#liam gallagher/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.

[theking-mustdie]

loving something so wholeheartedly that you get absorbed into its very being is so essential to my life force

[biblical-chronicles]

Sibling rivalry

__________________________________________

where the two both take a likin' to you, but who will you choose?

(you actually get to choose, more than one thing)

__________________________________________

It started, as many things did, with a pint.

You’d only meant to pop into the pub for a quick drink—a quiet end to a long day. You weren’t looking for company, weren’t looking for a story to tell. But fate, and a bit of dumb luck, had other plans.

You’d just settled onto a barstool, a fresh pint in hand, when someone slid into the empty seat beside you. At first, you didn’t think much of it—just another bloke looking for a drink. But then he turned, nodded at you, and said, “Not from round ‘ere, are ya?”

You glanced up, eyebrow raising slightly. Dark hair, sharp features, an expression that hovered somewhere between amusement and boredom. He had a quiet sort of confidence, like he’d seen it all before and wasn’t in any rush to be impressed.

“I live round here,” you said, taking a sip of your drink. “Do I not look local?”

He smirked. “Nah, just don’t recognise ya. And I know everyone.”

“Everyone?”

“More or less.”

You hummed, unconvinced. “What, you the mayor or somethin’?”

That earned you a quiet chuckle. “Somethin’ like that.” He leaned against the bar, tilting his head as he studied you. “Noel.”

You introduced yourself in return, shaking the hand he offered. His grip was firm, his palm slightly rough—calloused, like someone who spent more time with a guitar than he did sitting behind a desk.

It didn’t take long to fall into easy conversation. There was something about him—dry humour, sharp wit, the kind of effortless cool that couldn’t be faked. You talked about music, about Manchester, about nothing in particular. It was the kind of conversation that flowed naturally, like two people who had known each other much longer than the twenty minutes you actually had.

And then, just as you were mid-sentence, another voice cut in.

"Oi, Noel—ain’t that bird too fit for you?"

You turned just in time to see a new figure saunter up, all swagger and mischief. He was taller than Noel, broader in the shoulders, with messy hair and a cocky grin that looked permanent. You knew who he was before he even opened his mouth again.

Liam Gallagher.

You barely had a chance to react before Noel sighed heavily, like he’d been expecting this exact interruption. "Fuck off, Liam."

Liam ignored him, plonking himself down on your other side. "Nah, serious question," he said, looking at you now, eyes twinkling with amusement. "You actually enjoyin’ talkin’ to him, or has he been borin’ you to death with some story about how he single-handedly reinvented music?"

You smirked, glancing between the two of them. "He’s been alright, actually."

Liam huffed, looking affronted. "Christ, standards are slippin’ round ‘ere."

Noel rolled his eyes. "Don’t you have someone else to bother?"

Liam ignored that too. Instead, he turned his attention fully to you, draping an arm over the back of your chair like he’d known you for years. "Right, well. If you’re lookin’ for an actual good time, you’re talkin’ to the wrong brother."

Noel scoffed. "Oh, fuck off."

"What?" Liam spread his hands. "It’s true! You’re sat here actin’ all mysterious, talkin’ in riddles, meanwhile, I’m an open book. Dead easy to talk to, me."

"You’re a gobshite, is what you are."

"And yet, people love me."

Noel shook his head, lifting his pint to his lips. "No one fuckin’ loves you, mate."

Liam turned back to you, expression dramatic. "See what I have to put up with?"

You just laughed, shaking your head. "You two always like this?"

"Absolutely," Noel muttered.

"Since birth," Liam added.

Noel shot him a look. "Well, since your birth. I was sound ‘til you showed up."

Liam grinned. "Jealous ‘cause I’m the better model?"

Noel’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Yeah, mate. That’s definitely what it is."

You were barely holding in your laughter at this point. The banter between them was so seamless, so automatic, you almost felt like an intruder just watching it unfold.

Liam must have noticed, because he turned back to you, leaning in slightly. "See, I’m just tryin’ to make sure you have a good night, but he’s makin’ it all about himself. Typical."

"Fuckin’ hell, Liam," Noel groaned.

"You are doin’ a lot of talkin’ for someone who’s meant to be the quiet, cool one," you teased.

Liam snorted, nudging your shoulder like you were already in on the joke. "See? She gets it."

Noel sighed, shaking his head—but you didn’t miss the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "She’s humourin’ you, mate."

"Bet she’s not."

"Bet she is."

You grinned, glancing between them. "You lot always this competitive?"

Noel lifted a shoulder. "Only when he’s losin’."

Liam scoffed. "I never lose."

"You’re losin’ now."

"Am I fuck."

The bickering continued, neither of them willing to back down. You just sat back, sipping your pint, thoroughly entertained.

You had walked into this pub alone. But somehow, between a drink and some good conversation, you’d landed yourself in the middle of a full-fledged Gallagher standoff.

“Gonna step out for a cig.” He paused, then—almost casual, almost like he wasn’t particularly arsed either way—nodded towards the door. “You comin’ or what?”

You raised a brow, setting your glass down. “You inviting me, Gallagher?”

He scoffed. “Reckon so, yeah. Unless you’re havin’ too much fun watchin’ him”—he jerked his chin toward Liam, who was now gesturing wildly about something, pint dangerously close to spilling—“chat absolute shite.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Alright, you’ve convinced me.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Nah, I think I like it here.”

...

The rest of the evening carried on much the same—Liam and Noel, constantly taking jabs at each other, each trying to outdo the other in whatever way they could. It wasn’t always obvious, but you could see it—the way Liam would shift closer when Noel spoke, the way Noel would cut in when Liam was making you laugh a little too much.

At one point, Noel offered to buy you a drink. Liam scoffed.

“Eh, don’t let him,” he said, leaning in. ���Tightest fucker you’ll ever meet.”

Noel, completely unfazed, just exhaled, shaking his head. “Right, and what, you’re the generous one?”

“Absolutely.”

You just laughed, letting them bicker as you took a sip of your drink.

Later, when Noel had been dragged into a conversation with someone else, Liam nudged your knee under the table. “Gotta say, didn’t expect to have such riveting competition tonight,” he said, smirking.

“Oh?” You raised an eyebrow. “You were expecting less of a challenge?”

Liam grinned, tipping his pint towards you. “Course.”

“You’re both as bad as each other,” you said, shaking your head.

“You love it, though,” he teased.

You pretended to consider. “…Maybe.”

As the night wound down, the pub thinning out, you checked the time and sighed. “I should probably head off,” you said, standing and stretching.

Noel, who had reappeared beside you, arched an eyebrow. “What, leavin’ already?”

“Some of us have responsibilities,” you said, grinning.

Liam leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “Tragic, that.”

You rolled your eyes, pulling out your phone. “Here,” you said, handing it to Noel first.

He smirked but took it, tapping in his number before handing it to Liam. Liam squinted at the screen before doing the same, then passed it back to you.

“There,” he said. “Now you’re stuck with us.”

You laughed, slipping your phone back into your pocket. “Lucky me.”

Noel grinned. “You are, actually.”

Liam snorted, shaking his head, but he was grinning too.

You took a step back, tucking your hands into your pockets. “Alright, lads, it’s been fun. Try not to kill each other, yeah?”

“No promises,” Noel said, lifting his pint.

You laughed again, turning for the door, feeling their eyes on you as you walked out into the night.

Back home, you flopped onto your couch, staring up at the ceiling, mind still buzzing from the night.

What the fuck was that?

It wasn’t just that they’d been fighting over you—that much was obvious. But what did it mean? Was it just some drunken game between brothers, a bit of fun for the night? Had they just seen an opportunity to wind each other up and taken it, and you’d been caught in the middle? Or had it actually been something more?

And if it was something more… what were you supposed to do about it?

You didn’t even know if you had a preference. If it had just been Noel, or just Liam, maybe you’d have a better grasp on it. But no, it had been both of them, equally persistent, equally charming in their own ways. The whole thing left you feeling unsteady, stuck in some weird limbo where you didn’t quite know how to move forward.

Not that it mattered, apparently.

A couple of days passed without a single word from either of them. No texts, no calls, nothing. And that, really, gave you the answer, didn’t it? It had just been a bit of fun at the pub, and you’d read too much into it.

Probably already been forgotten, you thought bitterly, rolling your eyes at yourself.

And then your phone buzzed.

You nearly ignored it, but when you glanced at the screen and saw the name—Noel—your stomach did a weird little flip. You scrambled to grab your phone, unlocking it with shaky fingers.

Noel: You still alive?

You blinked. What?

Noel: Got some time this evenin’?

For a second, you just stared at the screen. Then your heart lurched into your throat, and you had to physically shake yourself out of it.

Okay. Okay. Breathe.

You had not been forgotten. Not entirely, at least. And—more importantly—Liam hadn’t been the one to reach out. Just Noel. The choice had been made for you, clearly.

You: Yeah, I’m free. What’re you thinking?

Noel: I could come round yours?

Shit. Shit.

You felt another little rush of panic, followed swiftly by a wave of excitement. You hadn’t even entertained the idea that one of them would come over, but now it was happening, and you suddenly felt grossly unprepared.

You: Yeah, sounds good. I’ll text you the address.

Noel: Sound.

You let out a breath, staring at the messages for a moment before jumping to your feet. If he was coming over, your place needed to not look like a disaster zone. You spent the next hour tidying up—nothing too obvious, just enough that it looked effortlessly presentable. And, of course, you changed. Not too much, didn’t want to look like you’d tried too hard, but… a little.

By the time there was a knock at the door, you were as ready as you could be.

You took a deep breath, then pulled it open.

Noel stood there, hands in his coat pockets, a small bouquet of flowers tucked under one arm.

You blinked.

“…You brought flowers?”

He smirked, shifting them toward you. “What, can’t show up empty-handed, can I?”

You huffed a laugh, taking them from him. “Didn’t peg you for the romantic type.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he muttered, stepping inside.

The evening had settled into something easy, something comfortable.

Noel had made himself at home on your couch, legs stretched out, a drink in hand, looking for all the world like he’d been there a hundred times before. You’d thrown on a record—something older, something good—and the two of you sat back, talking shit about music, about gigs, about whatever came to mind.

It was nice. Flirty in that natural, unforced way, the kind where neither of you were really trying but it was there anyway, in the small smirks, in the teasing lilt of your words, in the way his eyes lingered when you talked.

At some point, he got up to flip the record over, and you watched him from where you sat, drink dangling from your fingers.

“You’re a proper music snob, aren’t you?” you mused.

Noel scoffed. “Me?”

“Yeah, you. If it’s not from some band that was big before I was even born, you don’t wanna hear it.”

He turned back, narrowing his eyes playfully. “It’s called havin’ taste, mate. Some of us have got it.”

You laughed, shaking your head, and he grinned, dropping back onto the couch beside you. The conversation continued, winding and effortless, and you let yourself enjoy it—just sitting there with him, the warm glow of the lamp, the quiet crackle of the record.

Then your phone buzzed.

You ignored it at first, too caught up in whatever Noel was saying. But a few minutes later, when his glass was near-empty, you took the chance to get up.

“I’ll grab us another drink,” you said, standing.

Noel just hummed in agreement, settling further into the couch as you made your way to the kitchen.

As soon as you were out of sight, you pulled out your phone.

Liam.

Liam: Oi, you free later? Was thinking of swingin’ by late evening.

Your stomach dropped.

Shit.

What were the fucking odds? A couple of days of nothing and then the moment you finally think, alright, Noel it is, Liam decides to pop back up?

You chewed your lip, staring at the message.

Alright. Two options.

Either you told Liam you were busy—simple, easy, no drama—or you somehow got Noel to leave early without making it obvious.

You hesitated, fingers hovering over the screen.

“Y’alright?”

You jumped slightly at the sound of Noel’s voice from the other room.

“Yeah!” you called back, forcing your voice to stay normal. “Just getting the drinks.”

Shoving your phone back into your pocket, you grabbed the bottles from the counter and took a deep breath.

As you walked back toward the living room, drinks in hand, you made a split-second decision.

You shifted one of the bottles to the crook of your arm, freeing up a hand to grab your phone. Fingers moving quickly, you typed out a reply.

Ah, can’t tonight. Another time?

Yeah, I'll send you the address in a bit x

...

The apartment was suffocatingly quiet. The soft hum of the fridge, the distant sound of traffic, all of it pressing in on you like a weight.

How did you even get here?

You hadn’t meant for things to get complicated. Both of them were clearly willing to try something with you, both of them offering something real, something worth exploring. And yet, the more you thought about it, the more it felt wrong.

You can’t have both.

Your chest tightened at the thought. If you chose one, the other would be hurt, and you'd be left with the awkward tension of knowing you’d led them on. You couldn’t stand the idea of breaking Noel’s heart—he was your rock, your best friend. He deserved better than to be caught up in this mess. But Liam, too, had been nothing but kind, and the pull between you two was undeniable. What if you picked Noel, but Liam felt left out? What if choosing him meant losing Noel?

What do I do?

The anxiety hit, and your breath grew shallow. Your hands shook as you scrolled through the threads of messages again, looking for some kind of sign that would make the decision easier. But there was nothing. Just the two of them, both wanting something from you. Something you weren’t sure you were ready to give.

If you choose one, you’ll lose the other.

You felt trapped, suffocated by the pressure of making the right choice. You didn’t want to hurt anyone, least of all Noel, who had always been there for you. You didn’t want to hurt Liam, who seemed so open, so genuine. But there was no way around it.

You couldn’t keep leading them both on. You couldn’t keep pretending you didn’t know what your heart really wanted.

With shaky hands, you grabbed your phone, quickly choosing

Liam's number

Noel's number

________________________________________

don't know where to include notes, but I'll do it here since it's the main skeleton I guess? hopefully, it was not too messy to read?? anyhow, hope ya lot liked it, this was the reason the stories were a tad shorter lately xx

also, made a whole separate blog just to post the choices, since I didn't know how to do it so that I wouldn't a) completely spoil the endings b) spam the shit out of ya

[celestialgallaghers]

Bruised Ego [18+]

Oasis brain rot has consumed me so badly i’m sorry.

Summary: Tagging along on tour with Oasis should’ve been amazing. And it was except for one major problem: Liam. You two don’t get on well and being stuck around him for days on end makes it worse. After a particularly ruthless offense on your end, Liam plots his revenge. 

Word count: 7.1k

Your ears were ringing, the vibrations of the music still thrumming through your body. Being on tour with Oasis was fun. Ecstatic, even. The energy in the venues was unbelievable. Thousands and thousands of fans screamed, shouted, and practically worshipped the band. And somehow, they all seemed to remain relatively level headed. I.e. they weren't divas. 

Well, most of them weren't. 

Liam was often brash and unpredictable. It was amazing that he and Noel were even related. 

You’d met Noel way back in his roadie days and the two of you had shared some good fuckin’ laughs. He was fun to be around, never taking shit too seriously. Sure he could be a cocky bastard too, but it was in a loveable way. Liam, on the other hand, was anything but. 

Over the years, you’d become part of Noel’s inner circle. You knew his friends, his girlfriends, his dealer, everything. It was inevitable that Liam would have to be part of that picture too. 

Your first impression of him was that he was a bit standoffish. He stood about, not saying much. Mostly lingered in the background, drink in hand, tossing out the occasional quip. In the beginning you didn’t mind him. However when the band really started to take off and you began hanging around more, he changed. Became more self assured and loud mouthed. Suddenly, avoiding him wasn’t so easy.

Before, you only had to put up with him at the pub or a gig, and even then, he was tolerable. Running his mouth? You walked away. Being more annoying than usual? Another pint solved that. You had ways of drowning him out.

That all changed when you found yourself stuck on a tour bus for endless hours with him. 

You’d been a fan of Oasis since their genesis. Well, since Noel joined anyway. So when they exploded all over the world, you didn’t think twice when he asked if you wanted to join for a leg of the tour. In hindsight, maybe you should've thought it through more. 

You and Liam had never exactly seen eye to eye, but the tour had amplified every little irritation. It had started small. Accusing you of stealing his lighter (you didn’t), calling your taste in music “shite”, or nicking your sunglasses. You gave as good as you got, though. A well placed jab about his ego or a quip about how Noel carried the band usually did the trick.

Then there were the more vicious moments. Like the time you’d shared a hotel wall and he refused to turn down his music, no matter how many times you banged on the wall. Or when he told a reporter you were just some groupie who wouldn’t leave, which led to a shouting match so loud that even Noel had to step in. And of course the night he’d implied that your friendship with Noel was something more, which was just completely untrue.

It was exhausting, infuriating, and completely unavoidable. No matter how much you tried to ignore him, Liam had a way of pulling you into his orbit whether you liked it or not.

Tonight’s show had been another insanely loud and energetic one, but something was clearly pissing Liam off. You’d taken on the simple job of handing them towels after the gig, and the scowl on his face almost made you laugh. And right now, as he sulked in the post show haze, you had a feeling he was about to throw a fit over something ridiculous. By now you’d learned how to interpret Liam-isms. After being in eachothers pockets for so long, it was practically second nature. But that also meant you knew how to push his buttons, almost as well as Noel did. 

You handed off the last towel and followed everyone back into the dressing room. Another thing you loved about Oasis? Every single show ended with everyone getting completely pissed and going a bit mad. Absolute mayhem. And you loved every second of it. As you made your way through the door, you noticed Liam was already sulking in the corner. Everyone else ignored him, too busy cracking open bottles and flicking lighters. The air quickly became thick with smoke and sweat. 

Someone handed you a beer, and you perched on the edge of a rickety couch. You’d learned the hard way not to trust the surfaces of dressing room couches. Some things were better left unknown. 

Noel found you, and the two of you clinked bottles. 

“Great show tonight,” you said, taking a swig. “They were screamin’ proper loud. I think my ears will be ringing for a week.” Noel chuckled but before he could even open his mouth, Liam mumbled something from the corner.

You turned your head toward him. “What?”

“Said if you don’t like it, you can leave,” Liam repeated, his expression growing more and more agitated. “No one’s askin’ you to hang round.”

You scoffed. The audacity of this man never ceased to amaze you. “Don’t be an asshole, Liam,” you said, disdain dripping from every syllable.

Noel just stood there, vaguely amused. He had always appreciated your ability to handle Liam’s antics, no matter how insufferable they could be. Liam, on the other hand, just glowered. 

“No, really,” he said, shoving himself to his feet and shuffling over. “What exactly is it that you’re doin’ here? You’re just in it for the free ride.”

You rolled your eyes and leaned toward Noel, speaking as if Liam weren’t even there. “What crawled up his ass?”

Noel smirked and took a slow sip of his beer. “Dunno. But whatever it is, it’s been there a while.”

Ignoring Liam was probably a mistake.

“No, I’m seriously askin’ you,” he said, voice sharpening. “What’s the real reason you hang around?”

You blinked, caught off guard for just a second. Was he serious? You were starting to get properly pissed off now.

“You know damn well why I’m here so don’t act thick,” you said, trying to keep your voice level. “Noel asked me to come, and I said yes. If you’ve got a problem, take it up with him.” 

Noel, ever the instigator, simply shrugged. “Yeah, Liam. Thought you liked when people actually wanna be around us.”

Liam ignored him, eyes still locked on you. “You don’t even do anything,” he shot back, sneering. “All you do is hand us the towels and take up space.” 

Your fingers tightened around the bottle in your hand. 

“Fuck you, Liam.” 

His expression twisted into something smug as he watched you rise to leave. And then, like the complete tosser he was, he moved to the door, blocking your exit.

“Oh, so you’re gonna run away now? Like you always do?”

You glared up at him. Unfortunately, he was taller than you. Significantly taller. You tried to push past him, but he shifted, making it even harder.

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” he said, that insufferable smirk creeping onto his face.

“Let me through, Liam.” Your voice was quiet, but laced with pure rage. You were not in the mood to get into a screaming match tonight. He stood his ground, so you put all of your body weight into shoving him out of my way. He barely budged. 

This only seemed to amuse him. “And what if I don’t?” he challenged, a smug grin pulling at the corner of his lips. 

You clenched your jaw. You knew you shouldn’t do it. You really shouldn’t do it. But he was leaving you no choice.

Before you could overthink it, you brought your knee up. Hard.

A strangled gasp escaped him as he doubled over, finally allowing you to move past. The sound of laughter and jeers echoed behind you as you stormed off, gripping your beer tight. You needed somewhere quiet. Somewhere to stew. And maybe have a cigarette of two. 

You found a secluded corner and let out a deep sigh, still fuming. You were mad. Not just at Liam, but at yourself for letting him get under your skin so easily. His words replayed in your mind. “Free ride.” Bastard. Sure, you supposed tagging along with the band might look like freeloading to him, but to accuse you of just taking up space? That stung. Noel was your friend. Had been your friend for a long time now. He was the one that asked you to come, not Liam. If Liam had a problem with that he should’ve said something sooner, not near the end of the tour. 

You leaned back against a cool concrete, letting the chill seep into your skin. The air here was quiet, calm. Something you desperately needed after the chaos of the dressing room.

You fished a cigarette out of your pocket and placed it between your lips, willing the nicotine to ease the knot of irritation in your chest. Halfway through your second one, you heard the distinct sound of footsteps approaching.

They slowed as they neared, hesitating. Your gaze remained firmly fixed ahead. You knew exactly who it was. His stupid cologne gave him away.

Liam. Of course.

Something told you Noel had forced him to come find you. He cleared his throat loudly, as if demanding your attention.

“What do you want?” you asked flatly, refusing to acknowledge his presence.

“Brilliant. Nice to see you too,” he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “What do you think, genius? I want to talk to you. You’re the one who kneed me in the bollocks, remember?”

You scoffed, flicking ash off your cigarette. “Yeah and you deserved it.” 

Liam’s scowl deepened, his jaw tightening. He knew he deserved it a bit, but would never admit it. He gritted his teeth before replying. 

“You didn’t have to be so violent about it.” 

“Yeah well you didn’t have to be such a dick either,” you shot back, finally turning your head to look at him. 

“I wasn’t even being that bad,” he retorted with a scoff. “You’re the one who overreacted.”

“Yeah sure ok Liam,” you said sarcastically, rolling your eyes. “It’s not like you were deliberately trying to wind me up or anything.”

Liam folded his arms, clearly annoyed but unsure how to counter that. Instead, he moved to sit on the ledge you’d claimed. A few beats of silence passed before he spoke again, his tone carrying just a hint of mockery.

“You could at least apologize for almost castrating me,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching in what might have been a grin if he weren’t so irritated.

You sat up, looking at him with a deadpan expression. “Fine. I’m sorry for kneeing you in the balls.”

It wasn’t sincere and he knew it. But you really didn’t want to waste your night fighting with him yet again.

“Drinks to make it better?” you offered, gesturing toward the dressing room.

He narrowed his eyes at you, still skeptical, but eventually relented with a small huff. “Fine. You owe me for that one.”

“Atta boy,” you said, patting his leg as you slid off the ledge.

“Don’t mock me,” he grumbled.

“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” you teased, noting how he was still wincing. “I didn’t get you that bad.”

“You definitely did!” he retorted, irritation mounting. “I’ll be sterile for the rest of my life now, thanks to you.”

“Maybe that's for the best,” you said under your breath.

“What was that?” His head whipped toward you, eye’s narrowing.

“Nothing,” you huffed. “Let’s all just hope and pray that the mighty Liam Gallagher's dick still works.”

“Oh piss off,” he grumbled. 

You snorted at that. Men were so touchy when it came to their dick. It honestly amused you. 

“Fine, fine,” you said, holding up your hands in mock surrender. “I’ll find you some ice for that, yeah?” 

“Don’t bother,” he grumbled. “I’m fine.”

But your eyes flicked down, catching the way he subtly adjusted himself, clearly still nursing the ache.

“Sure you are,” you replied, biting back a grin. “How bout that drink, then?”

Without waiting for a reply, you headed back toward the dressing room, hearing his footsteps reluctantly follow behind.

True to your word, you fixed him a drink. By the time you handed it to him, his scowl had softened slightly, though you knew it’d be a while before he dropped the whole thing.

The night stretched on, the room a blur of laughter, music, and the occasional drunken shout. People drifted in and out, and you, now properly drunk, had completely pushed the earlier incident to the back of your mind. 

What you didn’t notice, however, was the way Liam had been watching you from across the room, his gaze sharp and unreadable. There was still a flicker of irritation in his eyes, though now it was laced with something else. He’d slowly been plotting a way to get a bit of payback throughout the night.

You stood up suddenly, stretching. “Right, I’m going for a piss,” you announced, making your way toward the bathroom.

Liam’s eyes tracked you, and as soon as you disappeared behind the door, he quickly drained the rest of his drink and pushed himself off the couch. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he strolled after you, slipping through the bathroom door quietly.

He saw you, but you hadn’t noticed him. He leaned against the door, making sure it was securely shut. A quick scan of the bathroom confirmed that you were all alone.

You’d just finished washing your hands when the sound of someone clearing their throat made you freeze. Your head snapped up, and through the mirror, you locked eyes with him.

“What the fuck, Liam?”

His smirk widened at your obvious surprise. He leaned lazily against the door, arms folded across his chest, exuding a sort of casualness that set your nerves on edge.

“Just checking in on you, mate,” he said, voice laced with amusement. “Would hate for something to happen to you.” 

“You didn’t need to follow me in here, you creep.”

Liam just chuckled, completely unfazed. “Just making sure you weren’t up to anything. You know, plotting which band member to incapacitate next.”

You rolled your eyes, but something about the way he was watching you, like he was waiting for a reaction, made you uneasy. You suddenly felt vulnerable with your back to him.

“What are you getting at?” you asked, turning around slowly to face him.

Liam tilted his head slightly, considering you. He could see the flicker of suspicion in your eyes, and that only fueled his amusement. He wasn’t about to let you off easy.

A strange tension settled in the air. The bathroom suddenly felt much smaller. You still had no idea what he was up to, but didn’t want to stick around and find out. You eyed the door, trying to plan an escape, but it seemed like you were really, truly trapped in here with him. 

Liam caught the way your gaze flickered toward the door. “You’re not actually thinking of running out on me after I’ve been so considerate, are you?” His tone was mockingly hurt. “That’d be a bit rude.”

You sighed, tilting your head. “Just trying to figure out what it is you want.”

He let out a quiet chuckle, feigning innocence. “What? Can’t a guy just have a friendly chat?”

You gave him a deadpan look. “Is this about earlier? I thought we’d moved past that.”

Liam scoffed. “Just returning the favor, me. You know, since you nearly ended my bloodline earlier.” 

You snorted. “What, you gonna punch me in the vagina or something?”

Liam let out a short, amused chuckle and shook his head. “Nah, that’s a bit daft, don’t you think? There are… much more creative ways to get back at someone.” 

Your gaze sharpened, suspicion flaring. “Like what?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took his time, pretending to consider his options, drawing out the moment just to see the flicker of impatience cross your face. 

Then, he leaned forward slightly, dropping his tone low, almost whisper like.

“What if I just lock the door?” His voice was teasing, but there was an unmistakable edge to it. “Keep you right here with me for a while.”

The air in the bathroom shifted.

You could still hear muffled sounds from the dressing room outside, but inside this tiny, enclosed space, it was just the two of you. The weight of his words lingered, heavy between you.

You held his gaze, refusing to waver. “Oh yeah?” Your voice was steady, but there was a challenge in it. “And why would you wanna do that?”

Liam’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk. He could hear the defiance in your voice, but he could also see the way your fingers twitched slightly, the way you shifted just the tiniest bit where you stood. He pushed himself off the door, taking a slow step towards you. 

“Oh, you know, just to enjoy your company a little longer. It’s been a while since we had some… alone time.”

Your breath hitched for a fraction of a second before you forced yourself to scoff. You turned away slightly, arms crossing over your chest in a weak attempt at indifference. But it was too late. He’d seen the way you faltered. Because you knew exactly what he was referring to.

That night.

Months ago, in some pub, Liam had sworn up and down he could outdrink everyone. It had started with an innocent enough bet: who could drink the most pints before tapping out. Classic, stupid, testosterone fueled entertainment. But as the night went on, it became less about the booze and more about Liam’s ego.

“I could drink you under the fuckin’ table,” he’d slurred, pointing a lazy finger at you across the sticky wooden bar top.

“You’re already halfway there, Liam,” you’d shot back, smirking as he swayed slightly on his stool.

Noel had been pissing himself laughing in the corner, watching as his brother made a fool of himself.

Somehow, you and Liam had been the last ones standing. That’s when things got messy. The two of you had spent hours running wild through the streets, fueled by booze, drugs, and reckless abandon, only to find yourself in his bed the next morning. 

Neither of you had spoken about it since. You hadn’t been sure he even remembered. He never let on or made a jest about it, so you pretended that it didn’t even happen. It was easier that way. Easier to hate him than to… well you didn’t really know. It was a feeling you were too scared to explore and something told that going down that road would be detrimental.  

But now, standing here, Liam watching you with that smug, knowing look, the memory felt a little too close.

His eyes flicked over your expression, smirk widening. “You remember that night, don’t you?” His voice was slow and teasing. “It’s a bit blurry for me, but some moments I remember quite vividly.” 

He took a step closer, and you willed yourself not to react.  You met his gaze evenly, forcing an unimpressed scoff. “We’re not doing that again,” you said flatly. Then, for good measure, you added, “And from what I recall, you were quite unremarkable.”

It was a blatant lie. 

“Hm,” he hummed, tilting his head as if in thought. “Funny, that’s not what I remember.” He took another step forward. “The sounds you made were pretty unforgettable, I must say.”

Your stomach flipped. You’d been caught. There was no escaping this. Memories that you’d forbidden yourself to think about were now rushing to the surface at an alarming rate, making you flush all over.

He was only a few feet away now, closing in. You were running out of space, out of room to breathe.

“Not. Happening.” 

The words came out strong, firm, but your heart was hammering against your ribs, betraying you. He could see right through it.

His gaze locked onto yours, eyes dark and unreadable. The tension was thick, pressing in from all sides. When you instinctively moved back, your lower back met the cool edge of the sink, stopping you in your tracks.

Shit.

Liam let out a low chuckle, stepping even closer until he was nearly flush against you. The heat rolling off him was overwhelming.

“Are you sure?” His voice was lower now. “Not even a little bit interested?”

He brought his hands to either side of the sink, caging you in. You swallowed hard.

“Liam.”

It was supposed to be a warning, a firm line in the sand. But it came out softer, almost pleading. You winced at yourself.

His smirk grew.

Your eyes flickered down to his mouth, slightly parted, lips plush and so damn close. He licked them absently, and the tip of his tongue just barely grazed you. A small, sharp inhale escaped before you could stop it.

Your breath mingled with his, the gap between you shrinking, pulling you into some inevitable gravitational force. He smelled like beer, sweat, and something distinctly Liam. Something intoxicating.

Your brain was screaming at you to walk away. To push him off. To regain control of the situation. But the alcohol and sudden lust in your bloodstream were drowning out those voices, leaving behind only heat, impulse, and the undeniable truth that this was a losing battle.

One second you're standing there, locked in a tug of war, and the next, your mouth was crashing into his with bruising force. A sigh of relief escaped your throat, unbidden, as if your body had been waiting for this moment all along.

Liam, the bastard, smirked into the kiss, because of course he would. He presses back with equal, if not more, force. His hands move from the sink to your waist, pinning you against the cool porcelain. Your hands flew up, grasping the back of his neck.

Then his tongue flicked over your bottom lip, teasing, coaxing. You let out a small, needy sound before you could stop it, and his grip on your waist tightened in response. Alarm bells were ringing in your head, but they were no use.

Liam, ever the smug prick, took his time, dragging his teeth over your lip, biting just enough to make you shiver.

You tug him closer, pressing against him. You take control, tongue sliding into his mouth, swallowing the low groan that rumbles in his throat.

For a moment you’re lost in the taste of him. The heat of him. Then he pushes forward, his hips pressing heavy against yours, pinning you so firmly into the sink that you feel every inch of him. The stiffness pressing into you sends a thrill through you, heat beginning to sink low into your stomach and down between your thighs. 

This is dangerous territory. But you can’t find it in yourself to care.

Then he’s grinding against you and the pressure makes you gasp into his mouth. Your fingers tighten around the back of his neck, nails digging in as your body arches instinctively into his. Liam groans lowly. His hand moves from your waist, trailing down your thighs. Suddenly he’s hooking your leg around his hip, giving himself more space. 

He presses impossibly closer, and you feel him, hard and insistent against your heated core. A strangled sound escapes your throat, something needy and desperate. 

His mouth moves, leaving your lips to trail hot kisses down your jaw. When he reaches the pulse point on your neck, he bites down hard enough to make you whimper. He feels it, feels you, react beneath him, and the bastard smiles against your skin.

Then he sucks, lips warm and wet as he marks you, punctuating it with a sharp thrust of his hips that sends sparks up your spine. A strangled whine spills from your lips as your fingers tighten in his hair. A steady, aching pulse throbs low in your core, demanding more. Demanding him.

You roll your hips, grinding against him, chasing that friction, and Liam groans. A deep sound that makes your skin burn. His grip tightens, one hand splaying across your ass, dragging you harder against him.

The feeling of him hot, hard, rocking against you sends another sharp thrill through your body, but it’s still not enough.

“Liam,” you manage to gasp, voice wrecked and wanting.

“Fuck,” he mutters, voice rough against your skin. “You really are desperate for me, aren’t you?”

His words send a fresh wave of heat straight through you, and you should fight back, should snap at him for his cocky arrogance, but then he rolls his hips again, perfectly, and all that leaves your lips is a broken moan.

He pulls away from your neck, lifting his gaze to meet yours. His lips are flushed, swollen, glistening with spit. His eyes, dark, heavy lidded, and filled with something dangerous, leave you momentarily breathless, completely losing your train of thought at how devastatingly gorgeous he looks like this.

You’re broken from your trance as you feel him twitch rather noticeably against you. Your breath catches, heat flooding through you all over again.

Liam notices. Of course, he does. A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth as he presses forward just a little more, just enough to make you feel it.

“Feel that?” His voice is rough, teasing, laced with something darker.

You swallow hard, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer. Instead, you grip the front of his shirt, pulling him closer.

He chuckles, breath hot against your cheek. “C’mon, love. Don’t go shy on me now.”

You purse your lips, fighting the way your body reacts to him, to the way he’s so sure of himself.

“I don’t know,” you murmur breathlessly, tilting your head and pretending to consider. “Feels… underwhelming.”

Liam lets out a sharp breath, half amusement, half disbelief, before his hands tighten on your hips. In one swift movement, he ruts against you, slow but deep, the pressure enough to knock the air from your lungs.

You gasp. His smirk returns.

“Still underwhelmed?” he murmurs against your jaw, his lips brushing skin.

You hate him. Hate how good he is at this. But mostly, you hate how much you want more.

“Liam,” your voice wavering, thick with frustration.

He chuckled, dark and low, the sound vibrating against your skin. “So impatient,” he murmured, fingers tracing patterns just above where you ached for him. 

You sucked in a sharp breath, hips jerking involuntarily as his hand slipped under your shirt and began toying with the waistband of your jeans, the ghost of a touch setting every nerve alight. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing. 

You feel his fingers skimming along your zipper and nod. He wastes no time in unbuttoning and unzipping your jeans, pushing them down just enough to make room. 

He slips his hand inside, exploring the newly exposed skin of your inner thigh. His touch was feather light, slowly dragging his fingers, deliberately teasing everywhere except where you needed him most. Your body was tensing with every drag. Every time he would get close he would skirt around at the last moment

It was torture. You tried to grind against his hand, desperate for even the smallest bit of friction, anything, but the moment you did, he pulled back completely.

You gasped, eyes snapping open.  

Liam smirked, watching you with a cruel sort of amusement, chest rising and falling just as heavily as yours. He was enjoying this. Holding you on the edge, dragging it out.

“Tell me what you want,” he said, voice challenging.

Your pride flared for half a second because fuck him, he knew exactly what you wanted. But another, bigger part of you, the one that was throbbing and needy and so desperate, didn’t care about pride anymore.

Your fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him closer, eyes burning into his.

“Please,” you gasped, not caring how desperate you sounded. This was beginning to border on agony. You needed him to touch you. 

His fingers skimmed the waistband of your underwear, maddingly slow. “Please what?” he murmured, voice thick.

You swallowed hard. Frustration and want coiled tight in your stomach. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth, that damn smirk playing on his face as he dragged his gaze over you. He was enjoying this too much. You knew he wouldn’t give in easily.

You bit your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction. You wouldn’t beg. Not yet.

Liam arched a brow, clearly amused by your silence. “C’mon, love,” he taunted, fingers tracing lower but still not there. “I know you can be polite.”

Your pride waged a brief, losing battle. “Touch me,” you breathed, barely above a whisper. Then, gritting your teeth, you forced out, “Please.”

Liam’s smirk deepened, victory flashing in his eyes.

“See? All you had to do was ask,” he said, voice dripping with smug satisfaction.

Liam’s hand slid down again, this time with purpose, and he pressed his thumb roughly over your clit. The jolt of pleasure shot through you like a live wire, making your hips jerk involuntarily. His low, knowing chuckle sent another shiver down your spine.

He started circling you slowly though your underwear, teasing, barely giving you what you needed. A strangled moan escaped your lips. You were soaked. There was no way he couldn’t feel it.

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath, voice thick with something akin to reverence. 

Two fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your underwear, then lower, parting you as he gathered the slickness between them. The rough pads of his fingers dragged torturously along you before teasing at your entrance.

Your head fell back against the mirror as he finally dipped into you, stretching you in a way that was both excruciatingly slow and perfect.

His fingers curled, expertly finding the spot that had you gasping, clutching at him. A high pitched whine slipped from your throat. Liam sighed shakily in response, his free hand gripping your hip as he leaned in to capture your lips again. He swallowed every sound you made, lips moving hungrily against yours, matching the urgent rhythm of his fingers.

And then he curled them again, deeper this time. Stars burst behind your eyelids. Your hips rocked into him, desperately chasing the pleasure, and he let you. Let you fall into the pace he was setting, let you lose yourself in it. His thumb returned to your clit, circling with devastating precision.

You were close. So close it almost hurt.

“Mm—Liam—” you gasped, body shuddering, the coil in your stomach ready to snap.

But then his fingers were gone.

Your eyes snapped open in disbelief, your body trembling from the abrupt loss. You barely had time to catch your breath before you met his gaze, smug, victorious, infuriating.

“What the fuck?” you panted.

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “That’s for earlier. You deserved it.”

Irritation bubbled up as you felt your own words echoed back at you. He was enjoying this, playing with you like a cat with a mouse. 

He was pulling away from you, but before he could get too far, you grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked. Hard. “Don't you dare walk away from me.”

He let out a surprised whine, head tilting back slightly at the force. When his eyes flicked back to yours, they were darker, hungrier.

“You really need to stop pulling my hair,” he rasped, though the way his body reacted said otherwise.

You smirked. “Yeah? Or what?”

His grin turned downright predatory. He leaned in close, lips ghosting over yours as he murmured, “Or I’ll make you remember who’s in charge next time,” voice thick with dangerous promise.

A thrill ran down your spine, but defiance still burned hot in your veins. You yanked his hair even harder. 

He threw his head back, eyes briefly fluttering shut as he let out a deep, guttural groan. The sound went straight to your stomach. 

When he looked at you again, there was something new in his gaze, something dangerous.

“You’re really asking for it,” he muttered, his voice rough.

You tilted your chin up, challenging him. “Yeah? You’re all talk. I’d like to see you even tr—”

Before you could finish, Liam spun you around in one swift motion, pressing you against the sink.

Your breath caught as he caged you in from behind, his body flush against yours, his grip firm. His hands settled on your hips, fingers digging in.

He made eye contact with you through the mirror, wanting to see your every reaction when he spoke. 

“You want to play rough, do you?” His voice was low, edged with something dark and tantalizing. His lips brushed your ear as he whispered, “Is that what you want?”

His fingers trailed slowly down your back. The touch sent shivers racing down your spine, anticipation tightening in your stomach. Your breathing was ragged, uneven. You couldn’t trust yourself to speak, so you simply nodded.

Liam tsked softly, his lips barely grazing your ear as he murmured, “Use your words.”

His hand dipped lower, grazing right where you needed him most. The lightest touch, barely there but enough to have your knees buckling.

You choked out a whimper, torn between pride and raw, undeniable need. But there was no fighting it anymore.

“Please,” you gasped, voice unsteady.

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest. His fingers kept teasing, playing just on the edge of where you needed him, drawing out your desperation.

“Please what?” he asked yet again, tone mockingly sweet, fingers dancing ever so slightly closer.

You clenched your jaw, stubbornness warring with your need. “Don’t make me say it,” you whispered, still clinging to the last thread of your dignity.

Liam hummed as if considering, then pulled back slightly. “Fine, I’ll just leave you here then.” His tone was maddeningly casual. “I’ll walk right out that door.”

Panic surged through you. Without thinking, you grabbed his wrist. “Please,” you exhaled shakily, voice barely above a whisper. “Fuck me.”

Liam went still for a beat. Then, his smirk curled wickedly against your skin.

“What was that?” he taunted, fingers skimming along your inner thigh, feather light and infuriating. “Couldn’t quite hear you, love.”

A shiver wracked through you, and you shot him a glare through the mirror. “Bastard, yes you did,” you managed, your voice trembling despite the bite in your words.

His smirk widened. He must have had enough too because the next thing you heard was the unmistakable sound of a zipper being undone. A wave of relief crashed over you, body humming with anticipation.

The mirror didn’t give you a view of him, but then you felt him. He pressed himself against you, the hard, burning length of him making you gasp. You’d nearly forgotten how well endowed he was, insides clenching in remembrance.

Liam groaned low in his throat as he felt your bare skin against his. He pressed against you further, every inch of his body aligning with yours. His chin dropped to rest on your shoulder as his breath came out ragged and wanting.

“Fuck,” he muttered, voice wrecked.

His eyes locked onto yours through the mirror and for a moment, you barely recognized yourself. Your face was flushed, lips parted as you struggled for breath, hair an absolute mess. Liam didn’t look much different except he carried that insufferable smugness. His pupils were blown wide, the sharp blue of his eyes almost lost in the haze of lust.

He reached up, brushing your hair aside before pressing a searing kiss to the exposed skin of your neck. The heat of it sent shivers down your spine. And then, with one smooth movement, he aligned himself against you, teasing your entrance.

Your eyes fluttered shut as he pushed forward for you to feel him. Only the tip. Just enough to drive you insane.

“Liam, God, ple—”

Your plea was cut off by a sharp thrust, his hips snapping forward with force. He went in much deeper than either of you had anticipated, if his choked off groan was anything to go by. Another strangled groan ripped from his throat as he sank in, fully stretching you open. The sensation stole the air from your lungs.

For a moment he stilled, chest rising and falling in harsh, uneven breaths. You could feel the tension in his body, the effort it took not to completely lose himself in you. Then he pulled back slowly before plunging in again.

A choked off noise tore from your throat, almost embarrassing if not for the deep, wrecked sound Liam let out at the same time. His fingers dug into your hips, gripping tight as he built a rhythm, driving into you with increasing intensity. He cursed under his breath, clearly loving how eagerly you moved with him. His pace grew rougher, more urgent.

Your head dropped forward, letting him take what he wanted. You were already on edge from earlier, your body eager and desperate. You pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts with as much force as you could muster.

Then one of his hands left your hip, sliding up your body. Before you could even process it, he fisted a handful of your hair and yanked your head back up, forcing you to meet his gaze in the mirror.

This sight was filthy. The two of you, tangled together, bodies slick with sweat, moving in sync. The way his jaw clenched, lips parted slightly as he watched every expression that flickered across your face, sent a fresh wave of heat through you.

Your whole body was on fire. You struggled to keep your head up, feeling it droop again. He firmly yanked it back up again, a quiet hiss of pain and pleasure spilling from your lips. You trembled beneath him, and he groaned at the sight of it, at the way you responded to him so beautifully. His pace became relentless, his hips snapping into yours with forceful precision. Every thrust drove you closer and closer to the edge.

You were shaking now, the coil inside you wound impossibly tight. Liam wasn’t far behind. You could feel it in the way he throbbed inside you, how his movements became just a little rougher, more erratic. With a gasp, one hand slipped down between your thighs, fingers circling your clit with frantic desperation.

“Just like that, love,” Liam murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “Don’t stop.”

His words sent fire racing over your skin and a sharp thrust sent you toppling over the edge. A cry tore from your throat as the pleasure crashed over you in waves, your body clenching tight around him. Your legs shook, entire body trembling as you rode it out, moans spilling from your lips, unrestrained and raw.

Liam cursed, his grip tightening as he pounded into you through your release. The way you clenched around him had his own control shattering in an instant.

“Fuck,” his voice broke as he buried himself deep one last time, warmth flooding inside you as his body tensed, the most heavenly sound leaving his lips. You managed to open your eyes and were met with his beautiful face screwed up in sheer pleasure as he rode out his orgasm. 

For a moment, neither of you moved, caught in the lingering aftershocks. Then, slowly, he slumped forward, his sweat damp forehead resting against your shoulder, breath hot and heavy against your skin. He stayed there for a few moments, catching his breath before pressing a surprisingly gentle kiss to your shoulder.

Your eyes met in the mirror again. Liam was still breathing hard, hair disheveled, his skin glistening with sweat. But there was a lazy, satisfied smile on his lips, his blue eyes dark and hazy. 

After catching his breath, he slowly pulled out of you, groaning softly at the feeling. You immediately missed the warmth and weight of him deep within you. 

Liam stepped back slightly, regaining his balance, his gaze dragging over you through the mirror. You looked thoroughly wrecked and judging by the glint in his eyes, he was damn proud of that.

You straightened, stretching and feeling the soreness in your limbs from being bent over a bathroom sink for so long.

“Looks like your dick still works,” you teased. 

Liam let out a deep, amused laugh, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, it certainly does.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively as he tucked himself back into his pants.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the grin spreading across your face. “Am I forgiven then?” you questioned, batting your eyelashes for good measure.

Liam hummed, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “I suppose you are,” he said, amusement lacing his tone.

Then, before you could respond, he stepped in closer and dipped his head, placing a light kiss against your jaw. His lips barely ghosted over your skin before he murmured, voice low and promising.

“But you’re not getting off easy next time.”

This was just for fun but I'll probably write about Noel next :)

[leaawrites]

Matching

Liam Gallagher x fem!reader

Summary: when Liam doesn't want to match, but he also can't say no to her.

Warnings: fluff, sprinkles of angst, teasing

Wordcount: 0.8k

Masterlist

He would’ve said no to anyone else immediately who proposed the idea. It would’ve never crossed his mind that people do this stuff for more than a laugh and Halloween, but when he looked at the matching outfits laid out by girlfriend for them, al neat and organized, he couldn’t believe his mind.

Her serious eyes and sweet smile waiting for an answer from him.

“I’m not doing it,” he immediately concluded, swagging over to the closet and searching for something to wear on his own.

“What? Why not?” Looking back at her as he heard the shocking tone in her voice, he noticed that her smile had also vanished, arms now crossed over her chest. Hunched back in disappointment.

She was serious, he noted, how could she be serious about something like this?

“I’m not doing this. No chance,” he said, shaking his head. “We’re meeting with the band, remember?”

“And? What about it?” Her flew over the clothes once more, not noticing the problem he had all of a sudden.

Ten minutes ago he was still laying in bed beside her, peppering her face with kisses and smiling while saying things he would never admit to the public of even thinking. For her, he was soft. But not that soft.

“If they see me like this, do you know what they’ll put me through? No chance.” He shook his head, flicking his hand.

She let out a quiet, “Oh, okay.” before turning away from him without looking at him and walking into the bathroom, closing the door behind her louder than normally.

“Fucking hell,” Liam cursed under his breath, dragging his hands down his face. He couldn’t do it, not when he knew how the other’s would react to it. His eyes flying back over the clothes left untouched. “I can’t believe you, woman.”

Fifteen minutes later, the door to the bathroom opened once more, her eyes flying over to where Liam previously stood. His body now gone from the bedroom, the telly playing some show in the living room.

Walking over the bed, she found only one outfit still laying there. Hers. Jeans, red top and her jeans jacket. All neatly laid out like before. His clothes missing.

Had he pushed them deep down into the pile forming on his side of the closet? Was he too embarrassed to even look at them again?

It was a simple match, nothing too crazy. Jeans, a sweater in the same colour as her shirt and the jeans jacket, the same as hers. They’d bought them together, laughing at the thought of matching. Back then it was fantasy, something fun to think about. But now that it became reality it seemed silly instead of funny.

Still, she put on her own outfit. She liked it, why shouldn’t she still wear it?

Slumping on the sofa, Liam was skipping through the channels. Waiting for her to be ready to go out.

“Ready to go?” he asked without looking up as he turned off the telly. Moving towards the door and picking up his jacket from where it laid on the chair. Putting his arms through the holes, he finally looked her way, the wide smile on her face evident to even the people passing by down the street.

“You’re wearing the clothes,” she stated, shocked.

“Should I go naked? Of course I’m wearing the clothes. You picked them out,” he said, pecking her lips. Ready to walk out the door before she pulled him down once more, fingers clamping around the soft fabric of his sweater. Connecting their lips once more for longer, giggling as she pictured them next to each other. Matching.

“You’re unbelievable,” she mumbled against his mouth.

A smirk widened on his face, a smug look falling over his unbothered facade. “Only for you.” Leaning in once more before taking her hand and dragging her outside. “Let’s go now.”

As another laugh escaped her mouth, he turned his head while locking the door. “What’s it now?”

“I guess we’re now matching in more than clothes.”

Blushing as she wiped the lipstick from his lips with a tissue from her purse, he shook his head in surrender.

He was that soft for her.

It came like he imagined, the moment they walked through the doors of the pub, Noel’s eyes widened. His loud laugh laced with a vicious, mocking undertone.

“No fucking way,” he laughed, eyeing the two of them up and down.

“What’s ya problem?” Liam asked while he greeted the others and sat down on one stools.

“Nothin,” Noel tried playing it off, though he couldn’t stop laughing at the pair in front of him. “Nothin.”

Liam felt her hand grabbing his in a frantic realization: maybe this was a bad idea.

“Oi, you just jealous cause you don’t have a girlfriend that’s willing to match with ya, or wha’?” Throwing an arm over her shoulder, Liam pulled her closer to his side, kissing the top of her head in reassurance.

Noel only held his hands up in surrender, knowing it was not worth messing with Liam in moments like these. Not when it came to her and he’d probably end up with a black eyes if he pushed it too far (which was easy to do when it came to his girlfriend).

[nglgfics]

Scratch my back

(18+)

Masterlist

It started with a groan.

Not a quiet one. Not one of those subtle, “oof-my-back” groans that a normal person might make. No, this one echoed. It carried. It was a sound engineered for maximum guilt.

You heard it from the other room, and you knew immediately: Liam was gearing up for a performance.

Then came the sigh. Louder than the groan. Long and slow and soul-crushing.

You kept scrolling on your phone, saying nothing. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction yet.

Another groan. A grunt, even.

Then:

“Daaaarling…”

You didn’t even flinch.

Silence. Then a muttered, “Unreal. Just gonna lie here and suffer then.”

You exhaled, stood from your chair, and padded to the living room doorway.

Liam was face-down on the sofa, utterly limp, like someone had thrown a mannequin in the shape of a man across the cushions. One arm was hanging dramatically off the edge. His hoodie had ridden up to reveal the small of his back. His bare feet were crossed like he was a fallen saint.

“I’m not touching that,” you said flatly.

He peeked up, eyes just visible over the crook of his elbow. “Me back’s itchy.”

“I guessed.”

“It’s bad. Unreachable. A betrayal of human design. Darwin forgot to sort this part out.”

You leaned against the doorframe, unimpressed. “You ever think of a back scratcher?”

“Used a coat hanger. Snapped in the struggle. Might as well’ve tried using a twig. This is the end.”

He flopped dramatically, face smashed into a cushion again.

“Tell the world Liam Gallagher was brought low by a patch of skin just out of reach.”

You folded your arms. “You done?”

He lifted a finger. “I can be, for the low price of one back scratch. One miracle. One act of mercy.”

You just stared.

“I’ll make you tea. Properly. I’ll let you pick the show tonight and I won’t make comments during it.”

“You always make comments.”

“I’ll keep them internal. I’ll suffer silently. Just like I’m suffering now.”

You blinked. “Now you’re bargaining.”

“I’m begging.”

You sighed like someone burdened with greatness and crossed the room slowly. Liam stayed face-down, but his smile crept into view as you circled the couch.

“You’re such a baby,” you said, climbing up behind him, knees on either side of his hips.

“I’m your baby.”

“You’re lucky I like you.”

“I know.”

You tugged his hoodie up higher. His skin was warm and smooth. You let your nails drag down from between his shoulders to just above his waistband.

Liam moaned like he was seeing God.

“Holy hell—yes, that’s it. That’s the sweet spot. I take it back, Darwin was a genius. You are the pinnacle of human evolution.”

You rolled your eyes and scratched a little harder.

He made a muffled, helpless sound into the cushion. “I’m gonna need to sit in a dark room after this. You’re ruining me.”

“You’re already ruined.”

“You did this. You introduced me to this life. I used to be cool. Now I beg for back scratches like a dog who’s seen heaven.”

You let your nails trail up and down his spine, slow, steady, light enough to make him shiver. He was nearly vibrating under your touch, every muscle twitching with delight.

You leaned forward and said, “If I stop, will you cry?”

“I might cry. I’ll definitely write a sad song about it.”

You chuckled.

“It’ll be called ‘Scratch My Soul’. Proper heartbreaking. Gonna win awards and everything.”

You snorted.

Then, just as you were really hitting the perfect rhythm — the spot that made his shoulders relax like butter on a windowsill — he went quiet. Not in a passed-out way. Not even satisfied.

Just… quiet.

His body twitched.

“What?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

He didn’t answer immediately.

“…Liam.”

His voice was syrup-slick. “Nothing. Just had a thought.”

“What kind of thought?”

He stretched slowly, one leg pushing into the cushion, sighing like he’d just completed a deep meditation. “A good one.”

“Do I want to know?”

“No.”

You stopped scratching.

He jolted like you’d cut off his oxygen supply. “Oi!”

“Tell me.”

“No,” he said, twisting onto his side just enough to flash you the most smug look you’d ever seen. Hair wild, eyes gleaming. “You’ll see soon.”

“Oh God.”

He patted your thigh. “Just know it’s brilliant.”

“You’re scaring me.”

“You should be.”

He grinned wider, then turned around and laid back, arms folded behind his head like a man who’d just gotten away with something.

And you, against all better judgment, were intrigued.

Five minutes later Liam was at one end of the couch, lounging like a king — legs stretched out, hoodie rumpled, hair a mess from rolling around while you’d lovingly scratched every inch of his back. He looked exhausted in the best way: blissed-out, boneless, smirking to himself.

You were tucked into the other end, curled in the corner with your legs up, half-watching him, half-minding your own business.

He was still quiet.

Too quiet.

Then he glanced up at you — and there it was again.

That look.

A slow, lazy, completely self-satisfied smile spread across his face, eyes narrowing like he’d just thought of something very clever.

“What?” you asked.

He said nothing.

He just reached across the small gap between you, hands wrapping around your ankles — and yanked.

You yelped as you slid down the sofa, your back hitting the cushions and legs flying straight into his lap. In seconds, you were flat on your back, hoodie riding up, you were laid out directly in front of him, knickers already damp, already vulnerable.

“Liam!”

“Mm,” he said, like he was admiring the view. “That’s better.”

You blinked at him, breath caught halfway. “Did you just—”

“Yep.” He was already pushing your knees apart. “Consider this your reward.”

“I didn’t agree—”

“You scratched my back like your life depended on it,” he said, hands sliding up your thighs. “I’m just showing my appreciation. Don’t ruin the mood.”

Before you could object again, his fingers hooked into the waistband of your joggers and dragged them down, sharp and easy. You lifted your hips out of instinct — because of course you did — and within seconds, they were on the floor. Your underwear didn’t stand a chance, he removed it swiftly too. He pulled your legs apart.

Then he went still.

His gaze dropped. His smile returned.

“Fucking look at you,” he murmured. “All warm and wet. God, you’re unreal.”

“Don’t say things like that—”

“Why? You’re already twitching.” His thumb brushed between your folds — featherlight. You flinched. He grinned wider. “Knew it. You’ve been thinking about this since you laid me out.”

“Liam—”

He cut you off with two fingers, sliding inside you without warning — slow, deep, intentional. You moaned, legs twitching in his lap. He didn’t falter. Just curled them perfectly, his thumb already moving in maddening little circles over your clit.

“There it is,” he murmured. “Fuck, you’re gripping already.”

“Jesus—”

“You love when I’ve got you like this. All laid out. Can’t move. Can’t think.”

His hands stayed steady — one holding your thigh in place, the other inside you, working with unbearable precision.

“Always talkin’ big until I’ve got my fingers in you,” he added, tone low and warm. “Then it’s all little noises and thigh trembles. My favourite language.”

You moaned, back arching slightly, your body starting to tighten beneath him.

“That’s it,” he said, watching your face. “Feel it building, yeah?”

You nodded, breath caught in your throat.

He leaned in, not with his mouth, just his words — eyes locked on yours, voice softer now.

“Go on, love. Let it go.”

And you did — gasping, thighs clenching, hips lifting off the cushion as the orgasm hit you full-force. It ripped through your core, deep and hot, your breath breaking into stutters as he held you there, working you through every second of it.

He didn’t stop.

His fingers were still inside you, slow and steady. His thumb never left your clit — the circles smaller now, more patient, perfectly timed to your shallow, trembling breaths.

You dropped your head back, eyes shut, the pressure rebuilding before you could recover.

Liam was settled in, completely relaxed. One arm draped over the back of the sofa, the other working you open like it was effortless.

“Still with me?” he asked, voice low.

You managed a nod, barely.

“Good girl.”

The words melted straight through you.

Your thighs flexed again, hips shifting, breath snagging as everything started to tighten. This one was slower. Heavier. It didn’t sprint toward you — it dragged you in, second by second.

Liam watched the change in your body — the way your legs trembled, your stomach clenched, your mouth parted with a sound you couldn’t quite finish.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “There she fuckin’ is.”

His thumb pressed just a little harder — not rough, just right — and your world cracked open.

The orgasm pulled through you like a deep wave, slower than the first but full-body, unstoppable. You gasped, back arching, hands fisting in the cushions, thighs clenching around his wrist as you came again, harder this time. It tore through your chest, your spine, the back of your throat — and he held you there, steady and calm while your body shook.

Only when your breathing slowed — when your legs stopped twitching — did he ease his hand away, gently, reverently.

He leaned over, pressed a kiss to the soft skin of your hip, and rested his forehead there.

“Fucking beautiful,” he said, like it was fact. Not praise. Not flattery. Just true.

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

Then, slowly, Liam shifted — not away, but up — stretching out beside you on the couch like gravity had finally caught up to him. He slid an arm beneath your shoulders, tugged your thigh back over his, and pulled you in until your body was folded against his chest, wrapped in him, held without question.

Liam’s hand traced slow patterns along your hip, fingertips brushing under the hem of your hoodie like he wasn’t ready to let you go just yet.

Neither of you spoke for a long stretch.

Just breath. Skin. Silence full of heat still hanging between you.

Then, inevitably, he shifted — just enough to nudge his face against your neck, lips grazing your skin.

“Y’know,” he murmured, “reckon I’ve got that itch again.”

You groaned into his shoulder. “Don’t even think about it.”

He laughed, soft and smug. “Just sayin’. All this effort I’ve gone to, wreckin’ you twice over… I think I deserve another scratch.”

“You got your scratch.”

“And gave you multiple orgasms in return. I’m just sayin’—I’ve set a precedent. A system.”

You turned your head and narrowed your eyes at him. “You’re trying to turn foreplay into a rewards program.”

“Exactly,” he said, grinning. “Loyalty scheme. Gold-tier. Includes tea in bed and five-minute massages that become twenty-five if I’m in a good mood.”

You shook your head, smiling despite yourself.

He tucked his face in against your hair, breathing you in.

“C’mon,” he said quietly. “One little scratch. I’ll be good.”

“You’re never good.”

He kissed your shoulder. “Yeah. But I always pay up, don’t I?”

And with the way his fingers were starting to wander again — slow, familiar — you already knew this wasn’t the end of anything.

Just the pause before the next round.

[imaginesbymonika]

She’s electric | Part 1

Pairing: Liam Gallagher x fem!bassist reader

Plot: Liam’s hatred for Blur runs deep. However, no matter how much he hates them and their stupid music - he cannot seem to hate their bassist.

A/N: i’ve got a disgusting crush on that old man (please don’t tweet him)

(1995, at the after-show party of the Brit Music Awards)

God.

Liam shakes his head in disapproval. Just looking at them made him want to hurl his drink against one of those huge pretentious speakers, the ones blasting nothing but stupid pop music. How the actual fuck did Blur manage to win 4 bloody Brit Awards tonight? His eyes move from Damon’s figure to the woman standing next to him and he brings the beer bottle up to his lips again. Y/N. Fuck. Never in his life did he feel so irritated by a woman.

She’s throwing her head back in laughter and Liam bites his lips in sheer annoyance. He silently observes how she takes a step to the side before walking over to the nearest bar, she says something to the bartender and her index finger goes up to point at something that's written on the chalkboard. Liam takes one final deep breath from his cigarette before ultimately making his way in her direction- his iconic walk and bitter face paint the picture of a man who’s about to show her his absolute worst behavior.

“Congrats on ya’ little bands award.”

“Thanks.”, is all she says as she takes a sip of her drink. Her gaze moves up to meet his. “That’s it? Yer not going to brag about it?” But Y/N merely scoffs:” I’m not like you, I don’t need to rub our success into everyone's faces.” Maybe he would have laughed at that if her words didn’t upset him as much as they did:” Come on. You must be feeling all arrogant about it- getting all the awards us better bands didn’t.”

Y/N chuckles dryly and takes another sip:” But you’re not.” She notices how his cheeks turn red in bitterness. It was almost too easy. “You guys are alright.”

She feels how around her some people are beginning to look their way, after all, it’s not typical to see an Oasis singer talk to a Blur bassist. Everyone is well aware of how the two brothers feel about their rival band.

Y/N takes a pack of cigarettes from her purse and puts one in between her red-painted lips. The anger is practically radiating off of Liam at this point. “Just alright? We’re better than alright. You’re just delusional.”, his angry gaze shifts to the cigarettes. He scoffs again, but can’t help himself:” Can I have one?”

It makes the woman chuckle in response and without letting out another word she hands him the pack and a lighter. She observes him as he takes one out and lights it up. There is a moment of stillness between the two, and when they make eye contact again there’s an emotion in Liam’s eyes that Y/N can’t quite read.

“You know.”, he lets out a sigh that could be perceived as defeat:” You’re a lot more tolerable than I thought you’d be.” It almost makes her laugh:” Am I supposed to say thank you?” Liam rolls his eyes but there is a hint of a smile forming on his lips: “You’re not supposed to say anything, love. I’m being serious. You’re not half as annoying as your little band is.” He exhales the smoke and watches how it vanishes in the air.

“What an honor.”, Y/N says:” The great Liam Gallagher thinks im not entire shite.”

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. But you know we make the better music.”, he takes another drag of his cigarette. Leaning against the bar he orders himself a new beer. “I’ve been trying to talk to Damon for months now, he always brushes me off.”

At that, Liam’s eyes widen and he narrowly leans forward, looking like a shark who smelt fresh blood:” So you agree with me.” The grin is primarily predatory.

“Not entirely.”

“What do you mean, not entirely? Either you agree with me, Princess. Or you don’t.”

“First of all, don’t call me Princess, you arrogant prick.”, her voice is angry, however, Liam catches a glimpse of a tiny grin forming on her features. But it quickly disappears behind the champagne glass:” I am not drunk enough to deal with someone as pissed as you!” “I’m not pissed, Princess. I’m just saying we were robbed.” “Please. You’re so pissed, it’s making me pissed.”

Liam takes a deep breath, almost as if he was trying to steady himself:” I don’t know why I am still talking to you.” At that, Y/N just chuckles drily. Does he really think, that she hasn’t noticed the way he was staring at her all night? “Well, then go. You came to me.”

The singer studies her for a second and opens his mouth to say something in return, but gets cut off by Damon’s voice. He is yelling her name from somewhere and Y/N twists her head to look for him. Once she spots him she sighs and quickly opens her purse:” One last thing before I leave.” She takes out her pen and snatches Liam’s forearm. With one swift movement, she signs her name on his skin:” For our number 1 fan.” She chuckles softly before vanishing into the crowd.

“No, wait.”, Liam calls out but she is already gone. His eyes move down to the writing on his arm, his fingers are softly moving over the ink. He takes another drag of his cigarette and shakes his head in disbelief, however, he can’t shake this new feeling off of him. He was still pissed about her band and their wins. But she… she has a smart mouth, is drop-dead gorgeous, and is a damn good bassist. He hates her already.

An hour later Y/N crosses her arms and places her head on Damon’s shoulders. Currently, Brad Pitt is talking something about something and it is possibly the most monotonous thing in the entire world.

“Who the hell ya’ staring’ at?” Liam can’t help but cringe slightly at the sound of his brother’s voice, who is now standing beside him. “None of your business, mate.”, he mutters, rather angrily. But Noel shakes his head:” Bullshit! I know that look. You ogling the bassist of Blur again, weren’t ya’?” Noel raises an eyebrow:” Thought you hated that band.”

“I do hate that band, she’s just- different.”

“Yeah, different because you think she’s fit, mate.”

Liam’s eyes widen at his brother’s bluntness and he furrows his eyebrows. He suddenly feels extremely exposed. Y/N sighs and lifts her head before scanning the room for the exit sign and quickly making her way toward it. People in the crowd attempt to stop her in hopes of getting to speak to her, but she just brushes them off.

“You’re going after her, or what?”

Liam glances at his brother before lighting up a new cigarette:” What d’ya mean? I’m not going to follow her around like some abandoned puppy. I ain’t going to chase her, you wanker.” Noel laughs at that:” Oh come on. Don’t lie to me, mate. You’re obsessed with her, go on. Follow her.”

Liam swallows thickly. He does want to follow her, there was no denying it. He wants to continue their discussion, listen to her snarky tone, and see that smart mouth in action again. Noel watches how his brother throws the cigarette into the nearest ashtray before wordlessly making his way toward the exit as well.

[supersonicbrat]

stealing liam’s cigarette. (90s)

cw -> smoking, drinking.

“Li— for fuck’s sake…” You’re trying so hard to get his attention.

He’s all hyped up, talking to his mates while you stand idle and cling to his arm. You don’t enjoy being the needy girlfriend, but after hours of standing in the pub and already making conversation with everyone, you’re antsy.

God, he’s so pretty when he’s rambling. You’re starting to realize why you let him get away with so much, peering up him with hearts in your eyes whilst he casually brings a cigarette to his lips as if you aren’t tugging on his arm. He lights it in the next second, and he would have taken the first drag of it, too… if it wasn’t for your fingers sneaking up to his mouth, snatching the smoke with intent before enjoying it yourself.

His friends all have a laugh, and when he finally meets your gaze you look up at him once again through your painted lashes.

“Proper rude, y’are.” He’s teasing, like he has the right to. Even pinches your cheek between his index and middle in a shameless but affectionate gesture as he speaks.

You feign a pout, cigarette still sat between your lips, “You were ignoring me, you knob.”

“No need t’go and have a strop, sweetheart.” Liam mumbles to you, leaning down to kiss you but you back away before his lips can reach your own, making him grin— he likes when you’re a bit difficult, and you’re the only one he’d ever say that about.

“Bein’ a bit of a brat now, don’t y’think?”

You can’t help but smile at that despite how determined you were to give him hell. You take his hand when he offers it to you, ready to protectively lead you through the crowd in the pub.

“Let’s get you another drink so y’stop buggin’ me already.”

[gallashagger]

jinx

—————————————————————————

—————————————————————————

during a conversation, liam gets jinxed and can’t speak. you enjoy teasing him while he goes out of his way to get you to say his name.

short smut • lowercase intended

not proof read !

—————————————————————————

you were at the studio with the band, tagging along with liam. after recording a million takes of the same song, liam exhaustedly sat next to you.

“should we do another take?” noel asked unsure, making everyone in the room groan. “i’m sorry im the only one who wants this to be perfect.” he threw his hands in the air in defense. “it is perfect!” you and liam managed to say at the same time. “jinx!” you yelled, sitting up excitedly.

liam opened his mouth to talk, but your finger pressed against his lips. “you can’t talk until i say your name.” the band immediately erupted into laughter. “oh my god this is gonna be great!”

“please never say his name!” noel laughed. liam just crossed his arms in silence, accepting his fate. shortly after, you two went home, liam stubbornly looking out the window the whole time.

you took this has an opportunity to mess with him. you would say any word that started with L to get him excited, ask him questions you knew he couldn’t answer, etc. you were having all the fun in the world, but of course, liam wouldn’t let it stay that way.

later that night you stood in the bathroom getting ready for bed. as you were doing your routine, you watched in the mirror as liam walked behind you. he wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder, making you feel kinda bad for this jinx thing.

“what are you doing?” you asked before he shot you a little glare, remembering he can’t talk. a smirk then plastered on his face as his hands roamed up and down your body.

“you’re not gonna get me to say your name.” you turned around and looked up at him, but his smirk didn’t falter. he leaned in and kissed you, pressing his whole body into you. as he did so, you gasped feeling his hard on press into you.

as you were about to say his name, you caught yourself. “ill give you a hand, but you still can’t talk.” you offered, and liam’s eyes widened. you wanted to help him because you felt a little bad, but it was too fun winding him up.

liam’s smirk only grew as you kissed his neck. you reached your hand down between the two of you and palmed him through his jeans. he opened his mouth, trying his best to hold back all his noises.

you slowly dropped to your knees, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling them down. you traced the skin above the waistband of his boxers and hooked your fingers around them. you gently tugged on them but wouldn’t take them off, and liam got frustrated.

“eager, huh?” you looked up after he had quickly pulled them down for you. he flipped you off, making you chuckle. you grabbed the base of his cock and started to slowly stroke him. you heard his breath hitch as he leaned forward to grab the edge of the counter behind you.

he instinctively thrusted into your hand and you added your mouth. you licked his entire length to the tip before wrapping your lips around him. you bobbed your head taking more of him every time. you could tell he was struggling to stay silent, and the whole scene before you was really hot.

you moved your hands to his hips and let your mouth take control. the way he fucked your mouth, snd just knowing how you made him feel, it was the biggest turn on.

liam caught how you clenched your legs together and shifted uncomfortably, trying to find some friction. his hand moved to your head and he grabbed your hair as he pulled out of your mouth. you let go, confused as he helped you to your feet.

“what’s wrong?” you asked. liam shook his head before spinning you around. his front pressed into your back, pressing you into the counter. you pushed against him and arched your back as he rolled his hips, the friction doing wonders for the both of you.

his hand instantly moved to your clit and rubbed it through your pants. his other hand moved up to knead your breasts. his fingers slid lower in your pants and swiftly slid into your hole. you bit your lip as you moaned, keeping yourself from screaming out his name as he curled his fingers just right

he could tell you were close, so he pulled out his fingers making you whimper. he pulled down your bottoms and without warning he slammed into you. you gasped, grabbing onto the counter for your life. his hands dug into your hips hard enough to bruise you as he railed you.

you moaned out a list of cuss words, all while trying not to say his name, but it got to a point where you couldn’t take it anymore. when his hand trailed infront and started to rub your clit, you knew you were done.

he continuously hit your g spot perfectly and you couldn’t hold yourself back. you cried out his name and looked up in the mirror, catching his expression.

he finally didn’t hold back his moans, and soon enough you came. not long after he cussed as he came.

after a minute or two he pulled out and wrapped his arms around you. “knew i’d break you.” he kissed your shoulder. “shut up, you dick.” you smiled, turning around in his arms. you playfully hit him before you both moved to get dressed.

—————————————————————————

i hate this it SUCKS

anyways..

i need some fluff requests cus i’ve basically only written smut and i feel like a whore ✌️🙂 ok that’s a joke but srs 😓

ok so my fuckign dumbass forgot to put tags on this how did that happen

[valkierrie]

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰

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

Warning(s): (Liam Gallagher smut), swearing.

Plot: After moving into their new flat, Liam has an idea of how to make the place feel more like theirs.

Word count: 1.6K

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

Liam grunted as he dropped the last few of my boxed belongings on the wooden floor, he straightened, rolling his shoulders back with a wince. 

“Bloody hell, what’s in this? Fuckin’ bricks?” He asked in disbelief, running a hand through his hair, not believing that something could be that heavy.

“The essentials,” I shrugged. “Shoes.”

“Shoes?” His brows shot up. “Feels like you packed a whole building.”

“Aw,” I cooed, “you poor baby, you’ll live.”

“Yer lucky I like ya, else I wouldn’t have done that.” 

Sure.

I shook my head, laughing as Liam went on about some “bloody back pains.”

Turning my attention away from him, I took in the flat. It was bare, devoid of any decorative furniture, save from the few plants I’d bought on a whim a few days ago to “spruce up” the new place. Liam had thought they were daft, but didn’t do anything to get rid of them like he’d do for something he really disliked.

I glanced up at the large window that faced the large sofa adjacent to its smaller twin.

Taking a few small strides, I reached it, pushing the white curtains aside and allowing the bright sunlight in.

The light was bounced off the spotless glass, not a smudge in sight. 

Stainless. Absolute perfection.

That had caught me off guard. I was surprised, with how many times Liam had popped by when we were in the process of moving, I expected some stain.

There were none.

I stared blankly ahead. The view was to die for, it helped that it was pretty high up, tilted at an angle that gave anyone below a pretty good idea of whatever was occurring inside–if the curtains were wide open.

I felt a strong pair of arms engulf my waist, a familiar weight settling against my shoulder. 

I stood there for a moment, soaking this moment in. It was surreal—the kind of thing you dreamed about, but never really believe you’d achieve. This place was ours.

“Beautiful, innit?” Liam’s breath fell against my neck, interrupting the silence.

“Yeah,” I nodded. “Can’t believe it’s ours.”

“Better believe it, babe” His lips brushed my shoulder, lazy-like. “Got an idea of how we can make this place feel more like home though.”

I turned my head, facing him. “Oh yeah, rockstar?”

 The nickname made his lip curve into smirk. He didn’t answer, his lips met mine.

 They molded and moved together perfectly. There, Liam used a slow pace that I appreciated from him. 

He was brash, loud, and abrasive to the outside world–mainly because it was how the media framed him to be like. 

But when you really got past all the rough and troublesome thorns and reached his heart, he was the dead softest thing you’d ever seen. 

I moved my body in kind, turning to face him fully. My hands cupped his soft cheeks, my thumb rubbing slow circles on his soft skin.

His hands adjusted their place on my waist, his fingers digging into my skin. It wasn’t done in a way that was meant to hurt me, but to stake his claim. 

His possessiveness was present and I was feeling my drive accelerating rapidly. 

I moved closer, not allowing there to be even an inch of space separating us—I needed him closer. Everything truly felt like it depended upon how near he stood to me.

His tongue slipped past my mouth’s barrier and into my mouth, my startled gasp soon morphed into a deep nasal exhale.

“Yeah? That’s it, babe. Knew you’d love it.” His voice was low, the teasing wasn’t missed in the tone—pure fucking arrogance. A cheeky chuckle escaped his lips, giving me a few seconds to catch my breath.

I didn’t let him keep talking, highly intoxicated on intimacy and desperate to feel his lips on mine. My lips crashed back against his. Liam’s fingers rubbed small circles on the small sliver of exposed skin my marginally ridden shirt had exposed.

He slowly pushed me back against the window, its cool surface contrasting my warm body. His lips trailed down, attacking my throat with feather-like kisses.

I gasped, soft and airy gasps.

“Fuck. Tastes so good.” Liam muttered against my skin. 

The voice—rough, low—had me trembling. His finger traced the outline of my clothed back, his ring cooler than the window surface. 

Liam, without so much as a warning, turned me back around. The quickness of which he did it, startled me, causing me to hold on to the window for balance. 

The perfectly polished window? Now tainted by our filth and a witness to our sin. 

Liam’s fingers worked to undo the button of my shorts, while his lips worked on my collarbones. Once he had, he wasted no time diving in. 

A hand slid inside my shorts, between my legs. My legs shook slightly as Liam ran his hands up and down teasingly.

The bastard’s smug expression was clear in the reflection of the pane. Watching me come underdone in his arms was clearly something he’d had dreams about. 

A soft, pleading whine of his name escaped my lips. 

“Holy…fuck,” I moaned, my eyes fluttering shut. 

Liam’s other hand, which had been idly resting on my waist, finally found purpose. Slowly, it inched upwards until it found my breast-filled silk bra. Liam cupped a tit, rubbing thumb over the already erected nipple, evidence of my arousal, earning a sharp inhale for me. 

The way we were going, there was no way we were going to stop. I knew where this led—the same thing it always led to. Paradise. But now I had a bigger concern. It stemmed from the public show we were giving to anyone who were to make the mistake of looking up for even a sliver of a second. 

When he slipped his finger inside me, all semblance of logical and critical thinking flew out the window. My thoughts died in my throat. Try as I may have to get a word out, I couldn’t utter a thing.

“You tryna say summat, love?” Liam mocked, amusement laced in his voice.

I tried again, and still…

“Shut…” I weakly gasped, but that sentence too was killed before it had a chance at life when Liam inserted another finger. 

My legs clenched unavailingly, trying to escape the stimulation that was being given—desperate for some sort of relief, but my attempts were futile as Liam’s grip kept me in place, at his complete mercy.

I tried to speak, but only broken trains of breaths had been birthed as Liam’s fingers thrusted in and out of my folds, the accumulating moisture in his fingers of my arousal made slick noises, the wet sounds echoed about in the room along with the noises I’d tried restraining by biting my lower lip.

“So nice and wet for me, eh?”

 I bit down on my lower lip harder to block a particularly loud moan. Liam wasn’t having it. He drove in harder, kissing down at one of the many love bites he had left on my skin. 

Pressure was building up, like the string of an arrow being wound back, getting ready for attack. I felt myself tightening around Liam’s fingers. When it finally got to be too much, a final utter of a swear was uttered as I came onto Liam’s hands.

My head tipped back as I allowed the pleasure to consume me, only bringing it back up when Liam had helped me ride out my orgasmic pleasure. 

Liam removed his fingers when he saw that I had softened beneath him like putty. He brought his fingers to his lips—his blue eyes maintaining contact with my eyes as he licked them clean.

I’d truly never seen a more erotic sight, it was turning me on even more.

I hadn’t even caught my breath when Liam’s belt was unbuckled and his pants fell to the floor. He gently tugged my shorts down, then my panties followed, reaching my socked ankles. 

Liam bent me down forward at a certain degree–just enough. The tip of his cock teased my entrance, a slow glide that made me whimper in frustration.

Even now, as we were in the heat of this passionate moment, ready to become one, he was still being a pain in the arse. 

“Liam,” I whined. “Stop being a knobhead.”

“Sorry, love. You’re going to have to beg.”

“Liam, I swear, I’m gonna–” my threat was cut off, when Liam pushed himself inside me. A loud moan erupted from my mouth. The air from my lungs were completely knocked out. 

“Fuck,” Liam groaned, pleasure consuming him. 

A row of filthy phrases were expelled from his mouth as he fucked me through and through, harder and faster. There was no time to settle into the pace, not slow and gentle build up. Just complete desperation and need. He continually struck that spot that kept my eyes rolling back. Tears shed from the corner of my lashes, making contact with my mascara and smearing it down my eyes. 

Our breathing had grown rapid, my heart felt like it was running a marathon.

“Tell me how it feels…” Liam moaned.

“So—umph—so good, Liam.” I’d barely managed between gasping breaths

Liam’s pace grew faster and frantic as he chased that place that was bound to bring us joy.

When he reached it, euphoria ruptured through my body, I clenched around Liam’s member and his throaty groan told me that he had reached it too. Liam thrusted some more, allowing me to ride out the climax with him.

He groaned, throwing his head backwards as he spilled his release inside me.

Our frantic breaths lost their momentum and as I finally caught my breath, I noticed something. 

Someone. 

Mouth agape, staring up at our window.

Well…

Fuck.

[babymangosworld]

"We're the Gallaghers" "it's a Gallagher thing" "we're from the south" "we're Gallagher's, it's what we do" "Gallaghers don't do therapy" " I'm a Gallagher " "Gallagher's don't _________" pls stfu

[onlygirlaliveinnyc]

boy next door [18+] જ⁀➴°⋆

pairing: pre-fame!liam gallagher x fem!reader genre: smut !!, slow burn if you squint lol word count: 3296 warnings: unprotected sex, crossfading (weed + alcohol; theyre both intoxicated !!), praise, hand over mouth, mmm cant think of anything else its mainly a whole lotta softness, minors dnii ! summary: you and liam have always been close — since before you knew what close even meant. you’re not officially a thing, never were. but when he sneaks through your window with cheap booze and a couple joints, something finally snaps. a/n: based of this and this! hope you love it 💌. gave myself a lot of time to write this which is why its 3k words :p; concepts like this are always so cute to me especially the fluffy bits so lmk if you guys want more !! ⋆. 𐙚 ̊

the thing about liam was—he’d always been around.

from the time you were small, all skinned knees and quiet dreams, he was there. next door, always knocking. sometimes with noel trailing behind, sometimes with bruises on his elbows and a grin too wide for his face. you'd grown up like that: side by side, scrapping over telly remotes, making up stupid games in the street till the lights came on.

it was easy, then. simple. the kind of bond that doesn’t get named because it doesn’t need to be. he was just liam, and you were just you, and somehow that had always been enough.

except, it wasn’t. not really. not as you got older. not when the space between you started to stretch thin, electric. not when you started noticing the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t watching—or the way you started looking back.

and noel, always had something to say about it. “jesus, will you two just shag already?” he’d mutter, flicking crisps at your shared spot on the gallagher couch, where you’d inevitably ended up too close. legs tangled. heads tipped together.

“shut it,” liam would say, voice lazy, arm thrown across the back of the sofa behind your neck like it meant nothing. like his thumb wasn’t brushing your shoulder. like you weren’t leaning in.

and you weren’t a thing. not officially. not ever.

there were others—people you dated, people he kissed... or fucked behind pubs—but they never seemed to stick. didn’t matter how far you drifted, you always came back to each other. always found yourselves shoulder to shoulder again, sneaking out of the gallaghers’ house to smoke in the backyard or lying in your room with music spinning soft on the stereo.

and he never said it. you didn’t either. but it was there. in the way he carried your books when he couldn’t be arsed to carry his own. in the way he always had a hand at the small of your back when your parents were shouting again, like he could keep you steady.

it was like that for years. soft. close. nearly.

and then one night—it changed.

—

it started with the knock. two taps. one pause. one more tap. the code you’d made up years ago, back when he’d sneak pebbles at your window when your mum grounded you for staying out too late.

you climbed out of bed, heart thudding, bare feet cold against the floor. the room was dark save for the amber glow of the streetlight filtering through the curtains. when you pulled the window up, liam was there, crouched on the roof just below your ledge, grinning like he’d done something heroic.

“miss me?” he asked.

“liam,” you hissed. “it’s nearly midnight.”

“and?” he held up a brown paper bag, triumphant. “nicked this from noel. figured we could have a bit of a drink. catch up. got us a couple joints, too.”

“you’re insufferable.”

he smirked. “but charming.”

you rolled your eyes but stepped back, letting him climb in. he stumbled a little on the landing, knocking into your desk and sending a few pens skittering across the floor.

“shhh,” you whispered, laughing despite yourself. “you’re gonna wake my dad.”

“wouldn’t be the first time.” he flopped onto your bed like he owned it, sprawling across the covers and patting the space beside him. “come on, love. sit with me.”

soon you were both pressed together under the soft lamplight, passing the bottle back and forth, coughing your way through cheap whiskey and shared laughter. liam had rummaged through your little stack of records before settling on beatles for sale—said it calmed him down, made the world feel less shit. the needle crackled to life, spinning out soft harmonies and slow strums, a dusty warmth in the background. he even whistled along under his breath, off-key but fond.

then liam tugged the little joint from behind his ear and lit it with a crooked grin, flicking his lighter to life and cupping it against the breeze from the cracked window.

the flame sputtered as he lit it, and he grinned around it before taking a long, slow drag. "god, that’s better," he said, voice already dipping low. "feel like m’floatin’."

you laughed, tipsy and warm. "yeah? might need to tie you down."

"yeah," he said, dreamy. "tie me down to your bed, more like."

"open that a bit more, babe. unless you want the whole house reekin' like sin."

you obliged, leaning forward on your knees, fumbling with the latch. the old window creaked as you cracked it wider, letting the night air spill in. it was cooler now, soft and damp and threaded with the scent of rain from earlier. you glanced at the small lavender candle on the windowsill—something you’d nicked from your mum’s cupboard weeks ago.

"s’getting stuffy in here," you mumbled, reaching over to strike a match.

the flame flared, then softened. you touched it to the candlewick, and the room filled with the warm, clean scent of lavender and smoke.

you didn’t notice the way liam had gone still behind you. didn’t see the way his eyes locked on your body—the stretch of your thighs, the rise of your ass where your sleep shirt had ridden up, the soft indent of your waist as you leaned into the windowsill. all that lazy heat in his gut twisted sharp.

he took a swig from the bottle between his legs—sweet and sharp on the tongue—and passed it back to you. you took it without thinking, fingers brushing his. the liquor burned warm as it slid down, mixing with the haze of weed in your lungs.

the crossfade hit slow, like syrup, and you giggled as you swayed back toward him. your limbs felt like water, cheeks hot, the room soft at the edges like a dream. liam was still watching you—too long, too quiet.

when you turned back, candle lit and sweet smoke curling through the air, his eyes were darker.

"what?" you asked, a little breathless.

he blinked like he’d been caught staring. "nothin’. just—fuckin’ hell, you’re trouble."

he handed you the joint and you took a drag, laughing low. your fingers brushed as you passed it back, and this time when he caught your hand, he didn’t let go.

he didn’t say anything, but his thumb rubbed slow over your knuckles, and the air between you got heavy.

"liam?" you asked, voice small.

he looked at you, eyes molten. "come here."

he tugged your hand gently, guiding you toward him. and something about the way he did it—soft, sure, like he’d always known you’d come—made your chest ache.

"y’realize we’ve been passin’ the joint the wrong way for like ten minutes?" liam mumbled suddenly, blinking at the candlelight like it might float off the sill.

you snorted. "you’re stoned as fuck."

"nah," he said, grinning. "just thinkin’... y’look pretty in the light. like—fuck. like a dream or summat."

"what’re you doin’?" you teased, half-whisper.

"makin’ room for my girl," he said. simple. like it was always meant to be.

you slid over, loose-limbed and flushed, crawling into his lap, thighs spread over his hips. the weed and drink had softened your limbs, blurred your edges—you felt floaty and bright, every brush of skin a spark.

he groaned, quiet and reverent, hands finding your waist. "look at you," he murmured. "fuckin’ hell. you always feel this warm?"

"only with you."

his hands roamed under your shirt, slow and bold, fingers brushing the soft skin under your breasts before cupping them, thumbs flicking over your nipples. you gasped, hips rocking into him on instinct.

he kissed you then, slow and deep, tasting like whiskey and weed and every secret you’d ever kept between you.

it built quick. your hands tangling in his hair, his grip tightening on your hips like he couldn’t get you close enough. the crossfade made everything feel far away and too close all at once—his mouth hot and wanting, your body buzzing under his palms.

he pulled your sleep shorts and panties down, letting them pool on the floor. then his hands framed your thighs as he flipped you underneath him on the bed, mouth trailing fire down your neck.

he undid his jeans with one hand, shoving them down just far enough to free his cock, already flushed and leaking. he stroked himself once, eyes locked on you.

"fuck, look at you,” he breathed. “laid out all pretty for me.”

he lined himself up and sank into you slow, making you both gasp. the stretch was full, perfect—you clung to his shoulders, breath stuttering.

he started slow—deep thrusts, slow grinds that dragged your body across the sheets, lips brushing your cheek. he whispered praises between kisses, breath hot against your jaw. "so good, baby. always so fuckin’ good."

but when the bed creaked beneath you—once, then again, louder—your eyes flew wide.

"shit—my mum," you breathed.

liam froze. listened. then swore under his breath. he kissed you quick, then pulled out with a hiss.

"fuck this," he muttered, already scooping you up with warm hands. you barely had time to gasp before he was walking you backward, both of you stumbling slightly from your intoxication.

he pressed you to the wall and leaned in close. but you didn’t turn away—you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

he kissed just below your ear, voice breathless. "jump for me, love. wrap your legs 'round me."

you obeyed, high and shaky, your thighs lifting and hooking around his waist. he caught you easily, one hand under your ass, the other braced against the wall. your back thudded soft against the plaster as he held you there, his cock pressed right up against your cunt, still slick and throbbing.

"there we go," he murmured, face buried in your neck. "hold on to me, yeah?"

you nodded, clinging to him, dizzy and burning. the crossfade made your limbs feel molten, head swimming and body too soft, too full of want. your fingers twisted into the hair at the nape of his neck, your cheek pressed hot to his shoulder.

he guided himself back in slow, thick and stretching, and you both gasped at the pressure. your cunt clung to him like it didn’t want to let go. the angle was deeper this way, fuller—he bottomed out with a breathless groan.

his hand was over your mouth instantly, muffling the high moan that caught in your throat.

"shhh, sweetheart," he breathed, voice thick and low. "don’t want your dad hearin’ how good the boy next door makes you feel, yeah?"

you whimpered beneath his palm, biting down on the sound.

he started to move—slow, grinding thrusts that sent tremors through your body. your limbs felt floppy, crossfaded and blissed-out, every motion like moving through honey. you let out a little giggle between moans, half-dazed, and he huffed a laugh against your cheek.

"you’re so fuckin’ high," he whispered. "feelin’ good, yeah?"

you nodded, lips brushing his neck. "feels mad. like m’floatin’."

"you are, babe. on cloud fuckin’ nine."

his grin turned feral, and he rolled his hips in a sharper snap that made your eyes flutter.

"gonna fuck you so good you’ll think you’re dreamin’." the wall was cool against your back, a stark contrast to the heat blooming everywhere else. you held tighter, chest pressed to his, bare skin against bare skin.

his hips rolled harder, dragging moans from your throat that died against his hand. his other arm curled tight around your waist, holding you suspended, hips flush as he fucked into you deep.

"so good like this," he muttered into your ear, voice rough. "warm little cunt wrapped around me. fuckin’ made for it."

your thighs squeezed tighter around his hips, trying to ground yourself. everything felt too much—too good. your high made the sensations blur at the edges, cotton-soft and golden. every thrust hit deeper, messier, the kind of want you’d only dreamed about.

"you’re bein’ so quiet, baby," he panted. "my good girl. keep bein’ good for me, yeah?"

he shifted slightly, hand sliding from your mouth to your breast, palming it roughly, thumb grazing your nipple. your breath hitched and you buried your face in the crook of his neck, teeth catching skin as your body arched into him.

"fuckin’ hell," he groaned, hips snapping up. "that’s it. take it. you love this, don’t you? bein’ held like this. full of me."

he rocked into you faster, rougher now—slamming up into that sweet spot with every stroke. your hips jolted with each thrust, back pressed harder into the wall, and the moans you couldn’t hold in came out as muffled gasps against his throat.

"gonna make me come just from the way you sound," he growled. "but not yet, yeah? need you to come first. need to feel you squeeze me."

his hand trailed between you, fingers finding your clit and circling slow, tight little strokes that made you buck in his grip. your body shook. your nails dug into his back.

"gonna be good? come on my cock without makin’ a sound?"

you nodded, unable to find words, lips trembling against his skin.

"attagirl," he rasped, kissing your temple. "you’re so fuckin’ pretty like this. all dazed and needy. my good girl."

he slammed up again and again, pace relentless, and you felt it building fast. your whole body tensed, thighs quaking around his hips. it was dizzying—overwhelming—the way he filled you, the way he praised you through it.

you shattered in his arms with a soft, strangled cry against his neck. your cunt pulsed around him, fluttering so tight it pulled a ragged moan from his lips.

"fuck, that’s it," he groaned. "my pretty girl. look how fuckin’ perfect you are when you come."

he kept fucking you through it—deep, slow thrusts that made your body jolt each time he bottomed out. your cunt pulsed around him, milking him, and he groaned low, lost in the way you clenched. your head lolled against his shoulder, mouth open in a silent moan.

"can’t fuckin’ take it," he breathed. "gonna come—need you on your knees for me, love. now."

he slipped out, already panting, and lowered you to the floor with shaking hands. you dropped to your knees in front of him, dazed and flushed, lips parted.

"open up for me," he panted, pumping his cock. you obeyed, eyes wide and glossy.

he stroked himself faster, tip flushed and leaking, before slapping it twice against your lips—wet, teasing, the sound sharp in the hush of the room. you moaned softly, tongue flicking out.

"you want it, yeah? let me come in that pretty mouth."

you nodded, and that was all he needed. his hips stuttered and he groaned, thick and deep, spilling over your tongue in hot spurts.

"fuck, yes—good girl, take it. take all of it."

you swallowed him down, letting him empty into your mouth until he trembled above you, one hand fisted in your hair.

he watched you, eyes half-lidded, as you licked your lips clean.

"jesus fuckin’ christ," he muttered, pulling you gently up and into his arms. "gonna be dreamin’ about that forever, love."

he grabbed a spare tee from the floor and cleaned you gently, careful hands on your thighs, soft kisses to your shoulder. helped you into your knickers, lifted you into bed with a sigh.

he tucked you both in for a moment, arms still trembling around you. you curled against him, half-asleep, your breath warm on his chest. the room was dim and golden with the last flicker of candlelight.

"d’you really have to go?" you whispered, voice slurred with sleep and weed.

he pressed his mouth to your hair. "yeah, love. can’t have your parents catch me in here, balls out and breathless."

you laughed, quiet and warm. "just stay till i fall asleep. just a bit longer."

liam exhaled like it hurt. he brushed your temple with his thumb, tucked a bit of hair behind your ear. "i’d stay forever if i could. swear it."

"then don’t go."

"i have to, babe. for now."

you sighed, hand slipping beneath his tee to rest over his heart. he stayed a while longer, just breathing with you, watching the shadows crawl across the ceiling.

when your breaths evened out, he kissed your cheek, then your jaw, then your lips—soft, slow, like a promise.

he slid out from under the covers, tucking the blanket up around your shoulders, his touch lingering. he watched you for a moment more, eyes roaming your face like he was memorising every piece of it.

"i’ll be back," he whispered. "soon as i can."

he crept to the window, bare feet soundless on the wood floor. paused with one hand on the sill. looked back one last time.

you didn’t stir. just lay there, soft and perfect and dreaming.

and when he slipped out into the cool night air, the room still smelled of lavender and sin and something sweeter still—yours.

he crept over the roof tiles like a cat, the cold night air bit at his skin where his shirt stuck to him with sweat. his legs were jelly. his mind still slow with weed, whiskey, sex, and the feel of you—sticky thighs and sleepy kisses and your breath hot in his ear.

he landed light on the garden ledge, hopped the fence, and made his way to the back of his house, slipping through the side door and into the kitchen like a ghost.

except he wasn’t quiet enough.

“’bout fuckin’ time.”

liam froze halfway through toeing off his trainers. noel’s voice drifted in from the living room—dry, smug, unmistakably awake.

“what’re you doin’ up?” liam mumbled, trying to play it off, but his voice cracked halfway through.

“could ask you the same,” noel called. “creepin’ back from a shag. hang on—were you shaggin’? you were, weren’t you?”

liam rolled his eyes and padded in, hair a mess, face flushed. he collapsed onto the armchair with a groan. “jesus christ, can you not?”

“don’t need to,” noel said, grinning over his mug of tea. “you smell like a perfume ad gone off the rails. bit of weed, bit of lavender... and a lot of gettin’ your dick wet.”

liam shot him a glare, but it was weak at best.

“and you’re limpin’,” noel added, gleeful now. “what’d she do, tie you up?”

“fuck off.”

“was it who i think it was?”

liam went silent.

noel’s grin widened. “’bout time, mate. jesus. the way you two’ve been orbitin’ each other since nappies—i was startin’ to think you’d die of unresolved tension before you ever figured it out.”

liam scrubbed a hand through his hair, grinning despite himself. “yeah, well. figured it out, didn’t i?”

“you’re still pink in the cheeks,” noel teased. “she ride you that good?”

liam threw a cushion at his head.

“oi! i’m tryin’ to be supportive here.”

“you’re bein’ a knob.”

noel just laughed, leaned back, sipped his tea like he hadn’t just roasted liam alive. “you gonna tell mum you finally copped off with the girl next door, or should i?”

“tell ’em and i’ll kill you in your sleep.”

“romantic.”

but noel didn’t press. just gave him a look—equal parts smug and warm—and nodded once like it was settled. like it was understood.

liam leaned back, staring at the ceiling. the taste of you still lingered in his mouth. your hands, your mouth, your quiet gasp when he told you he’d marry you someday.

“she’s somethin’ else,” he murmured.

noel snorted. “you’re so far gone.”

liam didn’t deny it.

he just smiled.

[oacest]

Noel, January 17, 2023, reporting on BBC Radio Manchester that he and Liam are speaking and on good terms

Mike Sweeney: Gotta get the elephant out the room - how are you and your kid getting on these days? Noel Gallagher: Oh, brilliantly, yeah! MS: Genuinely?! NG: Genuinely, yeah. He's taking a year out, apparently, to find himself. MS: Would, you think, if he and you find brotherly peace along the way, would there ever be a time that you'd play together going forward, in any sort of a way? NG: Well, one should never say never, right, but I have to be honest and - for no other reason than, if Oasis hadn't fulfilled its potential, then there'd be something left - like the Stone Roses, when they came back, right, they didnt really fulfill their potential, right? So it was worthwhile for them to come back. Oasis smashed it, repeatedly, for 20-odd years. But, it would have to take an extraordinary set of circumstances but that's not to say those circumstances wouldn't ever come about.

[biblical-chronicles]

Scratches

___________________________________________

where headscratches become Liam's new favourite thing.

___________________________________________

Your flat was the unofficial second home for Liam at this point.

It wasn’t something either of you ever really acknowledged out loud. He’d just started turning up more and more — sometimes with a Tesco bag full of crisps and cans, sometimes with nothing but a half-empty crate of beer and a loud sigh as he kicked his trainers off at the door.

You didn’t mind. Most days, you even looked forward to the sound of his knock, that familiar rhythm followed by his usual greeting: “Oi, open up love, I’m dyin’ out ‘ere.”

Today wasn’t any different.

You’d barely settled in with a cuppa when the door buzzed. Liam came shuffling in, looking like he’d walked straight out of a wind tunnel, hair all over the place, jacket half-zipped, and a pout already forming.

He collapsed onto the couch dramatically. “Swear down,” he groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes. “This’s been the most exhaustin’ fuckin’ day of me life.”

You raised an eyebrow, setting your mug down on the coffee table. “What, did you write a whole verse by yourself or summat?”

He peeked out from under his arm, lips twitching. “Cheeky. Nah, had to do one of them press things. Dead boring. Sittin’ in some shite chair for hours while they ask me about the same bollocks.”

You laughed and nudged his side with your foot. “Poor little rockstar. Life’s so hard.”

“Bet yer arse it is.” He slumped further, kicking his legs out. “This couch’s better than any hotel suite I’ve had in months. Dunno what magic you put in it.”

You settled next to him, perched right near his head. He gave a half-turn, eyes squinting up at you. “Gonna sit there and mock me, or are you gonna do summat useful?”

You grinned, brushing a bit of his fringe back. “Like what, exactly?”

He tilted his head ever so slightly into your touch, barely noticeable, but you caught it. Your fingers found their way into his hair, slow at first, testing the waters.

Liam let out a soft, involuntary sound, something between a sigh and a hum, and you bit back a smile.

“Jesus,” he mumbled, “you tryna kill me or summat?”

“Don’t be dramatic.”

“I’m not, swear down.” His voice dropped, going all lazy and loose. “Feels proper nice.”

You scratched gently at his scalp, your nails tracing lazy circles. He melted. There was no other word for it. His head sank further into your lap, limbs stretching out like a cat in the sun.

Every so often, he made these little pleased grunts, satisfied, and entirely unbothered.

“Mm, right there,” he muttered as you shifted your fingers to the base of his neck. “Don’t stop. You’ve found the spot now, haven’t ya?”

“Liam.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m bein’ grateful, love.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t stop. He was completely at your mercy now, all floppy limbs and half-lidded eyes. His breathing had gone slower, almost like he could fall asleep any second.

You’d paused for maybe five seconds then, just long enough to sip a bit of your tea, and Liam almost immidiately groaned at the loss of contact.

“Oi,” he mumbled, eyes still closed, voice all gravel and pout, “why’d you stop?”

You looked down at him, sprawled out with half his face mashed into the armrest, one foot hanging off the end of the couch like he’d been tossed there, not settled. “Jesus, you’re needy today.”

“Just today?” he muttered. “Thought you liked me like this. Soft. Tamed.”

You snorted, but your fingers found their way back into his hair anyway, dragging slow little scratches along his scalp, the kind that made his shoulders drop an inch and a barely-audible “mmph” slip out. He was trying not to react too much, you could tell, but his head was practically pressing into your lap.

“Y’know,” he said eventually, voice a little too casual to be natural, “you should start chargin’ for this. Could make a business out of it.”

“Oh yeah? You gonna be my first client?”

“I’ll be your fuckin’ billboard, me.”

You rolled your eyes, but he peeked up at you just then, half-lidded, mouth twitching with that smug, lazy smirk, and it was just… warm. He had that kind of look that didn’t ask for anything but made you want to give him everything anyway. A real pain in the arse. The kind you didn’t want to be rid of.

He let his eyes flutter shut again and let out another long, content noise when your nails found that spot at the back of his neck. Like you’d flicked a switch somewhere in him.

You kept scratching, just watching him. Watching the way his mouth parted a bit, the crease between his brows smoothing out. You were sure if you stopped again, he’d kick off like a toddler denied a biscuit, but the thought of winding him up didn’t even appeal right now.

Because — and you weren’t ready to say this out loud — he looked so sweet like this. Soft. Almost too much to look at.

And then he tilted his head into your palm again, very deliberate, eyes still shut.

“D’you reckon,” he started, lazily, “if I keep lettin’ you do that, you’ll fall in love with me or summat?”

Your fingers paused. He cracked one eye open, the corner of his mouth quirking.

“Think it might be workin’ already, if I’m honest.”

You scoffed, shoved lightly at his forehead. “Oh, fuck off.”

But your chest felt warm. And when he tipped his head to look up at you again, properly now, chin half resting on your thigh, something inside you just gave way.

You kissed him before you could stop yourself.

He blinked, stunned silent for once in his life. His hands had come up instinctively, just resting at your sides, fingers barely there.

“…Well, that’s new,” he muttered, sounding dazed.

You bit your lip, looked down at him. “Been trying not to.”

“That so?” He grinned now, not cocky, just quietly pleased.

You nodded. “You’re a bit much sometimes.”

“Yeah, but you like me anyway.”

“Unfortunately.”

You both laughed, and then he leaned up again, slower this time, his lips pressing into yours like he’d finally caught his footing. After a second he tilted his head a little, deepening it without showiness, just enough to make your fingers curl in his hair again on instinct.

When you pulled back, both of you kind of just sat there for a beat. Letting it settle.

“…So you gonna keep scratchin’, or what?” he said, voice low now, almost sheepish.

You rolled your eyes. “Unbelievable.”

___________________________________________

your girl is back !! missed ya lot so much, hope that your April is unfolding well, finally getting some decent weather xx

sorry if it's a bit shite but I need to get back into the writin' groove x

[celestialgallaghers]

Desire [18+]

Liam is pissing me off rn, but I prefer this fictional version of him❤️ Also thank you for 100 followers! 

Summary: A lazy afternoon with Liam leads to him expressing how much he adores you. In multiple ways. 

Word count: 3.5k

You and Liam were curled up on the couch, wrapped in the kind of lazy warmth that came from having nowhere to be and nothing to do. The air was still and comforting, the soft hum of the television providing a soothing backdrop. You hadn’t even bothered changing out of your sleepwear. Just one of Liam’s old shirts and your underwear, a combination that always seemed to do something to him, though he rarely admitted it outright.

His fingers traced absently through your hair, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. It was one of those moments where everything felt so easy, so right. But after a while, you noticed his hand had stilled.

Curious, you tilted your head up, only to find him already staring, a dopey little smile pulling at his lips. His eyes held that familiar look. Adoration wrapped in something softer, something deeper.

“What?” you asked, a slow smile creeping onto your face.

“Nothin’.” His voice was quiet, almost reverent. “Just think you’re pretty s'all.” His hand drifted to the nape of your neck, thumb brushing lightly over your skin.

No matter how many times he looked at you like that, no matter how many times he showed his affection, it never got old. That same warm feeling bloomed in your stomach, making you fall in love with him all over again.

Chuckling, you nudged him playfully. “Well, I think you’re pretty too.”

He huffed out a small laugh. “You’re just a bit biased, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little,” you admitted with a teasing grin. 

He took that as an invitation to pull you closer, arms tightening around you until there was no space left between you. He inhaled deeply, like he wanted to commit every part of this moment to memory, then rested his chin atop your head with a content sigh.

“I could stay like this all day,” he said softly.

You hummed in agreement, burrowing against him, letting the steady rise and fall of his chest lull you further into comfort. His fingers resumed their slow, absentminded movements, tracing light patterns along your hip. For a while, everything was calm. Until he started shifting.

At first, it was subtle. Just small adjustments, like he couldn’t quite settle. But then it kept happening, like he was deliberately trying to keep himself from getting too comfortable.

Biting back a grin, you decided to play dumb.

“Stop moving,” you said, tone laced with innocence.

Liam stilled for a second, but you could feel the way his hips angled away from you, like he was trying to keep a little distance. Like that would help.

Smirking to yourself, you pressed back just enough to graze over the growing hardness beneath his sweats. The reaction was instant. A sharp inhale through his nose, his entire body tensing against you.

His grip on your hip tightened, fingers pressing firmly into your skin before he exhaled through gritted teeth and shifted again, just slightly. That wouldn’t do. This time, you pressed fully against him.

The groan he let out was low, involuntary. It sent a thrill straight through you.

“You’re bein’ a tease,” he accused, his voice rougher now, that familiar edge creeping into it.

“You’re the one who got a stiffy just from cuddling,” you countered, laughter dancing in your tone as you glanced up at him.

His jaw clenched, but there was amusement in his eyes. “It’s hard not to when you’re practically naked and sittin’ in my lap,” he shot back.

You reached up, cupping his face, letting your thumb trace along his jaw. “What were you thinking about, hm?”

He leaned into your touch, eyes darkening as his tongue flicked over his lower lip. He hesitated for a moment before releasing it with a slow exhale.

“You really wanna know?” he asked, his voice dropping.

“Yeah,” you whispered, holding his gaze. “Gimme your worst.”

Something shifted in him then. His eyes flickered over your face, lingering on your lips, your throat, the way your shirt had slipped off one shoulder. His hands started to roam, fingertips ghosting across your skin. Then he leaned in, lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

“D’you really wanna know all the filthy thoughts I have about you while you’re sittin’ here wearing my shirt?”

A shiver ran through you, heat pooling deep in your stomach. You swallowed, tilting your chin up just slightly, pressing even closer.

Instead of answering, you shifted to fully face him, tangling your legs together. You leaned in, lips hovering just over his.

“Why don’t you just show me instead?” you murmured.

Liam’s expression darkened, the heat in his eyes burning as he leaned in, capturing your lips. It started soft, unhurried, a gentle caress that sent warmth blooming through your chest. But then his arms tightened around you, pulling you flush against him, and the tenderness melted into something deeper, something needier. His fingers dug into your waist as he shifted beneath you, pressing his growing arousal against the heat between your thighs.

The sensation made your breath hitch, sending a shiver racing up your spine. His hands wandered, slipping beneath the hem of his own oversized shirt that draped over your frame, his fingertips ghosting over the bare skin of your back. Each touch was a searing, making you arch into him instinctively.

A low groan rumbled in his chest as he guided you back against the couch, following you down, his weight settling over you, surrounding you completely. His hips pressed firmly into yours, the hard length of him grinding against the thin barrier of fabric between you. You let out a shaky exhale, shifting slightly beneath him, adjusting just enough to feel him more fully. The sharp inhale he took sent a bolt through you.

His lips broke away from yours, trailing an open mouthed path of kisses along the column of your throat. You tilted your head, granting him more access and his mouth latched onto the sensitive skin of your neck, sucking, teasing, his breath hot and uneven. 

His grip on your hips tightened, guiding them up to meet his own, the friction dizzying. A soft moan slipped past your lips, and Liam responded instantly, his hips rocking into yours with more urgency.

“The way you move,” he murmured against your skin, voice thick and gravelly, sending another wave of heat straight through you. “The sounds you make… fuck, it’s all so perfect.”

He rocked against you again, the slow grind making your thighs tighten around his hips. The pressure, the warmth, the sheer need coursing through you—it was all consuming. His lips moved lower, teasing along your jaw before finding that sensitive spot just beneath your ear. He nipped at your lobe, making you shudder beneath him.

His kisses moved lower, pushing up the fabric of your shirt as he went. His mouth trailed along your stomach, pressing slow, burning kisses against your skin. When he finally settled between your legs, his hands smoothed over your bare thighs, spreading them slightly beneath his touch.

Liam lifted his gaze to meet yours from beneath his dark lashes, desire burning behind his hooded eyes. The intensity in them made your breath hitch. He looked like he wanted to devour you.

He dipped lower, pressing light kisses against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, making your chest heave as he moved higher up. He didn’t break eye contact as he let his breath ghost over your heated skin before finally pressing his tongue flat against your clothed clit.

A soft moan escaped your lips, your head falling back against the cushion as a sharp jolt of pleasure shot through you. He flicked his tongue a few times, dampening the fabric even more, each swipe making your body jerk in response. It was maddening. 

He didn’t tease for long though thankfully. He hooked his fingers around your underwear, dragging them down and off in one smooth movement. His hands pressed against your thighs, pushing one up over his shoulder, opening you further to him.

And then he was on you. 

He pressed an open mouth kiss against you and you couldn’t stop the sharp jerk of your hips against his face. Your fingers slipped into his hair, gripping tightly as he groaned against you, sending delicious vibrations up your spine. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thighs, holding you in place as he moved against you with an intoxicating rhythm.

Every now and then, his gaze flicked up to meet yours, and each time, the burning intensity in his eyes sent another rush of heat through you. God had been so kind to him. Those beautiful lips, full and pink, were now smeared with you, glistening as he sucked harshly, making you cry out.

A soft hum rumbled from his chest and the vibration sent a new wave of pleasure crashing over you. He pulled back just slightly, lips brushing against you as he caught his breath. “You taste so good,” he panted, voice thick with desire before he dove back in. His tongue flicked and sucked relentlessly, his free hand sliding up to grip your hip tightly as he worked you toward the edge.

The sight of him between your legs, the way he was grinding against the couch for his own relief, only made the coil in your stomach tighten. Every time he rutted against the cushion, he let out a muffled groan, the sound sending sparks of pleasure straight through you. You tried to move against him, desperate to chase that last bit of friction, but his hands held you firm, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. His mouth was latched onto you, tongue moving with more fervor now that he could feel how close you were.

“Liam,” you gasped, barely above a breath, pleading. So, so close.

He hummed against you again, and that was it. That final vibration sent you over the edge. A cry tore from your throat as your body arched, pleasure crashing over you in waves. Your thighs trembled around his head, as he continued to work his tongue against you, prolonging your high for as long as possible.

Eventually, he pulled away, his breath ragged, his lips swollen and slick. His cheeks were flushed, his hair an absolute mess, his eyes heavy lidded with satisfaction. He looked utterly wrecked, but somehow, there was still that cocky, satisfied smirk curling at the edges of his mouth.

He pressed one last teasing kiss to your inner thigh before resting his head against your pelvis. Your chest was still heaving, aftershocks making you shudder beneath him. The sight of him alone made you twitch. Your fingers carded through his hair, scratching lightly against his scalp, making him sigh in contentment.

“You’re so good to me,” you muttered, voice still breathless. 

Liam only responded by pressing slow, reverent kisses into your stomach, his lips leaving damp marks in their wake. He tilted his head, licking his lips before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His grin was nothing short of sinful. “I try my best.” 

He trailed kisses up your stomach, his hands roaming your body with soft, lingering touches, his fingers tracing faint patterns along your skin. Every now and then, he would pause to look up at you, his gaze warm, filled with pure adoration.

When he finally reached your lips, the kiss was slow and lazy, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that made you melt all over again. His body pressed against yours, surrounding you with his warmth. 

He pulled away, panting heavily as his forehead rested against yours. You could feel him still achingly hard against your thigh and knew his patience was wearing thin. The hunger in his eyes told you he wasn’t nearly finished.

Suddenly, Liam scooped you up and carried you towards the bedroom. A surprised laugh bubbled from your lips, but it died the moment he threw you down on the mattress. His chest rose and fell heavily, his breath uneven, his pupils blown wide. The look in his eyes was wild, sending a deep shiver racing through your spine. 

He stood there for a moment, just watching you, drinking in the sight of you sprawled beneath him. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as his gaze roamed over your flushed skin, lingering in places that made your stomach twist with need.

Slowly, he began removing his clothes. His fingers worked the buttons of his shirt, unhurried, never once breaking eye contact. You watched raptly as he undressed, drinking in the slow reveal of his bare chest.

Your eyes flicked down, taking him in. Thick, hard, already leaking at the tip. The sight alone made your throat dry up. Your breath hitched when he let out a low, relieved sigh as his hand wrapped around himself briefly, stroking just once, as if to ease the unbearable pressure. The sound of his pleasure, that barely contained need, sent a fresh wave of arousal flooding through your veins.

He crawled onto the bed, his body hovering over yours, caging you beneath him. His warmth, his weight, his sheer presence surrounded you, making your head spin. His fingers toyed with the hem of your damp shirt before slowly peeling it away, leaving you completely bare beneath him.

His lips parted slightly, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly, eyes darkening even more with unfiltered desire.

“Fuck…” His voice was thick, nearly wrecked. “You’re unreal.”

His hands trailed over your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. He cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing lazily over your hardened peaks. The sensation sent a shudder rippling through you, a needy whimper slipping past your lips before you could stop it. Your body already craved more, despite the fact that he had just pulled an orgasm from you minutes ago.

“Liam…” you breathed, barely above a whisper. 

The sound of his name on your lips sent something dark flashing through his gaze. Before you could even process it, he had you flipped onto your stomach, his firm grip dragging you to the edge of the bed, positioning you exactly where he wanted you. 

A startled gasp escaped you as he pressed his body against your back, his bare chest searing hot against your skin. His cock, thick and insistent, ground against you, sliding along your slick folds in a way that made your thighs tremble.

“Need you so bad,” he groaned against your ear, his breath warm and ragged, his hands gripping your hips with near bruising intensity.

He pulled back just slightly, gripping your ass, angling you higher, trying to bring you up against him even more. You pushed up onto your elbows, allowing your body to bend further, giving him everything he needed.

His cock nudged against your entrance, thick and throbbing, and he sucked in a sharp breath at the feel of you. You whimpered, thighs shaking as you pushed back against him, urging him to move.

“Love… can I?” His voice was barely more than a rasp, laced with raw desperation.

Your stomach flipped, heat licking up your spine at how utterly wrecked he already sounded. The way he held himself back, trembling with restraint, made your core tighten with need.

“God, yes,” you moaned, pushing your hips back against him, pleading.

Liam groaned low in his throat, savoring the way you surrendered so easily to him. He nudged your knees further apart before gripping your ass and pulling you flush against him. Then, without warning, he pushed in, slow and deep, until he was seated to the hilt, a sharp hiss escaping his lips at the way your warmth clenched around him.

Your mouth fell open in a silent gasp, your fingers digging into the sheets as you tried to adjust to the way he filled you, stretched you. This angle...it was deeper, more intense, making you feel him in places that sent flames licking up your spine.

“Fuck… you feel so good,” he muttered, voice frayed at the edges, barely holding it together.

He pulled back before snapping his hips forward in a sharp thrust that sent you jolting up the mattress. A choked moan spilled from your lips as your fingers curled into the sheets, desperate for something to hold onto.

Liam pulled you back into place effortlessly, his grip tightening as he started moving again. He rolled his hips with precision, grinding into you with deep, languid thrusts, making sure you felt every inch of him stretching you open. The sensation was maddening, pleasure curling in your stomach, winding tighter and tighter.

“You take me so well,” he groaned, pressing a hand to the small of your back, guiding your body into the perfect angle. “So fucking perfect for me.”

Then he pulled back and thrust sharply, the force of it knocking the breath from your lungs. A cry tore from your throat as he started fucking into you in earnest, each thrust deep and devastating. 

His name tumbled from your lips in breathless gasps, tangled with soft moans and the sound of skin meeting skin. His rhythm grew desperate, his thrusts erratic, as if he needed to be as deep inside you as humanly possible.

Your moans were spilling freely now, each one choked off by his thrusts. You tried to meet his thrusts the best you could, but your mind was dizzy with pleasure, unable to focus. Each thrust was hitting dead on, making your vision white out and punching unfamiliar noises out of you.

His hand slid into your hair, fisting it, tugging gently, just enough to angle your head exactly the way he wanted. He alternated between pulling you back and pressing you down, making you feel completely at his mercy.

“Liam,” you gasped, barely coherent.

His grip tightened, leaning his weight into you. The heaviness of it made you gasp, making it a bit harder to breathe. It only pushed you higher. The noises spilling from Liam were almost too much. His ragged breathing, the soft whimpers that only escaped him when he was on the brink.

Then, suddenly, he pushed you further down and thrust sharply—once, twice—and your vision blurred as you tumbled over the edge. A sharp cry ripped from your lips as your second orgasm crashed over you, white hot and all consuming. Your body convulsed around him, your walls fluttering, clenching, milking every last inch of him.

A few more deep, desperate thrusts, and then Liam groaned, wrecked and raw, his grip tightening as he came. His body jerked against yours, filling you in hot, pulsing waves. His moans melted into something almost melodic, breathy and broken, as he rode out the last tremors of his release.

He trembled slightly as he came down, his grip loosening on you. Slowly, he pulled out, and you collapsed onto the mattress, completely spent. A second later, he followed, falling beside you, chest heaving, skin slick with sweat. His usual sharp features were softened, his flushed cheeks and blissed out expression making him look utterly debauched.

After a moment, he shifted closer, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you against his chest. His lips pressed into the top of your head, a lingering kiss, as his fingers traced absentminded patterns along your arm.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked softly. 

You sighed contentedly, your fingers trailing over his chest. “No,” you rasped, voice hoarse. “Quite the opposite.”

Liam let out a breathless laugh. “Good,” he whispered, his arm tightening around you. “I just…I got a bit carried away.”

“I like when you get carried away,” you admitted, pressing a lazy kiss to his chest. “Like feeling how much you need me.”

His arms tightened around you even more, pulling you flush against him. His lips brushed over your hair, his voice almost a whisper.

“I don’t think you understand how much I need you,” he confessed, his voice raw with something deeper than just desire.

Your heart clenched at his words, love swelling so fiercely inside you it almost hurt. You closed your eyes, breathing him in. The lingering scent of sex and sweat and that familiar, intoxicating scent that was just Liam.

“Was that what you were thinking about earlier?” you asked, suddenly remembering how all of this had started.

“Not exactly,” he mumbled, a smirk ghosting his lips. “Wanted to bend you over the couch right then and there, but this was much better.”

A sleepy laugh bubbled from your lips. “Well, I’m not opposed to that idea,” you teased.

Liam grinned, eyes darkening again, his fingers lazily tracing patterns along your bare hip. “Yeah?” he murmured, his voice thick with lingering desire. “You’d let me ruin you right there in the living room? Where anyone could walk in and see how good you take me?”

His words sent a fresh shiver down your spine, despite how utterly spent you were. You bit your lip, meeting his gaze through heavy lidded eyes. “I’d let you do whatever you want,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Liam exhaled sharply, his grip on your waist tightening. “Fuck, don’t say things like that unless you mean it, love,” he warned, his tone laced with something dangerous. “Or I swear, I’ll have you bent over that couch before you even catch your breath.”

You smirked, pressing a teasing kiss to his jaw. “Maybe that’s exactly what I want.”

[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.