cw: dubiously consensual language / power imbalance, breeding kink / pregnancy kink, possessive + degrading language, obsession + ownership themes, implied somnophilia (waking you up with sex) marking, bruising, overstimulation, territorial behavior / isolation kink, objectification
a/n: divider by @bernardsbendystraws
he doesn’t take you to a beach. no cute sandals, no cocktails. he takes you to a cabin in the woods with no cell service and blackout curtains.
“honeymoon’s for makin’ sure it sticks.”
you don’t leave the bed for days.
you’re wearing nothing but his t-shirt and your wedding ring. your thighs are sore. your voice is gone. you’re leaking everywhere, and he won’t stop pressing his palm to your belly like he’s checking.
“doesn’t feel full enough. think i need to try again.”
he eats you out in the kitchen. fucks you over the balcony railing. carries you from room to room like a doll. he lets you nap only so he can wake you up by slipping in slow and whispering:
“’s your honeymoon, sweetheart. you want me to take care of you, yeah?”
you lose track of how many times he finishes inside you.
and he keeps whispering that same promise into your ear, every time your belly tenses up or your breath catches or your thighs shake:
“gonna give you a belly, yeah? a bump. little ring on your finger and a fuckin’ baby in you. real wife now.”
how does fugitive!könig feel about naive!farmer!reader? does he love her or is he pretending? how did he help her during her pregnancy? I love your texts!💞💞
fugitive!könig × naive!farmer!reader
part 1
warnings: +18, smut, sex pregnancy, emotional manipulation, murder!
after that encounter in the barn, the relationship between you and könig changed. he promised you he'd take care of you and that you should trust him, which you did.könig didn't have to hide his feelings for you anymore; you were all his now.
he took advantage of every situation to tell you how much he loved you and, in the process, to fuck you until you were almost breathless. you let yourself be carried away by him; after all, you loved him and were going to trust him completely.
your belly soon began to grow as the weeks passed. at first, you didn't understand, and your concern grew at the lack of your period. were you sick?
when you told könig, his eyes shone with excitement at the news. he reassured you, saying that you shouldn't worry about anything, that "that's normal when two people love each other," he said.
the news reached you when he took you to the village doctor and confirmed your pregnancy. you didn't have time to ask questions because könig convinced you it was good news, very good news.
könig saw the need for the two of you to get married as soon as possible. the ceremony was at home, intimate and simple. now you bore not only his last name but also his baby's. thus began married life.
as your pregnancy progressed, könig made sure you rested and didn't overexert yourself, taking the utmost care of you. he would get up earlier in the morning to prepare your breakfast and begin the farm chores. however, he also took care of you during the day, massaging your feet and holding your swollen belly to relax your back.
könig decided to change his appearance, growing a mustache and slicking his hair back. his body had also changed, gaining muscle and a few pounds, but still remaining the tall, strong man he was.
for your part, the pregnancy had only made you more beautiful, according to könig. your hair and skin shone, and your breasts had grown in a way that made könig drool every time he saw them.he fell asleep caressing your belly while sucking on your breasts, moaning happily until he fell asleep.
your hormones made you start to desire him more, asking him to stay with you for five more minutes before he went to work outside. and könig couldn't refuse.he made sure to fuck you in the way that was most comfortable and pleasurable for you. his favorite position was cowgirl, so you set the pace and he could see your breasts bouncing near his face. he loved hearing you moan his name every time he spoke to you.
"look at you, riding my cock like a bitch in heat. so full of me, but always wanting more..."
his large, calloused hands caressed your buttocks, helping you fuck yourself with his cock. and they could go on for hours on end, your arousal never going down, and könig would get hard just seeing you carrying his child.
you gave birth to a baby girl in the spring. you named her daisy. könig was over the moon, happier than he'd ever felt.
soon, you grew accustomed to motherhood and the housekeeping that könig had so insisted you follow. you passed by the house, carrying daisy on your hip as your dress blew in the breeze. könig continued working on the farm, knowing that when he entered the house, he'd see you there, waiting for him, excited to tell him what daisy had done during his absence.
"you're such a good mom, fuck, feel how you make me feel."
könig brought your hand to his crotch so you could feel his hard member. daisy was already asleep in her crib, so it was time for you to take care of him.
"at this rate, i think i'm going to put another baby inside you."
könig was on top of you, fucking you at a slow, deep pace while you caressed his back. one of his hands massaged your breast while the other rested on your stomach, feeling his cock slide in and out of you.
"do you feel it? do you feel how deep inside you i am? i'm going to fill you up again until you give me a little brother for daisy."
everything was going great until a young sheriff arrived in town. everyone was happy to have someone to look after them, even you, except for könig.
the problems escalated when he showed up at the farm one day with the idea of meeting everyone in town. you let him in and even offered him a glass of iced tea, which was meant for könig. the sheriff kept asking questions that seemed innocent to you. how did you meet? when did you meet? have you lived here long?
könig instantly noticed the way the sheriff looked at your chest through your blouse, not to mention the mischievous smile that formed on his face when he saw you blush at his not-so-innocent compliments. that idiot wanted to fuck his wife, you.
before könig could act, the sheriff showed up one afternoon when you and diasy were out in town.
"i know who you are. i saw your face on a most-wanted list."
the sheriff spoke, trying not to seem intimidated by könig's size.
"oh yeah? and what are you going to do about it?"
"i'm going to arrest you and save that young woman from a monster like you. in fact, i'm going to take your place."
before he could get the handcuffs out, könig had already smashed his head in with a shovel.
that night before going to sleep, you approached könig, who was cradling daisy in his big arms.
"love, we need to feed the pigs."
"don't worry, i've already taken care of that. they have enough food for several weeks."
Sorry but forced pleasure is…top tier. Johnny holding you down with a bruising hold, his grabby hands kneading at the soft plush of your body. While Simon is perched between your wriggling legs holding a vibrator to you, all swollen and messy. They of course pay no mind to your pitiful begging and pleading. They ignored it when they swept you off your feet and brought you “home”, why would they humor you now?
Bodyguard! Dark! Simon 'Ghost' Riley x chubby reader
CW : Dark! Non-con, Somnophilia, stalking, dark fiction, yandere, dub-con, you drink his 'milk,' ghost being pervert, a bit of dd/lg at the end.
"This is the one i should taking care of?"
The first thing you notice was his accent. You look at your father, demanding for explaination.
"Yes, this is my daughter. (Name) (Last name). (Name) this is your new bodyguard, he'll take care of you while i'm on business trip."
You look at him disbelief. You try to speak your protest but your father shush you.
Okay, youre being fine with him, at least you tried. He kept bothering you like youre some rare animal to protect.
"Miss, i believe it'll be dangerous for you to go out in this hour."
"You may go, but with me."
At first you thought it was just him being professional bodyguard until he start to really care about your male friends.
"i believe he's just seeing you for your body..."
"I would never recommend you to go out with friend who sees you like that."
"he kept staring at your body, miss..."
And when you protest...
"So do you!"
He always replied... "Im just doing my job to... Taking care of you."
You can feel how theres constant steps infront of your room every night that you even feel the need to lock your door, you never felt the need to do that before.
It feels weird when suddenly he's the one who prepared your milk before bed. Its sticky... You think to yourself. And you feel sleepy, maybe that word was too weak, very sleepy after drinking it.
And how you start to notice your door would always opened a little when you get ready... Change your clothes... How you hear sounds from your room when you take bath inside your bathroom...
And when you feel like someones following you when you walk alone. You already told Ghost not to follow you that time, and he understood! So that must be just your feeling... Right?
And your panties... Dirty panties kept missing... You start to hear weird sounds from his room...
Oh how naive you are...
"Ghost...? I feel like... Someones following me... A-and my things kept missing... Can you protect me more...?"
So imagine the shock he feels when you said that, oh you poor thing... You didnt know everynight after you drink your thick milk and feel really sleepy he would snuck in your room and touch your soft body?
Your body just feel so right on his hands. Never even sure to lock your own door, making it easier for him. How he sniff your dirty panties... He likes the smell of it.
Your soft big body just so little compared to his mascular one... Oh you smells like flower and vanilla, never fail to making him hard everytime.
He knew he supposed to protect you but... He cant help it when you plea him with your soft sleepy voice... He pound you so hard that he can feel you cumming every thrust. Oh how you crying and plea for your daddy to save you...
He knew its not your fault that he add the powder anyway to the thick milk even though its less than the usual dose. Oh, so that's why youre not feel as sleepy as usual.
Poor chubby thing...
"You wanna tell your daddy, sweetheart? Ahh... Do you think he's gonna believe it?"
He loves to see the fear on your eyes.
"Im your bodyguard remember...? Now who you think hes gonna believed in? Me... Or his fat princess who always naive and paranoid..."
He whisper those words, straight to your brain like an ideology.
"You're cumming again? Now my turn... Let daddy ghost give you his thick milk..."
Ah... So thats why every morning you always find your kitty feel sore and dripping the thick milk.
A/N : Ok so this is the first time im making dark fic... do you guys want more dark fics?
I’ve been waiting so long to request a part two to the story you wrote where Makarov learns he has a daughter and takes her from her mom. Like especially if said daughter puts up a fight and tries to refuse everything he gives her.
Cw: DARKFIC, kidnapping, forced relationship, tell me if I missed any.
“милая,” Makarov - or your father as he liked to call himself - sighed exasperatedly, his dark eyes glued to your figure, “You’ll eventually need to listen, the world isn’t a safe place.” [Darling]
He watched you roll your eyes, acting like a petulant child despite the years you’ve spent by his side. Five years in and you still fought him at every turn. You were studious, smart and quick-learning, but you feigned oblivion - faked stupidity - just to enrage your tutors enough to force them to leave, if not, you’d force their hand by thinning their already strained patience until they cracked.
He’s been forced to hire different tutors again, and again, and again, the unending cycle of hiring and quitting weighing on his mind more than it did on his wallet. Although they left within the first few months, Makarov learned that you had caught on, however small you were taught was ingrained in your mind. Perhaps not a photographic memory, but a fast and good one.
“And that’s because of who, huh?” you scoffed, crossing your arms and slouched on your chair, the plush fabric moulding to fit your shape, “Cuz last time I checked, I lived a perfectly safe life with mom.”
You stared idly at the plate, the perfectly cooked steak with sauce and spice peppered with perfection and vegetables decorating the sides as if your diner was a piece of art. You always complained about what a waste of time and money it was to be spending on embellishing food when it’d end up disfigured and cut and digested, but to him, it was all about the image. Maybe it was different for you —it certainly was. Everything in his organisation was about the strong image he held, and you were just a part of it: his rebellious and angry daughter, but smart and independent, quick on her feet and silver-tongued with her words.
That made him the proudest. How people underestimated you, spoke in Russian and let a few secrets slip when they were near you simply because you’d never bothered to speak the language or hadn’t grew up beside him. Everyone knew you were his bastard-turned-princess daughter, but you looked like an angry child, moody and childish, untaught and too western to understand them.
“You weren’t, милая,” he shook his head, cutting into his medium rare steak, admiring the pale red that oozed around the cut, “It’s safer for you here —with me. They would have found you, perhaps not then, but later, one day.”
He couldn’t afford losing a piece of himself to his enemies or allies-turned-traitors, to willingly hand them his precious child. So he reached out first, took you in and made sure you were taught from the best. Where you lacked in ballet and dance and piano, you excelled in academics and martial arts. You fought him on it, but still attended these class, knowing that it would only help you. You were stubborn, but not dumb, something he loved about you.
Summary: You wake to four strangers at the end of your bed.
Warnings: 18+, dark themes, mention of kidnap, mention of torture,
Note: Merry Christmas Everyone - I hope you all enjoy this chapter! 🎅🏻🎄
Masterlist -> Here
For the first time in a long time, you slept well. More than well actually, amazing.
Your body was supported at all points, neck raised slightly, head cushioned on a thick feather pillow. And the sheets were actual bedsheets. One matching set of dark grey linen sheets, adorning the king sized mattress.
A luxury compared to how you’ve slept in the last few months. You never could fall into a deep sleep. Knowing that at any point your captors would come back to your room, kicking you from your slumber and starting your torment once more. When you did try to sleep it was on the concrete floor. Curled in a ball, spread like a starfish, lying on your front. All positions that you’d tried and failed to have a restful night of sleep in.
It must have been the light that woke you, you think wistfully to yourself. A ghost of a smile graces your face at the sight. Light streaming in and hitting the bedspread. Particles of dust, dancing carelessly in the rays. Things were turning around.
You roll on to your back. Stretching your neck from side to side and groaning. Your eyes find the ceiling, a plain white rectangle above you. You take a moment or two to enjoy the silence of the morning, letting yourself wake up.
It’s when you turn to your other side to gaze out the other window, that your peace is disturbed. The window itself is fine, the glass is intact, with a thin frosting of snow on each pane. But the figure that leans beside it is not something you wanted to see, in the previously empty cabin.
A mix of a gasp and shout of surprise leaves your sore throat as you jump in place. Your body becoming rigid and tense with stress at the sight of the intruder. Now sitting more upright, you see that the stranger not alone. He stands with three other men, each more imposing than the last.
While the one by the window did frighten you, his boyish dimples and lean figure have nothing on how the Goliath by the dresser makes you feel. He stands tall, taller than the rest. His face covered by a skull painted balaclava. His grey eyes give nothing away as they stare blankly at you on the bed.
Between the two opposites, are another two men. One stood next to the nicest looking of the four, crossing his arms and trying to keep his face stoic. His hair is styled into a Mohawk and the sight reminds you of bad guys from old movies. His blue eyes stand out against his brutish appearance. Softening the fear that his very being brings you.
The only one left is the man who sits on a chair found in the room. His legs naturally spread a little due to the size of his thighs. His arms are crossed over his chest, causing the muscles in his forearms to bulge under his long sleeve shirt.
His face is blank, hiding what his true thoughts are and most likely what he truly feels. His face is adorned with a healthy amount of facial hear. The feature ages him and makes him look rugged. Your eyes draw to the thick line of hair that he harbours above his pink lips.
They say nothing. They just stare. The action unnerving you. Making you feel like some sort of zoo animal.
The sight of the four muscular and good-looking men put you on edge of course. But there’s something else. Urges that you’d never thought of before. Feelings were never part of the mission. You were determined to keep it that way.
“You sleep alright love?” The man sitting asks you. Him deciding to speak first and the fact that he others look towards him leads you to believe that he is the leader of the men. Despite the authority that they all seem to hold.
His voice is low and quiet. The sounds rumbling together at the low volume. The words are clear enough though, that you can make them out a few feet away on the bed.
You don’t respond, you can’t. What is he wanting you to say? Yes thank you, it was the best sleep of my life.
So you strengthen your resolve and stay silent. Slowly shifting your position so you’re sitting up more instead of lying down. You calm your breathing and focus your mind. You let your eyes glance over the men in the room again.
“Enjoy sleeping in a strangers sheets?” Again his voice is quiet, soft even. But his eyes tell a different story. His eyes that are squeezed into a glare, glower at you. When you meet his eyes it’s too intense. You feel as if you’re on trial for your life. Come to think of it you are.
You stand no chance against these men. In any capacity. If they wanted to kill you, they could. If they wanted to hurt you, they could. If they wanted to take you, they could.
The last thought resonates with you deeply. That’s when the a prick of fear starts to grow in the back of your head. You realised how lucky you were that Miasma had no interest in hurting you in any sort of sexual way. Despite there being many opportunities too, the guards found more enjoyment in kicking you around then fucking you.
“Not going to answer love? Fine.” The man stands from his chair. He moves to stand at the bottom of your bed, hands stretching out over the bed frame. His presence getting that much more suffocating. When he stands close you find no refuge from his gaze. You can’t look to the other men as much, only him. Only his cold, piercing eyes that tell you telling this man anything but the truth is a death sentence.
“What are you doing in our house?” His tone is sharper, harder. The softness found in the low rumble of his previous words is lost.
Your mind races through the cover story you had before infiltrating Miasma. The details around it are so fuzzy. It feels like you’ve got the right story but there are undecided parts.
What were you here for?
Start simple. If you start simple you can fill in the details later. Give yourself a chance to think.
“I got lost in the woods.” Good start, it’s vague enough. Now change your tone.
“I’d been walking for so long and I,” your voice cracks for good measure and you feel your eyes starting to water. You use the emotions from the last few hours to fuel your tears. You were scared. You were afraid. These were all real feelings, you just had to try and channel them. “I was just so cold and so desperate. This was the first place I’d seen in miles.”
For a moment you see his eyes soften. In a flash they’re back on your again. Hard and cold and unrelenting.
“What we’re you doing in the woods, in the middle of winter?” He asks you. Behind his imposing figure you see the one with the Mohawk shift in his stance, trying to get a better look of you.
Your story doesn’t have to just convince the man I front of you. It has to convince the other three in the room. The thought registers as you run through your cover story as quickly as you can.
“I’m a zoologist. I was out here studying brown bears before they went into hibernation. Then these men-” you pause your story, desperate to have a few tears running down your cheek before telling them the rest. You need to sell this or all you’re done, all you’ve survived, would be worth nothing now.
“Go on love, finish your story.” The soft tone has returned, no doubt that it was due to the sight of your tears running and sniffling nose.
“These men came in trucks,” your eye contact won’t be enough you realise, so you free your hands from your side and use them to talk. “It didn’t seem right so I abandoned my stuff and hid. They came looking round and they, they had guns. I snuck away quietly but they found me. They took me back to some sort of military base. Last night was when I managed to escape.”
It wasn’t far from the truth. At least now you’d have a way to explain the myriad of injuries that had been inflicted on you.
The man hums audibly. You aren’t sure if you’ve done enough to convince him. His face doesn’t give anything away.
“Why do yer have their clothes if yer were a captive?” A voice from behind the man calls out, thick with a Scottish accent.
The clothes by the fire.
The captain watched your reaction for a moment. You hope he doesn’t think the flash of realisation that was on your face a moment ago, is evidence you’re lying.
He moves to the side slightly so that you can look the Scotsman in the eye as you answer him.
“They took my clothes. It was the first thing I grabbed when I escaped.” The four men say nothing for a moment. Eyes dead set on you, on your movements, your body language. Contemplating your words, your tone, your story and your tears.
It feels like hours until the leader speaks up again. Hours of waiting for them to pass judgement on you and your future.
“They hurt you?” He asks, tone quiet once more.
You hesitate, “A little…why?” Why does he care? Why would any of them care?
The man ignores your question, “Do you need a first aid kit?”
The question confuses you. Is this some kind of trick.
Part of you wants to say yes. Knowing you’ve got cuts and bruises a plenty that could use cleaning or stitching in some cases. But your hyper aware of where they’re placed. To get to the cuts on your back you’d have to raise or take off your shirt. Not exactly something your eager to do in the four men’s company.
Your shake your head, eyes now wide and mutter out a no.
It causes the men’s eyes to narrow.
“Don’t lie to him lass. Ye wouldn’t want to see what happens if ye do.” The Scotsman threatens.
You bite your lip, “I can handle it. It’s nothing serious.”
“Serious or not, we need to see what damage has been done.” You don’t miss the we in that sentence. Do they all really need to see how banged up you are?
You still shake your head at the premise. The idea causing a pit to form in your stomach.
“You stay put love, we’ll find a first aid kit and bring you a drink. Don’t move.” He fixes you with a final look before he leaves the room. The rest of the men trailing after him.
When the last of the men leaves the room, he shuts the door. The sight of the dark oak door brings air back into your lungs, it lets the haze that’s filled your mind clear.
You need to run, you need to get out of here.
You need to return to Gunner. You don’t need to be getting involved with these four strangers. Who just so happen to be extremely handsome and muscular.
You don’t trust them. Not one bit. How do you know they aren’t Miasma, here to find out what you know and finish the job?
As quietly as you can you leave the warmth of the linen sheets and step on to the plush carpet. Creeping towards the now shut door as you gently pry it open. You have little time to get out the cabin before it’s too late.
You cringe as the door scrapes against the carpet. The sound is practically deafening in the silence you’ve created in the master bedroom. You pause for a moment, convinced the men from downstairs have heard you.
When you don’t hear the thunder of steps up the stairs, you begin your mission to escape. Moving as silently as you can along the carpeted floor. Hoping to get out before they find the first aid kit.
“What are we doing price?” Ghost finds himself asking in a hushed voice as the entirety of the 141 congregate in the kitchen.
“Looking for a first Aid kit lieutenant.” Price answers and returns to searching the cupboards.
Simon wants to scream at his captain. He wants to complain to his team. He wants to know why they’re entertaining this girl. No matter how pretty she may be, she’s lying about something. Simon hasn’t got this far in his career without being an expert in body language.
Price busies himself with rifling through the cupboards. Thankful that Laswell keeps all safe houses fully stocked.
His hands brush past plates and cans and glasses before coming to the last cupboard. Finally his hands grasp the large green box, packed with medical supplies.
When his gaze moves from the first aid kid, he sees his men staring out him. Looking confused at the sight.
“I’ve got Laswell doing background on the insignia on the jacket. I want to see she’s lying. Looking at those so called injuries will do that.” Price tells the team as he checks the first aid box before taking it upstairs.
It seems the rest of the team h av e a permanent frown on their face.
“I just don’t think any of this is right.” Ghost mutters. “It all just feels wrong.”
“Aye, she looks so frail and small. How can a lass like that escape a group of armed men?” Soap questions.
“She’s either insanely lucky or has some sort of special training.” Gaz voices to the others.
The thought permeates within their heads. Are you some sort of secret agent? Able to escape from armed men at hidden facilities?
The sound of a creak breaks them from their thoughts.
what’s your thoughts on yandere ghost? (sorry not sorry: i am a hardcore ghost simp)
i havent done a yandere analysis in ages so-
(Warnings: Yandere, dark content, stalking, kidnapping)
Yandere Analysis: Simon Riley(Ghost)
As a man who speaks just a couple of words, its clear the guy doesnt get out all that much.
Between his work life and his past experience, none can really blame him. Ghost has seen a lot, experienced a lot. In his line of work, he has learned that it's good to go to the extreme. Shoot until the enemy is down, Run until his legs give out, Fight until his knuckles are bloody. Less comrades die when you're willing to do what no one else can even fathom. Go to every extreme.
So, when Ghost feels, though rare, he feels everything to the fullest: rage, fear, bloodlust. He's not used to the more benign emotions: happiness, joy, love.
It's why being home after a mandatory vacation is so mind-numbing. He's like a crated dog, stuck in one place with no stimulation. It's nothing but grays and whites. At this point, all what he's looking for is an excuse. A chance to bite.
You could be anyone. A cute waitress who was dumb enough to smile and greet him. A new neighbor who was unaware about the unspoken rule of not talking to the tenant who disappears for months. Someone on the street who just bumped into him and apologized.
He lunges and sinks his teeth.
You become a good hobby. He takes it as a challenge, following you around as you obliviously flitter about your day, watching your routine. It's boring, but in a pleasant way. Peaceful.
It becomes an addiction, a fix he can't quit. Just watching you do errands isn't enough, he needs to see what you do in the privacy of your own home. There are cameras in every corner he can find, bugs too. In everything he does, he is diligent. Extreme.
When you inevitably find the cameras, but you and him are disappointed when the police do nothing more than a half-assed watchout. He was hoping for at least a car posted outside for the night. Then he'd could rip them apart, leave bodyparts hanging outiside your door like christmas ornaments. In a way, he finds it a little romantic.
Your only reprise is when he leaves for an assignment, and then everything starts back up again a few months later. It's a never endling cycle.
Stepdad Graves who just can’t help himself around his step daughter.
continuing from this part...
cw: stepcest, cheating, forced impregnation, tampering with contraceptives, afab!gn!reader, dub-con, lactation, pervy-graves, age gap/difference (reader's age is unspecified, but i'd say aged mid-20s + graves is aged 40-50s)
dead dove: do not eat. mdni 18+ 🔞
after your stepfather had forcefully impregnated you, your boyfriend had broken up with you. of course, you eventually had to drop out of college to take care of yourself during pregnancy, as well as take care of your future baby. your stomach grew everyday, and along with that, your nipples began to weep milk, white droplets of your sweet milk running down your breasts, or seeping through the material of your shirt.
graves couldn't help himself at the sight of you. he just wanted to take care of his pregnant stepdaughter, to rub at your swollen, puffy and wet nipples whilst you wriggled and complained, still annoyed at him for doing what he'd done, trying to free yourself from his tightening grip.
there had been countless times where you'd be awoken to the pleasing and arousing sensation of your stepfather's tongue against your little clit, rubbing it in soothing circles whilst you arched your back, so exhausted yet so desperate for that release that tightened at your core.
of course, at some point, you had to break the news to your mother once home from a long work trip. you told her that you'd gotten pregnant by someone you didn't know, at a college party, drunk and intoxicated. she was pissed at you for making such an irresponsible decision, that you had no support from the father, but when you broke down at her reaction, she knew she couldn't be too harsh on you.
she was blind to your stepfather's disgusting and perverted behaviour. she didn't notice how his gaze would linger on your growing stomach and breasts for a little too long, or how she'd wake up with graves not in bed. she paid no attention to it all, and didn't even notice how your baby had some of your stepfather's features. those familiar and recognisable blue eyes.
after your pregnancy, graves was desperate to get you pregnant again, and again. although, you made sure not to get too drunk around him, instead making sure you'd use contraceptives, usually condoms. you were fucking up his plans! he had no other decision, but to instead tamper with the condoms, poking them with a small pin, in the hopes of getting you pregnant.
