BF TEXTS ! except you keep threatening to expose him
⤷ light yagami x fem!reader
second part !
a/n: i hate being late to fandoms i’m 20 years late no one probably cares but i was giggling making this and i had fun ok that’s all that freaking matters 😡 also i posted this from the mobile app the format looks weird idk if it just looks like that from my end but deal with it if it doesn’t
༒︎ 7 Minutes in Heaven ༒︎
Includes - Light, L, Misa, Matsuda, Teru, Mello, Matt, & Near
Content Warnings - N/A
Notes - I haven't written them in a while, so I apologize if they're ooc.
♱ Light Yagami ♱
Once the two of you are locked in the closet, the timer begins. For a moment, you both stand there in silence, neither of you wanting to make the first move. Then, after a moment, you finally open your mouth to speak. Light beats you to it.
"Why haven't you kissed me yet?" he asks. You blink at him.
"Have you ever considered that maybe I don't want to kiss you?" you fire back at him in a slightly teasing manner. Light stills, very obviously taken aback, and a little hurt, by your rebuttal before he quickly recalibrates his next move. He clears his throat and maintains his composure as if it never slipped to begin with.
"I don't see why not. Unless you have bad taste in men, that is," he teases with a charming, yet sharp, grin. You ignore his comment.
"Do you even want to kiss me, Yagami?" You scoff and eye him sternly for a moment.
"Of course. You're not too bad looking yourself. I wouldn't mind kissing you." He's quick. Too quick. You can't analyze any of his moves when he's standing so close to you.
"Then why haven't you kissed me yet?" you ask, throwing his own words right back at him. He scoffs and turns his head to the side. You smile to yourself and save that little victory in your head for later.
"Maybe I'm just waiting for the right moment," he challenges through gritted teeth.
"Time's running out," you remind him as you lean in closer. You tap on the side of his watch, emphasizing the time limit the two of you have in here. "You better decide when to do it."
Then, without another word, he grabs your hips in his hands and kisses you. His lips collide with yours hard and fast in a way that is completely unlike him. It's messy and rough. It's completely different in comparison to the controlled and mature way he typically carries himself outside of this closet. His tongue, teeth, and lips collide with yours in a meaningless mesh of haste. And yet, there is an underlying rhythm to it—a method to his madness. There always is.
♱ L Lawliet ♱
L is sitting in his usual crouch on the floor of the closet. You sit on the floor across from him and stare at the man.
"Have you ever kissed anyone before, L?" you ask. He simply shakes his head.
"No, I have not. I don't really have the time for frivolous activities like that." You stare at him for a moment, a bit shocked at his blunt response. Then after a beat, you slowly crawl over to him.
"Would you like to try now?" you ask lowly. L looks at you before he tilts his head to one side.
"Yes," he hums, "I would. Although my rationale may lower after the interaction, it couldn't hurt to know what the common human experience is like."
"You talk too much," you chuckle. "Just a simple 'yes' would've been fine," you tease. You lean in closer, your soft breaths mingling with his as the air slowly gets more heated. L seems to get the hint.
"Then, yes, I would like to try kissing you."
You smile before leaning in and pressing your lips to his. You move your lips against his slowly, making sure that he can keep up with the pace. L, ever the fast learner, keeps in time with you perfectly. You hum in approval against his lips, not surprised, but a little impressed. You're careful not to slip your tongue in just yet, holding back until he gets used to the feeling of your lips. Then, without warning, L slips his tongue between your lips. You let out a soft noise of surprise at the intrusion, but quickly accept it as L slowly swirls his tongue, trying to get used to the feeling of it.
Without pulling away from his lips, you shift forward and settle in his lap, straddling his hips and trapping your legs on either side of him. L pulls away and looks up at you, clearly not expecting you to make that move. You simply smile down at him before capturing his lips in yours again.
♱ Misa Amane ♱
Misa is on you within seconds of the door closing. She immediately wraps her arms around your neck, wasting no time in making sure that each second of these seven minutes is not wasted. You freeze at the contact, arms stilling at your sides in shock. Misa kisses you just as soft and sweet as her personality would suggest, but before you can relish in the situation for too long, she pulls away. You blink at her, slightly dazed from the force at which she clung herself onto you.
"You're doing it all wrong," she huffs, pouting slightly before you can even get a word in.
"What?"
"You're kissing all wrong! You're as stiff as a board, and your hands are at your sides!"
"Wha-well then what should I be doing?" you sputter, clearly confused by her outburst, and still not yet recovered from that first kiss. Misa groans and tilts her head back before she lets out a deep sigh.
"Here." She takes your hands in hers and guides them over to the slight dip in her waist. "You're supposed to keep your hands here," she instructs sharply. "And stop being so stiff! Move your mouth, your hands. Be human." You nod.
"Human, yeah. Got it," you mutter out, still a bit dazed from earlier. You swallow down the dryness in your throat as you gently trace your hands up and down Misa's waist.
"Now, try it again," she sighs, clearly exasperated with the fact that she seemingly had to teach you how to kiss properly. Her lips are on yours before you get the chance to say anything else. You do as she instructed, moving your mouth against hers like some form of ballroom dance. You gently trail your hands along her waist, down to her sides, and back up again, mindlessly running your hands where they please as you kiss. Misa sighs, this time with content, before she pulls away again. "Better." She grins before pulling you back into another kiss.
♱ Touta Matsuda ♱
Matsuda is visibly nervous. His hands are shaking so violently you think that they'll tear off at the wrist.
"Man, I shouldn't have agreed to play," he mumbles underneath his breath. He hasn't looked up at you once since the doors closed on you two, but you can't really blame him.
"Hey, it's alright." You place a reassuring hand on his arm. "We don't have to do anything in here if you don't want to."
"No, but I-" he cuts himself off. "Sorry! Forget I said anything!" He waves his hands around in that usual, flustered fashion of his.
"What? What's wrong?"
"I-" Matsuda takes a deep breath before speaking again. "I do want to kiss you," he says. "I mean, really want to kiss you. You're-so nice, and good looking, and pretty, and I-"
You cut him off this time, finally bringing your lips to his. He gasps for a moment, eyes flying wide open with shock before he quickly melts against your lips. He instinctively brings his hands to your hips, resting them there comfortably as if this is the most natural thing to him. And, as you continue to kiss him and he continues to meet the movement of your lips, you can't help but think so too.
♱ Teru Mikami ♱
"May I?" he asks, already reaching out one hand towards your face, hovering just above the skin of your cheek. You nod, your body already thrumming with anticipation. "I need verbal confirmation if we are to continue." You smile for a moment before nodding again.
"Yes, Teru. You may kiss me." It's like a switch flips in his brain, and you can see it in the way he both relaxes and tenses all at once. He lets out a shaky breath and takes a step closer to you.
"Oh. Thank you." He shudders as he finally cups one side of your face in his hand. "Thank you," he mutters again. "You're so soft." He seems almost infatuated with you as he reverently rubs his thumb against the skin of your cheek. "I don't deserve to be here, to kiss you," he mumbles. Despite this, he leans in, his lips barely brushing yours. "Forgive me," he says breathlessly before kissing you slow and soft.
Teru moves his mouth against yours slowly, making sure to take his time with you. He kisses you like he's at an altar, or a temple. He treats every inch of you as holy as one hand cups your face, and the other gently holds onto your hip. He doesn't change the pace, doesn't try to speed up or get rougher with you as time passes and the kiss goes on. He's content with this, with you. You can feel it in the shaky breaths he intakes from his nose, and the slight tremors throughout his body that he's been trying to contain as he focuses more on kissing you. At this rate, you wouldn't be surprised if Teru didn't hear anyone opening the door to tell you two that seven minutes are up.
♱ Mello ♱
"I always thought this game was stupid," Mello scoffs. He doesn't try to breach your established side of the closet. He presses his back to his side, keeping his distance.
"Why is that?" you ask, taking a step forward towards him. He shoots you a look, but not one that holds any aggression in it. Just slight irritation.
"It's idiotic, that's why," he huffs. You can see his shoulders tense just slightly. "It's so illogical that there's no reasonable explanation for its continued existence," he scoffs. "Who wants to be locked up in a cramped space with someone for seven minutes under the guise that you either kiss or have sex?"
"You're such a pessimist," you muse, chuckling slightly. "You're getting so worked up over it too. It's just a game, Mello. It's supposed to be fun, there's nothing serious about it."
"I still think it's stupid."
"We'll see how long that lasts." You grin and take another step forward, finally stepping into his established side of the closet.
You're closer now. Much closer than you were just a second ago. You're not sure if the pounding in your ears is coming from your own pulse or Mello's, but you honestly can't find it in you to care. Even in the dim light of the closet, you can see Mello's cheeks dusting pink. You smirk at him, tilting your head to one side before opening your mouth to make a smart remark, but Mello is quicker. So much quicker.
He shoves you back against your side of the closet, your back hitting the wall as Mello hovers over you, completely caging you in. Your breath hitches in your throat before he smashes his lips against yours. It's hard and rough, all clumsy teeth and tongue. You're not sure if the wetness in your mouth is from blood, saliva, or Mello's tongue, but God you couldn't care less at this point. He's so rough it hurts to breathe as his hands grip your hips in a bruising hold, as if he's simultaneously trying to ground himself in this moment, and keep you remembering this moment for as long as those bruises stain your hips.
He finally pulls way, his face flushed and lips swollen with your shared kiss. You can hardly catch your breath as you pant heavily into the heated air of the closet. You swallow down the dryness in your throat before speaking.
"I thought you said this game was stupid," you tease, panting hard and grinning against his lips.
"Shut up," he snarls. You don't tease him any further. You can't, really. Especially not when he surges forward and claims your lips in another rough kiss.
♱ Matt ♱
Matt's fingers twitch at his sides, itching for something to keep his hands occupied. A cigarette, a console, a lighter, anything. But, in this small closet, there's nothing there. Nothing except you, that is.
"Damn," he mutters to himself. You eye him oddly from your side of the closet. "I, uh, kinda need something to do with my hands right now. Didn't bring my lighter or my Gameboy with me," he elaborates.
"Ah, I see." You continue watching as his hands twitch. He occasionally flicks his thumb against the bottom of his forefinger, mimicking the sound of a lighter flicking. You sigh before taking a step closer to him, deciding to finally put the poor man out of his misery. "Here." You grab his hands and guide them to your hips. You feel Matt's gloved hands twitch as he stares at you, blinking slightly behind his goggles.
"Jesus. You're feeling ballsy today," he mumbles, barely holding back the grin on his lips. Matt finally tightens his hold on your hips, if only a little. He feels more secure now that his hands are occupied, albeit, on your hips whilst the two of you are pressed incredibly close together in this small closet.
"Yeah?" You tilt your head to the side as you look up at him. "Are you feeling ballsy today, Matt?" You grin. His face shifts, now matching yours with an even more mischievous grin.
"Maybe," he hums before leaning down, his lips now just inches away from yours. "Maybe even more so."
You shudder at the newfound proximity before he finally presses his lips to yours. It's slow, but so deep and downright filthy. Matt wastes no time in slipping his tongue into your mouth, moving his lips against yours in the slowest, most erotic way possible. You wonder how he got this good with his mouth until he kisses you deeper and you can taste the faint, lingering taste smoke.
♱ Near ♱
"I don't understand," Near says, staring at you blankly.
"We explained the rules to you already, Near," you huff, chuckling slightly.
"I understand the rules of the game and how it operates," he corrects. "I just don't understand what the purpose of the game is."
"It's fun." You shrug. He continues to stare at you. The slightest flicker of confusion flashes on his face.
"Fun?" he repeats slowly, as if the word is foreign on his tongue.
"Yes," you reply, nodding simply.
"Stacking dice is fun. Playing with my cars and robots is fun. I fail to see how this supposedly meets that same level of enrichment." His words cause you to sigh deeply.
"You're thinking too much about this. Here, let me just-" You slowly and gently cup Near's face in your hands. He tenses just a bit, but says nothing. His gaze never leaves your face.
You carefully bring his lips to yours as you gently brush his cheeks with your thumbs. Near is still so tense, he won't let up. You hum against his lips and tilt your head, changing the angle slightly and continuing to kiss him softly. It's only then that you can feel him slowly begin to melt against your lips. Near's hands stay still at his sides, simply letting you take the lead and not intervening too much, if at all. Once you pull away, he simply stares at you again. This time, however, you can't help but notice the slight shade of pink that dusts his cheeks.
"So?" You grin, tilting your head to the side.
"That was not fun," he replies. Your smile falls a little at that before he speaks up again. "But, it was very pleasant. I would not mind doing it again." Your smile returns as quickly as it left, and your lips are on Near's even quicker.
There’s a certain kind of guy that everyone assumes is dominant-self-assured, always in control. But deep down, he craves to be ruined, held, and stripped of that control. He won’t let you, though. I’m telling you now, it will take years-maybe even decades-for him to trust you enough to show that side of himself. Sometimes, he’s not even aware of it himself.
But if he ever lets himself go near you, if he ever allows you to take a more dominant role, to care for him even for a fleeting moment-partly lowering his guard just long enough to feel it- he'll never enjoy anything as much as he will this. It will surprise him. He’s spent his life keeping himself from this, never realizing just how much he’d love it. But letting go, releasing everything bad and ugly and terrifying, being touched, being forced to do things he swore he’d never admit to wanting, being made to feel so blissfully helpless…
It will drive him mad. And he’ll hate himself for it afterward.
But men like him?
They're the most fun to dom and break.
Someone who presents himself as dominant, in control, but secretly yearns for the opposite-yet fights it with everything he has. That internal war, the push and pull between his need for surrender and his self-loathing, is what makes him so compelling. He likely has an aversion to intimacy, a self-destructive streak, and a tendency to wield charm and manipulation as a shield-not just against others, but against himself.
He doesn’t see sex as something more. Sometimes it’s for pleasure; sometimes, it’s a transaction, a means to an end. It will take time just to get him to the point where he can see intimacy as something beyond that. Because for him, it’s not just about the physical. It’s years of habits, experiences, and trauma, woven into the persona he presents even to himself. His shoulders might slump when he believes he’s alone, but his true self? That’s something he doesn't know how to bring out.
What happens when two people obsessed with control suddenly become obsessed with each other?
When two yanderes fall for each other, love stops being soft. It becomes a dangerous game of possession, paranoia, and devotion where both are willing to cross every line just to keep the other close.
Pairing: Male!Yandere!Char x Female!Yandere!Reader
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆S — this story contains themes of obsession, stalking, manipulation, unhealthy attachment, invasion of privacy, morally gray characters, psychological tension, possessiveness, and dark romance dynamics. The relationship portrayed in this work is fictional and not meant to romanticize harmful behavior in real life. Reader discretion is advised.
A/n: Imagine a male character so consumed by his ambitions that nothing else in the world seems capable of distracting him. Now place that kind of person into a campus yandere AU. Someone who never planned on loving anyone suddenly becomes obsessed.
HIM
You were the kind of person everyone on campus seemed to know.
Not because you tried to stand out, but because people naturally gravitated toward you like sunlight through open windows.
Your smile lingered in people's minds long after conversations ended. You remembered names, noticed small changes, listened as if every word mattered. Even the quiet students who preferred corners over crowds somehow found themselves speaking to you without realizing it. Professors greeted you warmly in the hallways, classmates saved seats beside you without asking, and strangers softened the moment you looked their way.
You moved through the campus with an ease that made everything around you feel lighter, laughter spilling from cafeteria tables, familiar greetings echoing across corridors, hands waving from classroom doors.
It was effortless for you.
Not only were you adored, you were envied.
You were beautiful in the effortless kind of way people wrote poems about without meaning to. Smart enough to leave professors impressed, yet gentle enough to never make others feel small beside you. Your life was the kind that looked carefully crafted from the outside, a loving family, loyal friends, good grades, a future already glowing brightly ahead of you.
Everything about you seemed perfect.
The perfect daughter.
The perfect student.
The perfect girl.
People often said you lived like the main character of a dream.
And maybe you did.
Until you met him.
He ruined you without ever touching you.
Just seeing him was enough.
Enough to crack the polished version of yourself you had spent years maintaining so carefully. Around him, your perfect smiles became strained at the edges, your practiced composure slipping in ways no one else seemed to notice. He planted something ugly inside you—something obsessive, restless, hungry—and it spread quietly beneath your skin like a fracture hidden under glass.
For the first time in your life, you became imperfect.
And it terrified you.
So you buried it.
You buried every lingering glance, every racing heartbeat, every thought that kept returning to him no matter how hard you forced it away. You locked those feelings somewhere deep inside yourself, behind smiles and gentle laughter and the flawless image everyone adored so much.
No one could know.
No one could see the way your chest tightened whenever he walked past, or how your eyes searched for him in crowded hallways before you could stop yourself. You hid it so carefully that even you began pretending it wasn't there at all.
But hidden things rarely stay buried forever.
Soon, curiosity turned into habit.
You told yourself it was harmless at first — just small things, normal things. Searching his name late at night. Finding his accounts. Memorizing usernames. Watching the little green activity icon beside his profile as if it meant something important.
But his social media was almost empty.
He has no posts, no captions, no tagged photos.
Nothing that revealed who he was beyond the cold profile picture and the date the account had been created.
It frustrated you more than it should have.
Everyone else on campus lived so openly online, their lives scattered carelessly across pictures and stories and late-night thoughts. But him? It was like trying to follow the shadow of someone who didn't want to exist.
And maybe that was what pulled you in deeper.
The absence of information became an obsession of its own. You started lingering outside classrooms just to see where he went afterward. You memorized the rhythm of his schedule without meaning to. Which vending machine he used. Which stairwell he preferred. The exact time he usually left campus.
You convinced yourself it was only observation.
Just curiosity.
But curiosity didn't usually make someone stay awake at two in the morning wondering why he hadn’t been online for seven hours.
You became desperate for pieces of him.
Small details weren't enough anymore. You wanted to know the things people couldn't learn from passing glances in hallways. What music he listened to alone, what kind of coffee he drank when he was tired, whether he stayed up late, whether he laughed differently when no one was around to hear it.
So you started asking.
It has to be carefully. It has to be casually. Always with that same sweet smile everyone trusted too easily.
You slipped his name into conversations like it meant nothing.
"Oh, you know him, right?" "He seems quiet." "What's he actually like?"
People answered without hesitation. Why wouldn't they? It was you asking.
And when simple questions stopped working, you learned how to guide conversations exactly where you wanted them to go. A little praise here, harmless curiosity there, subtle nudges disguised as concern. You made people talk without realizing they were giving things away.
His favorite convenience store near campus.
The classes he hated most.
The fact he never answered calls after midnight.
The old scar near his wrist someone noticed once during gym.
You collected every detail carefully, storing them away like treasures no one else understood the value of.
Sometimes, after hearing something new about him, you would lie awake replaying it over and over in your head, feeling your chest tighten with a satisfaction so intense it almost made you sick.
And still, it was never enough.
────*୨ৎ*────
HER
He had always been good at control.
Control over his emotions, never making it slipped.
Control over his time, making sure its only for him.
Control over every decision that could possibly interfere with the future he had planned so carefully for himself.
Distractions were weaknesses, and weaknesses ruined people.
That was why he kept his distance from everyone. No unnecessary friendships, no meaningless attachments, no room for emotions that could cloud his judgment. His life moved with strict precision, cold and calculated, exactly the way he wanted it.
Then he saw you.
And suddenly, control meant nothing.
He tried to ignore it at first. Really, he really, really did. But no matter where he sat, his attention drifted toward you like something instinctive, something beyond his control. The sound of your laughter cut through crowded rooms too easily. Your voice stayed in his head long after conversations ended. Even the smallest things about you became impossible to overlook. The way you tucked your hair behind your ear while reading, the rhythm of your footsteps in the hallway, the soft crease between your brows whenever you concentrated.
It was maddening.
His eyes searched for you automatically now. Every classroom, every corridor, every passing crowd. Before he even realized it, he had already memorized your schedule more accurately than his own.
You were everywhere.
Sometimes he caught himself staring too long, watching the people around you with quiet irritation curling in his chest. He hated how easily others touched your attention. Hated the way they made you laugh like they deserved it.
They didn't.
None of them noticed you properly.
Only he did.
Only he paid attention to the things others ignored, the moments your smile looked tired around the edges, the way your expression dropped whenever you thought nobody was watching, the subtle shift in your mood depending on who stood beside you.
He noticed everything far more than he should have, far more than was normal.
But every time he told himself to stop, his obsession only sank deeper, rooting itself inside him until thoughts of you became impossible to separate from his daily life.
You had become his distraction.
His favorite one.
As much as he hated wasting time on things unrelated to his future, he found himself reshaping that future around you instead.
You became the exception to every rule he had ever made for himself.
His new goal.
His new motivation.
Whenever cruel rumors about you began spreading across campus, they disappeared before they could fully take shape. Posts vanished. Messages were deleted. The people who started them suddenly grew quiet, avoiding conversations whenever your name was mentioned.
And the people who upset you? The ones who made your smile falter even for a second?
He remembered every single one of them.
The senior who mocked you behind your back found his scholarship application mysteriously ruined days before submission. The girl who spread jealous lies about you became isolated after private screenshots leaked online. A boy who made you visibly uncomfortable during group work ended up transferring classes after relentless anonymous complaints.
He destroyed lives carefully.
Without ever allowing the blood to stain his own hands.
All for you.
The walking home is his most favourite part.
Every evening, he followed several steps behind you, hidden safely within crowds and dim streetlights. Close enough to keep you within sight, far enough that you never turned around suspiciously. He memorized the route so perfectly he could walk it blindfolded. The convenience store you occasionally stopped by, the stray cat that lingered near the corner bakery, the exact moment you adjusted your bag on your shoulder whenever you got tired.
To anyone else, it would have looked pathetic.
But to him, it felt almost romantic.
Like the two of you were walking home together in silence while the rest of the world remained unaware. Sometimes he matched the rhythm of your footsteps unconsciously, pretending, if only for a moment, that he belonged beside you.
You never noticed him there.
At least, that was what he told himself.
And yet, every now and then, you would slow down slightly during those walks, just enough to make him wonder if some part of you already knew.
────*୨ৎ*────
You knew it was wrong.
Disgustingly wrong.
The kind of thing that would shatter the perfect image everyone had of you if they ever found out. The kind of thing that could ruin your reputation completely, leaving behind nothing but whispers and horrified stares.
But by now, your obsession had already grown far beyond guilt.
You wanted more of him.
You wanted access.
Real access.
And so, one night, sitting alone in your dark bedroom with trembling hands and your heartbeat pounding violently against your ribs, you crossed a line you could never uncross again.
You hacked his phone.
The moment the screen finally loaded, something inside you snapped with terrifying ease. Fear should have stopped you. Shame should have made you close everything immediately.
Instead, excitement flooded through you so intensely it almost made you dizzy.
Pieces of him unfolded before your eyes one by one, intimate in ways he had never willingly allowed anyone to see. You stared at everything greedily, devouring details like a starving person finally handed food.
He set alarms absurdly early.
He barely texted anyone first.
He listened to the same songs repeatedly late at night.
He had dozens of unread notifications because he rarely cared enough to answer.
You loved every single detail.
Your fingers hovered over the screen longer than they should have, lingering over private parts of his life that no one else was meant to witness. It felt invasive. Filthy. Intoxicating.
You should have felt like a criminal.
Instead, curled beneath your blankets in the dead of night with his entire digital life open in your hands, you felt closer to him than ever before.
────*୨ৎ*────
He knew this had crossed the line a long time ago.
Normal people didn't break into restricted rooms after campus hours. Normal people didn't sit alone in front of glowing surveillance monitors with their heartbeat steady and calm while committing crimes that could easily destroy their future.
But the thought barely bothered him anymore.
Not when it involved you.
The dim light of the CCTV control room reflected against his face as rows of security footage flickered across the screens. Hallways, stairwells, classrooms, entrances. An entire campus reduced to silent moving images beneath his fingertips.
And somewhere inside all of it was you.
He had planned this carefully for weeks. Memorized guard rotations. Learned which staff members forgot to lock doors properly. Studied the outdated security system until bypassing it became almost embarrassingly easy.
All because he wanted to see you.
Beside him sat a second phone, the one dedicated entirely to you.
His real phone remained at his bag, desk or whatever. Too risky to carry both. This one existed for a single purpose only: storing recordings, screenshots, schedules, notes. Every trace of his obsession hidden neatly behind passwords only he knew.
You lived inside that device more than anyone else ever could.
His fingers moved quickly across the keyboard as lines of code and security prompts flashed across the monitor. One by one, he rerouted access, quietly linking camera feeds into his private system. The process should have made him nervous.
Instead, he felt almost impatient.
Then finally he had success, a small notification appeared on the screen.
Live access enabled.
His grip tightened slightly around the phone as the camera feeds loaded onto it one after another. Grainy footage flickered to life in tiny squares: empty corridors, classroom doors, students walking through campus under evening light.
And then he found you.
There you were, standing near the vending machines with your friend, smiling softly at something they said. Such an ordinary moment. Meaningless to everyone else.
Yet he stared at it like it was something sacred.
The corners of his mouth lifted faintly without him realizing. Now he could watch you anytime. Anywhere on campus.
No distance. No interruptions. No waiting desperately to catch glimpses of you between classes anymore. You were finally within reach whenever he wanted.
𓊆 𝓢𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 𓊇 this little thought but full fic version!
𝓒𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 .ᐟ light yagami x reader x mikami, manipulation, making out, suggestive, reader is light’s gf, they r not being hunted by L here (i know that causes lots of plot holes..but it’s for the sake of the fic..)
꒰ ֶָ ♥︎ : 𝓘𝐋𝐋𝐈'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐙 ⸝⸝ layout creds: @/jacksabbotts ⸝⸝ divider creds: @/cursed-carmine ⸝⸝ light in da cuck chair ⸝⸝ idk this came to me in a dream… so fun to write hehe
𝓜𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
When Light told you the news that he was Kira, that he was the one finally properly punishing criminals and ending their lives, ridding the world of the filth that seemed to darken the streets you walked through—you were so ecstatic you could barely breathe.
Kira was your savior, someone you’d admired for their beliefs and justice—so when he’d turned out to be your boyfriend? The man you swore you loved more than anything? It was as if every one of your wishes had come true.
Light Yagami was the picture perfect partner every girl—and boy—would want. He was polite, respectful, and a true sweetheart when he wanted to be. He was a catch! You couldn’t have possibly suspected he was a mass murderer—nobody could have.
But God, when he told you—everything slowly started to make sense… Why he always wanted to be alone, why he barely talked about going out on dates or even coming over, why he didn’t even have sex with you.
But you accepted it all. Because when he told you, you couldn’t blame him one bit.
“It was too dangerous at first. I was afraid you’d get hurt in the process, and the last thing I wanted was someone I love so much to be taken from me…please understand me.”
“Oh I do, Light.” You sighed, immediately melting into him, letting him wrap his arms around your back and press you against his chest. He just cared about your safety! Definitely not about using you as one of his pawns—he’d never!
You understood where he came from. Unfortunately, you didn’t understand his need for another accomplice when you were right there!
It happened suddenly. One moment you were sitting beside him while the two of you watched the news, the notebook in your lap as you happily wrote down names—and then the next he was blabbing on about Mikami.
Teru Mikami. A criminal prosecutor A.K.A a goodie goodie who wouldn’t know what having fun was if it slapped him the face.
“You…you recruited someone else? I thought you said I would become your Queen! I thought I was your only one! It’s unfair, Light. I—“ He silenced you by pressing his lips against your own, the sudden kiss making you drop your pen. His mouth moved slowly over your own, his hand gently tilting your head—forcing you to make eye contact with him as he pulled away.
“And you will be—Mikami he’s…he’s just something temporary. You believe me don’t you?”
You hesitated for a moment, pouting ever so slightly as you weighed the pros and cons—still slightly dazed from the kiss.
“I do..” You sighed, reluctantly picking the pen that had fallen back up before placing it in the notebook to mark your page.
“Thank you.” Light whispered, leaning in to press one last kiss to your forehead before pulling out his phone—most likely to inform Mikami of future plans…
Whatever. At least he told you first…
You think…
Your jealousy got worse when you’d met him in person.
He was a fairly tall man. Shoulder length black hair that matched the monotone color of his clothing—and a personality that you’d compare to a puppy dog.
Never in your life would you have expected to be out girlfriend-ed by a man…to your own boyfriend!?
Mikami was quick to do anything for him. Writing names, killing innocents—even carrying out dangerous plans that Light had assumed you’d be too “scared” to complete for him. It was heartbreaking, watching yourself be replaced by a man who—who probably didn’t even love Light as much as you did!
You were his Queen! His only one…and Mikami interfered with that. But Light didn’t care. His plans were working out, that was all that mattered…
To him.
To you? It meant you’d have to work even harder!
“Light!” You exclaimed, prancing over to him all smiley, the notebook in hand. You ignored Mikami as his head lifted up, focusing solely on Light as he waited for you to speak.
“Hm?”
“I filled in way more names than last week—almost 200 in just a few hours!” You squealed, helping yourself to his empty lap as you sat down. “…and how many did Mikami get done again?” You batted your lashes, wrapping your arms around his neck, smiling innocently when your actions were everything but.
“I don’t think that’s—“
“300, actually.” Mikami replied, adjusting his glasses as he stood up like the little smug bastard he was. “God expects nothing less.”
“God? Light, you really let him suck up to you like this? He’s such an ass kisser!” You groaned, your previous excitement dying instantly.
Light barely had a chance to respond before Mikami spoke for him.
“I simply do what God asks in a time efficient and proper manner. Maybe you should try it sometimes.”
“I—you…what did you just say to me!?”
“The truth.”
Little arguments and tifts like these happened all the time between you and Mikami, so much so Light had gotten used to silently exiting the room whenever you two collided.
It went from writing names to things you could call…intimate. Who could make the better breakfast or snacks whenever you both could tell Light was tired, working himself to exhaustion—to massages and top tier pampering.
Light feigned neutrality, but you could tell he was enjoying it.
At least he was until you and Mikami’s little competition compromised a plan.
It was something stupid. A disagreement and competition that one of you were better than the other that caused you both to lose track of time, completely forgetting about the sole reason Light kept you two around.
Writing names.
50 criminals died that day. 50. It broke news. Was Kira growing weak? What had happened to his usual kill count? Speculations grew along with Light’s anger, and you both bared the brunt of it.
“Write down names. That’s all I told you to do. That’s all you’re by my side for, and yet you can’t even do that.” Light scolded, walking back and forth as you and Mikami sat beside each other, eyes on the floor in shame.
“God—“
“Shut it.”
Mikami swallowed hard, fists clenching by his side. Not once had he ever been in trouble with his God and it felt like hell.
“Your…hypocrisy—it’s what led you here. Your endless arguments. It’s stupid. They’re pointless and yet you continue to inconvenience me.”
“Light I’m sorry—“
“Just be quiet.”
Your apology died on your tongue, face burning with embarrassment as you crossed your arms over your chest.
“Both of you—make up now. Or I won’t hesitate to leave you.”
Both of you looked up at Light’s last words, eyes widening with worry. Leave…you? Both!?
“God, you can’t mean that—“
“Light! That’s so unfair!”
You both spoke at the same time, causing Light’s eyes to narrow. His gaze scrutinizing—and then suddenly he looked to the side. As if he was lost in thought.
“Make up. Now.”
“H-how? I hate him! Light, please hear me out! He’s so mean—“
“Kiss.”
You instantly shut up, your face heating up once again for all the wrongs reasons. Was Light serious? He couldn’t possibly be! He was your boyfriend—and he was telling you to kiss another man!?! It must’ve just been to scare you. Phew…mission accomplished because—
“Mmph!”
Hands were on your shoulders before you could even process it, lips on your own like they’d belonged there—except it wasn’t a mouth you were used to. Mikami was kissing you. Seriously kissing you while Light watched.
At first you stilled, full of shock that someone beside your boyfriend was even touching you, but then you slowly relaxed, eyes fluttering shut as Mikami’s tongue prodded at your lips.
Light…he wanted this didn’t he? Wanted you to make up? This was right.
At least that’s what you told yourself as you melted into the lips of someone you had hated so much for so fucking long—forgetting it all as his hands groped your waist, pulling you in deeper.
Light just…stood there. Watching his close accomplice kiss his girlfriend like it was nothing—in fact, he encouraged it.
“She’s not glass, don’t be afraid.”
“Mm—she doesn’t like that.”
“Mikami…you’re losing focus.”
He was a coach teaching his precious student.
And Mikami? He listened.
He held you by the waist, his fingers beneath your shirt, never once breaking from your lips. Strangled moans you’d tried so desperately to suppress left your throat, the noises eagerly swallowed up by the man holding you.
Your hand subconsciously latched onto his hair, pulling him forward into you. It’s as if you lost all control of your body—all rationality thrown out the window as he kissed you. You let his hands wander, one of his palms settling over your breasts while the other ran over your side.
Mikami only once broke away to breathe, his entire face flushed as he looked over at Light for approval just for the brunette to shake his head.
“Ah ah. She’s all needy now…you won’t leave her like that will you..?”
Light liked the new game he now realized he could play, and he wanted to see just how long he could until he won.
