#I also wanna see if the LA will touch on one of my favorite glossed over bits in Alabasta

[hylianane]

hey OPLA if you want to pick another random supporting woman to give sudden romantic tension with Nami, like you did with Kaya, I’m just saying that Tashigi is right there. and that it would mean a lot to my heart

[theblekromantik]

somewhere new

Erik Stevens x Black Reader

a/n: hello lovelies, i hope you’re well and i hope that you enjoy this! i’ve been experimenting with writing lately, so any feedback would be greatly appreciated!!!

summary: you and Erik go decide to go grocery shopping, but you switch things up a little

warnings: fluff-ish with some sexual tension and implied smut

word count: 3189

A booming,

“Yo, ma!”

Accompanied by a knock at the door rattles you, causing you to drop your eyelash into the sink. Your good, very expensive eyelash that requires much focus in order to be applied to your upper lash line.

Grunting and twinging your face in disgust of the sight before you, you fish it out of the sink, blowing on it to determine if the glue is still salvageable.

“Come on, E! Five minutes!” You respond with your mouth slightly parted, a strange requirement for impeccable eyelash placement.

“Princess, we gotta hurry up before the store closes,” Erik protests, pulling up his sleeve to check his diamond-encrusted AP watch. It’s almost seven o’clock, and Erik hated shopping minutes before a store closed. It made him feel like he was being rushed to gather his items and head to the register.

You and Erik frequently ran errands together, only this time you were grocery shopping. Staying in was nice and all – really quite enjoyable – but an end had to come to the endless Netflix bingeing and takeout from your favorite spots. You both, mainly Erik, decided that it was time for a nutritious, home-cooked meal, one that wouldn’t lead you down a road of clogged arteries and hypertension. But Erik was a phenomenal chef, so you could hardly complain that your ongoing DoorDash expenditure had been interrupted.

“Damn! One second!” You holler. “One second…there.”

You step back and look into the mirror, admiring yourself. Thirty minutes of hard work and determination had really paid off! You grab your phone from the sink’s surface and proceed to snap some photos of yourself.

SHUTTER! SHUTTER! SHUTTER! SHUTTER!

Beauty must always be captured, no matter what the time restraint.

“Princess! You taking pictures in there?” The dreaded man pounds on the door, harder this time. Banging, nearly shaking the hinges out of the door until you swing it open.

And there you are, dolled up and all, from the 26-inch deep wave hair to the Adidas tracksuit, the top zipped down nearly to the level of exposing the full extent of your breasts. Just the way you liked it.

Erik can hardly contain himself as he looks further down at you, ogling how your recently-manicured toes fit perfectly between each slot of your sandals. Man, he knew you were one for dressing up, but to the grocery store? Maybe he needs to step his game up.

“Well?” You jest. “You were so loud banging on the door, you got nothing to say now?”

Catching his lip underneath his teeth, he smugly looks you over once more, trying to gather words to say, for you’ve left him speechless.

He inches closer to you, “My babygirl likes to talk back, huh?”

“Yup, she do,” Boldness courses through you, nearly shattered as you maintain eye contact with your boyfriend.

His eyes were boulders, but you were just as unyielding. This game the two of you liked to play – this perpetual exchange of power – rarely ever ended with you emerging victorious. And you knew this, but you wanted to have your fun.

Finally, though smirkingly, you divert your gaze to your phone, shuffling through your gallery to decide which photos to keep, which photos to delete, and which photos to post.

“You look beautiful, Princess,” Erik chuckles after pressing a kiss onto your lips. “Now let’s go.”

While you knew you had lost the battle in the bathroom, you couldn’t wait to enjoy the war you and Erik would have in the bedroom later.

–

“Shotgun!” Erik shouted as you were fumbling in your purse for your keys, making a sprint for the car through your apartment complex’s parking lot.

The sun was setting beneath the horizon, and it illuminated the sky a burnt orange, a hue that began to embellish the surfaces of each object it touched – buildings, vehicles, windows, trees, the reflective skin of Erik’s custom-designed Air Max 97s as he raced further away from you.

After some time, your nimble fingers reach the item of your search, which results in a chime. You pull the keys out, contemplating whether to unlock the car doors for dreaded man in order to relieve him from the heat of the California sun, or let him suffer. Though it was setting, this sun still could extract a cup of sweat from one’s body. But hey, Erik was grown, he could wait.

You strut up to the car to see your boyfriend leaning on the door, panting, condensation forming on his forehead.

You release a sound of triumph, “I was gonna drive anyway.”

The car unlocks with a chirp, and you open the door and sit down. Dumbfounded, Erik was clutching the hood of the car still, trying to catch his breath.

“You getting in, or…”

He opens the car door and slumps down into the seat.

“You didn’t have to have a nigga looking dumb, baby.”

“I don’t think you need me for that, E.”

Erik snickers, “So it’s like that?”

“Yeah, it’s like that,” you tease, pressing the car to start and reversing out of the lot.

The two of you were buckling in for a long evening, and quite frankly, you couldn’t wait to see how it would progress.

–

As you drive on the road, the city and all its structures – both new and old – vanish behind you as a multitude of cool currents of air whip into the car through the windows, blowing your hair in all sorts of directions.

The vehicle vibrates as you blast a playlist full of new releases through your aux, and Erik grips your thigh as he sings to you, gold canines flashing and all.

You gently place your foot on the break, easing the car to a stop before the upcoming red light.

Erik, nearly louder than the music, starts to grind on the seat à la Magic Mike, and you couldn’t help but to laugh at the dreaded man and his silliness, a behaviour that is a pleasant break from his usual brooding nature.

But your laughter is cut short by a car honking behind you, indicating that the light had just turned green. You roll your eyes, because it had literally just turned green, and you press on the gas, revving your vehicle to the speed limit.

You pass another number of buildings a before making a sharp left turn.

“Shit!” You mumble to yourself.

You had almost missed the turn.

“Babygirl, that wasn’t the turn. Where we going?” Erik questions, for the route you’re taking was not your usual one.

“A little change of plans. I wanted to go somewhere else this time.”

“’Somewhere else’?” Erik probes. “What’s wrong with Ralph’s?!”

Now this took Erik by surprise. He’s genuinely concerned about your decision. To him, Ralph’s is King.

“Nothing, just wanna try something different.”

Your boyfriend clutches his heart, feigning a heart attack. You snort and turn into the parking lot. Both the wind and the car’s engine settle as you drive into a spot and press the vehicle off.

“Trader Joe’s?!” Erik cries. “What they got up in there?”

You exit the car, grabbing your purse from the backseat. “Stop complaining. Let’s go.”

–

If boredom could be personified, it’s spitting image would be Erik, for he rests his forearms on the bar of the shopping cart, eyes drooping as he observes the eccentric packaging of Trader Joe’s products.

Picking up a container of salsa he says, “Why all this shit organic?”

But you just suck your teeth and let him sulk behind the cart, ignoring him and all his grumbling.

“And this,” His gaze sets upon another display, “Who the fuck needs all these types of dried fruit? Probably taste like tumbleweed anyway.”

“Yo, stop moaning and groaning over there,” You shoot back at him, grabbing two packages of dried mangoes and placing them into the cart.

But Erik persists, dragging his feet across the smooth, concrete floor.

Minding the grocery list you and Erik had created earlier on your phone, you head deeper into the produce section, searching for some leafy greens and other ingredients that would contribute toward Erik’s signature salad. He walks off with the cart, gathering some tomatoes and bell peppers before making his way into another section of the store.

You, on the other hand, stand in front of the illuminated display with every type of green you could think of: arugula, kale, spinach, and lettuce, just to name a few. Reaching in, you squish some of the bags in order to determine their freshness. And you grab some kale and return to your shopping partner, who was waiting patiently for you, his previous protesting done with.

Looking down at the list on your phone, there wasn’t that much left for you all to grab, just some seasonings that were essential for the completion of any dish. There’re so many to choose from, and quite frankly, you’d just grab them all if you weren’t on a budget. So, you place a couple in the cart. And when you look up again, there Erik is, a pouty look on his face.

“Birthday cake popcorn?” Erik suggests, holding up the multicoloured item.

“Put it in the cart,” You giggle, maneuvering to a checkout line with the least amount of people.

The line becomes shorter and shorter, with customers paying and leaving with their large brown bags. And before you know it, the cashier shouts, “Next!” and moves to take your cart.

“Find everything okay?” The cashier asks, briefly glancing up at the two of you before moving to scan the items in your cart.

“Yes, thank you,” you respond, blankly staring as more items appeared on the customer screen and the worker transferred your groceries into the bags adjacent to the register.

Erik, standing beside you, wraps his right pinky finger against your left one, linking the two of you before you adjust to hold his entire hand. He grips your waist and pulls you in to kiss your lips and lingers there for a short while, eyes boring into yours while also relishing the traces of your chocolate-flavoured lip gloss that had found its way to onto his tongue.

You’re flustered, of course, but not because he hadn’t kissed you this intensely before, but because you were reminded that you were still at the grocery store, for the cashier cleared their throat awkwardly, repeating the total cost you had missed in your fleeting moment of passion.

Scratching your neck, hoping to relieve the embarrassment that that crept up your spine, you ask, “I’m sorry, how much is it?”

To which the cashier responds, “That’s $43.96.”

“I got it, bae,” Erik interjects, pulling out his wallet and handing a crisp yet folded fifty-dollar bill to the worker.

And while the cashier hands Erik the change, you grab the red cart and head toward the exit but not before thanking them. A few steps behind, Erik acknowledges another cashier – the only Black cashier – with a head nod and a knowing smile, to which the cashier nods, shrugs, and returns the grin: the shared feeling of being the only Black person in the room. The automatic doors open, reintroducing the cool evening air upon your face and hair, and the rubber wheels of the cart greet the smooth pavement.

When you reach the cart return, Erik grabs all of the bags while you fit the cart among the lines of carts already present. The two of you begin to walk to your parked vehicle but instead accidentally stumble upon on one with a similar make and model to your own but was not yours.

“I swore I parked right here,” you huff, standing on the balls of your feet, searching the sea of identical cars in the well-lit parking lot. And the fact that there were so many other last-minute shoppers did not help your plight either.

“Lemme see the keys,” Erik says, intrigue in his voice. “I wanna see something.”

You hand him the keys to the car, and he places them under his chin, pressing the unlock button repeatedly.

“That doesn’t actually work, does it?” You quiz, doubt heavy on your words.

“We have to see.”

Supposedly, this little trick should increase the bandwidth of the key’s signal, using one’s head as a sort of antenna. But after a couple clicks, you hear nothing besides traffic on the neighbouring streets.

Pointless, you think, just wanting to hurry up and head home.

But then, you hear a series of chirps in the distance and Erik yipping about the fact.

“Over there,” Erik says, nodding his head toward the source of the noise.

He picks up the bags, and you both head to the vehicle.

–

Shutting the door to your car, you release a sigh. Finally, the bags are all placed on the floor of your car, and you can finally head home.

With your foot on the break, you reach to push the car to start but then Erik yelps, “Wait! I wanna try those mango joints.”

“Oh, now you wanna try them,” You jest, “Because if I can remember, you were just–”

“–Man,” Erik interrupts, reaching to the backseat and rummaging through the bags. “Found it.”

He surveys the clear package titled “Soft & Juicy Mango” with his eyebrows furrowed and his lips curled, a slight repugnance that he couldn’t even help hide. But ripping the bag open, his expression softens as the aroma fills his nostrils, the sweet, tropical scent soothing him.

You watch, rolling your eyes, as Erik cautiously lowers his fingers into the package. One would think that the former Navy Seal wouldn’t be so dramatic over something like trying a new food, but Erik never ceases to amaze you.

Mango slice in hand, Erik purses his lips as he brings it to his mouth, slowly. Tortuously. And chews, his head cocked to the side.

“Wait,” he says as he swallows the last bit. “These bitches smack!”

You release a sound of disbelief, start the vehicle, and pull into the street, heading home. Of course the mangoes were delicious.

–

The sound of the car door closing can be heard as you and Erik finish grabbing all the groceries and head to the entrance of your apartment building. Your boyfriend opens the door for you, his veiny forearm braced on it and towering above you as you enter.

“Damn, ma! You getting thick!” He hollers as he watches the sway of your hips in your fitted bottoms.

You feel your cheeks warm up as you push some hair behind your air. You had been getting thick.

The lobby as you pass through is empty except for the security guard looking down at a glow coming from their lap and a couple of young people with white wires cascading down from their ears, bopping their heads to music that you can hear but not quite make out specific lyrics.

You and Erik find your way inside the elevator, the flickering fluorescents easing you back home, a stark difference from the glaringly bright ones at Trader Joe’s. Erik presses the round “4”, and the aluminum doors begin to close before you, you staring ahead while Erik sneaks a glance at you, smirking before redirecting his gaze toward the sliding metal.

Watching the line of numbers flash as the lift ascends from the ground floor, you turn to Erik, kissing him softly on the lips, closing your eyes and feeling a tingling sensation coursing into him through you. An electrical current that ceases to meet its end, ravishing you both entirely.

And with a ding, the elevator doors open and there you and Erik are, standing chest to chest in the moment, biting your lips like a couple of anxious teenagers on a first date. You pull away from him, keys in hand, heading for the apartment while Erik watches you.

God, how did he get so lucky? You were a treasure to him, and not only because you were so extraordinary but the little things: how you treated him so tenderly and with love yet wouldn’t hesitate to call him out when he was acting like a fool, and how you were so receptive to him as he was to you. These were all things that he scarcely experienced, if he ever experienced them at all. You helped him learn how to love and to receive love, which is an astonishing feat that many cannot confess that they’ve accomplished for themselves. And as you look back at him and smile while you unlock the door, he feels a bit weak in the knees, your electricity overwhelming him once more. You’ve got him hooked, and he loves it. He’s entirely entranced by you, and he doesn’t mind.

You open the door and are welcomed by your apartment, which is completely shrouded in darkness, save for the streetlights, the headlights of passing cars, and the last sliver of the orange evening sky before it is overcome by those distant stars in the night sky.

“Whew,” you exhale, flipping on the light switch and opening the door wider.

Erik sets the bags down on the countertops and approaches you.

“What are you–” you begin, but Erik is sliding his arms around your midsection and turning you to him. He presses his forehead against yours, twirling the ends of your hair and breathes you in and attaches his lips to yours, gently, truly wanting to savour this moment and you in this moment.

He pulls away, slowly, and confesses for the first time aloud, “I love you,” in a voice no louder than a whisper in a public library, to which you respond, “I love you, too.”

And the two of you remain like this for a few moments, staring into each other’s eyes, not even letting the ever-busy late-night traffic rattle you.

“So,” he starts, “About earlier in the bathroom…”

“Yeah, what about it?” You respond, seduction laced in your words.

“I’m thinking we need to address that.”

“Oh, do you?”

“Yup,” Erik answers, popping the “p”.

“And what about the groceries?”

“They’ll be a’ight.”

“Hm,” You sound, lacing your hand with his and walking the both of you to your shared bedroom.

Erik walks towards you, making you both fall on the bed. And the dreaded man begins pecking at your neck, travelling up to the bone of your jaw and landing once again on your plump lips. He swipes his finger down them, and repeats, “I love you.”

You stand up to close the door, while Erik sits up, waiting on you to return to him. You cradle his head in your hands while you kiss him, deeper, all that former tenderness left at the door. And stripping him of his shirt, his impatient fingers also dance to the zipper of your top, lowering it. He slides the jacket over your shoulders as you kneel on the bed to straddle him. But before you could grind down on his crotch, Erik grips your hips and flips you onto your back, the sudden movement bouncing your body on the bed after it meets the comforter.

“Not so fast, babygirl.”

[yearningcalum]

rich LA girls (c.h) pt.I

Word Count: 2.5k

everyone’s got issues in LA, Y/N’s just happens to be choosing between addiction and sobriety.

AN : Hey guys I wrote a fic and I hope you like part I ! I really love the show euphoria so i guess this is kinda inspired by that if you squint. TW: drug addiction, swearing, self-image

R-rated folks 

You lay on the marble floor of your best friend’s kitchen, the cold contrasting with the overwhelming numbness you felt. You couldn’t remember how you got there, on the floor, but now you wouldn’t dare move. Normally your head was swimming, but currently, your mind was drawing blank after blank. It felt almost peaceful…almost. After an eternity of mindless staring, you heard the doorknob to the front door turning. A surge of energy coursed through you, and you sat up to meet the eyes of your best friend Ashton. “Jesus Y/N, what the fuck” he jumped, shutting the door behind himself. You smiled lazily at him, losing all energy once again. “I thought you were dead,” he half-chuckles, grimacing when he recalls the last time he’d seen you. You were covered in vomit, nearly aspirating after one-too-many doses of heroin. He immediately rushed you to the ER, despite being told it might ruin his career. You woke alone, and couldn’t but feel empty.

Still, Ashton’s lavish pad was home for you, especially since the incident. Ash scooped you up off the floor, placing you on the counter and pecking your cheek. “Glad to see you’re okay,” he nodded, walking over to the pantry and grabbing a few granola bars. He shut the door, meeting your eyes as she peeled one open. You hated when Ashton stared you in the eye like that like he could read your mind. He always seemed to know what you were thinking, or even worse, if you were high. He narrowed his eyes at you, shaking his head. “You’re on right now, aren’t you?” He wasn’t being judgmental, but he was definitely concerned. To his delight, you’d been clean for five days. That accounted for the general haze going on in your brain. “Not used to thinking soberly,” you chuckled softly, stroking your hand through your curly locks. The curls were dehydrated and unruly, but that seemed to be your look at this point. Ashton nodded, pecking you on the nose. “I know what’ll get you back on track. A party.” You wrinkled your nose, shaking your head at how silly he was. “Ash, I am not going to hang around some rich white girls while you get your dick sucked in the bathroom,” you teased, and he rolled his eyes. “There’s my girl. We’re going, so go get ready. I’ll text you the address. I’m going with some of my boys, but I shall meet you there.”

As you headed out the apartment, you clumsily bumped into a taller fellow with a buzzcut. He had a cigarette hanging from his lips and slight dark circles under his eyes. His gaze intrigued you, but not enough to strike a conversation. Before the eye contact grew uncomfortable, you darted toward the stairs at the exit. Upon reaching the bottom, you paused to catch your breath. Once caught, you whipped out Ashton’s Juul and took a quick huff to keep you alert.

Your apartment was empty when you got home. There was a single mattress on the floor of the living room in the corner next to some ramen cups and a dying plant. A sigh left your lips as you stepped into the bedroom. You really hadn’t been home since the hospital. There were still piles of needles, sleeping aids and empty pill bottles surrounding your bed frame. As you glanced around, you fiddled with the sobriety coin in your pocket for grounding. A smile crept onto your face as you quickly trashed the paraphernalia. After, you sighed and looked over yourself in the mirror. You had an athletic build, with a little curve in the hips. Growing up in LA, you learned early on that you’ll never be perfect, and in that you found comfort.

As you combed through your closet, your phone buzzed with a notification from Ash. “Wear something sexy, xx” You blushed, knowing he was teasing. You and Ash were definitely best friends, but on occasion, you two would fool around. You never thought anything of it, and you liked not being in control of your body sometimes. Ash would take control of the situation, even down to when you were allowed to cum, and for some reason it was cathartic. Still, he was your best friend because he knew your mind better than you did, and if helping you cum meant you weren’t going to shoot up then he’d do it.

You grabbed a quick shower, being sure to take particular care of your curls. When you finished, the curls were so defined and lengthened you almost didn’t want to straighten your hair. You stared at yourself once more, being sure to thank your body for being itself. This was something you did often as a girl, and to this day it seemed to give you one less thing to be insecure about. You dressed in a black body con latex dress, did a slight glam eye look, and added YSL stilettos for the perfect touch. The thing you loved about silly LA parties was the possibility of meeting the next big scandal or potentially becoming it by the way you were dressed. After straightening your hair, you pulled it back into a low ponytail. Pleased with yourself, you called an uber to the address Ash sent.

Upon arrival, the party was jumping with people and music. You stepped up to the mansion, slathering on another layer of lipgloss. As you entered the door, you were met with the smell of weed and pineapple-flavored vapes. A sigh left your lips as you tucked your gloss into your breast cup. Glancing around the room, your eyes met Ash. Playfully, you winked and continued on into the kitchen to have a drink. You were pouring yourself a shot of Bacardi when you felt hands ghosting your hips. A smile crept on your lips as you thought it was Ashton, only to hear an unfamiliar voice coaxing in your ear. You attempted to free the grip of the stranger, but they only tightened their grasp. You panicked, eyes darting around in search of a weapon. On instinct, you reached for the nearest kitchen knife, driving it into the stranger’s thigh. They immediately collapsed behind you, crying out in pain. Eyes were on you as you stood above the attacker, eyes threatening tears. “Don’t you ever lay a hand on me again,” you shouted, storming off toward the balcony as people cheered you on. As you pushed through the crowd, you met eyes with the stranger from Ashton’s apartment, and for a brief moment, you felt calm.

The balcony was quiet aside from the music. Feeling anxious was always a side effect at these parties, especially when Ash was nowhere in sight. You stared out over the city, taking a huff of the vape you’d stolen from Ashton, only to realize it was out of juice. A grunt left your lips and you chucked the thing over the balcony, watching it fall. Just as you were reaching into your dress to grab a cigarette, the stranger with the buzzcut appeared next to you. “Y’Have another?” His voice was like honey, and you nearly felt your knees go weak. You nodded sheepishly, handing him one. “It’s warm,” he grinned, and you blushed. The two of you stood in silence, looking out over the city. “Sorry that guy attacked you. I wish I was around I would’ve stopped him, not that you need saving it’s jus-“ You stopped his mindless babbling with a kiss. The kiss was innocent and gentle, but it left you wanting more. When you pulled away, you both wiped your mouths and grinned. “I’m Calum” ‘Y/N’ Your heart sighed at the sound of his name.

The two of you stood at the balcony conversing for a bit about LA parties, growing up in the 90s, and your taste in music. You were about to ask if he’d had any siblings when he took his gaze from the city and stared directly into your eyes. “Wanna get out of here? You can’t do any soul searching in a place like this.” He smiled softly at you, a devious glint in your eye. The two of you took to the streets, and Calum took off running down the large hill the house sat atop. “Calum! No fair! My heels!” You yelled after him between fits of laughter. “Take em off” he shouted from the bottom of the hill, and you grinned, kicking them off and scooping them into your hands. You darted down the hill barefoot, right into his arms. He scooped you up, spinning you around as you both giggled.

After mindlessly wandering the gated community, you called an uber back to his place. Instead of you two heading inside, he kept dragging you along to the nearby park. The moon shined perfectly over the swingset you two sat on, and his face simply glowed in the light. Your eyes traced over his features, searching for flaws or some anchor of reality. Nothing. Perhaps he wasn’t real. A nervous laugh left his lips, and you blushed. “Sorry for staring you’re just, uh, real. It’s refreshing.” He blushed slightly, biting his lip a little. “Yeah, you’re real, too. I used to think I’d never meet an actual person in this place. All the fucking rich kids and not a single one of them have a clue.” His words made you shiver a little. You were praying he couldn’t see right through you, but it felt like he could. “Seems like every girl is addicted to being plastic and social media.” A sigh left your lips, and you felt your heart flutter. His eyes were soft as they took in your features, and his hand gripped your thigh lovingly. “You’re different, and I just really wanna know your story one day.” You laid your head on his shoulder, tears flowing down your face. You wanted to know his favorite color, the way he liked his tea, his favorite songs and the reasons why he cried at night, but you also couldn’t bring yourself to tell him about yourself, about your past.

He kissed you. He kissed you like you were air and he never wanted to let you go. His lips against yours, tongue dominating your mouth was enough to send you flying. His hands gripped either side of your face, just below the ear. The kiss was needy yet gentle, but you needed more. You whimpered into his mouth as his right hand gripped your neck, squeezing only slightly. You felt yourself getting wet, and you just hoped soon he would, too. He broke the kiss to stare at you in the moonlight, and a blush rose to your cheeks. He stood from the swingset, walking over to the small field of grass adjacent to you. You watched as he peeled his shirt over his head, revealing his chiseled frame. A groan escaped you and he chuckled. “Patience, angel” he teased before slipping off his pants and laying them out like a blanket for you. He beckoned you over with his index, and you quickly obliged.

You stood in front of him, sliding your hair over the shoulder to allow him access to your zipper. The dress pooled at your feet, and he gently shoved you to your knees. You lay back, watching as he slid out of his boxers. His length sprang free, and the moonlight shone softly over his swollen head leaking precum. He slipped between your legs and easily mounted you. His length inside you alone caused your back to arch, but the slow and rough thrusts he was giving created the obscene noises fleeing your mouth. “F-fuck, faster please” you whined between thrusts, clawing at his back in an attempt to get his attention. He stared down at you, smirking wickedly. Immediately he began thrusting faster, and your eyes squeezed shut while your toes curled. His right hand gripped your throat, squeezing slightly. “Eyes on me, angel” he grunted, and you blushed softly, forcing your eyes open. You gripped his bicep as he continued drilling into you, grazing against your g-spot and pushing you closer to the edge. The minute you heard him whimper, ‘Gonna make me cum, Y/N’, you teetered over the edge. You groaned softly, thrashing under him as he emptied himself into you. You felt his warmth coating your walls, and the thought of him watching it leak out only made you wetter.

He pulled out and stared down at the work he’d done in awe, smirking. “You’re gorgeous down there, especially in the moonlight” He winked, and you shook your head, reaching for your dress and slipping it on. You slipped your heels on and began walking toward Ashton’s apartment. As you were walking you heard Calum call after you, “What about your number?” You chuckled, continuing your walk.

You opened the door to Ash’s place, walking to the pantry and grabbing a Plan B. As you were tossing the pill back, Ash entered the apartment, rushing over to you. He stared you down in disbelief as you swallowed. “Relax, it’s a Plan B” you giggled, and he sighed softly, pulling you into a hug. You pulled away from him, pecking his nose. “You have fun tonight?” He asked with a smile on his lips, pupils were blown. “Yeah, loser, I did. Now I’m headed to bed. Stealing your shirt.” You walked off into Ashton’s bedroom, stripping out of your clothes and realizing you’d lost your sobriety coin. You always carried to parties as a reminder to stay clean, but now that you’d lost it your heart sank. Tears streamed down your face as you felt defeated, and you climbed into bed to cry yourself to sleep.

You woke in the morning with a massive headache and numbness in your chest. Last night was like a fever dream. You hadn’t noticed your hair was frizzy once more, you had raccoon eyes from your mascara, and you were missing an earring. You sighed softly, walking over to the bathroom and rinsing your face with water. You reached under the medicine cabinet, feeling for your secret stash of cocaine, but found nothing. You sighed, storming off out of the bedroom. As you entered the hallway, you could hear voices from the living room. “Man, I fucked this girl last night and it actually felt like I was fucking an angel. She was like heaven to me. “ You gasped softly at the sound of Calum’s voice and stood flush against the wall. You knew you should’ve walked away, but you didn’t. “She was so real, so breathtakingly real. I didn’t even like, wanna fuck her and dash, but she left before I could ask her to come back to mine. She also left behind this weird coin, I think it’s for sobriety?” With that, you stormed into the kitchen, taking the coin from Calum.

Let me know what you think!!! Please!! 

[dombell]

imma submit this to you as to not reblog the original post and annoy my non-belldom followers, but I am VERY passionate about this theory. I spent so much time trying to fix my grammar and making this even partially readable, but I apologize in advance if its impossible to understand lmao

A Way Too In-Depth Analysis of The Homoeroticism of “Soaked:”

So the song starts out in second POV. “Walk home alone; It’s not the first time, it’s not the worst crime; Your soul will be okay.” we all know Dom is v notorious for being with a lot of girls, so you’re probably thinking ‘obviously this isn’t about Dom because he never went home alone if yaknow what I mean wink wink,’ but the dramatically melancholy way matts sings this gives off the idea of being EMOTIONALLY alone - not physically. If this is matt referring to himself (which he does, later in first POV), it still works. I remember long ago reading in an interview where matt said he falls in love easily, quickly, and often. I imagine that this fiery passion can get very overwhelming at times, when you fall in love so easily with others, and most of the time it’s unrequited. Although the love passes quickly, the pain from your feelings not being reciprocated can still leave you feeling hollow. This also explains “you’ve had enough; searching for love… you miss the touch; of someone new”

 “I will take you home; it’s not the first time; it’s not the worst crime; your soul will be okay” this is sung at the very end, after the Elton John-like flourish of piano and strings. That instrumental section, to me, symbolizes the unspoken way matt and this person are able to be vulnerable and candid in front of each other without fear of mockery. This isn’t really something you can do with “someone new.” it’s also evident from “it’s not the first time” that matt and them have been around the block with each other more than a few times lol.  But this…this ending stanza is the calm after the storm of emotions. It’s Matt reassuring them that he will always be there to pick up the pieces after a bad night. Who has never left doom’s side since the very day they met decades ago? MATT. Who has had the strongest and longest lasting relationship with Dom? MATT.

Had this been written about Gaia, a lot of these miserable lyrics would have been scrapped for something more love-dovey (as almost all of the songs about Matt’s lovers are). You don’t have to write a depressing-ass teen angst song telling your girlfriend that you love and support because why would she want to hear that?! Give her a crazy upbeat song like “I Belong To You” or a cute song like “Starlight”! unless, “Soaked” was never meant for Gaia, and was meant for someone else altogether… someone who’s relationship with Matt was a lot more complicated than the regular boyfriend/girlfriend dynamic….

Now for the creme de la creme: That second to last line destroys me every time I hear it. “It’s not the worst crime.” It reminds me too much of a line from my favorite musical Falsettos, which in short is about a gay man living during the AIDS epidemic. “It’s about growing up, getting older, living on a lover’s shoulder; Learning love is not a crime.” What I’m trying to say is, straight people don’t describe their love as criminal. Describing gay love as forbidden, wrong, or criminal, and most importantly learning to overcome that stereotype is A GIGANTIC PART OF A LOT OF GAY MEDIA. You really think a seasoned artist such as matt would just throw in lyrics like that without realizing their historical meaning? I mean, come on! Matt pretty much throws that right in our faces!!!

Okay….this song was recorded and also apparently written in 2006. Right in the middle of matt and Gaia’s relationship… why would matt write I song about searching for love and taking someone home when he was ENGAGED TO THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE??? There is no way this song is about their relationship. It just doesn’t make sense within the context

So, why did they never release the song? Matt said it’s because Dom and Chris said he went “overboard.” if we know anything about muse, we know that overboard doesn’t exist to them. Could this song has never been released because matt was embarrassed or didn’t want whatever or whomever this song is about to be in the public eye? Probably! Did matt lie in an interview because he didn’t want to admit that it was HIS idea to scrap the song? Possible! Was it just too intimate even for Matthew “I want to touch you deep inside” Bellamy? The latter is not likely if you listen to the song as if it’s Super Straight. buuuuut looking at this song through a queer lens helps bring the last piece together. Possibly Matt had some…um… repressed feelings that he expressed in this song, and he simply just didn’t want the world to see that side of him. As A Gay, I know that it’s quite common for lgbt questioning artists to not want to publicize every fucking part of their emotional turmoil while trying to figure out their orientation. It’s easy to be a guy and publish songs saying “oh yeah baby girl I wanna have a one night stand with you.” It’s not as simple to publicly say “hey bro I just want you to know that I love you like a husband and you’re always invited to my bedroom”

Once again, I HAVE to point out how CRUCIAL Matt’s performance of this song is. It’s just overflowing with raw emotion. Yes matt is always emotional in songs, but something about this song has always felt different to me. It’s just too reminiscent – lyric-wise, music-wise – to many gay musicians to be glossed over as Another Heterosexual Song. It’s just too upsetting and raw for a man in an apparent happy, healthy relationship to write

THANKS FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK!!!!!!