#handfeeding

This little girl is going home in a few days.

We like to give vitamin c for a few days before they leave to keep their immune system strong during the stress of a move.

This little girl loves it. She smacks her lips lol.

Piszczu ❤️

look who got full bellies!! turns out fiver is willing to feed a few at a time for a few minutes a day, so all the skinniest babies are able to get real food in the mornings. not enough to sustain them all, but it's going a long way to keeping them alive.

I have seen that post floating around and I love it. Sorry for the delay, reality has been hectic...

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Grindelnewt-Sweets-Forced Intimacy/Discomfort

Newt has always loved visiting Jacob, even if the man had no clue who he was now. It was nice to just be able to sit down at a table and watch his friend smile and take orders and bake with the most content of looks on his face.

The occamy shells might have been a bit conspicuous to someone who who had just been made to forget about the wizarding world, but Newt couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

Besides, business was booming! Jacob’s pasteries were infamous in Times Square, said to be the best on the block if one had the sweet tooth for it. Which, coincidentally, Newt did. His mother would often chide him for sneaking out with bags from Honeydukes and devouring it all with the help of his favorite Hippogriff, Dewey. She had said that it wasn’t good to give them sugar, because it would mess up their diet. But Newt gave him some anyway, because he had always had a soft spot for Dewey.

But his all time favorite had to be Jacob’s coffee cakes. They tasted like a Holiday on a bun, with cinnamon, sticky honey, and powdered sugar dusted on top, a shard of the richest milk chocolate Newt had ever tasted. He didn’t like coffee much—he preferred his tea, Earl Grey, to be precise—but Jacob had crushed the grounds into cane sugar before adding it to the bread, which cancelled out the bitterness. Newt had a slight addiction to them. More than slight, if he was honest.

But Tina warned him about becoming a regular, what with it being a muggle establishment and MACUSA keeping an irritatingly close eye on him after the incident last year. Newt also knew that he had been followed by people that were not from MACUSA when he had been staying in France and Belarus, though he had always lost them. He suspected it was Grindelwald’s followers. They couldn’t be too happy with him for getting their leader captured. He didn’t expect them to follow him on his trip back to the United States, but he couldn’t be too careful.

So Newt was on his way to Jacob’s bakery for the last time before he left back for England to check a few more creatures in with Bunty. He had left his case, of course, but he felt naked without it.

He tucked his chin into his collar and kept his eyes on the ground to avoid eye contact with the few New Yorkers rushing their way to early morning meetings and trudging home after an overnighter. Jacob’s wasn’t far ahead, and Newt’s eyes brightened when he saw that Jacob had just flipped the sign over to show that bakery had opened. He wished he could say goodbye, a proper goodbye, when Jacob knew who he was and could promise to write.

But it seemed that Newt would just have to settle for a smile and a bag of pastries.

Newt padded his way into the bakery behind an elderly couple holding hands. He stood in line and thought absently that he hadn’t tried the chocolate nifflers yet. They looked just a bit too real for his liking, but Newt supposed that if this was the last time that he would get to come in here, that he better make it count.

The elderly couple left with a bag of strawberry muffins, and Newt stepped up to the counter with a soft smile. “Hello Jacob.”

“Hey there, stranger!” Jacob laughed brightly. He’d seen Newt several times over the past few weeks, but Newt had never given him his name. Still, the alias stung. “What’ll it be today?”

“I’m afraid my vacation has come to an end and I’m headed back for England this afternoon. I couldn’t leave without something for the road, however,” Newt murmured with a brief glance up to meet Jacob’s eyes. He smiled weakly.

Jacob beamed back and dug around beneath the counter to produce a large paper bag. “You should never travel hungry, ‘s what my Grandma used to say. It’s bad luck. I’m gonna guess...coffee cake, and piernik?”

“A few chocolate n—bears, too, please,” Newt amended with a quiet huff of amusement.

“You got it! And hey, since it’s your last day and I know how much you like the cake, how ‘bout I give you the pan for the box price, yeah?”

Newt’s eyes widened. “Oh, you don’t have to do that—”

Jacob waved him off. “Forget about it, it’s no problem. Besides, I’ve seen you practically inhale the things before; consider it a going away present.”

A pang sounded through Newt’s chest. He really was going to miss Jacob. “Well...thank you.”

“No problem, mister,” Jacob said again as he lifted the entire row of coffee cakes from the display, twelve in all, and began to pack them away in two boxes.

Once Newt had his purchases packed away, he paid Jacob and waved goodbye, then left an overly large tip in the jar when he wasn’t looking. Newt exited the store and sighed as he crossed the street towards his hotel. He had to grab his things and then he’d be off. Newt was surprised to find that he would miss the hustle and bustle of New York.

Newt reached his hotel and fumbled awkwardly with his pocket—before a hand clapped over his mouth and a burst of red exploded in the corner of his eye.

Everything went dark.

{•}

Newt groaned and his eyes fluttered open to see an off-white, vaulted cieling above him. His head lolled to the side to ease the crick he’d just discovered in his neck.

“There you are.” A voice murmured, much closer than he’d expected.

Newt jolted and blinked his eyes fully open. He was in a rather lavish sitting room, a fireplace roaring in his ear and restraints around his wrists and ankles. They’d been secured to a velvet, highback armchair with glimmering blue strings of light.

In front of him sat Gellert Grindelwald, head tilted curiously as he surveyed the magizoologist with interest. His hair was longer, tangled and tied back with an old gray ribbon. His mustache had grown out into full on beard around his gaunt cheeks. He looked an odd mix of refined and wild, haggard and alive.

Newt flexed his hands and eyed the Dark Lord warily. “Grindelwald.”

“Is that all you have to say to me, Mr. Scamander?”

“You need to shave.”

Grindelwald barked out a surprised laugh, almost pleased. He shook his head with a wry smile. “I am afraid I have not gotten around to it yet.” He crossed his legs and rested his scraggly chin in his palm. “I have been meaning to speak with you.”

Newt’s eyes narrowed and his brows knit together. “Where are we?”

“The home of a friend of mine. She has been gracious enough to allow me to use it to host you.” Grindelwald quirked his lips up. “You are a very interesting man, Mr. Scamander. Or—may I call you Newton? Newton, then. I have heard that you tamed dragons back in the first war, is that correct?”

“No, I don’t tame anything, Mr. Grindelwald,” Newt stressed, unable to help being polite in the face of politeness.

“Ah yes, you merely assit the injured and relocate the homeless. The dragons were neither, so forgive me for my ignorance, Newton, but I just don’t understand why you worked with them.”

Newt licked his lips nervously and frowned. His voice went tight. “I did it as a favor to my brother. And the creatures themselves. Had I not been there, they would have all been tortured and slaughtered when the Ministry discovered that they could not help them in their war.”

Grindelwald’s eyes flashed. “Did it help? Did they spare your dragons?”

Jaw clenched, Newt averted his eyes back down to his lap. “No, it did not, Mr. Grindelwald.”

“Please, call me Gellert.”

“No thank you, Mr. Grindelwald.”

“...I see,” Grindelwald mused. There was a pause, and then he sighed and reached behind his chair to bring forward two brown squares. The bag of sweets from Jacob’s, and Newt’s case.

Newt jerked in his restraints instinctively. However, Grindelwald set his case down beside the chair and opened up the bakery bag.

Grindelwald rummaged through the bag with a hum. “You have a sweet tooth then, Newton? That is a large sum of cake. I am afraid it has gone tepid now, but it would be a shame to waste such treats.”

Newt glanced between the Dark Lord and his case anxiously. He froze when Grindelwald stood, his eyes glued to the carpet. His heart thudded loudly in his chest, sweat making his shirt cling to his back. The fire was hot, sweltering. Grindelwald stopped in front of him, the bag hooked on his fingertips.

Before dropping down into Newt’s lap.

A yelp chirped out of his lips before his could stop it, the surprise of suddenly having a lapful of Dark Lord stunning him for a moment. Newt instinctively flinched away, but Grindelwald merely threw his legs over the arm of the chair and reclined against the otherside. He rifled through the paper bag and pulled out a coffee cake. Nimble fingers brought the treat to Newt’s pursed lips. Cinnamon and sweet glaze smeared across his mouth.

“Say ‘ah~’,” Grindelwald purred, something in his eyes darkening. A thumb pressed roughly into Newt’s bottom lip.

Newt cringed back, but there was nowhere to go. He shook his head minutely, a shaky but clear refusal. The heat from the fire combined with the weight of the Dark Lord in his lap made him uncomfortable. He shifted in his seat, fists clenched. He wanted to leave.

Grindelwald’s face shadowed. “Come now, Newton, we mustn’t waste it. You bought it, after all, and it is your favorite.”

Newt turned his head to the side, the cake scrubbing honey over his cheek as he panted into his shoulder. “I-I’m not hungry,” He choked out. A shudder wracked his form, chills twisting up his spine.

“Nonsense. You have not eaten in almost a day! We would not want you to starve, now would we?”

Heterochromatic eyes slid over to the case by Grindelwald’s chair with intent, then back to Newt. Newt paled, his eyes wide as he stared back to Grindelwald in disbelief.

He smiled. “It is a simple game, Newton. You eat, they eat. Yes?”

Hazel eyes narrowed in a spiteful glare, but Newt turned his head back towards Grindelwald and licked the glaze from the mess on his cheek. He huffed and parted his lips even as his stomach dropped, and let the Dark Lord pushed the pastry into his mouth. It was no longer warm—Newt had clearly been out for a while—but it was still sweet, and rich. He bit into it and chewed, the first swallow easy as he allowed himself to imagine he was back in Jacob’s shop, surrounded by display tables.

Newt swallowed again and licked his teeth clear of lingering sweetness. Only to start when the rest of the cake was pressed to his lips again. The cakes were relatively small, and he’d eaten more than half on the bite before, so Grindelwald was able to tuck the rest of it into his mouth with ease. Sticky fingers hooked on the backs of his teeth as they retreated, pulling until his neck was craned down, exposed.

“Good boy,” Grindelwald murmured, lips pressed just behind his ear.

The next bite was harder to swallow. There was a lump in his throat, and his breathing was thin.The piece of chocolate that Jacob topped them off with was tapped against his mouth next, and Newt internally groaned and let Grindelwald push it between his lips as well.

Only, this time, the fingers did not retreat. Newt choked as three fingers crowded between his teeth, sweet and tacky with melted chocolate and honey. It didn’t take him long to figure out just what Grindelwald wanted. He resisted the urge to bite him, the knowledge that the man had threatened his creatures barely staying his jaw. Still, his stomach fluttered.

Moving the chocolate into his cheek, Newt set about licking the invading fingers clean. Saliva built up and he had to close his lips around them to swallow. Grindelwald let out a quiet sound at that, something that sounded very much like a moan, and Newt froze.

The fingers left, only to be replaced by a thumb that pressed in and held down his tongue while the other wet fingertips tilted his chin up. A pleased hum rumbled into Newt’s ear as Grindelwald rubbed the pad of his thumb against the tongue trapped beneath it. The diluted taste of coffee and something salty assaulted his tastebuds, and Newt winced.

“Very good, Newton,” Grindelwald mused as he let up. Newt’s jaw ached and he panted, a string of saliva still connected the the tip of the Dark Lord’s thumb.

“Are you done?” Newt rasped, voice wrecked and thick. He needed a drink.

“Oh not nearly,” Grindelwald drawled as he fished another cake out of the bag. He brought it Newt’s mouth again. “Now, tell me something, if you would. Why did you not go into the Ministry like your brother? You have the talent for it.”

Newt reluctantly ate the next cake, only for Grindelwald to present yet another one and urge him to eat. He’d eaten three more before the man let up enough for him to answer. By then, he was panting for breath. “I-I was expelled from Hogwarts. You knew that. Why does it matter?”

A smirked curled Grindelwald’s lips and a curl of platnium blond fell into his face. “I am merely curious.” He raised an eyebrow when Newt turned his head when he lifted the next pastry. “You eat, they eat, Newton.”

“Surely I’ve eaten enough,” Newt croaked, strained. His entire mouth felt sticky, and his stomach felt weighed down.

“Not enough for all of them. You only ate six. Perhaps a change up is in order?” He dropped the cake carelessly back into the bag and pulled out a chocolate niffler. He tapped it against Newt’s chin playfully and grinned wolfishly when those plush lips parted tiredly beneath it.

It was a change of texture, but as with everything Jacob made, it was incredibly sweet and rich. The chocolate seemed to clot at the back of his throat and refused to go down for several seconds. When he finally managed to swallow, Newt felt it drop into his belly like a stone.

He felt sick.

Newt had only just polished off the chocolate niffler before another was touched to the corner of his mouth. He stifled a groan and opened his mouth again.

“No desire to be an Auror, then?” Grindelwald mused as he tapped his fingers along Newt’s incisors insistantly. He purred when Newt began licking them clean again.

“I don’t like picking sides. I prefer to stay neutral. Nonviolent,” Newt got out just before yet another chocolate was pressed to his lips.

“Yes, I imagine you would.”

Nothing more was said after that as Grindelwald seemed to get a bit lost in feeding him. There was something visceral in the look on his face, something like hunger as he watched petal pink lips close around his fingers again and again, the hot slickness of mouth around them that made him yearn to put something else of his in their place.

But he digressed. He didn’t want to scare the poor thing, after all.

Newt’s stomach rolled as he finished the last chocolate niffler and Grindelwald started back on the cakes. He felt so, so painfully full, and he longed for a drink of water to wash away the sickening sugar that was now making his teeth ache.

Five chocolates, and an additional six cakes to the five before, were now curdled in a nauseatingly sweet, heavy ball in his stomach. He felt dizzy, his head foggy and his thoughts unclear. He didn’t think he could eat anymore, even if he wanted to. And he most certainly did not want to. He thought briefly that should he puke, it would serve the Dark Lord right to be covered in it.

“Lovely thing,” Grindelwald cooed as he brought out the last cake. He didn’t bring it towards Newt, however, just holding it up so the redhead could see it. “Would you lend me your neutrality? Your knowledge of beasts big and small?” He murmured as he leaned closer to Newt, his hand not holding the cake pressing beneath his damp shirt and into the softness of his abdomen.

Newt let out a high pitched whine, spine arching as a sluggish ache spread like broiling lava through his torso and down his numb legs. It burned into his chest and made him hiccup.

“Stop,” Newt gasped out, strangled. “Stop, stop, stop—”

“Would you sing your siren songs for my monsters? Would you calm my dragons should they buck?” The Dark Lord continued with a sweet, sweet smile. He dug his knuckle into Newt’s navel and pushed.

“Yes!” Newt shrieked at last, unable to stop himself. “Yes, I will, I will, just stop, please stop!” He pleaded.

The hand was abruptly gone, and Newt slumped like a puppet with its strings cut against the chair, chest heaving. His entire body felt heavy and bloated, his throat filled with mud, and his limbs filled with pain. Damp fingers carded gently through his sweaty hair, as if to soothe him.

“Good boy,” Grindelwald whispered again. He dropped the pastry to the floor and preened as a weak moan of relief breathed past his ear. He had gotten what he wanted.

Newt panted and shut his eyes tightly as the Dark Lord continued to pet him. He wanted to purge every last bit of sugar from his body, he wanted to go to sleep, he wanted to go home.