his little rabbit

19 - she/her

[littlemissrabbitt]

Welcome to my Page!

|| mostly NSFW content

|| requests : open!

|| incest creepazoids dni

|| only really write fem! reader

anons : 🦌 , 🎱 , 🐺

tags ;

opening your letters ; inbox responses

rabbit’s fantasies ; my writing

rabbit’s thoughts ; random thoughts/will prob be deleted

my sweet [emoji] ; anons

[littlemissrabbitt]

adding a list of characters i’m willing to write for on my pinned post.. keep your eyes peeled, sweets

[littlemissrabbitt]

Tim & Brian p links

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𐙚 | this post is straight porn!

| you have to be logged in on twt for these to work

Tim Wright

He’s such a sucker for stockings - ୨ৎ

Winding down in a motel room after a long drive - ୨ৎ

The perks of living in the middle of nowhere - ୨ৎ

Dryhumping when he’s too tired - ୨ৎ

Brian Thomas

Fucking his passenger princess - ୨ৎ

Riding him on your couch after a long day - ୨ৎ

making out with your pussy - ୨ৎ

Riding his thigh - ୨ৎ

Both

You love sucking them both off - ୨ৎ

Double penetration with the boys - ୨ৎ

[littlemissrabbitt]

thinking of making more plink posts… what are we thinking? Brian? Evan? Maybe even Tim??

[littlemissrabbitt]

Why aren’t you holding my hand?

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𐙚 | including ; evan & habit

| toby, brian, tim ver. -> ୨ৎ

| lmk other creeps you’d like me to add!

You’d agreed to come along on a camping trip with the boys, though you mostly sat around and looked pretty while Evan loaded everything up. Even when you both arrived at the camping grounds, he refused to let you carry a thing. Heavy-loaded backpacks on one arm, two folded chairs under the other, and you walking right behind him. Despite his obviously occupied hands, you held yours out. “Can you hold my hand?" Evan stopped, looking back at you with a raised brow. Despite his confusion, he wasted no time shifting the foldable chairs under his already-burdened arm of bags, intertwining your fingers and continuing his way.

HABIT had just finished his “hunt” for dinner, a body hauled over his shoulder as he guided you back to the car to head home for the night. But of course, you had to be difficult, arms crossed over your chest as you stopped dead in your tracks and glared at him. He was quick to notice you weren’t following, halting only a few steps ahead and furrowing his brows right back at you. Then you sassily grumbled, “Why aren’t you holding my hand?” His expression dropped into a deadpanned stare. “You gotta be fucking joking,” HABIT grumbled. Still, with a scoff, he shifted the dead weight just right to secure him with one arm, before reaching out, grabbing your wrist, and tugging you along behind him.

[littlemissrabbitt]

Why aren’t you holding my hand?

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𐙚 | toby, brian, tim ver.

| evan & habit ver. -> ୨ৎ

| lmk other creeps you’d like me to add!

Toby usually tries his absolute best to keep you as far away from "work" as possible. But since he was already heading that route, he may as well stop by to drop off a body for Jack— He figured he’d multitask. So there he was, standing right in front of you during a quick stop, casually hauling a body bag in his arms. Out of nowhere, you blurted out, "Why aren't you holding my hand?" He stopped. Staring at you, he blinked once, twice, utterly bewildered. I mean, for Christ’s sake, he was holding a corpse. Still, seeing the deadpan seriousness on your face, he let out a soft, defeated sigh. Shifting the heavy body bag awkwardly up and over his shoulder with a thud before he held out his remaining free hand for you to take.

Of course, dragging Brian along on your thrift shopping sprees was a must. You had an absolute weakness for the vintage furniture crammed into those dusty aisles, and you almost never left empty-handed. As usual, you’d just locked eyes with a gorgeous, heavy-framed full-length mirror that you swore would look perfect in the cabin. So there went Brian, meticulously balancing the massive glass pane out the shop doors, his knuckles white with the sheer concentration of not letting it slip and possibly dropping it. Just as you stepped out into the parking lot together, you looked over at him and casually muttered, "Hold my hand?" There was no pause. No witty comeback, not even a glance back to check if you were serious. Without missing a beat, he simply extended a single, stiff pinky finger out from the edge of the frame for you to grab.

Tim has always been the kind of man who insists on taking care of you, making damn sure you never have to lift a finger. Even if it’s just hauling your ridiculous amount of luggage from the car to the hotel room—bags you definitely did not need, but packed anyway—he refuses to let you touch a single strap. So there he was, trudging up the concrete motel stairs, both hands full of at least four overstuffed bags. You cleared your throat, stopping dead in your tracks, and held your hand right out. "Hello? Why aren't you holding my hand?" He stopped, just staring back at you. Surely you had to be joking. But when he saw the completely serious, expectant look on your face, a heavy sigh huffed in his chest as he awkwardly shimmied and hitched the pile of luggage onto one strained shoulder, freeing up his other hand just enough to gently—and begrudgingly—take yours.

[littlemissrabbitt]

i’m thinking of writing something with borderline obsessive reader..

the creeps stalk and watch the reader, initially believing them to be just another fascinating obsession. Eventually, they manage to slither their way into the reader's life and start a relationship. they quickly realize they’re in fact NOT “normal” with their bizarre, maybe a bit unsettling to some, habits—like standing over them in the middle of the night just watching them sleep, simply giggling and shrugging it off when they get questioned about it. they even turn the tables by secretly stalking the creeps right back.

ughhh i need more crazy partners for the creeps

[littlemissrabbitt]

i love being a chud and laying around all day. i deadass just sit around, write to my heart’s content, scratch my ass and online shop. what an extravagant life i live..

[littlemissrabbitt]

Unplanned surprises.

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𐙚 | i’ve been dying for dad! toby reqs!!?!??!

| the req -> ୨ৎ

| atp my whole page is gonna be full of

| dad! aus for the creeps..

| tysm for the love <3 i appreciate you all

This wasn’t exactly planned. You’d both eloped and had a mini honeymoon— Well, if taking a week-long road trip down to a secluded cabin with a lake beside it was even really considered a honeymoon— But either way, you were both careless.

It was a cycle of wake up, eat breakfast, fuck, maybe swim out in the lake, eat lunch, shower and have sex again right before bed— And the sex wasn’t issue.. It was the lack of protection.

And now you’re both back home, you’ve been nauseous and just feeling sick all over. You couldn’t stand the smell of certain foods, there was no morning you didn’t wake up immediately hurling. You hadn’t thought much of it until you mentioned it to a friend and they gave a teasing; “You sure you’re not pregnant?” Usually you would’ve laughed.. If you knew you were being safe and knew there was no way for it to be possible.

The next day, you purchased a few pregnancy tests while Toby was out for work, prepping all of them before letting them sit on the bathroom counter. You tried to forget about them, maybe occupy yourself to let them develop.. Then you caught a glimpse of the more than prominent plus signs fading in.

Your chest tightened, and a knot twisted so hard in your stomach it made you feel sick all over again—though this time, it had nothing to do with the hormones. What was Toby going to say? You knew how fragile his mental state could be. Between his constant tics, the chronic pain he lived with, and the chaotic, violent nature of his life with the Slender Man, a child was the absolute last thing either of you had planned for.. Would he panic? Would he hate you? Would he look at you and see a burden he couldn't carry?

Your thoughts came to a halt when hearing the front door open before clicking shut. Heavy, familiar footfalls echoed in the entryway, accompanied by the distinct sound of his hatchet sliding off his belt and hitting the side table. “I'm home," Toby called out, his voice a little raspy. A sharp tick jerked his head to the side as he stepped down the hall.

You swallowed hard, grabbing the positive tests off the counter and concealing them behind your back like a guilty child. You stepped out of the bathroom just as he rounded the corner, peeling off his belt. “Hey," you managed, your voice sounding entirely too tense.

Toby stopped dead in his tracks, his amber eyes narrowing slightly as he looked you over. It was hard to miss the pale tint of your skin, the tension locked in your shoulders, and the way you were hiding your hands. He instantly grew tense as well, a wave of tics from his own nerves causing his shoulder to hitch upward. "What's wrong?" he asked immediately, taking a quick step toward you. "Are you hurt? You feelin’ alright?—"

"No," you blurted out, your heart hammering against your ribs. “I mean, yes, I’m fine I just—“ You took a shaky breath, deciding there was no gentle way to rip off the bandage. You pulled your hands out from behind your back and held out the plastic sticks, your eyes squeezed shut in anticipation of his possible reaction. "I'm... I'm pregnant, Toby."

There was an awkward moment of silence.

When you finally opened your eyes, Toby was staring at the small plastic sticks resting in your palm. His entire body had frozen. The nervous, jerky tics that usually defined his movements had completely vanished, replaced by a rigid, purely shocked stillness.

"Toby?" you whispered, your voice cracking. "Say something... please." Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Toby looked up from the tests and met your gaze. The tension in his posture didn't spell anger—it spelled utter terror. But beneath the wide, frantic look in his eyes, something else was blooming. A breathless, blinding disbelief.

"A... a baby?" he stammered, his voice cracking on the syllables. He brought a trembling, gloved hand up to the back of his neck, scratching furiously at his skin—a nervous habit he only ever did when he was overwhelmed. "You're... you're serious? This isn't a joke?" "I wouldn't joke about this," you said, your lower lip trembling. "I know it's crazy. I know we weren't ready, and if you—if you don't want this, or if it's too much—"

"Hey. Stop. Look at me."

Toby closed the distance between you in a heartbeat. He took the tests out of your hand and set them aside to cup your face in his hands with a tenderness only Toby could provide. His fingers trembled against your cheeks, but a massive, breathless grin was rapidly breaking across his face—stretching from ear to ear, wild and completely uncontained.

"Toby?" you breathed, stunned by the shift. "I'm not mad," he choked out, a manic, breathless laugh escaping his throat, followed immediately by a sharp twitch of his jaw. "I mean, holy shit. I'm... I'm going to be a dad?", "You're... you're not upset?", "Upset?" Toby let out another breathless laugh, pulling you flush against his chest so hard you was practically squeezing you. His arms wrapped around your waist like a steel vice, burying his face in the crook of your neck. "Are you kidding me? I've been terrified out of my mind since you started getting sick, thinking you were getting sick or something, and you're—fuck."

He pulled back just enough to look at you again, his eyes shining with a pure awe that made your heart melt. "I'm terrified," Toby admitted, his voice dropping to a raw, honest whisper as another nervous tick jerked his head. "I'm so damn nervous I feel like I'm going to throw up more than you do. I'm broken, and my life is a mess, and... and what if I mess them up? What if I'm not good enough?"

He rested his forehead gently against yours, his breath hitching. "But I want this," he whispered fiercely, his hands sliding down to wrap protectively around your stomach. "I want it more than anything. It's... it's us. A little piece of us. We're going to have a family." With that, the remaining fear in your chest melted away, replaced by an overwhelming wave of relief. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in close as a tear slipped down your cheek. "Yeah," you whispered against his lips, finally letting yourself smile. "We are."

[littlemissrabbitt]

i absolutely love ur dad related stuff 😭😭

im not sure if u have written this before but could u do something with tim, brian, or toby finding out that the reader is pregnant ? ^__^

i love ur brian & tim dad drabbles where they're both in a relationship with the reader so u could write them together if you'd like <33

DAD! TOBY REQ I CHEERED..

Here you are my sweets -> ୨ৎ

[littlemissrabbitt]

Dress Up w Dad! Brim

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𐙚 | more dad! brim cuz i’m hungry for fluff

| we all know they can’t say no to their

| sweet little girl.. even if she’s a bit sassy.

You’d only been out for an hour or two. With the cabin so secluded, it was usually best to do grocery runs on your own to prevent your toddler, Maxine, from getting fussy on the long drive to and from town, and to give Brian and Tim a well-deserved break on one of their only days off.

You’d just brought in the last of the groceries, instantly confused by the unnatural silence hanging over the house. Surely they were out in the backyard enjoying the afternoon air? You walked to the kitchen window overlooking the back deck, only to find it completely empty. A knot of unease tightened in your chest, and you walked deeper into the house until you reached Maxine’s bedroom.

The moment you swung the door open, you had to bite your lip to stifle a loud laugh. In the room were both of your husbands, looking entirely defeated yet completely compliant, perched on two tiny toddler-sized chairs. An open eyeshadow palette and a scattering of vibrant lipsticks lay on the floor between them. But that wasn’t even the best part—it was the sparkly tiaras and fluffy pink and purple feathery boas Max had draped over their broad shoulders. She’d managed to make Brian and Tim look like a couple of (very grumpy) princesses.

Maxine, focused with the fierce intensity of a surgeon, was currently busy painting Tim’s fingernails a bright, neon pink. She didn’t even look up as the door creaked wider. “Dada, you have to stop moving," Maxine grumbled, her tone dripping with the highest degree of dramatic exasperation. "I’m trying to make you pretty." Tim sighed, holding his large hand out with ridiculous care. "I’m trying to stay as still as possible, sweetheart."

"Obviously not if the queen isn’t pleased," Brian muttered from his own tiny chair, trying to adjust the plastic tiara slipping down his forehead without disturbing the boa. "And ya know, I think it’s a bit unfair you gave dada more glitter than me, kiddo."

Maxine dropped Tim’s hand with a dramatic huff, crossing her small arms over her chest and glaring up at Brian with fierce, unapologetic sass. "No, daddy, I put it just right!." Brian held up his hands in immediate surrender, hiding a grin. "Alright, alright, my apologies, your majesty." Before Maxine could deliver another sharp retort, she caught sight of you standing in the doorway.

The fierce, tiny tyrant vanished in a microsecond. Her face lit up with a brilliant, angelic smile, and her eyes widened in pure, innocent delight. “Mama!" Maxine gasped, dropping the nail polish bottle and scrambling off her little stool with a flurry of pink feathers. She sprinted across the room, wrapping her small arms tightly around your legs and looking up at you with the most angelic, wide-eyed innocence imaginable as if she hadn’t been sassing off her dads just a few seconds ago.

"You're back! We missed you so much! I was making dada and daddy pretty!" Behind her, both Brian and Tim stared at the sudden transformation in sheer, dumbfounded disbelief before Tim let out a loud, wheezing snort of laughter. “Pretty? Baby, these clip on earrings are pinching.” Only to get a smug grin from Brian. “Beauty is pain.”

[littlemissrabbitt]

Evan and reader with Last Kiss by Pearl Jam — specifically the part that goes “Oh, where, oh, where could my baby be? The lord took her away from me.”

“The lord” being HABIT.. Guys this is great Evan x reader angst material please hear me out..

[littlemissrabbitt]

First bun in the oven.

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𐙚 | dad! brian & tim have entered the chat.

| this is my apology for my last post.

| i need some dad! bri & tim reqs now…

The history was odd, and you knew that well. It was strange enough that you had two partners, but the fact they had orchestrated the entire relationship months before even approaching you? The subtle run-ins at the local bookstore, the coordinated coffee orders, the way they practically maneuvered you into their shared lives before you even realized what was happening. No matter how peculiar it all was, you still loved Tim and Brian dearly. You couldn’t imagine a life without them.

You didn’t care for the odd, lingering looks you got at diners or shops when holding both their hands, nor did you care for the judgmental comments from friends and family who couldn’t wrap their heads around the dynamic. Nothing could tear the three of you apart. So, after a year and a half of a devoted and slightly unconventional relationship, you eloped in a quiet ceremony out in the woods.

The topic of children came up just a few months after your wedding. You’d cooked up a rich, filling dinner—slowly buttered them both up with their favorite dishes—before finally dropping the baby bomb over freshly baked desserts.

While Brian was on board and smiling before you could even finish your sentence, Tim was far more hesitant. With the way they were living? Money and housing weren't an issue at all; your shared cabin was spacious and secluded, with plenty of room to spare for nurseries and such. But their jobs? It was already bad enough that you were intimately aware of the chaos, stress, and lingering danger tied to their work with the Operator. The absolute last thing they wanted was an innocent child exposed to any of it.

Still, after weeks of conviction and reassurance that your family would be safe, Tim finally relented, and you all got to planning. From tracking your cycles and deciding who’d be the first to knock you up (which they eventually agreed would be Brian), to clearing out a spare room full of old junk, everything was meticulously organized. They even ended up bribing their coworker, Jack, with a few fresh corpses for lunch to act as your unofficial personal doctor. Within just a month, you were successfully pregnant with your first child.

If you weren’t already spoiled before, you certainly were now. There was nothing you wanted that you weren't given on the spot. Late-night cravings were immediately tracked down and bought when demanded. Did you casually mention you didn’t like the shade of white on the nursery walls? By the time you woke up the next morning, they were already scouring hardware stores for better paint swatches.

However, with that endless pampering came an equally endless amount of hovering. Both Brian and Tim treated you like you were made of porcelain. Every time they left for a shift—whether it was dealing with messy business out in the woods or managing mundane tasks for the Operator—they left you with a strict, exhaustive list of rules: Rest, stay off your feet, don't lift anything heavier than a plate, and for the love of God, do not attempt to handle any heavy manual labor around the house.

You, of course, had entirely different plans.

Being stuck resting all day drove you stir-crazy. With Brian and Tim both out of the house for a twelve-hour stretch, you decided today was the day the nursery finally started coming together. The room was already painted and cleaned, all you needed to do was put furniture together and set them up.

With stubborn determination, you rolled up your sleeves. For the next three hours, you hammered, drilled and pushed things into place. You were just pushing the finally built crib into place against a wall when the front door clicked open, followed by the heavy, familiar thud of boots in the hallway. “We're back," Brian’s voice echoed through the cabin, sounding exhausted. "Christ, what a nightmare of a day—" His voice abruptly cut off when noticing you weren’t in your usual spot on the couch. Footsteps hurried down the hall, and a second later, both Brian and Tim appeared in the doorway of the nursery.

The moment they took in the scene—the built furniture, the heavy boxes scattered everywhere, and you, flushed and standing in your overalls and relaxed tee, giving a sheepish smile—Tim ran a hand through his hair, letting out a sharp, incredulous breath. "Are you out of your absolute, goddamn mind, woman?" Brian was moving before Tim even finished the sentence, dropping his jacket to the floor and rushing across the room to gently, yet firmly, pry your hands away from the crib guide you backward away from the heavy boxes.

"What were you thinking?" Brian demanded, his voice tight, laced with a terrifying blend of adrenaline and deep anxiety. He gripped your shoulders, his eyes scanning you up and down. "We told you explicitly not to touch any of this.” He tsked. "I was just trying to help," you protested defensively, trying to shrug off his hands. "The room's been sitting like this for a week—“

"And we were gonna get to it, sugar," Tim groaned, stepping closer, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked around the room before turning to face you. "You could have hurt yourself. You could have hurt the baby! What part of stay off your feet is so difficult for you to comprehend?" “I'm pregnant, Tim, not out of commission," you shot back, crossing your arms as well, though your baby bump and noticeably softer features didn’t make you look too intimidating.

Brian let out a long sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose as the anxiety drained out of him, replaced entirely by helpless exhaustion. He reached out again, gently pulling you against his chest and pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Thank you for the help, doll, but you seriously can’t be overworking yourself," Brian murmured softly against your hair, his voice laced with quiet scolding and deep affection. Tim sighed, stepping in to wrap his arms around the both of you, burying his face in your shoulder. "He's right. Now, please sit your pretty, stubborn ass down on the couch and we’ll finish this up.”

[littlemissrabbitt]

i have an idea but we all have to be VERY open minded..

Tim and Brian being your sweet husbands who take turns knocking you up. you have two beautiful daughter from each one.

i love poly Brian and Tim x reader and desperately need some big daddy Brian and Tim content

edit : i wrote it -> 🐇

[littlemissrabbitt]

It ain’t me, babe.

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𐙚 | inspired by this angsty post-habit! evan tt.

| i hope this makes sense.. it’s mostly word vomit

| sorry in advance.

You thought it’d be peaceful with that HABIT thing gone. You used to pray for times like this, for everything to go back to normal, to finally breathe easy in a house that didn't feel like some sort of maze.

How long had it been anyway? A few weeks? Months? You lost track of any sense of time. All you knew was that there was no trace of that entity left inside of Evan. Maybe it’d finally gotten bored of the torment? Maybe it moved on to greener, more agonizing pastures. Maybe. But when it left, it took part of Evan with it.

He was too tired to even roll out of bed most days and even when he did, he’d only really lay around on the couch. Migraines were often, he’d be lucky to even stomach one meal. Days outside were rare. The sun was bothersome, moving around made his joints hurt. No matter how much he tried to better himself he always ended up laying in your arms just trying to ease the discomfort in his body.

The struggle to sleep didn’t help his case either. His body aching too much to even find a comfortable position to lay in— And the few times he managed to doze off were interrupted by nightmares. Constantly bolting up from his sleep, tears streaking down his face and struggling to regulate his breathing. At that point, you started to lose sleep as well. You spent most nights just watching over him. Watching his breathing patterns, stroking his hair to ease him when he starts to toss and turn.

“Why are you still here?”

The question came abrupt. You laid with with your head against the armrest of the couch with Evan on top with his head on your chest. You furrowed your brows. “What do you mean?” You mumbled as you tilted your head down to look at him properly.

He barely twisted himself, propping his chin against your chest. “I mean why are you still wasting your time here?” His voice was barely a rasp, stripped of any warmth by exhaustion. Those hollow eyes searched your face, looking for a sign of frustration, of a breaking point that he was sure had to be coming.

You didn't look away. Instead, you shifted your arm so your hand could cup the back of his head, your fingers immediately falling back into that familiar, steady rhythm of running through his hair. “It’s not a waste, Evan,” you said, your voice soft but laced with absolute certainty.

He tried to pull back, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Look at me. I can’t even—I can't even stand for five minutes without shaking. You're losing sleep. You're missing out on everything because you're stuck here babysitting a corpse.”

“You are not a corpse,” you interrupted gently, your thumb brushing across his cheekbone, catching a stray tear he hadn't meant to let fall. “Do you really think I’d just pack up and leave after all we went through together?”

Evan swallowed hard, his throat tight. “I just don’t want you to watch me rot away like this.” “Shh,” you whispered, leaning down just enough to rest your forehead gently against his. “Just let me take care of you, Ev.”

For a long moment, the only sound in the quiet room was the ragged hitch of his breath. A ragged sob broke from his chest, and he buried his face tightly against your neck, his arms coming up to wrap weakly around your waist, pulling you as close as humanly possible. You just held him tighter, letting him shake, whispering reassurance into his hair until the tremors slowly began to fade away.

[littlemissrabbitt]

When HABIT starts saying sum abt “you’re in my house, take a seat.” so I lowk just sit in his lap. 😂 😂😂💦🤤

[littlemissrabbitt]

Haiiiii..

Would u consider doing a happy weight fic with Toby maybe? I’d be utterly delighted 🥹🥹🥹🥹💗💗💗

Happy Weight [Toby Ver.]

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𐙚 | evan’s version -> ୨ৎ

| brian’s version -> ୨ৎ

| i need more toby requests asap.

| got to writing as soon as i saw this

| i’m drooling just at the thought of him

Toby was quite lean when you two first met. Borderline scrawny, even. He didn’t care for ‘healthy diets’, mostly living off of granola or protein bars since he was far too occupied with missions.

But then he started to crash at your place. God, you cooked like some sort of five-star chef. Perfectly seared steaks with steamed veggies and fresh mashed potatoes. And breakfast was just as good—homemade pancakes with fried bacon, toast from bread you baked yourself with preserves you bought at farmers markets. You even took the time to pack him perfectly portioned and filling lunches.

It was really no surprise when he started to put on a few pounds. His tummy grew softer and his shoulders and biceps broadened just right due to swinging his hatchets around so often. His workouts plus his obviously improved diet were working wonders.

Yet, despite how incredible he looked, Toby wasn't quite used to the changes.

He’d just gotten back to your place, the usual routine; He’d get there, eat whatever blessing dinner youd cooked then go ready for bed. He stripped off his blood-stained hoodie in your bedroom, catching his reflection in the mirror from the corner of his eye. He paused, a gloved hand instantly dropping to cup his newly rounded stomach, his shoulders hitching in a nervous twitch. He’d noticed he was growing plumper, the tighter shirts and the jeans he used to wear every other day no longer able to button so you opted to buy him some new pairs instead. But now looking at himself? He almost grimaced,

"Hey..." he mumbled, his voice dropping an octave as he tried to subtly suck it in, though the soft, warm curve remained. "I... uh, I think your cooking might be going straight to my waist, doll. Look at this." He poked at his midsection, a faint pink dusting the tips of his ears. "I'm getting kind of... soft."

You couldn't help the fond smile that spread across your face. Setting your book aside, you stood up and padded across the room, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. You pressed your cheek right against his broad, newly thickened back, feeling the solid muscle beneath the layer of comfortable softness.

"Soft is incredible, Toby," you murmured against his skin, pressing a lingering kiss right over his shoulder blade. You slid your hands around to rest flat against his stomach, letting your fingers trace the gentle curve he was suddenly so self-conscious about. "You feel amazing. I love every single bit of this."

Toby let out a shaky breath, his shoulders finally dropping as the tension bled out of him. He covered your hands with his own, his thumb rubbing soothingly over your knuckles. “You really mean that?" he whispered, his usual bravado completely melted away, leaving only that sweet, and timid vulnerability he only ever showed you. "You don't think I'm... losing my edge?"

"Not a chance," you teased softly, pressing another kiss to his back before mischievously sliding your hands down his torso before stopping just over the waistline of his boxers. "You're stronger than ever, and you look delicious. Now stop worrying and let me appreciate what I helped build." You cooed with nudging his boxers down. A genuine, lopsided smile broke through his features, the last of his hesitation vanishing when you wrapped your hand around the base of his dick.