here, kitty kitty [18+] ⋆˚꩜｡
ᵎ!ᵎᵎ!ᵎᵎ!ᵎᵎ!ᵎᵎ!ᵎᵎ!ᵎ
summary: you were just meant to show face. costume, drink, little flirtation — then vanish. but the air’s too thick, and their eyes won’t leave you alone.
pairing: noel gallagher x reader x liam gallagher + special guest genre: smut !! word count: 8324 warnings: dubcon / cnc themes, public sex & voyeurism, rough handling, tied wrists, light face slapping, choking, degradation & praise, unprotected sex, cumplay, orgasm denial, alcohol & drug use, manipulation, no aftercare, minors dni !!
a/n: happy halloween this concludes my chaotic & delayed and everything else kinktober. similar to other stuff ive done but eh ! put my pussy into making it this long instead of doing the other smaller ones i owed yall
[kinktober 2025 masterlist] | divider creds @saradika-graphics
the house was already pulsing when you got there — lights flickering behind gauzy curtains like the whole place was breathing. even from the curb, you could hear the thud of bass underfoot, the kind that made the windows tremble in their frames. someone had strung orange fairy lights along the roof, but most of them were half-blown or blinking out of sync, and the whole effect made the place look more haunted than festive. smoke curled in lazy spirals from the porch, the scent of cigarettes, weed, and sweat bleeding into the air. bodies clustered out front in various states of disarray — some in costume, some not. a boy in a leather trench coat was making out with a witch on the front steps while a vampire crouched beside them, shielding a lighter from the wind with cupped hands, trying to light a cigarette between their faces.
you stepped out of the cab and into it — boots hitting the pavement with a muted crunch, slick leaves clinging to the sidewalk in bruised little patches. the wind dragged its fingers up your legs, cold even through the fishnets, but it didn’t matter. not with how short your skirt was. not with the way the corset pulled everything high and tight. not with the velvet ribbon snug around your throat, tied in a bow that trembled faintly every time you breathed.
you hadn’t meant to dress like this. not really.
but something about tonight — the timing, the tension, the text from your bassist at 9:14 that just said they’re gonna be there — had twisted your gut in that stupid, reckless way it always did. you knew better. you always knew better. but knowing didn’t stop you.
so now you were a kitten. technically. ears perched in your hair, sleek and black. collar snug, bell glinting faintly under the porch light. a short little skirt that bared the tops of your thighs every time you shifted your weight, and a corset that cinched you in just right — all black lace and crushed velvet, hugging your ribs like a secret.
you looked like the kind of thing boys made songs about and girls gossiped about in bar bathrooms. you looked like a dare.
and you felt it. you felt it in the tightness of your throat, in the thrill low in your belly. you felt it in the way your boots clicked across the concrete, in the faint heat behind your knees. this wasn’t about Halloween anymore. it hadn’t been for hours.
this was about being seen.
the front door opened before you could even knock. heat poured out in waves — thick with beer, music, sweat. a pair of girls brushed past you on their way out, both dressed as fairies, glitter smeared across their chests like war paint. one of them winked at you as she passed. the other stumbled, laughing, wings crooked.
you stepped over the threshold.
it was louder inside. hotter. the walls already damp with the weight of too many bodies. the music wasn’t a playlist — it was a band. someone was playing live, the sound raw and messy, threaded with distortion. a sludgy bassline rattled the floorboards, made your chest hum. cobwebs dripped from the ceiling in tangled clusters, cheap plastic spiders catching the light. a jack-o-lantern sat lopsided on a side table, candle flickering out. the whole house felt like it was exhaling in your direction.
and then you saw him.
leaned against the far wall like he’d been waiting for you all night.
liam.
he hadn’t dressed up. of course he hadn’t. no mask, no glitter, no effort at all. just his usual swagger — black jeans, layered tees, leather coat half-on like he’d gotten too distracted to shrug it the rest of the way off. his rings caught the light, glinting at his sides. his hair was messy. his mouth was set.
and his eyes — god, his eyes cut right through the crowd when they landed on you.
he didn’t smile. didn’t nod. didn’t move.
just stared.
you let him. because that was the game, wasn’t it? the one you’d both been playing for years now. backstage at awards shows. across green rooms. in side-stage shadows while someone else played. glares and jabs and whispered insults just loud enough to sting. but always a smirk behind it. always something burning under the surface.
you’d never kissed. never fucked. never even touched.
but somehow he already knew what you tasted like.
you felt it in the way he looked at you now — like he was remembering something that hadn’t happened yet. like he was already in your mouth.
you took a step further into the party. the music shifted — something slower, sexier. people moved like smoke, drinks sloshing, elbows brushing. someone pressed a shot into your hand. you didn’t even look at them. just threw it back, the burn warm and sharp, and kept moving.
you passed the stairs, and that’s where you saw noel.
perched halfway up like a king on a throne — one leg stretched across the step below, drink loose in his hand, cigarette burning low between his fingers. he was talking to someone dressed as a devil — red latex, little horns, eyes that flicked to you when you passed.
but it was noel who mattered. it was his stare you felt. slow. heavy. searching.
he dragged his eyes up your body like he was scanning for weakness. like he already knew where to find it.
he didn’t say a word.
but his lip curled just slightly. not in a smile. in recognition.
like he’d known you were coming.
you didn’t look back.
not yet.
you moved deeper into the house — kitchen, hallway, living room — your collar jingling faintly every time your step bounced. someone hooted. someone else whispered. your skin was warm now, pulse quick behind your ears. you could feel it — the way people stared. the way the air shifted around you, tuned to your frequency.
you found your bandmates eventually, tucked into the back corner of the kitchen, clustered around a folding table sticky with spilled drinks and half-played games. they shouted when they saw you. pulled you in. spun you on the spot. your skirt rode higher. someone slapped your ass. you laughed like it didn’t affect you.
but your eyes kept drifting. back to the hallway. back to the door.
back to the boys who had never touched you —
and still managed to own you.
and that’s when you felt it.
not a hand. not a voice.
just heat.
behind you.
you turned slow.
liam again.
closer now. close enough that you could see the way his jaw flexed, the way his pupils blew wide. close enough to smell the beer on his breath, the leather of his jacket, the salt of his skin.
his eyes roamed. not subtle. not polite.
down your throat, your chest, your legs.
back up again.
he didn’t grin. didn’t flirt.
just muttered low, voice like crushed gravel —
“nice costume,” he said. “you tryna be a pet, or just look like one?”
you tilted your head, teeth flashing.
“depends,” you purred. “you offering to train me?”
his eyes flicked to your collar.
the bell jingled.
he didn’t respond. just blinked, slow.
and then he turned — disappearing into the press of bodies like smoke.
your breath caught.
and you hated how badly it thrilled you.
how badly you wanted.
you grabbed another shot off the table and downed it in one gulp.
because the game was starting.
and you were already in too deep.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖
the party moved around you, but you stayed still. leaned back against the edge of a velvet couch that smelled faintly of sweat and incense, half-empty drink perched in one hand, the other braced at your side. your dress had ridden a little higher with every shift of your hips, hem snagged against the fishnets clinging to your thighs. the fabric was dark and slick, thin enough to catch the light, to betray the shape of you when you moved just so. and you knew.
you knew they were watching.
not everyone. not just anyone.
them.
noel was the first you noticed. across the room like a silhouette in a painting, posed like he hadn’t moved all night — arms stretched over the back of a cracked leather chair, pint balanced carelessly in one hand, shirt unbuttoned enough to flash a sliver of chest. there was a smear of ash on his sleeve, like he’d brushed past a windowsill without caring. he didn’t look at you right away.
but when he did — when his eyes flicked up mid-conversation and stayed — it made the back of your knees go soft.
he was watching you like a clock. like a man keeping time.
every sip of your drink. every inch of skin. every minute you danced and every second you didn’t.
liam was later. not quieter — never quiet — but slower to show himself. louder in the way he drifted. more restless. more obvious. he passed through the crowd with no aim at all, weaving in and out of conversations he wasn’t really part of, brushing against hips and shoulders like they meant nothing. he lingered in doorways. leaned against walls. always in your periphery. always grinning when he knew you could see him.
at one point, he bumped your shoulder as he passed — all casual swagger, no apology — and glanced down at you with a grin like sin.
didn’t say hi.
didn’t have to.
just let his eyes crawl slow over the dip of your neckline and then walked on like it was nothing.
but it wasn’t nothing.
and you didn’t follow.
you didn’t run — but you didn’t leave either. didn’t stray too far from where they were orbiting.
maybe you liked the gravity.
maybe you liked the slow drag of their attention — how heavy it was, how sharp. how it cut through the noise of the party like a razor.
they never touched. never reached. not yet.
but you felt it anyway. the heat of them, the pull.
you’d seen them like this before —
award shows, afterparties, backstage in tents too humid to breathe. they’d always been circling, always been looking. always calling you names in front of people just quiet enough to feel secret.
kitten.
minx.
trouble.
sweetheart.
delivered with a sneer or a smirk, depending on who was doing the talking.
and it always ended the same way — you grinning, playing dumb, walking away before anyone could call it what it was.
but tonight felt different.
tonight, you weren’t pretending to be coy.
tonight, you weren’t walking away.
because maybe it was the costume — the way your ears twitched with every tilt of your head, the way your bell jingled faintly when you shifted your weight. maybe it was the way the ribbon around your throat caught the light, or how the corset crushed your ribs and pushed your tits up just high enough to tempt. maybe it was the crowd, the fog, the music — the way everything else blurred until only they remained.
whatever it was, it had worked.
their eyes didn’t leave you once.
not when you bent over the snack table, pretending to look for crisps while your skirt stretched tight over your ass.
not when you tilted your glass just so, letting a fingertip drag slow along the rim before sipping.
not when you laughed — too loud, too sharp — and let your heel dangle off your toe like an invitation.
you weren’t trying to tease.
but fuck, you were good at it.
and they were watching like they hadn’t eaten in weeks.
you felt noel before you saw him.
close — not touching, but there — heat at your back, the kind that raised the hair on your arms.
you turned, slow. deliberate.
he was watching you, of course. pint in one hand, the other tucked into his pocket like he had all the time in the world.
“been staring long?” you asked, voice all syrup and challenge.
his eyes dipped. drank you in.
“just long enough,” he said low. “was wonderin’ if that’s a tail or just wishful thinkin’.”
you laughed. soft. mean.
“you’re not clever enough for innuendo.”
he sipped his drink without blinking.
“then lucky for me, kitten, you’re not smart enough to avoid it.”
your breath caught somewhere between a growl and a laugh, and you stepped past him, hips swaying like you hadn’t heard a thing. but your collar jingled faintly as you passed, and you knew he noticed.
liam found you by the stereo minutes later. the music had shifted again — heavier, dirtier. guitars laced with distortion. someone had spilled something sticky on the table, and the smell of beer and fruit punch clung to the air. you were standing alone, pretending to pick through a bowl of candy, when you felt the weight of him at your side.
he didn’t touch you. not yet.
just leaned in, one hand braced against the wall above your head, trapping you with the barest shift of his weight.
his voice was warm when it came.
“look at you,” he said. “done up like a fuckin’ treat.”
you smiled like you weren’t affected. like you didn’t feel your knees soften.
“halloween,” you said. “thought i’d dress like a fantasy.”
he leaned closer — so close his breath grazed your ear.
“you’re every fuckin’ one of mine.”
you didn’t answer. didn’t have to.
it was there in the way your lashes dropped. in the flutter of your breath. in the way your thumb toyed with the hem of your skirt.
he noticed. of course he did.
but he didn’t press. not yet.
the party howled on around you. people spilled through rooms, tripped over cables, danced with cigarettes tucked behind their ears. music throbbed. lights flickered. the floor swayed faintly beneath your feet.
but none of it mattered.
not when their eyes — both of their eyes — stayed locked on you like something possessed.
you passed liam in the hallway sometime later. just a brush — your shoulder against his chest.
you didn’t stop.
but he did.
you felt the heat of him behind you for three steps before you risked a glance back — just one, just enough.
and there he was.
watching.
but he wasn’t the only one.
noel stood in the kitchen doorway, drink in hand, mouth set, eyes locked on the exact same thing.
you.
your back.
your legs.
the way your ribbon collar sat crooked from where liam’s coat had brushed it.
you felt like something heavy and rare suspended between them.
something they hadn’t touched — not yet — but already claimed.
and they weren’t gonna wait much longer.
one moment you were leaning against the hallway wall — breath caught somewhere between laughter and liquor, your bandmate still tangled up in the kitchen crowd — and the next, a hand slid over your eyes from behind.
big. warm. callused.
the kind of grip that wasn’t asking.
“shh,” came a voice at your ear, low and half-drunk. “just me, kitten. don’t get jumpy.”
liam.
your body jolted on instinct, a little startled laugh caught in your throat — but he didn’t let you turn. just kept walking you backwards by the small of your waist, hand still covering your eyes, fingers splayed wide like he could block out the world.
you stumbled once on the edge of a rug, and his grip flexed — steadying you without softness.
you could feel the heat of him behind you. the weight. the buzz of his breath just off your cheek.
he smelled like beer and smoke and something sweeter under it all — like sugar rotting in a bottle. like cherry cola gone flat. like sweat, leather, gin. like he’d been sweating out sin all night and never once stopped to towel off.
“where—” you started, voice half-lost.
but his hand tightened, just slightly. not enough to hurt. just enough to hush.
“s’posed to guess, aren’t you?” he murmured, amused. “that’s the game.”
you could hear it now — the creak of a door behind you, the hush of tile under your boots. faint echo. soap-scum smell. one of those upstairs bathrooms no one was really supposed to use. too clean. too far from the noise.
he kicked the door shut behind you with a lazy kind of finality. like he’d done it a hundred times before.
“hands on the sink,” he said softly, coaxing now. “there. just like that.”
and you did it.
you didn’t mean to, not really — but you did.
both palms flat to porcelain, breath going shallow. your lashes fluttered behind the veil of his hand, and your pulse throbbed quick beneath your skin. you could feel it in your chest, in your throat, in your cunt.
your knees wobbled. your skirt hitched higher. you weren’t being touched. not really.
but god, it felt like it.
“how’s this work then?” you asked, voice thinner than before. not bratty. not bold. just… curious. breathy. willing.
liam chuckled, warm and low, and you hated the way it curled up your spine.
“easy,” he said. “you guess. who’s touchin’ you. who’s makin’ you drip all over the fuckin’ floor.”
you went still.
because now — now — there were two hands.
the one over your eyes stayed steady, unmoving. but the other crept around your waist like smoke, featherlight. it hovered just above the hem of your skirt, then dipped lower — knuckles grazing your inner thigh in a way that made you gasp.
not liam’s.
you knew that right away.
there was something calmer in the way it moved. more assured. less chaotic.
heavier, somehow. more decisive.
noel.
your breath caught sharp. your lips parted. you didn’t even try to hide it.
“still think you’re clever, do you?” came a different voice now — by your other ear.
low. smooth. steadier.
his accent was always thicker when he was this close.
“go on then,” he murmured. “tell us. who’s got you?”
your throat worked. you swallowed.
the words came soft, unsteady.
“…noel.”
the hand on your thigh gave a single slow squeeze. not quite praise. not quite permission. just confirmation.
and then liam’s voice again, right behind you. smug.
“clever kitten.”
you felt him shift, felt the hand over your eyes finally drop. but he didn’t let you turn. neither of them did. they stayed close — too close — bodies bracketing yours like a set of bookends. heat pressed to either side of your hips, your back bowed from the sink in something that wasn’t quite submission.
not because they told you to.
because it felt good.
because you wanted to.
noel’s hand stayed on your waist, grounding you.
liam’s found your throat.
“you like this, don’t you?” he said, voice thick with hunger. “bein’ passed around like a little party favour.”
you didn’t answer. didn’t have to.
your lashes fluttered. your mouth parted. your thighs pressed closer together.
“you’re high off it already,” noel murmured, brushing his lips against your temple. “should’ve seen you walk in. knew you were gonna be trouble.”
liam’s grip firmed, just slightly — not punishing, just enough to feel the rhythm of your pulse under his palm.
“we could fuck you right here,” he said, dragging his nose along the slope of your cheek. “make you beg to find out whose cock’s inside you.”
you shivered. violently. involuntarily.
your hands flexed against the edge of the sink.
noel laughed — low, rich, not unkind.
“she’d love it,” he said. “wouldn’t you, kitten?”
you made a sound.
not a word. not even close.
just a noise — high and broken and full of need.
and they took it for what it was.
a yes.
liam’s hand dropped to your hip. noel’s fingers crept higher, brushing the inside of your thigh — just once, just enough to feel the tremble there —
and then they stepped back.
both at once.
the air rushed in, cool and sharp, and it hit you like a slap.
your knees nearly gave.
you blinked. dazed. the mirror swam into focus in front of you, and the sight made it worse.
wide eyes. flushed cheeks. lips parted.
skirt rucked halfway up your thighs.
collar crooked.
eyes glassy.
you looked wrecked.
untouched — and wrecked.
liam opened the door behind you.
the hall was quiet. distant music.
no footsteps. no witnesses.
“get back out there, kitten,” he said, voice thick with restraint. “go on. go be good.”
noel didn’t speak.
just watched you in the mirror like he was memorizing something he knew he’d take later.
and when you walked back down the hallway — heels scuffing, legs shaking, breath all uneven and wrong — you felt it.
something had shifted.
something big.
something you couldn’t take back.
and maybe, maybe…
you didn’t want to.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖
you remembered the sound the door made when it clicked shut behind you. remembered the cold slap of hallway air, the way your thighs still trembled when you walked. remembered the sting of your skirt shifting too high again — clinging where no one had touched, not really, not yet.
and their eyes.
you remembered that most of all.
liam, grinning with something meaner than amusement. noel, watching you like a fucking wolf — not lunging, not yet, just waiting. like he could afford to. like you’d come crawling eventually.
your mouth was still parted when you stepped back into the crowd. your fingers still twitched like they needed somewhere to land. everything looked too bright — like the world had been scrubbed raw, stretched thin, left humming.
you didn’t know how long you stood there.
the party moved around you, but you were still.
just a kitten with her bell crooked, her breath short, her heart climbing the walls of her chest.
and then —
your bandmate appeared.
she spotted you by the window, eyes wide and glassy, lips slack like you’d been holding a thought for too long and lost it mid-breath. she lit up when she saw you — that wicked tilt to her grin always meant trouble — and she grabbed your wrist without hesitation.
“you look wrecked,” she said, laughing too loud. “wanna get wrecked-er?”
you blinked at her. then nodded.
maybe too fast. maybe too eager.
you didn’t care.
she pulled you into motion before you even knew you were moving. the party blurred at the edges as she dragged you through the house — past the kitchen where someone was retching into the sink, past the hallway where two girls argued about the cure and who saw them live first, past a guy in a cape passed out on the stairs.
you were floating.
your boots felt far away from your feet. your collar felt too tight. you could still smell them on your skin — noel’s cigarette mouth, liam’s gin-wet breath, the musk of their hands on your thighs and throat.
she kicked open a door to one of the back rooms.
dim light. half-abandoned.
smelled like sweat and sour smoke. someone had abandoned a mattress in the corner, no sheet, just rumpled blankets and a pile of discarded clothes.
she pushed you down onto it, gentle but firm.
“open up,” she said, fingers already digging something out of her jacket pocket.
you did.
the tab hit your tongue — soft, papery, barely there — but it dissolved like a secret, leaving something sharp and citrusy behind.
her fingers lingered at your lip. she hummed when she felt how hot your skin was.
“good girl,” she murmured, brushing your hair back with a fond smirk. “now we wait.”
you curled into her side without asking. you always did. she was safe like this — warm and reckless and kind in her own chaotic way. her arm looped around your back. her nails traced slow, looping shapes along your thigh.
outside the room, the party beat on like a second heart — muffled bass, slurred shouts, glasses breaking, someone laughing too hard in the next room.
inside, time got quiet.
syrupy.
the air thickened.
you breathed it in anyway.
the high came on soft, slow — like a ripple beneath your skin, a bloom behind your eyes. everything got louder and quieter at once. the lights sharpened into starbursts. your hands felt too far from your wrists. your mouth tasted like fruit and metal, sugar and smoke.
she kissed your cheek. it felt like fire.
or ice.
or both.
“you’re glowing,” she whispered, almost reverent. “like a little star.”
you giggled. covered your face with your hands.
but everything felt good — the brush of fishnet on your knees, the way your boots pressed into the floor, the faint vibration of the bass deep in your ribs.
you could’ve stayed there forever.
and maybe you did.
time stopped keeping score.
until the door opened.
your head turned slow, dreamy.
backlit in the hallway stood two silhouettes. broad. familiar.
you blinked.
“baby,” someone said — low, rough, real in a way that cut through the haze like a knife.
noel.
you sat up too fast. the room tilted. the mattress rocked like a boat under your hips.
“there she is,” liam drawled, stepping in behind his brother. “look at that. all glassy-eyed and fuckin’ floatin’.”
your heart hiccupped.
you weren’t sure if it was panic or pleasure or both — something sweet and sharp and laced with recognition.
you tried to stand. your knees buckled.
noel caught your arm before you could fall.
liam tilted your chin up with two fingers.
“you alright, sweetheart?” he murmured. “someone been gettin’ in your head?”
you nodded.
it was slow. unconvincing.
“high as a kite,” noel muttered, glancing over your face. but there was no scorn in it. just something darker. lower. hungrier.
liam looked down at the mattress. then at you.
“we’ll take it from here.”
your bandmate arched one brow. amused. but not surprised.
she leaned in, kissed your cheek again, and disappeared into the smoke without a word.
and just like that —
you were alone again.
with them.
“she’s ours tonight, yeah?” liam asked, grinning like it was a joke. but his hand was already at your waist, already sliding up the curve of it like it belonged there.
“was always gonna be,” noel said, voice low as gravity, already steering you toward the door.
they flanked you as you stepped back into the hallway — one on either side, heat against your hips, palms steadying you as the floor swayed beneath your boots.
the lights were too bright now.
the crowd too loud.
the house had turned inside out.
you didn’t remember it being this big. or this close. or this alive.
everything shimmered.
everything pulsed.
and you?
you were smiling.
because they were looking at you like you were prey.
and you had never felt prettier.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖
the bar was heaving. bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, drinks spilling down wrists, someone shouting the words to a blur song that no one could properly hear over the bass. it was humid with heat and perfume and the sharp sting of beer gone warm. your collar stuck faintly to your throat; the ribbon had loosened but the little bell still trembled with every breath you took.
you drifted through it like smoke — weightless, untethered, head buzzing from the acid and the gin. your palms found the edge of the counter, sticky under your fingers, and you leaned your weight there, eyes half-lidded, watching the lights bleed across the mirror behind the bar. everything shimmered. everyone was too close. every sound felt like it was happening inside your chest.
the bartender said something you didn’t catch. you smiled anyway. your reflection didn’t look like you — your mouth looked softer, glossier, your pupils blown wide, your skin flushed high and pink. you barely recognized the girl staring back.
then—
a voice.
“look what wandered back.”
low. lazy. full of that same half-smirk tone that always seemed to find you before he did.
you didn’t need to turn to know.
liam.
you barely had time to breathe before another body slid in beside him — taller, quieter, colder. noel.
and just like that, you were bracketed in again.
caught.
liam’s palm slid low along your back, warm even through the thin fabric of your dress. noel’s fingers toyed idly with the hem of your skirt, brushing just enough to make the fishnets rasp against your thighs.
“don’t remember invitin’ you to fuck off,” liam murmured, close to your ear, words lost somewhere between tease and threat. it sounded like a joke. it wasn’t. he smelled like smoke and something sharp and sweet, like gin cut with lemon.
you turned your head just slightly — enough to catch the curl of his mouth, the glint in his eye.
“were you good, kitten?” came noel’s voice, lower, steadier, dangerous in its quiet. “did you behave?”
you nodded — or thought you did. your mind was a half-second behind your body, floating somewhere just above it all, tethered only by the sound of their voices.
liam leaned in until his lips brushed the shell of your ear.
“don’t lie,” he murmured, tone thick with warning and want. “we’ll know.”
his breath was hot against your skin. the bass rolled through the floor like a second heartbeat. someone bumped into you from behind, laughing. you tried to move away, but liam’s hand didn’t let you. instead, it slid lower — palm flat against your hip, thumb pressing into the hollow of your waist until your breath caught.
then came the press of something hard at your lower back. subtle. insistent.
noel’s hand stayed where it was, still playing with the hem of your skirt, still pretending nothing was happening. his fingers brushed the inside of your thigh — the barest ghost of touch, but enough to make your knees wobble.
liam chuckled low, the sound nearly lost under the music.
“look at you,” he murmured, voice like gravel. “fuckin’ soaked already.”
noel hummed a quiet agreement. “’course she is,” he said. “been gaggin’ for it all night.”
your mouth parted — to deny it, maybe. or to beg. you didn’t know anymore. all you knew was that your pulse was loud in your ears, that you could feel liam’s breath at your neck and noel’s hand tracing the edge of your stocking.
the music surged again — some bass-heavy remix of Common People — and the crowd moved around you in waves. laughter. glass breaking. someone’s arm thrown up in rhythm.
you barely felt the world.
noel caught your chin between his fingers and tilted your head up, forcing your eyes toward the mirror behind the bar. your reflection swam there — your flushed face framed between theirs, your lips trembling, your pupils swallowing the color of your eyes.
“stay still,” he said. “be good.”
you tried.
you really did.
liam’s hand slid lower, between your thighs, tugging them apart just a little. his fingers found the soft spot just below your skirt and pressed, slow and knowing. no one noticed. no one could have — everyone too drunk, too distracted. but you were trembling, and they felt it.
“fuck,” liam rasped against your ear. “you’re drippin’ for it.”
you gasped before you could stop yourself. the sound was swallowed by the song.
noel’s voice followed, quiet and cruel. “you think anyone here even knows? what’s happening right in front of them?”
you shook your head, breathless. your knees bent, trying to keep steady. the edge of the counter dug into your stomach.
liam’s hips pressed forward — the smallest movement — lining himself up just enough to let you feel him there, heavy and hot, through the thin fabric.
your head fell back against his shoulder.
your eyes slipped shut.
“uh-uh,” noel whispered, pressing his thumb against your bottom lip. “eyes open. wanna see what you look like when he breaks you.”
you whimpered, and liam groaned — low, quiet, barely audible under the bass.
“quiet,” he warned. “don’t wanna cause a scene, do you?”
you shook your head again, but your breathing betrayed you. shallow. broken.
liam’s fingers gripped your hips tighter. he rocked into you — not deep, not yet, just enough to feel the shape of him against you. the rhythm matched the pulse of the song, matched the pulse in your veins. every movement made your body light up. every word sent a tremor through your chest.
“doin’ so good, sweetheart,” noel said, the words slow and deliberate, laced with a mocking sort of praise. “just stand there. look pretty. let everyone watch you fall apart.”
you tried to swallow a sound and failed. your breath hitched, spilling out as a quiet, helpless noise.
liam’s mouth brushed your shoulder.
“s’what you wanted, yeah?” he murmured. “wearin’ that tiny fuckin’ thing. walkin’ round like you didn’t already know you were ours.”
you nodded — too quickly, too desperate. noel leaned closer, his breath cool against your cheek.
“filthy little tease,” he said. “bet they’d die to know what’s happenin’ to you right now. what you’re lettin’ us do.”
you made another small sound — part sob, part laugh, part surrender. you didn’t know anymore.
liam moved deeper, slower, every thrust stealing another fraction of your composure. your knees nearly buckled, and he caught you by the waist before you could fall.
“good girl,” he rasped. “gonna ruin you next. right in front of all your little friends.”
noel’s thumb slipped down to the bell at your collar. it jingled once — a soft, bright sound that didn’t belong in a place this dark.
you bit your lip hard, but it didn’t help. the noise that escaped was still a moan, barely disguised, lost in the roar of the room.
and both of them heard it.
and both of them smiled.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖
you didn’t even hear noel approach — only felt him, sudden and cold behind you, voice sharp enough to sting.
“move.”
liam barely glanced back. “didn’t even finish yet—”
“i said move.”
you whined when liam slipped out, all heat leaving you at once, thighs sticky and trembling. before you could catch your breath, noel’s hand was on your throat. he yanked you upright, spun you round, shoved you back against the bar — not the counter this time, but the back wall, where shelves of bottles and glasses trembled behind you.
you gasped, palms splaying behind you to keep balance, back pressed hard to the wood. your breath fogged against the mirror, lipstick smeared.
“fuckin’ filthy,” noel snarled, stepping in close. “standin’ there lettin’ my brother use you like a toy.”
“i didn’t—” but you couldn’t finish. he already had your thigh hiked high over his hip, his cock dragging hot and heavy along your slit.
“shut up,” he hissed. “don’t wanna hear a word. just wanna see you break.”
and then he slammed into you.
the shelves behind you rattled — glass clinked dangerously. one of the top bottles tipped and fell with a crash, shattering somewhere to the side. people turned. someone laughed. someone whistled.
noel didn’t stop.
he fucked you against the wall like he was trying to drive you through it — sharp, brutal thrusts that left your head spinning and your back arching, your hands clawing at his shoulders just to stay standing.
you moaned — loud, high, embarrassed — and his palm slapped over your mouth.
“what’d i say?” he growled. “you don’t get to speak. not when you look like this. not when you chose this.”
liam was beside you again, watching, lazily stroking himself like it was a show.
“pretty little kitten,” he murmured, brushing your temple. “d’you like this? gettin’ fucked in front of the whole room like a proper slag?”
you whimpered against noel’s hand, eyes wide, glass shattering again as another bottle shook loose. your costume had ridden up — your tail dangled uselessly, fishnets shredded, heels barely still on. you looked ruined. you were ruined.
“take it,” noel snarled, cock driving deeper. “fuckin’ take it.”
you were shaking — breathless, broken, soaked.
“she’s gone, mate,” liam laughed. “look at her. can barely keep her eyes open.”
noel grunted. “cockdrunk little thing.”
he shoved deeper and you screamed into his palm — a high, helpless sound. your climax hit like a train, sudden and blinding.
he came with a groan, biting your neck hard enough to bruise, hips stuttering, cock throbbing as he spilled inside you.
you didn’t hear it. all you could hear was your own heartbeat, fast and loud and still going.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖
you didn’t remember getting your feet under you.
not really.
one moment you were pressed against the wall, the next you were moving — not by choice, but by muscle memory, by some soft and stubborn need to stay upright. the room had tilted sideways, the air heavy and honey-thick. your skin glowed damp under the lights, every inch of you humming like you were still being touched.
your dress was half-pulled down. your knees locked, then buckled again. the floor wobbled beneath your boots like the house itself was drunk. you were too. too gone to tell where your body ended. too soft to tell what belonged to you anymore.
everything inside you felt loose and golden.
slow.
like you’d been poured out and were still pooling, still trying to find shape.
you drifted.
through doorways and corridors and clusters of bodies that no longer looked like people — just movement, just color. someone bumped your shoulder; you barely noticed. someone else laughed in your ear, too loud, too bright, and you blinked at them like you were waking from a dream you hadn’t finished.
your breath came shallow. your mouth hung open. your lashes stuck together from sweat and smoke. you were there, and not there, and still vibrating from the inside out.
your thighs brushed with every step — hot, raw, tender. the ache between them pulsed in time with the bass, sticky and obscene. noel’s release had already begun its slow path down your leg, tracing a glistening line behind your knee, disappearing into your boot. you felt it every time you moved. you didn’t wipe it away.
you didn’t care to.
a shot appeared in your hand — maybe you took it, maybe it was given to you. it didn’t matter. you threw it back without blinking, throat catching on the burn. sugar, smoke, metal. the aftertaste lingered. someone pressed a joint to your fingers next, and you just stared at it, limp and glinting between your nails, like a prop meant for a prettier girl.
people noticed you now.
of course they did.
they always did when you looked like this — undone, ruined, shining. eyes followed you through the heat and the blur. someone whispered something against a friend’s shoulder. someone else laughed under their breath, the kind of laugh that ends in a low, wanting sound.
you caught a reflection in a cracked mirror — your mouth swollen, your ribbon collar twisted, the faint red imprint of noel’s teeth blooming on your neck like a bruise made for display. the fishnets were torn, one strap slipping down your arm. you looked like a warning. you looked like a dare.
a voice cut through the noise, sing-song and mean.
“have fun with the gallaghers, did you?”
you didn’t even look toward it. just smiled — soft, wrecked, too far away to aim at anyone. the kind of smile that says you wouldn’t believe me if i told you.
the air behind you shifted.
not cold — just dense. charged. like gravity had tilted.
you felt it crawl up the back of your neck before you even turned.
that awareness.
that prickle of heat that meant someone was watching.
not just anyone.
someone who knew.
you turned, slow. your hair brushed your shoulders, your bell chimed faintly at your throat. and when the world came back into focus, he was there.
damon.
slouched against the far wall like a shadow given shape. the light caught the side of his face — cheekbone, mouth, the faint shine of sweat at his temple. his collar was loose, his shirt open just enough to show the edge of a chain. he held a glass in one hand, but it hadn’t moved in a long time.
he looked like he’d been there forever.
like he’d seen everything.
his eyes found you and stayed.
no flicker. no surprise. just that low, steady drag — from your face to your throat to the hem of your skirt. down, back up, unhurried. like he was taking his time with a meal already promised.
you stopped breathing.
you could feel the throb of your pulse under your tongue, could taste the salt of it when you swallowed. the world blurred around him — crowd, light, noise — all fading to a dull, distant hum.
his gaze wasn’t cruel.
wasn’t kind either.
it was something else. something patient. something that said i know what they did to you, and i know what i’m going to do next.
and when he smiled — slow, small, full of hunger he didn’t bother to hide — it felt like a hand around your throat. not squeezing. just resting there. reminding you of what was left to give.
you didn’t move.
neither did he.
but something between you did. something invisible and certain, a pull like tidewater, like fate. the crowd pressed in. someone shouted your name from across the room. you didn’t turn.
damon lifted his drink, just barely. the glass caught the light. he didn’t sip. just tilted it once in acknowledgment — a wordless summons, a promise, a claim.
and you felt yourself answering without sound. a slow, helpless step forward. the kind you don’t remember taking.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖
you lost track of time after the bar.
you didn’t remember who you were talking to. didn’t remember what you said. everything blurred — bodies and lights and music melting together like wax. someone handed you something. maybe another drink. maybe a pill. maybe both.
your head swam.
your body moved on instinct — hips swaying, fingers playing with the hem of your dress, eyes unfocused and glassy. everything between your legs throbbed. your cunt ached like an open wound, messy and warm and dripping with everything they'd left behind.
you turned a corner and slammed right into a chest.
big hands steadied you. familiar ones.
you looked up.
liam.
then noel, close behind.
“there you are,” liam said, voice low and sharp, like you were a problem he was eager to solve. his eyes raked down your body — your ruined lipstick, your flushed cheeks, your trembling thighs.
“look at her,” noel muttered, jaw tight. “fuckin’ wrecked.”
liam leaned in, brushing your cheek with the back of his hand. “been runnin’ that pretty mouth all night,” he murmured. “s’about time we shut it.”
you barely had time to gasp before they were pulling you down the corridor — past the kitchen, past the bodies on the floor, past the half-open doorways filled with moans and smoke and heat.
they opened a narrow door and shoved you inside.
a storage closet.
dark. cramped. forgotten.
they didn’t bother with lights.
liam pinned you to the wall while noel dug something out of his coat pocket — thin rope, already looped and knotted. your heart leapt. your pulse throbbed in your ears.
“wait,” you breathed, but your voice was too soft to matter.
noel grabbed your wrists, tied them together with easy efficiency. your arms went up above your head, secured to a rusted pipe running along the ceiling. liam’s hands were already under your skirt, already gripping your thighs hard enough to bruise.
“look at her,” noel said again, quieter this time. almost reverent.
liam did.
you were swaying — chest heaving, eyes glassy, dress wrinkled and torn. your knees buckled when liam brushed your soaked panties aside, thumb pressing right where you needed him least.
“that pretty little cunt,” he muttered, voice gone ragged. “still fuckin’ dripping.”
he didn’t give you time to answer.
he knelt and shoved your leg over his shoulder, mouth hot and greedy against you — no teasing now, no games, just tongue and teeth and hunger. your moan punched the air from your lungs.
you couldn’t squirm — couldn’t move. the rope held you steady, the cold pipe biting into your wrists. every time you tugged, it only made you wetter.
noel stood back, watching. hand already moving to his belt.
you whimpered, hips jerking forward, the edge rushing up fast.
and that’s when noel stepped in.
he slapped you across the cheek.
not cruel — not enough to hurt — just enough to snap.
your breath caught.
your thighs trembled.
“not yet,” he said. “you don’t come yet.”
liam growled against your cunt, like he didn’t agree, but he obeyed — pulling back with a wet mouth and a gleam in his eyes.
“please,” you whispered, and noel smirked.
“we’re not here to please you.”
he stepped closer, gripped your chin, tilted your face up.
“open.”
you did.
he shoved his cock into your mouth without warning, rough and fast and deep. your throat clenched. your hands jerked uselessly against the rope.
liam stood again, behind you now, one hand sliding up under your dress to toy with your folds.
you gagged.
you moaned.
you dripped.
they took turns using you like a thing in the dark — no words, no names, just grunts and groans and the slap of skin against skin.
you lost time again.
when it was done — when your throat burned and your thighs shook and your wrists ached — they untied you and let you slump to the floor.
“look at her,” noel muttered one last time.
and then the door creaked open.
party noise spilled in.
you blinked against the light, dazed and wrecked, hair tangled, spit on your chin.
liam tugged you to your feet, smoothed your dress like it mattered, and shoved you gently back into the noise.
your knees almost gave out.
and across the room — leaning against the sink, like he’d never stopped watching — damon tipped his head toward the hallway.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖
the bathroom was quieter than before. dimmer. the music from outside muffled by the door, like you’d stepped into some other world entirely — one meant for you to fall apart in.
your knees hit the tile.
you weren’t sure who brought you here. or when. maybe damon had whispered in your ear, maybe he’d just crooked a finger and you followed. either way, you were here now. alone with him. your mouth parted. your breath ragged.
you were still shaking.
he didn’t speak at first. just looked down at you with that soft, mean smirk — the kind that said he already knew what you’d let him do.
"look at you,” he murmured, brushing his knuckles along your jaw. “all fucked out. all wet. they leave anything of you at all?”
your lips wobbled, but you nodded, eyes wide.
“good,” he said, thumb stroking the corner of your mouth. “means i get the rest.”
you whimpered when he unzipped his trousers, a soft broken sound like instinct. your body already responding. your mouth already open, slack and ready, because that’s what they’d made you tonight — a dripping, docile mess of a girl, dressed like a kitten and ruined like a whore.
and he loved it.
he didn’t ease in. didn’t tease.
just grabbed your hair and pulled you down onto him, slow but firm, until your lips brushed his base and your throat clenched around the stretch.
“there she goes,” he rasped, hips rocking just enough to make your eyes water. “pretty little mouth, just needed something real in it, yeah?”
you choked. blinked. tears spilled hot down your cheeks.
he held your head steady and fucked into it.
not rough, not gentle. just intentional. like he was making a point. like he wanted you to remember his rhythm, his voice, the taste of him against your tongue. the way your knees trembled from how good it felt to be used.
“bet you begged ‘em, didn’t you?” he sneered, voice catching low in his throat. “called ‘em daddy. cried for it. let ‘em fuck you in front of everyone like a good little slut.”
you moaned around him.
his hand tightened.
“and now look at you. cockdrunk and shaking. still hungry.”
he fucked your mouth harder, chasing his own breath now, letting out low groans and curses when your throat fluttered around him.
“just like that, baby. that’s it. fuck—gonna fill you up, yeah? all the way, let you wear it for the rest of the night—”
you whimpered in agreement. he didn’t last long after that. hips twitching, breath catching, his release hot and sudden across your tongue. he held you there, buried deep, until the tremble in his thighs stilled.
then he let go. stepped back.
you swayed a little, mascara streaked, lips shining.
he zipped up without a word, grabbed a paper towel off the sink, and wiped a smear of cum from your chin with surprising care.
and then he kissed your forehead.
“good girl,” he whispered. “go have another drink. get back to them, too.”
i just had a sudden urge to write about noel gallagher ringing you on a payphone in the pissing down rain and you answer and he says “alright love” i’m going to combust
you take noel with you to a halloween party, not realizing how crazy you're driving him with your costume.
1733 words
content: unprotected sex; semi public sex (bathroom); handjob; high sex (cocaine)
a/n: based on this req!! for @highflyingcami <3 sorry i took forever to post this even though its so short, i lost track of time lol
the music from the party pounded loud, completely audible from the street outside. the house itself was decorated to the max—it looked less like someone's home and more like one of those cheesy haunted houses teens go to.
you had a coat wrapped tightly around you—the wind had picked up significantly and the temperature outside had dropped enough to force you to leave your flat in a jacket.
right outside the door was the man you were waiting for—noel, standing there with a drink already in his hand and dressed like han solo. you smiled when you saw him, climbing the steps.
"ooh, look at you all handsome. it's almost like i'm standing next to the real harrison ford."
he rolled his eyes, taking a sip of whatever he was drinking. "ha ha, very funny." you looked around for his brother who you thought would be with him. "where's liam?" he sighed, clearly annoyed. "liam bailed on us last minute to go see a movie with his missus. fuckin' prick."
you laughed, adjusting the collar of your jacket. noel sipped his drink again, his gaze flickering down your outfit. "what're you supposed to be anyway? looks like you're just a big coat."
you grinned, taking him by the hand through the door. "i'll show you when we get inside."
⏾⋆.˚
the party was even louder than you expected—people filling every corner of the living room. it was so crowded that every step you took made you bump into someone.
noel was still trailing behind you, his hands in his pockets. you stopped when you got to an open spot in the hallway, unbuttoning your coat. you let it fall to the floor, pulling the top of your costume down a little further.
"ta-da! i'm a playboy bunny!"
his eyes trailed down your costume slowly, his mouth parted, like he was savoring every inch. his gaze darted back up to yours when he realized you knew he was staring. his cheeks flushed red, his whole face getting hot.
you fluttered your lashes innocently, stepping closer. you put your hand on his shoulder, grinning when you felt him tense up under your grip. "what do you think, noel?"
he swallowed hard, his eyes flickering back down to your skimpy outfit—just a headband and tight one-piece that you pulled down a little bit more so that your tits spilled over the top. his you loved how mad it drove him that you were just within arm's reach, but he couldn't do anything in such a public party.
he coughed, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck. "erm, it's nice—you look nice."
you smirked at his frustration and watched him squirm in place, clearly trying to ignore his growing arousal. you looked over his shoulder, adjusting your top in the hallway mirror one last time before turning back to him.
"wanna grab a drink?"
⏾⋆.˚
you passed the makeshift bar, grabbing two cups and handing one to noel, who was still shifting uncomfortably.
he took the cup, his gaze avoiding yours completely. he leaned against the kitchen island, watching you chat with someone off in the corner. his eyes followed your movements—how you swayed your hips a little too much when you walked, you touching other guys' shoulders when you laughed at their bad jokes, the way your tits bounced in that skimpy little outfit.
it all drove him wild—made him think the dirtiest things about you. he took another sip of his drink, the alcohol not strong enough to cut through his frustration.
he set his cup down, slipping out of sight and down the hall, his hands in his pockets. he walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
he pulled a bag out of his pocket, dumping some of the fine white powder on the counter. he cut a neat, little line, leaning down to inhale it in one practiced motion. his head tipped back, pupils blown wide, feeling a rush go straight to his head—a familiar warmth that made him feel more awake.
he slipped back out of the bathroom, sniffling a bit, and returned to the kitchen where you still were.
⏾⋆.˚
you were busy chatting up some guy dressed as a vampire when noel stepped next to you and pulled you aside, grabbing your wrist.
you set your drink down, spilling it a little when it toppled over as the two of you rushed down the hall. he reopened the door to the bathroom, slammed it shut, and locked the door.
his breathing was erratic, chest heaving like he ran a mile, skin buzzing hot. "the fuck were you doin' out there?"
you blinked innocently, twirling your hair. "i dunno what you're talking about—i was just talking."
"you knew exactly what you were doin', love, don't fuckin' lie to me."
you smiled, lips curling at the corners. "and what are you gonna do about it? just stand there with a hard on in your trousers and watch me the whole night."
he grinned—a cold, cruel smirk etched across his face. he stepped forward, closing the gap between the two of you, just inches from your face now.
"nah. been thinkin' about pulling that slutty costume of yours down and shoving my cock so deep inside your tight little cunt that you'll be dripping my cum down your legs for days."
you felt heat pooling between your legs, your face getting flushed. you knew that he see that your cool composure was slipping, revealing the need behind your words. he grinned wider, eyes hungry and bloodshot. you saw traces of white powder under his nose, brushing it off with your thumb. he grabbed your wrist, sticking your thumb in his mouth and licking it clean.
"can't let that go to waste, can we?"
⏾⋆.˚
noel's hands slipped down your waist to the swell of your ass, which was barely covered by your costume. he squeezed hard, savoring your faint gasp.
his mouth crashed against yours, your fingers tangling in his hair. he pulled you closer to him, and you could feel his erection press against your leg through his trousers.
noel reached around your back, yanking the zipper down. he pulled your costume off, letting it pool on the tile floor. you stepped out of it and tugged your tights off, as he undid his belt, the metal buckle clinking loudly.
he pressed his fingers to your panties, feeling the wetness that had pooled there. "fuckin' hell, so soaked already."
you reached over, tugging his trousers down slowly. his cock was thick and flushed, beads of precum dripping down the tip. you wrapped your hand around him, rolling your thumb over the slit. he bit back a moan, his cock throbbing in your grasp.
you stroked him slowly, your hand moving up and down his length as if you weren't locked in a stranger's bathroom. he tipped his head back, groaning—his hips bucking into your hand like he couldn't help himself. you were in the middle of tracing the vein that ran up the underside of his cock when he grabbed your wrist and spun you around to face the counter.
he tugged your panties down and pressed his cock to your slick folds. "don't have all day, love—need to hear you cryin' for me right now."
noel slammed deep inside you with one swift snap of his hips, making your legs buckle. your hands braced the counter, knuckles white from how hard you were gripping it. the sudden stretch made your thighs burn and your eyes water.
he started rocking his hips into yours—deep, quick thrusts that made your back arch. he spread your legs further apart, angling your hips a little higher, pushing you onto the counter. he thrust forward again, making you cry out.
you clenched around him as he thrust into you, moans spilling loose from your lips. the sound of the two of you was loud and filthy in the small bathroom.
noel slipped his hand down, reaching your clit. he rubbed tight, merciless circles, forcing a sob from your throat. "oh god—"
pressure was rising in you fast as he kept snapping his hips into yours, his thumb still rubbing your clit as you unraveled right there on the sink counter. he smirked, his hand reaching for your jaw, forcing your head up to the mirror. "see that? that's how fuckin' gorgeous you look fallin' apart for me."
you moaned, his rhythm fast and unrelenting, making your legs quiver and your whole body tense. you felt yourself inching closer and closer to the edge, your whines and whimpers giving yourself away. he leaned down, his chest brushing your back. "go ahead, cum for me, love."
you broke, coming fast and hard. your walls clamped down tight around his cock, slick making your inner thighs sticky and warm. noel groaned as you came, his fingers digging into your hips. just then, a sharp knock hit the door and a voice called out from the outside. "oi, come on, mate, quit hogging the bathroom."
noel completely ignored the person outside, even though they kept knocking. his thrusts became erratic, his breath hot and uneven against your neck. he rocked into you one more time before coming deep inside you, his grip on your hips tight enough to bruise. his cock pulsed and throbbed as he pumped load after load into your cunt, hot and sticky.
he pulled out soon after, cum dripping down your legs. he reached over, pulling sheets of toilet paper off the roll to clean you up, chuckling lightly to himself. "god, i made such a fuckin' mess of you."
you pulled your costume back up, pulling your hair out of the way so noel could zip the back. he straightened the top of it for you, pulling it down a bit. "you really do look fuckin' incredible in this."
you smiled and kissed his cheek, his skin still hot from the cocaine. "and you know just how to push my buttons every time, noel." the person outside banged against the door again, and noel furrowed his brows in annoyance. "yeah, alright, mate! just shut the fuck up, will you?"
he took your hand in his, and unlocked the door, pulling it open. he shoved past the guy standing there, making you giggle.
you were definitely wearing this costume again next year.
get to know your moots tag game !
✶ answer the questions, then tag six people
favorite color ꕀ green and brown
last song ꕀ tú by maye
currently reading ꕀ the luminaries by susan dennard
currently watching ꕀ the great british baking show
currently craving ꕀ massaman curry. like always. and like. alcohol and a couple cigs HAHA. a break too :P
coffee or tea ꕀ always tea! i don't like coffee
ty for the tag @saltcxrcle !
tagging: @lelapine @toadspondofwhimsy @outof-spite @h0neyst4rz @hhoneylemon @our-lady-of-venom
favourite colour: dark red/maroon
last song: paranoia by heartsteel, my beloveds
currently reading: dante's inferno, i've been halfway through it for ages :')
currently watching: just finished the latest ink master season and started shrinking and the apothecary diaries :))
currently craving: i'm craving a smoothie at all times, always
coffee or tea: i'm not much of a warm drink girly but i love a good iced tea (bonus points if it's mixed with lemonade)
no pressure tags @lostfracturess @celestie0 @coffee-and-geto @emphism + anyone else who would like to do it <33
fuckkk i'm so late i'm sorry bb!! thanks for the tag 💕💕
favourite colour: burgundy, dark blue, brown, beige and white
last song: Her, The American Dawn
currently reading: La dame aux camélias by Alexandre Duma fils + some of my mutuals fics :)
currently watching: outer banks
currently craving: blueberry muffins hehe
coffee or tea: both!
I’ve never been tagged in anything like this before🥹🥹
favorite color(s): black and red
last song: the red means I love you by madds buckley
currently reading: I’m not gonna lie, I haven’t picked up a physical book in a while but the last book I read was the ballad of songbirds and snakes by suzanne collins
currently watching: re-watching once upon a time
currently craving: sushi
coffee or tea: I prefer tea but occasionally I get some coffee from Starbucks as a treat :3
genuinely unsure if I have other moots, I mostly just lurk on Tumblr🤔 @oops-is-my-life
currently reading: I haven't read a book for joy in so long bc I was studying for the bar exam (my actual last book was a bar prep book)- but the last book I read for fun was The Bangalore Detectives Club!
currently watching: Taskmaster (constantly rewatching actually)
currently craving: Chicken Wings
coffee or tea: I prefer tea- specifically chai, but a bitch will never say no to an iced latte :)
currently reading: six of crows by leigh bardugo + an audiobook called stamped: racism, antiracism, and you by ibram x. kendi and jason reynolds
currently watching: avatar: the last airbender with my roomie + the summer hikaru died because my friend is very autistic about it
currently craving: idk, i just had a big breakfast of banana pancakes and then brushed my teeth so food-wise i really, deeply don’t need anything
coffee or tea: it depends. i love iced coffee and really good coffee from like cafés and such, but other than that i would probably pick tea unless i really needed the caffeine
tagging some folks if y’all want to do it, but no pressure at all! @theoaklady @phantasticphizza @petermustdie @i-am-just-a-skeleton @depressed-pheldritch-horror @peachlessroomba
favourite colour: a couple specific shades of pink and/or orange
last song: The Show Must Go On by Queen
currently reading: ...to be honest i have a book by my bed to read before i sleep but i've been so tired recently i haven't actually done that yet. got it from the library and don't remember what the title is without checking
currently watching: nothing really, i finished the first season of buffy last week and haven't got the next one from the library yet
currently craving: the ability to survive by listening to music instead of eating (i have a lot of sensory issues with food, keeping myself properly fed is So hard. i do not want to eat)
coffee or tea: tea, always, i hate how coffee tastes but tea is delicious
last song: front street by will wood and the tapeworms (live at coffee haus)
currently reading: nothing right now, but the last book i read was peach pit (collection of short woman-centered lgbt horror stories)
currently watching: i'm too busy for tv lately but i've been watching jenna marbles and will wood music videos
currently craving: mac and cheese, red bean buns, cuddles, tahoe cookies, free time, cream soda
coffee or tea: definitely tea, i prefer iced herbal tea because i don't do caffeine. my favorites are peppermint, hibiscus, bengal spice, and anything fruit flavored!
last song: once a catholic always a masochist (fangbanger)
currently reading: the locked tomb series
currently watching: arcane (it’s literally on as i’m typing this)
currently craving: a nice sandwich, a bucket of ice dumped on my head (it’s so hotttttttt), the smell of autumn, Vi from arcane to carry me across a burning bridge, and a pickle
no pressure tag: @2manyeggs @soleilizana @peachpitter @anjalfc @qatarsprint2023 @whoscoxon and anybody else pls i wanna know who the fuck likes tea to be my enemy.
turnnoffyourmind
yousharknotpass
dededos
areudirty
romaincrisis
origamiaround
titsay
