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strangersatellites · 4 months ago

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posting this feels like I'm crawling out of my grave and gasping for air

anyway- inspired by this post by @inthedarknessofnight

here's 1.3k of concert photographer!Steve and rockstar!Eddie because I couldn't get this out of my head

gimme, gimme more

1.3k words | this is the most g-rated thing I've ever written, it won't happen again

Steve’s feet hurt.

They always do after a show, but this one was particularly hard on him.

He’s been at this venue for two years now and shot countless shows in that time. But never in his career has he been challenged so– athletically.

The photo pit at this place is light years better than his last venue. There’s more than enough room for all of the photographers and their gear without stepping on each other. Usually Steve is grateful for this because surely there is only so many more beatings his 35mm can take before it kicks the bucket. Today though, he’s grateful for the space because of the full-tilt sprint this band had him in.

He’s never seen anything like it.

Well, less so did the band have him in a sprint and more so the frontman but, semantics.

The guy is everywhere. Steve could barely keep up with the way he ran around stage, jumping, climbing on equipment, leaning off-stage toward the barricade.

It was fun but Jesus, what is his deal?

Steve hadn’t even known who Corroded Coffin was 24 hours ago. Now he’s burned through two SD cards in an hour and a half.

The guy’s hot and a good photo subject, sue him.

Well, he thinks he’s a good photo subject at least. He won’t know until he’s culled through every single shot. Steve’s a good photographer, took to it naturally the first time he picked up a camera. His downfall though, according to his college professors at least, was that he pays absolutely no attention to what he’s shooting while he’s shooting it. Hence the overshooting.

On more than one occasion he’s gotten started on editing and someone is wearing an outfit he’s never seen before, someone’s got sunglasses on in every photo, a tag hanging off their jacket. All he’s concerned with is the framing, the lighting, and the focus. The content can be a problem for Future Steve. Everything can be fixed in post.

Almost.

Anyway, his feet hurt and he hates culling, so he pours himself a full glass of wine and plops down on the couch in front of an episode of trash tv with his laptop and props his feet up. Settles in for a long night.

2,461 images.

He throws his head back with a groan. Ugh.

The first hundred or so are garbage.

They always are.

A few shots spent fucking with the exposure, a few the focus, some the flash.

He denotes the purple flag as his ‘good’ tag and orange as his ‘trash’ tag. The orange is stacking up fast. Around 163 he starts finding some good images. Ones that aren’t tainted by motion blur from his running around after this frontman.

His photos of the drummer are pretty sick; he can't lie. The lights and the smoke and the near-manic smile on his face make for great photos. He’s not even this band’s personal photographer but he can imagine at least one of these will get posted to the band's socials. He’s good, what can he say?

He has a good bit of the bassist, his energy infectious enough you can almost feel it through the screen. Purple is making a comeback.

He finally gets through some crowd pics, some more drummer, some guitarist, some detail shots before he finally makes it to the frontman. 731 photos later.

What did Wikipedia say his name was? Eddie, he thinks.

Weird, the very first shot Steve has of him he’s making fierce eye contact with the camera.

Ew.

No matter how long Steve does this, photos of people looking directly at the camera never get less jarring.

Orange tag. Trash.

The next one is exactly the same.

Shit.

He’s really bad to fall victim to the high speed shutter on this camera and often finds himself with a dozen copies of the same picture. Looks like he’s done it again.

Orange.

More piercing eye contact.

What? He squints and flips back and forth between the last two photos.

They’re not even remotely similar. As a matter of fact, Steve was in a completely different location in the pit for the second one.

Green tag. Come back to this.

Taking a long swig from his glass he shifts so his laptop is closer to his face. Thinks that surely he’s not seeing this right.

He takes to forgoing his tagging system and just flipping through every photo as fast as his fingers can press the arrow keys.

He’s clicked through about 200 when he starts getting worried, his heart rate speeding up. Surely he got something usable.

“What the fuck?”

He’s clicked through 50 or 60 more when he decides that, no he did not fall victim to the shutter speed at all. This guy is just making direct eye contact with his camera in every single photo.

Steve’s not mad, the opposite really. He didn’t spend much time looking at the guy during the show and now he gets to have an eyeful while he works. What’s there to be mad about?

He is, however, mildly concerned that he won’t have a single decent photo to use for the venue socials when he posts about this show.

Whatever. Maybe fans of their music are also fans of uncomfortable eye contact. Who knows?

He finishes sifting through the rest of the photos, Eddie staring directly down the lens in every one, one’s where he’s not the subject included. Throws them all in an editing software and mass edits them all at once. He’ll detail edit later.

While the eye contact was a little unsettling, he did get one photo he’s particularly happy with. One that makes it look like the staring was on purpose.

It’s during the second to last song, a ballad– or as close as you can get with a metal band. Eddie’s standing center-stage and Steve had snagged the spot directly in front of him. He’s looking straight down, backlit with red spotlights, surrounded by smoke pumping from side-stage, and just close enough that Steve can see the sweat dripping down his neck. He looks a little bit scary, but that’s how Steve likes ‘em.

That’ll be the cover photo for sure.

He shoots an album link to his boss to review before he distributes them anywhere, then spends the next twenty minutes laughing to himself while he collects the goofiest photos of Eddie staring straight at his lens.

He puts them in a new album and copies the link.

When he opens up Instagram and searches Corroded Coffin he lets out a low whistle at the six million followers. Maybe he really should know who these guys are. With that many followers he doubts they’ll even see a message from his personal account, but whatever. He clicks on the message button on their profile and hits paste.

@ steveharrington.jpeg Great show tonight! Somebody tell this guy that he is allowed to look away from the camera though…

He only waits a few minutes for the reply.

@ corrodedcoffin HOLY SHIT THAT WAS YOU

@ corrodedcoffin Wait hang on

His phone pings with a message from a new account.

@ whoiseddiemunson HOLY SHIT THAT WAS YOU

@ whoiseddiemunson Sweetheart I wasn’t looking at the camera

Steve furrows his brows, confused. Starts typing a response but gets interrupted by another message.

@ whoiseddiemunson I was looking at the smoking hot guy behind it. Kinda hard to get a good look when he’s hiding behind the camera though.

Steve feels his cheeks flush and huffs a laugh to himself.

@ steveharrington.jpeg Well the guy behind the camera did manage to get a few good ones even though he was under surveillance the whole show. Wanna see those?

@ whoiseddiemunson Hell yeah I do. I just scrolled through your profile, your work is amazing. Do you want to show me the rest? Maybe over coffee tomorrow?

Steve smiles. His earlier heart palpitations replaced with butterflies.

@ steveharrington.jpeg Is this a date?

@ whoiseddiemunson It better be

#gin writes #I never thought that tag would see the light of day again #gin wrote #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #shot of gin #I am a photographer and have way too much inside knowledge to NOT write something with this #allow me to info dump at you rq #steddie fic #this is only 1.3k words and it took a LOT out of me #how I ever used to write full length fic is beyond me #good on past gin #because #present gin is WORN OUT #author has been listening to a lot of Britney Spears #hence the title #you can just be literally so back whenever you want #and I’m so back

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r0-boat · 6 months ago

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Gooner!Belphegor magic pocket pussy Drabble

Cw: masturbation, dubcon.

Gn!reader (Even if you don't have the parts the reader can still feel it ✨magically✨

His pupils dilated holding the toy in his hand. It wasn't just an ordinary toy. He had waited months for this magical toy from Tartaros.

A pocket pussy that syncs It's opening to match any person he chooses. With manual excruciatingly using the little bits DNA from strands of hair that fell from your pretty little head the last time you slept in his bed and other bothersome labor setting the damn thing up so it binds to you, It's finally ready.

"This toy better be far worth the hassle I had to endure," Belphegor mutter does he pressed his finger against the slit of the toy. He truly hopes You could feel his fingers working you open from wherever you are. He licks his lips His eyes fluttering clothes as he runs his tongue across the silicone lips.

Meanwhile, You were tagging along with not only Satan but the rest of the kings for a meeting.

"So sad that Belphegor can't attended today..." Asmodeus smirks giving Satan a wink who's flipping him off in response.

"Good riddance I say, if I had to hear One more meeting of snoring I would have closed off his throat." Leviathan mumbled.

You smile as you sit in your usual seat kicking your feet, Even though you had nothing to do with these meetings The Kings were still nice enough to have you join each one.

It was a day like any other.

Until...

A wet warm feeling caresses your core. You gasp as you swallow a moan. Lucifer's sharp eyes catches your sharp noise "Everything all right?"

" Y-yeah." Was all you could muster.

feeling that's sweet familiar taste of human arousal on his tongue he shutters "Haaa-haha This thing can even replicate your taste. Now I know it's working..."

"fuck... No more waiting... I need it!"

Lazily pushing his robes off on revealing his hard cock He strokes his shaft with one hand maneuvering his tip till it pushes against the opening as he works it open. "Fuck! Replicating your tightness too... This might be my new favorite toy." Belphegor mumbles forcing his cock deeper inside the toy.

You felt something hard and warm fill somewhere between your legs You didn't even have time to process where and how before this mysterious feeling begin to move in and out.

There was no mistaking what this feeling was. Which was deeply confusing since you were in the middle of a meeting and not being fucked by any of the kings present. The size, girth, and even the speed of the thrusts were familiar, but you couldn't place your finger on where you had felt this before. Given how fast thrusting motions began to speed up, it was so hard to think. Before you knew it, you clenched your teeth, trying so hard not to scream out in the middle of the six other kings in the room.

Your hand balling your twitching fingers into a fist trying to stop yourself from going underneath your pants.

His breath shook as he finally took his cock out of the toy His tip rubbing circles around The stretched silicone slit. "Hehehe, rest up while you can ma sweet lil' toy cuz I'm not done with you yet~"

He wonders what you're doing. He knows that there's a meeting going on right now. He wonders if you're there.

"I wonder... I wonder you like getting fucked by me in front of all the other demons that want you."

Belphegor cummed his messy hair falling in front of his eyes as he grinded his shaft against the lips of the toy. "betcha do horny slut!"

Even though you weren't there to write him or suck him off till his balls burst, The idea of fucking you anywhere he wished made his cock twitch and drool with precum.

Belphegor hummed getting his other hand to swipe at the precum drooling from his head. He takes his two fingers and slides them inside. "Ya feel that? That's what you do to me."

You finally mustered all your strength when the thrusts start to slow You slammed your fist down on the table catching everyone's attention their eyes wide at the sudden outburst "I'M GOING TO THE BATHROOM!"

Shit, you did not need to yell that loud... Now, everyone looked worried, But you didn't care because if you had stayed a second longer, you would have come right then and there in your pants. While, everyone was watching. You've never run so fast out of the meeting room.

Slamming and locking your door to your bedroom Your nails dig into the sheets trying so hard to hold back any noise as you brace yourself as the thrusting begin again.

Belphegor His eyes will back as he pounds it over and over into the flashlight as fast as he could go. He could feel the toy work it's magic tightening and pulsating just like how a cunt would; now your cunt. He could feel you cum with every tight squeeeeze.

If he thought fucking you was addicting then treating you like a fleshlight was like drugs.

As much as he wanted to use this toy for hours and hours on end. Which believe him he would.

Use it and overfill your new cunt, make feels so full when you're in fact empty. Maybe he would even fill it up to the brim and make sure it holds It aaall in So you could feel full all day.

As a demon known for breaking his toys He had to hold back. Which realization made him click his tongue. But it was true, He didn't know how much a human could take this toy was made intended for devils after all. So might as well finish inside it and store it away for later.

As much as he wanted to keeps stroking his hand was getting tired. In a last ditch effort to cum He shuffled in his bed his hair silk robes and sheet sticking to a sweaty body. He put the pocket pussy in between two pillows. As much as he hated the hassle of actually doing sex. He needed to have you feel him fuck you.

His unrestrained moans feel his bedroom as he drills his cock deeper with each thrust into the toy. Making sure he stoled his hips as deep as he could before exploding. Making sure He failed the toy to the brim.

He was nowhere near satisfied, And he knew he'll be returning to the toy again for right now, exhaustion hit him all at once. He placed his toy upright on the nightstand. He smiled, knowing that you'll feel all his cum deep inside for a while before drifting off to sleep.

#whb belphegor #whb x reader #whb #what in hell is bad #wihib #whb x mc #immmm baaaaaackkk #smut #what in “hell” is bad?

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zetasxphotos · 11 months ago

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Yellow-rumped warbler is on the lookout for nesting material 👀 🐦

#photography #nature #lightroom edits #bird in flight #fast shutter speed #in motion #consumed bird preserve #photographers on tumblr

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redflagshipwriter · 1 year ago

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Fast Car Chapter One (of four)

Masterpost

Danny hit the brakes hard and veered into a bicycle lane with a very Fenton sort of style and disregard for physics. He dodged the gunman in the carpool lane. He stuck his tongue out as he passed and then steered back into the right lane once he’d cleared the pedestrian.

It turned out that Gotham rewarded the sort of drivers forged in the crucible of the Fenton tactical GAV, which was great. Jazz had gotten a job as a barista for her third year at Gotham U, so he had inherited the car that she had used as a delivery driver. She’d even somehow managed to pay the taxes on it despite the restraining orders that most government offices had on the Fenton family.

Jazz had been a pizza girl, but Danny wasn’t willing to work the late nights. He worked for three different rideshare companies. It was.. Well. It was a terrible way to make a living, if he was honest. It was wretched. But it worked! Until the car crapped out on him, this was a viable option to feed himself while he was enrolled full time at the university. He was available to drive early in the mornings and for a few peak hours on the weekends.

Danny brought an order of 17 coffees to a warehouse with serious ‘murders will happen here today’ vibes and whistled as he left. People in murder warehouses actually tipped pretty well. Worker solidarity or something. He left the early birds to enjoy their 3 am drinks and then idly checked the app to see if there was anyone else waiting for a ride or delivery.

“Victor,” he read, and took a glance at the address. It was close! He snagged the request and turned on some bubblegum pop to enhance the ride over.

He saw a man standing outside, haunting a storefront with metal shutters pulled down. Must be the guy! Danny pulled over, checked the app, and then furrowed his eyebrows. Huh. Seemed wrong. He fixed his face before he looked back over.

In the app, Victor didn’t look especially young or fit. In person, he was easily over 6 feet tall and lugged a huge bulky bag like it weighed nothing.

He also had a giant ugly motorcycle helmet with the vague impression of a caveman brow ridge built into it. Danny hid his judgmental thoughts and rolled down the window to chirp, “Hi! Victor?”

“That’s me.” Victor sounded like he was auditioning for the Deft Punks, electronics grinding out his voice to a silly robot autotune. Danny hid the way his lips wanted to tremble. You can’t laugh at clients. “Can I put this in the trunk?”

Danny hated that. “Go for it.” He opened the trunk with the button and hid his real thoughts. He didn’t like people using the trunk. Why not just put it in the backseat like a normal person? There was enough room for a person and a bag there.

‘Is there enough room for this guy, actually?’ Danny wondered, looking Victor up and down subtly. Were his shoulders padded or was he actually built like that? Bizarre.

He had the sense that Victor was tense.

‘Ah., fuck. He caught me checking out his shoulders.’

Danny cleared his throat and whipped his face forwards again. “Normally I say to sit in the backseat, but I'm not sure that's enough room for your legs. Either is fine.”

Victor took him up on the front seat option and readjusted the passenger seat back with a casual ease.

Danny waited a moment.

Victor cocked his head at him.

“Seatbelt,” Danny prompted.

There was a long moment. Victor silently buckled his seatbelt.

“Awesome.” Danny put on his turn signals and pulled out. He went slower than he preferred. He’d learned the hard way that most passengers didn’t like his driving. It was great for cutting time off when he was delivering food, but no good for nervous cargo like poor Victor here. The poor guy was so anxious that he kept his emotional support helmet on when a passenger in a car.

Danny thoughtfully drove the speed limit and let Victor change music.

They didn’t have much to talk about. Danny didn’t mind much either way. He liked quiet rides and he liked chatting alright.

“Stop the car two blocks early,” Victor said. He pointed. “There’s fine.”

Obligingly Danny guided the car to a stop and shifted to park. He jumped out of the car. “I’ll grab your bag!” He called over his shoulder. He popped open the trunk and lifted Victor’s bag with a winning smile that said ‘I deserve a good tip.’

Victor had moved to the back of the car faster than Danny expected. He paused. He looked weirdly stiff. “Thanks.” He took the bag. “...Here’s your tip.”

“Have a wonderful day!” Danny said, pretending not to be interested in how much money it was. He waved Victor goodbye and pulled out. As soon as he was a block away he counted the bills. “Fuck yeah,” he hissed. Victor tipped like a crime boss. He stuffed them into his wallet and made a mental note of the account. He’d definitely try to accept requests from him in future.

He gave two more rides before he could go back to his shitty apartment and get ready for classes. Danny parked in the little underground garage near his place where he paid a monthly fee and jogged to his place. He got his bag and left on foot.

He had a pretty normal day. The only hiccup was that it was kind of hard to focus on his lectures when he could faintly hear what had to be every TV on campus playing the same news bulletin. Danny did his best to block it out, grimacing. Having advanced senses really sucked sometimes. If he heard the breaking news jingle one more time, he might cry.

By the time he was free he felt pushed to his limit. He went back to his place and turned off all his electronics for some peace of mind.

The next morning felt better. He turned on the tab that said he was available for work at 3 am and ended up bringing a huge delivery of breakfast materials to the same police station that he’d left Victor at yesterday. Danny hummed as he jogged up the concrete steps with three bulging bags of baked goods and coffee grounds. He handed them to a weary-eyed receptionist and accepted his tip without looking at it. He considered cracking a joke about them being busy and decided it was better not to.

He was still an illegal entity, after all. His parents were covering for him, but scrutiny was not his friend. He didn’t want any interaction with the police or the rogue band of detective freakazoids that ran this crime town.

Back in the car, he checked his tip. Danny clicked his tongue and made a disgusted sound. He hated cops. Cheap! There was nothing worse than being cheap.

His next customer tried to rob him at gunpoint as soon as he got in the car. Danny wrestled the gun away from him and ate it while the guy watched. “Just try and report me to the app,” Danny sneered between crunches of metal. It tasted like shit and the guy probably hadn’t washed his hands, so like, yuck. But it was a choice he was making for the intimidation factor, not because it was yummy.

‘Bet my iron intake is good now.’ Danny held out his hand. “My tip,” he said, and did not unlock the car door until the shaking wannabe carjacker had given him three dollars American money. Hell yeah. “Have a good morning.”

He went into the app and canceled the ride. There was another request waiting, so he drove to it. It wasn’t the name that the app’s request had shown, but- “Good morning, Victor!” Danny waved. “Call from a friend’s app this time?”

Victor stared at him dumbly. At least, that was Danny’s best guess of what was going on inside the helmet. “Yes.” He eventually said.

Cool, cool. Very weird. But he was an ok guy and he tipped well. “Hop in,” Danny said, and unlocked the car.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dead on main #red fast car

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keeryhours · 6 months ago

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girls on film - jonathan byers

Jonathan Byers x shy! female! reader

Main Masterlist

ST Characters Masterlist

Summary:

When you get assigned a photography project with Jonathan, you end up trying something…experimental.

Warnings:

Smut (18+), unprotected p in v, oral (m receiving)

Word Count: 5.1k

A/N:

So excited for my first Jonathan fic! I’ve been working on this for weeks so I’m so happy it’s finally done 😅

You adjusted the settings on your Nikon F3. Attaching the 55mm lens, you held the camera up to your eye, focusing on your subject - your dog. You were grateful for the fast shutter speed on your new camera, because the Border Collie did not sit still.

“Lucy, stay!” You commanded, hoping you could just get this shot for your photography class. The long haired black and white dog looked at you with her tongue hanging out of her mouth. She listened, but you knew you had only moments before she took off, ready to run the 5 acres of land your family lived on, chasing after the livestock.

You snapped the photo just in time before she stood and ran. You hoped you got a good one, but there was no way to tell until you developed the film. You did not want to get an F on this project just because your dog wouldn’t cooperate.

You sighed as you removed the lens from the camera body, storing both back in their bag. You loved photography - it had become a passion of yours your freshman year of high school. It was your favorite form of art. And you could do it completely solo - you honestly hated interacting with your classmates. Not that there was anything wrong with them (well, not most of them, at least), you just preferred your own company.

You slung the camera bag over your shoulder and walked through the yard and back to your house. The smell of dinner wafted from the kitchen, but you headed up to your room instead. You carefully sat your camera bag on your desk and fell back onto your full size bed.

Your room felt childish. Nothing had changed since middle school. There weren’t photos with friends decorating your mirror, no gifts from your nonexistent relationships. Your bed was still covered with stuffed animals (though you’d never admit you still liked sleeping with them). The walls were painted a pale pink. The only recent decorations were the prints you made of your photography.

Lucy, the farm animals, your family, school events you were asked to photograph for the yearbook. Flowers, photos from finally trips, anything interesting you’d found with your camera on you - which it usually was.

You hoped these photos of Lucy turned out so you could add them to the collection. The left side of your room needed something new. Hell, your life needed something new. Something fresh. Something exciting.

The next day at school, you snuck into the dark room during lunch. You had the space to yourself, which you were grateful for.

Firstly, you mixed together your chemicals so they would be ready, pouring them into their respective trays. You then unloaded the roll of film from your camera. You looked over the negatives, finding some photos of Lucy that turned out great - thank god. You turned the negative around, placing it in the carrier before carefully removing any dust. You placed the carrier in the enlarger. You adjusted the size, using the focusing wheel to make sure it was completely in focus. You adjusted the lens aperture to F8, sliding a filter into the enlarger.

Next, you took a sheet of the photo paper and placed it into the easel. You exposed the photo onto the sheet of paper for about 5 seconds. You moved the sheet to your tray of developer, sliding it in quickly and carefully, then moved the tray gently, watching as the chemicals moved and your photo of Lucy developed in front of your eyes. After 60 seconds, you used the tongs to remove the photo and place it in the stop bath. You slid this tray around, too, using a separate pair of tongs to remove the print and place it into the fixer. After 30 seconds, you checked the thermometer in your tray of water, finding it perfectly at 68 degrees Fahrenheit. You removed the photo and placed it in the tray of water for 2 minutes, emptying and refilling the water a few times to make sure to wash away all the chemicals. When you were done, you hung the black and white photo to dry and continued with the others you wanted to print.

When you were done, you flipped the lights back on, gathering your prints. You checked the clock on the wall and were relieved to see there was still a decent chunk of lunch left - hopefully there would be some pizza left to grab. You pulled the door open and immediately smashed into something - or someone. You stumbled back, your photos falling from your hands.

“I’m so sorry! Here, let me help,” the guy said, crouching down to gather your stuff for you before you had the chance to. He stood, handing your stuff back, and you found yourself looking into the brown eyes of Jonathan Byers. He looked down at your photos as he handed them over. “Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was in here.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, a blush creeping onto your cheeks. “I just finished up in here.” You brushed your hair behind your ear, feeling shy now that you were no longer in the safety of the darkroom alone.

Jonathan gave you a small kind smile, one that had your heart beating a little harder in your chest. “Your photos look great, by the way,” he added, gesturing to the prints clutched safely in your grasp.

“Oh, thanks,” you said, avoiding his gaze. You cursed yourself for the way you always got shy around other people. It was Jonathan, he was probably the nicest guy in your senior class.

Maybe it was the fact that you’d had a crush on him for forever, watching him in photography class, noticing the beautiful photographs he produced every single time. He was quiet, kind, kept to himself just like you. You had to admit you wanted to get to know him better, but you were scared.

“I’ll, uh, see you in class,” Jonathan said, that same friendly smile on his face. You nodded and slipped by him out of the door. You heard it close behind you as you quickly walked to the cafeteria, hoping there would be something left for you to eat.

You walked into 7th period Photography, taking your seat at your usual desk in the back. Mr. Howard was at the front of the room, talking with another student from last period as the rest of the class filed in. Jonathan gave you a small nod when he walked in, and you returned it before turning your head to hide the blush on your cheeks, again.

You turned in your work as class began, pleased with how the photographs of Lucy had turned out. About halfway through class, Mr. Howard clapped his hands together, commanding the attention of every student.

“Alright, class.” He drummed his hands on the desk like a drumroll, a mischievous smile on his face. “It’s time for your portrait partner project assignments!”

The whole class let out a chorus of groans. Mr. Howard only laughed. “Your partner assignments are posted on the bulletin board. Please check after class.”

Class went on as usual, but you couldn’t focus, too worried about who you would be paired with. You hated working with others, honestly. You preferred being alone whenever possible.

When class was over and most of your classmates had already left, you tentatively made your way over to the board. You scanned the list with your finger tracing down the list of names until you found your own, and the name beside it - Jonathan Byers.

It could definitely have been worse. Jonathan was nice, and he was talented. But he was also…really cute.

“Looks like we’re working together,” a voice came from behind you, and you turned to see Jonathan smiling politely with his bag over his shoulder.

“Looks like it,” you agreed, unable to make eye contact with him. “Do you…want to work at my place or yours?”

“Uh…” He thought for a moment. “My mom has work until late and my brother has his D&D campaign, if you want to come over?”

“Sounds good,” you said. You hadn’t exactly been thrilled at the idea of Jonathan in your middle school style bedroom.

“I can give you a ride, if you want?”

The thought of riding in Jonathan Byers’ car alone with him terrified and excited you. You’d never been alone with a boy before.

“Okay,” you agreed, looking down to hide the blush on your face. You were pretty sure he saw right through you, though - you weren’t exactly being subtle.

He nodded towards the hallway, indicating for you to follow him out of the classroom. You did, and the two of you walked out to the school parking lot together. No one paid you any mind.

He led the way to his rusted Ford LTD. After unlocking the doors for you both, you slid into your respective seats. It took him a few times to get the car started, but eventually it did.

The Byers lived a bit out of the way, a good distance from the main part of Hawkins. So did you, but you had never been out this way. He drove up the dirt driveway of the small house, parking off to the side to leave room for his mother’s car.

You had never been to any of your classmate’s houses before - not since middle school when you were best friends with Chrissy Cunningham, before you drifted apart. It was strange being here alone with him, and the fact that you liked it was even stranger.

Jonathan unlocked the front door and led you inside, walking down the hall towards what you assumed was his bedroom. His room was tidy, his bed made and no clothes strewn across the floor. He had a turntable with stereo on his dresser with a large collection of records and an Evil Dead poster on the wall, which you noticed immediately.

“That’s my favorite movie!” You said, suddenly excited. “I love Ash.”

Jonathan smiled, gently setting his bags on the bed. “It’s a great movie. One of my favorites, too. You like horror?”

“Yeah, of course,” you said. “My favorite genre.”

You started browsing through his records. He had a lot of great music. You picked out The Smiths’ debut album. “Can I?”

“Yeah, of course,” he said. He began pulling his camera out of its bag and getting it set up while you lifted the cover of the turntable and placed the record down gently. You turned it on and lowered the arm to the record, the music beginning to fill the room, quiet enough to just fill the background while you talked.

Jonathan turned to you with his camera in hand - a Pentax MX, you recognized. He fiddled with his settings a little, then smiled at you. “Ready to get started?”

“Yeah,” you said, suddenly shy again. “Where do you want me?”

“Um…” He thought for a second, looking around the space. “How about just against the wall here? Just a plain background. I’ll open the curtain.”

You moved to the wall, adjusting your hair as you walked. Jonathan held his camera up to his eye, making sure he was ready to shoot.

He directed you in a series of poses as he took photo after photo. It was extremely awkward - you were always the one behind the camera. You didn’t like being in front of it. But Jonathan was a complete professional, making you feel as comfortable as possible. You started having fun about the time the song switched to Pretty Girls Make Graves.

“Let’s take a little break, then we can switch,” he said after a good 30 minute session, lowering his camera. “You did great.”

As Jonathan put his equipment away, you wandered around his room. You spotted several books on photography on a shelf, and you reached for one, opening it up and flipping through it.

It was filled with black and white photographs, all of them beautiful portraits. You slowly looked through the book, admiring the stunning work, until you reached a section that made you stop, a blush creeping onto your cheeks.

“I don’t know how people have the confidence to do this,” you said, looking down at the tasteful nude photos. Women posing with their breasts fully exposed to the camera, each looking absolutely beautiful.

Jonathan looked over your shoulder. “It’s just art,” he said, a small smile on his face. “If you’re working with a photographer you’re comfortable with…I imagine it’s easy.”

You shook your head. “I can’t imagine.”

It was silent for a moment as you both gazed down at the photos. “Would you…ever want to try?”

Your head snapped around in his direction, your eyes wide. “What?”

“You- you could try it,” he said, suddenly very nervous. “We could try it. If you want to.”

You felt yourself blushing all over your entire body. You slowly closed the book, turning around to look at Jonathan. “You…want to take these kinds of photos…of me?”

“Yeah, why not?” Jonathan said with a shrug and that shy smile. “I’m a photographer. You’re modeling. And…you’re beautiful. You’d do amazing.”

You couldn’t believe what he was suggesting. Jonathan wanted to take nude photos, of you?? But you had to admit to yourself…you were intrigued. You hadn’t had any exciting experiences in your life. It was about time for something to happen.

And did he just call you beautiful?

“O…okay,” you said, trying to find your confidence. “How…do we do this?”

“Well,” Jonathan started. “You can, uh…undress, and I’ll get my camera ready?”

Your hands were shaking as you nodded slowly. “Okay,” you said. “Let’s do this.”

Jonathan turned around, giving you privacy as he fiddled with his camera. You lifted your shirt over your head and dropped it to the ground. Next you undid your jeans, pushing them down your legs and dropping them into a pile with your shirt. You took a deep breath before you reached behind your back and unhooked your bra, dropping it and then sliding your panties down your legs.

Completely naked, you finally fully realized what you had gotten yourself into. You were currently standing naked in Jonathan Byers’ bedroom. You felt your nipples hardening as they were exposed to the cold air. You held a hand across your breasts, as if you weren’t completely naked from the waist down too and about to have nude photos taken. “Okay…I’m ready.”

Jonathan turned around, his eyes going wide when he saw you. His gaze raked over your body before meeting your eyes again. “You- uh- you look- you look great,” he said, pink blush rising on his cheeks.

You couldn’t help but smile. It made you feel better that he was nervous, too. “Thanks,” you said shyly. “Um…I guess we should get started?”

“Oh yeah, yeah,” Jonathan said quickly, snapping out of whatever trance he was in. “Um, you can stand over there?” He pointed to the blank space on his wall.

You moved over there, dropping your hands from your breasts. Jonathan locked eyes with them for just a moment before he was looking at your face again. “Want me to put on some music?”

“Please,” you said, feeling like it would help you get in the zone and be more comfortable.

Jonathan walked to the record player, flipping through his records before pulling one out and placing it on the turntable. David Bowie’s voice carried through the room, and you smiled. “I love Bowie.”

“Me too,” Jonathan said, returning your smile. He moved back in front of you and lifted the camera to his eye. “Okay, just pose like…this?” He said, miming the placement of your arms.

You held your arms behind your head the way he showed you, kneeling down on the carpet. “Like this?”

“Perfect,” he said, snapping a bunch of photos. “You look beautiful.”

You blushed deeply. Having your naked body on full display was a new, terrifying experience, but it was also…exhilarating. You were kind of loving it.

Jonathan hadn’t felt so inspired in ages. Something about your body was perfect for photography, he thought you looked beautiful and you photographed like a real model. He could tell you were shy, but you were doing an amazing job. These photos were going to be some of the best he’d ever taken.

He instructed you through different poses, encouraging you the entire time. The longer the session lasted, the more comfortable you felt. By the time a few songs had passed, you were honestly having a great time.

“How about you sit on the bed for this one?” Jonathan said, gesturing to his bed. You sat down on the edge of it, looking to Jonathan for more instructions. “Just hold your arms like…this.”

You did your best to copy what Jonathan was trying to show you. “Like this?”

“No, kind of like…” He lowered his camera to hang around his neck and moved over towards you. “This.” He reached for your arms and began to pose you, but his fingers accidentally brushed over your hardened nipple. You gasped, jumping slightly at the sensation, and Jonathan looked up at you with wide eyes.

“I’m so sorry!” He said, dropping his hands. “I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s okay,” you said, giggling lightly. “I…didn’t mind.”

Jonathan looked into your eyes, like he was searching for something. His gaze lowered to your lips, then back to your eyes. The next thing you knew, he was leaning in, and you felt his lips press against yours.

Your heart pounded in your chest, your eyes falling closed as you kissed him back. His hand came up to cup the side of your head, his thumb caressing your cheek. He ran his tongue across your bottom lip and you opened, allowing his tongue to explore your mouth completely, dancing with your own.

You couldn’t believe what was happening. You were finally having your first kiss - at 18, but whatever - and it was with Jonathan Byers. While also naked.

Your hand slid beneath his shirt, feeling the skin of his stomach and chest. He pulled back and pulled it over his head before moving back to your lips, kissing you hungrily as his hands roamed your bare skin.

You pulled away, suddenly nervous. Jonathan looked as if you’d just yelled at him, like he felt bad for overstepping your boundaries, which he hadn’t done at all. “Have you…ever done this before?” You asked.

Jonathan looked back at you, this time a slight blush on his cheeks. “Uh, no. Never.”

“Me either,” you admitted, which made Jonathan smile a bit.

“I thought you’d think less of me,” he said. He reached for your hand and held it in his own. “Like I’m the Freak no one wants to go out with.”

“I don’t think that at all,” you assured him. It was your turn to place your hand on his cheek and turn him to look at you. “I think you’re really handsome. And the girls at school are missing out if they overlook you.”

Jonathan smiled again, his cheeks tinged red. “I think you’re the most beautiful girl in school.”

You blushed as well, your whole body heating. “That’s definitely not true.”

“Well, I think it is.” Jonathan caressed your face with the back of his hand, looking into your eyes. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. The way I’ve always seen you.”

“You noticed me?” You were surprised, because no one noticed you. You were grateful you weren’t exactly picked on, but it would be nice for your classmates to know you’re there.

“Of course I did,” Jonathan said, like it was obvious. “You’re the best photographer in school. Your photos are always beautiful. You have so much talent, and you’re so pretty and kind.”

You couldn’t believe what he was saying. He had noticed you? And not only noticed you, but felt those things about you like you had about him?

“I think you’re the best photographer in school,” you said shyly, unable to meet his gaze now. “And you’re always kind, even when people are dicks to you. And you’re so handsome it makes my heart beat faster when I see you.”

Jonathan smiled, looking down at his hands. “I can’t believe you feel the same way about me.”

You thought for a moment. You could keep sitting here being all shy, or you could take what you wanted. You could stop sitting on the sidelines of life and do something you want for once. Something he wants, too.

You turned to him, and he turned to you. You moved in, and he did the same. Your lips pressed together again, and you kissed him eagerly this time, your hand resting on his face as he placed his hand on your hip. You gently pushed him down on the bed, and he obeyed. He watched wide eyed as you climbed onto his lap, grinding down on the growing bulge in his pants. He groaned and tightened his grip on your hips.

“God, you…you look so beautiful,” he said breathless, eyes roaming your body hungrily. You grabbed his hands and slowly trailed them up your body, rubbing over your ass and up your sides until you placed them over your tits. His eyes somehow went even wider, a rush of air leaving his lips. “J-Jesus Christ.”

“You can touch me,” you said, bolder than you felt. “You can touch me wherever you want.”

Jonathan let out a shuddering breath and you removed your hands, leaving him there to do as he pleased. He slowly began massaging your tits, thumbs running over your peaked nipples, making you shiver. You rotate your hips as you grinded against his lap, feeling him growing harder and harder beneath you. His expression looked totally fucked out already and you’d barely even touched him.

Your hands slid under his t-shirt again. “Why don’t you take this off?”

He sat up quickly, pulling his shirt off and over his head. You took in the sight of his bare chest, hands roaming the now exposed skin. Then you surprised him by moving farther down his body. He breathed in a gasp of air as your hands began undoing his jeans.

He watched with rapt attention as you got them undone, lifting his hips to help you pull them and his boxers off his body. His cock sprung free, long and hard and leaking precum already. He was bigger than you expected.

“H-oh shit,” he breathed out as you wrapped your hand around his cock, feeling it twitch in your hand. You moved forward and wrapped your lips around his tip, running your tongue around it experimentally. His hips bucked up- “Sorry! Shit, sorry-“ but you didn’t mind. You liked that he was so weak for you, so desperate for more of your touch.

You began bobbing your head up and down his cock, taking more of him every time you lowered your head. His hands were gripped in tight fists in his bed sheets, like he wasn’t sure what to do with them but needed to hold onto something.

You pulled off of him. “You can touch me,” you reminded him, a little giggle in your voice. “I want you to touch me.”

Jonathan just nodded, but when you went back to sucking his cock, he grabbed the back of your hair with one of his hands. He wasn’t shy about his moans - either that or he couldn’t help it - but you were loving it. You had never done this before, but the noises he was making let you know you were doing a good job. An amazing job, apparently.

“Baby,” he moaned, high and desperate. “Feels so good. Oh my god- it’s so good.”

You almost laughed, he was so cute, but you kept it together as you took him deeper and deeper with every pass, running your tongue around his tip every time you reached it.

“Fuck, fuck,” he moaned, his breaths coming in shorter bursts. “I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop right now. And I really…really wanna do more with you.”

You wouldn’t have minded making him cum with your mouth, but doing more sounded way too enticing. You pulled off of him and he watched as a string of saliva connected your lips to his cock, dropping his head back on the pillows with a groan.

Crawling up his body slowly, you placed kisses as you went, making him shudder. When you reached his lips you kissed him again, his hands sliding up your sides.

“God, you are…so hot,” he groaned, hands squeezing the plush skin of your ass before sliding back up your body, enjoying every inch of you.

“So are you,” you hummed, kissing his neck, biting and sucking when you found the spot that made him moan. Then, to your surprise, he grabbed you and flipped you both so he was on top.

He started kissing your neck, making you moan beneath him as he left purple hickies on your skin. You felt his hard cock pressed up against your core, and he pulled back, looking at you with pleading eyes that contradicted his next words.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked, his voice raspy. It was obvious he very much did. “We don’t have to. If you want to stop now, we can.”

“I don’t want to stop,” you said quickly. “I…want to keep going. Do you have a condom?”

“Shit,” he hissed. “No. This isn’t, uh, something I do often.”

You giggled. “It’s okay. We can still do it. Just, uh…pull out?”

Jonathan nodded vigorously. “I can do that.”

He reached down between your bodies, wrapping his hand around his cock as he dragged the head between your folds, gathering your slick on him. Then he was pressing at your entrance, gaze darting back up to look into your eyes.

“Let me know if you don’t like it, okay?” He said. “I can stop any time. We don’t have to do this.”

“Jonathan,” you said with a small laugh. “It’s okay. Just do it.”

He nodded, then looked back down to where you were connected as he slowly began pushing inside. It stung at first, the intrusion unfamiliar and painful the farther he filled you, but it eased into a kind of pleasure before long. You held onto his shoulders tightly.

Jonathan groaned when he bottomed out inside of you, body shuddering from the sheer pleasure of being buried inside your tight, wet walls. It felt amazing for him, better than his hand, better than what he dreamed sex would be like. You were perfect, like your body was made for him, made to take him.

“Oh my god, Jonathan,” you moaned. “Feels so good. You’re so big. Please move, need you to fuck me.”

He moaned, hand gripping tightly in the bed sheets again. “Fuck, if you say things like that I’m gonna cum faster than I want to.”

He pulled back out slowly before rolling his hips back into you. It felt even better that time, a high whine coming from your lips. Reassured seeing that you were enjoying it, he set a steady pace, thrusting into you quickly. He buried his face in your neck, moaning as he truly began to fuck you.

“God, this is…fuck, feels so good. You feel so fucking good. Shit, I can’t-“ He cut himself off with another moan, high and whiney and so fucking hot.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling lightly at his dark brown locks. You wrapped your legs around his waist, guiding him to fuck you faster, which had him moaning your name over and over again.

“Jonathan,” you moaned, back arching off the bed. “Please, I-“

Jonathan reached between your bodies, fingers beginning to rub at your clit. He had the idea, but didn’t exactly know what he was doing.

“Rub in circles,” you told him, although what he was doing didn’t feel bad. He did as you instructed, rubbing quick tight circles on the sensitive bud. “Fuck, yeah, just like that. Just like that.”

The combined feeling of his cock deep inside you and his fingers working against your clit had a coil tightening in your belly, your peak coming faster and faster. “Jon, I’m-“

Your orgasm crashed into you, having you seeing stars as your back arched off the bed, pussy clenching around him as you called his name again and again. “Jonathan! Oh my god, Jonathan-“

It sent Jon over the edge too, crying out loudly as he quickly pulled out and pumped his cock a couple times as he shot his load all over your chest, stomach and thighs. It was so much, and you had never seen a guy cum before. You watched him with wide eyes, the sight turning you on all over again.

You both caught your breath, trying to calm down after all that. Jonathan reached for a dirty shirt on the floor and cleaned you off, then laid down on his bed next to you.

“That was absolutely incredible,” he breathed, wrapping an arm around you. “You were incredible.”

“That was amazing,” you agreed. He leaned over and pulled you into a passionate kiss.

“Be my girlfriend,” he said, thumb rubbing circles on your hip.

You raised your eyebrows. “Really? You mean it?”

“Of course I do,” he laughed. “Haven’t you realized how into you I am? Especially after all this?”

You blushed, hiding your face in his chest. “Yes. Of course I’ll be your girlfriend.”

The two of you cuddled in bed for a while longer, until you looked over at his alarm clock and saw the time. “Oh god. I’m gonna be late for curfew.”

Jonathan looked over at the time, too. “Oh, wow. I didn’t realize it had gotten so late. Do you want me to give you a ride home?” He asked. “We can, uh, do your part of the project tomorrow,” he added, cheeks tinged red.

“Okay,” you agreed, smiling and giving him a kiss. “Sounds good to me.”

You both got dressed, trying to look as if you hadn’t done what you had just done. You left his room and headed down the hall - seeing Jonathan’s mom, Joyce, sitting in the living room.

She smiled at you awkwardly. “Hi, so nice to meet you.”

You took her hand in yours, blushing furiously as Jonathan avoided eye contact with his mother. “Nice to meet you, too,” you said, giving her your name.

As you and Jonathan walked out hand in hand, he turned to you. “She definitely knew what we did.”

“Oh yeah, definitely.”

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