Daddy's Tyke🍼

You don’t like her.

Daddy’s “special friend.”

She’s everything you used to be. Confident. Sexy. In control. The kind of woman who wears lace lingerie and makes men weak in the knees just by existing.

She’s everything you’re not anymore.

And right now, she’s sitting on your couch. In your Daddy’s lap. Wearing your favorite lipstick. The one you used to wear when you still pretended to be a grown-up.

You’re not a grown-up anymore.

You're sitting on your crinkly, padded bottom on the floor. Legs spread wide by the bulk of your princess Pampers. Hair in pigtails. Thumb in your mouth. The cartoon on the TV isn’t even enough to distract you from what’s happening just a few feet away.

Daddy's hand is on her thigh. That’s your Daddy. Yours.

But when you open your mouth to whine, the words come out too babyish to be taken seriously. “D-daddy…M-miss you…”

He barely glances at you. Just pats your puffy diaper. “I know, baby girl. But sharing is caring, remember?”

Your face burns.

You hate that phrase.

Because every time Daddy says it, it means you’re about to lose something. A stuffie. A toy. A moment of his time. And now?

Now it means losing him.

“C'mon, Calli,” he coos, glancing over his shoulder at you like you’re some fussy toddler, “Don’t be a grumpypants. Daddy's special friend needs a turn too.”

You pout harder, trying to cross your arms but your mittens make it impossible. You squirm, the soggy bulk between your thighs making your crinkles louder than your protest.

You want to scream. You want to beg. You want to rip the paci out of your mouth and tell her to get the hell out of your house.

But then… your tummy gurgles.

Loudly.

Your eyes widen as the cramps tighten like a belt around your belly. Oh no. Not now. Not in front of her.

You try to shift, to sit on your knees, to fight it. But the pressure only builds. The oatmeal and prune puree Daddy spoon-fed you earlier churns like a storm cloud.

You don’t want to give her the satisfaction.

But you can’t stop it.

Your thumb slips out of your mouth as a quiet grunt escapes you.

Crinkle. Squish. Pop.

Your cheeks flush red-hot as you fill your diaper, helpless to stop the warm, mushy weight from ballooning into the seat. You curl forward, whimpering, the smell already betraying you.

Daddy turns his head just slightly. Smiling.

“Awww, Calli,” he chuckles in that sing-song voice he uses when you’re especially pathetic. “Did my little princess make her pushies?”

You don’t answer. Can’t answer. Not with her looking at you.

She giggles. “Did she seriously just poop herself because you stopped giving her attention?”

Your eyes sting. Your diaper squelches as you shift.

“Be nice,” Daddy says with a grin. “She’s just a baby. That’s what babies do.”

He walks over, crouching down beside you, pressing his palm into your swollen diaper. “Still warm. Just happened, huh, Stinkybritches?”

You hiccup a sob. “D-daddy…please…”

He strokes your cheek with the back of his hand. His voice softens but not with mercy.

“You’re doing a good job, baby girl. Being a big sharer. Daddy’s so proud of you.”

You sniffle, clinging to him, burying your face in his shirt as if you could melt into him and hide forever. But you can't. You’re not the girl on his lap anymore. You're the one in the corner, in the crinkly princess Pampers, with a warm, messy seat and a tummy full of shame.

“You stay right here,” Daddy murmurs sweetly, guiding you down onto your padded backside with a squish. “Daddy’s going to give his special friend a turn in bed now, okay? And if you're a good girl and don't fuss... maybe you'll get extra cuddles during your changie.”

He kisses your forehead.

You nod.

Because that’s all you can do now.

You're not the woman who gets Daddy's cock.

You’re the little who gets the floor and the full seat of her Pampers.

Because sharing is caring, Calli.

Are you sure about that, sweetheart?

Can you show me?

Is that too hard for you, darling?

Do you need help?

Are you excited?

Could you do one more for me, baby?

Are you going to sit nice?

Are you going to behave today?

Do you need to hold my hand?

We have regular intercourse once in a blue moon. But why bother? I need a big cock to please me and give me that leg trembling orgasm I crave, or his tongue, and he prefers cumming through his cage and into his filled diapers via my vibrator, over cumming in my pussy. Pathetic? You bet it is, but it’s what we both like. We are more intimate now that we have ever been. Intimacy isn’t stemmed soley from vaginal intercourse. We are more intimate now than we have ever been.

stucky x little!reader

A/n: just sharing a blurb (is this even what a blurb is?) as i am regressing after a while.

“Why are you hiding behind Rosie, angel?” Bucky asked you as he was changing your diaper and you happened to be covering your face with your pink stuffed bear out of embarrassment.

He had changed you about a hundred times but he went on a mission for the past couple of days and getting used to Steve changing you had you getting all shy near your daddy again.

“Awe my shy baby” he cooed as he finished placing the tabs on each side of your hip and buttoning your onesie back up.

“There all done, wanna watch some cartoons with Dada?” He asked as he placed you on his lap as he was sitting on the ground and cuddled you.

“Want daddy” you whined despite being in his arms now.

“Oh doll, I’m right here…I’m not going anywhere”

“Missed you”

“And I missed my baby, was waiting so long until I could give you and dada some hugs and kisses”

You quickly wrapped your arms around him while still sitting on his lap, in return receiving his arms wrapping around your waist.

“Wow you’re having cuddles and I wasn’t invited?” Steve announced from the doorway in faux hurt.

“Join please babe?” Bucky answered from the floor opening an arm to Steve, who immediately formed a group hug.

Bucky sighed as he had one arm wrapped around Steve’s shoulders and the other still around your waist. It wasn’t a stressed sigh but almost as if he had been holding his breath throughout his mission and was only just able to breathe again.

“You’re safe now honey, you know that right?” Steve whispered to him as he petted your hair, noticing your eyelids going heavy as you were about to fall asleep in Bucky’s lap.

“I know…I love you Stevie”

“And I love you Buck”

They both looked down to you and noticed that you were off into dreamland after the much needed group hug.

When we do it for a few hours it's even more fun - he's completely unable to walk, talk, use the potty or eat. When his tummy rumbles after a few hours he'll have no choice but to accept sucking his bottle, he'll have no freedom of his own to revert to adult mode, and he'll have no choice but to mess his diaper sooner or later. I'll sit him in front of some cartoons if he's good, and take some pictures to embarrass him with when we're done.

How long should I keep him like this?

Even better if the big whispers kind things to me like

"It's okay to go potty, little one"

"You can let go now, your diapers are here to keep you safe"

It wasn’t the thick diapers you were wetting yourself in, or your butt cheeks still stinging from the last spanking..

It wasn’t the embarrassingly babyish clothes you had to wear, or the high chair you get fed in now..

It wasn’t even the institutional restraints, or those big, poofy, padded mitts that rendered you completely helpless, or the chastity cage that gave them total control over you..

No, it was the moment you realized that not only have they made you -want- your pacifier, but the fact that they’ve made you -need- your pacifier, to deal with all of the infantile frustrations and feelings you have now.

That’s the moment you realize that they’ve won.

It’s real.

They have completely dominated you, both mentally and physically.