#force-feeding mention

[kim-poce]

Full House 21 - Waking Up

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Masterlist

CW: pet whump, disordered eating, caretaker new master/whumper, force-fed mention, restraining someone scared.

=-=

Night has a good memory. Which sounds like a good thing but it really isn’t. He remembers —a bit of— the time before training, he knows full well that what makes him different from ‘humans’ are the years and pain and training he underwent.

The trainers punished him for remembering things he shouldn’t, enough for him to be great at pretending he doesn’t know anything, great at noticing what he should know and what he shouldn’t.

He shouldn’t see his Master crying, for example, and since it was impossible to hide that he knew, he could at least ignore it. Don’t talk about it. He knows people hate to be looked down upon, they will do anything to show they are better, greater, more important. Most of Day’s scars were caused because of this stupid need of being in control.

Master took a deep breath, avoiding looking down at Night, so he knew Master wouldn’t comment on this too. Punishing a pet for seeing he cry was the same as admitting he cried. And humans seems to be fucking allergic to emotions, so he won’t want that.

“You should rest.”

“It’s still my shift, Sir,” Night said. Rest again. Former master seemed to think the pets were made out of iron; impossible to break or tire. This master seems to think they are made out of porcelain or something.

“I see,” Master said, cleaning away his tears, “Maybe we should eat-”

Master’s voice was cut by a groan, louder than the previous whimpers. Little One trashed as soon as he woke up, trying to get free from the tube into his nose. Night clawed closer faster than Eri could, he didn’t want to touch the boy, but he had no choice, did he? He held his thin wrist carefully, for a second also acting as if the pet was made of porcelain.

Night whispered that he should be quiet, that he isn’t in the basement where the talks aren’t being heard, where they can complain and badmouth. He is in a room, and Master is just there, and he will be so angry if the pet doesn’t behave.

As always, if Little One heard he didn’t show it, instead, he tried to get free from the touch. There were two options; help and be punished for it or let him fight and watch him get punished instead. Night didn’t stop to measure risks, of course he helped, he managed to use the sheet as a small barrier, they were still touching, but he hoped that since it wasn’t skin-skin touch the pet could calm down a little bit.

Little One trashed and fought with his little meaningless strength, Night glanced at the nightstand, where a fabric restraint was waiting. Master didn’t reach for it but Night still almost hissed at him, he would hiss if he wasn’t hoarding punishment for a while already; it was better to behave.

“Hey,” Master called the smallest pet, his voice was calming, well, it would be calming if not coming from someone that has all the power over Little One. “I’m sorry, dear,” his voice broke, “Can you, please, let the tube there? It’s meant to help, okay? If you calm down it won’t hurt.”

“You being here is enough for him not to calm down,” Night said bitterly before he could think, he hoped that Master would punish only him for that, it was his fault not the boy’s. Master frowned but Night didn’t move away, he couldn’t, the fear left his mouth dry, but his hands were ready to spot Eri from getting any more close.

“You are right,” Master said to his surprise, Little One was muttering something they didn’t understand. Night had let go of his wrist and was holding the long sleeves of his shirt, not touching, but still stopping him from taking the tube out. Little One was muttering ‘sorry’ non-stop.

“You are right,” Master repeated, his voice somewhat off, “I’ll get… some water? I think? I don’t want to…” he glanced at the nightstand, “Can you calm him down? Enough for me to explain the tube?”

“Beige can help,” Night said, humans don’t like when pets help each other, calling Beige was the same to set him up for future punishment, he hoped Beige would forgive him for that. “He can calm him down, please,” Night begged, he had to before Master got angry at the boy, before he hurt the already so scared pet, “Please let us help this time.”

Master didn’t say anything, only ran out of the room towards the room the pet pile was. Night heard someone walking to the kitchen, it was Beige, he knew his footsteps, he heard Eri calling his doctor friend. He heard Day getting closer to the room, but stopping before entering, knowing he would just scare the boy if he entered.

After eternal two minutes, Beige arrived, holding a glass of water. He didn’t say anything at first, but his presence alone allowed Little One to calm down a bit, going from ‘sorry’ to ‘no’; enough for Night to let go of his sleeves, hating himself for had restrained the boy when he was so scared already, the same way he hated every time he had force-fed him.

Beige crouched down near the bed, skillfully helping the boy drink the water, only touching the glass and the bed, not the boy. “I know you are s-scared,” he said as the boy drank the water as if he won’t have any for a long time, he probably thinks he won’t. “Do y-sou know how you can’t e-eat right?

Little One whimpered at that, muttering incompressible words that Night knew was his form of apology.

“It’s okay,” Beige said.

“It’s not your fault,” Night added, forcing the hatred towards every human in the world out of his tone. “You have no choice.”

Little One went back to the water, Beige was regulating it so he would drink slowly.

“The t-tube will feed you, it’ll be un-uncomfortable but it won’t be p-painful,” Beige explained, struggling to find a way to say ‘it’ll feed you’ without bringing the funnel and the muzzle to the pet’s mind. “It’ll help you get s-stronger.”

“p-p-please, please, please, please-”

Beige held his sleeve when he tried to reach for the tube again, the helplessness made the boy cry, sobbing hard and painfully, his body aching with all the wounds still healing.

Master walked in after that, Little One managed to say another ‘sorry’ between sobs. Night was holding back the urge to look away; Master would hurt him, he was sure.

But Eri didn’t move, he just stood there until the muttering became ‘no’, he stepped closer, Little One backed away again, “I won’t hurt you,” Master said, Night would believe it if he was a complete idiot.

“Thank you two,” Master said with a broken smile, his eyes were still red, more than before. He glanced at the nightstand and let out a relieved sigh.

Master approached slowly, enough to even Night get less wary. He stepped closer, Little One complained, he stopped, waited, and stepped closer again. It was slowly that Master made his way near the bed, crouching down.

Night gritted his teeth as Eri placed his hand on his head, “Thank you for calling Beige, I don’t know what I would do if I was by myself.”

Night glanced at the nightstand, the restrains still there. I know very well what you would do.

Next Eri patted Beige, who leaned closer immediately. “And thank you for helping, dear, I’m sorry for waking you up this early.”

Night forced himself to remember who that man was; Their owner. He shouldn’t be believed or trusted, he shouldn’t even be obeyed, he should just be watched carefully and kept as calm and non-violent as possible.

Master turned his tired eyes to Little One, who was muttering ‘no’, which meant he wasn’t as scared as before. “I was worried about you,” Eri started, “I’m sorry, I would have talked to you about the tube but… you didn’t wake up, you… I had no choice, I’m sorry.”

Little One reached the tube slowly, and no one stopped him this time; he was still scared, but he was fully conscious now, and everyone knew he had understood what was happening. Little One just touched it, trembling. He shot a desperate glance at Beige, the only one who would understand his unspoken question.

“H-h-how long he’ll- I- I mean- the the tube…” Beige stuttered out.

“Not long I hope,” Eri said, looking at Little One, “It’s just until you can eat better, without using it.”

Little One shot another glance at Beige, whimpering quietly, begging him for something he can’t make.

“Want me to leave, dear?” Eri asked the boy, “I’ll leave if you promise not to take out the tube, can you do that?”

Little One was in silence for a full minute before managing a “Go”; it was a rare really spoken word, not a muttering. Night was surprised when Master really left, ‘rest well’ he said before walking out of the room once again.

“I should go too,” Night said, he still had to be punished for the whole night of bad behavior. “Will you stay?”

Beige nodded, and Little One sighed in relief listening to that, then he grabbed the fluff blanket on the bed and covered himself completely. The other pets hoped this meant he was calmer now.

Night grabbed the restraints before leaving, ripping it into small shards. He was going to present himself for punishment anyway, at least he wanted a good reason to.

=-=

Taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain, @whump-blog, @wolfeyedwitch, @octopus-reactivated, @sufferfictionalcharacters, @rat-father, @badluck990, @onlybadendings, @inpainandsuffering, @mazeish, @neuro-whump, @freefallingup13, @sideblogformindtrash, @extemporary-username, @jadeocean46910, @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight, @melancholy-in-the-morning, @mylifeisonthebookshelf, @neverthelass, @pumpkin-spice-whump, @whumpfessional, @sinning-shipping-trash, @batfacedliar-yetagain, @scp-1296, @dont-touch-my-soup, @endlesscyclezz, @nicolepascaline, @rose-pinkie, @latenightcupsofcoffee, @dyingisbadforyourhealth

#whump #pet whump #disordered eating #caretaker new master #multiple whumpees #caretaker new whumper #ed tw #force-feeding mention #Full house #my writing #caretaker

[the-real-list-of-ominous-threats]

I'm going to force feed you the turkey dinner flavored candy corn

#cw force feeding mention

[whumperofworlds]

Guess you gotta force feed them, Caretaker 🤷‍♀️

#whump #whump memes #stubborn whumpee #whumpee #caretaker #force feeding mention

[cats-and-confusion]

Whumper kicks the door shut, their hands full with a bowl of something that smells delicious. Whumpee gathers the courage to look away from their corner. They clutch what remains of their arm - Whumper had cut it off the day before, just below the elbow.

"Hey there, Whumpee. I figured you might be hungry after losing all that blood. I can’t have you dying on me, now can I?"

Whumpee turns their head fully now. Food? That food? For them? Surely not. Surely something is at play here...

...but they are so, so hungry.

"Whassit made from?" Whumpee manages to croak out. They smell it - its scent permeates the room, really. It smells familiar.

Whumper grins and crouches down to properly offer it to Whumpee. "Oh, you know, stuff I had around. I had some extra ingredients on hand."

Whumpee's heart plummets. They know they don't have a choice but to eat.

#whump #whumpee #whump prompt #whump writing #whump ideas #tw cannibalism #tw force feeding #tw captivity #tw kidnapping #tw amputation #tw amputation mention

[jaeyleo]

LOCKS OR KEYS: PART 8

YOU CHOSE: OPEN THE DOORS- CONTINUE WITH CHASE.

Your decisions allow buried memories to resurface. This is overwhelming for your character, and his mind suffers from the weight of it all.

cws: flashbacks, dehumanization, non human whumper, whumper is also caretaker, electric shock, force feeding, eye trauma, mentions of a seizure, sick whumpee, mentions of hypnosis. lmk if i should add more!

. . .

Screaming, screaming, screaming.

Chase's head feels like it could explode. Too many sounds, too many colors, too many voices and commands and knives and soft touches and- and-

Pseudo hushes him, raking fingers through the puppet's hair. "Pink, dolly, take a deep breath."

But Pink isn't there. Chase falls into the hands of his monster, and finds himself in a new place. Somewhere deep inside his head.

. . .

Cellar.

"Please, p- please!! I can't do it, please!"

"Shhh. It's just a pop quiz, Pink. You'll do just fine."

Chase's arms are chained behind him, with ankles cuffed to both legs of the chair. Hot tears pour down his cheeks, soaking into clothes that are already soaked with blood. He shivers, freezing in the cellar air, terrified of what he sees in front of him.

Just a few feet away, Pseudo holds a stun gun. He sits in a foldable chair, relaxed and comfortable in his position of power here. He owns Pink, and that's a wonderful feeling.

"Tell me your name," he says.

"Pink!" Chase doesn't hesitate in saying it. He may as well be saying please. "It's Pink, Pink, I'm P- Pink!"

"Good," Pseudo praises. "Now tell me your age."

"T- twenty seven..!"

"Mhm. And how about-" Pseudo covers his eyes with his free hand, "the color of my eyes?"

"Brown!"

"Very good!"

Pseudo returns to his original position, with both hands placed leisurely on the stun gun.

"Now, last question, dolly. If you get it right, I'll put this away, hm?"

Chase nods, eager and afraid in the same shaking breath.

"What time is it?"

The puppet freezes. There are no clocks and no windows to tell the time in here. He wasn't told when they got down here, and he wouldn't know how much has passed. It all feels like an eternity of pain and blood.

He trembles, searching his mind for answers. What time was breakfast? How long did it take to clean the kitchen? When was lunch? How long did washing the sheets take? It isn't dinner time yet, is it??

"N- nn-" Chase begins to panic. His breath halts in his chest and he has to shake the terror off himself, like a puppy emerging from falling into a swimming pool.

"Can I have a h- hint??"

Pseudo sighhhhhss, lulling his head to the left, the right, the left, up straight again..

"Mmm.... it was about 4:30 when we came down here."

"A- and how long have we been down here??"

Pseudo chuckles at him, his stupid doll. "That's not a hint, dolly, that's just the answer."

A breath escapes the puppet's mouth. "R- right," he says, defeated. "Okay..."

Think, think, think.

He rocks back and forth, clawing at his mind to provide the answer. How long has it been? How long does it feel like? What time is it? What time is it? What time is it?????

"Um, u- um..."

"Come now, Pink. We don't have all evening."

A soft sob bubbles out from his neck. There's no way he's getting this right.

"Is- i- is it... i- is it um.... s- six- no, no, seven, is it seven?"

"Let's see.."

Pseudo pulls his phone out from his pocket, and flips it open.

He stares at the clock, and Chase stares at his monster. Pseudo lets the tension hang in the air, drinking in the sounds of his puppet's pounding heart.

"Is it seven??? I- hh??"

The monster shuts the phone with a click, and places it back inside his pocket.

"Six fifty- three."

He raises the gun, pointing at Chase's shoulder.

"N- no, no!! No!! I was so close, please!! Please Pseudo!! Plea--!"

Chase's words are cut short. He wails, tensing and then falling limp as the pain takes over his entire body.

. . .

Kitchen.

"Open up."

Chase's mouth stays glued shut. Each hand curls a fist into his sweatpants, a desperate attempt at keeping them down. Any minute now, he swears, he's going to take that stupid spoon and shove it down Pseudo's throat.

In his reply, Chase only shakes his head.

"Oh, come now, don't be difficult. You haven't eaten since yesterday."

When he speaks, Chase keeps his teeth clamped together. "I'll eat if I can feed myself."

"Nooo, you'll eat if I tell you to. Now open up.."

He presents the spoon to Chase's mouth, gently tapping the food against his bottom lip. The puppet finally accepts, opens his jaw, and spits it in the monster's face.

For a moment, they only look at eachother. Chase knows what he did is bad. He knows he'll be punished, but he doesn't care. He's going to be hurt anyway, right?

Still, this hurt could've been avoided.

Pseudo's hand comes around to slap the toy hard across the face. It's enough to almost send him reeling out of the chair, gripping onto the table and stomping the floor as not to go flying to the ground. Before he can bring his own hands to cup the sting across his cheek, Pseudo grabs the collar of his shirt, and yanks him to the floor.

Chase yelps, losing his breath as Pseudo climbs on top to straddle him. He hunches over the doll like an animal, a feral spark running around inside his pupils. Chase feels so small beneath him, like a worm under a bird's claw, ready to be swallowed whole.

The spoon comes to meet Chase's lower eyelid, still hot from the food that was so rudely spat back out. Pseudo presses the spoon down, ever so slightly, and Chase feels his eye shift in its socket.

"Do you need to learn your table manners again, pet?"

The puppet's hands clamp around his monster's wrist. "Get off!!"

Pseudo does not relent. He presses the spoon down further, causing the puppet to start seeing double, triple, a black spot where his eye contacts the top of the socket.

"You should answer me, you know. I could do some terrible things to you."

He presses further, and Chase digs his nails into Pseudo's skin. He feels as though his eye could pop right out of his head.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry!"

"That isn't an answer."

More pressure. More pain. Chase feels air in places he shouldn't.

"Ah! No!!! Nono I don't, I don't, I'm sorry!"

"You don't what, Pink? Show me you understand."

"I--!" Pink digs his nails deeper into his monster's wrist. "I don't-- I don't need to learn table manners, I'm sorry! Nh- please!"

"Good," Pseudo croons, and slowly, slowly, releases the pressure on his puppet's eye. He lets a few moments pass before reaching a hand to caress Pink's face, thumb stroking gentle across the cheekbone that was hit. The doll shrinks away, closing his eyes.

"I want you to prove it, now, Pink. Otherwise..." the spoon draws a line, following the curve of Chase's eye socket. He speaks soft, higher pitched, like talking to a child. A puppy, a worm under his claw. "Do you understand?"

"Y- yes, Pseudo.."

"Good.."

Pseudo moves off, and Chase climbs back in his chair. He holds his eye and stinging cheek in his hand before Pseudo swats it away, reminding him table manners include no hands above the waist.

Pseudo sets himself down, too, and presents the food to Chase's mouth once more.

"Open up."

Chase opens his mouth. Food is placed inside, but he doesn't chew.

"....Eat."

The puppet obeys, avoiding his monster's eyes throughout the rest of the meal.

. . .

Home.

The house is happy.

Chase cradles his daughter on the couch, running soft hands through waving blond hair. A cartoon drones on in the background, capturing the little girl's attention completely.

She giggles at the characters, and Chase's heart swells with love.

"They're silly," she comments, turning her head to her father. A wide smile takes her face over, with one missing tooth to top it off.

"Yeah, they are silly, aren't they?"

He smiles down at her, and plants a kiss on her forehead. A small hand reaches up to tap the end of his nose.

Chase smiles wider. He is so full of love he can barely stand it.

. . .

Somewhere in Denmark.

Somewhere far away. Somewhere, where old love and safety and sanity aren't a guarantee. Somewhere deep inside his head, Chase is pulled up, up into reality.

He feels like he's trapped underwater, and Pseudo is the one to drag him out. Up, up, up, through swamps and moss and dirt, through water that's thick as clotted blood. His eyes droop, his bones fall limp, Chase cannot breathe with the pressure in his chest. The water tastes of soap, and a sourness that makes his teeth chatter.

He wants to sink again, into memories good and bad. Wants to be anywhere but here. Anywhere, somewhere, somewhere deep inside his head.

Chase groans, a migraine holding him hostage. The lights are too bright, even behind closed eyelids. His blanket is so warm. Is he comfortable? Too tired to tell.

He opens his lazy eyes, seeing his small attic room surround him. He feels sick. Horrible. Tears wet his eyes but he doesn't remember why.

Beside him, Pseudo watches him rest. The puppet startles when he sees his monster, and he tries desperately to sit up. He can only claw the sheets.

Pseudo tilts his head as the puppet shoves himself into the wall. The blanket provides a shield of false protection, and he holds on as if life depends on it.

"You had some scary nightmares, huh?"

Chase only stares.

"Mh. Well, you slept for a while. You even had a seizure."

The puppet's brows furrow. "Really?" he croaks.

"Mhm. Does your head hurt?"

Chase nods. Pseudo reaches out his hand, slow and steady. Even so, the puppet shrinks away, closing his eyes as if expecting to be slapped or clawed or scratched.

But the monster is gentle, brushing away pink hair to feel the doll's forehead. The coolness of his hand is comforting. Chase can't help but relax a little in his touch.

"You still have a fever..." Pseudo runs his hand over the puppet's hair, petting softly. "... Are you hungry?"

"No.."

"Liar."

"I don't wanna eat."

"It'll make you feel better."

"Will it?"

Pseudo gives a soft smile. He helps the doll sit up, gently hushing him as he whimpers and whines about his head swimming, his muscles hurting, ow, Pseudo, please-

"Shhhhh. It's okay, Pink.."

On the end table, a bowl of warm soup waits to be eaten. The monster takes a spoonful, blows, and presents it to Chase's hesitant mouth.

"Come now... eat. You'll feel better."

The puppet frowns, and accepts. Bite after bite, it feels warm and heavy in his stomach, warm and heavy and delicious. Pseudo was right. He does feel better.

They wash it down with cool water, and Chase breathes a sigh of relief at the taste. He may still feel sick and afraid, but he's not thirsty, not hungry, and not cold, and that's more than enough right now.

Pseudo pushes the empty dishes aside, and returns his hands to playing with Pink's hair. The puppet sinks into the feeling, sleepiness pulling down his weight. He feels comfortable. Sick, but comfortable.

"You've been anxious lately," Pseudo says gently. "You're trying to get back into a headspace that's not good for you."

Chase opens his eyes.

"I hate to see you suffer like that, Pink. It breaks my heart."

"I don't wanna be your toy.."

Pseudo sighs, stroking the doll's cheek with his thumb. Sweet thing.

"I need to run to the store again. I forgot my sugar."

"I- I can't, I don't wanna-"

"No, shhh. You're staying in bed."

Chase relaxes again, falling victim to the gentle touches of his monster.

"Can I trust you to rest?"

The puppet nods. He's too sick to get up anyway. Everything hurts, especially his head.

"Good doll.. I'll be back soon."

He plants one gentle kiss on Chase's forehead, and leaves him to rest alone.

. . .

As the minutes pass, the puppet finds himself unable to sleep. His head hurts, his body aches, oh, God, he feels horrible. He almost wishes Pseudo hypnotized him before he left.

While he lays there, Chase begins to wonder. He heard the door close, but no keys, and no starting car. It's no secret that Pseudo can travel long distances without transport, as part of his magic allows him to do so. Could he have left the car keys?

"No, no, don't think like that," Chase says allowed. He runs his hands over his face, and tries to get comfortable again. But the thought plagues him.

Did he leave the car keys?

Even if he won't escape, he could still check, right? Then at least he knows, and he can get some sleep. Yes, yes, he'll just check and see..

Chase drags himself up, groaning as a dizziness swirls the entire room around. A chill takes over him as well, and he reaches for the smaller blanket on the bed to wrap around his shoulders. God, he feels like shit.

Eventually he makes his way out of his room, leaning against walls and railings as not to go tumbling to the ground. Walking is a chore, and his feet ache with every step. Pins and needles climb up his legs like leeches, and he finds himself in pain with every. Single. Step.

Down the stairs, into the living room.

The car keys hang on the wall by door.

Chase freezes. He can only stare.

#this is my favorite part so far i think #this was super fun to write #im excited to see what everyone chooses!! #locksorkeysgame #flashbacks cw #dehumanization cw #eye trauma cw #electric shock cw #non human whumper #whumper is also caretaker #force feeding cw #sick whumpee #mentions of hypnosis #pseudo oc #puppet pink #its a fic #whump writing #whump #choose your own adventure #choose your own story

[tiktoks-for-tired-tots]

#tiktok #scopophobia #forced feeding mention #binge eating

[painsandconfusion]

Whump Prompts - Coffee

@wild-selenite-caffine for you <3 Just some fresh-brewed whump prompts to start your morning off right. Enjoy~

Whumper bringing a hot cup of coffee to a shivering Whumpee’s lips. It scalds them instantly, but Whumpee knows they’ll die if they don’t get warm fast.

“What? Did you expect sugar and cream? Get used to disappointment.”

Whumpee is starving, twitching and curled up on the floor. They immediately brighten when Whumper sets a cup of coffee down in front of them. Then their face falls as they realize it’s stale, over-brewed, and cold. They can barely choke it down and all it does is add to the churning acid. 

Whumper throwing scalding coffee on Whumpee. Whumpee writhes and screams, trying to swat it off of them while Whumper calmly pours another cup.

“You don’t need sleep. Here, have another cup.”

Whumper offering Whumpee a sip of coffee. When Whumpee accepts, Whumper takes a sip themself, then presses their lips to Whumpee’s, directing the morsel into their mouth.

Whumpee forced to make coffee for Whumper. Whumper dumps it on them if they aren’t 100% satisfied with the quality.

"More. I want it boiling."

Forcing Whumpee’s hand over the brewing coffee as it drips down - blood eventually mingling with the brew as Whumpee screams.

Grounds ground into open wounds.

Caretaker brining Whumpee a cup of coffee in the morning without really thinking about it, and Whumpee just….staring at it. Someone just offered them something. Not because they had to or because Whumpee earned it. They just…gave them something. To share in a moment with them. Whumpee can’t comprehend it.

“How much of this would you have to drink before your heart gives out? Nevermind - let’s just see.”

Forcing Whumpee to eat coffee grounds. 

Whumper’s hands shaking with the excessive caffeine - it makes the cuts jagged and tearing.

Whumper wrenching Whumpee’s head over their cup of coffee, letting the cascading tears drip into it before throwing Whumpee aside again. Drinking it silently while they watch Whumpee sob on the floor.

(tags: @prisonerwhump @whumpawink @mabledonut @jadeocean46910 @paleassprince @distinctlywhumpthing @tropes-for-my-md-daydreams @batfacedliar-yetagain @suspicious-whumping-egg @wormwriting @meowsikbox @villainsvictim @throwawaywhumper @wild-selenite-caffine @whumpasaurus101 @thecitythatdoesntsleep @whumpworld @cryptidhongo @rose-pinkie @whumpberry-cookie @rainbows-and-whumperflies @astralrunic @cursedscribbles)

(lmk if you want to be added or removed from any tag lists!)

#whump #whump prompt #prompt list #coffee whump #ordinary objects #torture #burning #sadistic whumper #creepy whumper #intimate whumper #sleep deprivation #heart attack mention #threat #forced feeding

[kim-poce]

Full House 30 - “Garden”

Previous | Next

Masterlist

This came out a bit more bittersweet than I planned

CW: Pet whump, multiple whumpees, caretaker new master, force-feeding mention.

=-=

There were two bromeliads on the youngest's window, as he did not join the others in the garden. Between the bromeliads was one of Beige’s aloe vera, so it was like —Beige liked to think— a small part of the outside inside the room.

Purple and Pink put their in the living room, it was —Purple was sure— bad behavior, but the opportunity of putting green things around the room he is in the most is too good to let pass.

Night put his outside, in a spot he can always watch when on guard, and Day's was inside his room by the window.

The pets weren't sure where Master's was, maybe in his room? Must be since no one could see it around.

Master Eri said that they could use the garden —a small, stair-like thing with three "steps", each one was in truth a wooden box full of black earth— as they wished, and that he would plant his other one later.

“So…” Day started, he was talking really often lately, not only the whispers to Night from time to time, not only the little warning of what he heard to Beige so he could do something about it, he was truly talking.

Night —as always— had a theory of the reason, he said the pets always used every little time they could to talk to each other, to warn each other, because they needed to in order to survive, and now every time they are alone and out of the earshot of Master they talked, he also said —while putting a lot of emphasis in how this must be a trap and how bad Master is— that there are less warning now, less perceived dangers, and more time together, so the pets still talk, but now they can talk about things other than a way to stay alive.

“Where is he now?” Day asked in a low voice, carefully digging a small hole in the soft soil, taking way more time than needed.

“W-w-with the boy,” Pink told, Master had entered the bedroom right after he left, which was scary but fast.

“Doing what?” Night asked, not caring about hiding the anger in his voice at first, but being more careful after Pink flinched. He had planted his snake plant in a couple of seconds as soon as he arrived and was now stabbing the soil with a plastic shovel, “We shouldn’t let Sir Eri stay with him.”

“We are pets, we can’t tell Master what to do,” Purple said, his voice trained but with a drop of warning.

“We can if we try, people are idiots anyway.”

“Night,” Day scolded, looking from one side to another, “Enough.”

Night tsked his tongue, he kept stabbing the soil, but now with a slightly shivering hand.

“What if-” Beige started, tracing his fingers on his aloe vera, “He said he won’t- won’t hurt us so what if-”

“Nope,” Night cut, “He is human, so he is bad.”

“I… I don’t want to to badmouth him but please Beige, don’t… don’t create hope,” Day said, voice full of worry and sadness.

Beige glanced at the lapdogs, Pink shook his head and Purple swallowed hard, avoiding eye contact.

“Y-you… you must be right,” he said, heart racing, he didn’t want to say that he won’t be able to steal things with the way Master is organized, he didn't say he can't help the way he did anymore, it would make the others scared, and he certainly wouldn’t say what he thinks Master’s identity is, he wants to be sure before telling such scary news.

The “garden” —it was kinda hard to see the five plants in there as a garden— was all planted already, but Master had yet to come to plant his, which wasn’t too bad, it was the end of the afternoon, the area was shadowed and the day wasn’t hot.

The lapdogs appreciated the sunlight and outside air, most of the time they must stay pretty and kneel in the living room, looking down rather than out the window.

Beige also enjoyed the time out; an allowed time to rest, near most of the other pets. He felt less lonely, even if just for a while.

“I didn't talk to him yet,” Purple admitted when the talk moved back to Little One, “Master never said I could go there.”

He also didn't say you couldn't do it. Night thought, but he knew that permissions must be clearly stated. “You want to?”

“I don’t want him to think I don’t want to meet him,” Purple said, the only time he had seen him was when he was punished in The Room, back then, the boy was unconscious and Purple was too scared and in too much pain to really pay attention to him. “But… but I’m not allowed.”

The other pets silently agreed, it isn’t because everyone is being bad that Purple needs to misbehave too.

“Is he… eating?” Day asked, Beige just shook his head.

Pink swallowed hard before speaking, “What is… what is the problem with with food? I know he doesn’t- he can’t eat, but why?”

Beige, Day and Night glanced at each other uncomfortable, “It’s…” Night started when the other stayed in silence, “... there is this… this funnel and Day hold him and I… I force the the food down and…” he was looking down guiltily, “He used to to throw up so… so there was a gag, and he he couldn’t… anymore, but he tries so…”

“Sorry, I I shouldn’t asked I-”

They all kept silent for a long time after that, just looking down at the ground. The only sound was coming from Night still stabbing the soil with the shovel.

“Oh!” Beige said, “I I almost almost forgot to to tell, he doesn’t he doesn’t like touching he he hates it, since since always.”

Pink looked up, “T-this explains why he backs away when I touch the bed… thank you I’ll I’ll keep this in mind.”

They all wanted to ask how things would be from now, but neither of them would be able to answer, and talking about it would only scare them, so they tried to simply enjoy the little current piece instead of thinking about the uncertain future.

Master came after a while, he praised everyone, gave pets to everyone, and planted his small succulent in a corner, as if he didn’t want it to mix with the pet’s plants, “It’s getting late,” he said, “Let’s come back inside, I made dinner today.”

Beige glanced up, but before he could beg for forgiveness Master told him that it was okay, he patted him once more and they all came back inside. Master was nice once again, as all the days before that, and the pets were just actively killing any hope threatening to grow, and trying to keep these nice moments in their memory because they know it won’t last long.

=-=

Taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain, @whump-blog, @wolfeyedwitch, @octopus-reactivated, @sufferfictionalcharacters, @rat-father, @badluck990, @onlybadendings, @inpainandsuffering, @mazeish, @neuro-whump, @freefallingup13, , @sideblogformindtrash, @extemporary-username, @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight, @melancholy-in-the-morning, @mylifeisonthebookshelf, @neverthelass, @pumpkin-spice-whump, @whumpfessional, @sinning-shipping-trash, @batfacedliar-yetagain, @scp-1296, @dont-touch-my-soup, @endlesscyclezz, @nicolepascaline, @rose-pinkie, @latenightcupsofcoffee, @theadorelocksly, @dyingisbadforyourhealth

#whump #Pet whump #multiple whumpees #caretaker new master #caretaker new whumper #force-feeding mention #institutionalized slavery tw #institutionalized slavery #Full House #Eri #Beige #Night #Day #Pink #Purple #my writing

[unanchored-ship]

i have no idea if this makes any sense considering i dont know much about this AU, but for the family feast AU im just thinking of a casual dinner between William and his father, or so it seems that way except they're eating human meat yknow as the Williams do

i imagine William having sensory issues with the uhh fucken human guts and all the blood and his father tells him to stop being dramatic and eat and William cries bc it feels so bad but he eats anyway. and there's that image of little William weeping miserably with the intestines and blood falling from his lips

it just feels like a good metaphor for autistic kids being forced to choke down things we literally cannot handle. idk if that would be your intention but i think there's potential there :) you don't have to run with it this is just brainrot i had wahhh ok bye

sorry as soon as i read this i knew i had to do it

#tw gore #tw blood #tw force feeding #tw cannibalism #the autism metaphor is a really good idea! #i wasnt going for it but now that you mention it #i can see it omg omgn #dunno if i can add more of this to the rest of the story but its great to think about #the gore was so random i just threw down some messy sketches of organs and pixelated em #i made elder william so fugly here #as he should be #william iii (family feast) #william ii (family feast)

[mattodore]

5 songs i've had on repeat lately, tagged by @wldestluv-rs @veone & @lucidicer

i'm doing this a little late but i'll tag ppl anyway bc i want more music recs 😁 @rottengurlz @fizzytoo @wasabichips @zohrou @birdietrait

#FORCED!!! myself not to just put bark like a god / lemon eyes / jealous sea / and i'm a liar on this bc like. i'm just always looping them #i have a playlist of fifteen songs that's fr just called 'songs that make me go crazy' and they're all on it #river dipping #playlist #i'll be perfectly honest........... all of these songs here are also on theo and matthias's playlists lmao #i fr do NAWT listen to anything else anymore unless i'm scavenging for new music for their playlists 🧍 #i'm very normal about my ocs :_) #the first three are from theo's playlist and the last two are from matthias's #funnily enough i think you can kinda tell which songs pair with which character just going off the album art and the song titles. #trust i will ALWAYSSSSSSSSSSSS do a little music tag game btw like if you're ever like hmmm idk who to tag. tag ME☝️ #i'm going SO slowly through my activity feed atm but i'm getting through it 🏃 #whenever i finish up going through tags/replies/mentions then i will be getting to my inbox which like. whew... #i know that'll be an Event for me kfnhkfnh

[lilac-and-lemon-whumps]

Whatever I Decide

@themerrywhumpofmay Day 7: “Relax” Comfort | Branded | Trembling 

Micah leaves his room for the first time. 

Part 1 | Masterlist

Cw: it as a pronoun, vampire whumper/dubious caretaker, human whumpee, fear of punishment, references to scars and forced eating, allusions to past whump (asphyxiation, whips)

Diego was hungry. 

It wasn’t too bad yet, though he knew it would only grow the longer he waited. Faria had invited him out to feed at one of the local BOT bars—blood-on-tap, some new generational fad that sounded a little too hipster for Diego’s tastes. Whether he wanted to spend the evening drinking mildly stale blood or not (“Ethically sourced,” Jonah, Faria’s partner, would laugh), and was leaning much further toward not anyway, Diego couldn’t leave the house unattended yet. 

While he had no idea what exactly he was going to do with the pet he didn’t ask for but was given by the state regardless, he didn’t want to see the poor thing hurt itself or, Crowley forbid, find a way to escape and only get itself killed in the end. The paperwork would be a nightmare.

A knock on his door reminded Diego of the second reason he couldn’t go out tonight and instead had to favor one of his blood packs from the fridge. 

“Mr. Silva?” The representative from the pet center stood at his door, package in hand. She handed it over along with a slip for him to sign off on before nodding in thanks and retreating back to her car. Diego didn’t bother to close the door but simply sighed and unwrapped the package where he stood in the entryway. 

So. The moment of truth.

The bubble wrap crinkled when he pulled out the item. He quickly glossed over the chain, looking for any identification. 

Annnnnd there it was. 

“—Chow?”

Diego frowned. The collar he held was stained a dark red, soft yet firm leather with a little pendant hanging from the center in the shape of a bone. It was on this pendant that the word “Chow” lay, engraved silver that must have cost his sister a pretty peso for. It looked more like something one would put around a dog’s neck, but then again, Diego knew his share of friends and colleagues who treated their pets just the same.

Diego was tempted to call Faria. In the past couple of weeks, she’d become his sort of confidant when trying to figure out how to handle the strange creature. Until today, Diego had no name to call it by, and not for lack of trying. The human refused to tell him its name, and if it reacted any other way than the usual blanching and curling in on itself when Diego asked, Diego would have had half a mind to punish it for being so stubborn. 

But…Chow? What a stupid name for a pet. Gabi may have had refined tasted in other outlets of her life, but apparently that did not extend to naming her things.  

“Perfect,” Diego muttered. When the state representative called to say they’d salvaged a few more of Gabi’s belongings in the remains of her car, one item that looked to be nothing other than a pet’s collar, Diego had been almost excited. He would take any information on the pet, seeing as his sister left nearly squat for him to figure out when it came to maintaining the human she’d had for the past however many years. 

Even the human’s documentation was nowhere to be found. If he were stupid, Diego would have pried more into it. All human pets are supposed to come with a standard buyer’s contract, blood type, name and age if applicable, etc. The representative’s suggested Gabi had probably just misplaced the documents when alive. It was a polite out for the much more likely reality that Gabi had purchased the human illegally. 

As closest kin, Diego immediately earned possession of Gabi’s belongings. Which, of course, included the human. 

Even in death, his sister was making Diego’s life complicated. 

*

Micah had been studying the skin of his wrists when the door to the enclosure swung open. He didn’t hear the sound of a key, but before he could wonder if it had been unlocked all along, his new owner walked in, a familiar object hanging from his left hand. 

Micah froze.

“You’re awake,” his owner said in lieu of greeting. His eyes followed Micah’s to the object in his hand. “Oh. You recognize this, don’t you?” 

Micah looked between the collar—his collar, the red one that Miss Silva would put on him for their public outings. Sometimes, most times, she’d tighten it until he could barely breathe and he had to lay his head on her knee when he thought he’d pass out—to Mr. Diego’s face. Was he angry? Jealous, knowing the collar was a reminder that Micah used to belong to someone else? How did he get ahold of it? 

Mr. Diego approached until his legs hit the side of the bed. He dangled the collar in front of Micah’s face, who could only watch as the collar’s silver bone with the damning inscription swung back and forth like a ticking clock. 

“Chow.” Mr. Diego slowly drew out the word. “Is that your name? The one you refuse to tell me?”

Mr. Diego didn’t sound mad, but his words were enough to send Micah’s heart racing. Ever since Micah had been forced to disobey and eat what Mr. Diego gave him, Micah was waiting to be punished. Miss Silva favored the whip and her nails, but the unknowing of what Micah’s new owner would do was worse. 

And the other day, Micah had been so sure Mr. Diego was going to—to feed from him. Micah had awoken at some unknown time, wrists sore and bleeding from the old ties his owner had been using. When Mr. Diego had taken Micah’s wrists and brought them to his mouth, so, so close to those fangs that haunted Micah’s worst fears, his new owner had simply licked the wounds until the cuts and scratches healed. 

Micah knew, rationally, how vampire saliva and venom could work. And while Micah had been a good dog with Miss Silva, who never drank from him or drained him dry like the other bad animals she’d have shipped in, she also never licked Micah’s wounds closed. A punishment was a punishment, after all.

If Micah was being punished for eating, or for the few times he’d spoken, he had no idea when that would be. But now, maybe he was catching on. Mr. Diego had found his old collar. Surely he was going to put it on Micah, perhaps see how tight it could go until the dark swallowed Micah once again. 

(Six notches. That’s how many Micah could take.)

(Micah knew that as much as Miss Silva had.)

“You’d think I put you in a freezer with how pale you are,” Mr. Diego murmured. He set the collar down on the bed’s side table. Micah tried not to look surprised. “I need to ask you some questions. If you’re not going to speak, I need you to at least nod or shake your head. Can you do that for me?”

It was a trick question. It had to be. Pets were too stupid to communicate with their owners. But if Mr. Diego was asking him to…surely the punishment for following an impossible order would be lighter than disobeying?

Slowly, and feeling like he might throw if he had anything of substance in his stomach, Micah moved his head up, then down. 

“Oh, good boy,” Mr. Diego’s eyes lit up. Micah started. “Just like that. I’m going to free your hands, and then we’re going to go in the main room and talk. Or, I’ll talk. Nod for me again if you understand.”

Main room? Micah was leaving his enclosure? Distantly, he felt himself nod for his owner, but the uncertainty threatened to drown everything out. 

Calm down, he told himself. You deserve any punishment he decides. 

“I should’ve tried asking this way the first time.” Mr. Diego unlatched the new leash that had come in for Micah. Micah much preferred these over the old ties, which had cut into his skin every time he moved wrong in his sleep. These new ones were much softer, and had enough give for Micah to move his arms where he liked rather than be strung out like a doll. 

Once Micah’s hands were free, Mr. Diego picked up the collar again. As much as Micah tried, he couldn’t hide his sharp inhale quick enough to not draw Mr. Diego’s attention. 

“Let me guess,” his owner mused, waving the red leather. “You don’t like this, do you?”

Another trick question. It didn’t matter what Micah liked. If his owner wanted to collar him, then Micah should be honored to be so cared for. Now that Miss Silva was—not here—Micah was Mr. Diego’s to do with as he pleased. Micah’s wants and likes had nothing to do with it. 

“What did I say?” Mr. Diego tsked. With his free hand, he ran his thumb over Micah’s lips, drawing down to his chin. Maneuvering Micah’s head himself, he moved Micah’s head side to side, then up and down in a faux nod. “Nod for me, or shake your head. I do not enjoy repeating myself.”

Micah waited a beat before realizing what his owner intended. Pressing his lips tight together so not to accidentally make a sound, Micah slowly shook his head and waited to be slapped for his insolence. 

But nothing came. Micah hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes until he felt the pad of Mr. Diego’s finger tapping at the side of his temples in a silent command. 

“Why,” his owner said quietly, “are you so afraid of me?” 

Micah blinked. And then, because he had no idea what else to do, he nodded. 

Mr. Diego scoffed but he didn’t say anything more. Nor did he fasten the collar around Micah’s neck, or slap him for taking so many liberties, or tell Micah to get into position. Instead, he looped the collar around his wrist and, before Micah could think to react, picked Micah up in his arms. 

* To say the human tensed would be putting it mildly. The pet—Chow? Such a stupid name—went from soft skin to solid stone in Diego’s hold the second he had the human wrapped in it. A very frightened, shaking stone, that is. 

“Shhh, you’re okay,” Diego soothed. He placed one hand on the small of its back and rubbed gently as he made his way out of the human’s quarters and back into the main area of the ranch house. What surprised him the most wasn’t necessarily how small it was, because he could easily tell that just by looking. It was how light it was, even for a human.  

Not for the first time, Diego worried about the pet’s eating habits. 

He set the human on the couch beside him, and for a moment the pet stayed wrapped around him before it realized it was being put down. “There you are. Just get comfortable. I’ll say this now, because I’ve been told I need to be as clear as possible with you: you’re not in trouble—uh, Chow.” Despite the assurance, the human still made a face before quickly hiding the expression. Diego latched on to the information. Diego was slowly but surely learning what set off the human, so he wasn’t too surprised at how it tensed when Diego’s shoulder brushed its as he sat down. But it did finally nod, and Diego did not miss how its eyes quickly flit around the lit room, taking in the new space. 

Probably, Diego realized, it was the first time it had seen a fully lit room since Gabi’s old house. He never bothered turning on the lamp in the human’s space. 

“First order of business then. I want a name to call you by. Do you want me to call you Chow? Is that your name?”

The human wouldn’t meet his eyes. The silence stretched. Just when Diego was about to give up and move to the next question, mentally making a note to start a tally count for infractions, the human surprised him. 

“My name is-is whatever you dec-decide, Sir.”

There it was again. His pet could talk. But despite this seeming accomplishment, it immediately shrank into itself after speaking, shoulders bowed as if to fend from attack. 

Diego wasn’t stupid. The signs were all there since the moment he received the pet. The scars on its legs when they had to change its clothes. The two wounds on its back Faria had to stitch up. The way it cowered like a kicked dog, how it looked ill upon speaking, why it never ate by its own choice. 

He remembered his friend’s words when they’d last spoken over the phone. Fair. Diego had quickly cut her off, not wanting to hear slander about Gabi no matter how hard of feelings they left off on before her death. 

But looking at the broken, very much malnourished form of this pet, blue veins more visible than its sunken eyes, Diego had to swallow back a surprising rush of sympathy for the human. Diego had never been cruel for the sake of being such. He was a reasonable man, who approached the world as logically as he knew how. Logic told him humans were below them, to be used as nourishment or, at times, as pets for the very cherished. Logic told him humans were weak, unnaturally short and thin boned, common for prey animals. 

What logic did not tell Diego, however, was the depth to which this human must have been treated to be so damn afraid all the time. It looked like the wind could put up a better fight than this pet. Even the humans in their colonies did not act this way before their superiors. Obedient, yes. Deferential, yes. But…but this? Abject terror and utterly irrational behavior…

For a species that was so determined to hide from harm and stay alive, it made no logical sense to deny food and willingly resist speaking when, by all accounts, it would be easier for both of them to not do so. 

“I like it when you speak,” Diego told it. “Will you tell me why you always stop yourself?”

That was obviously not the right thing to say. Its wrist wounds from the other night were all healed, but it scratched at the invisible marks as if they still bothered him. Its upper teeth bit so hard into its lower lips Diego almost expected to smell blood soon.

Diego was much too old to react like a child who’d turn feral at their first taste of human blood. It wasn’t that he couldn’t handle his reactions around a bleeding human—he very much well could. It was just, well. Even in its current state, the human was admittedly adorable. And who could resist tasting a sweet face like that when it was just so ready to take?

The human did not seem to share Diego’s happy thoughts. It was pale and looking a bit green as if it’d been at sea too long. What wiry muscles it still had were coiled so hard Diego wondered if it was in pain by that alone. 

“Relax, sweetheart.” Acting more on instinct than anything, Diego pulled the pet into his arms again, doing whatever he could to soothe it. Again, it tensed. Again, it froze, waiting for something. 

And then, after almost a minute of Diego waiting a patiently as he could (Faria would never let him live it down if she saw), Diego smelled the tell-tale signs of salt before he felt the drops hit his chest.

“You cry so sweetly,” Diego sighed, not unkindly, and completely unsure if that was a proper thing to tell a pet. He remembered Faria’s advice over the phone: treat it like a child. Speak gently to it. Tell it explicitly what it's allowed and not allowed to do. “But you’re allowed to make noise, little one. You’re allowed to speak, if you wish. I would like you to speak, if that means anything.”

Diego took inventory of the human while he had it so close. It’d been over two weeks since he got the poor thing, but he hadn’t truly studied it since those first two days when the pet had been drugged out of its mind for transportation. It’s hair was a bit matted, what once was probably curly dark locks tangled and grown out beyond what was healthy. He’d probably have to cut it, and most definitely wash it at the very least. To be honest, Diego had been avoiding the issue of bathing and had settled on wiping it down with soap every few days while it tried not to struggle. If the pet freaked out about food, what would it do if Diego tried to strip it? 

“I’m…I’m s-sorry.”

The little hiccup of noise from where the pet had its face curled into Diego’s chest immediately drew Diego from his thoughts. He didn’t dare move, not wanting to give the pet any more reason to startle. Not for the first time Diego wished he were Faria, who could comfort any human with the slightest word. He just wanted a name, damn it. 

But despite his own impatience, he couldn’t be annoyed for long. Diego wasn’t sure what it said about the human who, despite its obvious terror of him, had burrowed itself so sweetly into Diego’s arms as if Diego could protect it from the very thing it feared. 

“Why are you apologizing?” Diego asked. 

“‘Dogs aren’t suh-supposed to talk, sir.” Its voice was muffled where it spoke into Diego’s chest, one hand clenched tight into Diego’s button down. He was definitely going to have to dry clean it. 

Diego focused on the matter at hand. “If I wanted you sorry, I’d let you know. Whatever rules Ga—whatever rules you were once told do not apply here.” Diego wasn’t sure how much the pet knew about its new state. Did it know that Gabi was his sister? Most likely not. Diego had avoided communicating too much with pet despite having two weeks to bring it up to speed. 

In Diego’s defense, he had been terribly busy sorting out the funeral situation and deciding on Gabi’s belongings, whether to donate, keep, or trash the ridiculous hoard of material items she’d collected over the past seventy years. On top of that, Diego had to move his office work remotely while he figured out what he would do with the pet. Keep it? Sell it? Get a few weeks worth of his own fresh blood before ridding himself of the whole ordeal? The human’s food that it barely even ate was expensive, after all. 

“Here, you are allowed to speak. In fact, that is a rule. You will speak when I ask you a question,” Diego settled on telling the human. “Understood?”

Diego could practically feel the human’s hesitation, as if sensing a trick. “...Yes, sir?” it finally breathed. It was more a question than an assurance, but Diego would let it slide for now. 

He finally wondered aloud the thought that had been creeping up. “Was food another rule? Is that why you refuse to eat?”

No answer now, at least not aloud. What was that, a second infraction? Third? Diego mentally noted it for later, before hearing a small sniffle and then the quietest, Yes, sir, he’d ever heard.

Huh. Diego thought about the last time he’d seen his sister, what, ten years ago? What had she been thinking, getting a pet and hardly allowing it to eat? It was common knowlege that prey creatures had to rely on food much more often than their superiors. Where Diego could go days, maybe a week if he really pushed himself, without feeding, humans needed to at least once a day, two or three for maximum energy.

Besides. How did Gabi feed off a pet who looked this deprived of...of everything? Surely she didn’t keep it just to have it around.

“You are allowed to eat here. And speak. I need you healthy and honest, little one. How else am I going to get any use out of you?” Diego rubbed the pet’s shoulders as another wave of silent tears overcame it. Good hell, Diego wanted to sigh. 

“Your old owner’s rules mean nothing here, alright? It’s like you said: 

“It’s whatever I decide.”

*

Taglist: @mylifeisonthebookshelf @thecyrulik @deluxewhump @melancholy-in-the-morning @pumpkin-spice-whump @cicatrix-energy @nicolepascaline @whumpy-writings

#yes this is a whole day late i do apologize it's been a busy weekend #vampire whump #whump #dubious caretaker #I really wanted to incorporate branding because I have a set scene in mind #But its too early into the story to add yet so ill have to wait for later #parts to look forward to: Micah finally gets a bath #Diego punishes Micah #to feed or not to feed from Micah #Branding! #Diego learns Micah’s name #Backstory on Micah with Gabi (miss silva) #fear of punishment #all of the previously stated are not in any set order I will get to each of them when I do (or whatever seem to be requested more lol) #Diego and Micah #the merry whump of may #forced eating mention #collar mention

[just-antithings]

Just saw a bio that said "everyone is equal and matters" then proceeded to say inflation and force feeding kinks are "not normal", people who cope with little space and regression are "sick", and that neopronouns are an "embarrassment". Effervescent.

😬😬😬😬

#mod erin #ask #inflation kink mention #force feeding mention #just anti things #just exclusionist things