tu vaquero favorito🤎 yaoi o bl, shipps que ni dios conoce, opiniones con las que nadie está de acuerdo, manhwas, manhuas, mangas y más. NO IA❌ ni para escritura, arte, o relativos
i need a rosquez overstimulation fic so bad you don't understand
Marc pissing Vale off ALL DAY at the paddock by leaning in close to people who Vale can't fucking stand to see next to his boy, or purposefully talking about how strong Aleix looked when he pulled him uo on the podium in Barcelona
him posting his usual thirst traps on main where he's only in his shorts, chest naked and thighs shining because he's freshly shaved, looking absolutely edible
and Vale just enduring all that and once they're alone he doesn't even give poor Marc the time to register what's happening because he's being mahandled to the bed, clothes already off and Vale sucking on his neck, marking him as a fucking property, hands running up and down his body
then he begans fingering him and tell him he either comes at least twice from that alone or he doesn't get the dick.
And Marc can't for the love of God not get the dick and he obliges, but then he's all messy and oversensitive and Vale starts fucking him like a madman, Marc tries to keep quiet but can't, he just keeps on chanting Vale's name like a prayer and once Vale is done with it and came inside him he fingers him again, fucks his come back into him, bites and sucks on his nipples to make Marc absolutely loose his mind, the grip on his thighs is so strong he can already see the bruises forming but he doesn't care
that twink leaves the bed two hours later after loosing his voice, his brain being completely melted and having a plug in to keep Vale inside of him
oh and they have to go to dinner too, so he gotta look presentable at least, not like he just got fucked into net year, but the thing he doesn't know is that that fucking plug it's actually a vibrator which Vale has a remote connected to, and he will turn it on randomly during the dinner, watching Marc struggle so much to keep composure
you know your way to a woman's heart. that was.....chef's kiss 👩🏻🍳
overstimulation is very dear to my heart. i think that this and orgasm denial are the two main tools vale uses to punish marc. and it's super effective.
you fucking killed me in the last paragraph. like absolutely fucked out marc having to maintain appearances next to vale who can barely contain his cheshire smile. and the vibrating plug is cherry on top. marc would be scrambling to keep calm. almost breaking his glass of wine. trembling hands, sweat on his temples, having to bite his lips. damn.
i know marc would be the don’t kiss me if you’ve smoked type of boyfriend. he’s already googling “does kissing my boyfriend who’s just smoked considered second hand smoking?”
Vale dries his hair with the same towel he used for his body, the fabric rough over his scalp. He lets it fall to the floor as he exits the bathroom, uncaring. One of the hotel employees will pick it up later anyway.
He yawns, his muscles sore after a weekend of racing, then grabs clean boxers from his suitcase. The ones he wore last night are probably somewhere on the floor of the hotel room, dirty and discarded, and he doesn't care enough to try and find them. As he pulls the fabric over his hips, the black elastic band cutting his tattoo in half, Vale takes in the view in front of him.
Marc is awake now, laying on his stomach over the covers, illuminated by the rising Australian sun. He hasn't noticed Valentino yet, probably expects him to shower for a little longer. His thick brows are furrowed as he types something on his phone, his teeth biting into his lower lip.
Vale can't help but contemplate the picture he makes like this, taking in the curves and shadows of his body like one might observe a masterpiece. It's still dawn, the rays of sun orange and pink as they pass over Marc. Vale takes it all in. The sensual curve of his back, the shift of his muscles beneath his tanned skin. Then, the dip of his lower back, his soft love handles, the curve of his ass and the bite marks Vale left there last night.
There are more bruises lining his body, marks covering his inner thighs, red lines over his pecs, the imprint of Valentino's thumbs over his hipbones. Small traces of Valentino painted on him, at least until the bruises heal and disappear.
There are matching bruises lining Vale's throat and back, a mirror claim. He's not sure he hates it quite as much as he should.
Marc snorts on the bed, then shakes his head as he keeps typing. His hair is messed up from sleep, but also from how Vale's fingers had pulled at the strands as they had both come.
A phantom sensation blooms between Vale's fingers, the feeling of short strands of thick black hair passing over his skin. It's been a while since he's last caressed Marc's head, playing with his hair while the other rider goes on and on about a corner or his bike. A year, he'd say. Maybe a little less.
Vale had let Marc stay last night. The stars had been bright outside, their glimmer reflected in Marc's eyes as he gasped through his orgasm. Stay, Vale had said, before Marc could put his pants back on again, before he could go back to his own hotel room. Stay, he'd repeated, just to watch the stars twinkle in his irises a little longer.
It's the first time Marc has stayed the night since Sepang. It's not the first time they've fucked again, that had been in Barcelona, in a flurry of champagne and adrenaline fuelled decisions. But it's been over a year since Valentino last saw the sunrise colour Marc's skin. He's missed the sight of it.
That's a dangerous thought, he knows. Missing Marc, in any capacity, is dangerous. Valentino saw the data, he knows how Marc rode last year, knows how much of an asshole he was in Sepang. Marc cost him his tenth. But like this, watching Marc's body as it gets sculpted by the rising sun, his face relaxed and happy, something tugs at Vale's heart.
Marc seems to realize that Vale's back in the room, looking up from his phone. The sun creates a halo over his hair, something holy to contrast with his sinful red lips. A cautious smile spreads on his face.
"Hey," he says, and something in Vale melts.
Dangerous, he thinks again, but something else responds, louder. I've missed you.
But the colour matching has dried my brain So I didn't do more layout design.🫠🫠🫠 I have split them.Everyone is welcome to paste this sinister and evil pattern anywhere😈
Unbelievable, this is simply not the style I can draw. I was manipulated.
2087
prguitarman
turnnoffyourmind
areudirty
dailybridgerton
