chromednova

[chromednova]

Crybaby

Franco never thought he'd be in this position, but now that he was here, there's nowhere he'd rather be.

Warnings: smut, sub!franco, pegginggg, also crying, and ass eating

His eyes were watery already, and all you were doing to him was licking over his taint.

You weren't sure how he'd survive this, but you were certainly eager to find out.

He closed his eyes in bliss, and your tongue travelled upwards, higher and higher until you met the puckered rim of his ass.

He whimpered, and gasped when you pushed against it, testing the give.

"You doing okay there?" You teased. You were holding his hand, squeezing reassuringly. This was his first time trying anything like this, despite wanting to for a long time, and he trusted you completely.

He took a deep breath.

"Yes. Please don't stop"

You smiled at his determination.

His back was arched, ass up, legs spread. This was his idea after all, and you were more than happy to indulge his experiments.

You placed a light kiss on the back of his thigh and moved back towards his twitching hole. The first swipe of your tongue made him moan, and you smiled as you pressed it harder against him. Oh yes, he was loving this.

When he finally relaxed enough for you to slip the tip of your tongue inside him, he gasped at the intrusion, and a muffled sob escaped him.

He was so happy to let you do whatever you wanted to him, it was quite liberating in a way.

You pushed in as deep as you could, and within seconds his thighs started twitching, and with a start you realised he was coming, completely untouched, wrecked sounds being muffled by the sheets he had his face shoved in.

Come dripped from his cock onto the towel you'd put down, and you smiled to yourself. You had a feeling he would be sensitive but this.... wow.

So sensitive that when he glanced back at you, you saw the way his cheeks were red and stained with tears as he cried silently.

"You okay?" You asked, hand stroking the flesh of his hip tenderly.

He nodded and wiped a hand across his face.

"I'm good, I'm good. I wasn't expecting it to be... so much."

He giggled wetly and you cooed at him.

"You sure you want to continue?"

He nodded and wiggled his ass, making you chuckle, and you grabbed the small bottle of lube you bought for the occasion.

"I'm gonna open you up, okay? Then I'll fuck you like you deserve, pretty boy. Sound good?"

He whined impatiently and nodded into the sheets.

"Words, Franco"

He huffed. "Yes, Please"

"Good boy" you muttered, and pushed the tip of your lubed up index inside him.

He tensed up, not used to the sensation of something breaching him. You soothed him, and waited for him to unclench before pushing in more, and the friction made him moan loudly.

When you pushed a second finger in, the stretch was such an overwhelming sensation he could feel tears once again falling.

By the third finger he was full on sobbing, and you were trying not to laugh at how broken his moans sounded.

You were purposefully avoiding his prostate. If he was this worked up over so little, you were almost scared to see how he'd react.

But you were also insanely curious. So you you searched around, very gently, and you immediately knew when you found it, because his hips jolted and he let out a high-pitched whine.

You couldn't help chuckle at his state. His cock was already hard again, hanging between his spread thighs.

"Do you want to come like this? Or do you want me to fuck you?"

He wasn't really in any fit state to be making decisions, but he gulped down a gasp and asked for the latter.

"Please, want you to..." he was blushing hard.

"Say it, baby. Tell me what you want"

He groaned and hid his face in the sheets, but you heard his muffled voice loud and clear.

"Please fuck me"

You were happy to oblige.

You lubed up the strap you'd bought for the occasion, and pressed the blunt head against his loosened rim.

"Ready?"

"Yes"

You pushed in, just a couple of inches, but the change in Franco's demeanor was immediate.

His back arched even more as he slumped against the bed. He was so relaxed and out of it you were able to push in more, inch by inch until your hips were flush with his ass.

"Okay?"

The response was more a moan than a word, but you weren't sure you'd get anything more intelligible out of him, so you proceeded.

You pulled out, then pushed back in carefully, once, twice, until you were sure he was comfortable enough to be able to thrust properly.

And on the first thrust, Franco collapsed.

His body was flat on the bed, you splayed over him, hips rolling, knocking into his and with the new angle came new sensations. Namely the way his prostate was being very much stimulated non-stop, and he couldn't escape it as you held him down.

Your thrusts got a bit rougher, and his pleasured wails made you smirk into the skin at the back of his neck.

"Harder " he managed to gasp, and with a grin you propped his hips up again, slammed into him harder and grabbed a fistfull of his hair.

He looked wrecked. Crying and drooling, eyes lidded at his slack jaw let moans escape freely on every thrust.

"You close, baby?"

The responding sound was approximate, but definitely an affirmative, so you kept the pace up and watched as his eyebrows scrunched up and he got closer to his orgasm.

"Fuck, fuck-"

"Good boy, Franco. Taking it so well..."

His eyes rolled back and his moans increased in pitch, and with a shiver he choked on his own breath as he came hard, twitching cock spurting cum onto the towel again.

You let go of his hair, and his head dropped onto his arms as he panted, trying to regain a sense of his body.

You pulled out carefully, stroking his back and lay down next to him.

You noticed he was still crying silently and you scratched the base of his neck. "You okay?"

He nodded, wiping his eyes with a smile.

"Just intense"

You giggled and snuggled up to his side.

"Is it something you would want to do again?"

He grinned, pulling your face towards him for a lingering kiss.

"Absolutely"

[chromednova]

"What's some of your biggest fears?"

Insects,roaches, not reaching my potential, mclaren might not have the championship winning car for a few years after this f1 season due to regulation changes and either of the mclaren drivers might not win a championship after this year, carlos sainz might not win again, max verstappen will go back to 33 next year.

You know, the usual.

[chromednova]

AS A METALHEAD YES. WE NEED MORE. I NEED MORE ALT READER REQUESTS BRO

heyyy i have a request :) could you do alternative reader (black hair, tattoos, piercings, listens to heavy metal) being first time at the paddock and people are making fun her, that she doesn’t fit, and then oscar defends her while during interview someone asks nasty question? love your work!!

YES AS AN ALTERNATIVE WOMAN YES I LOVE THIS PROMPT SO MUCH

This might be long because it's 1 am but i know i have the inspo NOW LOL and also this didnt specify smut but ofc im a smut acc im gonna make it a lil spicyy

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort vibes (not really), Possesive and defensive Oscar, The media being...the media, Heating making out, Lando and you are nosey little shits and Lando is legit your best friend lol, Very aggressive praise(???), semi-public touching and thigh riding-ish (motorhome). And idk i'll probably forget something man LMAO

The stares—you’re plenty used to them. Being alternative has its pros and cons. The shiny metal along your face glimmers under the hot sun. You get just a bit too warm in your black clothing… the ink that shows along your body like perfectly placed birthmarks—like they belong there. Your bulky, yet sexy, platform boots pound against the ground, while Oscar’s feet are light and softly padded next to yours. The dark, deep perfume you wear drives Oscar up the walls every time he catches a whiff.

And then there’s the makeup and hair—Oscar’s personal favorite part about you. Some days, your hair is teased and highly styled; other days, it’s messy and loose like you’ve just had the best sex of your life. It pairs perfectly with your rough, smudged black makeup—like you took charcoal to your eyes and called it a day.

You’re seated in the McLaren garage during a media day, It's finally hit evening and you're having light conversation with Lando—wearing a tight-fitted, alluring outfit with sharp metal accessories and matching face jewelry. A gorgeous metal coffin clip adorns your hair, and your nails are done to vampiric perfection.

Just a few feet away, Oscar is mid-interview, answering general questions about his life. You’re content to ignore it—until you hear your name slip from the lips of the girl interviewing him. Your head turns slightly, curiosity piqued. Lando catches on quickly, and with a smirk, he also tunes in to the newly lit-up question..

“So… I do have to ask…” the reporter says, tilting her head with a look that shifts from soft to bitter and borderline offended. “Why on earth is a successful, talented, intelligent driver like yourself with what some would call a ‘Bad Luck Black Cat’ of a girlfriend?”

Oscar’s frame shifts from leaning in to listen to upright and pulled back—you can’t see his face, but you can already tell he’s beyond pissed off at the invasive and insulting question. Lando turns to you with wide eyes and a jaw dropped in shock, which slowly shifts into a massive smile of disbelief. Your own head snaps to meet Lando’s gaze with the same look, but instead of smiling, you stay perplexed and offended.

Lando’s about to speak, but he pauses, glancing over sharply before blurting, “Uh-oh, here he comes—” and as you're about to look over you're stopped by a large rough hand on your shoulder and Oscar's visibly vibrating frame leaned down almost hunched like a food possessed dog as he growls a whisper to you. "We're leaving—Come on."

Now you find yourselves locked up in the McLaren motorhome, pressed against the wall with Oscar’s meaty thigh forcing its way between your own—his heavy, angry breathing rippling across your skin as he bites and leaves sloppy kisses all over your throat and chest. You grab at his hair, your sharp nails digging into his scalp just right as he presses his thigh harder against your core.

“O-Osc—what—ah!—the fuck!” you whimper at his sudden roughness, only ever seeing this side of him after a bad race. You know he’s usually more in control, even when someone says something stupid.

“She called you ‘Bad Luck’… s’fucking insulting to you… Told her to fuck off and said you’ve done nothing but motivate me to push myself. Made her look stupid on a live broadcast.” You shiver at his words, a surprised grin spreading across your face. You go to open your mouth but are promptly interrupted by a breathy moan as Oscar’s hands move to grind you against his thigh—his head finally lifting to look at you. His eyes are blown wide with the need to prove that reporter wrong, his lips glossy with his own saliva, which you can feel drying on your chest and neck.

His words keep tumbling out, between kissing you hard and rough like a claim to show you just how much he prioritizes and adores you and your dark persona and that you do nothing but make him itch for more. "Just so pretty—such a pretty thing you are...my own personal eye candy whenever i want it.."

His teeth graze your jaw as he moves to whisper more filth—a grumbled laugh as he feels your knees buckle and your thighs tremble from him speaking ontop of how desperate your hips swivel down to grind on his thigh harder, He can sense just how close you're getting from just this. "She has no clue what she's talking about—you're a million times more cool and talented than me, i'm so plain and simple and you balance me so well by stealing all the spotlight with your appearance—fuckin' love how confident you look, s'fucking sexy."

Oscar's babbling goes on and on until you're shaking in his grip and gasping against his parted lips—now both loudly heaving into eachother, your breath mixing, minty sweet gum from Oscar and the cherry gum from your own mouth. One last needy whisper from Oscar has you gripping him for dear life as an orgasm washes over.

"Fuck just like that—use me like that, please you're so pretty like this—perfect like this on my thigh-"

[chromednova]

heyyy i have a request :) could you do alternative reader (black hair, tattoos, piercings, listens to heavy metal) being first time at the paddock and people are making fun her, that she doesn’t fit, and then oscar defends her while during interview someone asks nasty question? love your work!!

YES AS AN ALTERNATIVE WOMAN YES I LOVE THIS PROMPT SO MUCH

This might be long because it's 1 am but i know i have the inspo NOW LOL and also this didnt specify smut but ofc im a smut acc im gonna make it a lil spicyy

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort vibes (not really), Possesive and defensive Oscar, The media being...the media, Heating making out, Lando and you are nosey little shits and Lando is legit your best friend lol, Very aggressive praise(???), semi-public touching and thigh riding-ish (motorhome). And idk i'll probably forget something man LMAO

The stares—you’re plenty used to them. Being alternative has its pros and cons. The shiny metal along your face glimmers under the hot sun. You get just a bit too warm in your black clothing… the ink that shows along your body like perfectly placed birthmarks—like they belong there. Your bulky, yet sexy, platform boots pound against the ground, while Oscar’s feet are light and softly padded next to yours. The dark, deep perfume you wear drives Oscar up the walls every time he catches a whiff.

And then there’s the makeup and hair—Oscar’s personal favorite part about you. Some days, your hair is teased and highly styled; other days, it’s messy and loose like you’ve just had the best sex of your life. It pairs perfectly with your rough, smudged black makeup—like you took charcoal to your eyes and called it a day.

You’re seated in the McLaren garage during a media day, It's finally hit evening and you're having light conversation with Lando—wearing a tight-fitted, alluring outfit with sharp metal accessories and matching face jewelry. A gorgeous metal coffin clip adorns your hair, and your nails are done to vampiric perfection.

Just a few feet away, Oscar is mid-interview, answering general questions about his life. You’re content to ignore it—until you hear your name slip from the lips of the girl interviewing him. Your head turns slightly, curiosity piqued. Lando catches on quickly, and with a smirk, he also tunes in to the newly lit-up question..

“So… I do have to ask…” the reporter says, tilting her head with a look that shifts from soft to bitter and borderline offended. “Why on earth is a successful, talented, intelligent driver like yourself with what some would call a ‘Bad Luck Black Cat’ of a girlfriend?”

Oscar’s frame shifts from leaning in to listen to upright and pulled back—you can’t see his face, but you can already tell he’s beyond pissed off at the invasive and insulting question. Lando turns to you with wide eyes and a jaw dropped in shock, which slowly shifts into a massive smile of disbelief. Your own head snaps to meet Lando’s gaze with the same look, but instead of smiling, you stay perplexed and offended.

Lando’s about to speak, but he pauses, glancing over sharply before blurting, “Uh-oh, here he comes—” and as you're about to look over you're stopped by a large rough hand on your shoulder and Oscar's visibly vibrating frame leaned down almost hunched like a food possessed dog as he growls a whisper to you. "We're leaving—Come on."

Now you find yourselves locked up in the McLaren motorhome, pressed against the wall with Oscar’s meaty thigh forcing its way between your own—his heavy, angry breathing rippling across your skin as he bites and leaves sloppy kisses all over your throat and chest. You grab at his hair, your sharp nails digging into his scalp just right as he presses his thigh harder against your core.

“O-Osc—what—ah!—the fuck!” you whimper at his sudden roughness, only ever seeing this side of him after a bad race. You know he’s usually more in control, even when someone says something stupid.

“She called you ‘Bad Luck’… s’fucking insulting to you… Told her to fuck off and said you’ve done nothing but motivate me to push myself. Made her look stupid on a live broadcast.” You shiver at his words, a surprised grin spreading across your face. You go to open your mouth but are promptly interrupted by a breathy moan as Oscar’s hands move to grind you against his thigh—his head finally lifting to look at you. His eyes are blown wide with the need to prove that reporter wrong, his lips glossy with his own saliva, which you can feel drying on your chest and neck.

His words keep tumbling out, between kissing you hard and rough like a claim to show you just how much he prioritizes and adores you and your dark persona and that you do nothing but make him itch for more. "Just so pretty—such a pretty thing you are...my own personal eye candy whenever i want it.."

His teeth graze your jaw as he moves to whisper more filth—a grumbled laugh as he feels your knees buckle and your thighs tremble from him speaking ontop of how desperate your hips swivel down to grind on his thigh harder, He can sense just how close you're getting from just this. "She has no clue what she's talking about—you're a million times more cool and talented than me, i'm so plain and simple and you balance me so well by stealing all the spotlight with your appearance—fuckin' love how confident you look, s'fucking sexy."

Oscar's babbling goes on and on until you're shaking in his grip and gasping against his parted lips—now both loudly heaving into eachother, your breath mixing, minty sweet gum from Oscar and the cherry gum from your own mouth. One last needy whisper from Oscar has you gripping him for dear life as an orgasm washes over.

"Fuck just like that—use me like that, please you're so pretty like this—perfect like this on my thigh-"

[chromednova]

heyyy i have a request :) could you do alternative reader (black hair, tattoos, piercings, listens to heavy metal) being first time at the paddock and people are making fun her, that she doesn’t fit, and then oscar defends her while during interview someone asks nasty question? love your work!!

YES AS AN ALTERNATIVE WOMAN YES I LOVE THIS PROMPT SO MUCH

This might be long because it's 1 am but i know i have the inspo NOW LOL and also this didnt specify smut but ofc im a smut acc im gonna make it a lil spicyy

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort vibes (not really), Possesive and defensive Oscar, The media being...the media, Heating making out, Lando and you are nosey little shits and Lando is legit your best friend lol, Very aggressive praise(???), semi-public touching and thigh riding-ish (motorhome). And idk i'll probably forget something man LMAO

The stares—you’re plenty used to them. Being alternative has its pros and cons. The shiny metal along your face glimmers under the hot sun. You get just a bit too warm in your black clothing… the ink that shows along your body like perfectly placed birthmarks—like they belong there. Your bulky, yet sexy, platform boots pound against the ground, while Oscar’s feet are light and softly padded next to yours. The dark, deep perfume you wear drives Oscar up the walls every time he catches a whiff.

And then there’s the makeup and hair—Oscar’s personal favorite part about you. Some days, your hair is teased and highly styled; other days, it’s messy and loose like you’ve just had the best sex of your life. It pairs perfectly with your rough, smudged black makeup—like you took charcoal to your eyes and called it a day.

You’re seated in the McLaren garage during a media day, It's finally hit evening and you're having light conversation with Lando—wearing a tight-fitted, alluring outfit with sharp metal accessories and matching face jewelry. A gorgeous metal coffin clip adorns your hair, and your nails are done to vampiric perfection.

Just a few feet away, Oscar is mid-interview, answering general questions about his life. You’re content to ignore it—until you hear your name slip from the lips of the girl interviewing him. Your head turns slightly, curiosity piqued. Lando catches on quickly, and with a smirk, he also tunes in to the newly lit-up question..

“So… I do have to ask…” the reporter says, tilting her head with a look that shifts from soft to bitter and borderline offended. “Why on earth is a successful, talented, intelligent driver like yourself with what some would call a ‘Bad Luck Black Cat’ of a girlfriend?”

Oscar’s frame shifts from leaning in to listen to upright and pulled back—you can’t see his face, but you can already tell he’s beyond pissed off at the invasive and insulting question. Lando turns to you with wide eyes and a jaw dropped in shock, which slowly shifts into a massive smile of disbelief. Your own head snaps to meet Lando’s gaze with the same look, but instead of smiling, you stay perplexed and offended.

Lando’s about to speak, but he pauses, glancing over sharply before blurting, “Uh-oh, here he comes—” and as you're about to look over you're stopped by a large rough hand on your shoulder and Oscar's visibly vibrating frame leaned down almost hunched like a food possessed dog as he growls a whisper to you. "We're leaving—Come on."

Now you find yourselves locked up in the McLaren motorhome, pressed against the wall with Oscar’s meaty thigh forcing its way between your own—his heavy, angry breathing rippling across your skin as he bites and leaves sloppy kisses all over your throat and chest. You grab at his hair, your sharp nails digging into his scalp just right as he presses his thigh harder against your core.

“O-Osc—what—ah!—the fuck!” you whimper at his sudden roughness, only ever seeing this side of him after a bad race. You know he’s usually more in control, even when someone says something stupid.

“She called you ‘Bad Luck’… s’fucking insulting to you… Told her to fuck off and said you’ve done nothing but motivate me to push myself. Made her look stupid on a live broadcast.” You shiver at his words, a surprised grin spreading across your face. You go to open your mouth but are promptly interrupted by a breathy moan as Oscar’s hands move to grind you against his thigh—his head finally lifting to look at you. His eyes are blown wide with the need to prove that reporter wrong, his lips glossy with his own saliva, which you can feel drying on your chest and neck.

His words keep tumbling out, between kissing you hard and rough like a claim to show you just how much he prioritizes and adores you and your dark persona and that you do nothing but make him itch for more. "Just so pretty—such a pretty thing you are...my own personal eye candy whenever i want it.."

His teeth graze your jaw as he moves to whisper more filth—a grumbled laugh as he feels your knees buckle and your thighs tremble from him speaking ontop of how desperate your hips swivel down to grind on his thigh harder, He can sense just how close you're getting from just this. "She has no clue what she's talking about—you're a million times more cool and talented than me, i'm so plain and simple and you balance me so well by stealing all the spotlight with your appearance—fuckin' love how confident you look, s'fucking sexy."

Oscar's babbling goes on and on until you're shaking in his grip and gasping against his parted lips—now both loudly heaving into eachother, your breath mixing, minty sweet gum from Oscar and the cherry gum from your own mouth. One last needy whisper from Oscar has you gripping him for dear life as an orgasm washes over.

"Fuck just like that—use me like that, please you're so pretty like this—perfect like this on my thigh-"

[chromednova]

Watching people straight up sext on the dash is so god awful im sorry YALL KEEP IT IN DMS PLEADEEEHDH???

[chromednova]

Not friendly reminder. If you are UNDER THE AGE OF 18 DO NOT INTERACT OR FOLLOW THIS ACCOUNT. I DO NOT NEED 14 YEAR OLDS FOLLOWING ME AND READING MY VERY INAPPROPRIATE WORKS. THANKS.

[chromednova]

buying weed from eddie the first time when you're new in town and you're finally out of your own stash from wherever you moved from, so he just thinks you don't know what you're doing. not in a condescending way, just like

"if you need any help i-" and you're like mid grind or joint roll and look up at him like

"...?" brow raised

"...never mind! wonderful technique, continue."

[chromednova]

WAIT WHEN DID I REACH 115 FOLLOWERS WHOA HI GUYS ILY LOL

[chromednova]

Hi btw if i havent gotten requests out its bcus my tumblr refreshed itself into deleting all my shit ☺️

Please send me requests (read my rules and characters first!)

[chromednova]

Thinking about french kissing with Lando Norris—it's never just kissing.

He’s the one who initiates—growing antsy and impatient with the soft kisses. His feet shuffle forward between yours, forcing you to take stumbling steps backward until you feel the coldness of the wall behind you, barely registering how Lando’s kisses grow more vicious and heated as you focus on not falling.

The gasp that parts your lips from his when you feel his sizable hand graze up to your throat and jaw creates the opening Lando was hoping for. You feel his tongue brush against your lower lip as if asking politely—but you know better. You know the second you let him in, it’ll be nothing but brutal, unfiltered need. When you grip his shirt collar and subtly roll your body into his, parting your mouth just enough for him to understand—he dives in without looking back.

His tongue quickly invades the small space of your mouth as he skillfully searches for your own—moaning pitifully when he finds it. His breathing grows heavy, bordering on pitched gasps, as his hips move on their own, grinding down into you. One of his hands presses softly against your throat, keeping you pinned to the wall behind you, while the other grips your hips, rutting them forward to meet his frantic pace.

[chromednova]

Thinking about french kissing with Lando Norris—it's never just kissing.

He’s the one who initiates—growing antsy and impatient with the soft kisses. His feet shuffle forward between yours, forcing you to take stumbling steps backward until you feel the coldness of the wall behind you, barely registering how Lando’s kisses grow more vicious and heated as you focus on not falling.

The gasp that parts your lips from his when you feel his sizable hand graze up to your throat and jaw creates the opening Lando was hoping for. You feel his tongue brush against your lower lip as if asking politely—but you know better. You know the second you let him in, it’ll be nothing but brutal, unfiltered need. When you grip his shirt collar and subtly roll your body into his, parting your mouth just enough for him to understand—he dives in without looking back.

His tongue quickly invades the small space of your mouth as he skillfully searches for your own—moaning pitifully when he finds it. His breathing grows heavy, bordering on pitched gasps, as his hips move on their own, grinding down into you. One of his hands presses softly against your throat, keeping you pinned to the wall behind you, while the other grips your hips, rutting them forward to meet his frantic pace.

[chromednova]

My love for Oscar and Lando is currently being outweighed by my devastation for Charles

[chromednova]

Clark has this thing with you – this innate desire to just take care of you; to not just lead you but to guide you in any which way that matters. He wants to make sure you know how much he loves you –not that its a question in your mind, he just has this deep impulse to just do things for you because he loves you.

It starts small in the beginning of your relationship. With him paying all of your bills in full — it started with him scratching his nails at the nape of your necck one night while the two of you were watching TV with you sat on the floor between his legs.

He'd noticed your eletricity bill on the counter when he came in but wasnt going to mention anything until you'd had time to settle from the day. And when he does finally mention it later into the evening, its rather blase and said with little room for discussion –as if it would eventually always happen, as if it'd already been happening and he just wanted you to be privy of it in this moment.

"Hey, hon?" He asks, voice muffled as he bites into his sandwhich, "Can you call your bank tomorrow?"

You're immediately turning around in confusion, brows furrowing as you ask "...why?"

"Just needa transfer your bills to my account thats all. No biggie." He finishes his bite and ruffles your hair before motioning back to the TV, "you're missin' your favorite part."

It stretches beyond just material things –into far more intimate and domestic territory. Things reveal the measure and depth of his love in the way that he holds his hand at the base of your neck, guiding you through a parking lot or the grocery store. he loves the way your skin raises beneath his warm palm and the way you involuntarily shiver when he massages the skin gently.

It's even worse once the two of you go public -- done in an oh-so-Clark fashion full of possessive display of you.

It wasn't planned. You'd happened to end up right where he was when the criminal was apprehended. There was something unruly about him this time. Dark hair disheveled and face flushed pink, his brow still furrowed, soot and remnants of ash and cement still stuck his suit. Clark had caught a glimpse of you in the crowd immediately made his way towards you, pulling you by the nape of your neck into a deafening hug -- one so intimate you nearly forgot you were in the middle the street and most definitely not alone in this moment.

But it's so easy to get lost in the moment as Clark slips his tongue past your glossed lips, tracing the arch of your mouth with a feverish groan --just quiet enough for you to hear, yet it sends a shiver to your heat all the same. And a part of you wants someone other than you to hear it -- to know you're the one thing that reduces Clark to a far more feral being.

Scattered clicks and flashes and squeals surround the two of you and Clark pulls off of you with a 'pop' but not before he lands a lofty peck to your lips. You're rendered speechless at the act. Staring up at him with your eyes wide and lips slightly agape. It's a lot. overwhelmingly so. all of it is.

Clark's hand still rests at the nape of your neck, gently stroking your raised skin, reminding you that he's there with you. That you'll be okay. that you'll talk about it when once you get home. that he's not leaving you here.

"You're drooling sweetheart," he wipes the small bit of it off your lips, your gloss sticks to the pad of his thumb which he brings to up to his lips to kiss before leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

Though it doesn't appear so on the surface, you know him well enough to read between the lines of the way he holds you just slightly away from the cameras so that you've still got some of your privacy. And the way that he pushes you behind him when reporters flood the area, trying to get a glimpse of you and hound the details of your relationship out of both of you.

you nearly swoon at all.

And of course, there's moments that fester once he encourages you to finally move in with him once he's paying for everything and anything that might've been a stressor or responsibility for you.

"Your money is for you." is his philosophy -- yet you really don't pay for anything nowadays. Sometimes, Clark will just hand you a wad of money with a kiss to your cheek. You've learned to not ask what for or why.

So, it comes as no surprise that one night while the two of you are on the couch with your legs thrown over his lap that he asks you when the last time you had a day to yourself was. Between work and cooking and your numerous hobbies, you haven't had much time to enjoy yourself or anything for that matter.

You can't even give him a straightforward answer and that prompts him moving his hand up higher and higher up the length of your leg. gently massaging and stroking your soft skin until he meets the fabric of your sleep shorts, pulling them and your panties to the side in one hand, he uses his other to circle your clit.

"Gonna give you some money, sweetheart," he leans forward, pressing kisses to your neck and the curve of your jaw. Your eyes roll back, and you sink deeper into the cushions. "Want you to get your nails done" he moves to the other side of your neck "And go shopping, wanna hear all about it." he slips a finger past your soaked folds, and you shiver, "How's that sound, huh?"

you can only nod dumbly beneath him, whispering a long drawn out sob of "yesss," grasping onto his arm as he begins to scissor your cunt open. He pushes one of your thighs up to press against your chest, opening you up for him. Clark presses a kiss to your ankle as he looks down at you, "Eyes on me —atta girl."

[chromednova]

We're all normal! But your writing is sooo fuckin good!!! Of course i'd be this excited 🤭🙂‍↕️

don't...fucking...PANIC...DON'T FREAK OUT—

i win tumblr 🫡

hi new fav moot

(i actually shook my husband so hard out of excitement he may have a concussion)

@formulafanfics13

[chromednova]

don't...fucking...PANIC...DON'T FREAK OUT—

i win tumblr 🫡

hi new fav moot

(i actually shook my husband so hard out of excitement he may have a concussion)

@formulafanfics13

[chromednova]

babes do you have any blogs to recommend who write f1 fics?? i love your stuff sooooo much its amazing but i really want to find someone who writes watersports (iykwim) and i was wondering if you would have any clue on where to find some :3

if not, thats fine!!

:O oh my good lordie i know of one really good f1 completely based blog idk if she has watersports tho :')

BUT @formulafanfics13 my beloved i stalk her page religiously for new and old fics sjjsjs