max

gcesters DNI requests: open

[meanmsmaxine]

This Charming Gal !

maxine ┆ 18 ┆ USA ┆ libra ┆ bi

masterlist

tags to look out for!

#myaps🦢 - small convos with anons

#mposts🧸 - random / posts where i'm talking to myself

#mfics💌 - includes all my works!

anti ai┆free palestine ┆fuck ice ┆ FDJ ┆ gcesters DNI

just a small blog, not sure on what i'll do here at the moment. I'll probably just use this to jot down ideas or just pop in once in a while, can't promise anything.

xo, maxine

[suedabnormal]

can you please stop touching your face

[meanmsmaxine]

too pretty to be acting like the antichrist back then /j

[kafkaontheroad]

Damon and his transitional i-pad.

[meanmsmaxine]

WHY WOULD HE NEED THAT LITTLE ASS IPAD IN PUBLIC?!?! GET HIM A FUCKING PHONE IM SO MAD

[cocaincest]

Noel Gallagher — Teenage Cancer Trust, 2007

[agofsorrows]

My takes on the Graham's allegations:

"They were debunked": By who exactly? Did the police do an investigation? Or did you bullied and put social pressure in the victims until they did?

"If they were real they would have gone to the police": Between 85% and 95% women that suffer from rape or sexual abuse don't report to the police because of two main reasons: 1. The fear of not being believed, of being questioned, or of facing long and revictimizing legal processes. 2. Fear of retaliation from the aggressor or social stigmatization. That's exactly what you did: it was difficult for them to speak up and yet you accused them of liying without a second thought.

"They just wanna ruin his career": Just like Chris Brown or Cristiano Ronaldo carreer's were ruined? People defend abusers by saying this, but I don't know any case where a carreer was ruined by an assault acussation, yet I know cases where men found guilt of rape were released because "it would ruin their future". Women DO get their lives ruined when they get raped.

By this logic, they would try to ruin Damon's career. All that's left of Graham career is whatever independent album he wants to make. His fame with blur is over, so he basically doesn't have a career to get ruined in the first place.

You also like to ignore that he beat up his wife. For you who doesn't have an experience with alcoholics, you can never expect what they're gonna do, they're violent, they do pretty dark stuff when they're drunk. I dont have any doubt about this being true.

If they were untrue, I don't think Dave would have blocked people that wrote him about this, right?

Even if these relations were consensual, this is power abuse. It's creepy as fuck that a famous person chats with younger fans in the first place. And even if a barely 20 year old says yes to a famous 40/50 year old, and he takes advantage of It in the first time they meet. IT'S FUCKED UP.

This wasn't a single crazy person. They were various women who spoke up. So after what I have already said, you rather believe a single famous person? If you do, you're not only extremely parasocial, but you're also insensitive towards people that suffer from abuse (that are 1/3 of women btw). Stop thinking that an adult 50+ year old man and ex-alcoholic is an innocent cutie. Be realistic.

[meanmsmaxine]

hi noel chest hair

ok bye

[ddirtyshirtt]

me and the tumblr girls with noel<3:b

[bowlsofeggs]

if you seriously hate justine frischmann i don't trust you

[therealdrownersclub]

Liam with a calico kitty (from Oasis: Supersonic - 2016)

[lackadaisies]

this is killing me 😭

[meanmsmaxine]

happy birthday to my gorgeous girlfriend!!

[idigyoursoul]

She taught me how to fly is 8 ✂️

[meanmsmaxine]

if i don't pass my exams it's liam gallaghers fault.

[meanmsmaxine]

i guess liam accidentally leaked his whatsapp number but like why are people texting him? tf he obviously didn't do that on purpose leave that poor old man alone

[dirtyshirtgirll]

may the 4th be with you all! 🤍

[capuletoo]

I need ANYTHING about #that scene in this is hardcore mv with jarvis tied up

SECRETARY - JARVIS COCKER

summary: Jarvis knows what happens when he makes a mistake.

note: OMGG so this is basically secretary (2002) but the roles are reversed!!! yeahh, need more!!

TW/mentions of: 18+, dry-humping, bondage, stablished relationship, dominant reader, submissive jarv ofc, Also the reader says jarvis a lot lol but that felt right?

words: 1.5k |º masterlist

JARVIS SLOUCHED into the worn velvet chair in front of the typewriter and when his fingers met the keys, the room filled with a sharp, insistent clatter. His hands moved quickly dancing across the keys with rhythm, each word unevenly inked.

He sat perched on the edge, his long limbs folded, working and awaiting for your instruction at the same time.

Your gaze swept over him, taking in the slightly rumpled shirt, the perfectly knotted tie, the way his glasses had slipped just a centimeter down his nose. 

It has been a few months since you had known him: him perched up at the door of your office asking for a job to sustain his music-making before getting signed off to a label.

And you came to realize that he liked the routine of quiet observation, and of an almost unsettling enthusiasm to please. It was a quality you had come to appreciate, and if you were honest, to exploit.

“Jarvis,” you began, your voice deliberately low, watching for the subtle flinch before earning his full attention. It was almost overlooked: a small tremor, a tightening of the jawline.

He looked up, his eyes magnified behind his lenses, awaiting for your next words “Yes?” His voice was a soft rasp. 

You have seen him with a microphone held up against his thin lips, with a guitar hung across his shoulders, his confident voice filling up the small venues, and this, this was a contrast to that confidence he held on stage. Here, in the paper thin walls of the office, he was entirely different. He was yours.

“This article, Jarvis” You continued, leaning back on your chair, allowing your eyes to linger on the delicate curve of his wrist as he instinctively reached for a pen. “It’s not quite up to standard. The last section, specifically” a pause “It even has misspellings” 

He swallowed a visible bob in his throat. “I apologize, I thought I had” he cleared his throat “I will change it immediately.”

“Oh, I know you will, Jarvis” You said, a slow smile spreading across your face. His gaze dropped to his hands, clasped tightly in his lap. He knew. He always knew. “Come here, Jarvis,” You commanded, your voice now a silken thread, drawing him in. He rose, his movements were fluid and hesitant. He approached your desk, stopping just short, his eyes still downcast.

You reached out, your fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw, feeling the slight tremor beneath your touch. “You understand, don’t you, Jarvis?”

He nodded, a barely perceptible movement. “Yes, I understand”

“Good” Your thumb brushing against his lower lip.

He turned his back to you, and began the painstaking process of re-ordering his words. The soft rustle of paper, the gentle click of the cabinet drawer opening and closing and the sound of the typewriter hitting the paper.

You resumed your work but only thinking about his fingers moving. It was a few hours later when the office was in a heavy silence.

On his clean desk, the rewritten article laid on the center.

You found him not at his desk, but in the corner of the room, on the armchair. He was seated, but not in the way one usually sits. His long form was arranged upon the chair, his wrists and ankles secured with soft, dark ties: not tight, not painful, but binding. His glasses were tossed to the side leaving his eyes exposed, reflecting the dim office light like a polished gem.

The overhead light casting long and dramatic shadows that played across his features. His shallow breathing was almost imperceptible, but the pulse fluttering at the base of his throat was frantic.

Your steps on the carpet were muffled as you approached him. He did not move, only watched you with an intensity that had you quivering inside if you were honest. There was no fear in his gaze, only surrender. He was waiting for the next instruction.

Your shadow fell over him, leaving his face in complete shadow. You reached out, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw, then down the curve of his neck, feeling the rapid beat beneath your touch. His lips parted slightly.

“The article, Jarvis,” You murmured, a low hum against the quiet. “It is precise. Flawless, even.”Your gaze met his

You leaned closer, the scent of your perfume mingling with his own unique aroma. “And sometimes” You whispered, your lips almost brushing his ear, "I only have to ask you twice, no?” His eyes fluttered closed, then opened again with a spark of anticipation. 

The office was filled in an intimate silence. The ties on his wrists and ankles, far from being restrictive, were grounding him in a reality far more tangible than the fleeting applause of a crowd. A slow deliberate nod. That affirmation was your cue to continue. 

His eyes, still wide followed each of your movements as you stepped closer until you paused, your hand resting lightly on the back of the chair, feeling the subtle vibration of his body beneath your palm. 

Then, slowly, you shifted your weight. His breath hitched, a sharp intake of air. You lowered yourself onto his lap, the soft fabric of skirt rustling against his trousers as it bunched up to your hips, revealing a faint glance of your lace knickers. The chair creaked faintly under the combined weight.

His long legs, still bound, shifted then settled, accommodating your presence. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the rapid thrum of his heart against the skin of your fingertips that now moved to his chest, just over his heart.

His breathing, once rapid, began to synchronize with yours, in an exchange of air. Your eyes met his. There was no more avoidance, only a deep gaze that seemed to seek and find something in yours. In his dilated pupils you saw a mixture of curiosity and acceptance. This was the Jarvis the world didn't know, stripped of his wit and cynicism.

A slight, barely perceptible movement of your head was a question. His answer came in the subtle tension of his muscles beneath your weight, the slight tremor of his parted lips. There was no need to articulate the desire; it was in the way his body molded to yours, in the way that despite the bound on his hands, unable to move them, seemed to reach out to you. Longing.

A shiver ran down his spine, and a barely audible moan escaped his throat. “please” His voice was a thin thread.

Your gaze dropped to his lips, slightly parted. You could feel his breath on your face, warm and shallow, mirroring your  own. His head tilted and your own lips, finally met his. It was not a sudden, passionate clash, but a slow press, exploring his thin soft lips. A sigh of relief escaped him.

When your lips left his, his head tilted slightly to one side, resting against your shoulder, a gesture of trust that surprised you with its simplicity. You could feel the warmth of his skin through the fabric, the soft brush of his hair against your cheek.

You kissed the side of his face gently “I’ve got you.” You whispered, tugging at his hair, urging him closer. 

His hips jerked forward at your words, and you gasped, finally aligning your own hips in a way that made your eyes roll back. He rutted into your clit perfectly, dragging his thick cock against your underwear that already had a visible wet spot against them.

He groaned, his voice was mixed with shame and pleasure, but he didn’t stop. Couldn’t do it. His cock twitched through the fabric of his troussers, a hot, needy pulse that matched the frantic rhythm of his hips.

Your hands found his face, pulling him away from your neck so you could finally see his eyes, his parted lips that could barely hold back his moans. You dragged him closer until your mouths were hovering above each other, when he pushed harder, more desperate, as if holding on the edge.

“Make a mess on me, Jarvis” His hips jerked up, needy for friction. You stayed silent, hands threading through his sweaty hair. He hummed against your skin, not caring if he was going to ruin his clothes when he felt you lower yourself, moving your hips back and forth over his chlothed dick.

A tremor ran through his body after his release. His bound hands, which had been clenched before, now relaxed completely behind him, his fingers outstretched in surrender. You felt his body soften beneath yours.

You kissed the curve of his eyebrow, all along to his cheekbone, the tip of his nose, to finally meet his lips.

You rose slowly letting Jarvis feel the emptiness in his lap as his body adjusted to the absence of your weight. He didn't move, didn't open his eyes, and just remained there.

You gently untied the bonds from his wrists and ankles. His limbs, now free didnt move for a moment, as if he had forgotten how to use them. 

[meanmsmaxine]

Oh my god. My favorite movie and my favorite writer combined

[meanmsmaxine]

Bugs or Beaches

cw: arguments over the Beatles and the Beach Boys, smoking, slightly suggestive towards the end

a/n: i saw a comment on tiktok saying pet sounds over sgt peppers but the beatles over beach boys and that just made me think of liam for some reason

pairings: Liam Gallagher x fem!reader

Now playing: In My Room by the Beach Boys

Liam was lying on your bed, sheets only covering his hips, and a cigarette hanging from his lips. He watched as you took off your jewelry and set it on the dresser. The usual routine whenever Liam spent the night in your room. The moonlight was shining through the curtains, illuminating the room.

The sounds of Here, There, and Everywhere and the cracking vinyl fill the room, Liam's choice. Whenever he came over, he often got first pick.

"They're fuckin' great," Liam exhales deeply, a cloud of smoke follows after.

"Hm?" You raise an eyebrow as you walk over to the window and open it slightly. You weren't sure if he was referring to the cigarette or the music.

"The beatles, Revolutionary i say."

"Yeah, that's a thought."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"They're good but- ah. never mind." You smile as you change into your pajamas, soon crawling into bed with him.

"But what? Don't say something stupid." Liam takes another drag from his lit cigarette.

"I like the beach boys better," You grin sheepishly as you take the cig from him.

"What the bloody hell are you talking about? they're.. alright, not better than the better."

You simply smile and nod. You finally took a long drag and let the smoke fill your lungs. You look over at Liam, who seems to have gotten up to change the record.

"Don't even suggest it,"

"C'mon, have you heard any song other than wouldn't it be nice?"

"Nah, but point still stands."

"Love, just put on that record and tell me what you think after. It's just a compilation."

Liam sighs yet complies, he sets the record down and lets the needle drop. The different harmonies and melodies flow around the two of you. You see Liam's eyes widen slightly, it seemed like he was entering a different dimension. You hum along to the song as you get up from the bed. You extinguish the cigarette in an ashtray and stand behind Liam. You wrap your arms around his waist and gently sway with him.

"Good, right?" You say with a pleased expression

"Good, but never as good as the beatles."

"I'll take it,"

You press a soft kiss to Liam's shoulder, and the music wraps around the two of you like a warm blanket. You take your hands off his hips and rub his arms.

"Liam, you've got goosebumps."

"They're good."

"Very good."

You chuckle and pull away from him and get back into bed. Liam follows you shortly after; it seems the music has given him a certain motivation. He crawls over and peppers kisses on your neck. You pull him closer and let the music guide you.

Safe to say it's easy to persuade a Gallagher.