I Hope When Yall Read My Chris And Matt Fic You Read Them With An Accent.. Because I Do Imagine Them

introducing 70s BABYDOLL READER paired with 70s chris

“That summer of 1976, when everybody called me baby and it didn’t occur to me to mind”

Her voice is smooth, with a soft New York accent that peeks through in her vowels, giving her words a rhythm all their own. It’s the kind of voice you could listen to for hours, whether she’s humming along to a Bee Gees tune or passionately defending her love for disco. While everyone else seems to roll their eyes at her playlist, she just laughs and turns the volume up, unapologetically dancing to the beat of her own world.

She’s always got a little gloss on her lips and a smirk in her eyes, like she knows something you don’t. There’s a warmth to her presence, a softness that makes people want to be better just to deserve her attention. She doesn’t demand it, though—she’s not the kind of girl who needs to shout to be heard. Her laugh is soft but unforgettable, the kind that sticks in your head long after she’s gone, like a melody you can’t quite place.

She has a passion for little joys—collecting vinyl records, baking cookies she insists aren’t perfect, but everyone eats anyway, and reading paperbacks with broken spines. She loves the smell of old books and the sound of rain against her window, and she swears there’s no better feeling than stepping onto a dance floor under shimmering disco lights. She’s not a loud person, but there’s something magnetic about her—a quiet kind of confidence that makes her impossible to ignore.

She’s gentle but firm, the kind of person who listens without judgment but doesn’t hesitate to call you out when you’re being ridiculous. She believes in authenticity, in living life fully, even if that means sticking out a little more than she intended. And when she looks at you, it feels like she’s seeing right through every facade, straight into the core of who you are—and liking what she finds.

@issysh3ll

Her.

Okay I really like quen but um.. pokimane?? Dropouts?? Like she’s not beating the allegations I’m sorry I’m starting to think they’re true cause wtf do u mean POKIMANE like that is verrryyyyyyy weird behavior and I feel like no one cares because she’s fine. Like it’s getting weird to me.

winner

you decide to make a bet that’ll test both yours and saxons temptations for one another. but little did you know it’d be extremely difficult.

- contains smut!!! (18+ only!!) teasing, p in v (unprotected), choking, saxon wears rings because i say so!!!!

you and saxon had a lot of things in common, one of those being competitiveness. saxon absolutely loved to win, but so did you. which is how this stupid fucking bet came to light. 

“are you sure about this, babe?” saxon chuckled smugly, crossing his arms and leaning against the kitchen counter as you proposed the bet, not thinking it’d last more than an hour. 

“i’m 100% sure.” you answered, a confident smile plastered across your lips. “no touching at all.” 

“well as much as i fucking love touching you, i love to win. you’re going to regret this.” he stated confidently, which made you snicker. 

“you can’t go 5 seconds without touching me saxon, i have this one in the bag,” you said in response, taking a step closer to him until you were only inches apart. “and i know for a fact…” you say quietly, looking up into his eyes. 

“that mr. ratliff doesn’t handle losing very well.” 

“that’s why i’m not going to lose.” he says without a second thought, an almost evil smile adorning his chiseled face. 

what have you gotten yourself into?

you tried your best to distract yourself and avoid saxon as much as possible, that man would do anything and everything in his power to win and you couldn’t let that happen. 

it was around 2 am and saxon of course, was at his desk, still working despite knowing how much you hate it when he works so late. you were laying in bed, body adorned in one of saxon’s shirts that you had claimed months ago and a pair of soft white panties. it’d been hours since you’d made the bet, and you've been trying your best to ignore the sensation lingering between your thighs, the all too familiar feeling. 

by now, you would’ve had sex. multiple times. it was almost like you were going into withdrawals. it definitely didn’t help he was only wearing a pair of sweatpants and no shirt. his chiseled arms and abs on full display. you almost found yourself moaning as you stared at him, it was killing you and you had to do something.

you got up from the bed and made your way into the bathroom. you needed to find a distraction of some sort, literally anything at this point and you couldn’t let saxon see that you were struggling. that’d only inflate his ego. you turned on the tap and splashed your face with water, the icy chill of the water hitting your skin sent chills down your spine, but you could feel it helping. as you rubbed your eyes gently and straightened your posture. there he was, right behind you. 

you didn’t even think he noticed you leaving the room. 

“hi.” you said nonchalantly as you grabbed your face towel, patting the speckles of water from your skin. 

“hey,” he responded, “what are you doing?” 

“i’m washing my face, what do you think i’m doing?” 

“distracting yourself.” he answered, which made you roll your eyes. 

“i’m doing just fine thank you very much. i just forgot to wash my face after brushing my teeth earlier.” you said as confidently as possible, placing the towel down once you were done. 

“don’t you miss the way my lips feel against your skin, baby?” he says, moving his hand down to your thigh and hovering his hand over your skin. he may not have been touching you, but you could feel it.

fuck.

“how my hand almost wraps around your whole throat when you beg me to choke you?” he adds, “how my tongue feels on that pretty pussy of yours?… how you clench so tightly when i first thrust into you?” his lips hovered over yours, all you wanted to do was give in, but you couldn’t. he wouldn’t let you live it down if you did. 

he couldn’t win. 

“all you have to say is ‘please’ baby. then you can have what you want.” 

“stop it.” you muttered under your breath before moving away and heading back into the bedroom. as you crawled back onto the bed, you were completely unaware of the visible wet patch that had formed in your panties, and he could see it. 

it drove him crazy.

once you were sitting back on your side of the bed, you looked up at him and noticed his demeanor and how it had changed so drastically all of the sudden. how desperate he suddenly looked, and how mad he was about it. 

“are you ok, saxon?” you asked, tilting your head slightly like a lost puppy. you looked down at his sweatpants, noticing a prominent bulge. he didn’t say anything, but you heard the grunt that fell from his lips before he made his way back to his desk. 

you smirked and spent a few moments thinking. you knew he was almost at the point of breaking and you had to act on it before he managed to calm down. you got up and walked over to him confidently, squeezing yourself in front of him and his chair so the small of yout back was leaning against his desk. you were only inches away from him. 

“please?” you ask, slowly lifting your, well, his shirt to expose your panties. the pair that he loved so much. “touch me.”

and just like that, he stood up so he was towering over you, looking down at you like he was starving. at that point, you knew that you’d already won. 

he stepped closer and grabbed onto your thighs harshly, sitting you on his desk, using his arms to aggressively push every single thing that may get in his way off of his desk and onto the floor. he crashed his lips onto yours before pushing you down until you were laying before him. he then tore your panties off with his desperate hands, spreading your legs apart and looking down at the wetness he caused. the groan that left his lips at the sight gave you butterflies.

he quickly slid his sweatpants down his thighs and you watched as his cock sprung up and hit his stomach, causing a soft moan to fall from your lips. all you wanted was to feel him inside.

in no time, he began to slide his hard cock up and down your wetness, and within seconds, you felt him thrust inside of you with force, causing a desperate scream to escape your lungs.

he moved his hand to your throat and squeezed it tightly, just the way you liked it as he began thrusting at a brutal pace, grunting as you clenched around him. 

“f..fuck, saxon..” you moaned, which made him squeeze your throat even tighter. you loved how dominant saxon could get. 

the sounds coming from his mouth were almost animalistic, and it was turning you on more than you could even begin to describe. he quickened his page even more, completely ravishing your body with no remorse. god, you loved it so much. 

he moved his hand from your throat and brought it to your lips, and you immediately began sucking on his fingers. his long, ring adorned fingers. saxon had always loved when you did this. 

you could feel your impending orgasm approach, and he could tell by the way your pussy continuously clenched around his cock. “don’t cum.” he growled, causing you to whine around his fingers. “i’m not done with you yet.” he said, grabbing ahold of both of your thighs and lifting you off the desk. you immediately wrapped your arms around his neck. he was still inside you, and all of the sudden movements caused his cock to brush against all of the sensitive spots inside of you. he then walked you to the nearest wall, pinning your back against the plaster before he began brutally fucking you once again. he was fucking you at such an obscene pace you were half expecting the wall behind you to break. your nails dug into the skin and dragged their way down his back, causing his delicate skin to break and specks of blood to surface. 

you threw your head back, crying out at the intensity. saxon kept his eyes on you the whole time, taking in each expression you made as he took you against the wall of your bedroom. it made losing the bet worth it. you moved your hand to his head and pulled on his soft, messy brunette hair, another thing that drove him absolutely wild. he leaned in and pressed his forehead against yours. feeling his hot breath against your lips. you knew you weren’t going to last another minute. 

“p..please, saxon. can’t… can’t hold it anymore…” you eventually muttered out, an embarrassing amount of desperation lacing your voice. 

“cum for me.” he said, abusing your g-spot with every vicious thrust. you obeyed and let yourself go, screaming as the intense orgasm captured your entire body. your whole body shook in his arms, toes curling. your reaction also caused saxon to reach his high, feeling his warm cum spill inside of you with a deep grunt. 

once your orgasms subsided, you let out a soft chuckle, which made saxon smile. “what’s funny?” he asked breathlessly, pressing a gentle peck to your lips. 

“i won,” you said, struggling to catch your breath. “i knew i could make you fold.” 

saxon rolled his eyes, his gorgeous smile still adorning his face. “you did,” he said, nuzzling his nose against yours and kissing me once more before saying, “you’re my winner.”

THIS is what I see when I say 70s douchebag Chris.

is there any chance you’d be doing timothee chalamet stuff? i rlly like ur writing and ur 70s theme :)) (also i love the hamzah stuff)

I meant to reply to this with the post but it’s posted now!!

Ik I'm a little late to posting this but omg I'm so freaking excited

70s teenage dirtbag hamzah meeting reader at some old vhs place and immediately gushing to martin abt her ...

the WARRIORS

teenage dirtbag hamzah and reader

summary.. A chance encounter at a dusty VHS store leaves Hamzah completely hooked.. now all he can do is rewind the moment in his head and gush to Martin like an idiot.

VHS & Chill was the kind of place that smelled like stale popcorn and forgotten cigarette smoke, the scent of dust settling over old plastic cases stacked on wire racks. The sign outside flickered weakly, a busted neon “Open” buzzing against the quiet hum of the street. It wasn’t the busiest spot in town, most kids preferred the drive-in or the record store, but Hamzah liked it here. The silence. The low hum of a TV in the background playing something grainy and forgotten. The feeling that no one was really watching him, that he could just exist.

Martin, on the other hand, didn’t give a damn about silence. He was already flipping through tapes, tossing titles at Hamzah like he was quizzing him. The Last Picture Show? “Depressing.” Enter the Dragon? “Classic.” Harold and Maude? “Kinda weird, but I dig it.” Hamzah let out a breath, running a hand over his buzzed head, before reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out his camera. It was second nature at this point, filming the nothingness of his days, capturing the way life looked when you weren’t really a part of it.

And then she walked in.

Hamzah didn’t even notice her at first, not really. Just the soft jingle of bracelets, the scuff of thick rubber soles against linoleum. It wasn’t until she passed by, the scent of vanilla and something deeper, warmer, hitting him like a sucker punch, that he actually looked up. Her hair framed her face perfectly, like one of those actresses in French films he pretended to understand, and she was wearing these shoes, chunky, broken-in, the kind that made a girl look like she could stomp you out if she wanted. A black baby tee, gold jewelry catching the dim light, making her look untouchable, unreal.

Hamzah stared.

And then Martin, the menace, clocked him immediately. “Oh, hell no,” he whispered, grinning. “Don’t even say it.”

“I—” Hamzah started, but Martin cut him off.

“Dude. Every time.”

“This is different.”

“It’s never different.”

Hamzah huffed, gripping his camera like it might stabilize him. “She looks like she has good taste.”

“She just walked in, man.”

“And?”

Martin just shook his head, amused, but Hamzah could feel it, the inevitable. The way he was already forming theories in his head. What movies she liked. What kind of music she listened to when no one was around. If she’d think his camera thing was weird or if she’d let him interview her with that lazy, amused look that pretty girls always had when he got too in his head.

She was flipping through the cult classics section now, rings glinting as she ran her fingers over the spines of old VHS tapes. Hamzah was not gonna go up to her. Absolutely not. His social skills were limited to Martin and his cats, and he was barely holding onto those. But then.. then she grabbed The Warriors, tilting her head like she was debating it.

Hamzah’s mouth moved before his brain did. “That’s a good one.”

She turned, surprised, and for a second, he thought maybe he should’ve kept his mouth shut. But then.. she smiled. Not big, not showy, just enough for him to see the amusement behind her eyes.

“Yeah?” she said, flipping the tape in her hands. “Think it’s worth it?”

Hamzah swallowed, nodding. “Definitely.”

And just like that, Martin was grinning like a devil over his shoulder, and Hamzah knew he was doomed.

The second she walked out the door, the little bell jingling behind her, Hamzah let out a breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding. He turned to Martin, eyes wide, heart still stuttering in his chest like an old car refusing to start.

“Oh, man,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, man.”

Martin just stared at him, arms crossed, already smirking like he’d been waiting for this moment. “Here we go.”

Hamzah ignored him. He was still staring at the door, like maybe she’d come back, like maybe he’d get another chance to act like a normal human being around her.

“Did you see her?” he asked, half in a daze. “Like, actually see her? The shoes, man. The jewelry. She smelled like—I don’t even know, but I think I just got cursed or something. That was—I think I’m actually losing my mind.”

Martin snorted. “Dude, she bought The Warriors. That’s literally the bare minimum.”

Hamzah whipped his head toward him, scandalized. “The bare minimum?! That’s cinematic taste, Martin. That’s culture.”

Martin held up his hands. “Okay, okay, relax, movie nerd. So what, you gonna actually talk to her next time?”

Hamzah groaned, tipping his head back. “I did talk to her.”

“Telling a girl a movie is ‘good’ doesn’t count as talking, dumbass.”

Hamzah let out another sigh, glancing back at the door. His camera was still clutched in his hands, fingers drumming anxiously against the side. Next time, he thought. If there was a next time.

And God, he really wanted there to be a next time.

I accidentally got lost in the sauce and stayed up all night writing this and now I’m running off no sleep..

@issysh3ll

taglist.. @italiansunsetss @b1gba113r @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

Don’t you hate when parents waste your time. Life is too short to waste it on shit I don’t wanna do.

what would you call the style of ur page? its so amazing

Your so sweet tysm🎀 when looking for pictures and stuff I just search up girly 70s or pink 70s. But my whole vibe of my page that I was going for is like 70s girlhood basically.. like sleepovers and doing makeup in pink bathrooms and stuff like that