#agere drabbles

[regressionworldz]

I’m planning to do an Age Regression story with Poppy Playtime based a lot on your art. I hope to send you what it got at a later date can you expand more on the Age Regression on your version for poppy playtime?

WAAAA, I’d be so happy if you made a story, seriously!! I’d reblog it so fast, I hope you go through with it,,

Also, absolutely! I can expand more on the Age Regression in my AU!

As I’ve mentioned before, the protagonist in this AU is an age regressor, and quite young at that. They tend to regress involuntarily, particularly when surrounded by positive or negative triggers, resulting in moments where they enter a childlike headspace. (Their regression age is somewhere around 0-3) 

This involuntary age regression significantly impacts the behavior of the creatures within the facility, leading to a complex array of reactions.

For instance, during encounters with Huggy Wuggy, the protagonist's regression triggers a profound change in perception. Despite being an adult, they are perceived as a child by Huggy Wuggy and other creations within the facility. This perception shift is consistent among all the creatures, who consequently treat the protagonist as a vulnerable child.

The best way I can describe the impact of age regression on the creatures is a nullifying effect. Rather than succumbing to their inherently sadistic tendencies, the creatures become markedly gentler and more nurturing. They instinctively adopt a protective and nurturing role towards the protagonist, exhibiting behaviors akin to caregiving.

With more formidable creatures like CatNap, the influence of the protagonist's age regression might not immediately manifest due to their heightened resistance. However, over time, even CatNap succumbs to a nurturing instinct towards the protagonist, albeit retaining a mischievous demeanor. Nonetheless, the protagonist will remain unharmed, with CatNap's antics posing nothing more than occasional playful disruptions.

In summary, within the world of Poppy Playtime, whenever your character regresses in front of the creatures, they universally perceive and treat you as a child. Hopefully this explains how the regression works in this AU!

[wilt3d-r0zes]

New fic! Kinda. It’s a drabble book for Teen Wolf Age Regression shit that I just kinda made in class to satiate my need to create for this fandom. I won’t be posting the summary or anything here, just the fic link and some warnings!

Teen Wolf Agere Drabbles

Warnings:

This fic contains Age Regression, a non-sexual coping mechanism. Don’t like, DNI

The only romance that’s implied in this fic is canon relationships, such as past Jackson/Lydia, Stiles/Malia and Scott/Kira. They don’t take the front of any of the fics so far as I’m not interested in writing romance- especially not in the context of an agere book.

This book contains spoilers for everything before the start of s4 as of 03/23/23, including characters and events. 

Isaac, Jackson and Ethan don’t leave/return to the pack bc I like them

Most of these are Stiles centric as of 03/23/23 because I like him he’s my lil scrunkle

[bamboobooshark]

LOGAN HOWLETT X LITTLE!READER

⊹ ࣪ ˖🐾₊˚ I DON'T PURR : 709 WRDS

INSPIRED BY @cloudbug08 ‘s CG LOGAN HEADCANONS ; DRABBLE |🐾| A/N : No one will ever stop me from making CG!/Dad!Logan fics. At all. Ever.

You’ve been regressed all day. Yesterday was a busy, stressful, overwhelming day, and now you’re coping with the stress. Logan is by your side, caring for you as usual. You lay on the living room floor’s carpet, tummy pressed to the ground, legs kicking up in the air. You breathe contently as you carefully color the page Logan printed out for you.

You could hear him in the bathroom down the corridor near the stairs. He was carefully grooming his hair while humming a tune that sounded a little too familiar. A soft smile crept onto your lips once you recognized it, it was the sound of your favorite cartoon’s intro. “I know that song,” you chirp, gaining a soft chuckle from the man. “You sure do, kiddo. So much that you’ve got me hummin’ it myself,” he replied. He set down the comb before letting out a soft sigh. The sound of his boots slightly clacking against the hardwood floor made you turn your head and giggle out of excitement when you see him. “Kitty hair! Kitty hair,” you exclaim. “Not kitty hair,” he corrected while shaking his head.

“Kitty hair” is what you’d call Logan’s hair any time he had it brushed up like little animal ears. As much as he denied that they were meant to be ears to represent any animal, he never truly cared that you called it kitty hair. He found it pretty cute and grew fond of the term.

“Can I pretty please play with it,” you plead, clasping your hands together. Logan shrugs in response. “I dunno, bubs,” he drags out playfully. “Pretty please? I promise I’ll get that one spot behind your ears that you really like,” you add in an attempt to get him to accept your request. He looks down at you sweetly, hands on his hips, one eyebrow cocked. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt,” he groans dramatically, feigning annoyance. “But you gotta clean up all that arts and crafts stuff you got going on.”

Without hesitation, you nod in agreement. You start to clean up your crayons and coloring pages with haste. Within minutes, you’re done putting everything up, now sat on the couch waiting for Logan to come lay his head on your lap. You stretch your hands out to him grasping the air between you two. “Calm down, kiddo. I’m coming,” he assures you. He walks closer to you, leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, slips off his boots, and lays his head in your lap. He shifts a bit to get more comfortable by putting one leg on top of the other and crossing his arms against his chest. “There you go, bubs,” he hums with a deep exhale. You squeal with excitement as you gently begin to play with his hair. You run your fingers through the strands, scratch his scalp, and when you scratch behind his ears, you hear something. Purring. He always purrs when you play with his hair for long enough.

“You purr,” you exclaim with a giggle and a huge grin on your face. Logan sighs in return. He shakes his head in denial “You’ve got it all wrong, kid. I don’t purr. Wolverines don’t purr. You’re making things up,” he protests against your previous claim.

You felt his throat vibrate softly against one of your thighs and listened closely. As you told him, he was purring.

“You purr like a kitty, then,” you chirp back. Another deep sigh. He’s not even annoyed with your claim. He knows you’re right. He just doesn’t want to admit to his kiddo that he purrs. “I don’t purr. I didn’t purr,” he states firmly. “It’s not right to lie to your papa,” he said with a light-hearted chuckle. “But you did! I promise,” you pout to him. “I’ll prove it,” you say before beginning to scratch at his scalp again.

Sure as hell, he purrs. He grumbles softly to interrupt his purrs in protest. You know you’ve won once you hear a soft sigh fall from his lips as you scratch right behind his ears. More purring. “Guess you’re right, bubs,” he chuckles softly while closing his eyes. “Just keep scratching. It feels nice,” he adds with a smile creeping onto his lips.

TAG LIST : @saronics

[softpawpup]

— winter regression, solo time

you make a cup of hot cocoa, and put on your favorite holiday movie. you snuggle up in a nest of your favorite blankies to keep warm and lots of stuffies for comfort. you sip your cocoa and watch your movie, and as you look outside you see its snowing! little flakes of wonder drifting down from the sky and gathering in the yards around where you live. you put on your warmest coat and gloves and hat, all bundled up and cute. you put on some boots and you run outside. its quiet and there’s not really anyone else around. its just you and the snow. you play and giggle and build a fort and throw snowballs at the wall. and as the sun begins to set you grow tired and your nose starts to hurt from the cold. you’ve been outside for so long. so, you head inside and defrost by the vents in your wall blasting heat. you change in to your most favorite winter time jammies and make another cup of cocoa. you play another movie and your night feels familiar and safe. you finish your cocoa and drift off as the movie plays on, giving you a peaceful lull to sleep.

[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 :((

[miloscozycorner]

𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬.

Carer!Natasha Romanoff x Little!Reader

• As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you were feeling under the weather. As always, Natasha makes sure to take gentle care of her stubborn baby.

cw: age regression.

( 1007 Words )

It started with a runny nose. You assured Natasha it was just seasonal allergies, and you had to adjust to the winter. Hesitantly, she had taken your word for it- though of course, she always worried about you pushing yourself too far.

Then, you started to get a headache. And the sore throat and cough. You tried to brush it off, but when Natasha woke early in the morning to see you drenched in a cold sweat, shivering and coughing, she knew you weren’t okay.

She also noticed how small you seemed- you held your stuffed animal tight, grumbling and fussy. “Hey little bug, are you feeling icky?” Natasha murmured as she leaned over you as you shivered, nodding at her words.

With a cough you nodded, “It feels hot n’ then cold, mama.” You mumbled, frowning. Natasha tutted, placing her soft hands on your forehead. She hissed as she felt the head radiating from your skin.

“Baby, you’re burning up.” Natasha cooed, wincing when you hacked and coughed loudly with a wheeze. “Oh honey, you’re definitely sick. Here, I can send a text to your boss-”

God, you hated having to admit that you were getting sick. You pouted, groaning in frustration. “But I got work!” You whined, getting more distressed at the idea of not being able to go about your daily tasks.

Natasha sighed, shaking her head as she ran her fingers soothingly through your hair. “Sugar, you just can’t go to work. You need to stay home and get better, okay?”

You paused as you started to wheeze, sputtering into a coughing fit. Natasha sighed, moving to hold you tight in her arms and let your head rest on her shoulder. “Mama.. it hurts.” You whined, cut off by another sharp cough.

Fingers ran through your hair soothingly as Natasha pressed a kiss on your forehead. “I know it does, baby. It must hurt a lot.” She replied softly. She paused to glance out the window.

Sunlight was peaking through the white curtains, just barely risen enough to cast a shadow.

“Why don’t you just stay here, okay?” Natasha spoke, shifting so she was sitting up in bed. “Mama can make you a nice, warm bowl of soup and we’ll put on some of your favorite cartoons. How about that, little one?”

After a moment you nodded in agreement, whining when Natasha slipped out of your hold to stand. “Mama, don’ leave.” You mumbled with a pout, cradling your stuffie tighter to your chest.

Natasha sighed, “Sugar, mama isn’t going far. I’m just going to make you some soup with tea and grab some medicine.” She paused, before handing you the remote. “Choose something, okay?” She gestured towards the television.

Even though part of you wanted to object, to convince Natasha to stay in bed just a little longer, you nodded in agreement.

You mindlessly scrolled through the options of television shows before eventually deciding on a calm, animated movie. You relaxed into the bed, cradling several stuffies close to you while the movie began to play.

Soft footsteps pattered down the hallway until Natasha appeared, a cup of tea in one hand and medicine in the other. “Your soup’s sitting on the stove, baby. Still needs to warm up a bit.” She explained before scooting next to you in bed.

You grimaced at the medicine, not appreciating the grimy texture that went down your throat. But Natasha held you, telling you how brave you were while you drank it, which made it feel a little bit better.

The tea soothed your throat as Natasha hummed, glancing over at the television. “Studio Ghibli? That’s a good choice, precious.” She helped you sip at your tea for a while, frowning when you would wince or whine at your headache and sore throat.

“Mama, my throat hurts.” You whined, allowing Natasha to hold the warm mug of tea up to your lips. You took another small sip, finding a bit of relief in the soothing liquid.

Natasha moved off the bed again, cradling your cheeks and planting a kiss on your forehead. “Keep watching your movie, sweetheart. Mama is going to get your soup now, alright? I bet that tummy of yours is hungry!”

You giggled at her comment, shaking your head. “Mama you’re so silly.” You babbled, unable to help the small smile that tugged at the corners of your lips.

Natasha tickled your sides lightly before heading down the hallway, her footsteps eventually fading into the background. Once again you found yourself focused on the movie in front of you playing out, though sometimes the sickness would make your head feel floaty and almost dream like.

The scent of chicken noodle soup wafted around the hallway and into your room as Natasha returned. “Do you want to sit on mama’s lap while you eat this, honey? I don’t want you to make a mess.” Natasha said, moving over the cup of tea on the nightstand to place the bowl.

A moment passed and you nodded, adjusting yourself to sit on her lap. Natasha held you close, the bowl placed in her lap while she raised spoonfuls of the soup to your lips.

As you finished your soup and tea and the movie started to fade into background noise, you could feel your eyes start to grow heavy and your body weight felt like far too much to keep up all by yourself.

Natasha adjusted you, moving you so you were laying down and cradled in her arms, your head nuzzled against her collarbone. “Close your eyes, little love. Get some extra sleep for mama, okay?” She cooed, rocking you gently.

Though part of you felt like protesting, trying to fight through the day and stop feeling so icky, you gave in to the comfort and let your muscles eventually relax.

With Natasha’s soft touches and gentle praises in your ear, the shivers that ran down your spine eventually faded away, and sleep came to you with an ease you hadn’t experienced in days.

[minminbunny]

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

💕Drabble Masterlist

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

"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.

[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.

[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.

[b4bywr1t3s]

Trail mix

Spencer Reid x gn!reader drabble

tags ; fluff , gn terms ONLY , use of y/n (I'm unoriginal...)

(this is so short...shush)

The couple sat on the couch, Y/N holding a small bag of trail mix in their lap, idly eating the mixture of nuts and fruits, making sure to pick out the raisins.

it took a matter of seconds for Spencer to notice, gently taking the bag from Y/N and heading for the kitchen, separating the raisins from the rest of the bags contents.

by the time he returned, the raisins had been completely removed, all tossed into a small bowl, which he carried into the living room, handing the bag back to his lover.

"you didn't have to do that..." they mumble, looking over at the bowl Spencer carried.

"you don't like them, there's no point wasting them." Spencer shrugged in response, plopping onto the couch beside Y/N, continuing to watch whatever late night TV show was playing.

the pair ate in quiet, Y/N leaning against Spencer's side as they watch the show, enjoying the comfortable silence that filled the room.

"I love you, y'know that?" spencer whispers, his soft voice drawing Y/N's attention to him.

"I know..." they murmur, looking up at him through their lashes, their eyes filled with tiredness. "I love you too, Spence."

Spencer moves his hand to theor cheek, his thumb caressing across his lovers cheekbone and into their hairline, helping them drift into a peaceful slumber, the late night TV now just background noise fir the couples rest.

very much inspired by this post | dividers by @kodaswrld

[mydinodaycare]

” everything the light touches , , , “

all images found on pinterest ^_^

[pttwice]

thinking of little!nayeon being antsy to leave a restaurant while caregiver!jihyo is taking her sweet time to flirt with a pretty waitress (momo)

“mommy i wanna go hooome,” nayeon whines and rests her head on jihyo’s shoulder.

jihyo does her best to ignore her little’s complaints. she continues her conversation with their waitress, her pen still hovering over the signature line on the check.

“i think that’s awesome that you’ve worked here so long. is culinary in your future?”

momo nods, her cheeks a light shade of pink as jihyo finally signs the check. she takes the little clipboard and tucks it into her apron pocket. “that’s the goal. culinary school’s expensive though, so i have to save as much as i can first. i do like this job though, so i don’t mind working.”

nayeon grumbles softly to herself. jihyo doesn’t catch much other than bits and pieces of “not fair”, “bored”, and “wanna play”.

“i think you’ll be successful, especially if you’re this passionate about food.” jihyo smiles, her eyes momentarily flitting down to momo’s smile.

nayeon lifts her head up as she sees her mommy’s eyes briefly glance down. she raises an eyebrow, curious about the action. having no filter when she’s regressed, nayeon slowly puts two and two together. she figures out the fastest way to get her mommy out of the restaurant even if it’ll embarrass jihyo to no end.

“well, thank you. i hope we see you two soon-”

“my mommy thinks you’re pretty. that’s why she was looking at your lips and that’s why we’re still here and not at home playing with kookeu and bbuyo.” nayeon blurts everything out, a satisfied and innocent smile on her face as jihyo’s cheeks quickly burn bright red.

jihyo turns her head, eyes wide as she looks at nayeon. “im nayeon,” she scolds, clearing her throat as she nervously smiles back at momo. “i’m sorry. she just gets a little antsy.”

momo’s pink cheeks nearly match jihyo’s. she waves her hand dismissively and smiles softly. “i-it’s okay. i’ve worked with littles before.”

“if you want my mommy’s number, i can write it down. i’m really really good at numbers, and-”

before nayeon can expose and embarrass jihyo any further, she covers her little’s mouth. gently pulling her and her bag out of the booth, jihyo thanks momo again and waves before pushing nayeon out the door.

“we’ll come back so my mommy can keep flirting with you!”

that’s the last thing momo hears as the door closes behind them. she laughs to herself and shakes her head as she watches jihyo scolding nayeon in the parking lot. she hopes nayeon’s right.

[ppupkit]

I think Maddie would really like bouncy balls... I can jus imagine her running around with pockets fulla rubber bouncy balls!!

YES YES !! puppy ! maddie loves chasing around her bouncy balls. barking to get caitlyn's attention she bounces her ball , eyes glued to it in awe as she watches it bounce. silly pup will try to catch them in her mouth which sometimes leads to ouchies.. she'll go from giggling to sobbing and mama will come running. "oh my little love," caitlyn will say with a little frown. "show mummy." as soon as she gives her baby kisses, making sure she's alright maddie will go right back to playing.

[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.

[impish-baby]

Platonic yandere "friend" group...they're essentially bullies but they're just nice enough to keep you wondering if maybe you're just being sensitive when they're mean (maybe they're like stereotypical popular kids and you're a bit of an outcast..)

Sorry, they'd invite you to go with to the mall but they kinda wanted it to be just them :((

You can totally come hang out at Hannah's after though!! :D You're not upset, right? You understand? Giving you a playful nudge that's a little too rough.. (snickering about it when you're gone, how can someone be so naive? It's funny)

Getting mad when you start turning them down instead, who do you think you are? Seriously? What makes you think you can say no when they're so graciously willing to spend time and money on you?

They don't buy your lame ass excuses, you're a horrible liar. You're hanging out with some other dweeb over them. Over them. After they've done so much for you!

It's ridiculous, really. You think you aren't their friend? Stammering and fidgeting all pathetic as you try to stick up for yourself, yeah ok. They'll show you just how kind they where being, you can learn how good you had it before you decided to be a brat

[miloscozycorner]

hiya! idk if you write for agatha, so just ignore this if you dont!

if you do then yay!! would u do hcs of agatha being a carer for a baby regressor reader? thanks! have a good day!

I do write for Agatha! I love her :’) sadly I haven’t watched Agatha All Along yet, but I have lots of friends who are bugging me to! Gotta get on that.. anyhow, enjoy! ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

- Loves to show off her magic to impress you! Agatha learns lots of different magic tricks just to show off. Doesn’t even matter if it’s real magic or not- you’ll always be impressed.

- Buys lots of purple things for you- she thinks it’s adorable for you to match with her. Purple sippy cups, pacis, anything.

- Even though you’re usually too tiny to maintain a conversation, she loves to go along with it. You’ll babble about something and she’ll nod enthusiastically. “You’re so right, baby!”

- Playtime with Señor Scratchy is a must. Lots of pets and cuddles with him, and you hold him if you’re very gentle :3

- Very protective- doesn’t really like when her baby does too much exploring. She’d much rather keep you bundled up and safe with her >:p

- Constant affection! She’s super clingy so she’s always holding you, wanting to cuddle, all of it. “Why don’t you give mama a hug?”

- Just very soft in general. Coos to you, calls you silly petnames. No matter how scary she is to anyone else, you’re her baby :’3!