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4.20.02 <3 kitties

[treehugger4leyef]

Welcome to my page!

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...

MASTERLIST

[girlfailurearchivist]

restorative self care

summary: an especially exhausting week of teaching at hawkins middle school has left you frustrated and overwhelmed. luckily, the cute new health teacher you've been seeing is more than willing to help you wind down.

pairing: teacher!steve harrington x teacher!reader

rating: explicit (18+, minors dni)

content warnings/tags: softdom!steve (everybody clapped), established relationship, alcohol consumption, p in v sex, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, slight overstimulation, breast play, aftercare

word count: 4.9k

The first time you ever interacted directly with Steve Harrington was through a passed note, slid to you with practiced finesse along the table at Hawkins Middle School's yearly 'back to school' professional development day. You were in the library, miserable in the balmy August heat, and sitting through hour three of the same school safety procedures lecture you sat through the year prior (and the year before that, and the year before that), when a little triangle of paper made its way in front of you. The hand quickly retracted, and when you glanced over to see its origin, you were met with a TV handsome side profile, bearing an eager little smirk.

I think my classroom is across from yours

I'm new here, show me around sometime?

-Steve

You couldn't help how your cheeks burned at the messy, endearing handwriting, and the way he casually folded his hands on his lap after he passed the note to you. You were newer to town but not to teaching—exactly opposite to Steve, who had hardly stepped foot out of Hawkins, but about to take on a classroom for the first time this year. This conveniently allowed Steve the opportunity to ask you for a tour of the very middle school he attended. He nodded along and hung onto your every word as you guided him around the building, pretending he was seeing the trophy cases and lockers for the very first time.

You were none the wiser about this fact until your fourth date, when he finally confessed to feigning ignorance for any excuse to talk to you. The memory of your eyes widening with surprise, the sweet, melodic laughter that fell from your lips as you covered your face with your hands, embarrassed and flattered all at once, was something he revisited frequently, especially when he needed a little extra something to get through the day.

It was now May, month seven of officially being Steve's girlfriend, and in the thick of every teacher and student's most dreaded time of year: standardized test season. Two weeks of passing out packets, denying sad little faces bathroom breaks while you were desperate for one of your own, unable to even use the test time to grade, as you were expected to fixate on each student working with obsessive attention. Pinching yourself awake every hour as you walked up and down between desks, then almost immediately being lulled to sleep by the soft ticking of the clock, the pencil scribbling, the chill in the room. It was agonizing for all of you, with the finish line in sight and still so much to do.

This particular Friday night was not one of your best. Instead of heading out to dinner with your handsome boyfriend, or a bar with a circle of your best gal pals, you were at home—hunched forward on the sofa with a whole filing cabinet's worth of papers spread on the coffee table in front of you. This was peak crunch time for finishing up the year, and only being allowed to grade at home meant that this was how you spent most nights lately. Some nights Steve joined you, rubbing your back and refilling a glass of water while you worked. The last month of the school year for a health teacher was without a big scary exam, no life-or-death projects to finish, just filling in his final grade form with 'F's and 'P's, mostly 'P's, as his attitude about students was, to put it lightly, forgiving.

Checking the time became an afterthought six essays ago, pushing further and further to the back of your mind with every glance at the daunting stack lying in front of you still ungraded. You were pushing through the exhaustion and frustration as best you could, flicking out your writing hand and flexing the fingers every few minutes to try and stay relaxed. The patience in your feedback was starting to fade—long sentences of constructive criticism waning into scribbled words in the margins. Not your best work and you knew it, but the deadline for final grades was lingering over you like a shadow, taunting you from its penciled-in square on your calendar.

The anxiety of missing that deadline was consuming—so consuming that you miss the first knock on your front door, then the second, then your name called through the door, and the jostle of your spare key entering the lock. The only thing that actually snaps you out of your worried haze is a large, warm hand on your shoulder, squeezing as you finally hear your name.

The sight that greets you when you finally glance up from your essays steals your breath a little—Steve, dressed in his corduroy suit jacket and slacks that perfectly hug his thighs, your favorite green and purple plaid tie, hair swept effortlessly, save for the strand that dangles in rebellion over his forehead, and a bouquet of pretty pink tulips wrapped in brown paper resting in the crook of his arm.

"Steve?" You say, standing to greet him as a little relief washes over your exhaustion at the sight of your wonderful boyfriend. "I-what are you doing here?"

"Are you almost finished?" He sets the flowers down to gesture to the stack of papers on the coffee table. "Our reservation's in twenty minutes, we should probably get going, baby."

"Reservation, what do you-"

Your eyes focus past Steve to the calendar stuck to the wall, where today's date square sits with a little red heart drawn in the middle, right next to 'Date Night w/ Steve at 8' written in your handwriting.

"Shit, we had a date planned tonight," you groan, dropping your face into your hands to hide the tears that start to swell on your waterline. "I'm so, so sorry, Steve. I got home today, and I saw that huge stack of essays, and Thomas M's mom called me today, and she told me I was the worst teacher her son has ever had all because he deservedly got a C on his last quiz, and I had to report this other kid for cheating, and-"

Your frantic, desperate explanation is cut off by the firm press of Steve's lips to your own, his thumbs sweeping loving strokes over your cheekbones. The kiss forces an actual calming breath in through your nose, filling your senses with the warm spice of his cologne, and a little powdery, fruity tinge from his hairspray. The little corduroy ridges of his jacket rest under your hands as they move upward to feel his chest, fingers wrapping slowly around the lapels.

When he finally pulls away, Steve gives you a soft smile before he brings you close again, a hand cupping the back of your head as the other makes firm, warm strokes up and down your back, soothing your tired muscles through the fabric of your sweatshirt.

"Lot on your plate, huh?" He asks, resting his chin on the top of your head.

"So much," you say against his chest, soaking in his warmth. "I'm so sorry, I'm the worst girlfriend ever."

"No, not at all," Steve assures, with a kiss to the top of your head. "You've got a lot to take care of, honey. Grades, and those big tests. Kids are being real shitheads too, like, even the good ones are giving me problems."

You let out a watery laugh, wiping your eyes with the cuffs of your sleeves as you look up at him.

"There she is," he says sweetly, his hand never ceasing its tender pressure between your shoulder blades.

"You're really not mad?"

"Promise," he says. "Now you're gonna promise me something."

You tilt your head a little, eyebrows furrowing at the prospect of what he wants from you.

"You're gonna put those essays away, and you're gonna spend the rest of the night letting me take care of things."

At first, the idea of putting anything in someone else's hands does little to relax you. Teaching means being in control all the time, maintaining the delicate balance of understanding and tough love with students, deciding what concepts to prioritize in lessons, managing unhappy parents and pressure from your principals. You've been in control of so much for so long that handing over the reins at all seems impossible.

"I don't know, Steve," you sigh, leaning back to see him.

"I'm serious, baby," he scolds gently, rubbing his hands up and down your arms. "You spend all day calling the shots, taking care of everybody. I love that you care so much, but your big, beautiful brain is tired. Let me help you relax, yeah?"

He's giving you the softest smile, looking at you without an ounce of judgment or resentment for your mistake tonight. His eyes are warm, gazing down at you with admiration for how deeply you care about doing your best for your kids. It's hard to keep up your resolve, in fact, it melts away entirely as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

"Okay," you say, dropping your shoulders a little as an even bigger smile spreads across Steve's face.

"Thank you," he says, leaning in to give you a quick kiss before taking you by the hand and leading you over to the kitchen.

"Here's what we're gonna do," Steve explains, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over the back of a dining chair. He pulls it out to face the kitchen, and guides you to have a seat.

"I'm going to make us something to eat," he says, reaching into your cabinets for two wine glasses, then over to the top of the fridge for the mostly full bottle of red. After a little more maneuvering around the kitchen for a corkscrew, Steve fills the two glasses with a generous hand, and you take a long sip.

"You're going to sit here, and tell me about your day, and look pretty," he instructs, before leaning in for a last, long kiss to your now wine-stained lips.

After a delicious home-cooked meal, a hearty glass of wine, and the never ending loving gazes from Steve, the worries that were once clinging to every inch of your mind had faded nicely into the background—still there, but more like white noise than the frenzied monologue it was before. Especially quiet now, with your legs thrown over Steve's lap as you cozy up on the sofa, leaned back against the cushions with his hands on you, grounding and warm. One hand keeps your legs up on his lap, only moving to stroke sweetly up and down your thighs through your pajama pants as the other wanders a little more freely, fingers gliding through your hair, squeezing your tense shoulder, knuckles brushing gently at the soft skin of your cheek.

"I'm really sorry about tonight," you say once more, leaning your face into his hand.

"It's all good," he says with a shrug. "I planned on spending some good time with you tonight, and that's what I did. I'm happy."

A smile spreads across your face as you lean a little closer for a kiss that Steve eagerly reciprocates, taking advantage of the closeness to lift you onto his lap, wrapping his free arm firmly around your waist. You let out a gasp that clearly satisfies him, hands pressing a little harder against your thigh and side.

"You still tense, sweetheart?" Steve asks against your lips.

"A little," you answer with a giggle.

"We can't have that," he mumbles, moving his lips from yours to the corner of your mouth, your cheek, and finally onto the pretty curve of your neck. The heat of his lips against the side of your throat pulls a sigh from your lips, head tilting back to give him better access to the sensitive skin.

"You're so beautiful, honey," he says, gently grazing his teeth over your throat before soothing the spot with the gentle flick of the tip of his tongue.

"Feels nice," you sigh, cupping his jaw.

"I'm gonna take care of you, yeah?" Steve affirms between presses of his lips and swipes of his tongue. "Slow that pretty head of yours down."

"Please," you breathe, feeling your pulse flutter under his mouth.

With a final kiss to the little space between your collarbones, Steve eases you off of his lap and helps you stand on wobbly legs. His palm is warm around yours as he takes it, guiding as he did before down the hallway to your bedroom. The hush of the room is broken by the soft 'click' of the door shutting, before Steve comes to stand in front of you again. His hands find your cheeks for what feels like the hundredth time this evening, and he leans in again, pausing right before his lips meet yours.

"You can relax, honey," Steve whispers, before giving your lips a soft kiss. "Lay down for me."

You sigh as your body leans back against the pillows, feeling the tension in your shoulders melt a little the moment they feel softness for the first time all day. Steve loosens and slips off his tie, then unbuttons his shirt, leaving him in his slacks and white tank. His broad, freckled shoulders flex as he lays the discarded shirt and tie over your dresser, shifting the thin fabric of his undershirt across the round curve of his tummy. The first time Steve slept over at your apartment, you caught him in your bathroom mirror as he was brushing his teeth, feeling across the expanse of his abdomen with his hand, eyebrows furrowed like he was dissatisfied. After that, you took advantage of any opportunity you got to shower this part of him with affection—sneaking your hand under his crewnecks when you snuggled on the couch, peppering his tummy with kisses any morning you woke up next to him, even sneaking in more requests to go out for ice cream after dinner for good measure.

Steve sits in front of you, and you smile softly, reaching out for his now bare bicep.

"You're so good to me," you say as he leans forward, propping up on a forearm that he settles next to your head, softly resting his weight on top of you. His free hand cups the side of your head, and his thumb begins to sweep softly across your temple.

"You make everything in my life better," Steve professes. "My beautiful, smart girl. I'm gonna take care of everything, just let yourself feel, baby."

He kisses you again, licking into your mouth tentatively as a hand reaches for the hem of your sweatshirt.

"Arms up for a second, sweetheart," he instructs, leaning back and guiding you to sit up a little with a hand at your waist. Your arms lift to the air, allowing Steve to smoothly pull off your sweatshirt, exposing your torso, the sudden cool air causing your nipples to pebble and grow more visible through your cotton bralette.

"I forgot to put on my date night bra," you confess, feeling your cheeks grow warm.

"You're perfect," Steve assures, laughing a little at your bashfulness as he finally pulls off his undershirt, revealing his hairy chest and the perfect little roll of stomach that extends just past his belt. "It's not staying on for long, anyway."

Steve's fingers slip under the straps to bring them down your shoulders, then slide around your back, making quick work of the hooks. You feel your breasts dip as he eases the fabric away from your chest, his fingers grazing the sides of them as he tosses the bralette to the side.

"That never fuckin' gets old," he grins, warm hands embracing your sides as he leans in for another kiss. His weight comes over you again, gently pressing you into the mattress as he kisses deeper. The hand near your head braces the side of your head as the other explores, teasing around your nipple with soft, deliberate swipes of his thumb. You shudder, hands reaching up and digging into the muscle of his shoulders.

"Grab on, baby, whatever you need," Steve says against your lips before he slides down, mixing small swipes of his tongue and little nips as his mouth makes its way to your breast.

"Steve-" you gasp as his lips move languidly over your nipple.

"I've got you," he assures, reaching for the other breast to tease and softly pinch, working with his mouth to send a deep swell of pleasure down to your core. He licks and teases a little longer until his lips move south, reverently kissing across your stomach just as you love to do to him, until he reaches the waistband of your pajamas. Steve's fingers wrap around the fabric, easing your pants and underwear down your legs with practiced ease, smiling softly at the view of you completely bare beneath him.

"Gorgeous," he breathes, lowering himself to your thighs. "You still good up there, pretty?" His head tilts back to look up at your face, hands starting to knead and dimple the flesh.

"Mhmm," you hum, reaching to brush the loose strands that have fallen in front of his eyes.

"That's what I like to hear," he says smiling, wrapping his hands around your thighs more firmly and gently spreading them open. "Don't be shy, good job, baby."

His lips trail up from the side of your knee to the inside of your thighs until he reaches your core, where he presses a messy kiss to your wanting clit. Your hips jerk up involuntarily as a small sound escapes your throat, eager for more contact, more of him. His hands move from your thighs up to your hips, and he firmly presses them back against the mattress.

"Be patient," he asserts sweetly, teasing you with the tip of his nose. "Don't I always take care of you?"

You nod, fingers twitching a little in his hair.

"Words, baby."

"You take such good care of me, Steve," you say, your voice soft and yearning. "Always taking care of me."

"You deserve it," he reminds you, giving you a final smile before he finally dives in, licking a broad stripe from your cunt up to your clit, lapping hungrily at the wetness that had pooled at your entrance from his teasing.

"Fuck, you're sweet," Steve moans against your clit, the vibrations buzzing in harmony with the gentle, static pleasure building in your tummy. As he mouths and licks at your clit, two thick fingers gently dip into your cunt, testing how ready you are, before slowly plunging in. The stretch in tandem with the eagerness of his mouth is perfect, untangling the worry in your mind even more with each gentle push of his fingers and swipe of his tongue.

"Feels so good, Steve, god-" you moan, eyes flicking down past his head and shoulders to see the movement of his hips, grinding slow against your mattress. You didn't know if you were ever going to get over the fact that you had really found a boyfriend that took as much pleasure from going down on you as you received. Sure, some guys talk a big game about spelling the alphabet with their tongues, but Steve devoured you when he ate you out, the experience all the more satisfying from the moans he would release against you.

His fingers keep working you open, brushing at the tender, spongy spot deep inside your core as his tongue slides through your folds. Your walls start to pulse around his hand, cuing him to focus all of his sweet attention on your clit, wrapping his lips around the bundle of nerves and suckling. Your eyes shut hard as your first orgasm washes over you, the muscles in your thighs and abdomen contracting as the pulses of pleasure build. The movements from Steve's tongue grow frenzied, keeping you on your high with each eager lick and push of his fingers. Once your breaths start to slow, his movements do too, easing back to your body from the cloud he just had you on. Steve pulls away his fingers and gives your clit a final kiss before working his way up again, pecking your lips sweetly as he finally comes face to face with you again.

"Open those eyes for me," he coos next to your ear, and they flutter open, awed at the view before you—Steve, with wide pupils and his mouth slick with your pleasure. "There's my pretty girl, you feeling good?"

"So good," you sigh, feeling the soft hair of his chest and the wild thrumming of his heart under your palms.

"Thanks for trusting me, baby," he says, and presses his lips to yours. "You keep feeling good, that's your only job, alright?"

"Alright," you breathe, drinking in the sight of him standing to shed his slacks. The buckle of his belt clinks softly as he releases it from around his hips, unbuttoning his pants and pushing them down—his charcoal grey briefs and happy trail on full display. He settles on his knees between your legs again, pressing his clothed cock to your mound as he lowers himself again. Your hand stretches down to his waistband this time and he catches it, gently pushing it back up and over your head. A soft whine emits from your throat as his hips roll a little, the slightest, extra edge of pressure against your clit.

"You'll get what you need," Steve assures you, hand holding yours firm against the pillow. "You put up with so much, I know you can be patient."

"You're such a tease, Harrington," you pant. "You have no idea what you do to me, do you?"

"Trust me, sweetheart," he smirks. "I know exactly what I'm doing."

You smile and roll your eyes as one of Steve's arms wraps around your legs, knees hoisting over one shoulder while he takes the extra pillow from your bed and slides it under your hips. Steve's lips smack against your knee with a 'mwah', before he nestles them on either side of his thighs again. His thumbs hook the fabric of his briefs and he slides them down his legs, finally freeing his hard, aching cock. Saliva floods your mouth at the sight of his length—ridiculously thick while still impressively long, and so aroused that it curves upward toward his belly, pink tip glossy with precum.

"Fuck, I need you," you sigh, hips grinding and heels digging into the mattress.

"I know, baby," he soothes, taking his cock into his hand and giving a first, slow stroke. "I'm right here for you."

Steve's hips move forward and he drags the tip of his length through your folds, smearing the mix of your arousal and his as he pushes against your clit. He chuckles to himself in satisfaction at the noise you let out, jaw going slack as you moan beneath him. He gives one more tease up and down your pussy before sinking his head inside, letting out a deep groan himself as you pulse around him.

"Fuck, it feels so perfect," you whine, pawing at his shoulders for him to come closer, needing the weight of his body against yours even more. Steve obliges happily, leaning down on his forearms again and reaching for your hand, lacing his fingers into yours.

"Goddamn," he grunts, doing his best to keep his hips stiff, not wanting to give you too much, too fast. "Can I push in, baby?"

"Please."

A light, pleasured sob hums against Steve's shoulder as you tuck your face against it, utterly blissful as Steve feeds his cock into your further. He shudders as his hips finally meet yours, and the sting of the stretch fades nearly as soon as it builds, replaced with a warm, satisfying fullness.

"Doing so good for me, sweet girl," he moans, giving an experimental roll of his hips. "I'm gonna move a little more, just keep breathing for me."

You nod, tipping your chin up for a kiss, that he smiles into lovingly. The weight of his hips and the stretch of cock fade for a moment before coming back, repeating as Steve builds a perfect rhythm.

"Don't stop, Steve," you pant as he thrusts, squeezing the large hand that holds yours in place beside your head.

"Never, honey," Steve replies, lips brushing yours as his hips roll deeper, fucking into you at just the right pace. The thrusts persist, encouraged even more by the ways your walls flutter and pulse around him, early waves of ecstasy building again.

"Let go for me," he says, looking deep into your hooded, almost sleepy eyes with a star-crossed expression. "You're good, baby, you can let go."

The sweetness of his words helps the waves build, filling every nerve and breath with heavy, consuming euphoria. In a matter of seconds, you're falling apart again, moaning nonsense against his collarbone, as the warmth spreads from your core to your tummy, extending into every limb.

"Good, baby," he sighs, kissing your forehead and slowing his thrusts as his own high starts to build. "Love those pretty noises you make when you're feeling good."

His hands release yours to reach for your knees again, hiking them up and over his shoulders. A soft cry escapes your mouth at the new and sudden deepness, which Steve soothes with a kiss.

"I know you can take it, baby," he pants. "Just a little more, I know it's a lot." His hips start to move again, thrusting and grinding as Steve chases his own high above you. He glances down, moaning at the sight of the creamy ring of white at the base of his cock—proof of how deeply he's pleasured you. The thrusts grow clumsier and clumsier as he gets closer, only ceasing when he pushes in as deep as possible, flooding your walls with cum.

"So perfect for me, baby, shit-" he grunts, the muscles of his back rippling under your fingers. "You were so good for me, thank you. Fuck." Your chests rise and fall against each other as you catch your breath. Once the rapidness of them starts to slow and you return back into your body from your high, you cup his face and kiss him sweetly.

"Thank you, Steve," you sigh, brushing the pretty twin spots on his cheek with your thumb. "I can't tell you how bad I needed that."

"I love making you feel good," he responds with a shrug, kissing you with a soft peck before he leans back, pulling his softening cock from your cunt, puffy and creamy with your mixed orgasms. "I'm gonna clean you up, I'll be right back." Steve disappears into the hallway, returning soon wearing his briefs again and holding a warm washcloth.

"Here," he says in a low voice, easing your thighs open again and swiping delicately at your core. You inhale a little sharply at the sensation, and Steve kisses your knee again.

"I know, baby, almost done," Steve whispers as he finishes, dropping the cloth into your hamper before approaching your dresser, pulling out fresh underwear and a big sleep shirt from the drawers. He helps lift your hips as you slide the underwear on, pulling you up gently to sit before slipping the shirt over your head. Steve reaches for the pillow that was under your hips and tosses it up to the headboard again, before slipping under the covers next to you.

"You're so amazing," he grins, propping his head up on an elbow to look down at you. "Seriously, I'm in awe of you."

"Steve-" you blush, hiding your behind your hands.

"C'mon, let me do this," he pleads softly, guiding your wrists back down to your sides.

You sigh, resolve melting under his puppy dog gaze, and nod.

"Your brain," Steve says, with a kiss to your forehead. "You're the smartest person I've ever met, I tell everyone all the time."

He pecks your lips on his way down to your neck again, where he presses his lips sweetly on the column on your throat.

"This voice," he hums. "Helps me keep my head straight, brings me back home."

Steve's head travels down a little further until it reaches your sternum, kissing slowly through the fabric.

"Your beautiful heart, baby," he sighs, hands bracing your sides. "Taking care of everyone, loving so much. You make me so happy."

Steve crawls back up to you, swiping gently at the little mist of tears swelling in your eyes with the pad of his thumb.

"You gotta tell me if you're overwhelmed, honey," he scolds. "You're smart, and hard-working, and badass, but I know how much bullshit you put up with. I have to put up with it, and I teach health, for god's sake."

"It's really hard," you admit, voice coming out soft and a little choked.

"It is," he agrees, settling back against your side, a hand guiding your head to rest on his chest. "But I wanna make it less hard. What do you think, let me try?"

Your head tilts back to look up at him, greeted with pretty hazel eyes that swim with real admiration, cheeks pink and dimpled from a lovesick smile.

"Let's see what you've got, Harrington."

author's note: thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed!! As a teacher my own school year prep is starting to lowkey drown me, but writing this definitely helped :) thank you again and let me know your thoughts!

[treehugger4leyef]

Chili Pepper

Steve Harrington x wife!reader | inspired by this lovely fic

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

Growing up has never been easy. People change, as do relationships and the definition of love, but the heartache is not all for nothing.

Steve never had it easy growing up. Not as a kid, or a teen, or even young adult. Neglectful parents, being someone he’s not, and watching his best friend find love while he had to watch his own chance slip through his fingers. Fighting. Oh, the fighting. With people — his father, Jonathan, Billy, ungodly monsters and Russians that haunted his dreams. And, the inevitable, loss.

But there are those who are fortunate enough to make it out alive — bruised and beaten — but alive. Your husband is one of the lucky ones.

Now, his days are filled with questions from young and curious minds, baseball drills and games and practices and moms who can’t get enough of him. He comes home to you in the evening with a big, dopey grin on his face as he lays his head in your lap on the couch or massages your feet while you talk about your days. His weekends are filled with house projects — setting up the pool in summer, building garden beds and picking up rocks for you to decorate said garden beds with.

He hauls fountains with fairy statues from the strange, eclectic garden store a few blocks outside of town. He learns how to tile just because you mentioned that you’d like to add more character to the kitchen. The kitchen that you two own, a work of art made from your love.

Steve Harrington survived for this moment right here, under the blazing summer sun, sweat dripping down his forehead and back, hands on his hips and eyes squinted as he watched you squeal with delight, walking around your vegetable garden.

“Steve, look! Our first pepper!”

And so he looks, the tiny, red chili pepper spurting from leaves of green. Then he looks at you, a wide smile stretched across your face, hands clasped together because with this level of excitement you don’t trust yourself to not pick it immediately, and he thinks to himself, “this is what it was all for.”

“That’s all you, baby.”

“Oh, Steve,” you soften immediately, walking towards him with outstretched arms. “I couldn’t have done it without your help.”

He chuckles and catches your arms before they can wrap around him, “I don’t wanna get you all sweaty,” he sheepishly admits.

“I don’t care about that, I wanna love on my man,” you protest.

With a sigh of defeat, Steve lets you wrap your arms around his neck as he laughs, a little uncomfortable for you. But you don’t let his insecurities get the best of him, not even the small, seemingly insignificant ones. So, you take his ever growing arms and wrap them around yourself as you press kisses into his sweaty skin.

“Wanna go for a swim?” You ask, playfully swiping beads of sweat of his forehead.

“Don’t think I can refuse that offer,” he grins, leaning down to kiss you. Before your lips can unlock and you have to let go and change, he pats your ass a few times, firm and loving, and thinks that life couldn’t get any better than this.

Taglist: @keerygirlie98 @ann-aatn @watercolorskyy @dopeysunflowers, @ilovest3veh4rr1ngt0n @fullmetalflower @offbrandhandymanny @meowsberry @ladybug-polkadots, @princessofthefrogss, @storietilman, @micheledawn1975

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Masterlist

[aqtdeco]

bad case (of loving you) | S.H

You think it’s going to be the same annual check up for your daughter, Piper. The same blunt doctor that scares her every time. Luckily, the new paediatrician Doctor Harrington has taken his place.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“Baby, please, work with mommy here,” you plead, as you attempt to take off Piper’s seatbelt. She’s an expert at making a fuss, maybe she got that from you now you think about it. Piper has managed to mess up her plaits already, making angry noises as she shakes her head and kicks her little legs. “The nurses always give you stickers. You like stickers,”

Your bartering doesn’t change the fixed frown on the three year old’s face.

“Scary,” Piper lets out, cheeks red as she stays put. This was the same tantrum every annual check up. Screaming bloody murder even before entering the hospital, and maximising the volume as you approached Doctor Yates’ office. Yates was, a scary man, to her credit. His office was dark, bleak, matching his demeanour. You get it, being a paediatrician just be difficult, but to warrant being generally nasty to his patients you didn’t understand.

“I know he’s scary,” you placate, “Mommy finds him real scary too,” as you speak, you rub her arms through her cardigan. “If you come with mommy, I’ll get you some Reece’s okay?”

Reece’s Peanut Butter cups were her favourite, again something she got from you having ate a lot during your pregnancy. Piper seems to quieten hearing ‘Reece’s’ and blinks up at you.

“Promise,” you nod, pushing the hazel hair that had trapped over her nose to behind her ear. Piper mulls it over, before holding her arms around expectantly. You sigh out smiling, unplugging her seatbelt she had finally let go of and picking her up. She was getting older, and the feeling of you not being able to pick up your baby anymore made your stomach curl. Hazel nuzzles into your shoulder as you lock the car, and make your way into the hospital.

The paediatric ward knew you at this point, the nurses at reception checking you in immediately and nodding to the waiting area. Piper was already getting restless, her small Mary Janes digging into your thigh as you sit. Piper knew what was coming. Face to face with Doctor Yates, her nightmare. You focus her attention on your nail varnish, a colourful green you opted for. She was entertained enough, playing with your fingers. You loved her so much.

You barely hear the nurse before looking up, seeing her coo down at Piper. You smile like you always do, happy to see Piper interacting with the kind nurse you always saw here.

“Follow me,” the nurse, Linda nods smiling and you stand, adjusting Piper and following her down the hall. Linda pauses before stopping outside a door, notably not Doctor Yates’. “Unfortunately, Doctor Yates retired after his many years,” Linda throws you a small smile, “Head paediatrician has been handed over to Doctor Harrington, he’s just inside,”

Linda nods to the door labelled ‘Dr. Harrington’ adorned with stickers. It makes you smile as you adjust Piper again, walking in as the door is opened for you by Linda. Linda pokes Piper’s nose before she leaves, and you turn to face the desk seeing Piper’s new doctor.

Much younger than Yates, close to your age by the looks of it. Golden skin paired with deep brown eyes under his glasses, and gloriously placed hair that hit the sun perfectly. He looks up from his notes, and smiles widely.

“Hi!” He speaks warmly, standing up and gesturing to the exam chair next to his desk. “It’s lovely to meet you, I just started here, so forgive me if I’m a bit all over the place.”

You can really form a sentence, wordlessly nodding and sitting on the chair with Piper in your lap. She’s positively beaming up at him, blinking.

“Hello little miss… Piper,” it’s clearly memorised from her notes he took care to read before. “I don’t like Doctor Harrington, so call me Steve.”

Piper giggles, loud and repeats it.

“Steeb,” Piper claps, and Steve gives her a smile like she’s just hung the moon. Steve sits on his wheely chair and slides over, abandoning the desk. He smells great, your brain thinks before you curse it.

“Close enough,” Steve shrugs and puts on his blue examination gloves, tying them together on his lap. “This is mom, yeah?”

“Yeah, yes,” you splutter, nodding and he looks over Piper once before speaking again.

“Before I start, any concerns you have? Anything different about her you’ve seen?” Steve asks as he reaches for his stethoscope around his neck.

“Nothing”, you shrug, watching him put the buds in his ears and prepare. He nods, and gives Piper a smile.

“I’m gonna put this on now, it’s pretty cold but I’ve heard it’s ticklish,” Steve is talking to Piper almost diplomatically, “Copy me,”

Steve somehow has her under a trance, because she doesn’t push into you like she did with Yates, rejecting the stethoscope, she leans into it. As Steve places it on the top of her back, he animatedly breathes in and out along with her.

“Sounds all good to me,” Steve nods as he releases the stethoscope, putting it back around his neck. As he gets out the temperature reader, he shakes out. “Okay Piper, big task for me, stick your tongue out— all silly— perfect,”

You fondly smile down at your daughter, who was making a cute noise while she stuck her tongue out. Steve uses it to his advantage, holding the reader under her tongue for a few seconds before reading it.

“You said you just started here?” You attempt to start a conversation, and he nods, writing her temperature on her notes.

“I did,” he smiles, “I used to live here in Hawkins as a kid, so I jumped at the opportunity to come back and work here.”

Huh. You hadn’t seen him around before, but then again you moved here when Piper was born.

“You wanted to come back?”

Steve shrugs, “Yeah, I went to Seattle for med school, loved it, but I did miss the small town of it all,” Steve speaks while he gets out a device to check Piper’s ears, and concentrates on making faces at her while he does. He does the other ear, writes the note down and gestures to the wall. “Okay, time to measure how tall you’ve gotten.”

You help Piper down, and she insists on grabbing his hand instead of yours, following him to the height and weight stand. Steve entertains it all, being terrifically gentle with her as he measures her height. Not only was her new doctor blindingly handsome, he was also disgustingly charming.

You don’t even notice you’re staring as Piper tugs your leg. You distract yourself by picking her up again, and Steve smiles before writing down the measurements. He sits back down on the stool on wheels, crossing his arms.

“She’s growing healthily, no concerns as far as I can tell, how is she with talking?” Steve asks and detaches the small toy on his stethoscope to give to Piper.

“Doctor Yates always said she was behind on communication,” you speak sheepish, stroking over her mousy hair, “But she can say a whole lot. Repeats things I say too,” you find yourself defending your baby, who was a little behind from the other moms at the single mom group you had joined at the church. Steve’s expression doesn’t change, maybe only grows sweeter. His eyes are a deep hazel you notice, the morning sun doing wonders for them.

“She’s a lovely girl, don’t worry about how ‘behind’ she is,” Steve advises, sitting back, “It’s not a linear process.”

He’s so, so kind, and you remind yourself to get a reality check. No way he’d go for someone like you, he’s just doing his job.

“And dressed so well, by the way,” Steve comments, tapping one of her little Mary janes. “Mommy has good taste, doesn’t she?”

You flush as Piper seems to agree, hugging into you and giggling at Steve’s tap on her shoe. That wasn’t flirting, was it? Steve’s eyes linger on you before he moves to his desk and writes down a few more things. You take the time to look around. His exam office is bright, paintings of animals on the walls with a stuffed animal pile on a couch, even some story books in the corner.

“Okay,” Steve claps, “Piper’s vitals all look great, no signs of any infections,” you visibly relax, holding Piper a bit closer as she reaches out for Steve again. He smiles and picks up a box on his desk. “For you, brave girl, whatever sticker your heart desires,”

Piper is considering this with great intent, her eyebrows concentrating like yours do when you’re budgeting for the week. She grabs a turtle sticker.

“Excellent choice,” Steve comments and holds the box out to you then, blinking you out of your trance, “Does mom want a sticker?”

Something as simple as your kid’s hot doctor offering you a sticker is making you flush, and you curse the gods for giving you sensitive cheeks. Piper is looking up at you, expectantly and it makes you melt.

“Thanks,” you manage and pull out a puppy sticker, why not? Steve’s smile softens as he puts the box back and takes off his gloves, binning them quickly. “C’mon Piper, let’s go,” you coo and she shakes her head, persisting and putting a heartbreaking frown on her face. “I thought you hated hospitals lovely,” you ask her, and she lets out an unhappy sound.

Steve was watching the whole thing, unable not to.

“I’m sorry, we’ll get out of your hair,” you wave off, but Steve stops you to say, “It’s alright, last appointment of the day.”

You manage to get Piper on your hip, but she wriggles with her hands out to him.

“Steeby,” Piper speaks, and thankfully Steve isn’t bothered, stepping closer and crouching.

“Oh, steeby? That’s my name now?” He muses, taking the sticker and pulling the end off, looking up at you as if to ask, is this okay? You nod, and he smiles gently sticking the turtle onto her cardigan. Piper preens and smiles, her little teeth showing and all.

“Say bye bye,” you kiss her hair, and look up at Steve, who looks conflicted for a moment before taking a deep breath.

“Uh— are you free Friday night?” His question makes you flush, and he carries on, “The ward is hosting a party, if you can call it that. Run by the charity that funds it. I’d be great for you both to come, I mean, if you want to.” Steve is rambling now, pushing his glasses up, a difference to his confident Doctor mode he had minutes ago.

“I’m free,” you breathe out, smiling small and adjusting Piper on your hip, god she was getting big now. “Yeah, that’d be nice,”

Steve looks like he’s just recovered from destabilising a bomb, and sighs out smiling.

“Okay, cool, cool,” he nods, a hand through his golden brown hair, that flops over anyway, “Starts at 5, but feel free to pop in whenever— whichever time you wish.”

“5,” you confirm, before watching Piper snuggle into your shoulder. “See you Friday,”

The ride home, you can’t stop thinking about the doctor. His charming smile, the moles that sit close on his cheek, his gentleness towards Piper. Safe to say it had been a while, Piper’s father was the last, and that had been even before she was born. He abandoned you pretty quick, swapping his life for a big house and tech company in LA. Shiny new girlfriend at that. Was Steve flirting? You couldn’t tell anymore, or really believe any guy would choose to flirt with you. You squeeze the steering wheel, letting the voice of Stevie Nicks calm you down, now thinking. You have nothing to wear to this party.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ.

You feel stupid. Going to goodwill just to buy a new floral dress for the occasion, with buttons shaping your chest and the hem stopping mid thigh. You haven’t worn something like this since before you were pregnant, and you keep pushing the hem down as you walk up to the hospital following the signs for the fundraiser, Piper adorn in a new dress for herself (she was clinging onto one at the thrift store you couldn’t resist). As you turn the corner into the reception, you see it’s been decked out with tables set with party food, balloons, kids and parents dotted around talking. You stand awkward for a bit, attempting to push down your hair the wind made quick work of. Before you can push your dress down again, there’s a warm hand on your arm. Looking up, you’re happy to see Steve dressed in a casual Boston t shirt and jeans, and was his cologne more noticeable?

“Hey!” He greets, smile reaching his cheeks. Piper brightens up at him, holding her little arms out. “Hey to you, too,” Steve pokes her belly and she giggles, “How are you both?”

“Good,” you supply, adjusting her again, and Piper is dead set on wanting to be in Steve’s arms instead. “I’m sorry,”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Steve waves off, and steps closer, wriggling his fingers in front of her, “If it’s okay with you?”

Albeit flustered, you nod, and hand her over gently. Steve handles her with upmost care, swaying her. He looks like it’s light work, like Piper weighs nothing.

“Are you guys hungry? We have a few bits over here—,” Steve gestures to the table as he guides you to it, “Does Piper like brownies?”

“Oh, she likes anything sweet,” you shrug and watches as he picks up a small brownie, putting it in her hand. “A doctor giving a brownie to a kid?”

Steve laughs, and wipes her cheek as Piper devours the brownie. She got her appetite from you as well.

“As a doctor, I like to prescribe a treat every so often, what life’s all about.” Steve explains as he watches Piper chew happily, before patting her back. “Are you hungry?”

The food looked good. Obviously home baked by the staff.

“No— no I’m okay. Best save it for the kids,” I wave off, and Steve seems suspicious but doesn’t question it. He then looks up to the door, seeing people he recognises. “If you need to go, that’s fine—,”

“Come on Piper, let’s go meet my friends huh?” Steve coos and sends you a cock of his head to his friends, making you blink but follow him regardless. Steve waits for you to catch up, a hand drifting to meet your waist for a moment.

It was friendly, totally you repeat to yourself as you follow face probably as red as a tomato.

Steve’s work friends are an interesting bunch.

Steve greets them all animatedly, and Piper brightens up at the new faces.

“Steve won’t shut up about you!” The excited sandy blonde blurts as you approach, and you blink, taking in her buzzy attitude. She’s got an infectious smile, freckles lighting up her cheek. Steve sends her a sheepish glare, swaying Piper.

Next to her, the doe eyed metal head wipes his mouth from devouring a slice of pizza and smiles easily over at you.

“I can vouch for that,” he supplies, finding Steve’s expression absolutely hilarious. Steve huffs and sends you an apologetic smile. “Hi little lady,” the man hums as he waves to Piper, “Steve won’t shut up about you either,”

Piper is always a delight around people, and it always makes your heart warm up. She giggles and holds her hand out to touch his dark curls, Steve all the while holding her out securely. It’s all very domestic, and watching Steve handle her with so much care sends your stomach flying.

“This is Robin and Eddie,” Steve fills in your confusion, as he detaches her from making a knot into Eddie’s hair.

“Hi,” you manage, smiling politely.

Eddie make a knowing face at Steve, and he just sends him a small smile back. You hope it’s a good knowing look.

“Y’know— I think me and Robin wanna show the little lady the playing blocks,” Eddie announces, and Robin looks confused for a moment. Eddie widens his eyes at her, not discreet at all. You slip out a giggle as Robin gasps.

“Oh! Yes, we do,” Robin nods vigorously, “We are so excited to show Piper the blocks, and we must go now—,”

“— oh, guys,” Steve sighs out, rubbing his forehead, and Piper holds her hands out to climb onto Eddie’s hip. Eddie bounces her and she lets out one of her loud giggles, which assures you she’s in safe hands.

“Steve should show you the hospital garden,” Robin says loudly, managing a wink at Steve that isn’t conspicuous in any way, and you flush, smiling up at Steve, who is looking at Robin exasperated. “Goodbye,”

They both hurriedly rush off, leaving you and Steve standing together. Steve visibly swallows and nods.

“Uh— would you come? To the gardens with me, I mean,” he clears his throat, cheeks a lovely shade of pink you haven’t seen on him yet.

“I’d love to,” you reply and he nods, sighing out with relief before directing you to the door, out to the hospital reception.

The hospital garden is freshly green from the rainy winter, and now shining in the sunlight. Steve gestures to a bench, right near a rose bush covered in an awning. Steve’s knee bounces for a moment before opening his mouth, then closing it again. Having a child, you can ready nerve pretty well, so you start.

“Piper is quite fond of you,” you begin, smiling up at him, catching the two moles that dot his cheek. “Kept babbling about Steeby this, Steeby that on the way home,”

A soft, sweet smile spreads over his face, and he tilts his head.

“And her mom?”

“Her mom?” You blink, playing with your rings before looking up at his unwavering, honeyed expression.

“Is her mom fond of me too?”

You take a second, before letting yourself smile, blush wholly.

“Her mom… do you want her to be?” You ask, bravery making its way through your anxieties that he’ll just reject you, let you off easily and kindly. Steve’s smile somehow gets warmer.

“I may be a doctor, but I’m not incredibly smooth,” Steve explains slowly, “I would love for Piper’s mom to be fond of me,” he carries on, eyes tracing over your face, “and come to dinner with me Friday?”

Your heart flutters in your chest, cheeks pink, looking down and lifting your finger to run over his hand. It’s quiet in the garden, only the sound of birds filter over as Steve connects your hands together over his knee.

You breathe out, looking up and smiling.

“I think she’d say yes,” you speak, and he sighs out.

“Thank god,” Steve mumbles, sitting closer and reaching in his pocket to pick out a small brownie wrapped in tissue. “Dunno what I would have done with this brownie in my pocket—,”

He got you a brownie. Knowing you’d wanted one, seeing your eyes glaze over the snacks but saying no. You’ve not been that daring in your 24 years of life, but you decide to lean up and kiss him, hand on his cheek. Steve’s eyes widen before reciprocating, his arm wrapping around your shoulders near the bench, pushing you into him. Your legs knock together, it’s all a bit awkward and crowded, but the way his lips weave against yours, you can’t bring yourself to care. Steve presses some kisses against the side of your mouth, before pulling away, eyes all goey and relaxed.

“Gonna need a minute,” Steve weakly speaks, and you laugh, forehead resting on his shoulder.

“Was it true?”

“Hm?” Steve mumbles as he rubs your other arm, your head comfortably on his shoulder.

“What Robin said,” you speak soft, unable to hide your smile.

“Unfortunately it is,” Steve confesses, “Don’t mention that—,” Steve squeezes you, “Tryna’ impress Piper’s mom here.”

You laugh, and you look up, meeting his gaze.

“Piper’s mom isn’t that cool,” you shake your head, voice hoarse. True. Steve tuts, a hand stroking your cheek.

“Oh she absolutely is.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

a/n: I would love to write a bit more of a intimate/ romantic part two :)

in regard to requests I accept any (of course) but some will be loosely inspired by what I receive/ if I believe I can do it justice!!

[treehugger4leyef]

this just adorable

[treehugger4leyef]

Recently, your boyfriend had been trying out a new look — mustache and a small patch of hair under his lips, right on the chin.

It took some getting used to, and while paired with his long, outgrown hair it made him look like a loser (in the most handsome way possible), you had realized how much you liked it.

You loved the way it tickled your lips and neck when he would kiss you lazily in the mornings or heatedly after a long day, the way the thick hair brushed against your thighs and most sensitive areas while he went down on you — which was very frequent.

“Travis!” You laughed, one hand on his chin as you moved his dopey face around.

“Hm?” He asked, laughing himself at your expression. “Do I have somethin’ on my face?”

“Your beard is turning red!”

“So? What does that even mean?”

With a heavy sigh, you flop back into your seat. Travis happily chases you, his lips crashing into yours as he kissed you through his smiles. His gentle, sweet kisses quickly traveled further down your body until he was on his knees in front of you on the floor, your legs around his shoulders keeping his face right against you.

“Mm, Travis… you gotta shave it,” you gasped. “I can’t give this up.”

“D’ any’in ya want,” he mumbled against you from where you were dripping onto his beard, turning it red.

[cat-the-comet]

devastating: artist who has not practiced fundamentals enough to execute high concept idea eats shit

[snoopyharrington]

tonight I’m thinking about gator dating crafty!reader, but before you get together, he always brings any garments he needs mended over to you so you can sew them up or put a patch over a hole in the knee, whatever creative solution you come up with.

and yeah, gator’s basically getting a whole new wardrobe out of it, but he also uses it as an excuse to come over nearly every day with some pair of jeans or button-down that he wants fixed. it’s because he loves sitting in your craft room next to you and your sewing machine, watching as your nimble fingers diligently work, and listening to your soft voice and the rhythmic trill of the mechanical needles working in and out of his clothing. it’s the most peace he’s felt in years.

[treehugger4leyef]

quick gator thought:

he tries to be sweet by giving you a forehead kiss when he passes you in the kitchen, but it’s entirely too hard and you end up stumbling over and it’s just a whole thing

[treehugger4leyef]

while we all wait for my teacake WIP about speaking up in the bedroom to be ready…

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!

Masterlist

[treehugger4leyef]

just had another thought:

Boyfriend!Teacake who runs one finger along the hem of your panties to relieve you of your wedgie while you guys are spooning :( so cute

[insomniacpen]

𑣿ꄗ࿄ WELCOME TO: INSOMNIAC'S INN 𑣿ꄗ࿄

1k follower special

in honour of 1000 of you being here (really crazy to me), i've decided to open a little event to show my infinite gratitude for all the likes, comments, reblogs and most importantly: the community we've been able to build here 💗💝

how it works: make a booking at the reception (my ask box) by answering the questions below, and i'll write a drabble/fic based on your requests. all fics are x fem!reader. use the 1k follower tag below to find my writing.

welcome to the inn. we hope you enjoy your stay :)

first — how long is your stay?

⌛︎ 1 night - drabble (<1k words)

⌛︎ weekend stay - fic (1k words)

⌛︎ week long stay - fic (>1k words)

we have the keys to your room...but someone has the keys to your heart.

who are you visiting with?

ꄗ gator tillman

ꄗ steve harrington

ꄗ travis ‘teacake’ meacham 

ꄗ robin buckley

so, what are you looking for during your stay? it can be more than one thing.

our facilities include:

✧ minibar - fluff

✧ phone - angst

✧ coffee & tea  - hurt/comfort

✧ turndown service - smut

optionally:

if you're feeliing hungry,

order room service (maximum of three dishes)

𓊤 steak - forced proximity

𓊤 pasta - forbidden love

𓊤 lobster - second chance romance

𓊤 pizza - fake dating

𓊤 tiramisu - love at first sight

𓊤 cocktail - grumpy x sunshine

𓊤 wine - unrequited love

𓊤 buffet - submit your own trope/idea

if you want, you can

upgrade your room

𓉞 city view - meet cute

𓉞 connecting rooms - friends with benefits 

𓉞 junior suite - friends to lovers

𓉞 presidential suite - enemies to lovers

𓉞 penthouse suite - established relationship

𓉞 honeymoon suite - married couple 

example: i'm staying for one night with gator tillman and i want a phone and turn down service. could i also get wine from room service and upgrade to connecting rooms?

so i'd write: an angsty and smutty drabble with gator using the unrequited love trope and gator and reader are fwb :)

i can't wait to see what you guys come up with!!!

[treehugger4leyef]

i CANNOT wait

[treehugger4leyef]

while we all wait for my teacake WIP about speaking up in the bedroom to be ready…

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!

Masterlist

[treehugger4leyef]

Baking Attempt #2

My first Walter “Keys” McKey piece :)

lowkey not proofread

Masterlist

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

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.

You had already burnt your first batch, started over with a different, more complicated recipe because why not, and barely saved the second batch from succumbing to the same fate as the one before it.

You swore it was your boyfriend’s oven. Sure, the stainless steel appliances looked nice in his big, fancy, marbled kitchen, but did they really work that well? Your conclusion was that the oven worked too well, and that’s why all your cookies had been burning.

It wasn’t until 11:23pm that Keys finally came in, practically dragging himself through the door. At this point, he was running on fumes and coffee and was barely able to support his own body weight. That’s why when he set his bag down, he was immediately leaning against you.

“Hey, honey,” you quietly greeted, the disdain clear in your voice as you scraped at the cookie sheet.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Keys grumbled from behind you, both arms slithered around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder.

“Tired?”

“Like hell,” he mumbled, finally closing his eyes.

“Well then let’s get you to bed,” you attempt to turn around in his hold, but his grip on you was unwavering.

“Keys,” you quietly sung. “Walter,” you said a little louder when he didn’t respond.

“What? I’m up,” he jerked awake, clearly not “up”

“It’s bedtime. Let’s go.”

“No, no. You’re doing something,” he lazily defended, one hand leaving your side to sleepily point in the general direction of the cookie sheet.

At the reminder of the mess you made, you sighed defeatedly. Keys quickly noticed your dejection, and gave you a sweet kiss on the side of your neck.

“What’s wrong, hm?”

“The cookies,” you explain. “First, I burn them. Then, when I start over, it takes like twice as long! And then I almost burn these. But like, they’re not even fully cooked on the inside and now they’re sticking to the pan—“

Keys cut you off with a tired chuckle, right into your ear. The breath of his laugh sent a full body shiver through you, making the frustration of the failed cookies a little less.

“It’s not funny, I tried to do something nice and look how it turned out,” you complain as you motion to the cookies, now using Keys as a way to keep yourself up.

“It’s kinda funny,” he mumbled against your skin. You could feel his small smirk forming against your neck as you dramatically huffed, encouraging him to keep the banter going.

“But it’s kind of cute, too.”

“Cute?” You ask, leaning your head to rest against one of his shoulders so you can look back at him. His tired eyes met your gaze in the dim light, and they told you everything you needed to know.

“Yeah, cute. I mean, it sucks that they’re inedible, but..”

“Oh, shut up! It’s time for bed,” you laughed, successfully removing yourself from his grip.

Reluctantly, Keys trailed behind you, never once moving his arms from around your waist until the two of you flopped into bed. Your knees ached from standing on the hard kitchen floors for so long, and his eyes were dreadfully strained from staring at a screen all day. It was about time the two of you got a break.

[treehugger4leyef]

Bedside Lamp

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.

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

ugh i love writing to teacake but i feel like i’m always out of character ;( it doesn’t matter when i end up with a cute piece like this, tho

[sunshinereaderx]

Hiya

I dont rmbr seeing you post my keys request so im submitting it again-

Keys being totally oblivious to the office receptionist being in love with him and just thinks she’s really friendly <he likes her too> but when she starts to flirt he gets flustered and has to take care of himself or something?

Oh sorry 🫢 smut 18+

Keys had spent the last six months convinced that you, the receptionist was the sweetest person he’d ever met. Every morning you greeted him by name, his real name. Not the one everyone else seemed to call him, he hated his name but when you used it? Perfect.

Every afternoon you somehow knew exactly when he needed coffee, smile pressed to your face as you handed it over to him. When your lunchtimes lined up and you’d sit next to him sharing the contents of your lunch with him, smiling as he rated your homemade food.

But Keys didn’t notice the way that it was only ever him you did those things for, that no one else got coffee bought to them, you didn’t blush and smile as you said goodbye to anyone else at the end of the day. But everyone else did, the smirks on his co workers faces whenever you walked into the room, the whispers when you’d laugh a little too loud at something he said. They all knew, everyone except keys.

~

“Walter” you called as you started walking towards him, he stopped turning back towards you. You brush the stray piece of hair that was hanging in front of his glasses back towards the rest of it, your finger gently brushing against his forehead. Keys brain immediately stopped working, heart rapidly beating in his chest as his eyes looked down at you. “There” you say softly, smiling up at the way his mouth has slightly fallen open at your touch.

“T-thanks”

“It’s okay, you just.. always have one piece that falls out of place” you giggle softly, keys was flustered. Touch starved almost and the feeling of your skin against his? It did something.

“Y-yeah?”

“Mhmm, I don’t mind though. It’s cute” you smile “although, people might start talking if I keep standing this close to fix your hair” you bite down on your bottom lip, honestly you hope people would talk. Maybe then keys would be less oblivious to your advances. You notice the blush starting to creep across his face, mouth still slightly open as he stutters trying to form a sentence.

“See you later, Walter” you smile as you walk away, leaving him frozen in his spot as he watches you go. Keys mind was racing, was that flirting? Did you actually like him back? Shit, shit, shit you were flirting and he blew it.

~

Keys could still feel the touch of your skin against his, he sat at his desk unable to focus of the screen in front of him. Shuffling awkwardly in his seat to try and ignore the boner he’d had since you touched him, painfully hard as the encounter kept replaying in his mind.

“Fuck” he exhaled as he pushed away from his desk, he wouldn’t be able to get any work done today if he didn’t get rid of this.. situation. All of this over a touch? It wasn’t even sexual and his head had made it that way, Keys wasn’t used to being touched anymore though, always working way too hard and way too long to have time to spend with a woman.

You watched as keys power walked past your desk, shooting you an awkward smile before disappearing into the bathroom.

Once inside keys hands fumbled with the buckle of his belt trying to undo it, heart beating rapidly the closer he got to being able to relieve himself. His head falls back to hit the wall the second his hand makes contact with his cock, eyes flickering shut as he strokes his hand over himself slowly. Mind flicking between memories of you, specifically the time you wore that way too tight dress into the office. Oh god that dress, the one that when you bent over he could just about see the bottom of your ass cheeks. Why didn’t you ever wear that dress again? Did you catch him looking? Oh god, now the thought of you catching him clouded his mind. Hips bucking forward to meet his hand as he bit down onto his bottom lip trying to silence the pathetic sounds falling from him.

“Shit, fuck” keys gasped as his hand started to move faster against himself, grip tightening as he imagined it was your hand. So lost in the moment he didn’t hear the bathroom door swing open, the sound of your heels clicking against the floor as you looked for him.

“Y-yeah.. just, just like that..”

You recognised the voice right away, Walter. Your stomach flipped as you listened to the soft groans and explicit words falling from him, was someone else in here with him? Had you really misread the situation that bad?

You push the cubicle door open slowly, who doesn’t lock the door?

Keys eyes shoot open as the cubicle door hits the wall with a crash, leaving him exposed in front of you with his cock in his hand. You want to look away, cover your eyes and give him the privacy he clearly needed but you couldn’t.

“Shit, shit, shit!” His hands are fumbling once again but this time to hide it, his face turning bright red as he tries to avoid your gaze.

“Oh, Walter..” your hand rests against your mouth as you smirk, thighs pressing together as you watch him.

[treehugger4leyef]

i've been seeing lots of soft!gator lately, so here are my two cents.

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.

you sweet gator who wanted you - happy, safe, healthy, and his.

[treehugger4leyef]

a djolings post?!? any ideas?

anyone? anyone?

[treehugger4leyef]

don't be shy guys

[treehugger4leyef]

my homework for tonight: watch free guy so i can write about keys 🙂‍↕️

send requests if u want, i’m happy to write them!! or stop by and chat :)