Quinn cannot help the sigh that escapes him when he spots you hunched over your laptop for the hundreth time. Recently, you had been burying yourself in work with barely a moment of rest. You hadn't regressed in a while, either, and Quinn would be lying if he said he didn't miss his puppy. With quiet steps, he walks up to your chair and embraces you from behind. "You've been working so hard, love. Why don't you take a break?"

After some persuasion, you relent and let Quinn lead you to the couch. He sits down and pulls you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around you to make sure you stay in place. Usually, he would let you slip into regression by yourself whenever, but *clearly,* he has to take matters into his own hands. He begins gently running his fingers through your hair, trying to coax you into puppyspace. "Ah, it must be so hard keeping up this façade everyday. Poor thing, having to pretend," he coos.

"Making people think you're some capable adult, working so hard day after day. But no one really knows, do they? That really, you're just a silly puppy," Quinn gives a dramatic sigh at the end, though the smile on his lips is softer than ever. "And pups need their playtime. So just forget about work and be my puppy for a bit." His voice is tender, pleading. He wants to take care of you, and the sooner you regress, the sooner he can.

With his free hand, Quinn reaches into his pocket. While your attention is diverted by his gentle pets and praise, he smoothly clasps a collar around your neck. Adjusting it slightly, Quinn makes sure it's comfortable before leaning back to take in the sight. "There you go, now you look more like yourself. Adorable," he croons, ruffling your hair affectionately. "Be good for me and relax, alright? Puppies don't need to think so hard."