#motogp rpf

[thewriters-world]

Marc is writhing beneath Valentino, hands clawing at the white sheets. Though it can't be seen clearly through the flat screen television, it is obvious to all, that Valentino has his hand on Marc's cock. Valentino huffs a breathy laugh at Marc's scrunched up face before leaning forward and closing his lips around his nipple.

Cristian pauses the video at that point to Marc's relief. Marc gets to keep the way he jumps up with a groan, gets to keep the way Valentino's mouth absorbs his sounds. The way Valentino presses an open mouthed kiss to the hollow of his throat as Marc cums, strings of white shooting against the flat plane of Valentino's abdomen.

Marc feels the bile his stomach rush to storm his oesophagus, feels the very path it takes to claw it's way out. He swallows.

Alex's face is twisted into something complicated, Marc is sure his face is doing something similar. He can't quite bring himself to face his grim-faced team members. Instead he elects to push his face into his hands, pushing back his curls in frustration. Cristian clears his throat and Marc has to look up.

The press manager looks at him expectantly, as do the other members of his team. For the first time Marc realises how dishevelled they all look. Marc feels sorry that they had to wake up early in the morning because of him. Marc finds himself realising that people don't usually wake up at 5am to make breakfast smoothies and workout.

Maybe they can see it in the way Marc's face turns blank at their glances, the way he can't quite meet their eyes. Cristian sighs disappointedly before turning his attention back to the drawing board, gesturing and articulating something that Marc knows is important but can't quite bring himself to listen.

He knows Cristian has bought him some time. He still needs to explain it all, the team has to put out a statement. Marc doesn't know how to say that he was once in a romantic relationship with Valentino Rossi. Doesn't know how to say that Valentino - kinky bastard - liked to record their escapades. Doesn't know how to say that he thinks Valentino leaked the tape to get back at him.

Marc keeps his head low as Alex guides him to wherever he needs to be. He has no intention of facing the vultures of the paddock just yet. He can hear the rise and fall of the paddock, the beating heart of the pen that tethered him to the sport he loved so. But today they talk about him in a way never done before, they whisper. He doesn't need to hear his name to feel the heat of the glances people throw his way. Maybe it's that, or maybe it's the way he feels weak in his knees or maybe its how the patch of green grass is wet but Marc stumbles.

It's only when he looks up to steady himself does he see Valentino. The older Italian looks entirely composed, almost effortlessly. His arms are folded as his curls fly around his face in the summer breeze, he squints under the shining sun. For a horrifyingly long time Marc continues to look at Valentino, urging him to look right back. He doesn't. Marc knows his feelings are written all over his face, he never has been able to hide. He knows that his eyes support the same shiny sheen from all those years ago, knows if he spoke his voice would crack with the same pubescent squeakiness he supported more than a decade ago. His eyes meet the concrete once more.

He stews at the unfairness of it all. Recognises that Valentino's holiness saves him from the condemnation. Knows that they'll point at him and laugh ('what did you do to lose Valentino Rossi'). They will want to know, what was so unforgiveable that Valentino Rossi cast him out. Marc will have no answers, how will he say that one day he woke up not to the warmth of Valentino's arms but to the cold of their bedsheets. How does he say that in all his euphoria he hadn't even expected an unamused Uccio Salucci looking down at him. Hadn't expected the older Italian to drop his clothes onto him, face scrunched up in disgust. Doesn't know how to say that he expected Valentino to waltz in like a Knight in shining armour, explaining it all. Doesn't know how to say that as Uccio threw him out like trash it was cold but not as cold as the shoulder Valentino gave Marc the next time he saw him.

After all these years, Valentino still gets to leave him out in the cold as he enjoys the warmth. After all these years Marc has to take it all, take the jokes, the questions. The barbed wire comments that Marc is oh-so good at pretending don't actually hurt ('you ruined the sport') the words they all say tinged with the essence of Valentino ('do you think maybe you were a bit aggressive at that corner). They aren't your words' Marc wants to say to the journalists, wants to see the penny drop. He would never admit it because he knows what they say about people who make up imaginary scenarios but sometimes he imagines them saying sorry ('sorry for laughing whilst you broke') and he imagines himself saying 'fuck you'. Except he would never actually say that, he would forgive and forget in a heartbeat if it meant they knew him.

Marc wishes Valentino left them with the words he would say into his back ('you're so pretty'), into his forehead ('I'm proud of you'), into his mouth ('you're a champion baby'). Marc wishes they could see the Marc that Valentino wanted, why did Valentino show them the Marc that he discarded.

He doesn't even realise that Alex has led him to the company car until he is being pushed in and the door closes behind him. Marc hasn't been able to articulate an explanation to Alex, truth be told Marc isn't too sure he has an explanation. Maybe Alex senses it, the way Marc's entire world has been thrown off kilter, he places a hand on Marc's balled up fist. Something tells Marc that Alex doesn't really care about the contents of the tape, he releases his fist, finally breathing.

He sits opposite Álex at the table that leads into his suite, face propped up onto his fists as his brother looks at him.

"Sooo?" The younger Marquez brother questions with a raised brow, elongating the word, it would seem teasing if it wasn't for the way his voice cracks.

"Valentino and I had something" Marc admits stiffly, resisting the urge to pull at the collar of his shirt. Alex's face shutters.

"Something?" He questions incredulously, face doing something complicated once more.

"That video was more than something" The younger Marqeuz brother huffs, Marc blanches, he doesn't know how long the video was, doesn't know what his brother saw.

"You were in love?" Álex questions with such raw softness in his voice and Marc feels as though he's going to vomit on the very expensive rug before him.

Marc likes to pretend it wasn't love. Likes to pretend it was some sort of teenage infatuation. But -

"Yes" his hands feel clammy and his heart beats faster against his chest at the admission.

"You were devastated when Valentino said-" Álex pauses closing his eyes so hard that Marc is sure he can see patterns under his eyelids.

"I didn't understand why back then" it's like Álex is talking to himself now.

"Why you wouldn't stop sobbing" He gets up, there's a shiny sheen to his eyes.

"Why you wouldn't eat or drink anything, why you wanted to keep his posters in a box besides your bed, why you'd sit on the corner of your bed holding the posters, unfolding and then folding" Álex is pacing the room now, Marc hadn't even known that his brother was there to watch him lose his mind over Valentino. Marc wants to go back, turn around so he can see Álex sitting on the staircase that leads straight to his bedroom. Wants to call his brother into his bedroom and tell him not to worry so much for him, he will be okay. This is nothing as dramatic as your little brain is thinking.

"But you loved him" Álex says, Marc feels the words stab into his heart like a dagger.

"That's why" Álex says it as though he has found all the answers as he slumps onto the seat besides him. Marc supposes he does have the answers for why his brother broke that one time.

"Yes" Marc acknowledges, he doesn't have it in himself to stay seated with his brother and talk about it. He knows it's rude but he stumbles away to his bedroom. Álex doesn't even call for him.

Marc doesn't even know how tired he was until he closes his door and slumps against it, feeling all the energy leave. He thinks he was trying to be brave for his brother.

He kicks his shoes off, doesn't care where they end up. Normally he would make sure to change into his pyjamas, fold his clothes into neat little squares but today, he slumps onto the bed.

He rests his phone on his pillow, pretends like this is how he always sleeps. Pretends that as the screen on his phone lights up with messages and calls he isn't looking for one specific name.

[fomulapookie]

soo i’m writing a marcmarc fanfiction and Im going to make it multi chapter, it’s going to explore a bit Bez’s internalised homophobia and his path towards the light (fucking with Marc)

and i’m going to upload it both here and on Ao3, if you like it i’d love for you to leave kudos, no pressure tho obv <3

I took a bit of inspiration by @anitalianfrie and some ideas from @yeastinfectionvale because the two of you are the most dangerous marcmarc psychosexual supporters I relate with

Below you can find the fic, if u enjoy reading on Tumblr more than on Ao3❤️

2024 pre-season

It was cold, but still, Marco was sitting outside the ranch, it was around 3 in the morning he supposed, thoughts clouded by the joint he was still finishing up.

He was trying to reflect on something that had been seriously affecting his life lately, or rather much someone.

Marc Marquez.

Since he had signed with Gresini the Spaniard just seemed to continuously pop up into his life, whether it was on track or not, like last week for example, he was out with a group of his friends and who did he meet at the club he went to? Marc Marquez, drinking with a guy he thought was a friend of the man, but the more he thought about it, the more he remembered strange details, like a hand lingering a bit too much or a few glances casted in a very lustful way.

He archived the memory as a made up one, a result of the not so little amount of alcohol he consumed that night.

Plus, Marc had a girlfriend, and even if he didn't, everyone on the grid was straight.

All the jokes, flirty ones even, were always platonic and between friends, he did that too with Pecco, and it wasn’t like he was…gay.

He had had a girlfriend until a few weeks prior, when she decided it would’ve been a good idea to cheat on him and dump him via text of all things.

The joint was coming to an end, and with it all his will to stay outside and freeze, looking for a warm blanket and a snack instead.

Memories grew along with his hunger, and the frames of his mind ran back to the night he saw Marquez at the club.

Shirt buttoned just halfway, a silver necklace adorning his neck and bouncing slightly every time he moved.

His smile, a painfully magnetic one, drawing people to him like moths to a flame, like his eyes, profound and deep.

But what Bez remembered the best were his shoulders.

Broad, muscled, tanned and glowing with sweat, moving up and down rhythmically when he laughed.

If he focused enough, he could remember peeking the outline of one of Marc’s scars from the hem of his shirt, and something similar to a hickey on the juncture between his neck and shoulder, sinfully on display.

Fuck, why did he remember those things? He was pretty sure that a blonde flirted with him that night, he was sure she was hot even, but he couldn’t remember a single detail from her, just from that small fucking bastard

As his mind stopped wandering Bez realized he was back into his room, an half finished protein bar in hand and an obviously painful bulge in his pants.

Fuckfuckfuckfuck how did that happen? was it the blonde? it couldn’t have been Marquez, could it?

The answer came when his dick twitched at the mention of Marc’s name.

cazzo

He was conflicted: should he let it go away on its own or act on it? because he knew the moment he would’ve touched himself thinking of his rival it would’ve been over for him.

Seeing him in the paddock, on insta or at one of the clubs would’ve meant remembering this.

No no no he hated Marquez, this was just the smoke speaking for him, he always got a bit horny after smoking, it wasn’t different from other times.

Except it was. It was so much different, this longing he felt for the older guy, the need he had to just lick his lips and bite down on those delicious looking shoulders, grabbing his neck and crushing their lips together.

Bez also remembered the cologne he was wearing; it smelled like woods and fresh, he didn’t know much about perfumes but that was surely a smell he wasn’t going to forget it easily.

“Maybe it’s not that bad. Just once, one time and then I’ll forget about him”

he thought while sliding into bed and slowly slipping his hand into his pants.

It was embarrassing how quickly he became vocal about it, softly of course because he didn’t want the other guys or worst, Vale, to hear him moan out Marc Marquez’s name and finding him like that.

He stroked his cock with growing speed, twisting his wrist when he came close to the tip, gritting his teeth and grabbing the sheets with his free hand.

“Marc-“ a suffocated plea leaving the boy's mouth, but remaining painfully present in his room, floating around as a curse.

The more he thought about the Spaniard the harder he got, he wanted more more more.

He wanted Marc, in all his stupid perfection, he wanted him to choke on his cock, or bouncing on it, he wanted Marc to be as desperate for him as Bez was for the man.

“Si si si” a trail of words left the boy’s mouth to get lost into the silent and cold night in Tavullia, alongside with Marco’s orgasm, which hit him hard and fast, ropes of white liquid staining his abdomen and part of the sheets.

He went to the bathroom to wash his hands and getting cleaned up, being extra careful not to wake anyone up.

He looked at himself in the mirror, cheeks red, puffy lips and glassy eyes, pupils still blown wide from the smoke and the excitement of the recent jerk off session.

He knows he will have to face what he just did, because what if it wasn’t just Marc? What if it was men in general? Could have he been bisexual? To be fair he was a bit scared to know, what if Vale or one of the guys found it disgusting? what if his family did?

Could’ve he kept that secret for long?

He doesn’t think so, honestly he’s scared of loosing both families at once for something like that.

No no, he ultimately decided.

If he understands he likes guys he’s going to keep it for himself.

It’s going to be better for everyone that way

[asphaltgarden]

I was so happy for Bez, also because we love each other -

[hotmessmaxpress]

(a/n: I’ve never been only onlyfans. I’m assuming it works like patreon but for nudes? Allegedly you can also tip using the website?)

Rosquez OnlyFans AU, (1/?) Inspired by these posts on @unhinged-motogp-confessions

It's a common misconception that it is easy for Vale to get laid. While he does have the benefit of his celebrity status, charisma, and literal fanclub, that doesn't necessarily equate to a good deal of pussy on a practical level. For one, women often want more commitment from him than he's willing to provide. He has no interest in having a girlfriend at the moment, no matter how good the sex is. On the other hand, women who are comfortable with being one-night-stands sometimes have the air of wanting to exploit the encounter in some way. While he's never had a lover go so far as to take pictures without his consent, he has been made aware of more than enough tweets, blog entries, and other social media posts about his dick and skills as a lover. There is also the issue of Vale's additional preference for men; hooking up with women is risky enough without the threat of forced outing.

The easiest solution is perhaps the most embarrassing: porn. Vale has the money to acquire pretty much any type of porn that he wants, and it's convenient no matter where he is in the world (for the most part).

Vale has a private OnlyFans account with Rossano as the profile picture. It’s on that account that he discovers and subscribes to Marc. MotoMarc93 He is the hottest man Valentino Rossi has ever seen. He’s absolutely fit, six pack and all, and he rarely has a shirt on. He has the face of a model, and Valentino loves it when he smiles. What really makes Marc stand out though, is his garage. Marc has an entire garage of motorcycles. His favorite, that he includes in videos, is an orange and black wrapped Honda Fireblade. Marc is filthy on the bike. Sometimes it’s innocent; thirst trap selfies of himself leaned back on the bike, cock just out of frame. Other times it's a photo over his shoulder, showing the line of his toned back down to his bare ass. Vale pays for everything– he pays for the most expensive monthly subscription, but also buys the pay-per-view shots at every available opportunity. That gives him access to all the videos Marc posts. He posts one in particular of him riding a dildo that he has suction-cupped to the seat that makes Vale come so hard he thinks for a moment that he died. After that video he sends Marc a tip for 1000€ with a message: “amazing video xx”. Marc responds with a question: “what is your name?” That question is a red flag for Valentino, but he is horny and therefore stupid. “Valentino.” There is no response for 24 hours, which terrifies Vale. The next afternoon, however, he receives a direct message from Marc. It’s similar to the previous video, but Marc has changed the camera angle– his camera is set up behind the rear of the bike, but clearly his tripod is standing on something to make it even taller than normal. The angle of the video makes it feel as if Valel is looking down just slightly– like he’s standing behind the bike and watching. Marc takes his time in the video. He walks into frame already naked, grinning, and makes his way toward the bike. He kneels next to it, jerking the dildo off slowly with a grin at the camera before turning, swinging his leg over the bike, and slowly seating himself on the dildo. The camera angle gives Vale a perfect view of where the cock enters Marc's tight hole. He groans as it fills him, and Vale scrambles to free his hard cock from his pants. Marc rocks his hips before sliding up and back down the silicone cock. He moans, rocking up, before he opens his mouth. “Valentino,” he moans. “Harder.” He picks up speed, fucking himself deep and hard on the dildo. Vale pumps his cock in time with the rise and fall of Marc’s hips. He doesn't think he's ever been this invested in a screen before in his life. “Valentino, please,” Marc cries. Vale comes hard, cum shooting nearly up to his chin. He moans as he jerks himself through it.

When he opens his eyes, Marc has reached behind him and picked up the camera. He brings it around his body, and Vale nearly comes again at the sight of Marc’s cum painting the body of the bike, nearly up to the handlebars. The camera flips, and Marc grins and blows a kiss at the camera before the video ends.

[effervescentdragon]

because this was the first thing i saw when i woke up, and i can't not 🙈

"Bye-bye Honda," Pecco says and Mark's heart speeds up.

"No, why?" he says with a laugh that wants to stop in his throat, but he's had training, he's been doing this for too long to react in any meaningful way. Jorge is laughing, but he's keeping quiet, thankfully. Pecco is a fucking bastard, but Marc can take a joke, even when it's not a joke at all.

Pecco doesn't stop there. Of course he doesn't, the fucking asshole.

"Look, it's the -" Marc sees him wave his hands around, a grin on his face that doesn't bode well. "It's the kiss of Valentino."

Marc's heart stops.

Everybody laughs, including Marc. It doesn't matter that he feels like he's shaking, the pressure in his chest pressing like a bike when it falls on you fully. Everybody laughs, because they're supposed to laugh. It's all for fun. It's all teasing. It's all good sport. Marc wants to wring Pecco's fucking head off but he smiles, the media smile, the half-confused smile, the wide one. The one that says I don't know what this is about but I'm being a good sport about it.

The journalist asks them another question and they push ahead with the interview. There is one downside to the fact that Marc has been doing this for years, and that's that he doesn't need to focus on being interviewed. It's background noise for him, and he follows the talk with no problem.

The whole time, his mind is turning and his heart, shocked into a stop like it always is when he heards that fucking name, has decided to go into opposite direction. The thump of his heart makes it difficult to breathe, but he does. It's what he does. He is Marc Marquez, and he perseveres.

The kiss from Valentino. He'd scoff if he could. Pecco has always been a bastard, but now that he's won, he's even worse. Then again, he's learned from the best, didn't he.

Kiss from Valentino. Marc knows what Pecco is talking about. It's what Vale - he was Vale back then, Vale to Marc, but not anymore, not for a long time now - what Valentino did before he signed with Ducatti. Marc remembers watching Vale going down on his knees and kissing his Yamaha. He remembers the shock of Valentino going to Ducatti. He remembers Vale's frustration with Ducatti for those two years after.

He remembers other things, too.

Marc doesn't know how much Pecco knows. The VR46 Academy boys are a tight knit group, and they all adore Valentino. Of course they do. They're not special in that. Marc adores him too, whenever he doesn't despise him.

He doesn't know how much Pecco knows, but he hopes he doesn't know everything.

"A kiss from Valentino Rossi," Vale had said, "how does it feel?" he had asked, and Marc had laughed, high-pitched and nervous, and leaned in to kiss Vale again. Vale's palm fit perfectly on his face, and his kisses made Marc feel more drunk than any alcohol he consumed.

"Pretty good," he'd said as Vale kissed his way down Marc's neck, "but I need to test it some more to give my final opinion."

Vale had chuckled and pulled back. "You always want more, huh?" Marc had shrugged, and smiled, and pulled Vale closer. "Always," he'd said between the kisses, "what's the point otherwise?"

Vale had said nothing to that, but his eyes were amused and fond. It's been a long time since he looked at Marc like that, but in his memory, Vale only shakes his head and lowers himself down to his knees.

Marc doesn't know how much Pecco knows. He forces himself out of the memory and catches Jorge looking at him. He's not sure what Jorge knows. These days, it seems he is unsure of everything.

He turns his head back to the cameras, and fixes his smile, and ignores his heart, and answers the journalist's question.

[lxndonorris]

sunsets - Fabio Quartararo

Y/N x Fabio Quartararo Theme: Fluff (light touching) going on a ride with Fabio and enjoying a beautiful sunset x word count: 1220+ taglist: @game-set-canet open for requests :)

The sun is shining brightly through your bedroom window, illuminating the room with its warm glow while you're getting ready for a ride. You can't even remember the last time you asked your boyfriend, Fabio, to take you on a motorcycle ride. Busy schedules, bad weather conditions, or just other plans prevented you two from jumping on his bike and going for a ride.

But not this time: the weather couldn't be better—not too warm or too cold. Just a few fluffy clouds wander through the sky while the sun is shining ever so brightly.

With one last look out of the window, you turn back to your closet. "Protection is most important." You hear Fabio's voice echo through your mind, painting a smile across your lips. Of course, he is right, but the way he would say it, smiling, like an expert teaching his student.

You bite your lower lip, looking at the black leather jacket hanging in front of the closet doors. It's Fabio's, and he gave it to you just for this ride. Running a finger along its zipper, you enjoy the feeling of its fabric.

Carefully, you take it off, and in one swift motion, you throw it around your shoulder, and, one arm at a time, you put it on. The fabric feels soft on your skin, and it fits well. He is a little bigger than you, but he enjoys tight clothes, which benefits you all the time.

The jacket flatters all of you, and what's even better, Fabio's familiar scent clings on to it, giving you comfort right away.

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes for a second, remembering the first time he held you close, hugged you, and kissed you. You were one month into the relationship when he invited you to watch a grand prix, where he managed to win in a great display of his pure talent.

Just then, you feel hands and arms running along your waistline before you're pulled back slightly, wrapped in a soft hug.

"There you are." Fabio's soft, yet a little rougher voice, lingers in your mind for just a second before you open your eyes again. "How does it fit?" He asks you, his warm breath tingling on your skin right behind your ear. It feels so good to have his arms around you, and with his body so close, the scent of his cologne grows stronger.

"I think it's perfect." You separate yourself from him to slowly spin around, showing off the fit of his leather jacket on you. His eyes wander all over your body, from your boots and pants up to your shirt and his jacket.

"It does." He nods approvingly, and a shy smirk forms in the corner of his mouth.

Fabio, on the other hand, is wearing black biker gear; he owns multiple of those, and like always, it's tight but suits him well.

"I'm glad we're doing this again." You say this and place a hand on his firm chest, causing him to smile even brighter. "Me too." He places his hand on yours to stroke the back of yours with his thumb.

For a second, you stare into each other's eyes before you lean in and kiss him. He embraces your lips on his own and pulls you a little closer. But then you lean his head back, licking his lips quickly. "We should get going." He says it with an even rougher voice.

You nod in agreement, and together you put on the rest of your protective gear.

Then he leads you to the garage, where his bike is already waiting for you. Fabio turns to you and hands you a helmet before he puts on another with a coy smile spreading across his lips.

As a professional racer, he is used to wearing all of this. For you, it's different. Helmets may feel a little restrictive, but the more you're wearing one, the easier.

"Come on." He nods towards his bike before he gets on top of it. Fabio makes it look so easy as he effortlessly throws his leg across. He then turns his upper body toward you, and just by the way his eyes sparkle through the visor, you know he is giggling to himself.

'Challenge accepted.' You think about and follow his example as closely as possible. And, just like he did before, you can easily join him on the bike. You move a little closer, wrapping your arms around his chest, basically hugging him from behind.

"Y/N. You're ready?" You can barely hear his voice through the helmet, so you lean closer.

"Let's go." You say, holding back a chuckle as the bike turns to life underneath you. The entire thing is vibrating contently, and Fabio teases you a little by letting the engine roar a few times.

Your body tightens as the excitement ignites a fire inside your belly. In an instant, you feel a dozen different things when the adrenaline kicks in prematurely.

Taking another deep breath, the two of you start moving slowly. As an expert, Fabio handles the bike well. Carefully, he enters traffic behind a few cars. Feeling the wind brushing against you, hearing the sound of the bike engine echo through your ears, and holding on to Fabio's firm and tight body, you smile brightly.

He accelerates once the road is clear, and you go faster and faster. The wind pressure gets stronger, the engine gets louder, and you feel your own body becoming less tense, enjoying the rush even more.

You can tell Fabio is feeling the same. Hearing him humming happily, his body moves slightly—pure hedonism.

You hold on tight as he takes turns, overtaking a few other cars, before he stops at a red light.

"How are we feeling?" He turns his head, and you know he's smiling so brightly.

"Very good." You lean in closer again, stroking his chest with both of your hands, causing his eyes to sparkle again.

The acceleration kicks in once the light turns green, and after a few more minutes, you're finally on an open road on the coast line.

You turn your head toward the ocean and watch the sun paint the entire sky in every shade of red as it sets ever so slightly—so beautiful.

By hugging him a little tighter, you enjoy the ride even more.

After what feels like a beautiful eternity, you reach your destination—a little picnic area with a perfect view of the ocean.

Adrenaline is still flooding your body, so you carefully get off the bike and regain your composure, watching him turn the engine off and steadying it. You take your helmet off—a much-needed release—and enjoy it as a cold breeze brushes through your hair.

Fabio does the same and runs a hand through his hair, unable to stop smiling.

"Enjoyed yourself?" You smirk and reach for him, wrapping your arm around his waist as he does the same.

"Oh, definetly." He giggles, runs a hand across his own chest, and kisses you softly, once, then twice. "Did you?" Fabio raises an eyebrow.

"So much." You lean into him once more, your lips brushing over his. "Thank you." Kissing him again, you hug him tightly.

He purrs again before he pulls away, both of you turning toward the pretty sunset.

[topnotchquark]

I'm just having some thoughts about Pecco/Luca in the wonderful Royalty au by @baking-soda and @xoxogossipzoe which has completely held my mind hostage. The drama, the stakes, the characters!

In my head this one is mediaeval era because my thoughts revolve around Pecco's poisoning and the aftermath:

Luca walking out on to the balcony in the balmy summer heat, wanting to confront Pecco. How Pecco had finally snapped for a moment after months of burying his worry under the surface. How Luca knew that this moment was coming and he was almost hoping for some sort of catharsis because he was sick of Pecco slowly turning into a ghost of himself. The moment Luca realised something was wrong, Pecco's eyes rolling back into his head. Watching Pecco's body crumple when he always took a great effort to make himself look graceful and still. Luca remembers how Pecco slumped forward into his arm. He remembers the blinding moment of sheer panic as he called for help and was breathing in the smell of citrus trees in the air along with the perfume of Pecco's soft hair. The castle and everything else completely torn asunder. Coronation ceremony suddenly on halt. Immediate preparation for war. Vale sent Cele away to a trusted friend, Bezz not made aware of where Cele was or when he would be back, which drove him mad. Luca would spend most of the day in Vale's chambers.

All of Vale's advisors bringing him information that could point to the mysterious enemy. The prevailing belief was of course, an older enemy, a Catalan family. Luca carefully watching the lines on Vale's face deepen as he was confronted with more fringe proof of the Marquez family's preparation for eventual war. Inconsequential things such as an uptick in winter clothing manufacturing or change in ration of grains in their storehouses being twisted into insubstantial claims of a grave transgression against Pecco's life. The rest of the day Luca would devote to his work at the ministry of finance. At night however, he could only be found at one place. Inside Pecco's chambers. Vale had unsuccessfully tried to send Luca away with Cele. Luca didn't say a word but the grave look on his face had been enough of an answer for vale. If amongst the chaos of the day there was a single moment of peace Luca would make his way to Pecco. Whatever little sleep he managed would be had sitting next to Pecco's bed, holding his pale hand. The healers had done what they could, draining some blood, trying to use the antidotes and herbs they knew of. The efforts were what was keeping Pecco alive, although in a vegetative state.

Luca helps the healers in taking care of Pecco. One of these days, gently wiping him and changing him, Luca notices a blue bruise on Pecco's throat. He also notices the moles and marks and scars. Trying to commit all these to memory and at once feeling nauseous that Pecco is already becoming a distant memory to him.

The next day, as he's sitting next to Vale listening to some advisor drone for the umpteenth time on the best probable date to go to war Luca decides he's had enough. He tells only Vale that he will try to look for an antidote because that's the only viable solution he can see to his own grief, to hell with the war and to hell with his duties. Vale doesn't stop him, he embraces him and tells him plainly that he scared for him and to understand what he feels like as his older brother. Luca promises to come back at any cost and leaves in the night.

He's finally able to think clearly away from all that din and decides to travel to every renowned healer to find the name of the poison. Luca is battered and tired after some days of nearly non stop traveling, trying to figure out the name of this elusive drug when he decides to stop near a river. He notices and small group of traveling men. Luca watches as they take a dip in the cool clear water. He almost misses the fact that two of the travelers bear the same blue-ish bruise as Pecco on their throats but he quickly snaps himself into action. Gently blending into the men, hedging his bets carefully, asking them questions as a fellow traveller. Carefully enquiring after the strange bruise. One of the older travelers tell Pecco that they collectively take a special drug brewed from the mucin of a particular snail found for a very brief time in a village a little way from here. That the drug was potent and could be fatal if an overdose were to happen. And that the bruises on the throats were the result of near brushes with death using the drug. Luca immediately goes looking for the village and the antidote. On the way the only thing he can think of is how it's a rather clever way to kill someone with an drug that people take for recreation.

None of the healers could recognise Pecco hadn't exactly consumed a poison and hence didn't respond to a standard antidote. He thinks of the fact that this has to be done by someone who was intimately aware of the region, someone who knew to time the coronation with the brewing of the drug to cause maximum chaos in the kingdom. How disturbing the public morale was a part of the plan. Luca knows exactly who's collecting the taxes in the region thanks to him spending time at the ministry. Knows who's likely responsible for this and that it is the same person currently telling Vale to double down on war efforts.

Anyway, Luca is able to secure the antidote. Makes his way back to the castle and immediately goes to Vale's chambers to find him talking to the last person Luca wants to see. It makes Luca's blood boil to see uccio planning out some proxy war where the entire aim is to destroy Vale and take charge himself but he has to be cautious that Uccio doesn't read his face. Luca solemnly embraces Vale and lies in front of both of them that he's failed in his efforts and that it likely means they will have to bury Pecco. Luca forces himself to cry in front of Vale that he can't just do it and can they make one final visit to Rome and pray and hope for a miracle and while pretend crying Luca is really just having a cathartic little cry because God it feels terrible to have someone you love be taken from you and he isn't even fully sure the antidote will work.

Of course Uccio immediately is like, we will make that visit and let's leave tomorrow so that we can be back soon. Luca hands the antidote to Bezz and tells him to have it administered right after they leave and make sure Pecco's recovery is kept a secret.

While on the trip to Rome Luca has the real challenge of actually convincing Vale that something is gravely wrong and he can't trust his advisor anymore and that he has to plan accordingly and not make war arrangements but go after Uccio's supporters that are fully trying to usurp Vale by forcing this war from which no victor can really emerge.

To be continued in some way I suppose but that's all I have rn :(

Send asks and thoughts

[muxas-world]

Pecco/luca being so style coded 🩷❤️ (edits on my draft)

[mabioquarquez]

this picture just told you to go read the red of your fire, leave me with no doubt and violet chemistry

[thewriters-world]

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3:

Marco has never liked Marc Marquez. The man who haunts Valentino, whose spirit lingers in the nooks and crannies of the ranch. Truth be told, Marco hadn't felt any sort of way about the older Spaniard, not until he was fifteen years old, and suddenly he had to be Bez. Marco maintains that Marc stole his name. To a more delusional degree, Marco maintains that Marc stole his hero. Either way, Marco Bezzecchi does not like Marc Marquez.

It doesn't feel wrong, Valentino can't even say his name, and Franky speaks of him as if he's the devil incarnate, talking about how he ruined the sport. Of course, it's only when he's older does Marco realise that all the words Franky uses to describe Marc are Valentino's. The implications of that revelation sends Marco spiraling so he resists the urge to ask Franky,'Do you even know Marc?' He knows it will make him a hypocrite because he uses the same words to describe Marc. Pecco is too mild mannered to outwardly show his resentment towards Marc, but Marco knows he feels as though he's always running to match him, just to show Valentino. Luca is the only one who speaks about Marc, like as though he created the moon and the stars. He never has a bad thing to say, and Marco always felt as though Luca was too soft, but for the first time, Marco finds himself wondering if it was Valentino who did something unforgivable and not Marc.

Marco allows these ideas to fester in his brain, never actually taking a moment to pull them apart. Not until a random Friday afternoon. Valentino is in the paddock, strutting around as though he owns the place (he does). He stops in front of him, pressing a kiss onto his cheek as a greeting. He starts talking, but Marco can't hear a single word. Something is strange about the way he smiles through him. There's a smirk on his lips that makes Marco feel as though he's the pawn in a game he doesn't quite understand. The kiss, the way his hand palms his cheek it's normal, Valentino does it to everyone, and all the academy riders agree it's very paternal, Marco secretly thinks it's more maternal but he never says it out loud. But today, when Valentino does it, Marco feels his stomach bottom out. It feels dirty, and Marco wants to slap his hand away. He wants to question the older man for putting up boundaries between them, only to desecrate those very boundaries. But then it's over in a few seconds, Valentino is long gone, and when Marco turns around to see Marc looking as stricken as he feels he immediately knows. His stomach sinks oh he thinks as his ears ring, and now Marco knows exactly why it was weird. He knows how Valentino thinks. He knows that Valentino only did it to mess with Marc, and if he ever told him that it made him uncomfortable, he would apologise and try to make it better. But Marco is not about to open the can of worms that is the relationship between Marc and Valentino. For the first time, Marco thinks about all the ideas in his head.

Marco doesn't know if he should tell Valentino that he thinks he's ruined something in Marc. He had only wanted to confirm his suspicion, but then suddenly had frozen with an unhealthy pallor to his face. He had called Marc's name twice, and he still remained in a dissociative state. Only a poke to his thigh had dragged him out of his head space, and then Marco fumbled through a half-assed attempt to comfort the confused spaniard before slinking away.

All in all, Marco feels as though he's in deeper shit than he ever expected to be, and a part of him regrets turning back to look at Marc.

[hotmessmaxpress]

your onlyfans au is like. insanely hot

Thank you! And thank you to everyone who has sent me asks about this au! 😭 some of them I’m saving for later but I promise I read them all!

Have some Plot.

OnlyFans au, part 4/?

The problem with Vale and his ‘relationship’ with Marc is that when Vale’s dick is hard, there’s no more blood left for his brain to function. It’s a Pavlovian response, at this point; he sees Marc and his brain shuts off like a light switch has been flipped. No thoughts, only dick.

He and Marc send messages back and forth all the time now. Vale tips him handsomely, but Marc has begin asking for other things in return, aside from money.

Send me a picture of yourself.

The message sends a jolt of fear through Vale. He can’t very well send a selfie of his face to a motorbike-obsessed pornstar.

He can’t send nothing, though. He wants to please Marc in the same way he pleases Vale.

Instead, Vale pulls his boxers down just enough to snap a picture of his cock, hard and weighty in his hand. He’s in a hotel room, so there’s nothing easily identifying him. He sends it and waits, lazily fisting his cock.

Fuck. Marc responds.

Marc follows that with a video of himself, standing and facing a mirror in his bathroom. Little notes in Spanish are stuck to the edges, but Vale is too hard to try and read them. Instead he watches as Marc jerks his cock, whining and desperate.

Marc is hairless, waxed from head to toe, and Vale wants desperately to lick his chest. He wants to suck his balls into his mouth and make Marc cry.

“Valentino,” Marc murmurs, as he so often does in the videos he makes especially for Vale. “Fuck, your cock is perfect. I want it inside me.”

Vale’s cock twitches in his hand as he starts to jerk it in earnest. He thinks about slipping his cock into Marc’s perfect hairless asshole. He’s sure Marc would let him in easily; he’s seen him take big, thick dildos.

He wants to pound Marc into the bathroom counter.

“Please, Valentino. Please fuck me,” Marc begs.

Marc pumps his cock faster, and Vale follows his lead. Watching Marc come is Vale’s favorite thing. He refuses to come until Marc does.

Marc comes with a whine, jerking his hips and painting the mirror in cum.

He grins, when his cock is spent, and reaches toward the mirror. He swipes his fingers in the cum, brings it to his mouth, and ends the video.

Vale comes so hard he can barely breathe. Every time Marc sends him a video he’s surprised by just how perfect he is; just how sexy and wonderful he can be.

Vale pulls his boxers all the way off, snaps a picture, and sends it.

This is what you do to me.

It’s only after it’s sent, and the blood has finally returned to Vale’s brain, that he realizes the photo includes a small, ugly turtle tattoo.

[randommotogpstuff]

pretty sure that Pedro is the rosquez baby that Marc hid from Vale