sunny 🌞

A little blog I use to write. I'm very new so helpful tips are appreciated! My inbox is open, so please send me some requests or just stop by to chat :) I only have so many ideas in my brain so some requests would be very appreciated!

ABOUT ME: | 24 | I love my cats | new to writing | tree hugger (if u couldn't tell by the name) | MDNI | more to come...

Steve Harrington - after years of hearing stories (and even having a few of your own) of men treating women like shit, especially when it comes to physical intimacy, you’ve come to believe that sex can’t be something beautiful. steve teaches you that it can be.

Travis “Teacake” Meacham - usually, you let your boyfriend do the talking, but now he’s determined to get you to speak your mind and tell him exactly how you feel when he licks like this or kisses like that.

Boyfriend!Teacake is always naked. when he walks around the house, he’s wearing nothing more than his boxers and maybe a pair of socks. in fact, he’s naked so much that eventually you start walking around the house with less and less on. first, it was the bra, then the shorts, a few weeks later you were walking around in nothing more than a comfy pair of panties or travis’ boxers as if they were your own. he doesn’t think it’s weird or sexual, just natural.

Boyfriend!Teacake who convinces you to start tanning naked because “you’re telling me you’ve never felt the sun on your nipples?!”

Boyfriend!Teacake who went through a phase where he only drank smoothies for like 2 months. you’d wake up to the sound of the blender whirling just about everyday, and days when you were awake while he was making his smoothie, you would giggles as you watched him try and create something new.

“why can’t you just have the same smoothie twice?”

“not how i roll, darlin’” he’d tease, pouring an obnoxious amount of honey in the cup. “i like to be adventurous, live on the wild side.”

“real wild,” you’d comment, reading the label on the honey once he finally set it down.

“okay, plug your ears. it’s almost as grating as my incessant talking.”

Boyfriend!Teacake who revels each time you tell him that his “incessant talking” is in fact not “grating” and is actually quite adorable. the poor guy has spent his entire life being told how annoying his tendency to ramble is, but you absolutely love it. he’s just so cute when the words can’t stop spilling out, and not to mention how sexy it can be when he’s supposed to be kissing you or eating you out, but he just can’t stop telling you how pretty you are or how yummy you taste!

My first Walter “Keys” McKey piece :)

lowkey not proofread

Masterlist

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After a year of dating Keys, you’d come to learn that if he was getting home late, you’d be the last to know about it.

That’s why at 11:00pm you’re upset about cookies, and not the absence of your favorite person. Although, Keys would make things a whole lot better.

A Travis “Teacake” Meacham blurb

Masterlist

********************************************

“Travis..”

“That’s right, baby. Man, you’re fucking beautiful. Fuck, I love you,” he rambled against your quickly dampening skin as his lips traced from your collarbone to the underside of your jaw.

Travis was lying on top of you, his tall and heavy body covering yours. He was always warm, but in heated moments like these, his skin was lava against yours — and you loved it. His right hand was tracing up and down your sides, under your shirt, over your shirt, gripping your hip or thigh, anything to feel you, while his left hand cradled your face.

You were under him on your back, happily taking everything he was offering. Your hips met his when the friction in his pants was too much to leave alone, and your hands held tightly onto him, one digging into his shoulder and the other tangled in the dark roots of his hair. He mouthed at your skin, his nose tickling you in a way that made you shiver in pleasure.

As his hand started to lift your shirt higher and higher, you shot one hand up to reach for the lamp, just like you always did. However, before your fingers could find the switch, Travis took his big hand off your face and grabbed onto your wrist. With just enough pressure to make you swoon, he lowered your hand and pressed it into the mattress by your head.

“Not tonight,” he rasped against your lips, his warm tongue tracing over your lips. “Wanna see you.”

Feeling your body heat up, you squirmed under him. It wasn’t like this was the first time he asked to leave the light on, but it was the first time you wanted to. You wanted him to see you as you truly were, breathless and flushed and real. You wanted more than to just feel his hands on you, you wanted to see them — see how the bones and veins shifted when he pinched or squeezed or rubbed.

“Travis,” you gasped into his mouth as he ground his hips into yours. Finally, he pulled back just enough to look at you clearly.

“I wanna see you,” he repeated, his voice much softer than before. “I dunno why you never let me see your body. You’re so sexy, I just wanna watch you, ya know?”

“I just…” you started, but his gentle gaze was much too flustering, so you stopped and adverted your gaze.

“You just what, cookie?” He asked, brushing your hair behind your ear as you laughed at the ridiculous name. He didn’t say anything until you were ready, he only smiled at your laugh.

“I’m not…perfect, you know?”

“No, I don’t know.” He replied very seriously.

You sighed in mild annoyance, squirming under his gaze once more. “They’re not exactly twins, Trav,” you vaguely explained with a slight frustration.

“Who?”

“My boobs!”

Your exasperation made him laugh uninhibitedly as he smiled down at you, “What?!”

“They don’t match! And frankly, they don’t look good,” you explained, upset. Upset that you had to explain, upset that he was laughing, upset that your boobs were far from perfect.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he chuckled under his breath as he went to push your shirt up once again.

“Travis, stop,” you whined, though he was making it hard to stay mad at him.

“Okay, okay,” he backed off, lifting his hand from beneath your shirt and taking a good look at you before coming to a devastating realization. “You’re not being serious, are you?”

“Yes, I’m being serious!” You huffed, about ready to roll over and go to sleep to put this whole conversation in the past.

“What are you talking about? You are gorgeous, every part of you. And trust me, I know what gorgeous looks like, and believe it or not, it look just. like. you,” he rambled.

“Now, tell me exactly what you think is un-perfect about you.”

“Un-perfect?” You deflected.

“You know what I mean, now tell me so I can prove you wrong.”

With a heavy sigh, you began to explain to your boyfriend the grievances you had with your boobs. How one was bigger than the other, this, that, and the other. Travis listened, but truthfully it went in one ear and out the other. Because to him, there wasn’t a single thing wrong with any part of your appearance.

“Honey?” He asked once you finished your rant.

“Hm?”

“I think…you should let me prove how much I love your boobs,” he sweetly whispered, as if the implication of his words weren’t heavy with love covered lust.

So with the soft, yellowish glow of the bedside lamp, you spent the night letting Travis lick, nip, kiss, and suck on you. And by the end of the night, you had decided that the lights were never going out again.

********************************************

it all started because he thought you were cute. that’s it. he saw you doing your thing, in your element, and thought “cute.” and since he’s shameless, he slid right up to you and flirted with you until your face was pink and hot and you could barely look him in the eyes. he only found you that much cuter. you agreed to let him buy you dinner sometime.

at said dinner, he learned how gentle and patient you are. he noticed how easily being kind came to you, and he couldn’t help but feel…strange.

it wasn’t bad, not at all! but looking at you on the street, crouching down and petting a stray cat with the biggest smile on your face, he realized just how much of this softness he’d been missing — how much of this softness he’d never been shown.

“it probably has fleas or something, get up, babydoll,” gator mumbled, a hand on your shoulder from where you bent down giving the kitty some love.

“so what? i can wash my hands,” you replied, voice cool and even and undeniably soft as the car nuzzled its face into your hand. you giggled, and gator caught himself smiling so hard that he had to physically pull back.

“you okay?”

“just fine.”

“gator, do you need water?” you asked tentatively. you had known him for long, but you had a pretty good read on him. a “tough guy” who really just wanted to be loved.

“you have water?”

“no, but i can go in and get some for you. there’s a restaurant right down the street,” you explained, one hand coming up to rest on his shoulder.

he must’ve looked ridiculous, standing there bewildered because someone was offering to take care of him. he didn’t have to ask, or beg, or prove himself to be treated so sweetly by you.

he knew right then and there that he never wanted that feeling to go away. he never wanted you to go away.

that’s why your first fight was so hard on him. as much as he wanted your affection, he just couldn’t bring himself to accept it.

so, he pushed you away and closed his heart off. he stopped following you around, stopped reaching out, thought that distance would help the ache in his heart that broke down his lifelong walls every time you did something for him.

something like bake him his favorite cookies, or order him the fruity drink you knew he liked but was too embarrassed to order himself. when you tried to hold his hand after seeing him get riled up by some guys on the street who had been looking at you a little too closely, or cuddling him on the couch. he wasn’t used to it. he didn’t know what to do with it. all he knew was that he wanted more but he was scared.

scared because every time a woman made him feel safe or loved, she left. linda, nadine. gator thought he was the reason everyone left. it never once crossed his mind that it wasn’t him— it was his father.

his father who he so desperately wanted to simultaneously be nothing like and a carbon copy of. his father, who he did everything in his power to keep you form meeting, his father who was the reason that he sobbed in your lap after 1 year and 3 months of dating, his father who made him believe that after all that, he still wasn't worthy of being loved.

but each time gator pulled away, you reeled him right back in. you knew it wasn't personal - that gator was a complicated, messy, and torn man, but you also knew how he was when it was just you two, no one else around.

how he snuggled up behind you in bed or at the stove while you were cooking. how soft and gentle his voice got, his brown eyes turning into honey when he tilted his head down to look at you, how he completely melted at the mere sight of you.

your soft sided gator who sleepily confessed to wanting to marry you when he came home from his graveyard shift at 6:00 am, exhausted and almost unable to undress himself enough to get into bed.

your gator who picked out outfits and matching shoes and offered his cheek for you to blot off your extra lipstick.

husband!steve who is such a good father, but never mentions when he’s up with a kid early in the morning, causing you to walk out into the living room, wanting some action with your boobs spilling out of your tank top, only to walk in on steve playing on the floor with your toddler. you gasp in complete embarrassment as he chuckles, both of you thanking god a thousand times over that your little one wasn’t facing your direction. when nap time comes around, however…

husband!steve who has magical fingers, especially when it comes to massaging you. he can easily navigate his fingertips to the tension and knots of your back and neck, pressing and rubbing them until your shoulders drop and you sigh a relaxed breath. he knows the perfect pressure, too — not too hard, but riding the line.

husband!steve who saves the last of everything for you. the last piece of cake? yours. the last two piece of bread? oh, those are for your sandwich. the last tomato? avacado? banana? apple? bag of chips? pop tart? all yours.

“Come on, I don’t want credit, I’m just bored. And you’ve got a girl to go apologize to, so this works for everyone,” Robin half pleaded, half explained to a very hesitant and confused Steve. Dustin whipped his head to face Steve at Robin’s comment, and Steve looked entirely defeated.

“Who’s gonna serve the customers?” Steve shot back.

“Really? That’s what you’re worried about?” Robin asked, her hand outstretched for the tape and her face completely unamused.

“Y-yeah…?” Steve responded, unsure of what to do.

“What girl?” Dustin piped in.

“Your si—“