#dn l lawliet

[dearestones]

His Eyes Focused On You (L x Reader)

Warnings: NSFW, nothing too explicit, established relationship, etc. 

Anonymous Request: i was wondering if i could request something about nsfw interaction with L x reader in an established relationship:“ why are you looking at me like that? ”  thank you so much 😊 

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It’s a tangle of limbs and half muttered phrases, all of it crooned or muttered in throes of passion. There's bedsheets and pillows, the fragrance of pastries and the stagnant air that accompanies hotel rooms. As you're swept up in the rising heat of frantic touches and lingering kisses, you can barely keep your eyes open, wanting to savor the moment of pure vulnerability.

Your bed partner, all toned muscle and soft grunts, is holding you tightly, almost too tight. The pressure is comforting, making you believe that this is real.

It has to be real.

"Are you okay?"

You can't help but ask, as your back arches off the bed, your chest meeting his eager mouth. His tongue laves around your sensitive skin and his hands, soft finger pads and calloused palms exploring every inch of your body.

At your question, he pauses and his dark eyes meet yours. 

Before you had become close to him, intimate in a way that you knew was afforded to few people, you didn't peg him for the type of person to want to get physical with another human being. Of course, you knew that most people had needs. You just assumed that based on his line of work and his preference for privacy, you thought that he would use other means to satisfy his primal urges. And if toys or other sources of stimulation weren't enough, then you supposed that he must have sought carnal satisfaction through sex workers.

For the most part, you were right. As a detective on the move, it was imperative for him to remain loose and detached from others. Sex workers, escorts, and the like could be bribed into silence. Machines and toys could be bought anonymously online. However, months of close relations and intimate conversation had culminated into the slow and steady crescendo of you and your beloved partner finally settling into each other's arms in an erotic dance that had you swaying your hips and falling neatly into his arms. 

Over and over again. 

Was it purely all physical? 

You hoped that this relationship meant something to him. Many days were spent poring over his investigations and most nights were spent in each other’s arms. He loved talking, you knew that, but he also liked observing you. Watching you. Making note of your likes and dislikes, what made you tick, what made you smile that special smile of yours that made him proud. 

In turn, you did the same. 

You could never fool yourself into thinking that you truly knew every aspect of him, but when you were close together like this, with both your hips moving against each other in unison, sweet friction inciting the embers of passion, you thought you could finally see the man underneath the facade of a cold, analytical character. You had never doubted that he was human, but you never knew that he could lower his defenses to reveal that he was warm to the touch and that his heart beat fast under your touches. 

“Are you okay?” You ask again, insistently this time. One of your hands lands on his bicep while the other cups his cheek. It’s intimate, too close to tender and leagues away from pure carnal intent. Often, the both of you would incite foreplay through banter, build up the tension with lingering touches and innuendo and then finally consummate your union. However, it was rare for soft touches that conveyed nothing more than affection and the trust that you had for him. 

L, your lover, trusted you enough that you wouldn’t kill him in his sleep. 

But L, the world’s greatest detective, only looked to you for help whenever he needed insight on one of his cases. 

Having resigned yourself to the fact that this relationship was never going to be in your favor, you would not be surprised if L had decided to shrug away your soothing touches and continued to bring the both of you to completion. You would not lie: you ached for the sweet release of bliss, but you were content to remain connected as is, bodies intertwined and your sweat dripping and pooling together underneath your bodies and soaking into the sheets. 

Yet, just when you were about to release L and to urge your hips to move against his, you felt your heart flutter with warmth when he interlaced his fingers with your fingers that caressed his cheek. For a brief moment, his dark eyed gaze kept you entranced, the look in his eyes seemingly expressionless, but the intensity stemming from a passion that you had never seen him display so brazenly before. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” It comes out as a whisper, barely louder than your moans as he leans closer to you, his every movement brushing against your most sensitive parts of you. There’s a broken, jagged edge to his tone, like a porcelain vase that had been broken and sanded down to prevent injury. Scars that never healed right. 

L continues to hold your gaze and the grip that he has on your body seems to tighten and grow even warmer.

You’re lightheaded, but still very much aware of your surroundings and of course, L. 

“It’s because I love you,” you whisper without any hint of irony or shame. Perhaps if you weren’t naked and swept up in his arms, maybe you might have thought twice about admitting such a thing, but in that moment, you wanted to be true to yourself. 

“I love you,” you say again. 

L holds you close, his dark eyed gaze never waving before you notice that the lines of his lips have softened and that one corner had lifted into a soft smile. Bending down, he presses a kiss–too chaste for this situation, but so very telling of his true desires–to your temple before he continues his ministrations from before, careful to keep his pace steady and his eyes focused on you. 

It didn’t matter if he didn’t say it back. 

His actions spoke otherwise. 

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DEATH NOTE MASTERLIST

[tummy-troubles-tourney]

[kittysauce]

LOOK THROUGH HIS EYES , SEE WHAT HE SEES .

[sapin7]

cleansing rain

[corviiids]

in the one (1) month since i watched death note for the first time i sure have been doing a fucking posting

bonus:

[setewbro]

Lanchinho da tarde

[stimmingandstruggling]

soulmates but not in a soft romantic way soulmates in a destined to change each other for better or for worse, cannot be who they are without each other, unstoppable together but they’re also the only ones who can defeat each other, equals, existences undeniably tied to each other way

[go-bonkers-go-foolish]

L showing up at Light's school and introducing himself as Hideki Ryuga is fucking hysterical to me. imagine how every other student there must have felt. that's like if you were at college and some weird goth supergenius kid who looks like he hasn't stepped outside in 20 years showed up at your school and introduces himself as Harry Styles but not the one you're thinking of, and then he follows around some other weird supergenius kid for a week and they play the world's most homoerotic game of tennis and then they both disappear off the face of the earth forever

[mykatzone]

When They Death Note

[daily-dose-of-dopamine]

this post stuck with me

+ the sims pool removed ladder (because he definitely would)

comp of all 3

L + Light

extras

Also love these tags

[pronoun-note]

bringing back this meme because i can’t stop thinking about it

[dearestones]

Necessary Compliance (Yandere! L x Reader)

Warnings: Yandere behavior. 

Anonymous Request: yandere L fic where the reader has ‘accepted’ that that probably wont be let out, but that doesnt mean they are gonna make life with him easy. They wont eat, drink, talk etc. Anything he does try will be met with resistance every step of the way

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"It's not poisoned."

You simply stared down into your bowl of soup, the contents of which was foreign to you and more than likely the product of whatever city you were taken to. Ten minutes ago, it was hot enough that the steam was gently wafting up to your face to coat it with condensation. Despite the disgust that bubbled in your stomach, desperately seeking to be let out, you held your tongue and remained focused on keeping calm. 

At this point, this was the only course of action you could take. 

For the past four weeks, three days, seven hours, and ten minutes, you had been surprisingly... cooperative for a person who had been held against their will. L supposed that it was psychology at work. After all, he had been nothing if not kind and accommodating to your needs. Every day, you were provided with nutritious meals, ample space for exercise, and access to a high quality shower and hygienic products. If anything else, you were cordial.

But that simply wasn’t enough.

If L had been trying to coerce you into admitting a crime through humane means such as this—as opposed to some of his more unsavory methods—he would have let you go already. However, that simply wasn’t the case. Rather, you were an innocent civilian who had been practically plucked off the street, your only connection to L only a byproduct of circumstance and coincidence. Had you been in the mood for banter, you would have brought up that topic once more, but you were tired. 

And you no longer cared. 

As your captivity stretched from days to weeks, which eventually morphed into months, you realized that there was no escape. Why even try? L had a vast array of resources at his very disposal. Wherever he went, there was sure to be a retinue of guards hiding somewhere within the premises, their gazes trained on you should you ever escape your captor’s grasp. 

And even if L wasn’t as powerful as your mind made him seem, he was still vastly intelligent and if need be, could quickly and physically overpower you. 

On all fronts, physical and mental, you were forced against the wall with nowhere to turn. 

So.

This.

You would comply. 

You would be quiet.

But that didn’t mean that you would bow down to his whims. 

As you continued to give your bowl of soup a glare that would have reheated it back to its steaming glory, L finally conceded to obey his baser desires. Normally, the famed detective would have left you to your own devices, often asking his closest advisor, a man that he called Watari despite his very British accent, to feed you instead. However, it had been at least two weeks since you’ve last spoken and even longer since you’ve raised a hand against him. Some might call what you were doing progress—a tamed beast. 

However, you were a far cry from who you were before. 

And L wanted you back. 

You heard him get up from his seat, his feet padding towards you before a cold, spindly hand grasped your chin. Disciplined and spiteful, you kept your mouth closed to keep your gasp from reaching his ears. If there was one thing you knew about L, it was that once you had given him the satisfaction, you might as well have let him win this battle of wills.

It had been a while since you had let down your guard, but you couldn't let up now. Hunger, which gnawed and clawed at the insides of your stomach and made your hands tremble with the aching need of want, you could ignore. Thirst, the heavenly fire that coated the insides of your throat with raw sand, you could mildly alleviate with the taste and heat from your saliva.

You were above human desires.

You could beat L at his own game.

In this way, you were better than L—top detective and most brilliant man most people would have killed to have met at least once in their life.

"The last time you refused to eat, you lasted three days before you gave up." He jerked your head up so that you had no choice but to look him in the eyes.

The first time you met him, you had faced him the same way. That is to say, you kept your eyes trained downwards, your gaze never quite meeting his. You wouldn't say that you were shy, but you definitely were not confident in how you appeared before him.

But when you met gazes for the first time, you knew what L exactly was.

L was not human.

He was a parasite who wore the skin of a human as if it were a pair of ill fitting pants. He fed off your every emotion, the fights that you would instigate by not feeding into his delusional fantasies that one day you would cede your very soul and spirit to him. He knew better, of course he did, but that didn't stop him from staring at you as if you were a science project.

What could he do to manipulate you? To make you finally be his?

If physical violence didn't work, then what about promises of riches? Of delights that could only be experienced by those with power and influence like himself?

And if enticing you with human temptations such as that wouldn't be the thing to make you heel to him, then what about sweet honeyed words that dripped with a poison that would slowly but surely rot your brains and make you that much more malleable to his whims.

The day would come, you knew this, but until then, you tried to remain steadfast.

L's nails, freshly cut, dug deep into your skin.

"Shall I call Watari? We can have you fed intravenously if need be."

That threat had been hanging over your head ever since you began your quiet rebellion. Although you had managed to cave into your hunger before you were forced to give up your autonomy, you managed to glimpse L's faithful servant hauling in equipment that made your blood go cold. You knew that L was not against going against the law to achieve what he wanted most.

It was the results that mattered in the end, not how he got there.

At this point, you shouldn't be surprised, but...

It frightened you.

You were taken away from everything you had known, stripped of your most basic rights, and now, you were going to be force fed as if you were lower than an animal.

L crouched in front of you. Although appearing as if he were shorter than you, the control he had over the situation never wavered.

From the very beginning, you had no chance.

"Well?" His voice was monotone, but you could hear the mild mocking lilt underlying his voice. "What would you rather do?"

You could only comply, the idea of debasing yourself was too much.

You ate and every bite that slid down your throat was tasteless and ashy.

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DISCLAIMER: I do not condone yandere behavior outside of fictional settings. Please don’t mistake the actions of fictional characters displayed in works of fiction to be considered harmless in real life.

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DEATH NOTE MASTERLIST

[thomas-the-goat-of-satan]

one of the funniest things about Light Yagami is that he is So aware of himself and So invested in Not Being Perceived As Strange that he has no real grasp on what an actual human interaction should look like. he knows what a Perfect interaction should look like, sure; he knows how to appear effortlessly charming and how to assuage suspicion, but the issue with that is that he reacts to really stressful and bizarre situations in an unnaturally prim and proper way, and then somehow can't understand why that makes him look even weirder. like. okay. this man with the darkest eyebags you've Ever seen and ever Will see walks up to you during your college entrance ceremony and says, "yeah, I'm L. best detective in the world." and Light goes through seven Completely Understandable And Normal Reactions in his head before he settles on, "y'know what would be the normal thing to do here? to completely fabricate my reaction so that I seem as disengeuous at possible! I can't have this guy think that I learned how to interact with other human beings from anywhere else but PBS KIDS! I have to react like Chief Yagami's totally normal son would!!" and like, that's all good and well, but if you were Actually Normal and not the weirdest person on planet earth, you'd have probably looked at the little cryptid and said, "uhm, actually I think that you're a filthy liar and also you dress stupid. why do you exist in greyscale."

[somberstarr]

Guess who got into Death Note again

[weirdplutoprince]

read him like a book

[numbuh424]

The unstoppable, mighty hurricane and the immovable, cold, hard truth.