#damon albarn/reader

[onlygirlaliveinnyc]

battle of britpop [18+] ➶ ➴

pairing: 90s!damon albarn x fem!reader x 90s!liam gallagher genre: smut !!, angst if you squint, hate sex if you squint word count: 9702 (so sorry) warnings: brutallllll edging and overstimulation. most of the fic. spit. lotsa spit. hair-pulling, degradation, choking, face-fucking, cockwarming, unprotected sex, oral—f + m receiving, cumplay maybe ?, crying !!!, begging, just ruinedcore, minors dnii !! summary: damon brings you. liam sees. they hate each other—but they hate the idea of anyone else touching you more. a/n: based of this ! req and literally every other thought i have had about liam and damon.... got extra crazy with this im sorry i dont know why it was like my brain shut off while writing and there was an extra 5k words on the page sorrysorryalert alert ! never written a threesome fic so bare with me !

the room stank of cigarettes, sweat, and ego. velvet couches, cheap wine in heavy glasses, polaroids yellowing at the corners. a warehouse turned scene-spot somewhere deep in camden—half full of people who thought they mattered, and a few who actually did.

you walked in with damon’s hand resting low on your back, rings cold where they pressed against skin, the sheer of your dress no barrier at all. he leaned in as you crossed the threshold, voice a brush of velvet over your ear. “they’ll be watching.”

“let them,” you breathed, already smiling.

and they did. especially him.

liam gallagher saw you the second you stepped inside. slouched on the couch like it owed him rent, legs spread, pint half-gone. that lazy smirk already playing at the corners of his mouth. his eyes dragged over you slow. syrupy. something flickering just beneath it—surprise, interest, then something darker. they met damon’s across the room. and held. just long enough—long enough for the air to shift.

you let damon guide you toward the record wall, tucked half out of sight. he poured something dark and gold into a heavy glass, kissed your cheek as he handed it over. his palm lingered against your hip like punctuation—like a claim.

but you felt the gaze again before you even looked. sharp as heat. sticky as sin.

liam, across the room. still watching. unsubtle, unblinking.

he nursed his drink with one hand, other arm slung along the back of the sofa. too relaxed to be casual. too loud for the silence between songs.

you looked away. and then looked back. he was still staring. you knew he would be.

he moved like he was born to ruin something. halfway through his second drink, slinking through the crowd without looking at it. like they’d part for him anyway.

and they did.

“bit posh for this place, ain’t she?” the voice came before the rest. low, northern, smug.

damon didn’t even blink. “don’t you have somewhere to be?”

liam gave a grin like he’d just found his favourite game. “thought i’d say hello. be rude not to.”

“you’ve said it. now fuck off.”

but his eyes didn’t leave you. they dipped—slow, deliberate—then rose again. “didn’t know blur were doin’ plus ones now,” he drawled. “what, she sing too?”

you smiled. sweet. wicked. “only when it’s fun.”

that earned you a twitch of his grin. like he’d just decided you were his next favourite problem.

damon’s hand tensed at your waist. the kind of grip that said mine, even without a word.

liam noticed. of course he did. and he looked pleased.

he leaned in, just slightly—just enough to fog the air between you with breath and bourbon. “just think it’s funny, that’s all,” he murmured. “all that posh-boy poetry, and you’ve still got a girl who looks like she wants someone real to show her a good time.”

your laugh came before you could swallow it. small. dangerous. damon turned slightly. said nothing. but you saw it in his posture—the shift, the pull.

liam caught your eye again. tilted his head. “if you get bored,” he said, voice thick with sugar and spit, “come find me. i’ll be ‘round.”

then he was gone. just smoke in the room.

—

you were left standing there, half-cradling your glass, caught between the burn of your drink and the slower, sweeter simmer of something else entirely.

heat bloomed low in your belly. you blamed the liquor at first. but you knew better.

damon let out a breath through his nose—tight, annoyed—then gently tugged your wrist, guiding you toward the back of the flat. somewhere quieter, dimmer. away from the records and the stares. away from him.

his hand stayed on the small of your back like a brand.

“he’s a fucking prick,” he muttered.

the hallway was narrow, lit by a single red bulb, walls covered in posters peeling at the edges. your spine hit cool plaster. damon boxed you in without meaning to—hands braced on either side of your head, breath hot and sharp.

lager. smoke. jealousy.

his eyes found yours, flint behind the blue. “you think i don’t know what he’s doing?” he said, voice low but edged. “think i don’t see the way he looks at you?”

you tilted your chin up, fighting a grin. “he wasn’t exactly subtle.”

damon’s mouth twitched like he wanted to laugh but couldn’t afford to.

he leaned in, nose brushing yours. “yeah, well,” he breathed, “neither am i.”

and then he kissed you. not careful. not delicate. a little frantic, a little bruising.

his mouth found yours like it had something to prove—like it needed to undo the memory of liam’s voice in your ear. his tongue swept deep, his teeth scraped. you whimpered into it before you could stop yourself.

one of his hands tangled in your hair, the other gripped your waist like it might anchor him. or claim you. or both.

your drink was long forgotten, half-spilled on the floor, your body arching toward his like instinct.

you let him have it—let yourself be kissed like a secret, a sin, a warning.

but before you could lose yourself in the heat of it, before you could fall headfirst into damon and the way he made you forget—

you felt it. a prickle. the burn of a stare, dragging slow and deliberate over your skin.

you broke the kiss first. eyes fluttering open, head turning just slightly.

through the haze of smoke and half-shadow, across the living room, nestled into a sunken armchair that looked ready to collapse—liam.

he hadn’t gone far.

legs spread. pint in one hand. a knowing smirk on his lips. and the other?

palming himself through his jeans.

your breath hitched.

damon didn’t notice. too caught in the crook of your neck, lips ghosting over your collarbone now, fingers bunching the hem of your dress.

but liam noticed. of course he did.

his stare burned into you, lazy and electric. he didn’t stop.

his palm rolled slow over the thick bulge at his fly, movements purposeful—performative. like a man alone in a dark room. like he didn’t care who saw. like he wanted to be seen.

your mouth parted, breath shallow. he held your gaze.

and then—just once—he let his head fall back against the chair, eyes fluttering shut. not from boredom. from pleasure.

he moaned. not loud. not obscene. but enough. just loud enough for you to hear it above the thump of the bass and the muted pulse of damon’s mouth on your throat.

your knees went a little weak.

you looked back at damon quickly, hoping he hadn’t noticed. but his hand had slipped to your thigh, his mouth warm and biting now.

liam was still touching himself when you looked again.

you bit your lip hard enough to sting.

his eyes snapped open at the motion. he was smirking again.

he mouthed something across the room. you couldn’t hear it. but you didn’t need to.

“mine.”

and then he squeezed his cock, slow and deliberate, before sliding his hand away—back to his pint like nothing had happened.

your thighs clenched of their own accord.

damon pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth again. “you alright?”

you nodded. swallowed. smiled—just a little too wide.

“fine.”

but your eyes strayed, just once more.

liam was gone again.

—

you lost damon’s mouth when someone passed too close—bumping him sideways, drink sloshing down his shirt. he cursed, stepping back to swipe a cloth off the table.

“fuckin’ pricks,” he muttered, blotting at the stain. “can’t even throw a proper party anymore.”

you leaned your head back against the wall, breathing shallow, thighs pressed too tight. trying not to think about the way liam looked at you. trying not to ache for it.

but of course—he came anyway.

liam didn’t wait.

he stood, pint forgotten, hips already shifting behind his fly like he’d been thinking about this all night. maybe longer. maybe since the second he saw damon’s hand on your waist.

he walked through the party like he owned the air—shoulders loose, mouth crooked, swagger spilling off him in waves. like it wasn’t damon’s girl he was after. like he didn’t care.

“you alright there?” his voice came syrup-slow, warm and thick and mean. “lookin’ a bit… bothered.”

damon turned before you could speak. already on edge. already bristling.

“fuck off, gallagher.”

but liam didn’t even blink at him. his eyes never left you.

“that what you want, love?” he asked, too close now. “someone else speakin’ for you? or someone who knows what you really need?”

his fingers ghosted your wrist. soft, teasing.

damon slapped his hand away like it burned. “don’t fucking touch her.”

liam’s grin went sharp. “didn’t know she was yours,” he said, like he meant it. “she didn’t say.”

and you— you didn’t say a word. your breath caught. your eyes fell. and you stayed right where you were.

damon turned toward you, gaze narrowing. he saw it. all of it. the blush high on your cheekbones. the way your knees pressed in, tight. the way you weren’t pulling away.

he spun you back toward him, hands rough at your hips, mouth against your throat—hot and claiming. “you’re mine,” he said, voice all grit and growl.

you barely nodded before he kissed you—fast, fierce, like he could burn liam out of your mouth if he kissed hard enough. teeth and tongue and something just shy of fury.

and liam watched.

you felt it—his eyes on you. the weight of them. the heat. and you felt the second he snapped.

because suddenly damon’s hands were gone— and liam was there instead.

pressing close. hotter. louder. rougher.

“get off her—” damon barked, stepping forward.

“make me.”

and then liam kissed you. filthy. deep. full of teeth. like he was starving for it. like he needed to taste you first.

his hands on your jaw, your waist, one dragging down to grab your ass and yank you closer—right against the hard press in his jeans. you whimpered into it. damon pulled your arm— but you didn’t move. not yet.

not when liam whispered against your lips: “let me have you. just once.”

you could’ve said no. you should’ve. but your body was already leaning in. you wanted it. wanted them both. wanted to be the fire they fought over.

you looked between them— damon flushed and fuming. liam cocky and aching.

and you said, voice barely above a breath: “both.”

—

up the stairs you went—dragged and guided, wrists caught in callused hands. liam’s grip was sloppier. greedy. all heat and whisky and the tremble of too much want. damon’s was iron. steady. like his fingers might leave prints, like if he held tight enough, he could still pretend you were only his.

you weren’t sure who reached for you first. 

didn’t matter.they were both pulling. both taking.

liam laughed under his breath—low and mean, like he’d already won. damon swore under his—over and over, a litany of fucks hissed like a fuse, like he was holding himself back with every one.

the hallway was dim, low-lit and long. music still throbbed from the floorboards below, like some distant pulse you were already falling out of rhythm with. and when the bedroom door shut behind you, it clicked like a lock, like a secret being sealed.

liam was the first to talk—of course he was.

“didn’t peg you for the type,” he said, circling like smoke, like a wolf with a taste for perfume. “lettin’ two blokes drag you upstairs. filthy little thing under all that sweetness, yeah?”

damon shoved him back by the shoulder, a snarl caught in his throat. “shut the fuck up.”

liam didn’t even stumble. just grinned. “jealous, mate? thought she was yours.”

your back hit the wall. you hadn’t even felt yourself moving. but there you were—pinned in place by heat and hunger and the way they looked at you.

two pairs of eyes, both burning. liam’s lit with mischief, amusement, some twisted thrill. damon’s darker. stormier. a glint of something that felt more like possession than play.

“take your clothes off,” damon said, voice low, already wrecked.

“yeah,” liam added, peeling off his jacket and tossing it aside. “let us see what the fuck we’ve been fighting over.”

your heart beat so loud you swore they could hear it. you didn’t move—not at first. just stood there, blinking slow, lungs too full of smoke and want.

until damon stepped forward, fingers finding the top button of your dress. he popped it open slow, deliberate—like he meant for you to feel every second of it. liam came in next, tugging the hem of the fabric higher, knuckles grazing your thighs.

“fuckin’ unreal,” he muttered, like he couldn’t help it. “like a fuckin’ dream.”

“she’s not yours yet,” damon snapped, voice tight.

“not yet,” liam echoed, cocky. hungry. “but she’s not sayin’ no either, is she?”

you weren’t. you couldn’t. you stood there trembling—eyes wide, skin flushed, breath shallow. you could feel the shift, the balance tipping. the second the tension broke and neither of them could pretend it wasn’t about claiming you anymore. this wasn’t about flirting. this wasn’t about fun. this was war, and you were the battleground.

—

damon kissed you first—of course he did. lips hot and possessive, hand at the back of your neck like he needed to anchor you, to remind you who’d brought you here. who saw you first. his mouth moved against yours with a practiced kind of urgency, like he’d done this a hundred times, but tonight was different. tonight, liam was watching.

and liam didn’t wait long to cut in.

“fuckin’ hell,” he growled, stepping in close. his hand curled tight around your waist, tugging you from the wall and straight into him—into the thick line of him through denim, already hard. already pulsing. he crowded your back, rutting up slow and filthy while damon swallowed your moan.

“feel that?” liam muttered into your neck, words smeared against your skin. “fuckin’ twitchin’ for you, and i haven’t even had a taste yet.”

you whimpered. damon’s kiss broke just enough for him to speak against your lips.

“you like this?” he asked, voice lower than sin, thumb dragging along the edge of your jaw. “like bein’ split between us?”

liam laughed under his breath, breath warm against your shoulder. “she’s soaked,” he said, like it was fact. like he could feel it through the heat of her skin. “fuckin’ drippin’ for it.”

“bed,” damon ordered, already breathless.

they moved you together—guiding, greedy. liam’s mouth at your neck, damon’s hands skating down your ribs, over the curve of your waist. you stumbled a little, half-blind with it, and damon caught you by the hips as he sat on the edge of the mattress, jeans still clinging to his thighs. he pulled you into his lap like he’d done it a thousand times.

liam didn’t bother waiting. he came up behind you and unhooked your bra with ease, tossing it aside. “this off too, yeah?” he breathed, already kissing down your spine. you nodded, barely able to speak.

his hands were rough—one on your shoulder, the other sliding low. he hooked a finger into the band of your underwear and pulled. he dragged them down slow, taking his time, eyes locked on the way the fabric stuck to your soaked thighs. you kicked them off and stood trembling in nothing, caught between their stares, stripped bare and burning.

“fuckin’ perfect,” liam groaned. “knew it.”

damon leaned forward, mouth trailing heat across your chest. “you love bein’ watched, don’t you, sweetheart?”

you nodded, dizzy, panting. liam’s teeth grazed your skin, kisses trailing lazy heat down your back.

damon’s hand dipped between your legs, fingers curling inside you without warning. you choked on a gasp and collapsed against his chest.

liam stared, jaw slack. “fuckin’ unreal.”

you were trembling now, suspended between their hands, their mouths. every breath tasted like fire.

“you gonna let us pass you around?” damon asked, voice thick. “gonna take what we give you?”

liam growled, low and possessive. “fuck that. i want her now.”

“wait your fuckin’ turn,” damon snapped, still pumping his fingers inside you—but you were already moving, already climbing off his lap, mindless and hungry and shaking.

you turned to liam. lips parted, thighs slick, legs unsteady.

liam caught you mid-step, one hand wrapping around your throat—loose, not choking, just claiming. his eyes burned down into yours, dark and bottomless.

“on your knees,” he rasped.

—

you dropped without question.

liam didn’t wait. didn’t ask. he fumbled with his fly, dragged his jeans down far enough, and pulled himself free—already thick, flushed, leaking at the tip. his hand moved slow over himself, just once, just enough to watch you watch him—eyes wide, lashes damp, lips parted.

“fuckin’ unreal,” he muttered. “on your knees like you were made for it.”

he brushed the head of his cock against your mouth, smearing precome like gloss across your lips. you opened up—obedient, eager—tongue out, ready.

he slid in slow. just the tip at first. enough to stretch your mouth, to watch your jaw go soft around him.

“jesus fuck,” he breathed. “this fuckin’ mouth—”

you hollowed your cheeks, sucked him in deeper. his hand curled tight in your hair, grounding. holding.

behind you, damon knelt on the floor, his fingers ghosting your spine. he was silent for a second—just watching, drinking it in like a slow drag of smoke. then, calm and low: “slower.”

liam huffed. “she likes it rough.”

you moaned around him, breath caught, throat tight.

“see?” liam laughed, voice already fraying.

his hips rolled—testing. shallow thrusts at first. careful. but not for long. each push went deeper, until your nose was pressed to his skin, your throat stretched full, tight, aching. you gagged. swallowed. gagged again. and stayed there.

“fuckin’ no gag reflex,” liam gasped. “little angel. takin’ it so sweet.”

damon’s hand slid up to your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek. his other hand dipped between your thighs—bare now, slick and swollen. you whimpered. liam groaned.

“she’s fuckin’ melting,” he said, voice thick. “look at her knees. fuckin’ slick.”

he pulled out just far enough to slap his cock against your cheek—wet and sharp. once. twice. again. you gasped with each sting, spit stringing from your lips.

“open.”

you did. he fed it back to you, rougher this time—both hands on your head, fucking in. your mascara smudged. your eyes watered. your throat clenched tight.

“take it,” he snarled. “take what you fuckin’ begged for.”

you choked, coughed, moaned—each breath a broken little prayer. damon’s fingers rubbed lazy circles over your clit, teasing soft and mean.

“she’s fuckin’ soaked,” he murmured. “not even inside her yet and she’s already gone.”

liam grunted, hips stuttering. “gonna ruin this mouth,” he growled. “gonna use her ‘til she can’t speak.”

you sobbed around him, desperate. your lungs ached. your throat pulsed. you were trembling on your knees, caught between ache and awe.

“breathe,” damon said softly, tugging your shoulder.

liam pulled out with a wet pop. you gasped. spit trailed down your chin, your chest, shining under the low light. your throat burned. your eyes blurred.

but still, you leaned forward, stroking him with one hand, licking the tip, kissing it like you missed him.

“fuckin’ perfect,” liam whispered. “look at her. fuckin’ look.”

“on the bed,” damon said, darker now.

liam helped you up—hands on your waist, your tits, everywhere. you swayed, dizzy and glowing.

damon settled behind you on the mattress, palms sliding up your thighs, spreading you open slow. liam climbed on top, his cock resting heavy against your stomach.

“wanna fuck her throat again,” liam muttered. “make her cry on it.”

“you will,” damon said, slipping two fingers inside you, slow and steady. “but not yet. not ‘til i’ve had her too.”

—

liam didn’t wait. didn’t need to.

he just hooked a thumb beneath your chin, tilted your head up, and said, breathless, “mouth, now. c’mon, sweetheart.”

you opened without question.

he eased back in—slow this time, deliberate, savoring the slide. your throat was already sore, drool slick at the corners of your mouth, but he groaned like it was the first time all over again.

“good girl,” he panted. “fuckin’ filthy.”

behind you, damon had dropped to his knees between your thighs. his hands found your hips—firm, steady—as he spread you open like he owned the right. the air hit your cunt sharp and cool, and then you felt the warm weight of his cock sliding through your folds. slow. thick. deliberate.

already wet enough he didn’t need to tease.

“hold still,” he muttered.

you moaned around liam’s cock. a muffled, strangled sound.

damon hissed, low. “she’s dripping. this just from your cock in her mouth?”

liam laughed, voice rough. “’course it is. look at her. made for this. she loves it, don’t you, babe?”

you tried to nod, but he was too deep.

“that’s what i fuckin’ thought,” he growled, fisting your hair tighter.

then damon pushed in. slow, stretching, splitting you wide. you gasped, back arching, and liam held your head steady, hips twitching forward to bury himself deeper down your throat.

“jesus,” damon groaned, breath catching. “tight as fuck.”

“tight everywhere,” liam muttered, voice frayed. “mouth’s fuckin’ heaven.”

and then they started moving.

damon rolled his hips into you with deep, unhurried thrusts, filling you up again and again—while liam fucked your mouth with sharper, shorter snaps, his cock gliding slick through spit and heat. they moved like they’d done it before. like they’d planned this. like they knew exactly how to ruin you together.

you were just caught in the middle, helpless and aching, stretched wide between them—nothing but a body for them to fuck.

“look at this,” liam rasped. “fucked-out little toy. not even blinking.”

damon dragged a hand up your back, palm warm on your spine. “she’s perfect. takin’ it like she was made for us.”

you moaned, voice crushed and wet around liam’s cock. your throat fluttered each time he pushed in, your cunt clenched every time damon bottomed out. you couldn’t think. couldn’t breathe. didn’t want to.

liam slipped out with a wet gasp, slapped his cock against your cheek—once, twice, again—leaving you messy and open, drool slicking your chin, tongue still hanging out.

“open wider,” he ordered. “there. fuck, that’s it.”

he slid back in, deeper. you gagged and swallowed, tears spilling from the corners of your eyes.

behind you, damon grunted. “she’s clenching. fuck. think she’s gonna come.”

“don’t let her,” liam snapped. “she doesn’t get to come ‘til we do.”

“we won’t,” damon promised, pace quickening. “not ‘til she’s ruined.”

you whimpered, trembling, desperate to come, to breathe, to fall apart—but they weren’t done with you.

liam’s hips slapped against your mouth, cock bruising your throat, hands locked in your hair. damon fucked you harder, one hand spreading your ass to get deeper, his breath hot and ragged.

“you feel how soaked she is?” damon panted. “she loves this. bein’ used. bein’ filled.”

“she’ll get filled,” liam growled. “not yet, though. not ‘til she’s fuckin’ beggin’.”

your body burned. your cunt throbbed. your jaw ached. and still, you took it.

—

you barely had time to breathe before he shoved back in, deeper than before—sharp and punishing. you choked, tears spilling hot and silent down your cheeks, mascara smeared and forgotten. it burned, it throbbed, it stretched your jaw until it ached—but still you moaned. still you begged, muffled and desperate, the sound guttural and soaked in spit.

behind you, damon bent low over your back. his hand wrapped around your throat from behind—not squeezing, not yet. just resting there, heavy and warm, palm curved over the flutter of your pulse.

“you like bein’ fucked like this?” he muttered, voice a snarl in your ear. “two cocks stretchin’ you open, mouth full, cunt drippin’—this what you came for, sweetheart?”

you whimpered, tried to nod, but liam’s cock was too deep. your body answered for you—hips rolling, pussy clenching down around nothing, desperate to be filled again. you pushed back against damon’s abs, tried to drag more friction out of the air, and it made him groan—low and wrecked.

“she’s fuckin’ close,” damon gritted out, breath hot against your neck. “feel her shakin’. she’s gonna—fuck.”

“not yet,” liam said, voice sharp, hand tightening in your hair. “hold it, sweetheart. you don’t come ‘til we say.”

your whole body trembled—wrecked, strung out, ruined. they were good at this. too good. dragging you right to the edge only to leave you there, twitching. their cocks, their hands, their voices, all of it too much and not enough. you were gone—somewhere between need and obedience, dizzy with it.

“you hear that?” damon hissed, snapping his hips forward just to make you flinch. “don’t come. be a good girl. hold it for us.”

liam fucked faster, rougher. his cock slid down your throat with each thrust, slick and brutal, and your jaw hung wide just to take it. you couldn’t breathe—but you didn’t want to. you didn’t need to.

then—his hand gripped your chin, thumb pressing into your cheek, and he dragged himself out. spit clung to his cock, thick and glistening, and he slapped it against your face—once, twice, with a little groan each time.

“miss me?” he rasped.

you gasped for air, lips red, eyes glassy.

“open.”

you did. tongue out. obedient. filthy.

“there’s a good girl.”

he slid back in, deeper than before, and your knees buckled again.

behind you, damon’s hand clenched hard at your hip. “fuck—fuck, i’m gonna—”

liam’s eyes narrowed. “don’t.”

“she’s squeezin’—fuck, liam—”

“pull out,” he growled. “we’re switchin’.”

damon cursed like it pained him. slipped out slow, wet, panting. you whimpered, mouth still full, the loss of him sharp and aching—but then hands were all over you. rough and warm and frantic. gripping, flipping, dragging you onto your back.

your head hit the mattress. your thighs fell open. and liam was there—hair a mess, sweat dripping from his neck, shirt pushed up past his stomach as he shoved his cock into you in one long, brutal thrust.

you cried out. back arching, nails raking the sheets.

“that’s it,” he panted, already fucking you. “been thinkin’ about this all fuckin’ night. watchin’ you bounce on his cock—made me fuckin’ ache.”

he set a rhythm without mercy. deep and fast, the sound of skin on skin filthy and constant. your body rocked with every thrust, breasts bouncing, breath caught somewhere between a sob and a moan.

damon settled beside you, cock flushed and angry, still slick with you. he brushed a thumb along your cheek, kissed the corner of your mouth.

“you still hungry, darling?”

you blinked up at him—glass-eyed, fucked out—and opened your lips.

he guided himself in, slow and smooth. let you suck him messy, tongue greedy, lips swollen. “that’s it,” he breathed. “my sweet little whore. always so good with your mouth full.”

liam slammed into you harder, fingers bruising your hips. “she’s tighter now,” he gritted. “she likes havin’ both of us. made for it.”

you moaned around damon’s cock, voice warbled, and they just kept using you.

—

liam was pounding into you now, sharp and fast, dragging filthy sounds from your throat even around damon’s cock. it was too much—too full, too wet, too fucking good.

“this cunt’s fuckin’ soaked,” liam growled. “like it missed me.”

“she’s tight as hell,” damon muttered, brushing sweat-damp hair from your face. “how’s that throat, love?”

you couldn’t speak. not properly. just moaned, tears slipping sideways into your hair.

liam’s hand found your throat, gripping as he fucked harder.

“don’t you fuckin’ come yet,” he hissed. “not ‘til we say.”

you were right there. stomach tight, cunt squeezing him over and over. your thighs trembled.

and still they didn’t let you come.

damon pulled out again, slapped his cock against your lips—“beg,” he said.

you did. voice barely there.

“say it louder.”

“please,” you choked. “need it. please—”

liam was close too. his thrusts rougher now, sloppy, sweat dripping onto your chest. he gritted his teeth. “fuck—gonna ruin you.”

you begged for it. begged with your body, your hands, your mouth.

and still they held back.

still they made you wait.

your thighs were shaking.

sweat cooling where it gathered behind your knees, on your collarbone, where damon had bitten down hard enough to leave a mark. your body was wrecked—used and soaked and trembling—and still they wouldn’t let you come.

liam had pulled out just when your moans hit that desperate pitch. “nah,” he panted, grinning, breathless. “not yet.”

you sobbed, hips rolling helplessly against nothing, your clit aching. it felt like punishment—delicious, drawn-out punishment—and neither of them had any plans to stop.

“told you not to come,” damon murmured, brushing his knuckles over your throat, your chest, down to the soaked heat between your legs. “and you were about to, weren’t you, sweetheart?”

“n-no,” you lied, barely audible.

liam snorted, crouching at the foot of the bed. “don’t lie, love. we know this cunt like the back of our hands now. fuckin’ pulses when she’s close.”

“yeah?” damon said softly, tilting your chin so you’d look at him. “then maybe she needs to learn how to behave.”

you whimpered—open-mouthed, desperate.

liam slid two fingers inside, slow and cruel. they curled just right, just enough, and you arched again—thinking maybe, maybe this time they'd let you. maybe they'd—

but then he pulled out, smeared the slick across your inner thigh, kissed it.

"not yet."

“please,” you gasped.

damon just leaned in, lips ghosting your temple. “you’ll come when we say. not before.”

they worked you open again and again—hands and mouths and hips grinding into you, cock in your mouth, in your cunt, but never letting you fall. never tipping you over the edge.

liam fucked your mouth while damon stretched you out on three fingers, palm pressed to your stomach to feel how deep he was. then they’d switch—liam between your thighs again, slapping his cock against your cunt, dragging it through your folds until you cried.

and every time your breath hitched—that tiny tell—you were stopped. left empty. aching.

—

“don’t cry,” liam murmured, soft and sticky, brushing a tear down your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “you love this. bein’ our little toy. lettin’ us play with you.”

you nodded, dizzy with it—soaked and ruined, begging without words. you couldn’t lie. not like this. not when you were stretched and trembling, cunt clenching around nothing, mouth too slack to speak.

damon leaned back on his heels, eyes dark as coal, cock twitching where it lay heavy against his thigh. he dragged his gaze over your body like he was trying to memorize every shake and spill of you. “you’re filthy,” he said, but there was heat behind it. reverence. “fuck if you’re not perfect.”

liam didn’t wait. didn’t ask. he pulled you into his lap and sank you down onto his cock in one smooth drag, and you cried out—more from relief than pain, though it was both, both, always both.

“don’t move,” he growled into your mouth. “you sit there. just like that. don’t fuckin’ move unless we say.”

he was so deep it made your vision spark—cock nudging that place inside you that made you feel cracked open, barely human. you shook, hands braced on his chest, but you didn’t move. couldn’t. wouldn’t. you were pliant, obedient, wrecked.

they didn’t fuck you. not yet.

they didn’t let you come, didn’t let you do anything but feel it—liam pulsing inside you, damon’s eyes eating you whole. time dripped like syrup. seconds stretched like years. you floated somewhere between need and nothing.

when you begged again, voice paper-thin—“please, please let me, need it, please”—they shared a look. unspoken. cruel.

then damon leaned in, slow, like he was offering something sacred.

“alright,” he said, voice low and lilting. “you wanna come?”

you nodded. frantic. pleading. your thighs twitched around liam’s hips.

“you’re gonna earn it.”

liam laid you flat again. your back hit the mattress and your legs were lifted, bent, folded—ankles over shoulders. he held them there like handles, then slammed back inside you with one savage thrust. the force of it knocked the breath from your lungs.

“gonna make her come so hard she sees stars,” he panted.

“no,” damon corrected, palming himself slowly, eyes locked on the way your body bowed. “gonna make her cry for it first.”

and they did.

they edged you until your moans turned to sobs—until even the word please sounded broken. your voice cracked like glass, your hips writhing, cunt squeezing around liam’s cock like it was the only thing keeping you tethered to the room.

liam’s pace grew mean—shallow thrusts, maddening, barely there. enough to tease, to make you twitch and grind and sob out another helpless whimper.

he studied you. watched every flicker of agony in your eyes like it thrilled him.

“how many times’ve we stopped you now?” he asked, almost dreamy. his thumb dragged across your cheek, smearing tears and spit. “three? four?”

“five,” damon said from the headboard, voice lazy. his hand was wrapped around his cock again, stroking slow. he looked at you like you were a painting. something expensive. something ruined. “poor little thing can’t think straight.”

your thighs trembled. your whole body did. tears spilled freely now, lip wobbling, your breath a stuttered mess.

“she’s close again,” liam muttered. his voice was hoarse. his hips stuttered, cock twitching inside you.

“ruin it,” damon said, cold. “make her wait.”

“no—please—” you gasped, voice gone raw. “i’ll be good, i swear, i’ll—”

liam pulled out.

slow. cruel. deliberate.

your cunt clenched around nothing, fluttering empty, a cry ripping out of you like it had claws. he slapped his cock against your thigh—wet, heavy, hot. you were slick everywhere, thighs shiny, sheets ruined. your body thrummed with denial.

you didn’t even know you were begging again until damon reached down and grabbed your chin—tilted your head up, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth.

“you wanna come that bad, sweetheart?” he cooed. “gonna lose your mind if we don’t let you?”

you nodded, wild. frantic.

—

he smirked. “then crawl.”

you blinked, breath caught halfway between a sob and a moan.

“on all fours,” he clarified, voice low and slick with threat. “between us. show us how much you want it.”

you moved without thinking. knees aching, palms sinking into the rumpled sheets, body flushed all over with sweat and spit and need. everything between your thighs throbbed. everything inside you ached.

liam laughed behind you—dark and delighted. his hands were on you immediately, spreading you open, thumbs digging into the soft flesh of your ass.

“fuckin’ mess,” he muttered, breath ghosting over your skin. “never seen a cunt this wet before. it’s obscene.”

in front of you, damon stroked himself lazy and slow, eyes half-lidded as he watched you crawl. “she’s got no idea who she wants more.”

“don’t matter,” liam said, leaning in, mouth brushing your lower back. “she’s gettin’ both.”

and you did.

they made you take turns.

damon in your mouth, thick and rough, hand knotted in your hair as he pulled you forward, feeding his cock past your lips with slow, possessive rolls of his hips.

liam fucking into you again from behind—harder this time, deeper. brutal thrusts that made you jolt forward, made your mouth choke on damon’s cock, made the sheets crease beneath your knees.

and every time you started to shake—every time that white-hot pulse built low in your belly—they stopped.

again.

and again.

and again.

“liam—please, i can’t—”

“you can,” he growled, snapping his hips forward. “and you will.”

damon slapped the side of your face with his cock—gentle, almost playful. “open up.”

you did.

you always did.

mouth slack, tongue out, spit slicking your chin. he slid back in and didn’t stop—fucked your throat slow and deep, his cock dragging against the sore walls of your mouth, fingers tight at the back of your skull.

“such a pretty little cocksleeve,” he murmured. “so eager to please. we could do this all night, couldn’t we?”

liam groaned behind you, pace quickening. “she’s squeezin’ me,” he panted, voice ragged. “fuck, she’s gonna—”

“not yet,” damon barked. “make her wait. make her feel it.”

you sobbed around damon’s cock. it hurt. it burned. you were soaked and shaking and full and empty and used. your whole body screamed for release, but they kept dragging you back—over and over. denial thick as blood in your veins.

liam reached around, two fingers circling your clit—sloppy and fast, just enough to make your hips buck.

“you come without permission,” he warned, voice tight, “we start over.”

and god, you were close.

so fucking close.

you trembled violently, your jaw slack as damon fucked your throat, as liam filled you like he wanted to ruin you from the inside out. your vision blurred. your hands slipped on the sheets. your breath caught.

you wanted to come so badly it felt like your skin might tear.

“she’s crying again,” liam said, gleeful, voice dark with triumph. “fuckin’—look at her. you ever seen anyone this desperate?”

damon pulled out with a wet pop, letting your head fall forward. you gasped, spit pooling down your chin, mouth open and useless.

your body sagged—aching, overstimulated, unraveling.

“please,” you whispered. barely a sound. “please, i need—”

“not yet,” liam snapped.

“just a bit longer,” damon added.

your thighs twitched. your stomach clenched. your cunt fluttered helplessly around liam’s cock, still buried inside you like it belonged there.

—

and then it hit you out of nowhere.

you had tried so hard to obey—to breathe, to take them, to hold yourself back—but then liam’s fingers brushed just right, and damon thrust deep into your throat, and suddenly it was happening. the orgasm ripped through you like a snapped wire.

“fuck—i—i’m—” you choked out a sob as your hips jolted forward, thighs trembling, cunt clenching tight around liam’s cock. your vision whited out. your whole body seized, back arched, moaning helplessly around damon’s cock. you hadn’t even meant to. it was just too much—the teasing, the pressure, the filth of it all, their voices and their hands and their need.

liam stilled behind you, breath going sharp. “she came,” he muttered, incredulous. “she fuckin’ came.”

you slumped forward, thighs twitching, cheek pressed to damon’s thigh. you were still shaking. still dazed.

damon eased himself out of your mouth—slow, wet—then grabbed your jaw and tilted your face up to look at him. “did we say you could?”

you blinked up at him, ruined. slack-jawed. drool and come slick on your chin.

“i—i’m sorry—i didn’t—”

“no, sweetheart,” damon cut in, voice low. “you did.”

liam chuckled darkly, fingers digging bruises into your hips. “fuckin’ greedy.”

“didn’t even ask,” damon said, still holding your face. “didn’t even ask.”

“gonna have to teach you a lesson now, aren’t we?”

“no, please—”

“oh, now you wanna beg?” liam snorted. “bit late for that.”

and then he pulled out. you whimpered at the loss, body still fluttering from the aftershocks. your knees gave out beneath you, and you collapsed back onto the mattress.

—

damon hauled you up by the arm, flipped you over like you weighed nothing, pinning your wrists above your head. your back hit the mattress, body boneless and blinking, already spent—but they weren’t done. not even close.

liam grabbed your knees, spread you open wide, stared down at the mess between your thighs like it was something holy. “look at that,” he muttered, voice gone soft and wrecked. “fuckin’ soaked.”

“she’s gonna be sorer than she’s ever been,” damon rasped, settling between your legs again. “but it’s what she wanted. didn’t you, sweetheart?”

you shook your head, tears in your lashes, the words barely there. “i—I can’t—”

“yes you can,” liam murmured, already shifting forward. “and you will.”

damon stroked himself once, lined up, and slammed back in. you screamed. arched. your wrists jerked in his grip, but it didn’t matter—your cunt was already pulsing, raw and slick, stretched wide for him again.

liam knelt beside your head for just a second—then shifted, bracing one knee over your shoulder and the other beside your ribs, cock heavy against your cheek. “open,” he ordered.

you did.

and he slid in, slow and mean, one hand tangled in your hair, the other braced on the headboard as he started to fuck your mouth again—this time with no softness at all.

now you were helpless. pinned. every hole filled, no room to move or breathe. damon pounded into your cunt like he meant to ruin it, hips snapping, his teeth clenched. and liam used your throat like it was his god-given right, fucking deep, holding you still by your hair as your lips stretched wide around him.

they didn’t stop. not when your legs started to shake. not when your throat burned raw. not even when your cunt fluttered, desperate and full.

“she’s fuckin’ addicted,” liam groaned, thrusting harder, deeper. “look at her—soaked again already. takin’ it like a cockdrunk little whore.”

damon’s jaw clenched. he grunted, sweat sliding down his spine, watching the way your body bowed up for him, how your hips still tried to meet every thrust like you couldn’t help it. “you hear that?” he panted. “she’s squelching. fuckin’ dripping all over me.”

you whimpered around liam’s cock, throat too full to speak, eyes burning with tears. spit smeared across your cheeks, frothing at the corners of your mouth. you gagged again, choked softly—and liam just moaned.

“aw, baby,” he crooned, voice gone almost sweet. “you cryin’? sobbin’ ‘cause you’re that fuckin’ full?”

he swiped your tears away with his thumb—then pressed it to your jaw, forcing you wider. “you love it. filthy little fuckin’ girl.”

damon’s hands gripped tighter at your hips. your arms went limp above your head. all you could do was take it. take it and take it—his brutal rhythm, the bruising grip, the hot breath on your skin.

liam pulled out for just a second—let you breathe—then slapped his cock across your cheek, once, twice, before sliding it back into your mouth.

“fuckin’ born for this,” he muttered. “your mouth was made to be used.”

damon groaned. his hips stuttered. “gonna fill her up—fuck, she’s milkin’ me—”

liam laughed, breathless. you moaned helplessly, tears streaking your cheeks, spit trailing down your chest. your whole body shook—your thighs locked up.

you were so close again it hurt.

“please,” you tried to say, voice broken around liam’s cock. it barely came out at all.

“you beggin’?” damon bit out.

“thinks she deserves it,” liam sneered, his hips still rolling, his cock rutting against your throat like he owned it.

then they both went still. just for a second.

damon leaned in, voice brushing your ear like a threat.

“not yet.”

—

they dragged you off the bed and dropped you to your knees like they were done pretending you weren’t a toy. one hand each, tangled in your hair—guiding, holding, owning. “look at you,” damon sneered, thumb swiping the spit from your lips, smearing it across your cheek like it was warpaint. “can’t keep your fuckin’ mouth off our cocks for five minutes.” “needy little slut,” liam muttered, already unzipping with one hand, cock hard again, heavy in the low light. “go on then. be useful.”

you blinked up at them, mouth already parted like you were starved. you didn’t even wait for permission—you just reached for both of them at once, stroking them side by side like it was all you knew. one hand wrapped around damon, the other for liam, your jaw already going slack as you leaned forward and took damon into your mouth, lips stretching wide.

liam let out a breathy laugh, not jealous—just amused. “always his cock first, huh? fuckin’ groupie.” “she’ll get to you,” damon said, voice low, hand brushing hair from your face like you were something delicate even as you gagged around him. “look at her. workin’ us both like a good little toy.”

you moaned around him, spit starting to slip down your chin, wrist twisting just right around liam’s cock like you’d memorised what made him twitch. they were both watching you like they were starving and you were the only thing left to eat.

and god, you were soaked. your hips shifted, almost on instinct, grinding against the rough carpet beneath you in search of even the smallest relief. it wasn’t enough—never enough—but the pressure was something, and your moan deepened, throat fluttering around damon.

you thought maybe they wouldn’t notice. they noticed.

liam jerked your head back hard enough to make your spine arch, spit trailing from your mouth to damon’s cock. “what the fuck d’you think you’re doin’, huh?” you blinked up at him, dazed. “just—needed—” “needed?” he snapped. “who the fuck said you get to need anything?”

damon’s voice cut sharp, a clean slice. “was that you humpin’ the fuckin’ carpet like a bitch in heat?” you froze.

they stood over you, hard and flushed and furious, and you were still on your knees, dripping and ruined, lips red and shiny with spit. “got two cocks in your hands, one in your mouth,” liam growled, “and you’re still greedy? fuckin’ unbelievable.”

you tried to say something, anything, but damon pressed his thumb hard against your lips, muffling the sound before it could leave. “nah,” he said. “no more of that. not ‘til we say.”

liam leaned in close, his voice rough and thick with heat. “you wanna come that bad?” he said, smiling against your cheek. “then beg. tell us why the fuck you deserve it.”

—

they didn’t even let you finish your plea.

you were on your back in seconds, dizzy from the manhandling, thighs spread wide and trembling, breath hitching in your chest like a sob. but liam didn’t fuck you—not yet. he just sank into you slow, so slow, thick and deep and hot—and still. didn’t move. just held you there, full to the brim, cunt twitching around him from the stretch and the ache and the sheer denial of it.

“shh,” he cooed, already breathless. “you want it so bad, don’t you? thought about this for fuckin’ hours. days.”

you nodded, desperate, nails clawing at his arms.

damon crouched beside you, palm stroking your jaw. “then be good. hold him. just hold him.”

you tried. god, you tried. but your hips twitched, bucking up just a little.

liam growled low in your ear. “what’d i fuckin’ say?” his hand flew to your throat, fingers curled around your pulse—not squeezing, just there. grounding. warning.

“stay still,” he said again. “take me. that’s all you get.”

your walls fluttered around him, slick and hungry, clenching on instinct.

damon chuckled darkly, brushing your damp hair from your cheeks. “she’s barely hangin’ on. look at her.”

your lips trembled. your cunt pulsed. you were so full and so empty at once, stuck in that unbearable in-between.

“please,” you whispered, voice shaking. “just—need to come.”

“you need to?” damon echoed, faux sympathy laced with heat. “oh, babe. this isn’t about what you need.”

liam leaned down, kissed the corner of your mouth, slow and biting.

“you’ll come,” he murmured. “when we say.”

“maybe.”

“maybe not.”

and still—they didn’t move.

you were stuck there, trembling and soaked, cockwarming liam while damon stroked lazy circles over your swollen clit. barely enough to keep you right there—on the cusp, on the edge, begging with your body even when your mouth went quiet. they could’ve done it for hours. you would’ve let them.

your whole body thrummed with tension—hips shaking, thighs aching, cunt clenching desperately around liam, who stayed deep inside. not moving. not giving. just holding you open, stretched and sloppy and so fucking full.

and worse—damon was still teasing. his fingers ghosted over your clit, maddening light. the barest brush, the slowest swirl. never enough.

“hold still,” liam gritted again, low and hot in your ear. his grip on your hips was bruising. anchoring. like he knew you’d try to squirm again. “told you—s’not for you to take.”

you whimpered, trembling underneath them, so full you felt like you might split open. your walls fluttered, pulsing with need.

“but—please—”

damon hummed, gaze locked on your wrecked face. “oh, she’s close again. feel that?”

his fingertips circled your clit slow, cruel. like he was winding you up just to let you unravel.

you writhed—instinct, really—just trying to rock your hips, to chase a fraction more friction, to meet liam’s cock where it rested. anything.

“don’t you dare,” liam growled. “you move again and we stop.”

“fuck, please,” you gasped, eyes shining. “can’t—can’t help it—”

damon leaned in, mouth by your jaw, fingers never letting up on your clit. “then don’t help it. suffer for it.”

and you did. suffer, that is—body strung tight like wire, breaths hitching in your throat. liam’s cock pulsed inside you with every shallow squeeze your cunt gave. and god, he felt it.

“you’re clenchin’ so fuckin’ hard,” he muttered, jaw tight. “like you’re tryin’ to milk me without movin’. cheeky little thing.”

damon snorted softly. “think she’s gonna cry.”

you weren’t sure if you already were.

“you want to come, sweetheart?” damon asked, almost sweetly, rubbing a slow circle just above where you needed him. “you want us to let you?”

you nodded frantically.

but they didn’t say yes.

they didn’t move.

liam shifted just enough to knock the head of his cock against that aching spot inside, and you sobbed, legs trembling violently now.

“fuck!” you cried. “please—i’ll do anything—”

“you’ll do nothing,” liam cut in, voice hoarse. “we’ll do. you’ll take.”

and then damon slid down between your legs, replaced fingers with tongue, licked at your clit while liam stayed lodged deep—cock twitching, balls snug up against your cunt like he was just waiting.

you arched. moaned. seized.

and then damon pulled back, mouth wet, breath hot.

“not yet,” he said.

you were falling apart and no one was catching you.

they hauled you into damon’s lap like you weighed nothing, his back pressed to the headboard, cock already hard and leaking against his stomach. he palmed your hips, thumbs digging in, your cunt still twitching from liam’s tongue.

you whimpered when you felt him line up—thick and hot, head slipping through your folds. your thighs trembled as you straddled him, hands braced on his chest.

“go on then,” liam murmured from the end of the bed, voice lower now—gutted. “show me how you ride him.”

you were too wrecked to answer, only nodding as you sank down slow. damon groaned, head falling back, grip bruising your hips.

“fuckin’ hell,” he hissed. “still so tight, even after all that.”

you rocked your hips, slow at first. it was thick, so thick, and your muscles ached from restraint. from being used. you cried out when he ground up into you, cock dragging that spot that made you see stars.

liam sat just out of reach, legs spread, fist wrapped tight around his cock. he watched you like a starved man—eyes dark, hungry, drinking in the bounce of your tits and the way your mouth fell open.

“look at you,” he breathed, voice broken. “takin’ him so good. so fuckin’ good.”

you met his gaze, even as your thighs trembled from the effort.

“want you to touch me,” you pleaded, eyes glassy.

“you’ve got him,” liam murmured, thumb teasing over his leaking tip. “earn me.”

you moaned at that—keening as damon snapped his hips up rougher now, making you ride harder, faster.

“she’s fuckin’ perfect,” damon growled, hand slipping between you to rub your clit. “look at her, liam. fuckin’ made for it.”

liam groaned, fisting himself faster. “tell her. tell her what she is.”

“cock drunk little slut,” damon snarled, voice ragged. “just a fucktoy. stuffed full, used, begging for more.”

you cried out, clenching around him.

liam stroked himself harder, breathing shaky.

“bet she’ll come just from that,” he muttered. “from ridin’ you while i watch.”

your body jolted with each thrust—damon dragging you down onto him, your cunt wet and sloppy, clit swollen. liam spat in his palm, spread it over his cock with a hiss, eyes locked on the way damon disappeared into you again and again.

“fuck,” he muttered. “can’t wait to split her open next round.”

damon gritted his teeth, thrusts snapping up cruel. “you hear that? you’re not even done yet.”

you nodded, tears streaking your cheeks, moaning like it was the only word you remembered.

“thank you,” you gasped. “thank you—thank you—”

liam moaned. “you love it. love bein’ passed around.”

“so filthy,” damon panted. “but she’s ours.”

you sobbed, cunt clenching around him—right there on the edge again.

damon’s grip turned bruising, his chest sticky with sweat as he slammed into you from beneath. your cries sharpened with every thrust, hands scrambling across his shoulders for something to hold.

“gonna fill you up,” he gritted, teeth clenched. “fuckin’ ruin you for anyone else.”

you nodded, desperate. babbling something half-coherent, gasping with every drag of his cock inside you.

liam stayed at the foot of the bed, fist tight around himself, breath ragged and uneven.

“go on,” he muttered, voice low and wrecked. “fill her up, albarn. let her leak for me.”

you whined—half a sob, half a moan—as damon shoved in deep, hips jerking, cock twitching. his head tipped back against the wall as he spilled inside you, thick and hot and endless.

you shuddered around him, already clenching from the heat of it, cunt fluttering like your body didn’t know what to do with it all.

damon exhaled slow, dragging you down into his lap, pressing his lips to your temple as his hand stroked down your back.

“fuck,” he breathed. “that’s it. took it so well.”

but liam was already moving. already climbing back onto the bed, already dragging you off damon’s lap with hands greedy and impatient.

“my fuckin’ turn,” he muttered, pulling you to all fours.

you gasped, the shift making damon’s cum spill from you in a slow, messy drip.

liam saw it—let out a low, wrecked groan, one hand spreading your ass to watch it leak. “jesus. look at that. fuckin’ full of him.”

you started to say something, but his cock pressed to your entrance—already hard again, already dripping—and the words turned to noise.

“he warmed you up for me,” liam panted, pushing in slow. “that’s sweet of him, innit?”

you moaned, high and cracked, back arching.

“still so fuckin’ tight,” he gritted, bottoming out with a snap of his hips. “like your cunt’s fuckin’ starving.”

he started fucking you immediately—deep and messy, the slick from damon making everything louder, wetter. the slap of skin and the filth of it echoed through the room like thunder.

you sobbed into the sheets, clawing for purchase, body melting under the weight of it all.

“mine now,” liam growled, hand fisting in your hair. “gonna fuck you till you forget his name.”

“c’mon, love,” damon murmured, voice low and coaxing. “give us one more. you’ve got it in you.”

liam groaned behind you, cock twitching inside your soaked cunt. “she’s close. can feel it.”

and you were. soaked and stuffed full, stretched and trembling, your voice unraveling into nothing but choked gasps and ruined little cries. your body felt like a wire pulled too tight, every nerve frayed and raw.

liam thrust harder, meaner, his nails biting into your hips. damon’s fingers never stopped—circling your clit with sharp, deliberate sweetness.

“let go,” liam breathed, voice torn and hoarse. “come for us, baby. now.”

and you did.

like a spark to dry leaves—sudden, scorching, a full-body detonation. your wail broke ragged in the room, your cunt clenching down hard around liam’s cock as he groaned, loud and guttural, hips stuttering against you.

“fuck—fuckin’—take it, take all of it—”

he came deep, hard, burying himself to the hilt, grinding against you as he spilled inside. his whole body shuddered, slumped heavy over your back, breath catching.

—

and then damon was pulling you close again, tugging you back into the pillows, arms wrapping around your shaking body.

you were limp, breathless, boneless. flushed and wrecked and fucked-out beyond words, your lashes fluttering where your cheek rested against his chest.

“that’s it,” he murmured, voice low and warm. “you did so good. took all of it.”

liam stayed behind you, panting, cock still slick inside you as he pulled out with a wet drag. he watched the way your thighs trembled, watched cum spill down onto the sheets. he swiped his thumb through it absently, slow and possessive.

“look at the fuckin’ state of her,” he muttered, not quite teasing. “ruined.”

“we should send her back down like this,” damon said lazily, thumb brushing your jaw. “see how long she lasts out there.”

liam’s gaze sharpened. “fuck off.”

damon chuckled, but there was heat behind it. “what? let ‘em see what she’s good for.”

liam sat up, slow, and dragged the sheets up over your bare skin. tucked them in like a shield. “she’s not goin’ anywhere.”

you didn’t speak. couldn’t, really. you just blinked up at the ceiling, floating on the edge of sleep, every nerve still pulsing.

they were quiet for a beat. the room thick with something taut and silent.

then—damon shifted, pressed a kiss to your temple.

liam wiped between your thighs with a warm cloth he didn’t ask for.

they didn’t talk to each other. just to you. soft little murmurs.

“you’re alright, love.”

“you did so fuckin’ well.”

“my good girl.”

“ours.”

their touches overlapped—careful, clumsy. damon combing his fingers through your sweat-damp hair, liam tracing circles into your thigh like he didn’t realize he was doing it. both of them acting like the other didn’t exist, except for the way they kept trying to outdo one another. gentler. quieter. closer.

you fell asleep tucked between them—liam’s arm slung heavy around your waist, damon’s breath warm against your shoulder.

[hysterikan]

Good morning (Damon Albarn x Reader)

I've had this in my drafts for AGES and I finally decided to clean it up (and against my better knowledge post it lol) I apologize for any spelling and/or grammatical errors as english isn't my first language and it hasn't been beta-read by anyone. Anyways, I hope you will enjoy and if you did it would make my day if you leave a comment or reblog it! I also uploaded it to my AO3 here

Summary: Reader has a wet dream about Alex and somehow her boyfriend Damon finds out, but doesn't seem to be as upset as she thought he would be. As a matter in fact he might even like it

Wordcount: 3,277

Warnings: SMUT

She felt his teeth drag along her collarbone, making her shudder and then suddenly the sharp pain of his bite, making each nerve ending in her body crackle like a little firework. 

Letting out a sound halfway between a squeal and giggle, she grabbed a fistful of his hair, tugging on it harshly. 

 He groaned and looked up from her chest, his brown eyes glazed over. He had covered her breasts in dark purple hickies and red teeth marks, nipping and biting every centimeter of skin.

“Alex.” She whispered softly, slowly grinding on him where she sat in his lap. Both of them gasped at the movement, his cock twitched inside of her and he gripped her hips hard.

He reached up to take her jaw in his hand, thumb dragging over her lip as her eyes fluttered shut and mouth fell open. 

She could feel how his thighs tensed up under her and she knew with a little more teasing he would let her have her way. 

“Alex,” She moaned again, opening her eyes as his name fell from her swollen lips and looking directly into his. His mouth twitched before he kissed her, harsh and nibbling with sharp teeth.

Carefully he leaned her back, getting on top of her while still kissing her. There was both gentleness and a feverish need in his movements. 

They both shuddered, and she moaned when she felt his chest pressing against hers and how his hair brushed over her shoulder as he leaned in to kiss her neck. She wrapped her legs around him, never wanting to let go when she felt him sink deeper inside her. 

With slow thrusts and featherlight kisses he teased her, coaxing out whiny moans from her. Alex chuckled breathlessly when she mewled, clawing at his back and she reached down to his ass, trying to push him further into her. 

He got the hint, he just wanted to hear her say it.

“Tell me what you want.” He whispered. His voice low and gravely in her ear, making her skin prickle and her walls throb around him.

“I want you-, I want you to fuck me.” She answered in breathy moans, catching his lips in a slow sloppy kiss. 

He obliged, slowly picking up speed in his thrusts. 

Her hands found their way into his hair, tugging on it relentlessly, knowing it would drive him mad. 

And it did. 

He pinned down her hands, making her let out anexhilarated giggle and he couldn’t hold back his own smile. 

Her smile soon faded into a little o-shape as he started thrusting his hips harder and harder, drawing a loud gasp out of her with each thrust.

She felt dizzy from the pleasure, she didn’t know where he started and she ended, all she knew was him in her and his voice as he moaned her name, his sweat covered body that pressed against hers and the safe pressure of his hands on her wrists.

“Alex, ‘m gonna- ” She cried out, clenching her thighs and writhing, her entire body aching to cum.

 To cum for him. To cum on him.

“Bloody hell.” he whined, feeling her clench around him and hearing her needy cries brought him closer to his own release. 

The orgasm washed over her without a warning and for a split second her mind went blank, the only thing that existed were her and Alex. 

With soblike moans she clawed at his back, her legs quivering around his waist as she came. Her back arched up, meeting Alex's hips as he came closer and closer to his own release, and he bit back a loud groan when she clenched hard around him. 

Alex's breath was ragged as he saw her, still shuddering and moaning. With a last hard thrust that made her whimper, still high on her orgasm, his brow furrowed and his body rippled as he came, whimpering her name.

It took her a second to realize where she was, with Alexs' loud moans still ringing in her mind. She was in her bedroom, with Damon next to her in their bed. 

The sunlight that filtered in through the blinds made little golden lines over his naked back that rose and fell with his steady breathing.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, almost hearing her heartbeat in her ears. Slowly she reached a hand down, and gasped. Her underwear was soaked through, the wetness even staining the inside of her thighs.

Drawing another shuddering breath she realized she must’ve had an orgasm in her sleep. 

With burning cheeks she came to another conclusion, that in the dream she had been cumming on her boyfriend's best mate's cock. 

She pulled her hand up and feeling a wave of shame wash over her, she closed her eyes. 

It had felt so real, and she could still hear Alex's moans and teasing whispers as he thrusted into her. His lips, searing kisses on her skin, his hands-

A sudden movement next to her made her open her eyes to see Damon sleepily pull the covers closer around him. 

His hair was messy, with his mouth and cheeks flushed from sleep and it made her heart tremble. 

She reached out a hand, softly stroking it over his cheek, making him stirr and eyes flutter open. 

“Good morning” She whispered and smiled softly when he groaned low, closing his eyes to shield them from the light that sneaked past the blinds.

Damon hummed, eyes still closed as he reached out for her and she chuckled as she crawled into his embrace, nuzzling her face against his neck. 

“Did you sleep well?” He murmured as he stroked her hair. His voice was low and hoarse from sleep, making her heart jump. It was ridiculously sexy. 

“Yeah” She mumbled into the crook of his neck and closed her eyes, inhaling the scent of him. His scent with a little left of yesterday's eau de cologne sent a warm current through her body, down between her thighs. 

 Damon drew circles with his fingertips over her back, nuzzling his nose against her hairline and inhaled. 

“You talk in your sleep, did you know that?” He murmured and her eyes snapped open.

“Oh?” Was all she could muster, voice faint.

“You said Alex’s name.” 

It felt as if her heart stopped and she felt her lungs tightening up with shame.

 She looked up at him, and could see a slight smirk on his face. 

“What?” 

“You said Alex.” He repeated, stroking her cheek, his fingertips following her jaw down to her lips.

“Did I?” She felt her cheeks flush and Damon raised an eyebrow, still smiling. 

“Yeah,” His thumb rubbed her lower lip as he licked his own, making her stomach summersault.

“Did you dream of him?”

She swallowed, looked away and felt the blush on her cheeks betray her. 

“I don't really know. I don’t remember much.” She looked at Damon again as he kept stroking her cheek. He leaned down, their lips brushing against each others as he whispered;

“You know, I heard you moan, love. You moaned his name.” 

Her breath hitched in shock but Damon caught her little gasp in a kiss. His tongue slipped into her mouth and before she knew it she gripped his bicep, biting and nibbling on his lower lip. 

 She could feel his hard on pressing against her stomach and how his heart pounded in his chest, almost forcing hers to beat in the same rhythm. The warm tingling feeling from her dream washed over her again, and she could feel her entire ache and long for his touch. 

Damon pulled away too soon, his cheeks flushed and his breath ragged as he tried to compose himself. He stroked back a stray strand of hair from her face as he cleared his throat, smiling:

“Now my love, tell me about your dream.” 

She bit her lip, a stern tone in his voice that she had never heard before, and it made her heart flutter and press her thighs together.

“Well, we were kissing.” She whispered, remembering Alex’s panting breath as he kissed her. 

Damon licked his lips as he leaned in, ghosting his lips above hers.

 “Yeah?” His breath tickled over her cheek and it sent shivers down her spine.

 “And he kissed my neck.” She moaned. 

 “How did it feel?” 

 “It felt good.” 

His breath hitched, and she could feel how his cock throbbed against her, making her gasp.

 “And then what?” 

 “He...” She blushed furiously, biting her lip and he couldn't tell if she was just playing innocent or if she was actually a bit embarrassed to say the words out loud. 

 Damon's breath hitched again, his pupils dilated and his heart pounding. He couldn’t understand why, but her dream turned him on so much. It sent a sting of jealousy through him, yes, but it was outweighed by the forbidden and intoxicicating thought of one of his best mates shagging his girlfriend. 

 “You shagged him?” He whispered barely audible, his lips brushing over the shell of her ear. The hot breath made her skin prickle and she felt her nipples harden under the shirt she wore to bed.

 “Yes.” She whined, closing her eyes as he pulled up said shirt, and softly stroked his hand down her stomach.

 “Did you like it?” His voice was low, and she could only moan yes as his fingers passed the lining of her underwear. His teasing, the embarrassment and excitement of him knowing about the dream, the dream itself, it was all making her clit throb.

 “You liked having Alex inside you, didn’t you? You liked fucking him, didn’t you, love?” 

As he almost hissed out that last question his hand dipped down between her folds. 

He gasped when he felt that she was soaked and she bit back a yelp, the light pressure of his hand enough to send crackling electric currents throughout her body.

 “Damon.” She whined, feeling his arms wrap around her and the way he pressed her against him made her shudder. He leaned in to kiss her, his kisses almost bruising and sloppier than before, little moans and pants escaping as she tugged at her shirt. 

He pulled down her undies, throwing them across the room which earned a giggle from her as they landed on the table lamp on the desk.

 “Get these off!” She groaned and tugged on his boxers, her mouth watering when she saw his cock twitch through the fabric. God he was so hard. 

“As you wish,” He smirked and pulled them down. A low smacking sound as his heavy hard on hit his abdomen made her bite her lip in anticipation. For a few seconds all she could do was stare at him where he laid, naked and on display for her. 

 “Stop staring.” He groaned, a faint blush dusting his cheeks, and she giggled, crawling up to him and he immediately pulled her close to him, his lips crashing onto hers.

She moaned into his mouth, nipping at his lower lip with her teeth as she felt his hand stroke down her naked body, pushing her onto his back.

“Did he make you this wet?” he murmured against her lips, as his fingers trailed down between her legs to lightly brush over her throbbing clit. 

 Between little breathy moans she managed to get out;

 “No, it’s you.” 

He lightly pressed his finger against her clit again, making her quiver. The ache was unbearable. 

 “I need you in me.” She begged and looked up at him with hazy eyes.

 He looked at her, her lips swollen and glistening with saliva and if he hadn’t been so eager to be inside her, fucking her senseless until she forgot about that dream, and about Alex of all bloody people, he would’ve loved to see those lips around his cock. 

Slowly he pushed a finger into her, making her suck in a sharp breath he teased;

 “Like this?”

 She couldn’t form an answer, her mind went completely blank and without noticing she whimpered his name. He watched her flutter shut and then close completely when he pushed in another finger, wanting to hear her make that deliciously needy moan again.

Slowly pumped them in and out, looking at her as he did and felt his cock twitch as he saw her bite her lip in an attempt to suppress a loud moan.

His mouth brushed against the shell of her ear and sent tickling shivers through her. Just as she let out a shaky moan he pulled out his fingers, making her whine at the loss of contact and she was just about to loudly complain when he pressed them to her clit instead, rubbing firm but slow circles. 

 “Oh God” she clutched her hand behind his neck, feeling his hot breath on her face as he laughed softly. He nibbled on her lip and chin as he continued to rub harder and faster. 

The room was filled with sounds of his kisses, her wetness, their heavy breathing and her loud sob like moans. 

She rocked her hips against his fingers, her moans getting louder and needier and god she was so close that she clawed his neck, she could feel herself tense up, cunt aching for the release. A mental image of Alex on top of her, deep in her as he groaned flashed by, but then her eyes fluttered open as Damon moaned when she squelched over his fingers. 

She was millimeters from the edge when he suddenly stopped. With cheeks flushed and breath stuck in her throat she almost screamed:

 “Wh-, what the fuck Damon, why did you stop?”

God she was so beautiful like this. Animalistic almost and completely unhinged.

 “Do you want me to continue?”

 “Yes!”  

He tapped his finger against her clit again and smiled when she threw her head back and moaned.

 “Ask for it.” He whispered and that alone was almost enough to make her cum.

 “Please Damon, please, let me cum.”

Almost instantly he resumed rubbing her clit, making her back arch and she cried out his name over and over, so close that she forgot every other word. All she could think of was him, him, him.

 “Damon!”

Her cries and moans made his breath hitch as he saw how she came undone for him and he groaned between clenched teeth;

 “Cum for me.” And she did.

With a moan that was almost a scream she fell apart and became a blabbering, whimpering mess in his hands. She sobbed his name, head spinning and heart pounding so loud in her ears she could barely hear him whispering her name 

He stroked slowly but firmly over her clit until she pushed his hand away, her voice quivering as she let out a broken whisper;

“I can’t-, I can’t do another.” Making him chuckle and through her foggy brain she could muster a weak smile.

Damon looked at her where she lay with her tendrils of hair clinging to her forehead, a slight sheen of sweat covering her chest and her cheeks blossoming with a deep crimson blush.

“Was that good?”

She chuckled, still not sure how to get back to breathing normally and smiled;

“Do you really have to ask?”

Leaning in until their lips brushed and his breath tickled he teased;

“I just wanted to hear you say it.” before licking her lips and kissing her. 

She felt his cock twitch against her thigh and suddenly the flame she thought had been doused started flickering. Acting on instinct she bit his lower lip, hard, making him gasp and she wondered if maybe she had been too harsh when he pulled away, his eyes huge but then a smirk formed on his perfect lips.

Rising on shaky elbows she laughed as she said;

“Don’t you wanna finish?” tilting her head to her side.

“Looks like you might need it.” She nodded towards his cock, dripping precum, red and swollen. The warm pooling in her stomach threatened to scorch her when he raised a brow, stroking himself and inching closer to her.

“You think so?” 

Biting her lip she nodded, opening her trembling legs and looking him up and down. He pulled her down to him, making her gasp as she fell on her back and then giggled at his sudden roughness. He looked at her, his pupils blown out and his chest falling and rising as he gripped her thigh hard.

Slapping the head of his cock against her clit he hissed and she bit back a whimper, feeling herself tremble in his grasp. She was a bit sore from her earlier orgasm but it didn’t matter as he slowly pushed into her, both of them gasping.

“Fuuuck” He groaned, feeling her clench around him and she shuddered at the slight over stimulation.

“You okay?” He panted and stroked her hips, pulling her down onto him slowly.

“Uh-huh.” She hummed before adding; “Please.”

Her quivering voice, dripping with lust and pleading eyes made him snap. There was nothing he wanted as much as making her scream his name again, begging and moaning, only this time she would be dripping all over him.

He moaned, wrapping his arm under her hips and hoisting her up so that he could thrust into her at whatever pace he pleased.

“Please.” She whispered again, her hands on his back, clawing.

Damon's hips snapped up, the pace he set was hard and unforgiving and with each thrust she whimpered loudly. 

He couldn’t think of anything else but how her body moved with his, the sweat covering them both, her whining and moaning and how much he loved her.

“Oh fuckin’ hell, you feel so good, fuck” He moaned, leaning in to kiss her. It was a sloppy kiss, their lips barely touching as he sped up his thrusts. 

She reached up, carding her fingers through his flaxen of hair and tugging on it slightly, making him moan and bend his neck back. Knowing he couldn’t hold it for long he closed his eyes and focused on her gasping breaths, the smell of sex, the wet slapping noises and the burning sensation in his stomach. 

“Cum in me” She moaned, her breath hitching when Damon leaned his forehead against her shoulder, his breath tickling over her neck and she raked her nails down his back. 

His breaths got shorter and shorter, his thighs tensing up, the warm coil in his abdomen burning, and when she locked her legs on his lower back, pushing him deeper in, he came. His mind went blank as he thrust into her, making the orgasm last as long as possible and she kissed his ear, nibbling at it and whispering: 

“I love you” over and over. 

With a moan and a string of profanities he relaxed, shuddering and with heavy breaths.

She stroked his back, trying to slow down her racing heart and erratic breathing. She didn’t know how long he laid there, nuzzling his face to her neck as his breathing slowly became normal again, but she enjoyed every second of it.

Carefully he pushed himself up on his elbows, smiling slightly and running a hand through her messy hair.

“Well, good morning to you too.” She said and smiled up at him, stroking his arm softly.

“Good morning indeed. Wanna join me in the shower?”

“Yes please.” 

He leaned in to kiss her, muttering, “I love you” which made her heart jump. Before pulling away completely he added with a cheeky grin:

“So for the next round I’ll call in Alex?”

“Damon!”

[leaawrites]

Could you please write a fic where the girl was best friends with the Gallaghers when she was younger but then moved away and ended up becoming friends with Damon. Fast forward to the award show where she’s Damon plus one and ultimately runs into the Gallagher again, where they’re all over her/happy to see her again/don’t want to leave her alone. But Damon really confused bc she’s never mentioned that she knew them and they’re all jealous over her. It could be a x reader for anybody but maybe have her end up with one of the brothers? Thank you!! Also sorry it’s a long request

idiots

Liam Gallagher x fem!reader

Summary: In which, they find back to each other and finally confess.

Warnings: fluff, angst, jealousy, harsh language

Wordcount: 1.8k

Masterlist

Slouching on the couch of one of her best friends, Y/n stares at the telly and the faces on them. Two people she used to know like the back of her hand, until she didn’t anymore.

Moving away from your home town was one of the worst scenarios for a teenager like her. She’d always been bad at making friends or becoming comfortable enough around other people to truly show them who she was, not just the pretty girl with not much to say.

When Damon met her the first time, backstage at one of their earlier gigs, he couldn’t believe the two different people he met that night. First he caught her eye from across the room, a shy smile playing on her lips as she crossed his gaze, before looking away rather quickly again. Then, after a few sentences spoken and hours passed, they stumbled out the bar together, his arm thrown over her shoulder as she tried guiding him home safely. They shared a kiss when stumbling into his apartment, though ultimately decided that they would never be more than friends.

He was still on her mind.

She never actively thought about him, except when he was on TV. It was more like an always lingering memory of their time that she couldn’t let go of even if she tried. He wouldn’t let her live in peace even after she left them.

“What ya staring at?” Damon asked, walking into the living room and flopping on the couch next to her. “Ya fancy one of those bellends?”

“Don’t go mental now,” she laughed, seeing his scrunched up face as Oasis performed their new song on Top Of The Pops.

It was good, she had to admit, Noel had always been a great writer. Though it wouldn’t be the same without him. Liam made it all seem so effortlessly. He made it look so cool. Even when it was playback and not live, she’d heard them perform live more than enough times to be a fair judge.

Sneaking away from Damon’s side at festivals or watching a show with them late at night while she tried not to wake one of the boys, she never forgot to keep her promise she made when she left.

‘I promise that I will watch everything you do, I’ll follow you still, Liam. Don’t worry about me forgetting you, I couldn’t.’

“What I wanted to ask,” Damon started talking away, tearing part of her attention from the screen, but not all. “There’s this award show coming up, nothing worth mentioning. Wanna come with me?”

“Me?” she asked, now fully turning towards the boy. “Why would you want me to accompany you to such thing?”

He shrugged, but she knew that he had an answer already ready for every single one of her question.

“All those other people there are boring. You’re the only fun one.” Pulling his puppy eyes and pouting his lips, she looked at him bored for a moment before ultimately giving in.

“Fine,” she agrees, making him gleam in joy. “But.” Holding her finger up at him. “If anyone starts some stupid dating rumour again, I’m never going anywhere with you again.”

Walking into the big venue, she spotted the pair she tried her hardest to avoid that night, almost immediately. Sitting at a table near their own, chattering and laughing and drinking. Shaking hands occasionally.

Through out the first half of the show, Y/n couldn’t keep her eyes away from him. From her seat, she had the best view on his profile. she could see his jaw tighten whenever someone won he didn’t want to win, or how the grip on his beer would loosen whenever someone won he wanted to, a small smile forming on his face whenever that happened. One forming on her own almost identically.

Liam could feel a pair of eyes burning in the back of his head, occasionally turning around to try and catch his predator. All he found though, was Damon Albarn staring at him with confused eyes.

He’d noticed his friend’s gaze far away from where it should be, somewhere in the crowd of people, focused on one in particular. Catching Liam Gallagher’s gaze, he was taken back to the night he asked her to accompany him. Being aware of the crush she formed on ‘the enemy’ he couldn’t help but not not take her.

The moment the first half was over and a break was called through the speakers installed in the walls, Damon excused himself, walking out and to the bar. Getting them a new drink, that they ‘couldn’t survive this without’. Laughing at his wording, Y/n let him walk away. Looking around the room, her eyes were drawn to his seat again.

Liam was watching Damon walk away, his gaze now finally free to see the man’s guest. Looking at the table, his eyes widen in shock. Hitting Noel’s arm repeatedly, he couldn’t keep his focus from lingering. His eyes still focused on her, though his mind was far away. It was back in Manchester, back with her. The two bodies of theirs laying close together as The Stone Roses played in the background of their silence.

‘I don’t want you to go.’ He would’ve never admitted back then what he knew already for years.

His heart skipped a beat when their eyes locked, their souls intertwining again after years left torn apart. Healing as he held her face in his mind.

“What?” Noel snapped annoyed. Turning to his little brother sharply and pushing his hand away from his arm.

Liam didn’t answer, only pointing in her direction. Noel’s eyes widen in shock now too.

“What ya doing here, love?” A voice boomed behind her, the familiarity of it seeping through her spine, making her sit up straighter.

“Liam,” she breathed out before turning towards him. The room watching the two of them. “Hey.”

Pulling her into a hug, he inhaled the scent on her hair and neck. It was richer now, but still the same summery feeling he only smelt around her. Noel came after, not leaving her a lot of space to breath.

“Hey, kid,” he greeted her, smiling brightly.

“Can’t believe you’ve stolen my date now, Gallagher.” Damon came walking back, two drinks in his hands.

Putting them down a smirk appeared on his face, making Liam’s blood boil up in anger. His fist clenching at the thought of them being here together. She had to know about the war they partaking in, why was she on his side now?

Y/n could sense the tension, as could Noel, who quickly led Liam away from the scene, saying they should go back before it gets to late and the lights would dim. Sitting down, they both still held their gaze, urging he other to look away first, but neither would dare to.

The lights dimmed again, though one brighter one appeared on the other side of the room. Liam walked out through one of the back doors. Noel sat with his head in his hands at their table, praying he hadn’t had to explain what just happened between them.

Looking at Damon, he told her to go after him. Silently creeping through the dark, she hoped for no cameras to catch her body escaping. Walking out into the lights and fresh air, she could breath for the first time in an hour. Outside the building, Liam was perched up against a wall with a cigarette hanging from his lips. Standing next to him, her arms crossed over her chest, they kept in silence. The only sound being the shuffling of Liam’s body as he took his jacket from his body and wrapped it around hers, without acknowledging her presence more than that.

“Saw you two on a front page a few weeks back, never thought I’d see you again. Even less with someone like him,” he broke the silence after a couple of minutes passing.

“Damon can be pretty nice if you get to know him better. He’s just cold at first, not like you’re any different,” she defended her friend, making him roll his eyes.

“How would you know? We couldn’t even talk when we met.”

“It took me four months to get you to even look at me. You were just always ignoring me.” They both laughed at the memories ans endless stories their mothers used to share about the two of them.

“Wasn’t even doing it on purpose, love.” Raising her eyebrows at him, he reconsidered. “You were just too pretty to look at,” he tried once more. Tilting her head, the smirk on his face disappeared. “In my defence, you were pretty violent in your attempts to get my attention. Seemed pretty desperate too.”

Gaping at him with her mouth wide open, she slapped in his arm, making him wince a little in fake hurt. “I wasn’t desperate. Though you seemed kinda intimidated once I could talk earlier than you, big mouth. Seemed to be a sign of God, that you would only talk bullshit anyway, so he threatened giving you a vocabulary.”

“Would it still be bullshit if I said, that seeing you together made me jealous?”

The words hung in the air between them, the confession lingering a little longer on both their racing hearts.

“Yes,” she answered, making his face drop. He was so sure that there was more to them than friendship, now it seemed that he even destroyed that. “Utter bullshit,” she continued talking. Continued stabbing a sword into his already breaking heart. “Because there was never a reason for you to be jealous.”

Crushing the cigarette beneath his shoes, he was ready to hear the last words he expected her to mutter to him. Letting him suffer in silence out of embarrassment and shame instead of screaming it at him with laughter. ‘We were always just friends, why would you be jealous? You’re still my best friend.’

“Liam,” she whispered, seeing the distant look in his eyes. “Can you please look at me?”

Snapping his eyes up to her, they looked almost angry with something. The soft blue now a storming sea.

“What?” He spat at her.

“I’ve always loved you, I just wanted you to know that.”

It couldn’t be true, could it? Laughing it off quietly, he nodded his head in mockery. “Yeah, sure. A great friend I am.”

“Not just in a friendly way.”

His heart stopped in his chest at her words, sinking down his chest and into his stomach, making him feel sick. The weight of it pulling him down, his shoulders falling into his body.

“What?” he quietly asked, not believing her words. It was all in his imagination, right?

Sacking her body, she couldn’t believe him. Typical Liam, she though. Smiling at him sweetly, her eyes sparkling under the street lights before pulling him in by his collar and connecting their lips. They had kissed before, but this was different. This one was real. His hands on her waist gripping tight to make her stay so close to him forever. He wouldn’t ever let go of her again.

[imaginesbymonika]

From the dining table | Part 1

Pairing: Damon Albarn × Gallagher! Reader

Plot: Everyone's favorite topic during the '90s and 'OOs; Y/N Gallagher. The mysterious and beautiful younger sister of the two loud brothers rarely spoke during interviews but played the guitar like no one else. And even though she never said a word about her dating-life, the list of her rumored boyfriends kept growing longer with each passing year. Yet, there was one name in particular that just kept on popping up...

read the prologue

(1995)

He’s staring at her. Not because he wants to (although she’s a sight for sore eyes), but because there is just something about her field of energy that keeps on pulling him back in. He understands that he shouldn’t be. Not because of her two brothers though; he’s not intimidated by them, but because he just doesn’t want any more drama thrown his way. So maybe in a sense, it’s because of her brothers, but then again it isn’t. He-

“Damon!”, someone next to him says straight into his right ear and he flinches at the sudden sound. “What the fuck?!”, he asks, and his head twists into the direction of the voice:” Why would you do that?” His bandmate scoffs softly:” I’ve been trying to get through to you for the last three minutes. You know you should probably stop staring like that.”

“Wait what?”, his index finger moving into his ear: ”Don’t laugh. I’m being serious, I think I am deaf on this ear now.”

Graham chuckles:” Everyone can see that you’re staring at her, it’s only a matter of time till those dickheads see it as well. You know how protective they are of her.” Damon nods, turning his full body back towards the crammed table, before letting out a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding in.

“Having this war thing over our music’s is one thing, but the moment one of them finds out that you fancy Y/N you’ll probably get shot.”, the brown-haired man means it as a joke, of course, but at the same time, there’s more than just a bit of truth to it.

Y/N fucking Gallagher. Damon scoffs. No one really knows much about her other than the fact that she’s a few years younger than Liam. She plays the bass in Oasis and does a fucking excellent job at it. In Interviews she never talks, she just sits next to her two brothers and chews on gum while occasionally throwing a smile into the camera. And it’s not a sweet smile either: it’s cooky and secure. As if she understands the effect it has on other people. She knows she’s cool and pretty and it’s-

“Hey!”, Graham hits the back of Damon’s head with the palm of his hand:” Stop disappearing on me like that!” A pained chuckle exits Damon’s lips while he shakes his head:” I was thinking about something, thank you very much.”

“I hope about all the ways in which Noel will cut you up into tiny pieces when he finds out you think his baby sister is fit.”, he laughs and the blonde shoves him away from him. “Will you please stop talking?!”, he swallows thickly and turns to look back at the stage, but his gaze automatically halts on Y/N. Only this time their eyes instantly meet. His own widen while hers narrow and a couple of seconds later a smug smile appears on her lips. She knows.

Damon desperately wants to tear his stare off of her, but he just cannot do it. Y/N’s y/e/ced eyes survey his blushing features, while she leans back in her chair. She slightly tilts her head while un-crossing her legs and perhaps those ridiculous pop music magazines are right, maybe she is a God-

“Damon!”, Graham once again hits his friend’s head, before gripping his chin and harshly bending his head back to the table. “Outch.”, Damon silently lets out, before rubbing the side of his neck. And for a second it’s almost as if he can her Y/N giggle. Oh, he’s royally fucked.

[valkierrie]

𝙿𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Warning(s): Swearing.

Plot: After the purchase of a new polaroid, Damon and Y/N can't get enough of snapping pictures of one another.

Word count: 1.2K

A/N: Hope the person that requested this enjoys it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was meant to be a minor purchase.  

Damon had begged me to stop at a small store, he wasn’t looking for anything in particular, just wanted a look around. I wasn’t in the mood, but how could I say no when Damon’s blue eyes gave way for that look, the one he gave me whenever he wanted something, the kind a child gave their parent when they wanted sweets or a new toy.  

The store was small and barely lit. It was cramped, looked quite run-down, like a place that hadn’t been cared for, for years. A small black polaroid caught Damon’s eyes at once, I could tell by the way they lit up. It was such a small thing, the colour was slowly getting lighter, and it looked a bit worn out, like it was definitely used. I couldn’t possibly understand what he saw in it, but I wasn’t too surprised. Damon had a knack for seeing things in the unusual. Whatever those ‘things’ may be. 

“Just this, please.” Damon flashed a charming smile at the cashier, a short woman who clearly hadn’t been having the best of days. 

She rang us up, the small thing didn’t cost much, just a few quids. Damon held the camera in his hand as we left the store. There was a boyish grin on his face, the type that made it almost fucking impossible not to smile back. It hadn’t even been a minute after we stepped out when Damon was ready to put his new toy to use. He moved the polaroid up to eye level, jogging backwards. The lens were pointed towards me. 

“Move a bit left...” Damon gestured, flapping his hands side-to-side towards his left. “No, your other left .” His gestures were as confusing as his directions were vague. He waved his hands excitedly, like orchestral conductor. 

“Not now, Damon,” I shivered, my voice waivered slightly under the dropped temperature. The parka and beanie I wore did extraordinarily little to keep out the cold. 

Damon moved the camera down a bit, a small frown on his face. He stuck out his rosy lower lip. “C’mon, love, just one picture.” He pleaded, his Essex accent being exaggerated and stretched out for optimal effect. “It’ll be quick.” 

With a sigh, and an eye roll, I complied. Damon pout morphed into a victorious grin. 

“Move near that tree over there.” Damon pointed towards a small isolated leafless tree towards the end of the sidewalk, opposite from the road.  

I moved towards it. Damon followed, still staying a few feet behind. I crossed my arms, letting my upper body lean towards the tree. 

Damon moved the polaroid back to eye level. “Give us a smile, then.” 

I gave him a tight-lipped one, to which he responded with a chuckle. “That works too.” 

With a click, the camera flashed, a small photo slid out of the slot. Damon shook the developing film. A fond smile played at his lips as he stared at the photo. 

“Oi, don’t hog it, let me see.” I moved towards Damon, standing beside him to take a look at the picture. I had to admit, it looked nice. 

That was only the beginning of Damon’s stint with the polaroid. After that day, Damon had been attached to the hip with that camera. Our small, shared flat became the setting of a photoshoot, minus all the carefully elaborate settings. The only settings Damon’s photos had, were those of a messy living room with Damon’s socks strewn all over as well as a kitchen with that was always full of dishes.  

Strangely, one morning, Damon was still in bed. It was half past nine, usually he was the one waking me up, with a soft shake or a jolt—it was a 50-50 chance. 

I sat in the living room, tinkering about with the small device, trying to figure why it had captured my boyfriend’s attention. In the process, I had accidentally captured some unflattering photos of myself. I placed the developed film to the side, hoping the throw them out later without Damon knowing that I had wasted them. It took only a few minutes for me to get the hand of it. I smiled as I brought the camera to eye level, snapping shots of random things in the home. The small vase beside the window, the old television, or some shoes. I had to admit, it was fun. I went into the kitchen and took pictures of the cupboards and food left haphazardly on the counters.  

I was about to take another one, but the sound of a door opening and closing interrupted me. Had to be Damon.  

Sure enough, he emerged from the bedroom, in his light blue boxer briefs, it was cute, it went with his eyes. His light hair stuck out in all directions; his expression a tired one as scratched the small hair on his stomach. He exuded a loud yawn from his mouth, making no effort to cover it. 

“Mornin’, babe.” I greeted, an amused smile playing at my lips as I drank his visual in. 

Damon muttered something I assumed was meant to be some form of a greeting, but it was too laced with fatigue for one to be able to tell. It took a short stride for him to enter the kitchen, he placed a lazy kiss on my forehead before reaching high in the cupboard for a cup.  

“Why are you up so early?” 

“It’s not early, Damon, it’s almost ten.” 

“Same thing.” He grumbled. 

He placed the kettle on the stove and leaned against the granite countertop, tea cup still in hand. He looked beautiful, majestic even. It was done so effortlessly. I couldn’t comprehend it, even in his messiest state, he looked gorgeous. The way the light that poured in from the blinds illuminated his figure, it made him look angelic.  

I couldn’t help myself. I lifted the camera up to eye level. Damon’s brows furrowed, confusion overtaking his tired expression. 

With a click, the camera shuttered, it’s flash going off. The film slipped out of the slot. I shook it until it developed.  

“You takin’ photos now?” Damon teased. 

“I had a good shot.” I shrugged. 

Damon shook his head, placing the cup on the counter. Having nothing left to do in the kitchen, I wandered back to the living room, Damon trailing close behind. I settled on the sofa, he followed after, wrapping his arms around my waist, while his chin rested on the crook of my shoulder. His touch sent small, gentle warmth spreading through me, settling in my chest. I loved moments like these. They were rare with our busy schedules, but when they happened, they were truly moments I was grateful for. Smiling down at him, I picked up the camera. I wasn’t sure how I was going to capture this moment, but it was worth a try. I turned the lens towards us, with another click, the camera’s flash went off, making me blink rapidly. I shook the film, watching as the photo slowly developed. It was blurred, moreover, Damon and I were barely in the frame. It was expected. Damon chuckled when I showed him the photo.  

“In the future, you reckon they’d make it easier to take photos like these?” Damon pondered, examining the photo. 

I shrugged, “Who knows,” I placed the camera down on the coffee table. I adjusted my position, pulling Damon closer, putting my arms around him, “and who cares.” 

Damon pulled my face down, our lips meeting with a romantic and soft touch. When our lips touched, I was reminded just how much the soft, quiet moments meant to me. 

“I love you, Damon.” 

“I love you too.” 

[putmeinmoviebaby]

I seriously need a holiday in France with Damon!

You and Damon had decided to take a holiday. He was exhausted from the pressures of work at the studio, and you eagerly seized the opportunity for a little getaway.

You had wanted to visit the south of France for a while, and now was finally the perfect chance.

You booked a secluded resort. The weather was ideal it was summer, exactly what you had been longing for: peace and tranquillity.

Damon sat on the grass, his guitar resting on his lap, fingers lazily strumming a few chords, while you lay beside him, absorbed in your book.

The sun was setting, and all you could hear was the gentle rustling of the wind through the trees. For a few moments, you paused to admire Damon playing, taking in his tousled blonde hair, the way he bit his lip in concentration.

You couldn’t ignore how incredibly attractive he looked his tanned chest exposed, the golden sunlight casting a glow over his skin.

You could spend hours simply watching him, memorising every little detail.

"I can feel your eyes on me, you know?" His deep, husky voice reached your ears.

You let out a sheepish laugh, clutching your book against your chest.

"Oh, can you blame me for that?" you said, still chuckling.

Damon raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He strummed a few more chords on the guitar before replying.

"Not really. I quite like watching you too."

"Oh, do you now? I suppose that makes us both guilty, then," you teased, a smile dancing on your lips.

Damon chuckled softly, closing his eyes for a moment before setting his guitar aside. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze fixed on you.

You watched as his body moved closer to yours, his hands reaching out gently, fingers tracing slow circles against your cheek.

His touch was warm, tender, yet laced with something deeper, as if he were committing every detail of you to memory.

Damon’s smirk softened, his fingers still tracing delicate patterns over your skin. His eyes held a different kind of intensity a depth that made your heart quicken.

"What is it?" you asked again, your voice barely above a whisper, amusement lacing your tone.

He hesitated for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, before exhaling softly, a small smile playing on his lips.

"I was just thinking… how this moment, this place… is perfect."

Your heart clenched at the sweetness of his words. You opened your mouth to respond, but he wasn’t finished.

"And how I don’t want this to be just a memory of a holiday… I want it to be the start of something much bigger."

You frowned slightly, trying to grasp what he was saying. But Damon, on the other hand, looked more certain than ever.

Slowly, he stood up, reaching for something in the pocket of his jacket, which lay beside his guitar.

Your stomach flipped when you saw the small black velvet box in his hands.

Your heart pounded.

"Damon…" your voice came out in a breathless whisper.

He knelt before you, his gaze locked onto yours, filled with a mixture of nervousness and love.

"I could do this in a more elaborate way, wait for a fancy dinner or some grand, well-planned moment… but this? This is exactly what I want forever. Just us, in a quiet place, no rush, no distractions. Just you and me."

Tears welled up in your eyes, your breath catching in your throat.

Damon opened the little box, revealing a delicate ring that sparkled under the soft glow of the setting sun.

"I love you. Every little thing about you every habit, every laugh, every glance you throw at me when you think I’m not looking. And I don’t want to spend another second without you knowing just how much I want us to be together forever."

He took a steady breath before finally saying the words that made your world come to a halt.

"Will you marry me?"

Time seemed to slow down. You felt the warm breeze tousle your hair, the distant scent of the sea, the gentle rustling of the leaves. But none of it mattered.

The only thing that did was the man in front of you, kneeling, waiting for your answer with that hopeful, glowing look in his eyes.

Without hesitation, you smiled, your heart nearly bursting with happiness.

"Yes! Of course, yes!"

Damon let out a relieved laugh, and before he could even slip the ring onto your finger, he pulled you into a tight embrace.

Your lips met in a kiss filled with emotion, laughter mixing between it, pure happiness radiating from both of you.

When he finally slid the ring onto your finger, you both sat there, wrapped in each other’s arms, watching the sun disappear beyond the horizon.

The trip to the south of France, meant to be just a holiday, had turned into the beginning of a whole new life together.

The End

[hughiewasnthere]

Hiiii,can we maybe get something where the reader is a photographer (and Damon girlfriend obv)so one day Damon suggest that she take dirty pics of him ,she do and they take turns on taking pics of each other,and it’s all intimate which kinda elevates to something more heated (90s Damon pls 🙏🏼🙏🏼)

Damon Albarn x fem reader

NSFW 18+!!!

Photography gone wrong

You had been taking pictures of the blur members all day. All from serious poses for the media and then a few mess around ones for the history books.

You would practically think you were Damon’s girlfriend with the way him and Graham are together.

After getting good pics of everyone they decided to turn it in for the night apart from Damon as he got back on the screen ready for more.

“Oh… you wanting more dames?” You ask as you put the lenses back on the camera.

He smiles at you as he nods “yeah cmon take some shots of me luv” his strong accent fills the room as you chuckle as him.

He lays flat on his stomach as a smile spreads across his lips. A hand through his hair giving it that signature mess.

You thought he looked really good from where he was so you quickly wanted to capture it. “Cmon pretty boy” you chuckle.

He wiggled his eyebrows playfully as you took a photo of him.

“Cmon Albarn give me something interesting!” You laugh.

“I think I’ve ran out of poses darlin” he said as he stood up to think of something. His smart idea was his top off.

You adjust your lense as you looked at him with a confused smirk “your idea is your tits out?”

He smiled putting his hands on his sides puffing his chest out. “Get it in all its glory luv”

You chuckle as you adjust the lenses to take photos of him now with his top out. His hand proudly rubbing over the hairs on his chest

He wanted to see how far he could push his luck with your photos so he drags both hands to push his jeans down slightly exposing the top half of the hair on his lower abdomen. His fingers running up his happy trail.

You swallow thickly trying to pay no mind. “Pose” was all you could manage out. He knew what he was doing. You knew what he was doing and it was to your dismay was working.

You quickly took some photos but sneaky zooming the lenses into his lower half.

He smirked lowering his pants more. All you could see was the top of his shaft nestled in the hairs. He chuckled thinking he could keep his bravado up but it didn’t last long. He’d even teased him self too much and slowly started to get aroused.

You chuckle and decided it was your turn to get back at him. “Wanting to do a naked shoot are we dames?” He let out a chuckle before gaining his confidence back. He unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down. His blue briefs exposing everything as he stood there. He had half an erection as he looked at you with a smile.

You chuckle standing back getting a full body photo. Damon Albarn with no shirt. His jeans pooled at his thighs, his briefs tented.

“Off with em Albarn” you kneel to get a better shot of his lower half. “I can keep this photo in my purse” you chuckle

“I’ll take em off if you do” he protested innocently.

You cocked an eyebrow. You didn’t say a word as you placed the camera down on the small table to your side. You swiftly took your jumper off leaving your self in a bra.

You picked your camera back up with a smile before kneeling again.

“Cmon then” you smile. The sight of him now fully hard in his loose briefs was enough to get wet in your panties.

He stops breathing for a second. He stairs at your breasts. A slight twitch in his briefs. You snap a photo before standing up.

“How about one of you lying down?… no briefs?” His eyes widen before he smirks. Slowly taking his briefs off before lying down. His erection pointing up. A small twitch as he huffs.

You chuckle as you snapped a photo from the side of him. “Stay there Albarn” you said as you placed the camera down.

You then make your way over. You straddle his hips. Your jeans still on. His hands coming up to hold your hips.

You lean down as kiss him. He returns the kiss pushing his tongue in before pulling away.

“Camera…. Get the camera” you raise an eyebrow before getting up grabbing the camera and making your way back.

You sat back on his hips again. He takes the camera from you. He takes a photo of you as you sat on his hips.

He smiled before setting the camera to random. As he placed it on the floor facing you.

You go back to kissing with his hands up your sides feeling around and the occasional snap of the camera.

His hips thrusting up against yours to meet for some friction. You slowly take your leans off followed by your panties. He rolled you both over so he’s on top. He pulls your legs to wrap round his back as he kissed you

He really couldn’t fuss for anything else. He wanted you NOW.

He took his briefs off as he pulled away from you. He lined him self up with your entrance as he looked at you.

You nodded before he slowly pushed his way in. He groaned as he lays on you. His hips slowly thrusting into you. He slowly kissed up your neck as he grunts. Your moans soon following his grunts…

—————-

You both sat at the computer. Your camera hooked up as you both looked through the photos. All the nice blur ones and then naked Damon….

You chuckle as Damon drops his head on your shoulder as he huffed “I look such a fool, look at me” he chuckle before you clicked on to the cameras auto mode. The photos it took on its own of you and Damon caught in the middle of your sex.

You groaned as you looked at them. He just chuckled “pretty hot…. Could keep them in my wallet definitely” he laughed as he kissed the side of your head.

——-

Sorry this is quite rushed I’m really not well but wrote this because I need something to do x

[emoxxgirl]

Here’s some of these :))

[stxrshxpxd]

🌆 fic friday;

“you were in my dream”

90s damon albarn x reader,, friends to lovers

The weekend had slipped away from us and we were clawing onto the last few hours of Sunday, Damon on his side and me on my stomach on his carpeted floor. I couldn’t believe it was only a few months ago that we first met, through our mutual friend Graham. Some time ago he had slipped out of the equation though, and now I spent entire weekends at Damon’s place without batting an eye. It was like I was caught up in a constant buzz that wouldn’t wear off.

“What does that one mean?” I asked, pointing my finger at the tattoo on his forearm. It resembled a leaf of clover.

“I don’t know. Nothing really.”

“Aren’t things more meaningful if they… mean something?” I laughed and Damon chuckled along, nodding.

“Generally, yeah.”

“You know what I mean!” I laughed tiredly and flipped onto my back, laying my cheek against the rough carpet to keep my gaze on him. “Aren’t things nicer or.. less perishable, when they mean something?”

Damon waited for a beat, thinking. He always took his time when pondering something and felt no stress or embarrassment about putting the conversation on hold. I envied that.

“What does this mean?” he asked poignantly a moment later. His hand waved softly in the air between us where we layed in the warm evening sun on his floor. My body stiffened and heart rate picked up. A million words flooded my mind and I peered through them to blink back at him. At last I laughed weakly and looked away, up at the ceiling.

”That’s a good question.”

We stayed quiet for a few moments as I anxiously counted the squares in the ceiling.

“You were in my dream last night,” he revealed and my eyes darted back at him. He had long, soft shadows on his face from the sinking sun.

“What were we doing?”

A smile came upon Damon’s lips but he bit down on it and his cheeks gained some colour.

“Oh, you know, nothing much.”

“Shut up,” I laughed nervously and our voices faded. My gaze trailed away again and we laid under the heavy silence for a moment, him replaying his dream and me trying to picture it. Many visuals were crowding my mind.

“We were lying down like now.”

I smiled with two hot cheeks, patiently waiting for him to continue describing what we both were thinking.

“But you were…”

I looked back at him again as he propped his head up to lay it in his palm, blinking down at me.

“I was?”

“…A lot closer.”

My muscles were still tense but I managed to scoot an arm’s length closer to him, placing my pounding heart just inches from his.

“Like this?” I mumbled. Our smiles had faded and the sun had nearly set now, casting its last orange rays across our bodies. Damon shook his head softly.

“Not quite.”

Moving purely out of instinct, I pushed myself off the floor and carefully swung a leg across his hips, pinning him to the floor on his back. Damon flashed a slanted smile again and trailed his eyes down my body slowly. When they came back up to meet mine again, I couldn’t contain myself any longer. I took a risk and bent down, hurriedly pressing my lips against his before I might’ve lost the courage. He was quick to respond and kissed me back, his hands finding my waist instantly.

“Now, this feels more like the dream,” Damon mumbled into our kiss with a deep smirk.

[avxoxo1]

damon albarn look alike contest location: my bedroom reward: a stick of extra watermelon gum

[starssaroundmyscarssblog]

𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 (part one)

pairing: 90s!damon albarn x fem!oc

summary: in which she lives in a very big house in the country, and he can't get enough

word count: 2.95k

warnings: clay (and real) pigeon shooting, mentions of game hunting, mentions of sex

maeve hadn't expected the living room to resemble a large 'escape the rat race' board when she entered, searching for the long coat she was sure she'd left over the back of a sofa (that had been banished to a far corner) the previous night. tiptoeing over the straw that littered colourful squares, she searched high and low for said coat trying to ignore her brother yelling at her to hurry up from the kitchen.

finally, after squatting down in a corner and groping around under the sofas until her fingers brushed the heavy material, maeve stood up and tucked it under her arm. a whistle from the door frame caught her attention and she was ready to tell her brother to do one, but she caught herself. damon was stood in the doorway with one hand above his head- it looked like he was trying to hold himself up from the doorframe whilst balancing a tray with two cups of tea on the other hand.

maeve hopped over the props that had materialised during her search and took a mug gratefully, taking a long sip as they walked down the corridor. "all set up, then?" she asked, stopping en route to collect a dark green smock hooked over a peg by the pantry as the fog of the morning hadn't lifted over the fields.

"yeah, we should be done by four if the boys turn up on time." damon looked at his watch, "which hopefully shouldn't be too far from now." the pair entered the kitchen, a room with a cold stone floor and even colder stone tiling, greeting george (maeve's brother) and her father who were stood by the back door and ready to go.

maeve ditched her half empty mug in the ceramic sink, and jammed her heavily socked feet into the wellies she'd upturned from the rack. george was hopping about on the spot, restless. "hurry up, maeve, i want to go!" he was younger by a few years and stroppy when he didn't get his own way. she sighed through her nose. "oh, tell him dad!"

mr archibald clapped him on the shoulder and lead him out of the door as he said, "we'll be going in a few minutes, george, maeve can't help that her coat went missing. we'll be away before the filming starts-" at this damon called out his thanks with his hands in the back pockets of his jeans, "-and we'll be back when they've finished and cleared up. okay?" looking out of the window, maeve could see her brother nod reluctantly.

"if you need anything, mum's only down the road visiting nan. don't let anyone on the third floor, george might kill you if he finds out someone's gone into his room, and i hope everything goes smoothly." with one swift movement, maeve zipped her smock up to her chin and kissed damon goodbye on the cheek.

he returned the gesture wholeheartedly and opened the back door even though she was perfectly capable of doing it herself. "thanks again for letting me stay over last night, and for letting us use the house. bloody nightmare trying to find one once people found out what we needed it for."

there was a scattering of wet paws spreading mud over the flagstones and all of a sudden two springer spaniels were panting heavily and clawing at damon's shirt. maeve slapped her thigh to get the dog's attention, glaring at them as she pointed for them to trail back out of the door. "poppy, ollie, out now." with their tails between their legs they trotted out of the kitchen.

"sorry about them, they just get excitable. they haven't been out with us for a few weeks. you can put your shirt in the washing machine if you want."

"oi, maeve, are you coming or we're leaving without you!" george bellowed from the bastle house, impatience rising with his temper. maeve sighed, grabbed damon by the cheeks and kissed him hard right infront of the kitchen window just to wind george up. he pulled away, breathless but smiling brightly. "if that's what i get every time you're late, i'm going to have to hide your coats more often."

"i mean it!"

"love you." she said, shutting the door behind her as damon winked when the doorbell rung. if she was quick enough, maeve could get all of her things from the bastle house in enough time to miss the rest of the boys arriving.

underfoot the muddy puddles splashed with the force of her wellies meeting the ground, and maeve swung around the door as george was filling a box with spare pellets. maeve grabbed her shotgun from where it was hung over a hook and snatched up a box of ammunition to stuff in her shoulder bag. in her pocket was her gun license, should people come walking over the public footpaths and ask why she had a firearm.

maeve knew her hobby was unethical, but shooting birds and hunting game was something she enjoyed doing she was clay-disc shooting this morning and then rambling through the countryside her parents owned before driving back in the old land rover to meet damon for an exhibition at the tate that evening.

george snorted a laugh as he picked up a polaroid picture he'd found wedged under garden tools piled into a corner of the bastle. "i think damon dropped something last time you were in here," and handed it back to her while miming wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

"glad to see you've cheered up," she said before looking down at the picture. her cheeks flushed hideously, she remembered staring at the ceiling of her bedroom blissed out as damon hovered over her. before she could protest he'd snapped a picture of her, from the top of her tits all the way to her headboard laughing as if he'd said the funniest thing in the world.

she shoved it into her pocket to serve as a reminder to scold damon when she saw him again, running out of the bastle as she grabbed the car keys for the land rover and shoved all of her things onto the back seat before jumping into the drivers seat. she pulled out of the driveway as george pestered her to put the radio on and her father criticised her for changing gears too quickly when they drove past the rest of the band trundling up the road.

maeve lifted her hand off the steering wheel to wave at them quickly before turning onto a secluded country track to take them all the way down to the bottom fields. damon had asked them to keep the noise down, as he didn't want the takes to be messed up and he would get lost of he, the only one who had a decent idea of the land, was tasked with finding them.

george hopped out of the backseat with the dogs to open the gate, making 'forwards' and 'backwards' gestures with his hands as maeve attempted to park as best she could on the soggy mud. she locked the car after unloading her kit over her shoulders, and greeted tony and pete by shouting over the field at them. tony and pete's waved back as they continued polishing the clay disks with cloths worn down from generational use

"pull!" maeve's voice was loud as the wind carried her shout to tony, who reached into the cage on the table. she watched at the clay disk flew from his finger tips and into the sky, as it crested and she aimed just below as her finger rested in the trigger. with delicacy, she pushed the trigger down and dug her heels into the ground as the recoil shot through her arm and right to her lower back.

with a sharp crack the bullet left the barrel of the shotgun and propelled itself right into the middle of the clay disk, shattering it into pieces as poppy dashed forwards eagerly to retrieve the largest chunks. maeve waved away the smoke with her hand and returned to her dad, drawing a tally mark under where her name was written in chalk on the board. she was three- no, four, points now that he'd missed his shot, above george and wasn't a fan of his gloating.

she reached for the old china mug she'd left on the small wooden table they'd se up and took a sip of her tea, enjoying the warmth that seeped through her fingertips and to her wrists. maeve looked at her watch, ten to two and quite a while until george would be able to go into the house without seeing any of the band members. he didn't like them, she knew that, but she wished he wouldn't play oasis whenever damon was over. damon said he didn't mind, "really, i don't care. it doesn't bother me, love," but george did it anyway.

pete jumped over the gate and splashed wet mud all up his gaiters as he dropped a covered basket by his feet. ollie pushed himself through the gaps in the wooden fence and started to sniff around the basket, nudging it open with his nose and dragging out a limp pigeon in his sharp teeth.

george hollered and whooped, throwing a bird that regained use of its wings when it was set into the air and aiming at it. he was about to shoot when maeve beat him to it, the shot echoed around the field as the pigeon fell to the floor and poppy retrieved it for the pile of broken clay. he glared at her, yelled "pull!" before pete had a chance to drag to pigeons over to the clay disks, gesturing with the barrel of his shotgun at tony to hurry up and get on with it.

tony wrestled with the bird and flung it skywards, across to the corner of the field and george took aim before the crest and shot the bird out of the sky. in his excitement he fell backwards with the recoil and insisted, because he said so, that they go stalking through the forest for game.

their dad said no. maeve set the birds into the sky one by one and there was a free-for-all, with shouts of 'the one on the left is mine' or 'i've got the one on the right' ringing with gunshots and clicks of barrel reloading. poppy and ollie were springing about with pigeons stuffed in their mouth, dropping them infront of tony and pete who patted their sides and fed them treats for their hard work.

then maeve grabbed george, the dog's leads and the animals that she clipped them to, and they walked off into the woods with eyes peeled and ears alert. they were silent, leaves crunching and branches snapping underfoot as they tried to listen for rustling bushes or movements in the bracken. george locked onto what he thought was a rabbit but was just a clump of fluff caught on a bramble, and maeve missed a fox that came streaking past while she was untangling the strap of her shotgun from her hair.

they continued, circling the edge of the woods with only the dogs for company, until maeve realised they'd come all the way back round to the field where their dad was pulling clay for tony and pete was nursing a coffee maeve suspected he'd made irish with a dash of baileys from the hip-flask she'd bought him for his birthday.

all of a sudden, as they were trekking through the marshy ground, the heavens opened with a clap of thunder and flash of lighting. martin (their dad) had disassembled the trestle table in a flash and had chucked it into the trailer of pete and tony's car for them to take back to the house, had tipped pete's drink back his throat for him while he was disposing of the dead game, and loaded maeve and george's guns into the boot in the blink of an eye.

maeve settled into the front seat in her still dripping smock, martin hadn't let her take it off as the track to the country road flooded quicker than anything and they had to get back to the house before they were stranded until the rain stopped. "what's the point in having a land rover," george leant over the middle seats to turn the radio on, "if we can't use it to get through flooded roads?"

as maeve flicked the indicator and checked for the absent oncoming traffic, she said, "because last time it happened you were driving and you got us stuck. we had to call a rescue service who couldn't find us, and we missed the rehearsal dinner for cousin sophie's wedding."

"but sophie's a bitch. i'm glad we weren't there."

"i was the maid of honour!" maeve shouted as she turned onto the driveway and drove all the way around the back of the house to the bastle. damon and graham were outside smoking, leaning against the dry part of the wall protected by the porch overhang. she didn't see them as she left the car and hooked her shotgun over her shoulder.

graham whistled. "your arse looks great in those trousers, maeve," he called out with a final drag as damon pulled the cigarette from his mouth and stubbed it out against the wall. maeve smiled and disappeared around the bastle, hanging up her shotgun and putting back the box of bullets she's brought but hadn't needed to use. she hung out her smock to dry and wiped away some mud that had caked around her nose using the specked mirror on the wall.

maeve walked back round to the backdoor and held onto damon's arm as she kicked off her wellies and stood them upside down on the rack under the shelter of the porch. the thick socks on her feet padded over the flagstones of the kitchen and maeve nearly barged into alex, who'd appeared with a pitcher of water in one hand and a plate empty save from crumbs in the other, on her way down the hall and up the stairs.

the grandfather clock at the top of the staircase in the entrance hall chimed loudly five times, and right on cue the camera crews shook hands with martin and thanked him for letting them use the house before trooping out of the front door and into the vans waiting for them in the front drive.

damon sighed. "sorry we ran over time, i bet george was a pain in the arse."

"as per," she led him up the stairs and unlocked her bedroom door, letting the two of them in as damon flicked on the light, "but we lost track of the time anyway. managed to get out into the woods as well, but the rain cut us off after one loop." maeve cringed as she pulled her thick socks off and discarded them in the pile of her clothes that had gathered at the foot of her large bed, her bare feet making cold contact with the floor sent a shiver shooting up through her.

maeve slipped into her en suite and started the shower, revelling in the water that warmed her bones pleasantly - she hadn't realised she was that cold. standing under the hot water of the shower stream felt like bliss, though she was in and out in a few minutes after scrubbing her aloe vera body wash roughly against her skin. she rubbed moisturiser over the cracked skin of her nose whilst gently moving the excess down over her cheeks and to her collar bones, where a bruised colour mark was beginning to bloom under her pale skin.

damon was lying still at the foot of her bed when maeve emerged from the bathroom, playing with a rubix cube that had been unfinished since 1986 in his long fingers. she sat down at her vanity and the heavy chair legs scraping across the floor disturbed him from the quiet, instead turning to prop himself up on his elbows as he watched maeve run a brush through her hair. "so everything went well, then?" she asked, pulling a light brown eyeliner pencil through her lashline.

"yeah, all good. there might be straw under some of the sofas though, but we tried to get rid of as much as possible." he fiddled with something on his wrist, "sorry."

"don't worry about that, there's always mud caked onto the floor somewhere so we'll get round to clearing it away soon."

as maeve pulled on her tights and buttoned up her fitted shirt, she lifted up a delicate gold necklace. "would you?" she asked, turning to stand infront of the mirror to check her skirt when damon's hands slid over her shoulders and moved her hair away gently. the ribbon of the velvet bow in her hair tickled his nose as damon dipped lower and pushed a series of feather kisses to the back of her neck, clasping the necklace under the collar with a nip on the shell of maeve's ear.

her cheeks flushed as she pushed his face away, dragging her nails over the column of his neck before reaching around him for her chunky brown cardigan. maeve grabbed her bag and damon's hand, dragging him down the stairs and through the entrance hall, snatching her car keys from the trinket dish by the front door. she shouted 'bye, don't wait up', over her shoulder as damon wrapped his arms around her waist and bundled her over to her vintage mercedes parked on the gravel driveway

🪩⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊☕️

[onlygirlaliveinnyc]

quickie [18+] ☾⋆⁺₊✧

pairing: 90s!damon albarn x fem!reader words: 1114 genre: smut !!, dom!damon, porn w/o plot kinda warnings: unprotected sex, kinda rough sex, hand over mouth to keep you quiet, semi-public/ slight exhibitionism ?, praise, minors dni ! summary: backstage before the show, damon pulls you into an unlocked room for a fast fuck—only to get interrupted—briefly. a/n: based on a req from anon :p ty for this i was so excited for this !! ༉‧₊˚. hope you love it <3

you heard him before you saw him—low voice caught in the hum of soundcheck and hallway static, somewhere between laughter and the flick of a lighter. it was chaos in the corridor, wires underfoot, someone yelling about the lights—but damon moved like the noise bent for him. like it all hushed the second he lifted his eyes.

and then he saw you.

that smirk, slow and sure. he didn’t even say your name—just tipped his head and murmured, “been lookin’ at me like you’re gonna eat me alive.”

you hummed, lips parting. “what if i was?”

he was in front of you before you could blink, hand already catching your wrist. warm, steady. “come with me.”

the walk was a blur (haha)—tight corridors, quick turns, frantic heat under your skin. he didn’t ask, didn’t look back. just found the nearest half-lit room, didn’t even check if it locked. the door slammed and you were shoved up against it, breath caught in your throat.

he kissed you like he was starving—hot, biting, messy. his fingers were already under your skirt, already dragging your panties down, already groaning into your mouth when he felt how wet you were.

“fuck,” he panted. “you get me like this every time. s’not fair.”

“you’ve got five minutes,” you whispered, gasping as his hand slid between your thighs.

“then you better be quick about beggin’.”

he spun you around, pressed you to the wall with his body flush behind yours. you felt his belt hit the floor. heard the clumsy drag of his zipper.

“spread your legs.”

you did, cheek pressed to the wall, heart racing. his hand came down on your ass, firm and filthy.

“good girl,” he muttered. “fuckin’ knew you’d let me take you like this.”

you felt the head of his cock at your entrance, already slick from your arousal. he pushed in without warning, slow at first—but deep, unrelenting. the stretch knocked the breath out of you.

“jesus—tight little thing, aren’t you?”

you tried to answer, but all that came out was a moan.

he started to move—quick, rough, no teasing. each thrust pushed your hips harder into the wall. his hand clamped over your mouth before you could cry out again.

“shhh. can’t have anyone hearin’ how good you take it. quiet for me, yeah?”

you nodded, desperate. your fingers curled against the wall, trying to hold on.

he was fucking you fast now, hard and desperate, the way only a quickie could be. it was all frantic hips and teeth-gritted breathing. the slap of skin, the drag of fabric. your skirt bunched around your waist, his shirt hanging open, breath hot against your shoulder.

then a knock at the door.

you froze—but damon didn’t.

“damon?” graham’s voice, half-laughing, faintly annoyed. “they’re lookin’ for you, mate.”

you whimpered into damon’s palm. he groaned low and deep, still buried to the hilt inside you, hips not stopping for a second.

“just a sec,” damon called back, voice somehow calm—velvet-smooth, with only the faintest rasp. “had to fix somethin’ with the setlist.”

“what, this close to go-time?” graham scoffed. “you’re mad. alex is lookin’ for you, thinks you’ve done a runner.”

damon rolled his eyes and slowed just enough to hiss in your ear, “can’t even disappear for a shag without them gettin’ twitchy…”

“what was that?” graham’s voice piped up again.

“nothin!” damon’s tone lifted into something breezy, even as he kept moving inside you—slower now, deeper. deliberate. you dug your nails into his shoulder, shaking. “just had a thought about ‘to the end,’ wanted to note it down before i forgot.”

“jesus christ,” graham muttered. “you and your bloody epiphanies. well, hurry it up, yeah? we’re on in five.”

his footsteps didn’t fade immediately—he lingered, fiddling with something just outside the door.

damon kept going, hand tight on your hip. leaned in, lips brushing your cheek

“don’t stop now,” he whispered. “he’s still out there.”

you nodded, biting your lip so hard it hurt.

he was so deep it was dizzying, dragging his cock in slow and thick while he calmly called out, “tell alex i’ll be there in two.”

“yeah, yeah,” graham said, clearly unconvinced. “whatever this is, it better be worth it.”

the handle jiggled slightly—your heart jumped into your throat.

“don’t come in,” damon said, tone sharper now. “seriously.”

“alright, alright. fuckin’ hell.” graham finally walked off, muttering.

as soon as the coast cleared, damon’s rhythm snapped back into place—fast and brutal. his composure broke, the control in his voice splintering.

“look at you,” he breathed. “nearly got caught and you’re still lettin’ me fuck you dumb.”

“shut up,” you gasped, clenching around him.

he laughed—soft and breathless. “you love it. love bein’ taken like this. up against a door, anyone could walk in.”

he grabbed your hair, not rough—just enough to make your head tilt back so he could kiss your cheek, your jaw, your temple.

“wish you could see how good you look right now,” he muttered. “so fuckin’ pretty like this. mine.”

your whole body tightened at the sound of his voice, that perfect clipped edge—gentle and posh and ruined. he hitched one of your legs higher, angling deeper. you nearly sobbed.

“that’s it,” he groaned. “fuck, you feel that? every inch—right there—”

your orgasm hit hard. silent at first, then a whimper he caught with his mouth. your whole body shook against his. your knees went, but he held you up, kept thrusting through it, desperate and breathless.

“so fuckin’ good for me. let me feel you come. just like that.”

he followed you seconds later, hips jerking, face buried in your neck as he spilled inside you. one last deep thrust and he stilled, breath shuddering, lips pressed to your shoulder.

“fuck. fuck.”

you stayed there for a beat, hearts pounding. no words. just the quiet roar of the stage bleeding through the walls.

finally he pulled out, hands careful. helped smooth your skirt down, fingertips soft now.

“you alright?” he asked, voice hoarse but sweet.

you nodded, dazed. “you?”

he grinned. “reckon i’ll survive.”

he tucked himself away, buttons his shirt with shaky fingers. you leaned on the wall, legs trembling.

he kissed your cheek—soft, reverent. then your mouth.

“stay in the wings,” he said, hand brushing your hair back. “need to see you when i’m up there. gonna be thinkin’ about you the whole fuckin’ set.”

you smiled. “i’ll be there.”

and then he was gone—out the door, back to noise and lights like nothing happened.

but the flush in your cheeks, the mess between your legs, the curl of his smirk as he vanished down the hall—

yeah. it happened.

and it’d happen again.

[mrshargreeves]

I have something inappropriate (and violent) to say

[leaawrites]

Between Us

Damon Albarn x fem!reader

Summary: After a heavy break up, both of them see that what they've done wasn't what they wanted

Warnings: angst, swearing, fluff

Wordcount: 1.8k

Masterlist

You’d think that over time, people would forget. That they would move on, find new people to obsess over, new couples to admire. Though some stayed focused on one past forever. Lingering over photos from a decade ago, a smile on their faces. Gushing over people’s private life that they didn’t know.

But she knew. She lingered over the pictures and she knew what happened, how it all ended. She knew the story and she knew the ending. Though she never told anyone.

Damon and her dated for seven years, until it ended in 2001. An abrupt ending with little explanation to anyone outside of their house.

“It just didn’t work anymore,” she told the press at movie premiers. All while Damon simply ignored every question that involved even the slightest mention of her name.

The media, being hungry for the meanest kind of funny and not accepting that two adults could make a mutual decision, painted a picture of their own imagination.

‘DAMON ALBARN SHOWING UP ALONE TO THE BRIT AWARDS AFTER LONG-TIME GIRLFRIEND, Y/N L/N, CHEATED ON HIM.’

‘GOOD LUCK TO NEWLY SINGLE, DAMON ALBARN. May he live in peace now.’

“Do you want me to say something?” He asked her over the phone, miles away from her. Not able to console her like he once did. It hurt to hear her broken voice over the phone, knowing that part of him was at fault for it.

“No, don’t worry about it, Damon.” The use of his name on her tongue almost hurting more than the sniffle she let out seconds after it. “I’ll be fine. It’s gonna last a week or so and then it’ll be forgotten anyway. No need to make more drama out of it.”

Though it didn’t just last a week, it lasted twenty years.

Twenty years filled with accusations, reminders, rumors. Haunting both of them day and night. Pictures in magazines when they had nothing else to print. ‘DAMON ALBARN SPOTTED WITH NEW WOMAN, WHAT DOES HIS EX THINK ABOUT IT?’

Spoiler: She thought absolutely nothing about it.

‘He lives his life, I live mine. He can do whatever he wants.’

‘IS SHE JEALOUS FOR LETTING HIM GO SO EASILY? FIND OUT IN A BEHIND-THE-SCENES INTERVIEW WITH HOLLYWOOD DIRECTOR, Y/N L/N.’

It was pathetic, truly. Truly pathetic, that’s what they should call themselves.

Her and Damon still stayed in contact sometimes, whether it was to congratulate the other on their new project or a small conversation about life when they accidentally met in a coffee shop.

Though, the night when she was woken up by knocks against her front door at 3 in the morning, she didn’t expect more than an axe-murderer.

With reluctant steps towards the door, the thought that she had nothing and no one to protect her in the middle of the country became more apparent as her hand lingered over the door knob and there was no other sound besides the knocking and her heavy breathing. The knife in her shaking hand not being stable enough to defend herself.

She could just ignore it, but when she heard the sobs through the wooden door separating her and the unexpected guest, she couldn’t help herself.

Swinging the door open, her eyes widened as Damon stood on the other side, bloodshot eyes, probably drunk, crying.

“What are you doing here, Damon?” she asked, the name still hurting to say. No ‘love’ anymore, he was simply Damon to her now.

“Don’t call me that,” he said, his head lulling back and forth as he leaned against the door frame.

Putting the knife down, she tried pulling him inside her house, though he didn’t budge.

“No, no, no. Leave me alone, I have something to say.” He pushed her away slightly, holding her by her biceps at arms-length.

“Can’t you do that inside? It’s freezing.” She tried pulling him inside again, but he only pulled her closer.

Their chest pressed together, the alcohol apparent on his breath fanning down her face. His heart beating against her ribcage. Her hands stabling her body as the fell on his shoulders. Grabbing the flesh under her fingernails to hold herself upwards as her legs felt like giving up from being so close to him again.

“I know the last years were horrible. I should’ve said something earlier, apologize earlier,” he started talking, slurring some of his words.

“It’s not your fault, you couldn’t have known it’d be this bad.”

“Sh,” he shushed her before gathering his words and talking once more. Finger laying over her lips. “And I refuse to believe that all those years ago was our end. It can’t have been. It can’t end like that, not you and me.”

She wanted to interrupt him again, ask what he was saying, what he was referring to. She wanted to stop his movement as his hands slid down her arms and lost her skin at her fingertips, until his whole body moved down. One knee propped up in front of him. His fingers messily scrambling for something in jeans pocket.

Pulling out a little velvet box, tears pooled out her eyes as well, streaming down her face.

“Damon,” she tried once more, aware of his condition. Aware of what he must’ve taken to act this way. He wouldn’t do it if he was sober, right?

“Marry me.”

The words hung in the air, surrounded by tension and sobs. Surrounded by lingering looks and feelings they both still held dearly.

“Please,” his voice was quieter now. Almost begging. “I know we haven’t been as close as before, but I still hold you in my heart the same I did 10 years ago. I can’t let you go. Not if I still don’t know if we’re absolutely over. Until then I’ll fight and dream and ask. So, please, say yes and let us fight and dream and love together.”

“Damon,” she said. “You’re drunk. High, I don’t know. I can’t just say yes if you’re like this.”

“You don’t want to marry me?” His voice was shaking, his head hung low in surrender, tears welling up in his own eyes once more.

“I do,” she whispered. “I want to marry you, always did. But it’s unfair of you to ask me now.”

“Then say yes and let us be happy.”

“Not now, in the morning maybe.”

Damon nodded, standing up, closing the box and putting it back to where it had been hidden for too long. It had to wait a bit longer now, maybe forever.

She stepped to the side, letting him pass her, his eyes lingering on her face, searching parts he forgot. Though there was nothing. It was still the same face he saw in his dreams whenever he closed his eyes.

The rest of the night was spent in silence, she brought him pillows and a blanket to have it comfortable on her couch. And while night went and day rose, both laid down, trying to rest, but neither getting the rapid beating of their heart to slow down.

The sun dried her tears away and soon enough, she found herself in her kitchen making coffee for both of them, Damon asleep in the room next to her.

She could still ponder the options in her head, but what would they do when he woke up? What would she say to him? If he even remembered what happened.

A groan coming from him made her head turn around, reality creeping up their spines at the same time. He didn’t recognize the ceiling, neither the walls around him, but he could identify the smell that hung in the air. It was hers.

A strike of lightning shot through his body, making him sit up, the pain coming shortly after. His head aching. But it didn’t matter when her wide eyes stared back at him.

Slowly, one by one, pictures crept back.

“Oh my god,” he mumbled, dragging his hands down his face. “Oh my god. I didn’t ask you, did I? Please say I didn’t.”

“You did,” she confessed, making him grown once more.

Scrambling to his feet, Damon walked over to the kitchen entrance. “Shit. I swear I didn’t mean to, I don’t know what I was thinking. Probably nothing.”

His words made her throat tighten, her heart cried out a sorrowful scream, half laughing about her, half yearning for him to take his words back.

“So, you don’t actually want to marry me? It was all just some drunk mistake?” The words felt like venom on her tongue.

Venom that made his eyes widen in realization.

“I mean, I did - I do. But I never- I never wanted you to know. I just- you probably hate me now. You said, no, right?” He couldn’t remember what she said. After his speech, he forgot everything.

“I never said no,” she confessed.

“You didn’t?” It surprised him. Why didn’t she say no?

Shaking her head softly, she walked closer to him. Leaning on the wall next to him. “I told you, that I wouldn’t answer you until you were sober.”

His eyes slipped down to her lips, sucked between her teeth anxiously.

“Marry me.”

He said it once more, the words feeling heavier now. Reality feeling heavier now.

But her words were light.

“Yes.”

And when her lips fell on his, her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, the world felt light.

“Let’s not tell anyone,” she said as they laid under her covers, hidden from the rest of the world. “Let us stay like this forever.”

“Like what?”

“Secretly happy, enjoying ourselves and letting no one else near what we have. I want you, Damon. I want to love you unconditionally. I don’t want to end like we did last time.”

“We won’t let it happen, I promise. I won’t let it happen.”

“So, we keep it between us?”

“It’s just you and me. Forever.”

And they said yes, forever. Keeping it quiet, keeping their life away from anyone who was too interested in it.

Another ten years passed, and when the same day came around from which on they were bound together by a promise, they made it official.

A post, a simple one.

‘New song at midnight. A special one.’

‘Between Us’ was nothing anyone expected. A simple piano, words of love and a video of memories. Just them two. Like it had always been.

A message at the end of the video.

‘I can’t believe I get to live my life with you. The most perfect person I’ve ever met. The love of my life. Twenty years have passed, with a break in between that I’ve never regretted more than when I saw you again, and I still love you like I did the first day I saw you. Until death do us apart and every life time after.’

Written by Damon Albarn and Y/n L/n.

Directed by Y/n L/n.

[imaginesbymonika]

From the dining table | Masterlist

Pairing: Damon Albarn × Gallagher! Reader

Plot: Everyone's favorite topic during the '90s and 'OOs; Y/N Gallagher. The mysterious and beautiful younger sister of the two loud brothers rarely spoke during interviews but played the guitar like no one else. And even though she never said a word about her dating-life, the list of her rumored boyfriends kept growing longer with each passing year. Yet, there was one name in particular that just kept on popping up...

Preview 1

Preview 2

Preview 3

Epilogue

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Interlude

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Pre Finale

Almost Finale

[valkierrie]

𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐀 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐲 𝐈𝐝𝐞𝐚, 𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Warning(s): Swearing.

Plot: Damon and Y/N get away to Iceland on a whim and share a private and intimate moment.

Word count: 1.8K

A/N: Hope the person who requested it likes it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The idea came out of nowhere—really.  

Damon came back from the studio, catching me in the middle of eating some left-over spaghetti from last night, watching some program on the television. 

“Hey,” Damon set his bag on the coffee table before settling beside me on the couch with a large plop and an exaggerated sigh. 

“Hi,” I laid a soft kiss on his cheek, tuning down the volume. “How was work?” 

“Work?” Damon rose a brow, slouching into the sofa with a teasing smirk. “You make it sound like a real job.” 

“It is, Blur’s no joke. Anyway, how was it?” 

“It was fine, the usual.” Damon chuckled. “Figured the day’s got better now that I’m with you.” 

“Charming bastard.” I giggled, hitting him softly against the chest. 

Another sigh escaped his lips—a softer one. “Been workin’ my arse off—it's worth it, but it’s exhaustin’.” 

Damon pulled me close, an arm wrapping around my shoulder. My plate rested on my lap as I leaned into his touch. “I’m sorry.” 

“Part of the job, innit?” Damon shrugged. “Can’t wait for you to hear the new track.” 

“I know it’ll be great, like always.” 

He was such a hard worker, really. Whenever there was a new album or track in the works, he was always ready to work it to perfection, which it always ends up being, even if he thought otherwise. 

Damon grinned, pressing a small and gentle kiss on my forehead. 

Damon turned his attention to the television, watching it with interest. “What’s on tonight?” 

“Nothing interesting, the commercials are more entertaining than whatever’s on. Like this.” I turned the volume of the telly. “It looks pretty cool, it’s in Iceland.” 

A masculine voice over spoke in the Icelandic language, luckily the caption was in English. 

“A getaway you won’t regret.”  It spoke. “An experience like no other with views truly out of this world.” 

Images flashed over the television. Images of mountains, the hotel, the steaming swimming area under the night light with Northern Nights. 

“What a beauty.” Damon whistled; his eyes were glued to the small screen. 

I nodded in agreeance.  

“Come to The Nature Lagoon for the experience of a lifetime.” With that final statement, the advert was reverted back to the program. 

It was a...strange idea, but it was one nonetheless, no?  

Wouldn’t it be nice to just get away for a bit, God knows my Job'd been hell this past week and I was certain the Albarn man could have used one too.  

My gaze turned towards Damon, giving him an innocent look. “Dames,” 

“Dames?” He rose a brow, crossing his arms. “You only call me ‘Dames’ when you want something.” 

“That’s not true.” I bated my eyelashes dramatically, slowly trailing a finger down his bicep. 

“Y/N, what do you want?” 

I frowned, rolling my eyes in annoyance. “Let’s go to Iceland.” 

“Are you serious?” He looked back at the TV, then back at me.  

I nodded with what he could only describe to be a cheeky smile. I felt like one of those kids who pestered their parents for toys on the television. “Would it be that crazy? You heard ‘em—it’ll be the ‘experience of a life time.’” 

That was the catapult that ended up with us on a plane to southern Iceland some two weeks later. It hadn’t taken much to convince Damon; Damon saying ‘no’ to me was about as rare as a blue moon. As much as he could pretend or say otherwise, I knew he needed this trip just as much as I did—if not more. 

Once we landed, I was caught off guard. For a place called ‘Iceland’, it was about as cold as England on a normal day.  

A cab driver Damon had managed to catch drove us to a small hotel towards Iceland’s countryside. I sat in the backseat with Damon, our hands were clasped together above our bags and belongings. His thumb stroked my knuckles gently, his eyes looking out of the window. My attention, however, had been taken by him. I found myself staring at him, unable to look away.  I didn’t know how he did it, it was almost effortless the way he managed to look so... 

His hair was tousled—as it so often was—and it gave way for his eyes, his lovely ocean eyes.  

God, he was beautiful.  

Damon, as if sensing my piercing gaze onto him, turned his head in my direction. “What?” 

“Nothing.”  

We arrived at the hotel shortly after. The building was modest and small, but that by no means took away from it’s elegance. It looked really fancy.  

Damon took the responsibility of booking us a room; while I stood, getting a nice look around of the interior. 

“Our room’s upstairs,” Damon announced, taking a few strides to approach me.  

I followed him up the stairs and into our room. The place was fancy, with a single bed. Damon flopped on the bed immediately, the jet-lag was in full effect.  

“You’re not going to unpack?” 

Damon shook his head. “No way. Too tired.” 

“Alright, you soft git. Get some sleep.” I climbed onto the bed, settling beside him and kissing his forehead. 

Unpacking could wait. 

— 

As soon as the sun came up, my eyes hadn’t even adjusted properly to the light before I was releasing myself from Damon’s grip around my waist and running to the restroom. 

“Someone’s eager.” Damon’s groggy voice called out. 

“You have no idea.” I retorted, slipping into the restroom.  

My shower was quick, no longer than five minutes. I wore a black bikini underneath a white dress with floral all over them. After shaking him for almost forever, I finally got Damon get up.  

“It’s six in the morning; don’t know why we’re goin’ so early.” Damon grumbled, grabbing his towel.  

“We’re going early so we aren’t crowded by hoards of people.” I pushed Damon towards the bathroom.  

Damon went with a white shirt and black swim trucks.  

“Oh, cute. We’re matching.” I grinned.  

“I guess we are.” Damon smiled, kissing the tip of my nose. 

We hailed another cab, that drove us to The Nature Lagoon. If the hotel was The Ritz, then this place was definitely Buckingham Palace—well, maybe not, but close enough.  

After checking in with the receptionist, Damon and I were headed to the locker rooms—separately, obviously.  The women’s locker room was far to brightly lit this early in the morning, took me a little while to get adjusted to the lights.  

I lifted the dress above my head, folding it neatly inside an empty locker, placing my trainers inside as well. Grabbing a towel before I left, Damon was already outside, shirtless. To be fair, he didn’t really need to do much in the locker room. It took every iota in me not to ogle. 

 There were five separate pools within the lagoon, each ranging in sizes. Some had a significant amount of people in its waters, while others were empty.  

Damon and I gravitated towards the one devoid of people. Unlike the other pools, the one we had chosen was opened to the landscape, giving way for an unintercepted view of the mountains that surrounded the countryside. It was breathtakingly lovely in a way that was indescribable.  

Steam rose from the water's surface curling above it, turning to soft, ghostly swirls at it’s interaction with the cold air.  

Damon stepped inside the water first, moving around slowly in the water until it reached his waist. He turned to me, holding out his hand to help me inside. “Come in, it’s nice.” 

I took his hand, my fingers slipping into his as I stepped in. The juxtaposing was felt immediately. The water’s heat engulfed my body, a mighty opposition to the cool air that was felt against my face. A sigh of satisfaction left my lips as I slowly sank into the water. 

Damon and I swam around. For a minute, we just floated, letting us really feel the water. Suddenly, without a warning, chucked a handful of water in my direction.  

“Hey!” I laughed, moving my wet hair away from my face.  

“What? It’s just a little bit of water.” 

“Just a bit of water, uh? Let’s how you like it.” I swished my hand through the water, splashing a small wave of water back towards him. 

Laughter was all around as Damon and I continued to splash each other like the mentally aged seven years olds we truly were. When the laughter died down, we floated in the warm water, our hands finding each, like they always did.  

“I’m glad we’re here. You and me.” 

“I feel the same way.” I smiled.  

I gazed up at the sky, hues of pink and orange decorated it, it was a moment I couldn’t put into words. 

Damon and I floated towards the edge of the pool, which was big enough to sit on. I lifted myself off of the water and sat on it, keeping my feet wet. Damon stayed inside, placing his arms on the ledge and resting his chin on it.  

“I could sing you a love song right now.” 

“Oh yeah? If you sing Girls and Boys, I’m shoving you under.” I smirked. 

Damon playfully narrowed his eyes at me. “I wasn’t going to sing Girls and Boys.” 

“Alright then, go ahead.” 

Damon began singing some ditzy and obscure ballad that I'd never heard of with a key that I was certain didn’t go with the song. 

A soft giggle escaped my lips. 

“Let’s play something.” 

I cocked my head to the side. 

“Hide and seek.” 

“Hide and seek?” I rose a brow, gesturing around. “How exactly are we supposed to do that?” 

“Right.” He blinked. “Tag?” 

“Okay,” I smirked, shoving his head into the water. “You’re it.” 

I jumped into the water, swimming as fast as I could. Damon lurked steadily behind me, trying to catch me. I swam towards a small waterfall formed by two semi-large rocks. When I reached the waterfall and tried to go through it, Damon caught me by the torso, pulling me up.  

“Gotcha!” 

I giggled as I attempted to wriggled free out of his grasp. “Let go.” 

“No way.” 

We stayed like that for a few seconds before Damon finally set me down. Our laughter quickly settled. My hands rested on his shoulders while his were on my waist, below the water. 

His gaze locked onto mine intensely, the world around us felt like nothingness and unimportance.  

Damon sighed—a soft sigh—running hand through his moppy, wet hair. “Feels like I’m always rushing.” He murmured; his thumb tracing circled on my upper pelvis. “Can’t remember the last time I slowed down, properly, like this. You make it so simple; you make everything simple.” 

My chest was tight, my heart was accelerating, warmth coursing all throughout my body, which the water had nothing to do with. “I’ll always keep making it easy for you.” 

“That’s why I love you.” He grinned, pulling my face close and kissing me.  

The kiss was slow and deliberate, our warm breaths mingling with the cold up above. It made me shiver—not from the cold, but because of him, he was killing me softly.