noirscript

[noirscript]

Notify Me When You’re Mine

pairing: kpop idol x reader

description: K-pop idol Seo Jihwan crosses the line between admiration and obsession when a devoted fan catches his eye—and dares to look away.

warning/s: Yandere behavior, stalking, obsession, emotional manipulation, kidnapping, confinement, unhealthy relationship dynamics.

note: just a quick something. hope you enjoy this! i've been busy with irl stuff so apologies! tags will be added tomorrow as well as other links.

by the way, you can still reserve your copy of sovereign's reign ebook + its freebies until 30th of June! the freebies will no longer be available when regular purchase starts rolling. (w/c includes something from king callixto's pov).

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You were just one of millions. Or so you told yourself.

Each time Seo Jihwan went live, your name would pop up in the chat box like it always did—early, dedicated, and filled with praise or playful teasing that seemed to go unnoticed among the flood of hearts and comments. Yet somehow, that never discouraged you. You were just a blip in his world, after all. A mere fan among millions.

Still, it didn’t stop you from showing up.

Every livestream, you’d prepare your space. Light off. Phone fully charged. Notifications muted except for one: his. You didn’t even have to wait for the bell anymore. The moment his familiar face popped onto your screen, dark eyes crinkling with a soft smile, your world felt quieter—lighter.

You’d send him stickers, those virtual gifts that cost embarrassingly real money, and his eyes would always flicker when he saw your username float up the screen. But you thought nothing of it. Fans lived for scraps. It wasn’t unusual to want to feel seen, even if you weren’t. Not really.

Then, one day, you did something stupid.

You shared a post—a single image—of another idol. Not even Jihwan’s rival or anything. Just a new guy from a rising rookie group. You thought the picture was funny. The idol was pulling some weird face mid-performance. You reblogged it and added a laughing emoji. That was it.

What you didn’t know was that Jihwan saw it.

You didn’t know that he wasn’t like the others.

━━━ ✦ ━━━

The livestream that followed felt… off.

His smile was forced, stretched too tight across his flawless face. The comments scrolled, and he barely read them. His fans—your community—were worried. He waved it off, saying he was tired, had been overworked, that his company finally granted him a break. A few days off. A chance to recharge.

"Maybe I’ll travel a bit," he murmured, eyes no longer focused on the camera. "Need to clear my head."

You typed something sweet. Something supportive. You even sent him a gift. It didn’t float on screen like usual.

You thought the app bugged out.

But it didn’t.

He had seen your username. Ignored it.

For the first time since following him, you logged off early, feeling cold in your chest and oddly hollow.

━━━ ✦ ━━━

A week passed.

No livestreams. No updates. Just a single headline from his agency, translated into your feed: “Seo Jihwan to Take Personal Time: Travel Abroad for Mental Recovery”.

The comments were flooded with love and concern. You sent your own too, wishing him rest. He didn’t reply, but that wasn’t new.

You returned to your routines. Your normal, quiet life. A place where your feet were always on the ground, unlike him. Unlike Jihwan, who floated above the world, too perfect to be real. You went to work. Came home. Grocery-shopped on Wednesdays. You still scrolled through fan accounts, watched old clips of his stage performances. Laughed quietly at old edits.

Then you started feeling it. That sense of something watching you. But never directly. You’d see a man standing just beyond the corner of your eye when walking home. A dark car idling longer than usual across the street. A buzz in your phone with no notification. Silly things. Maybe your mind was tired. Maybe you were reading too much into nothing.

Until he showed up.

━━━ ✦ ━━━

It was raining.

The sound of water drummed softly against the windows of the café you always visited after work. It was small, quiet, tucked beside a bookstore. Your safe space. The barista knew your name, your usual order.

You were sipping from your mug, scrolling absentmindedly through your phone, when the door opened. A figure stepped in, hood drawn, head tilted slightly downward.

You wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t stopped beside your table.

"You're always here around this time."

You looked up.

At first, your brain didn’t register what you were seeing. It couldn’t. Your eyes scanned the familiar jawline, the deep-set eyes, the soft lips that had smiled at millions.

Seo Jihwan.

The man on your screen. The idol.

In real life.

Soaking wet from the rain, yet still breathtaking.

"Sorry, I know this is weird," he said, voice low but gentle. "Can I sit?"

You blinked. You must have said yes, because the next moment he was sliding into the chair across from you, pulling back his hood.

He looked exactly the same as his photos—no, better. There was no angle to hide behind here, no filter. He was raw and real and right in front of you. You couldn’t even breathe.

“I needed a break,” he said, sipping the drink he ordered as if this were any other conversation. “Came to clear my head. But really, I just wanted to meet you.”

Your heart thudded once—then faster.

“You… you know me?” you whispered.

His lips curled slightly. “Of course. I waited for your messages every time I went live. You always sent those silly stickers. The bread one. And that weird cat.”

You wanted to laugh. Or cry. Or both.

“But I noticed something,” he continued, voice calm but eyes sharper now. “You reblogged another idol’s picture.”

You froze.

“I know it’s stupid. Petty. I should be used to fans looking at other idols. It’s normal,” he murmured. “But you… you’re not just another fan, are you?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no sound came.

He leaned forward.

“You belong to me.”

Your breath hitched.

“I thought maybe you didn’t know that yet. That I’d need to show you.”

━━━ ✦ ━━━

He moved fast.

Faster than you thought possible.

You weren’t even sure how it happened, but within hours, he had swept you into his world. Into a rented flat that looked more like a luxury safehouse. He gave you clean clothes. Made you tea. Held your hand like he’d known you forever.

He smiled when you asked how he found you.

“Do you really think it was hard?” he replied, almost amused. “You use the same username everywhere. You never log off. You have a routine. A pattern. You don’t even lock your accounts.”

It should’ve scared you. Maybe it did. But he was Jihwan. The man you spent countless nights watching, wishing, longing for.

And now he was here. Holding you like you mattered.

When he kissed your forehead, your brain short-circuited.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he whispered. “Me, here. With you. You’ve been calling out for me. I just answered.”

━━━ ✦ ━━━

Days passed. Maybe weeks.

Time blurred inside the glass walls of the apartment. You didn’t leave. He didn’t let you. Not out of cruelty, no—he said it was for your safety. That fans could be obsessive. That people might not understand. That the media would twist it all.

You believed him. You had to.

And he was so gentle.

He cooked for you. Taught you Korean words softly, patiently. Let you sleep in his arms. There were moments he looked at you like you were fragile glass. His fingers would tremble when he touched your face.

But there were also moments when he would grow distant. Cold.

Like when you accidentally glanced at a variety show playing on the TV and chuckled at another idol’s joke.

The screen went dark instantly.

His jaw clenched.

You didn’t watch TV after that.

━━━ ✦ ━━━

One night, he came home with a new phone.

“Here,” he said, setting it in your lap. “Your old one’s gone.”

You blinked. “Gone?”

“I threw it out,” he said. “Too many distractions. Too many temptations.”

Your hands tightened around the blanket on your lap.

He cupped your face, gentle but firm.

“I love you,” he whispered, forehead pressed to yours. “I chose you. You should feel special. Millions of people scream my name, but it’s your name I waited for every night. You kept me going.”

You wanted to believe him.

So you nodded.

━━━ ✦ ━━━

Eventually, the sky turned grey more often. The city blurred beyond the windows. You forgot the date. He kept you fed, clothed, warm. But he also kept you quiet. Isolated.

Your friends stopped messaging.

Or maybe they didn’t. Maybe you just never saw it.

“People are selfish,” he said once, brushing your hair back as you sat in his lap. “They’d pull you away from me. Make you doubt what we have.”

You didn’t answer.

He tilted your face up, made you look at him.

“You love me, don’t you?”

“…Yes.”

“Then remember your place,” he whispered. “You’re mine. You always were.”

━━━ ✦ ━━━

Sometimes, you’d lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling. Wondering how it happened. How you ended up here. How a reblogged photo turned into a new life.

But when he curled around you, arms tightening like chains, breath warm against your skin—you felt something calm your chest.

Because wasn’t this what you wanted?

To be loved. Chosen.

Maybe you just hadn’t realized what it would cost.

Or how far he’d go.

But he came for you. Out of everyone, he came for you.

It was a dream come true.

Wasn’t it?

Maybe if you remind yourself hard enough, you’ll remember to be grateful.

Maybe if you never look at another idol again, he’ll smile like he used to.

Maybe if you behave, he won’t have to show you your place again.

After all… he’s watching.

He always was.

[noirscript]

✨ Sovereign’s Reign is now available for pre-order! ✨

Pre-order period: May 16 – May 31 June 30 [EXTENDED]

🌙 What you’ll get (for free!):

— A novelette from King Callixto’s POV | pre-order exclusive! — Special bonus chapters — Character profiles with story-format backstories | pre-order exclusive! — A sneak peek at Runes of Escape

📖 Reserve your copy here → Sovereign's Reign Pre-order

P.S. You’ll notice the name Amari Omori on the cover—that’s my new pen name for published ebooks moving forward. (Better SEO and all that. Noir’s a little too saturated rn.)

💌 Questions? Send me an email, or reach out on Discord (@noirscrypt) or Instagram (@noirscrypt).

IMPORTANT TO NOTE: You will be receiving the files on or before July 30, 2025. The file you'll receive upon payment is a placeholder.

Read the tumblr version here!

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[noirscript]

eeeeeee thank u sm for extending the preorder

i have gotten it 👀👀👀👀

Waaaaah!!! Tysm!!!! I can't wait to share the ebook + the freebies with you!!!! I hope you'd like it too!!!

[noirscript]

I love your writings so much they’re so good I’m not sure if you take requests for what to write but if you do please could you maybe do a yandere river god x reader?? Thank you so much ❤️

whispers in the water

Pairing: Aserion (River God) x Reader Description: You should’ve listened to the elders when they’ve warned you about the river. They said it protects, but it also takes. Now, you’re no longer sure which it’s doing to you. Warning/s: Yandere | Obsession | Stalking | Implied Noncon | Disturbing Dreams | Gaslighting | Possessive Behavior | Supernatural Manipulation | Psychological Horror Note: Thank you for sending this request~! I enjoyed writing it after work~! ^^ BTW! I've extended the pre-order period until end of this month. More details on the post below this one. Enjoy reading!

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You came to this place looking for peace.

A tiny, half-forgotten village pressed against the edge of an old river. No fast trains, no crowds, no constant stream of voices. Just you, your barely-furnished hut on the hill, and the sound of water flowing behind the trees. The kind of place where people whispered instead of shouted. Where cell service vanished as soon as you passed the cracked wooden sign at the outskirts.

It was supposed to be a new start. A way to clear your mind. You told yourself you were just tired of the city. You needed quiet.

But even in the beginning, you could feel it. Something watching from beyond the waterline.

The river isn’t wide—maybe ten feet at most across—but deep. Black-green and thick, like glass hiding something. There’s no fish that you can see. No ripples, unless you count the ones that form whenever you get too close. The air near it is cooler. The birds don’t sing near the bank.

The first time you dipped your fingers in, it felt too cold for summer. The second time, it wasn’t cold at all—it felt like a hand, cool and smooth, curling up to meet yours.

You told yourself you imagined it.

You started visiting every day. What began as short walks became hours on the bank. You sat, then lay. You stopped bringing your phone. Then, you started bathing.

The water welcomed you.

Each time you slipped in, you felt lighter. Your thoughts slowed. The ache in your chest—the one you didn’t even know was there—eased. You stayed until dusk turned the river silver. You came back as soon as the sun rose. The locals noticed.

They always do.

Oscar approached you first. He was young, maybe your age. Kind eyes, hands like he worked with wood. You saw him once or twice before—helping his father, walking the edge of the village trail. He didn’t speak until that evening, when he found you standing waist-deep in the river, staring at your own reflection like it wasn’t quite your face anymore.

“You shouldn’t be here so long,” he said, not unkindly. “Especially not after dark.”

You blinked at him. “Why?”

His jaw worked. He looked back toward the trees, as if afraid someone would hear. “It doesn’t like outsiders.”

It. Not they. Not the people.

You frowned. “The river?”

Oscar looked at you for a long time. “It takes care of its own. But when it chooses someone—” He hesitated. “It’s not just water. It’s been... centuries. But people here remember. Fog that clings to doors. Dreams you can’t wake up from.”

You laughed, too sharply. “Are you trying to scare me?”

“No,” he said. “I’m trying to warn you.”

That night, the fog crept beneath your window for the first time.

It curled around the edges like fingers. Mute. Clammy. When you breathed in, it smelled like stone and moss, but sweet underneath—like something rotting, but still alive. You tried to shut your window, but it didn’t budge. So you wrapped yourself in a blanket and told yourself it would burn off by morning.

It didn’t.

It thickened. Night after night. You stopped hearing crickets. The birds stopped coming to your feeder. And the dreams began.

They started softly. You were walking in the river again—only it wasn’t the river. The water was warmer. Your body didn’t resist the current. There were hands at your waist, pressing lightly, reverently, not letting go. A voice whispered words you couldn’t understand—but your bones knew them.

The second dream, you weren’t walking anymore.

You were lying on a smooth stone in the middle of the current. Your skin bare. Wet. And something was brushing hair from your face. A face leaned over you.

That was the first time you saw him.

Aserion.

He didn’t need to say it. You knew his name. The way you knew gravity would pull you down. His face was carved, not soft—sharper than it should’ve been. Like something sketched in another age. Cheekbones like flint. Jaw like the edge of a blade. His eyes… they were the color of the river just before rain. Not black. Not blue. Depthless. And they watched you like he’d always known you.

His hair floated around him, pale and heavy as drowned silk. Water clung to his skin but never dripped. And when he touched you—your throat, your lips, your hips—his fingers were neither cold nor warm. They simply were.

In the dream, you didn’t resist. You couldn’t.

“I have waited long,” he said. His voice sounded like it came from inside your chest. “You came back to me.”

You told yourself it was just a dream.

But the next morning, your thighs were sore.

• • — ✦ — • •

Oscar came again the following week.

He looked pale. His eyes sunken. “Did you see him?” he asked without preamble.

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to.

“My grandparents told me about the last girl,” he said. “She was a traveler too. Came to the river every day. Just like you.”

“What happened to her?”

Oscar looked at your hands, as if trying to memorize them. “One morning, she was gone. Her clothes were folded by the riverbank. No body. Just water.”

You felt it then—the current shifting behind you. You weren’t near the river. You were in your hut. But you could feel it. Like something had turned its face toward you.

Oscar stepped forward, close enough for you to feel the heat of him. “Please,” he whispered, “stay away from the water. Just for one day. That’s all I’m asking.”

He was so close. He meant well. He cared. You saw it in the tightness of his brow, the twitch of his hand that wanted to touch you and didn’t.

And that night, Aserion came into your dream again.

But he was no longer gentle.

You were in the river—again. But this time, it pulled you under. You didn’t drown. You breathed water. The pressure against your ribs was a cradle, then a cage.

He was there. Beneath you. Above you. Around you. His voice was colder now.

“You let him touch you.”

It wasn’t a question.

You couldn’t speak. Your lips moved, but no sound came.

His eyes glowed faintly in the black. He cupped your face with both hands. “You were made for me. My bones knew you the moment you stepped into my waters.”

Something slick coiled around your ankle. His hair. Or a current. Or both.

“You are mine.”

You tried to wake up. You couldn’t.

He kissed you—not with tenderness. With claim. His mouth never opened, but you felt it in your spine. Your body responded, not with pleasure, but with surrender.

When you finally woke, the fog had pushed in through the walls. It filled your lungs like breath you didn’t remember taking.

Your reflection in the mirror shimmered. Your pupils were too large. Your lips too red. You reeked of river water. And something darker beneath it.

You didn’t visit the river that day.

But at night—you found wet footprints leading from the water to your door.

• • — ✦ — • •

You don't tell Oscar. You don’t tell anyone. What would you even say?

Instead, you sit inside with your curtains drawn. You sleep with the light on. You don’t dream.

Until you do.

• • — ✦ — • •

This dream isn’t like the others.

You’re not floating. You’re lying in your bed. But the walls are melting. The windows are underwater.

He stands at the edge of the room. Naked. Beautiful. Wrong. His body is too still. Too quiet. His mouth doesn’t move when he speaks.

“There’s nowhere you can run.”

You try to scream. He steps closer.

“I waited for you when your bones were ash. I will wait again, if I must.”

The fog fills your lungs. You fall back.

He climbs onto the bed like a lover. Like a shadow. Like death.

“You smell like him still,” he whispers into your neck. “That will change.”

And then—he places his palm over your heart. You feel it stop. Just for a moment. Just long enough.

• • — ✦ — • •

You wake up choking.

The floor is wet. Your sheets are soaked. Your door is open.

You hear footsteps walking back toward the trees. Slow. Certain.

You run to the door. You look—but there’s only the river. Still as a mirror.

And floating at its center—something pale. Smooth.

A stone. The exact size of a human heart.

Your name is carved into it.

TBC.

noirscript © 2025

Taglist: @hopingtoclearmedschool @violetvase @zanzie @neuvilletteswife4ever @yamekocatt @mel-vaz @vind1cta @greatwitchsongsinger @delusionalricebowl @nomi-candies @jsprien213 @kaii-nana33 @saturnalya @yandereaficionado @pinksaiyans @ivantillenthusiast @missybabes

[noirscript]

Extended the pre-order period until end of this month! Don't miss the pre-order of Sovereign's Reign and get the freebies along with the main ebook! ^^

p.s. I didn't noticed that the ETD (Estimated Time of Delivery) on my ko-fi post is scheduled this month. Edited that on ko-fi as the ETD is on or some time after July 30. (31, maybe? HAHAHAHA)

✨ Sovereign’s Reign is now available for pre-order! ✨

Pre-order period: May 16 – May 31 June 30 [EXTENDED]

🌙 What you’ll get (for free!):

— A novelette from King Callixto’s POV | pre-order exclusive! — Special bonus chapters — Character profiles with story-format backstories | pre-order exclusive! — A sneak peek at Runes of Escape

📖 Reserve your copy here → Sovereign's Reign Pre-order

P.S. You’ll notice the name Amari Omori on the cover—that’s my new pen name for published ebooks moving forward. (Better SEO and all that. Noir’s a little too saturated rn.)

💌 Questions? Send me an email, or reach out on Discord (@noirscrypt) or Instagram (@noirscrypt).

IMPORTANT TO NOTE: You will be receiving the files on or before July 30, 2025. The file you'll receive upon payment is a placeholder.

Read the tumblr version here!

Masterlist | Commission | Tip Jar | Dark Roast

[noirscript]

just found sovereigns reign and i am absolutely devastated i missed the preorder by only a few days 😭😭😭

I could still open it! Would you still like to get it? It'll be out on July too ^^

[noirscript]

The Fourth

Description: There were three Fami brothers—and one role left unfilled. The mother of their heir. Warnings: Yandere | 3P | Noncon/Dubcon | Breeding | Obsession | Psychological Control | Medical Ethics Violations

Note: I can't sleep. But I have work in few hours. Fuck. (Woke up at 1 am TuT) Anyway, enjoy! LMK what you think. Comment or something? Idk.

Apologies for the odd spacing. Wrote this ij note and only had the energy to remove the space for the early ones. I have to sleep.

Tags will be added later. READ THE WARNINGS!

There were three rules set by the Fami brothers—and they were not meant to be broken.

First: No other man was allowed within three seconds of you. They monitored this without fail, and the few who had tested that boundary quickly learned to keep their distance—some with broken bones, others with broken memories.

Second: One of them was always watching. Whether through the discreet tilt of a security camera, a mirror placed too perfectly in your room, or the flicker of presence just outside your door at night, there was never a moment you weren’t being observed. Studied. Protected. Possessed.

And the third: You were to become a mother. Not just to a child—but to theirs. Theirs alone. No outside blood. No uncertain paternity. You were chosen, and you were claimed.

They never used it on you. Not at first. Not when you were still wide-eyed, eager to please as their maid. You had been selected by their own hands—picked from dozens of seasoned staff for reasons that no one ever explained, except that you “fit.” At the time, you’d thought it was because you were quiet. Obedient. Trustworthy.

They had grown up with you under the same roof. The sons of the globally-renowned Fami pharmaceutical empire, Cav, Maxon, and Neuvi were born geniuses in chemical manipulation. By sixteen, they had already been granted unrestricted access to the family’s private research facilities. By eighteen, they had created Lotus, an aphrodisiac so refined it could bend both the body and the mind. It erased not only inhibition but memory. After Lotus, you wouldn’t just forget what happened—you wouldn’t even realize something had happened at all.

Now, you were starting to wonder.

You had spent years with them, tucked away in one of the family’s private mansions on the coast, where the sea never slept and the wind whispered through the halls like a warning. They were charming in public, terrifying in private. Sometimes gentle. Sometimes not. But always close.

That night at dinner, you knew things would change the moment you opened your mouth.

“I’ve decided,” you said, placing your utensils down with more courage than you felt. “Tonight will be my last night here.”

The silver clinked. The room stilled.

Cav’s spoon hit his plate with a sharp clang, his jaw tightening as he stared at you like he hadn’t heard correctly. Maxon didn’t flinch—he simply leaned back in his chair with that same polished smile he wore during charity galas and magazine shoots, fingers interlocked, eyes narrowed. Neuvi stood.

“Who gave you that permission?” he asked, voice raised and shaking. Not with weakness—but fury.

You straightened. “It’s not about permission, Neu. I’ve worked here for years. I’ve saved enough. I want to see the world like I always dreamed. You know that.”

He slammed his hand on the table, making the cutlery jump. “You don’t get to make that decision without us.”

“She’s not ours to keep, Neu,” Maxon said calmly, though his eyes betrayed something colder. “Not yet.”

Neuvi’s lip curled, and Cav rose without a word, circling behind you.

You stepped back, heart pounding. “I thought you’d be happy for me.”

Maxon rose too, smoothing his suit jacket. “Of course, we’re happy for you. We support your dreams.”

Then he looked at you and said it again. “Always.”

You tried to smile, but their glances, the way their bodies shifted subtly to block the door, told you something else. You should’ve run then. You should’ve screamed. But it was too late. You never saw the cruise coming.

---

They said it was a farewell gift. A vacation. A way to “celebrate your freedom.”

You boarded the family-owned yacht thinking it might be closure—one last memory with the boys who had, in their strange way, been your only family for years.

But once the ship left the shore, something changed.

Your room locked from the outside.

The meals started tasting faintly of something sweet, something… dizzying.

Then came the first night.

They didn’t wait. Not this time.

You were laid out on silk sheets in a room chilled just enough to keep your skin sensitive. The air smelled faintly of Lotus, but stronger now—more refined. You hadn’t even realized you’d inhaled it until your limbs stopped listening to you, until your vision blurred at the edges like a dream sinking underwater.

You felt them before you saw them.

Cav’s voice was first, low and dark near your ear. “We gave you every chance to stay willingly.”

His hand ran slowly along your thigh, pushing the robe you wore aside like it was never meant to be there.

“Don’t worry,” Maxon murmured from above, brushing hair away from your face. “You’ll be safe. You’ll forget this ever happened.”

Neuvi was already between your legs before you could process anything more. His mouth was hot, relentless, and you cried out before you knew why. The pleasure hit like a lightning strike—raw, involuntary. Shameful.

“You belong to us,” Neuvi growled, fingers gripping your hips. “You always have.”

They didn’t rush. They took turns. Then took you together.

Hands pinning your wrists. Teeth grazing your throat. Tongues tasting skin that had never been theirs to touch—but was now. Forever. They moved like parts of one machine—synchronized, ruthless, worshipful in their own corrupted way.

You sobbed. Moaned. Gasped. Everything blurred. Everything bled into heat and scent and the sound of your name on three different tongues.

You were filled. Ruined. Rewritten.

And in the morning, you woke up in fresh clothes, tucked beneath the same silk sheets, smiling vaguely at the soft knock on the door.

Breakfast was served. The sun shone. The sea was calm.

You didn’t remember a thing.

---

By the end of the cruise, your body told a different story.

Nausea. Fatigue. Hunger that came in strange waves. The doctor—one of theirs, of course—confirmed it quickly.

You were pregnant.

There was no question of who the fathers were. The test results showed a genetic anomaly—triparental fertilization.

Of course it wasn’t legal. Of course it wasn’t possible.

But nothing had ever been impossible for them.

You sat in the nursery days later, holding a plush rabbit in trembling hands as Maxon placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. Cav leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, grinning. Neuvi knelt in front of you, pressing his forehead against your growing bump with a reverence that made your skin crawl.

“You’ll never be alone again,” he said, smiling. “We’ll take care of you. Forever.”

And somehow, in the thick silence that followed, you knew it was true.

[noirscript]

Hii, I love your fics. Please may I request yandere demon who’s quite possessive and strict with reader but can also be quite coddling?

Hollow Haven

Description: You tried to escape, but Alastor’s grip is tighter than you think. In his haven, freedom is just an illusion.

Warning/s: Yandere | Possession | Captivity | Psychological horror | Emotional Manipulation | Failed Escape | Yandere Demon

Note: I will not be able to tag this fic below. Read the warnings before proceeding. I hope you like this anon!

Join the 1.5k(+) celebration. Request is open (but will take time to be fulfilled due to irl).

You hadn’t expected the doorknob to turn.

For months, or maybe longer—time had no structure in that place—you had tried it at least once a day, if only to confirm that it remained locked. You had long accepted it was symbolic more than anything. A performance of hope to make the silence bearable.

But this time, it clicked.

The metal handle turned with a dry groan, and the heavy door creaked open by just a sliver. You stared at the small gap with disbelief, heart hammering so violently it almost hurt. For several seconds, you stood frozen, half-convinced it was another of Alastor’s games. An illusion. A hallucination. A taunt.

But there was a hallway on the other side. Dimly lit. Real.

You didn’t allow yourself more thought than that. You pushed it open fully and ran.

The floors were old and uneven, the walls crooked. Every sound echoed far too loudly—your frantic footsteps, your panicked breath. The air was dry, full of dust and decay, but it was different from the perfumed heaviness of his domain. There was no lingering scent of roses or sulfur. It smelled like neglect, like age.

You didn’t care. It was not him. That was enough.

You ran faster.

Corridors twisted in unnatural angles, as if the architecture had been scribbled by a madman. The hall stretched and shrank with no rhythm, yet you kept moving forward, convinced that somewhere in this maze, there would be a way out. It didn’t matter how the walls bent or how they whispered under your fingertips—you refused to stop.

At one point, you passed a mirror, and in the corner of your eye, you thought you saw him standing behind you. You didn’t look. Looking would give it power. Looking would make it real.

The hallway eventually ended at a door completely unlike the rest. Black, frostbitten, silent. There was no reason to trust it, but something told you it led out—truly out. You gripped the iron handle, wincing as it burned your skin, and pushed.

Cold air blasted you in the face.

It hit you so hard it stole your breath, but it was sharp and honest in a way that made your chest ache. Snow stretched out across a forest clearing, grey skies overhead and skeletal trees swaying against the wind. The colorless world was bleak, but freeing.

For the first time in ages, you remembered your name.

You stepped forward and didn’t look back. The door disappeared behind you, but you didn’t panic. That was fine. Doors weren’t meant to last here.

The snow stung your bare feet, but you kept moving. The icy wind bit at your exposed skin, and branches clawed at your arms and face. It all felt real. Tangible. Sharp. Everything the velvet-and-gold world he created had tried to numb out of you.

You didn’t know how long you walked. The trees blurred together, the cold numbing your legs, but you kept going until your knees buckled and you sank to the ground.

You were free.

Or you had been.

The voice came softly, as if drifting through the wind itself. “Pet?”

You froze. The pain in your legs vanished. Your ears rang.

“No,” you said automatically, as if denial alone would reverse time. “No, I made it out. I made it.”

You turned slowly, already feeling the weight of failure crash through you before your eyes even confirmed it.

Alastor stood just beyond the trees, leaning against one with casual grace. His crimson suit looked untouched by the elements. Not a flake of snow touched him. Not a single hair out of place. His long, dark red hair cascaded over his shoulders in elegant waves, brushing the waist of his coat. His smile was calm. Too calm.

“I should be angry,” he said, stepping forward slowly. “But I’m mostly hurt.”

You backed away, slipping slightly on the snow. He didn’t rush you. He didn’t need to.

“I’ve done everything I could to make you comfortable,” he continued, voice smooth and casual. “Shelter. Music. Meals. Company. Me. And yet, you snuck away like a thief.”

“I didn’t—” You tried to speak, your voice breaking. “I didn’t ask for any of that.”

He paused, tilting his head slightly. His eyes glinted with amusement—or something worse.

“No,” he agreed. “You didn’t. But I know what you need, little one. You’re just… confused. Sick, maybe. Tired. I don’t blame you for that.”

You took a step back.

He took two forward.

The snow beneath your feet turned to slush, then to liquid. It pulled. You gasped and stumbled, trying to lift your foot, but it stuck fast. The ground thickened into black tar, swallowing your ankles.

You screamed.

Alastor’s smile softened, and he crossed the distance between you effortlessly, reaching out as if to comfort a child.

“I forgive you,” he said, voice low. “Running away isn’t uncommon. Everyone tries it once.”

You twisted your body, trying to wrench free from the pull, but your limbs were sluggish. Your muscles refused to obey. The air thickened around you like glue.

“You tricked me,” you gasped, tears burning down your cheeks. “You let me think—let me think I got out.”

“Of course I did.” He crouched beside you, brushing your damp hair back from your face. “You need to understand what it feels like. The panic. The failure. That’s how you’ll learn never to do it again.”

Your breathing hitched violently. “Please.”

He leaned in, lips ghosting near your ear.

“There’s nowhere else for you. Nowhere safer. Nowhere that wants you.”

The snow melted entirely now, revealing a familiar velvet floor beneath you. The forest blurred and crumbled around the edges, giving way to the walls of your chamber—his chamber. Red drapes, soft lighting, incense curling in the corners. You sobbed as the illusion collapsed, dragging your broken hope down with it.

By the time the last traces of the outside world vanished, you were curled in his lap. His fingers moved gently through your hair, his other hand stroking your back.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “You’ll rest now. You’ll forget all about it.”

“I won’t,” you choked, shaking. “I’ll never forget.”

He smiled faintly, resting his cheek against yours.

“You will,” he said. “That’s the part you don’t understand yet. You will. And when you wake up tomorrow, you’ll thank me.”

You wanted to scream. But the room was too soft, too warm, too heavy. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t even cry anymore.

He kissed your temple and held you tighter.

“You’re mine,” he said, not asking this time. Just stating.

You didn’t answer.

You didn’t have to.

[noirscript]

ICYMI: Taking requests for 1.5k+ celebration! Delivery will be very slow due to my new job, but will do my best to fulfill them whenever time permits. 🌻

It doesn't have to be very detailed, okay? It could be a general idea (even just the pairing). Or leave some space for me to play around it, yeah? 😉🤭

Heads up!

I'll be inactive for about a week. I got a job now! 🥹 Anyway, I've updated the masterlist, feel free to re-read them. Sovereign's Reign will still be worked on behind-the-scenes.

I'll still update whenever I can. Feel free to send your requests (might take time). Label them as 1.5k+ celebration (It'll take me a while to fulfill them all, but maybe I'll schedule post some of them or something).

Thanks for sticking with me as always!

[noirscript]

Heads up!

I'll be inactive for about a week. I got a job now! 🥹 Anyway, I've updated the masterlist, feel free to re-read them. Sovereign's Reign will still be worked on behind-the-scenes.

I'll still update whenever I can. Feel free to send your requests (might take time). Label them as 1.5k+ celebration (It'll take me a while to fulfill them all, but maybe I'll schedule post some of them or something).

Thanks for sticking with me as always!

[noirscript]

seeing familiar un/s on my activity page 🥺 hi guyssssss!!! we also have a discord now. still setting up the rest of it but it's good to go~

let's talk about the ocs here. the ones from last year and the recent ones. or just hangout. idk.

it's purely chat atm and no voice chat.

JOIN HERE.

more deets tomorrow. for now, i go slep.

[noirscript]

heaven's leash

Pairing/s: Yandere!Archangel x Angel!Reader Description: You gave up your wings to save Lila—but Azriel came to remind you that even fallen angels stay leashed to him. Warning/s: Fallen Angel Themes | Yandere | Obsessive Possession | Emotional Manipulation | Dubious Consent | Power Imbalance | Intense Jealousy | Territorial Claiming | Explicit Sexual Content | Psychological Intensity | Volatile Behavior | Non-Consensual Touch | Angelic Corruption | Sacrificial Love Note/s: Hi anon! Thank you for requesting this last year! Enjoy reading! Last one for the day. Also, I'm open for commission. Ordered commission will be sent within the day (GMT+8) no matter the length (or at least, max 5k wc?). Further details here. warning tags will be added tomorrow. i'm too sleepy T^T Check out our discord server! Let's hangout, okay? Also, check the announcement channel~

Masterlist | Dark Roast | Sovereign's Reign Pre-Order | Commission | Tip Jar

You never thought you’d see Azriel again.

Not here, not now—certainly not in the mortal realm where your wings have long since been folded away like a secret you no longer dared keep.

But there he is, standing at your doorstep, as impossible and terrifying as the dark storm that heralds the end of the world. His presence rips through the fragile veil of your human life, tearing at your heart with every step he takes forward.

The porch light flickers, barely illuminating his towering frame. He is everything you remember—and more.

Azriel’s skin is pale, almost translucent, like polished marble dusted with shadows. His hair falls like a curtain of midnight silk, framing a face so beautiful it could birth despair.

His eyes—silver and cold—burn through you like twin stars of wrath and obsession. The obsidian wings folded behind him are impossibly large, each feather edged with a ghostly iridescence that seems to absorb the dim light. There is a cruel majesty to him, a predator cloaked in divinity.

Your breath hitches. You clutch the doorframe to steady yourself, the cold wood grounding you to a world you almost believe is real.

“You really thought you could hide,” Azriel says softly, voice like velvet dripping with poison. “That by shedding your wings, by choosing this pathetic human existence, you’d escape me?”

His words cut deeper than any blade. You wanted to protect her—your human, your charge, your reason for falling.

Her name is Lila.

Lila, with her soft smile and fierce heart, who doesn’t know the angels and demons circling just beyond her sight.

You watch her every day from the shadows, walk beside her, shield her from the darkness that lurks in corners, from the cruelty of fate itself.

You gave up your divinity for her, rewound time with forbidden power—twisting the fabric of existence to snatch her from death’s cold grip.

It was your greatest sin, your greatest sacrifice.

In doing so, you lost your wings, your grace, and everything that made you an angel. You became human—fragile, vulnerable, yet utterly devoted.

Azriel’s gaze falls on you, the cold fire in his eyes igniting something fierce and broken inside. “You broke the laws of the heavens to save her. To save her.”

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “She’s everything to me.”

“Exactly.” His voice drops low, a cruel edge sharpening every word. “And now she’s the leash binding you to me.”

You want to deny it, scream that your love for Lila is pure and not a chain—but Azriel’s fingers close around your wrist, squeezing with a power that makes your bones ache. His touch is ice and fire, cold and burning all at once.

“Your freedom was never yours to choose,” he says, dragging you forward. “You’re mine. Every breath you take, every step you make, leads back to me.”

You want to pull away, but the strength leaks from your limbs. He’s overwhelming—divine power unrestrained by mortal limits. Your head spins, a dizzying storm of fear and desire.

His wings unfurl suddenly, surrounding you like a shroud, drowning out the world. His mouth is on yours, demanding and fierce, claiming with possession. The taste of him—dark, intoxicating—pulls you under. Your body responds, betraying your mind, craving the control he exerts. His hands roam boldly beneath your thin clothes, tracing every curve as if memorizing what was once celestial and is now wholly flesh.

You shiver, torn between terror and the raw need to be consumed. Azriel’s dominance is absolute, every touch, every kiss, a promise and a threat.

He leans into you, his breath hot against your ear. “You will learn, darling angel, that resistance only prolongs your suffering.”

His voice wraps around your soul like chains. “I will protect you—and her—whether you want it or not.”

You remember Lila’s face—the way her eyes light up when she laughs, how she confides in you, her soft hands resting trustingly in yours. She’s unaware of the celestial wars raging just beyond the veil, unaware that her guardian’s wings have been clipped. The thought of losing her again twists your gut, fueling the desperation clutching your heart.

“I won’t lose her,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “Not again.”

Azriel’s smile is a dark victory. “No. You won’t. Because I’ll never let you.”

His hands slide lower, exploring, claiming, igniting a fire deep inside you that frightens and thrills. You know this is a trap—a cage gilded with desire and power—but the need to survive, to keep Lila safe, warps every thought. Your body betrays your mind, melting into his dominance, a slow surrender fueled by equal parts fear and yearning.

He bends you backward gently, wings folding tighter around you, sealing you from the world. His lips leave a trail of fire down your neck, over your collarbone, marking you with his dark signature.

You gasp, heart hammering—not just from his touch, but from the terrifying truth behind it: you are his—now and forever.

His voice drops to a growl, rough and possessive. “Say it. Tell me you’re mine.”

Your breath trembles, eyes wide and filled with a dangerous mixture of dread and something darker. You want to scream, to run, to fight—but you only manage, “I’m yours.”

He presses his mouth to yours again, deeper and claiming, as if sealing the words with fire and shadow. The intensity of his touch floods your senses, burning away doubt, fear, and pain. You lose yourself in the moment—the exquisite ache of submission, the terrible beauty of surrender.

And yet, beneath it all, a fragile thread of defiance remains.

I protect her. I will protect Lila. Even if it costs me my soul.

Azriel pulls back slightly, his silver eyes boring into yours. “Good. Because this is only the beginning.”

His wings spread wide, dark as a storm, and the night seems to shudder under the weight of his power. You are caught—trapped between two worlds, bound by love, sacrifice, and a dominance you cannot escape.

The mortal realm is no longer your refuge. It is a battlefield, and Azriel holds the strings.

You clutch the doorframe, your body trembling, heart shattering and rebuilding in shards of fear and desire.

“Remember this,” Azriel murmurs, voice low and fierce as his hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing the tear you don’t realize you’re shedding. “No matter how far you run, no matter how deeply you hide, I will find you. Because you belong to me. And I will never let you go.”

The final shiver of his touch lingers long after he fades into the night, leaving you standing alone, the cold air biting at your skin—but inside, a storm rages.

Your sacrifice to save Lila was meant to be your salvation. Instead, it was your downfall.

You had defied heaven to protect the one you loved... and in doing so, had handed yourself over to something far crueler than fate.

Azriel hadn’t come to claim you—he’d come to unmake you, piece by piece, until you remembered who you belonged to.

TBC.

noirscript © 2025

Taglist: @hopingtoclearmedschool @violetvase @zanzie @neuvilletteswife4ever @yamekocatt @mel-vaz @vind1cta @greatwitchsongsinger @delusionalricebowl @nomi-candies @jsprien213 @kaii-nana33 @saturnalya @yandereaficionado @pinksaiyans @ivantillenthusiast @missybabes

[noirscript]

can u do a yan!archangel x angel!reader?

Hi there! Enjoy reading the piece in a bit, anon! I'm not sure if you're still lurking around, but finally! The final version of the draft is here~

[noirscript]

made to be seen

Pairing/s: Yandere Pervert Neighbor x Pervert!Reader Description: Your bedroom window was never just glass—it was a stage, a confession booth, a leash, and Rhett was always on the other side. You knew he was watching, and maybe that’s why you never looked away. Warning/s: Yandere | Obsessive Possession | Intense Jealousy | Voyeurism | Exhibitionism | Emotional Manipulation | Territorial Claiming | Explicit Sexual Content | Psychological Intensity | Volatile Behavior Note/s: Hi anon! Thank you for requesting this last year? early this year? can't remember well. I hope you like this! Check out our discord server! Let's hangout, okay? Also, check the announcement channel~

Masterlist | Dark Roast | Sovereign's Reign Pre-Order | Commission | Tip Jar

Your neighborhood isn’t the kind of place anyone expects this sort of thing to happen.

It’s a safe, polished suburb tucked at the edge of a city—clean hedges, manicured lawns, neighbors who wave from a respectable distance. But beyond the mundane charm lies the house you live in, and the one directly beside it.

Sister homes, built by siblings who couldn’t bear to be apart yet needed space to breathe. They designed them with windows that faced each other—bedroom to bedroom, soul to soul. It was meant to keep a sense of closeness. Now, it only fuels a fever.

You and Rhett Valle moved in six months apart. You’d noticed him first during a morning jog—the kind of man who looked like sin sculpted itself into muscle and grace.

Tall, broad-shouldered, with wet black hair always hanging a bit over his brow. He had the kind of lean, hard-built body that didn’t seem fair to walk around unsupervised, abs taut and defined like each one had been carved from the idea of temptation itself. His eyes were sharp slits of obsidian, always watching. Always tracking. But the most dangerous thing about Rhett wasn’t the way he looked—it was the way he saw you.

It started with glances. Turned into stares. Then came the windows—unguarded, curtains left teasingly parted, a challenge passed in silent dares.

When you changed, you did it slowly. When he undressed, he made sure the light hit the sweat trailing down his stomach just right.

Every striptease was a performance, each gesture an invitation. You weren’t coy about it. He wasn’t subtle. And the worst—or best—part? You liked it. The knowing. The mutual sickness.

It didn’t take long before you both became each other’s guilty nighttime rituals. Every stretch, every sigh, every slip of a shirt over bare skin—performed, consumed, repeated.

The entire neighborhood whispered about you.

They’d long since decided it was better this way—two deviants tangled up in each other’s dark gravity rather than preying on anyone else. Let the freaks burn together. Let the storm stay caged in those two cursed houses.

You agreed. Rhett never said it, but his gaze screamed it every night.

Then came Mark.

“Just admit it,” Mark chuckled, walking you to your front porch after a long day at work, “you’re scared you’ll fall for my charms.” His boyish grin wasn’t unattractive, but it paled next to the phantom weight of Rhett’s eyes.

“I think I’m more scared of your jokes,” you said dryly, bumping your shoulder into his as you fished your keys from your purse.

“You never give me a chance.”

“You’re not my type.”

“Come on,” he leaned in, laughing under his breath, “everyone has a thing for bad boys.”

You flinched slightly—not from Mark—but because you felt it. That slow, suffocating presence watching from the second-story window. You didn’t even need to look. You already knew Rhett’s window was open.

After waving off Mark’s flirty goodbye, you slipped inside, heart thumping harder than it should. You tried to brush it off as paranoia.

But later that night, when you awoke to silence—and your window creaked slightly ajar—you knew it wasn’t the wind.

He was already inside.

Rhett stood at your dresser, shirtless, a low sheen of sweat glistening on his sculpted chest like he’d just come from a workout or maybe a rage-fueled walk through hell.

His hair was damp, jaw clenched, and the look in his eyes wasn’t the one he wore when he watched you with lust. No. This was something else—possessive, volatile, dangerous.

“You let him touch you,” he said, voice calm in the way that made you tense, like standing too close to a fire pretending not to feel the burn.

Your throat tightened. “It was just a walk. He’s a coworker.”

“You smiled at him,” Rhett said, moving toward you with the silence of a storm. “You laughed. You let him stand there,” he pointed to the spot where Mark lingered hours ago. “That space belongs to me.”

Your breath hitched, but not from fear. There was no fear. Only heat curling in your stomach.

“Are you… jealous?” you asked, the corner of your lip curling before you could stop it.

His eyes darkened, nostrils flaring like he’d caught your scent under the sheets. “No. I’m territorial.”

And with that, he was on you.

He pushed you back onto the bed with a force that wasn’t rough—but final.

His hands slid beneath your sleep shirt, pulling it up slowly, reverently, like unwrapping something sacred. The tip of his nose dragged along your skin, inhaling deeply at the crook of your neck. When he exhaled, it was heat—raw, aching need pressed into flesh.

“I’ve watched you arch for me,” he growled against your collarbone. “I’ve counted the seconds your fingers stay buried between your thighs. You think I don’t know the face you make when you’re about to come? I’ve memorized every one of them.”

His lips descended on your chest, tongue tracing a hot line over your skin before teeth scraped gently, possessively.

“You’re mine. You always have been. But tonight… tonight I take what’s mine.”

You gasped as his hand trailed between your thighs, fingers parting you with maddening slowness. He hissed when he felt how wet you already were. “This,” he muttered, breath hot and trembling, “this is for me. All of this.”

You whimpered his name—low, broken, wrecked—and it made something inside him snap.

“You let another man near you,” he rasped, fingers curling as his lips captured yours in a kiss that wasn’t soft—it was a claim. He swallowed your moans greedily, like he’d been starving for the taste of you. “So now I’m going to ruin you. So the next time you smile at someone else, you’ll remember who makes your legs shake at night.”

He guided your legs apart with a gentle firmness, mouth following down the trail he’d carved with his hands. Every inch of you he tasted, every sound you made, he devoured. Not just for pleasure—but for proof.

Your body trembled, your mind spiraling into delirium as he pressed inside you, slow and deep, filling every part of you with his heat, his rhythm, his need to mark you from the inside out.

“I’m the last man you’ll ever need,” he breathed against your ear, thrusting deeper, harder, until your thoughts dissolved into nothing but him. “So go ahead, look out that window again. Undress for me. Touch yourself for me. Let the world burn. I’ll be right here… watching.”

His hand slid up, fingers tangling in yours, holding tight as he drove you both over the edge, your cries swallowed in his mouth and your body echoing every shattered piece of his obsession.

• • — ✦ — • •

When morning came, you woke wearing nothing but his shirt. The bed smelled like sex and cedarwood. A tray sat by your bedside—coffee, two eggs, and a note:

“Don’t make me remind you again. – R.”

Across the window, his curtains were drawn wide open.

And he was watching you. Still shirtless. Still yours.

TBC.

noirscript © 2025

Taglist: @hopingtoclearmedschool @violetvase @zanzie @neuvilletteswife4ever @yamekocatt @mel-vaz @vind1cta @greatwitchsongsinger @delusionalricebowl @nomi-candies @jsprien213 @kaii-nana33 @saturnalya @yandereaficionado @pinksaiyans @ivantillenthusiast @missybabes

[noirscript]

male yandere perverted neighbor x fem reader who’s also a pervert

ehem... uh... releasing tonight. ^^ enjoy reading!

[noirscript]

an offering of skin

Pairing/s: Yandere God x Reader Description: You are consumed by Azraël’s all-seeing gaze, his hands tracing your trembling skin as he claims not just your body but your very soul, leaving you powerless beneath his dark, relentless hunger. Warning/s: Yandere | Possessive God | Body Horror | Psychological Terror | Non-consensual Touch | Loss of Autonomy | Self-Harm | Explicit Content Note/s: Check out our discord server! Let's hangout, okay? Anyway, enjoy reading this! btw. no banner for now. I'm running out of pics for the banners T^T

Masterlist | Dark Roast | Sovereign's Reign Pre-Order | Commission | Tip Jar

You wake to silence—not the comforting stillness of sleep, but the wrong kind.

The kind that curls inside your chest like a cold, living thing, twisting and tightening with each breath. Your skin prickles with the sensation of eyes that don’t blink, gazing from places your mind can’t reach, watching every twitch, every pulse beneath the surface.

The room hasn’t changed. The same peeling paint flakes from the walls; the same crooked photographs stare down with lifeless eyes. Yet everything feels different—as if the air itself remembers what you cannot forget.

You don’t pray anymore. You stopped when faith slipped through your fingers like sand, but his voice, his name, clings to the edges of your mind like a whispered curse.

He is called Azraël, the god who sees all, the god who claims what is his with hands that never tire.

His gaze penetrates the veils of flesh and bone, looking past your skin to the trembling soul beneath. You feel his breath on your neck—a warmth that stings like fire and lingers like a lover’s touch. His voice, when it speaks, is not spoken aloud but carved into your thoughts with a cold precision that leaves no room for mercy.

“You belong,” he says, and the words seep into your bones, sinking deeper than any blade.

Your fingers tremble as they undo the buttons of your shirt, the fabric slipping from your skin like a surrender. His hands—immense, impossibly gentle—press down, tracing the delicate curves of your collarbone, sliding lower to the hollow at the base of your throat. The touch is electric, a shiver that twists inside you like a secret too dangerous to whisper.

His fingers brush your ribs, ghosting over the raw, tender flesh where your skin peeled away days ago in some unconscious offering. You want to pull away, to scream, but his grip tightens, firm but maddeningly soft, and you are lost in the weight of his presence.

“I see everything,” Azraël breathes into your mind, his voice a velvet thunder that vibrates through every nerve ending. “The fear you hide, the shame you bury, the desire you choke down like poison. I am your witness. Your judge. Your god.”

His thumb strokes the jagged edge where your skin was torn away, the wetness of fresh blood glistening beneath his touch. You gasp at the sensation—not pain, but a delicious ache that curls tight around your spine, sparking a hunger that has nothing to do with flesh.

His lips press against your shoulder, teeth grazing softly, almost teasing, before trailing downward in a slow, scorching path that sets your nerves ablaze.

You shiver under his caress, torn between terror and a twisted longing you cannot name. “This offering is beautiful,” he murmurs, voice thick with something possessive, dark. “Your flesh is a gift, and I will wear it like a crown.”

He presses closer, the heat of his body a furnace beneath your skin, and you feel the world narrow to the cadence of his breath and the thunderous beating of your heart.

You try to speak, but words catch in your throat. His hands roam with a devotion that is both worship and ownership, tracing the contours of your body with reverence and hunger intertwined.

Your skin quivers where his fingers linger, every nerve ending ablaze, every thought consumed by the knowledge that he sees all—your secrets, your sins, your deepest, most desperate cravings.

There is no escape, no sanctuary.

His eyes are everywhere, in every shadow, behind every blink. You are a canvas stripped bare beneath the god’s relentless gaze, an offering of skin laid bare for the taking.

“You asked me to see you,” Azraël’s voice hums, dark and intoxicating as honey laced with venom. “You begged for my attention, for my touch. You have opened yourself, and now I will possess you.”

His hand slides lower, curling possessively around the curve of your waist, pulling you closer until your breath mingles, your bodies pressing together in a communion that is at once sacred and profane.

You feel the heat of his mouth against your neck, the sharp brush of teeth as he marks you—not with pain, but with a promise that you are his, irrevocably, eternally.

The room spins, the boundaries of flesh and spirit blurring until you cannot tell where you end and he begins. You want to resist, to tear yourself free, but every attempt feels like swimming against a tide that is both crushing and tender.

His power seeps into your bones, a slow-burning fire that consumes and sanctifies. “You will wear my skin as I wear yours,” he whispers, voice low and commanding. “This offering binds us. You are mine.”

You shudder, lost in the exquisite torment of his touch, the overwhelming knowledge that to deny him is to invite oblivion.

He is the god of all seeing, all knowing—your sins laid bare, your desires exposed, your soul stripped down to its barest truth. There is no mercy in his gaze, only the relentless pull of ownership and the endless hunger for more.

As he slides his hands beneath your skin—feeling the warmth, the trembling beneath—his lips trace patterns of fire across your chest.

You feel his hunger not just in his touch but in the way the air thickens around you, the way the shadows lean in closer, as if eager to witness the offering you give willingly yet fearfully.

His breath is a promise and a threat, a dark benediction that sets your senses aflame and your heart pounding like a war drum.

“I am the beginning and the end,” Azraël murmurs, voice deep and endless as the void. “I am the shadow beneath your skin, the whisper behind your eyes, the fire that will never cease. You cannot hide from me, for I am everywhere.”

His hands press harder, possessive, devouring, and you are drowning in the weight of him—his power, his hunger, his unyielding claim.

You don’t want to surrender, but you do.

You offer yourself—the trembling skin, the fragile heart, the desperate soul—to the god who sees all and wants everything. You are his offering, his creation, his possession. And in that terrifying devotion, you find a dark, twisted salvation.

He is Azraël, the god who claims all, who demands skin and soul and worship in equal measure. And you are forever his.

TBC.

noirscript © 2025

Taglist: @hopingtoclearmedschool @violetvase @zanzie @neuvilletteswife4ever @yamekocatt @mel-vaz @vind1cta @greatwitchsongsinger @delusionalricebowl @nomi-candies @jsprien213 @kaii-nana33 @saturnalya @yandereaficionado @pinksaiyans @ivantillenthusiast @missybabes

[noirscript]

Hai :3

I would totes send a message but like... how?

Your writing is sooooo gooodddd I've scrolled all the way down almost

Sorry for the veryyyyy late response anon! I've finally finally finished creating the discord channel where we can communicate and connect with each other as well as where you can get exclusive bts stuff for the progress of my WIPs~ Oh, supporters (those who have commissioned something from my ko-fi or purchased something) will enjoy a different kind of bts. CLICK HERE TO JOIN~!