His Little Cupcake [age regression]

Aftercare

[Word count: 1082 words]

Mallow's POV

I snuggle up into his chest, not caring that I was actually naked from the waist below, and hold on to his shirt, closing my eyes.

"You're sleepy, cutie pie?" he asks and kisses my cheek, rocking me gently in his arms.

"Nuh uh, me no sleepy," I answer, shaking my head and burying my face further into him.

"Of course, little one. Just tell me if it still hurts, and you need something, okay? You did so good, daddy is very proud of you, baby," he praises me and plays with my hair.

"Fank you, daddy, cans me have this?" I ask, pointing to his shirt with a few tear stains.

"You want to wear my shirt, sweetie?" he asks, chuckling and looking down at me curled up in a ball in his arms.

I nod at the question and look at him with curious eyes, pressing my knees further into my chest.

"Words, princess, use your words," he instructs, kissing my cheek.

I nod once again at his question, not knowing how to inform him that I had regressed further. Spankings and aftercare always made me regress more than usual, and it seemed as if he was unaware of this, uh oh.

"Honey, use your words like I earlier told you to," he repeats himself, trying to be patient.

I put my thumb in my mouth and start sucking on it, looking all around the room.

Ethan's POV

She was behaving like a perfect little angel before she stopped speaking and listening to me and just nodded at my questions instead.

I was trying to be patient as she had just gotten a punishment and I did not want my cupcake to go through it again.

It was getting concerning now, though because she nodded again at my question despite me telling her to speak and then just started sucking on her thumb, forgetting she even told me she wanted to wear my shirt.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" I ask, putting my hand behind her head.

She keeps sucking on her thumb without replying and looks around her room. I try to look at her face and study any signs of discomfort, but she seems fine to me.

After minutes of questioning what was happening to her, it finally hit me.

"How old are you, little one? Hold up fingers for daddy," I ask, hoping she would answer and know the count because if not, she would behave like an actual baby. Not that I'm complaining, I'd take care of her no matter what.

She giggles at me in response and reaches for my concerned face, moving her hand all over it and then giggling to herself again.

"Oh, what's so funny about my face, huh?" I question, knowing she would probably not answer.

I was right. Instead of answering, she takes her thumb out of her mouth and lays on my chest again, pointing to her mirror and then other random objects.

It seemed to me as if she was around 12 months old, curious about everything and finally understanding some bits of what I was saying.

"Mik," she manages to say, looking at me.

"Milk? You want some milk, cupcake?" I ask, caressing her cheek.

She nods in response and I carry her to the kitchen, opening the fridge to get some milk. I take out some of it to warm it up for her, still carrying her in my arms, but making sure she stayed away from the sharp objects and the flame.

I start looking for her sippy cup now. I knew she had one because she had used it a few times in front of me, but not knowing where exactly it was there. I keep looking through the cabinets and finally see her blue sippy cup, making a mental note to keep it somewhere I remember now.

As I was busy with looking for the cup, I notice she was busy playing with some knives and laughing at them to herself. My eyes widen as I see the sight, and I instantly grab them from her hand, putting them somewhere out of her reach.

She whines as I take her 'toys' away and keeps looking at them, trying to reach out for them and hop from my arms. I just tighten my grip and walk away from the sight of them.

She starts crying due to not getting what she wants, trying to get away from my grip.

I walk away from the kitchen and go to the living room, knowing there must be some toys there which she would've played with and forgot to clean up earlier.

I see a few lying around here and there and finally pick up a rubber duckie, handing it to her.

She throws it away and keeps crying, reaching down to get on the floor.

I give in and put her on the floor as she crawls on there, making herself busy by playing with some stuffies and cars.

I make sure she was not near anything dangerous and then go back to the kitchen to pour the warm milk in the sippy cup and bring it back to her.

"Here, have the milk, princess," I say, sitting down beside her and handing it to her.

She refuses to take it and keeps playing with the toys.

I pull her in my lap as she whimpers a little due to being separated from her toys.

"You can play all you want after finishing this, sweetie," I inform her, holding her close to me and bringing the bottle near her mouth.

She starts sipping on the milk as I sigh in relief. Soon enough, she was done drinking all of it and rubbing her eyes.

"Sleepy?" I ask, rocking her back and forth in my arms.

She nods again and closes her eyes, relaxing and drifting off to sleep slowly.

After I am sure she was all cozy and asleep, I pick her up and walk upstairs to her room, laying her on the bed gently and pulling the blankets over her little body, making sure she was covered, especially from below her waist as she never bothered to put on her clothes after the punishment.

She instantly turns to her side and snuggles her stuffie, Brownie, which was lying beside her, as always.

I place a soft kiss on the top of her head as she looks absolutely adorable while sleeping and tuck her in securely.