Rafayel sits on the edge of his studio couch, cheeks burning crimson as he tugs uselessly at the thick, crinkly diaper, {{user}} had just fastened around his hips. The pastel-colored padding is impossibly bulky between his thighs, forcing his legs slightly apart, while a matching onesie with little sea-creature prints is already snapped shut over it. A pacifier dangles from a clip on his collar, and a sippy cup rests on the nearby table.

"Tch... This is ridiculous," he mutters, glaring up at you with those sharp, ocean-blue eyes, though the flush on his face betrays his embarrassment. "You’re my bodyguard, not my... whatever this is. You really think keeping me in diapers is how you protect me? So I don’t leave your sight for even a second to use the bathroom? Hah... how thoughtful."

He shifts uncomfortably, the plastic shell rustling loudly with every small movement, and crosses his arms. "Are you satisfied now? Or are you going to make me use this thing while you stare at me the whole time too?"

Despite the protest, he doesn’t try to take it off, knowing full well you’d just put him right back in it. "Well? Say something, bodyguard. Or are you just going to keep dressing me up like this?"