i am all about sociopathic jerry in threesomes but on the flip side consider david from the lobster who's the exact opposite. so sweet and soft and sure he couldn't get away with switching world's with percival bc they look quite different but imagine percival and newt just taking care of david
This just immediately made me think of David in Graves’ body.
He looks like Mr. Graves, but everyone knows he’s not Mr. Graves. He goes out of his way to get out of the way in the hallway - flattening himself to the wall, eyes down, and moving as though conscious of a paunch that’s certainly not there. He stammers, sometimes. Voice low and unsure, as though ready and expecting to be dismissed. He’s shy and he’s awkward and he’s not Percival Graves.
But he is precious, Newt finds out when he takes him to their bed one night - curious. He’s not Graves. There’s lust in his eyes, but no heat. A smoldering ember of want that’s too used to rejection to light. He stands oddly at the end of their bed, hands clasped in front of him, looking anywhere but at Newt, and Newt finds he enjoys stalking this Graves just as much as he loves stripping control from his Graves.
He peels this stranger apart with soft, praising kisses. Reveals a body that’s as familiar to Newt as the back of his hand, but evidently unfamiliar to its host who looks at his flat belly with wide eyes, fingers tentative as they trace the exposed skin peeking out from his unbuttoned shirt.
“Who are you?” Newt asks between kisses, crowding the stranger until he’s taken out at the knees by the bed - a shocked, short little cry tumbling from his lips - and sprawls inelegantly into the sheets.
“David,” Newt purrs. “How did you get here?”
“I d-don’t know. It just happened.”
And Newt asks no more questions. If the man’s reactions to magic or Newt’s creatures had been anything to go by, he didn’t end up here of his own volition. Best to enjoy this other, softer, submissive Graves. He’ll enjoy detailing the deflowering to his actual lover later. Explaining how his lip quivered when Newt gently massaged his prostate. The way he whimpered as Newt opened him with his fingers and his tongue. How sensitive his nipples were - and how Newt now knew that Graves had been fiercely guarding that secret somehow and clamps would definitely be in his future. The way he keened with fingers in his hair. The way he shuddered, open mouthed and silent and reverent, when he came.
David is soft. A version of Graves that has seen not the evil of the world, but the evil of ordinary people. Subdued from bullying and cheating and rejection. Gentle when he shivered, forever this close to a sob. Something softens in Newt’s heart at the sight of him - this fragile, lonely shell of his lover. This man that enjoyed baking and eating and reading by the fireplace.
Graves’ body maybe gains a pound or two while they work to reverse whatever caused this - but Newt loves it. Loves to see his hardened lover ever so slightly plush around the tightly tailored hem of his pants. Kisses the skin there when David bashfully, shamefully, looks away - lashes caught by something wet and heavy.
“She left me,” he whispers.
“She’s a fool,” Newt whispers back, worshipful with his lips as he praises him. “You’re perfect. Someone will see that.”
“H-how do you know?” He asks, reaching to adjust glasses that aren’t there; endearing in his timidness.
“Because I can see it,” Newt says. “That’s how.”
Graves is more than a little grumpy when he returns. He had been stuck in some strange hotel of weird, lonely people, Newt. All of which kept hitting on him. STRANGELY. And he was fat and he had to hunt people in the woods or else he’d run out of time and turn into a lobster, which evidently he chose. A LOBSTER, NEWT. And finally he’s back, only he’s pudgy. PUDGY. Nothing extreme, but…
“Damn it, Newt, why did you let him eat so much?!”
“He was a stress eater, Percy! If you saw his face you wouldn’t have been able to say no either!”
“MY FACE, NEWT. AND YOU SAY NO TO ME ALL THE TIME.”
Newt pouted and crossed his arms, utterly lacking remorse.
That night when Percival is making his bed on the couch, he can’t help but grumble, unsure of how he ended up on the couch after his boyfriend slept with his timid imposter and let him get fat. He angrily fluffed his pillow, settled down, and crossed his arms.