I'm Your Puppet

・❥・I'm your puppet

You bring up the idea of L using you to distress. He agrees. Absolute filth follows.

: ̗̀➛ l lawliet x gn!reader

: ̗̀➛ cw: smut (pretty obvious), heavy degradation, slight praise, breeding, slapping, slight cum eating, being called pretty little thing and slut, reader is a freak for L

: ̗̀➛ wc: 1000+

: ̗̀➛ a/n: two posts in a week, who would have guessed. anyways please enjoy the degenerate activities here. 

L positions you in the way he wants, pulls you up by your throat, long fingers curling around constricting your breaths, until your body is pressed against his, as his hips snap against the fat of your ass causing a “pap pap” sound to echo throughout your room. 

He’s relentless in his search for pleasure, paying you no mind, as his hand begins to squeeze your throat, the other snakes its way to seize your hip in a bruising grip, and hot pants and low grunts escape his chapped lips as they brush against your ear. Your mind turns to mush, no longer able to distinguish pain and pleasure as it creates a sinful mix tricking you into begging for more. All that comes out is a series of babbles, drool dripping down onto your chest, and L smugly laughs at your pathetic self. Too drunk off this moment to say or do anything as he bends you over, forcing your head into a pillow, to hit that sweet spongy spot inside. You let out a scream of delight as if he understood your pleads, and in return clench around his cock deliciously. He lets out another grunt, deep from within his chest, and smacks your ass letting the sting linger before smacking it again with just as much force. It sends your body jolting forward, too much for your broken mind to handle, and you try to squirm from his grasp, but he drags you back to where you belong. Taking his cock like you were made for this, made to be ruined by him. 

Muffled mewls and a feeble excuse of thrusting yourself back on his dick makes his mind lose focus. Normally crippled by the weight of his cases, L kneels taller now, filled with thoughts of fucking you full. He pulls out, just kissing your hole with his flushed tip, until ramming himself back in, setting a brutal pace on your body. You couldn’t be more delighted. 

It was your idea to help him distress. A method, other than eating a concerning amount of sweets, to relax him. 

You picked at the threads on your sweater as you watched him reach for another stack of macarons after downing two boxes. His fingers danced across his keyboard, quickly typing out a report in some language you can’t discern, before he spots you shyly inching over. 

L stuffs a strawberry macaron in his mouth before asking “woul’ ‘o’ ‘ike o’e” offering you a vanilla one. 

“No it’s okay” you say trying to hide a chuckle bubbling its way out. “I was actually wondering how your job is going.”

He continues to violently chew, “ ‘qui’e ‘ell,” he swallows thickly, “why do you ask?”

“Well,” you peer down to your socks, rubbing your toes against the carpet, “I was just worried if you were stressed. You’ve eaten almost three boxes of those.”

“Sugar keeps the brain awake,” he states matter-of-factly as he goes to grab another one.

Your hand stops his, holding it in place, and he looks up to you slightly confused with his bottom lip tucked in between his teeth. He’s trying to read you.

“Maybe you should rest a while. Let your brain reset, you know?” His gaze shifts to his laptop. The report is nearly finished, and it has been weeks since he could sleep for more than an hour. He can never fully rest on a job like he can when he’s with you. His mind is plagued by images of known friends and nameless faces calling him, but you keep them at bay. Perhaps resting will do him some good. 

His voice softens to barely a whisper, “that would be good,” until he corrects himself “then I can continue working.”

“I’ll help you distress.”

L starts to get ready for bed, gingerly changing into his pj’s which really only consists of taking off his pants, and begins to slip into bed until he notices your apprehensive self still standing at the doorway. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh. Nothing, nothing,” but you still remain at the door.

His eyes squint in suspicion, letting silence question you instead of him. You quickly relent. “I mean… Well I feel bad now.”

More silence.

You sigh, frustrated at the fact your will power breaks so easily for him. “I was going to ask if you wanted to have sex to distress, but then you were actually going to sleep and now-”

“I would very much like to have sex with you.” 

“-I feel like an asshole- wait what?”

“I said I would like to have sex.”

The air in the room turns thick with the smell of sweat and sex cut by your pornagraphic moans, and L’s harsh pants, and the sound of his heavy balls hitting your ass. 

The position he has you in makes him hit even deeper than you could imagine, leaving you incapable of moving let alone thinking, but no need to think. A pretty little thing like you doesn’t need to think when you have L as your lover. He knows what you need is to be a good little slut and take his cum.

Your hoarse voice says “‘is too much. Can’t take it.” between moans, legs shaking underneath L’s thighs.

He accentuates each word with a thrust. “Yes.” “You.” “Can.” forcing the bed frame to hit the wall. 

He bends over your hunched frame, lips leaving sloppy wet kisses against your neck until he reaches your neck and he whispers “be good for me,” and you cum.

Stars dance around the corner of your vision as a soundless scream escapes you, and your hole tightens around L’s cock making him hiss. He drops to his elbows, succumbing to only shallow thrusts until it’s all too much and he cums filling your hole and pushing it back in with his cock. He stays until he softens and falls out, and his eyes fall on your thighs. His cum is smeared across your inner thighs, dripping down between your ass and on to the bed. He scoops it back up and pushes it in, not wanting to waste a single drop, and you moan at the intrusion. 

He takes his cum covered fingers to your parted lips, already familiar with routine, and you wrap them around his fingers, tongue swirling to get every last bit. You release them with a ‘pop,’ eyes waiting patiently for your reward, and he obliges, kissing you deeply, tasting himself on your tongue. 

He gets up to get a towel and begins to get you cleaned up, kissing each bruise he left, and massaging your sore limbs. 

“You did so well for me.”

“Would you say you’re sufficiently relaxed?”

“Yes, very relaxed. Thank you.”

He kisses your head, and tucks you into bed smiling to himself. How he ever got you to be his lover, he will never know, but he is forever grateful you are.

going through the old posts on your blog makes you realize how much of a freak you are. like damn I really said breeder balls agenda huh.

Hey, I'm not sure if you'll do this one, but like... I was on c.ai and actually made this cute little thing that I want to see with a more cannon L.

Basically, L and Reader are in a relationship, she has no connection to the Kira case, she's just a normal person. One night, L was on his laptop when she entered the room, crying and asking him to give up the case, because she just found out she's pregnant.

It's silly, but the way L comforted my character, I just need to see it with a more human writing 😭

Hello darling! Thank you for sending an ask! It’s not silly at all and I am more than willing to oblige. I hope you don’t mind, but I tweaked the story a little. Hopefully it’s still enjoyable. 

Being in a relationship with L Lawliet was not easy. He was rarely ever with you, off on some business trip or other, and even when he was, his mind would drift off, eyes staring blankly at the wall in front of him as he waited for you to get out of the shower. He would have to leave again, twice as long this time, to Japan. This case was proving to be far more difficult than he expected but you did not need to know the details. As much as you insist, he will never darken your mind with the details of any case he works. 

You spend the night together in each other’s arms praying it lasts a little longer, but it never works. Morning comes too quickly, and you kiss L at the door, never saying goodbye because this isn’t a goodbye. He will return. He must.

Christmas comes and you stay in your flat with colorful shadows of yourself reflected on the walls from tree lights outside your window. You stand hunched over the bathroom sink, unblinking eyes focused on your hands. Shrieks of joy from young children and gossiping mothers can be heard from the park across the street temporarily drawing your attention away. Happy families enjoying the holidays together. It almost makes you want to vomit. You peer down at your hands again, willing the color on the strip to change. No matter how many times you rub your eyes or shake the damn thing, it stays the same. Two pink lines. Christmas carollers start to sing and you are overtaken by a bout of nausea. You really should have used a condom.

After cleaning up the mess in the bathroom, you stumble to your bedroom dropping to your knees and swiping beneath your bed in search of a burner phone. L had given it to you in case you needed to reach him. It was a one use sort of thing, designed to self destruct after a call has been made. Finally you find it, covered in dust bunnies, but still in working condition. You input a code of numbers, accessing the contacts, take a deep breath, and call L. One, two, three rings, then he picks up.

His voice crackles over the speaker. “Hello.”

“Is there anyone with you?”

You hear muffled shuffling and then what sounds like a door locking.

“No.”

“Okay.” A slight pause. “I’m pregnant.” Exhale.

L goes silent trying to process the gravity of your statement, mouth opening and then shutting. He could be a father, if you wanted him to be, but he realizes where he is. In a country hours away from you, stuck in an empty hotel room with only the whir of computers and the thought of you to keep his sanity during this case that will surely take his life.

“I’ll be right there.”

The line goes dead before you can reply. The automated voice saying the phone will self-destruct in five seconds, and you rush to the bathroom, throwing it in the sink before it has the chance to explode in your hand. 

Six-teen hours later, he’s at your door red in the face and puffing with sweat dripping off his forehead. 

“Where-how did you get here so fast?” 

“Ran-” he takes a deep breath “from airport.”

“Why wouldn't you drive?”

Another breath. “Traffic.”

He pushes past your unmoving frame, walking straight to the fridge and chugging a water bottle. Slowly, still in shock of his unorthodox arrival, you lock the front door and follow him to the kitchen where he has downed yet another bottle. 

You stare at him, bewildered, waiting for an explanation for his erratic behavior, and he stares back, slightly shrugging his shoulders as if it was self explanatory. 

Daring to break the silence, you ask, “What do we do?”

“Whatever you want my love.” He answers quickly back. 

You place your hands on your lower belly, imagining the little life just barely starting to grow into an embryo. Physical proof of the love you share. Flashes of a nonexistent Christmas pass your mind, wrapped up in fuzzy blankets as you watch L play with your child, softly cooing when their chubby hands nearly reach a star shaped ornament in his hands.

 “I think I want to keep it.” 

He smiles and places his own hands on top of yours, rubbing small circles with his thumbs. “Then we will.”

Suddenly you look up from your joined hands, worry etched on your brow. “What about your job? Aren’t you on a case?”

L’s voice is low and soothing. “I’ll send someone to take my place.” You open your mouth in protest, but he beats you to it, “I belong here with you” and the words die on your tongue. 

L presses you closer to his chest, arms protectively wrapped around your waist, and his head buried in the crook of your neck. No words are exchanged because no more words are needed. He will stay and create the family he never had with you, and he couldn’t be happier.

a/n again???: this was too long to put in the tags but I really don't know if L would give up the kira case for you

he would set up a generous trust fund for you and the baby, but I think he would still ultimately stay on the case

he may say it’s so that you don't have to worry about a mass murder possibly gunning it for you, but I think it would be because of his ego, L has to win

but this ask wasn't asking for angst but I digress

i don't know if I'm being dumb or something but my latest post won't show up in any tags

hopefully it's just a problem on my end but i genuinely don't know

edit: ok I just checked if this post is hidden from tags but it isnt, what the hell is going on with my last post then T-T

*loudly drags a chair across the floor and sits it next to you* I'm back for confessional. Ahem. Making Astarion cum so hard his eyes roll back in his head and he cries a little bit. Wiping the tear away with your thumb and then licking him clean. Alright I'm done, see you whenever.

wooooowww ok messy sketch but just remember who fucking started it by honking in my inbox anon