Pinned
@ 𝐀𝐑𝐈’𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆 — 𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 𓏲⋆. 🎞️ 𖦹 ₊˚
. ݁⌗﹒ aria. she/her. asian. legal. girl n’ boy kisser. intp. november scorpio. brunette. west coast. spencer’s. night owl. thrillers. 555. eyeliner. silver jewelry. music addict. vintage posters. matt n’ chris girl. lover of all things spooky.
⌗ › ˙ ̟ 𓂃 masterlist.
꒰ ܁˖ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 — open ! 𝐝𝐦𝐬 — open ! ܁˖ ꒱
Lockscreen, Home screen and the Last playlist you listened to!!
very boring i fear
ty for the tag xx
── your lockscreen, homescreen and last playlist you listened to
no pressure tags: @euphoricdigital @ifwdominicfike @nbayoungmeg
spanking bunnysub!matt ? 👀
"Msorry—!"
Smack!
"P-please!"
Smack!
"N-nomore!"
Matt whimpers, hiding his face in the sheets so you can't see his flushed his face. "You have to learn your lesson, bun. I don't tolerate brats," You coo, massaging his reddened ass cheeks. "Especially in front of my friends." He yelps loudly when you slap his ass again, harder than all of the times.
"G-goldie—!"He scrambles, desperately grabbing at the sheets. "I— I didn't mean it—!," He groans, "P-please— Said m' sorry!"
You deliver another quick, harsh slap to his ass. "I don't believe you." You say sternly, "You can take a few more, can't you, bunny?" You inquire, eyes glued to Matt's back watching it rise and fall.
"M'sorry...m'sorry...mama." He babbles, you bite your lip in excitement, Matt only ever calls you "mama" when he's gone gone.
You purr, "Just a few more, Matty. You can take it."
Maybe a few more was twenty more, and maybe he couldn't take it and came with a cry of your name as all his sticky, hot cum spurted into your lap.
a/n: sorry if this isnot coherent im high 💔
STREETDRIVER!CHRIS x GANGSTA!READER planning revenge.
( AUTHORS NOTE ) : read introduction before reading this!
the silence stretched between you, thick with tension. chris drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, his other hand still resting close to his gun. maybe it was for your sake. maybe it was for his own.
you weren’t sure yet.
the mustang was hidden beneath the overpass, its engine still hot, the smell of burning rubber lingering in the air. outside, sirens wailed in the distance, the city still alive and hunting.
chris let out a slow breath. “start talking.”
you rolled your shoulders, cracking your neck as if shaking off the weight of the night. “a job went bad.”
“that’s all i get?” his voice was edged with irritation, but there was something else beneath it—curiosity, maybe.
“that’s all you need to know.”
his jaw tightened. he wasn’t the type to take half an answer, but he also wasn’t stupid. if he pressed too hard, he knew he might not like what he found.
still, he couldn’t help himself. “bad enough to have half the city trying to put you in the ground?”
a smirk tugged at the corner of your lips. “depends on who you ask.”
chris huffed a humorless laugh and ran a hand through his hair. “great. just my luck—i park my car in the wrong damn alley, and now i’m in the middle of a goddamn war zone.”
“you’re alive, aren’t you?” he shot you a look, something sharp and unreadable. “for now.”
the truth hung between you, unspoken but undeniable. you had dragged him into your mess, and now? he wasn’t walking away clean.
chris shifted in his seat, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror. the sirens were getting closer. “i should dump your ass right here.”
“but you won’t.”
his knuckles flexed on the wheel. “and why’s that?” you leaned in slightly, voice smooth, certain. “because you don’t leave unfinished business.”
something in his expression darkened, something dangerous.
the mustang roared to life beneath you, and with a sharp turn of the wheel, chris made his choice.
“buckle up, sweetheart.”
the city blurred past, neon lights streaking across the windshield as chris wove through backstreets like a ghost. every turn was deliberate, calculated. he knew these streets the way most people knew their own heartbeat.
but the cops weren’t the only problem.
your phone buzzed in your pocket. you checked the screen—blocked number. typical. you pressed it to your ear. “talk.” a familiar voice crackled over the line, low and urgent. “they’re hunting you.”
“no shit.”
“they think you’re dead.”
“good,” you said.
“where you at?”
you hesitated.
you couldn’t tell them.
because that explosion wasn’t meant to be walked away from. that crash should have left you as just another stain on the pavement.
and here you were. with an enemy. and that meant someone was going to be very, very unhappy.
“i’ll handle it.”
a deep sigh was heard on the other side. “they’re watching your usual spots. you need to disappear.”
your fingers tightened around the phone. “i don’t disappear.”
“you might wanna reconsider.”
the line went dead.
you exhaled sharply, shoving the phone back in your pocket.
chris didn’t say anything, but you could feel his gaze on you, studying, calculating. he didn’t trust you. that was fine. you didn’t trust him either.
“someone’s trying real hard to make you a ghost,” he muttered.
you smirked. “they’ll have to try harder.”
chris didn’t laugh. he just made a sharp left, tires skidding slightly before gripping the road again. “i got a place,” he said after a beat. “we’ll lay low for a while.”
you raised a brow. “we?”
“you think i’m just gonna drop you off somewhere and let your mess lead them back to me?” he scoffed. “nah. you brought this storm to my front door. i’m making sure it doesn’t follow me home.”
you didn’t argue. he wasn’t wrong.
the drive stretched on, the city giving way to quieter streets, industrial yards, and empty lots. finally, chris pulled into a garage, rolling the mustang inside before shutting the door behind you.
the space was a mix of organized chaos—shelves lined with tools, parts scattered across workbenches, the faint scent of oil and metal hanging in the air.
chris leaned against the hood, arms crossed. “alright. spill. who the hell wants you dead?”
you exhaled, weighing your words.
“the kind of people you don’t wanna be on the wrong side of.”
he rolled his eyes. “too late for that.”
fair enough.
you rubbed a hand over your face. “it was supposed to be a simple job. smash and grab. in and out. but someone flipped.”
“set you up?”
“yeah.”
chris studied you for a long moment. “you got a name?”
you did. but saying it out loud would make it real.
and once it was real, there was no turning back.
you pulled out your gun, checked the mag. full. good.
chris watched you, something unreadable in his expression. “you planning on getting even?”
you met his gaze. “i don’t plan.” a slow smirk pulled at his lips. “yeah. figured as much.”
he pushed off the hood, grabbing a duffel bag from the shelf. he unzipped it, revealing stacks of cash, spare ammo, and a couple of guns.
you arched a brow. “always ready for war?”
chris shrugged. “i like to be prepared.”
you grabbed a spare clip, sliding it into your pocket. “then let’s go.”
chris didn’t hesitate. he just nodded, zipping up the bag and slinging it over his shoulder.
the night wasn’t over.
not by a long shot.
DIGITAL , 2O25
( TAGLIST ) : @frnkocnlvr @st7rnioioss @flouvela @its4lyric-
𝐼NTRODUCIN’… ⸝⸝ ⸝⸝ ⸝⸝
᭪ STREETDRIVER!CHRIS x GANGSTA!READER ᭪
GANG$TA!READER — 2000s vibe. tiny bikinis. streetwear. bags. shopping. smoking. palm trees. fur coats. money. caps. bandanas. loyalty. honesty. PARTYNEXTDOOR. rnb.
STREETDRIVER!CHRI$ — 90s streetwear. rings. tanned. cars. tattoos. wifebeaters. dobermann. mac miller. car sex. rap. breakdance. respect. courtesy. dark wash jeans.
the first time chris laid eyes on you, it wasn’t in some fairytale setting. it wasn’t love at first sight. it was gasoline, gunpowder, and a crash that shouldn’t have left either of you breathing.
you had been running the streets for years, your name carrying weight like a loaded clip. people knew better than to cross you, and those who didn’t? well, they weren’t around to regret it. that night, though, the streets were painted in chaos. a job had gone south—bad intel, too many cops, a traitor in your midst. the escape plan had been simple: steal a car and get the hell out of there.
what you hadn’t expected was chris.
he wasn’t just some street racer. he was the best behind the wheel, the kind of guy who didn’t just drive—he made the asphalt his playground. and he didn’t take kindly to someone jacking his ride. so when you yanked open the door of his blacked-out mustang, ready to make your getaway, you found yourself staring down a cocked gun.
“wrong car, sweetheart.”
you didn’t flinch. “wrong place, wrong time.”
then the gunfire started. bullets shattered the night, and chris cursed, realizing that whatever storm you’d brought to his doorstep was about to swallow him whole. you didn’t have time to argue, so you made a choice—you shoved your gun in his face and told him to drive.
and he did.
tires screamed as he peeled out, dodging cruisers, weaving through tight alleyways like he was born to do it. the air between you was thick with tension, the scent of burnt rubber and blood mixing with the adrenaline pounding in your veins. you could feel his glare as he drove, could almost hear the gears turning in his head, trying to figure you out.
“what the hell did you do?” he growled.
“nothing i regret,” you shot back, watching the city blur past. “you’re good. real good.”
“and you’re a damn headache,” he muttered, shifting gears.
the chase was relentless. cops, rival gangs, even death itself seemed to be clawing at your heels. but chris? he outran them all. and when the dust finally settled, the mustang hidden beneath an overpass, both of you breathing hard, he turned to you with a smirk that shouldn’t have been as attractive as it was.
“you owe me a car.”
you wiped blood from your lip, eyes locked on his. “and you owe me a ride.”
he laughed, low and dangerous. “guess we’re even.”
maybe it wasn’t love at first sight. maybe it wasn’t love at all. but it was something—sharp, electric, and impossible to ignore. and in the world you both lived in, that was enough to start a war... or something even worse.
DIGITAL , 2O25
( TAGLIST ) : @frnkocnlvr @st7rnioioss @flouvela @its4lyric-
