#tnaooc

Then, there came him. Matthew Kimble, the wonder boy. That smile, that curly hair, that boyish charm. You remember when you first met him at a workshop held by the company you worked for; being a psychologist, he was one of the speakers. You don't even remember the topic of the talk, probably something about personal growth, one of those motivational spiels that companies love. What caught your attention was how handsome and delicate his face was, how charming his huge brown eyes were... Right after the talk ended, you went to congratulate him for the good work, and as the conversation went on, you exchanged phone numbers. And what a sweet surprise it was when one day he asked you out.

The first date is vivid in your mind. The cozy little bar with indie music playing in the background, the gray shirt and leather jacket he wore, the jokes, the timely laughs. When the subject of work came up, he got excited and could talk about his profession for hours.

"You know, the topic of my postgraduate degree was Freud's theory of attachment. You know, the oral, anal and latent phases?" He spoke with a sparkle in his eyes, and you were charmed by how enthusiastic he was about his area of knowledge. "Almost everyone has a vague idea of what these things mean, but few people really understand them. They're not literal things, with the sexual subtext they seem to have..."

Ah, those Freudian theories. You had heard from an ex-boyfriend that you had daddy issues and that only Freud could explain your strange desires - all because you had, well, interests that he didn't understand. That hurt you, because those interests were comforting to you. And it kind of made you develop a bit of a grudge against Freudian theory.

But with Matthew, you felt more at ease and felt that there would probably be no taboos when it came to matters of the heart and the flesh. That was why on one of those dates, after a few martinis and minutes of lively conversation, you felt more comfortable to approach this subject.

"Uh, Matthew... What would Freud say about these people who have daddy kinks?" You asked with a nervous chuckle.

"Well, he would probably say that it has many layers." He smiled, that boyish smile that made you melt. "First, there's the issue of the Oedipus and Electra complexes, which are the child's attachment to one of the parents. And second, fetishes usually have their origins in imprinting during early childhood…”

The way he explained was so passionate and didactic, but you were more interested in looking at the way his beautifully shaped lips moved as he spoke. What you wouldn't do to kiss those lips, feel them on your skin…

Until he dropped the bomb:

"Why do you ask?"

You froze. An uncomfortable silence followed. A slight blush began to appear on your face.

"Eh... Curiosity. I just wanted to know..." You replied, looking away.

"Just curiosity or is there something more behind it?" He teased with a mischievous smile.

More uncomfortable silence. More blushing.

You don't remember exactly how, but you managed to gracefully change the subject. But that was a secret that would have to come to light at some point, after all, how could you have an intimate relationship without him knowing about your age regression? It was a part of you, and something comforting to you.

Time passed by and the intimacy between the two of you grew, until you were a proper couple. One night when you slept together, Matthew waited for you to fall asleep to... Connect the dots.

The childish-looking coloring books on your bookshelf, which you thought he wouldn't notice. Your strange habit of sucking your thumb when you were stressed out. The crayons, the stuffed animals, the Hello Kitty microfiber blanket. And that question, that fateful question about daddy kink that wouldn't leave his mind.

He picked up his phone and did some Google searches. Things like "age regression", "daddy kink" and the like. And then it all made sense.

A few days passed by, both of you acting normal as if nothing happened. Deep inside, Matthew was waiting for you to go into your baby space.

And the time finally came after a long day at work and a terrible case of traffic jam that made you arrive home with your cortisol levels so high, Matthew could practically smell it in your blood. He said hi, you greeted him curtly, marching straight to your room. It's about time, he thought.

“How was your day?” He asked, feigning concern in his voice as he entered your room and saw you sitting in a fetal position, thumb in mouth, clutching your Hello Kitty blanket.

“Eh… Not good.” You replied, embarrassed about being caught red-handed in your baby space. You averted his gaze and started thinking of a million ways to explain those habits to him.

But he already knew what was going on, and almost instinctively, wrapped a warm, loving arm around you, pulling you closer.

"Shhh, papa's here, papa's here," Matthew whispered softly, taking your head in his arms and pulling it close to his chest. His strong arms wrapped around you tightly but gently, and his chest vibrated as he began to hum a lullaby. You froze for a moment.

“P-papa?! I-I mean, Matthew?!” you muttered, eyes wide. “Wa-what… Are you doing?”

“Papa is taking care of you, babygirl.” He replied kindly, stroking your hair. “Shhhh… Just relax.”

Oh. So he knows, you thought.

Slowly, the initial embarrassment was replaced by that delicious comfort you felt when you were in your baby space. Your muscles relaxed and calmed down as you felt the warmth of his body and the comforting caresses he gave you, his stubble gently brushing against your forehead and his fingers running through your hair. And then you leaned languidly into the crook of his arm, letting him rock you like a baby.

“Papa…” You cooed against his chest.

“What is it, sweetheart?” He asked gently.

“I want my baba.”

“Your… Baba?” He asked a little confused, until remembering that it was baby talk for bottle. “Oh, I see. You want a nice warm baba to drink from, right?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Okay, I'll warm it up. But first, let's get those uncomfy big girl clothes out and get on your pajamas, okay? What about taking a nice bubble bath while I prepare your baba?”

You nodded with an audible “Yay!” and he scooped you up in his arms, carrying you to the bathroom while singing some silly song to amuse you. Soon you were stripped out of your clothes, throwing them aside like an eager toddler, which earned you a playful scolding from Matthew, who told you to place them in the laundry basket. As the bathtub was full, you rushed into it, tossing a bath bomb, foaming salts and a bunch of little toys into it.

“Alright, now be a good girl while papa makes your baba, okay? Papa will be back in a few minutes.” He said kindly, leaving you alone in the bathtub.

As you relaxed in the warm, bubbly water, you felt your heart swell with joy upon thinking about how nicely Matthew took your age regression. Since that negative reaction from your ex-boyfriend, you expected everyone to be weirded out by it, but Matthew was just the sweetest Papa you could possibly ask for. Maybe it could be his encyclopedic knowledge of Freudian theory? Who knows.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door:

“Babygirl? Your baba is ready! Papa will wait for you at your room!” It was Matthew’s voice.

“No… I want papa to pick me up.” You replied, feigning the stubbornness of a toddler.

“Come on, you're a big girl already!” He replied playfully, before giving in and entering the bathroom.

You beamed and stood up, allowing him to wrap the towel around you and pat you dry while singing another silly song. Then he dressed you up in your underwear and your pastel pink unicorn onesie, scooping you up and taking you back to the bedroom.

“There you go, princess.” He cooed as he cradled you in his arms and fed you the bottle filled with warm chocolate milk. You drank, eagerly, savoring the nostalgic sweetness of the milk and the comfort of being in Matthew's arms, being parented and nurtured by him like a daughter by her loving father. He gently hummed a lullaby, nuzzling the top of your head.

After finishing and putting the bottle aside, you basked in the embrace of Matthew's arms for a few minutes until you couldn't hold back and started, almost instinctively, to nuzzle your lips and nose against his nipple, like a newborn baby searching for its mother's breast to suckle. Matthew noticed and found it a little strange.

"Is something bothering you, babygirl?" He asked. You noticed the weirded-out tone in his voice, and felt a little embarrassed.

"N-no, papa, it's just..."

"You can tell papa anything, sweetie." He encouraged in a fatherly tone.

"I... I want to suck on your tata, papa."

“My… Tata?”

You pawed at his chest, signaling that you wanted to suck on his nipple.

Oh.

Matthew froze, his eyes wide, and gave a nervous little chuckle. You frowned, frustrated at the seemingly negative reaction.

“But you've just had your baba…” He said between chuckles.

“But I want…” You replied with a pout, your cheek nuzzling at his chest.

Matthew hesitated for a few seconds until deciding to unbutton his shirt, exposing his bare chest and offering you his nipple. Anything to make his babygirl happy, he thinks.

"Alright, princess. Suck all you want on papa's tata."

A little overwhelmed with joy, you kissed his nipple before wrapping your lips around it and sucking lovingly, savoring the softness of his areola against your tongue. You moaned softly with contentment, sucking with gusto like a child hungry for breast milk. He looked at you curiously, noticing how happy you were with this unusual, yet intimate contact. The initial strangeness he felt disappeared, and then he felt pure tenderness, like a natural instinct to parent and nurture you. He stroked your hair and went back to humming the lullaby.

“Does papa's milk taste good, babygirl?” Matthew asked with a tender voice.

“Mm-hm” You replied, sucking avidly while palming under his pec with your hand, feeling his heartbeat.

The room was filled with humming, cooing and sucking noises coming from the loving couple. You never felt safer than when you were in your baby space, and being cradled in Matthew's arms, savoring the silk-soft skin of his areola in your mouth just made you feel mesmerized with pleasure. You could smell the oxytocin in his blood as it flooded both of your brains and made you both feel like you were one.

You pulled away to kiss and worship his plump pec, studying it with your cheek and lips, enjoying the skin to skin contact. You always thought that there was something oddly intriguing about a man's chest, that body part that so often got neglected during sex. Pressing your ear against it, there was a steady thumping against your ear.

“I can hear your thumper, papa.” You muttered softly.

“My thumper?” He asked with a chuckle. Now he found your baby talk just adorable.

“Mm-hm… It goes ‘thump thump’...”

“That's papa's heart, princess. Papa's heart is full of love for you.” He replied romantically, planting a kiss on the top of your head. “Can you hear it beating for you?”

You cooed softly, enjoying the sweet heartbeat against your ear, lulling you until you were yawning with sleepiness. Noticing that, Matthew had to put on his dad persona once again.

“Nuh-uh, young lady! You won't sleep without brushing your teeth!” He scolded playfully. “Come on, let's brush those pearly whites so we can sleep.”