Latest Posts by lovelymylene - Page 4
I absolutely adore your fics and am forever grateful that you’re writing for Lochlan.
I'd thought about this idea for quite some time before finding someone who could write it and I'm so glad I found you.
Anyway, what about lochlan x reader and them meeting at the pool in the hotel, maybe saxon flirting with her first but she is fully focused on lochlan and how shy he is and them later sneeking around the hotel because his parents would despise her but he's head iver heels. Maybe meeting at the pool in the middle of the night and sneaking into her room (maybe smut...)
(You are the sweetest in the world I love you I tried my best just for you. I saw this request and started on it immediately)
Lochlan and 𝒜ngel reader
The first time he notices her, she’s tucked into a corner of the hotel lobby, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her dress, eyes cast downward as if she’s afraid of meeting anyone’s gaze. She’s soft, soft in the way she moves, in the way she glances up through her lashes, in the way she lets her hair fall over one side of her face like a shield.
Saxon notices her first.
Lochlan’s older brother is lounging in one of the lobby chairs, long legs stretched out, sunglasses still on despite the dim lighting. His shirt is unbuttoned halfway, and he looks like he belongs here, like this luxury resort was built specifically for him. He watches as she hesitates at the reception desk, her soft voice barely carrying over the hum of conversation.
“She’s cute,” Saxon says, lifting his sunglasses to get a better look. He nudges Lochlan’s arm. “You think she’s into older guys?”
Lochlan stiffens. He’s been half-listening to whatever Saxon was saying, but now his gaze follows his brother’s, landing on her.
Something stirs in his chest.
She’s alone. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, as if unsure where to go next. He recognizes that kind of hesitation.
“Maybe she’s waiting for someone,” Lochlan says, trying to sound indifferent, but his voice comes out too soft, too interested.
Saxon smirks. “Maybe. Or maybe she’s just shy.”
Lochlan swallows.
Before he can think, Saxon is already standing, making his way toward her with that easy, confident stride. Lochlan hesitates for a second before trailing behind, not entirely sure why.
She looks up when Saxon stops in front of her.
“Lost, sweetheart?” Saxon’s voice is smooth, teasing.
Her fingers tighten around the hem of her dress, but she shakes her head. “No. I just—” She hesitates. “I’m fine.”
Lochlan sees the way her shoulders stiffen slightly, like she’s unsure of what to do with the attention.
Saxon grins. “You sure? ‘Cause you kinda look like a lost little lamb.”
Her lips press together, and Lochlan catches the way her gaze flickers, just for a second, toward him. It’s brief, almost hesitant, but it makes his stomach flip.
She’s not paying attention to Saxon.
She’s looking at him.
Lochlan swears his heart skips.
She looks away just as quickly, shaking her head again. “I—I’m just waiting.”
“For who?” Saxon asks.
Before she can answer, Lochlan finally finds his voice, though it comes out more nervous than he wants it to. “Saxon, leave her alone.”
Saxon raises an eyebrow but steps back, hands up in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Just being friendly.”
He turns to leave, but before Lochlan follows, she glances at him again.
“Thank you,” she murmurs, so soft he almost doesn’t hear it.
Lochlan doesn’t know what to do with himself. He nods stiffly, then quickly walks away before he can make a fool of himself.
But his heart is still racing.
The next time they cross paths, it’s at the pool.
It’s late, too late for anyone else to be out. Lochlan hadn’t been able to sleep, and something about the stillness of the resort at night had drawn him out of his room.
And now she’s here.
She’s sitting at the edge of the pool, feet dipped in the water, her dress gathered around her knees. The glow from the underwater lights casts a soft shimmer across her skin.
She startles when she hears him, eyes going wide before she realizes who it is.
“Oh,” she breathes.
Lochlan shifts awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh—sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s okay,” she says quickly, her voice as soft as the ripples in the water. “I—I don’t mind.”
Lochlan hesitates, then sits down a few feet away, dipping his feet in as well. He feels stupid. He should say something, but his mind is blank.
She glances at him, then looks away just as fast. “Couldn’t sleep?”
He shakes his head. “Yeah. You?”
She nods, gaze fixed on the water. For a moment, neither of them say anything.
Then, hesitantly, she speaks again. “You’re Saxon’s brother.”
It’s not a question, but he nods anyway. “Yeah.”
She frowns slightly, like she’s trying to piece something together. “You’re not like him.”
Lochlan lets out a breath of a laugh. “No. I’m not.”
Her lips twitch, almost like she wants to smile but isn’t sure if she should.
Lochlan watches her, the way her fingers skim the surface of the water, the way her hair falls over one shoulder. His chest feels tight.
He should leave.
He doesn’t.
Instead, he says, “I—uh—I could—” He stops, grimacing at how awkward he sounds. “If you ever want someone to, um. Walk around with. I mean—not that you need someone. But—”
She looks at him then.
Really looks at him.
And for the first time, she smiles.
“Okay.”
Lochlan feels like his heart is about to combust.
From that night on, they start finding each other more often.
They never plan it, but somehow, they always end up in the same places at the same time. A quiet hallway. A secluded part of the beach. The rooftop terrace, where they sit close but not touching, their conversations filled with hesitant words and stolen glances.
Lochlan doesn’t know how to act around her. She makes him nervous in a way no one else does.
And yet, he can’t stay away.
Neither can she.
It’s dangerous, his parents wouldn’t approve. He knows it.
But when she grabs his wrist one night, pulling him down a hallway, whispering, Come on, as they sneak toward her room, Lochlan doesn’t care.
Because when she closes the door behind them, standing close enough that he can hear her breath hitch, all he can think about is how badly he wants to be near her.
Lochlan leans against the wall, heart hammering against his ribs, hands stuffed into his pockets to keep from fidgeting. She stands just a few steps away, watching him with that soft, uncertain gaze.
Neither of them say anything at first. The air feels thick, charged with something he doesn’t know how to name.
She looks down, shifting her weight. “Do your parents know you’re out this late?”
Lochlan lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “They’d kill me if they did.”
She hesitates, her fingers toying with the hem of her dress again. “Mine too.”
Lochlan glances at her. “They strict?”
She shrugs. “Not really. They just—” She pauses, choosing her words carefully. “They have expectations.”
Lochlan exhales sharply. “Yeah. I get that.”
She lifts her head slightly. “Your parents too?”
He huffs a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. “More than you know.”
She steps closer, just slightly, like she’s drawn in by the weight in his voice. “What do they expect from you?”
Lochlan hesitates. He never talks about this, not really. But something about her makes it feel easy, like she won’t judge him for it.
He swallows. “To be like my dad. Or like Saxon. Confident. Charismatic. The kind of guy who takes what he wants without hesitating.” He shakes his head, jaw tightening. “But I’m not like that.”
She watches him, her expression unreadable. Then, softly, she says, “I like that you’re not like that.”
Lochlan stills.
His throat goes dry.
She looks away quickly, like she hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but it’s already hanging between them, thick and heavy and impossible to ignore.
Lochlan swears his heart stops.
He doesn’t know what possesses him, but he steps closer, close enough that he can see the way her breath catches, the way her lips part slightly.
“What about you?” he asks, his voice lower now. “What do your parents expect?”
She hesitates. “To be… proper. To be the kind of girl they can be proud of. Quiet. Polite. Someone who won’t embarrass them.”
Lochlan frowns. “You’re already all of that.”
Her lips twitch, but there’s a sadness in her eyes. “Not enough.”
Lochlan clenches his fists. He hates that she feels that way. Hates that she thinks she isn’t enough.
She looks at him then, really looks at him, and something shifts in the air.
It’s terrifying, how easy it would be to close the distance between them.
And then she does.
Just slightly, but enough.
Lochlan doesn’t think.
He just moves.
Their lips meet hesitantly, soft and uncertain, like neither of them are sure they’re allowed to do this. Lochlan can feel her breath, shaky and warm against his skin. His hands hover at her waist, unsure if he should touch her, if he’s allowed to.
Then she makes a quiet sound, something between a sigh and a whimper, and Lochlan is gone.
He grips her waist, pulling her closer, feeling the way she melts into him. Her hands reach up, hesitantly brushing against his jaw before settling there, her thumbs grazing his skin.
It’s slow, nervous, desperate in a way neither of them fully understand.
Lochlan has never kissed anyone like this before.
He doesn’t think he ever will again.
When they finally break apart, their breaths are uneven, their foreheads nearly touching.
She exhales softly, a dazed little smile tugging at her lips.
Lochlan swallows, his thumb brushing against the fabric of her dress.
“I think,” he whispers, voice hoarse, “I might be obsessed with you.”
She lets out a shaky breath.
“Me too.”
taglist.. @italiansunsetss @sylvanianngirl @st7rnioioss-alt @sincerelykelsss @throatgoat4u @wiseladypoetry @gracieabrmslvr @pearlzier @1-hypegvrl @piperrrr-16 @mackyyyk @luna443 @flowerxbunnie @calliepie @cupidsword @notaboutlovebyfiona @recklesssturniolo @littlebookworm803 @blissfulxsins @camsturnz @st7rnioioss @yearlyism @cinnamoncunt
I meeean.. u came on here. You don’t like it and you’re still here. You’re not their close friend they don’t know u so don’t act like you know what they’re comfortable with. They’ve seen tumblr they know what’s on it I’m sure they would’ve made it clear not to do ts but they haven’t meaning they don’t actually gaf. And ur lying if ur saying these niggas aren’t lazy. No one made them go on tour and if you read the rules they had set for tour AFTER ppl paid for it then yk that shits a money grab ur slow if u think otherwise. They aren’t children. And the way they talk like they got an attitude doesn’t help their case it’s just annoying especially because they make content most of their fanbase don’t even like.
breaking my silence.
I am TIRED of hearing ppl say that the triplets are lazy. That’s fucking stupid of yall to say, they are trying so hard. Not to mention they have tour, which they mentioned was more expensive, there is more to do and it’s farther away then The lets trip tour and versus tour. Ppl are also pissed they aren’t going over seas. It’s definitely not their fault. Ik this isn’t gonna be seen by many others but I’m still stating my opinion. I feel so bad for them, yall need to cut them some slack. The video that was posted on a Saturday wasn’t bc they were lazy and just didn’t want to post, they have a life outside of posting and everyone needs to understand that, I get it, some people weren’t happy but it needs to be let go of. Also, not to mention how DISGUSTING people are?? I came on tumblr bc of my mate, turns out this is a disgusting place where ppl sexualize them. Calling them sluts and making sexual fanfics is not something they are comfortable with. They mentioned it in so many videos. Nick had to censor his pants in one video, isn’t that a clear sign they know ppl think that way about them? It’s just gross imo. It honestly scares me knowing ppl who sexualize them are going on tour, i would be grossed out too if I were them. Even though I am hypersexual, I wouldnt publicly announce that I sexualized them if I did. I think it’s just embarrassing for the ppl who do that. They don’t have a chance with them no matter what
Would u guys be mad if I drastically change my theme. I got so many compliments on it I feel scared to change it😭
rest in peace angel 🤍
࿐ ࣪ ۪ INTRODUCING 𝒜NGEL READER
𓂃 angel reader, ‘baby’ — pretty girl, soft spoken, poc, jasmine oils, ethereal, arizona green tea, gold rings, loud bracelet stacks, gold, underlining words that make her heart ache, natural hair, coconut hair products, floral slip dresses, crooked teeth, dimple, lochlans obsession, sun kissed, open windows, lilys, sunlight catching in her curls, summer fling, sweet, kind, ‘baby’, —literal angel
taglist.. @italiansunsetss @sylvanianngirl @st7rnioioss-alt @sincerelykelsss @throatgoat4u @wiseladypoetry @gracieabrmslvr @pearlzier @1-hypegvrl @piperrrr-16 @mackyyyk @luna443 @flowerxbunnie @calliepie @cupidsword @notaboutlovebyfiona @recklesssturniolo @littlebookworm803 @blissfulxsins @camsturnz @st7rnioioss @yearlyism @cinnamoncunt
guys i can’t hold it in anymore andy samberg is top 10 finest celebrities
HE’S FUNNY, HE HAS NICE HAIR, HE’S FUNNY, HE’S HANDSOME, HE’S FUNNY.
Their random pair group science project in THE 70s
CHRIS & HAMZAH – ELECTRICITY
Why They Got Paired: Mr. Calloway assigned them when they both took too long picking a partner.
Where They Worked: Chris’s basement, but mostly just goofed off.
How They Split the Work: Chris insisted he had a “vision” for the project but did no actual research. Hamzah tried to take notes but kept getting sidetracked by Chris’s nonsense.
Final Grade: C-.
WORKING TOGETHER
Chris and Hamzah met up at Chris’s house on Saturday afternoon, but calling it a “work session” would be a stretch. Chris’s basement was dimly lit, old band posters peeling off the walls, a stack of records leaning against a dusty turntable. A single lightbulb flickered overhead, which Chris immediately used as a teachable moment.
“See that?” he said, pointing dramatically. “Electricity, man. That’s our project right there. The light flickers, and boom. science.”
Hamzah exhaled through his nose. “That is literally not how that works.”
Chris flopped onto the couch, tossing a football in the air. “Yeah, but like… imagine if we just walked in, pointed at the lights, and said, ‘Electricity. You need it. We got it.’ Then sat back down.”
Hamzah ran a hand down his face. “I cannot fail this class, dude.”
Chris sat up, suddenly serious. “You think I’m gonna let you fail? Trust me, I got this.”
He did not have this.
By the time Sunday night rolled around, all they had was a half-finished poster with the words Electricity: It’s Important! scrawled across the top in marker. Hamzah, fully resigned to his fate, shook his head.
“We’re bombing this.”
Chris grinned. “Nah, man. We got charisma. That’s half the battle.”
PRESENTATION DAY
Standing at the front of the classroom, Chris tried to hold it together. Hamzah, on the other hand, was already choking back laughter.
“Alright,” Chris started, gripping the edge of the poster like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. “So, electricity. You need it. We got it.”
Hamzah pressed a fist to his mouth, shoulders shaking.
“It’s, uh… real important,” he managed, voice cracking slightly.
Chris cleared his throat.
“Right. So. Electricity comes from, uh, power plants… and lightning. And, like, when you plug stuff in, boom. It works.”
Mr. Calloway pinched the bridge of his nose. “Explain the diagram.”
Chris turned to their hastily drawn diagram of a battery, wires, and a lightbulb, none of which were labeled.
“Right, so you got electrons. They, uh, zoom through wires—”
Hamzah, tears in his eyes while scratching the back of his neck, added, “Not scientifically accurate, but sure.”
Chris powered through.
“And they make stuff work. That’s basically it.”
A silence hung in the air. Then, from the back of the room, Nate muttered, “Genius.”
The class erupted into laughter.
MANDY & QUEN – PHOTOSYNTHESIS
Why They Got Paired: They picked each other.
Where They Worked: The library, but mostly spent time laughing, giggling, gossiping.
How They Split the Work: Mandy did the research. Quen made the project visually appealing and cute.
Final Grade: A-.
WORKING TOGETHER
Mandy and Quen sat at a library table, surrounded by open textbooks and crumpled notes.
“So, photosynthesis,” Mandy said, flipping through a book. “It’s how plants turn sunlight into energy. They take in carbon dioxide and release oxygen.”
Quen twirled a pen between her fingers. “So, plants are out here minding their business, making their own food, not needing anyone?”
Mandy smirked. “Exactly.”
Quen tapped her chin. “Independent queens. Love that.”
Mandy rolled her eyes but was clearly amused. “Yes, Quen. Plants are independent queens.”
Quen grinned and started sketching a tree with sunglasses onto their poster.
PRESENTATION DAY
Mandy stood confidently at the front of the room while Quen adjusted their colorful poster on the chalkboard.
“Photosynthesis is the process in which plants convert sunlight into energy,” Mandy explained.
Quen nodded, leaning into the mic. “Basically, plants are self-sufficient badasses.”
Mr. Calloway sighed. “Academic language, please.”
Mandy fought a smile. “Right. Plants absorb sunlight through chlorophyll, take in carbon dioxide, and release oxygen. It’s why we can breathe.”
Quen gasped. “Breathing?! I love doing that.”
The class chuckled.
MATT & MARTIN – THE SCIENCE OF SOUND
Why They Got Paired: They were the last ones left.
Where They Worked: Martin’s attic, surrounded by random junk.
How They Split the Work: Matt tried to keep things on track. Martin kept derailing into weird facts.
Final Grade: B.
WORKING TOGETHER
Matt sat on the floor with a notebook, actually trying to work. Martin was balancing a spinning record on one finger.
“Did you know the loudest sound ever recorded was from a volcano in 1863?” Martin said suddenly.
Matt sighed. “Martin.”
“People heard it from 3,000 miles away. Imagine just chillin’ and then—BAM—volcano.”
“Martin, focus.”
“This is focus.”
Matt gave up.
PRESENTATION DAY
Matt cleared his throat. “Sound is made when vibrations travel through the air and reach your eardrum.”
Martin grinned. “Also, dolphins use echolocation, which means they’re basically underwater superheroes.”
Matt exhaled slowly. “Please ignore him.”
Mr. Calloway rubbed his temples.
“Moving on.”

Mr. Calloway sat back in his as the bell rang chair, rubbing his temples as the last presentation ended. Some were disasters, some were impressive, and some were just… what they were.
“Alright,” he said. “Let’s just hope the next two project turns out better.”
taglist.. @italiansunsetss @sylvanianngirl @st7rnioioss-alt @sincerelykelsss @throatgoat4u @wiseladypoetry @gracieabrmslvr @pearlzier @1-hypegvrl @piperrrr-16 @mackyyyk @luna443 @flowerxbunnie @calliepie @cupidsword @notaboutlovebyfiona @recklesssturniolo @littlebookworm803 @blissfulxsins @camsturnz @st7rnioioss @yearlyism @cinnamoncunt
What if I wrote something for dad!saxon with a poc mom!gf.. actually forget I asked I’m writing this
in my head all my 70s au characters all go to a school called Brighton High School and they’re all seniors having the time of their lives before college with their different friend groups. Interacting every so often in classes for projects and school fights and bullying freshman together.
Their favorite songs/music taste in THE 70s
hamzah
“Superstition” by Stevie Wonder.
Hamzah doesn’t just listen to music, he feels it. The second that funky bassline kicks in, his whole body is moving. He loves the groove, the smoothness, the effortless cool that Stevie brings. He likes songs that make you want to dance, and this one is impossible to sit still to. It’s his go-to when he’s trying to lighten the mood or shake off a bad day.
music taste- cool, smooth, and effortlessly charismatic
Hamzah listens to music that feels as smooth as he is. He gravitates toward soulful R&B, funk, and anything with a groove that makes people want to move. His taste is sensual and confident, with a hint of playfulness. He’s got a deep appreciation for songs that make people feel good, whether it’s slow and sultry or upbeat and funky.
martin
“Dream On” by Aerosmith.
He’s drawn to the drama of it, the slow, moody beginning, the way it builds into something massive and emotional. The first time he heard Steven Tyler scream that final “dream on,” he got goosebumps. He likes songs that make you feel something deep, like you’re on the verge of something big, even if you don’t know what it is.
music taste- the life of the party with a weird charm
Martin thrives on high-energy rock anthems that get people hyped. He loves songs with dramatic builds, fast-paced guitar riffs, and anything that makes him feel like he’s in a high-stakes movie scene. He’s the guy who’s always down to turn the volume up, dance around, and belt out lyrics at the top of his lungs. His music taste is a mix of theatrical, rebellious, and just plain fun, something that matches his extra, infectious personality.
mandy
“I Feel Love” by Donna Summer.
This song is hypnotic, shimmering, and effortlessly cool, just like Mandy. The pulsating synths and dreamy vocals make her feel like she’s floating under neon lights, lost in the music and the moment. It’s the kind of song that plays in her head when she walks into a room, making everything around her seem a little more cinematic. Whether she’s dancing in a club or just getting lost in a daydream, this song makes her feel like she’s living in the future while everyone else is stuck in the past.
music taste- ethereal, effortlessly cool, and always ahead of the curve
Mandy listens to music that feels like the future, glittering synths, hypnotic beats, and anything that makes her feel like she’s floating in another dimension. She has an ear for trends before they happen and a love for music that’s both sensual and surreal. Her playlist is filled with funky disco, spacey electronic beats, and sultry vocals that make everything feel more glamorous.
taglist.. @italiansunsetss @sylvanianngirl @st7rnioioss-alt @sincerelykelsss @throatgoat4u @wiseladypoetry @gracieabrmslvr @pearlzier @1-hypegvrl @piperrrr-16 @mackyyyk @luna443 @flowerxbunnie @calliepie @cupidsword @notaboutlovebyfiona @recklesssturniolo @littlebookworm803 @blissfulxsins @camsturnz @st7rnioioss @yearlyism @cinnamoncunt
rest in peace angel, michelle trachtenberg (1985-2025)
Can you make yet another AMAZING Lochlan x reader fic? Possibly one where she’s poc or lower class and they meet while at the full moon party?
And maybe they have a fun romance before the end of the vacation, obviously with his parents not knowing or approving, could it also be spicer if you’re comfortable with it? Thanks! Your work is SOOO GOOD!!!
FULL MOON
accidentally fell in love with this reader. You will see more of her and them
Lochlan didn’t mean to stare. Really, he didn’t.
But there was something about her. Maybe it was her hair, big, voluminous curls that bounced when she moved, catching the moonlight and flickering in and out of the neon haze of the Full Moon Party. Maybe it was her laugh, high pitched, almost like a squeal, pure joy wrapped in sound. Or maybe it was her smile, the way her slightly imperfect teeth made her seem all the more perfect.
His gaze lingered too long.
Saxon, standing beside him, caught on immediately. “No, dude,” he said, reaching out to turn Lochlan’s head the other way. “No. We’re not doing this.”
Lochlan barely heard him. The drugs in his system, still fresh, still making his skin tingle, his chest light, were building him a new confidence, one he wasn’t used to. He felt untouchable, like his usual nervousness had been stripped away by the pounding bass and flashing lights. He didn’t overthink it. Didn’t talk himself out of it.
He just walked over.
The closer he got, the more details stood out. The glow of her skin, the single dimple in her cheek when she turned to say something to her friend. It was unfair, the effect she had on him. Like she was something soft in a world that had always felt a little too sharp.
When she noticed him standing there, she tilted her head, smile still lingering. “Hey,” she said, voice soft but not shy.
“Hey,” he echoed, suddenly aware he hadn’t thought this far ahead.
She studied him, eyes flickering across his face before she grinned. “You lost or something?”
He shook his head. “No, I just—” He cut himself off, rubbing the back of his neck. “I saw you.”
She blinked, then let out a breathy laugh, that squeal of hers breaking through. “You saw me?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
Lochlan felt his mouth twitch into a lopsided grin. “And I wanted to come over.”
She gave him a long look, her dimple deepening as she took him in. Then, as if deciding something, she stepped closer. “Well,” she mused, reaching up without hesitation to straighten the collar to his shirt. “Now you’re here.”
He swallowed, his skin burning where her fingers brushed against him. She was touchy, comfortable in her own space and in his, like she belonged there. He wasn’t used to it, not in the way she did it. Not in the way it made him feel.
“Guess I am,” he murmured.
Her smile widened. “Guess you are.”
The party raged on around them, but Lochlan barely noticed. His world had narrowed down to the girl in front of him, her curls, her dimple, the way she made him feel like maybe, for once, he wasn’t just the younger Ratliff brother standing in Saxon’s shadow.
Maybe, to her, he was just Lochlan.
And maybe that was enough.
She didn’t step back. Didn’t give him space. Instead, she reached up again, fingertips grazing his jaw, trailing down his cheek like she was trying to memorize him.
Lochlan went still. He wasn’t used to this. Girls weren’t usually this… bold with him. Not like this. Not in a way that wasn’t forced or teasing. But she was different. She wasn’t playing a game, she just did things because she wanted to.
He swallowed hard, watching her eyes flicker between his, a quiet curiosity settling between them. “You don’t talk much, do you?” she teased.
Lochlan let out a breathy chuckle. “I do,” he said, “just not when I feel like an idiot.”
She grinned, her fingers slipping up to his temple, smoothing over his hair. “Why do you feel like an idiot?”
“Because I’m standing in front of you.”
Her laughter was immediate, bright and sweet and unrestrained. She shook her head, her curls brushing against his chest as she leaned in, resting her chin on his shoulder for a second before pulling back just enough to look at him again.
“You’re funny,” she said, eyes sparkling.
Lochlan shrugged. “Not really.”
She hummed, tilting her head. “No, I think you are. You just don’t know it.”
His lips parted, but before he could say anything, she leaned up—pressing a quick, barely-there kiss to his cheek.
Lochlan blinked.
She did it again. And again.
Soft, fleeting kisses along his jaw, his cheekbone, the corner of his lips. Not lingering, just there and gone, like she was testing something.
Lochlan’s breath hitched.
His hands twitched at his sides, wanting to do something, touch her waist, thread his fingers through her hair, pull her closer, but he was frozen, stuck between disbelief and pure, dizzying want.
Then, finally, she pressed her lips to his.
It wasn’t deep. It wasn’t rushed. It was warm and sweet and slow, like she had all the time in the world, like she wanted to savor it.
Lochlan felt lightheaded.
When she pulled away, her smile was soft, almost shy despite how openly affectionate she was. “Still feel like an idiot?”
He exhaled, shaking his head. “No,” he admitted. “Just feel lucky.”
taglist.. @italiansunsetss @sylvanianngirl @st7rnioioss-alt @sincerelykelsss @throatgoat4u @wiseladypoetry @gracieabrmslvr @pearlzier @1-hypegvrl @piperrrr-16 @mackyyyk @luna443 @flowerxbunnie @calliepie @cupidsword @notaboutlovebyfiona @recklesssturniolo @littlebookworm803 @blissfulxsins @camsturnz @st7rnioioss @yearlyism @cinnamoncunt
YAHT ROCK???? Oh you see my exact vision
⋆ ࣪introducing.. 70s GOLDEN BOY ART DONALDSON
golden boy art.. may live and breathe tennis, but he’s not just his sport. Off the court, he’s the picture of effortless style, pressed polos, crisp white shorts, loafers without socks, sunglasses perched lazily on his nose like he belongs in some glossy magazine spread. Even when he’s lounging, he looks like he has somewhere important to be, like he’s already won at something.
golden boy art.. doesn’t read much, but when he does, it’s always something too intellectual, something dense and complicated. He wants to be the kind of guy who reads Camus or Kerouac at a party, drink in hand, looking effortlessly cool, but the truth is, he barely makes it past the first few pages before he gets bored. Still, he keeps a book on his nightstand, just in case.
golden boy art.. was raised in country clubs and private schools, where competition was just as much about who you knew as how you played. He’s always been good at both. He knows how to charm the right people, shake the right hands, flash the right smirk. He’s got that old money ease, the kind of confidence you can’t fake, but underneath it all, there’s something restless. Like he’s always searching for the next thing to chase, the next high, the next game.
golden boy art.. was raised in country clubs and private schools, where competition was just as much about who you knew as how you played. He’s always been good at both. He knows how to charm the right people, shake the right hands, flash the right smirk. He’s got that old money ease, the kind of confidence you can’t fake, but underneath it all, there’s something restless. Like he’s always searching for the next thing to chase, the next high, the next game.
golden boy art.. never turns down a dare. Jumping into pools fully clothed, sneaking into concerts without tickets, taking a road trip to nowhere just because someone said he wouldn’t. He thrives on impulse, the thrill of the unexpected, the idea that life is only as interesting as you make it.
golden boy art.. is secretly a romantic, but he’d rather die than admit it. He doesn’t do grand gestures, but he’ll remember the way you take your coffee, the song you hum under your breath, the exact shade of your eyes when the sun hits them just right. He teases more than he compliments, but when he does say something sweet, it sticks with you for days.
golden boy art.. loves the ocean. Not just for the way it looks, but for the way it feels, cold saltwater against sunburned skin, the endlessness of it, the way it makes him feel small in a way he actually likes. He’ll dive under waves like he’s chasing something, stay out there longer than he should, come back to shore breathless and grinning.
golden boy art.. has a way of making everyone feel like they belong, even when he feels out of place himself. He’s the life of the party but also the guy who’ll sneak out early just to drive around with the windows down, radio low, smoke curling from his lips as he sings along to some song no one else remembers.
golden boy art.. is the guy who falls asleep with a book on his chest but never actually finishes reading it. He likes the idea of being well-read, but he prefers stories that move, movies, music, things with rhythm and motion. He’s seen every classic film twice and can quote entire scenes from memory. He thinks Casablanca is overrated but The Graduate is genius.
golden boy art.. loves the chase. Loves the way people look at him, the way they lean in when he talks, the way they fall into his orbit without him having to try too hard. He flirts like it’s a game, all teasing grins and lingering touches, but sometimes, just sometimes, he catches himself meaning it. And that terrifies him.
golden boy art.. is all confidence and charm until he isn’t. There are nights when the weight of expectation feels heavier than his racket, when the pressure knots in his chest so tightly he can barely breathe. He doesn’t talk about it. Doesn’t know how to talk about it. Instead, he drowns it in late-night drives and half-finished cigarettes, in the feeling of someone else’s hand in his, grounding him, steadying him, reminding him that he’s not just golden boy Art Donaldson, but something more. Something real.
taglist.. @italiansunsetss @sylvanianngirl @st7rnioioss-alt @sincerelykelsss @throatgoat4u @wiseladypoetry @gracieabrmslvr @pearlzier @1-hypegvrl @piperrrr-16 @mackyyyk @luna443 @flowerxbunnie @calliepie @cupidsword @notaboutlovebyfiona @recklesssturniolo @littlebookworm803 @blissfulxsins @camsturnz @st7rnioioss @yearlyism @cinnamoncunt
Relationships are so scary cause what if fine shyt likes his brother more than me.
LOCHLAN SMUT PLEASEEE everything im seeing is so fluffy but we all saw the way he kisses so um 👀
PINKY PROMISE
lochlan ratliff and reader smut
The boat sways gently beneath you, the ocean stretching endlessly into the dark. Everything feels too much, the soft hum of waves, the distant laughter below deck, the warmth of your skin against the cool night air. You’ve never done drugs before, and now you’re out of your mind, your senses cranked up to a hundred. You can feel everything. The way the wind grazes your arms, the rough texture of the boat’s carpet beneath you, the erratic thudding of your own heart.
Lochlan sits across from you, legs crossed, his fingertips trailing absentmindedly over the floor. His pupils are blown, his lips parted like he’s trying to catch his breath even though he hasn’t been running. You’re hugging your knees to your chest, trying to steady yourself, but you can’t. You’re both too aware, and it’s making you jittery.
It’s not like everyone else. They’d crashed a while ago, scattered below deck, passed out in a tangle of limbs and abandoned drinks. But you and Lochlan? You’re still here. Stuck in this hyper-aware, touch-starved limbo.
You try to distract yourself, rambling about the game earlier, how ridiculous it was, how terrifying it felt in the moment. Lochlan listens, a lazy smirk on his face, nodding along as you giggle.
“You practically made out with Saxon,” you tease, nudging his knee with your foot.
He groans, rolling his eyes, shaking his head like he can’t believe you’re bringing it up. “That was barely making out.”
You laugh harder than you should, breathless and lightheaded. It feels like you can’t stop. It’s like everything is funny right now.
Lochlan chuckles too, but then his laughter fades, his smile lingering but different now. A little tense. A little hesitant.
You’re still giggling to yourself when he finally speaks.
“Saxon kissed you.”
Your breath catches slightly.
“He was practically trying to eat you,” he adds, and his voice is teasing, but there’s something else beneath it. Something unreadable.
Your stomach twists.
“Yeah,” you mumble, pressing your cheek against your knee. “It was… weird.”
He watches you carefully.
You exhale, licking your lips. “Like, it was rough.” You frown slightly, trying to piece together the right words. “Like I had to force myself to like it.”
Lochlan’s fingers flex slightly on the carpet. His knee bounces once before stopping.
Then he says, “I could do a better job than that.”
Your head snaps toward him, eyes wide, before you burst into laughter. You’re convinced he’s joking.
But he doesn’t laugh.
He just looks at you, waiting.
Your smile falters slightly, your heart hammering against your ribs. You try to play it off, voice wobbly as you tease, “You don’t have any experience.”
He smirks a little. “I wouldn’t try to swallow you.”
That warmth in your stomach spreads, creeping up your neck. The boat sways gently, and suddenly, you feel weightless.
“Can I try?” he asks, voice softer this time.
You don’t say yes.
You don’t say no, either.
And he doesn’t know what that means, so he just leans in.
Your breath stutters, but you don’t move away.
At first, it’s just a peck, soft and fleeting. He pulls back, grinning like this is the funniest thing in the world, but you’re not laughing.
He notices.
This time when he leans back in, it’s different.
His lips press into yours again, slow and unsure but eager, and you kiss him back, tentatively at first. He exhales through his nose like he’s relieved, like he wasn’t sure if you’d kiss him back at all. His hands slide down your back, hesitating before settling on your hips.
It’s awkward and clumsy and neither of you care.
You rest your hands on his shoulders, unsure, barely touching, until he presses forward, his weight gently easing you onto the carpet. Your back meets the floor, and then he’s above you, hovering, breath shaky, eyes locked on yours.
The world around you fades, the ocean, the boat, the distant murmurs from below deck.
Just you. Just him.
His lips find yours again, and this time it’s deeper. Slow. Uncertain. His hands tighten on your waist, then drift lower, settling just above your thighs like he’s testing the waters.
You exhale sharply against his mouth, gripping his shoulders tighter. He tilts his head, pressing closer, and your stomach flips, heat coiling low in your belly.
The touches are hesitant, inexperienced, but it doesn’t matter.
As you and Lochlan's kiss deepened, you felt something inside you ignite, an ache that spread through your body, demanding attention, demanding satisfaction. You pushed yourself up, your chests pressing against each other, and Lochlan's hands instinctively slid down to your hips, gripping you tightly, anchoring you to him.
You could feel his need, matching your own, as he pulled you closer, his body molding against yours, fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. You moved together, the kiss growing more urgent, more desperate. Lochlan's fingers dug into your skin, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your veins.
Lochlan’s breath was uneven, his forehead barely brushing against yours as he hovered over you. The moonlight reflected off the water, painting shifting silver patterns across his skin. His lips were pink and kiss-swollen, his pupils dark and blown wide.
He wasn’t trying to be rough, it didn’t suit him. But there was something different in the way he touched you now. A little more sure of himself, a little more desperate. His hands traced tentative patterns down your sides, warm and steady, but there was an urgency to the way he kissed you, like he was trying to memorize the way you felt beneath him.
Your heart pounded so hard it nearly drowned out the waves lapping against the boat. You gasped softly when his fingers skimmed under the waistband of your bikini bottoms, not entirely pushing, just testing. Your hand instinctively closed around his wrist, stopping him.
Lochlan froze. His breath hitched, and he pulled back just enough to search your face, eyes flicking between yours, afraid he’d pushed too far.
“I—” he started, voice rough, but you shook your head quickly.
“It’s not that,” you whispered, though you weren’t even sure what that was. “You just…you donn’t know what you’re doing. Not really.” And the thought sent a nervous chill down your spine, despite the heat between you.
Lochlan let out a breathless laugh, resting his forehead against yours. “Yeah? Well, neither do you.”
You squinted at him, narrowing your eyes, and he smirked, soft, teasing, almost offended.
“Please…” His voice dropped, quiet and pleading. “Lemme try. I won’t hurt you. I promise.”
You hesitated, searching his face for any hint of doubt, but there was none. Just Lochlan. Just the boy who had spent the whole night laughing with you, the boy who looked at you like you were something delicate and precious, even as his hands trembled slightly against your skin.
Finally, you nodded.
His lips parted slightly, exhaling in quiet relief. But before he could do anything, you grabbed his face between your hands, making sure he was looking right at you.
“You can’t tell anyone,” you whispered, voice firm despite the way it wavered at the edges. “I mean it. No matter how much Saxon gets in your head, you can’t spill.”
Lochlan’s brows furrowed. “Saxon doesn’t get in my head.”
You tilted your head, unconvinced. “Promise me.”
Something flickered behind his eyes before he sighed, holding out his pinky. “I won’t tell. Pinky promise.”
You hesitated for half a second before wrapping your pinky around his.
The moment you did, he pressed you back down against the soft, warm deck, lips crashing onto yours again, filled with a new kind of urgency. His fingers dipped under your waistband, dragging your swim bottoms down just enough for him to kiss along your stomach, slow and reverent, like he was worshiping you.
You feel his hands on your bikini bottoms, pulling it down slowly, giving you the opportunity to stop him if you want to. But you remain motionless, staring at the ceiling, silently granting him permission to continue.
As the fabric slides down your legs, you sense his eyes drinking in the sight of your exposed skin. He lets out a barely audible breath, his voice a husky whisper that seems to vibrate against your flesh.
With deliberate care, he lifts your legs, draping them over his shoulders. The position is intimate, vulnerable, and you feel a flutter of trepidation mixed with excitement. You're not sure where this is headed, but you trust him enough to follow wherever he leads.
His fingers brush against your inner thighs, the light touch sending shivers down your spine. You hold your breath, anticipating what might come next. Instead of plunging ahead, he parts your legs the slightest bit, as if savoring the taste of uncertainty.
Then, without warning, his face descends, his breath hot against your core. You gasp, your body tensing reflexively, but he continues undeterred,he moves closer and presses a feather-light kiss against your clit. The sensation is electric, and you can't help but clamp your thighs around his head, a mix of pleasure and embarrassment washing over you.
"Ow," he murmurs, his voice muffled by your grip. "Sorry," you whisper.
He returns between your thighs, his tongue gliding over your slick folds in long, languid strokes. Each pass sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, your hips twitching involuntarily in response. Your fingers thread through his hair, holding him close, unsure whether to guide him or not.
As he works, his nose occasionally brushes against your clit, the slight friction adding another layer of pleasure. Your moans grow louder, more urgent, your body beginning to quake with the approaching climax.
His movements become more insistent, his tongue delving deeper, exploring every hidden crevice. You're lost in a haze of pleasure, your mind foggy with the sheer intensity of the sensations coursing through your veins.
Suddenly, a particularly skilled lick sends you over the edge. A strangled cry tears from your throat as your body seizes, convulsing in your orgasm. Your hand flies to your mouth, muffling the sound as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you.
When you start to relax, you release your death grip on his hair, panting heavily. He looks up at you, mouth wide curled into a shocked smile and he laughs at the sound you made. Without warning, he peppers your thigh with soft kisses.
Irritation flickers across your features as he laughs at your post-orgasmic vulnerability. You shove his forehead half-heartedly, trying to hide the pure utter embarrassment in your face. He catches your wrist, his grip gentle but firm, and presses a tender kiss to your palm.
Satisfied with the gesture, you relax into the carpet, the cool fibers a stark contrast to the heat still radiating from your skin.
With a contented sigh, he reaches over to gently tug your bikini bottoms back into place, covering your still-sensitive flesh.
He lays beside you on his back quietly. The both of you breathing heavily but at different paces, chests rising up and down at different times. Not even looking at you. And you not looking at him. Almost trying to see if you regret what you had just done.
Neither of you speaks, content to drown in the aftermath of your shared experience. Eventually, you both turn to face each other, exchanging smiles.
Breaking the silence, you both erupt in laughter.
sorry this is so long but this was my first time writing smut and I was feeling like Shakespeare.. I got a lot of requests and I’m trying to do them all in a short span of time..
taglist.. @italiansunsetss @sylvanianngirl @st7rnioioss-alt @sincerelykelsss @throatgoat4u @wiseladypoetry @gracieabrmslvr @pearlzier @1-hypegvrl @piperrrr-16 @mackyyyk @luna443 @flowerxbunnie @calliepie @cupidsword @notaboutlovebyfiona @recklesssturniolo @littlebookworm803 @blissfulxsins @camsturnz @st7rnioioss @yearlyism @cinnamoncunt
Why are they trying to gag so bad✋🏽😭 ain’t this your only source of income????
Uhh.. guys. I’m writing a request rn and I made ts so long. Do u guys mind reading long shit or is it just me with a short attention span. IT GOOD but idk if ppl will actually try to read it. I got lost in the sauce again
Stop pretending like you don’t wanna write for lochlan bro. I NEED IT GIVE IT TO ME
I was wondering if you could do a Lochlan Ratliff x reader where she’s also visiting Thailand and they just have a whole romantic time together like puppy innocent love
SOMEONE NEW
lochlan ratliff and reader
The sun glistens on the surface of the pool, water shifting like liquid gold as guests lounge nearby, the soft hum of conversation mixing with the occasional splash. You let your hands drift through the cool water, your body weightless as you float, eyes half-lidded against the heat. Everything feels slow, dreamlike, the kind of afternoon where time doesn’t seem to move at all.
And then you notice him.
He’s at the far end of the pool, standing waist-deep in the water, running a hand through his damp hair. He looks out of place, not in a bad way, just… different. Like he’s unsure of what to do with himself. His light eyes flicker around the pool deck, glancing at the groups of people laughing and talking, before landing on you.
For a second, neither of you move. Then you smile, small, unsure, just enough to acknowledge the moment.
He smiles back, hesitant at first, then real.
“Hey,” he says, shifting his weight, the water rippling around him.
“Hi,” you reply softly.
It’s quiet for a beat, neither of you quite knowing what to say next. You’re not even sure why you say it, but the words slip out before you can stop them.
“Wanna play mermaids?”
His brow furrows, his lips parting slightly in confusion. “Mermaids?”
You nod.
For a moment, he just stares at you like he’s trying to figure out if you’re serious. Then, to your surprise, he lets out a small laugh. He scratches the back of his neck, his cheeks coloring slightly.
“I, uh… don’t think I know how to play mermaids.”
You grin, tilting your head. “It’s not that hard. You just have to swim like one. Kick your legs together instead of separately.”
He squints, like he’s considering it, then exhales through his nose, shaking his head with a quiet chuckle. “You’re messing with me.”
“I’m not! Just try it.”
He sighs dramatically, like he’s about to do something humiliating, and then dives under. You follow, watching as he awkwardly keeps his legs together, barely making any progress through the water. When you both surface, you’re already laughing.
“Okay, that was terrible,” you tease.
“Yeah, no shit,” he breathes, pushing his wet hair back from his forehead. “How do you do it so fast?”
You shrug. “Years of experience. You’re talking to a pro.”
His lips twitch, like he wants to say something sarcastic, but he holds back. Instead, he just watches you for a second before blurting, “I’m Lochlan, by the way.”
You give him your name in return, and he repeats it like he’s testing how it feels in his mouth.
The afternoon drifts by in easy conversation, playful splashes, and attempts at swimming like mermaids that leave both of you breathless with laughter. You don’t expect to see him again after that—vacation friendships are fleeting, and the resort is big enough that you could easily go the rest of the trip without running into him.
But later, as you’re walking through the lobby, you hear someone call your name.
You turn and find Lochlan jogging toward you, slightly out of breath, as if he had to talk himself into doing this.
“Hey,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh—do you wanna… umm.. walk around or something? Shop? Get food?”
Before you can even answer, a voice cuts in.
“You’re ditching me for her?”
You glance over and see a guy much older, very handsome, lounging on a nearby chair, watching Lochlan with a smirk. He looks between the two of you, then shakes his head in exaggerated disbelief.
Lochlan shrugs. “Yeah… sorry Saxon ”
Saxon rolls his eyes. “Whatever, dude. Have fun with your little date.”
Lochlan’s face flushes, but he ignores him, turning back to you. “So?”
You nod. “Yeah. I can go.”
The streets are alive with movement, a warm glow settling over the market as the sky begins its slow descent into dusk. You and Lochlan weave through the crowd, stopping at every other stall, fingers brushing as you reach for the same thing more than once. Neither of you acknowledge it, but neither of you pull away, either.
“You would totally rock this,” he says, holding up a sequined button-down, his face completely serious.
You snort. “Oh, absolutely. I was just thinking I needed something to blind people with.”
He grins, shoving it back onto the rack. “What about this?” He pulls out a pair of neon pink shorts.
You deadpan. “I think you should get them.”
He holds them up to his waist. “Be honest—do they bring out my eyes?”
You pretend to consider. “You might be starting a whole new fashion trend.”
Lochlan laughs, tossing the shorts back. “Okay, so no pink shorts for me. Got it.”
As you move deeper into the market, the scent of grilled meat and spices fills the air. A street vendor calls out in Thai, waving a skewer of something unidentifiable.
“You ever had that?” Lochlan asks.
You shake your head. “Let’s try it.”
He gives you a skeptical look but doesn’t argue, ordering two. The first bite is a mistake. You both cough at the same time, grabbing for drinks as your faces scrunch up in unison.
“Oh my god,” you gasp, swallowing quickly. “What was that?”
“I have no idea, but I think my mouth is on fire,” Lochlan says, eyes watering as he fans his tongue.
You burst out laughing, and despite the disaster, he does too.
The evening air is warm as the two of you wander through the night market, weaving between stalls filled with silk scarves, carved elephants, and street food sizzling on open grills. The smell of grilled skewers and fresh mango fills the air, and Lochlan reaches for your hand without thinking, pulling you toward a stall selling colorful woven bracelets.
“You think this would suit me?” he asks, holding up a bright pink one.
You laugh. “Absolutely not.”
He smirks. “I’m getting it anyway.”
You roll your eyes, but there’s something soft about the way he looks at you as he hands over a few baht, slipping the bracelet onto his wrist.
“Now you have to get one too,” he says.
You shake your head. “That’s not how this works.”
“Sure it is,” he grins, grabbing another bracelet, this one blue, softer, the color of the ocean at dusk. Without asking, he takes your wrist, fastening it gently around you. His fingers linger just a little too long, his touch warm against your skin.
Your heart stumbles.
For the rest of the night, you don’t let go of each other’s hands.
As the night deepens, the market glows with lanterns, the energy shifting into something softer, quieter. Without really thinking about it, you slip your hand into his again even after only letting go for two minutes. He doesn’t hesitate to intertwine your fingers, squeezing lightly like he’s been waiting for this moment all day.
At the end of the market, you pause near a quiet corner, away from the crowd. The silence between you is comfortable, but there’s something else there, something unspoken.
Before you can overthink it, you lean up and press a quick kiss to his cheek.
It’s barely a second, but when you pull away, Lochlan is already looking at you.
And then, without a word, he tilts his head down and catches your lips in his.
It’s quick, just a heartbeat, but it’s enough to leave your stomach in knots.
When you part, you meet his gaze, your breath still unsteady. His hand, still laced with yours, tightens slightly.
For a second, neither of you move.
And then, slowly, he leans in again.
This time, you don’t hesitate.
By the time you’re standing outside your room, the resort quiet except for the distant hum of the waves, neither of you want to say goodnight.
Lochlan hesitates, shifting on his feet, then reaches out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers brush against your cheek, feather-light, and you swear he’s closer than he was a second ago.
“Thanks for today,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, almost hesitant.
“Yeah,” you breathe. “Me too.”
And then, before you can second-guess it, you lean up and kiss his cheek.
It’s meant to be quick, a simple goodnight. But the second your lips touch his skin, he turns his head, just slightly, just enough.
Your lips meet his.
The kiss is soft, barely more than a breath, but it sends a rush of warmth through you, curling in your chest, your fingertips.
When you pull back, his eyes are wide, searching yours, like he’s wondering if that really just happened.
You don’t say anything. You don’t have to.
He smiles, small, almost shy.
“Goodnight,” you whisper.
“Night,” he murmurs, watching you as you step inside, closing the door behind you.
And when you press your fingers to your lips, still tingling from his, you already know—
sorry this is long I got lost in the sauce..
taglist.. @italiansunsetss @sylvanianngirl @st7rnioioss-alt @sincerelykelsss @throatgoat4u @wiseladypoetry @gracieabrmslvr @pearlzier @1-hypegvrl @piperrrr-16 @mackyyyk @luna443 @flowerxbunnie @calliepie @cupidsword @notaboutlovebyfiona @recklesssturniolo @littlebookworm803 @blissfulxsins @camsturnz @st7rnioioss @yearlyism @cinnamoncunt
I’m just totally uninterested now.. don’t shoot me but i literally don’t look forward to their uploads like they lost the sauce completely