You are eleven-twelve-thirteen and you fight for scraps of safety and you are vicious when you’re backed into a corner. You jot down improvements in the margins of your potions textbooks. You whisper spell incantations under your breath, invent better and more powerful curses. You protect yourself however you can.
-
Or: In defense of Severus Snape.
O, Mine Enemy - Severitus
When Harry finds an injured Snape on his doorstep and must hide him from the Dursleys, he has no idea that this very, very bad day will be the start of something good.
Harry and Snape are thrown together by annoying relatives, a series of strange dreams, and Voldemort's latest hunt for Harry, but their greatest challenge may well be surviving each other. This will be a long summer unless the two can find a way to work together. A slow-burn enemy-to-mentor story.
Alternate 6th summer (and part of the school year): post-OotP; ignores HBP and DH. No slash, no romance. NOW COMPLETE!
Suspiria (Snarry; NSFW)
You like to cut yourself on his bones, and he likes to let you.
Other Snarry fics by the same author:
Anabasis , Pentamerone, The Forest King , The Amphora , Goblin Market, The Lighthouse Keeper, Strange Pilgrims, White Light, White Heat, Ghost Story
I Know Not and I Cannot Know; Yet I Live and I Love
Severus Snape has his emotions in check. He knows that he experiences anger and self-loathing and a bitter yearning, and that he rarely deviates from that spectrum… Until the first-year Luna Lovegood arrives to his class wearing a wreath of baby’s breath. Over the next six years, an odd friendship grows between the two, and Snape is not sure how he feels about any of it.
(No) Difference (LJ; AO3)
Severus discovers that the Muggles are right: the Bard does indeed have a quote for every occasion .
"If you prick us, do we not bleed?
… And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?"
“The Merchant of Venice,” Act III, Scene I
the streets outside your window overflooded (people staring, they know you've been broken)
severus snape before, during, and after the war.
he wanted to save the children, every single one of them, but every time he made up his mind that this year would be the last time, that this time he’d do something, he’d get up, and walk into the teacher's lounge, and tell them all what’s what –
all he could think of was the times he’d done it as a child himself. when he’d gone into the teacher’s lounge and begged them all to do something. begged them all to believe him. about his father, about the marauders, about any of it. or all of it.
the wizarding world is simply not a world where children get saved.
Rue & Rainflower
Severus courts Death.
Or, 13+ times Severus didn’t die, and 1 time he did.
I hope this comes back to haunt you
Severus Snape, from first curse to first kill. Or: The making of a Death Eater.
The Courage to Live
Upon surviving the Battle of Hogwarts, Severus Snape is at a loss. For nearly twenty years, he devoted his life to defeating the Dark Lord and protecting Harry Potter. Now, with the war over and the Boy-Who-Lived safe, he finds he has precious little left to fight for — until a chance therapy session shows him that he ought to be fighting for himself.
With the war coming to a close and Wizarding Britain starting to rebuild, Severus starts on a journey to find meaning and joy in a life that’s given him little of either, discovering what it truly means to value himself and his own happiness.
(Translation in Russian at the end of the first chapter!)
a daily dose of sunshine
Severus Snape was 18 years old.
Today was November 8th, 1977.
And on May 28th, 1978, he was going to kill himself.
For the sixth months leading up to it? Severus was going to be happy. Even if he had to make it with his own hands.
To Sever Always (To Heal Wounds)
A study of Severus Snape's two greatest spells.
the wild-eyed boy from cokeworth
In 1969, Severus Snape meets the two greatest loves of his life.
The first is Lily. The second is a voice that drifts out of the shabby record store that's crammed between the butcher's and the dirty street.
In Silence
After the Shrieking Shack Incident, Severus Snape ceases to exist.
Much to the dismay of all involved.
The Fields of Summer
His past was bleeding into the present, just as his future was bleeding out of the gaping wound in his neck. And since memories were useless to a dead man, Snape plucked them out of his mind and gave them to The Boy Who Lived. He didn’t realize that in so doing, he’d forget her.
seventeen moons
“The scar is small, at least,” Pomfrey says, pulling the bandage snug around the cleaned wound. There’s a pity in her voice that makes Severus want to throw up again. “It will be easily covered.”
Dumbledore catches him inspecting it, as if mesmerized. “You are lucky to have survived at all,” the Headmaster says.
Severus does not say I don’t feel very lucky because it is stupid and obvious. Instead, he says unsteadily, “I want to press charges, sir.”
Pomfrey stills, tightening the bandage to the point of discomfort.
“Remus Lupin would be executed,” Dumbledore says. “The Ministry takes a dim view of werewolves who infect other wizards.”
Dear Severus Snape (Snarry)
In the aftermath of war, Harry tries to pull his life back together. Guilty of all the blood on his hands, he seeks a way to deal with his grief.
He begins to write letters to the late Severus Snape, wishing he was able to reconcile with a dead man. Will Harry receive the closure he needs?
Dear Harry Potter
***The Sequel to "Dear Severus Snape"
Contains the letters that Severus wrote to Harry, but never sent, as well as their lives a few years after getting together.
Portrait of a Sociopath as a Loving Mother
Lily Evans got described by many adjectives: vivacious, charming, bright, natural, talented, brave, funny, witty, kind, popular...Truly, she was an exceptional witch who for some reason left behind her a trail of deeply troubled individuals.
Answer to the question: What would change in the story if Lily Evans had been born a sociopath is: not necessarily anything.
The Heart of the Sun (Snarry)
Harry and Severus unexpectedly enacted a handfasting ceremony at last year's Beltane. Now, nearly a year and a day later, as Harry prepares for the next Beltane celebration at Godric's Hollow, he remembers their procession through the holidays of the sun—and wonders about its ending.
A Thousand Words Paint a Picture (Snamione)
Severus revisits his life, in his own words, one colour at a time.
But love, as it turns out, doesn’t fit neatly into the palette.
Desolation Row - Snarry
five stages of grief, prison!fic style. for warnings, please see notes.
Conditionally
Harry finds out that he's Snape's son. It goes as badly as possible.
Ab Intra - Snarry
Severus Snape has been in prison for the past six years, but it’s not what you think—life in Azkaban is never boring. Yaxley’s atrocious gang is on the rampage (again), the canteen’s newspapers are absolutely scandalous, kitchen duty pays well, and smuggling in potions from time to time grants Severus protection and free tobacco.
His peace of mind is disturbed when Harry Potter comes to visit.
(Now, surely a mischievous secret must be hiding behind that. Only it’s not the one Severus thinks.)
Available in English, Polish and Chinese.
Ab Extra - Snarry
After seven years in Azkaban, Severus is finally free. Unemployed and homeless in a world that has moved on without him, he has no other choice but to try and rebuild his life from the ground up. In the process, he will have to endure: a cursed apartment that breaks its own furniture for fun, a remarkably round owl called Britney Spears, and Harry Potter, who is obsessed with a potion that does not exist and has a soft spot for floral patterns and nail polish.
(Or: when Severus Snape was fifteen, he made a terrible mistake. When he was forty-six, he made it again.)
Vox Severus
When Severus Snape's voice changes in fourth year, everyone notices.
End Racism in the OTW: After Life with Severus
He knew He was dead. It had been a bad death – as deaths go. Not that Snape was an expert – having only done it this once.
You're Going To Reap Just What You Sow
Oh it's such a perfect day
I can't make it to your wedding (but I'm sure I'll be at your wake) (Snupin)
A love story, of sorts, of the walking wounded.
Regulus's Worst Memory
On the eve of Snape's Worst Memory, Regulus Black is left to pick up the pieces
A dealer, not a Death Eater
It should've been simple: Severus loves Lily, Lily loves Severus, and they live happily ever after - but their dreams are shattered when powerful anti-Muggleborn laws are introduced and Lily's promising career in the Ministry is ruined.
Unwilling to leave the magical world, disgraced brewer Severus struggles to keep them afloat - but when he uses the profits from his illegal potion deals to pay their rent, Lily's terrified that the aurors will swoop and send him to Azkaban.
Fearful of fending for herself in a hostile society, the pressure of being a second-class citizen pushes Lily towards the only people fighting for her rights: Severus' sworn enemies.
Severus, haunted by his Muggle upbringing, is determined not to let history repeat, but can the two of them succeed when the magical world is paved with danger - from the rich promises of Lucius Malfoy to the lure of the Death Eaters, and the ever-seductive call of the Dark Arts?
[On hiatus: author illness. Explanation at the end of chapter 162.]
Bottle It Up
His aunt and uncle, by virtue of necessity, had let it be known that Harry was disabled (it was hard to hide an ambulance showing up in the middle of the night, and Harry’s teachers had needed to know anyway) but they had made it very clear: Harry’s condition was disgusting and shameful. Harry was disgusting and shameful.
Or, the one where Harry learns that he doesn't have to go it alone.
Sequel
blessed
There is a fundamental truth about the world, and it is that some people are blessed, while others are not. Severus Snape is quite decidedly not.
Or: The radicalisation of Severus Snape.
Snake Charmer
Harry has feelings about Severus' damaged voice. Severus decides to return the favour.
Catch and Release
Prompt: Ron walks in on the couple in an intimate moment.
Summary: Harry has a “tell,” when he needs affection. Ron never realized Severus had the same one.
A/N: Written for the Snarry A Thon 2011, but never submitted because it was a last-minute story and not exactly adhering to the prompt.
Forgive me, Lord
Forgive me, Lord, for I have loved.
Harry wasn’t looking for salvation. Severus had already given his life to God — and now, he is asked to surrender something even holier.
A story of faith undone, devotion reforged, and love born in the ruins of guilt.
(Also gently inspired by the devastating beauty of Fleabag — and the priest who never stood a chance.)
The Dish Best Served Cold
Harry's tired of Snape's bad teaching. So Gryffindor House takes it upon themselves to teach Snape a little lesson. Or at least, to make his job grading a little harder. But they should've remembered that Snape fights dirty...
A Modest Proposal
Shortly after the war, Severus Snape proposes to Harry Potter. This is not what Harry expected.
The Syntax of Things
A short-lived series of private lessons took place after Christmas in Harry Potter's fifth school year, during which Severus Snape attempted to teach Harry the skill of Occlumency. The lessons were ultimately cancelled when Harry was caught prying into Snape's memories, discovering the strangest things: A mysterious prophecy connected Harry's fate with Voldemort's, Harry's dad was an insufferable bully, and Severus Snape had been in love with Harry's mum. Naturally, Harry now has a million questions. Snape would prefer to answer none.
The world is full of obvious things which nobody by any chance ever observes. The same question arises in every soul: "For what, for whom, must I kill and be killed?"
...Or, a classic approach to stubbornness.
*
Most visited Snarry story of all time on AO3! Thank you!
*
This story now has a Fanlore and a TvTropes page.
*
Now fully illustrated!
*
Available in English, Russian, Portuguese, Polish, Spanish, Chinese, Vietnamese & Korean! (see notes for links)
Contempt
Harry hates Snape, and he always will. (He will, won’t he?)
Others in series: devotion, lovestruck, hatefuck, sunkissed, spellbound, snowfall
The Chaos of His Stars
When Severus Snape wakes from an injury sustained during an attack on the Ministry, he’s surprised to find Harry Potter by his bedside. Harry Potter, who he’s been dreaming about for the last three months and he’s loved in secret for longer than he cares to remember.
Waiting to Divide
Harry always thought soul mates were the domain of overly-soppy romantics. What he didn't realise was that they were very real, very dangerous, and very inconvenient...especially when your soul mate is the very dead Severus Snape. Fortunately, with the help of his friends and a Time Portal, he's able to get past that pesky obstacle...and finds his life completely changed.
Acceptance
It all started with an unexpected meeting at King's Cross at the end of Harry's first year. The next thing Severus Snape knows he's stuck with the Potter brat.
This is a Snape is Harry's father story.
Chosen (Snarry)
In a world where nothing other than being a war orphan is particularly special about Harry Potter, there is not one adult in his life who takes an interest in him, absorbed as they are in their own problems and lives.
Until Severus Snape comes to Hogwarts.
Pacify!verse
Pacify
1. To allay the anger or agitation of
2. To reduce to a submissive state
Shatter
1. To break at once into pieces
2. to damage badly : ruin
“You think this will ease your suffering,” Severus said, squeezing Harry’s wrists still clasped in his hands. “But it won’t. It will destroy you.” I will destroy you.
“I want you to,” Harry murmured, and Severus' resistance wasn't enough to keep him from being pulled closer, Potter’s breath feathering across his lips. And in some ways, the fact that his eyes were closed made it worse - made the words whispered against his mouth all the more obscene: “I want you to tear me apart.”
***
Harry and Severus tumble into an intensely inappropriate physical relationship after events at Headquarters spiral out of control. Severus, digging his heels in, tries to stop, but he is just not strong enough.
2 3 4 5 6 7 8
Interludes and AUs:
The Tilted Earth, Make Me, No Time To Need, Ruin, A House Divided, Whoops
Hello! I am looking for a deleted BBC Sherlock fanfiction called “The Holmes Boys” (originally posted by Anonymous / Orphan Account).It is a Parent Sherlock AU with 18 chapters and around 41,210 words. John is a child named John Hamish Adler Holmes, and his parents are Sherlock and Irene Adler.The original recommendation link was from the Tumblr blog Inevitably Johnlocked. Does anyone have a backup PDF or EPUB copy? Thank you!
(submitted by bialovesjohn)
====
Hi Lovely!!
You’re in luck!! Because I still had the link (since you said the fic was originally recced on my blog), I was able to grab the Wayback grab of the first chapter, and then from THERE I was able to grab the “Entire Work” link, and then from THERE, I was able to find the capture link!
Here it is here! I also saved a PDF of it, so if you have issues with getting the link, DM me and I’ll send it to you :)
❧ | this is for all my works that i feel are no longer up to my writing standard anymore. this will also contain scenarios and collabs with broken links. basically anything written before '20 with a few exceptions. my writing has changed a lot and i do think these stories are all worth reading but they are just not up to standard anymore. this masterlist contains nsfw stories, if you are a minor, please do not engage.
❧ | 18+ = sexual content | M = mature themes/warnings | A = angst | if a link is not provided for a piece, it is because the work (collab) is gone and i cannot find the new account. if you know, please let me know
❧ | 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑖-𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠
➳ [M][A] coming home - idol!exo x reader | collab incomplete
➳ [M][A] love by cpr pt one | pt two - doctor!jongin x reader | collab w @itsmeayishaa incomplete
➳ [18+] living arrangements pt one - boss!jeongguk x worker!reader discontinued
❧ | 𝑠𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑠
❧ | 𝑘𝑖𝑚 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑜𝑘
➳ [18+] long drive - ambiguous!minseok x reader
❧ | 𝑘𝑖𝑚 𝑗𝑢𝑛𝑚𝑦𝑒𝑜𝑛
➳ little wolf - werewolf!junmyeon & werewolf!reader
➳ [18+][A] as the thunder rolls in - ambiguous!junmyeon x reader
❧ | 𝑧ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑖𝑥𝑖𝑛𝑔
➳ my darling, you are perfect - idol!yixing x oc alice
➳ happy birthday, yixing - idol!yixing x reader
➳ [18+] mutual agreement - idol!yixing x reader
➳ [M][A] ritual gone wrong - demon!yixing x human!reader
❧ | 𝑏𝑦𝑢𝑛 𝑏𝑎𝑒𝑘ℎ𝑦𝑢𝑛
➳ do you wanna build a snowman? - bestfriend!baekhyun & reader
➳ fucken fortnite - gamer!baekhyun & sister!reader
❧ | 𝑘𝑖𝑚 𝑗𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑑𝑎𝑒
➳ his awakening - dragon!jongdae x reader
➳ [18+] come on over - idol!jongdae x reader
❧ | 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑒𝑜𝑙
➳ happy birthday - idol!chanyeol
❧ | 𝑘𝑖𝑚 𝑗𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑖𝑛
➳ i promise you - idol!jongin x oc alice
➳ midnight calls - idol!jongin x reader
➳ first date - idol!jongin x reader
➳ want u cam - kai focus - idol!jongin x reader
➳ crayons - ambiguous!jongin x reader
➳ stone cold - ex!jongin x reader | side pairing soulmate!jongin x soulmate!oc
➳ [A] god sent an angel - angel!jongin x human!reader | side pairing human!reader x human!bbh
➳ tender love - idol!jongin x oc alice
➳ study break - ambiguous!jongin x reader
➳ christmas crush - friend!jongin x reader
➳ jongin’s christmas miracle - idol!jongin x oc ayla
➳ [M][18+] new life - boss!jongin x barista!reader
➳ [18+] best of both worlds - idol!jeongguk x reader x idol!jongin
➳ [18+] drunk mind, sober heart - bestfriend!jongin x oc!alice
➳ [A][18+] say yes - fallen angel!jongin x human!reader
➳ [A][18+] jongin the ripper - killer!jongin x ???
➳ [18+] break me - vampire!jongin x human!reader
➳ [18+] sweet like chocolate - idol!jongin x reader
❧ | 𝑜ℎ 𝑠𝑒ℎ𝑢𝑛
➳ 늦은 밤 커피 (late night coffee) - model!sehun x photographer!alice
➳ cookie time - idol!sehun x reader
➳ the competition - idol!sehun x reader
❧ | 𝑘𝑖𝑚 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑗𝑜𝑜𝑛
➳ secret santa - college!namjoon x college!reader
❧ | 𝑗𝑒𝑜𝑛 𝑗𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑔𝑢𝑘
➳ [18+] best of both worlds - idol!jeongguk x reader x idol!jongin
➳ lime in the coconut - ambiguous!jeongguk x reader
Warnings/Tags: Non-Con, Transformation, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Kidnapping, Mermaid Transformation, Mermaid!Grindelwald, Human-to-Mermaid!Graves, Rape/Non-con Elements, Breast Growth, Forced Feminization, Oviposition, Impregnation, Eggpreg
Summary: Grindelwald finally corners Graves, but in his enemy he finds an unlikely opportunity. Never before had he found a man powerful enough to be his match, to be his mate -- until now.
[a/n] I recently removed a lot of fics from AO3. I thought most of them still lived here in Tumblr, but I was wrong. If there's anything you guys miss, feel free to ask! Anon mentioned this one, so here we go ~
He was tired; not just tired, but weary down to his very bones. Fresh from a magical creature trafficking bust, he was practically dead on his feet. He had been well and truly ready to go home after he had just finished his preliminary paperwork when a squeaking little note had crawled onto his desk and unraveled into his hands with a flourish. One of his informants had intel about the rash of strange “gas explosions” across the city. They hadn’t really been gas explosions, of course; merely a fabrication that had concocted the moment they saw the severity of the destruction.
Got info on your dark cloud.
Docks, midnight.
I’m not sticking around, you’ve got one shot.
G.
Graves frowned. It was unusual to hear from Gnarlak directly; even more so not to be directed to just meet at his pub. Whatever information the goblin had for him, it was good and it was dangerous – not to mention expensive, no doubt. Graves sighed and stood, his head heavy between his shoulders as he braced himself against his desk for a moment. He took a deep, trembling breath and tried to ignore the ache in his ribs from a potshot one of the traffickers had managed to strike him with. He hid it well until now, unwilling to worry his aurors, but he knew what must lay beneath his vest and shirt. He could feel the heat of the injury through his thin clothes when he brushed over it with his fingers. He knew the skin beneath was no doubt hot with internal bleeding, mottled and purple. Perhaps even somewhat uneven, if any of the bones were broken.
Consumed as he was in his evaluation, he didn’t notice when his most junior auror slipped through his door carrying a mountain of paperwork. Jace Wayland was a thin, willowy thing. Baby faced with big blue eyes that could stop people in their tracks. In all honesty he looked nothing like an auror. He looked as though a good, firm breeze could knock him over; but he was tenacious – more so than Graves had encountered in a junior in a long time. In what he lacked physically, he more than made up for mentally. Sharp as a tack and faster than even his best investigators, although he had never told the boy that. Humility bred caution, after all, and he wanted the boy to make it to a full position. Curious if he could.
“M-Mr. Graves, here are all the leads you asked for me to follow up on while you were out…”
Graves heard it the moment the boy’s words trailed off, the moment he noticed the director’s grimace. IT was too late to cover it up now; the boy knew. He cursed beneath his breath.
“Mr. Graves, are you hurt?”
Graves sniffed loudly and slowly straightened his back into something more regal and commanding than the figure he no doubt cut while doubled over on his desk. He ignored the fiery blaze of agony blaring along his right side and addressed the boy as if nothing were the matter.
“Mr. Wayland... It’s late, why aren’t you home?” He asked. Annoyed to have been caught when no one should be left at the office. Impressed, however, by the child’s drive.
“This seemed important,” the boy said lamely.
“Everything will always seem important,” Graves said, knowing full well the irony of the words leaving his lips. The pot calling the kettle black. “You must take time to recharge or you’ll drive yourself mad.”
“O-of course,” Jace said, but his eyes were still on Graves’ ribs and he knew the subject wasn’t done. “Did the raid go well?”
“Swimmingly,” Graves said shortly as he drew his coat from his chair and made a show of putting it on without ever once letting slip a grimace. Even when he felt something distinctly pop. He began to sweat. “The traffickers were apprehended with minimal casualties to either side.”
“That’s great news. Are you headed home?”
“Not quite,” Graves said, fingers trailing over the little worn out note on his desk before he set the little slip aflame.
“But sir, you—“
Graves shot him a cold, challenging look and watched the boy’s confidence wilt before his eyes. Surprisingly, however, Jace simply clutched his papers tighter and frowned.
“We’re not supposed to do anything alone, sir.”
Graves scowled. The boy was right. It was a rule that they were not supposed to act on any lead alone. Clever child, he saw the note for what it was and knew exactly what to say. What sort of leader created rules they did not themselves abide by? Graves glared at him, assessing, before finally he let loose a small sigh and said, “Get your things, Mr. Wayland. Let’s make this quick.”
The boy scampered off before Graves had so much as a moment to change his mind and somewhere in the back of his head, he felt a niggling. He scowled, but the feeling was lost to him before he could think much more of it – burned away by the low, hot hum of his aching ribs.
❇
The docks were quiet; silent in a way that set Graves’ teeth on edge. There was no late night rush of strangers wasting their money at the dingy bar down the street. No dock workers, no gulls.
Something was terribly wrong, Graves just didn’t know what.
What he did know was that he was cold, but also hot. There was a thin film of sweat growing at his brow, and he felt simultaneously smothered by his coat and scarf, and freezing. He shivered despite himself, his eyelids heavy, and clenched his fists a little tighter in the safety of his coat pockets. It was ten past midnight and that rotten little goblin had stood him up. He should have known better than to trust the creature; wicked and cruel as it was. Gnarlak was a valuable informant, but he wasn’t exactly a trustworthy one, and Graves was just beginning to wonder if he should stop by The Blind Pig and have a little chat about certain privileges the goblin was enjoying when Jace finally sighed beside him.
“Well that’s rather disappointing,” the boy pouted, arms crossed to keep him warm.
“Ah, yes. This would have been your first time meeting with an informant,” Graves said softly. He sniffed, nose running from the cold, and shrugged a little deeper into the overwhelming heat of his coat. “It’s not as exciting as you think, Mr. Wayland. Gnarlak would have just haggled us for some cheap line about something we likely already knew. Hardly exciting detective work.”
Beside him, the boy scoffed.
“Then why do we keep him as an informant?”
“Because he might have useful information,” Graves said simply as he gave his surroundings outside the mooring house one last check. “And the possibility of good information is more valuable than the risk of losing that information just because we’re tired of Gnarlak’s bullshit.”
Jace raised his brows at him, surprised by his language. Graves’ dipped his head ever so slightly in concession.
“Apologies. I’m rather tired. Let’s call it a night, Jace. There’s always tomorrow.”
“Of course, sir.”
Graves turned to head back to their disapparition point, his mind caught on thoughts of what he would do once he got home. He’d take a Dreamless Drought, he thought pleasantly. He’d numb his ribs with a bit of mint oil and take a long, hot shower. And once he was clean and his muscles mush from the pounding water, he’d slip into his bed and—
He stilled.
Jace was not beside him.
He turned to look back, concerned, only to be struck right between his shoulders before he could so much as spin halfway around. He let out a shout, the sound pulled from his lips mercilessly as the ferocity of the spell shook his ribs within his chest. He couldn’t breathe, the air knocked from his lungs. He wheezed and scrabbled around, wand at the ready despite his trembling, and prepared to fire a volley of cover fire for Jace only—
Only Jace was the one that had hit him.
Gone was the baby faced boy that sought to please him. In his place was a young man, his large blue eyes a cold and deadly stare that chilled Graves to his core. He even stood differently than his junior auror had. Back straight, jaw squared. Quite like… well, quite like Graves himself, when his ribs weren’t busy trying to dissolve into dust within his chest. A painful, whistling breath escaped him.
“Jace?”
“Not quite,” the boy said, an eerie smile on his cherub face. “But it is a name of mine, yes. Occassionally.”
Graves gripped at his ribs, his breath short from the other man’s sucker punch of a spell as before his eyes Jace’s visage melted away. He became taller – taller even than Graves – and broader too.
His skin grew if possible paler, and his young golden locks became short, spikey white points standing atop his head. But all it took was one look at his eyes to know he had been a terrible, terrible mistake coming here injured.
Those haunting, mismatched eyes belonged to Gellert Grindelwald. His enemy, an international terrorist, and likely soon to be his murderer.
Graves grit his teeth. His skin itched to be gone from there, to disapparate and get help – but through the pain he knew he was too distracted to perform the delicate spell without getting splinched. Were only his ribs howling, maybe, but the spell had left his back a mottled mess of agony as well; as though he had been hit by a train rather than a simple stunning spell.
His knees felt weak and he staggered, but still he held up his wand. Across from him – pristine and perfect – Grindelwald tsked at him sympathetically.
“Poor Mr. Graves,” he purred, “No one truly looks at you, do they? Your power has blinded them to your weaknesses. No one noticed your injury. No one insisted to see you home. And after tonight, no one will notice when you’re replaced.”
Dread pooled in his belly like liquid lead. Mercy Lewis, he intended to infiltrate MACUSA in a position of power. He couldn’t let that happen.
He tried to hold his wand steadier, but it only seemed to make the shaking of his exhausted limbs worse.
“Not going to happen,” he bit out simply. Grindelwald quirked a brow at him and made a show of looking him up and down.
“You know it’s unfortunate you’re against my cause, director, because I like you. You are a just leader, respectful of your staff from the lowest rung to the highest. You instilled great practices in your men and women, and even encouraged unlikely souls like Jace to strive for excellence when no one else gave him the time of day. It doesn’t have to be this way, you know. You could join me.”
Graves snorted even though it made his ribs ache and his spine sing and said, “Join you? You truly are mad if you think I would ever join you.”
Grindelwald made a show of sighing in disappointment and said remorsefully, “C’est la vie.”
Graves had no more warning than that before the man’s knobby wand was up and directed at him, one arcing spell after another flinging at him. With one hand, Graves directed the first blow away while attempting to side step the second, but it caught the barest edge of his shoulder and sent him staggering. He needed to get on the offensive, he knew, and yet he couldn’t find the time to do much more than barely avoid Grindelwald’s attacks. Magic screamed in the empty air of the docks, pulling up huge chunks of concrete and destroying cannisters around them.
Grindelwald had no mind for secrecy. His attacks were needlessly wild and destructive – and Graves realized the man intended for his spells to do more damage to the world around them than to Graves himself. He wanted to leave a scene behind. He wanted the No-Majs to know.
Graves had to risk it, he had to disapparate. He wouldn’t make any true distance that would get him to safety, but he could make it a few feet – and that would have to be enough.
He disappeared behind the light of another arcing spell before it could hit him and reappeared – breathless but whole – behind Grindelwald a moment later. He gathered his power as fiercely as he could and let lose a stunning spell that sent Grindelwald flying across the jagged pavement he had torn asunder and into a heap by the dock and the water.
Graves heaved a breath he couldn’t catch and moved to stand over his foe, to wrap him in chains and call for help, but as he stepped forward darkness began to creep around the edges of his vision.
“No,” he murmured, as though by words alone he could convince himself that he was fine. “No, no, no, not now.”
He took another two or three steps before his knees turned to jelly and bit the concrete. He cried out and he cursed raggedly beneath his breath, then finally looked up to find his enemy gone. He turned quickly to try and spot him and the shadows in his peripherals got worse. He wanted to vomit. He wanted to sleep.
He heard the sound of someone coming up beside him on his other side too late. He turned right into a spell that felt more like a punch to the face than anything constructive or purposeful. He shouted wetly, blood already slicking his lip, and knew immediately his nose was most certainly broken.
He tried to scrabble to his feet but Grindelwald shoved him back down to his knees mercilessly.
When Graves looked up, the man looked none the worse for wear. It seemed entirely unfair. Panic began to build inside his chest.
“W-why are you doing this?” Graves gasped wetly, his teeth shiny with blood from his broken nose. “Do you really hate the No-Majs so much that you would jeopardize the safety of your own kind?!”
Grindelwald towered over him, a menacing shadow with a shock of white hair and a shining pearly slit of a smile. He clucked his tongue and bent down at the hips so that he was invading the director’s space. With quick fingers, he snatched Graves’ chin between his thumb and forefinger, and tipped his gaze up to lock with his own unnatural stare.
“Oh my dear director,” he cooed, “Witches and wizards are not my kin. It is, however, because of them that my kind cannot enjoy this world as we should. We remain holed up in dark caves and murky waters and sinister alcoves, unable to journey back to our motherlands – filled with rich flora and soft sands and sunlight – because your kind is too afraid to put humans in their place. Too afraid of ‘exposure’.”
Graves blinked, his teeth-bared sneer melting into cautious confusion. One of his pupils wasn’t contracting anymore, concussed. Blood oozed sluggishly from his nose, his temple, his hair line.
“What do you mean, witches and wizards aren’t your kin?”
There was a tremble to his voice that Graves tried his best to hide, but Grindelwald caught it all the same. The madman smiled and when he did, two little canines became readily visible in his mouth.
Graves flinched.
“Rather presumptuous of you to assume your greatest enemy was a wizard, Mr. Graves. Don’t you think?” He chuckled. “I expected more from MACUSA’s greatest.”
“What are you?”
“It’s a little too late for that information to help you now, don’t you think?”
Graves’ mouth pressed into a firm, resigned line. He jerked his chin free of Grindelwald’s grasp and squared his jaw a little tighter, tipped his chin a little higher, and glared.
“Do your worst.”
He braced himself, jaw so tight it hurt, but forced himself not to close his eyes. He’d meet his end head on, he told himself. If nothing else, he would do that much.
Seconds ticked by and yet, nothing happened.
Grindelwald felt a little pang in his heart that he had not felt in years. His blood quickened in his veins, magic flush and excited just below his skin. He sucked in a quick, harsh breath and then let it out in a loud, slow, stuttering laugh – surprised, amused, enticed.
Intrigued.
“You are quite fascinating for a wizard, Percival,” Grindelwald smiled. He lifted his hand first to the man’s neck, his grip loose and suggestive as he thumbed the director’s fragile Adam’s Apple, and waited for a reaction. When no begging came, no crumpled expression, no fear, he then lifted that hand higher and brushed his thumb over the painful swelling of Graves’ broken nose and set it back to its proper place with magic. He smiled when he caught the noticeable surprise on Graves’ face. A startled blink and a soft, relieved sigh to finally have the throbbing in his face ebb away.
“Wha--?”
Grindelwald didn’t give him another moment to ponder it. He then brought his hand to cover the man’s eyes and compelled him to sleep with a soft, whispered spell. Exhausted as Graves was, the effect was instantaneous. He caught the director by the shoulders just before he could crumple completely to the ground and gently scooped him into his arms. He looked down fondly at the face of his unconscious potential mate-to-be and smiled.
“Oh what fun you’ve turned out to be, Percy dear. Oh what fun indeed.”
❇
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?”
Something fuzzy worsened in his head, making his mind feel stuffed with cotton and the pressure behind his eyes suffocating. He closed them and that felt a little better. Grindelwald chuckled softly, murmuring a soft ‘sleepy boy’ beneath his breath like a song. His shoes and socks were removed and his chill got sharper. His pants were jerked from his hips in rough pulls and thrown to join his shoes. Finally, his underwear joined them and he was naked in the sand, skin tan in contrast to the snow white of the particles that covered him.
Gentle hands cupped his cock and held it from his body as though weighing it. Distantly he caught Grindelwald murmur, “Large, and yet you could still be viable…”
What came next was stranger still, making the fog in his head flutter alarmingly as something screamed deafly to be heard. Something cold and long and soggy was stuck to his skin in a strip, then another and another, one after the other in a strange crosshatch. He opened his eyes with a wince and a little frown, and leaned up muzzily onto his elbows to look down to his hips where Grindelwald was sticking long stripes of seaweed onto him, murmuring unintelligibly all the while.
Words that slid through Graves’ mind like oil, too slick to catch but leaving runny trails in his mind as they passed by.
Grindelwald clucked his tongue disapprovingly and eased him down by the shoulders until he was prone once again, a whisper of magic making him drowsy once more, too heavy to move. He groaned, confused and exhausted, as hands lifted his legs in a rhythm of up and down, up and down – winding his lower body in seaweed and other marine plant life until his legs were bound together from hips to ankles like a worm.
“It’s almost over, love,” the man leaned over and said into his hair, lips murmuring into his scalp.
Something wasn’t right. This wasn’t right. What wasn’t right? The fog began to drift and thin. He was lifted into a pair of strong arms, sand falling from his back in a tinkle of dust that sparkled in the moonlight. He heard the sound of feet walking through water. Graves blinked and looked down. Grindelwald was walking them slowly, deliberately into the water. That was strange, he thought. But it would feel so good. His skin itched for it. Ached to be cooled of his fever. To be slick and chill and free. He let one hand droop down, eager for the water’s embrace, and Grindelwald chuckled.
“Such a good boy for me,” he praised. “So ready, so perfect. I knew you would be. We were made for each other, you and I. Destined to be mates.”
Graves moaned as his head suddenly throbbed. Mates… Mates with Grindelwald. Mates with… his enemy. The word clicked in his mind and he gasped like suddenly immerging from the water after staying down for too long. The docks, Jace, Grindelwald – he had been kidnapped and – wildly he reached for his magic, one hand out to blast Grindelwald away from him while he could still fall in shallow water and claw his way safely back to shore without drowning.
It didn’t come. Instead of his magic appearing as he envisioned, he felt it siphon from his palms and travel his veins down to the seaweed that embalmed him, absorbing it and warming around his flesh. His legs began to tingle, as well as his crotch, sending his heart into a fitful blaze.
“Ah, you’re back,” Grindelwald said with a smirk that bled into the tone of his words, “Just in time.”
“What are you—Are you fucking crazy?!” The words exploded from his mouth in a gush as surprisingly temperate water – not warm, but pleasantly cool, pleasantly refreshing – greeted first his ankles, then up his calves and the seat of his ass. He tried to kick out, but the seaweed was stronger than he could have imagined, so strong that it didn’t even stretch when he tried to spread his legs to break it. He pressed at Grindelwald with his hands, but the man only chuckled and continued to march them into the sparkling waters of the lagoon.
“Grindelwald,” he gasped as the water reached his navel, unable to hold back the desperation that was beginning to claw its way up his throat. He couldn’t swim like this, he’d drown, holy fuck Grindelwald was going to drown him.
His guts churned as death approached for a second time that night and he felt fear loosen his throat for a plea, for begging, but the words fell to dust in his mouth as the water turned Grindelwald’s clothing to specks of stars, hovering above the pool of water and lighting the way to its depths in the middle of the lagoon.
“Don’t worry, darling, I’ve got you,” Grindelwald said, utterly unphased. “You wizards, you think you’re the most powerful generation this world has yet to spit from its womb; but time has made you deaf to the old stories and that only makes you blind. What use is all that power to a blind mind? Cut off from the Old Ways, throwing temper tantrums with your spells and foci like children. But you… You’re the closest I’ve seen to the men from the old times and the Old Ways. The most viable wizard I’ve seen in a long, long time.”
Viable. That word again.
“What the fuck are you talking about?!”
Grindelwald ignored him. The water embraced Graves to his shoulders, his neck. His breath accelerated. Fear seized his lungs like a vice and he craned his neck to stay above the water. He was going to drown—
Grindelwald took advantage of his open-mouthed plea for air, surging down to plunder him. He sucked Graves’ bottom lip between his teeth and he bit him, sharp canines piercing soft flesh.
Graves shoved at his shoulders and chest, and surprisingly Grindelwald released his lip, his smile bloody and pleased. Graves touched his swelling lip, red smearing across his fingertips, and tongued the puncture marks – deep and only on the inside of his lip. The punctures tasted strange; tangy like copper, yes, but something else. Salt water, maybe. Sharp and earthy.
His eyes were positively owlish when he looked up at Grindelwald, he knew, but it was hard to feel embarrassed when he was so damn confused, when his heart was hammering so hard, when his mouth was so full of that taste, quickly turning sweet. The more he licked and worried at it, the more the tingling in his crotch quickened and increased, spreading up his belly, enveloping him in a most concerning way.
“What—?” He managed to babble before one of Grindelwald’s hand came up to frame his jaw, searching for something so intensely it stole Graves’ focus for just a moment, before he swept one thumb to trace his lower lip and said, “You are going to be beautiful.”
Then Grindelwald let him go.
He managed one horrified yelp before the water embraced him.
Grindelwald’s image warped above him from beneath the water, his skin suddenly teal and white, glimmering strangely. He watched as Graves sank, hands thrashing to give him the push he needed to rise, but his bound legs anchored him down. He screamed and wriggled, his magic lashing out wildly and with abandon, but the seaweed ate everything up and the tingling just grew. It accumulated in his crotch and his waist, gathering in his chest, the sides of his neck, all down his legs and feet. The water pressed in on him unnaturally, and even though he had only sank a few feet it weighed on him as though it were trying to compress him, change his very shape. His scalp began to itch, his bones ached. Finally he screamed and the water came to claim him, and he welcomed it if it meant the endless pain would finally, finally end.
He awaited death; surely he could escape it no longer. A shadow passed in the water, quick like a dart. The edges of his vision began to grow black, the taste of the sea so fierce in his mouth and then there were lips on his, breathing what felt like heavy, glossy air back into his lungs. He latched onto the owner of those lips, nails digging in like a knife through butter as he clutched tight to them, breathing them in. When their lips parted, he surged forward for more, terrified he’d die, he’ drown, he’d – but the water ran through his lungs like fresh meadow air and he breathed.
He breathed underwater.
When next he opened his eyes, the world was as clear as it would have been on land, every inch of the depths of the lagoon painfully visible to him. It was unnatural, infeasible, and yet his heart still pounded at the wonder of it all. It was terrifying and yet amazing.
He was a good number of feet down now, nearly at the bottom. Hands grabbed his jaw and turned him, filling his vision with another man’s face – Grindelwald’s face – only it was different now.
His skin was flecked with pearly white scales that framed the very edges of his cheeks and brows, the length of his neck, his ribs and followed a trail down to –
Graves’ mind froze as he took in Grindelwald’s tail, just as pearly as the rest of him like a shroud of death, his fins gossamer and floating beautifully. He was broad like this, muscled in ways Graves hadn’t anticipated, and at his neck something fluttered. Gills, Graves realized. The man had gills.
“Mermaid,” Graves gasped dumbly. Something swirled in front of his eyes, making him jerk back, but those hands held his face close, stopping him from pulling away.
“No,” Grindelwald said, eyes suddenly so hungry. “Merman is the word you’re looking for. I’m not the Mermaid, sweetheart, you are.”
Then that hand raised and grabbed a swirl of that inky blackness that had swayed into his vision, stretching it between them until finally Graves felt a slight pull on his scalp. It was his hair, he realized, only longer than it had ever been, curling around him like a halo as it danced in the water.
Not a hint of grey in it either.
“So beautiful,” Grindelwald said, soft and slow like he was looking at a miracle. “Do you know how our kind is made, Percival?”
Percival. As though they were intimate; anything other than enemies. Our kind, like he was one of them – a creature of the sea. Beneath the seaweed his skin itched and ached.
“They can be born, yes, but the process is a long one. We’re hunted now. Relentlessly. Our mates cannot rest in the cool waters of our mating lagoons to grow fat and bear life because they cannot make the swim to them before they’re picked off. Babes are few and far between, our grounds destroyed by humans and development, and we can’t fight back because of these infernal statues of secrecy. We are near extinction, and yet the magical world turns a blind eye to us so they can remain comfortable. But there are other ways to create life. The wizards and witches that remember the Old Ways, the ones powerful enough to survive, they can be changed. Like you’ve been changed. And now we are one powerful Mer-creature closer to beating extinction.”
No, he thought, eyes wide and tears eaten by the lagoon as he shook his head in the frame of those hands. No, no, no.
He shoved the man away and reeled, disoriented, as his legs kicked awkwardly. Each thrash loosened the wrappings that kept him prisoner though, so he kicked harder, feeling them peel away like the petals of a flower on a sudden, crisp fall morning. The more he kicked the more the itching and the aching stopped, and he sucked in a sigh of relief as they faded away and finally he could move, he could swim.
But it felt wrong. He couldn’t separate his legs, everything beneath his hips felt alien and cumbersome. He flailed in the water frustratedly before finally twisting to look at his legs, convinced there was still some seaweed trapping him tight, only to find all of the seaweed gone.
Gone like his legs. Instead everything from his hips down was a solitary, powerful column of muscles that tapered down to a single thin joint and bloomed into a set of large, silky looking fins.
He was covered in scales, rich like blazing emeralds and tipped in black, contrasting strikingly against the paleness of his belly where scales turned to skin once more. His forearms where flecked with it; his belly, his ribs, his chest. And he was smooth. Genderless looking.
His prick was gone.
“The fuck…” he wheezed, hands shaking as he moved them over the flatness of his scales and new appendage. “What the fuck!”
Grindelwald swam up to and swatted his hands away, then grabbed his slender hip by one large hand and began to run the fingers of his other over a select group of scales, voice gentle as he reassured him.
“Ssh, ssh, ssh, you’re all right. It’s here,” he purred, and Graves could only suck in a sharp breath as his scales fluttered, nerves alight in a manner he couldn’t even comprehend but knew was arousing. Grindelwald pet that place again and again, the tip of one nail parting a few and slowly creating a seam Graves hadn’t even realized was there. From this seam his flesh began to part and slowly, ever so slowly, a small protrusion began to appear – pink, tender and tapered.
And small. At least half the size he remembered it.
“Ah,” Grindelwald said, “Not quite done yet are we?”
Graves had no more warning than that. Grindelwald began to stroke it, cooing over how perfect it was soon going to be, and Graves felt his body melt into the man’s hold. His eyes rolled and a strange, melodic purring began to emit from his throat, vibrating his gills. He tried to control himself, to suck in a breath to tell him to stop, to let him think, but he could barely hold onto Grindelwald’s forearm and shoulder to brace himself, let alone string together coherent sentences.
Below his prick he felt something swell and heat, pleased by the attention. He figured it was his balls.
And in Grindelwald’s hand Graves’ cock slowly but surely began to shrink. At first Graves thought the thing was merely retracting back into his body. With every throb Grindelwald’s fingers coaxed from the little organ, it seemed to swell before shrinking to a length shorter than before, over and over. Before Graves’ eyes he lost another inch, then another – helpless as Grindelwald stroked his size away.
“Nna-aah, nn, nn, nno-ooh-aaah, ah, ah.”
“You’re still intact, mostly,” Grindelwald said, focused on his task, eyes fixed on Graves’ moistening slit as something thicker than water began to ooze from the seam that continued beneath the man’s little dick, a hole slowly beginning to appear from behind it. “Although this little thing is going to be much too pretty to call a prick, really. It’s more similar to a woman’s clitoris than the heft of a real man’s cock. Not to worry, though, you’ll match this cute little thing soon enough.”
The thought was terrifying and yet Graves couldn’t resist the magic of Grindelwald’s fingers. The shrinking didn’t stop until he came, spurting a little cloud of clear liquid, and he tried not to think about the fact that the man had needed little more than a thumb and index finger to coax Graves’s pathetic excuse for a cock to orgasm. It was barely larger than a grown man’s thumb now, and even though he had come it appeared to refuse to soften – instead bobbing and twitching in post orgasmic bliss against Graves’ tail.
“What the… What the fuck did you do to me?” He asked, eyes still closed as he reeled from the strength of his orgasm. It hadn’t been like ejaculating as a man had been. It had been a full body pull that sent shivers over his entire being, making his nipples perk and stand hard on his chest, and all of his skin – and scales – tingle. Lost as he was in the sensation, still butter soft in Grindelwald’s arms, he missed it the moment the merman slipped a thick thumb in something he couldn’t even fathom.
He had never felt anything like it. It wasn’t his anus, he knew, and yet there was a new, moist cavity beneath his ball-less prick that Grindelwald had slid into. He mewled before he could shout, his throat lax and prone to moaning after so much pleasure. It felt…
Amazing.
Grindelwald’s thumb and the girth of his middle knuckle stretched him pleasantly, his opening so slick and swollen from the prior attention to his prick. Grindelwald stroked his tender insides before pulling out and inserting two fingers instead, searching. Graves gasped, heart thrumming, overwhelmed by all these changes and the fast pace of their revelations that he couldn’t keep up with.
Grindelwald pressed something inside him and finally he screamed, head thrown back and throat taut as he clutched tighter to the merman, drawing blood.
“Perfection,” Grindelwald purred, voice so dark and so hungry – barely reminiscent of the man on the beach. “I’ve got you, darling, you’re almost done.”
The fingers were removed and his slit ached from the loss, that moist seam drooling helplessly into the water, trying to entice something, anything back in. He felt empty. He whined.
Something long and tapered and hot pressed against him, two hands holding his hips firmly in place and then it was sliding in, filling him in one long fluid push. He yowled, the end of his scream melting into a moan as finally the aching dissipated, and pleasure bloomed in him once more. His tiny dick shivered between two scaled bellies as Grindelwald began to thrust, twirling them in lazy circles as he kissed Graves’ neck, his shoulders, the edges of his hairless and softening jaw.
Graves’ eyes rolled, and while something in the back of his mind howled that he needed to pay attention and escape, he couldn’t focus past the relentless rhythm of Grindelwald’s pounding dick in his sopping cunt. Hands moved from his hips – hot and swollen – and brushed his nipples instead, tweaking and pulling and playing until they felt hot and swollen too. Graves mewled, the sounds swallowed by a hungry mouth when Grindelwald quickly kissed him, tongue slipping between lust slackened lips and conquering.
Grindelwald pet the seam of skin stretched around the girth of his invading prick, stroked it while it appeared to swell even more where they met. Graves keened as that stretch moved further and further into him, struggling at his surreal entrance until finally it popped in, making his cock dribble feebly. He could feel it traveling up and into his new insides, passing up and up and up. He felt a little bloated.
Another followed just behind it, stretching him just as taut before sliding in. Grindelwald pet his neck and his hair. He pressed kisses into his neck and when next he tweaked his nipples Graves felt the flesh of his chest move as though there was some give to it. He moaned, confused, aroused.
The third swell entered a little easier. He could feel his stomach begin to press against Grindelwald’s flat abdominals.
“You’re going to be so fat with my eggs,” Grindelwald said. “You’re going to save us.”
His hips ached. His belly felt so full and while it felt mind-blowing entering, the next egg made him feel too tight, fit to burst. He sobbed into an open-mouthed kiss as Grindelwald’s words registered. Eggs. He was impregnating him.
Finally no more eggs passed through him, and as though Grindelwald knew there would be no more, he began to thrust – hard and heavy. Graves could feel a strange weight on his chest, shifting with each thrust. He tried to look down but Grindelwald slipped in for another kiss, his tongue running over Graves’ sharp new canines. He whined when Grindelwald grabbed his chest and pressed that weight into him, and he knew he was soft there. Without looking, he knew he was suddenly soft there.
“Perfect,” Grindelwald gasped into Graves’ mouth, shoved forward twice more, and then warmth was blooming inside Graves, filling him even more. It came like a slow and steady faucet, and he kept waiting for it to end, but it seemed endless. His bloat worsened, fat against Grindelwald’s slim belly. Fingers took him by his tiny cock and fondled him and he clenched, his whole body seizing as that pushed him over the edge. He could feel it as his insides milked Grindelwald’s dick, urging more of the merman’s seed deeper, and he sobbed.
Grindelwald only pulled out once it had stopped, but nothing leaked out with the exit of his dick.
He brushed a large thumb over Graves’ sopping, gaping entrance and purred as it shrank again beneath his touch, taking his dick with it, the scales sealing and trapping in his eggs and sperm.
Leaving him fat and – and – and –
He sobbed again, hands shaking as he reached down for his pudgy belly. He looked down and his face contorted as he found his view obscured by two modest breasts, just enough for a handful.
Grindelwald cupped one and brushed a thumb over its still erect nipple, smiling when Graves moaned despite himself and shivered.
“Lovely,” he purred, “Marvelous, perfect. Such a good mama.”
“Get them out,” Graves whispered, eyes wet. “Change me back.”
“No, pretty mama,” Grindelwald said as he moved both hands up to cup a slender jaw and pet back tears from long, sooty black lashes framed with flecks of beautiful green scales. “There is no going back.”
He guided Graves' hand back onto his heavy breast and squeezed his hand around it while taking the other to Graves’ belly, making him feel the life beginning to sow there.
This is a place for fics that I no longer feel properly demonstrate my writing or just no longer fit the direction that I am planning on taking this blog. Some of my older fics will also be placed here. Since they are discontinued they might not feature appropriate content warnings - proceed with caution. Hope you enjoy them though. thank you for your support.
OT7
Knew Better
One shot ; requested
You should’ve known better
Chrysanthemum
Discontinued ; poly BTS
Meogi
Drabble ; requested
Hybrid!BTS AU
K-12
Anthology Series
Kim Namjoon
Inferno
Part Three of the Divine Commedia ; Namjoon x reader
How They Trapped You
Drabble
How Kim Namjoon trapped you
Kim Seokjin
Incognito
A crack head oneshot for @ddaenqu
“ someone make an au where jin is your fbi agent that sees whatever you doing and judges you silently”
Hi Steph! I'm wondering if you or your followers happen to know where I can find illwick's "unwind" series, because it seems they're no longer on ao3. I'm not sure who else to ask! Thank you❤️
Hi Nonny!
I was actually recently asked about this! Check out this post here for an explanation and a link to their archived fics.
I am planning on having an archived fics list. This will simply be a place for my older five to go. Ones I feel no longer reflect my writing style and ones that are simply discontinued. I'm also going to create a drabble masterlist so be on the look out for those changes which will probably come into play this weekend.
