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Light Yagami never planned for his life to turn out like this.
The brunette had a five-year plan. Several, actually. Be the top of his class, pass the bar early, join the NPA, maybe (definitely) revolutionize Japan’s justice system, or become prime minister before thirty.
Nowhere, I mean absolutely nowhere, in that plan was getting married at 21 to a certain black-haired detective who had an ungodly affinity for sweets, getting heavily pregnant, and be up spending his Saturday morning cooking porridge for said detective, who was currently on death’s doorstep coughing like a tuberculosis patient under several layers of egyptian cotton blankets.
But alas, fate was a bitch.
“I’m surrounded by idiots,” Light muttered as he stirred the pot, glaring at the congee he made for his bed-ridden husband. “Fucking genius. World’s greatest detective my ass. Can’t even put on a jacket.”
To be fair, none of this was in the cards back when he first met L. Back when his father brought him to a task force meeting “just to observe,”. Fate was good to him then, allowing him to work and foresee what his future career would have looked like. He should’ve left the second he got the position on the task force, just taken the opportunity and flirted his way into the inner circle and ghosted. That was the original plan. Use L, prove he was better, then bounce before things got weird.
“He probably suspected that.” The pregnant man thought hard and bitterly. “He definitely knew. I should’ve left.”
But then L had kissed him, awkwardly and soft. Then he had the brunette’s legs up his shoulders and he’d eaten Light out in a surveillance van. Then he’d asked if Light wanted to move in with him, “for convenience”, and Light had said yes before thinking twice.
Then he was married. Then he was barefoot in the kitchen. Then he was pregnant.
And now he was stuck.
Not emotionally, obviously. Emotionally, he didn’t really give a damn at all. He was perfectly capable of walking away. He just…didn’t want to. To much of his chagrin, he was in love. And full of L’s child. But whatever.
“I hate this,” he said aloud, pouring the cooked sludge of rice into a bowl. “This is hell. I live in hell.”
L looked like death when Light entered the room. The man was pale, sweaty, and his usually messy hair was akin to a bird’s nest. One eye half-open, the other buried in a pillow. He looked like absolute shit. But when L saw Light, he smiled.
“...You look radiant.” The detective managed to croak out.
Light slammed the tray down so hard the spoon rattled. “You stink. You need a bath soon. You need to eat first before I find you perished on the bed.”
“Whatever you say, darling.” L mused.
Light sat on the edge of the bed as if he was about to administer a lethal injection, not a warm porridge. L was propped up on pillows, his sweat dripping down everywhere on his weak body, helpless and pathetic with a blanket haplessly tossed on his shoulders. Light scooped up a steaming spoonful and shoved it toward his face.
L blinked slowly. “Is that—”
“Eat it before I change my mind and smother you.”
The detective obediently opened his mouth and swallowed. “Mm. It’s very—”
“Suck it, Ryuzaki.”
Another spoonful was then given to him along with another irritated sigh from Light as he dabbled at L’s mouth with a tissue like he wasn’t fantasizing about punching him.
“Honestly, I should be filing for divorce. You’re high risk, high-maintenance, and you make my blood pressure sky-rocket.”
“I have a fever.”
“And I’m very pregnant, Ryuzaki. Pick a struggle.”
Light was fuming, not just at L’s reckless immune system, but at the whole goddamn situation. The baby was pressing on his spine, his teats were aching. On top of that, he hadn’t been fucked in four days. And his husband—his genius, perverted husband—was lying here with the audacity to look pathetic and hot at the same time.
“This is your fault,” he thought, stabbing the spoon into the bowl. “You knocked me up. You ruined my body. You make me–ugh–soft.”
L slumped against the pillows, half-asleep by the time the bowl was finished. His breathing was steadier and his cheeks more flushed with life. Light wiped his face one last time and stood up before leaving their room. “Don’t die in your sleep.”
—
Back in the kitchen, Light paced. His belly was heavy, clit throbbing with need, and his tits—his damn fucking tits—are unbearably full and sore.
“I hate him so much,” he mumbled. “What a bastard. Can’t get his act together. Can’t keep his dick in his pants.” He pressed a palm to his left breast and winced. The sensitivity was insane, the ache tingled and he was leaking again.
“Ugh, great. I might as well be a cow at this point.” And still…no relief.
He hadn’t come in days, his cunt was pulsing—warm, slick, and neglected. If he wasn’t so pregnant he’d be humping L’s face by now.
But nooo, his precious husband is sick. Respect boundaries, Light.
Fuck that.
—
Light stormed back into the bedroom, fully intent on yelling again, but stopped short at the sight of his husband sitting up, half-lidded with warm eyes blinking at him with an expression that could only be described as gentle awe.
“Light…”
“...What.”
“You’re…. glowing.”
“Uhuh, you said I was radiant earlier. You’re hallucinating.”
“No,” L gasped, his gaze drifting lazily downward. “Your chest is beautiful.”
The brunette blinked and froze, his arms automatically crossed over his tits–too late, because L had already seen. The outline of his nipples, swollen and clearly damp under the shirt. The way the fabric clung tight to the curve of his new-found breasts.
L, with no shame, licked his lips. “They must be sore.”
“Don’t.”
“I believe it’s important to relieve some pressure, darling. For your health.”
“Ha! My health?! Don’t you even start—”
“I could help,” L offered, as if he was not a few coughs away from dying.
“Are you for real? You want to suck milk out of my tits while there’s snot on your nose?”
The detective only blinked at him, nonplussed at Light’s reaction. “Colostrum is packed with anti-bodies. It could aid my recovery.”
Silence could only follow both, and then:
“You’re disgusting.” Light snapped, warmth filling his cheeks, but oh, did his cunt give a delicious throb.
“Lay down on the bed.”
L’s fever-addled state made him warm, his hands settling on Light’s hips. The brunette straddled his lap, giving small grinds but wearing a scowl on his pretty face the entire time.
“This is not sexual,” he said while lifting his shirt.
“Of course not,” L replied, his glazed eyes zeroing in on Light’s tits like a man possessed. “You grinding on me is definitely not sexual at all.”
“S-shut up! You get one sip only.”
The moment L’s mouth closed around his leaking nipples, Light’s brain short-circuited. The feeling of heat shot through his chest, curling down his spine and straight to his cunt. His swollen clit quivered with arousal and his thick thighs trembled. He hated it. He loved it.
“Fuck! Ryuzaki–shit–”
L’s tongue was doing numbers on him. He sucked slow, steady, and reverent. His hands stroked over Light’s hips like he was something holy. Well to the man, he was. Like he wasn’t a seven-month pregnant hormonal disaster who was dry-humping his sick husband’s thigh.
The brunette buried a hand in L’s curls and yanked him hard, gasping, "I knew you’d be a freak about this—mmnh! F-fuck that’s sensitive…”
His milk leaked faster and steadier with L swallowing every drop greedily. Light’s poor neglected cunt clenched around nothing feeling his husband’s tongue swirl around his abused nipples.
“Okay, okay, okay, fine, I need dick, I need HIS dick. This is ridiculous.” Light was going insane. It felt so good, so delicious. It’s been a while (4 days of not getting dicked) and any more of the dry spell could have him divorcing L in the middle of his sickness.
“I said lie back, Ryuzaki.” Light hissed. “You want anti-bodies? I’ll stuff you full of them.”
L could only hum with content, face dazed and flushed. “That’s…not how it works but okay. Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
“Shut up.”
—
Light sank down on L’s cock in one slow, deep motion and moaned like he’d found nirvana. The stretch was delightful, the pressure of his scorching dick was mouthwatering, and the way it filled every inch of his aching pussy already set him on edge.
The euphoria was instant. It wasn’t fast and sharp the way he expected it to be. It was a snug, consuming flood of pleasure that rolled through his body and melted everything it touched. The soreness in his tits? Gone. The tension on his back? Nada. His entire personality? Missing.
Light remembers that this must have been why he got knocked up in this first place. L must have this natural ability in turning him weak and dependent on his cock, which could only be the reason as to why he’s acting like this. There’s no other plausible way that the great Light Yagami is allowing a man to stick his cock inside him, right?
Light couldn’t careless when he’s fucked dumb either way. All that remained in his brain was bliss. L was still beneath him, breathing hard and frozen on his hips like he didn’t know what he did to deserve this.
The pregnant man shifted just once and nearly moaned aloud, the tip of L’s cock nudging something deep. Much to Light’s satisfaction, his pussy spasmed around it in pure, involuntary pleasure. And for the first time in days, Light smiled.
“Oh fuck, it’s so hot–nghh–he’s burning up, he’s burning inside me–”
“Fuck! Oh my god.”
“You’re…warm,” L rasped, struggling to stay composed.
“You’re huge,” Light choked out, his voice already shaking. His poor swollen clit throbbed from being filled just right. “I can feel you in my stomach–”
He rocked his plump hips, slow and greedy, with every glide delicious and wet. Milk was still continuously dripping from his teats as his belly bounced along every movement he made. L was speechless. The bastard’s mouth was slack and his hands helplessly supported Light’s ass.
He pulled an inch, moaning at the delightful drag of the warm cock, then slammed back down with a wet slap, pussy tightening like a vice.
Squelch, bounce, stretch, fill, and repeat.
Light rode him slow but heavy, bouncing with each thrust, only letting gravity help–his belly and chest swaying with every motion he made. One hand braced behind him, the other pressing down on his lower stomach where L’s cock bulged inside him, pulsing so deep it almost hurt.
“I should hate you,” Light whined, fucking himself harder on L’s cock now, cunt gushing with every bounce. “You got me pregnant—you gave me tits, for god’s sake! Y-you ruined my life—”
The black-haired bastard groaned beneath him, completely helpless from the weight and pleasure of Light’s body. “You’re perfect. You’re so tight, so full of me.”
The other let out a strangled moan and grabbed L’s hands, placing them on his chest.
“Touch me. Fucking use them, they hurt!”
L obeyed instantly, squeezing, rubbing, thumbing over his pregnant partner’s nipples–and the contact sent Light into another spiral, causing his pussy to tighten violently as more milk leaked.
“I’m gonna come—fuck! I’m gonna–don’t stop–!”
L then shifted, finally thrusting into him with shaky, shallow movements, angling just right and dead-on hitting the other’s g-spot. Light screamed as the sudden orgasm hit him like a freight train, his head thrown back and his body locking up deliciously around L’s dick.
His cunt milked L’s cock so hard that L cursed, his hips snapping up once, twice–and then he came deep and hot, flooding Light’s well-used pussy until it leaked out around the edges. The brunette whimpered, his whole body was twitching.
“U-ugh, I hate that you’re so fucking good at this.” He panted, settling his full weight on L.
And L? His eyes were fluttered shut, hands still heavy on Light’s chest and out cold.
For a long breathless moment, Light could only listen to L’s heartbeat. Just the soft hum of blood in his ears, the faint tremble in his thighs, and the overwhelming velvety warmth spreading from deep inside him. He felt high, refreshed.
His pussy ached in the best possible way, still fluttering around the softening cock inside him. He wasn’t thinking about the porridge, the tantrum, or the way L dribbled on himself while dying. All he could think about was how satisfying that was and maybe he wouldn’t be punching L once he recovered. Perhaps even spoiling his bastard of a husband with a cake by then.
And with that, he passed out on top of his husband, at peace than he’d been in weeks.
Maybe the course of his life wasn’t so bad as he made it out to be.
The knock on the door came just as Light was plating the egg he didn’t even want to make, muttering curses under his breath.
“If that’s another package of sugar, I’m throwing it away,” he snapped, stomping over with a slight limp. His legs still felt like jelly. Everything still felt like hell. His body aching in many places but tinged with that sweet feeling of pleasure left within his core. It was enough to keep him from grabbing L by the hair and complain again for knocking him up. Same old, same old.
He yanks the door open of their modest home and finds Aizawa, Matsuda, and even his damn father by the steps.
“...What.”
“We, um,” Poor Matsuda started, glancing past him,” heard L was, uh really sick? Like, borderline dying? So we brought ginger tea, some meds–”
“Is he alive?” Aizawa asked.
Light only opened the door wider.
L was sitting at the table, finally in a clean white sweatshirt. His black hair was still damp from a shower and currently eating scrambled eggs and sipping tea like he didn’t nearly perish two days ago. He looked better than any of them. Even made contact and gave a little wave.
“I’m recovering well,” L said with all seriousness. “Light’s support was…holistic.”
Behind them, Light turned and stomped back toward the kitchen, muttering more obscenities under his breath directed at his husband as he continued cleaning up.
“Thank you for your concern,” L added mildly. “I’m fully functional now. I’ll be sending updates this afternoon.”
“I-is Light-kun okay? Should we go now?” Matsuda could only whisper towards the men he came along with. Aizawa could only put a hand on his shoulder and shook his hand slowly.
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”
They left in silence.