ghostlyfleur

[ghostlyfleur]

This is the most self-indulgent thing I've written so far 🙃

You loved your boyfriend's hands. You loved how his fingers traced along your skin, especially your neck. Just the warmth from his touch made you crave him even more. You also loved when they roamed your body, except when he slid them under your shirt. You'd place your hand on his, stopping him and he would always nod and whisper, "Ok."

You felt ridiculous, letting your insecurities about your body get to you, but you couldn't help it. You knew the types of girl's he was with before you, and the one thing they had that you didn't.

It wasn't like you were completely flat chested, but your breasts were on the smaller side. Which in turn, made you super self conscious, especially when you were in high school. Now, fast forward a few years, and you were dating the man of your dreams and former high school crush, Steve Harrington.

The relationship was still fairly new, though he made it clear in that short period of time how much he adored you. His arms were always around you, his lips pressing kisses anywhere he could. He was so doting and sweet, truly the perfect boyfriend.

Whenever you were intimate, he made sure to go at your pace. Your comfort and pleasure came first, sometimes literally. With as much as you knew he adored you, you still couldn't bring yourself to let him see or feel your bare chest. You silently berated yourself for still feeling this way.

You longed to feel his hands all over you, and you know he wanted that too.

One night you find yourself in a similar position, laying underneath him, as you make out. Your hands are in his hair as he kisses you slowly, savoring the feeling of your lips.

One hand rests next to your head, while the other holds your hip. He gradually moves it higher, slipping it under your shirt. The feeling of his fingertips makes you shiver, before his hand cups you through your bra.

You whimper against his lips as he squeezes.

"You like that, honey?" He asks, in between another kiss.

You nod, opening your eyes to dreamily gaze up at him.

"Would you like to feel more?"

You watch his warm eyes darken with lust as he awaits your answer.

"Yes."

"Can you take this off for me, then?" He lightly pulls on the hem of your oversized shirt.

You nod again, and he sits up, so you can pull your shirt over your head. It slips from your hands onto the floor as your eyes are on Steve. His gaze is hungry as his eyes travel your chest. He then leans forward and runs his finger under your bra strap. His eyes meet yours and you know what he wants.

You sharply inhale, before reaching to unclasp your bra. It then hangs loosely on your arms, before you discard it. It lands on the floor, somewhere near your shirt. You immediately cover yourself, heat rising to your cheeks. He then reacts by wrapping you in his arms and pressing kisses to your forehead.

"You're safe with me, honey," he assures.

You feel your eyes watering from how comforting he is.

"You know what," he begins, pulling away, "just so we're even..."

He then tugs his striped polo over his head and tosses it on the floor. You bite your lip at the sight of his hairy chest. He smiles before kneeling in front of you. His hands gently grip your wrists as he looks into your eyes. You resist, at first, before letting him guide your hands away from your chest and place them against his.

You try to stifle a gasp as you make contact with his skin. He releases your wrists and slips his arms around your waist, pushing you closer to him. Your chest presses against his as he captures your lips in a kiss.

The sensation of the light scratch of his chest hair against your nipples makes you moan into the kiss.

"Love feeling you close like this..." he breathes. "Love that you trust me... you do trust me, don't you, angel?"

"Yes..."

"Lie back," he instructs, with the tip of his nose brushing yours. "I wanna show you how much I adore you."

Your mind's already fuzzy as you lay back, onto the bed. He hovers over you, his body overwhelming your senses as he places kisses along your neck. You wrap your arms around him as he sucks the first of many hickeys into your skin. He kisses his way to your collarbone, lightly nibbling on it, before kissing lower and lower, until he reaches the top of your breast.

You tense up when you feel his hot breath on you.

"You're so beautiful, angel," he laments. "I wish you could see yourself the way I do."

He presses kisses all over, before swirling his tongue around your nipple.

Your back arches and a breathy sigh of his name leaves your lips as he sucks you into his mouth. His moans vibrate through you as you throw your head back.

He pulls away, glancing up at you and seeing how you're already unraveling.

"That feel good?" He asks, with a smirk as you nod.

"I always wanna make you feel good, angel, if you'll let me..."

"I want too," you reply. "I'm just nervous..."

"About what?"

You shakily exhale. "Not living up to your expectations. I'm so afraid of disappointing you..."

"Honey," he begins, his tone serious, yet comforting, "you could never disappoint me. I care so much about you and really it should be the other way around."

"Steve-"

"I'm not the same guy I was in high school. We're like completely different people now, so you don't need to worry about living up to nonexistent expectations anymore," he comforts, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek.

"I love every part of your body, and I don't want you to be afraid to let your guard down with me," he continues, as his thumb caresses your cheek.

"You're obviously not that guy anymore, and I know I shouldn't still feel like this, but-"

He cuts you off with a soft kiss.

"Its ok. I'll go as slow as you want," he breathes, ghosting his lips over yours.

"You're really wonderful, Steve Harrington," you smile, curling your fingers in his hair.

Now he's blushing as you guide his lips back to yours.

"Can I keep showing you how much you mean to me?"

"Yes, please..." you breathe, perfectly content with letting your boyfriend worship you for the rest of the night.

[ghostlyfleur]

obsessed is an understatement

[ghostlyfleur]

djo at coachella, april 2025

[ghostlyfleur]

you can be both an ethereal faerie dream girl and a horrid little dirt gremlin creature. the duality of woman

[ghostlyfleur]

miu miu bags

[ghostlyfleur]

btw it was so sexy of him to translate what’s been said in the airport to cap and the gang. he was looking so hot and unbothered too— with his one arm on that stupid blue car. Multilingual hot shot.

[ghostlyfleur]

he’s so pretty i’m going to cry (again)

hang this in the louvre

[ghostlyfleur]

one of the funniest interviews i’ve seen in a while go watch it asap

#justiceforwarlock

[ghostlyfleur]

gremlin

[ghostlyfleur]

what an amazing artist

[ghostlyfleur]

this may sound crazy, but i have really bad OCD in terms of cleanliness. for example, always need clean clothes (has to be exactly “correct” level of clean), hand wash always over and over, i also don’t like anyone sitting or laying in my bed uncleaned or in outside clothes.

eddie is, well eddie. how do you think he would react to a gf or potential gf that has this same issue?

You can’t wear the same sweatshirt twice, you can’t not wash your hands three times before dinner. He doesn’t think much of it, to be totally honest. Eddie’s been called weird his whole life, and he knows that behaviour like yours is out of the ordinary, so he refuses to make you feel bad about it. 

“Sorry.” 

“No, it’s okay,” he says, putting his backpack on the floor. You’re wringing your hands nervously in front of the bed, having just told him Please don’t sit on my bed. I can’t– It’s the contamination, it’s not you.

He unzips his backpack to unveil the extra clothes he brought with him. “I got these fresh out of the washer, but if it’s still not alright, I can just sit on the floor.” 

“Eddie, I’m not gonna make you sit on the floor.” Something in your expression softens. “You promise they’re clean?” 

“They still smell like detergent, but it doesn’t bother me. I can sit on the floor. Or at your desk?” 

“You can’t sit on the floor, Eddie. If they’re really clean, you can come and sit with me.” You smile weakly. “I want you to sit with me. I can’t deal with the idea of, like, your outside clothes on my bed, that’s all.” 

“That’s fine.” He makes sure not to put the clean clothes against his chest. “I get it, babe, the van is gross, pollution is disgusting, I’m gonna save the world for you to make it less icky. Can I get changed?” 

Your smile strengthens. “Yeah, course you can. I won’t look, much.” 

“Much!” Eddie’s joy at your teasing is palpable. 

He changes. You don’t watch, but you don’t avert your eyes either, which Eddie thinks is a good sign. It’s a little nerve wracking to be standing there in his boxers and socks while you’re fully clothed, until you smile at him with your face in your hand and he remembers how sweet you are.

“How many tattoos do you have?” 

“You don’t know?” he asks. 

“I’ve seen them all. Just never counted.” 

Eddie puts his worn clothes in his backpack and sits on your rug to change his socks. “I have sixteen.” 

“What?” you ask incredulously.

“I’m counting the bats separately.”

“Of course you are.” 

He springs up, squeezing the hand sanitiser on your desk into his two palms, and cleaning down to the middle of his forearms. Then, when they’re cold from the air in your room but mostly dry, he meanders his way to your side, giving you a long and loving stare. “You look really pretty when you do that.” 

“Do what?” 

“When you hold your face. Can I…” 

You lean back. He replaces your hand with his own, rubbing a soft path into your cheek. “I can’t believe you sanitised for me,” you say with a smile that’s half embarrassed and half pleased. “Thank you.” 

“Thanks for what?” He strokes your cheek back. The soft skin there pulls. “I should be saying thanks, do you know how big of a deal it is, to get to touch you? I’m on cloud nine. I feel like such a fucking winner.” 

Your nose crinkles as you laugh. “Very passionate.” 

“I’m saying goodbye to grunge. No more unwashed jackets or crust pants, I swear. I even cleaned behind my ears.” 

“You weren’t cleaning behind your ears?” 

He leans down to touch your nose tip with his. His eyes close, but not before he sees your nice smile. Getting to be here joking with you in your bedroom is worth sanitising his hands, are you kidding? He’d do a full body bleach bath three times a day if it meant he got to breathe the same air as you. 

“Tell me if I do something gross, okay? I know you think about things a lot, I just need you to tell me.” 

“I don't want you to get caught up in my stupid rules.” 

“They’re not stupid.” He noses at your cheek, his lips touching skin as he speaks, “Don’t worry about it. Tonight’s about you and me and the Amityville Horror.” 

“Okay, I won’t. I won’t worry.” Your breath warms his lips.

He kisses your cheek gently, a quiet thank you. It’s nice to be trusted with something as important and intrinsic to you as this, nicer to be touching you. He can’t believe he’s allowed. 

[ghostlyfleur]

slow sunday mornings with eddie

[ghostlyfleur]

thinking of going out with bucky on a date night or a get together with friends and always needing to be touching you :(

his hand in yours :(

or on your thigh :(

or playing with the ends of your hair :(

[ghostlyfleur]

Lovely sentiment but the way it’s worded sounds like this dude got fucking killed during a little league game

[ghostlyfleur]

we as a society genuinely need movie rental stores back so much

[ghostlyfleur]

"it's all in your head" correct! unfortunately I am also in there

[ghostlyfleur]