Day 21 – Grindelgraves

Prompts: Bukakke | Food play | Suspension | Branding

Rape/Non-Con
Chapter tags: Gellert Grindelwald/Original Percival Graves, Slavery, Sexual Slavery, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Castration, Dehumanization, Objectification, Branding

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Percival waits, standing still with his eyes forward while his new master completes his purchase.  He doesn’t understand all the details, but then again, he’s not supposed to – he’s been told all he needs to know, which is that Mr. Gellert Grindelwald is his owner now and the purpose of Percival’s existence is to serve him.

His body has already been customized to his master’s liking, which Percival was told he should be grateful for, because it makes it easier for him to be pleasing.  His body had been a blank slate onto which Grindelwald wrote his desires.

He’s been stripped of all body hair, leaving his skin soft and smooth to the touch – he thinks it makes him look younger, and he wonders if Master would like him to act younger as well.  His balls were removed too, so that he no longer annoys his master by having bodily needs of his own. He was allowed to keep his dick, overhearing that Grindelwald found it funny to watch it flop, but the tendons in his fingers were cut.  It renders his hands next to useless, and establishes him firmly in his role; he’ll always be a pleasure slave now, even if Grindelwald sells him on he has no hope of serving any other way. His voice had been the last thing to go. He can’t even whisper – not that he’d been allowed to speak very often before, but now his silence is complete.  It had been a decision of convenience for Grindelwald more than anything else, he knew. Now there was no need for gags.

Grindelwald finishes signing the papers with a flourish and turns towards him, eyes raking up and down in inspection.  Percival keeps his back straight, arms at his sides, gaze up.

“The modifications are complete?” Grindelwald asks, and the salesman nods.  “Hmm.”

Grindelwald reaches out, lifting Percival’s dick to look at the thin, pink scar beneath it.  The touch is impersonal and cold. Percival swallows, making himself hold still and be good while his stomach tightens.  Grindelwald must be pleased with what he sees, because he hums and lets Percival’s dick flop back down between his legs. He takes Percival’s wrist, toying with his useless fingers before he lets it fall as well, and Percival has to blink quickly.  Whenever he thinks about his body, he feels… he doesn’t know, but he just keeps reminding himself that it’s okay, they were allowed to do what they did, it’s what he’s for.

“Satisfied?”

“Indeed.  He just needs the finishing touch.”

Percival watches as Grindelwald raises his wand, his heart beating fast against his ribs.  What’s the finishing touch? What is there left to do to him?

Grindelwald grips his chin and places the tip of his wand against his left cheek, pausing for a horrible, tense moment, before blinding pain engulfs the side of his face.  He opens his mouth to scream but has no voice to do so – all he manages is a gasp to accompany the tears spilling from his eyes.

The initial burst of pain slowly recedes, leaving behind a deep, scorched, burning in the place Grindelwald’s wand touched.  There’s a tug on his collar – Grindelwald is already leaving, having concluded his affairs while Percival staggered with pain – and as he hurries to follow he catches sight of his reflection.

He sees it only briefly, caught in the glass of one of the pictures hanging on the wall, but it’s enough to make his stomach turn.  His master’s sigil, the double G of his initials, is burned in angry welts from his cheekbone down to his jaw, his flesh an ugly, raw red.

The finishing touch.

thegaypumpingthroughyourveins:

Hello I have a new fucked up idea for a Grindelgraves AU and I need to be stopped but

Rich heir/Insufferable asshole Percival Graves & his bodyguard, Gellert, who one day has had enough of Percival attitude and snaps.

Something like this :

–

“What did you say?” Graves asks, furious. “Do I need to remind you of who pays you? Who owns you?”

Gellert stares at him, eyes glinting dangerously as the fury inside him spikes. “You don’t own me. You’re nothing but a spoiled little shit who thinks he owns the world. You’re nothing.”

Graves splutters, so shocked at the audacity that he can’t even muster a response. His face is blotched red, vein showing at his temple. “You’re fired! Get out of this room.”

A weird sort of calm and quietness overcomes Gellert. In that moment he knows exactly what he needs to do. “No.”

“Get out!”

“No,” Gellert repeats, reaching behind him to lock the door of the hotel room. “I won’t.”

And maybe something must be showing on his face that betrays his thoughts because Percival Graves takes a step back, a flicker of insecurity showing on his face for half a second. Gellert likes it. He wants to see more of it.

Percival reaches for his cellphone but Gellert calmly takes the gun hidden in his vest and brings it at level with Percival’s face. “Don’t. Turn it off.”

“Gellert,” Percival tries. “Put the gun down.”

Gellert tilts his head. “Do you truly think I’m going to obey you? Throw the phone away. No one is coming to save you.”

Percival’s hand is shaking. He folds it into a fist, doing his damnedbest to hide how scared he’s becoming. “What are you going to do to me?”

“It wouldn’t be fun if I told you, now would it?”

YES I LOVE THIS.  Gellert’s absolute calm as he realizes, “yes, what I really need to do is rape this spoiled brat,” Percival’s anger swinging so abruptly into fear – it’s glorious and I need more 😀

Day 20 – Thesival

Prompts: Urophagia | Hot-Dogging | Emeto | Dirty talk

No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapter tags: Theseus Scamander/Original Percival Graves, Established Relationship, Long-Distance Relationship, Letters, Masturbation Instructions, Humiliation, Denial, Enthusiastic Consent

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Tuesday October 20th, 1925

My Dearest Percival –

Have you been good for me, pup?  I do hope you are reading this in a private setting – if it has reached you at MACUSA, or you’re expecting guests, you’d best save it.  I’ll wait. I have plans for you tonight, and I expect you to do as I say. Get yourself home, draw your curtains, and be a good boy. Don’t you dare read ahead – when next I see you, I shall know if you have.

Now, I want you to sit in that armchair you’ve got by the fire.  Take off your shoes, put your feet up, and lay back. Good boy. Regarding my last letter – I trust you’ve done as instructed.  I know it was difficult, pup, but if you only knew the pleasure it brought me to imagine your face as you read it. I’ve thought of you often since then, how you must wake hard and ready, but forbidden to act.  Damn this ocean between us, but to think I can do such things to you from the other side of the world is a glorious thing. I must confide I’ve brought myself off many times to the thought that you can’t. I’ve pictured you squirming in bed, aching, hoping each day for a letter that will release you.  Well, love, it’s here.

But wait, don’t touch yet.  You must do it as I say. You should still be dressed – I picture you freshly arrived home after a long day, or perhaps my letter has reached you on the week-end.  Either is fine, so long as you have shirt and trousers. Lay back now, be comfortable. You may take your right hand and rest it on your groin, atop your trousers, but do not stroke or rub.  You must keep your hand still. Are you growing hard yet? Perhaps you have been all day, your little prick straining as you sit behind your desk, just wishing you could touch it. Do you think any of your aurors noticed the bulge in your trousers?

Now, read carefully.  You must put my letter down for the next bit, so I want you to read my instructions first.  You are to use your left hand to play with your nipples, and keep your right hand still. No cheating, you are not to move your right hand nor your hips at all.  Start by using your fingernail, I you to scrape it lightly over your nipples until they’re hard little nubs beneath your shirt. Then you may pinch and rub as you like – do two or three good, hard pinches for me, as I am not there to do so myself.  Continue this until you’re properly hard, with your prick making a nice bulge in your trousers and throbbing beneath your hand. Do it now, love, and then read on.

Good boy, that’s it.  Stop now. I can imagine you growing impatient, but you must wait.  I’m not done with you yet. You should thank me, pup – I’m about to let you touch your prick.  One finger, that’s all you need right now. Use one finger from your right hand to stroke yourself, nice and slow.  Do you still have that old clock on the mantel? Watch the second hand, and each time it moves, you may stroke once.  How does it feel, touching after so long? Does it make you shiver? Do your hips buck? Enjoy it, but try to stay still for me.  Watch the clock now – I want you to stroke like this for two more minutes.

Of course, you haven’t really been touching, not with your trousers in the way.  I know it’s not the same. Take them off now, and your underwear too. Do it slow, and imagine that I’m watching – let your hands caress your hips, and think of my eyes on you, drinking in each movement.  Show off for me, love.

There, that’s better.  Are you ready to touch your prick?  You must be so eager. I love it when you’re desperate, pup, the way your cheeks flush and your eyes get so soft.  I find myself distracted by the vision, knowing that my words do this to you – I can make you pant and whine with only letters, love, imagine what I’ll do to you when next we meet.  But you must think me cruel, not letting you touch at all while I describe your plight. It’s all right – suck on your fingers, there’s a good boy, get them nice and wet. Spread your thighs as you do it, spread them wide.  I want your knees up over the arms of your chair. Imagine me kneeling in front of you, looking at that cute little pucker you’ve got between your legs while you suck your fingers.

Touch it – not your prick.  Your hole. Take two fingers and rub it, nice and deep, go on.  You can rub it as much as you want, pup, but don’t you dare put anything inside.  Only I get to do that. I want you to work it until it’s nice and loose, until it goes all soft and starts to twitch under you fingers, begging for more.  Think about how good it would feel to have me open you up, working my fingers into you, burying my tongue in your wanting hole to get you ready for my cock, and then finally stretching you wide – you want that, I know it, you want it as much as I do.

Stop.  I can almost hear you whine as you read that, but be a good boy.  Take your hand away. You’ve been so good for me, letting me tease you like this – you love it, but I know it isn’t easy.  I love that you do it for me anyway. Are you ready for your reward? Good. Fist your hand around your prick, just hold it there for a moment – now stroke it once.  How did it feel? Did it make your toes curl? Did you moan? I think you were so eager, you did it too quickly. Do it again, slowly, and moan for me as you do. Don’t be embarrassed.  There’s only me here, and I love the sounds you make. I want you to enjoy this. Do it again, stroke yourself from base to tip, and count to five as you do. You must not do it any faster, I know how you can be.  You need me to help you savor this. Do it again. Again. Good boy.

You may count to four now.  Count slowly, don’t rush. Make it good, squeeze as hard as you like, and stroke yourself.  Thrice more, that’s it. Are you close? Yes, I think you must be. You’d like to go faster, needy boy, I know you want to come.  Ask me for it. Say, “Theseus, may I please stroke my prick faster.” Say it aloud, do it now. Beg me, pup.

You may.  Count to three.  Yes, keep going, as much as you want so long as you always count to three.  Isn’t that kind of me? You should thank me, aren’t you grateful? Say thank you.  Tell me how much you need it. Ah, love, you must be aching. How long before mercy turns to torment and you start to crave more, faster, harder, or perhaps it already has?  Look at the clock. One minute like this, and you may beg me again.

You’re so good for me.  Tell me how much you need it, go on.  Tell me, “Theseus, my little prick wants to be stroked so badly, please will you let me touch it faster?”  Beg me sweetly. I want to hear you whimper and moan – make yourself cry for me, and call my name as you writhe.  Don’t touch now, just beg. Say, “Please, please Theseus, let me feel good.” I love it when you get like this. That look in your eyes when you want nothing more than release but hold yourself back just for me.

All right, you may touch again.  Stroke as fast as you want, touch yourself how you like, but don’t come.  You haven’t earned it yet. Yes, you’ve been so good for me, but I’m not done with you yet.  Bring yourself right to the edge and then wait for me. Does it feel good? Try teasing the head, rub your thumb over it and smear that messy precome around the tip.  Yeah, I know you like that. Squeeze your balls, just gently, and think about me rolling them in my hand. Don’t spill.

Say you want to come, convince me I should let you.  I like it when you’re needy, so you’ll have to try hard.  Tell me how much your balls ache, how your prick throbs and weeps, how you haven’t been able to think of anything else for days and you’ve just been waiting for me to release you.  Say, “Please Theseus, my prick needs to come,” and convince me that you mean it. You must look so debauched – panting with your head thrown back, eyes glazed over while you touch yourself, your hand working so quickly.  You have such a lovely, soft body – I’d wager your lips are glistening. I’ve brought myself off every night thinking of those lips, and all the filthy things they do.

What would you do to come?  Would you go another week without touching, if you knew you could come at the end?  Would you write a letter begging me, filling page after page with the details of your arousal while your prick wept in your lap?  Would you stretch out your arse for me, stuff it full, and walk around all day imagining you had my cock inside you? I think you would.  You would do all this and more, you’ll do anything I say, you’re so good that way. I think that when we next meet I’ll make you rub off on my shoe and come in your trousers before I’ll kiss you, because I know you will.  I can see it now, looking down at you as you grind your little prick, watching the stain spread when you finally come.

Ah, but you’ve distracted me.  Perhaps you’ve begun to doubt that I’ll let you have release.  Did you beg nicely? Are you right at the edge? Then you needn’t worry.  Get ready now. When you come I want you to say my name, say it as though it were a prayer on your lips, and think of me kissing you.

Come now, pup.  Come for me.

Good boy, yes, that’s my good boy.  Breathe, you’re all right. Stroke yourself through to the end, I want you to enjoy it.  Don’t clean up yet. I want to think of you like this, wet and used with your prick going soft between your thighs, laying back and breathing while the pleasure disperses through your body.  I hope it made you feel glorious, love. Let yourself settle – take a moment and just breathe for me before you read on.

I have a choice for you.  I will be delighted either way, for I have created the options, but I want you to consider carefully for yourself.  You may touch yourself as much as you want, and you may make yourself come, but each time you do you must write me and describe it in detail – how you touched, each thing you thought of – and you must thank me for the privilege of touching your prick, or I’ll no longer let you; or you can choose not to touch, not even a little – and you know that I am strict – for as long as I choose, and await each letter to know whether I allow you pleasure.

It is up to you, love, so be sure you choose wisely.  Write me with your answer, for I ache to read your words again.

Enduringly yours,

Theseus Scamander

Day 19 – Grindelgraves

Prompts: Public | Formal Wear | Straitjacket | Cock-Warming

Rape/Non-Con
Chapter tags: Gellert Grindelwald/Original Percival Graves, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, Straitjackets, Restraints, Manipulation, Gags, Dehumanization, Memory Loss, Anal Stretching, Sounding, Urethral Stretching, Cock Warming

Read it on AO3!

Graves wakes to the familiar feeling of something inside him.  There’s cold lube smeared across his hole, and his legs are spread, ankles strapped to either side of the bed, to allow something thick and blunt to be inserted deep in his body.  It spreads him open like butter, opening up his insides and lodging in his center with a heavy weight, leaving him stuffed comfortably full.

He opens his eyes, gazing up unfocused at the white ceiling above him.  Everything in his room is white, even the doctor’s hair. Graves can just see him at the bottom of his vision, bent over and intent on his work as he fucks the plug in and out of his ass.  Graves moans behind his gag. The doctor said he loved his plug therapy. It was so comforting to be full.

“Hello there, Percy,” the doctor says.  Graves’ head lolls to the side as he squirms aimlessly, his body moving against his straitjacket but kept reassuringly constrained.  The jacket is there to keep him safe, and he feels so much better when it’s on, like a comfortable pressure wrapping him up. It means he can’t do anything for himself, and the doctor says it’s good for him to learn to be dependant.

The doctor pauses his ministrations between his legs to lean over him and unbuckle his gag, pulling the rubber bit from beneath his teeth.  Long strings of drool connect it to his slack lips, and Graves’ mouth hangs open as he watches the doctor put the gag away. He’s comfortably drowsy, body warm with a soft heat, as though he’s been immersed in a relaxing bath.

“How are you feeling?”

Graves looks back at him, working his jaw before finally responding, “Ahh.”

“Hmm.  And what’s your name?”

He knows that.  It takes him a moment to get his tongue to work, but he can say it.  “Perc’val Graves,” he slurs.

The doctor hums, considering.  “Are you sure?”

Graves frowns.  He thinks it’s right.  Maybe it’s not? He waits for the doctor to tell him.

“Are you Percival Graves, the political figure with paranoid delusions of magical powers, or are you Percy, my patient who accepts his treatment?”

Oh.  He remembers now.  “Percy.”

“That’s right.  Good job.”

Percy smiles, glad the doctor is happy.  He likes his treatments. They always make him feel good.  He thinks he used to fight them, but he can’t remember why anymore – there are a lot of things he can’t remember, but that just means the treatment is working.

The doctor is back between his legs.  Percy hums tunelessly while he feels the doctor work; two fingers lift his cock, inspecting it briefly, and a moment later the ring around the head is unlatched and the sound pulled free.  It leaves him gaping uncomfortably, and he’s relieved when the doctor puts the new sound back in.

“Good boy,” the doctor says.  “That’s another size up for you.”

Percy smiles, and his cock flops back down between his legs.  The same drugs which keep his mind soft and placid also make his cock limp, no matter how good what the doctor does feels, but he’s used to it now.  He doesn’t really remember anything else. Sometimes when the doctor makes his cock twitch and dribble he feels like he was expecting something different, but a lot of the things he thinks are wrong – that’s why the doctor is here, to help him think the right things.

Another gag is being fit between his teeth, the one with the rubber ring to keep his mouth open, and the restraints around his ankles fall away. Hands grip his shoulders, he’s pulled to the side of the bed, and as his head is nestled into the doctor’s lap it dawns on him what treatment he’s getting next.

The doctor’s thick, heavy cock fills up his mouth perfectly, and he drools around it in contentment.  Part of his treatment is to learn to accept whatever is done to his body, no matter what or by whom, so he just relaxes and enjoys the warmth in his veins while the cock rests inside him.

He drifts in and out, but it feels as though they stay that way for hours.  There’s a thick sheen of drool coating his chin and cheek by the time they’re interrupted by the door of the room opening, one of the nurses leaning in.

“Dr. Grindelwald?  You’re needed in room eleven.”

Above him, the doctor sighs.  “Very well. I’ll be there shortly.”

Percy finds his mouth empty, both the cock and the gag taken away as he’s repositioned and strapped down to the bed.  His head lolls, and he wishes his treatment had gone on longer, but it’s difficult to care very much – about anything, really – when his whole body feels so nice and warm.

The doctor wipes his face for him before buckling the leather strap back over his mouth, and Percy smiles behind it, enjoying how full his ass and cock still are.

Day 18 – Thesewald

Prompts: Fucking Machine | Latex | Role Reversal | Xenophilia

Rape/Non-Con
Chapter tags: Gellert Grindelwald/Theseus Scamander, Abduction, Bondage, Humiliation, Fucking Machines, Rimming, Memory Loss, Submission, Forced Arousal

Read it on AO3!

“Back with us, Mr. Scamander?”

Theseus groans, groggy.  He knows that voice, and it sends ice down his spine.  Something is horribly wrong, he needs to get up, he needs help –

His body jerks, held fast by his bonds, and he blinks his eyes open.

Grindelwald sits in front of him, smiling an awful, knowing smile.  Theseus strains, trying to take in his situation – he’s strapped into some sort of padded bench, his chest and head supported, his legs bent and spread wide, with soft, thick straps rendering him immobile.  He is, he realizes with a dull pang, naked. His cock hangs vulnerable between his spread thighs, his arse just parted, and a wave of nausea rolls through him. Grindelwald doesn’t miss his futile attempt to close his legs, and his grin widens.

“Relax.  I’ve already seen it all, who do you think undressed you?”

Theseus turns scarlet.  He sputters, a deep knot of humiliation forming in his chest, along with a cold fear rooted in his belly at what kind of torture this means he’ll be subjected to.  “What do you want with me?” he forces himself to ask, loathing the way his voice shakes. He isn’t sure he wants to know the answer.

“I just want to play with you, Scamander.  You’ll even like it.”

“If you want information -”

Grindelwald waves his hand dismissively.  “I don’t. I want you to accept that you have no control over your body.  To be grateful for whatever I do to you and beg me not to stop, to submit and let yourself fall into the bliss I give you.  I want to give you pleasure like you’ve never known, and to see you crave it like an addiction. In short, Scamander, I want you to break.”

Theseus sucks in breath through his teeth.  Grindelwald is a madman.

“I won’t,” he says, setting his jaw against whatever is to come.

“Won’t you?”  There’s an amused, almost knowing, note to Grindelwald’s voice, and Theseus suppresses a violent shudder.

He won’t break, not that way.  Humiliation isn’t enough to crack decades of training as an auror and a soldier – Grindelwald will have to try much harder than that.

No sooner does Theseus finish the thought than Grindelwald snaps his fingers, and a truly sickening sensation blooms in his guts.  His arse is full to dripping with cool, slippery lubricant, buttering up his insides and pouring out of his hole to dribble over his balls and down the insides of this thighs.  It feels so fucking wrong.

Grindelwald rises, his approach slow and unhurried, and runs a gentle hand through Theseus’ hair.  His touch is – in a word – perfect. His fingertips press into his scalp with just the right pressure, his strokes long and slow, and it sends warm tingles all the way down Theseus’ spine while he sets his expression and makes a vow to himself that he won’t react, no matter what Grindelwald does.

“Accept it,” Grindelwald says.  “When you do, I won’t even make you remember.  I’ll let you forget how weak you are, how easily I broke you, and you can go back to thinking of yourself as England’s righteous hero.  Submit to me, and I’ll allow you to forget.”

Grindelwald says it as though it’s a mercy, but it only compounds the horror.  He’s about to be humiliated, violated, and Grindelwald expects him to want his mind warped as well?  He steels himself, prepared for what’s coming.

But he’s not prepared.  Hands grip his arse, strong fingers digging into his flesh and easing him open, and Theseus jolts.  Is there someone – ? He strains against his bonds to look, but there’s no one behind him. Only empty air, and Grindelwald in front of him, looking down smugly and stroking a soothing hand between his shoulder blades.

And then something – something wet, and soft, right there in the place he’s never allowed anyone to touch.  There’s a tongue licking his arse hole, laving him with long, slow strokes, and Theseus’ body doesn’t know how to react.  He can’t react, he can’t do anything, he can’t let Grindelwald see – and it disgusts him, it’s not something he would ever allow or enjoy, so it must be Grindelwald’s doing when his hole starts to slacken and twitch.  He would never enjoy it; not when the tongue circles his rim with its tip, not when it starts to prod at his entrance so agonizingly slowly that his muscles can’t help but relax, not when – god, when it pushes inside –

His cock stiffening between his legs doesn’t mean he likes it.

“You’re responding so well,” Grindelwald praises.  “Just give in.”

He’s afraid his body already has.  A sheen of sweat has broken out across his back, his hips have begun to dance and sway in search of more, deeper, and try as he might he can’t make himself clench against the liquid pleasure invading his body.  It just feels so bloody good.

Grindelwald lets his writhe like that for long, torturous minutes.  When the tongue finally vanishes, leaving his hole twitching and eager, any relief he feels is overwhelmed by desperate frustration and need.

Grindelwald chuckles, stroking a hand down his spine in reassurance as he walks around behind him.  “Don’t fret.”

Theseus’ needy hole spasms under Grindelwald’s gaze, and he burns with shame.

He can’t see what Grindelwald is doing between his legs, but he can hear the mechanical click, and a moment later something breaches him.  He never even had a chance to resist. The thing slides deep inside him, opening him up as though he was made for it, pressing against his walls in a way he’s never experienced.  It can’t be much bigger than a finger, but he feels it to his core.

And then there’s a click, something mechanical whirring to life, and the thing moves.  It fucks into his slick hole, pressing deep against something which makes him gasp and see stars, thrusting deep into his guts.  It gives him a nice, deep fucking, moving so very slowly that his hips try to jerk backwards to take it faster, but he can’t. All he can do is lay there as it penetrates him, millimeter by millimeter, deeper and deeper and deeper.  The rhythm never varies, just slow enough to drive him utterly and completely mad.

The change is imperceptible at first, but over time, it’s unmistakable.  His soft channel is being stretched with each agonizingly slow thrust, spread wider, as the thing inside him grows.  By the time he notices it’s already up to what must be three fingers, opening him up so gently and gradually that it’s impossible to fight.  And his body wouldn’t fight it, even if it could; the wider he’s spread, the more he’s stretched, the better it feels.

Grindelwald stays by his side the whole time, petting him and murmuring praises, describing to him how stretched out his hole is, and when Theseus starts to cry he comforts him and wipes away his tears.

Maybe… maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to submit?  If he gives Grindelwald his mind, he won’t even have to remember.

Day 17 – Grindelgraves

Prompts: Masturbation | Seduction | Collaring | Orgasm Denial

Rape/Non-Con
Chapter tags: Gellert Grindelwald/Original Percival Graves, Vampire Gellert Grindelwald, Young Percival Graves, Vampire Allure, Mind Control, Memory Loss, Nightclubs, Abduction, Dehumanization, Collaring, Biting, Chastity, Mind Break

Read it on AO3!

The heavy dance beat pounds in Percival’s ears, and if he’s honest, it’s giving him a headache.  Seraphina and Theseus are still out in the middle of the floor somewhere, but Percival just doesn’t have that kind of stamina; he doesn’t mind clubs, but do they all have to be so loud?

He catches the bartender’s eye.  “Guiness.”

“ID?” the man asks, and Percival makes a face.

“I’ll have a coke.”  Just what he needs to make the night truly a bust.

He turns, looking back out across the crowded floor for Thes and Phina, when something at the corner of his vision… flickers.  There’s a man a few seats down the bar from him, watching him. There’s something strange about his appearance – he’s older, a little too old for a place like this, his hair is a stark, shocking white, and his eyes… Percival looks closer, trying to make it out across the dim room.  His eyes seem to gleam, and he can see now that they don’t match – one is brown, and the other bright blue.

“Good boy,” the man says, and Percival blinks.  The club music comes rushing back, along with the shouts of people dancing and the clink of glasses at the bar, and with a slight wave of dizziness Percival realizes he’s standing in front of the stranger.

He doesn’t remember moving.

“Uh,” he says, and the man smiles.

“Just relax.  You look tired.”

He is tired.  He’s very tired, but when his gaze slides back up to meet the stranger’s he feels better.  Lighter, and softer.

“That’s it, let’s see…”  There are hands on him, stroking his chest and waist, reaching to grope his ass, cupping his groin and squeezing gently while Percival stands there.  “How old are you?”

“Nineteen,” Percival hears himself answer.  His voice sounds like it’s coming from far away.

The man makes a considering hum, eyes roving over Percival from top to bottom, and he stands.  He places a hand on the small of Percival’s back, and without a backwards glance Percival follows him out of the club.

The next time he blinks he’s spread out on an unfamiliar bed, naked, with the man above him.

“Wha…”

“Shhh.”

Percival obeys, his head lolling to the side.  His body feels so warm and heavy, his limbs disconnected, and he isn’t sure he could move them if he tried.  Confusion swims in his mind, but the man strokes his nipple and he lets it go in favor of the hazy warmth that rises in him.

Fingers grip his chin, turning his head so that he can see the leather strip dangling in front of his face.  It’s pretty – inset with jewels which sparkle when the light hits them, connected to a thin gold chain.

“You like it,” the man says, and Percival nods, captivated.  “It will make you mine.”

Percival’s head is lifted, and a moment later he feels the collar being fastened snug around his throat.  It’s comforting, even though he doesn’t quite know why.

“And this…”  The man holds up something metal, almost like a cage, which Percival doesn’t recognize.  “This will keep you sweet for me.”

A hand lifts his half-hard cock, fitting something behind his balls, and he make a tiny, unsure sound when cool metal slides over his shaft.  The man handles him impersonally, locking his genitals away with a click. Percival tries to look down at himself, but finds that he’s too tired to raise his head.

The next thing he’s aware of is a wet tongue on his nipples, and fingers slipping inside him to rub a spot that sets off sparks behind his eyelids. It feels glorious.  He presses into the touch, squirming weakly, and is rewarded by a body against his own and a thick cock slipping into his hole.

It feels good, but… his moans turn to frustrated whines, his cock straining and failing to get hard.  His arousal doesn’t have anywhere to go, and he doesn’t understand.

The man blankets him with his body, kisses him until his lips are swollen, and when sharp teeth draw blood just above his new collar, it feels almost as good as the orgasm he’ll never have.

Dark!Albus/Gellert, dark!Newt/Gellert. AU. Non-consensual. Newt fucks magically bound Gellert in front of Albus, who enjoys seeing defeat in Gellert’s eyes and then “tasting” it in all his body. And Newt… Newt just enjoys taming wild nature.

WOAH this is inspired??  I love it.  Especially because, imagine what it would take for Gellert to break – someone that proud, with that much conviction.  But Newt is patient, knows just the right places to push, and eventually even the strongest creature will yield.  And Albus, a look of triumph, satisfaction, in his eyes as he watches his lover-turned-rival give up.  Finally, after all these years, Gellert Grindelwald has broken – and it’s a beautiful sight.

Seriously anon, thank you for sending this to me!

Fictober 2018 | Day 16

funkzpiel:

TF!Fic | Transformation, Mermaids – Grindelgraves
Part 2 of a gift for @mush-shhhh that I promised ages ago – Mush-mush, I don’t know if you even still follow this fandom so I’m sorry if it’s too late, but I finally did it!

Available on AO3 too

Graves woke somewhere far away from New York, that much was clear right away. In the night’s air a chill had crept over him, but he could tell from the fine powder of the sand that he was somewhere warm and tropical, the sun having absorbed into it all day and only just beginning to fade.

His eyes fluttered – disoriented – as he was lifted momentarily in bodily jerks, the sound of popping buttons confusing him as they pattered uselessly to the sand around him. He was eased out of his shirt, then two hands ran down the length of him from his shoulders, over his tight chest, down the flat span of his stomach to stop at the hem of his trousers. He opened his eyes and took in the visage of his captor haloed in the sway of glittering palms. Palms unlike he had ever seen, their leaves pale like silver and glowing like stars in the darkness.

Above him, Grindelwald smiled kindly.

“Finally awake, sweetheart?”

Keep reading

THIS IS EVEN BETTER THAN I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE

Seriously, I love it so fucking much – more detailed comment to follow, but just know that I love it ❤ ❤ ❤