#bass fishing california

[tuzi1bunny]

bass lake, CA 🫶🏼🐟🌲🌅

(my pic)

#ig photo ideas #summer #summer aesthetic #the summer i turned pretty #bass lake #cali #california #pinterest summer #pinterest #forest #lake #lake house #lakeside #sunset aesthetic #sunset #lake aesthetic #fishing #fishing aesthetic #clean girl #cottagecore #healthy

[betweenapitchandacast]

These 8 Reasons Are Why You Need Big Bear On Your Bucket List

Big Bear National Park is a breathtaking destination that offers visitors a unique experience with its stunning scenery, diverse wildlife, and endless recreational activities. Located in Southern California, the park is a true gem that should be on every nature lover’s bucket list. Here are some of the top reasons why you should visit Big Bear National Park: Table of Contents Jaw-dropping…

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#backcountry #bald eagles #bass #Big Bear Lake #Big Bear Mountain #Big Bear National Park #birding #black bears #California #camping #CAstle Rock Trail #catfish #Cougar Crest Trail #coyotes #family friendly #fishing #hiking #kayaking #mountain lions #Pine Knot Trail #San Bernardino Mountains #Scenic drives #ski resort #snowboarding #So Cal #trout #Wintersports

[troughtonmedia]

The season finale is finally check it out

#Bass Fishing #California Delta #Carter Troughton #Greg Troughton #Youtube

[mfbee999]

I'm back. Is it Spring yet?

#bassfishing #bass #largemouthbass #fishing #bassboat #California #californiadelta #freshwater

[ojaiangler]

Unlock the Ultimate Fishing Experience with California Fishing Guide Trips

Are you ready to embark on an unforgettable angling adventure in the Golden State? Look no further than fishing guide trips in California for an experience that will leave you hooked. From pristine lakes to winding rivers, California offers a diverse range of fishing opportunities that cater to both novice anglers and seasoned pros alike.

Call us at- [phone]

Read More- https://medium.com/@ojaiangler.com/unlock-the-ultimate-fishing-experience-with-california-fishing-guide-trips-4342234c98c2

#fishing guide trips in California #bass fishing guide in California

[millerscoffee]

at my fingertips

⟣ queer friendly fic ⟢

2.3k | frankie morales x santiago garcia x f!reader

rating: 18+ MDNI

warnings: THROUPLE – everybody is dating each other!!, established relationship, threesome obv, smut w/ fluffy bits, piv (unprotected), oral (m - m receiving, m - f receiving, f - m receiving) – everybody's sucking fish's dick ok, cum play, kissing (m/m, m/f), dirty talk – this is all dirty who am i kidding. hints of sub!santi + sub!frankie + dom!reader. probably not the best spanish you've ever read - sorry! no use of y/n.

summary: you, frankie, and santi are celebrating your one year anniversary in costa rica after everyone ignoring their feelings for each other for three years – though frankie and santi for way longer.

A/N: just doing the lord's work, hold your applause. JUST KIDDING. idk man i've been thinking about this a lot lately, and i have a soft spot for two tough ex-military dudes (who look very bbg) making out (etc.) in reader's presence idk IDK IDK. please let me know if you enjoyed this!

An entanglement of three naked bodies bathed in the sunlight of a California King sized bed. It had been a year exactly, today in fact, since you and your boys decided to do this. To really do this, not just skirt around the subject for three years. You met them volunteering, hitting it off immediately. None of you knew it would end up like this. But three years is exactly how long it took for you all to come to your senses about this.

Now here you were, sandwiched between your two favorite humans somewhere in paradise.

Costa Rica, to be more specific. It was humid, skin sticky between the three of you as you begin to shift, a reaction from morning light spilling over your eyes. Santi shifts with you, an inhale thick through his nose as he pulls you closer. You feel protected between the two of them, a lazy grin to yourself when you notice Frankie has taken the position of little spoon – his back splayed against your chest.

Your eyes remain shut while you drape your thigh over Frankie's hips and nuzzle your face against the back of his neck, letting your hand shift over top of Santi's when it snakes around your waist. Frankie's not remotely awake yet, but you can sense Santiago's eyes creeping open from the touch of your fingertips.

There's a part of you that knows he will always be on high alert from the life he's had, the life they've both had, but in this moment he is not awake in defense or protection, or a dream that has left him in a cold sweat. No, this morning is in full surrender. He feels vulnerable against your back as you press against him, his nose brushing into your hair, and you will your eyes open.

Gingerly, Santi thumbs over your abdomen in this lazy formation and it's enough to make you want to stay like this forever and feel a rush of heat pool at the base of your stomach.

You think you stifled the shudder fluttering through your body, but as always, Santi knows you better than you think he does. Without a word, Santi's fingers walk down your pubic bone, just over the mound at the top of your clit. You huff out a breath, noticing that you'd been holding your inhale. His touch bringing you back to earth.

This breath against the back of Frankie's neck makes the man to move a bit in his sleep and you both freeze to notice if he will wake up, not really wanting to disturb him. "Cariño," he whispers, his voice gruff and full of sleep and it's the sexiest sound in the world. You can tell he's barely done anything to make you believe he's awake, but Santi's fingers spread your lips apart and he marvels at how wet you are when he dips his middle finger between your folds.

"Amor, ella está muy mojada." The bass from Garcia's low voice vibrates against your back, and you try to not completely fall apart at the drop of a hat. But you can feel Santiago's cock stiffen, notice Francisco's body become more awake at the sound of his boyfriend's words, and it's almost too much to take. The heat in the room turns your cheeks and lips a feverish colour, and you bite down a whimper when Frankie rolls onto his back to witness Santi playing with your pussy like two animals in heat.

From behind, it's like you can hear Santi's lips form into a hazy grin the second he sees your shared lover – half proud and half eager to get him involved. He pulls his fingers from you slowly, and the lack of friction would make you whine if you hadn't witnessed those same fingers tempting onto Frankie's tongue. Like a kitten, Frankie laps at them, suckling your wetness at the tips of Santi's fingers with his big brown, sleepy eyes staring at the both of you.

It sears right through you.

Frankie wraps his mouth around Santi's fingers to tease you both, and a groan can be heard from behind you at just how good he is at teasing you both and you groan in response, pushing your ass back against Santi's cock. A hitched sigh escaping you when Frankie moves Santi's fingers from his mouth for one of your breasts. He moves down the bed to greet them as the lover behind you eases one, then two of his fingers into you. There's no need in preparing your body, you're so wet, after all... and a bit prepared from the night before.

Panting as you push the back of Frankie's head into your tits, his skilled tongue flicks at your nipples. Santiago has different plans, however, as he replaces his fingers to line his cock up against your hips. Hissing when he takes a handful of your ass to pull it back and expose your pussy for him. "Christ," he mutters under his breath, teasing the head of his thick cock against you. You moan, urging Frankie up to meet your mouth and you kiss him hard. With tongue, your explore his throat and a guttural moan comes from you when Santi pushes into your walls. He's thick and deep into you in no time, his trained cock rubbing against that spot inside of you just over the hilt.

"Ajustada– fuck. Fucking tight," you hear a growl against your ear, and you've done this enough to know just how your body gets to them both. You stifle what would be a scream when he moves his hips, and you desperately search for Frankie's cock with your hand. However he pulls your grip away and shakes his head, causing you to moan and let out a frustrated whine at the same time. New record.

Instead, he presses his forehead to yours for the moment, and insists you look into his dreamy eyes. "That's it, you're being such a good girl taking Santi's cock like that. I know, he's so big. Isn't he, princesa?"

The way Frankie is speaking to you sends your body into overdrive. Santi's cock now snapping into you with no remorse as his calloused fingers rub your clit just the way you do when you show off for them. Garcia's free hand grips into the front of your hip, urging bruises to come to the surface later on in the day, but it feels so delicious in the moment all you can do is cradle your bottom lip into your mouth and keep a furrowed brow.

You can't see Santiago behind you yet, but you know how hot he looks when he's fucking: concentrated, his hips moving almost magically, and the occasional groan leaves his throat right against your ear. It sends a shiver down your spine.

What's worse is Frankie knows just how fat and thick Santi's cock feels inside of you because it's been in him too, and it makes your skin hot to know his words are from experience. So many times you've seen them together in one way or another, and there is nothing you three haven't shared with each other. You're irrevocably in love, and it brings your heart to new heights every time you're together.

This morning those thoughts flood you when you can't quite look into Frankie's eyes anymore. They're rolling into your skull, cock-drunk and all you can hear the squelching of your drenched pussy from Santi moving in and out of you.

You can feel him start to brink, too.

Morales won't let you slip just yet, though, and firmly grips your jaw, your body tensing. "Look at me, keep your eyes on me," Frankie is usually smooth when he speaks, but this demand is a bit harsh. Pope hisses at your tightening pussy in response to the man in front of you and you come hard without much more warning. Your eyes loll as your mouth slacks open, and Frankie knows better than to shove his tongue in your mouth – not yet, not til you've come down. "Thaaat's it. Just like that, babygirl. Our good girl." His whispers turn into petting of your face before his gaze is just above your head, watching Santi come apart, his hot load spilling itself into you when his toes curl.

Being a pilot, it makes sense that Frankie has a knack for taking care of people, but it's another level when he's like this. Your ears are ringing and stars fill your eyes, but you can still feel their presence as they praise each other. When Santiago leans over you to mouth and lick into Frankie's mouth. You groan at how it feels, how much it makes me want to stay like this forever. You lean up into their mouths lazily, licking into their kiss and they gladly invite you in. Tongues crash, and you feel Santiago squeeze you, holding you tight because you're their girl and nothing would ever change that.

The comedown feels like heaven with a view of the jungle just outside your window, and you nestle your neck into Frankie's jaw, his fat cock catching your eye from the position your head is in. "Can we share you, please?" You look up at him with an amorous glance, and Santi grunts at the prospect. Both of you making strained noises when he pulls out, but you know what the moan was really about.

Fish's face is still soft from sleep, but more possessive as his pupils are blown. Without saying a word, he takes your arms to help you onto your knees and positions your body to straddle his head. Your breath staggers, not really knowing if you can take another orgasm, but you can't help but sink down onto his mouth. His goddamn mouth.

Santi has other plans, sinking his body between Frankie's legs and he looks so fucking gorgeous like this. It was a long build up of years to see him this vulnerable, and you savour it every chance you get.

His mouth teases Frankie's cock and to watch it twitch uncontrollably sends your senses ablaze. He's a natural in wrapping his mouth around the leaking head. Frankie's cock must've been aching from just waking up from how flushed it was. It's too much to take in, blood surging towards your cunt in desire once more.

This isn't anything new, nothing to make you raise your eyebrow or question why things were happening the way they were, and when you sink your hips down over Frankie's mouth, you let out a sigh of admiration for the two of them. Your boys with their mouths preoccupied, love coursing through the veins of everyone in the room. Your body is still warm from sleep, growing stickier from the muggy weather and the heat rising between the three of you.

It's then Frankie's skilled tongue flicks over your cunt that you tremble. Bracing your hands on the soft form of his belly, his hands encourage you to sit down more and bring your weight on top of him. All the while, it's Pope who's in front of you now. Whose eyes are heated as they stare into yours, working the other man's cock in his mouth with precision. The sound of Frankie's muffled moans vibrate your core and send your hips to grind down against his tongue. A gasp rattling your ribcage, you feel him suck and lick Santi's cum from your cunt. "You're so fucking dirty, Frankie. You know what he's doing, baby?" You speak with seduction, ogling down at Santi.

"He's lapping your cum right from my hole. Such a filthy thing."

Both of your men moan at that, loving when you speak to them degradingly. You've never been too shy to put them in their place.

"Good boy, honey. Keep that tongue on me like that," taking your tits into your palms, you tug and roll your nipples. To feel the sensation, but you notice Santi's blowjob getting messier from his mouth watering at the sight of both of you.

Frankie's hands make contact on the breadth of your ass and it's cause for your voice to quickly turn from sultry to a slew of desperate whimpers. His tongue now merciless on your clit until, "Frankie!" Yours thighs are shaking on either side of him, unable to hold your balance, your body gives into bending over his chest. Now face to face with Santi and Frankie's cock.

Riding out the waves of please, Santi pops off his mouth on Frankie's cock, feeding it to you without giving you choice – he already knows you want this. Want to send Morales over his edge as you taste the perfect mixture of Frankie's increasing precum and Santi's saliva. His own mouth preoccupied with the balls of your shared lover. That's just when Frankie can't take anymore. "Ah, mierda!" You hear Morales behind you, his face pressed behind your thigh. His cum hits your mouth, almost taking him all down, but not quite – saving just enough to kiss Santi with. To share Frankie's cum with him, your tongues mingle.

---

When you all are spent – giggling at each other, making fun of each other lightly from just how taxed you all really are, it tugs your heart. To be held close in the comfort of Frankie's strong arms, Santi lazily stroking the other man's hair while you swirl your fingertips over the hairs on his thigh.

The three of you finally got it right.

After a group shower, the three of you spend the day exploring the jungle and beach, eating fresh fruit. You're all walking down a beach when lean down to pick up two seashells. A grin spreads over your face, knowing they'd have to put it back, but keeping it for the walk wouldn't hurt.

You turn around, handing them each a symbol of your appreciation for them in their own unique ways. Your companions.

"Happy anniversary, goofs."

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #santiago garcia x f!reader #frankie morales x f!reader #triple frontier smut #triple frontier fic #frankie morales x santiago garcia x reader #frankie morales x santiago garcia x f!reader #frankie morales smut #santiago garcia smut #santiago pope garcia smut #by bee #queer friendly fic #queer friendly smut

[thislovintime]

Photo by Jack Knox.

Q: “Actually, I was going to ask you about your career before [The Monkees].” Peter Tork: “Oh, I was a folk singer. Before that I was in school, and before that I was in the bosom of my family. I was in New York singing folk songs on the Greenwich Village stages.” [see early 1960s for more about Peter's Village days] Q: “How did you end up going out to California?” PT: “‘37 Chevy. Broke down outside of Las Vegas. When it started to belch brown water out of the tail pipe I knew it was all over. We hitch hiked the rest of the way. I had a lady friend waiting for me, I thought. Turned out I was far more threatening in the flesh than at a calm, safe distance, so that didn’t last long. But she connected me to with the Golden Bear Cafe in Huntington Beach, where I got a job washing dishes. I did some work accompanying Steve Stills when he was with Ron Long and the Buffalo Fish. I accompanied this black trio called the [Apollas], on the stand-up string bass.” Q: “Did you go out there looking for an acting career, a singing career, or both?” PT: “No, actually I thought the world should make a place for dishwashers and people who jerk beers. No, I always thought I was gonna be an entertainer, I think. I think I thought. Acting was not out of that realm. I had no idea I was gonna break loose; that was out of the blue. “ Q: “If the Monkees gig hadn’t come along, do you think you would’ve kept playing folk music?” PT: “No, I would have gone to rock in short order. The Beatles were coming along and that was a thrill. I would have put down that acoustic guitar long since, anyway. I often wonder about that. Where would I be had I not joined the Monkees? But I think, all told, it would’ve been just the same. I think I would’ve been more consistent than I am now but the overall effect would’ve been about the same.” - Goldmine, May 1982

#Peter Tork #Tork quotes #60s Tork #early 1960s #The Monkees #Monkees #can you queue it

[fatehbaz]

The Clear Lake hitch (Lavinia exilicauda chi) is a rare endemic species of minnow living only in the Clear Lake watershed of northern California, a fish that was once a “symbol of abundance” for Indigenous people. In December 2022, the Big Valley Band of Pomo Indians, Robinson Rancheria Band of Pomo Indians, Scotts Valley Band of Pomo Indians and the Habematolel Pomo of Upper Lake ask for immediate emergency protection of the hitch. The fish is in danger of extinction as the last observed successful breeding for the species was in 2017, and the creatures only have a six-year-long lifespan. US land management agencies say hitch numbers have “fallen to near zero.” However, in the past, there were millions of hitch in the watershed each year, and the fish was important to Indigenous food systems. Local “entrepreneurs” prefer to protect the introduced non-native bass, which voraciously preys on the endangered hitch. Clear Lake hosts dozens of bass tournaments each year, events large enough to attract international visitors. There is a past-time tradition (”hitching”) of children beating the hitch to death with baseball bats in the springtime as the hitch gather in streams to try to spawn. The hitch is also threatened by pesticides, runoff, and overuse of water for the region’s prominent local vineyards. The hitch is referred to as a “trash fish,” and some feel that this insults the importance of the fish to Pomo people.

Excerpts below from: Louis Sahagun of Los Angeles Times. “As a sacred minnow nears extinction, Native Americans of Clear Lake call for bold plan.” As published at Phys.org. 6 December 2022.

---

Spring runs of a large minnow numbering in the millions have nourished Pomo Indians since they first made their home alongside Northern California’s Clear Lake more than 400 generations ago. The Clear Lake hitch glinted like silver dollars as they headed up the lake’s tributaries to spawn, a reliable squirming crop of plenty, steeped in history [...].

In all that time, the hitch’s domain, about 110 miles northwest of Sacramento, had never suffered the degradation of recent years.

Now, with a growing sense of sorrow, if not anger, the Pomo Indian tribes of Clear Lake are watching the symbol of abundance and security they call chi dwindle into extinction.

---

On Monday [December 2022], they took the rare and drastic step of urging Interior Secretary Deb Haaland to use her emergency powers and invoke the federal Endangered Species Act on behalf of the Clear Lake hitch. “Bringing the chi back will require a bold plan of action devised by people with the power to move mountains,” said Ron Montez, tribal historic preservation officer for the Big Valley Band of Pomo Indians. 

“I have almost zero confidence in state or federal officials to save the chi and our way of life,” Montez, 72, said. [...]

The Clear Lake hitch was designated as a threatened species under California’s Endangered Species Act in 2014. Since then, however, its numbers have fallen to near zero, according to recent surveys. 

Some causes of the hitch’s decline, however, seem extraordinarily difficult to fix: prolonged drought, mercury contamination, gravel mining, an overtaxed water distribution system, pesticides and runoff from vineyards [...], and predatory nonnative game fish. [...]

---

The 2023 spring spawning season is crucial for the continued survival of the Clear Lake hitch, scientists say. That’s because the last observed successful spawning was in 2017. “Hitch have a six-year life span,” said Meg Townsend, an attorney with the Center for Biological Diversity. [...]

---

But until its fate is known for certain, Michael Fris, a field supervisor at the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, said his agency is unlikely to list the hitch on an emergency basis. [...] That kind of talk prompted the Center for Biological Diversity, together with the Big Valley Band of Pomo Indians, Robinson Rancheria Band of Pomo Indians, Scotts Valley Band of Pomo Indians and the Habematolel Pomo of Upper Lake to take their request for emergency listing to Haaland.

All involved agree that seeking intervention under the federal Endangered Species Act is an act of desperation. Only two species have been emergency-listed as federally endangered over the last 20 years: the Miami blue butterfly in 2011 and Nevada’s Dixie Valley toad earlier this year. [...]

---

The hitch is a 12-inch-long minnow found only in and around the oldest, largest and perhaps most polluted and wildfire-prone watershed in California. In 2020, the Lake County region was charred by six of the 20 largest wildfires in state history. [...]

It’s been the poor luck of the hitch to require adequate stream flows in February, March and April to trek from the lake to spawning beds at the same time agricultural interests need water to defrost their vineyards.

---

“An emergency listing would force people to consider alternatives to the way water is used in this region,” said Sarah Ryan, environmental director for the Big Valley Band of Pomo Indians.

Beyond water flows, the prospect of emergency-listing the hitch raises other economically significant issues connected to the lake’s food chain: Zooplankton are eaten by shad, crayfish and hitch, which are favored by monster catfish and largemouth bass.

Clear Lake entrepreneurs host dozens of professional bass tournaments each year that are supported by contestants from around the world.

The most popular lures in local tackle shops are hitch replicas that cost up to $180 each. Other lures are made to resemble juvenile hitch and sold under a slogan that some people feel mocks the creature’s cultural importance to Pomo people: “The All-American Trash Fish.”

Over at [C.O.], a sporting goods store on the southern end of the lake, old-timers still talk about how local kids had a tradition of “hitching,” beating hitch to death with baseball bats for fun as they ascended streams to spawn in spring. 

They also grumble over the thought of new special protections for a nongame fish disrupting human pastimes for any reason [...].

"The reason our bass grow so big is that they love to eat hitch," mused [D.B.], owner of [C.O.]. "So, when customers ask me, 'Where can I catch the biggest bass of my life?' " he added, "I send them to places hitch hang out in."

---

That kind of banter and lore suggests that unless government agencies yield to Native American concerns, they are headed for a showdown of complicated and competing values.

“The way some people ridicule hitch makes me wonder what they think about the folks who eat them,” lamented Robert Geary, cultural resources director for the Habematolel Pomo of Upper Lake. [...]

---

At the heart of the matter is that Pomo people [...] did not consider their native attitudes and lifestyles to be an expendable price of living in America.

Yet, their modern history is told mostly through economic hardship, rip-offs, massacres and environmental destruction.

---

Headline, image, caption, and text by: Louis Sahagun of Los Angeles Times. “As a sacred minnow nears extinction, Native Americans of Clear Lake call for bold plan.” As published at Phys.org. 6 December 2022. [First paragraph in this post added by me.]

[worldhistoryfacts]

A 428-pound giant black sea bass, caught by John Perkins off Catalina Island in 1905. At the time, these fish were quite common in the waters off of the California coast; by the 1950s, they had almost been eliminated. Since the 1980s, bans on fishing for these creatures have allowed them to recover a bit, although they are still critically endangered.

{WHF} {Ko-Fi} {Medium}

#history #fish #ocean #california #catalina #conservation #environment

[phxntomsdusk]

More than my hometown - Baseball!Wilbur x GN!Reader

summary: ever since you and Wilbur got together, he never admitted to loving you most

warnings: Wilbur being in denial, cringy teenage romance, underage drinking, kisssinnngg

tags: @ax-y10 , @joviepog , @pheliiaa , @idontreallyexistyet , @rqvii , @vibestillaxxx , @average-vibe , @ivvees-blog , @haunted-headset , @lillylvjy (ask to be added!)

word count: 462

You and Wilbur grew up as best friends, mostly because your mothers went to highschool together. The two were inseparable, which soon found its way onto you as well.

Ever since he started baseball, you had been showing up to each and every game. His teammates all grew to love you, and always teased him about his clear feelings for you. They’d ship you two, dare you to kiss him for winning the game, etc.

Everyone knew you two would end up together one day, most likely you’d settle down with one another. There was just one problem with him. He refused to accept that he loved you more than his hometown.

He’d use so many other examples, there was no winning that argument no matter how often you asked.

“Wil, what do you love me more than?” You spoke quietly, raising a brow at him as your hands found their way on each of his shoulders.

“I love you more than a California sunset.” To which, he’d proceed to ramble on about how he thinks you’re so much prettier than the sunset, completely avoiding your original question.

“More than.. a beer when you aren’t twenty-one yet!” He’d awkwardly walk off to his kitchen, sneaking one of his dads beers, to which you guys would share while watching dumb movies.

“Erm.. more than when the bass hits the hook, or the guy gets the girl at the end of the book.” Leading to him taking you to the small river behind his house, making a small fishing rod with a stick and some string. Or you’d go through his books, reading them and recreating some of the scenes.

No matter what, he wouldn’t say he loved you more than his hometown. It was his number one priority for some reason.

This had been going on for at least a year now, when suddenly he approached you from behind in the hallway, a sigh leaving his lips as his arms wrapped around your waist. This was normal behavior for him at school, he was an extremely clingy person.

“Hey, Wil.” You smiled softly, leaning up and planted a kiss on his cheek.

“Hey, baby.” He smiled back at you, kissing your forehead before he buried his face in your neck and mumbled something quietly. “What was that?”

He pulled his head back, his chin resting on your shoulder as he spoke up. “I love you more than my hometown.”

His words shocked you for a moment. He had never once admitted this, and now he was saying it? So nonchalantly in the hallway?

“I mean it, by the way. I was dumb before. But being with you for so long made me realize that.. you’re so much more important than this old town.”

#phxntomsdusk #phxntoms fics #baseball!wilbur #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot fluff #wilbur soot angst #wilbur soot

[carolmunson]

sweet you rock, sweet you roll

welcome to 1990 where our besties are still on the early side of their lil’ love journey. for those that are new here, i use the name ‘Stella’/'Stella Rink’ as a fill in for 'Y/N’, so don’t get thrown off if you see it. it’s still a 'reader’ fic. cw: swearing, p in v sex, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receving), kissing, touching, honestly some of the cutest shit i’ve ever written, daddy kink mention if you squint, two people being in love with each other, fluff, smut, fluffy smut. sort of casual dominance but not really? he just likes to do stuff for her. —

“No, can’t go there,” Eddie’s voice sounded a little tinny over the phone, but happy to talk to you just the same. You’d been on two dates already, planning the third after a three week hiatus while you went on a press tour. Now you were both back in California, and he’d been itching to see you again. “Why can’t you go to Rappaport? Not like the food or something?” you ask, looking at the list of restaurants your assistant brought you. “Oh no, like, I can’t go there,” he urged, “I’m banned.” 

“Oh,” you say, “So definitely not Rappaport then. How’s Sorrelli’s sound?” “Banned.” “Deltas?” “Banned.” “Rain Bar?” “So banned that I can’t even be on the block, sweet thing.” “How many places are you banned from?” “Thirteen. At least in Southern California,” he explains, you can tell he’s proud of it.

“Ed…why? Where are we gonna go to dinner?” you asked with a whine.

“Fuck dinner, let’s do something metal,” he says, like you know something metal, like you know the difference between a bass and an electric guitar.

“Like the planetarium?” you ask, it’s a joke and he laughs so hard into the speaker that you have to pull the phone away from your ear.

“Oh Stell, that’s so sick,” he says, “Fuckin’ love the planetarium.”

So you went, in disguise – baseball hats and sunglasses – dressed down. As dressed down as Eddie could be in his metalhead get up. No one called the paps, the science museum employees didn’t jump and squeal when they saw you, you got to just be. You held hands during the presentation, giggling and ‘Ooh’-ing at the projections, laughing when the little kids at the show would shriek and say little kid things to their parents. Eddie would cast glances at you, admiring your face in the blue light reflecting off the 360 screen, he wanted to keep the moment as a photograph in his brain that he could whip out whenever he wanted. You were so happy next to him.

You toured the rest of the place when the show was over, looking at all the telescopes, listening to the tour guides exhibits. Some parents nudged each other, and looked in your direction and as you left a little boy came over to tug at Eddie’s jacket.

“Are you Eddie Munson?” he asked, his front tooth missing.

“Yeah dude, what’s your name?” he said, squatting down to get on his level.

“I’m Chris,” he said, a big smile spreading over his face.

“Hey Chris, how old are you? You just lose a tooth? That’s pretty metal, man,” he smiled, flashing his straight white teeth at him.

“Six!” he said, holding up his hands to show him the number, “The tooth fairy came and everything. She gave me a quarter!”

“A quarter? That’s rad,” he said, fishing into his back pocket for his wallet, “You know something? She gave me another dollar this morning to give to you for having such a cool smile.”

“Chris, you can’t be running off like that,” a guy with bleach blonde hair that hit his chin with a battle vest on that rivaled Eddie’s was jogging up to the little boy, “You’re gonna be the death of me kid, who you talkin’ to?”

The man scooped Chris up, resting him on his arm above his hip, “Dad, it’s Eddie Munson!”

Eddie stood up and nodded to Chris’s dad, “Hey man.”

“Oh shit dude, hey,” he had the same smile as his son, just with all his teeth, “Big fan, holy shit.”

“Big fan of your little dude, here,” Eddie said, “The tooth fairy actually gave me a dollar this morning to give to him, if that’s cool.”

“That’s real cool of you man,” the man said, “Thanks for talkin’ to my boy, takin’ the time.”

“Don’t sweat it, what’s your name?”

“Phil,” the guy beamed.

“Have a sick day, Phil. See ya later, Chris.” 

“See ya laterrrr!” Chris called out from over his dad’s shoulder while they walked toward their car. “You’re so good,” you say, nudging his arm, “You’re sweet.” 

“Oh no, the jig is up,” he says dramatically, “Now you know how nice I am.” It’s so easy to roll your eyes at his antics, but you can never get yourself to commit to doing it. Your heart fluttered when he reached out to hold your hand to walk back to his car, his ‘84 Mustang SVO – all black. He was so predictable. “Wanna just drive around? I don’t wanna be done hanging out,” he said, opening your door for you. “You gonna drive like you did earlier?” your stomach flipping, remembering all of his fast turns and speeding.

“Nah, I’ll do it nice and slow for ya,” he winked, shutting the door behind you once you got your seatbelt on. “That’s how you like it, right?” he asked, bouncing into his seat. He loved the effect he had on you, watching your cheeks get hot when he got a little dirty. You hadn’t even kissed yet and it was driving him insane, he could barely contain himself when looked at your lips for too long. “Shut your mouth,” you teased, your heart hammering now at his implication. “You know what I’m gonna say,” he said, putting his arm behind your headrest to pull out of the parking lot. “‘Make me’?” you guess. “Okay, well now it’s not a fun hot joke because you actually guessed it,” he huffed, fake exasperation flowing out of him. Once you made it to the highway, he put his hand on your inner thigh intuitively. You were buzzing at his warm touch, his thumb grazing the fabric of your jeans. It was so inadvertent, the hold he had on you, he wasn’t even trying. He was just Eddie. 

The sun had gone down while you drove through LA, pulling into a McDonald’s drive through when you both said you were hungry at the same time. “Ed, I can’t,” you said while he pulled into the line, the yellow of the lights outside tinging you both through the windshield. “Angel, you just finished a press tour,” he argued, “I know you haven’t eaten in weeks, get a fuckin’ Big Mac and live a little.” “If my trainer finds out –” “I’ll kick your trainer’s ass. Let me order you some fine cuisine,” he said matter of factly, the car dragging up to the speaker. 

“Heyyy, can I get two Big Mac meals, one with no onions and extra pickles, and light ketchup, like whisper of it if you can. The other is fine as is,” he leans out of the window slightly, his shirt riding up showing off his tattoos. If you weren’t drooling over him knowing your exact Big Mac order after only hearing it one time two months ago, you were now. “Anything to drink?” “Uhhh, lemme get a – two diet cokes?” he said, “Actually, fuck that, one diet coke, one regular coke cause she’ll want a sip of the regular one. Medium.” “Anything else, sir?” “And uh,” he looked at the car behind you, two kids and a tired mom in the front seat, “I’ll cover whatever the people behind me are getting.” “Are you sure?” the speaker asked back. “Hundred percent,” he said, “That’s all, thanks.” “I’ll let you know your total at the window, sir,” the speaker said. You ate in the parking lot in the car, watching families and cars walk by – oblivious to the two of you. “Can I have a sip of your–” “Yeah, baby, have the rest,” he said, passing you his regular Coke and taking your diet Coke, popping it in his cup holder. “I don’t want the rest,” you say back, but you know it’s a lie and so does he, so he doesn’t bother fighting you over it.

You ended up back at his place, it was closer and the traffic on the way to yours was brutal. It was very much a rockstar mansion, black and chrome and red all over. Vaporwave elements and neon at every turn, it would’ve been more cool if you were less exhausted. He was jittery when you ended up in his room, like this wasn’t his intention, “Uh, do you want some pajamas or something?” “T-shirt works,” you assure, “Do I get to pick the band?” “Absolutely not,” he says with a shake of his head, “I’ll pick for you.” He rummages through his drawers, fishing out a Black Sabbath ‘75 concert tee and tossing it to you. You tiptoe to the master bathroom to change, stepping out anxiously in just his t-shirt and a pair of mismatched socks. He’s sat on his four poster, now just in his jeans and his t-shirt from earlier – wallet, belt, vest, and shoes discarded elsewhere. When you asked why the bed frame looked so industrial he told you not to worry about it, but the metal loops on the posts gave you a pretty clear idea. He bit his lip when he saw you come out, a vision in his t-shirt with your hair down, your glossy lips tight in an embarrassed smile. You folded your clothes and put them on the bedside table closest to you, climbing onto the bed and sliding against the cool satin to lay on your side. He crawled up the bed to lay across from you, half of your faces hidden by the pillows you were laying on. 

“We can watch a movie or something,” he suggests, but your sleepy face steers him away from it. Eddie’s soft gaze lingers on you, a shaking finger skating down the side of your thigh, “We can just stay like this, too.”

He watches your eyes flutter closed and then look back to him through heavy lids, mumbling into the satin pillowcase, “I like this. Bein’ next to you.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his ribcage could’ve snapped open, “I like being next to you, too.” He skated his finger back up your thigh, his hand palming the flesh over your hips. Eddie toyed with the hem of his shirt on you, fingering the fabric between his fingers. It had been through the ringer too many times to be worn out in public anymore. It was a thousand times in the washing machine soft, but to him, it wasn’t softer than the skin under it. He saw it all peeking out through the holes in the sleeves and at the neckline – just falling apart. He was falling apart just the same.

“Can I um, can I get closer to you?” his voice sounded like he was back in eighth grade on Valentine’s Day, passing out carnations to the pretty girls and going home with none.

You don’t respond verbally, just shimmying your body over the black satin duvet and lazily swinging your leg over his hip. He let you pull his arm over your waist, his hand falling onto the mattress behind you while the crook of his arm laid snugly between your hips and your ribcage. He brings his hand to splay across your back, tracing shapes between your shoulder blades.

Your noses are just about touching and looking at each other is a little distorted but he still breathes out, almost a whisper, “You’re so pretty.”

“You keep saying that,” you laugh quietly.

“I don’t think I can stop saying it,” he says. It’s quiet and he can tell by the steadiness of your breathing that you’re maybe ten minutes away from falling asleep. America’s Sweetheart in his bed, in his t-shirt, a little angel on his black cloud of satin sheets.

Eddie let his teeth sink into his lip, nervous was an understatement. He filled the small gap between your noses, his eyes closing too, “I really like you, Stell.”

“Hmm,” your soft sleepy moan was comforting, the little smile tugging at your lips made his throat tighten. Maybe you’d only heard him in a dream.

“I really like you, Ed,” you half whisper, stretching your arms and legs and letting them crash back over him, “Big crush.”

“You got a crush on me?” he teased, blushing redder than the bouquet of roses he sent to Chrissy Cunningham for her birthday his Junior Year. Saved up his pay from the auto shop for a month to afford them only to forget to sign the card. Jason saved the day by saying he got them for her, instead.

“Oh yeah,” you smile, “Huge.”

“I have a big crush on you, too,” he pulls you close to him so your chests are touching. The scent of your perfume hitting him in the chest where the butterflies were begging to get out. Eddie takes his hand from your back to your thigh, gently hoisting it up to align your hips with his. He holds his breath when your arm snakes around him too, tied up like balloon strings – like you’d both float away.

“You’re warm,” you say, looking at his lips while the hand that was on your thigh meets your cheek. You can feel his heart hammering under his No Rest for the Wicked '88 Tour t-shirt, as soft as the one he put you in when you said you were getting tired.

“You’re…” his tongue felt too big for his mouth.

“Don’t say pretty, again,” you sleepily tease, “Say something else.”

“Ugh, ya got me, let’s see,” he chuckles, putting his forehead to yours, “You’re…I don’t know Stell, you’re so many things.”

“So…many…things?” you whisper, your lower lip tucking between your teeth.

“Ugh, that was dumb, I’m sorry,” he was embarrassed as soon as he said it, but your eyes perked up from their sleepy state when he did. That teasing glint in your eye that made him feel like a kid on the playground where he got picked first for Ringolevio teams. Hawkins Elementary’s best tagger, fastest runner – shame he didn’t go for the track team – just ran away instead.

“I promise, I’m smooth,” he laughed, letting the hand on your cheek slide further back, a little behind your neck so his thumb rested delicately on your jaw.

“You’re…” he didn’t want to say the love of his life, you’d only been on three dates. How would he even be sure of that? Sure, he felt sure of that, he already called you his wife to his favorite paparazzo – but did you feel sure? He didn’t want to scare you away.

He leaned his head back a little to look at you, your features only lit up by the soft glow of the white Christmas lights artfully hung from the ceiling. He hadn’t really outgrown the early twenties male experience of decorating poorly – at least an interior designer had put them up for him.

“You know at the planetarium when they just showed the stars at the beginning? And it sort of feels like you’re suspended in mid-air? Like, in space?” he asked. You nodded back at him, stifling a laugh building in your throat.

“And you can’t believe the whole galaxy is so big around you, but everything is so bright and so exciting and you know you want to go explore it? But it’s sort of scary, right? Cause y'know, you don’t know how much oxygen you have and god, fuck, I’ve never even been to space camp, I’d never get hired to NASA so –”

“You’re rambling, Munson,” your voice is gentle, and his nervous prattling quells when you raise a hand to rake comfortingly through his hair.

“You feel like that, Stell. Like the whole galaxy. You’rebright, and exciting, and funny and I wanna learn everything about you,” his voice is almost pleading, like he’s asking for an invitation to explore, “But y'know, it’s sort of scary 'cause you’re just so – you’re really it.”

“I’m scared, too,” you admit shakily, your hand matching his behind his neck, your thumb sliding over the barely there stubble on his jaw.

“What? You’re not scared of anything,” he said, searching your face with his big sweet eyes for an answer, “Why’re you scared?”

“'Cause,” you started, becoming a little breathless at his gaze, “No one’s ever looked at me the way you look at me.”

“What do you mean, sweetheart? Everyone’s always lookin’ at you,” he teased, “I’m just some guy.”

“No, Ed. You really look at me,” it made your heart race to admit it, “Like you’re seeing me, and I – no one ever sees me.”

He put his forehead back against yours, your faces back to being distorted and bug like, “Is this what you mean? Am I seeing you like this?” he laughed your noses squished together. Your giggle makes him overwhelmed like he can’t believe he can make you laugh, that you think he’s funny, that you think of him at all.

“You know what I mean,” you say, back to just breathing, nose to nose.

He nods in agreement against your forehead, his eyes closed for a moment while he breathes you in. Your perfume is still putting him in a tizzy, he’d buy you four billion bottles of it if it meant you’d smell like that forever. His heart is still hammering against your chest, you can feel a nervous film of sweat building on the back of his neck.

“I really wanna kiss you,” his words are barely audible, eyes still closed, his full lashes tickling his cheeks, “I’m tryna be good though, y'know. A gentleman.”

“Such a gentleman,” you whisper back slowly while his eyes flutter back open and closed again. You can feel his strong ringed hand press against the back of your neck, tilting your head up to meet him. Eddie brushes his lips to yours just barely, ghosting over skin at the corner of your mouth. Electricity was thrumming through him, his chest becoming the most metal drum solo he ever heard. Kiss her, kiss her, kiss her. C'mon Munson don’t be a wimp.

His lips found yours, gentle and timid, warm honey pooled in your stomach at the feeling. You could feel his body tremble while he went in again, his kiss getting more confident, the arm he hid under your pillows snaking out to cup a hand on your other cheek.

Eddie’s mind is just static and the feeling of your lips, the way your hips rocked against his, the softness of your skin. He could’ve guessed that this is how it would be, like he’s known the whole time what your lips would taste like on his. Like they were always meant to be there.

You break away to breathe, looking at him with a heaving chest and pinked tinged cheeks.

“Was that good? W-was that okay?” he asked, catching his own breath, the heat on his body radiating higher and higher.

“More than okay,” you gasp back. Your heart matched his in beating, fluttering wildly in your chest. More, more, more, more, more.

“Should we – can I do it again?” he asked, his caution rivaling when he lost his virginity in the back of his van in his senior year. Seventeen and stupid with an old pack of condoms he stole from the gas station.

You don’t answer, just roll your hips so he’s flat on his back on the mattress with your legs on either side of him. Heat burning in both of your stomachs at the change of position. Eddie can’t think to keep his hands to himself while one arm snakes around your waist and the other one holds your back so you stay pressed flat against him.

The rest is hot breath and teeth and tongue, Ed’s gentle hands brushing over his t-shirt on your body, snaking it under to stroke the skin of your back.

“You’re so soft,” he mumbles into your lips, “I’m scared I’m gonna hurt you.” He knows he means it in more than one way, he hopes you don’t notice. 

“You don’t have to be gentle,” you say into the next kiss.

“I want to be gentle,” he says, pulling away, “I wanna show you how that feels.”

You blush at him remembering that you complained that other guys you’d been with had always been so stifiling. So focused on their own pleasure, on seeing America’s sweetheart with their dick in her mouth, on showing you off. A trophy to be won, a PR stunt to be had, a body to be masturbated into. No one ever took their time, no one ever even bothered to ask.

You thought he wasn’t listening the first time you had dinner, but he was focused on tucking away every single word you said so he’d never forget it.

“At least until next time,” he smirked, “’M sure I’ll find some other things to show you.”

“Oh, so there’s gonna be a next time?” you tease, sliding your hands from his face to his hair.

“If you’ll have me,” he shrugged, his voice getting playful, “I’d love to be considered.”

“I’ll definitely consider it,” you smiled, sharing a breath with each other before your mouth reaches for him. You let your hips slide over the ever growing bulge in his jeans, savoring the friction against the heat between your legs. A little gasp popping out at the feeling of his hands quickly gripping your hips to steady them.

“Eaassyy,” he hissed out, holding back a breathy groan, “Go slow.”

“I think it would be more fun if you didn’t have these on,” you giggled, sitting up and back on the tops of his thighs, tugging at his belt loops.

“Stella,” his voice comes out with an exasperated edge, “I didn’t – I don’t want you to think that this is the why I invited you back here.”

“I know, Ed,” you said, “It’s okay.”

“Like I didn’t want to just bring you home and take you to bed, y'know? It was just gonna be a long drive back to yours.”

“Eddie, stop, I don’t think you had a master plan or anything,” you put your hands on his chest, your hair falling forward over your own. You looked at each other for a beat, both of you mulling it over. 

“If they come off it’s like…that’s it,” he laughs, putting the heels of his hands over his eyes.

“I can’t believe I just told Stella Rink not to grind too fast on my dick,” he scolds himself with a cheesy grin, “Every man in America would literally die to be me right now.”

“Y'know I have a really big following in Budapest, too,” you laugh back, “If you’d believe it.”

He sits up to meet you with a kiss, “I believe it.”

“I think I’m the first girl you’ve ever told to slow down,” his heart pangs a little when you say it. You are the first girl he’s ever told to slow down.

“Not every day I have Andromeda in bed with me,” he mutters, maneuvering you off of him while pulling at his belt. He gets off the bed to peel his jeans off, standing there in his black boxer briefs, a sheen in the fabric glinting in the low light. His pulse throbs in his throat while he takes his shirt off, anxious if you’ll still like him without any clothes. He was running a little thinner these days, coming back from a particularly rough time with some friends in low places – he didn’t tell you how long he’d been clean. He didn’t tell you anything at all. You sat on your knees on the mattress, satin sheets sliding under you, taking him in. Every inked tattoo flashing harsh against his fair skin, the hair on his stomach trailing down behind black nylon. The veins on his arms protruded down to his hands where his rings sparkled. His soft pink lips slightly parted while he reached up to shake his frizzed curls out. “Wow,” your eyes are glassy and round while you look at him, your body pins and needles as he steps to the edge of the bed. Eddie pulls you in, sucking in your bottom lip before trailing kisses down your jaw. You hiss when he gets the base of your neck, your knees parting under you. “Right there?” he asked into your skin, his tongue slipping over that spot again. You can feel his confident smirk against your collar bone. “Mhm,” you whine, “R-right there.” Eddie tugs the neckline of the shirt to the side to leave soft kisses on your shoulder, the other hand smoothing over the curve of your waist. “You can take it off,” you blurt out. He pulls away from your shoulder, looking at you like you just told him he was playing Madison Square Garden for the first time. “Your shirt? My shirt?” he asked, his voice cracking, “I mean, the shirt you’re wearing?” He swallowed hard when you nodded and reached for the hem, gathering the worn fabric up over your arms. Your hair flounced back down, messy but somehow still in place. He kept the shirt in his hands while he looked at you, holding his breath. “Ed, you’re…” you suddenly felt self-conscious, his eyes lingering too long to just see your body. His gaze was pouring into you, “You’re giving me that look again.” He blinked and shook his head, letting out a sharp exhale through the mouth, “Baby, you’re  – you’re perfect.”

“No one’s perfect, Ed,” you blush, your whole body burning. “No, no, I think you’re being modest,” he says, gently guiding you to lay back on the bed again. The shirt you were wearing had been forgotten, discarded on the floor. He placed himself between your legs, taking one of your arms to kiss just above your wrist, the crook of your arm, your bicep – he took his time, flicking his gaze down to you with each one. He put your arm down, caging you in with each of his arms on the side of you, leaning down to kiss the top of your chest. Sloppy and wet, leaving spit in their wake, his hair tickling over your breasts.

Eddie couldn’t hold back a moan when he let his tongue slide between them, a hand reaching to softly massage one. Your whine made his eyes roll back when the rough pad of his thumb slid over your nipple, back and forth, watching the other one peak in time. His lips lingered over it, looking at you almost to ask if it was okay, you nodded feverishly. His tongue swirled and flitted over the nub of skin, smiling as he heard your first quiet ‘oh god’ fall from your mouth. He’d soothed you while you squirmed underneath him, moving from your breasts to your sternum, down to your stomach, your pelvis. Eddie’s tongue and lips only stopping to whisper soft little nothings into your skin like ‘you’re so perfect,’ and ‘be patient, baby’.

He got to your underwear and paused, on his knees on the mattress between your legs. Eddie let his hand run over your thigh, dipping his fingertips down to the soft inside flesh. You shivered. 

“Is it okay if these come off?” he asked, fingers exploring from your thigh to the tops of your panties.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s okay,” you turn red at the question, no one had ever asked you that before. You were never really given so much choice. He was slow about sliding them off your body, watching them flow down your thighs and calves at the guide of his hands. Once they were making friends with your discarded t-shirt on the floor, he looked back up at you.

You cross your legs, nervous and excited for what he might do next. It felt good to not know, to let him take the lead. He touched you exactly how you liked to be touched, like he’d been studying it for years. You watched him make a mental note of every little gasp or whine you let out, every involuntary shiver. 

His hands wrapped around your ankles, uncrossing your legs and putting them back on either side of him. He hoisted your legs up from under your knees, slowly parting the limbs until they were splayed out like butterfly wings. Childlike excitement bubbling in his chest, opening the biggest present from under the tree. There you were, your puffed up lips parting just slightly, the sticky sound of them separating over slickness whispering in the room. 

“Jesus Christ,” he whispers, a pot of honey to a bear, he’d never had so much restraint in his life, “Fucking beautiful.” 

You blush, you don’t know if you’ve stopped blushing, your hands immediately going up to cover your face. You feel his finger trace over the manicured patch of hair between your legs. “I’m sorry, I didn’t wax,” you mumbled behind your palms, “I didn’t think we were gonna…I didn’t think you were gonna see it tonight.” “Sorry you didn’t wax?” he asked, your eyes peeking out through your fingers. He’s grinning down at you, his eyebrows quirk, he can’t believe you’d apologize, “I’m a grown man, Stell.” 

“Let me see your face,” he said, “Wanna watch you, watch me.” “You’re so bad,” he sees your smirk while you say it, your hands coming down flop next to your head. “What? I like an audience,” he shrugged with a wink, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee. His salivary glands are working double time while your hips move slowly underneath him. Eddie lets out a soft hum when your thighs twitch, his lips pressing more sloppy kisses against the soft and plush flesh. You can feel his breath at the crease of your leg to your groin, biting your lower lip while a soft desperate mewl shoots out of you. “I’ll get there, I’ll get there,” he teases, his eyes flicking up to meet yours, “I take it I don’t have to ask if this is okay?” “It’s so okay, Ed,” you huff, propping yourself up on your elbows to watch him down the slope of your body. Eddie’s flat on the mattress on his stomach, propped up on his own elbows so he can push your thighs back and out. The guitar pick on his necklace dangling dangerously close to your entrance. He lets his tongue stripe up one lip, a huff of breath left at the top, your hips jumping at the feeling. He’s slow, licking up the other, ducking out of your hand reaching out to put his face between your legs. “So impatient,” he chides, “No wonder your assistant thinks you’re a nightmare.” 

You let out a laugh, your head falling back and exposing your neck – he thinks he might love you like this. You might be the person he loves the most. 

Eddie waits for you to look back down at him before giving in to you. You could’ve sworn those big brown eyes were magnetic with the way your gaze snapped to his. He kissed the fleshy part of your thigh again before finally sliding his tongue in a flat stripe between your folds, lingering over your clit but not touching it. 

The gasp you let out made his head swim, ‘more of that’ he thought. His tongue flicked over your clit just once, your thighs twitching again, desperate. Tears wet your eyes as the anticipation built in your stomach, your chest feeling hot. “Please more,” you whined out, it came out a little more pathetic than you hoped, “Don’t tease, s’not fair.” 

“Sorry, angel,” he smirks up at you, cockines falling into his voice, “Not polite to play with your food, huh?” You shook your head no, your mouth falling open at his tongue going back to work. Soft and slithery, you could feel him exploring you, dipping inside you to drag your fluids up and around while you just got wetter beneath him.

“Oh that’s – that feels so good,” you drawl out, his lips suctioned loosely over the bud of your clit switching agonizingly between sucking and licking, fluttering and vibrating while your walls clenched around nothing. “Can I use my fingers?” he asks, fingertips trailing your inner thigh, “Make you feel even better.” “Yes,” you rasp out, shaking on your elbows, knowing you weren’t going to last much longer. With his tongue still working your clit, you barely register his ringed finger teasing your opening until the first thick knuckle presses past your walls. “Oh fuck,” you hiss through gritted teeth. He wasn’t looking up at you anymore, eyes closing while his finger disappeared into your entirely, curving upwards to toy with your g-spot. He was completely in his own world where it was just him and your pussy, the sound of your moans, and the way your hips bucked against his unrelenting mouth and fingers. 

“‘M gonna cum,” you pant while his ring finger meets his middle finger inside of you, stretching you out. You can’t believe how full you feel from just the two of them alone. “Oh baby, I know,” he breathes against your thigh, “I want you to.” “Wanna cum – ooh! mmm – with you inside me,” you beg him. He’s suddenly stupid after hearing your admission - with you inside me, with you inside me, with you inside me - ringing in his ears on a loop. His fingers slide slowly out of you and go to the mattress where he presses himself back up onto his knees. “You’re sure you want to? I know we’re in the moment,” he said, sliding his hands comfortingly up and down the sides of your thighs, “I don’t want you to feel like that’s what I want, so you have to.” “I want to,” you say, breathless and empty feeling, “I want you.” He maneuvers you, propping all the pillows up nice and fluffy and placing you over them, just your lower half down on the mattress. The rest of you on a mine of goose down feathers and black satin. Eddie’s next kiss is deep and wanting, hands immediately cupping your cheek and wrapping around the back of your neck. Your hands find his boxer briefs and he swats them away while breaking the kiss, “Again with the impatience Stell, your assistant must hate you.” Even his mischievous smile is endearing while he teases you, hopping quickly off the bed and sliding his underwear off. You can’t help the bulge in your eyes when you see it for everything it is – and its fucking big. “Yeah, yeah, the rumors are true, whatever,” he says, waving his hand dismissively. If there was anything you knew about Eddie before you met him was that every tabloid rag in America would have an exposé from an ex girlfriend or lover that said something along the lines of ‘Awful guy, huge dick.’

“Oh-kay big shot,” you tease back, while he climbs back on the bed between your legs, “Reel it in there.” He hits that spot on your neck again with his tongue and your back immediately arches, a soft and satisfied purr coming from his chest. He pulls at your hips, dragging you further down the mattress, the tops of your thighs kissing your chest. “You ready?” he asks while guiding the swollen tip of his cock to just outside your entrance. “Are you?” you ask gently. “Very,” he says, stroking himself long and slow, “I know you’re gonna feel as good as you taste.” The sentence comes out of him primarily and gutturally. Your walls flutter while he shifts closer, just the soft skin of the tip pushing into you at first. You watch his face as he pushes in slowly, his mouth hanging open with a huff, his head tilting forward on a hinge. 

“God, fuck,” Eddie huffed into your hair while falling down against your chest, pushing into you to the hilt. He laces fingers with yours, pressing your hands into the mattress while he thrusts again, “Feel’s so fucking good, sweet thing.”

“Pussy like fucking velvet, Jesus,” his words coming between ragged breaths, whining, The grinding of his hips finding a slow and steady rhythm inside you.

You could barely talk, just choked gasps and breathy moans pouring out of your mouth while he rocked into you, your body barely accommodating his size. White blinding your eyes while the curve of his cock met the edge of the sensitive spongey button inside of you, over and over. 

“Ooh, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” the words peppered out of you desperately, your hips rolling in time with his slow thrusts. Your sweat blending between your chests, leaving no space between you, “Just like that, Eddie.”

His face slacks, his brain nearly turning off at the sound of you moaning his name, coming back to reality quickly while his lips find your neck. He lets go of one of your hands to prop himself on a forearm, looking down at you, stealing a kiss as you moan into his mouth.

“Does that feel good?” he asks, a question he normally says with a mocking confidence when he’s backstage making groupies scream into his dressing room couch. Tonight it’s genuine and soft because he actually wants to know. Is he making you feel good? Do you feel what you’re doing to him? Can you tell he’s falling in love with you? 

“It feels…huhn…it feels,” your breathy gasps answer for you.

“Don’t hate me for saying it sweetheart,” he starts with a smirk, leaning down to kiss your cheek, “But you’re so pretty like this.” “God, can I be anything else?” you giggle, a little moan squeaking out while his thrusts quicken. “You could um,” he gulped and swallowed, slowing down his pace to a stop, still staying inside you, “You could be my girl? If you want?” 

You don’t reply at first and you can feel an embarrassed heat flash through his body. His mouth starts and doesn’t stop, barely breathing between words, “Totally get it if you just wanna keep hangin’ out though. If you hate labels, I hate labels – right, baby?  Y’know, I wasn’t planning on asking under these circumstances – was gonna maybe ask on our next date. Not that I’m assuming there would’ve been a fourth date but like, I figured maybe you might want to see me again. I definitely would’ve wanted to see you again. Thinking about it now, literally five seconds later, I probably should’ve waited. Holy shit, I’m such an asshole – who does that? Who asks that while they’re fucking? I mean Jesus Christ, talk about manipul –” “Hey,” you say, putting your pointer and middle finger on the center of his lips, “You’re rambling again.” You lean up to meet him, taking your fingers away and replacing them with your lips. He involuntarily starts his rhythm again, sliding in and out of you with ease, feeling your heels bounce against his lower back. You quietly look at each other and your breath hitches, not just from how good he feels inside you, but from that look. You might love him, you might be falling in love with him. You might be so terrified of him that you can’t breathe, that you can’t think straight. Maybe he’s the best of the worst guys you could be with – or maybe he was the best of the best. Maybe you’re being fooled by his messy hair and big brown eyes, the dimples in his cheeks when he smiles at you. A charming little scorpion that’s waiting for you to give him a ride on your back across the river. Maybe he’s just like the snake tattooed down the right side of his ribs. “Sorry, ‘m just nervous,” he said, “You make me so nervous Stell. I feel like a fuckin’ teenager when you’re around.” 

Nevermind. He’s an angel. He buries his face in your neck, returning to his steady pace. You weren’t expecting him to be so vocal this way, grunting and moaning while he fucked you. You’d expected mean taunting words, you expected him to mock you, to make you tell him how good he makes you feel. To be honest, as hot as it was to hear him in your ear while he pleasured you, you sort of wanted to know more about the authentic Eddie Munson sexperience. 

Eddie pushed off you and on his haunches, angling your hips further back with his hands on the backs of your thighs. A high moan peeled through you when he pushed into you again, hitting every spot he could with his cock, he felt it too. Your moan reverberated back to you, bouncing off the walls and the ceiling, ringing in both of your heads. He was fucking you slow, but still managing to fuck you dumb. “Feels so good inside me, daddy,” you whimper out, not even knowing where that name came from. You’ve never called a man that in bed before. Eddie’s voice and eyes darken, his little devilish smirk passing across his face,  “Careful with that name, baby. Don’t want him to come out too soon. Daddy isn’t nice like me.” You turn bright red but you aren’t sure if it’s from embarrassment or because you desperately want to know how not nice he can get, “I never say that, oh my God.” “That’s okay,” he said, hips finding a quicker rhythm now that he knows where you’re at, “You can meet him next time, yeah?” “Yeah,” you whine out, your voice getting small. “You want it a little harder?” he asks, gentle, gentle, gentle. “Mhm,” you say, eyes glassy up at him. He knows you’re at his mercy now, fucked silly, needy for it. He wants to slide into his regular routine – flip you over and pound you out with your ass up in the air, begging and crying for more. But no. You’re different, he wants to see you cum, he wants to see you love it. He wants to watch you love what he does to you. Eddie keeps his hands on the backs of your thighs, his thrusts getting harder and faster. Your head immediately pushes back into the pillows under you, barely able to contain yourself at the feeling. “Ah fuck, I’m close,” he hisses through heavy breaths, sweat sliding down his face from under his hair. You can hear the clap of his balls and hips against your ass, feel the grip on your thighs, the sound of his ragged chest. The euphoric slide of his cock slamming into you, pace getting erratic as he got closer to the edge. You’d been teetering on your orgasm since he pulled his fingers out of you, riding the coast of it while he made love to you. The coil tight in your belly close to snapping as he looks down at you, hungry and loving – that look. That look. He leans back down against you, knowing you need a little extra coercion to make it over the edge. Eddie’s hair tickles your chest while he gets back to the base of your neck, right at your favorite spot, his teeth drag gently over it. “Oh!” you cry out while he sucks up part of the skin, his tongue swirling, teeth gently coming down on it. The coil snaps, sending you reeling – you don’t know if your loud ‘Oh, God!’ is you moaning his name or not, but he’s moaning yours in your ear. 

“That’s it Stell, cum for me. So good f’me, baby, so good…” You can feel hot ropes of his cum being let out inside you, warming you up from the inside out. He stays inside while you both come down, covered in sweat, heaving breathing into each other.

Eddie brings his head up, heart pounding like it was before he kissed you, and rests it gently against your forehead. He nuzzles your nose against his, coming in for a soft kiss. His voice when he speaks is small and innocent, almost boyish: “Can I keep you?” 

You nod against his forehead, both of your eyes closed. He wraps his arms around you while rolling off to the side, spooning up behind you. He wants to scream at your nod, to do a victory lap, to call Wayne and tell him that he’s dating the biggest movie star of the early 90s. “Wanna be your girl, Munson,” you say sleepily, snuggling back into him. “You are my girl, Rink,” he murmurs, sleep sneaking into his voice, too, “Gonna be my wife one day.”  “Gonna be your wife,” you repeat back. “Gonna be my wife,” he says again, with a soft kiss on your shoulder. The glow of the room comes back to you when you open your eyes, you know you should get out of bed and clean up – and you will. But for right now, this is nice. To be held by a maybe scorpion on a ride across the river, the sweetest boy you ever met who is banned from 13 restaurants in southern California, an angel with horns under his halo. Your boy. His girl. Gonna be his wife one day. 

#rockstar!eddie #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie smut #rockstar!eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things au #eddie munson rockstar au #eddie munson au

[catboybiologist]

What’s your favorite exhibit at the Monterey Bay Aquarium?

Mines the deep sea tank, I could just sit in front of it for hours.

Impossible to decide. It's like deciding on my favorite child.

The entire Into the Deep exhibit is mind-blowing. It sucks that it's only a temporary exhibit, but it'll probably be around for several more years. The first time I saw the Japanese spider crabs there.... I felt like I instantly reverted to a 12 year old. I was 24 LOL

The bottom layer of the Open Seas tank, which is now integrated as the first section of Into the Deep, also deserves a shout-out. When I was a kid I used to lay down on the slanted concrete slab below the titled glass, and you can look directly up and see the undersides of everything that passes by. The Mahi Mahi in particular scatter light in rainbows around them. It's gorgeous. I still do that these days, but it's more brutal on my knees and I'm a tad bit too tall to do it comfortably for long periods of time.

If I have to choose, the shale reef area/deep reef area of the Monterey Bay Habitats tank is my lifelong favorite, though. It's underappreciated alongside all the other exhibits, but there's so much in there that's iconic- but mostly, I love the insane variety of massive rockfish in their, including Boccacios. And then you have the giants of sevengills sharks and giant sea bass swimming over as you fixate on the tiny fish flitting between the ricks. My normie account social media pfp for a long time was the silhouette of me sitting in one of the glass "bubbles" on that tank, staring into the depths beyond. The white plume anemones also remind me of one of my favorite dive sites, which is also nearby.

And of course, ya gotta say hi to Rosa, or her compatriots if she's not in exhibit. It's mandatory.

In general, the Monterey Bay Aquarium is a love letter to California's marine life, and I love it so much.

[troughtonmedia]

3rd Place in the $ check it out

#bass fishing #california delta #Carter Troughton #Greg Troughton #Youtube

[ask-annamary]

Oh you like fish? Then name every fish!!!

(/j)

Halibut, Ranchu, Tilapia, Sarcastic Fringe Head, Molamola, Salmon, Bluefin Tuna, Wolf Eels, Butanding, Plecos, Pacific Spiny Lumpsuckers, Brown Smoothhounds, Bangus, Lapu lapu, Betta Fish, Cookie Cutter sharks, Moray Eels, Ribbon Eels, Stingrays, Mobula Rays, Great White Sharks, Thesher Sharks, Lampreys, Hagfish, Gulper Eels, Lantern Fish, Angler Fish, Barreleye Fish, Sardines, Anchovies, Carp, Koi, Stargazers, Pufferfish, Flounders, Rock Fish, Remora, Hammerhead Sharks, Leopard Sharks, Wobbegongs, California Sheephead, Pearlfish, Lungfish, Catfish, Sturgeon, Trout, Pike, Arrowana, Arrapaima, Goonch Catfish, Electric Catfish, Clownfish, Yellow Tangs, Angelfish, Alligator Gars, Striped Bass, White Bass, Sea Bass, Parrot Fish, Archer Fish, Frogfish, Batfish—

Okay, I’m tired of this joke now. I hope I was able to list off a fish you haven’t heard of before. Goodbye.

#deep diver #toontown #toonblr #toontown corporate clash #ttcc #FISH #you know how tempting it was to just do the fish rap #also if I made a fuck up here leave me alone I was #doing this at like 2 am

[ojaiangler]

Ultimate Bass Fishing Guide: Unlocking California's Premier Angling Secrets

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Call us at- [phone]

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#Bass Fishing Guide in California #fishing guide california

[thislovintime]

Stephen Stills and Peter Tork, early 1960s.

“I did some work accompanying Steve Stills when he was with Ron Long and the Buffalo Fish. I accompanied this black trio called the [Apollas], on the stand-up string bass.” - Peter Tork, Goldmine, May 1982

“I’d run into Stephen earlier when he was playing with Peter Tork and John Hopkins, and I thought they were really doing it right.” - Richie Furay, Crosby, Stills & Nash: The Authorized Biography (1984)

“[Stills] put together a short-lived folk duo called Buffalo Fish with bass player Ron Long (another refugee from Greenwich Village). Together, they hit the Southern California folk circuit in late 1965, playing mostly folk and blues standards. One night, when they hit the Golden Bear, in Huntington Beach, Peter Tork was working in the club’s kitchen. ‘I was between gigs,’ says Tork, ‘washing dishes and jerkin’ beer at the Golden Bear, when all of a sudden I hear this voice coming from out in the club. I look and it’s Stephen, who I hadn’t seen since leaving New York.’ Over beers, Stills and Tork renewed their friendship and Buffalo Fish became a trio, with Tork adding some vocal support and comedic touches. But after a few more times around the circuit, Buffalo Fish spread apart.” - Crosby, Stills & Nash: The Authorized Biography (1984)

"[Peter] has had a great effect on the way I perform. The way he used to move, the way he used his accent, his whole attitude toward the theater, the entire theater, gave him a great basis from which to work. He never looks past the fact that he’s supposed to be up there: to entertain the people. And every time he got up there he would perform and do his whole number, exuding all the personality he could and he did some marvelous comedy routines. It was mostly by watching him that I picked up some of those things.” - Stephen Stills, Tiger Beat, June 1967

"When we’re not playing music or listening to music, we’re usually picking things apart — groups, ideas we hear from people, pieces of music, each other’s brain." - Stephen Stills, Tiger Beat, July 1967 (x)

#Peter Tork #Stephen Stills #Tork quotes #screenshots #John Hopkins #Richie Furay #Buffalo Fish #The Monkees #Monkees #60s Tork #long read #can you queue it