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Wraith’s Touch (Yandere Ghost Shigaraki x Reader)

Pairing: Shigaraki x Reader Triggers: Noncon, dubcon, somnophilia, voyeurism, choking, death, yandere. This is seriously dark, so beware. Word Count: 8.5k Note: I blame Cadence for making me thirsty for this idea.

~~~~

There was something creepy about the house, you thought, for what felt like the 50th time today.  It was a large, sprawling Victorian style estate, an old house even by your grandmother’s standards.  She had lived there alone for years and had refused to move, and she never would tell you why.  

You had stayed there before on summer break, when you were a teenager.  Although you always adored your grandmother, something about the house itself was unsettling.  You felt like you were being constantly watched, felt like things would move around in places where you did not think you had moved them.  You thought you saw shadows out of the corners of your eyes, heard strange voices in the middle of the night.

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i googled twin tshirts for these clowns' birthday and found a funny set 😂

sending a good hbd to my fave fictional twins 🎂🎂🎂

Okay but have you ever considered Yandere Hawks going into rut and kidnapping his poor, overworked secretary, taking them home to his lovely nest, and breeding them. I mean, come on, it's spring. If they didn't want to be Keigo's breeding bitch then why did they stick around for so long? 🤔 None of the other secretaries cared enough to last this long. Clearly their still at his agency because they L O V E him~ 😏 Won't they just be so pleased to carry his hatchlings and be his pretty mate? 🥵🙏

Warnings: Noncon, oviposition, forced breeding, forced orgasms, mating rut, kidnapping, drugging, yandere Note: Sorry this took so long to fill, but uhhh...I went crazy with it and this is a 1.2k monster of a mini fic. 😂

When you wake up, it takes you several seconds to realize exactly what happened. You were working overtime as per usual when your boss Hawks came in. His pupils were full blown, sweat dripping from his body like he had just run miles, and he couldn’t seem to stop shaking.

You didn’t realize the danger until it was too late and he had you in his arms, pressing a sweet smelling cloth to your mouth and holding you until you passed out. And now, you’re tied to a bed naked, legs spread wide as an even more feral looking Hawks stares at you with hunger in his eyes.

“My pretty little bird,” he whispers as he climbs into bed with you. “You’re finally awake. I didn’t want to do this while you were unconscious, that makes it no fun at all for either of us.”

“Hawks, what is the meaning of this?” You try to sound calm, rational to try and talk some sense into him. “You need to let me go.”

“Why would I do that?” He slips up your body, slotting himself in between your thighs and grinding the bulge in the front of his pants against you. The rough fabric of his jeans pushes against your clit, and you let out a soft gasp. “See? You want this.”

“Whatever this is, no I don’t want it!” You snap at him, but instead of looking angry, the corners of his lips turns up into a smile.

“Of course you do, pretty bird. It’s breeding season for me, and you stayed around like a good little bird. You wanted to be bred by me, filled up with my hatchlings until you’re big and round.”

Your eyes widen in horror. “What - no, I don’t -”

You had heard rumors of Hawks, speculation on just how bird-like the number two hero truly was. But you had no idea of this, not even an inkling. “Your breeding season?” You ask hesitantly.”

“I’m in a rut.” And then he’s unzipping his pants, pulling them off and revealing a truly large, impressive cock that’s already rock hard. “And I can’t wait, my baby bird. I need to be inside of you, need to breed you until you can’t handle any more of my eggs.”

“Eggs? No no no, Hawks, please think about this - “

But he doesn’t answer, sheathing himself inside of your unprepared pussy in one firm snap of his hips. You whine at the painful stretch of your tight muscles around his length, and tears form at the corner of your eyes that he promptly kisses away.

“Shh, it’s okay, you’ll feel good in no time,” he coos at you as he begins to thrust. “Fuck, you’re so tight - you were saving yourself just for me, weren’t you? Of course you were.”

You begin to argue, but then you feel something at the entrance of your pussy, trying to force its way in. He said eggs, you remind yourself with dawning horror, that must be an egg -

“Hawks please, please think about this! I don’t want this!”

“Yes you do, little bird,” he grunts out, as he begins to make sharp, shallow thrusts into you as the egg forces your pussy to stretch even further. “You wouldn’t have stayed if you didn’t want this.”

You scream as the egg enters you and he fucks it up into your pussy with more sharp thrusts. You feel it press against your g-spot, and your eyes roll into the back of your head as you cum hard around it. 

“See? I knew it, you fucking wanted this. You cumming around my eggs is so fucking hot, baby bird,” he groans out as he fucks the egg up into you. He reaches the barrier of your cervix, pausing for one second as he reassures you. 

“This will hurt at first,” he admits, “but then it’ll feel good. And it will all be worth it when we have our precious hatchlings.” And then he gives one massive thrust as he forces your cervix open.

The blinding pain takes your breath away, the feeling of the egg pushing past into your womb agonizing. You feel a pop as your cervix gives way, and then the egg is filling up your once empty womb. Suddenly your body is on fire, pussy gushing liquid around his cock as more eggs push inside of you easily now that you’re more stretched open.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” you mindlessly babble as the eggs move along your walls, pressing hard against them and causing more orgasms to wrack your body. “Oh fuck, Hawks, oh god, it feels so good - I can’t - “

“Keigo,” he corrects you, “call me Keigo, my beautiful mate, the mother of my children.” He presses against your stomach, rolling the egg around in your tummy and causing you to scream from the sheer pleasure.

More eggs plop into your womb along with the other, and your belly begins to swell and stretch and you’re only able to lay there limply as your body is wracked with more orgasms. “Please, no more,” you whimper pathetically, Keigo, it’s too much - ‘

“Shh, this is the last one, I promise,” he whispers to you, forcing one more egg through your wide open cervix. You glance down at your belly, shocked to see that you look 9 months pregnant already. You can see the outline of the eggs, and you marvel at it for a second before you reach down to touch one.

You give a broken moan as you feel the eggs inside of you, realizing that maybe he was right - isn’t this what you were made for? To be bred and full of eggs? It’s not so bad, you think, and in fact it feels amazing. How were you able to live, being so empty before?

“I knew it,” he smiles happily, “you realize this is what you were meant for.” He begins to thrust again, several sharp movements before he’s cumming against your cervix, shooting hot ropes of cum directly into your womb to fertilize the eggs.

He lifts your hips up, keeping his cock snugly inside of you until your cervix closes again, ensuring that no eggs slip out and all of his cum stays inside of you.

He picks you up gently, placing you in a large ring of pillows and blankets before tucking you in. “This is your nest, little bird. You’ll stay here until the eggs are ready to hatch, okay? Don’t strain yourself, you’re so delicate right now.”

You wouldn’t be able to move much even if you wanted to, you realize. Your belly feels so heavy and full, and you’re unbelievably sleepy. But before you pass out, you hear your mate distantly say something.

“We’re going to be such a happy family, baby bird.”

I’m so excited for all the new things you’ll be writing :D if you’re cool with it, could you write hawks with a broken darling and him just providing comfort? I’d imagine that when it comes down to it, hawks wouldn’t be all too happy about having his darling become a shell of who they used to be. I feel like he’d just hold darling and pray with all his heart that he’ll fix the problem.

Title: Sunday Regret [Yandere Hawks x Reader]

Synopsis: He didn’t meant to do it. And now he’ll do what it takes 

Word Count: 1312

Notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, mentions of violence

 If he wasn’t in the middle of cooking, he’d probably carry you into the dining room for a change of pace. But he doesn’t want to burn it, lest you get scared at the sound of the smoke detector. 

You haven’t moved from your spot on the sofa in hours. If it weren’t for him, you’d probably still be in bed, tucked on your side, alternating between staring at the wall and burying your face in a tear-stained pillow. 

But it’s not good for you to lay in bed all day, so he carefully picked you up and carried you into the living room after a while. He even left your walker next to you, though you’ve never bothered using it.

You don’t bother doing much of anything, anymore.

At least the living room had more stimulation for you than the bedroom. He worried when you spent hours in there, staring at a blank wall. In the living room, there were books or decor to look at, or he could turn on the TV or play some music, if you wanted. Not that you would say what you wanted, because you haven’t spoken properly in… he doesn’t want to think how long. You’ve made noises. Grunts of assent or disagreement. Sighs. Whimpers, sometimes, at night, when you think he might be sleeping.

He didn’t mean to break you down like this. Truly. How was he supposed to know--know what would happen, and know his own strength. You probably don’t believe him, which hurts (you’re supposed to love him, after all) but he didn’t actually mean to break your leg. You were trying to run, and you made it outside and tripped--all your own fault--and when he’d grabbed your leg as you tried to scurry away, he’d gripped your calf and then.

Crunching. Your screams, no, they were more like wails, primal sounds that made his gut curl. He’s not proud of the way he slapped a hand over your mouth, then, pulling you inside with no delicacy, only hurried fear that someone heard you and might come snooping.

And maybe he shouldn’t have screamed at you after dropping you unceremoniously on the bedroom floor, maybe he should have offered you painkillers right away instead of jabbing a finger in your face and telling you that you could just-deal-with-it.

Maybe if he’d treated you tenderly from the moment of the break, you wouldn’t have become so depressed and downtrodden. The next day, stuffed with painkillers and leg wrapped (courtesy of a favor--no questions, no answers) you simply… stopped existing. You wouldn’t talk, barely nodding or shaking your head at his requests. You stopped bathing yourself--getting to gently bathe you in the tub himself is one perk of all this, he thinks, though he’d never say it out loud. You barely eat, and when you do, he usually needs to feed you.

He’s threatened you with a feeding tube and you didn’t even flinch; he doesn’t want to go that route, but he can always call in a favor. You sleep erratically, sometimes all day, sometimes all night; you stare ahead of you for hours, tears leaking onto whatever pillow is tucked underneath your head. All of his attempts to get you on a sleeping schedule failed, so he stopped trying. You probably needed more sleep to let your broken leg heal, anyway.

He tries to be understanding, because in a way, this is his fault. If he’d been a better boyfriend, you wouldn’t have tried to run from him, and he wouldn’t have broken your leg. (He often reminds himself, that if you hadn’t run away, he never would have needed to grab your leg--but what good does it do to point out that it’s partly your fault, too?)

Besides, he knows that you need lots of forgiveness right now. You’re hurting.  You’re sad. But it’s hard. It’s hard. And he doesn’t blame you, not really, but he wishes he had someone to talk to about his problems. He misses you. He misses watching TV together. He even misses the arguments, in a way. At least you were talking. At least you were feeling something other than the sadness that kept tracks of tears on your cheeks all day.

Maybe it wouldn’t have made a difference in the end. Maybe you would have done this regardless.  It’s not important. What is important--and he knows this in his heart--is that the regrets it, all of it, and he’ll never do it again. And he’s going to make sure you get better by being the best damn boyfriend there is.

“Lunchtime, babe,” he says, quickly scooping together two bowls of rice, some veggies, wanting to keep things light on your stomach. It’s easier to feed you when the vegetables are soft--he worries less about you not chewing properly, at least--so they’re a bit overcooked, mushy in the bowl.

You don’t respond. But it’s okay. He doesn’t expect you to. If anything, this entire ordeal has taught him a lot about considering your needs. He wasn’t exactly a great boyfriend before all this. He got a bit too selfish, making you sit on his lap, getting annoyed if you cried while he made you try on lingerie. Now, though? It’s all about you.

So if he has to miss an interview because you broke down sobbing in the tub and need to be held for a while, so be it. If his new couch gets food stains because you don’t want to get up and he feeds you right from the comfort of the sofa, so be it.

Whatever it takes--he’ll do it.

When he cranes his neck back into the living room, the sight makes his feathers rustle. You’re standing, leaning on the walker he’d left behind, arms trembling from the effort. You got up! It’s the most you’ve done on your own in a long time. A grin instinctively breaks out and he can’t stop himself from practically running up to you, eyes bright, smile brighter.

“I’m so proud of you,” he says, practically breathless from the change. “Do you--shit, this is great, do you want to do something? What do you need? Want to take a walk on the balcony or--”

He pauses when he sees your mouth moving, sees you looking at him with sad, puppy-dog eyes. It’s a tentative gesture, and he’s reminded of an infant, staring at their parents and trying to force through words through unpracticed lips.

“I--I--I…”

He rises up on his toes in anticipation. Moving on your own and talking, all in one day? Maybe this is your breakthrough, maybe this is it, maybe he’s pulled you across that threshold back into health. Back into you.

But you don’t--can’t--finish whatever it was you wanted to say. You huff instead, sighing in defeat, face falling and thick tears dribbling down your splotchy cheeks as you give up entirely.

You burst into short, pitiful sobs, arms shaking violently as your grip on the walker weakens, as your physical strength seems to drop.

He doesn’t wait, and immediately swoops you up in his arms, cradling you as he sits on the sofa, careful of your leg as he tucks you into his lap. You don’t resist as he pushes your head towards his rest, letting it rest there as he rubs your back, stroking softly.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “I’m right here.”

It makes you cry harder, leaning your face into his shoulder like you do the pillows on the bed. Which is good, isn’t it? You’re getting it out. And when is the last time you let him hold you like this without struggling, legs and arms kicking, nails scratching?

So he won’t deny that he enjoys this moment, enjoys getting to comfort you in the way he’s always wanted to; in the way that you’ve always, especially right now, needed.

It might take a long time to get you back to yourself. But he’ll be here, every step of the way, waiting for you to come out on the other side.

OMG I found this two pics with Onceler and he is very hot

Ao no Exorcist | Amaimon as a Hamster

How many times do you think that Hawk’s S/O has walked in on either a shattered mirror or Hawks knocked out in front of a mirror because he’s mistaken it for an intruder?

Too many times. But things have gotten better. 

You raised the handheld mirror right in front of his face, steeling your nerves to ensure that you won’t panic in case he reacts violently. 

He stares at his reflection intensely while you study his body language. No shrinking of the pupils, no bristling of his wings...he’s handling it much better than last time. It’s time to ask the big question: “Who do you see, Hawks?”

Without missing a beat, he answers. “Me. It’s just me.”

Your shoulders slacken from relief. “That’s right. Good job.”

Next, you guide him to the bathroom mirror. His second test was the ‘intruder that likes to watch you groom yourself.’

“Who is that behind me, Hawks?” You ask. 

He calmly watches himself. “Just me.”

You smile. “That’s right.” He’s making amazing progress, but there’s still one more test.

The two of you enter the bedroom and stop in front of the full-length mirror. So many times have you replaced this poor piece of furniture after getting heavily damage. So many times have you seen Hawks writhing on the floor, surrounded by shattered glass.

He may have passed the other two mirrors, but how will he handle his greatest enemy: the full image of ‘another’ handsome male?

You take a deep breath and say it. “Who do you see standing there, Hawks?”

One beat.

Unlike the previous ones, Hawks doesn’t instantly answer, and that makes you anxious.

Two beats.

You really like this mirror. Please don’t destroy it.

“Me.”

Wha...you can’t believe it. 

“Hawks...Hawks, you did it!” 

He lets out a silly squawking noise when you roughly embrace him. “Well, this is embarrassing. I really was just fighting myself this entire time?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you smother his face with rapid-fire kisses. “I’m so proud of you.”

--

The two of you celebrated at the nearby park, feeding ducks at the pond.

“Sorry that I’ve been stressing you out all this time. I always thought I was doing you a favor, keeping the house safe and all that,” Hawks said as he tossed seeds into the water. The ducks gulped them down in a flash.

You decided to feed the shy fish instead. “It’s alright, I know your bird instincts get the best of you sometimes. I’m glad we got through this together.”

“Gosh, this is worse than the time I picked a fight with that stuffed...” He trailed off.

You were about to ask what distracted him until you saw his face. He was frozen, glaring fiercely down at the water.

At his reflection.

Your cheerful mood quickly switched to something more terrified. “Hawks, no.”

He didn’t appear to hear you, choosing instead to threaten the mysterious figure in the water. “You got a problem, buddy?” His wings were slowly spreading out for extra intimidation. He smirked when his reflection did the same. “Tough guy, huh? I know your game. Trying to hide among the fish and pounce on my girl when I’m not looking, are you?”

Already panicking, you grab his shoulders to try and pull him away. “Stop, Hawks. It’s you. Just step away from the pond and calm down.”

“No,” Hawks turns to you. “Don’t fall for it, dove. This is the real deal, I can see it in his eyes. You think I’m stupid enough to get fooled by this reflection bullshit again?”

Your eyes awkwardly look to the side while your mouth opens, then closes.

For a second, Hawks looks genuinely hurt, but before you can say anything, he returns his attention to the water with newfound fury. “You made my own lovebird doubt me, you son of a bitch!”

It happened so fast. The ducks quacked loudly and flapped away in shock when he suddenly dove into the water.

“Hawks!”  You watched him splash wildly in the water, at first attempting to strike at the rival that he could no longer see, but his anger was replaced by fear when he realized his situation.

“Help! I can’t swim!” The number 2 hero of Japan was screaming and flailing in a duck pond, in serious danger of drowning.

You didn’t even bother to take the time to appreciate how absolutely ridiculous this scene was. You already removed your shoes and hopped into the water, dodging his swinging arms and wings to grab and pull him back up on the grass. Thank goodness for his light hollow bones.

Hawks was shivering on his hands and knees, spitting out water and...a small unlucky fish that you quickly picked up and tossed back into the pond.

“Bastard almost killed me,” he sputtered. 

“No, you almost killed you. This is no different than the mirrors, Hawks. My god, do I have to teach you how to not fight water now?!” 

He shook out his wings while you squeezed out as much water as possible out of your shirt. “Baby, you didn’t see him. You didn’t see that annoying look on his face and those badass wings. He was a threat. I don’t know where he went but-”

You notice him eyeing the water again, where his reflection is slowly reappearing as the ripples calm.

“There he is!”

“Hawks don’t do it!”

He did it.

With another splash and more confused quacks, he was thrashing in the water again, and when he lost sight of the winged stranger for the second time...

“Help! I can’t swim!”

Looks like Devil’s food cake made it onto Chef Saltbaker’s menu today. 😈