fantasticbeasts_kinkmeme | 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.
-Due to popular demand, we now have our first couple of rules!
RULE #1: No prompt must exceed 250 words. Any prompt that exceeds that WILL be screened.
RULE #2: Please state RPF in the subject line if your prompt involves real people.
RULE #3: No kinkshaming.

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

A/N: Posting via sock so that links will actually work: Lingerie based off of this lovely number, as well as this one

The Director truly looks rather stunning like this; legs in long, black silk stockings that ride up to his mid thighs thighs, showing through the sheer cream silk chiffon teddy and its black complimentary lacing. The Charmed embroidery accents, however, are Grindelwald's favorite touch. The simple glyph of the Deathly Hallows alternating with beautiful cursive G's, charmed with light spells for binding and immobility. Wouldn't do for dear Mr. Graves to struggle too much and tear his lovely lingerie, after all.

It's all to easy to spread the Director's legs apart on the Transfigured four-poster bed. Director Graves had been living under such modest means; truly ridiculous granted the primacy of his name and the utterly beautiful scope of his power. In his more honest moments, Grindelwald had to admit that besting Graves had been a near thing, and to have that power beneath him, bound to his commands and forced into accepting his touch—why it is nearly as heady a sight as the man himself, carefully cleaned and shaved with a few quick spells before the evening began, dolled up in the loveliest set of muggle underthings he could find on such short notice. Graves' hair fans out so nicely on the pillow and the fire of resistance in his eyes, even as he cannot move himself, the fury in his face.

Such passion. Grindelwald will bend it to his will, eventually, one way or another.

But now is not for such things. Now is for sliding his hand up that beautiful, muscled thigh, inching the chiffon and lace up higher, removing that small strip that serves as a barrier between himself and the lovely prize of Graves winking hole. He could spell it slick, he supposes, but he'd much rather do it the mundane way, dripping the oil down his fingers and dragging them up Graves' inner thigh slowly before plunging two of them in. There is a muffled sound of pain from Graves as his tight heat clenches around Grindelwald's fingers, and the dark wizard grins. He thrusts them in and out at a steady pace, before beginning to scissor them apart. Normally, he'd be much more patient, teasing Graves to hardness the slow way, forcing his body to react so beautifully the way Grindelwald wants it to, a finely-tuned, well-trained instrument in his hands.

But Graves, dressed so prettily, flushing red with anger and shame. It is a sight that much stronger men would be hard-pressed to resist, so Grindelwald doesn't bother. He takes his unoccupied hand and tweaks at Graves' pert nipples through the chiffon silk, wandlessly casting a Charm for warmth and Heat of the carnal variety, letting that magical arousal shoot through Graves' veins from the light touches against the Driector's delightfully sensitive nipples to his cock. The rush of arousal helps relax and loosen the man as well, and Grindelwald goes form two fingers to three with his thrusting, pressing with every other go at Graves' prostate.

The Director is biting his lips, trying to swallow his noises, but still the muffled pants and moans slip past, and Grindelwald can wait no longer. He draws his hands away, and shifts to lift the Director's hips over his lap and carefully aligns his cock. He slicks his cock with a few rough tugs and wipes the excess oil on the bedsheet, before gripping Graves' hips firmly and slowly burying himself in the Director's tight heat.

Oh, the sensation of Graves clenching around him so tightly, as if trying to resist entry, so shamed and angered at his arousal. The flush of his toned, scarred skin through the delicate lace and sheer chiffon, as his nipples harden further and his cock strains against the loose silk. The smear of Graves' precome darkens the silk as it dampens the fabric, and as Grindelwald begins to thrust—deep, pounding strokes—against Graves' prostate, the friction of Graves' cock against the silk of his teddy clearly excites him more, bringing him very quickly to full hardness.

"You look marvelous, Director," Grindelwald says with a smirk, as Graves lets out a particularly loud and embarrassing moan. "Really, you were made for this, spread out on my bed, a most delectable dessert." He moves one of his hands from Graves' hips to trail his fingers teasingly over the head of Graves' cock through the dampened fabric. "Look how erect you are for me, how your body begs for my cock."

Graves looks as though he is about to attempt to spit at him, so Grindelwald pulls out and abruptly flips the man over before plunging back in, now able to pound into him deeper with the new angle. The pillow muffles GRaves' moans, somewhat, but the way his body trembles tells Grindelwald all he needs to know.

With a few rough tugs on Graves' cock, and another windless spell to increase Graves' arousal, the man comes with a wanton cry, soiling his lovely stockings and teddy with his come. The muscles of his ass clench oh so tightly around Grindelwald's thrusting cock, and he thrusts only a few more times before coming deep within Graves' ass. With an idle hand, he summons a thick wooden plug from the dresser, which he slowly eases into Graves' inflamed, red, and come-dripping hole.

"Naughty, naughty, dear Director, spoiling your lovely present." Grindelwald clucks his tongue and slaps Graves' exposed ass. "We will have to do this again, and see if you can behave properly, next time."

With those parting words, Grindelwald stands and leaves, casting one last look at the Director, spent with his limbs held immobile on the bedspread, still in that lovely, mussed lace.

He will definitely have to keep the man once it is over, perhaps chain him to the bed permanently. And the next set of stockings will most definitely need to be red.

So filthy and so so good

Delicious.

You made my day thank you so much

i feel the best kind of dirty now

Prompt Post #2

Mini Fill - idek man

Re: Mini Fill - idek man

Re: Mini Fill - idek man

Re: Mini Fill - idek man

Re: Mini Fill - idek man