fantasticbeasts_kinkmeme | Prompt Post #2

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Prompt Post #2

ROUND 2

Seeing as we've reached 4,000 comments in Round 1, it's time to make a new one. Same (lack of) rules apply. Gentle reminder to everyone to refrain from posting extremely long prompts, though. While no word limit will be imposed, take note that it is very unlikely for someone to fulfill your prompt if your prompt alone is already several paragraphs long and containing a number of specifications.

ANNOUNCEMENTS:
-(01/14/2016) We now have a TRADING POST where you can exchange fills with people.
-The prompt freeze is over! You may resume posting prompts. The next freeze is scheduled on February 8, 12:00 AM (PST) or if this round reaches 4,000 comments; whichever comes first.
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RULE #1: No prompt must exceed 250 words. Any prompt that exceeds that WILL be screened.
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Paczki season is upon us and as I sit here stuffing my face I realized how adorable it would be with Jacob trying to explain to Newt the wonders of this strange and glorious Polish pastry. The poor Brit likely has no idea what it is. Just want some cute Paczki fluff.

Jacob trying to explain to Newt how amazing it is to have a holiday when you eat pączki whole day would be cute. Newt'd probably wonder "why do you people do that, isn't it unhealthy?". That's the point, Newt ;)

Btw, OP I see you started celebration sooner this year ;D I can't wait to eat pączki whole next Thursday *.*

(author here) Thank you! I'm glad you liked it, even if it wasn't the smutfest you wanted. Yeah, exactly. No need to feel guilty when you're doing it to protect the city, right?

(OP) I actually really love seeing different authors' interpretations of a prompt! It's like if ten different artists paint a sunflower, there'll be ten unique paintings all beautiful in their own way <333

Omg, can somebody please write it? :D

Hohoholy shit, what an awesome prompt! :D

Here's my fill http://archiveofourown.org/works/9822896

I hope you like it, OP.

“If I want him?” Graves asked, frowning a little. “Of course I want him. If I didn’t want him I wouldn’t have asked.” Arguing with Grindelwald was a dangerous game, but Percival knew every time he opened his mouth that he could be found out. Arguing was not much more dangerous than continuing to stand by Grindelwald’s side. Now that he had a plan forming, he was determined to get Credence on side so he could make use of it.

“I’m not sure that you do.” Grindelwald answered coldly. “I’ve been watching you. You’ve had the option of using him before, in meetings, and you’ve never asked for him.”
“I didn’t want the distraction.” Graves answered, sneaking a glance at Credence. Credence had his head bowed, his arms wrapped around his fragile body. He was trembling visibly, and Graves pitied him. The boy was an obscurial, had immense power, and yet he suffered. He desperately needed help, but for now Graves couldn’t risk seeming sympathetic.

“His mouth is rather distracting.” Grindelwald agreed. “But for now, well, I think that would be enough of a reward for you.”
“What?” Graves asked, looking up at him in confusion. Grindelwald smirked at him slightly and pointed towards Credence.
“Fuck the boy’s mouth.”
Graves stared at him in confusion and Grindelwald shrugged.
“You want to have him? Then fuck his mouth here. Where I can see. Show me you do desire him.”

Graves bit his lip, swallowing down the urge to argue. Instead, he nodded his agreement.
“Here?”
“Here.” Grindelwald smirked, guiding him to sit down. Graves spread his legs, reaching to unfasten his pants.
“Let the moonflower handle that.” Grindelwald ordered, and Graves did so, glancing over at Credence.
“Here.” He ordered, stomach knotting slightly with fear. He made a mental note to ensure he had an aphrodisiac potion with him for any future encounter that went along these lines, because right now he was concerned he would not be able to perform. Failing at that would probably get both himself and Credence into trouble.

Graves placed his hands on the arms of the chair, watching as Credence crawled across the floor towards him, leaving behind the silk and exposing all of his skin to the chill air of the room. Credence reached him, kneeling between his legs and carefully unbuttoning his pants using his mouth. Graves moved his legs in slightly, bracketing Credence’s shoulders, holding him firmly.

Credence took Graves into his mouth, his long eyelashes brushing his cheeks as he closed his eyes and began to lavish attention on the cock in his mouth. Graves rocked his hips a little, then reached to trail fingers through Credence’s hair. Credence moaned softly, tilting his head, and Graves felt his cock twitch. His concerns about whether or not he would be able to experience arousal under these circumstances had clearly been misplaced. Credence kissed at the end of his cock, hollowing his cheeks as he slid down Graves’ length, licking at the tip as he pulled back up.

If he didn’t look at Grindelwald he could almost imagine that they were somewhere else, that Credence was doing it because he wanted to. He was enthusiastic, but more than that, he seemed to be basking in the gentle contact of Graves’ legs around him. Graves thought, and realised with a sense of horror that Credence rarely got touched. All of Grindelwald’s followers saw him being beaten, and Grindelwald gripped his arms and throat when he used him for pleasure. But for much of the time, Credence sat around naked but untouched, a pretty plaything on show to the world. Humans needed contact, he was sure of that. He had suffered from the lack of it before Grindelwald had taken his place, maintaining a distance at his own cost. Credence was desperate for some kind of affection, and Graves could try to give him that, even as he despoiled the poor man.

Credence bobbed his head, moaning softly around Graves’ length, and Graves gently stroked his fingers through Credence’s hair. He felt guilt for the pleasure that was building in his stomach, but he couldn’t avoid the sensations. Credence was skilled at this, and no wonder. He tried not to think of that, to focus instead on how Credence looked, submissive with his lips stretched wide.
“Oh…” He moaned, trying not to make too many noises. “That feels good.” He closed his eyes, stroking one finger down behind Credence’s ear, making the man moan softly around his cock.

“You don’t need to treat him like a doll. He can take a lot more than that and not break.” Grindelwald instructed, and Graves followed his advice. He didn’t like it, but the alternative would be disobeying Grindelwald and getting killed for it. Credence swallowed, not gagging even as Graves’ cock hit the back of his throat. Graves felt a wave of nausea through the pleasure at how easily Credence seemed to take it. He was used to it. Grindelwald had taken everything from him, even his name. This was just another form of harm for him. Another humiliation for the dark wizard’s captive obscurial.

Credence let Graves use his mouth. Graves fucked into it, concentrating on the pleasure that he felt at that moment. If he didn’t think about where they were or what was happening, he would be able to do this. It felt incredible, Credence’s mouth hot and wet around him. Credence let him slam back into his throat, and he held Credence’s head still. He tangled his fingers through Credence’s hair, thrusting into his mouth.

Graves looked up from the boy, to meet Grindelwald’s eyes. Grindelwald nodded, and Credence’s tongue brushed over the vein at the bottom of Graves’ cock. Climax swept through him, and he held Credence’s head in place, gently massaging Credence’s throat until Credence swallowed it all down.
“Good…” Graves whispered, his voice shaking a little. “Thank you boy…”

Grindelwald chuckled.
“He’s good isn’t he?”
Graves nodded, anger boiling in his blood as pleasure receded. He had already done a lot for the dark wizard, but somehow this felt worse. This had been for pleasure, and he couldn’t deny that he had enjoyed it as evidence of his pleasure was still visible on credence’s lips.
“Of course…” Grindelwald continued after a moment. “It isn’t the first time he’s sucked your cock.”

“What?” Graves frowned, and Grindelwald chuckled.
“I first had him when I was borrowing your form, and he’s still eager for it. Sometimes he gets a special treat. Like now…” Grindelwald transformed his appearance in front of Graves, and Graves shuddered as his own eyes watched him coldly.
“Leave.” Grindelwald demanded, clicking his fingers. Credence pulled away from Graves, and crawled to his master, nuzzling at his crotch. Graves shuddered and walked away, going to shower. He needed to get clean. He could still feel his shame, standing under the hot water. He had used Credence, and he had enjoyed it. Just as Grindelwald had, and now Grindelwald was using the boy wearing his face.

That was a sickening thought, made worse by the idea that his form could be some kind of treat for Credence. That for some reason, Credence had associated him with a good experience, or at least less pain than Grindelwald normally bestowed upon him.

The real concern though was that to get Credence alone, he might have to do it again.

The opposite of the emotional miscommunication prompt

They have an intense and mutual emotional connection...but can't get on the same page physically despite being attracted to each other. Age difference?Both preferring the same role? Different *styles* of bottoming/topping that don't work together? One wants anal, the other doesn't?One has a serious fetish the other one just can't get on board with?

Serious...or funny a la Trainwreck

OP here, it was absolutely perfect! Thank you so much, your writing is wonderful!

Your prompt was great and I was hesitant to post the fic because didn't know if it would do justice to your prompt, so I'm really glad you liked it!

Very glad to present this chapter to everyone - writing action scenes takes me quite a while, but people seem to be enjoying them so I wanted to give them the time that they deserved!

INJURY WARNING: contains mild spoilers, but for those who aren't comfortable with certain types of blunt force trauma, please read and apply your own discretion. Essentially, during the duel one of the Scamander brothers gets hit in the throat, the other is hit very hard on the head with a brick.

****

The disarming spell which successfully relieves Newt of his wand hits him with enough force to knock him backwards off of his feet - Theseus has a habit of overpowering his spells and the result is akin to being kicked in the chest. Newt turns him momentum into an an awkward roll back onto his feet and promptly apparates out of the way of a stunner, taking temporary refuge behind a piece of rubble. The shelter will only last as long as it takes for Theseus to apparate around the obstacle himself, or cast a wide-range spell.

Newt is deeply regretting that he hadn’t had the chance to collect the Swooping Evil cocoon from Graves earlier. It would be exceedingly useful right about now.

As he expects, the crack of an apparation from behind him heralds the arrival of his brother with a clear line of sight towards him. The gleeful expression on his brother’s face has Newt diving in the opposite direction, barely avoiding the object Theseus conjured to drop on him.

For an instant, the only thing that can be heard is the tortured shriek as a grand piano smashes where Newt was standing scant seconds earlier. The noise is impressive enough that Theseus temporarily halts his spell casting to look at the wreck of what had previously been a functioning musical instrument.

Newt stares in disbelief because honestly Theseus -

‘Did you just try to drop a piano on me?’

Theseus actually looks somewhat perturbed. ‘Not on purpose.’ He glances down at the wand in hand. ‘I’m not sure what went wrong there.’

‘Theseus, conjuring a grand piano is a fairly significant thing to go wrong.’

‘Well, I meant to conjure a wire-mesh enforced box, and I suppose a piano does have all the same components…’

Newt doesn’t buy it, but he’s got other things to worry about at present, as Theseus takes that moment to restart the duel.

His sibling violently flings his wand arm out in the general motion required for a blasting hex and Newt takes full advantage of the oversized movement. Newt apparates to the outside of Theseus arm and launches a kick at the extended limb. The impact shocks the muscles in Theseus’ arm; his grip loosens and his wand flies out of hand. It skitters away and gets lost somewhere amongst the carcass of the grand piano and the rubble torn up out of the floor during the duel. Newt moves back out of immediate striking range.

Theseus grips his injured arm just below the elbow, flexing the fingers carefully, his body angled to keep the limb slightly away from Newt. Seeming to decide that the injury is minor, Theseus relaxes his grip on his limb and eyes Newt warily.

Newt waits. He knows that his brother, closing the distance between them in a short burst of apparation and swinging a fist towards Newt’s stomach. Newt blocks and counters, which misses its target as Theseus jerks his head sideways. Newt follows his first strike with second that makes contact just below Theseus’ ribcage - but Theseus had already begun to move backwards and the impact from the strike is less than Newt would like. Newt ducks the returning hook punch and aims a low kick at Theseus’ leg, who yelps as Newt’s boot connects with the outside of his left knee.

Theseus disapparates out of range, reappearing half hidden behind a pile of broken floorboards and bricks. Newt follows his apparation, sliding low and attempting to swipe his brother’s legs out from underneath him. Theseus jumps over Newt, who rolls back upright and whirls around to disapparate out of the way of a kick aimed at his ribs.

Newt reappears behind his brother and catches Theseus around his waist, apparates both of them slightly into the air and twists Theseus towards the ground. Newt can’t see his brother’s face, but he’s not imagining the panicked spike of Theseus’ magic as he hastily cast wandless cushioning charm. It's likely the only thing that stops Theseus from breaking part of his spine when they impact the floor.

Newt attempts to pin his brother down, but in addition to being older than him, Theseus also has the advantage of bulk. Theseus gets a knee between them and pushes Newt off. Newt rolls away, takes a glancing blow to his ribs before finding his feet. He just about brings his hands up into a guard position to stop a series of mid level punches as his brother falls back on his boxing training. The impacts send him reeling. For a split second his guard slips. His brother takes full advantage, driving a punch into Newt’s throat.

Newt staggers backwards, tries to take a breath in - fails and chokes. He makes a short apparation jump backwards to try to keep out of Theseus’ immediate attack range. Spots dance in front of his eyes when he lands and he half falls into an inconveniently positioned pile of rubble. Newt gasps, succeeds in drawing in a small amount of air. There’s a faint flicker of movement at the corner of his sightline and Newt moves on instinct.

Newt lunges upwards with a looping left hand strike towards his brother’s head. Theseus moves his head backwards - but the first move is a feint, and Theseus’ head isn’t far enough away to avoid the second. The brick in Newt’s right hand, picked up from amongst the heap of debris moments earlier, gives Newt the extra few centimetres of reach he needs. The brick makes an awful cracking noise as it hits Thesues’ temple and Theseus drops like a stone.

Newt eyes the sprawled form of his brother with trepidation - it would not be the first time that his brother has feigned unconsciousness on him, but the way that he fell would suggest otherwise. Cautiously he pokes his brother with the toe of his boot. No response. Newt glances down at the brick in his right hand, notices the faint reddish splatters of blood coating the edge and drops it on reflex. Newt drops into a crouch and places a hand on his brother’s chest. Relief flood his veins when he feels the steady up and down movement of Theseus’ diagram, leaving him light headed.

Newt sits down heavily, lifting a hand to his throat and rubbing small circles in the muscles. He still doesn’t quite feel like he’s getting enough air, but after half a dozen controlled, calm breath, he can feel his heart rate start to lower. Newt waves a hand idly and summon his and his brother’s wand. Next to him, Theseus lets out a low groan and his eyelids flutter slightly.

Newt peers at his sibling’s face.

‘Theseus?’ he asks - or rather, tries to. What actually comes out is nothing more than a faint rasping noise, accompanied by a sharp pain in his throat. Newt grimaces and stops trying to talk.

Instead, he settles for gently placing a hand on Theseus’ head. The weight is enough to register somewhere in his brother's subconscious, Theseus, who stirs and opens his eyes. Newt waits to remove his hand from his brother's forehead until his brother succeeds on focusing his gaze on Newt's face. After a moment's pause, Theseus sits up cautiously, bringing a hand to his head. His fingers come back slightly red stained and he squints at Newt through what is probably the start of a killer headache.

‘A brick, Newt? Really?’

Newt shrugs and gestures towards his throat. Even without words, his brother gets his meaning.

‘Ah. Voice box impaired, then. Fair enough retaliation.’ Theseus pauses and Newt can see the cogs work. ‘That would explain why you’re not insisting on running the diagnostic spells yourself. Little tricky to do wordlessly.’

Newt nods. Pauses, then twirls a finger at Theseus’ head for emphasis.

Theseus looks offended. ‘My head is screwed on perfectly fine, thank you very much.'

Newt waves a half-hearted apology, then offers Theseus' wand back to him, hilt first. Theseus accepts it and slips it back into its holster. Newt gets his feet underneath him and carefully stands upright. His balance seems reasonable, so he offers a hand to his brother, who accepts it gratefully. Theseus sways slightly once back on his feet, but steadies himself on Newt’s shoulder. Newt pats the hand resting on his shoulder and switches his to his right hand.

‘You’re sure?’ Theseus asks. ‘I’d help clear it up, but with my headache I’m not entirely sure I wouldn’t make it worse.’

Newt nods firmly. The amount of practice he’s had repairing structural damage means that performing the repairs wandlessly is no hardship.

First up, however, is a spell to dematerialise the wreck of the grand piano. Following that, Newt moves his wand in a slow, sweeping arc, willing the brickwork, plaster and floorboards back into the correct positions. Building materials whirl through the air as if caught in a tornado, slotting back into the floor. The last board settles into place with a faint click, and Newt ends the spell.

Theseus squeezes his shoulder, murmuring ‘Nice job.’

Newt flicks a brief smile at him, then gestures in the direction of the arched doorway which leads out of the arena.

Theseus sighs. ‘Suppose you’re right.’

The two of them begin to make their slightly wobbly way out towards the exit, Theseus keeping up the verbal end of a slightly one-sided conversation. Newt keeps half an eye on his brother as they go - head wounds always did have the tendency to make Theseus talk more than usual. The Scamander brothers reach the doorway and pause briefly.

Newts gaze slides across to meet his brother's eyes. They exchange wry smiles.

'Ready to be accosted by MACUSA's medical staff?' Theseus asks.

Newt huffs a silent laugh, then reaches across and gives his brother a gentle shove through the door frame, before stepping through himself.

Grindelwald enjoys watching Graves shit, and what's more-- he hates the stench of days-old defecation. So whenever he leaves Graves, he hexes him so Graves can't relieve himself.

Normally Grindelwald is only gone for 1-3 days, so it's not the most terrible thing for Graves. However, this time Grindelwald is gone for two weeks and Graves is miserable.

I'd like to see Graves so bloated he can barely hold it in to make it to the bucket once Grindelwald releases the curse, and he's so relieved he barely even cares when Grindelwald makes him hold his cheeks wide apart so Grindelwald can have a better look at all the shit coming out of him.

Credence enjoyed dinner with his husband, even if he hadn’t been the one to prepare it. He could feel the lingering effect of his husband’s magic over him, a warmth that covered his skin, never trapping but securing him, keeping him safe. It was almost an embrace.
“You could have told me about Mister Grindelwald.” He said softly, not wanting to challenge his husband but concerned that he hadn’t mentioned it. He frowned as he saw pain flash across Mister Graves’ face.
“I should have done.” Mister Graves agreed. “But you should have told me about the glasses.”

Credence ducked his head and nodded.
“I should have.” He agreed. It had been a mistake. He had risked losing Mister Graves, and Mister Graves could have fixed it with a mere wave of his wand. Mister Graves rested a hand on Credence’s shoulder, guiding him to look up at him.
“Hey. Credence, it’s okay.” A thumb brushed his cheek, and he leaned into the contact. “I didn’t want to frighten you if you knew it wasn’t me.”
“You’re a good man.” Credence said, and he knew that to be true. His husband was kind. That hadn’t been why Ma had handed him over, but it was the truth, and one that he was grateful for.

“I am not. But I try to be. I don’t want you to ever do what you did this afternoon, do you understand? You could have been hurt.”
“I won’t.” Credence said softly, and let Mister Graves embrace him. “Could I ask you for something sir?”
“You can ask, but I can’t promise I’ll give.”
“Mister Gra-“ Credence caught himself and tried again. “Mister Grindelwald gave me a list of what he wanted. He wanted me to wake him up using my mouth, to cook for him every night, to agree to whatever he wanted… there were some other things. A lot of them. He had told Ma he would hurt me a lot, beat me and…” Credence shivered, feeling Mister Graves tighten his arm around him in response. That gesture calmed him. “I don’t know what you want.”
“I want you Credence.” His husband said, his voice gentle, as though what he was saying was simple. Credence bowed his head, and Mister Graves leaned in closer. “Don’t give up Credence. I’m not going to send you away.”
“Thank you.” Credence whispered, his voice dropping to match Percival’s, whispering to him as they leaned against each other.

Mister Graves huffed softly and pulled away.
“I guess you’ll be staying.” He murmured, then turned to the chair. Credence watched in wonder as it lengthened, changing into a bed.
“For you, for now at least.” His husband told him, and Credence obediently climbed in. The bed was soft and warm, and Mister Graves placed a blanket over him tenderly. He closed his eyes to sleep.

***

Percival slipped into his own room and warded the door closed. This evening had gone better than he could have expected. The thought of writing out his own list of things he wanted made his insides twist, brought back too many memories of Grindelwald, but it was clear that was what the boy needed. It was only logical that Credence wanted to know what to expect. Life without such a list must have been frightening. He still wished he didn’t have to give it.

He set a spell to wake him in the morning, knowing that they had clothes to buy. Taking Credence into MACUSA’s heart would expose him to the wizarding world which should have been his birthright. But it would also be a public acceptance of Credence as a partner, if not a husband. For now, he could send Credence away, and despite the agony it would cause the boy no one would know. Taking him into MACUSA’s offices would declare his relationship to the world. It would make it harder for him to be rid of Credence in the future.

He worked for a short while, before closing his eyes and trying to sleep. His nights were haunted by memories of Grindelwald, and the ever-present question of what, exactly, his intentions were towards Credence. Grindelwald had chosen the younger man, and why Percival did not know. If he understood that, it seemed possible that he would work out his own relationship to him. He didn’t want to be like Grindelwald, to take from a frightened man who had already lost so much.

As sleep claimed him it was full of memories of Percival’s time in prison. He remembered the agony of being chained, of being tortured, and knowing that no one could hear you scream. He remembered Grindelwald’s smirk as he had talked about using Percival’s own face to find No Majs, torturing them until their hearts gave out. Lying about which aurors were alive and which he had killed. Percival could picture Grindelwald standing in front of him, glaring at him and then laughing. ‘You really think you are so different from me?’ the image asked, and Graves shuddered. Then, in the dream, the pain started. He could remember the agony of the cruciatus curse with the same vividness he had felt at the time.

In the dream, he was screaming, lost in pain. He screamed in reality as well, waking only at a knock on the door followed by a sound of pain.

***

Credence could hear someone screaming, recognised the voice of his husband. He got to his feet and hurried to his husband’s room.

He slammed his hand into the wood, and yelped as his hands were burned by the contact. He glanced at them, and found that they were unmarked – the momentary flash of pain had done no damage. He repeated the action, trying to hold in the yelp this time. He couldn’t leave his husband alone if he needed him, even if that meant that he would have to be injured to achieve his goal. He shoved at the door again.
“Mister Graves?” He tried to picture Mister Graves in his mind, in case it would help him to get in. The door opened, and his husband picked him up, examining his hands carefully.
“Are you alright?” Credence asked softly. “I heard screaming.”
“I’m fine.” Mister Graves promised. “Just nightmares. Are you alright?”

Credence nodded, then paused and followed his husband into the bedroom.
“I slept all day yesterday, and I can rest while you’re at work. I will keep watch.” Credence said, his voice soft but determined.
For a moment Graves opened his mouth to protest, but he breathed out slowly. He nodded, allowing himself to lie down on the bed for a little longer. Credence sat beside him, reaching out to stroke Graves’ hair. He relaxed as Graves nuzzled into the touch.

ah this is wonderful. Theseus. A PIANO. How do you accidentally conjure a piano. I love your style with fighting scenes :)

All of the creatures were here. Newt picked up the Niffler as it scurried towards his feet, smiling sadly as it attempted to tug the cuff from his wrist. He patted the small bundle of fur, then looked around, smiling at Dougal as the demiguise crept towards him, holding out food.
“Hey boy…” Newt greeted him, taking the offered apple with a murmur of thanks. He embraced Dougal, and allowed the demiguise to climb up onto his back.

“Hello honey…” A soft voice greeted him, and he looked up to find himself faced with Queenie. She was crouching down, a handful of occamy in her arms. They clicked when they saw him, and he approached them to pet their shiny scales. As he did so, she waved her wand, another ribbon wrapping around the shackle on Newt’s wrist, hiding it from view. “How are you feeling?”
“Better than I have been.” Newt answered carefully, glancing down and realising he was currently naked other than Graves’ dressing gown. He tightened the belt around it, squirming a little where he stood and flashing her a grateful smile for the ribbon. “Sorry. Thank you for… for getting my brother.”
“I’m sorry he didn’t get there earlier.” Queenie said softly, and then Newt heard footsteps approach. He spun, and Dougal jerked his shoulder, making him drop the niffler just before Tina impacted into his arms, cuddling him close.

“Newt…” She murmured, and he returned the embrace.
“I’m sorry.” Tina murmured. “We couldn’t find you. So we … we thought your brother might manage-“
“He did.” Newt answered. “He did. And you were right, the real Percival isn’t… he wasn’t like that. He’s been a gentleman really…” He squirmed and looked around, then beamed as Jacob ran forwards, an empty bucket hanging at his side.
“Just been feeding the mooncalves.” Jacob explained, flashing Newt a brilliant smile. “They are lovely little guys. Seem even happier than normal today. Think they know their mommy is home.”

Newt felt his face colouring slightly at that compliment, but he nodded.
“Thank you all for taking such remarkable care of my creatures. Knowing they were with you, that they would be safe… it made life a lot easier.”
“It was all Jacob.” Queenie said softly, and the muggle man smiled at them both. Jacob shrugged a little.
“I’d seen you look after them, and your notes were good.”
“Thank you.” Newt paused, then held out his hand to shake Jacob’s own. “I know that… it can’t have been easy.”
“Looking after them’s been fun.” Jacob answered. “I liked it. We all did…”
“Thank you.” Newt murmured. “I want … I would like some time just with my creatures, if that’s alright?”

“Of course sweetie.” Queenie said quickly, placing a hand on Tina’s shoulder. “We’ll call you when dinner is ready.”

Newt watched the others leave, and headed to the cabin, finding the packet of suppressants. Logically, he knew he had no need to take them at this moment. He had just come off of a heat. He would have time before another struck. Nonetheless he swallowed one of the tablets. It helped him to feel calmer, to know that he had his body back under his own control. Then he got to work.

The others had done a surprisingly good job of taking care of his creatures, given the limited information available and their lack of experience. But there were still small things he had to put right, and each of the creatures seemed to want to welcome him. He fed Marmite carefully, running his fingers over her glowing arms, and then spent some time trying to persuade the fwooper to sit still. He renewed the silencing spell, glad that his last one hadn’t completely worn off.

Slowly, he made his way around the entire case, taking a moment to feed each of them and praising them, letting them smell him, proving to them all that he was home. That he was back in one place, and he was safe. He closed his eyes, curling up in the middle of the mooncalf field, letting the other creatures cuddle up against him. It felt safer than he had been for a long time, here with his creatures. The bracelet was still around his wrist, but he was back where he belonged.

***

Percival smiled slightly at the others as they stepped from the case, and Tina nodded.
“He’s looking better already.” She reassured him. “It’s good to have you back sir.”
“You mentioned seeing a healer.” Theseus reminded him, and Percival shook his head.
“Tomorrow. I can’t just abandon him without even saying goodbye.”

“Alright.” Theseus conceded and Percival relaxed a little. It seemed that he was slowly managing to accept what had happened. Given how protective Theseus had always been, Percival was just grateful he hadn’t lost any vital organs.

Percival went to shower, and Auror Goldstein left to go to the MACUSA offices, to contribute what she could to Theseus’s report. Queenie and her No Maj both headed into the kitchen, muttering something about lunch. Percival wasn’t sure how he felt about what was happening. Legally, the No Maj should be obliviated, but it was clear that he meant a lot to Newt and he had played a role in his rescue.

Percival had never really questioned these laws before, but at this moment he did. It would hurt his omega, hurt Newt, to lose the No Maj. He didn’t want Newt to be hurt, so he would find an alternative.

His dressing gown wasn’t waiting where it normally was as he stepped from the shower, because it was still wrapped around Newt. He dried himself on a towel, and then summoned some of his clothing from the next room, dressing in black pants and a white shirt. He wasn’t bothering to dress up particularly well – partially because he didn’t know what Grindelwald had worn while he was here, but also because he would have to go to a healer soon. Which would require him to be checked over. Trying to hide his injuries would only make the healer’s life harder.

He stepped out of the bathroom, inhaling the smell of fresh bread. He realised how hungry he was – taking care of Newt through his heat had been exhausting for both of them. He stretched his hands out above his head, enjoying the freedom of his movement after so long being chained.

The smile on his face faltered when he saw Theseus’s expression. The British auror leaned forwards on a seat, his head held in his hands, shaking slightly. An owl was perched beside him, pecking at his hand, but Theseus was ignoring it. He looked devastated. Percival hadn’t seen him look so broken since the war.
“Theece?” Percival asked softly, approaching. “What… what’s wrong?”

Theseus held out a piece of paper, his hands trembling. Percival reluctantly reached for it, recognising the Ministry’s seal on the top. He opened it up.
Chief Auror Scamander,
We reluctantly inform you that following recent events, we have decided to rescind your guardianship over Newton Artemis Fido Scamander. It has become clear that you are incapable of providing this omega with a history of disobedience the firm handling and care that he requires.

Escort Newton Artemis Fido Scamander to the Ministry within the next week, where he can be placed into a care programme before being assigned an appropriate alpha.

Please send back confirmation of your intention to comply.

Yours sincerely,
Minister Hector Fawley (O.M. Second Class, X.J. (Sorc), S. of Mag.Q. C.W.)

“Fuck.” Percival cursed with feeling. The owl continued to hop from foot to foot, glancing up at Percival as though he would be able to provide it with the expected response. “What gives them the right?”
“They can do this.” Theseus mattered. “If they think an omega isn’t well looked after, it’s within their rights…” He sighed and shook his head. “Hector’s just angry about the impact on his name. But... how do I tell Newt? He’s terrified of going into care.” Theseus rocked slightly. “The alphas that the Ministry licence, they’re all … They’re old. And they’re traditional. Newt wouldn’t… They won’t let him travel. And they believe that suppressants are… unkind to omegas. That it stops their natural behaviour… Newt’s going to run if he hears this. And it’ll be my job to bring him back.”

Percival rested his hand on Theseus’s shoulder.
“Don’t punch me.”
“Don’t give me a reason to and I won’t…” Theseus replied, protective as always.
“What about me? We can talk to Newt. Explain it to him. But I … I’m sure that whatever they want to prove that someone is an appropriate alpha, I can do that. And we have a bond…”

Theseus looked up at him, eyes angry. He was trying to decide, trying to balance his different feelings – his fear of what others would do to Newt warring with his fear of what Percival would do to him. Eventually, he nodded.
“You can ask.”
“Thank you.” Percival said softly. “I’ll talk to him.” He started to head towards the case, but Theseus shook his head.
“He’ll come out for food. Let him just have a little time. He’s been through a lot. Let him be happy for a little while.”

Percival nodded, and went to see if he could be of any use within the kitchen.

***

Newt reluctantly emerged from the case when Queenie’s voice reached down to him, letting him know that food was ready. He smiled at her softly, feeling so much better than he had since he had first arrived in America to be snatched by Tina. He safe, his brother was here, and he had his creatures back with him.

He headed in to the dining room, sitting beside his brother, Graves and Tina opposite them. Queenie and Jacob were sat facing each other, smiling sweetly, and Newt found himself smiling at them both. It was good that at least some people could be happy together.

“Newt?” Theseus murmured softly, and his expression was serious. “We need… we need to talk about something.”
“Did I do something wrong?” Newt asked. His brother normally only looked like this when he had made some kind of mistake. Theseus smiled and shook his head. “Not you Newt. Me…”

Graves reached out towards him, then paused and moved away. Newt could feel that Graves was worried, but couldn’t understand why. A hint of anger bubbled at the back of his mind, but that wasn’t from Graves. He didn’t think about that too much, instead focussing on what Theseus was telling him.
“My guardianship was revoked.” He explained, and Newt tensed, already working out what was going to be said. He was going to be taken away from his family, from his creatures, from his life. He would be made to mate someone the ministry thought was suitable. Or worse, he would be sent back to the hospital, to be broken down and made into the perfect omega. Open and pliable in mind, body and spirit. He wouldn’t survive being put through that again.

The room seemed to be spinning, and Queenie reached out towards him, fighting tears. Newt was sure he was broadcasting his terror, but he couldn’t shut it down.

Graves walked around the table, and took Newt’s hand in his own. Newt whimpered slightly, flinching, but Graves held on.
“Newt, look at me…”
Newt looked up, trying to blink back tears.
“If you want, I can apply to be your alpha. We have a bond, and I have a respectable job. I won’t hurt you. I’ll let you continue travelling. I won’t be a guardian, officially I will be your mate, but… I won’t make you do anything you don’t want. I know this isn’t an ideal situation, but…”

Newt squeezed Graves hand, looking into his eyes. He was terrified. But even feeling that he was drowning, he could tell that Graves was trying to help him. Voice little more than a whisper, Newt answered him.
“I’ll do it.”

(And at 30,000 words, author anon finally hit the prompt!)

Percival is definitely trying here - he wants Newt, but he knows it would be a horrific abuse of trust to take him. And Theseus is trying to trust him (but definitely on Newt's side)
Newt missed his creatures so much... poor boy. And seeing Grindelwald again definitely wouldn't be pretty

hello, I've finally arrived, almost a month later :)

--

Percival had been content to sit at the bar and people watch the entire night, as far as he was concerned. His stony expression kept most potential suitors away, and those who were brave enough to approach him were often glared at until they left him alone with their tail between their legs. He’d come there to drink, found that that had lost all appeal the second the glass had been set in front of him, and was now babysitting the lukewarm beverage and making up stories for the strangers surrounding him. That redhead in the corner was gossiping to the blonde about how her boyfriend was cheating on her with the woman next door, a crotchety old hag who probably wanted him in a stew. The trio dancing in the center were in a poly relationship, but the girl didn’t know how to tell the boys she was pregnant just yet. The black man coming back from the restroom was – locking eyes with him. Percival, to avoid looking suspicious, kept himself from immediately looking away, and instead raised his half-full glass a bit in silent greeting before turning back to the crowd and taking a sip. The portly man at the end of the bar had a husband at home he was avoiding because he’d gambled away all their money, as evidenced by the one too many empty glasses in front of him in regret. The brunet on the dance floor –

“Hello,” an accented voice said, clear and sober and directed at him, and Percival hid his flinch at the unexpected presence rather well, all things considered. He’d gotten more jumpy, after The Incident, and not being able to hear someone come up to you when the entire area was loud with music and conversation was disconcerting. “Would you mind if I took this seat, Mister…?”

Percival turned to the uninvited stranger with a furrowed brow and a cutting remark on his tongue, but the man continued with, “Or I could stand, if that would make you more comfortable.”

And that made Percival pause.

He got a good look at him – the same man who he’d made eye contact with when he’d been leaving the restroom. Dark skin, equally dark eyes, taller than him, hair greying at the temples, and dressed to the nines in a well-pressed shirt, a well-pressed vest, and well-pressed trousers, all with a comfortable, welcoming smile on his face that Percival narrowed his eyes at.

When he didn’t say anything further, the man calmly put his hands in his pockets, taking the incentive to further their conversation. Or, rather, his conversation. “You don’t seem to be in the mood for much in the ways of romance.”

Percival snorted humorlessly and turned away, back to the bar, setting his glass down. The alcohol had done nothing but make his stomach feel heavy.

“You also don’t seem to be really enjoying yourself.”

Percival shot him a look out of the corner of his eye, but didn’t confirm nor deny the accusation. The man cocked his head. “Would a guilt-free one night stand help?”

Percival…

Actually considered it.

Compared to the four other people who’d come up to him during the course of the evening, this man was definitely an outlier. Not drunk, for one. Respected his personal space, for two. Wasn’t a crass piece of shit, for three. Was also quite handsome and smelt quite nice. And Percival hadn’t had sex in quite some time, and the night would be worthless if he went home more stressed than he’d been when he’d left…

Fuck it.

“Alright,” Percival agreed, standing and digging around in his pocket to find the right coins for the bartender. He was able to see his pleasantly surprised smile out of his peripheral, and the way he seemed to straighten up a bit as his resolve strengthened.

The rooms upstairs were almost purely used for sex. Affairs, one night stands, losses of virginity – almost anything and everything took place above that bar. (He had a moment, as they were walking up the stairs, to wonder how it would look, if someone told the press that MACUSA’s Director of Magical Security was seen having a night of debauchery in such an establishment, then immediately ignored it, because his reputation was the last thing he gave a shit about anymore.) It wasn’t hard to find an empty room, and by then, Percival’s skin was buzzing with renewed energy. He wasn’t lustful, not really, and not really looking for a fight either, but he was getting worked up at the prospect of what was in store, and pinned the man to the door once he’d shut, locked, and placed a Muffliato over it, and turned back around. The man huffed as the breath in his lungs escaped him when his back hit the door, a bit stunned, but quickly got with the program when Percival started unbuttoning his vest, almost urgent. He let it slide down his arms to the floor, and Percival started on his shirt, trying not to just rip it open.

“What’s your name?”

Percival didn’t pause in his mission, but did glance up at the man’s face with a slightly furrowed brow, wondering why it mattered if they were never going to see each other again, then deciding it would be pretty strange to have no name to shout out when they fucked. “Percival,” he grunted, getting back to work two-fold and scowling at his hands for fumbling and the garment for not cooperating.

“Percival…” he heard the man mutter, as if to himself, and then, “Reggie”, louder, for Percival’s benefit.

And then the lapels of his vest were being grabbed and he was being spun around and shoved into the door instead. His breath left him in a confused rush as his back hit the wood, and he blinked, surprised and a bit disoriented by the change of position. Now the man – Reggie, he’d said – was undoing his buttons and pushing his vest off his shoulders to pool at his feet, utterly focused on his task until he leaned forward and –

Percival let out a choked sound when teeth connected with the side of his neck and bit. His hands grabbed onto the half-unbuttoned shirt in front of him, pulling at it, pulling Reggie closer and pulling the shirt open, no longer caring about buttons flying every which way, only caring about touching skin to skin now that contact had been initiated and merlin, was this man trying to mark him up?

Suddenly, Percival found he didn’t care if he was.

His shirt was rucked up from where it’d been tucked into his trousers, and Reggie’s hands were on his chest underneath the cloth, spreading fingers over his stomach, raking nails down his skin, and Percival would be embarrassed of the sounds he was making if it hadn’t been the first time he’d been touched like that in who knows how long. Before he could get his own hands on bare skin, Reggie’s were sliding, moving down and around and cupping his ass and –

Percival let out a really dignified yelp when he was suddenly lifted off the ground, instinctively wrapping his limbs around Reggie to keep from being dropped – though, Reggie didn’t even look like he was struggling with his weight, and that made a hot flush come over him in the course of about two seconds. Merlin. He resettled his arms and legs more comfortably when that realization hit, pressed into the door, chest to chest (although, not bare skin to bare skin, dammit–), ankles locked around the man currently grinding the bulge in his pants just below Percival’s, good lord –

Reggie squeezed his ass once, then raised his head when Percival shuddered. His pupils were so blown he couldn’t see his irises. “Bed.”

And then they were moving.

Percival arched and clung tighter to him as he was carried, and refused to let go when he was laid down on the mattress – followed by Reggie – who took it in stride and leant back down to kiss under his chin, to drag his lips down his throat, all making Percival twist his hands in the shirt still hanging from his shoulders.

“Need you out of these clothes,” was murmured into his skin, and then the buttons of his shirt were being undone, the fabric opening under Reggie’s hands, and Percival’s grip faltered as his mouth followed the flesh being exposed, hot and almost branding. His head thunked back onto the bed, and he tugged at Reggie’s own shirt pointedly, almost pulling it up over the man’s head, much to his amusement. He’d stifled his laughter into Percival’s stomach, made it twitch and flutter and made him gasp, before reaching up and peeling his fingers from the cloth to pin them to the sheets on either side of his head. Percival swallowed around his dry throat at the move, arching slightly at the hot jolt that shot down his spine, and Reggie caught his eye, licking his bottom lip. Merlin. “Keep them there, Percival,” he said, voice rough, and Percival shuddered with the feeling that sent to his cock.

When Reggie let go, and knelt tall over him, he kept his hands right where he’d put them, clenched tightly in the sheets.

Reggie quickly shrugged out of his open shirt and tossed it aside, followed quickly (if a bit clumsily) by the rest of his clothing. Percival let out a choked moan at the sight of the man’s cock, hard and leaking and, god, perfect, and the other man just smirked at the sound and moved on to him. His belt was quickly loosened and thrown away, his trousers quickly unfastened and pulled down his legs, until all he was left in was his splayed open shirt, which Reggie didn’t touch.

He settled back between his legs, and Percival hooked them back around him, pulling him closer, hands shaking with the effort of keeping them in place, especially when his cock made sweet, sweet contact with the other’s stomach and he finally got some friction. It didn’t last for long, unfortunately; Reggie chuckled at his eagerness and propped himself up on his hands and knees to lean over and taste the sweat on his collarbone. Percival couldn’t find it in him to be embarrassed about the dismayed noise that came out of his throat when he lost that tiny moment of contact. “May I kiss you, Percival?”

Of course. Absolutely. Forever. “Yes,” he croaked, and was rewarded with what could only be described as the filthiest kiss he’d ever had. It was a lot of heat, a fair amount of saliva, and the occasional bite to his lips that made him buck into nothing and groan. The sheets in his hands must be protesting by now. “D-uhn.”

He felt the smile on Reggie’s lips against his own when they pulled apart to breathe, and he squirmed. “Now, now, Percival, patience is a virtue, you know.”

To fuck with patience. But Percival didn’t say that, because Reggie bent his knees and rolled his hips and Percival threw his head back at the delicious, delicious friction of the man rubbing his cock against his own. “D-ahh–”

“How good does it feel, Percival?” Reggie asked, breathless, rolling his hips again, and Percival let out a high-pitched noise he’d never heard come out of his mouth before, wondering how the other man could be this coherent when Percival was a right goddamn mess. “I want you to tell me.”

“So – so good, da-ah!” And that was Reggie, slithering a hand around to get between his thighs, bypassing his cock completely to brush, almost gently, over the patch of skin between his balls and christ because that was not a gentle brush anymore, that was him pressing two fingers into it like it was a goddamned button to make Percival jump and gasp and scream through clenched teeth. The electric shock that went straight to his dick was addicting.

“What was that?” Reggie asked, playing clueless and continuing to stroke on that sensitive skin, occasionally dipping further behind to circle his hole, and Percival was a shivering heap clinging to the sheets out of desperation.

“So good, so good, don’t stop, don’t–”

“I’m not planning on it,” he was told, before the fingers retreated, and Percival had a moment to whine because you fucking liar, except Reggie rolled his hips again, and Percival’s eyes squeezed shut from the renewed stimulation, and the fingers were back as soon as they’d left, now thoroughly wet and surprisingly warm.

Reggie took his sweet time opening him up, the fucking tease, because he could damn well hear the noises Percival was making and feel the way he was moving to try to get him to hurry the fuck up. He was kissing down his chest, tonguing at his nipples, nibbling on his hips, nuzzling his navel, and Percival wanted to kick him with the legs still wrapped around him but his body was too busy shivering to really listen to him all that well. One finger, than two – he went slowly enough and with enough lubrication that there was hardly any burn from the third, and he had a moment to be relieved and scandalized that the man hadn’t even come close to touching his prostate, in all that time. What was he good for, if he was fingering him this long purely for preparation?

Except the second he’d thought that, Reggie’s thumb pressed on that little patch of skin again, and Percival jolted and muffled his squeak behind his teeth. (Much to Reggie’s amusement, if the way he hid his laughter in Percival’s pelvic bone was anything to go on, which he thinks it is.)

“Patience, Percival,” was said again, and Percival huffed out a humorless laugh.

“Patience my ass,” he hissed, rocking back and forward again when Reggie twisted his fingers and spread them, just barely grazing his prostate as he did.

“Language,” was his simple explanation, and Percival was tempted to flip him off, but the way his hands were still white-knuckled in the sheets prevented that. He was grateful for having something solid to wrap his fingers around, then, what with Reggie’s hair being too short and skin being too damp with sweat to get a good grip on. He settled for scowling at the ceiling, which went unnoticed, since the other man was still focused on marking up his hips, leaving reddening flesh in his wake.

Didn’t stop him from letting out a frustrated groan when the man’s fingers left him, prompting another chuckle. He was back as soon as he’d left, propped on one elbow and using his other hand to guide his cock, and was able to start a single forward thrust when it was in place, not stopping, going slowly enough that any discomfort on Percival’s end settled to a dull burn as he moved. They were both almost stock still aside from Reggie’s hips, Percival from the effort of not shaking out of his skin because yes, fucking finally, fucking finally, and Reggie from, Percival figured, the fact that his patience only extended so far, and pushing his cock into someone took up most of it. He was still staring at the ceiling, and Reggie’s forehead was on his sternum, moving with his heavy breaths, and when he bottomed out Percival groaned, eyes slipping shut.

“Good?” was said into his chest, breathless, and Percival rolled his hips in an affirmative, but only really made Reggie grunt and jerk forward, which, while he didn’t get any deeper, made him whimper just the same. He hadn’t been fucked in merlin knows how long – over a decade, at least – and this was not how he’d been expecting this exchange to go. He guessed he’d gotten so used to being the dominant party when he had sex that he’d forgotten how it felt to be full like this. It was addicting, how the hell had he managed to abstain for so long–?

And then Reggie was pulling back – not far, but enough for Percival to grit to his teeth – and thrusting back in, and pulling back – farther, enough for Percival to almost be worried – and thrusting back in, and then there was a rhythm, gradually growing in speed but staying just as intense, and Percival was biting his lip hard enough to bleed. Reggie raised his head from where it had been on his chest and lifted the hand not holding him up to settle on the side of Percival’s neck, just resting there, palm on his pulse point, and Percival rolled his head into it, cracking his eyes open to peer at him. He looked fairly debauched, and if he looked like that lord knows how he looked.

“I want to hear you,” Reggie said, hoarse, his thrusts not faltering in the face of this new conversation, which, alright.

Percival’s teeth let go of his lip to groan, closing his eyes again and bucking into the next thrust, and Reggie’s thumb came up to rub his jaw. “I want to hear you, Percival.”

“D-Da-ahh…” was what came out, instinctively, and he had a moment to wonder, questioningly, what that was, before Reggie’s next thrust came in a bit more forceful than the rest and he sucked in a breath.

“Louder,” he was told, the hand on his neck so hot and so gentle compared to what was happening below the waist, and Percival swallowed around his dry throat.

“D-d…” he stuttered, wondering what was trying to come out, and, when Reggie pulled back to the near-tip and slammed back in, shoving him up the bed a few inches, Percival’s eyes flew open, and he gasped, “Daddy!”

And Reggie moaned, low and almost guttural, like it was pulled from him, and suddenly he was moving much faster, much harder, leaning down and almost bending Percival in half to kiss him, mostly just lips and teeth and god, god–

“Again,” was breathed against his lips, and Percival’s hands shook.

“Daddy…” It was drawn-out, this time, when Reggie’s hand moved from his neck down his chest, pausing to twist his nipples and make him jump and gasp, before continuing down to his cock, caught between their stomachs and leaking like that was its job. Percival was shaking, and the touch on his cock was almost too much. He squeezed his eyes shut when they started to burn.

“Again,” Reggie repeated, just as hotly, this time against his cheek when his lips moved to drag his teeth down to his jaw and neck, biting as he went, feeling like a brand on his skin.

“Daddy,” Percival whimpered, wanting so desperately to grab onto him with his hands, to feel his shoulders as he took him apart, to touch his face and bring him back up to kiss him. “Daddy, I need–”

“I know, darling,” he said, pausing from where he was sucking on his shoulder to speak. Percival shivered at the pet name. “I know what you need.” His hand twisted just-so, and Percival couldn’t muffle his scream. “Say it again, Percival, say it–”

“Daddy,” Percival whined, and let out a surprised, high-pitched wail when his next thrust was accompanied by an almost purposeful drag on his prostate, and his nerves went hot all over, and his stomach clenched, and Reggie pressed his thumb just under the head of his cock, right on that vein, and stars were bursting behind his eyelids, when had he squeezed his eyes shut, and he was throwing his head back and arching and –

He came back to himself when his fingers were being gingerly uncurled from the sheets, sore and slightly numb from being clenched so tightly for so long, and having feeling rubbed back into them by two bigger, softer hands. He hummed, feeling pleasantly sore all over, and kept his eyes closed as he rolled onto his side, towards the person radiating heat off of them like a furnace. The person just chuckled, brushing his hair back from where it had been semi-plastered to his forehead, and continued massaging his hands. He felt sweaty, still – not overly so, just a bit damp – but aside from that, he felt pretty clean. There certainly wasn’t any come on his stomach, or any trailing down his thighs, for that matter. His partner must have taken care of that. He should thank him, but his body was slowly coming back from the high, cooling down and keeping him comfortably drowsy. He didn’t feel like doing much of anything.

“Sleep,” he mumbled, prompting a huff of laughter.

“Yes, you can go back to sleep, Percival,” he was told, and, hell yes. “I’ll take care of you, don’t worry. You’re safe.”

That was all he needed to hear.

--

I wasn't sure whether to end this with a cheeky embarrassed "I just had a one night stand with a stranger and called them daddy" morning after, or by revealing that they were already together/in an established relationship and this was just a little play scene between them, so I'll let you decide how this played out in the morning ;)

whoops, put this on the wrong thread. please read the title/subject line and read this second!

Newt just wasn’t marriage material and he’s accepted that. His social skills were pathetic and he isn't a powerful wizard like his Theseus. So it wasn't shocking that everyone put all their attention on Theseus.

But, Newt prefers it that way because he hates being born into the rank of rich snobs. Newt wishes he was born lower class like his friends; the Goldstein’s and Jacob.

When Theseus’s wealthy friend Percival visits, Newt is immediately disgusted with him. Percival makes his views on Pureblood superiority and social status clear, proving he’s another arrogant rich blood. But Percival goes a step further, when he starts insulting Newt’s friends.

Percival notices that the younger Scamander spurns his company. When confronted, Newt snaps and tells Percy to take his Pureblood privilege where it doesn’t shine.

Percival is stunned and very intrigued, but he's a fool to think Newt will go easy on him.

GOOD GRAVY !!! I KNEW I LIKED GRAVES AS A SUB, BUT THIS IS A PLEASANT SURPRISE. A+++, 100/10.

Before slipping into unconsciousness after a savage beating by his mother, a stranger suddenly appears to him like a ghost to offer him a wish. Without thought, he tells the stranger his wish for a new family, one that will love him unconditionally.

Credence then wakes to finds himself in bed being attended to by two men, with no Mary Lou around. Percival and Newt are warm and loving as the gently treat his wounds. Before Credence realized it, he finds himself falling fast into his new life.

But as they say, watch what you wish for… It isn’t long before he notices something darker about his family.

It all starts when Mary Lou is found murdered and those claiming to his family try to take Credence away. He has never seen his Percy and Newt so enraged and it unnerves him.

Dear God yes. I had this prompt open in a tab for weeks before I reluctantly closed it, but I am *so glad* you filled it after all. Worth the wait, nonny.

Newt writes porn - he's also pretty good at it.

Can be published, private, in letters to a lover or anything really.

Bonus: Someone reacts to finding out or (the lover) reacts to receiving it.

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Page 105 of 142

Prompt Post #2

Jacob/Newt - Paczki season

Re: Jacob/Newt - Paczki season

Re: FILL Reluctant master!Graves/slave!Credence - hurt/comfort, dom/sub

Re: FILL Reluctant master!Graves/slave!Credence - hurt/comfort, dom/sub

Re: Real!Graves/Credence - soft Credence

Re: Newt/Graves D/s , sub! Graves, service top Newt

Re: Percival/Newt - Misunderstanding, Hurt/Comfort

The Moonflower (Graves/Credence noncon) Part 3 of 12

RPF Colin/Ezra, physical incompatibility

Re: Percival/Newt - Misunderstanding, Hurt/Comfort

Re: Percival/Newt - Misunderstanding, Hurt/Comfort

No such thing as a fair fight (2/?)

Grindelwald/Graves, Forced constipation + scat

Fill: Broken and Kept (Part 13/?)

Re: No such thing as a fair fight (2/?)

Fill: A Gilded Cage is Still A Cage (15/?)

Re: Fill: A Gilded Cage is Still A Cage (14/?)

[FILL - 1/2] Re: Percival Graves/Any Male, daddykink

[FILL - 2/2] Re: Percival Graves/Any Male, daddykink

Re: [FILL - 2/2] Re: Percival Graves/Any Male, daddykink

Real Graves/Newt: Pride & Prejudice Inspired AU

Re: [FILL - 2/2] Re: Percival Graves/Any Male, daddykink

Dark Graves/Credence/Newt: Credence Makes A Wish and it Turns Wrong.

Re: [FILL - 2/2] Re: Percival Graves/Any Male, daddykink

no subject