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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
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
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
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
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
Should i do Lochlan Ratliff smut.. I haven’t done smut before and I wanna see how good or bad it could be. And Lochlan is just too cute..
⋆ ࣪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
lochlan ratliff and reader..
The night is still, the kind of quiet that makes everything feel bigger than it is. You slip out of the room you’re sharing with Piper, careful not to let the door creak, and make your way down the stone pathways, your sandals clicking softly against the ground. The pool glows in the darkness, a cool, inviting blue, the surface still as glass.
You sit at the edge, dipping your legs in, staring at the way the water distorts your reflection. The dinner replays in your head, looping over and over. You weren’t embarrassed before, but now.. now, the weight of all the things you should’ve said presses down on you. The things you should’ve done. The way Lochlan’s mother had looked at you, her questions sharp even when they were sweet.
Your fingers trail through the water. Maybe if you’d laughed more. Maybe if you’d said something different. Maybe if—
Footsteps.
Your head snaps up, heartbeat stuttering, but it’s just Lochlan, his figure backlit by the glow of the resort. His shirt is loose, his hair a little messy, like he’d just rolled out of bed. He sees you and grins.
“Knew you’d be out here,” he murmurs, stepping closer.
You scoff, nudging the water with your foot. “Yeah? How?”
He shrugs, peeling off his shirt and tossing it onto a lounge chair before slipping into the pool. “You get that look when you’re overthinking. Saw it before you went to bed.”
You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling now.
Lochlan swims over, resting his arms on the edge beside you, watching you carefully. You don’t look at him when you say, “Remember freshman year? At Makenzie’s house? We played mermaids, and you were the pirate?”
He laughs, tilting his head back. “Oh my god. Yeah. And I took it way too seriously.”
“You tried to kidnap us,” you remind him.
“You let me kidnap you,” he shoots back, nudging your knee under the water.
You laugh, finally looking at him, and for a second, the weight in your chest loosens. The pool water ripples softly between you, the night air warm against your skin.
Lochlan hums, tilting his head. “You okay?”
You groan, covering your face with your hands. “No.”
He chuckles, prying your hands away. “Dinner?”
“I was so awkward,” you mumble. “I should’ve said more. I should’ve—”
“Stop.” He flicks water at you, making you gasp. “You were fine.”
You glare at him, but your lips twitch. “I was not fine.”
Lochlan smirks, swimming back slightly. “You were fine. I mean, my mom’s just…” He shrugs. “She’s like that with everyone.”
You exhale, watching as he floats on his back.
“You really don’t care?” you ask.
“Not even a little bit,” he says, tipping his head toward you, voice completely sincere.
You stare at him for a second, then splash water in his face.
Lochlan sputters, laughing. “Oh, oh?”
You shriek as he lunges, sending waves of water splashing up around you. You duck, trying to escape, but he grabs your wrist, spinning you around, both of you laughing so hard it barely makes a sound.
And then, footsteps.
You both freeze.
Lochlan grips your wrist tighter, eyes wide. “Is that—”
“Security?” you whisper, heart pounding.
A shadow appears under the terrace lights, and you brace for impact—
But then:
“Get your asses back inside,” Saxon drawls, arms crossed, looking half-asleep and wholly unimpressed.
You and Lochlan exchange glances before bursting into silent giggles, covering your mouths as you scramble out of the pool.
Saxon sighs. “If you guys get us kicked out, I’m making you both sleep outside.”
You shiver dramatically. “Oh no, not the five-star resort.”
Lochlan snorts, grabbing your hand as you slip past Saxon, dripping water onto the stone path.
Saxon shakes his head. “Idiots.”
But you hear the smirk in his voice as you and Lochlan sneak back inside, still laughing.
The laughter doesn’t stop, even as you sneak back toward your room, feet dripping little puddles along the stone path. Lochlan’s hand stays wrapped around yours, warm and sure, even as he bites down on his lip, trying, and failing, not to laugh.
Saxon trails behind you, rubbing a hand down his face like he’s already regretting getting out of bed. “Seriously,” he mutters. “What the hell were you two even doing out there?”
Lochlan shoots you a look, his grin crooked. “Playing mermaids.”
You slap his arm. “Shut up.”
Saxon groans. “Jesus Christ.”
You’re trying to be quiet, really, but the weight of the night, of everything that had been sitting in your chest since dinner, is gone now, washed away in chlorine and laughter. Lochlan looks at you, his damp hair curling at the edges, his tan skin glowing under the soft lights, and suddenly, nothing else matters, not his mom’s disapproving glances, not the questions you fumbled over, not the way you felt like you didn’t belong at that dinner table.
Because here, right now, you belong.
You reach your room, and just as you’re about to slip inside, Lochlan tugs on your wrist, stopping you.
You turn to face him, still breathless. “What?”
His expression softens, his thumb brushing against the inside of your palm. “You’re really okay?”
The laughter fades into something quieter, something warmer. You nod. “Yeah. I think so.”
Lochlan exhales like he was holding his breath, then leans in, pressing the gentlest kiss to your forehead. It lingers, just for a second.
Saxon groans behind you. “I’m actually gonna throw up.”
Lochlan laughs against your skin before pulling away. “Go to bed, Sax.”
“You go to bed,” Saxon mutters, already walking off.
You and Lochlan exchange another look, another quiet smile. He hurriedly walked back over to you giving you a gentle, sweet, quick kiss on the lips before reluctantly walking away back to his room.
And then, finally, you slip back into your room, feeling lighter than you have all night.
I dunno if I like this and I can definitely do better I just wanted to show off the concept of how I wanted to write them but I might change it around. PLEASE send in requests for him I’m begging
taglist.. @italiansunsetss @sylvanianngirl @st7rnioioss-alt @sincerelykelsss @throatgoat4u @wiseladypoetry @gracieabrmslvr @sweetangelgirl7 @pearlzier @1-hypegvrl @piperrrr-16 @mackyyyk @luna443 @flowerxbunnie @cwemetrys @calliepie @cupidsword @notaboutlovebyfiona @recklesssturniolo @littlebookworm803 @blissfulxsins @camsturnz @st7rnioioss @rempessturniolo @yearlyism idea from..@eventhew1nd
love ur blog so much teenage dirtbag hamzah is my absolute favvv 🥲
I literally love you tysm. I’m writing smth for him rn I just got a request 🎀
introducing.. 70s WEIRD KID MARTIN
❛I accept chaos, I’m not sure whether it accepts me.❜
weird kid martin.. who overstimulates people to the absolute max. He’s not loud all the time, but his energy is constant, like he exists on a frequency just slightly off from the rest of the world. One second, he’s hyper-fixated on some insane conspiracy theory about pigeons not being real, and the next, he’s lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling, mumbling about how weird it is that humans have teeth.
weird kid martin.. who is both the best and worst person to get high with. If you want to laugh so hard you forget how to breathe, he’s your guy. But if you’re prone to paranoia? God help you. Because he will absolutely say some shit like “What if your reflection moves a second too slow?” and then watch you spiral with genuine curiosity.
weird kid martin.. who somehow has a real girlfriend, Mandy, and no one understands how or why this happened. Mandy, who is mature and serious, who looks like she would never entertain someone like him, and yet, here she is, rolling her eyes but always hiding a smirk whenever he says something unhinged. No one questions it anymore. Some things in life just are.
weird kid martin.. who has never experienced social anxiety a day in his life. He can and will talk to anyone, anywhere, about anything. A stranger could be pumping gas next to him, and he’ll casually ask, “Hey, you ever think about how we’re all just meat sacks with electrical impulses?” Like that’s a normal thing to say.
weird kid martin.. whose humor is so weird it borders on uncomfortable. He says shit that makes you pause, wondering if you should be laughing or concerned. But then he hits you with the perfect delivery, and suddenly, you’re in tears, questioning your own sense of reality.
weird kid martin.. who is completely unbothered by 99% of people. You think you’ve insulted him? He does not care. He’s still sipping his Coke and talking about how people named Greg are more likely to own birds. But Hamzah? Hamzah is the only person who can actually hurt his feelings. One slightly-too-harsh comment from him, and Martin will spiral for days.
weird kid martin.. who is so impossible to read that you can never tell if he’s joking or not. He could say “I think I could fight a goose and win” with complete sincerity, and the worst part? He’s not joking. This is just who he is.
weird kid martin.. who is the last person you want as a partner for a group project, until you actually get him as your partner. Because suddenly, he’s the best person you could’ve worked with. He’s insanely smart (but only when it comes to schoolwork), and somehow, someway, he makes the most boring assignment feel like the funniest thing you’ve ever done.
weird kid martin.. who is underappreciatedly intelligent. He could be top of the class if he actually cared enough to apply himself. But he doesn’t. Because what’s more important, acing a test or figuring out why all horse girls have the exact same energy?
weird kid martin.. who is just Martin. No act. No persona. The weird shit he says? The way he thinks? That’s just how he is. He is a walking paradox, both completely unserious and accidentally profound, both exhausting and endlessly entertaining.
weird kid martin.. who is ridiculously loyal. Like, if he considers you a friend, that’s it. You’re his people now. No take-backs. If someone messes with you, they’re messing with him, and he is not afraid to make things weird until they regret it.
weird kid martin.. who treats every conversation like an improv bit, but the worst kind, where you’re not in on the joke and he’s completely committed to whatever bizarre thing he just made up. Like you could be having a normal conversation about sandwiches, and he’ll go, “Yeah, I used to be a sandwich in a past life.” And if you ask any follow-up questions, congratulations, you’re now trapped in a 20-minute bit about his experiences as a rogue ham and cheese.
weird kid martin.. who has a shockingly good music taste. Like, he listens to everything. Punk, jazz, psychedelic rock, old blues records, he doesn’t care about genres, just vibes. And somehow, he always finds the perfect song for every situation, like his brain is a jukebox with a mind of its own.
weird kid martin.. who definitely owns a ridiculous amount of weirdly specific t-shirts. Like a shirt that just says ‘Bigfoot is Real, and He Stole My Wallet’. Or one with a poorly drawn UFO that says ‘Get in, Loser’. He doesn’t actively seek them out. They just… find him.
taglist.. @italiansunsetss @b1gba11s @sylvanianngirl @st7rnioioss-alt @sincerelykelsss @throatgoat4u @wiseladypoetry @gracieabrmslvr @sweetangelgirl7 @pearlzier @1-hypegvrl @piperrrr-16 @mackyyyk @luna443 @flowerxbunnie @cwemetrys @calliepie @cupidsword @notaboutlovebyfiona @recklesssturniolo @littlebookworm803 @blissfulxsins @camsturnz @st7rnioioss @rempessturniolo @yearlyism
How they would dress in THE 70s
Slushy Noobz
hamzah..
jeans, bell bottoms, graphic tee, chunky belts, leather jacket, adidas, no color coordination, less effort, tucked shirts, plain
martin..
just nerdy, plaid, button ups, vests, stripes, belts, tucked shirts, skinnier bell bottoms, used to get dress by his mom majority of his childhood, white converse
mandy..
light colors, plaid, skirts skirts skirts, blue, yellows, pinks, browns, chunky shoes, headbands, floral print, girly girl, charm bracelets, cutesy
Sturniolos
chris..
tanks, big tees, bell bottoms, flares, baggy jeans, big belts, plain colors, rings, thrift, same pair of converse, open chest
matt..
basically chris just with more effort, flares, bell bottoms, stripes, plaid, scrunched up sleeves, jackets, wrist accessories, graphic tees, versatile, chunky belts
nick..
fashion icon, diva, necklaces, sweaters, layered collars, cleaner, more effort, doc martins, converse, jackets, v necks
taglist.. @italiansunsetss @b1gba11s @sylvanianngirl @st7rnioioss-alt @sincerelykelsss @throatgoat4u @wiseladypoetry @gracieabrmslvr @sweetangelgirl7 @pearlzier @1-hypegvrl @piperrrr-16 @mackyyyk @luna443 @flowerxbunnie @cwemetrys @calliepie @cupidsword @notaboutlovebyfiona @recklesssturniolo @littlebookworm803 @blissfulxsins @camsturnz @st7rnioioss @rempessturniolo @yearlyism
⋆ MYLENE’S MASTER-LIST
smut & fluff
. readers ໑
࿐ ࣪ ۪ INTRODUCING 𝒜NGEL READER
࿐ ࣪ ۪ INTRODUCING DEER READER
. sturniolo ໑
random pair science project in THE 70s
christopher sturniolo fics..
introducing.. 70s DOUCHEBAG CHRIS
introducing.. 70s BABYDOLL READER
I’m not in LOVE
the DRIVE IN
skating in CIRCLES
matthew sturniolo fics..
introducing.. 70s LOSER MATT
FROSTED FLAKES pt.1
FROSTED FLAKES pt.2
nathan does fics..
introducing.. 70s STONER NATE
how.. 70s STONER NATE listens to music
introducing.. 70s PREPPY READER
treat me like a FOOL
collages
70s chris
what’s in LOSER MATT’S camera?
how they would dress in THE 70s
. slushy noobz ໑
introducing.. 70s TEENAGE DIRTBAG HAMZAH
the WARRIORS
the WARRIORS pt.2
the BLONDE
too GIRLY
introducing.. 70s WEIRD KID MARTIN
their favorite songs/music taste in THE 70s
random pair science project in THE 70s
collages
How they would dress in THE 70s
Their favorite songs/music taste in THE 70s
. the white lotus ໑
lochlan ratliff and reader..
SOMEONE NEW
PINKY PROMISE
FULL MOON
Lochlan and 𝒜ngel reader
. challengers ໑
introducing.. 70s GOLDEN BOY ART
. other (celeb) ໑
quen blackwell fics..
introducing.. 70s POPULAR GIRL QUEN
70s quen
introducing.. 70s STONER TIMOTHÉE CHALAMET
k-drama fics..
introducing.. 70s LEE MYUNG GI.
PARTY at my’s *mwah
ִ ࣪ ⋆𓂅 MYLENE.. ❛she/her, 19, blk, taurus, movies, pink girly, stevie wonder, billy joel, uptown girl, hamzah, the french dispatch, 70s, gold jewelry, romanticism, malcomb todd, pineapple, raspberry ice tea, blush blind, saturday night, purple rain, dessert, dylan o’brien, princess diaries, classy cunty, dior lip gloss, women, kitten heels, mwah❜
master-list taglist playlists
Saving this as a reminder to myself
ALL MINE (Ony)
"You come here, I'll knock your pussy out the damn frame. Remember the last time I made you miss your damn plane? Remember the last time I wet you down with champagne?"
A/N: Hey! I'm down bad for this man rn, lol. I've got lots of ideas for him though, so yay! Happy reading :) Inspired by @lingeriae and this post! Requests are open, too! Get at your girl.
Warning(s): Explicit Sexual Content; Penetrative Sex (p in v), Oral Sex (F receiving), Cursing, Public Sex (Outdoors), Cervix kissing, Wedding details, N Word Used, Black reader in mind, AAVE/Dialogue with Dialect, Dominant!Ony (when tf is he not in my mind), Depiction of marijuana usage, Depictions of alcohol consumption, Mild Dubious Consent; Beta'd by my besties <3
Pairing: Ony x Wedding Planner!Reader
Song Inspo: All Mine - Brent Faiyaz
His eyes drilled into the side of your head, trailing the curves of your body.
As maid of honor, your dress was a little different from the other bridesmaids. Make no mistake, your girls looked good with a t on the end. You made sure of that, but you all agreed upon something more…tailored for the lady making the most moves. So, your dress was designed to your tastes and fit you like a glove. It accentuated all your assets and Onyankopon was taking stock.
The two of you had only fucked once but there was this heightened tension ever since.
During the entire wedding process, Ony had been a pain in your ass. Because he was the best man, the two of you had to collaborate on many of the joint events-- like the Engagement Party and Bridal Party mixers. He was a terrible flirt and spent most of his time trying to get in your pants. Then, if it wasn’t you, he was flirting with any lady he could. And they would swoon just as soon as Ony flashed that handsome, megawatt smile of his.
But for some reason, Ony liked the challenge you posed. The way you were resistant to his charms. Unfortunately for you, Ony was interested in you. He liked you.
You dealt with his bullshit for a good while, putting in a valiant effort because you were doing your best friend and fellow soror, Kendra, a favor. Y’all went back to diapers and stuck together through everything. You were a celebrity event coordinator, specializing in weddings, so you were doing double duty by being her maid of honor and planning the entire wedding. But shit hit the fan between you and Ony the night of the final Bridal Party mixer. The two of you got into a huge blowout fight that ended with your cute little cocktail dress torn and strewn about the floor of Ony’s hotel room, his tongue licking champagne from places it shouldn’t have been.
“You doing so good, ma.” He had whispered, fucking you into his sheets.
You ended up missing your damn plane the next morning. Needless to say, he moved up on your list of people you wouldn’t mind spending time with. But he quickly moved back down the list after he ghosted you the next day. During the rehearsal dinner, you found him talking up some girl in the hotel lounge. He made eye contact with you as he flirted with her, looking away to give her his full attention.
So, you kept it cordial and cute after that. You acted like it didn’t bother you. Did he have amazing, life-changing dick that made you want to murder him and the bitch from the hotel lounge? Yes, yes he did. But were you a classy, sophisticated bitch who successfully planned a destination wedding while being the maid of honor and dealing with Ony’s shiesty ass? Yes, yes the fuck you were.
And no nigga was gonna make you second guess that shit.
The “Lounge Incident”, as your friends lovingly dubbed it, had happened a week ago. Fast forward to the present and there you were, watching your best friend dance and act a fool with the love of her life. You were happy for her, of course, but it did make you feel a little wistful.
The wedding ceremony wrapped up two hours prior and you found yourself nursing a glass of champagne at the reception. You were pretending to be unfazed by the looks Ony was sending you from across the room. You stole a glance at him when you felt like he wasn’t watching you and…dear Lord.
His white dress shirt was tucked into his green slacks, suit jacket long forgotten, with a few of the top buttons opened. His gold chain shined at you, almost winking, as it matched the gold Rollie on his wrist. He flashed a smile to one of his homeboys and you felt your knees wobble a little. You looked away quickly and crossed the room to find your girls. They were standing around one of the reception tables talking.
“Aht, don’t bring that energy over here, ma’am!” Your friend, Chelsea, said. “That man look like he ‘bout to jump your ass.”
“Please tell me y’all not about to fuck at this wedding,” Liyah groaned.
Your girls laughed loudly and you hid a smile behind your champagne glass as you took a sip. You risked a glance back at Ony, finding his gaze already on you. He didn’t care to hide the fact he was staring at you, not even giving the young lady in front of him a glance as she spoke to him. You whipped around, clearing your throat.
“Bye, girl. It ain’t even like that.”
The table went quiet, all the girls looking over your shoulder. A shit-eating grin spread across Chelsea’s face as she raised her hand, waving playfully.
“Hey, Ony.”
Your eyes widened as his chest pressed against your back, his warmth surrounding you. You tried to pretend to be unbothered as your friends gawked with wide eyes and smirks.
“Hey, ladies.”
The smile was evident in his voice, sending chills down your spine. But you took a sip of your champagne with a neutral face, not acknowledging him. In truth, you didn’t need to. He leaned down so that his mouth was close to your ear, hands braced on the table as he trapped you against his chest. His chain brushed your neck, not helping the goosebumps erupting all over your skin. His words, low so only you could hear them, didn’t help either.
“Say bye to your lil friends so I can eat your pussy.”
He paused as you turned your head slightly, your faces close to touching.
“And stop playing with me.”
His eyebrow arched at you as he pulled back, taking a sip from his whiskey glass. He addressed your friends again, setting the glass down.
“Ladies,” He said with a charming smile.
With that, he left you standing there as you slowly looked back to your friends who gaped back at you.
“Bye.” You said finally, scurrying from the reception hall as fast as your legs would carry you.
You found Ony outside the building, perched against the wall. A blunt hung from his lips as he gazed at you sidelong. You approached slowly, hips swaying with each step. His eyes never left yours as he sparked up and inhaled, exhaling the smoke slowly. You felt dizzy with need but you weren’t down that bad. Not yet.
You took the blunt as he passed it to you. You let the smoke soothe you before you exhaled. You took a few more pulls before passing it back to him.
“Take your panties off,” He said finally, after a long draw.
You tutted, crossing your arms.
“You just gon’ act like you ain’t ghost me, Ony?”
“I was wrong for that. But I'm here now, ain't it?” He said casually.
You rolled your eyes, turning to go back inside. He grabbed your arm and pulled you back to him, his lips pressing firmly against yours. His mouth teased yours, opening it as smoke billowed between the two of you. His arm slid down to your waist as you exhaled the smoke he gave you.
He took another pull, exhaling, before he looked back down at you.
“I told you stop playing with me.”
“Maybe I'm done with you," You bluffed. "Maybe I got me another nigga to fuck on now.”
Ony scoffed, tucking the rest of his blunt away for later.
“Aight, that’s enough of that shit,” He mumbled, grabbing your hand as he pulled you to the side of the building.
It was a more hidden spot, behind large bushes that wrapped around the front of the building and off to the side. From there, you could see guests entering and exiting but they couldn’t see you unless they were looking hard enough. Your eyes widened as he kneeled in front of you and shoved your dress up your legs. You swatted at his hands, panicking as your eyes darted around. Ony stilled, his gaze hard as he grabbed your hands and looked up at you.
“Don’t piss me off.”
Now, you were down bad.
You took a shaky breath as he released your hands, going back to bunching up your dress.
“Hold that,” He said, tossing your leg over his shoulder.
You did as he asked, taking the garment in your hands. Your body flushed with heat as he shamelessly nuzzled his nose against your soaked core, smelling your needy scent. He kissed your clothed core and pushed your panties aside, holding them in one hand as he slipped a finger into your dripping cunt. He moved the digit in and out, brushing against that soft spot inside you.
“Oh, fuck,” You whined, your head falling against the wall.
“Yeah, say that shit you was sayin’ now,” Ony taunted, sliding another digit inside. “This pussy all mine.”
You panted, bracing yourself with a hand on his shoulder, as you forced out your next question.
“What about that bitch from the lounge, Ony?”
“I was gonna try what she was offering, but she wasn’t you,” He said easily, his eyes glued to his fingers moving in and out of you. “Damn, ma. You sucking that shit in.”
“Ony,” You whimpered. “I don’t want to play no games with you--”
“I’m not. That shit not an offer to me when you’re around,” He said firmly. “Now, you gon’ keep complainin’ or you gonna let daddy eat his pussy?”
“Ony--”
Any rebuttal you had became a wanton moan as he didn’t wait for a response, his mouth descending on your clit as his fingers continued to move inside you. You covered your mouth with your hand, trying in vain to stifle the sounds of pleasure he was snatching from you. He pulled his fingers from you gently, spreading your sopping pussy wider as he fucked his tongue in and out of you.
He ate you out messily, drinking up your juices like sweet nectar. The slurping noises were lewd as he sucked on your clit, teasing it with his tongue before dipping it back into your weeping hole. His performance was drawing pathetic whines from your throat as you tried to keep the two of you from getting caught. Heat pooled in your belly as his mouth on your core drove you toward a heated finish.
Then, he stopped completely. You let out a confused moan as the pleasure waned, your orgasm evading you. The confusion didn’t last long, however, as you heard his belt coming undone. He pulled himself from his pants as he tore your panties. He hiked your leg around his waist and slid home without warning.
“Hold on to me,” He grunted, his other hand supporting your back.
You wrapped your arms around him, your head resting on his shoulder as he thrust into you. His pace was rough and deep, fucking you like he owned you. Maybe he did. Maybe you wanted him to. You muffled a scream into his shoulder as his length kissed your cervix, unrelenting as the drag of his cock against your tight walls sent you into oblivion.
“Fuck, baby,” He groaned. “You so tight f’me. Takin’ me so good.”
You choked back a sob as his tip brushed that soft spongy spot, bringing back the pool of pleasure from before. Ony noticed your reaction, angling his hips to hit it over and over again. Your whimpers and moans were his own private mixtape as you keened and cried in his ear. He stretched you so good, the feeling of being this full something new and foreign to you. Ony was a bad habit, and he was making sure you wouldn’t be able to kick him any time soon.
That pool of pleasure warmed further with each snap of his hips into yours. Your quiet, open-mouthed cries built in intensity as the temperature inside you began to rise, swirling like a tsunami. You felt yourself teetering on that delicate edge and so could Ony. He picked up the pace.
“You gonna cum on your dick?” He taunted, egging you on. “You gon’ show me who this dick belong to?”
Your climax crashed over you as you slapped a hand to your mouth, muffling the sob that broke free. He fucked you through your orgasm, prolonging it as your body seized around him. He could barely pull out, opting for shallow thrusts as you came down from your high.
You sagged against the wall, trying to catch your breath as Ony pulled out. He fixed your dress and smoothed it down around the hips. He tucked himself back into his pants and dug his wallet from his pocket, fishing out his room key.
He flashed it in front of your dazed face before placing it in your hand. He pulled you off the wall, making sure you looked good before nudging you in the direction of the front doors.
“Go to my room. Third floor, 303. I’ll be there in a minute.”
You looked down at the key card in your hand then back to him. He sparked up his blunt again, blowing out smoke as he smacked your ass.
“Go ‘head, ma. I’m coming.”
You jumped slightly from the impact and found your feet moving you out of the bushes. You stumbled back into the hotel lobby, walking on wobbly legs to the elevators with his room key clutched in your hand. Your girl, Chelsea, was coming from the restrooms as the two of you made eye-contact. She smirked, her eyes trailing over you. She subtly adjusted the top of her dress, nodding at you.
You took the hint, fixing yours.
She went back into the reception hall without a word as you fumbled to press the elevator button.
Your night was not over yet.