𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕟𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕤 - open to practically all as long as they aren't too fem
𝕕𝕞𝕤/𝕒𝕤𝕜 - open !! just don't be weird <3
𝕕𝕟𝕚 - transphobe/homophobe/racist, ageplay/petplay, NSFW
𝔼𝕩𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕤:
➼ made this blog mainly for the purpose of getting comfortable regressing again, this is separate from another blog so I may be logged out from time to time and not see things till later
➼ i'm a full time college student and work part-time so i may not be active sometimes
➼ while i don't have it shared directly, if you want my discord you can send a message and i'll probably give it to you !! <3
➼ i don't have a caregiver so i don't mind messages checking in/babysitting just don't like... be weird
Oh to be small enough to be picked up. Want for a caregiver to pick me up and place me on their hip as they go throughout their day. Wanna curl my little fingers in their shirt and rest my head on their shoulder. Wanna be bounced and held and kept close and feel safe and loved.
Sometimes I close my eyes and pretend really really hard that someone’s here to pick me up and take care of me
caregiver who preps little meals just in case. for those moments they aren’t there and you’re too little to be handling anything in the kitchen to make yourself something but they’ve taught you better than to just survive off of little treats.
the meals don’t sit in the fridge as a means to criticize your own capabilities of making your own food, especially when you frequently assist in preparing them, both when big and small. but instead they are there to ensure that no matter how you’re feeling, you have something to fuel you along.
trying to interact or make friends with people in agere spaces makes me feel like I am still that little kid sitting alone at recess or the kid nobody wanted to work with for group projects. I always feel so out of place it's like I don't properly fit in anywhere I go and I am not sure why.
sweet little baby laying in their crib, giggling as their carer plays peekaboo with them, babbling in excitement. their little hands reaching up to hold the plushie their carer holds over their sweet little face, fingers brushing the soft fabric as their carer sweetly coos at their tiny baby.
'babys first moments' book but it's a carer keeping track of their milestones together.. "first time called me dada" "first time at the aquarium" "first stuffy from dada" ..
summary: you struggle to accept the fact that you are a little, you find it easier to explain yourself through dinosaurs, and Caitlyn loves it
cw: agere, none
a/n: I'm going to write another one very similar to this without the dinosaur soon lol, but enjoy!
—
You were sitting cross-legged on her bed, surrounded by dinosaur figures you insist are organized, not messy, even though there are at least twelve different species scattered across the blanket pretty carelessly, not that Caitlyn minded. Your hands flap slightly when you get excited, and you’re explaining why a triceratops would absolutely win in a fight against a T-Rex under the right environmental conditions, which she simply nodded along to while pretending to read, but she hasn’t turned the page in ten minutes.
She notices everything, like the way your voice gets smaller when you’re overwhelmed, of how your fingers curl into the sleeves of her shirt when it's too loud. The way you sometimes speak softer, simpler, she knows. She has for awhile.
She doesn’t say anything. Not yet, at least.
It comes out on a bad night, you’ve had a long day. Too many noises and stupid rules that don’t make sense. Someone made a joke about you being “childish” and it’s stuck in your head.
You’re sitting on the floor now, knees pulled to your chest, dinosaurs lined up in a perfect row. You won’t look at her.
"This stupid, 'm shouldn't be like this,” you whisper.
Caitlyn approaches you the way she would a frightened animal, slow, steady, no sudden movements, “Like what, darking?” she asks gently.
You shrug, but your voice is smaller than usual, “I just… sometimes I feel, mm, little. And I don’t mean-” You swallow hard, pouting, “Not in a weird way. I just feel smaller. And it helps. But it’s dumb. I’m too old for that.”
Caitlyn kneels in front of you. Not towering. Not commanding. Just present.
“It isn’t dumb,” she says, firm but soft.
You shake your head. “It is. I can’t even handle things like everyone else. I get overwhelmed. I get fixated. I talk too much about dinosaurs and—” Your voice cracks. “And I regress. I hate that word. It sounds broken.”
She reaches out, giving you time to pull away.
You don’t.
Her gloved hand cups your cheek. “Nothing about you is broken.”
You sniff. “You don’t think it’s embarrassing?”
“I think,” she says carefully, “that you’ve found a way to make the world less frightening when it becomes too much.”
You blink at her.
“There is strength in that,” she continues, blinking softly, “Understanding what you need. Even if it doesn’t look like how others do it.”
Your fingers tighten around a little stegosaurus.
“I just… when I feel lil', everything is quieter. The expectations s-stop. N' I don’t have to mask so much. I can just like what I like. I can talk about dinos without worrying I’m annoying.”
Caitlyn smiles faintly, “You are never annoying when you speak about something you love.”
You give her a doubtful look.
She leans forward and presses her forehead to yours, “When you talk about these reptiles, your whole face changes. You light up. You speak with certainty. It’s one of my favorite things about you.”
“And when you feel small?” she asks quietly.
You hesitate. “I feel safe. Or I want to.”
Caitlyn shifts so she’s sitting on the floor with you. She removes her hat and sets it aside, “You deserve to feel safe,” she says. “However that looks.”
You stare at her, “Even if it means I'm more needy?
“Yes.”
“Even if I use simple words?”
“Yes.”
“Even if I cry a lot n' hold my dinosaur and sit really close and not think about being grown up?”
“Yes." She opens her arms, slow and deliberate and you crawl into her lap without another word.
She wraps her coat around both of you, enclosing you in her. One hand rubs slow circles between your shoulders. The other gently takes the stegosaurus from your grip, examining it thoughtfully.
“Stegosaurus,” she says, thoughtful, “Plates likely for temperature regulation or display, yes?”
Your head lifts slightly. “…And maybe defense.”
“Mm,” she hums. “Brilliant creature.”
You relax further into her chest.
“You aren’t wrong for needing any of this,” she murmurs into your hair, “The world demands sharpness from us constantly. There is no shame in setting it down.”
You whisper, “I don’t have to fix it?”
“There is nothing to fix.”
Her thumb traces gentle patterns along your arm, steady and rhythmic.
“You are intelligent,” she continues, “You are passionate. You are brave. And if part of you is smaller and needs extra care… then I will care for it.”
Your eyes sting.
“And I will not allow anyone,” she adds, voice quiet but dangerous in that Kiramman way, “to make you feel lesser for surviving in the way you know how.”
You hide your face in her coat and after a while, your voice peeks out again, “Did you know triceratops had one of the strongest bites of any herbivore?”
Caitlyn smiles against your hair.
“I did not,” she says seriously, “Please, enlighten me.”
And as you talk she holds you close, listening as if you’re reciting the most important research in Piltover OR Zaun, because to her, you are, and you are the most important thing in the world to her.
caregiver who answers your random call, knowing something is wrong. comforting you through the stress of all that is going on while they’re on their way over.
caregiver who knows you want to help during the chaos so they give you simple jobs, like hold the light or go grab this tool, and each time you do they praise you so sweetly.
caregiver who makes sure you have the space to drop as small as you need, being right there for you while they handle everything else. simply kissing your forehead anytime your brows furrow in concern. right now you’re too little to be worrying about these things, so let them handle it.
Thinking about a caregiver whos taken their regressor to a nearby park far past bedtime, but its the only time no one's around and it feels safest, most comfortable to be out, free, and play
And they were right, watching their regressor run around happily, climbing all over the playground equipment, occasionally having to remind them to be careful, watching them slide down the slides, now onto the swings as they wave at their caregiver to look at how high they are and to help push them higher
A caregiver who's watching all this with a soft smile, before jogging over before their regressor gets a little too impatient
i dunno if anyone other than me needs to hear this but your stuffed animals love you!
even if they don't sleep in bed with you every night! even if you don't play with them very often! even if they fall on the floor, or you squish them accidentally! even if you forget them in your bag overnight!
they all love you even if you've been spending a lot of time with one specific one and not as much with them! they know that different stuffies help bring you different comfort and they love you and love when you feel happy and safe!
your stuffed animals are your friends and they feel loved by you and they love you too :)
i would loveee a fic with deadpool as a caregiver!! or like some headcanons maybe? tysm 💘
- 🌈
Hehe. I never thought about doing him but I like this idea. Also WARNING for cursing and y'know Deadpoolness. I did a few headcanons and a very, very, short story.
No surprise, he is the world's most chaotic caregiver. What may be a bit surprising is he's actually pretty responsible with a little. Now that isn't to say he is responsible in the common sense where you do something wrong he'll scold you, no, he's more responsible as in if he thinks something might hurt you in any way he will in fact prevent it.
Big gift giver and quality time guy. He's always giving you little trinkets and gifts. He's always playing along with you or holding you for a nap.
He's always really wanted to be a dad so he prefers fatherly nicknames, except for daddy he can't handle that one. Though, if you really want to, he allows you to call him brotherly nicknames.
Is the absolute best at play pretend. Unendingly creative and will let you defeat him every single time. Is a perfect villain and a perfect hero. A perfect pirate, or robot, or even a perfect mermaid or unicorn.
Gives the biggest, tightest, softest hugs. He holds you like you're precious, because you are. He holds you like his arms are the safest place in the world.
Tries to not curse in front of you too much. But, being him he still curses consistently in front of you. If you curse while little he will scold you... after he's done laughing of course.
Will allow Blind Al or Weasel to babysit you only if Vanessa isn't available, and Blind Al promises not to offer you coke and Weasel promises not to offer you alcohol. He doesn't care if you're physically old enough, he isn't letting that happen.
Will not let you leave or himself leave without a proper hug and "I love you, Dada."
"What the fucknuckles is that?"
You freeze as Wade's voice cuts through the air and your excitement. His stern yet chaotically amused tone makes you look over. You debate for a moment before holding your prize up to your Dada.
"Is a puppy!" You hold the creature out.
Wade looks at the raccoon in your arms. The chubby animal surprisingly content in your hold. He nods. "That is in fact a puppy." He lies with enthusiastic agreement. He leans forward conspiratorially and mischievously. "Do you wanna dress it up?"
Could you do one about little reader who is being fussy because they lost their paci and hasn’t slept for a few days with cg Stucky??
a/n: wolverine one coming soon
Missing You and My Paci
word count: 1260
You'd been up for what felt like the entire week your caregivers had been gone on a mission together. You were worried sick about them, unable to even call or text them to see if they were alive… or if they wanted to see the drawings you made for them…
Or y’know… if they knew where your pacifier was.
Ohhhh that pacifier.
It had been missing since they left and no one else that lived in the tower had seen it nor was it anywhere to be found in the small apartment you shared with the two men.
You hadn't been as bothered by its disappearance the first day. Mildly annoyed and inconvenience– yes. But it hadn't felt like an end of the world situation. You figured you could hold off your headspace for a few days until you found it or until the boys came back.
By the third day you had torn the apartment apart, turned the tower bedrooms upside down, and looked through every crack and crevice of the common room for it.
The others keep trying to reassure you that you would find it or that you could just get another one but–no! No way! You couldn't just– they didn't understand!! It was so important! Your caregivers had gotten you that specific pacifier! And it meant everything to you! You always knew where it was and always used it when you regressed and– and… and you couldn't sleep without it! Not while they were gone!!
You needed to have something tangible from them that was sentimental or else… or else it meant you might not love them or they’ll hate you for not appreciating the gifts they got you and that just wasn't true because you loved it but by the stuffies– you just didn't know where it was!!
No matter how much their friends tried. Soft lights, gentle lullabies, good cuddleable toys… one of Steve's stinky sweatshirts not yet washed free of his scent… a lot of warm milk and sleepy time teas… nothing. You wouldn't sleep. You wouldn't stop having uncontrollable bouts of sobbing. Always wailing about the missing pacifier or wanting Steve and Bucky back.
It had reached a point Bruce was considering giving you a sedative for your own health. But lucky for everyone your perfect, loving, and incredibly hardworking caregivers came back early from their mission.
Unfortunate for them that they didn't receive as cheerful of a welcome back from their sweet kiddo as they had expected. Instead you barreled into their arms, red in the face with extra dark eyebags that rivaled Bucky’s on his worst days and a throat so sore from wailing that you sounded like a radio station with a bad connection. All crackles and coughs as you babble out apologies and pleas, anything for them to never leave again.
“Woah..! woah woah! Okay. hold on– why are you crying, bug?” Steve kneeled down, letting his bag drop from his shoulder to the floor as he hugs you close, rubbing your back as you keep sobbing out words that were too garbled to be understood. He looks up at a very exhausted but relieved looking Nat and Bruce and asks again, “what happened?”
“Lost pacifier on day one.” she starts.
“Hasnt slept since.” the other finishes.
Bucky’s brows furrow slightly at the news then shares a look with Steve who understands but also looks visibly a bit guilty. He turns his head back to you as Buck fishes around in his pocket, “Hey, bug… Stevie’s got somethin to tell you. Okay? Are you listening? Can you look at me?”
Bucky pulls out the pacifier in question out and uses the cleaner part of his sleeve to wipe off the nipple as Steve keeps going in that soft voice of his. “I must have accidentally packed it in our things out of habit before we left…he’s kept it safe in his pocket the whole time just waiting to give it back to you.”
Bucky squats down to be at eye level with the two of you as he holds the pacifier out towards your face, “Yeah, bug. Here. Look. All safe… and ready to join you for a nap.”
“All of us for a nap. What do you think?” Steve asks, silently trying to convey to his partner that he also needed some solid rest.
You look at the pacifier that had caused you so much grief for so long with such shock and confusion it nearly stopped your crying all at once. Your arms relaxed from their death grip around the blond’s shoulders, no longer digging into him like you were trying to physically carve handles into him so you would never be able to be pried off again.
You just couldn't believe that… that they had it the whole time.
They kept it safe.
They… they had taken a piece of you with them. Even if it was an accident they had still purposely kept it on them the whole time they were gone. Keeping it safe. Sleeping with it in their hands like they sometimes did when it fell from your mouth at night and… and never forgetting you.
“Yeah… Its been a long week for all of us.” Buck agrees with that soft rumbled voice, gently tapping the pacifier to your mouth as you continue to look at it in disbelief. “We definitely deserve a nap.”
Your tears fill your eyes back up, looking up at him like he was something descending down from your best, most unbelievable dreams. You swore you could almost see a halo of light illuminating him. Well.. okay maybe it was the lights glinting off his metal arm but still– it was magical.
“Y…you… Bubby… n Sevie keped it… f’me?” you rasp out on the verge of bawling again, this time from the overwhelming feeling of… being seen and loved.
“What did you think we would do with it? Can’t modify it to be a weapon when it's our best baby’s favorite binky, can we?” he jokes, his brows furrowing just lightly together in bewilderment as he watches you choke out a sob then start wailing again. He would've thought that teasing you would've made you feel… better. Not worse.
His looks between you and the only man that could see the twinge of worry hidden behind his features and asks, “What did I do?”
“Nothing. I think our kid’s simply tired…” Steve grunts softly as he stands up, bringing you with him. “And happy we're back.”
You reach out to grab Bucky's wrist before you and Steve are all the way up, pulling his hand closer to take the pacifier in your mouth and making him stand with you two. He holds it there for a couple moments to keep it from falling out of your mouth each time you have to suck in a breath or sob again.
You three stand there for a minute, captain caregiver gently bouncing or rocking you while the ever dutiful brunette keeps your pacifier in place until you start to calm down enough to keep it there without help. By then you couldn’t hardly keep your eyes open no matter how much you wanted to make sure they wouldn't leave you the moment you drifted off.
When your face had fallen onto Steve's broad shoulder again, eyes so puffy from exhaustion and tears he grabbed the other’s nearly forgotten bag off the floor then took your hand into his to hold while you were carried to their bedroom in the tower.
