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celestialgallaghers · 2 days ago

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Velvet [18+]

i kinda need this to happen to me🤭 liam gallagher hml.

Summary: high sex w liam <3

Word count: 3.9k

You and Liam were sprawled on the couch, music playing low in the background. One of those endless Friday nights where time moved in strange little waves. No rehearsals. No shows. Nothing. Noel was off playing roadie for the month and that left Liam aimless. Drifting. Waiting for him to come back and bring a bit of direction with him.

Secretly, you didn’t mind. Not when it meant you got Liam all to yourself again. Not when he looked like this.

You were curled sideways into the cushions, one leg slung over his thigh, your hand cradling the sharp angles of his face. Thumb dragging slow, absent minded circles over the soft curve of his brow. His skin was warm and slightly damp, flushed from the heat of the room, the smoke, the way your fingers kept lingering. The weed had hit him hard, eyes glassy and half-lidded, lids fluttering every so often like he was fighting sleep. Or like he just didn’t see the point in staying fully awake when he could just…bask. That’s what it felt like. Like he was basking in you.

He looked at you the whole time. Didn’t blink much. Just stared, gaze heavy. It only made his lashes more noticeable, casting delicate shadows across his cheekbones every time he moved. His mouth hung open just enough to drive you insane.

He was too fucking pretty.

It didn’t make sense. He was a chaos creature by nature. Loud and unfiltered and reckless. But then he’d go and look at you like that. With those sleepy eyes and that mouth. That fucking mouth.

Your eyes flicked down. His lips were parted. They looked soft and were glistening like they’d been kissed too long. They didn’t match the rest of him. They were almost girlish. Pouty in a way that made you ache. Not fair. He didn’t get to be all rough and then walk around with lips like that.

They were what had pulled you in to begin with. The first thing you noticed. And the first thing you imagined against your neck. Your chest. Your thighs. You hadn’t stood a chance really.

Then he’d gone and made a mess out of you. Dragged you into his world. Got you caught up in the wistful hope of making it as a rock band. Of watching him. Watching them. Get better. Get more serious about it. Watched the way his whole body changed when the music hit right, when the crowd responded, even if it was just ten people in a basement somewhere. You saw the spark of it. The potential. The blossoming. It was intoxicating. So was he.

And now here he was lying next to you, stoned and quiet for once. You could’ve stayed like that forever. Just touching his face, tracing over every line like you were trying to memorize him by feel alone. The way his brows furrowed a little every time the music changed. The way his jaw slackened. His breathing was steady, soft through his nose, and you could feel it more than hear it. The way it fanned over your face.

Your thumb drifted lower, ghosting beneath his eye, skimming the soft swell of his cheekbone, then back up again. You weren’t really in control of your hand anymore. It moved on its own.

You stared at his lips again, fixated. It was like your focus had narrowed down to just one thing at a time, and right now it was that mouth. The shape of it. The impossible softness. How it hung open slightly, like he might speak, or sigh, or press it to your skin without warning.

You wanted to feel it everywhere. Slow, sloppy kisses until you consumed him. Lick every ounce of his essence into your own mouth. Your thumb slipped lower again, brushed the corner of his mouth without meaning to. And then his lips curved.

Just the faintest twitch. Barely there. But it hit you like a physical thing. Send a slow burning wave through your chest.

“Can’t believe how pretty you are,” you whispered.

Your thumb traced his bottom lip again. Slower this time. Intentional. You felt the warmth of it, the softness, how it gave just slightly under your touch.

He tilted his head the slightest bit, just enough to lean into your hand. You dragged your thumb down, parting his lips. And then, like he couldn’t help himself, he leaned forward and drew it into the wet heat of his mouth.

The feel of it set off a ripple that climbed up your arm and bloomed behind your ribs. Your stomach. Lower.

He sucked gently. It looked obscene. His lips wrapped around your finger beautifully. Then he flicked his tongue over the pad and it hit you square in the chest.

Dazedly, you wondered if this was what you looked like when you sucked him off. No. He was prettier. You were sure of it.

He pulled off slowly, letting a string of spit stretch between his lips and your thumb. They stayed apart, glistening. You leaned in, pressing your forehead to his.

Then you replaced your thumb with your mouth.

Your tongue slid along his bottom lip, pausing to suckle at it, unable to stop yourself. He tasted so fucking good. Like always.

You kissed him deeper, sliding your tongue into his mouth beside his own, licking lazily, hungrily. Melting into him. Every part of your body felt warm, like the heat of him was spreading through you inch by inch. Everything buzzed. Not just your skin but your blood, your head, your spine. That low hum that came from being too high and too into someone at the same time.

When you finally pulled back, his lips were a little swollen, eyes even heavier than before. He looked dazed. Wrecked in the best fucking way.

You stayed forehead to forehead, eyes half shut, breath mingling in the sticky heat between you. Every one of your senses was tuned to him. The weight of his body against yours. The press of skin to skin. The taste of him still clinging to your lips.

It was perfect. And not enough. All at once.

You slid your leg further between his, angling your hips to draw him in closer. He went easily, shifting until his thigh slotted between yours, his chest brushing more firmly against you with each breath. You weren’t sure if the thrum running through you was your heartbeat or his. Maybe both. It blurred together like everything else.

“Y’always get so clingy like this,” he finally mumbled, lips brushing yours as he spoke. “Fuckin’ love it.”

You huffed a soft laugh, pulling him in tighter, arm winding around his waist.

“Around you I do.”

“Yeah?” he asked. “Why’s that?”

You gave a lazy shrug, noses brushing. “Dunno. You just feel good.”

You punctuated the words with a kiss to his top lip, barely more than a press, then flicked your tongue over it.

“And taste good.”

He made a pleased sound in the back of his throat, and then his mouth was on yours again. Slow, hot kisses. You reveled in the feel of his lips, shivering despite the heat, letting him take you apart molecule by molecule.

“You taste good too,” he murmured, slurred halfway into your mouth.

You grinned at that. Couldn’t help it.

Then you felt him twitch against your thigh where you were pressed together. Like a heartbeat.

You moved slightly in response, hips shifting, and he hummed against your mouth low and content. The sound made your head spin. Made your whole body spin. You felt it all the way to your toes.

“Liam…” you breathed. It wasn’t really a question. Just an utterance of his name.

He pressed into you harder, and you swore the heat of it was burning straight through your skin. You arched back against him, and his head dropped further against you, breath leaving him in a shaky rush.

The two of you started moving against each other, slotting your bodies as close as possible. It felt amazing. Better than amazing. There weren’t words for it. Every nerve in your body was dialed to ten.

His mouth dragged lower until it hovered at your neck, lips resting open against your skin. You held your breath. Then he moaned soft and low and sweet right beneath your ear and you nearly dissolved. It was too much. The hot press of his lips. The wet heat of his breath. The way it vibrated against your skin. You were already wet, aching for more.

Then his tongue flicked over your earlobe and you heard yourself moan. It broke out of you without warning. He sucked it between his teeth, toying with it, making you twitch and shudder beneath him.

You ground against him, slow enough that you could feel every fiber of the cotton shift against you. You were throbbing now. Or maybe just aware of it for the first time. To be honest, anytime you got high with Liam there was always an undercurrent pulsing low through you. Now it was just demanding to be felt.

You turned your head and found his mouth again. The kiss was heated but slow. Intense. Indulgent. Both of you rutting against each other, letting it build. You couldn’t tell where his moans ended and yours began. You were utterly consumed with one another.

Liam’s hands wandered up your shirt, the palm of his hand casting goosebumps down your spine. The grinding had reached near unbearable levels of heat. It felt like he was trying to fuck you through your jeans. And fuck, you were starting to feel it. The friction. The edge of it. A distant, hazy thought echoed in your mind: Why are our clothes still on?

Your hand slipped between you, fingers fumbling with the button of your jeans. You popped it open, but the zipper wouldn’t go far. Not with how tightly you were pressed together. So you nudged him, a silent plea.

He didn’t catch on. Instead he thrust against you. Hard.

You gasped and melted further into the couch. He followed instantly, covering you with the full weight and warmth of his body. His chest pressed to yours, hips locked to your own, and for a moment you forgot what you’d been trying to do. Forgot everything but the feel of him. The heaviness. The heat. The impossible closeness.

Your eyes fluttered shut. And you let yourself sink into it.

“Liam,” you finally breathed, voice wrecked, lips chapped and swollen from kissing. You clutched the back of his jeans, tugging him closer.

Your hips had wound tight around him, thighs trembling. He was rigid against you, twitching relentlessly.

“You want it?” he murmured.

You made a noise that was supposed to be a yes, but your mouth felt dry. Like it was full of sand.

Then he was pulling away, stripping you of his body heat. You shivered at the loss, but a second later his hands were on your jeans, tugging them down. You blinked up at him, dazed, watching as he rid himself of his own, eyes landing heavy on his cock. He hadn’t been wearing boxers.

Your breath caught, stomach flipping at the realization. You hadn’t known how close he’d been. Just thin layers between you. This whole time.

Your hands slid down, fumbling with your own underwear, yanking them off. You became aware of your shirt, clinging damply to your skin, soaked with sweat. You peeled it off, bra too, until you were bare beneath him.

He landed heavily back on you, spreading your legs to fit around him. The head of his cock brushed against your entrance, hot and slick, and you shuddered, angling your hips to meet him. You weren’t sure where your wetness ended and his began. It all felt like one shared fever between your bodies.

A small sound slipped past his lips and then he was aligning himself.

You felt the blunt press of his cock at your entrance and your eyes fluttering shut. He started to slide in slowly but stalled. You realized you were clenched too tight, like your body was already trying to draw him in, hold him deep.

You relaxed your walls, just slightly, and he slid in a few more inches with a slick, sudden push. You both moaned at the overwhelming heat of it. The fullness.

You were so far gone you didn’t even register he’d bottomed out until he shifted your legs, hooking one thigh higher around his waist and planting a foot on the floor for leverage. Adjusting. Settling in. Like he planned to stay there awhile.

Then he drew back and thrust.

The sensation zinged through you, a shockwave of feeling. You gasped, tilting your hips up to meet him as he drove in again, this time slower. Deeper. Like he wanted to savor every fucking inch.

He pulled out again, just a few inches, then pushed back in. You felt every second of it. Every inch. It wasn’t frantic. There was no rush. Just that steady drag and slide, like he wanted you to feel all of him.

Your hands clutched at his back, nails curling into the sweat damp skin. He groaned softly, the sound brushing your cheek like a secret.

“Fuck,” he muttered, voice barely audible.

You couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe. Just nodded and held onto him tighter, wrapping your other leg around his hips to pull him in deeper.

He moved again. Another long, slow thrust that made you gasp. Your body arched beneath him, chasing the friction. His skin was slick against yours, chests brushing with every breath, the warmth between you growing unbearable in the best possible way.

Each time he sank back in, it was a little deeper, a little heavier. Not slamming, not pounding, just pressing. Finding all the right spots with the patience of someone who already knew exactly how to undo you.

You looked up at him through half-lidded eyes. His hair was messy, damp with sweat, his face slack with focus and pleasure. He was watching you like he couldn't look anywhere else. Like this was the only place he ever wanted to be.

You lifted a hand and cupped his face, thumb brushing over his cheekbone, then drifting lower. He turned into your palm, pressing a kiss to the center of it, slow and warm.

And then he rolled his hips again.

You whimpered. Couldn’t help it.

It felt like molten honey. Hot and slow and golden. Like you were dissolving around him, cell by cell. You swore you could feel every drag of skin, every pull, every pulse.

He leaned in, forehead against yours again, breath hot and uneven. “Good?”

You gave a breathy laugh, eyes fluttering shut. “So good. Don’t stop.”

He didn’t.

Instead, he slid his hand between your bodies, fingers trailing low until they found your swollen clit. His touch was feather light at first, just teasing. Circling.

You gasped, arching again.

“That’s it,” he murmured.

His voice, his mouth, his body—he was everywhere. Over you, in you, around you. You rocked into him helplessly, each movement sending a shockwave through your spine.

And still, he kept it slow.

A rhythm so deep and precise it was driving you mad. You could feel it building tight and low, rolling under your skin. That electric feel coiling tighter with every thrust, every pass of his fingers, every kiss against your neck.

He kept the pace steady. Hips rolling deep, fingers moving in lazy circles like he had all the time in the world. You were trembling now, legs tightening around him, body flushed and hypersensitive, every inch of you humming like a live wire.

“Liam…” you whispered again, not even sure what you were asking for. Just needing him. Needing more.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured against your cheek, his voice low and slurred with pleasure.

And he did. Every time his hips rolled forward, you felt yourself fall apart a little more. Bit by bit. Like your body was being undone in layers. It was so much, but never too much. The kind of pleasure that crept up on you, slow and rich, curling its fingers around your spine until you were barely coherent.

His fingers moved again, pressing just a little harder, circling with more intent now. Your breath caught in your throat. You couldn’t stop the way your hips bucked against his.

“Shit,” he muttered, forehead pressed to yours. “You’re so fucking warm. Feel you everywhere.”

You could barely hear him over the blood rushing in your ears. Over the slick sounds between your thighs. Over the soft, wet drag of skin against skin.

You were utterly soaked, clenching around him now with every thrust. And he felt it. You knew he did, from the way his rhythm stuttered for just a second. From the low groan that rumbled deep in his chest.

“Don’t speed up,” you whispered, your hand finding his jaw. “I want it just—fuck—just like this.”

His eyes met yours and he nodded. Didn’t say a word. Just kissed you again, slow and deep, while his hips kept moving the same way. Every part of you was open to him, willing and trembling.

You dug your heels into the small of his back, trying to somehow draw him even deeper. Your fingers threaded into the sweat damp hair at the nape of his neck, tugging gently as your body started to rise toward the edge.

He stayed right there with you, rocking into you slow and thick and perfect, his fingers never leaving you, keeping you right on the cusp.

Your breath came in small, stuttering gasps now. That low coil inside you was so tight it hurt. Your thighs were shaking.

And then—

He hit a spot that made you see white, hips rolling just right, and you cried out against his mouth, hips stuttering beneath his.

“There,” you gasped, barely able to speak. “Don’t stop. Right fucking there.”

He held you. Pinned you down. His mouth dropped open, panting against your cheek as his body kept moving just the way you needed.

It was coming. You could feel it. Rising like a wave you couldn’t outrun. Tight and shimmering and so close.

Liam kept his rhythm, every thrust brushing that spot deep inside, every stroke of his fingers dragging you closer to the edge. You were a mess of moans and breath.

Your body tightened under him, legs locked around his hips, your breath catching on every inhale. You were gone, eyes fluttering, jaw slack.

And then it hit.

The orgasm surged through you, ripping through your core in long, rolling waves. You cried out, long and breathy, your hips jerking helplessly against him as it overtook you. Your vision went white at the edges. You could feel your walls pulsing around him, clenching tight, trying to hold him deeper. Closer.

Liam let out a filthy high pitched whine. His thrusts faltered, just slightly. Like your body squeezing around him had knocked the air out of his lungs.

“Jesus—fuckin’ hell—” he gasped, voice breaking, and then he kissed you hard, swallowing every sound you made.

You were shaking. Everything felt wet and hot and overwhelming—his skin, his mouth, your own heartbeat in your ears. You felt him still grinding into you, slower now, like he was chasing his own high through the wreckage of yours.

Your hands roamed blindly up his back. Into his hair. Across his damp shoulders. Trying to stay tethered to your body while the aftershocks rolled through you.

And they kept coming.

Small, fluttering waves that made you twitch with every pass of his cock, every brush of his fingers still pressed against your clit. You whimpered, clinging to him.

“Too much?” he murmured, lips soft at your temple, voice barely hanging on.

You shook your head. “No. Don’t stop. Wanna feel you.”

That did something to him. His hips stuttered, and then he pressed his forehead to yours again, panting hard.

“Fuck. Fuck—”

You kissed him through it, mouths messy and slow, hands slipping across each other’s bodies. And when he finally let go, when you felt his body go tense above you and he groaned deep and desperate against your mouth, it was everything.

He thrust one last time, burying himself in you as he came hard, hips rolling through it in slow, pulsing waves. You could feel every twitch of him inside you. Every sound he made. Every drop of him.

When it was finally over, he collapsed against you with a shaky exhale, heavy and spent. You wrapped yourself around him, limbs tangled, skin slick with sweat and something sweeter.

You lay like that for a while, breaths slowly syncing. The air between you felt thick with heat and the sharp scent of sex. Everything was quiet except for the faint hum of music still playing in the background, something low and dreamy you couldn’t name if you tried.

Liam hadn’t moved. Not really. He was still half on top of you, head tucked against your neck, breath warm and even where it fanned over your collarbone. His weight was heavy in the best way, pinning you to the couch.

Your fingers drifted lazily through his hair, combing back damp strands. He made a quiet sound, almost like a purr, and nuzzled in closer.

You could still feel him inside you, softening slowly. The occasional twitch made your hips jolt, every subtle shift sending a frisson of pleasure back through your system. Like your orgasm hadn’t fully let you go. Like it was still circling somewhere above, waiting to swoop back in. And Liam was so warm. So solid and there.

He kissed your neck, slow and unfocused, lips barely brushing your skin. You hummed at the contact, and he shifted just enough to look at you, cheek pressed to your shoulder. His eyes were half-lidded, lashes heavy, gaze warm and soft. He looked pretty. Flushed. Undone in the loveliest way.

You reached up and traced his bottom lip with your thumb again, just because you could. Because it was still swollen and pink and perfect. He kissed it without moving, parting his lips just enough to catch the pad and suck it gently into his mouth.

Your smile was soft. Fond. You let yourself enjoy the velvety heat of him. Then he let your thumb go and dropped his face back into your neck.

“Y’know,” he mumbled, voice thick and muffled, “think you might’ve actually fucked my brain out this time.”

“Yeah?” you whispered, still smiling.

“Yeah.” He exhaled like it hurt. “Can feel it melting.”

You dragged your nails lightly down his spine and felt him shiver. “Guess that makes two of us.”

He made a low, content sound and melted even further into you. A full body sprawl now like all his bones had slipped away and left him soft and sleepy and impossibly sweet.

Eventually, he mumbled, “Think I’m stuck.”

You laughed. “Inside me?”

“Mm. You’re too warm. Feels too good,” he slurred.

And it did feel good. To still be joined like that. Molded into one another. Like you were made for this.

Without thinking, you reached for the blanket draped over the back of the couch and pulled it down over the both of you. He sighed, long and deep, like that was the kindest gesture in the world.

Then he went still again. One hand smoothing over your hip, thumb tracing gentle circles into your skin.

You didn’t know how long you stayed like that.

But it didn’t matter. There was nowhere else to be. Nothing else to want.

Just this. Just him. And that was all you needed.

#liam gallagher x reader #liam gallagher fic #liam gallagher x you #liam gallagher smut #request

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