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producedbyhanjisung · 6 days

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⎯ N'OUBLE PAS DE VIVRE. christopher bahng chan

🎧 : bang chan x female reader

TROPE. streetracer!au, fake dating au

WORD COUNT. 5.9k

WARNINGS. drinking, mentions of drugs, illegal activities, streetracing, smut

PARTS. one, two, three

SYNOPSIS. y/n, new to seoul, south korea, has yet to find the crowd she wants to roll with. that is, until she hears one of her best friends babbling about the hottest topic of the city - the streetracers. specifically a group known as "stray kids". when y/n finds herself in the backseat of one of the racers' cars, she is thrown unexpectedly into a world much different from the one she was raised in - and perhaps has found the crowd she wants to roll with.

SMUT WARNINGS. kind of dirty talk not really, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving) (there will be more in the other parts)

n'ouble pas de vivre. ⎯ don't forget to live.

"What if I told you that I fucking hate you?" You glance over at your father, eyes lidded. You know you're high out of your mind, and you know that you don't really mean it - you haven't meant anything you've said in the past three hours.

"You don't hate me." Your father flips the page of his book absentmindedly, practically ignoring the fact that you're screaming in his face.

"I hate you!" You yell, and as if trying to make your point, you smudge the end of your cigarette on the wall. Part of you hopes that your father will stand up and reprimand you - the other part hopes you can continue getting away with your outrageous behavior.

"Why do you hate me, Y/N?" He finally looks up, locking eyes with you.

"You tore me away from my home," you say finally, sitting down against the wall. "I want to see my mom."

"You know damn well where your mother is." A flash of anger tears through your father's face, before quickly fading. He composes himself, straightening his suit. "Your mother is dead, honey."

You realize that you're crying now, but you couldn't give less of a fuck. Your father - this man who you've never met before in your life - has never chosen to care about you before the death of your mother. Why on Earth would he choose to care now? What was so important that you had to pack yourself up from New York and cross the fucking world to get to Seoul, South Korea?

"Fuck you!" You yell, standing quickly and moving through the hallway, up the stairs and to the bedroom that you've never slept in before. This is not your childhood bedroom, or the one that your mother always kept ready when you were away at college, or even the one at your ex-boyfriend's house - what on Earth were you going to do without Soobin here?

Some deep, hidden recess of you understands that this situation isn't your father's fault - in fact, you're sure he'd much rather be out partying and bringing home anyone he pleases than babysitting for an eighteen-year-old walking depressive episode. You know that he doesn't want you here, and you don't want to be here either.

So why won't he let you leave?

The thoughts make their way hurriedly through your mind, as though they're late to a business meeting in some other deep cavity of your skull. Soon, the rushing puts you to sleep, and you're left to dwell alone in your subconscious.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ☆⭒

When you awaken again, it's nearly six am. With class two hours later, you get up slowly and get ready for your day, brushing your teeth and donning your clothes that look much too American for your liking.

"Can we pick up Soyeon?" you ask as you exit your father's house, looking over at his private driver, who just bows and nods at you. You're at Soyeon's apartment fifteen minutes later, and the pretty blond grins as she jumps into the backseat of the sports car with you, clutching her bag.

In your entire two months living in Seoul already, you've made all but one friend - Jeon Soyeon. An aspiring underground rapper with a taste for expensive sunglasses. She splays out across the backseat, letting her legs drape over your lap as she hangs her head out the window. "How mad was your dad last night?" she asks, tilting her head at you as she swings her head back in to examine your face.

"Not mad," you say, taking out a cigarette and lighting it. You catch a glimpse of the driver wrinkling his nose, but you ignore it, taking a drag and blowing a puff of smoke at your friend's face. "He wasn't upset at all until I brought up my mom. I don't think he cares that I was smoking and stuff."

Soyeon pretends to pout. "You're lucky. My mom is such a cunt about all that stuff. 'That shit kills you, Soyeon.' Like I don't wanna die already!" she giggles, and you can tell that even now, at seven-thirty in the morning on a random Tuesday in March, Jeon Soyeon is high out of her mind.

"I'm so glad we ended up in the same psych class," she says, bloodshot eyes glancing up at you. "Life would be so boring. All those fucking do-gooders are fucked."

"You're fucked," you say, pushing her playfully.

"So are you, bitch!" she laughs.

Not long after, you've arrived at the university that the two of you take classes together at. You get out of the car, shouldering your bag and stepping out onto the green, Soyeon following behind you. Around you, students bustle around, lounging between classes, hand-in-hand with their lovers, trying to run from a one-night-stand without being seen. You smile as a girl runs from bush to bush, trying to fix her mousy hair and hide the fact that she's still wearing the dress you saw her in at the party last night. In fact, you remember taking off that dress. You wonder how she ended up at someone else's dorm.

Soyeon hardly notices anything, running a little ahead of you and jumping into a much-too energetic cartwheel.

"Who'd you end up going home with last night?" you ask her, jogging a little to catch up.

"Some guy. Chi . . . Ji-something? . . . no . . . Sung? . . . Jisung? I think that's what his name was."

You nod. "Was he nice?"

"He was cool," Soyeon says. "I've seen him and his friend a few times at the rap shows. Sometimes one of them gets up and does a little freestyle. He's pretty good. He's part of a street racing group though, did you know?"

"Street racing?"

"Come on, don't tell me they don't have street racing in America."

"No, they do, it's just like not something that happens a lot. And most American street racers don't go to prestigious universities, either."

"Haughty haughty." Soyeon wiggles her eyebrows at you, nudging you gently. "Most stoners don't go to prestigious universities either. And here we are, strolling into a fucking psych lecture in a prestigious university."

You take your seats beside each other, waiting for the lecture to begin.

"You should come with me. Jisung asked if I wanted to come see a race tonight. He said I could get a backseat pass and everything." She winks at you, and you shake your head knowingly. "Seriously though. It could be fun! Maybe you'll find your new calling."

You roll your eyes. "I'd rather not," you say.

So, how exactly did you end up here, fourteen hours later, sitting in a crowded back-alley dotted with girls showing too much skin and guys showing off their fancy multi-colored cars.

"This doesn't seem like a street race," you tell Soyeon, fixing your dress. It's practically vanta black and too short, but Soyeon said it complimented your figure and you didn't want to fight with her.

"That's cause none of the big leagues have shown up yet. These are all just bozos who get off on girls in small tops."

"You do realize that you're a girl in a small top, right?" You glance over at Soyeon, who is dressed in a flattering bikini top and jean skirt, showing off her delicate body.

Soyeon turns around and wiggles her ass at you. "Damn right I am." She stands back up, ignoring the whistling and claps that erupt around us at her little display, and leads me over into a semi-vacant corner of the lot. "Look, they're starting to show up. I'll give you a rundown of the big groups, yeah?"

You nod, looking around.

"See them, over there? The four girls? That's Blackpink. Their racers are Lisa and Jisoo - some of the best girls in the league." She points off at a group of four girls, standing beside two cars - one black and one pink.

"Them? Ateez. Hongjoong is in charge of them, I think, but he doesn't race." She continues rattling off names that don't mean anything to you - Itzy, Seventeen, Le Sserafim, P1Harmony, and a few others. Finally, she pauses. "Look, there's Jisung. He's with Stray Kids."

"Stray Kids?"

"Mhm. They're at the top right now. Four racers, four mechanics, but they practically all do everything. Look, those four are the racers. They have names, I'm sure, but everyone calls them by their racer names. J.One - that's Jisung - and Spear.B and I.N. And that's CB97. Jisung, Changbin, Jeongin, and Chan."

"Chan is cute."

She looks over. "You think so?"

You nod, watching him. His hair was short-ish and hung in dark curls that framed his face nicely. He had a piercing on his nose, and wore a fitted black shirt and jeans that looked way too big for him. Even so, it was clear he was ripped, and held himself with confidence, even amongst the rest of his team.

"You and every other girl here," Soyeon says. "He graduated from the school we're going to last year."

You nod again, hardly able to form words as you watch his graceful movements. You barely pay attention as Soyeon spouts off the rest of the members, then drags you over to say hi to Jisung, who grins and kisses her on the cheek as the two of you come up to them.

"Who's this?" he asks, turning to you.

"Y/N," you say, bowing slightly.

He laughs. "None of that, let's be informal. No one here gives a fuck. Soyeon, can you come help me with something?"

Soyeon nods, giggling and blowing you a kiss as Jisung whisks her away.

"Great," you say quietly to yourself. "Alone."

"Not alone," says a deep voice behind you. You turn, finding yourself face to face with none other than CB97 - Chan.

"Oh, no?" you ask. "I look pretty alone to me."

He shakes his head, leaning against the car. "I'm here, aren't I?"

You nod, trying to hold back your urge to scream and kick your feet like a little kid. "I suppose so."

"American?"

You sigh. "Mhm."

"We can speak English then, love." You look up quickly as the boy switches from Korean to English, what sounds like an Australian accent layered thick over his pretty voice.

"Oh, okay."

"Ever been to one of these before? Races, I mean."

You shake your head. "First time. My, uh, my friend dragged me out here actually. She's with Jisung, I guess? They went to go work on something together."

Chan shakes his head. "Of course they are. Soyeon is your friend? She's trouble."

You nod. "Tell me about it."

"I'm Chan, by the way. Bang Chan. Everybody around here calls me CB97 though."

"Do you want me to call you that?" you ask, looking up at him.

"You can call me Chan, pretty girl. Now, do you have a name? Or should I just keep calling you pretty girl?"

"Pretty girl works for me." You smile. "My name's Y/N though."

"Y/N." He mutters the name over and over, as if turning it over like a coin in his mind. "Cute."

"Thanks."

"Chan!" You both look up at a redheaded boy who called his name, waving him over to a deep purple car.

"That's my queue." Chan winks at you. "Here, um, can I have your number?"

"I, yeah, do you have any paper or something to write it on?"

"CHAN."

"I'm fucking coming, Minho." Chan presses his hand to his temple, eyes closed. He turns back to you. "Let me grab my phone, it's just in my car-"

"Ten, nine, eight . . ."

"You know what? Fuck." Chan practically manhandles you over to his car, opening the backseat and basically tossing you in before getting in the driver's seat.

"What the fuck?" you snap, sitting up as the door is closed behind you.

"Hang on," Chan says softly, and you watch his eyes flit around the dash, searching for problems with his car. He drives slowly up to a white line in the road, lining up with three other cars. You don't recognize either of the drivers on the other sides of Chan. "Come up front," Chan says quickly, patting the passenger seat. "Quick."

You do as he says, climbing up to the passenger seat of the car and buckling your seatbelt quick.

"I hope you don't get motion sickness." He tries to joke, glancing over at you. You glare at him. "Look, I'm sorry. I really didn't want to lose you in the crowd or anything and I couldn't find my phone and I didn't have enough time, so I just- I don't know. I just brought you in here with me. I'm sorry."

You sigh. "I can't even pretend like I'm upset. You're really fucking hot. You know what they always say: n'ouble pas de vivre."

"What is that, French?"

"'Don't forget to live.' Yeah, it is."

"I've never heard that before."

"It's basically like saying 'fuck it' to the world."

"Maybe I like that saying. Look, if you wanna get out-"

You look over at him. "Hell no. I have too much social anxiety to walk off the track like that."

Chan cracks a smile. "Then buckle up, sweetheart."

"I'm buckled."

He reaches over, and you find your heart pounding in your chest as he tugs on your seatbelt, making sure it's tight. "I'm not stopping once we start," he says. "This race is important."

"I wouldn't expect you to." You flash him a smile. "Relax. It's cool."

"You say that now," he says, cracking his neck in a jerky movement.

You roll your eyes, slumping back in your chair. In front of you, a tanned woman wearing hardly a bikini steps out in front of the cars, holding a red flag in each hand. She raises the flags, and Chan tightens his grip on the steering wheel.

The woman raises both flags. You hardly see her drop them before Chan's foot is all the way down on the gas, propelling the car forward. You let out an involuntary yell, and you catch Chan grinning out of the corner of your eye.

The race is over as soon as it had begun. Chan won - not surprising, considering the reckless way he drove - and looked over to smile at you as you pulled back into the lot. "Enjoy it?"

"I'm never ever getting in a car with you again."

He snorts a laugh. "I liked the part when you were screaming."

"What, the entire time?"

"Something like that."

"Don't you have to go greet your adoring fans?" you ask, only half joking.

"I'd much rather sit in here and talk to you."

You pretend to run your fingers through your hair to hide the smile that flits across your face.

"Do you live anywhere around here?" he asks.

You shake your head. "Other side of the city."

Chan presses his lips together. "It's getting pretty late . . . my apartment is close by. If you wanted to, you could stay there for the night. I have a feeling your friend will end up there too."

"You share an apartment with Jisung?"

He nods. "Jisung, Hyunjin, and Changbin. Loud fucking group."

You smile. "That sounds nice. You're not gonna like, kidnap me and eat my kidneys are you?"

"If I wanted to kidnap you, I'd have already had plenty of opportunities for it. As for eating your kidneys, I can't promise anything." Chan looks over at you with an expression that sets your heart pounding in your chest.

"Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like that, you freak."

The name calling is playful, but Chan pretends to be offended, opening his mouth in feign shock. He moves to say something, but he's interrupted as a pretty boy with longer hair knocks hard on his window, making a disgruntled face and pointing for Chan to unlock the door.

"Hey, Jinnie. This is Y/N, have you met her yet?"

The man shakes his head, then bows a little at me. "I'm Hyunjin."

"Nice to meet you." You smile at Chan's roommate.

"She's coming back with us tonight," Chan tells Hyunjin. "Her apartment is across town, so I figured that would be fine."

"Sure, like Jisung and Soyeon won't be loud enough as it is."

"We're not going to fuck, asshat." Chan pulls Hyunjin's beanie off his head, getting out of the car to dance around him playfully. You get out too, laughing at their antics.

"You have any more races?" Hyunjin asks as he snatches his beanie back.

"Not tonight. Do the others?"

Hyunjin shakes his head. "I'm gonna head back now. Let the others know."

Chan nods. "We'll be there soon."

For the remainder of the evening, Chan's arm is locked around your waist, keeping you close to him, as though you getting in the car with him was some sort of unspoken oath that you would be by his side the rest of the night. He takes you around to meet the other members of his crew, then a few others. You recognize a few from Ateez, who Stray Kids seem to be particularly close with. Finally, Chan announces that the two of you are leaving. Minho and Felix are quick to catch up to Chan and you, asking if they could catch rides with Chan.

As you approach his car, you move to get in the backseat, expecting one of the other boys to take their position next to Chan. You jump a little as Chan grabs your wrist, opening the passenger door for you.

"Well I'll be damned," Felix says, grinning at the display, "Channie's whipped for you, Y/N, you should be proud."

Minho grunts in agreement from the other side of the car. Chan rolls his eyes at both of them, helping you in the car then going over to his side and getting in.

The ride back to their apartment is talkative, with Minho and Felix telling you embarrassing stories about Chan and cracking jokes from the backseat, with Chan occasionally chiming in to make fun of them too. He keeps looking over at you, like he's checking if you're safe, even though you're no longer doing eighty on a city road.

You finally pull up to a nice-looking apartment building, and everyone gets out. You follow the three boys to the seventeenth floor, to apartments 17A and 17E, which are each across the hall from each other. Chan bids goodnight to Minho and Felix, who enter 17E, and unlocks the door to 17A, smiling at you. "Tired?"

"Not particularly, why?"

"'Cause I can smell the weed that Hyunjin got out."

The rest of the night is a blur, filled with smoking and weird pastries that Changbin practically pulled out of his ass and really good music that, apparently, Chan likes to make.

The next morning, you wake up in Chan's bed with a raging headache and only half dressed. Chan is sitting on the floor, reading a book. You mumble something inaudible, and he turns to look up at you.

"Morning," he says, smiling as he shuts the book and moves to sit next to you on the bed. "How do you feel?"

You groan, mashing your head into the pillow.

"Yeah, I figured as much. Here, take some Tylenol." You don't even look at the pill and cup of water Chan hands you as you down it.

He runs a hand through your hair, looking down at you. "Take your time, pretty girl. I'm in no rush, and I have a feeling you aren't either."

"Thank you," you say, reaching up to gently trace patterns on his wrist.

"You know, it's funny."

"What is?"

"We met each other last night."

You open your eyes. "What?"

"It seems like we've known each other forever, don't you think?"

You blink, sitting up a little. "Yeah, it does, honestly."

He smiles. "I guess that's good, right?"

You nod, looking around. "Is this your room?" There's posters of bands and cars on the wall, a collection of CDs and vinyls littering his half-open closet, and a rack of clothes waiting to be folded.

He nods. "Sorry, it's kind of messy."

You shake your head. "It's homey. I love it."

"You do?"

"Mhm."

"You could come over a lot more, you know. I like having you here. It was nice sleeping next to someone for a change."

You look up at him, eyes widening.

"What, you didn't expect me to sleep on the floor, did you? Not even for you, pretty girl."

"Stop calling me that, it doesn't apply in this situation."

"Yes it does." Chan rolls his eyes, touching your face tentatively. "You're absolutely gorgeous. Even with your makeup everywhere." He laughs softly, running a thumb under your eye to collect the bits of mascara that came off while you were sleeping.

"Thanks," you mumble.

"Come on, I'll help you up. Hyunjin made waffles for everyone."

You let Chan lead you into the main section of the apartment, where Changbin, Hyunjin, Jisung, and Soyeon are all sitting around a table, looking out the window over Seoul.

"Morning," Chan says, making his way to the kitchen part of the room.

A round of "morning"s chorus from the other side of the room.

"I'll get you some, go sit," Chan tells you as you join him in the kitchen. You do as he says, moving over to the couch to sit next to Soyeon, who's wearing a sweatshirt you've never seen before.

"Where's that from?" you ask. "It's cute."

"It's mine," Jisung says, smiling. "I'm glad you like it."

Soyeon nods. "How was it with Chan last night?"

"I have no idea," you tell her. "I have no memory of last night past taking the blunt from you."

She grins. "He was pretty adamant about you guys not having sex."

"I don't think we did, actually. I was fully clothed when I woke up."

"That's a good sign," she says, nodding solemnly. "I wasn't, so . . ."

You push her playfully, laughing.

Chan finally joins you all on the couch, grinning as he hands you a plate of waffles. As you move to take a bite, you're surprised by the sound of the doorbell. Hyunjin jumps up to get it.

"Chan!" he calls from the front of the apartment. He darts back into the living room. "It's your mom!"

Chan blinked once, then twice. "My mom?"

"Dude, she's right outside!"

"Fuck!" Chan says. "Y/N, I'm about to ask you something that you might not want to do, and you totally don't have to. My mom texted me last night to ask where I was and I told her I was out with my girlfriend. Is there any way you could, maybe, like, pretend to be dating me?"

You stare at him. Is this not something out of those romance books you read when you were younger? And Chan, the super mega hot street racer wanted this?

"Yeah, of course," you say.

"Okay." Chan breaks into a smile, and you hear Hyunjin let his mom in.

Everyone stands up, moving towards the door as a short, pretty woman enters. Chan steps forward, pulling her into a tight hug. "Mom! Why'd you come up, I thought you were gone visiting Hannah?"

"His sister," Changbin mouths to you, and you nod.

"I thought I'd take a layover in Seoul on my way to LA," the woman says, smiling.

"How long are you here for?"

"Two days. Now! Enough about me! Where's that pretty girlfriend you were telling me about?"

Chan laughs, nodding. He turns and takes your hand, pulling you forward next to him. He wraps his arm around your waist, kissing your forehead. "This is Y/N, Mom."

Chan's mom takes your hands in hers and smiles at you. "You're gorgeous, darling, I can see what Chan has been saying about you."

You look over at him for a split-second, then back at his mother. "Thank you so much." You smile.

She pats your face, then looks up at Chan. "And you dilly-dallied with that Libby for so long. I can't believe this beautiful woman wants to be with you."

"Mommmm," Chan says, groaning.

"Alright, alright. I just wanted to drop by. Would you all like to come out with me for dinner tonight?" his mom asks. "You can ask the other boys too, I know you eight don't like to go places without each other. And Y/N, you're welcome to come as well. And um, you dear." She smiled and bowed a little at Soyeon, who blushed and bowed back.

"We'd love to, Mrs. Bahng," Jisung says.

Everyone shares a few more goodbyes before Mrs. Bahng exits, leaving the six of you.

Chan turns to you immediately. "You're my literal savior, thank you so much. I mean, seriously."

"You should give her some better thanks than that," Jisung says. "Y/N just saved your ass."

Chan looks down at you. "I'm sure we'll work something out."

You can't help but feel an explosion of butterflies in your abdomen. Chan's gaze is fairly seductive as he watches you, eyelashes fluttering. You look back up at him, lips curling into a smile.

Barely an hour later, Chan and you are sitting on the porch of the apartment together, smoking a blunt that Jisung pulled out of his sock drawer.

"You know," Chan says. "I could give you a better thanks." He looks over at you.

You're not sure if it's the marijuana filtering through your body, or if he actually is, but you swear you've never seen a hotter man in your life.

"Oh yeah?" you ask. "What did you have in mind?"

He looks over at you pointedly, as if letting you know with his eyes.

"What?" you ask.

"I could eat you out," he tells you.

You cough, a puff of smoke leaving your lips. "You could what?"

"That's what Jisung told me to do. I'm just following what he said. But I like you. You're pretty. Actually, you're super gorgeous. You might actually be the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. I definitely wouldn't mind eating you out. Or just kissing you. Or just touching your lips wouldn't be that bad either . . ."

You tilt your head, smiling as he rambles on.

Finally he pauses. "You're really pretty."

"You're pretty fucking hot yourself," you tell him, passing the blunt.

"You think so?"

"Have you seen yourself?"

He laughs. "I'm glad you think so, Y/N. You don't have to make up your mind about it anytime soon, just, like, let me know, you know? It's the least I can do."

"Actually, I have an idea," you say.

Chan looks up. "Yeah?"

"I've never had sex," you say bluntly. Then you pause. "With a guy, at least. And I'm not good at kissing anyways. Here's my proposal. I'll keep pretending to be your girlfriend for as long as it takes, but you have to teach me all this stuff. How to like, give blowjobs and such."

"You've never given a blowie before?" He looks up in surprise. "With your pretty lips?"

If this were any other man, you would've found that comment horrendous. But this was Christopher Bahng, so you were perfectly okay with it.

"Sure," he says at last. "That sounds like a fair deal. N'ouble pas de vivre. When should we begin?"

You shrug. "Whenever, I guess."

"Well, it's only fair you get something today, cause you directly helped me today," Chan says.

You giggle, starting to stand. "You want me to suck you off, Channie?"

He shakes his head, standing from his chair and pushing you back into yours. One hand presses your lower abdomen, pinning you in place while the other pushes your legs apart, spreading them as he gets on his knees in front of you. "I don't want that to be how we start. I wanna taste your pretty pussy."

You blush, not used to the foul language he's speaking, but writhe anyways as he rakes one hand up your thigh, gently tugging on the hem of your shorts. "Hips up."

You do as he says, lifting your hips for him to let him slide both your panties and shorts off. "The others-" you start to say, but Chan stops you.

"I've caught them in much more compromising positions," he says. "This is nothing, babygirl."

Babygirl. You're once again reminded of your new life motto: if this was anyone other than this man saying these things, you would absolutely die. But, because it's Christopher Bahng, you'll let it slide.

"It's not?"

He shakes his head. "Just relax, okay? Let me do it all, yeah?"

You nod slowly, letting him push your legs apart, leaving you bare to him - and anyone unfortunate enough to be on the roof of the building over. You hardly cared, however, because he looked up at you with a smug grin on his face, face slowly moving toward your cunt.

"Chan," you say softly. You're not sure what you're trying to say to him by saying his name, but he just shakes his head and delves between your legs.

You moan softly as his tongue flicks against your clit, and you feel one of his fingers running up your thigh, all the way to tease your clenching hole.

You moan a little louder as he kisses your pussy, running his tongue between your folds and all around, slowly letting a finger slip inside you. Before you know it, there are two inside you, gently massaging your g-spot, which he seemed to have no trouble finding.

There's a new sort of tension in your stomach, building up as he continues his ministrations. You feel his nose brush against your clit, pressing harder against it as he licks around your hole, working around his fingers. Without warning, you're cumming hard, shaking and moving to close your legs around his head. "Oh, baby," you hear him say, his voice teasing. "That felt good?"

Chan pries your thighs back open, fingering you through your orgasm as he watches your face in awe.

You slump in your chair as you come down from your high, and Chan smiles, standing. He helps you back into your panties and shorts, then sits you back down, smiling. "You look beautiful when you cum. I mean you look beautiful always, but like, particularly when you cum."

You blush, not expecting such a blunt compliment.

He continues on, much to your dismay. "You just looked so . . . fucked out, I guess. Like you were fucking ascending or something. You looked gorgeous."

"I'm glad you think so," you giggle a little. "Um, thank you for that."

"Anytime." Chan grins. "Literally, anytime."

You smile. "I'll let you know next time."

Chan nods. "So, um, I have a race tonight. Do you wanna come with me? I think the boys might stay back, and it's nice when someone rides shotgun."

"Sure," you say. "It was fun last time."

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ☆⭒

That night, you find yourself standing in front of the mirror in Chan's room, with Soyeon sitting on the bed behind you. Chan is in the shower, playing some odd assortment of music, and you're trying to figure out what to wear to his race.

"When it comes to these things," Soyeon is explaining to you, "the sluttier, the better."

"Do I really wanna dress like a slut though?"

"Yes. Always."

You turn and look at what she's holding out to you. You unfold the first item - a low-rise jean skirt. "My whole ass is gonna be hanging out, Soyeon."

She shrugs. "I like your ass. Chan obviously likes your ass. You have a great ass. Let it free, mama."

"For the top?" you ask, rolling your eyes.

Soyeon chucks something at you.

"This is barely a top."

"Let your titties free!" Soyeon crows.

You giggle. "How much have you smoked so far tonight?"

She shrugs. "I lost count at six hits. Wanna make out?"

Chan walks out of the bathroom just as she says this. He pauses, looking at you, then at Soyeon. "Don't let me stop you, ladies." You hardly pay attention to what he says though, because Chan is shirtless. He has a towel draped around his waist, his dark hair is wet and curly and shaggy on his head, and his torso, good god. His torso is muscular and defined, with a full six pack, monstrous pecs, and muscular arms.

Soyeon stands, holding out the skirt and top to Chan. "Don't you think Y/N should wear something like this tonight?"

Chan tongues his cheek, examining the clothes. "I think Y/N should wear whatever she wants to wear. But, I think you'd look fucking hot in these."

"Seeeeeee, sweetie? I've got your back. Go put these on."

When you emerge from the bathroom after your changing, you feel like a different woman. Soyeon was definitely right about her outfit choice for you. A nice pair of heels, a low-rise jean skirt, a black halter top that hardly covers your tits. She ended up throwing a thong into the bathroom too at some point, which you now have pulled up past your skirt, hooking over your hips to show it off a little.

"You look hot," Soyeon says, a puff of smoke curling from her mouth as she speaks. Chan is waiting at the mirror, staring at you.

"You look pretty." He clears his throat. "Not pretty. Like, drop dead mega hot."

"Slutty, cunty, I love it!" Soyeon squeals and jumps up, grabbing your hands and pulling you in a circle.

"It's okay?" you ask.

They both nod aggressively.

"Come on, let's go ask the other boys how they like it."

You're surprised at how comfortable you are already in the apartment with the boys. Jisung and Hyunjin are watching TV on the couch, and you gladly give them a little spin to show off your outfit. Changbin is in his room, lifting weights, and he whistles at you, telling you how much cunt you're serving.

As you and Soyeon exit Changbin's room, Chan catches you in the hallway, arm looping around your bare waist. "I have something for you, if you want it."

You tilt your head, looking up at him as Soyeon continues back into the living room, leaving the two of you alone in the darkened hallway. "Oh?"

He presents a long golden chain from his pocket. "It's a belly chain. I thought it might suit the outfit tonight. And also, Soyeon told me you wouldn't wear it unless I gave it to you. So . . ."

You roll your eyes. "I would have worn it. It's pretty though. How . . . how do you put it on?"

"Turn around," he says. You do as he says, and you feel him loop the chain around your waist, clasping it at the back. "I like it," he says, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "You really didn't have to dress up or whatever for tonight, but you look beautiful."

"Thank you," you say. "I figured Soyeon was right. I should try and fit in with the crowd there."

"Are you ready to go?"

You nod. "Ready when you are, racer boy."

PART TWO COMING SOON!!

this might end up becoming a series so lmk how you guys like it!!

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playstationpark · 2 months

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Boost Jump 'Street Racer' PlayStation

#Street Racer #PlayStation #PSOne

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gloryride · 1 month

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Love around camp fire

📸 by @chevvy-yates ♥ (jay belongs to them too) Chevvy surprised me with these pretty pics about our drivers babies and aaaaah they're so pretty together like that ♥ i love jay sitting on enzo's lap, just casually close like that around a fire, just soft boys in love. Just funny thing, Jay looks more nomad than his nomad boyfriend in this outfit, hehehe ! Thanks friend for this lovely gift ♥♥

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vampwoni · 1 year

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wannaseewhatshangin · 8 months

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i love love LOVE your work <3 can i ask for a dally winston x street racer HC? tyyyyy <3

AHHHH OF COURSEEEEE OMG THANK YOUUU I LOVE YOUUU

#worried Asf

LOVES LOVES LOVES watching you

But he gets scared of how stupid people can be on the road

Also Street Racing IS illegal

So when the cops show up he runs after your car LMFAO

He tries to catch you to warn you about the fuzz

But you did get arrested because someone down the street snitched (Assholes)

Dallas was cursing out the cop while you were getting put into the car.

"Hey, man! What the hell is your problem, huh!? Hey! Get your hands off 'er!"

Screaming in the cops face while you're watching from the car window.

UM?

DECORATING YOUR RACE CAR WITH YOU?!

YES MA'AM!!

pop a wheelie.

I dare you.

He will be screaming.

"THAT'S MY GIRL!" - Dallas

Watches you pick your outfits

Your race helmet?

Will be Dallas-fied

Puts stickers on your rear window

OMG LET DALLAS RIDE IN THE PASSENGER SEAT?

HE WILL BE SCREAMING WITHOUT THE 'S'

Accidentally spilled soda in your car and felt SO bad..

Cleaned it up for you

Prays that you are safe on the road.

once you crashed and your car flipped because your component hit you on purpose.

Dallas was flipppin his shit.

Ran SO FAST to your car and started to get you out of your car.

You sprained your arm and Dallas kicked their ass.

Cheers you on SO fucking loud it's not even funny.

When you win?

Oh lord

Not gonna lie he gets turned on when he sees you with your little helmet and your racing outfit.

Can't help it tho

You just look so yum

Hope you like it Babe! <33333 Pls request anytime, love.

#dallas winston x reader #dallas winston headcanons #Street racer #x reader #dallas winston fanfic

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georgiapeach30513 · 1 year

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Step Into My Ride, Part 2

Summary: Ransom and his family do not get along

Pairings: Ransom Drysdale X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut, PIV sex, unprotected sex, sex in public, creampie, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5.3K

Series Masterlist

“Gracie Lou Drysdale!” Harlan greets the three of you at the door, and Gracie runs right to him, wrapping her arms around his legs. “Come on in, and tell me all about your week at school. Ransom. Lucky,” he gives the two of you a head nod, leading his favorite great granddaughter inside.

“Luck, I hate coming here,” your boyfriend gives you a little pout, wiggling his legs, mimicking one of Gracie’s rare baby tantrums. He really was deep down just a spoiled child. He wasn’t getting out of weekly dinners with Harlan though. “If my parents could stay away, it wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Ransom, you need to put your big boy pants on. Gracie loves your grandpa. She tolerates your mom. But for heaven’s sake, quit with this spiel every time we come here.”

“She hates my dad. And I swear, if he makes one comment to you or our daughter, I’m going to lose my shit. Harlan can start coming to the house for dinner.”

“Now there is an idea,” you smile at him. You would much rather have Harlan at your house, and in Gracie’s element any day of the week. “I could make us food, and we wouldn’t have to deal with…” a soft groan exits Ransom’s mouth as a dust cloud is spotted in the distance. “Come on, babe. Let’s go inside so we don’t have to explain to your parents why you’re in a bad mood.”

He still wants to complain that his parents always hijack his nice evening with Harlan and Gracie. There’s always a stupid comment made, typically by his father. Ransom always gets in a terrible mood and snaps right back at him. You always lead Harlan and Gracie outside and away from the chaos. Always.

Harlan adored Gracie just as much as she did him. If it was warm he would walk straight to the back yard, and sit on a bench with her and listen to all her odd behaviors from the week prior. Gracie loved to try different things. She took cues from her classmates on their own allergies, or way of speech and would incorporate them in her own routine for a few days, until she realized she was over that.

“Uno. Dos. Tres,” you hear your sweet daughter count with Harlan in Spanish. Ransom goes up beside her when Linda and Richard strut into the sitting area. What was a shame is how much Gracie wanted to impress her grandparents. “Oh! Oh! Gigi and Dink,” Ransom can’t help but to snort at the name that Gracie bestowed upon Richard, turning to look at his daughter that was so proud of something.

“I learned how to count to ten in Spanish. Uno. Dos. Tres. Cuatro.”

“Seriously? Spanish,” Richard was already rolling his eyes as he goes to the bar cart. Ransom is already sitting up straighter, ready to attack his father. “They should teach you something more useful at that expensive school. It’s confusing enough for kids these days. And now they’re teaching you another language when you haven’t even perfected English. What next? French?”

“Bonjour means hello,” she smiles, looking up at Harlan who gives her a kiss on her forehead. You bite at your tongue when Richard lets out an annoyed growl. Ransom’s family. He dealt with them. “And hola means hello in Spanish. Aren’t you proud?”

“Proud you're wasting my money like your father did?”

“My money,” Linda interjects when Ransom starts to say something. “Can we not argue for a moment? I think your speaking of different languages is commendable. What else did you learn this week?”

“I’m gluten free, and I’m not H2O intolerant. But I am a bit lactose intolerant, so mommy got me banana milk, and,” she gets the biggest smile as she turns her head to look at Harlan, “Daddy puts chocolate syrup in it.”

“Milk chocolate syrup?” Richard sits across from Ransom, giving his actual granddaughter an annoyed look. “I thought you were lactose intolerant?”

“Only this week. But banana milk is really good, Dink,” Gracie didn’t even understand, and you wanted her to keep her innocence as much as possible. She was adorable, and so proud. “And…I think I can’t have eggs next week.”

“Linda, your granddaughter is neurotic.”

“What’s neurotic?”

“Gracie Lou, how about you, me, and grandpa go make some chocolate banana milk? I’m sure he’ll love it as much as you do,” walking over towards her, you hold out your hand. It would be so much more simple if Harlan could come to you. Let Ransom refuse to see his parents, especially if a four year old they saw for a couple of hours each week bothered them so much.

“But what’s neurotic?”

“Just something Dink likes to criticize about. It’s always something, huh, father? She’s four years old. She’s learning who she is.”

“And confused as to what allergies are. Next she’s going to want to shave her head, and you two are going to let her, aren’t you?”

“Us two are going to let our daughter be who she is. Because she is ours. How we raise her is our business. Her trying a life without eating eggs is not hurting anyone. Her saying she’s lactose intolerant is hurting no one. And the fucking chocolate syrup didn’t have milk in it,” Gracie gasps as you quickly usher her and Harlan away from the chaos, but she caught her dad’s words.

“See what you did? You make me and your mother be the bad guy every time.”

“Do not include me in this conversation. I liked hearing her count in Spanish.”

“The child can barely count in English, and that expensive damn school is trying to teach her something else.”

“For your information, Gracie can count to one hundred. She’s already reading, and she writes her full name. She’s four years old. And she’s one of the top in her class. Why are you always shitting on who she is? She’s amazing, and you don’t even realize it. She’s got negotiating skills better than mom. And remember, she’s my daughter. If you hate her and me, and my girlfriend so much, why do you come here?”

“I’ll tell you why you little prick,” Richard slams his glass down on the table causing Linda to flinch, rolling her eyes and ready to leave the two of them to the arguing. “You squandered away all your potential. Working at a fucking garage as a grease monkey with the worst influence of your life, Dean Winchester. You’re getting speeding tickets, and spending the night in jail a few times a year. You live in that piece of shit trailer, and you’re shacked up with some whore who takes pornographic pictures of other women.”

Ransom stands to leave, walking towards the kitchen, “You won’t talk about my girlfriend and daughter like that. You won’t see any of us ever again.”

“Then put a goddamn ring on her finger, and make an honest woman out of her. You don’t have to spend the rest of your life with the first woman that spreads her legs and doesn’t know the value of safe sex. The two of you never should have had a child. Your mother pays for her school. You can’t even afford it.”

“Yeah, well, mom insisted on paying. Insisted on the school. Not me. I’m a good fucking father, and Lucky is the best mother I have ever met. We love and enjoy our daughter. She’s spoiled with attention and affection, and that’s a hell of a lot more than I can say for you. I don’t know why I bother dealing with you. You never have anything to say about me and my family. So from now on, don’t expect to be a part of our lives,” his eyes flick to the door when Chris walks in. “There you have it. The son you always wanted. Lucky, let's go,” he screams into the kitchen at you.

“Don’t expect to see my child ever again. You lost that privilege by calling her mother a whore.”

“I don’t want to go. I miss grandpa,” she curls more into Harlan, and he gives her a quick kiss to the top of her head, holding her closer.

“Baby, grandpa is going to start coming to our house for dinner, okay? You can wear your pretty dresses, and show him your room, and the house, okay?”

“You promise?” Harlan nods at her before she gives him the biggest hug, and you scoop her up.

“Head out the side door, sweetheart. Don’t take her around that,” you know it’s the best option. Gracie never heard arguing like that. She was well adjusted because you and Ransom let her try and figure out what she liked, and who she was without telling her. Encouraged all her ideas and new interests, and never made her feel bad for deciding she didn’t like something. “Gracie, you think grandpa can see you tomorrow?”

“Yes. Love you.”

“Love you, too, Gracie Lou.”

“You can’t keep my granddaughter from me,” Richard walks up to Ransom, “And take that stupid hat off your head. You’re not a child.”

“I can keep my daughter away from you all I want. She’s mine and her mother’s.”

“If you would have applied yourself like your uncle Chris, you might have made a few million by now. And even he didn’t live up to his own potential. Both of you could have made more money doing other things.”

“And money made you happy?” Ransom smirks heading towards the door, “Your number will be blocked, so don’t expect a call back. Chris, I’ll talk to you later. Mom, learn to control your bitch.”

“You asshole!”

“Richard!” Ransom finishes closing the door when Harlan comes back in. “You’re the one acting like an ass. Your granddaughter was trying to impress you and make you proud, and you dismissed it so quickly. Your son is trying to tell you he is happy. That is the life he chose, and you can either accept it, or you can keep your opinions out of my house. I will not make you feel that any of them are not welcome here. That is my grandson, and his beautiful family. I can’t help it that you don’t like the life that he chose as an adult.”

“That woman poisoned him.”

“That woman doesn’t have a rap sheet. He does. He had that before he even met her. That woman is who calmed him down. That woman is the person that co-signed with the garage because she had credit, and he didn’t. That woman is the one who stood by his side when he was in jail for two months, and she was pregnant with his kid. That woman is the reason they have land, and a home. And if you make one comment about their home, so help me God, Richard, I will kick you out of my house. He is happy. And for you to criticize the woman that has made him a better man than even you is rich. She has stuck by his side no matter what. She is loyal to him, and she’s a damn good mother. Did you ever think Ransom would be a good father? I figured he’d leave the woman to deal with the child herself, while you were left paying child support. Be thankful he’s a good man.”

“He’s trash. He could have been so much more.”

“So could you. Christopher, have Fran bring my food to the study. You can join me if you would like, or you can head to Ransom and Lucky’s. I’m done with this conversation,” slowly he makes his way up the stairs, leaving Chris staring at his older sister’s nails clicking on the table.

“Well, this was a royal fuck up. Richard, our son’s lifestyle isn’t my favorite, but I want a relationship with quite possibly our only grandchild. If he’s anything like us, he’ll know to stop with just the one. She’s a precocious child, but I want to be in her life besides just paying her school with my money. Don’t forget, it’s my money. I’m going home. Call a car to come get you. I need my space.”

Richard stands to go back to the bar cart, filling his glass with more scotch before sitting down to stare at Chris, “Ransom isn’t all that bad.”

“My son is in a relationship with his baby mama who has fake tits, and takes pictures of naked women.”

“You sound jealous,” Chris rolls his eyes. Deciding he was going to spend time with his father even if he felt Ransom, the grandson, was his favorite. “And I’m not sure if you're jealous of Ransom for being with her or her for the career she has. It’s boudoir photos. They’re not always naked.”

“I’m not jealous. Women like her, you just don’t marry.”

“They’re not married are they? And what does it matter to you?” It mattered to Chris. Chris was supposed to be the one with you. He could admit he was jealous of Ransom. Because Ransom got to have you whenever he wanted. That was supposed to be his life. He was offering you comfort and stability. But you were blinded by the fast pace Ransom, just like everyone else was. But if everything continued down this path, Ransom wouldn’t have that for long.

“I bet you’re holding out hope they never get married. She’ll never want you. Why would you want Ransom’s sloppy seconds anyways? Or their little brat.”

“Hey! You can say what you want about Ransom, but you leave Gracie out of it.”

“Why? Is she secretly your kid? I did always doubt her mother being faithful to Ransom. She did get pregnant pretty quickly. Ransom only stayed because he thought he knocked her up. She knew how to pick them. Too bad she didn’t realize you were the actual Thrombey, huh? She got those fake tits out of him though. I guess it seems fair considering he’s the one that gets to play with them.”

“You’re sick, Richard,” no one liked Richard. He was a misogynistic asshole. Even when Chris left his side, he could still hear Richard mumbling about his son and you. Chris just wanted the day to come when you realized that Ransom was bad news. He would be a better father to Gracie. No matter what Richard thought of you, Chris knew it was all lies. Chris knew you. Knew you better than Ransom, and knew you better than you knew yourself. He just needed you to understand that.

Karma would eventually take care of Ransom. He swooped in with his charm and fast car, and Chris didn’t even realize Ransom took you away from him until it was too late. Had walked in on you messily sucking Ransom’s dick after a race. He didn’t even know his nephew was the other man you had been dating. He knew that there was another one, but the few dates you and Chris went on they were fun. You laughed, and he was a gentleman. Ransom treated you like a whore.

It just made him sick to his stomach to think about how he made you drop to your knees and suck him off whenever he wanted. Or how he would drag you to his car, while everyone else was paying attention to the race while he fucked you like a dirty secret. Until you got pregnant, Chris wasn’t even sure if Ransom had ever taken you to his apartment or even if this was supposed to be anything more than sex.

Ransom knew exactly what he was getting with you, but Chris knew you had no idea who the real Ransom was. But soon you would know. Everyone would know. And Chris would be there as the constant and steady man that you needed. And now, even Gracie needed.

“Ran,” whispering his name as he rolls his fingers around your nipples. He did this when he got to thinking. Getting in his head about what his father and him were arguing about.

“You know I don’t think about you like that, right?” He lifts his head off your chest, and you nod, giving him a sweet kiss. “I respect you above all else. I mean, yeah, we have a ton of fun with the racing and sex, but I don’t regret giving it all up. I don’t regret living here with you.”

“People can say what they want to, but our trailer isn't that small. And this is our home. Gracie has had all her firsts here. She’s got little lines in the living room showing us how tall our baby is getting. I don’t care about what your parents think you or we should have done. I love our life. I don’t care that you’ve got a mile long rap sheet. I don’t care that you act like a teenage boy most of the time because when it counts, you’re the greatest man I know. You’re good to me and to our baby. You’re good to Dean. Ransom, they don’t see us as a family. They see you. And me and our flaws apart. But not how we overcome them together.”

“You’re right,” he sighs, flipping over to his back before pulling you on top of him. “Gracie is amazing.”

“She is. I hate that they don’t see you or us the way you deserve. But Harlan does. He sees all of us. And that’s good enough for me. Plus, Gracie Lou is a perfect judge of character, and she can’t stand Richard. Tolerates your mom, but wants to see Harlan everyday. Now, my pretty man, get you some sleep.”

“Do you regret the implants?”

“Do you?” With a devilish grin he shakes his head no. “You remember how I hated looking at myself in the mirror after Gracie? Or even how I didn’t want you to see me? Baby, I don’t care that people know I have implants or they judge me because of them. That’s their problem. They’re not the ones that have to look at them. We are.”

“Damn straight. And I like playing with them.”

“You better quit for tonight,” yawning, despite his playful protest. “I’m tired. I can’t have sex again.”

“Oh, you can if I want you to,” you smack at his chest, giggling. “Alright, Luck, get you some sleep. I’m sorry today went the way it did.”

“Me, too, Ran. I hate that going there makes you feel worse. You love seeing Harlan. But, he’s going to start coming here. Even if you have to go get him. Sweet dreams, husband.”

“You know I’m not lying when I say one of these days I’m going to propose, right? Right? Luck, you and Gracie are all I need in this world.”

“Mhmm. One of these days we’ll all share the same last name. But for tonight, go to sleep,” stretching out his arms, Ransom relaxes a bit more. Before his breathing starts to slow and you listen to your favorite lullaby as you fall asleep. The beat of his heart, and his breathing. It was heaven in its own little way. And you wanted this to be yours forever.

“Dean-o!” You shout, walking into the garage, waving your hands as you look in the back for Ransom’s car. “Good, he’s gone to get the baby?”

“Yes, ma’am. What can I do for you, Lucky Charm?” You fidget your fingers around, trying to avoid looking into Dean’s eyes. His loyalty was definitely to Ransom. Friends since grade school. Inseparable. “Is this about you two not being married? Luck, that man is completely in love with you, marriage or not. You’ve got him.”

“No. I’m not worried about that. When the time is right, I know that Ran and I…we’re forever, and I don’t need marriage to prove that. It’s just…you would tell me if he was getting into something more illegal than the racing, yeah?”

He grabs up a rag, wiping his greasy hands on the dirty cloth before he leans back on the car. Suddenly you don’t feel so good about asking Dean. You have always been able to talk to Ransom, so why was something Chris brought up hard for you to ask about? “What’s this about?”

“I had someone make a comment about Ran doing something more for money.”

“Like what? Running drugs? He doesn’t touch that shit, and you know that. A little bit of weed never hurt anyone, but…no, Ransom would never do that. That puts you and Gracie in too much danger. This right here,” holding his hands out, Dean spins around slowly in the garage. A garage that he and Ransom had built up slowly, and in time they became the most respected garage in Boston. “This is where Ransom and I make our honest money. He doesn’t want to lose this. It’s our dream.”

“Well…what about stolen parts? Or guns? Or anything besides the racing? Are you and Ransom into anything more illegal than that? A couple of months in jail doesn’t bother me. What bothers me is if he’s sent off for hard time. Be honest with me.”

“No. I don’t know what idiot put that shit in your head, but no. Ransom does exactly what you see him do. He works here for legit cash. He races for extra cash, and before that racing was put right back into here, and it bought your little dream home. If Ransom was doing something he should be doing, believe me, I would tell you, but he’s not.”

“He’s not doing what?” Ransom flicks his head over towards Dean, but then hungrily stalks towards you. “I can tell you one thing I’m not doing.”

“Where’s our daughter?”

“Mom has her at Harlan’s, and dad is on a business trip, so don’t look at me like that. Mom is trying for what it’s worth, and Harlan won’t let anything happen to that angel. So, why don’t you and I go over the books in the office?” You hated when he asked you to go over the books. There was so much overhead to consider in this business, and thankfully you were savvy enough with finances because him and Dean were clueless.

You told him that he needed to hire someone who actually knew what they were doing. Walking into the office, Ransom turns the blinds, and locks the door before he places your body on the desk. Pulling at your jeans’ button, and you just smile at him tugging away your pants. “What are you doing?”

“When was the last time I fucked you in here?”

“The time I got pregnant. You had just opened the garage. You swore to me that I couldn’t get pregnant because you were drunk, and so were your tadpoles.”

“I didn’t say that,” moving down to take off your panties, he stuffs them into his pocket. Holding up his hands to show that they were in fact clean before he diddles around your bundle of nerves. That cocky little Ransom Drysdale grin on his face. “I mean, I was drunk. I didn’t say tadpoles.”

“Yes. Yes, you…you did,” his free hand was already undoing his pants, letting his cock spring free from their confines. This man always made you a mess. “You said…said that you’ve called them tadpoles since you watched ‘Look Who’s Talking’. And…and…” your breathing picks up as you get closer to release, eyeing his pretty little dick while he was playing with your cunt. You didn’t care how many fingers he added into you, it was never as good as his cock.

“Ransom just put it in.”

“This is so romantic.”

“About as romantic as you fucking me here with the blinds open. Stuffing my cunt full of your seed, and we made a baby that night. The first time and last time you came in me until…until I missed…missed a period.”

“Yeah, well, made your little blissed out brain from the best head you have ever had you would have known better than to trust me drunk.”

“Just fuck me!”

“Alright!” He laughs, pushing through your tight channel. Giving you no time to adjust before he was gripping at your legs and rutting into your warmth. The two of you had grown a bit. The door was locked, the blinds were closed, he was sober, and you had birth control. What you thought was a mistake was the best thing that could have ever happened to you and Ransom.

What you thought was casually dating and fucking became the best relationship either of you had ever had. Honest, loving, caring, and so much fun. There was never a dull moment with Ransom, and the way that he stepped up to become a dad was the favorite role he had ever taken.

Some things didn’t change however. He kept his hat on backwards. Kept his pants down at his ankles for a quickie in public. He fucked into you like the two of you were running a marathon. Fast and needy. Your eyes locked into one another so you can watch the pleasure overtake your features. And the sounds he made, my god, Ransom made the prettiest sounds. He was so vocal, and it made you feel like the most perfect thing on earth.

You could feel his cock twitching inside of you, but with a calming breath from him, he holds off on his release. Waiting until you came before he even thought about reaching his own high. He was a generous partner. Placing his knuckles on the desk, he brings his face closer to you, peppering the sweetest splay of kisses over your face, despite the urgency of his thrusts. He confused your senses, and you craved more.

Desperately mewling out his name as you grab hold of his back. Circling your legs around him, and bringing him closer to you. His body starts to lay you down flat on the desk, while his hips drive him deeper into your core. “Lucky, let go, sweetheart. I know you want to,” his voice sounded wrecked. He was right on the edge of not being able to hold on anymore. “Lucky!”

“I’m…I’m right…Ran, I’m coming!”

One final thrust has him painting your quivering walls, and he lets his head rest on your chest. Blowing out shallow breaths on you while your walls milk him dry. The tiniest little jabs into you, until his body just halts movement. “You about didn’t get to orgasm.”

“I’m sorry. You’re just so pretty when you're grunting with every stab into me. Ran…this really isn’t the time, but — if you were doing something that would get you sent to prison, you would tell, right? We’re a team here.”

“What makes you think I’m doing anything illegal?”

“Well…Chris made a comment.”

“Mother fucker,” he rolls his eyes as he pulls out of you, “Stay right there. I need to see you weep of me while we have this conversation. Look, Chris is going to say whatever he can to make you doubt me. He’s a good enough guy, he helps me and Dean out with races, but that stupid bastard is still hung up on you.”

“Don’t call him a bastard,” one trickle of Ransom’s spunk makes a smile turn up on his mouth, and he reaches into the floor for your panties. Sliding them up your legs. You were going to be left a mess as you head home.

“I apologize that your little pet project hates being called a bastard. What I mean is that must have been some amazing head you gave him,” you give him a playful smack on his arm, and he shrugs, laughing. “I’m just saying, that man isn’t going to quit unless you think I’m the terrible person he wants you to believe I am, you know that. He wants you to see that he’s this amazing pillar of the community when he’s the one doing illegal shit. He’s a cop and helping a bunch of street racers clear the roads. Come on now. I deal with him because he’s family, and he helps out, but you see what he’s doing. He wants you to leave me and go with him.”

“And you don’t have a problem with that?”

“Do you want to be with him?” Your nose furls up as you shake your head, and Ransom helps you back into your pants. “I’m not concerned. I know who you love. I know whose bed you’re getting into every night. I know whose cock you're riding every night. Whose name you’re squealing every night. Luck, if you don’t want him involved in our business, fine. He’s done. But if you want to believe the seeds he’s planting in your brain, I’m not going to defend myself. You know what I do. And you know I would never make it to where I couldn’t see our daughter everyday. You tell me what you want to do with Chris, and it’s done. And quit denying that nothing happened between the two of you. He’s chasing you around like a lovesick puppy even though he’s seen my cum dripping down your leg.”

“Oh, shut up,” jumping off the desk, your arms wrap around Ransom as you smile up at him. “I really don’t want to talk about what did or did not happen with your uncle because it’s weird. I didn’t know you knew each other much less were related, but I never had sex with him.”

“Good. This pussy is mine. But if you want Mr. Deputy Do Good, you let me know. I’ll let you walk away without a fight. Live downtown in that apartment that he can barely afford, but I keep the kid.”

“Oh, no. She stays with me.”

“Then I suggest you stay with me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good,” tilting your chin up, he gives you the sweetest kiss, and pulls your left arm from around his body, holding it still while he slides a ring on your finger. “I would hate to take this back.”

“Hugh Ransom Drysdale!” You scream looking at your finger. He didn’t need to get on his knees and propose. He already had, but this was the actual ring on your finger. You hold out your hand admiring the small diamond and the way it sparkles. “It’s perfect.”

“Now give me about four more years, and we’ll get married.”

“We’re doing our bigs in fours, huh? First a baby. Four years to get a ring. Four more years to get a last name change.”

“I’m glad you get it, Luck. Hey, I love you.”

“And I love you.”

“And maybe later you can show me what that mouth do, so I can see why Chris is so obsessed with you,” you roll your eyes as you open the door to the office, getting a quick look up from the hood of a car and smirk from Dean. “I’m serious!”

“What’s sad is I know you are. Dean, you keep this one out of trouble. I’m going to pick up Gracie, and go to the grocery store. You and Valerie are welcome to come over.”

“No, we’re not fighting right now, so maybe I can get some desk action, too. Ransom likes to brag a lot. You better go get cleaned up before going to the store.”

“Behave boys! Ran, I’ll see you when you get home fiancé,” prancing on out of the garage you feel lighter already. Ransom had no reason to lie to you, and Chris obviously had every reason. You hated this type of thinking. You were with Ransom, and nothing was going to change that. As far as you were concerned, Ransom was perfect. A bit rough around the edges, but that bad boy appeal really got to you. A bad boy with a heart of gold, and a soft spot for his daughter. How could it get any better than this?

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @softsatnin @missusbarnes-rogers @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @saiyanprincessswanie

#step into my ride #street racer #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x fem!reader #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale fanfic #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale fics #ransom drysdale fic #destroyer!chris #harlan thrombey

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retrocgads · 3 months

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USA 1997

#USA1997 #UBISOFT #VIVID IMAGE #ACTION #RACING #IBM #AMIGA #PS1 #SEGA SATURN #SNES #GAMEBOY #SEGA GENESIS #STREET RACER

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ericshoney · 21 days

Text

Thrill Ride Masterlist

Warnings: Mature themes and language, suggestive themes and language, illegal activities, alcohol, smoking/vaping, illegal racing, yandere behaviour, drugging, manipulation, smut.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven

Chapter eight

Chapter nine

Chapter ten (SMUT)

Chapter eleven

Chapter twelve

Chapter thirteen

Chapter fourteen

Chapter fifteen

Chapter sixteen

Chapter seventeen

Chapter eighteen

Chapter nineteen

Chapter twenty (end)

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24kmar · 28 days

Text

𝙎𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙩 𝙍𝙖𝙘𝙚𝙧! 𝘾𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨 𝙎𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙤𝙡𝙤

#Spotify #Street racer! Chris sturniolo #Street racer #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets x reader #nick sturniolo x reader #☆𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡☆

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the-underground-candy · 1 year

Photo

https://theundergroundcandy.blogspot.com/

#living room #interiors #interior design #ducati #cafe racer #caferacer #scrambler #bobber #street racer #vintage #motorbike #motorcycle #moto #bike #theundergroundcandy

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haihaihaitani · 8 months

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Adrenaline ~ *Ken Ryuguji*

Summary: You have some brand new toys you want to show off to Draken. He’s more than impressed with one of them. You can’t wait to show him what you can do with it!

Pairing: Ken Ryuguji X G/N!Reader

Genre: Fluffy Oneshot

Word Count: 1305

Warning: swearing, reckless driving, one vague death threat, a get out of jail free card

Masterlist

Taglist: @soulangel

A/N: Inspired by the song Adrenaline by Shinedown

“Wow.”

“You like it?”

“Like it?” Draken shrugged. “It’s alright I guess.”

Your jaw dropped. “You guess? C’mon! She’s gorgeous! And she was made for the streets! I plan on winning so much money with her!”

He shrugged. “Sure, I mean, I guess you could. But she’s not perfect.”

Pouting, you crossed your arms. “Fine, smart guy. What’s wrong with her?”

You watched closely as Draken examined your bike carefully. “She’s just… I don’t know, wrong. She’s just wrong.”

With a huff, you leaned over the bike and batted your eyelashes at him. “So you’ll fix her for me?”

Ruffling your hair, he smirked. “In your dreams kid.”

You grit your teeth. “Then would you like to buy her from me?”

“I thought you said you were going to make a lot of money off of her?”

“Yeah! I thought so too! But if the best motorcycle mechanic in all of Japan says she’s wrong, I’m going to listen to him and say she’s wrong too.”

Draken rolled his eyes. “I could take her, fix her up nice and good for you if that’s what you want.”

“It’s not what I want. It’s what’s best for Toman.” You explained with a cheeky smile. “If I can’t win with her, I can’t give any money to Toman. So if you want her, you can have her.”

“Oh alright! I’ll take a look at her when I have the time.”

Squealing with delight, you slipped around the bike and hugged Draken tightly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Alright, knock it off already.” He muttered, but he didn’t make a move to push you off of him.

Instead, you let go of your own accord. With a cheerful grin, you grabbed his hand. “I almost forgot to show you my other surprise! See, I bought this bike with my own, hard won money. But this other beauty I have, I won her off a street race last week! I want to take you for a ride around town with her because she is the real stunner in my collection of fine motor vehicles!”

You didn’t even give a chance to ask what you were talking about. Instead, you showed him your new cherry red hotrod. You giggled as his jaw dropped. Honestly, you should have shown him your new pride and joy before the bike, but semantics.

“Well? What do you think?”

“What do I think?” He breathed. “I think you should’ve started with her.”

You laughed and waved him off. “You’re right, you’re right. But Cherry Bomb deserves to be the grand finale. So what do you say? Wanna go for a ride?”

“You’re kidding right?”

Jumping into the front seat, you put the keys in the ignition. Draken ran his hand over the dashboard in complete awe over the craftsmanship. You couldn’t help but beam with pride.

“It’s all hand-crafted. I verified with a dealer. I also had her recently detailed and cleaned. Had to go way out of town to get it done because there are only two verified details in the whole country that work on cars like this.”

“That must have been expensive.”

Again, you waved him off. “It’s worth it. She’ll be my showgirl for a while and then when she’s ready, I’m going to take her to more high society street races. I’ll let her run some laps before putting her back on the showman’s circuit.”

“Yeah, you’ll definitely be able to sneak into high society races in this.” He assured you. “But to win, you gotta see how she runs.”

With a devilish grin, you put the car into drive. “Then you better hold on to something.”

And just like that, you blasted off like a rocket. You weren’t kidding when you told him to hold onto something. While he looked slightly concerned for your mental health, you just laughed. This was going to be so fun!

Zooming through the city, you made quick, sharp turns and flew past other cars. Most people would have trouble navigating the streets of Tokyo like this. But you were a professional drag racer. You knew what you were doing. And even though Draken looked scared out of his mind, you knew he knew you knew what you were doing. He trusted you, even if he didn’t look like he did right now.

It wasn’t long before you heard police sirens coming after you. Glancing at Draken, who slightly shook his head no, you floored it. His knuckles turned white as he held onto the dashboard. But you just kept laughing. This was the fun part. Nothing like running circles around the cops, only to pull out your secret weapon when the heat got close enough to burn.

And that happened right when you reached the edge of Tokyo. Carefully, you pulled over and rolled down your window. The cop came up to you and you flashed a bright smile.

“Hi officer! How can I help you?”

“Do you know how fast you were going?”

“No. Can you tell me?”

He didn’t look impressed by your answer, his tone sharp as he addressed you, “You were going almost three times over the speed limit. You could have killed someone and yourself with your reckless driving. I need you to step out of the car right now.”

Leaning against the window frame, you batted your eyelashes. “Aw, c’mon. Can’t you overlook this little misunderstanding? See, I didn’t hit or kill anyone. If anything, you should be impressed with how carefully I weaved through traffic. I did some pretty good driving back there.”

“Is this a joke to you?”

You shook your head, eyes wide. “Oh, no sir! See, I think the rules of the road are very important! That’s why I was very careful going almost three times over the speed limit! I would never intentionally try to hit someone! I can promise you that!”

“Get out of the car now or I will be forced to remove you from the vehicle with extreme prejudice.” He snapped.

With a sigh, you grabbed your wallet and pulled out a card before waving it in front of his face. You kept your smirk to yourself as all the color drained from his face. “Does this help?”

“Y-you…” He trailed off before tipping his hat. “My mistake! I must have pulled over the wrong person! You have a good night now!”

And he ran off and drove away just as fast.

Draken glared at you. “What the hell was that?”

You shrugged. “Well, I’m not a real member of Toman and Mikey will never let me join no matter how much I try and sweet talk him. So I had one of the guys make me a Toman ID card. I would have liked a snazzy jacket like the rest of you have. But Takashi won’t do shit for me without Mikey’s permission.”

He shook his head. “You’re fucking crazy.”

“Yeah, I’m absolutely mental.” You winked at him. “But you love me like that, don’t you?”

A dusting of pink fell on his cheeks and he looked away. “Whatever.”

“So what did you think of the car? She runs pretty great, doesn’t she?”

He sighed. “Yeah, I have to admit. She’s a pretty awesome car. Just don’t wreck her.”

You gasped in faux shock. “Just who do you think you’re talking to? I am super careful! I would never destroy her, not that easily!”

“Hey I’ve seen the way you drive. I have every right to be worried.”

You rolled your eyes, shifting the car back into drive. “Oh relax. You haven’t seen anything yet. So if I were you, I’d hold onto something again.”

And you raced back to Draken’s bike shop, him regretting ever meeting you and you laughing your head off the entire way.

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