#setetino

that is to say, i love your works sm, thank you! <3 <3 <3

my babygirl committing war crimes against Sete Gibernau, aw, I'm so glad you liked it to the point of empathizing with poor Sete 💕💕💕 thank you so much for reading and #staystrongsete to cope with how toxic Vale is in this fic 😂

pairing: Sete Gibernau/Valentino Rossi

word count: 5170

tag: smut, blowjobs, angst, 2009 MotoGP season, miserable and uncomfortable sex, rancid vibes, toxic Valentino, Sete Gibernau's masochistic tendencies, friends with benefits...except nobody is benefitting from this

summary: He would like to look at him. Really look at him for once, without suffering the consequences of his terrible yearning. He places his index finger under Valentino’s pointy chin, forces him to look up – to look back.

Oh, his eyes are so fucking blue. The sight reminds him of a younger version of Valentino, one that was softer, kinder. The drunken kid who harassed him endlessly when Sete was trying to fight off his hangover just because he wanted to fuck after a night spent sizzling on premium quality cocaine and god knows what else. A version of Valentino that doesn’t exist anymore, apparently, because this lanky, stick-thin grown man looks too wolfish, too knowing to be the same person, too self-aware and spiteful, all thorns and splinters.

“Let me look at you.”

Valentino’s laugh is razor-sharp, merciless.

“Why?”

pairing: Valentino Rossi/Sete Gibernau

word count: 4381

tag: bisexual icon Valentino Rossi, jealousy, smut, blowjobs, handjobs, the looming spectre of daddy Mick Doohan, dark inner monologue, nympho archetype baby Vale, free use baby Vale

summary: Placidly, Valentino shifts, his very short shorts riding up his thigh, past the tanline where golden skin fades into ivory and ropey muscle becomes yielding, supple flesh. Sete notices it right away, the unmistakable bruise in the shape of a thumb, a telltale sign that someone has wrenched his thighs apart, left his livid mark there like a memento. Suddenly, the air in the tiny motorhome is too stifling, too hot, devoid of all oxygen. Valentino grins and the bruise disappears when he tugs at the hem of his own shorts, to pretend he wasn’t literally rubbing it into Sete’s face, smug, far too confident – Sete wonders if he, too, was this sure to be above any consequence whatsoever, back when he was Valentino’s age. Probably not. Probably it’s just that Valentino has grown up wild and carefree, and that’s why he acts like an irresponsible prick most of the time.