#age regression drabble

[softpawpup]

— regression shopping day

going out while regressed, dressed up your cutest clothes. your caregiver helped do your hair and you feel adorable. you go to the store, hand in hand with your caregiver. you walk around and take your time eyeing everything on all the shelves. you’re looking at bottles, toys, stuffies, blankies, pacis, snacks. all sorts of goodies for kiddos like you. theres something for any kind of regressor here, including you. your favorite flavors, your favorite colors, your favorite animals. all sorts of goodies that you can bring home. your caregiver helps you pick out the best options. a few new stuffies, plenty of snacks to last for a bit, a new bottle, two new pacis and of course some new toys! a whole haul! a new collection of fun things! the cashier bags up all your stuff and your caregiver helps you carry it back to the car. the moment you get home everything is washed and cleaned and prepared for playing. and of course you spend the rest of the day playing with all your new goodies.

[the-universal-sun]

stan putting off regressing when he needed to and having a meltdown with fidds and/or ford helping? ❤️

Hey guys! Sorry it's been a few days. I've been a little sick these past few days, so I've been away from my computer for the most part. But I'm feeling much better now! This takes place in the 80s, an AU where Stan and Fiddleford got Ford back after a couple of years!

There is a scene wherein Stan briefly hits his head with his hands, starting at "When that doesn't work..." and ending at the end of that small paragraph.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    The sun dipped low on the horizon, painting the sky with hues of pink and orange. In the house, the soft hum of the evening felt insistent, like the ticking of a clock that grew louder with each passing minute. Stan sat in the living room, surrounded by the comforting chaos of his brother’s ramshackle house. The creaking floorboards seemed to echo his thoughts. He could feel that familiar pull, that soft haze and gentle fuzzy feeling tugging at the back of his mind-an urge he’s learned to resist being tempted by. Though there were the reassurances of both Stanford and Fiddleford that there was nothing wrong with him, that how his head gets sometimes is completely okay, that they loved taking care of him. Stan got up and paced the cluttered floor, his mind racing as he tried to drown out the world around him. He felt the familiar tug at his mind—the sensation that he kept trying to ignore all day. All week, really. Doodles lay scattered across the floor, evidence of his battle with the sensations that enveloped him. Every time he absentmindedly started coloring or drawing, he felt a wave of anxiety choke him, leading him to tear the paper into shreds and toss them into the trashcan.

     It's not that Stan doesn't like it, the fuzzy feeling he gets, but it's embarrassing, he's a grown man approaching 30, dammit! He shouldn't be carrying around a stuffed bear, coloring, and playing with blocks while two other grown men flutter around and coo at him! Sometimes when he's in town, he can feel people's eyes on him, like they know what happens-like they're judging him, like he's a freak. He can feel the need crawl around and itch under his skin. But he can't! He needs to prove to himself that he's capable of acting and being an adult! That he is an adult!

     "Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" Stan chants, frustrated by his own harried thoughts, wanting his mind to calm down and let him be, to escape the fuzzy haze creeping up on him. For all these thoughts to leave his head. He brings his hands up and pulls on his hair, hoping the pain can bring some clarity to his mind. When that doesn't work, he switches to hitting his hand with his palms, muttering "stop it, stop it, stop it..." with each hit until he feels six-fingered hands grab his wrists and pull them down with a-

     "Stanley, stop!" It's Ford who's grabbing his hands, his face drawn. He doesn't look angry, he looks upset-distraught-but not angry. Stan thinks he wants him to be angry, to yell and fight him and treat him like a damn adult. "What are you doing? What's happened?"

     "Nothin' happened. I'm fine." Stan bites out, trying to pull his hands back from his brother's iron grip to no avail. "Let go of me, Stanford. I need-I need to go" He pulls harder, almost wrenching his shoulders out before he feels another pair of hands come up and gently but firmly grasp his shoulders. Why do they have to be so gentle with him? Even when he's acting normal, when they get into arguments or small fights, there's no hitting or punching-nothing beyond the play fighting Ford and Stan will do sometimes. Stan's not used to it, not after violence has been his life for almost a decade.

     "What ya' need to do is calm down and talk to us, Stanley. Let Ford and I help, we're worried about you." He hears Fidds' voice in his ear behind him, his hands on his shoulders. Ford's hands firmly but gently held his wrists. Stan wants too badly to sink into that haze, to let them coddle him and hug and rock him, but he can't. He doesn't even know why anymore, why he hasn't let himself indulge.

     "Well stop worrying about me-I'm a grown-ass man and I can deal with myself." He can see Ford's eyes shift to look behind him, a silent conversation with Fidds. Usually, that would bother him, but right now he just wants to get out from their grasp, go to his room, and hide away from them-and the world-until he can get his head on straight.

     "I think I'm starting to understand what the problem is here. Stanley, it's been approximately 10 days since you've gone down-" that's what they call it when Stan's head gets fuzzy and he acts like a kid-"and after months of the same routine, your mind and body are used to going down at least twice a week. It's safe to say you're just in need of-"

     "No! I'm not in need of anything 'cept you letting go of! Me!" He tries to wrench himself to the side but crashes to his knees with a stilted sob as Fidds' arms wrap around his body from behind just as he makes his move. Why did they have to push this? To have his body so used to these feelings that he now needs it to function? Why did they have to care for him. He doesn't sob, he refuses to say he did. Stan just brings his hands up-Ford let go when Stan made his move-and presses his face into them so hard he can see stars bursting out from the darkness. "I can't do this," he muttered piteously into his hands, his voice warbling and throat feeling thick. " 'M not a kid, I don't need this. I shouldn't need this. I need to grow up." He wants to cry, he wants to go under, he wants Poindexter. Stan just wants to noise in his head to stop. He whines, feeling Ford kneel and bring an arm around him, Fidds laying his head down and Stan's shoulder and nuzzling it, shushing and humming.

     "Stanley...It's alright to feel like you do, and it's alright to feel frustrated by it. You've lived a hard life, and we both know comfort like this was a rarity in our home. But you can be safe here," Ford sits down next to Stan, his knees aching from the kneeling. "Fiddleford and I would never judge you, Lee. We love taking care of you."

     "But why? Why do you like taking care of me when I act like that-like a kid? Why do you care about me?" Stan's voice breaks on his last word, tears bubbling up to the surface and spilling down his cheeks, dripping and staining Stan's sweats.

     "What's not to care about, Stan?" It's Fiddleford who answers this time, Ford seemingly at a loss for words at Stan's questions. "You're such a kind-hearted and warm fella. You care so deeply about your friends and family, I know you'd go to the ends of the earth and then some for 'em. And you're funny as all get out. Real hoot, I'd say. Caring for you is like a breath of fresh air, Stanley. It soothes m' soul. So you can be tiny if you need to, Bubs." Fiddleford's words get a small laugh/scoff out of Stan, the kind words bringing some warmth to his heart. But he looks towards Ford, needing to hear him say something, anything. A confirmation that he does care for Stan. And his words hit like a gut punch.

     "I love you, Stanley. You're my twin, my best friend from birth. You never judged me for my hands, for my curiosities and obsessions. You protected me from bullies and my own thoughts. You came at my darkest hour to help me, even after we were estranged for a decade. You made a life and job for yourself here, you paid off my loans and debt. You brought in F and helped him stop his memory gun usage. Stanley, you worked tirelessly for two years to bring me back after the portal incident. You're my hero, you always have been. And I can't possibly describe how much joy it brings me to see you unwind and relax, to look so happy, to be so happy. I love caring for you, truly, from the bottom of my heart, to be someone you can trust to protect you. I love you." And that does it, Stan's sobbing into his arms, into Ford's arms, his heart feels like it's bursting, and he can feel himself plummet down. His mind calming as his fuzzy haze washes over it, his mind losing the battle as soon as Ford finishes speaking, the confirmation that he is so loved is what he needed, he realized. That he wasn't some weird burden on them when this happens, that he didn't have to be an adult all the time. He hasn't felt this loved in forever and hasn't ever been cared for as he is now.

     He's still sobbing into Ford's arms as he's led up the stairs into his room, a pair of hands changing him into his softest sweater-it's got footballs all over it-and wrapping him up in his Teddy Bear blankie. He blinks and sniffles as he feels cold wetness swipe across his face, Fidds had wet a wash cloth and was wiping the tears from his eyes. Stan smiled at him, giggling when Fidds smiles back with a goofy grin. Sixer helps him lay down in bed and tucks Poindexter in his arms-still cocooned in his blankie-brushing his hair back and away from his forehead, like Ma' used to do when they were really young.

     "There we go, Lee, feeling nice and comfortable and cozy? Is Poindexter tucked in enough?" Fidds asked, coming to sit on the edge of the bed, tucking the quilt under Stan's legs even tighter, knowing how much he liked that feeling. He nods and mumbles, not feeling up to speaking. He just wants to lie there with Poindexter, Sixer, and Fidds and stay in this hazy feeling forever, his body aches now that he's relaxing, he was so tense for days. "That's good. I've gotcha here a book to listen to, is that alright?" That's more than alright to Stan, who just nods and hopes Fidds does the voices for the book, he loves it when they do voices for the people in his books.

     "Here, Lee, let's not chew on your friend's ear. I've got you something better." His brother says, guiding Poindexter's ear out of Stan's mouth. He didn't even realize he was chewing on it. He gives his stuffy an apologetic pat as Ford guides Stan's pacifier into his mouth. It's got a car on it that's made to look like "The Stanley Mobile". It's so cool. Ford made it as a surprise for Stan a few weeks ago. He snuffles behind it, leaning his cocooned and burritoed body into Ford's as he settles down beside him, an arm reaching over and cuddling Stan as close to his body as possible. Stan just snuggles into his shoulder, feeling his breathing and matching it, leaching his brother's warmth and hearing his matching heartbeat.

     "There was once a Velveteen Rabbit, and in the beginning he was really splendid..." Stan just relaxes into his brother's warmth as he finds himself enraptured in Fidds' storytelling. His mind finally calmed and his heart sated and happy.

[skylers-age-regression-blog]

I just need to vent

Do not interact if you are a and a nsfw/ddlg account

Full disclosure, this is about people in the ddlg/ age play community interacting with me and making me feel icky. I understand if you feel icky about talking about it

I'm lucky that this hasn't happened to me in a while but I remember when I first started sharing my age regression on tiktok i would have a lot of 18 plus ddlg accounts follow me and it's always made me feel uncomfortable and weird, especially since I wasn't even an adult I was 16, even though it did very much make me feel uncomfortable it wasn't until I got much older that it really started to make me feel sick just thinking about it i was a minor why were these kink accounts following me when I was a minor

And sometimes I feel like I'm the only one who this happened to

[impish-baby]

Weep little lion man - platonic yandere villian x vigilante reader - 🎭

Oh, dear..."

Eos coos, circling around the room. "Someone was naughty, weren't you, darling?" The pounding in your ears practically drowns the villain out, it isn't like you could tear your eyes away from the body laying on the ground to look at them anyway.

It happened so fast, you're not even really sure how.

You didn't mean to. You promise. It was an accident. A stupid, stupid accident because you were scared and-

"Hush." They delicately wipe specks of blood away from your cheek, like you're just a kid who's gotten messy playing. "Don't worry, I'm not mad. I'd say I'm quite proud of you actually." Eos draws you into their arms, rubbing soft circles into your back, a parent soothing their frighted child. "It's ok, I know it wasn't on purpose. You're such a good little hero, hm?" The villian's voice is so kind. It's the only thing you have to ground you to reality.

Eos doesn't let you go once you start sobbing, only gently rocking you back and forth. "Oh honey, I know, I know.. poor thing." They sigh, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "It's so dreary in here. Let's get going, shall we?"

Reader: staring blank faced at the table unable to process the fact that they just killed someone

Eos: you haven't touched your chicken nuggies :((

[tinylilacbun]

n o h i t t i n g ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

Rafe is outside on the balcony, trying to get some work done while Sofia is inside with you in the living room and watching some tv peacefully as he assumes.

He tilts his head a little when he hears voices, more specifically you, getting louder and waits for a moment to see if Sofia can handle the situation on her own, only stepping in if he thinks it's necessary.

It seems like it is one of those times as he keeps hearing you complain or whine and he sighs, turning off his laptop he gets up from his seat to go inside.

"Sweetie, you had enough screentime for today-" Sofia says a bit more sternly than she usually does, not expecting you to suddenly slap her hand when she tries to get the remote from your hands.

Your eyes widen in realization but before you could say something you jump in your spot on the sofa when Rafe's voice startles you.

"Hey! What the hell was that?" He asks as he strides over to you, yanking the remote out of your grip and glaring down at you. "Huh?"

You shrink in on yourself, lowering your head in shame, toying with your hands nervously but Rafe was having none of it, grabbing your chin to make you face him again.

"We do not hit anyone in this house, you understand me? Never." He says, not phased by the tears that are already welling up in your eyes.

"Rafe, it's fine-" Sofia tries to calm him down, but he won't back down on this, not this time.

He knows Sofia is too soft and keen on stuff like this but he draws the line at the kind of disrespect like you hitting or swearing at one of them.

"No, it's not." He states, momentarily turning his gaze to Sofia before back down at you, still gripping your chin. "Time out. Now."

The second he lets go, you scramble off the couch and towards the empty corner, sitting down and facing the wall with your knees pulled up to your chest, sniffling quietly.

"15 minutes you'll sit there and think about what you just did and I better don't see you moving an inch." He warns and you nod timidly.

"Yes daddy..." You whimper, resting your cheek on your knee.

It feels like an eternity, sitting there alone with your thoughts. You didn't mean to hit Sofia, you really didn't. It was just a moment of stubbornness and frustration of not getting more screentime and now you hurt your mama.

The guilt is deep and you keep crying quietly to yourself, wiping at your nose and cheeks repeatedly. You have started drawing shapes on your other knee until Rafe finally tells you that the time is over, turning your head to see him and Sofia sitting on the couch.

You slowly get off the ground, still sniffling and hiccuping as you make your way over to stand in front of them, your eyes fixated on your socked-clad feet. "I- m'sorry..."

"What are you sorry for?" Rafe presses, crossing his arms over his chest, expecting you to apologize to Sofia properly.

"M'sorry f-for hittin' mama. Won' do it 'gain." You mumble, sniffing one time.

"I forgive you, baby." Sofia smiles warmly, her hand massaging the nape of Rafe's tense neck and squeezing one time for him to say something, silently telling him to be gentle with you now.

After a moment he uncrosses his arms, patting his thigh and you instantly get comfortable on his lap at his permission, nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck.

"Good job for taking your punishment, proud of you..." He says, kissing your forehead and a small smile forms on his face when he watches you take Sofia's hand that you slapped earlier and press a gentle kiss on the back of it.

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

@mythixmagic @iris-xoxo-juhu @mylettterstoyou @sunf1ower16 @sweetstars-posts @rafecameronsloverrrrr @rafenroostersgirl

For Rafe:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity @erikasurfer

[wetbatinthenight]

dad, who notices that you are starting to branch out and make friends in your clubs and isn’t liking the fact that his control on you is slipping.

dad, who doesn’t realize him constantly isolating you from your peers (except your loving dad and your mom who aids and believes in his beliefs too) since preschool doesn’t mean you don’t want connections.

you, who are now successful in school, in student council or debate or anything of the sort and now are trying to explore friendships outside of mandatory meetings and fundraising.

dad, that has always doted and babied you a bit but also puts pressure on you to do well and follow the rules, don’t mess up.

dad, who always has conflicting rules, you need to be independent and trustworthy but why can’t he do everything for you? dad, who wants you to be a successful and accomplished child of his but doesn’t let you hop on opportunities unless he allows you to (often school sanctioned where chaperones are everywhere, there has to be some sort of reasonable adult).

dad, who picks you up from school, if you don’t walk home or bus home, picks you up and all the school moms whisper about him (how charming, how mysterious, how dependable he probably is, how strong and intimidating he is, who is charming and people would not expect he wasn’t a normal handsome guy. family, who no one knows too much about and keeps the inner circle small, surface level coming off as the perfect family.

dad, who even now struggles with boundaries, also wanting to cuddle or snuggle. and you, who isn’t a touchy cuddly lovebug like you used to be, still struggling with expressing your emotions (even if you sometimes even want to accept his affection). he loves you and misses being able to connect with you. he never thought he would have a child but then he met your mom, and here you are, an extension of their love and his most precious thing.

dad, who isn’t sure what to do when he starts losing his influence, thinking to himself if he should get stricter (maybe he needs to check through your room more often when you are not home, or place stricter curfews, maybe having you home by seven is too late in the night).

dad, who always wants you to check in with him and spend time with him even though he is intimidating and awkward but also manipulative and charming, something you did not realize when you were a kid because you thought he was a regular loving dad.

you, who after learning more about people your age starts to wonder if the things your dad (and by extension mom does) is normal. it is all starting to feel off to you, making you nervous because you always blindly listened to your dad. I mean cmon, sure your dad was always…quirky, but he was your dad and he knew what was best, right? .

dad, who slowly starts to baby you more and more, trying to take care of your needs whether you like it or not. no, he can get you an after school snack after you walk through the front door (where he waits for you everyday if he isn’t busy at his job). it starts subtle at first.

dad, who immediately, like usual, asks if you spoke to anyone today, if you behaved like should’ve today, if you slept enough, if you are hungry. he doesn’t seem to mind when you interact with school staff.

dad, who immediately makes you sit on the couch and gets you something to eat, after making you give him your school bag and rummaging through it to make sure you don’t have anything you aren’t supposed to (even snacks or candy from peers).

dad, who always in monitoring you, making sure you do not interact with anything rated-R or anything he deems inappropriate, including the books you read. Say goodbye to whatever sci-fi or too intensely gory books you want to read (unless you read them at lunch or a free period at the school library like the clever thing you are).

dad, who starts to slowly try to regress you, even if he isn’t really aware of it at first. he just wants his good little child back, is that so wrong?

dad, who starts to display behaviors and if you ask about them, starts to gaslight and coo (compared to his old tactics) at you and redirect you to something different.

dad, who is manipulative, cunning, intimidating to most. dad, who most people would not suspect would engage in violent behaviors to ward off any “dangers”.

dad, who isn’t afraid to get rid of any “issue” he believes will come in between his and your family’s future.

dad, who of course was also not afraid in his youth to take severe actions towards conflict for your lovely mom, his sweet and caring wife.

dad, whose heart melts inside for his family, his lifeline, who wants to do what his believes to right for his family.

an: check out my page for more works!

[miloscozycorner]

𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬.

Caregiver!Wanda Maximoff x Regressor!Reader

• After a meltdown makes you go nonverbal, Wanda helps you communicate your big feelings together.

cw: age regression

( 1109 Words )

The fuzzy carpet felt cool on your bare legs, your oversized shirt scrunching up and resting on your upper thighs. The room had grown chilly from Wanda opening the porch door just a crack, the wind sneaking its way into the living room.

Your tears had finally dried, your chin now resting on your crossed arms. It felt silly, the meltdowns. It just got all too much. The lights, the noises. Trying to make your brain be a bigger kiddo, make the words come out right.

But Wanda understood it all, of course. She always did. When the words had started to jumble on your tongue, and when with a cry of frustration you had given up, she was quick to sit. Quick to let you squeeze her hand until it grew pale.

“Hey bubby. I got you your cards.”

Wanda’s voice drew you out of your thoughts, and you craned your neck to see her patter towards you, taking a crossed legged seat on the carpet a few steps away from you.

“Mama even added some stickers,” she added, her lips curling upwards when you let out a soft giggle. Your eyes followed the stickers on the laminated cards, a variety of animals stuck on them.

You took a moment to shuffle through the cards, before picking one to show. The word “like” was printed on it in bold letters, with a galaxy themed background. Wanda had let you help make all the cards months ago.

With a tap, you showed Wanda the card, and she tilted her head towards the sticker arrangement. “You like the stickers, munchkin?”

An enthusiastic nod.

Wanda paused, spreading the cards before glancing at you. Her playful expression died down, her face turning a bit more serious. But the softness in her eyes and the gentle tilt of her lips remained.

“Do you want to talk to mama about those big feelings you had?” Wanda suggested, glancing up at you. You took a breath in, your brows furrowing while you searched for a card.

“Yes”.

Wanda nodded, shuffling in place. “Okay little one, good job using your cards!” she praised, not missing the ways your eyes lit up from it. “Now, can you tell me what was making those big feelings overflow?” she questioned, tilting her head.

You hesitated, chewing your bottom lip before answering. “Loud”. “Light”. “Hungry”.

“And all that together made you feel not so good, bunny?” You hummed in agreement, slightly frowning. Wanda was quick to notice, adding on reassurance. “And you know that’s okay, honey. I know it can get pretty overwhelming. But mama got you a snack, and a worksheet. How would you feel about trying that?”

There was a brief pause before you gave a nod of agreement, and observed Wanda stand up, disappearing for a moment down the hallway before coming back, a slip of paper and a box of crayons in hand and a bag of Goldfish in the other.

She sat down cross-legged once more, this time beside you instead of across from you. Your shoulders relaxed, a flutter in your stomach forming when she sat.

“Do you want to sit in mama’s lap? Or, we can sit beside each other and I can help you color.” Wanda offered, waiting for you.

For a moment it seemed she almost forgot until she added on, quick to repair her mistake. “Oh goodness! I’m sorry honey. Mama almost forgot you’re not up for words today. I know big words are difficult for tiny babies! How about you hold up one finger for sitting in my lap, and two for coloring together? Is that okay, little bird?”

You gave a small smile at her remembrance, before holding up one finger. Wanda’s lips curled upwards, grinning happily at you before scooping you under your arms and adjusting you to sit on her thigh. The scent of strawberry perfume calmed your senses further, any lingering weight on your chest fading away.

She stretched her arms over to the coffee table next to you, grabbing a hard-cover book and placing the sheet on top of it, before adjusting it so it was on top of your lap.

“Now, you see all these colors? We can use these colors to fill up the cup to show how you were feeling earlier. So, blue is for sad. Green is for scared. Red is for mad. Yellow is for embarrassed. Can you do that for me, honey?”

You gave a nod, picking out the green crayon first and allowing Wanda to sneak a couple Goldfish into your mouth to chew. Your hand hesitated, hovering over the paper before filling half the cup with green.

After a moment, you added some yellow. Your grip on the crayon grew more sturdy, less shaky.

Wanda watched carefully, helping you take more bites of your snack. Then a bit of blue, finishing the cup.

The crinkling of the Goldfish bag and the scents of the newly bought crayons made a soft smile tug at your lips just ever so slightly, the fear, the anxiety, everything, slipping out of your grasp.

You looked up at Wanda for approval, giggling when she gave you a wide grin.

Wanda gave a hum of approval, setting the empty bag of Goldfish down next to her as you showed the piece to her. “Wow, bubby! You did such a good job drawing out all of those big feelings for mama,” she praised, sticking a light kiss on your forehead.

She adjusted you momentarily, her strong arms lifting you gently under your armpits, settling you on her hip. The paper was placed neatly on the coffee table by the pack of crayons, and your deck of communication cards were placed in your hand.

“Do you want to go cuddle upstairs with mama?” Wanda offered, stopping by the kitchen to throw away your bag and glancing down at you.

You flipped through your cards. “Yes.” More shuffling. “Please.”

“Oh my, such a good job using your cards, bubba!” Wanda praised, beaming down at you and running slender fingers through your hair. “Come on, let mama give you lots of snuggles tonight.”

You felt your eyes grow a bit heavier, the feeling of soft hands supporting your weight and the sound of Wanda’s gentle footsteps with the creaking wooden stairs lulling you.

“It’s okay to sleep pumpkin, mama will be here when you’re up.” You heard Wanda mumble into your ear, the comforting warmth of her breaths fanning onto your cheek.

So, you allowed yourself to slip into a comforting sleep, free from the day’s stress, held in the love Wanda always gave so freely.

[ncity-agere]

(SFW) petnames that nct dream calls you in little space:

cg!NCT dream X little!reader (gender-neutral)

Mark: “Dude”. That’s it, not “little dude” or even “dudette”. Just “dude” as a neutral term. I don’t know, it works. That’s probably the first and only thing he could think of and it just… stuck. If you’re in a bad mood or had a really, really bad day and need a little extra care, he might pull out the “baby” or “sweetie” for you.

Renjun: I think he’d be one of those caregivers who calls their little an onomatopoeia (that’s a big word for “noise words”, little ones!) For example, he might call you “boo” or “pip”, something based on whatever little noises you like to make. He finds it endearing.

Jeno: Lots of animal names. Kitty, puppy, bunny, mouse, birdie… literally whatever you’d like. He probably pets your hair like a pet too, even if you don’t pet regress. He’s just got a lot of quiet love to give, so make sure to communicate which name you like to him!

Haechan: “Little shit”. He’s sick and tired of your antics and your pranks (that’s a lie, he loves you very, very much and could never get tired of you… no matter how many times you fling mushy peas into his hair and giggle about it).

Jaemin: Bun-bun, bunny, angel, or baby. Maybe princess or prince too, we’ve seen how endearing and soft he is with Czennies. I think he’d gravitate towards princess, unless you were uncomfortable with it. If so, he might switch off to one of the other names.

Chenle: To be honest, I’m not sure Chenle would understand age regression as a serious thing. Not that he can’t be serious, just that he might now grasp it the first time. So, the first few times he’s around you when you regress, he’s straight-up saying your first name. No cute nicknames or sweet voices, just “oh, hey y/n”. He’s like those people who talk to 2 year-olds about taxes with a straight face.

Jisung: He gravitates towards sweetie because he can’t think of any others that aren’t cringe to him. Jisung is picky and sweetie works just fine. What more do you want from him?

[minminbunny]

Yandere Stalker AU - Caregiver! Lee Minho/Gender Neutral Little! Reader

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"Why did you stop walking?" Minho asked, standing behind you with his hood up. Your breath hitched, "What?" you whispered, turning your head. Minho tilted his head, "You. Why did you stop walking?" he asked, looking at you as if he spoke the obvious. The goosebumps on your arms sent you warning flags at his behavior. Minho chuckled lowly, "Don't scream," he whispered, covering your mouth with a cloth. You thrashed beneath his hold, adrenaline pumping in your veins. Minho grunted, holding the cloth firm, "Shh, shh, darling. Just go to sleep," he whispered, smirking as your body grew limp within his hold. "I'll take good care of you, darling. No one can hurt you ever again," he said, carrying your body bridal style.

FORCED INFANTILISM BELOW CUT

You stirred awake, "Where am I?" you slurred, looking around. Minho chuckled, looking over your crib, "Good morning, darling. Are you hungry?" he asked, running his fingers through your hair. You flinched from his touch, your eyes widened with fear. Minho chuckled, "Aww, such a jumpy little one. Don't worry, darling. Soon you'll warm up to me," he said, holding a familiar plush toy. You wavered at the sight, confusion and anxiety running through your brain. Minho cooed, "You're wondering how I got your special toy aren't you, darling. Oh, I can read you like an open book," he said, gently placing the toy next to your pillow. You gulped, clutching the plushie to your chest. "Aren't you adorable," Minho said, adoring the way you hugged the plush like your lifeline.

Minho stood straight, he stared down at you, "I know you have many questions, darling. And I will answer them in due time. But for now, I just want you to know that I've been watching you. Your situation twinged a saviour complex so to speak and I had to protect you," he said with sincerity in his voice. You glared at him, not liking the situation you've been put in. Minho chuckled, "Feisty little thing," he said, wanting to pet your hair but he didn't want to scare you further. "Take a look around, darling. This will be your room for a while. Oh, and one more thing. Don't panic when you can't move your legs okay? The drug will wear off with time," Minho said, leaving the room. You furrowed your eyebrows, trying to lift your legs after his words but to no avail. Soft tears spilt down your cheeks, fearing the worst. Minho chuckled, watching you through the baby monitor, "So predictable," he said, grazing the monitor with adoration.

"Momma?" you called out, kneeling in the crib, your head barely peeking over the rail. Minho cooed, holding your bottle, "What's wrong, sweetheart. Did you get hungry?" he asked, shaking the warm bottle. You nodded your head, making grabby hands towards him, "Nom nom," you babbled, staring at him with dilated eyes. "Ahm, nom nom just for you," Minho said, lifting your out of the crib and over his lap. You snuggled into his chest, holding the bottle with both of your hands. Minho chuckled, teasing you with the bottle nip, "Aww, that's not your mouth," he said, gently feeding you. Soft suckles echoed within the room as he rocked your body close, "I never regret saving you, darling. Never," he whispered, holding you firmly, a hint of possessiveness in his tone. You burrowed closer to him, never regretting the day you gave into him.

[cryslittlelibrey]

☁crayons🖍

outside, way beyond the little window you sit behind, glass so hazy and wind so raspy, lie rain pitter pattering, wrapping against panes between the tears it shed and you, curled up beneath fuzzy blankets to chase the chill nipping at your tiny little noes. its a rainy day, and adventure seems so far away, a thought leaving you lost in such blankets and pillows, fuzzy carpets and soft pajamas wrapping you with the silence decorating your room; but do not fret, dear little one, all is not lost, be boredom left with this new story i do spin.

on the carpet, one dancing with shimmering lamp light, are a packet of crayons, ones sprawled across each fiber and film. they may not look like much, snapped and torn, but at your fingertips, grasping your favorite colour, lays the world's away only a key beyond.

draw, scribble, doodle, line by line a new adventure comes to shape despite rains raging beyond walls keeping you safe, for it has no ground here, it has no control. as time ticks by your lost to this world falling beneath colours and traces, castles and trees and rivers all of your own making, because it was not the end the moment the sky decided to pry its dams open.

at your fingertips holds key opening door to so many worlds, worlds beyond rainy days and splattered puddles, worlds all of your own.⭐

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A/N- hey there little ones! i hope you liked this one. was just a little piece i thought up after a rough day so i hope maybe it could have lit your day a little like it did mine! as always story/writing requests and questions are open in my asks feel free to reach out!!

-cry ⭐

[butchreg]

regressor ! jinx who goes all out on NYE when the ball drops !!! she regresses out of excitement and wears the glasses , sets off a ton of poppers , and abuses her noisemakers especially in sevika’s ears and face !! she’s a ball of energy , making explosion sounds as she watches the fireworks. she gets hopped up on sugar , practically bouncing off the walls into the wee hours. sevika who is trying desperately to stay awake , nodding off and being jolted awake by jinx blowing her noisemaker in her face. she’s a bit grumpy around the holidays , not super celebratory. “alright baby blue. it’s way past your bed time.” jinx blows a raspberry in her direction. “haven’t been to sleep since last year !” she laughs hysterically at her own joke though sevika is not amused. sevika ends up conking out in an overstuffed armchair and jinx draws festive little things on her face.

ft my very bad lazy NYE jinx edit >,<

[softpawpup]

— my perfect night of regression !!

the lights are dim and its quiet outside. the house is cool and the fan is blowing. the blankets are warm and plentiful, bunched up and layered one over the other. there’s popcorn, pizza, chocolate, soda and cocoa. howls moving castle on the tv, playing at an audible but soft volume. caregiver at the side, whispering praises and words of love. as sleep comes, the tv fades and the lights grow dimmer. the blankets are pulled up and good night kisses are exchanged. stuffies are gathered and a special one is clutched close to the heart. the bed is soft and the pillows make walls of comfort. theres a hand in hair, stroking and rubbing gently. the fan spins, the caregiver hums, a soft light glows somewhere in the corner. the night is perfect.

[the-universal-sun]

fiddleford being gentle with little stan when he first finds him after ford goes through the portal? maybe he comes to yell at ford and finds stan with a burned shoulder trying to work through being little to get his brother back? ❤️

Hey guys and the anon who requested this, I’m so sorry it’s so late, life got away from me, has been hectic, and I wanted to really put my focus into writing this request. If there are any missing “I” in a word, deeply apologies, my keyboard “i” cover broke halfway through writing this. There are some mentions of infections and medical treatment for Stan’s burn, just to warn you if any of that skeeves you out! If this seems way better than my previous work, it’s because I took about a week to write it! I really hope you enjoy this piece, and I hope the anon who requested it is still here! Please let me know if I've captured your vision!!!  

As always, I’m open for helpful advice on my writing/execution!

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     “Ford! Stanford Pines you come out here right now! I demand we talk!” Fiddleford H. McGucket was mad. Fuming. Pissed beyond all belief. He had just remembered some snippets of the portal incident and he knows his old partner (and little) was still working on it for that devil! He needs to make that man see some sense. Thankfully, Stanford hadn’t changed his locks or the passcode to the basement, so he’s able to stop down three flights of stairs to the bottom floor of the lab to confront him.

     “Stanford! I know you can hear me! Come out here right-now?” He stops short at the sight before him. The portal is broken down, machinery and wiring everywhere, broken and sparking. That’s not what makes him stop, no, it’s the figure in front of the control center. He looks…he looks ragged, haggard, even. His hair long and greasy, his skin looks dirty and sweaty, and he looks almost exactly like Stanford. Except gruffer. It hasn’t been that long since Fiddleford has seen his old partner, has it? He can’t have changed this much in just a few months. It’s when he gets a glimpse at the hands that it clicks in his mind. That’s not Stanford. He tries to think rationally before he freaks out and starts attacking the stranger, he’s gotten arrested for that a couple times already. He looks like Stanford, just rounder and greasier and with five fingers instead of six…He vaguely remembers a discussion him and Stanford had back in college, they were celebrating finishing their first set of finals with some well earned and homemade Hooch courtesy of you-know-who when the man had started muttering and was on the verge of sobbing about a “Lee”, and when FIddleford asked who that was, all Stanford could manage to get out before passing out was “M’ Twin”. And they never spoke of that incident again, Fiddleford putting that memory on a backburner until now. 

     So this must be that Lee fella, Stanford’s twin. Something must have happened if he’s here in that state and Stanford is nowhere to be seen. Something bad. This fills him with panic instead of anger, worry for his Bookworm his friend overpowering his negative emotions towards him. He walks quickly towards Lee, his steps slowing down as he gets the full view of this man, his ears picking up his intelligible muttering. He looks more than greasy and unwashed, he looks sick. He can see gauze on his shoulder, stained with pink and a different color, one he can’t quite make out in the poor lighting of the lab, but it twists his stomach nonetheless.

     “H-hey, Lee? Um-what happ-are you okay? Is F-Ford-” Fiddleford doesn’t quite know what to say to this man, who looks both so much like Ford but so different. Who looks sick. He makes the mistake of putting his hand on the man’s shoulder, flinching back as he turns around violently with a fist raised promising a world of pain. Fiddleford shrinks into himself with a small and terrified squeal. Lee stumbles back, though, eyes glossy and distant, the defensive act just muscle memory at this point. He seems like he’s about to slide against the console and fall, soFiddleford reaches out to help steady him, thankful for all the pig wrangling and calf birthing he’s had to do in his life back on the farm, Lee is heavier than Ford was is. He gets a better look at Lee’s face and feels his own pale, blood rapidly draining and leaving him feeling cold. Whatever injury he has on his shoulder has to be inflected, the man is burning up and sweating something fierce, low and intelligible mumbles spilling from his mouth, his bangs sticking to his forehead, the slight smell of sickness wafting over him. They’re both lucky Ford was able to synthesize and stock high grade antibiotics in case they ever needed them, because he needs them, that or a hospital, and he doesn’t know anything about Ford’s twin, not even enough to explain what had happened to him. 

     Propping Lee up against the console and making sure he wouldn’t fall, he quickly managed to run to a storage room to the right, temperature controlled to keep cool. He finds the medical supplies very diminished, but most of the antibiotics were there. Both worrying and relieving him. Ford had gotten injured so much to deplete their medical supplies this much? They were essentially prepared for an apocalypse. But the relief is that Ford never needed these hospital grade antibiotics, only to be used for serious infection. He collects the medicine, bandages, and any other thing he can think of, putting them in an empty first aid bag and slinging it around his shoulder, making his way back to Lee as fast as he could manage. Fiddleford hauls him up and leans him against his side, stumbling his way to the elevator that he could never bring himself to trust. He has to now, he can’t carry this man up all the flights of stairs that lead into the house. 

     Fiddleford breathes in deeply, glancing over at Lee from the corner of his eye, releasing his breath when he sees he’d hardly even registered change in surroundings or the fact that he had moved, his eyes gazing distantly down onto the floor. Fiddleford resolutely moves him into the open elevator, propping him against the wall and quickly pressing the buttons needed to bring them back up to the main part of the house. Lee stumbles as the elevator moves, an almost frightened whimper escaping him as the elevator creaks and groans, chugging slowly along, his hands finally moving on their own to grasp onto Fiddleford in a move that puts the skinny man almost in front of him. Something deep inside him tightened at the sight; Lee looked more like a lost child than a grown man. "Stay with me, Lee," Fiddleford murmured, his voice steadier than he felt. "We’re gonna get you sorted out. Just hang in there, okay?" A low whimper escaped Lee's lips, eliciting a rush of empathy from Fiddleford. It was clear that Stanford's twin had been through an ordeal far beyond what he could comprehend. The least he could do was ensure that Lee would be safe for the time being. 

     As the elevator doors dinged open, Fiddleford slowly moved with Lee out into the dark room, just registering how cold it was-is the heating even on? Was the bill paid or was all the power just directed to that damn portal room? Fiddleford glanced around, his mind racing. “I need to get you to a bathroom and a bed,” he decided. He gently helped Lee step out of the elevator, the man leaning heavily against him. He maneuvered him toward the stairs, taking them one step at a time and going very slowly, Fiddleford may be tall but Lee was bulkier than he was, he didn’t want to risk Lee toppling over and falling down the stairs, injuring both himself further and the one currently helping him walk. They stumble their way upstairs, Fiddleford having to haul Lee up again when he started to slump too closely to the side, and towards the extra bathroom on the second floor-Fiddleford remembers this one having better lighting and not being as cramped as the downstairs bathroom. He gently deposits Lee on the toilet, worrying about his lack of response to the movements and light being turned on-at least the power still works up here-ever present. Setting the first aid bag on the coffee table, he knelt beside Lee, anxiety gnawing at him. “Okay… let’s see what we’re dealin’ with here.” Fiddleford pulled back the gauze on Lee’s shoulder, and his breath caught in his throat. The shoulder was inflamed, swollen with an angry red hue, the bandaging far too stained for comfort. He can’t even tell what was burned into his shoulder from how bad it was. Lee’s eyes fluttered open slightly, revealing a hint of recognition. 

     “Wha—who…” Lee’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper, and he couldn’t manage to say full words. Fiddleford didn’t know how much he knew about Ford’s work, meaning he doesn’t know if Lee even knows about him, but, with how out of it he is he figures some small trickery shouldn’t be too bad, people tend to respond better to help by people they know, or well, are told they know.

     “It’s just me, Lee, your good ol’ pal, Fidds. You remember, right? We’re great friends, you n’ I.” He holds his breath as Lee just nods along, the fever and infection ravaging his body obviously making it difficult to properly think back on his words. 

     “For…” Lee trails off, his word soft and incomplete, but Fiddleford knows what he was trying to say and felt a pang of heartbreak at the mention of Stanford.

      “He’s… he’s not here right now. But I’m gonna take care of you, alright? Just focus on me.” He carefully began cleaning the wound, glancing up to gauge Lee’s reaction. Lee sniffled, biting his lip, but didn’t pull away, his eyes still hazy and glazed over. Fiddleford doesn’t think he’ll be lucid for a while now. Each moment that passed seemed to drag on, filled with Lee’s fragile breaths and the quiet sounds of their surroundings. What was supposed to be a simple act of care felt monumental. Fiddleford bandaged the injury carefully, relying on the knowledge they had accumulated over the years. “You’re gonna be alright, Lee. Just gotta get the antibiotics into ya, and you’ll start feeling better in no time.” He goes and pulls out the bottles of antibiotics, some IV fluids to help with Lee’s obvious dehydration, and the collapsible IV pole that he’d made-maybe a bit overkill for the time but it was perfect for now. He rounds Lee, finding his eyes already on him. “Heya, Lee, can I see your arm? I need ta’ give ya’ some antibiotics to help with your infection.” But the man made no movement or noise indicating he understood what Fiddleford was saying. He took his arm in gentle hands, swabbing and cleaning the inner elbow before inserting the butterfly needle-hushing Lee when he made strangled whimpering noises, seeing a glimmer of tears come to his eyes. He pats Lee’s head, unconsciously cooing to him as he leans his head into Fiddleford’s touches, a soft sigh and hum passing through his lips.

     “Let’s getcha up now, need to get you in some clothes, though m’ afraid no shirts for a little while, you need as little as possible on that burn o’ yours.” Fiddleford stood up, stumbling in surprise as Lee’s hand grasped his, standing up with him and still staring, more clarity in his eyes, but still nothing indicative of being fully present. Fiddleford took a steadying breath, trying to calm the rising tide of worry threatening to overwhelm him. As they shuffled into the small, dimly lit hallway, Lee's gaze began to clear a bit, though it still flickered with confusion and fear. Fiddleford was grateful for the flicker of awareness and desperately hoped that Lee would be able to grasp even a thread of comfort in this chaos. “C’mon, Lee. Let’s get you settled, alright?” he murmured. The soft squeeze of Lee’s hand around his reassured him that the man could understand him to an extent, enough for his body to respond, at the very least. He makes his way to an open door, peering inside to see if it was acceptable enough for Lee to sleep in. It seems that this was the room he was staying in, though, if the clothes thrown about and rustled blankets on a small bed were of any indication. Steadily, they hobble into the room, Fiddleford holding Lee’s hand and steadying him as they walk, keeping an eye on the IV to make sure it doesn’t get snagged or trip over anything. He sets Lee down on the edge of the bed, making sure he won’t fall over, before searching around the room for some soft and hopefully clean pants, only finding some faded sweats. They didn’t seem too filthy, so Fiddleford deemed them as okay for now and turned around before stopping dead center, eyes assessing the scene before him. Lee had, from somewhere, grabbed a teddy bear-one with a remarkable similarity to Stanford-and was grasping it tightly, his body hunching over to bury his face in the soft cloth. He could see the slight trembling in Lee’s shoulders as he held the toy, hiding behind its plush form. An epiphany struck Fiddleford…it’s possible that Ford and Lee were more similar than just in looks. 

     “Hey, buddy,” Fiddleford spoke softly, moving closer, careful not to startle Lee. “That’s a nice bear you’ve got there…” as he came closer, he saw a blanket strewn on the bed behind Lee, a large quilt with what looked to be some crudely sewn Teddy Bears on it. Fiddleford’s heart ached at the sight of Lee clutching the teddy bear, drawn into its warmth and softness as he huddled over it, the blanket behind him just solidifying his thoughts. The plush creature and quilt seemed to offer a sense of security amid all this chaos and confusion. He knelt beside the bed, keeping his voice soft and calm. “Hey there, Lee. Let’s get ya’ some pants, alright? Just something comfortable for now.” Lee remained silent, his gaze still fixed on the bear. Fiddleford moved quickly to the small dresser, pulling out the faded sweats he had spotted earlier. He returned to Lee, who hadn't shifted from his position, burying his face against the bear's plush fur. “Hang tight, ‘right?” Fiddleford said, moving in front of Lee. He carefully helped him remove the old, dirty pants, mindful of Lee’s discomfort. With each movement, he offered gentle reassurances, softening the air with his presence. “We’re almost done.” He knows the other man can’t understand him, not fully, but Fiddleford knows from experience that talking to a kid or someone in this mindset can help keep them calm, and calm is what Lee needs right now. 

     “How’s about we lay back down now, okay?  Rest yer’ head on that pillow and just breathe in, ‘kay? Some quiet time.” Lee absentmindedly nodded, his grip on the bear tightening momentarily before loosening again. He leaned back, still looking dazed and feverish, but more comfortable now that he was semi-clean and dressed with fluid running into him. Fiddleford decided to remain quiet for a little while, too, letting the soft sounds of the house settle around them. The air was a little chilly, but Fiddleford figured they could tackle that issue soon enough. He slowly brings his hand towards Lee’s head, watching for any signs of flinching or cowering before he lowers it and softly begins to stroke his hair, cooing softly as Lee’s eye fluttered closed, his head leaning into the hand gently caressing him, soft murmurs escaping his lips. Fiddleford, with one practiced hand, pulls the blankets over Lee, the thinner ones first, the thicker comforter that was piled on the floor, and finally, Lee’s well-loved quilt, tucking them around the gentle creature before him, keeping his IV arms out of most of the layers besides to top quilt.

     Fiddleford's heart warmed at the sight of Lee nestled under the blankets, the calming rhythm of his breathing creating a peaceful atmosphere in the room, he felt a swell of protective instinct for the man beside him. “Just like that, Lee. Nice n’ comfy n’ cozy,” he murmured softly, continuing to thread his fingers through Lee’s hair, taking care to avoid any tug on the IV line. Lee seemed to lean further into Fiddleford’s touch, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he began to relax into the layers of warmth wrapped around him. As Fiddleford settled into a rhythm, the gentle motion of his hand seemed to draw Lee deeper into a state of comfort-deeper into his headspace if Lee’s soft chewing of the bear’s ear before Fiddleford removed it was anything to go by. The world around them faded into the background, the cold chill of the air outside kept at bay by the cocoon of blankets. The sound of breathing filled the room—the steady rise and fall of Lee’s chest mixed with Fiddleford’s quieter, more measured breaths.

     “Y’know, I used to do this for your brother, too,” Fiddleford’s voice cut through the silence, “When he felt younger-smaller-the world feeling too big for him. I was there to help him and take care of him. I wouldn’t mind being that person for you, neither. I don’t know what happened with our Ford, but I hope you’ll tell me.” Fiddleford breathes into the silence, just staring at Lee, who’s dozing off surrounded by his teddy and warmth of the blankets. “I want to take care of you, I’ve missed takin’ care of someone, actually. N’ I have more than enough room in my heart to add another person.” Lee made a soft, indistinct noise, his eyes still closed, as if he somehow understood the intent behind Fiddleford's words. Fiddleford smiled softly, hoping that the weight of his sincerity could reach Lee’s subconscious, anchoring him in a sea of uncertainty.

     Closing his eyes for just a moment, Fiddleford let the sounds of the house mingle with Lee's breathing, the gentle cadences a soft lullaby. He found his own fatigue creeping in, but he fought it off for the sake of his friend. Lee needed someone to hold firm and steady in this chaotic world, and he was more than willing to take on that role. After some time, Fiddleford felt the room grow quieter—Lee's breathing became more even, deeper. He risked glancing at Lee's face, noticing the way his features had relaxed under the quilt, the tension that had gripped him slowly dissipating as he found solace in sleep. There was something reassuring about seeing him at peace like this, a small flicker of hope sparking in Fiddleford’s heart.

     “Just keep resting,” Fiddleford whispered, pulling gently at the edges of the blankets around Lee, tucking him in a bit more snugly. “I’ll be here.” The rest of the night was full of soft snuffles and easy sighs, this little corner-their little corner-of the world tucked away for a few hours, peace falling around them

[skylers-age-regression-blog]

hi am Skyler 💗

Pronouns he him

Mainly reblog stuff, but occasionally would make posts of my own

I love fishies, Octonauts, MLP, and other cutesy stuff

I do swear. I understand that's some littles are uncomfortable with swearing, i'll try to remember to tag the ones I do swear in, but I understand if my swearing would turn some of you Away.

DNI racist homophobe transphobes or if your account is ddlg NSFW and/or age play

[hollowtakami]

MY LITTLE DOVE

CONTENT: caregiver!keigo + regressed!gn!reader, pet names (dove, little feather, baby bird), just a fluffy drabble to keep my mind out of a bad place.

AUTHOR NOTE: please keep interactions/tags for this post strictly SFW; ddlg/ageplay/pro+comship are not welcome.

You could feel yourself slipping.

Huddled under a sea of blankets with an army of stuffies, chewing on the end of your sleeve, you fold into yourself.

The scent of your favourite stuffie under your nose would usually comfort you, but not right now. Above the surface of those blankets was a world. That alone was far too big and scary for you right now.

Your little heart pounded as you count the minutes on your fingers to ease your worries, startling at the faint sound of a door clicking open.

A small sigh and the shuffling of boots could be heard through the ajar door your bedroom, shoes kicked to the side of the rack and a jacket strung up on a hook as you heard a melodic voice call out to you.

“Baby bird, I’m back!” Keigo chirped, the baritone of his voice flooding your senses with warmth.

You do your best to ease the blankets off yourself and with clumsy movements, clutch your stuffie to your chest with your head down as you waddled over to the avian.

Keigo saw you emerge from your room like a lost spirit, floating over to him slowly. His face fell when he couldn’t see yours, his eyes soon clocked onto the stuffie and he soon softened.

“Hey there, dove,” his voice smoother than any sippie cup of warm milk before bed, lowered as to not startle you again. He extended a hand to you, gentle and inviting, whispering, “you feelin’ small?”

With a small nod you raise your head to look up, expecting to see even a small glimpse of annoyance in the suns of Keigo’s eyes; nothing.

He beamed when he saw your face, riddled with worry but willing to trust him. And trust him, you did.

You slowly shuffled into Keigo’s chest, babbling to yourself happily when you felt the tickle of his feathers cocoon around you. He patted your hair, kissing the crown of your head.

“C’mon, little feather,” Keigo smiled, “let’s get you cosy, yeah?”

When you were regressed, your age sometimes ranged. Keigo was no stranger to working with children due to his line of work, and so took to your regression quite well. Hidden behind a mask of tenderness was, at first, the fear of making you feel worse. Though, like a feather in the wind, the two of you found your flow.

“Okay, baby, sit on the bed for me while I find you some jammys, ‘kay?” Keigo softly directed, to which you did with a nod, your stuffie still with you.

Keigo sent a few feather dashing out of the room as he picked through the drawer where you kept your regression gear; pacifiers, sippy cups, your favourite pyjamas.

He turned with them in his hand, smiling to himself when he saw your demeanour light up at the sight. You clapped your hands together happily, letting Keigo get you out of your day clothes and into something comfier.

Keigo eventually got you into bed after calming you down when you got so giddy - he can’t lie to himself though, you were so adorable. He left the room for a moment, crossing his heart and promising you and your plush friend that he would be right back.

Sitting on the bed, tucked into a blanket with your stuffie huddled close to your chest, you popped your thumb into your mouth. You were too baby to think anything wrong of it, babbling to your stuffie about something as you subconsciously suckled and bit at your thumbnail.

Keigo soon came back into the room, a clean paci in his hands, his feathers carrying a tray lined with a sippy cup of warm milk and a plate of apple slices.

The avian clicked his tongue when he saw you mindlessly sucking your thumb, smiling as he helped the paci into your mouth and wiped your thumb.

“Save your teeth for these apple slices, baby,” Keigo smiled, his feathers resting back into his wings as the tray was set down onto the bed slowly, Keigo snuggled up to you, planting a kiss on your forehead.

You giggled as the scruff on his chin tickled your skin, your bubbly laughs making Keigo’s heart melt.

“C’mere, dove, let me help you with your snack, yeah?” Keigo softly suggested.

You nodded, too baby to want to feed yourself.

After a few slices, you finished off the sippy full of milk, eyes droopy. Setting the tray down on the bedside table, Keigo held you close in a blanket of his feathers, keeping you safe from any monsters while you and your stuffie got some well deserved rest.

[tinylilacbun]

Ooo, Rafe calling little!reader who is back at the condo, and asking her to find the pen (feel like adding Sofia in this sinerio would get messy given what happened). She wears his shirts and sleeps on his side of the bed since she’s already clingy in little space, so him being away is really hard

Rafe weaves through the busy streets, scanning the stands for any kind of phone so he could contact you, luckily finding one in a secluded alley.

He quickly types in your number, raising the phone to his ear and continues walking, his eyes darting everywhere as he waits for you to pick up. "C'mon...pick up."

You're at Rafe's house, all comfortable on his side of the bed with various sweets around you while Bluey is playing on the tv when suddenly your phone rings.

You pick it up and answer it without looking who it is, just wanting to get this call over so you can enjoy being little. "Hello?"

"Hey, baby. I-" Rafe starts, smirking when you squeal excitedly at hearing his voice, sitting up on the bed.

"Daddy! You comin' home now?" You quickly ask, already missing him so bad that you wear his shirts every day since he went to Morocco.

"Not yet, I still got business to do here." He answers and you frown at that. "You gotta do me a favor, yeah? So I can wrap this up faster."

You perk up at that, you would do anything so he comes back home faster. "Wha' is it?"

"I just need you to find a pen that Groff gave me. Uh, it should be in the kitchen maybe." He instructs.

You get up from the bed, the crinkling of the candy packages being heard clearly through the phone and Rafe raises a brow.

"You're not eating the whole candy shelf empty, are you?" He asks, stopping to walk for a moment to place his hand on his hip. "Because I remember that I specifically told you not to go near it while I'm gone."

"Uh...nooo, course not daddy..." You murmur while making your way to the kitchen."

Rafe sees right through your lie like he always does. "We'll talk about this when I'm back."

"M'in the kitchen now." You change the topic, looking over the counter surfaces. "You mean like my cwayons?"

He chuckles. "No, no, um, like the ones I use for work, y'know? Look through the drawers, it should be in there." He says and you do, finding a black pen with golden engraving.

"Found it daddy!" You giggle in triumph.

"Good girl." He praises you, making you smile brightly. "Can you try and tell me what's written on it?"

"Oh, um, s'hard but...Riyadh, Mimouna, Essaouria, Maroc. That right?" You mumble, embarrassed if he couldn't understand.

"Okay, yeah, I saw a sign of that. Thank you, baby. You did a good job, proud of ya." He says, making his way to where he saw that sign of the hotel.

"Daddy...I miss you." You admit quietly, fiddling with the hem of his shirt that you're wearing, wishing he was here and cuddling you.

You are a clingy person in the first place and that only increases when you're little, the fact that he's already gone for a while and most likely will be for a bit longer has you feeling lonely and sad.

"I miss you too kid...I promise I'll be back soon, yeah?" He assures you. "I love you."

"Lub you too, daddy. Pwease be careful and don' talk to strangers!" You say, recounting what he often tells you.

Rafe laughs softly at that. "I will. Be good until I'm back."

Then the line goes dead and you sigh, going back to the bedroom to continue your Bluey marathon, snuggling back into Rafe's pillow that still smells like him.

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

@mythixmagic @iris-xoxo-juhu

For Rafe:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity @erikasurfer