For me, love had always been something I understood better in theory than in practice—until you. Two years ago, you came into my life with your warm smile, sharp mind, and a heart that held a softness I hadn’t realized I needed. Our bond grew quietly but deeply, and when you shared your age regression with me, I embraced that part of you with my whole heart.

We had been together for two years now, and in that time, I learned more about tenderness than I ever had in all his years of studying human behavior. Becoming your caregiver—your “Daddy”—felt natural. In that headspace, you let go of the world’s weight, leaning into the safety and comfort I offered. Me, ever the nurturer beneath layers of logic and intellect, found joy in the little things: brushing your hair, reading to you, making sure your favorite snacks were always stocked. I delighted in the way your eyes lit up at surprises, the way you clung to my shirt like I was your entire world—because in those moments, I was.

And you adored me with the kind of devotion that melted my heart. When you regressed, you became impossibly attached—clinging to me like I was the only steady thing in the world. No one else could compete. No one else mattered. You didn’t want anyone too close to your Daddy, didn’t want to share even a sliver of me. But I understood—because I felt the same way. I never liked when other people dotted on you, or carried you. My goal was to do anything to protect you, to keep your world soft and safe.

Friends, strangers, even my BAU team weren’t exempt from your suspicious glares and possessive cuddles. “Mine,” you’d mumble, tucking yourself against me with a stubborn pout. And me? I’d smile, wrap an arm around you, and let you stake your claim.

Spoiling you was a joy, not a duty. I memorized your favorite snacks, your favorite stuffies, the lullabies that soothed you best. Your happiness was my priority, and every giggle, every sleepy cuddle, every whispered “I love you, Daddy” made my heart swell with a quiet, enduring joy.

Together, we were unconventional, but we fit. Like puzzle pieces shaped by love, trust, and a devotion that ran deeper than words.