the bedside. And then–

"L… are you nervous?”

“Ah, is it obvious?”

“A little. But it's okay,” you say, gently taking his hand in yours. “I kinda am too.”

“I’m… struggling with the issue of initiation,” he says flatly, glancing down at your joined hands. “If you wouldn’t mind… taking the lead.”

“Okay,” you say, stepping toward him. “How about we start with kissing?”

“Kissing? Yes. We’ll try that.”

Your heart thrums as you lean in and L mirrors your movement, the space between you shrinking by tentative inches. L’s eyes remain wide open as you close the gap and allow your lips to touch his, an almost painful dart of excitement shooting through you at the sensation. 

He inhales sharply, draws back, and then leans in once again.

His lips are stiff at first, but warm, and still taste faintly of chocolate cake. The first few moments consist of you kissing L, and him standing frozen like a deer in the headlights. Fearing he’s not into it you pull back, only for him to close the gap again instantly, this time his lips seeking yours. Only the very tips of his fingers rest on your shoulders, as though he isn’t quite sure what to do with his hands. His kiss is soft and shallow; little butterfly kisses which cause a giddy, tingling sensation to bubble in your chest.

His tongue shyly flicks against your lower lip, seeking affirmation and permission. And you grant it, winding your arms around his waist and pulling him closer, rewarded for your boldness with another low, approving groan. 

His fingers cautiously slide up to your neck before coming to rest on your jaw. A quiet rumble of pleasure emerges from his throat as his confidence grows and his kiss deepens, and before long, L is kissing you like your lips contain the answers to every one of the world’s mysteries.

Those little sounds of pleasure hum against your lips. And when you open your eyes to check whether his are still wide, you find he's closed them, his dark eyelashes resting on his cheeks, his expression serene and lost in the sensation of your kiss. 

“Hm…” he mutters as you break apart for air. “I’m enjoying this more than I thought I would.”

“Good, me too.”

“I’m aware how clinical this sounds but I have researched different ways to approach the physical aspect, and the universal consensus from both reputable and anecdotal sources is that we will both enjoy it much more if… you are… aroused.” He looks up and away for a moment, tracing the lower ridge of his lip with his thumb as if trying to recall something. “If you’re…wet.”

“Oh, well, yeah–”

He draws closer, his breath warm as he whispers by your ear, “Then I want to get you wet.”

L has always had a way of putting things plainly.

The air catches in your lungs, a preemptive pulse of pleasure throbbing between your thighs as his lips begin to explore the sensitive skin of your neck.. He kisses you slowly, his tongue teasing, teeth gently grazing.

“I’ve read that neck kisses help,” he mutters, his words muffled against your skin. “As well as stimulating your breasts and your clitoris with my fingers… and my tongue. The thought of that appeals to me. I would like to try it.”

“Hah… of course. You’re already doing… doing a good job…” you breathe out as he continues to kiss your throat, his unruly black hair tickling your jaw and shoulder, his fingers ever-so-gently mapping the curve of your waist. 

After a moment he pulls back, studying your face before his gaze drops to your lips. “Really? Interesting. I’d thought it would be harder; pun not intended but it deserves to be recognized nevertheless. I do have an erection simply from kissing you. But while our genitals seem to already reached near optimal physical states for sex to occur, I would still like to continue, as planned, with exploration and cunnilingus if you’re happy to proceed–” His words are cut off as you return his gesture, kissing the firm column of his neck, your tongue sliding up the deep groove of muscle traversing its length. “Oh! Oh…”

“That good?” 

He nods. “Extremely so-hoh.”

He’s so responsive to your touch, his breath catching in his throat, his fingers trembling against your upper arms. You very quickly become proficient at pulling gasps and breathy moans from him, every inch of him so incredibly sensitive. A choked groan emerges from him as your hands wander down to the hem of his shirt, your fingers caressing the warm, supple skin of his abdomen and the coarse trail of hair leading down to his waistband. 

You break away from kissing his neck long enough to pull his shirt up over his head, your hands coming to rest in the subtle curve of his waist. He follows your lead, tugging at your top, breath heavy, hands clumsy and eager. The moment your skin is exposed he tilts his hips toward you, back arching so he can press his body to yours. Hungry for the comfort of your touch, your skin against his, your warmth, your softness. He soaks it in, his lips finding yours once more. 

When he slips down his jeans without pulling away from your lips, his cock prods at you through his boxers, just as eager as the rest of him, and unmistakably large. 

And he's so hungry for you, so keen to experience it all. The moment you unclasp your bra and toss it aside, his mouth is on your breasts, deep groans telegraphing his pleasure. He kisses them so softly, so carefully you find yourself arching up against his mouth, silently demanding more. He laps at your nipples and traces the swell of your breasts with his fingertips. Maddeningly gentle. Deliciously sweet.

Together, you shed off the rest of your clothes and stumble toward the bed. You sit on the edge of the mattress while he bends down, following you, unwilling to take his mouth off you for even a second. Your hands trace the lean shape of his body, his pale skin pebbling at your touch.

His kisses trail down your chest, your belly, your hips; his lips leaving tingles of pleasure in their wake. Slender fingers part your thighs as he crouches between them, his breath warm against your pussy. A quiet hum of contemplation rolls from his throat and he touches his fingertip to your clit. Those wide eyes gaze at you, somehow filled with both knowledge and innocence, and an unspoken question you hear loud and clear…

Is this right? 

“Yes…” it’s all you can choke out before he sticks out his tongue and licks. 

The sudden shock of pleasure pulls a gasp from you. His tongue is slippery, soft, warm, and hesitant at first until he gets the taste for you and a switch flips. If some part of you had worried that he wouldn't like the taste, you're dead wrong. L devours you, his tongue slipping between your pussy lips, dragging along your slit, circling and lapping at your clit. His groans reverberate through you, his face buried eagerly between your thighs, hands greedily keeping them apart, feathery black hair tickling your skin.

Perhaps it shouldn't come as a surprise he’s good with his mouth– you've watched him tie cherry stalks with his tongue after all– but the fervent hunger, his insatiable desire to taste you, that you didn't expect.

And apparently, neither did he. He pulls back briefly, his ashen cheeks for once a little pinker, his eyelids heavy and unable to tear their gaze from your pussy. 

“This… might actually be better than cake.”

You laugh, despite your frustration at the loss of his touch. “Don't stop…”

“Oh! Right…” he leans in, placing a slow, open mouthed kiss on your clit, his tongue so soft and gentle you find yourself arching your back, rocking your hips against his mouth, desperate for more pressure. 

Dark eyes flick up to you, and you can tell he's pleased, he enjoys your reactions. Just as he enjoys it when you run your hands through his hair, stopping at the back of his head, gently holding him against you. He reads your body language perfectly, picking up the pace, increasing the pressure, licking you with renewed fervor, driving you closer… closer…

“Mmhhh… hmmm…” he murmurs, fingers digging slightly deeper into the plush of your thighs when they start to tremble. Every breath huffs from his nose as he refuses to let up, his lips forming a tight seal around your clit as he licks and licks. The wet, sucking sound of his mouth against your tender flesh makes it all the better; so lewd, so utterly primal. 

And when you cum, his eyes shoot back up to you, his expression a mix of shock and wonder at the sensation of your pussy pulsing beneath his lips. He doesn’t let up until you tell him to, and even then he’s slow to do so, sighing softly as he tenderly and affectionately kisses your throbbing clit. 

When he rocks back on his heels, still crouched, he’s hazy-eyed, flushed, breathless. A creamy bead of pre-cum trickles from the tip of his cock as he licks his lips. “I enjoyed that far more than I expected I would. If you asked me to do it again, I doubt I’d hesitate.”

You nod, heat tingling beneath the surface of your skin. “You’re good at it.”

“Ah! Good.” He glances down at his weeping cock. “Are you still happy to continue?”

“God, yes.”

“Oh, we’re at the petnames stage already? I’m flattered.” He pauses, staring directly into your eyes. “That was an attempt at a joke, I believe I’m deflecting a little, trying to mask my nerves with humor.”

Oh L… you can’t help but feel so hopelessly endeared to him. This sweet, strange, wonderful man who just ate your pussy like it was his first meal in years, and yet still feels nervous when really you’re already completely satisfied.

“How about if I take the lead? You can just lie back and… feel…” you offer.

He contemplates it for a moment, tapping his thumb against his cupid’s bow. “Yes. I think I would like that. And you can have extra cake later for doing all the hard work. That was another attempt at humor.”

“Cake and sex? Win win.” You pat the bed beside you. “Come on, we’ll take it nice and easy. I’ll stop when you say when.”

“I’m very glad I asked you to share this with me,” he says as he climbs onto the bed and lies back, one hand resting on his stomach, the other still worrying his lips. “I feel… safe. Comfortable. There’s a sense of belonging here with you which makes this all far more pleasant and… a little less terrifying.”

“There’s no need to be scared,” you say softly, kissing the fingers resting on his lips as you straddle him. 

“Rest assured I do feel safe with you. But… I do feel a little exposed laid out flat like this. It isn’t a natural position for me to be in. Would you mind if I…” He experimentally bends his legs, raising his knees so his thighs are flush with your ass. “Is this okay?”

It means you have to keep your weight forward, your hands braced on the pillow either side of his head and your chest flush with his. But it also means your faces are close; close enough to kiss, close enough that you can take his hand in yours, interlocking your fingers together on the pillow. “It’s more than okay.”

“This. This is nice,” he whispers,” the tip of his nose grazing against yours. “I feel good. Safe. Thank you.”

You treat him so tenderly he shivers as you kiss his lips, his jaw, then down his neck to his chest. His breath catches as your lips graze his nipple, and his hips jut upward against you. The moment the head of his cock nudges your pussy his eyes widen and his lips part.

“Certainly… very wet. And warm.” His other hand darts down to hold your hip, subtly urging you downward. 

The tip of his cock feels almost impossibly fat against your entrance. You kiss your way back up his throat to look him in the eyes. “Yes?”

“Yes!” He quivers, nodding to reaffirm his consent, eyes wide, lips open around his heavy breaths. “Continue. I want to… feel… oh…” He freezes the moment you lower yourself onto him and feels your wet heat consume him. “Oh… you are… extremely warm. Soft. Hoh… wet…”

You kiss him softly, smiling that his usual eloquence has been reduced to a quiet stream of grunts and adjectives. His grip on your hand tightens the moment you rock your hips. 

“Ah! It’s… it’s good…” he murmurs, his lips once again seeking yours, though even their deftness is lacking. His kiss is soft and uncoordinated, his moans muffled against your lips, his breaths catching in his throat before he can properly exhale.

And he feels good for you too. Not just the intoxicating stretch of his cock, or the way the pair of you slowly grind your hips together, faces so close you’re sharing the same air. For those few minutes there was never any Kira case, never any fear he would become nothing more than a name on a neverending list of victims. He isn’t even just a beloved friend you’re doing this with once so he can know what it feels like. He’s simply L… your L… and you’re together, right where you belong. 

His eyes close and he inhales sharply, his cock throbbing inside you as he lifts his head and buries it in the crook of your neck, curling up as much as he can with your weight on top of him.

“Gya… shhh… ah! Ah!” He groans and hisses against your shoulder, his orgasm causing him to tremble. “D-don’t…” he gasps. “Don’t stop. Not yet. Stay with me. Please.”

“Okay,” you assure him, kissing him softly once more. “I’ll stay.”

And you do. You stay with him in bed for hours, kissing, experimenting, hiding from the world together. You stay with him and eat cake after that. And you stay with him in the hotel bed watching raindrops slide down the windowpane while he curls up in your arms and reiterates the simple truth…

“I’m where I belong.”

Tags: @ferninapot

This was beautiful

Stories like this really makes me wish l had an happier ending

Him describe how being with the reader makes him feel normal is the sweetest and saddest thing ever in a way I love this

NSFW. L x F!reader. Vaginal sex, cunnilingus. L realizing he has feelings for you. Approx 2.6k words.

Stress impaired neural circuitry and was detrimental to cognitive function, and L couldn’t afford to lose brain power.

His most recent case required it all. The longer the case went on the more his brain seemed to fog, and the more it fogged, the longer it would take to catch the murderer. There was only one thing for it: you.

He needed you, craved you, couldn’t get you out of his mind. No matter how hard he tried to focus, the image of you appeared; a temptation he couldn’t get past. 

Put simply, he was horny. 

He dreamed of you in the few hours of sleep he stashed away from the relentless pursuit of victory. Vivid dreams of your scent, your touch, the sound of his name on your lips. He awakened from those dreams flustered and panting, his spend soaking through his jeans. But no matter how graphic and convincing those dreams were, it couldn’t compare to the real thing. To You.

With you it was never just sex. L was very fond of you, comfortable with you, his heart was made lighter by your company. You'd been friends for a while, then good friends, and then close friends who indulged in sex together. And lately your relationship was evolving into something else. Something neither of you had stuck a firm label to. Not yet.

He had Watari call you and patch you through to his line.

“L? Is everything okay?”

The moment he heard your voice, he felt the fog clear just a little. Enough to know this was exactly the right thing to do. “Yes of course. But I need to see you. How soon can you fly out to me?”

“Uh…”

“I would like to have sex with you.”

“... I’m on my way.”

Two days later you knocked on the door to his hotel room thousands of miles from home. You'd dropped everything to be there, and the gravity of that was not lost on him. 

The moment you stepped through the door he wrapped his arms around you, holding you to him in a desperate and much-needed embrace. 

“I appreciate you coming,” he said, relief immediately flooding through him, as if your arrival was the antidote to a toxin which had been slowly seeping into his system in your absence. “I need to switch off my brain… for a short while at least. And you’ve always been rather adept at making me feel at least a little mindless.”

The sound of your gentle, never unkind, laughter made him smile. As did the way your arms tightened around his rounded shoulders. “I missed you too, L.”

“Ah, well, yes, of course I missed you. Having you here while I’m working on a case is too much of a distraction. Yet being apart for too long also obstructs my focus.”

“We need to find a balance, don’t we?”

“Yes.” he hooked his index finger over his bottom lip and glanced at the ceiling. “Perhaps a schedule. Though as you know, I do tend to sleep quite heavily after sex, and that will need to be factored in when calculating the amount of time I can spend working.”

You smiled at him, and he realized just how much he’d missed the sight of it. “Do you have time set aside now?”

“Of course. I have the next eighteen hours blocked off.”

“Eighteen hours?”

“Yes… as persistent as my urges are, I have no intention of rush– mmh—”

Your lips on his silenced him, physically and– at least momentarily– mentally. Your kisses never failed to raise his heart rate and his temperature. They were devastating. Wonderful. Addictive. He was hardly aware of the little muffled moans escaping him as you backed him toward the couch and had him sit. 

“Is Watari here?” you asked, straddling his lap and running your fingers through his wild raven hair. 

A subtle smile curved L’s lips as he gazed up at you, dark eyes drinking in the familiar yet exciting sight of you. Only a matter of minutes together and already he felt the weight on his shoulders lifting. “No, Watari has his own room. We're alone.”

“Good.”

God, the heat in your kisses then, the hunger which tightened a coil deep beneath his navel. The sensation of you sucking on his lower lip made him shiver, the gentle touch of your fingertips on his neck gave him goosebumps. It was wonderful. Every touch, every second, every kiss. He clung to you tightly, his bare toes curled against the carpet, breaths labored, pupils so dilated they nearly drowned out the gray of his irises. 

A moan of protest escaped him when you pulled back, leaving his lips feeling swollen and tingly.

“You’re very cute, L.”

“I’m cute? Hm… Interesting word choice.”

“It’s true. You’re so very cute, and so very, very sexy.”

“Sexy…” he repeated back as you trailed kisses down his neck. “I’ll admit, I’m inclined to believe you. You’re making me feel many things right now and sexy is certainly among them.”

You grinned against his collarbone. “What else?”

Goodness, your kisses made it hard to breathe. But when you were around oxygen seemed superfluous. He needed your lips more than he needed to fill his lungs.

He tried to put into words the way you made him feel; hot, breathless, complete, present, safe, happy, loved. But the only sound he managed to choke out as your hands slid beneath the hem of his shirt to caress his stomach was a strained, fractured moan.

You chuckled quietly. “Good, that's what I was hoping.”

Eloquence out the window, he let his hands and his lips speak for him, fingertips gliding up your back, pushing up your shirt, making you shiver. The sensation of your skin beneath his palms was so lovely he never wanted to feel anything else. 

Early on in your relationship he’d mastered the art of smoothly unhooking your bra, and he did so now, stroking his fingers along your upper back, feeling your shoulder blades flex beneath his hands as he lifted your shirt up and over your head. He set your garments aside so carefully it made you smile. Well, it wouldn’t be polite to simply toss them.

And you pulled his shirt off too, setting it on top of yours before your hands slid over his chest and abdomen. You were so greedy for him; gentle and adoring, but unmistakably hungry. Squeezing, stroking, holding, making up for the weeks you’d been apart. Every touch left a desire for more in its wake. And the intimacy of your bare skin on his, the way your hardened nipples prodded and brushed against him every time you leaned in to deepen your kisses… heaven. Perfection.

You made him feel incredible. So good he couldn’t help but squirm beneath you, his cock aching and so desperate for your touch he couldn’t bear it. And you knew him well enough to see it in his eyes; the almost pained expression pinching his brow, the way his mouth turned down as he succumbed to the sensation of your lips on his throat, your tongue warm and soft, slippery against his clavicle. 

L wasn't quite sure when he had come to realize the wonderful truth; that you needed him as he needed you. It wasn't a sudden dawning, more an intrinsic fact which became second nature to him. Being with him, kissing him, grinding yourself against his lap was simultaneously as indulgent and as necessary for you as it was for him. You were working out your own stress, clinging to him as he was to you. Adoring him as he adored you.

You'd missed him; you’d said as much but he could feel it. It was apparent by the way your kisses lingered, the desperation of your touches, the ragged quality of each overwhelmed breath. And that feeling, of being needed, wanted, craved, was almost enough to make him lightheaded.

“Beautiful…” the word tiptoed from his tongue and into the heated air between you. It was all so beautiful; you, the sensations, him, that moment, all of it. 

He’d spent the majority of his life contemplating the very worst facets of human behavior; analytical detachment as much a necessity as an inevitability when the world around him was saturated by cruelty, violence, and death. But you… no he could never detach from you. He was wholly and willingly consumed by your loveliness, your beauty, your imperfections. All of you. 

He heard himself groan in protest as you clambered off him, but he needn’t have worried. You simply finished undressing before unbuttoning his jeans, tugging them down his slender thighs as he arched his back and lifted his hips off the couch to ease your endeavor. His erection tented his boxers, aching and twitching at the sight of you stripping off your underwear, and the arousal glistening at the apex of your inner thighs. 

“So wet,” he said, tapping his lower lip with his thumbnail, his dark eyes hungrily drinking in the sight of you. “You're excited.”

“Of course. You turn me on, L.”

“Clearly. I enjoy it immensely.” He glanced down at his erection, and the little wet patch soaking through the fabric of his boxers. “And… oh, hey… likewise.”

Goodness, he enjoyed the way you smiled. Even at a time like this when he was in real danger of ruining the mood. You didn’t roll your eyes or barely tolerate him, and you didn’t simply appreciate him for his intelligence, his money, or even his looks which you had very quickly seemed to have acquired the taste for. It was all of him for you too. 

Love, he was quickly learning, was all about those little moments. The awkwardness, the fumbling, accepting someone as the flawed and wonderful person they were. Every little thing he adored about you was reflected back in your eyes: personality, humor, mannerisms. He adored you down to your very core and there was no doubt in his mind that you felt the same way about him.

He stood from the couch, stepping out of his boxers– hopping on the spot to keep his balance as he unhooked them from his ankle– and stood before you completely naked. 

“As much as I would enjoy sex right now, I’d also very much like to taste you.” He scratched his belly as he headed toward the bedroom door. “And I feel we’d benefit from moving to the bedroom. There’s room there to maneuver. The bed is comfortable and… If I'm honest, I’d enjoy lying with you. Particularly being held by you. You’ve given me quite the fondness for cuddling you know.” 

Of course convincing you was unnecessary. He’d only ever have to ask to move to the bedroom and you would've headed straight there. But he liked the way the color rose in your cheeks when he mentioned his desires, and the way your smile took on new meaning. The little flirtatious glance you gave him as you slipped by him in the doorway made his heart pitter patter. The way you sat on the bed, parting your thighs and inviting him to indulge in you made his cock ache.

All his life he’d been treated as something other– he'd felt it too– but with you, crouching between your feet, breathing in the heady scent of your arousal as your breath hitched in anticipation, he felt like any other lovesick fool. And for that he was endlessly grateful; a gratitude he expressed by leaning in and kissing your clitoris. He knew how you liked it. Hot, open-mouthed kisses, heavy on the tongue, making out with your sex as you moaned and sunk your fingers into his hair and writhed beneath his lips. 

Dear God, the taste of you. If only cunnilingus provided adequate sustenance, he’d never touch anything else again. He’d live between your thighs, lapping at your core, devouring you, parting your folds to drive his tongue into your entrance, enjoying the way you bucked your hips toward him, always seeking more. 

Ordinarily he’d take his time, savor the slow-build toward your climax, but he was starved, desperate to sink into your heat and be enveloped by your presence which he’d denied himself for far too long. He dragged his tongue along your slit, circling your clitoris before surrounding it with his lips and sucking upon it.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped, heels pressing against his backside, thighs trembling. 

Your reactions only ever served to bolster his confidence. Your pleasure was as much a boost to his ego as any successfully closed case. And he was just as relentless in its pursuit, demanding, licking, sucking, groaning against your pussy, his dick throbbing almost painfully, dripping precum onto his thighs. 

And then you came, and it was a miracle he didn’t follow suit. 

Your gasps, your moans, the way you tensed and shuddered and cried his name. The sudden flood of heat emanating from your core, the throbbing spasms, all of it. Wonderful. Perfect. Utterly utterly maddening. He simply had to be inside you. 

Your throes had barely subsided when he crawled onto you, his mouth still dedicated to worshiping your form, following a path from your pelvis, over your stomach, your chest, your throat, and finally your lips, where you groaned at the taste of yourself on his tongue. And all else was meaningless. The case, the stress, whatever came tomorrow. None of it mattered. Because you were there. Because the sensation of you, of sliding into you, the way your body adjusted to accommodate him, the way your brow pinched then smoothed, and the sound of his name on your lips pared him down so completely to the true form of himself, to someone he hardly recognized. 

Only when he was with you like this was he allowed to be just a man. Not a detective. Not an unsettling, infallible genius or a freak or a creep or a weirdo or whatever labels were thrust upon him. Just a man whose lungs emptied when he sheathed himself inside you. Just a man whose thrusts were uncoordinated and sloppy because it all felt so overwhelmingly good. Just a man with butterflies in his belly when you held his face between your hands and finally, finally uttered the words you’d both been dancing around since God knows when. 

“I love you.”

Such a lovely sound. The gravity of it folded him. He collapsed into you, trembling, rolling his hips against you in the quest for release, his breath blowing hot and hard against your throat as he responded in kind. “I do too. I love you. Isn’t it… Isn’t it incredible?”

Perhaps he wasn’t making any sense. But he meant all of it, the simple words and their world-changing intricacies. In every imaginable way. He loved you. 

Overwhelmed with the need to be closer, deeper, he pushed up your thighs, spreading them, pressing his pelvis tight against yours until his cock was completely buried inside you and neither of you could draw full breaths. Deep, unbridled, fractured groans tumbled from his lips, his forehead resting on your chest as he arched into his thrusts, watching his cock slide into you with fascination and awe. He loved every aspect of it. The scent of your body, the off-kilter rhythm of his thrusts, that he could hear your wetness even above his own moans and yours. So good. Messy and undignified, uncoordinated and beautifully, perfectly human. Mountains of sugar couldn’t hold a candle to the indulgence he found in you. 

His pleasure grew, billowing behind his navel, a flurry of clenching muscles and firing nerves. And he simply had to have something in his mouth, his lips latching onto your nipple, tonguing it frantically as you cried out in bliss beneath him. And then he was filling you, his cock throbbing and leaking and stuttering inside you. Incapable of analysis or even thought beyond simply you.

It was you. Only you. Always you.

Afterwards you held him so adoringly, stroking your fingers through his hair, telling him how good he felt and how much you loved him. And what a wonderful feeling it was to be so utterly adored. Such tranquility in allowing himself to be just a man.

“Thank you for coming,” he said, curled in your arms a little while later, once his trembling subsided and left a pleasant humming tingle in its wake. Safe and relaxed and at peace. “Pun unintended.”

“Awful,” you teased him, as lovers are wont to do. “I’m taking the next plane home.”

“Ah, well, that’s a pity. We still have seventeen hours before I need to get back to work. And, it seems, today at least, little to no refractory period.”

“Is that so?”

“It is so. So I'd appreciate it if you indulged my awful humor a little while longer. Might I suggest keeping my mouth otherwise occupied?”

Your smile, your gentle, never unkind laughter, the way you flirted with him… just you. Goodness, seventeen hours would never be enough. 

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