#tw: diaper mention
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Tipps for little ones that are prone to accidents!!
(Obvious cw! for diaper mention)
mainly regarding No. 2 since that's what I deal with pretty much every day.
Which padding might be best?
Finding the right diaper for regular, or even everyday use can be difficult.
Since I regularly go potty normally, I often have to open and close my diapers. I find hook & loop tapes are the most durable option for this.
Pull ups are also easy for that, but they tend to get saggy and they fray really easily, so I'm not a big fan of them.
Cloth back diapers aren't crinkly, so they are more subtle than others.
The thickness of a diaper is not important when you only go number 2 in them, since they don't have to "absorb" liquid, just hold the other stuff, so you can go as thin - and therefore subtle - as you'd like.
Medical diapers are much more affordable than cute ones, but they are also boring.. Drawing on your diapers or putting stickers on them can be a great solution, aswell as a fun crafting project.
How to possibly prevent accidents?
Prevention is not always possible, but those tricks help me sometimes.
Be careful what you eat/ drink. Knowing what dietary constrictions you have and upholding them can be vital. Try avoiding possible triggers for IBS, food intolerances, etc. Especially when you'll be out and about, where having an accident could feel especially upsetting.
Try and figure out the "schedule" of your bowel movements, most people have to go at certain times and in certain intervals after eating. Figuring out your schedule if possible can help you prevent accidents by going to the toilet at the right time precautionary. Finding out your schedule can be done by writing down every time you use the restroom, especially after eating/ drinking, so also note the times of that! Do so for at least one moth to try and figure out a clear pattern.
What do when you had an accident in public?
Having an accident in public can feel upsetting and humiliating, I often get really self-conscious and sad if it happens.. But I have some Tipps that help me deal.
Firstly, here is a tiny tutorial for the cleanest way to "fold" a dirty diaper, to prevent any leaking.
I always carry little diaper bags with me, that I previously filled with a "smell killing powder". → these powders can be bought online or in stores, they are advertised as scent killers, odour eliminating Powder or garbage / diaper bin deodorizing powder. (I use "Geruchs Vernichter" by Dr. Becher) !! don't put the powder in a diaper while/ before wearing it, it's really harmful to the skin !!
The diaper bags are just little plastic bags, there are options to get ones that aren't see through, if you're super self-conscious. Another option is to wrap the bag (or diaper in it) in toilet paper to disguise it. The bags themselves are also available scented!
Carrying air freshener or deodorant may also help you, when you're in a public bathroom and feel self-conscious about the smell.
A fresh diaper, aswell as wet wipes and disposable gloves are also always in my travel bag.
Make a list of positive affirmations & take it with you everywhere.
It's not your fault, you're not broken, you're not icky, you are so valid & these accidents don't change anything about that!! <3
What to wear?
If your shy about wearing diapers, the right clothes may give you comfort.
Baggy clothes to hide them are a great option.
I found hoodies that are long enough to cover up the back areas especially comforting.
Baggy pants in general are great to hide your padding, just make sure to wear a belt so they don't slip of!
I always wear a tugged in shirt or a onesie, so there is no peeking of the diaper when I lean forward.
Wearing a short leggings/ underwear over your diaper might give you a feeling of safety aswell.
That's all I can think of right now, I might update this later though. Everyone is free to add their own tips, tricks or remarks aswell!!
I want you to know that there is nothing sameful or icky about having to wear diapers or simply choosing to wear them for comfort. There is nothing weird about it and you are not broken or less worthy of love for wearing/ needing padding.
You are strong, you got this and I'm so very proud of you for taking care of yourself!
Stay safe, kiddo!
#nates babbling#baba space#nates tips#nates recommendations#padded agere#padded regressor#paddedagere#sfw interaction only#sfw#sfw agere#agere#age regression#agere community#age regression community#age regressor#cw: diaper mention#tw: diaper mention#tw: diapers#cw: diapers#tw diapers#cw diapers#cw diaper mention#tw diaper mention
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There are many reasons a regressor, dreamer, caregiver or flip may rely on diapers, such as:
✨ Incontinence, or the inability to control one’s bladder or rectum
✨ Menstrual cycles, as diapers are much more comfortable/less dysphoric compared to using pads or tampons
✨ Impaired mobility, which effects one’s fine motor and gross motor skills
✨ During recovery following a surgery, as not to put too much strain on their bodies
✨ Various medical conditions and disabilities where wearing them might be much more convenient
✨ Stress or anxiety
✨ Having a tendency of wetting the bed
✨ Nightmares
✨ Purely for comfort reasons, as they can provide a sense of security for the wearer
✨ To help one slip into their headspace or prevent any accidents when regressing, as they may have bathroom troubles in their regressed state
✨ Regardless of the reason, there’s no shame or harm in wearing diapers so long as you are comfortable above all else.
#cw diaper#age regression#sfw agere#agere#agere positivity#ageredips#diaper mention#tw periods#tw menstruation#period ment tw
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Thank you so so much, this is beautiful and so much more that I could've hoped for!!
I'm so in love with this story and thank you for the affirmation at the start, it really means a lot!! <3
Hello again!!
❗Tw: mention of diapers & accidents❗
I also have to wear diapers for medical reasons (stool incontinent bc of a birth defect) and I too view Nappies as a comfort item in my regression!
I think it's really cool of you to help others bring comfort to wearing diapers and "embarrassing" situations like accidents.
As someone who has to deal with accidents at least twice a week, that really means a lot!
So, I would love a story where a little one has an accident, in a public place/ event and their cg makes an "escape plan", like in an action movie, that helps the little one to feel less ashamed. Saying things like: "Okay, we have to secure the diaper bag, before entering the restroom, is sergeant Teddie equipped for the heist?" They make a game out of it, showing the little one that even in uncomfortable or embarrassing situations, one can have fun.
I'd also really like a scene of comfort, where the little one feels bad for "being yucky" and their cg assuring them that they are not. (It's something I struggle with a lot bc of my condition)
It's up to you to decide what kind of accident you decide the little one to have, whatever you're comfortable with! (I know many ppl find "No. 2 accidents" really triggering, so I completely understand if you don't want to write about that)
Feel free to use any of the pairings I listed in this ask of mine!
Ps. I forgot to mention that I'm uncomfortable with the terms M*mmy and D*ddy in the other ask, so I'm putting it here!
Thanks for reading, have a great day/ night!
For starters let me say how near and dear this request is to my heart. I can relate whole heartily to this. As someone who also uses diapers both as a medical necessity and as a comfort item to my regression this request hits home. So this ask really warms my heart. Thank you for being so open with this request @dino-boyo-agere 💞
It’s extremely embarrassing difficult having an accident in public. Age Regression isn’t a widely known thing and the fear of someone taking it for something like a kink is common. Plenty of insecurity and disgust runs through us when accident happen. Why I’m so adamant about writing these scenarios is to shed a light to those who don’t know and more importantly to show Littles alike that it’s okay. You’re regression is your own. Wearing diapers or not doesn’t make you more or less of a Regressor. Wearing and using diapers is okay! You’re perfectly valid and I’m here for you as a fellow Little who wear diapers herself. Accident happen but it doesn’t make you gross. You’re a beautiful Regressor, padded or not💞💞💞
With that little affirmation of love to my fellow padded Regressors please enjoy this fic💞
Thank you for this brilliant idea and for all the different pairings. I decided to go with Caregiver! Dean Winchester & Little! Sam Winchester! But I love the idea of a Caregiver being an older brother to their little brother Little so this immediately struck my heart!
I will be doing this fic as a number 2 accident which will be implied and not detailed in anyway in this story. I understand that it makes some uncomfortable so I understand if this fic is not for you. While it will be sfw in my eyes I can understand why it wouldn’t for others so hence there is no sfw tag added. With that I hope enjoy this fic!!💞
The Undercover Mission at the Fair
Caregiver! Dean Winchester & Little! Sam Winchester
Tags: diapers, accident, pacifier, stuffed animal moose
Nicknames: Sammy, buddy, kiddo, little one,
Sam and Dean arrived to a small town in Idaho hearing stories of a ghost killing those who walked home at night. Seemed simple enough for the brothers. But upon arriving, it was getting hard for Sam to keep a clear head and not regress.
Since arriving there were posters everywhere for the county fair. They had never been to a fair before! And this one was going to have rides, carnival games and as much junk food as a Little could want! The pictures looked so exciting!
The posters were in the police station, the hotel, the diner, EVERYWHERE! Sam, despite his best efforts was finding it difficult not to regress immediately. How could he resist?! It looked like so much fun!! And hey, maybe he took a poster on the way out of the police station to show Dean later…just maybe…
Regression was something Sam kept hidden from everyone for years. I mean how could he possibly tell someone like his father that he needed to regress every now and then.
No, never. He kept it to himself… College had been a God sent to Sam. There he was able to regress whenever he felt like it. He had stuffies, toys, diapers and even a pacifier all for himself. It was heaven on earth.
That was until Dean showed up on his dorms door step saying Dad was missing. Going back to his old hunter lifestyle and not regressing was a horrible combo. Shared motel rooms with Dean meant no privacy, which lead to disaster.
A nightmare in the middle of the night caused Sam to not only regress but wet the bed as well. But Dean was right there by his side to help him through it all. He didn’t question anything at all, not the diapers in his bag, not the stuffed moose he clung to and certainly not the pacifier he immediately gave Sam.
No, Dean stepped up like he had Sam’s whole life. He comforted him and helped him back to sleep eventually. After that day Dean became Sam’s Caregiver, making sure his little brother was always safe and comfortable when he regressed.
Fast forward to the present, in privacy of their hotel room Sam started to regress. The case dragged on today. Between talking to the police, to research at the local library, to interviewing victims families, Sam needed a break.
He grabbed his moose stuffie, got changed into a diaper and sat on the bed with his pacifier while watching tv. Suddenly an ad for the fair popped on and reminded him!
“Dean!” Sam said, pacifier dropping from his mouth as he rushed over to his suit jacket to grab the poster from his pocket.
“Yeah Sammy?” Dean was just walking out of the bathroom when Sam thrusted the poster into Dean’s hands.
“They’re having a fair here this weekend! See!” He pointed to the poster.
“Yeah I saw these posters around the town. What about it?”
Sam paused, “We have to go! When will we ever get this opportunity again?”
Dean smiled. As much as brother tried to keep his regression in the downlow this whole case, his careful Caregiver eyes spotted it right away. So it was no shocker to Dean when Sam brought him this carnival poster and asked if they could go.
“Sammy we’re in the middle of a case.” Dean tried to reason.
But Sam crossed his arms, “You’re the one who always says it can’t always be about hunts and that we need to take time for ourselves. Well this is time for ourselves!”
As much as Dean hated to admit it, Sam was right. He hasn’t regressed in a while which wasn’t health for him and Dean hasn’t had a break away from a hunt in a while. Maybe this fair was meant to be for them.
“You make a good point buddy,” Dean sat down on the motel bed and patted the spot next to him for Sam.
Despite being taller than his brother, Sam sat down and leaned forward to rest his head on his brother’s shoulder.
“So…can we go?” Sam asked again, giving his best puppy dog eyes.
Dean laughed, “Alright we can go.”
Before Dean could continue what he was saying Sam immediately jumped from the bed and was practically jumping around the room.
“Yes!!! Fair!!! Thank you thank you thank you Dean!! We’re gonna have so much fun!”
Dean smiled seeing Sammy’s excitement. He was going to add that they would go after the case was finished but he didn’t have the heart. Plus this case seemed to wrapping up soon anyway, why ruin the fun?
County fairs weren’t really something Dean and Sam got to experience when they were kids. Sure, there were plenty of times they arrived at a town with the fair happening. But John was so focused on whatever hunt he was on that by the time he had dealt with it, the fair had packed up leaving two disappointing Winchesters.
It’s no wonder Sam regresses with their interesting childhood… But Dean never minded Sam’s regression. Infact he encouraged Sam to regress when he was particularly stressed. Sam’s regression did as much healing for Dean as it did for Sam.
So, after a couple of days of dealing with this nighttime ghost, they arrived at the county fair. It was everything Sam had always dreamed it could be! They had tons of snacks! Crazy rides! And amazing prizes to be won! He didn’t know where to go first?!
Dean could see the wonder in Sam’s eyes. He placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, “Where first Sammy? You lead the way.”
Where first indeed.
Dean followed Sam’s lead, walking behind the tall little with his backpack on. Inside was everything he would need as a Caregiver. Sam’s stuffed moose, extra change of clothes, diapers and supplies and his pacifier. He prided himself on being prepared for anything both as a hunter and as a Caregiver.
Sam insisted they start off with rides! The first one spun around so fast that they couldn’t even stand up. Sam was giggling the whole time but looking over at Dean showed he was not having a great time.
After that the two made their way to the “haunted house.” It was honestly laughable going through the haunted house with what the both of them face on the daily. But it didn’t stop Sam was grabbing Dean’s hand as they made their way through the house.
Despite towering over his big brother, he always felt safer when Dean was holding his hand and leading the way.
They hopped ride after ride after ride, and in between eating some junky snacks and candy the fair had to offer. Finally after a little while Dean made the executive decision to grab something sustainable to eat and sit down for a moment.
They found a nice table to themselves and set their belongings down. Sam needed a bit of a break after the constant running around they did his morning. So a nice shaded table was perfect. Plus he wasn’t used to eating so much junk, so getting something a little bit healthier would be better for the two of them.
“Alright Sammy, I’ll grab us something to eat. You stay here and relax a bit. Okay? Don’t leave this table.”
Sam just nodded, focused on a clown that had walked past a couple of minutes ago. His stomach twinged a bit in pain. “D-Dean…”
Dean stopped a step away from the table. He turned around, “Yeah?”
“I think I’ll come with you instead.” He grabbed Dean’s backpack and jumped up to join him. The sudden movement caused his stomach to hurt again.
Dean looked in the direction Sam was just looking in. Something definitely spooked him since he went from his usual regressed happiness to anxious. Maybe it was that clown that’s been walking around? He took in the sight of his brother, one hand holding his stomach, the other gripping his backpack.
“Sammy, are you feeling okay?” Dean wasn’t sure if it was scared and holding himself or in pain.
“Yeah…yeah I’m fine.” Sam handed Dean his backpack back and followed his lead through the rows of food stands.
But his stomach hadn’t forgotten about him just yet. Another stabbing pain had him stopping in his tracks, holding his stomach and wincing. Maybe he could ask Dean for some medicine or to take him to the bathroom.
But when he looked up Dean was gone. Sam’s face went white as the ghost they just killed.
“Dean?” He looked around, “DEAN?!” He yelled. He was right next to him one second ago?! And now his tummy hurt and all he wanted was his brother, his caregiver, to make it all better.
Worst of all they were in public. He couldn’t have an accident with all these people around them?! There were crowds of people, or what felt like crowds, walking around him. He felt as though everyone’s eyes were on him, as if they all knew.
It was all so overwhelming. Tears started to sting the corner of his eyes as he wrapped both arms around his sore stomach.
“Sammy!”
Immediately Sam lifted his head and looked in the direction of Dean’s voice. There, only a couple feet away was Dean. Immediately Sam walked over and wrapped Dean into a hug, starting to crying into his shoulder.
Dean had only walked a few feet when he realized Sam was no longer behind him. He looked around for the tall Little but was blocked by a group of people. Once he made it away from them he could see Sam. He looked on the verge of a breakdown with his arms holding his stomach tightly and his head swiveling around to find Dean.
“It’s alright Sammy I’m here, I’m here buddy,” he rubbed Sam’s back soothingly.
When Sam all but launched himself into Dean’s arms, the Caregiver had a pretty good idea of what happened while the two were away. He sighed. He should’ve kept a closer eye on him, especially when he knew something was wrong. Especially when they haven’t been eating the healthiest today.
But now was not the time to regret anything. Right now he had to get him somewhere discreet enough to get changed. But he knew Sam would rather curl up into a ball than to start walking towards the bathrooms.
He needed to get Sam changed and he didn’t want him to be more embarrassed than he already was….a challenge indeed. But this is Dean we’re talking about, he always knows how to take good care of his little brother. That’s when an idea popped into his head.
Once Sam seemed to settle from crying Dean pulled away and wiped his tears away, “Its okay Sammy, it’s okay. I’m so sorry I lost you there for a second. Truth is…I was checking to see if we were being spied on.”
That started to peak Sam interest away from the accident or almost losing Dean. “Spied on?”
“That’s right Sammy. The intel I got this morning said that we might be spied on while at the fair here. Apparently they only send their top agents on a mission such as this one, which is why we were assigned to this job. Now Agent S, before we make our way to our mission’s checkpoint do we have the equipment we need?”
Sam started to get into the little game Dean was playing. A small smile started to appear on his face seeing Dean become over dramatic with their “secret mission”. He started to worry less about the accident and more about their game. “What equipment do we need?”
“Well we first need my backpack but I can’t find it anywhere! Have you seen it? Where could it have gone to?!” Dean said turning around to look for it when it was strapped to his back the entire time. Sam started giggling.
Dean turned around overly dramatic again, “Is something funny Agent S?”
“You’re wearing the backpack Agent D!”
“I’m- OH! Of course I am! There it is! Great job Agent S!” Dean praised, ruffling Sam’s hair a bit. “Now with our first item secured we only need one more thing before we make our way to the checkpoint, and that’s Agent M.”
Sam looked confused, “Agent M? Who’s Agent M?”
Dean opened the backpack and picked up Sam’s moose stuffed animal. “Agent M of course!”
Sam’s face started to blush a little. He didn’t normally walk around with Moosy in public. But he desperately wanted him right now.
Thankfully Dean had a quickly solution for that problem too, “But Agent M is really really undercover, so if anyone asks you where you got him, say you won him in a carnival game. That way we don’t blow his cover.” Dean winked.
It was the perfect excuse. There were plenty of people walking around with stuffed animals in hand from carnival games. He would fit in just fine with his moose. So with that Sam took his moose stuffie. He had to admit, having him close really started to help.
“Alright Agent S, Agent M, let’s go to the mission checkpoint,” Dean took Sam hand in his as they walked through the crowds to find a restroom.
Sam, despite being taller than Dean, stayed hidden behind him with every step they took. Anytime anyone walked even a little too close to the two of them Sam ducked his head near Dean.
Thankfully there was a restroom nearby. Dean smiled and squeezed Sam’s hand in his. “There we go Agent S! There’s our mission checkpoint. We made it! Are you and Agent M doing okay?”
But Dean could see despite their fun little game waking to the restroom, the toll of the accident was weighing heavily on Sam with every step he took.
He stopped and looked up at Dean fighting tears that threatened to spill, “It’s okay Dean. I can go in and get changed myself. I don’t want you to have to deal with this…with….a number 2.”
Sam went to grab the backpack from Dean’s shoulder but he immediately stopped him. “Wow wow wow, that is not happening. Do you think I wanted to be your Caregiver so I could do half the job and call it a day?”
Sam looked away. Tears started to roll down his eyes as he whispered, “You shouldn’t have to deal with this Dean. It’s gross, I’m gross.” At the admission, Sam started to cry a bit.
But Dean quietly swooped in. He pulled him in and held him in a tight hug for a moment. After he wiped the tears away, “Don’t you dare say that about yourself. You are not gross at all! It’s normal for little ones to have accident and you’re no different. I don’t have to deal with this, I want to Sammy. I’ve always been here for you and I’m not stopping now.”
He held his hand out for Sam to take again. “We have a mission to complete Agent. Not a solo mission, but a co-op mission. I can’t do it without you Agent S.”
Sam looked at Dean sincerely. He truly meant every word. Despite everything he never saw him differently, he still saw him as his little brother. So with a little hesitancy Sam took Dean’s hand in his own.
“After this I say we give you a little bit of medicine, rest a little whole and then take on a few carnival games. What do you think?”
Sam just nodded, still repeating what Dean had said to him in his head. After a moment he spoke again.
“I’m not gross?” Sam asked softly.
“Nope, never.” Dean replied, as they started walking into the bathroom. “The only way you would be gross is if you started saying Smart cars were cooler than Baby.”
Sam smiled. “What?! Why would I think Smart cars were cooler than the Impala?”
“I don’t know. But if you started saying that it was cooler than the Impala, well I’d have to disown you and call you gross.” Dean playfully shrugged.
Sam laughed. “I don’t think I can fit in a Smart car.”
Dean laughed as well. “I don’t think you can either.”
The two laughed as the entered the bathroom. After a quick changed followed by a bit of comfort, the accident was long and forgotten. The day went on uninterrupted after that with Dean winning Sam prizes at the fair and the two ending the night watching the fireworks display.
The fair had been everything they always dreamed it would be.
#agere dips#padded agere#potty accident#diaper sfw#sfw interaction only#sfw agere#age regression#age regressor#agere#age regression fic#padded regressor#caregiver!dean winchester#nates asks#nates requests#tw: diaper mention#tw diaper
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Me: *Grows up being hit regularly as a kid* *Goes through years of mental abuse and has my mental health and suicidal ideation ignored during my adolescence* *The Parentals failing me when it comes to tending to my emotional and interpersonal development* *Gets groomed during my later teens* *The horror that was me coming out to my parents as nonbinary on Christmas 2021 because I thought they would make an exception when it came to their retrospectively obvious transphobia* *All of this accumulating in me completely losing all trust and emotional attachment I had for She Who Raised Me and her boyfriend and thus leading to pretending I’m a changeling that replaced their real human child to cope with said the loss of connection*
Also me: Wearing diapers, collecting monster high dolls and playing Papa Louie games should fix everything!
#sage is getting personal#sage vents#It certainly won’t but it sure would put a much needed Band-Aid on most of my old wounds >w<#vent post#personal vent#tw grooming mention#tw abuse mention#sfw agere#agere#age regression#sfw agedre#safe agedre#age dreamer#sfw age dreamer#age dreaming#permaregression#permagere#permaregressor#permakid#autistic permakid#tw abuse#tw sa mention#childhood trauma#sfw diaper wearing#diaper mention
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TW: TALK OF KINK
THIS IS A SFW ACC
So in the future, when I get a job this upcoming summer, I wanna buy dips.
But.
I have had a lot of past experiences with abdl kink stuff.
I was exposed to it at ten or eleven, maybe twelve? And I didn't realize how much it would affect me.
My brain automatically wants to connect dips to kink now. I really don't want it to.
I want to wear dips without this happening.
My regression and my hopeful future dip usage (well, wearing, I have no plans to use them) is entirely sfw.
Does anyone have any tips on how to stop my brain from connecting the two?
#btw dips is diapers#ageredips#sfw agere#oh wait before my tags#tw talk of kink#tw diapers#tw kink mention#kink tw#agere#safe agere#agere community#age regression#age regressor#agere little#age re blog#age re safe space#agerespace
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Why do people falsely assume your star? Ive been seeing people call you star and make up things that aren't true about you and when I look at the people go on rants on you and make up stuff it just seems so untrue! Your an amazing person and deserve more followers I will defend you no matter what! I'm tired of people claiming your star from that discord thing... I'll never believe them. I saw Someone asked lemoncritiques about it and they falsely accused you! Wtf is wrong with people?
It is strange that Lemon would do that just because I defended that kid at all. It's like- why do people want that kid's head so badly?!
They act like she's even "worse" than Viv just because doesnt almost completely agree with the "anti hazbin" or "hazbin stan" that "hazbin critical" group. Just because she critiqued any of them, they've been stalking and harassing her, and even calling her a n^gger for years, through my account. Also- I cant edit screenshots yet?! and you can see the Xkit extension, something I cant even do with an editor.
"OTHER PEOPLE!" Bitch who?! I only use one discord!
One of these people even misgendered my freind and pretended as if there was some "hate discord!" and that I "told" them that I was changing my Youtube name like- where?! Where are they getting that information?! It's messed up just how much that section of the fandom has attacked and racially attacked that child after claiming that they "hate!" racists just because they dislike Viv, but only Viv, and not anyone else that's like that. It's disgusting!
#tw nsfl#tw racism mention#tw racial slurs#they just#REALLY outright hate her for being a black person#that doesnt like them#not lemon#god knows what they think#but there's definitely racism in that group#I got that racism towards that kid#RIGHT after that Cherry weirdo went after me#they're such creeps! and what makes this worse#is that all of this started#because Star said that she didnt like people harassing her mutuals#and that she didnt like p^dophilles.#that's it!#and just because she didnt know someone's pronouns and didnt agree with sexualizing diapers#They came after her in hordes while she was only 17! that's awful!#really shows that it doesnt matter if someone's left or right: there will always be awful people in both sides. politics is not an excuse-#to be an asshole. NEVER!
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❗diaper mention❗
aaAaAaaaaAaAaaa I finally managed to get my hands on a pack of ABUs Little Kings 💞
I'm soooo exited, so here is pictures I drew!!
.・。»・°✧❗I don't consent to NSFW interaction❗✧°・«。・.
#paddedagere#paddedageregression#padded agere#sfw diaper wearing#agere dips#agere diaper#diaper sfw#ageredips#sfw interaction only#sfw#sfw agere#agere#age regression#agere community#age regression community#age regressor#agere fandom#tw: diaper mention#diaper mention#nates art#nates drawings#nates little ocs#nates little sonas
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✨🧸 Padded Caregiver, Flip, Age Dreamer, Pet Regressor and Pet Dreamer flags for those who wear nappies for medical reasons, find comfort in them or otherwise (please reblog if you save)! 🧸✨
#agere#age regression#sfw agere#ageredips#diaper mention#tw diaper#agere flags#padded regressor#caregiver#padded caregiver#carerdips#padded flip#flipdips#agere flip#agedredips#padded age dreamer#petredips#padded pet regressor#petdredips#padded pet dreamer
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Concerning how loosely you use the term cp. There are children getting abused and trafficked and somehow that's the same as diaper furry art from a Twitter queer person to you
the fact that you're queer or from twitter doesn't change shit about the content you draw.
if anything it makes it worse, lgbtq ppl are already harassed enough over nothing we don't need actual degenerates representing us
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the internet's (mainly the part of the internet from the USA) general lack of critical thinking skills is incredible.
why is it that a comment saying "hey, please put clothes on your baby if youre posting online, because you dont know what creeps are on the internet" is IMMEDIATELY followed up with "I see nothing wrong here, so YOU must be a creep."
BITCH IF I WERE A PEDOPHILE I WOULDNT ADVOCATE FOR PROTECTING THE MINOR, ID SIT BACK AND ENJOY THE "FREE CONTENT."
but I'm NOT a pedo, so I AM trying to protect the kid.
STOP CATERING TO PEDOPHILES.
PUT CLOTHES ON YOUR BABY.
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First born Headcannons! Multi/Fem!Afab! Reader - Angel, Colossus, Nightcrawler, Gambit OKAY FUCK I don't know what came over me it just happened okay??? This whole thing started thinkin about colossus and a lil baby and then I was thinking about Warren taking the nightshift with his own baby and I spiraled from there. Warren's is like twice as long as everyone elses my bad yall. If there are any typos don't make fun of me ill fix them tomorrow I'm so tired lol TWs: Childbirth mentioned (Not described tho), Babies, wholesome shit. I know that some of these characters have had kids in the comics and that these hcs may be ooc, but I do not care lol. Little bit of anxiety and panic, but everything is okay.
Warren Worthington
Warren is such a dad. I don't even know how to describe it. Like, he's not as effortlessly fatherly like Piotr is, but once he has a kid he's devoted to making sure this kid gets all the emotional, physical, and financial support they would ever need.
He had such a rocky childhood with his own dad, so he hates the idea of his child ever going through the same sort of thing.
He might be a little clueless with the actual baby things, like when to feed, how to dress, and what to feed his little one, but he does take diaper duty as his sole purpose in life. He does adjust for the things he lacks though, and gradually adjusts to be better at them!
He's strangely good with babies, even before he had his own! There's just something about him that makes them stop crying. He's also an expert at nap times.
It’s an early weekday afternoon. The sun is shining through the blinds in warm golden rays, the sink clean and the dishwasher running. There’s a click once the message on the answering machine stops playing, and you have an uncertain frown on your face as you take it all in.
The house is silent, brightly decorated with pictures of your close friends lining the walls of the hallway. The sounds of your husband quietly shushing your infant son gradually become easier to hear when you reach the cracked door of the nursery, pushing it open as quietly as you can.
Warren’s back is facing you, fluffy wings almost glowing where the sunrays touch his feathers. Your newborn is sleeping in his arms, napping after a lunchtime bottle. He’s bouncing the baby just slightly, and you swear you can see his smile without ever having to see his face. It’s a sweet moment you want to crystalize in your memories. You lean against the doorway, smiling just as bright as you’re sure he is.
"Hi~" You say sweetly after a moment. You were right. Warren’s happy smile is bright and blinding when he turns to look at you.
"Hey," He says quickly, lifting your sleeping son so that you can see him better. "Hi Mama, say hi Mama!" Warren whispers as he lifts the baby’s pudgy little hand to wave at you. You can’t help but giggle, walking forward to kiss both of them on their cheeks- your little one not stirring from his nap. You take a breath afterward, leaning against his side as you debate telling him.
“Something wrong?” Warren asks, one of his wings stretching out to wrap around your side and pull you closer to him. Normally you giggle, but today you bite your lip, unsure.
"Your dad called." Your words are soft when you say it, and Warren immediately laughs in a way that sounds more like a scoff.
“His secretary, you mean.” Warren attempts to correct, and his joking tone makes you frown a little, rubbing his upper arm in an attempt to be soothing.
“No, not her, honey.” Warren stays silent after you say it, his brow furrowing as his face turns into a reflection of confusion and sadness. You can see the conflict as he turns the words over in his head, cooing and shushing your son back to sleep when he starts to stir a little, feeling the atmosphere shift.
“...what did he want?” He asks, voice low and quiet.
“He left a message on the answering machine if you want to listen to it.” You tell him. “He, well… He wants to meet his grandson.” Warren scoffs at that, shaking his head as he starts to pace the room a little. You stand there, grounded as you watch him process the sudden contact.
“He really said that? After all he’s put me through, he wants to meet our son… What a joke.” You grimace when Warren starts to laugh. He finally stops pacing to gently lay your son back in his crib. He leans against the side with one hand as the other rubs his eyes before it slides up to run through his hair.
“Do you want him to?” You ask after a moment, stepping over to his side. He leans into your touch when you reach out to hold his cheek.
“I-” Warren stops himself, taking a deep breath as he takes your hand in his own. “What do you want to do?” He asks instead. You shake your head at him, taking hold of his hand in both of yours, tracing the wedding band on his finger.
“He’s your dad, love. It’s your choice.” You say softly. Warren is still frowning, and he lets out a long breath, deflating a little bit. He turns around to face you, pressing a kiss to your temple and holding you there for a long moment. You wish you had even a fraction of Jean’s or the Professor’s power, if only you could see what was going on in that head of his. He pulls you into a side hug, and the two of you spend a long while looking at your infant in the crib. The perfect mixture of the both of you. Certain to be a mutant in his own right. You can tell Warren spends every second thinking about it.
When he steps away from you, He’s silent.
“Warren?” You call out for him as he leaves the room. You’re about to follow when you hear the distinct sound of your son about to wake up, the little whine catching your attention as you coo him back to sleep instead. The door to the nursery is open, and just faintly down the hall, you hear the sound of the landline starting to ring.
“Hey, Dad, it’s Warren. Is Saturday okay?”
Piotr Rasputin
GOD this man is so good with kids. I mean, have you seen those comic panels with him and his sister??
This man was made, built, forged to be a dad. He's protective but encouraging, and although he may be blunt, he knows when his kiddo needs some comfort.
He takes all the classes with you during the pregnancy, and he knows he'd never hurt his baby, but there's always a lil bit of worry in the back of his mind. He's a little too strong, and he hates the thought of slipping up and accidentally harming this fragile little soul the two of you brought into this world.
He gains confidence with time, and when the baby arrives he's always carrying them securely on one thick arm, belly down as they sleep soundly against him.
His baby is so small when they hand her to him in the hospital. She's tiny. Smaller than the width of his arm. He looks like a giant as he holds her, sat next to your bedside as you recover from her delivery. He's in awe as he looks at her, a tiny little life, the greatest gift you've ever given him besides your hand in marriage.
You and others had always joked that his baby would be huge, big-headed, 99th percentile, and he never minded it. It was no secret that he was a big man, and he didn't mind what size the baby was as long as it was healthy, and looking at the little bundle of joy in his arms, he decides he wouldn't have it any other way.
It's almost comical, how small she is. Hell, even you might have doubted the paternity of the baby girl if it hadn't been for her head of pitch-black hair, and pretty blue eyes. Almost a carbon copy of himself.
“She has your eyes.” You say once her cries quiet down, and she begins to fall asleep in her father's arms.
“No.” Piotr hums, gingerly touching his daughter's face. “They look much more like Illyana's.” You hadn't thought about that before, but now that he mentions it, the resemblance is undeniable. You giggle at that, Scooting closer so that you can lean on his shoulder.
“The nurse said that she's waiting outside, when you're ready. I'm sure she's beyond excited to meet her niece.” You mumble. Piotr has placed a finger in the palm of your baby's hand, both of you smiling when the little fingers do their best to try and close around his fingertip. Piotr cannot wait to see the face of his sister when she sees your baby, but he'll be the first to admit, he'd like it if this moment could just last a little while longer.
Kurt wagner
Kurt is such a good dad oh my god.
He's always talking about you and the kids, bragging about literally everything you do ever. He's the kind of dad that has endless photos of his kiddos in his wallet, car, locker, everywhere.
And he's so devoted, too. He'll do anything you ask him to do during the newborn stage (and after) and is beyond supportive. His goals are happy Spouse, Happy kids, Happy life.
He's also very sentimental :) he thanks god every day for you and the blessing that is your baby.
Kurt’s side of the bed was empty when you woke up this morning, and despite the normal amount of anxiety you normally feel when that happens, you feel peaceful. You’re smiling at the empty mattress, rolling over to his side to push your face into his pillow, taking a deep breath. Used to, you would be worried. You would wonder where he was, or if he was safe. If he had gone off on some x-men mission without telling you (which he never did). But today, you know exactly where he is. You’re smiling now as you think about it, pressing a kiss to his pillow before standing up.
There’s a soft humming in the house, quiet and soothing. It’s not hard to figure out where it’s coming from, the path to the spare room having become second nature to you- although, it really wasn’t much of a spare room anymore. You try not to be too loud when you enter the room through the cracked door.
Kurt is humming sweetly, your son laid out on the changing table as Kurt finishes worming his pudgy little legs through a new onesie. The baby whines a little, squirming around as Kurt attempts to change his clothes.
“Patience, Mein kleiner Schatz. This won’t take long.” Kurt says sweetly. Your son isn’t really having this whole changing business, and it makes Kurt chuckle. His tail is wrapped around a bottle of milk, and he sets it to the side right before he snakes his tail over the crib. He brushes the spaded end lovingly over your baby’s cheek as a distraction, and the infant coos as he finishes getting his arms through the sleeves. His tail takes over from there, buttoning the onesie's clasps as he turns to grab the bottle of milk instead- stopping for a split second when he sees you in the doorway. Kurt smiles.
“How are my boys?” You ask, voice a little rough from sleep.
“Gut! And lively, it seems.” He tells you. He passes the bottle off to his tail again when you walk over, taking you into his arms as he shakes the formula up a little more. Kurt kisses you sweetly on the lips, pressing his forehead against your own when you separate.
“Guten Morgen, Schatz. How are you feeling?” You swear you fall in love with him all over again each day when he greets you like that. You shrug your shoulders in response, smile dropping just a little bit.
“I’m okay. Still tired, and definitely still bloated, but I’m okay.” You admit. Kurt frowns a little, brushing some hair from your face.
“Did you see the medicine I left for you on the nightstand?” Kurt asks, and you immediately make a bit of a silly face, remembering that you didn’t exactly get up on your own side of the bed today. Kurt knows what that looks means and begins to laugh, just as your son begins to whimper and whine to be held and fed. You try to go pick him up, but Kurt stops you as he picks your baby up instead, bottle at the ready.
“Go take your meds, I’ve got him, Liebchen.”
Remy LeBeau
Remy is a little nervous to be a dad.
Not in a flight way!! He's just a little worried that he'll be a bad influence on the kiddo. and well, I mean sure. If you're worried about the kiddo being a little rager and being into a few to many wild hobbies I guess (usually comes with the cajun territory)- but overall, Gambit is such a sweetheart, and if anything his kiddos would be so respectful and loving towards their parents.
Remy's very protective over your baby. The protectiveness is at it's height around 0-3yrs of age, but it never, ever goes away completely.
He might talk some smack about how a little bit of dirt/germs never hurt anyone, but He's actually the kind of dad that makes everyone put germex on before even thinking about holding the baby.
He's on top of feedings, and never fears a blowout when it comes to changing diapers (no matter how much he might gag). He might not have the diaper back stocked and loaded 24/7, but he's doing the best he can.
When you wake up, It’s about 3am. Your eyes blink oper wearily, and the light from the alarm clock is practically burning into your eyes. You want nothing more to curl up and go back to sleep, and you almost do, until the time actually registers.
3am. Its 3am, and you went to bed at 10pm. This is the first time you’ve woken up since then. Your veins feel like ice when you realize that you haven't heard the baby cry once. You rip the cover off of you, breaking out in a panicked run across the hall to check on your newborn. You don’t even realize that Remy isn’t even in bed until you slam the door open and see him standing there, your daughter in his arms as he rocks her to sleep in the rocking chair You breathe a sigh of relief as he looks at you with a tired smile, but your anxiety still remains.
“Remy? Is she okay?” You whisper, practically leaping over to his side to take the little one out of his arms.
“She’s Okay, Cher.” Remy replies softly. He stands from the chair, wrapping his hands around your back, the infant snug in between your bodies. You sigh again, taking a moment to look at your daughter carefully, eyeing her chest as it rises and falls, and straining your ears to hear her breathing. Remy gives you a second to get situated, yawning just a bit as he sways the three of you as you stand there. You relax as he holds you both, resting your head against his shoulder.
“Why don’ you go back to bed.” Remy says after a long minute. “That was the longest I’ve seen you sleep in a while.” You frown. He’s not wrong. Your newborn has been a bit colicky lately, crying for nights on end since you brought her home with very few things to keep her comfortable. She has started to grow out of it, but the effects still remained. She cries a lot at nighttime, and it makes you wonder if that’s why you had slept so long, because of Remy staying up to keep her quiet.
“And leave you here? Remy, how long have you been awake?” You ask, looking up at his face. He shrugs, smiling still as the three of you sway.
“I’m fine. I can stay up all night if I need to, as long as you get to catch up on some sleep.” If it were any other circumstance, you might have swooned at the words. As sweet is he is, you can’t let him do that! He begins to step away to place your daughter in her crib, and you hold yourself back from trying to take her from him and commanding him to just go to bed.
“Remy-”
“Ah ah ah, Cher, don’t wake ma petit, now.” Remy cuts you off with a whisper, turning around to place a finger against his lips in a shushing motion. He almost makes you giggle, but instead, you simply shake your head at him. He pulls you into a loving kiss when he’s close enough, running his hand through your hair. You know he’s waiting for you to pull back, to retreat into the bedroom to sleep like he asked you to, but you’re still hesitant. He knows your stubbornness firsthand and chuckles when he pulls back a little.
“Do I need to tuck you in, too?”
#goofyspeaks#x men#x men comics#x men 97#x men headcannons#x men 97 x reader#kurt wagner#nightcrawler#x men x reader#remy lebeau headcannons#remy lebeau x reader#remy lebeau#gambit x reader#gambit headcanons#nightcrawler x reader#nightcrawler x men#nightcrawler headcannons#kurt wagner x reader#kurt wagner headcannons#warren worthington iii x reader#warren worthington iii#warren worthington iii headcanons#x men angel x reader#x men angel headcannons#colossus x reader#colossus headcannons#piotr rasputin x reader#piotr rasputin headcannon#marvel#marvel fanfiction
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softness
Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader
summary: Joel’s a little unsure of doing skin to skin with his newborn daughter.
warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. established relationship. (TW) PREGNANCY. mentions of premature birth, minor descriptions of childbirth, mentions of birth weight, it is implied that reader is breastfeeding her baby, semi accurate medical journal research, girldad! Joel, mentions of scars (Joel), mentions of insecurities and anxieties, if i missed anything, please let me know! NO MENTION OF READER’S AGE. NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER. no physical description of child except for her hair color/type. very minimal editing.
word count: 3.5k
a/n: i had this outline sitting in my drafts and i decided to finally just write it out and post it. it ain’t much, but it’s honest work. it is part of the safe and sound universe.
She’d made her entrance into the world early.
About four or five weeks, the commune’s doctor thinks.
Without ultrasounds, it’d been a guessing game.
And a fucking terrifying guessing game at that.
For several months, all you could do was hope.
Hope for a smooth pregnancy.
Hope for a safe labor and delivery.
Hope for a strong, healthy baby.
When you went into labor earlier than the doctor had predicted you would, all of your hopes shattered, the pieces falling around you like shards of broken glass you couldn’t put back together even if you tried.
“No! No, it’s too soon! It’s too fucking soon!” you’d cried out, the sheer panic setting in and seeping into your bones as a warm, clear liquid dripped down the insides of your legs and pooled around your bare feet. You had been in the kitchen making Ellie breakfast and packing her lunch for school—one second you’re standing there in front of the food pantry debating with yourself on what vegetable to throw into the kid’s lunch bag with her sandwich and the next you’re calling out for help as an intense pressure nestled itself between your hips. It wasn’t until you heard a faint popping sound and then felt the gush of fluid between your thighs that you’d realized what was happening. An unmistakable first sign of labor, you’d experienced your water breaking. “This can’t be happening, it’s not time yet!”
Joel, who by some stroke of sheer stupid luck had the morning off from patrol duty, instructed Ellie to run upstairs and gather some clean clothes along with a pair of boots and the warmest coat you owned that still fit. November had brought along the first snowfall of the season—the frigid temperatures outside were anything but kind and the clinic was on the opposite side of the commune, a fifteen minute walk he wished you didn’t have to make in your condition. “I know this is real fuckin’ scary darlin’ but y’need to stay calm. I need you to stay as calm as possible. Y’think that you can do that for me, sweetheart?”
He’d been just as terrified, but he masked it well.
On the outside, he kept a calm, collected composure for your sake and for Ellie’s too, shoved aside his own fears so he could be the support you both needed, act as the glue that held yours and his little family unit together should anything were to happen. But on the inside, he was scared shitless, to say the least. He couldn’t be certain he would have the strength to hold himself together if something went wrong, if he lost you—or his unborn child.
Admittedly, it had taken him a few months to come to terms with the fact that he was going to be a father again at this stage in his life. The thought of him changing diapers at his age was one he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around—but the moment he felt that first little flutter of movement one night as you lay curled up against his side fast asleep, something shifted. That night, he had stayed wide awake, his large hand splayed over your belly in hopes he would feel that little flutter again.
“Joel, I’m really fucking scared. What if it’s too early—”
“Baby, look at me.” He reached up and gently took your chin, holding it between his thumb and index finger as he coaxed your gaze to meet his own. “S’gonna be okay,” he’d assured you, softly. “If this is happenin’ now, it’s because she’s ready, alright?”
For a split second, that panic had ceased.
“She?”
Confused, Joel’s brow furrowed. “Huh?”
“You just referred to the baby as a she, Joel.”
“I did?”
“Yeah—just now.” You’d stared at him with curiosity and took a step back, cradling your belly in both of your hands. “Do you think we’re having a girl?”
Sheepishly, he had shaken his head at you.
“No, I just—m’sorry. I ain’t all too sure why I said that.”
He truly, honestly hadn’t.
It’d slipped before he could even think about it.
But his accidental slip had been right.
After thirteen hours of grueling labor in Jackson’s small clinic, you’d given birth to a little girl, the sound of her loud wailing filling the whole room like a sweet melody eliciting a sob of joy from you and a shaky sigh of relief from Joel.
“Holy shit, she’s here! She’s actually fucking here,” Ellie breathed, her eyes going wide. Her arms were still wrapped around one of your legs—despite you warning the teenager about what she would see, it hadn’t stopped her from volunteering her assistance in the childbirth process. She watched on in a mix of both fascination and disgust as Dr. Porter, a woman in her sixties who served as Jackson’s sole physician, lifted the infant and immediately placed her onto your bare chest to clean her off. “This has gotta be the grossest, most amazing fucking thing I have ever fucking seen in my life.” Gently, she set your leg down onto the bed before walking around it to stand beside Joel. His hand was stroking your hair, his dark eyes trained on his crying newborn daughter. It was the perfect moment for Ellie to run her mouth and tease, “You’re not gonna cry, are you, Joel? I’d think you’re a lot fucking tougher than that, old man.”
“Shut up,” he’d muttered under his breath, putting an arm around her and pulling her against his side. He almost couldn’t believe this was now his life—a life he would have never even known if he hadn’t flinched twenty years ago when he had pulled the trigger.
Though she’d been born a few weeks prematurely, Rosemary Miller was deemed to be healthy—a tad underweight, but nothing to be worried about just yet, according to Jackie, the commune’s nurse. At about four pounds, eleven ounces, Rosemary was the tiniest thing you’d ever seen and somehow even tinier when Joel would cradle her in the palms of his large hands. Despite the fact that you’d been reassured that the baby’s low birth weight was nothing to be alarmed about, you and Joel had been advised it was best if you didn’t take her home until she gained a few more ounces and tipped the a scale at what the books state is a normal birth weight of five pounds, eight ounces.
“We just would feel better if she were here at the clinic where we can closely monitor her weight,” Jackie had said upon seeing the crestfallen look on your face. “Besides, you tore a little and you need time to heal as well, you know.”
Left with very little choice, you’d agreed to it.
“I’m losing it,” you say with an exasperated sigh as you stare up at the drab, gray ceiling. It’s been three days since you had given birth and all you want to do is take your daughter home. In an effort to lift your spirits, Maria had tried to warm the place up and make it feel more comfortable for you. She had swapped out the rough, scratchy bedsheet the clinic provided for you with a soft, knitted blanket she had made herself. She also took it upon herself to pack you a bag with your own clothes, a couple of books to read, and your favorite polaroids of Joel and Ellie. While it had been incredibly sweet of her to do for you, you still wanted out of that clinic sooner rather than later. “I miss our house. I miss our bed. I miss our kid.”
Joel, who’s sitting in an old, worn leather armchair tucked over in a corner of your room next to the frosted window, raises an eyebrow at you and then juts his chin towards Rosemary, who is swaddled up and sleeping soundly in the plastic bassinet beside your bed.
“Our kid’s right there, darlin’.”
You lift your head off your pillow and glare at him.
“I’m talking about Ellie, Joel.”
He chuckles and leans forward in his chair. Next to him sits a brown stuffed bunny rabbit—Ellie had traded a precious comic book for it and gifted it to the baby the same afternoon she was born.
“She’s been comin’ to visit every day after school.”
“It’s not the same,” you pout, shaking your head.
Joel sighs and glances at the cot that he had been sleeping on for the last few days—truth be told, he misses the house too. His back certainly misses the bed. “It ain’t the same,” he agrees, tiredly. His face is worn with exhaustion. Despite you insisting that he go home and get some proper rest, he’s too stubborn to listen and only leaves the clinic to take a shower and change his clothes—and to check on Ellie, who’s got a bad habit of not doing her homework unless you or Joel nag her to get it done. “M’real sorry, darlin’. But you heard what they said. Baby’s gotta gain a little more weight before we can take her home.”
Even from where he’s sitting, he can see your eyes glaze over with tears of frustration. Since the baby was born, you’ve been very sensitive, more so than when you’d been pregnant—something he didn’t think was even possible.
“If she keeps on eatin’ the way she’s eatin’ we’ll be home by the end of the week,” Joel adds in an effort to cheer you up. “Besides, you need to heal before we make that long walk across town and back to the house, sweetheart. S’not like I can just pull up the fuckin’ minivan and drive you girls home like back in the day, y’know?”
You wrinkle your nose at him. “Ew, Joel. We would not have a fucking minivan.” Dabbing at your eyes with the back of your hand, you can’t help but laugh at the thought of Joel Miller behind the wheel of one of those things. Then, you realize how endearing it would be to watch as he’s loading up Rosemary’s car seat into the van, the muscles of his broad back flexing underneath his shirt as he pulled on the straps to make sure it was safe and secure. You’d climb into the backseat with her and on the way home, you would ask Joel to swing through the nearest burger joint drive through because you’re fucking starving and in need of a proper meal after being subjected to boring, bland hospital food. You shoot him a small smile. “On second thought, that doesn’t sound all that bad. Maybe we would.”
Suddenly, there’s a light knock at the door.
“Come in,” you call, careful not to be too loud.
Dr. Porter walks into the room.
She had been a primary care physician prior to the world ending, according to Maria, who a couple of months ago had given birth to her son while under Dr. Porter’s care. Maria had assured you that, even though the woman never trained in obstetrics, she always went above and beyond for all the mothers to be in the commune. She dedicated her spare time to studying, lost herself in medical books she found on the shelves of the town’s library—kind of like the one that’s currently tucked underneath her arm.
“Hi there mama,” she greets, her eyes shining brightly behind her coke-bottle glasses. Wearing jeans and a sweater, she doesn’t quite look the part—maybe she’d worn a white coat once in her life, but now it was only the old, silver metal stethoscope she had draped around her neck that gave her profession away. “How are you feeling this morning?”
“I’m okay,” you say with a shrug. “Can’t complain.”
Over in his corner, Joel can’t help but snort.
Ignoring him, you add, “Bleeding’s slowing down.”
“Good, that’s good,” Dr. Porter tells you. “And how about this sweet little girl?” She smiles and makes her way over to the bassinet, keeping her voice low. “She eating well?”
“She is. Her last feed was about two hours ago.”
“How’s she sleeping?”
“Like a rock.”
“And you’ve been doing skin to skin as well?”
You nod. “Yes, before and after her feedings.”
“That’s perfect.” Dr. Porter beams at you with pride. “Keep it up and do it as often as possible. There are a ton of benefits of doing skin to skin with her. It’s one of the most incredible things that a mother can do for her baby. Actually—” She pauses for a moment and pulls the book out from under her arm. “I have been doing a bit of research and as it turns out, there are also benefits if dad does skin to skin with baby as well.”
Joel stiffens slightly in his chair. “S’cuse me?”
“I found this book in the library. It talks about all of the benefits of fathers doing skin to skin with their newborn. It was written some time in the nineties and studies were still being conducted, but I really believe they were onto something.” She hands you the book. “For being preterm, Rosemary’s healthy, but it doesn’t do any harm to try whatever you can to make sure that she builds up that immune system and stays healthy, especially now that winter’s here.” Flashing you a smile, she informs you, “I went ahead and folded the pages for you and made some notes. There’s a few benefits in it for Joel as well. Could be worth a try.”
After telling you she’ll be back in a couple hours to check on you and to weigh the baby, Dr. Porter excuses herself from your room, quietly closing the door behind her.
Curiously, you open the book to the first page that she’d folded for you and start reading the first passage out loud.
“Ongoing studies have found skin to skin between father and child have similar benefits to those that come from skin to skin between mother and child. It regulates the baby's body temperature, blood sugar, and stress levels.” You pause and look over at Joel, who appears thoroughly unimpressed. “It also helps to regulate the baby’s heart rate and breathing rate. Joel, this is incredible! I think you should—”
“No.”
Joel winces. He doesn’t mean to sound so curt.
Your face falls. “Why not?”
“That’s for mothers,” he grumbles. “Y’know, for feedin’ the baby.”
“It’s for much more than just that.” You shake your head and flip over to the next page, scanning both the text as well as Dr. Porter’s notes. “It says here that it also helps the baby pick up their father’s natural scent and promotes bonding.”
“Sweetheart, I can bond with her just fine with my fuckin’ shirt on, there ain’t no need for me to—what in the world are you doin’?” Perturbed, Joel watches you as you take a handful of your blanket, throwing it off yourself. He jumps up to his feet the second he realizes that you’re about to get out of bed. “Don’t—”
“Oh relax, Joel. I should be moving more anyway,” you say, wincing as you sit up and swing both legs over the side of the bed. It isn’t so much pain as it is discomfort—everything had been shoved up and out of place for months, after all. As soon as you stand, Joel’s there at your side, one hand on your arm and the other on your back, trying to guide you back onto the bed. You lightly swat him away with your hand. “Joel, stop fussing over me! I’m fine!”
“Baby, y’need to lie down right now—”
“Take off your shirt.”
His hands fall away from you and his eyes widen.
“What?”
“Take off your shirt and go sit down in the chair.”
The blood drains from his face and he pales.
It’s not that Joel doesn’t want to do it. He does.
He’ll do anything if it’s for his daughter’s benefit.
Still.
The idea of laying his innocent little baby girl on him without his shirt on—it’s uncomfortable. His chest and stomach are littered with several scars. Rough, raised patches of skin that serve as reminders of a brutal past he doesn’t want her finding out about, not for as long as he can fucking help it.
Rosemary deserves to be wrapped up in softness.
The softness of your smooth, blemish free skin.
The softness of the blankets you’d knitted for her.
The softness of the stuffed bunny Ellie had given her.
Joel?
He isn’t soft.
Nothing about him is soft.
Even holding her in his hands for the first time had been something of a battle. Hands that once snapped necks and slit throats didn’t deserve to hold something so pure and innocent.
“This sounds really promising, Joel.” Slowly, you make your way over to the plastic bassinet, ignoring the dull ache between your thighs. With your back to him, you carefully begin to unswaddle the baby. You try not to wake her as you peel off her warm, knitted onesie and matching socks, leaving her in nothing but her teeny, tiny cloth diaper. Gingerly, you pick her up and turn around to face him. “If Dr. Porter thinks we should try it, then it’s for a good reason, don’t you think so?”
Joel swallows harshly.
“What is it?”
“S’just that I—I’ve got scars everywhere, y’know?”
Your expression instantly softens for him. “Joel, you’re her daddy,” you remind him, gently. “She’s not going to care about things like that.” Pausing, it suddenly occurs to you that it’s not just about his scars. It’s about something else, something that runs so much deeper for Joel. He’d done what he had done in order to survive, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t live with the shame—the guilt and the regret. Rosemary begins to fuss awake and you lightly bounce her in your arms as you assure him, “She isn’t going to care about your past or what you’ve done. Her love for you is going to be as unconditional as yours is for her. She’s going to love you no matter what, Joel. I can promise you that.”
His jaw clenches and his lips press into a tight line.
Rosemary starts to cry—she’s cold, no doubt.
The old heater in the clinic hardly runs.
And when it does, it breaks down.
“Joel, please,” you beg over her wails. “Just try it? For me? For her?”
Sighing in defeat, Joel shrugs out of his jacket and he tosses it aside. With trembling fingers, he begins to unbutton his green flannel shirt—his long sleeved thermal henley comes off next and then he takes off the cotton t-shirt he wears underneath for an added layer of warmth during the winter season. As he stands there shirtless, he shivers and his flesh erupts with goosebumps. “Wait,” he mutters as he watches you take a step forward. He drags the armchair away from the window. He then sits down, his heart racing and the anxiety flaring as he gives you a subtle nod of his head. “Okay.”
You walk over to him and place her on his bare chest.
The second he feels Rosie’s soft skin on his, there’s a shift.
It’s similar to the one he felt when he first felt her move in your belly.
He calms and his heart slows—his nerves dissipate.
And Rosemary stops crying.
She scrunches, curls up on his chest, and yawns.
Grimacing, you lean over and pick up his flannel shirt. “Here,” you say, draping it over them as a makeshift blanket. “How’s that feel?”
“Think she likes it, darlin’,” Joel murmurs, his fingers delicately brushing over her soft tufts of dark brown hair. His touch causes the newborn’s lip to curl and he catches a glimpse of the prominent dimple in her left cheek—the same dimple Sarah had inherited from him, Rosemary had inherited too. There’s a dull ache in his chest, but somehow, he still smiles as she peers up at him with sleepy eyes. “Hi, Rosie Posie. S’me, babygirl. Your daddy.”
Rolling your lip between your teeth, you stifle a giggle.
“What?” he asks, arching an eyebrow at you.
“She’s not the only one who seems to like it.”
Joel chuckles, admitting, “S’pretty relaxin’.” He presses his nose into his daughter’s curls and inhales deeply, relishing in the warm, sweet milky scent of her. After a minute, his smile falters slightly. “Baby?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you really believe it?”
Your brow furrows. “Believe what?”
“That she’s gonna love me no matter what.”
“Of course I do.”
“How can you be so sure ‘bout it?”
Carefully, you perch yourself on the arm of the chair and press a gentle kiss against his right temple, your lips brushing over his scar. “Because I just am, Joel.”
Somehow, he believes it—he believes you.
Joel tilts his head back, puckering his lips.
Grinning, you give him a chaste kiss before standing. “I’m going to see if I can get a nap in before her next feed,” you tell him, padding back over to the bed. “Do you think you’ll be okay with her for a while, just the two of you?”
“I think we’ll be just fine,” he murmurs, gingerly stroking Rosemary’s silky cheek with his finger. “Yeah. We’ll be just fine, won’t we, babygirl?”
divider credit to @saradika-graphics 🤎
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x you#joel miller fluff#joel miller x pregnant reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller drabble#joel miller one shot#joel miller fic#the last of us fanfiction#tw pregnancy#tw childbirth#tw premature birth
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Padded regressors are SFW! Padded regressors should be normalized!
tw for mention of K1nk
—
Im sick of people or other regressors believing that diapers are inherently s3xual whenever they see another regressor post about one! I shouldn't have to say this, but padded regressors exist, and they are SFW.
While yes, diapers are used in k1nk communities, they are also used in a sfw fashion by some regressors. It just irks me that diapers have such a bad rep that padded regressors get shunned in their own community for using them. There are discord servers and agere communities out there that ban talk of diapers completely, believing that regressors that use diapers are nothing but into a disgusting k1nk and are not age regressors.
Im not even a padded regressor, but it just strikes a nerve within me that this has become normal. All regressors should be allowed to have their own ways of regressing, even those that use diapers. Padded regression needs to be more normalized.
Age regressors may use diapers for many reasons relating to bladder control issues when regressed, afab regressors on their periods, or even just for comfort.
Padded regressors are valid, amazing and deserve the world.
I hope this small post is informative to some who think diapers are only s3xual. Thank you for reading, and please be mindful.
💗
#padded regressor#padded agere#padded regressors are sfw#padded regressors are awesome#padded regression is NOT KINK#age regression#age regressor#agere blog#agere community#agere
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Slashers x child!reader [PLATONIC]
Characters: Thomas Hewitt, brothers Sinclair, Mark Hoffman
Tw: mention of murdering, violence, drinking
Thomas Hewitt
• You came to the Hewitts almost as a baby, you were the child of one of the victims. Surprisingly, you were left behind. Or rather, Luda stood up for it, she couldn't let them kill such a baby. Besides, she was always ready to take a new child under her wing again if he needed it.
• Thomas was a little confused, he couldn't figure out if he liked you or not. In general, he always wanted a family and children, but he knew that he would not have it because of his appearance and lifestyle. And so you came into his life.
• At first, he will be very hesitant about spending time with you in principle. He's just afraid of breaking you with your fragile baby bones. Besides, Thomas is not sure how to react to your frequent screams and tantrums, it pisses him off a little.
• Over time, he will really get used to you. A man will hold you in his arms most of the time if he is not busy working in the basement. Thomas will hold you tightly to his chest, clutching the diapers you were wrapped in, and looking down at you with warmth and love.
• Even if you screamed a lot when you saw Thomas's face, you always calmed down. It warmed his soul very much.
• The only problem was the food, because you were obviously very small and had to be breastfeed. Fortunately, there was enough dry mix in that victim's bag for the first time. Then Hoyt had to drive around the city.
• Thomas was very protective of you, always watching over you and taking care of you. You literally didn't get off his hands, constantly clinging to his clothes and long hair. He didn't mind. A man often kissed you on the forehead, gently stroking your tiny cheeks with his big hand. He loved hugging you so much and he was glad that you liked it too. Thomas's hands were carefully dressing you and washing your fragile little body. He never hurt you, not in any way.
• Thomas made a baby cot for you, which was in his room. Although you often liked to sleep with him. At such moments, you would unsteadily stand on your baby legs and stretch out your arms in his direction. The man's heart sank. He gently took you out of the cradle and put you next to him, hugging you protectively. You cooed and smiled as you fell asleep in comfort.
• Thomas was very happy about your first steps. It was difficult and slow, but he patiently sat on the floor two meters away from you and waited, arms outstretched in an embrace for you. When you finally found some kind of balance, you walked slowly towards him, giggling happily. You hugged him tightly. The man almost cried, watching the formation of his baby.
• He was looking forward to your first words, hoping that you would actually talk, unlike him. At first it was a strange babble of children. Thomas was almost sure that you would call Luda mom, even though the thought of it hurt him. When you said the awkward 'Dada', he started crying. Thomas hugged you tightly to him, kissing your baby face and body. God, you were so sweet, so precious. He felt such a pleasant warmth in his chest when you called him daddy, your daddy. Thomas thought he would die of happiness on the spot. Now you were his little ray of light, his child.
Brothers Sinclair
• You were the victim's child. Lester found you in the backseat of the car. He awkwardly picked you up and pulled you out of the car. He was the youngest brother in the family, so he understood absolutely nothing about children, he understood at most that what needed to be taken care of, for example, like a dog.
• Lester brought you to the Sinclair house. Vincent was in the workshop, and Bo was sitting on the couch, with his feet on a small table in front of the sofa, and enjoying drinking beer. The appearance of Lester, and even with a child, greatly strained him. Really, what should he do with such a baby? You didn't look more than five months old. Considering his childhood, Bo hated children, although he could take some care, after all, he participated in Lester's upbringing, one way or another. And it was still quite a big shock for him. There wasn't a single woman in town who could tell them what to do with you, the men were confused. When you woke up, you started screaming and crying. You were scared that your mom wasn't there. Rude men terrified you even more. I wanted to hide somewhere, but you couldn't do anything.
• The situation only improved when Vincent arrived. He was the most gentle and understanding of all the brothers. Vincent grabbed you out of Bo's rough hands with a little alarm, hugging you to him and stroking your head. Bo just rolled his eyes and went into the kitchen. You snuggled up to Vincent, feeling safe at last. You weren't crying anymore, but you were whimpering softly against his chest. You were scared and hungry. You clutched a man's clothes in your little fists, wanting to be comforted and cared for.
• Vincent, like the others, didn't know much about children. But unlike his brothers, Vincent was naturally quite sensitive and kind, he could not leave the child to these jerks. The man pressed you against his warm sweater, giving you peace of mind. He gently stroked your little body, checking for wounds or damage. Your diaper was full. Not the most pleasant part. Maybe you were really too scared. Vincent asked Lester to go back to that car and bring everything there that could be useful for the child. There was a whole bag of toys and baby food, as well as enough diapers and some clothes.
• Vincent immediately bathed you and gently changed your diaper and clothes. Then he fed you from a bottle. It was a little awkward, but he liked to see that you finally felt calmer. You were lying in his arms, making baby noises and greedily swallowing milk. Your eyes were red and swollen from crying. The man hugged you protectively, stroking your little tummy.
• In total, Vincent took care of you. He fed you, dressed you, and bathed you. Lester used to play with you a lot. Bo didn't pay much attention to you, he just went to the city to buy children's things.
• As you grew up, you started spending more time in Vincent's basement. You saw him without a mask and so gently grabbed his scarred cheeks with your soft baby hands, it made him cry. He now had a small cot in his workshop with lots of pillows and blankets. This is where you played while he was working. A man made you wax toys that you really liked. He even taught you how to sculpt wax yourself. Now you had your own little collection of wax ducks. You called Vincent Dad. When you did it the first time, he cried, hugging you tightly to him. Although Bo is sometimes very jealous of your brother, because Bo is just an uncle to you.
• You've become very friendly with their dog, Jesse. Jesse always protects you from the next visitors to the city.
• They tried to pick you up a couple of times. Once it was a married couple. The woman held you tightly in her arms, saying that these people in the city are monsters, and that she will become your mother and take care of you. You threw a tantrum asking Dad to come over. The couple almost ran out of town until Bo shot them in the back of the head. Vincent pulled you out of the dead woman's tight grip and held you close, stroking your hair. You cried and squeezed his neck, asking Dad not to leave you anymore.
• In general, you are a child who grew up in cruelty, but the Sinclairs themselves never raised a hand against you. You were cared for and loved. Bo especially loved giving you a lot of gifts. So you've grown up to be a mentally healthy child with them.
Mark Hoffman
• You turned out to be the child of his dead sister. At first, it even hurt a man to look at you because you looked so damn much like your mother. But he understood the responsibility. Mark realized that you are the only thing he has left of his sister. Besides, you didn't have any relatives anymore, and the man didn't want to take you to the orphanage. So he took custody of you.
• It was difficult. Mark was already tired with his job, so taking care of the child only added to his stress. But he tried. For you. For his sister's sake.
• When you were still young enough, a man often left you alone at home, even though he understood that it was unsafe. At that moment, his depression reached its peak, and he simply did not see any other way out. He started drinking. The man spent almost every evening at the bar, getting drunk to unconsciousness. It was after midnight when he returned home. Mark came into the apartment, heading to his bedroom, and your face greeted him. Your chubby baby cheeks were red and wet with tears, but as soon as you saw Mark, a slight smile blossomed on your face. You were already standing freely in your cradle, so when the man entered the room, you desperately stretched out your arms to him, muttering an inarticulate 'dada'. It broke a man's heart. In an instant, the intoxication was gone, and his whole being was filled with a vile sense of guilt. You were afraid to be alone, afraid of being abandoned again, and he was so brazenly leaving you alone in an empty dark apartment. But Mark couldn't help himself, he was in pain too. And so it is almost every day.
• When you went to kindergarten, he often picked you up later than everyone else. Fortunately, your teacher was a good woman and spent time with you personally, playing together. You were a smart and funny kid, but you still had trouble speaking, you didn't speak. Perhaps the fact that your 'dad' never responded to your attempts to talk to him because of your abilities influenced you.
• One day Mark got off work a little early, hoping to pick you up. He was standing in the hallway in front of your kindergarten room, his hand on the door handle. He saw you laughing while playing with the tutor in the playroom. You threw your arms around her neck and joyfully shouted "Mommy!". It broke Mark's heart. He was such a bad father, such a bad guardian. You drove home in silence this evening. Already at home, you didn't understand why Mark was so sad. You tried to hug him or ask for his hands, but the man just looked away. When he put you to bed, he knelt in front of your bed. The man took your little palms in his hands, kissing them gently. Tears were streaming down his cheeks.
"She's not your mommy... I know I made a mistake, but she's not your mom. Please.. don't do that anymore. I'll get better. I'm really going to get better. I treated you badly, I understand, but.. But I can't help myself. I miss her too, your mom.. the real mom..."
• You didn't quite understand what he was saying, but you leaned closer and put your arms around his neck. Mark hugged you convulsively, pulling you tightly to him and burying his nose in your hair.
• It got a lot better after that. Mark tried to drink less and spend more time with you. He took you to the park, amusement park, cinema and cafe. Now he knew the names of the characters in your favorite cartoons and bought you toys with them. The man bought you a lot of sweets and just treated you gently.
• "I want a balloon... Daddy!" Mark looked down at you and a pleased smile spread across his face when you first called him that. His chest was filled with warmth. He found a reason to keep living.
#slashers x reader#thomas hewitt#thomas hewitt x you#thomas hewitt x reader#the leatherface#child!reader#vincent sinclair x you#vincent sinclair x reader#vincent sinclair house of wax#vincent sinclair#bo sinclair x you#bo sinclair x reader#bo sinclair#lester sinclair x reader#lester sinclair#mark hoffman x you#mark hoffman saw#mark hoffman x reader
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slumber party!
Yandere friend group x fem!reader
Tw: none that I can think of, reader is mentioned to have a childhood author randomly thought of, you can change it in your mind if you like. Not proofread 🌺
⭐you grew up with your friends, having known eachother since diapers! Your parents often left you in a daycare since they were busy with their jobs, and that's how you met Cassidy. A bright and cheerful girl, capable of lighting up a room with her toothy smile. When she saw you crying in a corner, missing your parents, she hastily snatched a couple of crayons and rushed over. Sitting next to you and holding out a pudgy hand, offering the red crayon.
"hi! I'm Cassidy! But you can call me cassie.. what's your name?"
🛍️ skipping a few years, you and Cassidy were in first grade. Obsessing over my little pony and worms, when suddenly you came across Michelle. A prickly girl you've known since kindergarten, but she was always too stuck up and bossy to ever get along with anyone. She held out a chocolate with a furrowed brow, looking flustered as she moved from side to side, the way your choir teacher hated
"can.. may i.. play with you, please..?" You swore you could hear your homeroom teacher cheering in the background
🎀it was 4th grade, you, Michelle and cassidy were in that ripe age where all boys were Icky and gross and had all types of nasty cooties. The constant squabbling and booger picking you'd see from the aforementioned solidly confirmed it. You spotted the new girl, Vivian getting harassed by the class weirdo, some Asian fetishizer. So you bravely stood up, walked over.. and tripped on your untied shoe laces, landing face first into the carpeted floor. Viv gasped and quickly rushed over to you, making sure you were alright before letting out a soft giggle
"you should be more careful.. you're y/n right? You have a very lovely name"
💀 7th grade, the emo and dragon ball z kids were making themselves known. You were laying on the classroom floor, resting your head in Vivian's lap as Michelle dangled a vine of grapes Infront of your mouth. Giggling when you obediently opened and bit one off. The giggling stopped and you opened your eyes to see a hot topic magazine boy standing over you all.
"hey! You on the other girls lap! You're my girlfriend now." "...what."
After the boy almost got his shit rocked by your scarily protective friends, you Introduced yourself "y/n" "kiross.." the girls were glaring daggers at him
💕 9th grade, you were starting to see a pattern, a new member of your group joins every few years. So you were preparing yourself mentally, all while Talking and suddenly turning around to walk backwards. Not noticing the boy you were just about to bump into. Your friends quickly rushed forward to try and catch your ass, but it was no use. You fell straight into.. a soft body. The boy you fell ontop of blinked owlishly, before realizing it was you and giving a devilish grin. surprisingly he looked hotter than most guys in your class
"haha, looks like god answered my prayers to send me an angel, my name's Alexis. Nice to meet you"
🔪12th grade came, soon you'd be free from the hell hole known as public high school. You clinged and sobbed in Cassidy's arms, only 6 more months to go. Whining something about not having a boyfriend, ignoring how offended kaiross looked. You dramatically fell to your knees and held your hands clasped together towards the sky, yelling that you wanted a hot hunk and you wanted him right now... Only for an incredibly heavy object to land straight into your back. Sending you both to the ground as the thing made a grunt. Looking up, you damn near had a nosebleed to see the hottest man you've ever seen, daichio
"ah.. sorry pretty girl, you okay down there?" "yeah.. more than okay.." "alright break it up! No soliciting"
⭐after daichio joined, tensions rose in the little friend haven. Vivian and Michelle would squabble over anything involving you, daichio would purposely provoke kaiross to a fight, alexis would pick on Cassidy for always being so close to you. Until you finally had enough. Giving them the biggest tongue lashing they ever had as you yelled at them to be normal people for once and get along
🛍️...maybe it would have been better if they kept fighting, because now they were a hive mind. After secretly talking behind your back, Daichio and kaiross were like your guards dogs since they had the most muscle. Cassidy was your right hand, Alexis being your tutor. Vivian was your emotional support human, and Michelle was your fashion critic and healthy lifestyle planner. You didn't really mind since now they stopped being little bitches and you had free unpaid workers like Kim Kardashian
🎀you didn't even realize when your group suddenly started gathering attention. Becoming the most popular in the span of a few weeks, how? You didn't know. And quite frankly you didn't want to know. You just wanted a partner, good grades and a scholarship. Looks like your getting all three. People often crowded around your table or desk, trying to get all buddy buddy with you. Just for a little recognition. Your friends were docile until, well, the confessions came rolling in. But that's another story
Fun facts:
Cassidy goes by she/them and is a very friendly person. Naturally, people confess to her everyday but she only has eyes for you, bisexual!
Michelle's mom is a cop, and her dad a businessman so she comes from a somewhat well off family. She likes to go on shopping sprees and gives you any clothes she doesn't want, a lesbian in denial
Vivian is soft spoken and shy, wherever you are rest assured she's close behind, pansexual
kiross is inlove with you and it's very obvious, it's just that nobody brings it up, he goes by he/them and bisexual
Alexis is very demanding, you could consider him a female version of Michelle. Sometimes mich gives him any clothes she doesn't want, pansexual!
Daichio is a playboy and is good friends with kameron, he speaks English, japanese and currently learning Spanish, straight asshole. BORINGG
#queenie ocs#yandere x darling#queenie writes#yandere x reader#ocs#yandere male#yandere#yandere male x reader#male yandere#Yandere oc x reader#Yandere ocs x reader#Yandere oc#Yandere female x reader#Yandere male x reader#Yandere x you#Yandere x y/n#yandere headcanons#yandere imagines#yandere scenarios#Yandere boyfriend#Yandere girlfriend#Female yandere x reader#Yandere oc blog#Yandere x reader#Poly yanderes#Trans yandere#trans yandere x reader#x fem!reader#x female reader#x female y/n
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Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries
Summary: It's Hendrix's first Thanksgiving, and though he's not even one month old, he still manages to be part of a sweet surprise.
TW: Reader is breastfeeding, mention of Grandma, reference to the events of chapter 8
WC: 1.2k
Divider credit to @saradika
November 1999
You had given Eddie one job: buy the items on the shopping list—and only the items on the shopping list. There’s the usual weekly groceries, but now there’s the addition of ingredients for Thanksgiving dinner.
And, of course, a plethora of diapers and wipes for your nearly three-week-old son.
Sweet baby Hendrix is the reason why you’re excused from navigating the overcrowded Walmart aisles, and why Eddie and Harris have gone in your place. You gaze down at your infant son, wincing as he latches onto your breast.
“There you go, little man,” you murmur, smoothing down a wisp of his hair. “We’ve got this.”
The apartment is unnaturally quiet; the only sound coming from the living room radiator kicking on to ward off the early winter chill. It’s the calm before the holiday whirlwind, a slice of silence carved out just for you.
You savor it, inhaling deeply. Hendrix remains undisturbed by your chest rising and falling, happy to be filling his belly before his next nap. He spends his days eating, sleeping, or crying. As Harris says, he doesn’t do any tricks yet.
Hendrix finishes nursing as the front door clicks open. Adjusting your shirt, you offer Eddie and Harris a tired smile.
“Glad to see you two survived.”
“Sure did.” Eddie places the bags on the countertop. “And we stayed within budget.”
Your heart surges when he begins unpacking and pulls out a plastic bag filled with Granny Smith apples. Even though Eddie and Wayne will be doing most of the cooking this year—which means a lot of pre-made and boxed dishes—you had insisted on making Grandma’s applesauce.
“These the right ones?” Eddie asks, wiping a fake bead of sweat from his brow when you answer in the affirmative. “Thank God. I know how much the applesauce means to you.”
You offer a grateful smile as he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. It reminds you of the very first Thanksgiving you’d spent with him happened before you two were a couple—before he’d even taken you on a date.
And, no, the drunken hook-up after his show at The Hideout didn’t count.
Thanksgiving 1996 was spent eating Oreos and snuggling up on the couch, watching A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving with Eddie and Harris. Grandma was still alive, and you even caught a glimpse of her pre-illness self when Eddie played the Sinatra record. It seems like a million years ago, but it’s only been three.
“Mommy, guess what?” Seven-year-old Harris calls out from where he’s peering into Hendrix’s bassinet. He doesn’t give you time to guess before he blurts out, “we got a surprise!”
You raise your brows. “A surprise? What is it?”
“Can’t tell ya.” He throws you a wink—where did he even learn that?—and makes a beeline for his room.
Turning to your husband, you put your hands on your hips. “That surprise better not be more candy,” you warn. “He still has so much left from Halloween.”
Eddie shakes his head and grins. “Not candy.”
“Then what?”
“Can’t tell ya.” Eddie mimics the same wink as his oldest son, solving the mystery of its origin, tucking one particular bag underneath his arm.
If you weren’t still freshly postpartum, you may have chased after him and insisted that he spill the secret. For now, you settle for flipping him off, and he blows you a cheeky kiss in return.
Thanksgiving begins like any other normal day. Well, normal for the Munson household.
Hendrix wakes up around the clock, but you get up for the day when his shrill wail jolts you from your sleep at six A.M. Your breasts are heavy with milk; a good thing, considering he sounds hungry.
Harris, clad in his blue flannel pajamas, shuffles into your bedroom an hour later. He’s still wiping sleep from his eyes even as he talks.
“Can we watch the parade?”
You hold your forefinger to your lips, praying that Harris’s entrance doesn’t wake the baby sleeping in Eddie’s arms.
“It’s not on for another hour, Har Bear,” you whisper, patting the comforter. “But you can hang out with us until then.”
Harris nods, scrambling up onto the bed and plopping down between you and his dad. He glances up at Eddie with a pout.
“Can I hold Hendrix? Pleeeeeease?”
Never one to shy away from theatrics, his brown eyes are wide as he pleads.
“Actually,” Eddie says, his gaze flicking over to Harris, “I think we should get the surprise ready?”
Harris wrinkles his nose for a split second before he remembers. “Oh, yeah!” He tugs on Eddie’s undershirt sleeve. “We gotta do the surprise.”
You reach out for the baby, but Eddie shakes his head. “Not so fast, Sweetheart. All of the Munson boys are in on this.”
You’re not quite sure what your three-week-old could possibly contribute, but damn if you’re not intrigued. So you sit back, propped up against the pillows, and wait for them to return.
Five minutes is long enough for you to doze off again, your body desperate for any scrap of sleep it can get.
“Dad, she’s sleeping!” It comes from a voice right next to your ear.
“Gently wake her up.” This voice is a bit farther away. Something shakes you. “I said gently, Har!”
You blink, massaging the back of your stiff neck from the awkward position you assumed during your impromptu nap.
“I’m up.” You manage a small, tired smile. Harris stands right next to your bedside, but Eddie and Hendrix are nowhere to be found. “Is my surprise ready?”
Harris nods, glancing back at the empty doorway. “So…we just unwrapped the turkey, and it looks a little weird.”
He’s supposed to deliver it like it’s bad news, but his mischievous smile betrays him.
Still, you play along. “It looks weird? What do you mean?”
That’s apparently Eddie’s cue. He creeps into the room, cradling Hendrix in his arms. Except the baby is no longer wearing his sage green pajamas. Now, he dons a brown onesie, a cartoon turkey face emblazoned on the belly. But the pièce de résistance is a tiny hat, a light brown pom pom puffing out from the top.
“That’s the cutest turkey I’ve ever seen!” Tears spring to your eyes, another sign that you’re still in the throes of postpartum hormones. You wipe them away before they can cause concern for the emotionally intuitive Harris.
You reach out to take the teeny turkey from your husband. “I could just eat you right up,” you coo, pressing a kiss to Hendrix’s chubby cheek and breathing in his baby powder scent.
“I found it,” Harris announces with a triumphant grin, “and Dad paid for it.”
“I know my place,” Eddie chuckles. “My wallet and I were ready.”
There’s a beat of silence as you take it all in. Your husband, proudly beaming as you snuggle Hendrix to your chest. Your oldest son, tickling Hendrix’s onesie-clad feet and making himself laugh. And your newborn-turned-turkey, scrunching up and then unfurling his little fist as he relaxes contentedly.
Harris looks up at you expectantly. “Is the parade on now?”
You and Eddie laugh, and Eddie ruffles Harris’s hair.
There’s certainly plenty to be thankful for this year.
--
#eddie munson#eddie stranger things#eddie x reader#eddie x you#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x f!reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson smut#eddie munson angst#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things fanfic#fanfic#eddie munson stranger things#stranger things#tui
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