#schmackin

[chaifootsteps]

was anon looking for this one?

Either way, thank you for sending this in because it's funny.

[jamjoob]

great heavens i haven't posted in a while

[romeeats]

Oh My Gulay | Tocino Wings | Lechon Kawali | Java Rice @uncletito.bar #RomeEatsSF #foodie #instafood #picoftheday #eatersf #eater #photooftheday #manfood #foodporn #nomnom #food #instadaily #eatdrinksf #hungry #sanfrancisco #slap #schmackin #smackin #filipinofood #uncletito (at San Francisco, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/CkmReX6Pehe/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[honeysuckleharringtons]

any chance you could do Counselors' Lounge for steve please? 🫶🏼💫

hi, love!! i am so so sorry this took so long to get out, work stuff happened and mental health stuff happened but i hope this was worth the wait! it's also not technically workplace but they are working at a summer camp, but if you wanted something else, feel free to leave another ask and i write a new one hehe 🫶🏻💛

"Take Me To The Lake" ~ S. Harrington

Summary: In which Steve's last summer at his childhood summer camp becomes his favorite summer ever.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,048 (she got a lil wordy oops)

Content Warning: reader and steve are implied to be around 18/19, sexual humor and fade to black smut bc steve is a hoe, light mentions of food, mostly fluff but a lil angsty at times, possibly bad descriptions of volleyball bc it's been a minute since i played, reader from ohio lol, lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: yeah i did name it after a taylor lyric, what about it??

Originally Written: 07/07/2024 through 0718/2024

Beta Read By: @writer-in-theory 🫶🏻❤️

masterlist | summer celebration

“You're going down!” Steve shouted from his side of the sandy volleyball court, hands on his hips to further prove his point.

You simply shook your head. “You wish, pretty boy!” It looked a whole lot like he mouthed something to the effect of ‘Yeah, I do,’ but a children's summer camp wasn't exactly the place to unpack that.

Camp Clearwater was probably your favorite place on Earth, and it was the one place on Earth where you were guaranteed a month of wonderful bliss with your favorite person ever. To say it was your favorite month of all twelve in a year was probably a little biased, but when you were getting to see the one person on the planet you adored more than anyone else, it was hard not to pick favorites.

Steve Harrington had started out just like any other camper in your eyes: for one, your rival, considering you were never on the same team at camp due to gender differences; not to mention, he was someone you only saw that one time of year. But, thanks to raging hormones at the wonderful age of thirteen, a chance game of “spin the bottle” after dark had brought the two of you together and you'd been inseparable ever since. Sure, you were pretty much only guaranteed the month of July together, but after that fateful first kiss, you called each other every night and all but forced your parents to drive you to the other's city every now and again for a date or two.

“Alright, when the whistle blows, the Ladybugs will serve,” the announcer practically yelled through the bullhorn. Your bones rattled with the volume of her shout, but it only added to the excitement coursing through you.

The whistle blew, the ball went up, and Kimmy smacked it right into the back corner of the court. Was it cheating for you to pick your two best players for the championship set? Maybe, but with Kimmy's precise serves and Megan's ability to keep the ball in the air no matter how many times she had to dive or slide, it would feel wrong for anyone else to be on that court.

The girls met in the middle of the court for a high five, clearly proud of the serve. Cheering them on from the sidelines, you yelled, “Good job with the ace, girls!”

The ball went up again, this time a lighter serve that barely made it over the net, taking out the setter of Steve's team. Still, they managed to keep the ball up, even with the weaker of their players being the one to spike the ball back over to your side of the court. It went back and forth a few times, eventually ending when Kimmy's block went out of bounds.

Steve had definitely brought his A Game when training the two boys on his team, seeing as most of the round, both your team and his were neck and neck on points. Before you knew it, the score was twenty-three to twenty-three, and either team needed only two more points to win.

In hindsight, maybe it wasn't the best decision to coach against your boyfriend. Sure, healthy competition was always a good thing in relationships, but it was Steve's last year as a counselor, and you'd hate for him to walk away sad. Although, from the crease forming between his brows, you could tell that he was more stressed than anything right now.

“Come on, guys, you got this!” he shouted from his side of the court, hands clapping loudly in excitement. You couldn't resist doing the same, turning to your own team and cheering them on.

The next point went to the Ladybugs when Megan surprised them with a tip that fell right over the net, giving the guys' team basically no time to bounce back. You were one point away, and the thought of winning the championship—even if it was only just at some summer camp—made your heart rattle inside your rib cage.

Then, the Beetles took the next point with a shocking service ace, keeping their team and the game alive.

Two more points and again, it was anyone's game. Your heart pounded and your hands shook at the exhilaration and thrill that this game was giving you.

The ball went back and forth, back and forth, until you'd forgotten you were a coach, not a spectator. You were just as entranced by the ball as the parents watching from the bleachers were, and you didn't even realize what had happened until all the girls on your team came flooding over to you, all squeals and cheers.

“We did it!” one girl, Britt, screamed as she jumped up and down. Another squealed, apparently incapable of forming words. Megan and Kimmy were all smiles as they did the handshake all the girls in your cabin had started doing toward the beginning of the month.

You couldn't help but be proud of your girls, not just Kimmy and Megan, but each of the girls on your team that had fought for this year's trophy. In a sense, it was your last trophy, since you'd now graduated high school and wouldn't be playing in college. Though, you definitely were coming back to Camp Clearwater every summer you could.

After your celebratory dinner in the dining hall and the most bittersweet of goodbyes as you sent all your new friends back home to their parents, you couldn't help but search for your ‘rival’ coach to see how he was handling things.

You found him back in his cabin, alone since all the campers had already been sent home. Walls that were usually filled with posters of baseball players and favorite movies were now bare, beds that normally housed pre-teens were now vacant, and the boy who usually wore a smile was now sporting a frown, one that displayed what looked like sadness and homesickness.

“Cheer up, pretty boy,” you said, catching his attention, his eyes darting up to meet your figure where you stood in the doorway. “You've always known I'm better than you at volleyball.”

He snickered, his frown slightly disappearing. “You wish.”

You stepped closer to him, shutting the cabin's front door lightly behind yourself. “What was that you mouthed at me today? Yeah, I do?”

Steve rolled his eyes, though his expression displayed joy at your words. “Thought you might not have caught that.”

Your hands met his hair, swiping through the brown strands delicately. “I'm a better lip reader than you thought, Harrington.”

“Yeah, that's not your only specialty with lips though, is it?”

A scoff escaped your lips. “Is that all you think about?”

“Sometimes,” he said, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “But mostly I just think about how pretty you are and how lucky I am.”

A smile pulled at your own lips, your heart nearly melting at his sweet words. Still, despite his demeanor, you still felt the need to ask, “Are we okay after today? No hard feelings?”

His brows creased. “Why wouldn't we be okay?”

“I did beat you at your very last Beach Bug tournament,” you reminded him, your hands moving down to his own and interlocking your fingers.

“Don't remind me,” he said dramatically, throwing his head back. Then, he met your eyes again, his expression sickeningly sweet. “Seriously though, we're okay.”

You held out your pinky finger, a pout appearing on your face. “You prommy?”

He locked his pinky around yours. “Yes, I prommy,” he replied sarcastically before pulling your hand up to his mouth and kissing the knuckles.

Then he was pulling you onto the bed with him, both your legs and his braiding together as they dangled off the side of the mattress. Steve's hand met your waist as he pulled you into his side while his lips met your head for a soft kiss.

“Weird how this is the last weekend I'll spend in one of these cabins,” he mentioned as his eyes darted from you to the roof.

“Don't remind me,” you parroted his words from before, only this time they were true.

His hand slid down to meet your bare leg, skin sun-kissed from all the time you'd been spending in it lately. You noticed his eyes avoiding yours, and the homesickness that swirled in them. The two of you still had another forty-eight hours before you had to leave each other, and yet he was already longing to be back in your arms.

“I do have some somewhat good news, though.”

Your heart raced at the possibilities, though your brows wrinkled in confusion. “What?”

“Well, I was gonna tell you over the phone when I found out but I thought it would be better to tell you in person. Just in case I don't get the reaction I'm hoping for.”

This only made you more confused. “Why would I be upset over good news?”

By now, the two of you had made your way back to sitting, his legs still dangling from the bed while yours were now pulled underneath yourself. Steve’s eyes were more serious now, his breathing speeding up as he got closer to his confession. “Do you remember how I said I was moving for college?”

“Yeah, your dad was trying to get you into U of Chicago,” you waved your hand as you remembered his words. “Alma Mater crap, right?”

Steve chuckled at your question. “I may have not been entirely sincere about the whole thing.”

He just kept adding to your state of confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Steve took your hands in his, watching as they intertwined once again. “He was trying to get me into UChi… but that's not where I'm going.”

“What are you…”

The next statement had your heart racing just as much as the volleyball match that afternoon. “I got into Bowling Green.”

Your mouth flew open as your arms wrapped around his neck, squeals flying out of your mouth left and right. “You're kidding!”

His head shook against your shoulder where it rested, and you swore you felt a tear slip against your tee shirt. “I know it's not Denison, but-”

“It's here. It's two hours away from me. Not six.” By now, tears were forming in your own eyes, your smile wider than the lake outside of that cabin. You pulled his face away from your shoulder, meeting his gaze again. “Why would I be upset over this?”

Those big brown eyes you loved fell down to the floor, his tears drying up in an instant. “It doesn't mean I can come back here.”

You wiped at a stray drop of water on his cheek, causing him to shiver at the touch. “Why not?”

“My dad made an agreement with me. If I promised him my summers at the firm, I could promise you my weekends during the school year.”

Butterflies shot off in your stomach like fireworks. He may not have been able to give you everything you wanted, but he could give you enough. And that was simply all you needed.

Hands made their way into dark brown, beautiful strands. Lips met skin, the pulse point of his neck to be precise. “Steven,” one kiss, “Otis,” another kiss, on his jaw, “Harrington,” one last kiss, underneath his ear.

“Hmm?” he asked. You could almost hear his eyebrow cocking upward.

Another long kiss, then a small nibble to his earlobe. “I love you.”

“You're insane.”

His tee shirt made a light thump against the floor. “Insane for you.”

Steve looked down at you through dark eyelashes, meeting you with a half smirk. “I take it you're excited about this whole thing?”

“Very,” you nodded, your grin outright showy at this point. “You remember earlier how you said I was going down?”

The man could hardly keep his composure as your hands met the button of his shorts. “You are truly insane.”

“Maybe…” You finally made your way off the bed, sinking to your knees in front of him. “Do you wanna find out how insane I truly am?”

“I've died. I'm in Heaven right now. Or Hell, one of the two.”

“Me too, Stevie,” you said, leaving a kiss on his knee. “Me too.”

-> taglist: @dungeons-are-too-cold @ducky-died-inside @awkotaco24 @liberhoe @princesseddie @corrodedseraphine @manuosorioh @esoltis280 @mochminnie

[aringofsalt]

made risotto for dinner

[bitchnojutsu]

team gai knuckle tats.

R O C K • L E E !

1 0 1 0 • D Y K E

F R E E • B I R D

[chilewithcarnage]

white people mighta been on to something with frito pie

[54prowl]

the day y'all were talking about Monoma was the day i made the most i EVER made in tips at work!

sooooooo #teammonoma #monomaapologist lmfao

THIS JUST IN MONOMAGATE BRINGS GOOD LUCK

[meetmyothersouls]

Stuck in an elevator?

Like You Hate Me

Warnings: elevator sex/sex in public, almost getting caught, dirty talk, smut, not proof read

“Pull your dress up,” Timothee says to you, as soon as the elevator doors shut.

“Timothee. What?” You say, your eyes wandering the four walls surrounding you. “Someone could be watching,” you add in a hushed, whispered voice.

Timothee smirks, his eyelids half closed in the way they normally are when he’s turned on. He bites his bottom lip slightly and you aren’t even sure he knows if he’s doing it, but it’s a sight. He’s a sight. Timothee takes three maybe four slow steps towards you, closing the gap between you two and trapping you in the corner of the elevator. “So,” he says, his hands go above you, resting on two separate walls. He towers over you, craning his neck down to make eye contact with you. You feel small, in the best way possible. “Let’s give them something to watch.” He captures your lips in the softest, slowest sensual kiss. The kind of kiss he gives you when he’s wanting quick sex. The roughest fucks make for the sweetest kisses you’ve discovered.

He pulls away from you and you’re already breathless. The elevator dings, indicating a stop, but one of his long arms travel behind him. He uses one finger and presses down on the “door close” button. It beeps twice in protest, but begins traveling to the next floor. Timothee presses the “number 25” button. The highest floor in the building.

“Turn around for me, baby girl. I’m dying to get inside that tight pussy of yours.” He’s already unzipping his pants and the kiss he gave you has you more than ready for him.

You turn around, arching your back so your tits press agains the corner and your ass sticks at the perfect angle. Your fingers hook under the hem of your dress and you pull it up, resting the fabric at your hips. Timothee’s fingers hook into your panties before you get a chance to do it your self. He’s eager today.

“What if someone comes in?” You ask, anxiety creeping back up. You’re quite sure you can get arrested for this. Or at least fined.

“I’ll make sure they don’t.”

Your panties are around your ankles and you hear a the heavy clunk of Timothee’s pants and belt hit the floor. You can already feel the heat of his body as your spread your legs and arch your back even more in anticipation for his cock.

“Fuck your pussy is so perfect, baby.”

You hear him lick his hand and your already moaning as you wait for him to touch you. You’re already dripping for him, but he takes his the four fingers he’s just licked and runs them under you starting at your clit, sliding through your slick folds and finally gripping your ass.

“Fuuuck,” he breathes. “So wet for me, huh?”

“Mhmm” you moan.

You’re about to beg him to fuck you, when you feel the head of his cock brush your entrance. You want to push back onto him, but he doesn’t give you the chance. Timothee slams his cock inside of you so hard it knocks the breath out of you.

“Fuuuuck,” Timothee moans. His fingers and gripping your ass so hard you’re sure he’s going to l leave small finger tip shaped bruises on your skin. He’s pulling out, adjusting his grip on your ass as he says, “don’t expect this to be gentle.”

He pulls all the way out of you and removes a hand from your ass. Judging from the wet sounds, he’s pumping his cock a the sight of your pussy, edging himself closer to a quicker orgasm.

Soon enough you feel the head of his cock again as he slams hard into you. Your head smacks against the wall as you both groan.

“Good,” you say “don’t be gentle. Fuck me like you hate me.”

Tags: Tags: @dayafied @soulofendlessbook @fashphotolife @scentedkittenperfection @weasleytwinscumslut @timotheel0ver @mxciscastleintheair @marvelmaniac2000 @lovelyrocker @divine-1 @louievr @love-poems-only @starberry-cake @inlovewithphantasy @alexagirlie @misswestfall @softhecreator @livresjaunes @timmymyluv @inannamoon @harrys-thick-thighs @s-we-e-t-t-ea @timolaurence @its-schmackin-dude @justagirlwhoneedshelp @kteezy997 @sufferingstarlight @xoxoloverb @tropicalrozmajzl @iloveneilperry @syirnge @patronsaintofthetwinks @rosewatergroupie

[anachronistic-falsehood]

fit wants tio fabio and shane to be schmackin it nasty style right now immediately but the game is like no <3 u can't give this asshole another cauliflower until next week <3 get fucked <3

[sirthisisa-wendys]

can i request shinichiro and waka (and others) being …..military…..?? wearing uniforms like Ghost (COD)???

OKAY OKAY I SEE YOU ANON

I SEE YOU

I know very little about call of duty (pew-pew), but I just know Ghost has this deep ass voice and mysterious allure. So I'm gonna do a fluff prompt with how the 1st Gen Black Dragons would be if they were in the military and had a S/O waiting for them back home.

Also yes, military uniforms be schmackin' *chef's kiss*. I wish I could draw them in one... Oh, well.

Watch Your Six: Takeomi Akashi/Keizo Arashi/ Shinichiro Sano/ Wakasa Imaushi x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.4k

tw: nsfw, fluff, angst

masterlist

Takeomi Akashi - The Mail Man

"Mail for you, Akashi!"

"Fuck yeah!" Takeomi rises from his seat at the small cards table, walking over to the officer holding his mail slip between his fingers. Takeomi takes the time in his hands and tears it open, not even glancing at who may have written him the prized item.

"Come on," Keizo encourages Takeomi to sit and read his letter with them, all leaning in to hear his reciting. "We want to hear it all, old man."

"She's telling me about the dog," Takeomi laughs after a while, his face breaking into a smile. "Sounds like she's finally getting the hang of ol' Dega."

"Anything else?" Shin wonders, his eyes wide as Takeomi scans the letter once more.

"Well... she seems to be getting along fine on the base. The other girls are fine. No news is--"

"Good news," they all recite, some sighing and leaning back in their chairs. Takeomi folds the letter back up and looks at his playing cards. For a brief second, he seems to consider the amount of money waiting to be claimed, but then he decides against it.

"I fold," he mutters. Everyone watches as he stands up, holding the letter in his hands as he rises from the table. "Anything you all want to share?"

"Nah," Waka replies. Keizo and Shinichiro echo the same sentiment, and Takeomi wanders off, thoughts of what he wants to write back bouncing around in his mind.

"He always does that," Shin notes.

"If I got letters this often, I would be eager to write back, too," Keizo adds, putting his cards on the table. "Royal flush, motherfuckers. Pay up."

Keizo Arashi - The Calling Card

Keizo stands at the phone station, his arms crossed as he waits for the line to pick up. It's night over where you are, but that doesn't stop him from giving you a ring.

"Hey, baby," you purr on the other line, no doubt rolling out of bed, evidenced by how sleepy you sound. It reminds Keizo of the good days when you would wake him up with a kiss and whisper his name until he cracked an eye open.

"Mrs. Arashi, sorry to disturb you during your sleep."

"No," you giggle. "No, you're not."

"You're right, I'm not," he replies, leaning on the wall. "How is everything going?"

"Everything's fine around here. It's been really normal lately."

"Yeah?" Keizo thinks about all of the ordinary things you could be up to. It'd been only a few months, but he wondered if you'd changed even a little.

"Yeah. How are you doing, love?"

"I'm alright." Keizo scuffs his feet on the concrete floor. "Missing you."

"I miss you, too." There's a brief silence in which Keizo wishes he could say something to reassure you, but he comes up with nothing. "Is Shin still getting those pictures from his girl?" A laugh builds in Keizo's throat, but he tries to stifle it.

"He is," he chuckles. "I've never seen someone more excited on mail day than him. Like a kid in a candy store." You laugh, possibly leaning on your elbow to soften the angle your head is at. He drops his voice low to avoid anyone overhearing. "What are you wearing right now?"

"Wearing?" you question. Then you hum, the sound stirring Keizo's blood. "I'm wearing my usual... one of your t-shirts. No underwear." Keizo stifles a moan by lifting his other hand to his mouth.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Mmhmm. You in your uniform?"

"Sort of," he admits, looking down at his clothes. "I'm sure you're thinking about..."

"Shh..." Keizo hears you shift around in the bed. "Don't want the Commander hearing this, do we?"

"No, ma'am," Keizo responds, smirking. "You're such a good girl."

"I can be even better for you." The words you say next are not fit for anyone but Keizo to hear, each one making him pray his deployment will end sooner rather than later.

Wakasa Imaushi - The Stoic Sniper

"Waka," a voice calls through his headset. "You've got two on your left." Wakasa points his gun to the left, peering through his sights before fingering the trigger.

"Hold." The others patiently wait for him to call the shot. Two figures loom into Waka's sight, and he exhales once, inhales once, then fingers the trigger again. "Hold." Wakasa's mind tries to shift to happier times, less devastating moments in his life, but his training fights every single memory back. Memory is a weakness I can't afford right now.

"Waka..."

Your voice floats to him over the crackling of the comms, and the image of your sweet face claims his mind eye.

"Waka, you're cold." He shivers instinctively, suddenly noticing the biting chill that's crawled over him for hours.

"I know, baby," he whispers to himself, trying to silence your tender voice before it took over his mind and drove him insane. "Be patient."

"Hold."

"Waka?" He flinches at the sound of your voice lifting at the end of his name, your doe eyes turning to him and rendering him useless. "Waka, you need to come inside."

"Not right now."

"Hold."

"Come inside and warm up with me, my love."

"Stop talking to me."

"Hold!" Ghost fingers float over his arms, raising the hair there. Goosebumps flush his skin, but he has to concentrate. No hallucinations, not right now. They would only--

"Take the shot!" Waka's finger pulls down, but seconds before the gun fires, your face flashes before his eyes.

"Waka?" Wakasa startles, his finger instinctively lifting off the trigger.

"Not now!"

"Take the shot, Imaushi!"

"Baby, what are you doing?" Waka wants to wave you away, to spin you out of his head and right into the phone where you were undoubtedly safe, but now it's too late and--

"Imaushi, take the fucking shot!" The gun rattles off right through your visage. And like dust in the wind, you dissipate.

Two thuds echo in the valley, and Wakasa gets up, takes off his tactical headset and balaclava, then stomps over to the water barrel and sticks his head in it. He screams as loud as he can before resurfacing and heading toward the barracks, only one thing on his mind.

"I'm taking my phone call now."

Shinichiro Sano - The Portrait Pocketer

Shinichiro lays under the sheets with his flashlight, eyeing the polaroid you'd sent with a devious grin. His hand snakes down to his pants as he imagines you coming out of the photo and wrapping your arms around his neck. You'd kiss him leisurely, slowly, savoring every second of his touches in case you'd never feel them again.

For Shin, it meant that each time might be the last time. So he'd better make it count.

He can practically feel your hot mouth roaming over his neck and leaving hickies that would last for days. Shin gasps, trying to hold the sounds in his chest, but his cock hardens so much that he can't possibly wait to pleasure himself.

He imagines your hips smacking against his while you ride him, your beautiful hands on his knees. If he closes his eyes really tight, he can even feel your cunt slip over his cock and down to his balls, drenching his dick in your slick. The sound comes to him, too, like popping and moans and...

Shin's fingers work quickly over his cock.

The shy man remembers the way your mouth feels and how much he enjoyed watching you gasp for air before going back down on him. Trails of spit would connect his dick to your lips, and you'd struggle for air but - ever the trooper - go back down on him without complaining. Shin recalls fucking your throat as you hung over the edge of the bed, an experience he looked forward to enjoying once more.

That's what he'd do.

As Shin cums in short bursts of pleasure, the plan manifests in his mind. He'd walk in the door, drop his bags, kiss you like you'd never been kissed before, then clamp a hand on your pussy while walking you back to the bedroom. The door would shut, clothes would come off, and he'd fuck your face before doing his due diligence and eating you out for as long as you wanted. Once all that was said and done, he'd sink his cock into your sopping wet cunt with that lustful look in his eye and fuck you seventy ways to Sunday.

In the morning, after Shin wakes with a start and cleans up all of the photos he'd fallen asleep with, he turns to Takeomi and mutters,

"I can't wait to go back home."

"Oh, hell yeah," Takeomi replies, sighing deeply. "You and me both."

[storybookwolf]

Here's my contribution to day 1 of @jancyweek2022. The theme was lyrics.

Tell Her About It

It was 12.48 on a Friday night and Argyle and Jonathan were in the Surfer Boy Pizza van. His shift had ended at 10.30, and after he clocked off they went to the baseball field in East Lenora to smoke and stare up at the stars. Now they were cruising around town with no specific destination, just enjoying the buzz. Argyle’s latest eclectic mixtape played on the stereo, segueing from ‘Positive Vibration’ by Bob Marley to ‘Tell Her About It’ by Billy Joel. ‘Listen boy, I don't want to see you let a good thing slip away. You know I don't like watching anybody make the same mistakes I made …’

Jonathan suddenly stiffened. Argyle heard a sharp intake of breath, and then his friend hissed, ‘Billy Joel is talking to me.’

I keep forgetting Byers isn’t as used to the ganja as me, Argyle thought. It’s making him paranoid.

He reached over and gently patted Jonathan’s shoulder. ‘No, dude, you’re okay. It’s just the stereo. I know you only listen to music by, like, depressed English guys who look like they’re dying of cholera or whatever, but Billy has some schmackin’ tunes.’

Jonathan sighed. ‘No, I know it’s the stereo. But he’s talking to me. Or about me. I’m the guy in the song! I need to tell Nancy how much I love her, how incredible she is, or else I’m gonna lose her.’

‘I’m pretty sure she knows, dude,’ said Argyle. ‘You literally never shut up about her.’

‘Yeah, to you, but I’ve gotta tell her. Half the time when one of us calls the other they’re not there, or we get the time difference screwed up. And when we do get through to each other, I just … I don’t know, I clam up, or I talk about stupid, mundane things instead of the real shit, like how much I love her and how she’s the most amazing girl in the world. Same thing when I write to her, it’s hard to find the right words. But it’s like the song’s saying: if I don’t tell her, she won’t know and she’ll think I don’t care!’

Argyle nodded. ‘Makes sense to me. And I would definitely listen to Billy Joel’s advice about women. Have you seen the babe he’s married to? She’s a stone-cold fox.’

‘Pfft,’ scoffed Jonathan. ‘Nancy’s, like, a thousand times more beautiful than Christie Brinkley. She’s stunning, and every guy at Hawkins High wants to be with her. Nancy Wheeler could have anyone she wants, and sooner or later she’s going to realise that she deserves better than me.’

‘Hey, don’t say that. You’re a great guy! And you’re, like, totally good-looking, too.’ He hated seeing his friend talk himself down.

Jonathan went on as though he hadn’t heard. ‘Plus she’s incredibly smart. And determined. And loyal. And unbelievably brave. I bet Christie Brinkley wouldn’t climb through a tree portal into another dimension.’

 ‘Uh … probably not, dude.’ Argyle shook his head. Byers sure says some weird shit when he’s high. I wish I was still that sensitive to it.

[honeysuckleharringtons]

just saying that if yall wanted to send me thoughts about baron/gator/steve/any joe keery character really, i wouldn't be mad 🤭

[maurypovichofficial2]

Goat cart racing…squirle…schmackin I need him so bad taylor move over

Move over is right! That’s OUR man now

[gmaybe666]

a thing in s4 that always makes me laugh is the voice break/hushed tone eduardo delivers in ‘this risotto is schmackin dood ’ in the byers dinner party scene

[smugbugunderarug]

ngl even if the mario movie turns out being mid (which i doubt) i am so looking forward to the soundtrack. that music in the recent trailer was absolutely schmackin.