#.are posts

[theplaceicommitmysins]

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

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

Wordcount: 4.9k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s your sign?”

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

“Oh that’s good, Kira’s a Pisces.”

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

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

“The- Huh?!”

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

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

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

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

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

“That was mean.”

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

“That was fun .”

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

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

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

The Puppy and The Chief.

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

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

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

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

Hence the task force. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Coincidence isn’t causality.

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

These things happen.

It was a shuttle bus to a theme park.

Well… Criminals aren’t known for their intelligence.

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

What are you some kind of conspiracy theorist?

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

When did you talk to my family?!

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You laugh harder.

“How dare-”

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

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

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

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

He just looks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Detective Yagami-”

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

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

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

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

He’s confused?

Now you’re confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ask.”

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

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

“What is it you wish me to ask?”

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

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

Suck it Kira.

“How?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re attracted to me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The bastard got cum in your goddamn hair.

You’re going to kill-

“Hagoromo.”

…

“Huh?”

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

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

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

And when L looks at you he sees divinity.

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

[nudityandnerdery]

I want you to remember:

The fascists hate you too and they just will pretend otherwise until after they've killed the rest of us, before they turn on you.

Edit! It's been blazed by now. Thank you, though!

[lieutenant-sarcastic]

Fuck moon’s taking poison damage

[nattousan]

*doom music starts to play* I actually kindof like scheduling these kinds of appointments now...

but seriously Fellas, don't forget to schedule a pap smear every couple of years just in case. If you still have a cervix you can still get cervical cancer. ilu

this has been a psa

[marvelsmostwanted]

There are people – some in my own Party – who think that if you just give Donald Trump everything he wants, he’ll make an exception and spare you some of the harm. I’ll ignore the moral abdication of that position for just a second to say — almost none of those people have the experience with this President that I do. I once swallowed my pride to offer him what he values most — public praise on the Sunday news shows — in return for ventilators and N95 masks during the worst of the pandemic. We made a deal. And it turns out his promises were as broken as the BIPAP machines he sent us instead of ventilators. Going along to get along does not work – just ask the Trump-fearing red state Governors who are dealing with the same cuts that we are. I won’t be fooled twice.

I’ve been reflecting, these past four weeks, on two important parts of my life: my work helping to build the Illinois Holocaust Museum and the two times I’ve had the privilege of reciting the oath of office for Illinois Governor.

As some of you know, Skokie, Illinois once had one of the largest populations of Holocaust survivors anywhere in the world. In 1978, Nazis decided they wanted to march there.

The leaders of that march knew that the images of Swastika clad young men goose stepping down a peaceful suburban street would terrorize the local Jewish population – so many of whom had never recovered from their time in German concentration camps.

The prospect of that march sparked a legal fight that went all the way to the Supreme Court. It was a Jewish lawyer from the ACLU who argued the case for the Nazis – contending that even the most hateful of speech was protected under the first amendment.

As an American and a Jew, I find it difficult to resolve my feelings around that Supreme Court case – but I am grateful that the prospect of Nazis marching in their streets spurred the survivors and other Skokie residents to act. They joined together to form the Holocaust Memorial Foundation and built the first Illinois Holocaust Museum in a storefront in 1981 – a small but important forerunner to the one I helped build thirty years later.

I do not invoke the specter of Nazis lightly. But I know the history intimately — and have spent more time than probably anyone in this room with people who survived the Holocaust. Here’s what I’ve learned – the root that tears apart your house’s foundation begins as a seed – a seed of distrust and hate and blame.

The seed that grew into a dictatorship in Europe a lifetime ago didn’t arrive overnight. It started with everyday Germans mad about inflation and looking for someone to blame.

I’m watching with a foreboding dread what is happening in our country right now. A president who watches a plane go down in the Potomac – and suggests — without facts or findings — that a diversity hire is responsible for the crash. Or the Missouri Attorney General who just sued Starbucks – arguing that consumers pay higher prices for their coffee because the baristas are too “female” and “nonwhite.” The authoritarian playbook is laid bare here: They point to a group of people who don’t look like you and tell you to blame them for your problems.

I just have one question: What comes next? After we’ve discriminated against, deported or disparaged all the immigrants and the gay and lesbian and transgender people, the developmentally disabled, the women and the minorities – once we’ve ostracized our neighbors and betrayed our friends – After that, when the problems we started with are still there staring us in the face – what comes next.

All the atrocities of human history lurk in the answer to that question. And if we don’t want to repeat history – then for God’s sake in this moment we better be strong enough to learn from it.

I swore the following oath on Abraham Lincoln’s Bible: “I do solemnly swear that I will support the constitution of the United States, and the constitution of the state of Illinois, and that I will faithfully discharge the duties of the office of Governor .... according to the best of my ability.

My oath is to the Constitution of our state and of our country. We don’t have kings in America – and I don’t intend to bend the knee to one. I am not speaking up in service to my ambitions — but in deference to my obligations.

If you think I’m overreacting and sounding the alarm too soon, consider this:

It took the Nazis one month, three weeks, two days, eight hours and 40 minutes to dismantle a constitutional republic. All I’m saying is when the five-alarm fire starts to burn, every good person better be ready to man a post with a bucket of water if you want to stop it from raging out of control.

Those Illinois Nazis did end up holding their march in 1978 – just not in Skokie. After all the blowback from the case, they decided to march in Chicago instead. Only twenty of them showed up. But 2000 people came to counter protest. The Chicago Tribune reported that day that the “rally sputtered to an unspectacular end after ten minutes.” It was Illinoisans who smothered those embers before they could burn into a flame.

Tyranny requires your fear and your silence and your compliance. Democracy requires your courage. So gather your justice and humanity, Illinois, and do not let the “tragic spirit of despair” overcome us when our country needs us the most.

Sources:

• NBC Chicago & J.B. Pritzker, Democratic governor of Illinois, State of the State address 2025: Watch speech here | Full text

• Betches News on Instagram (screencaps)

[sexygaywizard]

Healthcare issues reflected in yaoi ✊😔

[iamthetruestrepairman]

is anyone else constantly afraid they’ll be “caught” doing stuff they’re obviously allowed or even supposed to do

[spongebobssquarepants]

[vexwerewolf]

I genuinely think there was no greater insight into the modern Christian mindset than when the Pope said he very much hoped Hell was empty and he was absolutely hounded by both Catholics and Protestants outraged at the idea of a man who wanted a place of infinite suffering to have nobody in it.

[theplaceicommitmysins]

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

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

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

Wordcount: 3k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Frog in your throat?”

You are going to fucking end this little man.

But first you’ll need to finish him.

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

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

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

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

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

“So, L-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

A single drip.

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

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

Wondering if they’ll be yours or his.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goddamnit- L-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You still might kill him for that alone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who- Wait, after what?”

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

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

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

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

A thumbs up. A pill. A baby.

Read.

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

Bonus with permission from my beta:

[graveyarrdshift]

"I'm just a girl", "girl math", "girl dinner", "divine feminine energy", "bimbocore", "clean girl", "girl's girl", "girlfriend brain" SHUT UPPP!!! SHUTT THE FUCKKKK UPPPPPP !!!!

[ryderdire]

Really interesting thing I glimpsed on rednote today

I think We- we’re developing international class consciousness 

[aromantic-goldfishdeactivated202]

I find it so funny, in light of TikTok’s imminent American demise, that even now they aren’t considering moving to tumblr. The last two social media refugee crises (Twitter -> X and whatever happened with Reddit) prompted a wave of wide-eyed new baffled tumblr users to flood this app and yet last I heard all of the tiktokers are flooding en-masse a Chinese social media app. That is entirely in Mandarin. Instead of moving to tumblr.

[gayvampyr]

the generational gap between me and the people my age who use chat gpt

[mobgoblin]

Queued right up for it