I Love Addison Rae Idc

introducing

໑ 70s LOSER MATT

LOSER MATT.. who isn’t shy, just terrible at social cues, leaving people wondering if he’s being intentionally funny or just awkward.

LOSER MATT.. who doesn’t say much but notices everything, his sharp eyes catching details others overlook, like someone’s mood changing or a song subtly switching tempo.

LOSER MATT.. who’s clumsy in the most endearing way, tripping over nothing or spilling his drink, then muttering a dry, self-deprecating joke that actually makes people laugh.

LOSER MATT.. who only comes to parties if Chris and Nate are going, and even then, he spends most of the night nursing a drink and bobbing his head to the music in the corner.

LOSER MATT.. who sits on the edge of his bed, headphones on, completely lost in the world of his favorite obscure album, mouthing the lyrics like they’re gospel.

LOSER MATT.. who practices drumming on every surface he encounters—desks, tables, his own thighs—earning annoyed looks from teachers and amused ones from friends.

LOSER MATT.. who doodles on the edges of his notebooks during class, filling the margins with weirdly intricate designs no one ever sees because he immediately closes his book.

LOSER MATT.. who will pause mid-walk in the hallway to daydream, staring off into space like he’s in the middle of a movie scene only he can see.

LOSER MATT.. who spends his free time at record stores, thumbing through vinyls he can’t afford, memorizing tracklists, and mentally curating the perfect playlist.

LOSER MATT.. who doesn’t understand why people hate on disco and will passionately argue its brilliance to anyone willing to listen—or not.

LOSER MATT.. who shows up to every group hangout slightly late, not because he’s cool, but because he overthought what to wear and couldn’t decide if he was actually invited.

LOSER MATT.. who panics if someone randomly calls on him, answering with a stammer and a dry, witty comment that accidentally makes everyone laugh.

LOSER MATT.. who secretly wants to be the main character but thinks he’s destined to be a background NPC, quietly hoping someone will see him for more.

LOSER MATT.. who refuses to watch a movie he’s obsessed with until he has the perfect setup—a quiet room, the right lighting, and no distractions—because art deserves to be experienced properly.

LOSER MATT.. who only really comes alive when he’s playing his drums, his quiet, awkward demeanor melting away into raw passion and energy.

LOSER MATT.. who would absolutely lose it if someone recognized one of his niche movie references, but instead, he just shrugs it off like it doesn’t matter.

LOSER MATT.. who’s clumsy in the most endearing way, tripping over nothing or spilling his drink, then muttering a dry, self-deprecating joke that actually makes people laugh.

LOSER MATT.. who has exactly three close friends, Chris, Nick and Nate, and would do anything for them—even though Chris shoos him away half the time.

LOSER MATT.. who, despite his awkwardness, has a way of making people feel understood with his quiet loyalty and soft-spoken humor.

LOSER MATT.. who dreams of being a film composer but tells no one, burying his passion under layers of self-doubt and drum solos.

LOSER MATT.. who has a heart so big it scares him, hiding it under sarcasm and humor, hoping no one will notice how much he really cares.

@lovelymylene <3

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

Okay so I decided to write a bunch of the requests on Saxon and just post one everyday so don’t think I forgot 😭 but while I was writing I was watching remember the titans (the best movie to ever exist imo no exaggeration) and I saw sunshine and how fine he was. And then I went to look for some fics of him and there are NONE. And he was one of the only boys to not discriminate when joining the team like he was so cute. I might create a story with him and a black reader because I can see it so clearly. So now I have to ask should she be the coaches daughter? Or a cheerleader? Or I was thinking she’s good with numbers so she helps the coaches on the sidelines but doesn’t actually care for football. Please tell me yall seen this movie because I need help I wanna write this so bad

I love when ppl react to Poc casting for white characters and say “well then let’s make Tiana white” like go ahead. I love it because Disney would never do it. Like we all know Disney would rather close down Disney world then ever dare to make Tiana, pochohantas, mulan, jasmine white. Like let’s be real I just love it when they cry about it because ITS NOT GONNA HAPPEN AND THEYRE SICK. I just love that their childhood is being taken over by poc women it brings a smile to my face seriously I love it

I love himbos

i cant with how STUNNING your theme is um im actually in love.

Umm I’m actually in love with you tysm😭🙏🏽 your pfp and banner is so tea oml

I’ve never realized how fine Ben Barnes was omg.. his accent when he played Prince caspian 😭🙏🏽

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

No cause this is why I hate old balding bitches they got the most problems other than hair growth oil