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toadbreath · 3 months

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the sun after the storm;

john mactavish is alive. simon visits him in the hospital, but something is wrong. johnny doesn't remember.

☀︎ w.c: 3,9k

☀︎ pairing: ghost x soap // simon riley x john mactavish

☀︎ rating: pg

☀︎ archive of our own: link here

☀︎ genre: angst, fluff, pining

☀︎ warnings: modern warfare 3 spoilers. writing soap's lines in a scottish accent lmao

☀︎ author's note: i haven't written a fic in ten years please be gentle and kind

What do you mean, they found him?

Simon hated hospitals. The sterile nothingness, the god-awful swishing sound scrubs made when nurses walked by, the machines beeping, the artificial plants that are there to provide a facade of comfort; the illusion of life in a building where it is so often taken.

Third floor. Room 503.

None of that matters. Not when the man he loves is alive — the man he thought was dead for six months. The man whose ashes he gifted to the wind on that cliff as the sun set behind the ocean. None of this makes sense. Simon strides through the hospital lobby, b-lining towards the elevators.

Third floor. Room 503.

Simon’s skull balaclava is earning him some strange looks from various medical staff, but he has tunnel vision and doesn’t take notice, brown eyes locked on the glowing button that has a faded three printed on it. How many times has that button been pressed with the same urgency Simon feels in his gut? The elevator doors open to the third floor and he’s at the reception desk in four strides. “Room 503?” he asks gruffly.

The nurse, an older woman, furrows her eyebrows. “…Sir, visiting hours ended 5 hours ago. You can come back tomorro-“ Simon’s eyes glazed over with fury at the thought of having to spend another minute in this miserable place. He didn't have time to wait for tomorrow. Not when the man he thought he had lost forever was just down the hall. He stared at the nurse, his silence the only indication of the rage boiling up within him. His words cut through the air like a knife. “I’m not here as a visitor.”

The nurse is caught off guard by Simon’s reply. He was an intimidating man, even in civilian attire, the mask he had kept on just out of habit. She clears her throat and looks down at her clipboard to avoid Simon’s icy glare. “If you are not a visitor then what is your business here? Do you have identification on you?” She asks, flipping through papers until she finds the file for the patient in room 503.

Simon had no patience for these stupid questions. He had waited months to find out that the man he had thought was dead was alive and he wasn't going to be held up over some petty bureaucracy. “Identification?” he scoffed, the venom in his voice evident. “I don't need identification. I'm here to see John MacTavish.”

The nurse lets out a frustrated breath. “What is your relationship to the patient?”

What is his relationship with the patient? He worked alongside MacTavish. He joked around with Soap. His chest feels warm and strange whenever he saw Johnny. Technically, they’re nothing more than colleagues, friends. There’s always been something else, though — something just below the surface that neither of them had been brave enough to act upon. Simon paused at the question and the nurse could see the uncertainty in his eyes. What was he to Soap? More than friends, less than lovers. A feeling he had never been able to name or put into words.

"We have a close relationship." he replies quietly. The fact that they had never explicitly defined their relationship made the situation even more awkward. What was he meant to say? That they loved each other deeply, but not in a manner that anyone outside the two of them had ever known? It sounded pathetic. It sounded desperate. It was true.

The nurse raised an eyebrow. "Sir, I need more information than that. I have to know who you are and how you know the patient before you can go into his room."

"I'm..." Simon started, his voice trailing off. He had known MacTavish for a few years now. He had gone to bars with him and watched him get smashed beyond belief on that god-awful scotch. He had found comfort in that Scottish accent he had grown so fond of over comms. He had spent sleepless nights staring up at the ceiling, replaying the night Johnny got shot over and over again. Everything he had done, and everything he could have done differently. Price’s words repeated in his head like a broken record: All stations, this is Bravo in the blind. Threat neutralized. Bomb is safe.

One KIA.

The idiot had to go up behind Makarov and be a hero. What was that saying? Never bring a knife to a gun fight? If there was anyone that would bring a knife to a gunfight, it was Johnny. He was too stubborn, too proud. Always wanting to be the one to finish the job. That stubbornness, that pride, had gotten him killed. And Simon had to watch him die. Had to hold that cold urn of ashes and pour them out over that cliff and hold himself together long enough to not break down in front of the captain. He had spent six long months seeing Johnny in every sunset. He had spent five months avoiding sunsets altogether.

"...I'm his partner."

That wasn't the answer the nurse was looking for, but it was the only answer that Simon could give her. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, the blood rushing in his ears. “Right,” the nurse conceded after a moment of consideration. “When you go down the hall, it’s the third door on the left.”

Simon nodded and took off down the hall without another word. He could hear the nurse mumbling something about the strange visitors in his wake, but didn't pay her any mind.

He came to a stop in front of the door to 503. It looked just like the rest of the doors in the hallway. White. Sterile. Unassuming. Simon had been waiting for this moment for half a year. Now that it was finally here, he couldn't bring himself to go in. What if he had heard wrong? What if someone had made a mistake and it wasn't MacTavish in the room? What if he got his hopes up for nothing? John MacTavish wasn’t exactly a unique name, after all. What if-

A doctor came out of the room, a clipboard in his hand. He was tall and slender, the kind of man who had a face you would never remember. He looked up, a bit startled from Simon’s unexpected presence but polite nonetheless.

"May I help you?"

Simon swallowed his nerves. "I'm here to see John MacTavish." The doctor's expression turned somber. "He's alive," Simon said, the words coming out as more of a statement than a question. “Yes, he’s alive…” The doctor says slowly, closing the door to John’s room behind him with a soft click and studying Simon’s eyes with his own. “Have you been informed of his condition?”

Condition. The word makes Simon uneasy. "His condition? What happened to him? Is he okay?" He couldn't stop the words from tumbling out. Simon was usually more collected than this, but the news of Johnny's survival was throwing him off.

“John suffered a gunshot wound to his right temple. We were able to extract the bullet and its fragments, however…” The doctor paused, choosing his words carefully. He had given this speech many times before, but that never made it easier. “The trauma resulted in retrograde amnesia. We don’t yet know if it’s permanent. If you go in that room… it’s very likely he will not remember you.”

Retrograde amnesia. The words crack his chest open and squeeze his heart like twine. It didn't matter how hard he had trained, or how much experience he had. There was nothing Simon could do about this. No target he could eliminate. This wasn’t something Simon could fix, and that infuriated him.

"Is there anything you can do? Anything I can do?"

The doctor shakes his head. "We've tried everything. There is no telling what will happen. He is stable, and his memory might come back in time. It might not. The only thing we can do is wait, let him heal.” "But I don't understand, I... I watched him get shot, fall to the floor. I watched him die. I held him. How is he alive?" Simon's voice cracks, the memories flooding back like a tidal wave. Johnny, lying on the floor, eyes glazed over. Johnny, slumped lifelessly over his shoulder. Johnny, the ashes of his corpse blown away into the sea. "You must be mistaken. The man I buried is dead. MacTavish is dead. I held his ashes."

The doctor shook his head again. "He was pronounced dead on the scene. He was rushed to a medical facility and they were able to stabilize him enough to fly him here. There was a mix-up with the body tags, and the body you received was someone else's. The hospital called and told us who the urn belonged to. That's how we were able to contact you and inform you of the situation." The doctor pauses. "We have no record of this other person, no information about their family or who they were. The best we can guess is that the hospital was trying to save face, and they handed you the ashes of the first dead body they could find." Simon's heart sinks. How long had he spent grieving, mourning a man who was still breathing? The guilt weighed heavy on his shoulders. He felt sick. "I want to see him."

"I'm not sure if that's such a good idea-" the doctor starts, but Simon cuts him off. His hands clench into fists. The thought of Johnny waking up, alone and confused in a hospital bed is enough to make him want to rip the door off the hinges and break whatever machines had the nerve to beep so obnoxiously. “Move,” Simon blurts out, pushing his way past the doctor and opening the door to Johnny’s room, stepping inside.

The air is stolen from Simon’s lungs as soon as his eyes landed on Johnny's prone form in the hospital bed. His head was wrapped in bandages, a white gauze patch over the wound on his temple. He was asleep, his chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm that indicated peaceful slumber.

He’s alive. He’s alive. He’s alive.

All those months, and he was here. In a hospital. Alive. Simon felt weak.

"Johnny?" Simon whispered, stepping forward hesitantly. MacTavish stirred, the sound of the other man’s voice unfamiliar and foreign, but soothing, nonetheless. It was comforting, like a warm cup of coffee or the smell of a burning candle. It felt like home. His eyes fluttered open, revealing a deep blue iris that scanned the room, the bright fluorescent lights temporarily blinding him. He groans softly, slowly propping himself up into a sitting position on the bed. His paper-thin hospital gown rustles, the fabric scratchy and stiff. Johnny notices the masked man standing awkwardly by his bedside. His eyes scan him slowly, taking in his dark eyes and the black fabric of his balaclava. “They send security in ‘ere?” he mutters, squinting, his voice hoarse from disuse.

"Do you..." Simon began, his voice trailing off as he pulled off his mask, running a hand through his shaggy, blond hair.

Johnny's eyes widened. He had never seen this man before, but the sight of him made his heart swell. The blond man had a heavy British accent, and scars of all shapes and sizes littered his pale face. He had brown eyes that shone like honey in the sun, his jaw strong and set with an expression of relief. The blond man's face was the most beautiful thing Johnny had ever seen, and he swallows nervously.

"Do you recognize me?" Simon whispered, placing his hand on the rail of the bed. He could feel the tears threatening to spill over, and his vision was starting to blur. He was going to cry, and he hated himself for it.

Johnny shook his head. "Sorry, lad. Cannae say I do,” I would remember a face like that, he thinks. “Yer a familiar stranger, though."

"Familiar..." Simon echoed, his voice breaking. He could feel the knot in his throat. This wasn't fair. He was alive, and that was what mattered, but Johnny had no idea who he was. MacTavish was about to ask the stranger his name when the man suddenly burst into tears, sobbing softly.

“Oh, I…” Johnny says softly, reaching a hand out to comfort the stranger, squeezing the man’s bicep gently. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. What’s yer name?” he asks gently.

Simon's chest is on fire, and he's gasping for air. This was all wrong. All wrong. This wasn't the first time Johnny had died. The last time, it was a bullet in the head. This time, Johnny was here, alive, but Simon lost him all the same.

"Simon," he croaks. Johnny repeats the name back, his hand still gripping the other man's arm. He can feel the tears streaming down his cheeks, hot and thick, and he realizes he's crying, too, but he doesn’t know why.

“Simon…” he repeats, the name on his tongue felt like velvet, a word he could never tire of saying. Simon sniffles. Johnny looks at him expectantly, a single tear rolling down his cheek, and Simon can feel the weight of the silence pressing against his shoulders, suffocating him. “Simon. Why are ye cryin’?” he asks softly. “And why am I cryin’?” he chuckles a little, trying to lighten the mood. "Because we're both idiots," Simon laughs bitterly.

"I'm sorry, Johnny." he says, his voice hushed and solemn. “Sorry?” Johnny says, his eyebrows knitting together as he studies Simon’s face. He sits up a bit straighter. “What are ye sorry for?”

"I'm sorry because I..."

Simon's voice trails off. He can't look Johnny in the eyes. It's like staring into the sun. Johnny leans forward, his hand sliding down Simon’s bicep to his forearm, the cool feeling of leather under his palm as he goes. The blond man flinches, and the Scotsman feels a sharp stab in his gut.

"Yer wearing my tags," he murmurs.

"What?" Simon looks down at his chest, where Johnny’s silver dog tags hang unceremoniously on top of his black hoodie. They had become a sort of talisman for him, and he had worn them every day since Johnny's death, never taking them off once.

"Right." he breathes, his fingers brushing against the metal, a nervous habit — he often found himself clutching the only thing he had left of his best friend.

"I must mean somethin' tae ye," Johnny says quietly, his Scottish brogue rolling off his tongue.

"You mean everything to me," Simon whispers, his voice cracking.

Johnny feels like his breath has been stolen. The weight of those words hit him harder than he expects, and his head spins. He looks at Simon, his eyes filled with curiosity, the tears on his cheeks drying. "Tell me about myself. B’fore, I mean. What was I like?" he asks, and it's more a request than a demand. His eyes linger on his dog tags around Simon’s neck; Simon’s own are tucked underneath his shirt.

Simon can feel the lump in his throat returning. "Well," he says, swallowing hard. "You were — are —stubborn, and brave. Always getting yourself into trouble. You never asked for help, and you had a horrible habit of drinking alone. You always tried to finish the job, and never trusted anyone but yourself. Loyal to a fault, one hell of a friend. You're also an insufferable idiot who has no regard for his own safety. A total dumbass. A bloody moron, really. And you know what else? I loved you, you Scottish bastard. I loved you, and I thought you were dead. Do you know how long it's been? Six months, Johnny. Six months, and now you're here, and you don't even remember me, and I can't even be mad. I’m not allowed to be mad because you're alive, you’re alive, and it's all that matters, but I lost you all the same, and it fucking hurts, you son of a bitch."

The words came out faster than Simon could stop them, and now he was gasping, tears pouring down his face, his cheeks burning, the air leaving his lungs and being replaced with something cold and empty. He hadn’t realized how angry he was, how angry he had been all these months. The anger he had buried deep, and let fester inside him.

Johnny just stared at him, his eyes wide. “Love?” he whispers incredulously.

"Oh, shit," Simon mutters. His face burns red, and he wants to turn and run away, pretend he had never been here, never said any of those things, but he's frozen, and Johnny is looking at him with those stupid gorgeous blue eyes and it's all Simon can do to hold himself together.

"We weren’t just friends, were we?” Johnny whispers, his hand tightening ever so slightly on Simon’s forearm. Simon is silent. The answer is obvious.

Johnny nods. "And... we never got tae say it, did we?"

"No," Simon replies, his voice a strained whisper.

"That's why yer here."

"That's why I'm here," Simon echoes, his voice a whisper. Johnny swallows, his mouth dry. "When did ye know?” he asks softly, his eyes locked on Simon's.

"That I loved you?"

"Aye."

Simon is quiet. He doesn’t remember a time when he hadn’t loved Johnny. It had always been there, a feeling just below the surface, a constant presence. He had never given it a name, but it was a feeling that he couldn’t deny, even if he wanted to. He remembers the day he had realized how he felt, the moment when his feelings had finally made sense.

It was late summer, and they had just finished a mission. Price had gone off somewhere, and it was just him and Johnny sitting together in a shitty motel room. They were exhausted and sore, their bodies aching, and Johnny was nursing a few scrapes and bruises from when he had taken a nasty spill off a building. Simon had a concussion, and his eyes were bleary. Johnny had gotten up to grab the first aid kit and started to clean up Simon's wounds, a task that required a lot of careful concentration, which he did with a furrowed brow and his nose scrunched up. Johnny's fingers were gentle as he dabbed at the blood, his touch warm and reassuring. That was the first time Simon had felt comfort in years. That was the first time Simon had felt safe.

"Since forever."

Johnny takes a shaky breath. "Do ye still?"

"Are you kidding me? I never stopped."

"And if I can't remember? If I never remember? Will ye love me then?”

"Always," Simon replies without hesitation.

Johnny feels his heart swell at the reply. He smiles, his cheeks flushed pink, and the corners of his eyes crinkle. "Then I think I could learn tae love ye again," he murmurs, his eyes searching Simon's face.

"Again?" Simon echoes.

"Again," Johnny replies.

Simon laughs. It's a hollow, bitter laugh, but it's a laugh nonetheless.

“I cannae explain it,” Johnny whispers. “I have no memory of ye. But when I woke up and saw ye in this room — I felt *warm*. It’s like my nervous system recognized ye. And I…” He sighs and pulls out a small sketchbook from his bedside table, flipping through the pages. There’s lots of little doodles, like the view from his hospital room window, stray cats, food he’s eaten, nurses, the sunset, but there's also a few sketches of a handsome blond man, and a page entirely dedicated to the curve of his jaw, the scars on his face, and the shape of his lips. "I think I drew ye, or wanted tae.” he murmurs. “It’s kinda cool, drawin’ a stranger and havin’ him show up tae my room the next day. Ye think I should draw a million dollars next?”

Simon is stunned, and an amused sound escapes his lips. Johnny had drawn him. He had drawn him, and he hadn't even known his name. "I didn't know you could draw," Simon says quietly, his cheeks burning. "I dinnae either,” Johnny chuckles. “But I had tae pass the time somehow.” He smiles. "I guess we had somethin' important. If I was able tae draw a handsome face like that when I cannae remember my own birthday." Johnny closes the sketchbook and places it on the bed.

“I’m sorry I don’t remember,” he says softly. “It doesn’t mean what we have is gone. It just means I get to fall in love with ye all over again.” Simon blinks, unsure of how to respond. He had never considered the fact that Johnny might have fallen for him too. He had never even entertained the idea that his feelings could have been reciprocated. Simon had spent so much time pining after the other man, trying to suppress his feelings, that he had never stopped to consider that Johnny might have been struggling with the same inner conflict.

"We fell in love twice," Johnny says softly, his cheeks flushing pink.

"Fell in love twice," Simon repeats. "What a pair we make, huh?" he chuckles, his voice thick with emotion.

"Aye," Johnny says softly, smiling. "Ye think we could fall in love a third time?"

"Maybe," Simon says, a faint smile on his lips. "Try not to get shot again, though, yeah? Really pissed me off the last time.” Johnny chuckles and grins. "I'll do my best, sunshine."

"Sunshine?"

"Aye. That's what ye remind me of. Ye make me feel warm."

"I'm not much of a sunshine."

"Maybe yer right,” Johnny sniffs, studying Simon carefully. “Yer a…” Simon raises an eyebrow. "I think yer more like a storm."

"A storm."

"Aye, a storm. All rain and thunder and lightning. Yer beautiful, but ye have a temper."

"You've only known me for thirty minutes," Simon says, laughing.

"And I know that ye've been cryin’," Johnny replies, reaching up to gently wipe a tear from Simon's cheek. "But storms clear the skies, and bring the sun after. Ye've been cryin' and yer still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Maybe that's a sign."

"A sign?"

"Aye. That maybe I was meant tae find ye again. Maybe that's what I'm meant tae be. The one who reminds ye to come out and play when it's stormin’."

Simon stares at Johnny, his cheeks burning red. "Johnny..." he whispers.

"That's my name, lad," he murmurs, smiling softly. “Don’t wear it ou-“

Simon leans forward and presses his lips to Johnny's. It's a tentative kiss, a gentle meeting of lips. The world seems to stop. Simon can feel the tension leaving his body, the knot in his throat loosening. It's like he's finally breathing for the first time and he can’t get enough. His hands move to cup Johnny's face and his heart feels full and heavy in his chest.

Johnny kisses back, his lips moving slowly and softly against Simon's. He can taste the salt from Simon's tears and the faintest hint of something else — mint and coffee and a scent that is distinctly Simon. It's familiar, even if he can't place it, and Johnny finds himself clinging to it.

The two of them pull apart slowly, and Johnny is grinning.

"That was some kiss," he says, his cheeks flushed pink. "I could get used tae it."

"You should," Simon whispers, smiling.

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mediapen · 1 year

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drivers parade, brazil 2022

#carlos sainz jr #cs55 #pierre gasly #pg10 #f1 #cs #pg #shaka baby fuck it #m

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panopticum · 6 months

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please enjoy this gif of peter gabriel deepthroating a mic in the year of our lord nineteen-eighty-one

#peter gabriel #petergabriel #why is he always so sweaty #this was on the south bank show explaining the making of security #to make that howling sound at the beginning of i have the touch #peter why!#pg #80s music #good NIGHT

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unluckyhoneybee · 2 years

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Little thing (Pierre Gasly)

In which you had a baby girl with Pierre but tried to keep things low. Fluff.

Note: I read this and felt the urge to have some Dad!Pierre. Mentions of Antoine. I cried a bit writing this, not gonna lie.

The beginning was difficult. We were merely kids. It was late 2019 when our little girl came to the world. When I got the positive test in February, I was one month pregnant. And it could have only been him.

It happened during Christmas. After a dinner with bithh of our families, Pierre and I had gone to a party with friends. It didn't end up as I thought. I had waken up tangled on his arms.

The call was hard to do. I couldn't find the right words. We were just friends after all.

But then the first talk about the baby came and he swore I would never have to worry about their wellness. They would have the best life. He swore I would do it too. Then he took my hand and looked into my eyes. And I knew it would be okay.

The pregnancy went well, it wasn't too difficult and the baby was healthy. We were two bet friends you would have a baby together. It could work. We would make it.

But then the accident happened and Pierre lost his best friend. He spent the night curled into me with his hand on my belly. It broke my heart in million pieces. But life went on and in October she came to the world.

The day was rainy and Pierre was in Italy. His mother had to call him to tell him I had gone in labor. He arrived only minutes before she was born. On time to cut the cord and kiss my forehead.

Once in the room, when we were both alone and she was sleeping, he sat next to me.

"We need to give her a name" He muttered looking at her. She was on my chest.

"Antoinette." I said with a smile. He looked at me and tears start falling from his eyes.

"Yes?"

"Of course, Pierre. He would have loved her, he was so happy. I want to honor him with this precious gift"

Antoniette was the biggest dad girl. Pierre was completely in love with her. She was the sweetest girl and had his dad's eyes but my smile and hair.

"Anthy" He had given her the nickname on her first Christmas. She was only two months old but was obsessed with papa.

The girl looked up and smiled.

"Papa!"

Pierre sighed. He had to go. He had a race.

"Come here, little thing"

Anthy got up and ran to her dad, jumping on his arms and hugged him. He laughed a bit and kissed her cheek.

"Papa has to go, cherie."

"Race!"

"Yeah, I have to race."

She pouted a bit and I walked closer to them.

"We will watch papa racing, right? Like we always do" I touched her hair and she nodded.

Pierre looked at me. He missed her a lot. He would call every day to only see her little face. Video calls at midnight in the country he was in only because it was her time to wake up.

The world knew about Antoinette Gasly. He never wanted to hide her. They didn't knew about me. Only because he was scared of the world's reaction to the nature of our relationship. We were friends at the end. Even if it was the most difficult thing.

Pierre would come home and spend the biggest time possible with our daughter. He had a room in my house, a single bed, a wardrobe and a few pictures in the walls. His favorite was the one him, Antoine and I took on April when my belly had just started showing.

It's was hard to have him around. It was since the begging when he would talk to my belly and be the cutest guy around me. Then Antoinette came to the world and we got that bond for life. He was my best friend now, my daughter's father and the man of my dreams.

Both of us had been in relationships but always ended up coming back to the other's arms. It was something usual. Me crying on his shoulder or him laying his head on my lap after a break up.

"I don't want you to go" Anthy was an energetic girl, she had started walking super soon and mumbling little words when she was way too young. Pierre said she lived fast like him.

"I now, cherie" He touched her little cheek with his fingers. "I will call you when I arrive and every night. Before you can notice, it will be Monday again and I'll be back"

She was looking at him with watery eyes.

"You will stay here with maman and have a lot of fun watching me race"

Anthy hugged him. It was always like this. She missed him enormously. She was her dad's girl.

I bit my lip as tears formed in my eyes. It broke my heart to see them like this. I crunched next to them. By experience I knew that I would have to take her from him. I caressed Pierre's back slowly and he looked at me. A tear had fallen down his cheek and I cleaned it.

"You now what, Anthy? I will bring you a little gift. Would you like that?"

She lifted her head and looked at him. A little nod and a smile was enough.

"And then on Friday maman and I will pick you from school and go to somewhere"

"Where?"

"A beautiful place. The most beautiful place."

The next Friday, Pierre made his promise true. We spent the whole weekend in a village in the north of Italy. Like a family.

Laying on the hotel room the last night with Anthy between us, he turned to look at me.

"What?" I smiled.

"I have been thinking..."

"Really?"

He rolled his eyes.

"Shup up and let me speak."

I closed my mouth and smiled.

"I want Anthy to come with me to the next GP"

I felt a shiver.

"Really?"

"Yes. I think she is old enough. We can give her some ear protection and all of that."

"Are you sure of it?" Even when he wasn't scared of showing our daughter to his fans and posting bunches of photo dumps with her, he hadn't wanted to take her to the paddock. The media was there, there were a lot of people and she would be exposed for real. She wouldn't have dad's filter of what is posted and what is not.

"I am. I have thought about it for a while. I want her to know my world. What do you think?"

I looked at Antoinette, peacefully sleeping with her hand on my chest. I knew that she would be okay, that Pierre wouldn't let anything happen to her. But letting my little girl go to another country, to a F1 Grand Prix, where there were thousands of people made me anxious.

"J-just... Promise me she won't spend a second alone. O-or that she will always have someone she knows around. You know how she is with new people and..."

"Wow, hey stop. You are coming too. If you want to, of course."

"What?" I gasped.

"Yeah. How could I take Antoinette but not you? My two favourite girls. I want you there. It has been ages sin you came with me"

I bit my lip. His favourite girls. Pierre always cherished me. He adored me. He could build an altar if you let me, but only because I was the mother of his daughter.

"What do you say? I want you both there. You don't have to be in public. You can stay whenever you want. You know how it works."

I nodded slowly.

"Okay"

"Yeah?"

"Yes, we will go with you"

That's how we ended in Belgium, as rainy and cold as always. Anthy wanted the sun, so she was a bit grumpy that morning. She had thrown a tantrum because her papa wasn't there when she woke up. She didn't shed a single tear, but decided that it was a good idea to demolish the sofa. Luckily, she was to small to cause some actual damage.

I was carrying her on my hip as Pyry kept the huge Alpha Tauri umbrella over us. The kid wanted to say hi to uncle Pyry, but she was faking her best anger face. I could see Pyry making silly faces on the corner of my eye, and soon Anthy was laughing and covering her mouth.

"You have to behave or your dad won't let you see the car. A bird told me"

Anthy looked at me and furrowed her eyebrows.

"It's true, only good girls get to see the cars" I told her.

"I'm good"

"Really?"

"Yes!"

"And what about this morning?"

She gave me her best puppy eyes.

"No tell Papa"

"Don't tell Papa. That's how you say it. I won't if you promise to behave during the weekend"

"I promise."

When we arrived at the garage, everyone was fussing around Antoinette. Baby Gasly was the cutest thing in the world and everyone agreed with that. She was grabbing your hand and smiling. She loved the attention. And suddenly...

"Papa!!!" She let your hand go and ran to Pierre.

It got Pierre a bit by surprise. He was talking to an engineer and turned around with a huge smile, catching his girl in his arms and hugging her.

"Mon cherie!" He kissed her cheeks multiple times. "Oh look at you!"

She was wearing one of her Dad's merch t-shirts and looked the cutest. It warmed my heart to see how Pierre looked at our daughter. It was so perfect.

"You look so beautiful, little lady"

Anthy smiled and blushed, suddenly shy. She hid on Pierre's neck and he laughed. Pierre told something to the engineer and walked towards Pyry and me.

"Good morning, YN"

""Afternoon, actually" We both laughed and he leaned to kiss my cheek, leaving me speechless and shaking.

"I got everything set for the two of you. You will have access to my motorhome and driver's room. And Pyry can help you with whatever you need. There is food back there. The toilets are right over there and..."

"Papa! The car!" Anthy cut Pierre's rambling and the three of us laughed.

"She wants to see the car." I told him.

"And you were talking too much" Pyry patted Pierre's shoulder. "I'll be back there setting everything"

Pyry left us and Pierre looked at me and smiled. A smile I could not read. His blue eyes looked different today.

"Okay, okay. I'm nervous" He confessed. I didn't want to get too close because there were cameras and media people everywhere. But I discreetly touched his hand.

"We will be okay"

"Papa!" Anthy grabbed his face and made him turn his face. "The car!"

"Okay, okay, let's go and see the car."

I smiled when Anthy squeaked happily. She was a ray of sunshine.

This weekend was hard for Pierre. This place brought so many things to the surface and to see him so smiley with our daughter made me happy.

Pierre helped Anthy to get into the car and she grabbed the wheel instantly. "She is a natural. Are you gonna race like Papa when you are a bit older?" He asked touching her head.

I got my camera out and took as many pictures as I could. It was her first Grand Prix and I was sure Pierre would want to remember it and show her when she grew up.

"Yes! Race"

"Anty?!"

"Yuki!" Anthy loved Yuki. She was so smitten with the guy. It was incredible. He was super shy around her at first, it took him so long to even pick her up, but then... They were besties.

"Hello!"

Yuki leaned on the car too.

"Tell Yuki what are you gonna do when you are older"

"Race! Like Papa and Yuki and Charles."

Everyone in the garage laughed.

"Do we have a Tifosi here?" Someone asked.

"Leclerc has a charm" Pierre said.

"Papa goes fast, but Charles goes fast fast"

Everyone was laughing in the garage.

"We need you guys to fix the cars, we want to go fast fast" Yuki said.

"Yes! Work!!"

Anthy was having so much fun she didn't even cry when Pierre had to leave a couple of times. After lunch, she was playing with Pyry and a ball when Pierre touched my arm.

"I'm going to go and give some flowers to Antoine"

"Okay" I nodded understanding.

"Do you mind if Anthy comes with me?"

I took his hand, not minding the people around us. Pierre always said that the world took his friend from him but gave him his little princess to make his life easier.

"Of course, I don't mind"

"Thank you"

"It's okay"

He took my hands to his lips and kissed my knuckles.

Later in the afternoon, Pierre sat Anthy down on a couch and took his hands.

"Do you remember Antoine?"

She nodded. She was too young yet to understand why Antoine wasn't here or what happened with him, but Pierre always spoke about him.

"We are going to take some flowers to him."

"Flowers?"

"As a gift. Because he is in heaven."

She nodded and jumped down the sofa. Anthy took Pierre's hand.

"Let's go Papa. Maman!"

I looked at Pierre.

"Come with us" He whispered.

"You sure?"

He just nodded.

Walking down the track, I carried the umbrella and had Anthy's hand on mine. She had her own little umbrella. Pierre had a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

When we arrived at the place, I gave Pierre the spare umbrella I had and kept Anthy on my side for a bit. He needed space. Watching him like this reminded me of the day when everything happened. It was probably one of the worst days of my life.

When Pierre let his head hang down, I leaned over Anthy's ear. "Yo and give Papa the biggest bear hug, okay?"

With her little umbrella and her water boots, she ran in Pierre's way and hugged him. They almost fall into the puddle next to them. I cleaned my tears when Pierre nuzzled on Anthy's hair.

I observed for a while. They talked in french. It was their thing. They were confident. Probably she was curious, asking questions about Antoine and the flowers.

Pierre took a couple of flowers from the bouquet and gave them to Anthy. Then got up. I walked to them to have the umbrella while he put the flowers in place. Anthy watched with attention what her dad did.

"Now, come here Anthy. Give those flowers to Antoine"

She nodded and took her dad's hand, letting her flowers right next to Pierre's.

"Bye-bye Antoine, See you next year" She said and made grabby hands at Pierre. He picked her in his arms, keeping her close under his coat.

I covered my mouth to not sob and Pierre pressed his forehead against Anthy's temple.

"Je t'aime tellement, Anthy" I hear him whisper.

"Je t'aime too, Papa"

I little laugh escaped my lips hearing the girl's broken French.

"You say Je t'aime aussi"

Anthy repeated it and Pierre kissed her cheek.

"You are so precious, do you know that? You are the best thing I have."

She smiled.

Pierre looked at me and lift his arm, taking me by surprise and hugging me hard. I hugged his waist, keeping the umbrella over us and leaning to kiss his cheek.

"Hey, I love you so much, okay? Both of you."

I knew why he was saying it and I felt a shiver. I couldn't lose him.

"We love you too, right Antoinette?"

"So so much, Papa. And Maman too"

"Yeah, and Maman too."

I blushed. Probably Pierre didn't loved me in the same way, but having his daughter was one of the best things in my life and I was happy enough with it.

Before the race, Pierre called us. He had a bag in front of him.

"Do you want to see what I got for this race, Cherie?"

"Yes!"

She sat on my lap and watched how Pierre took the helmet out of its bag. I gasped. It was so beautiful.

"Who is that, baby?" Pierre pointed one of the pics and Anthy clasped.

"Anthy!"

"Look at you baby! On Papa's helmet!"

"And Maman too!" Anthy pointed another picture and I felt my heart beating faster. It was a picture of Pierre and me, probably one of the first with the bump. His hand was splayed over it and were both smiling.

"And Maman too." Pierre looked at me with a soft smile and if it wasn't for all the people around us, I would have kissed him.

"It's pretty" It was her favourite color too. "Do you like it Maman!?"

"A lot baby" I said touching her hair.

Pierre took my hand and kissed my knucles.

"I can have you with me during the race, on my helmet."

"Race!"

"Antoinette, give Papa a big bug hug and a good luck kiss" I said trying to swallow my tears.

Anthy jumped from my lap and hugged Pierre, who lifted he on his arms as gave her a thousand kisses.

"Good luck, Papa. Race fast." She grabbed his cheeks and looked into his eyes. "Fast, fast"

Anthy kissed Pierre's nose and I melted. Tears picked in my eyes. It was always scary to watch him race, now that we were here it was even worse.

"Super fast."

Anthy laughed and hugged his neck. "I love you so so much, Anthy. You know it right?"

She nodded.

"I'm so happy that you and Maman are here"

Pierre looked at me for a second and I tried to compose myself.

Anthy hugged him again and then Pierre looked at Pyry, who nodded.

"Anthy. Let's go and see if they built the car well"

She was so happy to go with uncle Pyry, leaving Pierre and I alone. I was confused.

Pierre reached for me and made me stand. His hands cupped my checks and I closed my eyes.

"Don't cry, Cherie"

I tried not to sob. He hugged me then, embracing me with his strong arms.

"Be careful, Pierre. Don't leave us alone, okay?"

Hu hugged me tighter.

"I won't. I will come back. I promise." He whispered.

I pulled back and looked into his eyes.

"We will be here waiting for you."

"If anything happens... Don't let her see it"

"Pierre..."

"No. I will come back. I promise I will do my best. But if anything... Y-you know how I feel about this. Just promise me she won't see it"

Tears were falling down my face. It was different here. We weren't in our sofa. We were in the garage.

"I promise."

"I will be back"

"Good luck, Pierre. Drive safe, okay?"

"Of course"

He kissed my cheek and hugged me again. Then he cleaned my cheeks.

Together we left the room. Anthy was inspecting the car with Pyry. She gave Pierre a last kiss and hug before he put the helmet on, and I grabbed his hand and kissed his knuckles.

"I love you, girls"

"We too" Anthy said happily.

The race was rainy. I spent the whole time tapping my foot on the floor. The anxiety was growing on my chest. Pierre was doing good, but other drivers had problems with the water. Anthy was watching the race, laughing and cheering for her dad when an Alpha Tauri appeared on the screen. Sometimes it was Yuki, but she was happy.

When Pierre crossed the finish line, all the wait in my shoulders fell. Pyry looked at me and smiled. "He keeps his promises."

I nodded.

"Baby, let's get your coat. You can go with uncle Pyry to look for him"

Pyry gave me a sad look that I didn't understood. I wanted to go, but I was just his daughter's mother and the press had already seen too much about us. I knew there were rumors, people talking about us and I didn't want more.

I waited on his driver's room for a long hour, checking my phone and reading how Antoinette Gasly was the centre of attention of the whole paddock. She had done press with her dad, telling them he was the best but uncle Charles drove fast fast and won. She had taken pictures with other drivers who were so in love with the little girl. And Pierre was the happiest, forgetting about the sour feeling this circuit gave him.

And when they came back, she was way too excited, like if she had a sugar overthose. Pierre was carrying her on his arms, the little girl hanging like a koala on his side.

"Hey..." Pierre said in a sweet tone. "You could have come too"

"Nah, it's okay." I said looking at him with a smile. "Did you had fun, little thing??"

"Yes!"

"She met Charles, Seb, Lando, Danny... She saw a lot of her friends today, right Anthy?" Pierre asked her.

"Charles won!"

"And which place did Papa finished?"

"Sefen"

I laughed

"Seven. Papa finished seven. Because you gave him the biggest good luck hug."

"My lucky charm, eh?"

Pierre looked at me with a smile. He was so beautiful, so precious. He was the perfect man, the best one to be my kid's father. I couldn't have asked for better. It was perfect.

"She is"

"You want to come to more races?" Pierre said tickling her belly.

"Yes!"

Pierre looked at me then.

"And you?"

My smiled faded.

"Me?"

"I can't only have Anthy here with me. We had a lot of fun this weekend, right? The three of us" He whispered the last part and walked closer to me.

I nodded a bit.

"I loved having you here"

"I-I will come, then"

"Thank you"

He hugged me and kissed my cheek.

"I will go and change and then we can go to the hotel and have dinner with Charles and Yuki. Okay?"

Anthy nodded excited.

While Pierre showered and got fresh clothes, Anthy sat next to me playing with her little Alpha Tauri. It made me think. How would it be if we were a family? A closed family? Pierre and I together. A house. Maybe a pet or two. Baby siblings for Anthy in the future...

"Maman"

"Yes, sweety"

"You love Papa?"

I frowned. What had gotten into her?

"Yes baby, a lot" I whispered putting some of her hair behind her ear.

"Papa too"

"What?"

"Papa too. He told me"

Pierre loved me? Was that what she meant?

The door opened and Anthy looked up surprised. She had her I have done something wrong face, so I supposed it was a secret. It made my heart beat fast.

Pierre was closing his shirt. He looked way too good.

"Are you ready to leave?"

We had dinner with Charles, Yuki and their trainers. Charlotte was there too. The couple couldn't stop playing with Anthy, who was growing more and more sleepier. Soon she started to yawn and looked at Pierre.

"You want too come here?"

She fell asleep on his chest. I took a photo for him, so he could add it to his photo dump. But without tell him, I put it also on my background.

When we were walking back to the room, we stayed in silence.

I opened the door and he got inside, carefully laying Anthy on the bed. Together we changed her into her pyjamas, putting care on not waking her up.

When I was covering her with the sheets, I felt a hand on my hair.

"Can we talk?" He said in the softest voice.

I looked up at him. He had a tiny smile but I was nervous anyway.

"Yes"

He took my hand hand carried me to the balcony. He leaned over the railing and grabbed both of my hands.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"I'm okay. It hasn't been that bad. Not with both of you here."

I smiled a bit but gasped when he pulled me closer. I was standing between his legs now.

"P-Pierre"

"I want you to let me speak first, okay?"

I nodded.

"I have been thinking the whole weekend. I have seen other drivers and their families. They... They all look so so happy. And..."

"Aren't you happy?"

He laughed a bit and touched my cheek, cupping it softly. By instinct, I moved my cheek face closer and grabbed his waist. His touched felt like heaven.

"I know I could be happier."

Bitting my lip, I looked into his blue eyes.

"H-how?"

"With you by my side"

I felt all my strength leaving my body. Did he want me? Like I wanted him?

"If you don't feel the same, I will understand. But I need to tell you this because it has been going on for too long. After having you here all weekend I couldn't stop thinking about how things would be if we were more than friends and co-parents. I would love to give us a try. To go on dates and all of that. Not only as parents. I want Anthy to spend the night with my parents because I have taken you out on a date. I want to go back home to you and her, not no an empty apartment in Milan or your guest room."

Tears were already falling down my cheeks. Since the first time Pierre talked to the baby in my belly, I knew every other person in the world was ruined for me. He was the perfect guy for me, he was the love of my life. Anthy was right. He loved me.

"Yes"

He laughed happily.

"Yes what, Cherie? I didn't ask anything" He cupped my face with both hands.

"I want all of that with you. I love our life right now, I love what we have built around Antoinette, but I want more too. I need more. I can't let you go knowing you are only my kid's dad."

"You know that I have always been more than that, Cherie" He whispered on my lips.

I closed my eyes and kissed him. I have wanted to do it for so long. I have wanted to taste his mouth and feel his lips over mine. Huggin into him as if my life depend on it, I kissed him deeply. Finally.

"I have been waiting for so long" He whispered. "I have been in love with you since I knew you will give me a kid. You are so perfect, so strong, so beautiful"

"I love you so much, Pierre"

He pressed his forehead against mine and hugged me.

Our little moment was interrupted by loud Maman being shouted from inside.

"That little thing..." He said laughing.

"Let's go back to her." I whispered.

He leaned and gave me one last kiss.

"Let's go out and have dinner. Tomorrow or the following day. Let me take you out"

"Okay"

"I love you" He said.

"I love you too."

We kissed again and he grabbed my hand.

"Maman! Sleep"

"Yeah, yeah."

We both changed and laid with the impacient girl.

"Sleep, Papa. Good night"

"Good night baby"

"Maman. Good night"

She pulled my hand until it was over her and I was laying closer. Her little body radiated heat and it was the best feeling in the world.

"Sleep tight"

Pierre turned to his side.

"You made this whole weekend better. Thank you for coming, Cherie"

I looked at him and Pierre ran his fingers through my scalp. I closed my eyes and sighed.

"Thank you for bringing me"

"You can come to all of them if you want."

I laughed a bit.

"Papa, shh"

Opening my eyes, I saw Anthy with her hand on his face. Her little body was turned to the side, her back on my chest and her hands on Pierre.

"Okay okay. Sorry. Good night, little thing"

I looked at him and smiled. I kissed her hair and grabbed Pierre's hand. I had everything I wanted now.

#Pierre gasly #Pg #F1 fic #Fic #Fluff #dad!driver

450 notes · View notes

f1tasies · 2 years

Note

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CcF2LIGju82/?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=

Pierre vibes such Pierre vibes..All the effort to get ready for a event just to make out and ruin makeup at home... Redo it and f*** in the car... Cancel plans for the event completely...

Man's got it in him to strip at a vineyard which is why mans got it in him to f*** in the car.

I'm sorry anon this took so long, but this is DONE! It's honestly one of my faves!!! Loved the prompt too <3 tw- unsafe driving, medical conditions

2.6k. Enjoy

---

The thing with Pierre is that his love language is touch. He always wants to be near you, feel you, stay with you. When you sleep, he’s always got one arm on you — on your shoulder, on your waist, on your breasts, or sometimes much, much lower. He needs physical reaffirmation that someone as incredible as you was with him.

Since you moved to Monaco, it’s been impossible to get a free moment with him though. You had your own bustling social life, and when Pierre wasn’t hanging out with his driver friends, he was with the team: working on the car, perfecting it. You couldn’t complain, whenever he had a good day at work, he’d come home and spoil you, submitting to your every whim.

It was rare that the two of you had a free moment alone. Like tonight. Red Bull wanted him to do some promo work and your own agency had tied up with the event, so unfortunately both of you were needed.

You stare at your closet, wondering what to wear. When you have too many clothes — things you bought yourself, your sponsors gave you, Pierre gifted you — it feels like you have nothing to wear.

You sigh. "Nothing works for tonight," you say, and sit on your bed, brooding.

Pierre exits the bathroom, covered only with a towel. You smirk when you look at him. You love how he looks, all hot and bothered, reminding you of the times he fucked you hard and raw after a race. You quickly shake your head, trying to drive away those thoughts. You had somewhere else to be.

He chuckles when his gaze meets yours, catching you red handed. You would’ve blushed, but he is your boyfriend. You have every right to stare.

"What's the problem?" he asks, chucking his used clothes into the laundry basket.

"I don't know what to wear!" You stand up, throwing your hands.

“Well,” he starts. “At least you have a choice.” That was true. Pierre could only wear what Red Bull, no sorry, Alpha Tauri assigned him.

“Touche.” You collapse on your bed, face-down. “Help me?” You whimper

"That's easy," he smiles.

You turn to your back and interrupt him before he continues. You've had this conversation multiple times.

"Don't say nothing." You throw a blouse at him.

He grabs your hand and pulls you up. "Wasn't going to." He whispers into your ear. "But that is your best look."

You laugh.

“And,” Pierre’s eyes wander down your body. “I have to fuck you in this.”

You wear a white lingerie set that Pierre had got you. You hadn't had a chance to really model it until now.

"Like what you see?" You taunt, turning towards him bending down, giving him the perfect view of your ample chest

"Always," he kisses you, grabbing your hair. You almost give in, but remember you’re getting late.

You pull away. “Not now, Pierre. We have to go soon.”

He sighs. “Fine. I think you should wear the silver dress.” He holds up a hanger.

You take it from his hands, feeling the soft material. It was a classy number, albeit a little short.

It was perfect really. You quickly get your makeup kit, starting on your foundation. You don’t need to do a lot in the way of makeup — slight contouring, dark eye shadow, bold lipstick. That was enough.

Pierre turns away from you and gets dressed himself. You liked his style — effortless, clean, suave. Just like him.

You unzip the dress, slipping into it. Unfortunately, the zip locked up, and you were afraid of pulling it up further, which could break it.

“Pierre?” You call for him. “Fix this please?”

He gathers your hair and pushes it forward, down your shoulders. You feel him grab the zipper, but pulling it downward instead of—

“You sick bastard,” you take his hands off of you but he places a soft kiss on your hand.

“You can’t kiss your way out of the party sweetheart,” you reprimand him.

His gaze flicks upwards. “Let me try,” he whispers in your ear and kisses you. Softly, at first. He wants permission. You couldn’t resist him, not like this. You deepen the kiss, your tongue finding his.

Both of you somehow end up on the bed, clothes disheveled, mascara running down your face.

In the tiny reprieve you get between kisses, you look down at his chest. Pierre was covered in blue lipstick, but he didn’t seem to care that his white blazer was stained.

“Sweetheart,” you tell him. “Your jacket-”

“Is it working?” he interrupts you, grinning. “Did I kiss myself out of this?”

You laugh and shake your head. “No way. We’re just going to have to be fashionably late.” You flip your hair back and look at yourself in the mirror. It actually looked better like that, messed up, but this was a formal event. This was going to be extra work.

Pierre’s arms snake around you from behind, and you recline into his touch, sinking into his embrace. He made you feel things you’d never associate with yourself. He was the only one who could bring you to your knees willingly. You didn’t mind one bit.

—

15 minutes later, you’ve successfully fixed his jacket, hiding the more stubborn stains with a delicate scarf (one of yours, but it looks good on him) while he braided your hair and artfully tied it up.

You never asked how he knows to make the most incredible hairstyles, and he doesn’t tell you either. He just knows. Grabbing a few decorative silver hair pins you’d got from an antique store from your dresser, he inserts them, securing your hair.

“Voila,” he says, his hand sweeping over your face, as he shows off his work. “Est-ce à votre satisfaction, mademoiselle?”

“Oui, monsieur,” you shoot back, very impressed. “This is for you,” you hand him his blazer and grab the car keys.

“The Acura?” his eyes widen as he shrugs the garment on.

“We’re representing a brand, baby. Gotta look the part,” you shoot him a wink.

“Only if I’m driving,” he runs behind you.

You hold the keys out of his reach, teasing him. “Only if you catch up to–” You trip, losing balance.

You were running in high heels. A bad decision, you think, but that couldn’t be helped now. You brace for impact, but something stops your face planting into the gravel. You feel your feet be lifted off the ground in a sweep, and you close your eyes.

“Careful now,” he presses a kiss to your forehead. Of course Pierre caught you, stupid knight in shining armor–

“What, no thanks?” he taunts.

You open your eyes to meet his dusk blue ones, and lean in, pressing your lips to his.

“I am eternally grateful,” you whisper, when you break apart, and then mumble ‘showoff.’ He laughs.

“Open the car for me?”

You press the button. Pierre unlocks the passenger side door and gently places you. You quickly shift to the drivers side, so when he opens the other door, he has to go back to the passenger side.

“This is what I get for being nice?” he complains

“Get in if you want to come,” you tilt your head, telling him to hurry up.

“Oh, I’ll make you come,” Pierre mutters, the words putting you slightly on edge.

“What?” you furrow your eyebrows. He refuses to elaborate. He straps in and turns on the speaker system.

Fine. He could have the music he wanted. You were still the one driving anyway.

You pull away quickly, adjusting your mirrors as you go. Not ideal car etiquette, but you were in a rush.

Pierre fiddles around with his phone until he finds one he likes and hits play. You couldn’t help but tap along with the beat. It was a synth-pop number, and you adored the bass.

“I love this song!” You smile at Pierre, who reclines his seat and puts on a pair of sunglasses. Leave it to him to wear shades at night. You sometimes wondered why you even liked him.

You look back in front of you and your heart almost jumps out of your chest. You slam the brakes hard, the tyres screeching, but stopping right in front of a dog. Pierre’s left arm flies in front of you, securing you. Your heart flutters, you think you skip a beat. You’re not sure if it’s because of the almost-accident or Pierre that made you feel that way.

You honk the horn aggressively, trying to get the dog out of the way, and when it scampers off, you start the car again, this time controlling your pace.

His hand relaxes and falls to your thigh.

“Don’t fuck with her like this, ma tigresse,” Pierre tells you, his fingers tracing circles on your leg. “Have I ever treated you like this?”

You blow a stray strand out of your face. “Well, maybe you should,” you stick your tongue out at him. “Because I treat her excellently.”

“Maybe I should show you how you treat her,” Pierre’s voice dropped. You suck in a breath as his hands wander to your inner thigh.

You had an inkling of where this was going, and what was to come.

“Pierre,” you warn him, not taking your eyes off the road. He ignores you, and his hand is dangerously close to your clit.

When he starts rubbing you, you almost swerve into a truck.

“Fuck,” you moan. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He’s relentless.

“You fuck my car? I fuck you. It’s simple really,” Pierre takes his hand away and licks his fingers, making sure you see him in your peripheral vision. You feel heat pool at your core, and almost become a hot, pathetic, sex-crazed mess, but somehow, you focused on the road.

Turn right at the next intersection, your GPS tells you in its saccharine robotic voice. She irritated you and you were getting payback.

“Oh yeah?” you cock an eyebrow at Pierre, as you accelerate. “Like this?” your right hand wanders to the e-brake.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Pierre’s eyes look aghast. “Unless… My kiss to escape strategy worked and you want me to fuck you so bad you’re willing to skip this event.”

“Very funny Pierre,” you pull your dress down, covering up whatever he exposed.

This time, Pierre opts for a more direct route. “Take the next left,” he commands.

“What? But the GPS–”

“It’s a shortcut. Charles told me about it.”

You trusted Charles, and he lived in Monaco his whole life. You sigh and turn left. Instantly, you know you’ve been tricked.

“Pierre!” you explode at him. “Seriously? That just cost us another 15 minutes!”

He nods and gets out of his seat, towering over you.

“Push your seat back, and put the car in cruise control,” he whispers.

“What–”

He sighs and does it himself. “That wasn’t so hard was it?” he kisses the back of your neck, hands wandering around your chest.

Your left hand remained firmly on the steering wheel, but your right, which you rested on the e-brake, was now touching something that most definitely wasn’t an e-brake.

“But you are,” you bite his lips, slightly drawing blood. "Hard, I mean," Your grip on him tightens, and you feel his breath waver.

His steely gaze locks onto yours.

“I made you a promise that I’d make you cum, right?”

The road you were on was empty. It was as if Pierre had planned for this moment. You part your legs in resignation, and Pierre sinks downwards.

It was difficult for you to stay focused on the road when he flicks his tongue over your clit. Or pushes a finger inside you, massaging your g-spot. Your eyes flutter, doing their damned best at not closing up, but ultimately, the pleasure is too much.

You have no idea what obscenities leave your mouth when Pierre starts using his teeth. Not too much, but just the subtlest graze left your sensitive skin on fire. You didn’t know how fast you were going. You didn’t know how late you were to the gala. You honestly didn’t care.

All that mattered was Pierre, and his incredible body between your legs. He’d let his stubble grow out a bit, and the friction was going to leave a mark– but who was going to see that except him? The way he peered at you between your knees, you wanted nothing more than for him to take you right there.

You realize he’s not actually letting you cum. He brings you close, so so very close, but then lets go instantly, diverting his attention somewhere else. He was doing that on purpose, you think.

“What– Fuck– about that promise? Pierre?”

“Hmm?” he pauses. “Oh that? I’m just treating you like you treat my baby.”

“Pierre!” you gasp, desperate for release. “Please…”

He ignores you, his nails scratching your thighs.

For a while, he does nothing. It was almost as if he wasn’t there, compressed in this incredibly small space, sucking you dry.

Then he strikes. And it feels like everything at once. At some point he rolled the windows down, so the full force of the wind slaps your face. The deafening roar of the engine. The wet sounds of whatever he was doing to you. The loneliness.

Pierre attacks you through your orgasm, refusing to let you go.

“Pierre I can’t anymore I just can’t Pierre please Pierre–” you have no idea what you say, you just want this moment to never stop but get over at the same time. A paradox.

And then he does let go, and the car comes to a screeching halt, propelling you forward. Finally. Civilization. Another car.

But then Pierre grabs his head.

“Fuck are you okay?” you bring the car to the side. “Let me see,” you pant, still not completely recovered.

The light from your phone illuminates his forehead, and he winces when you touch it.

“Ow!” he gently presses your hand between his, telling you to pull away. That was a concerning amount of blood. Shit. That would need stitches, you think.

“Pierre,” you hug him tight. “Text them, we can’t make it. I have to take you to the hospital. Merde!” you curse, inputting the details into your GPS.

He smiles at you, slightly dazed. “It actually worked! Kissing you got me out of the damned gala!”

—

“Wow calamar,” Charles greeted Pierre with a friendly pat on the back. “That’s a bad cut! What happened?”

Pierre grins. “Would you believe it if I told you it was sex injury?”

You freeze. The official story was he tripped and fell. Christian and Marko were okay with that excuse. The bandage on his forehead was evidence enough. Pyry didn’t trust you but he didn’t say anything out of the ordinary.

Pierre just blew your cover.

Charles looks at the two of you, confused. “I’m sorry, what?”

“He’s joking, Charles,” you slap him on the shoulder, sending Pierre a warning look. “Right Pierre?”

“Sure,” he winks at him.

Charles sighs. “Stop making fun of me Pierre, you know I can’t wink.”

“Aww Charlie,” you tease. “It’s okay. I’ll teach you how to wink,” you wrap an arm around his shoulder and pull him closer. “Me and Pierre. Only for you.”

Pierre goes pale. “She’s joking,” he tells Charles. “Right, mon amour?”

“Sure,” you wink back.

---

#pg #f1 smut #pierre gasly smut #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly imagine #f1 fanfiction #f1tasy #going down #ask #anon #request #tw unsafe driving #tw stitches #tw medical

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gaslysgirl · 2 years

Text

Below Deck - [P.G.]

Gif credit to @/merrymissesmaxiel

Synopsis: You’re a chief stewardess on a large yacht where Pierre and his friends spend a three-day charter. As you’re the chief stew, he has a reason to keep you around all the time and tell you everything he prefers. Below deck med vibes 100%.

WARNINGS: NSFW CONTENT (18+) - unprotected sex, oral (f & m receiving), fingering, squirting. This is fiction and is not supposed to be taken as educational.

“Could Y/N, the chef, and the bosun please meet me in the crew mess for a preference sheet meeting?” The captain sounded over the radio, and you quickly copied, finishing the wiping of the table and heading downstairs to the crew mess. You shuffled into the boot, picking up the stapled papers. The chef and the bosun of the yacht joined soon after. “Alright, our new charter guests are a group of racing drivers from Europe. The primary’s name is Pierre Gasly, and he has taken four friends on this charter to escape the business of the Formula 1 paddock in the summer break of the 2022 season,” the captain summarized. “They look high-maintenance,” the chef muttered, his eyes skipping over the preferences of the guests with the food section. “They look quite alright,” you said, you had definitely seen more specific requests or the weirdest food requests. “Because they are athletes, they want fresh and healthy meals, filling portions. They’d like to work out on the boat and have all the water toys available all day. The primary requests a trip to the old town of Dubrovnik on day two, and a gala themed dinner that night,” you read out loud. “Well, let’s get to work,” the bosun replies.

You were working in the interior of the yacht, and you made sure everything would look perfect by the time the guests were arriving. You and your two stewardesses had about four hours left. “So, who will be our new guests?” Your second stew asked while she was cleaning the windows in the lounge. “A Formula 1 driver and his racing driver friends, apparently,” you replied, putting your earpiece in again to be on standby for whoever needed you. “That better be a nice fucking tip,” she sighed, and you agreed. The mood in the yacht was a bit down, as the guests who left yesterday, after a four-day charter, were very demanding and complained a lot, and then left a shitty tip while everyone had worked so hard to meet their wishes. After cleaning, you went down to inspect the cabins, and the third stew had done them perfectly. Everything was in order for the guests to arrive. Everyone changed into their white, formal outfits to welcome them. You got the cold towels and the glasses of champagne ready, putting them on the table of the bridge deck. Lining up on the dock, the guests already arrived.

“Good afternoon, and welcome on board of the Wellington. I’m your captain,” the captain introduced herself, shaking Pierre’s hand. “Nice to meet you, captain,” a smile showed up on his face that made you swallow hard. He stood in front of you next, his hand shaking yours. You introduced yourself with a kind smile, and he leaned forward to kiss your cheek. You hid your flusteredness as the other guests introduced themselves as well. “My chief stewardess, Y/N, will show you around, and a soon as your luggage is onboard, we’re off to our first anchorage,” the captain said. “Take your shoes off and follow me, please,” you smiled, stepping aboard of the yacht again, while the group of drivers followed you. The second and third stews handed out the champagne and the cold towels. “This is the main lounge of the yacht, with a dining room on the left. As the weather is beautiful, you will be having dinner outside on the bridge deck,” you told them. “It’s a gorgeous yacht,” Pierre speaks up. “For sure,” you reply, then taking them upstairs to the sun deck. “This is my favourite spot on the yacht. We have some room for work-outs here, and if you go down to the swim platform, all the water toys will be available for you,” you continued. “Do you spend a lot of time here?” Pierre asked, sipping on his champagne.

“Unfortunately not,” you laugh. “I’m running around all day, pleasing guests,” you add. “That sounds good,” he says, chuckling as your cheeks dust a little pink. “Let me take you to your cabins,” you clear your throat, hearing the guys speak in French to each other while walking down the stairs again. “This is the master,” you say, opening the door. “We have a bathtub on board, all marble,” you continue. “This is where the yacht magic happens,” Norman Nato says. “All the cleaning magic for sure,” you add, making them laugh. You show them the other cabins, and they can decide for themselves where they want to sleep, but Pierre has taken the master cabin as he’s the primary guests. You guided them back up to the sun deck. “We can unpack your suitcases if you prefer,” you started. “No, it’s fine, we can do that ourselves,” Pierre says, sitting down against the cushions of the lounger, the other guys take some pictures as the yacht is already moving to its first anchorage. “Alright, perfect. We can do lunch at 2:30 p.m.?” You suggest. “Yes, great,” Pierre smiles at you. “Can I get you anything else?” you ask, hoping your face isn’t heating up under the stare of his crystal eyes.

“We’re fine at the moment, thank you so much,” he says, and you nod, rushing to get downstairs again. You update the chef about the lunchtime, so he can start preparing. The yacht soon reached its first anchorage, offering a beautiful view upon Dubrovnik. You made your way up to the deck again, checking up on the guests to see if they needed anything. “Y/N, are we allowed to go into the water now?” Pierre asked as soon as he saw you, the others were laying back on the cushions, some sill sipping on their champagne. “How polite as the primary,” you smiled, appreciating his tone. “Well, I can jump in, but if I’m not meant to, you’re probably going to be mad at me,” Pierre grinned, pushing a hand in the pockets of his white, linen pants, enjoying making you giggle. “No, you’re allowed. I’m sure the deck crew already has the jet ski’s out. You’re free to go down the platform, if you want to,” you said. “That sounds good. Are you joining?” Pierre shamelessly flirts. “Unfortunately, the water toys are not my specialty. How I about I keep serving drinks?” you reply. “If you insist,” Pierre gnawed at his lower lip. “Could you bring us a couple of bottles of water?” he asked. “Of course,” you nodded, turning around to get to the bar, kneeling to open the fridge and take five bottle of water out.

You put them on a plate to bring them over. They were easy going so far, and polite. Each of Pierre’s friends were nice to you so far. They handed you the champagne glasses, and you left them with the water. Not much later, the sun deck was empty, and you guessed they were in their cabins to get changed. You remained in the upper salon to make sure the bottles of liquor were restocked, and you could mix their drinks whenever they came back from being in the water. Your second and third stew were on their lunch breaks now, and the second stew would be on service with you, while the other would do the laundry in the pantry downstairs. The sounds of the jet-ski’s and other motorized water sport toys were audible, and you walked onto the sun deck to take a quick look at what they were doing. Three of the five were already in the water, and Pierre stood on the swim platform, listening to the bosun giving some instructions about staying close to the yacht and away from the shore. He looked as athletic as you thought he would be. His abs were mouthwatering, his biceps looking strong and firm, and his broad shoulders and neck were making you let out a dreamy sigh. You were quick to return to work, and set up the table for their lunch.

About an hour later, the lunch was ready to be plated, and the guys were just coming out of the water. Your service outfit existed of a crew shirt with a short skirt, a pair of flats. Your hair was up in a hair clip, a few strands framing your face. You moved around the table to pour in their glasses of water, serving some of them a glass of wine. “Did you enjoy being in the water?” you asked. “Yes, it was great,” one of Pierre’s friends replied, his name was Nadri, if your brain paid attention after Pierre introduced himself. “Great, you can go back down there after lunch as long as you want,” you said, before heading back inside and to the galley. The second stew picked up two plates, and you carried three to make sure you could serve everyone in one walk. “So, for your lunch we have a grilled sea bass served on a bed of mashed potatoes and grilled asparagus dusted with a bit of Croatian sea salt,” you announced after putting the plates down. “For your sides, we will bring you a mixed vegetable salad and extra mashed potato,” you continued. “I wish I could have you serving all my meals, it sounds like poetry if you describe it,” Pierre looked up at you with a cheeky smile, leaning back in his seat, still shirtless, his hair still wet.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you smiled, getting back inside to get the salad. “I think he fancies you,” your second stew whispered while you both walked inside again. “Shut up,” you said, giggling a little. “He’s hot, though,” you say. It would not be professional to cross the line of being nice and flirting with the guests, but Pierre was making it really hard for you. And he had been on the yacht for just three hours. You brought the salad and the mashed potatoes, asking if they needed anything else, and you made your way inside to leave them alone. After the lunch, you and your second stew cleared the table, while the guests went out to the sun deck to have a lazy hour in the sun. The weather was truly incredible, which made the work for the deck crew and the interior easier. If the weather would be bad, that meant they were relying on the interior and the chef, and in the worst case, the yacht would have to return to the port. But that wasn’t the case, which meant you could enjoy a shirtless Pierre Gasly for a little longer. “Hi guys,” you greeted them when stepping onto the sun deck. “Can I bring anyone a drink?” you asked.

Three of them wanted a bloody mary, one just a glass of red wine, and Pierre asked for a vodka martini. You went to the bar to get their drinks done, and you nearly jumped when you turned around and saw Pierre standing at the bar. “I didn’t expect you here,” you laughed, brushing the few strands out of your face. “Can I do something for you?” you asked. “No, I’m fine. Just curious for your bartending magic,” he bares his teeth with another smile that makes your stomach do backflips in your body. “Well, I don’t want to brag, but I passed the barista course with straigth A’s,” you reply, sending a flirty smile back while shaking the mixer for the bloody marries, pouring it into three glasses with some ice. “I didn’t expect anything else,” Pierre grins, leaning his elbows on the counter. “Have you been to Croatia before?” you ask. “I haven’t, my career is quite demanding. I enjoy being at home,” he said, and you remember that he’s an F1 driver, he must be away from home nearly all the time. “What about you?” Pierre asked. “Oh, I worked nearly all the charters of my yachting career here at the Adriatic coast,” you say. “It’s a lovely area, and the food and culture here is great,” you add. “You have a lot of experience then?” he assumed.

“Six years and counting,” you proudly say, and he took his vodka martini you just mixed and poured in a glass. “I have some experience in keeping guests happy,” you say, putting the other glasses on a serving tray. “I can tell,” Pierre says, the accent laced in his words would make you crumble under his eyes, but you were professional. And not flirting with the guests. Pierre joined you when going outside, and you carefully kneeled on the cushions of the large lounging area to hand them their drinks. “At what time would you prefer to have dinner?” you asked, getting up when everyone had their drinks. “8:30-ish?” One of them suggested, the others confirming with a nod. “Alright, perfect,” you smiled. “Thank you, Y/N,” Pierre said, and you fought the urge to moan back at the way he ponounced your name, but you just smiled at him and went back inside. You had a break now, your second stew checked up on the guests and made sure they were all set. You heard over your radio that they went to work out, and the deck crew would be paying attention. You had some time to discuss the menu with the chef and think about the table decorating, and do some calls for the tour through Dubrovink old town tomorrow. They also wanted a gala themed dinner tomorrow night, and would send a stew tomorrow to get some more decorations for that.

“I’m going down to the cabins, one of the guests asked if I could steam some clothing. Can you bring up some iced water?” your radio went, and you quickly finished your late lunch before heading upstairs. You filled a jug with icecubes and poured water over it, letting it sit for a minute while you cut some lime and cucumber, putting it in. You prepared yourself mentally, knowing they were good looking guys and now working out on the sun deck, probably shirtless. You took a serving tray with the jug and some glasses, easily hopping up the stairs. Pierre was on the tread mill, his skin glistening with sweat. You tried not to stare at his back muscles rippling under his skin with each move he made, but he caught your eyes when he turned his head and immediately slowed down the speed. “Hey, you’re back,” he smiled, choosing to either ignore or didn’t notice the look in your eyes. “I got you some iced water,” you said, putting the tray down on the small table. “I wanted to discuss something,” Pierre said, getting off the tread mill and taking a glass, which made you reach for the jug the same time as he did. You briefly looked at each other before he let you pour the water in his glass. “You wanted to discuss...?” you asked, and he stepped towards the balustrade of the deck, leaning against it.

“Tomorrow we are going on this trip to Dubrovnik, right?” He asked, making you nod. “Can I request you come along? I am sure you have the most knowledge about the town,” Pierre said. “I asked one of my stews and a deckie to come along, they haven’t been off the boat since our charter season started,” you said, and he took a step forward. “Then you promise them they can go off the boat next time,” he said, squeezing your shoulder. The move made you burn up from the inside, and you laughed. “You should have put it on your preference sheet before you came onboard,” you reply teasingly. “How could I know there is such a lovely chief stew?” Pierre replied, leaning his elbow on the balustrade as he came even closer. “Alright, I’ll join you and have one of the deck crew for the tour tomorrow,” you gave in. “Amazing. I was also thinking we could do a lunch there. Is there a nice view point somewhere?” Pierre asked. “Yes, there is. Would you like us to set up lunch there or have me make a reservation at a restaurant?” you asked. “If you could set it all up, that would be perfect. The lunch was amazing. I trust the chef to get more outstanding meals out of that kitchen,” Pierre said. “Got it,” you replied. “I will make sure everything is as you wish,” you reply. “I’m sure you will,” he flirts.

You shot him a smile before heading inside, and his eyes drift over the flirty ends of your little skirt as you move around the corner. “Bro, you have to make it less obvious,” Nadri says, having a glass of the iced water you brought. “What? She’s nice, pretty,” Pierre shrugged. “You can’t put her job in jeopardy,” Nadri chuckled, he had seen the way his friend was flirting with the chief stew, and he had made some comments about how hot you were to his friends already. “I’m not, I’m staying within the lines. Besides, she flirts back,” Pierre defended. “I’d laugh my ass off if she’s just being nice. I mean, she’s used to flirty charter guests,” Nadri chuckled, making Pierre roll his eyes at his friend, nevertheless with a grin. They continued working out and being in the water till they all went into their cabins to get showered and dressed for dinner. You and your stews set up the table for the dinner, while the chef was already busy to prepare dinner. You kept your eyes on the set table, seeing a couple of them seated already. You told the chef to start plating when everyone was seated, and your water and wine service was finished. Each of the stews were dressed into the evening service dresses, and your hair was now braided down your back.

You had felt quite relaxed this afternoon, they weren’t too demanding and they weren’t picky or anything. You hoped they wouldn’t stay up too late, but seeing they were sporty, you hoped they were appreciating sleep and went to bed early, because that means you can get more hours in as well. You walked back to the galley and took three plates to serve the starter. The dinner service is as easy as the lunch, and they are happy with the meals. The drinks are flowing nicely, and you see them all loosening up even more. One of them request to have some music playing, and Pierre gets his phone connect to one of the speakers. Soon, Spanish music blasted across the deck, and it got the whole dinner service more swinging. You hadn’t been stiff with them, but even you felt more relaxed, easily twirling around the table and refilling glasses or serving new mixed drinks. They were all enjoying it, and it made everyone on service act along, because the better their experience, the better the payday at the end of the charter. You took away the plates from the desert when the guests were up from the table, standing on the deck. “Can’t you join us for a little party?” One of them asked, meaning the whole crew. “Some of us are already in bed,” you replied. “But you aren’t, and C/N either,” Nadri said. “Bring the bottle of rosé and we’re good for a while, you’ll have time to dance with us,” he said. “Fine,” you gave in with a smile.

You refilled their glasses with rosé, and you put the bottle back in the fridge. The deck crew who weren’t on anchor watch also joined, making everyone laugh with the worst dance moves. Pierre took your hand to spin you around, pulling you to his chest then. “Is this okay?” he asked, his hot breath ghosting over your face. “It’s alright,” you replied, not sure where to place your hands, but it would look too awkward to leave them by your sides, so you just rested them on his shoulders. “The dinner was amazing,” he told you. “I’m glad to hear so,” you replied, looking at the others who weren’t watching you at all. It made you relax a little more, your skin heating up under your team dress as his hand drifted down to your lower back, holding you close. Your hips were basically grinding together on the filthy, Spanish music that was blasting through the speakers. If you were in a club, you would have smashed your lips on his already, but you were just doing your job and he was just a guests on the yacht. “Is this made for you?” Pierre asked, tugging gently on the material of your black dress. “No, it’s not,” you laugh. “It looks like it though, you look gorgeous in it,” he flirts. “It’s just working clothes,” you reply, looking up at him.

Pierre looks incredibly good with the dark blue button up that is slightly undone, a golden cross necklace hanging down his neck. “So, you’re saying you’re even more beautiful in anything else?” he teases, grinning as your cheeks heat up. “That’s what you’re implying,” you reply. “I have to get back to work,” you say then, a smile on your lips as he’s so hot and adorable at the same time. The way he looks at you makes you want to drop to your knees and unbuckle his belt, but the way he speaks to you with delicasy makes your heart palpitate faster. “I understand,” Pierre said, and you gasped softly when he pulled you even closer, his other arm curling around you for a gentle embrace. “I look forward to tomorrow,” he said when withdrawing from you, stepping back to give you your space. “Goodnight, Pierre,” you smiled, taking his empty glass to get back inside. The others went back to work soon after as well, but they already turned down the music and had a last drink before all the guests slowly seeped into their cabins. You were glad the party was over, it was past midnight, and you could quickly clean up and prepare some things for the breakfast service before heading down too.

Because you had the late shift, your second and third stew got the breakfast service shift. You woke up around nine, you showered, got dressed and some of the breakfast left overs before heading down to the cabins. You checked with the stews if everyone was up at the table our out in the water, so you could change the sheets and clean the cabins without disturbing them. You hummed a song that was stuck in your head since last night, folding the sheets of the bed and tucking them in. You cleaned the bathroom, replaced the bags in the bins, and folded clean towels into the racks. You entered the master cabin, and you thought you heard someone walking around. “Is anyone here?” You asked, not sure if you just imagined it or if it was outside, as the windows were opened. You didn’t get a response, so you just continued your work. The bed of the master cabin was larger, and mattress cover was quite tight. You huffed while stretching it across, hoping the other end wouldn’t flip back. “I missed you during breakfast this morning,” you suddenly heard, making you shriek and nearly stumble over your own feet. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I thought you were still at breakfast, I wouldn’t have come in if I knew you were here,” you rambled, your cheeks turning bright red.

You swallowed hard as Pierre stood in front of you, just a towel around his hips, his abs begging for your eyes on them, his hair messy and still dripping, the view droplets of water on his chest making you fight the urge to lick them right off. “No worries, it’s alright. I could have mentioned to your colleagues that I went to shower. It’s not your fault,” he assured you. “Okay,” you huffed, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand, not aware you were sweating till now. “I will get out and come back in when you’re out,” you said, a small laugh escaping your mouth. “No, it’s fine, continue, I will get dressed in the bathroom and not disturb you,” Pierre said, reaching for some shorts and beige button-up from the closet. “Normally it’s the other way around, you know?” you chuckled, biting at your bottom lip while reaching for the clean sheets, putting them around the duvet. “I’m easy going,” he grinned, disappearing into the bathroom. You took a deep breath to calm down your raging heart beat, and did an attempt to stop your panties from getting wet, but holy shit, this man is so hot, effortlessly. You shook it off, hurrying to tuck the sheets in and fold the edge, putting the pillows back on. You wiped down the nightstands, the marble counter, not daring move any closer to the door of the bathroom. You took your cleaning stuff and walked out without a word, closing the door behind you, feeling like you could finally breathe.

There was this tension between you and the primary charter guest that made you want to sin in all unholy ways possible. It’s like he didn’t even try to hide that he was flirting with you, and who showers after breakfast, on a yacht? You put the cleaning stuff away, making your way to your cabin to freshen up a little. You had to head up to the galley to speak through the preparation of the view point picknick in Dubrovnik, which meant that the chef had to prepare a lot of plates, and the timing of bringing the food there had to be perfect, because not everything could be plated for a long time. You set up the coolers already, and gave some instructions to your crew, while the bosun did the same for her crew, who were setting up the picknick table, parasols, and bringing it up there. You looked forward to be off the boat for half a day, and as you loved Dubrovnik, you liked to be the tour guide of the day. The tender was ready next to the yacht, and you updated the stews quickly that only the bathroom in the master cabin had to be cleaned, because you were interupted due to obvious reasons. The guests were brought ashore by the tender, and you and a deckhand followed to guide them through the town. Dubrovnik is truly gorgeous, and you were sure they were going to like it.

You didn’t think they’d love a cultural trip, but all of the guys were taking pictures and actually listening to what you were telling about the buildings and some streets and restaurants. They even wanted to take a picture with you and the deckie who guided the trip, asking someone else to take the picture. You squeezed in between Pierre and one of his friends, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you in. Every touch and every look made you want him more, and the fact that it seemed to be mutual didn’t make it easier to control your horniness. You were on the boat all summer already, you never slept with any other crew, and you hadn’t been fucked well in too long. Dramatic maybe, but Pierre just made you long for it. You were keeping your professional distance throughout the day, serving the lunch on a beautiful view point. They praised the crew all the time for their hard work of making this happen, and it had been a tonne of work, but if it puts a smile on the face of the guests, nobody complains. When they finished the lunch, everything was broken down to get it downstairs again. Pierre and his friends wanted to go back to the boat to enjoy more time in the water, which was possible after the yacht went to its second anchorage near Split. It would take the yacht about five hours to get there. There was enough time left, for them to get on the jet-ski’s before dinner.

Everyone was back on the boat, and soon the deck crew started hauling anchor to get the trip started. “I assume you’ve been in Split before?” Pierre started while you refilled their glasses of wine. “I have,” you smile. “The whole coastline of Croatia is actually really stunning,” you added. “Have you been outside of Croatia on a yacht?” he asked, taking a glass from you, and you ignored it as your fingers brushed together. “I have done a couple of charters in Spain and Italy, and one time during the Monaco Grand Prix, actually,” you said. “Oh, really? I would have remembered you if I had seen you there,” Pierre grinned. “Well, I was caught up in work and serving margaritas to a group of old millionairs, so I didn’t get off the yacht all night,” you chuckled. “That’s a shame,” Pierre replied. “I will get back in a few if you need anything,” you smiled at them before leaving. You had a quick break before repeating the schedule of yesterday. As the dinner was gala themed, you and a stew made up the table on the bridge deck aft in a classy style. Everyone on dinner service was getting dressed up too, as you and your second stew had long gala dresses and Venetian masks. You placed five more masks on the table for the guests to put on. They were all at the table on time, and dressed up in tuxedo’s, and you had to admit you couldn’t wait to see Pierre from up close.

You followed the other stew with a bottle of wine, filling the glasses next to the water. “Wow, this is amazing,” Pierre complimented the interior on their hard work on the table and the gala themed dinner. “Can I take a picture of the two of you?” he asked, meaning you and the second stew. “Of course,” you said, adjusting the mask and holding up the bottle of wine while taking a cute pose with the other stew. Pierre thinks you look absolutely stunning with the sleek, black dress, and he finds his eyes following you when you walk around the table and get back inside. It doesn’t take long before you’re appearing again, carrying three plates with ease while putting them down, your colleague following to put down the others. He looked up at you when you told them what the chef had cooked for the starter, but he wasn’t even paying attention. Because of this yacht, while it was a huge vessel, it was still a small space to be in with a lot of people, and he felt this attraction that made him wish this charter lasted forever. He smiled at you when your eyes briefly darted over his. The dinner was delicious, everything that was served went beyond their expectations, the crew outdid themselves to make sure everything was perfect.

You were so nice, naturally flirtatious, and he loved the sound of your laugh as you spoke to one of his friends, bending over a little to refill the glass of wine. Pierre’s eyes darted to your cleavage, hands tingling to let your perfect tits spill over the material, to unzip your dress and finally see what you were wearing under those cute skirts you had been wearing yesterday and this morning. The rest of the evening went smoothly. You had stretched out the dinner quite well, but some of the guys preferred to go to bed early. You already told the second stew she could go to bed, and as soon as you were sure they didn’t want anything else to eat, the chef could get to bed too. You were the only one up, with probably one or two of the deckies on anchor watch, but they were up in the bridge anyway. Soon enough, only Pierre was up. “Can I get you a refill?” you asked kindly, taking away the rest of the glasses. “No, it’s fine. I’m just hanging around,” Pierre said. “Alright,” you smiled. “You are the only up, actually. Do you mind if I do a quick vacuuming in the main salon?” you asked. “Absolutely not, do your thing,” he said, and you nodded. You felt a little awkward while starting the vacuum cleaner, but he really didn’t seem to mind.

You cleaned the carpet quickly, and then put the vacuum cleaner away. You sprayed the table with some cleaning product, wiping it down. “Can I do anything for you?” you asked, nearly begging him to just ask you to make another drink for him, anything, just so you could stop feeling hot and bothered under his stare. “There is something, but...” Pierre says, approaching you. “It’s inappropriate,” he says, and you look up at him, not taking any steps back. “Is it?” you hum, making him nod. You suck in a harsh breath when his hand moves to wrap around your waist. “Pierre...” you whine, not able to resist his lips brushing over your cheek, pressing lightly to your jaw before trailing down to your neck. Your hands rest on his chest, feeling the heat of his skin seeping through the button-up of the tuxedo. “I’m going to get fired for this,” you mutter, meanwhile doing no attempt to push him back. Instead, he draw you in closer, grabbing your waist a little firmer, pushing you up against his delicious body. “Good, then you can finally get off this boat and get in my garage instead,” Pierre replied, making you look at him with a chuckle.

“Tell me you want this,” he commands, and your eyes almost fall closed when his lips brush over yours. “Fuck, I want it,” you blurt out, your arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him down to finally kiss you. He moans against your lips as soon as they’re connected, sending a shiver up your spine. “Are we the only ones up?” he mutters against your lips. “We are,” you whisper back. “My crew can’t know about this,” you add. “Nobody has to know,” Pierre says, taking a bite of your lower lip before slipping his tongue in your mouth, licking at yours before exploring further. “Let’s head down to your cabin,” you hum, enjoying the feeling of his hands on your lower back way too much, but you have to move to get out of the main salon and risk being caught here. “The best thing I’ve heard so far,” Pierre sighs, his hand swatting your ass when you walked in front of him. You grinned, quickly making your way the small stairs to get to the master cabin. “You totally knew I was cleaning your cabin this morning,” you breathed against his lips when the door fell closed behind him, and he had you pushed up against his body already. “I did,” Pierre admitted immediately. “Just needed to see you in that sexy, little skirt,” he grins, his fingers finding the zipper of your dress at the same moment you started to unbutton his shirt.

You nearly rip the buttons off with eagerness, and Pierre only takes his hands off you to shrug his arms out of the sleeves. You moan at the sight of him, running your hands up his abdomen, his pecs, to his shoulders. He shivers under your touch, the way you admire his body boosting his ego. Pierre roughly takes the zipper of your dress down, letting the material fall down your body. “Knew you had fucking pretty tits,” he praises, his large hands cupping your tits as his lips covered yours again, touching you up, rolling his fingers over your nipples. Your hands fumbled with his belt, undoing the leather that held his slacks on his hips. You unzipped the slacks, moaning and whimpering when he started to kiss down your neck. Your knees nearly buckled as he groaned back when you started to palm him. You were so eager to see his cock, to suck it, jerk it, have it inside you. You gasped when his hand fisted into your hair, forcing you down to your knees. “I know you get off on praise, ma cherié, and I think I’ve praised you enough,” Pierre purrs. “You probably like to be fucked like a slut, don’t you?” he asks, making your pussy clench around thin air, your wetness seeping through the fabric of your thong. “Use your words, darling,” he ushers. “Fuck, I do,” you breathe.

“I knew you were a little whore under that friendly, pretty girl attitude,” Pierre takes his cock out with his other hand, jerking it right in front of your face. Your mouth waters at the sight, it’s thick, veiny, the perfect length. You whine softly, eager to get it in your mouth. “You want to suck me off like the slut you are?” he asked, and you nod. “Open your mouth for me,” he commands, the head of his cock tapping against your lower lip to make you open up. You gladly spread your lips, lifting a hand to guide him further down your tongue. You moan around him, loving the heavy feeling of his cock as you start sucking it. He grunts lowly, watching you lick the under side, running your tongue down the side of his shaft to get it properly wet. Your hand moved along with your mouth, bobbing up and down. It soon turned to a filthy, wet blow job, and Pierre loved everything about it. He got off on the smacking sounds of your lips, the noises that escaped you were so lovely, and he groaned each time you gagged as he hit the back of your throat. Your tongue felt like velvet against him, swirling around the head and briefly letting him go with a pop as your hand jerked him. “That’s it, gorgeous,” he moans, his abdomen clenching as you slide your tongue over him again.

You whimper as you taste the salty pre-cum on your tongue, and your head bobs up and down faster, your hand squeezes him a little harder, the other rolling his balls in your palm, craving the thick, white substance in the back of your throat, but Pierre had other plans. “Fuck, baby. I want to cum in that sweet pussy of yours,” he growls, making the wetness pool in your panties. “Let me get a taste,” he mutters, pulling you up from the floor and throwing you back on the bed, the bounce of the mattress making you giggle a little. Pierre kicks his jeans off his ankles, getting on the bed with you, throwing some pillows to the floor. “Been wanting to ruin these bedsheets since you made the bed so nicely this morning,” his voice rasped, his hands sliding over your legs to meet the waistline of your thong. “Need you to make me cum,” you whine. “Oh, I will,” Pierre replies. “Gonna make sure your crew has to wash your cum out of the sheets tomorrow morning,” he said, a devilish smirk on his face that made your eyes roll back already. You lift your hips as he hooks his fingers in your thong and drags it up your legs, throwing it somewhere on the floor. Pierre pushes your thighs apart, spreading you open for him, groaning at the sight of your glistening pussy.

“Already so wet from just sucking me off?” He tuts, looking into your innocent eyes. “Seems like I was right about you being a slut,” he mutters, earning a moan from you when his hands run over your inner thighs. Without a warning, his head buries between your legs and his tongue covers your mound, licking from your hole to your clit in a thick stripe that as your back arching and your toes curling. Pierre’s mouth on your pussy has you gripping the sheets within the first few minutes, the coil in your lower abdomen thickening with each swirl of his tongue over your clit. He sucks the little nub of nerve endings into his mouth, and you curse under your breath as he grazes his teeth over it. Your fingers tangle in his hair, messing it up further as he eats you out so deliciously. Your thighs threaten to close around his head, and you squeal when he places his hands behind the back of your knees and pushing them towards your chest. His tongue teases your hole, dipping in before rolling over your swollen clit again. Your clasp a hand over your mouth to prevent yourself from becoming too loud, but he eats you so well, and the slurping noises don’t help to hold your self-control. You cum hot and heavy, and he groans as he tastes your juices on his tongue.

“Shit, Pierre, fuck, fuck,” you whimper, profanities and his name mixing on your tongue as he continues to suck on your clit, two of his fingers swirling around your hole before sliding knuckle deep in your pussy. He makes you feel incredible, and he drops your legs again to place a hand over your lower abdomen, offering some pressure. You gather all your strength to lean up on your elbows, watching him as he eats your pussy with passion you can feel in your core. His fingers curl up against your g-spot, and you feel another orgasm building up, but it comes from deeply inside. You’re nearly unable to control your feelings, and you’re almost scared to come undome, but his mouth lifts from your pussy and he kisses your inner thighs. “Come on, cum for me, mon ange.” You relax again, giving into a pleasure you’ve rarely felt before, and you push a pillow over your face while you cum on his fingers and tongue again. “Shit, you’re so hot,” Pierre moans, sitting up as you squirt over his fingers, staining the bedsheets as he predicted. “Oh my god,” you breathe, your legs trembling and you need a minute to come down. “That’s a good girl,” he praises, kissing up your body. “Get on your hands and knees,” he growls, jerking his cock a couple of times while you turn around, your brain fogged by the orgasm he just gave you. You lean on your elbows and knees, your head down.

Pierre’s hand comforting rubs up your spine, but the sweet moment lasts shortly as he spanks your ass next, making your toes curl and your pussy clench. You moan as you feel the head of his cock sliding into your pussy, and your fingers grab onto the sheets again when he’s fully in. The stretch is absolutely delicious, and you can tell you’re dripping wet around him as he groans at the feeling of your wet cunt. “You’re so fucking tight for me, ma belle,” Pierre grunts. “You feel me deep inside you?” he hums, tilting your hips a little. His hand slowly moves into your hair from the back of your neck, twisting your strands a little and lifting your head slightly, making you moan while he didn’t start thrusting yet. He left you waiting a little longer, his hands then slotting around your hips, grabbing you with a bruising grip as he starts to fuck you. His strokes are long, fluid, and angled at the right spot. You were a moaning mess barely a minute into him fucking you, but you didn’t care at all. “Fuck, this pussy feels as sweet as it tastes,” he gritts through his teeth, snapping his hips forward a little harder. He could praise you into the heavens or call you a slut, a whore, you didn’t care, you just wanted him to make you cum on his dick. You clench him tightly, you’re so aroused, so wet.

The head of his cock rakes over the sensitive spots inside your body, and you’re the brink of another release. Pierre looks down at his cock sliding in and out of you, watching his shaft being covered with your slick. Your ass bounces each time he thrusts into you, your back arches a little more. “Pierre...” you whine, dragging out his name so beautifully, it’s music to his ears. “F-fuck, I’m gonna-... God, I’m gonna cum again,” you slur, and you slump down to the mattress, nearly unable to hold yourself up. He easily pushes you to your side, one hand on your lower back while the other holds your thighs. Pierre slows down his thrust, feeling you cum around his cock. Your breath is uneven, your eyes are closed, bathing in the feeling of absolute bliss. Pierre picks up his pace again, and you drift into another state of mind, reaching for his hand that holds onto your thigh, pulling him closer. He opens your legs without pulling out, wrapping them around his waist. His elbows plant next to your head, his abs tightening as he fucks you deeply. Your teeth bite into his shoulder, your nails rake down his back while your legs curl around him tighter. Your heart is thumping against your rib cage, you near that white hot pleasure of your fourth orgasm. You’re both sweaty, his hair is slightly damp. His mouth is on yours, swallowing your moans. His pace didn’t falter again, chasing both of your orgasms this time.

You moans sound so sweet, and you feel so good around him. “Cum in me,” you breathe against his lips. “Say it again,” Pierre’s voice rasps. “Give me your cum,” you whimper, slotting your fingers around his biceps, holding on for dear life. The coil in your lower abdomen snaps, and the clenching of your pussy makes him cum deeply inside you. He throbs, shooting thick ropes of cum against your walls, prolonging your orgasm. You tremble under him, biting your lower lip to not scream. “Fuck,” Pierre curses, not pulling out of you yet. He lifts himself up a little more, giving you more space. You pull him down again instead, your lips connecting in a delicious kiss again. You can feel your body becoming sore already, and you whine as he shifts in his position, dropping your legs to the bed. “Gonna let me clean you up?” Pierre mutters against your lips, and you noded, resting back against the sheets of the bed while he went to the bathroom and get a wet towel. He cleaned your thighs and your pussy, helping you up so you could go to the toilet. When you came back, he was under the thin duvet of the bed already, and you scoffed at seeing the wet spot. “We should have placed a towel on it,” you say. “I wasn’t sure if I could make you squirt,” he replied with a grin. “You were,” you slap his chest when you reach for your panties on the floor.

You take your dress to put it on again. “You’re not staying?” He asks, leaning up. “I can’t stay, I have to work tomorrow morning, on this boat, in case you didn’t know,” you giggle. “Can’t you just sleep here?” Pierre said, pulling on your wrist to pull you onto the bed. “Nobody can know I was in here,” you whisper with a laugh. “I already broke the rules,” you whine. “I’ll get back to my cabin and see you again tomorrow, okay?” you say. “Hmm, alright,” Pierre gave in, getting up as you hastily put your dress on again, slipping into your flats. You were a little wobbly, and you couldn’t wait to get in bed and sleep. He pulls you close before you could leave, his hands squeezing your ass as he kisses you. “Sleep well, Pierre,” you say softly. “Goodnight, mon coeur,” he bites at his bottom lip as you quietly leave his cabbin.

#pg #pg smut #pierre gasly smut #pierre gasly x reader

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devileaterjaek · 1 year

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twink launcher

#raiden #metal gear rising #metal gear #gaming #platinum games #platinum #pg

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lewdo · 8 months

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Lewis Hamilton congratulating Pierre Gasly on finishing 3rd at the Dutch Grand Prix

#lewis hamilton #lh #pierre gasly #pg #f1 #formula 1 #my edits

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eggswastaken · 2 years

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It’s the one and only purple guy!

Thought I would try out a new technique for animation.

I made separate layers of drawings for each moving part.

(shoulders, arm 1 and 2, legs, belt, head, torso, and even the feet that you can’t see lol)

This is my first and probably last try at doing it this way, I’m going to stick with hand drawn frames.

Also I’m sure there is an artist who made this character design but I can’t find them? Let me know so I can give them credit.

Toast.

And yes I know I’m probably late to the party but I love him.

#pg #purple guy #afton #william afton #drawing #art #animation #fnaf #this was a mistake #took my four hours to make ugh #five nights at freddy's #toast #Vincent Afton

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paddockbunny · 2 years

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That damn look

Summary : Blurb. Pierre knows exactly what he’s doing shooting looks like that! Rating : 18+ Pairing : Pierre x Reader Word Count : <500 Warnings : sexual tension & slight descriptions of arousal. Implies male never quits trying to get a date. Gif credit : @gaslysric

You had worked really hard to get to where you were. It wasn’t like sports presenting teams were throwing jobs out at women, especially in motorsport. I mean, of course they were there but usually the men on the crew outweighed the females so it was defiantly a lot harder to convince people to take a chance on you.

So when you landed a job as an on air host of a popular F1 reporting team, it really did mean the entire world to you. The only problem came in the form of a cocky French driver who never made your job easy. Seriously it was like he actively went out of his way to flirt with you - even on air - and make zero effort in hiding his attraction. Usually you would have been flattered but it was getting increasingly hard not to react to him and stay professional. And he knew it. Sure, you couldn’t deny he was hot. He was very, very hot and so your type. You couldn’t resist the blue eyes and way he did that thing with his tongue. So many times your mind wandered while working. A dull ache formed between your thighs and you could always feel your panties getting slightly damp around him.

“So you never picked a day for that date you agreed too.” He practically purred over the metal fence. He motioned to his PR girl and said smugly; “Didn’t she promise last race? She said yes when I asked her only if she got to pick the day.” The girl nodded and you bit your bottom lip to stop yourself from completely and utterly falling under his spell. Pierre knew that you’d be patched into the live broadcast any second and the soul burning look he gave you almost had your knees giving way. Those blue eyes pierced straight into your soul. He had you, he knew he did. As you heard a countdown in your ear, he licked his lips and you had to look down at your notes to remember what you were supposed to ask him. Your mind had gone totally blank because of his antics. And most of all, you knew that he now would be expecting a date, time and location for this date he so badly wanted to take you on.

#Pierre Gasly #pg #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly blurb #pierre gasly one shot #pierre gasly fic #Pierre Gasly gif #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #f1 one shot #pierre gasly smut

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panopticum · 3 months

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Peter Gabriel long hair appreciation post

#having gender thoughts again #peter gabriel #pg

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unluckyhoneybee · 2 years

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Mine (Daniel Ricciardo)

1. Pierre and George. It's not the first time he catches them. This time he decides to tell you.

Note: I know nothing about these people's lives or sexualities, it's just fiction. If you don't like it please don't read it.

Warning: +18. bi sex (four-way); m+m, f+m; oral sex (for everyone); penetrative sex (p in v). No condom, let's say they are using other method (not mentioned)

"She is so pretty. It's insane" Pierre said.

You were laughing with Michael Italiano right in front of McLaren's hospitality.

"She really is"

"I still don't know how he did it" Pierre joked.

"Well, because he is just as pretty as she is." George simply said.

Pierre gasped and looked at the brit.

"What? He is handsome, mate"

Pierre blushed. It was something he obviously know. But he was too scared to say it out loud. He admired George for it.

"They make a good couple."

Pierre hummed.

"I kind of had a crush on her. Before I knew she was dating Danny" George confessed.

Pierre chuckled.

"Welcome to the club, then"

What they didn't know is that certain Australian was right there, behind a thin plastic wall hearing their little conversation.

He felt flattered. He had flirted with both and that was obvious. George had always made it clear, he was attracted. But Pierre? No. Pierre was all secret glances from afar and discreet brushing hands while he walked pass him. And you? He felt this weird adrenaline kick whenever he catch them glancing at you. Because yes, it wasn't the first time.

................

"Baby" Daniel whispered against your cheek. You had just had the most mind blowing sex in weeks and you were laying in him. You breath was so peaceful and you were so calm.

"Mhm"

"I caught the guys looking again"

You looked up.

"Pierre and George?"

Danny nodded and kissed your lips.

"And..."

"Don't you think we could..."

"Give them a little surprise?" You finished for him.

He smiled. You were a little freak, just like him.

"Mhm"

You smirked and climbed over him, sitting right on his hard member and leaning to devour his mouth.

"Will you let them fuck me this time? Or will they sit and watch like Max" You said slowly grinding your centre on him.

He groaned.

"Who do you want to get fucked by? Just tell me and I will give them to you"

You chuckled.

"Only you"

He kissed your lips and smiled on them.

"Only mine, huh"

"Just as you are only mine"

................................

"Where's YN? I saw her on the race?" Pierre casually asked.

You name made George peak over Alex's shoulder and forget about his conversation.

"She stayed on the hotel" Danny simply said.

"Is she feeling good?" George asked jumping in.

Daniel felt a wave of satisfaction. He had them both on his palm. He couldn't wait.

"She is. She was just tired"

You were. You were shaking when he left you. It was part of your game. It was what you liked. It had been like that with Max, Jenson and Danny's friend from home.

Right after the race and a good and warms shower together, he had made you lay on bed, opened your legs and dive in. Like that he had eaten you out for so long. You were a whimpering mess, overstimulated and edged on the bed. He had to help you with your clothes. With the white fishnet and underwear you had chosen for that day. And then, his pink and green shirt. So funky and party like in contrast with the expensive and delicate underwear you were wearing.

You looked beautiful like that. I won't take long. No touching.

"There is something..." Daniel started. "I heard you the other day. After press"

Pierre and George exchanged a look. A terrified look. Had they fucked up?

"So you think my girl is pretty, huh?"

George swallowed. If he heard that...

Pierre didn't moved.

"I won't bite, guys" yet he wanted to add.

"She is so beautiful. But we... We didn't meant to offend you, Danny." Pierre said quickly, almost tripping on his English.

"You didn't".

"What?"

"You didn't offend me. Why would you? My girlfriend is beautiful." Daniel simply said. He drank from his beer and a little drop scraped his lip. He was quick cleaning it with his thumb.

Both men looked at him. Pierre felt like choking on his air. Meanwhile, George was trying to think of Toto wearing granny panties in order to not get hard.

Daniel felt hot.

"The thing is... I told her."

"What?" George gasped.

"Yeah, I did. She told me she wanted to talk to you. Both of you."

Pierre looked at the brit, who was looking at Danny with big eyes.

"What does when want to talk about?"

"Well dear Russell George, you will have to come with me and see"

"To go were" Pierre asked.

"Our room"

Pierre swallowed.

"Do you want us to go to your room and talk with your girlfriend?"

"Yes. Talk with my girlfriend"

The taxi drive was fun. Both of them were too nervous. And Danny was just sitting there on the front, talking to the driver as if nothing was happening.

George was thinking of you. Did you wanted to fuck him? You? He knew Danny was into him. It was obvious by his flirting. But you? How could you?

Pierre on the other side... He knew he was good with women. On the other hand... What would Danny do? Would he stay and watch? Would he participate? Daniel wasn't the most straight man he knew.

They found themselves waiting for Daniel to open the door.

Meanwhile, inside you situated yourself on the bed. You knelt on it and fixed your clothes and hair. Ready.

Daniel smiled when he saw you. You really were the prettiest. And he knew how desperate and wet you were so... Yeah, even prettier. He could still taste you on his mouth.

You smiled at his sight, you had chosen the clothes for him. With shaky hands, you had wrapped the chains around his neck.

"Hi, baby" You said sweetly with a smile.

"Hi, beautiful"

As soon as they had you on sigh, Pierre and George gasped. You looked like an angel. They had seen Daniel so many times with that shirt and now it looked huge on you. It was open and the white set you were wearing looked perfect on your skin. And those fishnets? Beautiful.

Daniel walked to you and he gave you a deep kiss. You hummed on his mouth and he pulled back smiling.

"They agreed to come" He said caressing your cheeks. "Now, do they wanna stay?"

You looked over Danny's shoulder. George was slowly closing the door. The clasp made Daniel smirk. Pierre looked at the brit and took a deep breath. He was already hard. He had gotten hard the moment he saw yours and Danny's tongue dancing together.

"I think they want to stay" You whispered while making eye contact with them.

Daniel leaned and kissed your cheek, then you jaw and then your neck. You were so desperate to come that the softest kiss made you whimper.

"How pretty is she guys?" He asked while turning to his friends.

George gulped and Pierre took a step closer.

"So pretty, Daniel"

"George?"

"Beautiful, Danny"

"And you know what?" Daniel climbed on the bed behind you. His arms snaked around you and you shivered. Big hands caressed softly your skin. "She is so sensitive... The sounds she make..."

Pierre looked at George. He couldn't believe this was happening. He had both of you there, on your bed. You were there waiting for him. Both of you. George was nervous. More nervous now.

"George."

The brit looked at Daniel.

"Cat got your tongue?"

You smiled and played with Danny's hands.

"Are you two really okay with this?"

"We are. We talked about it" You said. Daniel kissed your cheek.

"So..."

"The only rule is that only I get to fuck her" Daniel said while diving to kiss your neck. He bit your skin and you meowled softly.

"Why are we here then?" Pierre asked walking closer to the bed.

"Well... There are so many things to do, right YN?"

You nodded and turned your face to him. Daniel kissed you deep and grabbed your breast with his hands. You moaned as your tongues played.

"Fuck..." Pierre groaned.

"Tell them what we did after the race."

Danny kept playing with your breast as he devoured your skin.

"Da-Danny ate me out... For hours" You sighed. Daniel moved one of his hands lower and his fingers rubbed you over your panties. "He is so good with his mouth... But he didn't let me cum"

George gasped. How could Danny do that to such a pretty thing? He couldn't wait to see you cumming. He knew you'd look perfect.

"And why is that?"

Daniel slipped his fingers under the waistband and rubbed slow circles on your clit.

"B-Because he wanted me nice and wet for you guys."

"And if we hadn't come here, then what?" Pierre asked.

"I would have let him fuck me into this bed for hours"

"Good girl" Daniel said against your hair. "Only mine, right?"

"Only yours" You whispered back. You laid your head on his shoulder and let yourself enjoy the feeling of his fingers in you.

George and Pierre didn't know what to do. They wanted some action too. George was dying to feel you and Danny. Pierre was a bit stuck. He was nervous. He wanted to participate but didn't know how. He had never been with a guy before.

Daniel taking your panties off made them snap. He was gently playing with your pussy. And you were softly whimpering.

"Fuck mate..." Pierre elbowed George, who had already taken his jacket off.

A loud moan made them move faster. Soon both of them were only in there underwear and Danny was smiling.

"Look at them baby, so ready and eager for us. How hard they are... Only because of you"

"No"

George made you open your eyes.

"You are hot too, Danny" He said nervouslym

You smiled and Daniel slid two fingers in you. You were desperate and dripping wet, it was so easy for him.

"He really is..." You said looking into George blue eyes. "He wants you too, guys"

Daniel kissed your cheek and neck.

Pierre was almost shaking. You were like the couple for him. He wanted to be you so bad, he wanted to feel Danny's hands on his neck and his lipd. He wanted to be Danny so bad. He wanted to feel your mouth on him and your sweet hands on his skin.

Daniel spanked your pussy and you moaned, hiding your fave on your boyfriend's chest. He wrapped his fingers around your throat and you panted, but soon he was touching you again, so the mix of sensations made you spiral into deep pleasure.

George thought that he wanted to feel you too. So he knelt on the bed. Daniel looked at him and smiled.

"What do you want, George?"

You had your eyes closed, completely lost on pleasure, not even caring about the three men around you.

"Can I?"

"Of course you can, lay on your belly"

George obeyed fast. He would do anything Danny told him. Both of them would. Pierre just needed a push.

"Do you want George to eat you?"

You nodded eagerly, looking into your boyfriend's eyes. He kissed your forehead and took his fingers off you.

"Open your pretty mouth, George"

George did. You opened your eyes so you could watch him such Danny's fingers. The aussie was so pleased with George. So obedient. Just how they liked them. George hummed around the older driver fingers and you sighed. He looked so beautiful with your boyfriend's fingers on his mouth.

Meanwhile, Pierre was thinking of running away. Not because he didn't want this, but because he was scared as fuck. He had never been with a guy and now he had two. He thought that if he left now that you three were so focused, you wouldn't notice. He would go to his room and touch himself in the shower to the image on his head.

"Now, eat my girl's pussy very slowly. That's how she likes it" Daniel needed to remind everyone you were his. That was his thing. He loved to see how others got to touch you but not like him. Same as you.

And as George dive in you, using his tongue and lips, Daniel looked at the French.

Pierre gasped when Daniel caught him staring.

"Everything okay?"

Pierre nodded slowly.

Daniel decided that he needed some help. Pierre couldn't spend the whole night standing there with that hard on on his boxers. He couldn't let him go untouched. What a loss.

Daniel laid you gently on the bed and you closed your eyes, feeling the bliss of George's delicate tongue he was so gentle with you. So Daniel thought you were in good hands and he was more needed somewhere else.

The aussie got up and Pierre took a step back.

"What's up, Gasly?" He said while walking to him and taking his shirt off.

"I've never done this" He confess and blush crept on his chest and neck.

He looks so pretty like this. Daniel thought. I like them vulnerable. He almost laugh at his reference about well, himself. You would call him idiot if he had spoken out loud.

"A threesome? Or well, foursome. It's our first four way too." With his long fingers, Daniel brought Pierre closer by pulling his waist. That Pyry does a good job. Daniel moved his hand up, cupping the underside of Pierre's chest. He has good boobs. "It's fine. Just think this is a night with friends. We could be having wine and eating pizza but instead George is eating my girlfriend. Not a big deal"

"I've had threesomes." Pierre couldn't look at Danny's eyes. Instead, he was focused on his tattoos. Then Danny brushed and he had to bite his lip. "But not with guys"

"I won't touch you if that's what you mean" He said although he never stopped playing with Pierre's nipple. "I understand that maybe you are not into..."

"I am"

"Are you?"

This wasn't the Pierre Danny knew. This was a different Pierre. That cocky facade was gone, he was at his mercy. This Pierre wasn't the Pierre everyone else saw.

He nodded.

"So if I..." With one hand, Danny cupped Pierre's cheek and leaned to lick his lips. Pierre panted and open his mouth. "Can I kiss you"

The French nodded.

So Danny kissed Pierre. He kissed him so deeply that the younger one moaned because of it. Daniel and you had talked about this so many times. For you two he had the prettiest mouth of the grid. Daniel couldn't wait for you to have a taste of those plump lips.

Pierre pulled back breathless and looked into Danny's eyes.

"Better?" Danny asked.

Pierre nodded and kissed him again. He even let his hands wonter to Danny's ass, who giggled on his mouth.

"I see, I see." Daniel looked over his shoulder. "I think YN would appreciate a lot if you'd go there and help George"

Pierre nodded but almost faints when Daniel left a kiss on his shoulder.

The aussie observed how George moved to the side and made some space for Pierre. Soon, you were moaning like mad as the two boys put everything they knew on use.

Neither of them had done it before, share a woman like this with someone else. But they fell into pace quickly. George liked using the tip of his tongue more, while Pierre prefered long and deep strokes with flat tongue.

Daniel smiled proud when you opened your eyes and smiled at him. He was so in love with you.

You reached your hand for him and he walked to you. You pulled him in for a kiss and reached your hands to his trousers. You palmed him and he gasped on your mouth. Edging you for do long also had effects on him. He had been painfully hard and he wanted nothing more than to be in you. Buy he could wait a bit more.

He could feel a subtle change on your moans. He looked at the guys and they were currently using both tongues in you.

"You are doing so good. She is gonna cum soon, right baby? What a pair of good boys."

You moaned in agreement, grabbing Danny's hand. George was trying so hard to not touch himself. He didn't know if he was allowed. Meanwhile, Pierre couldn't care less. He was touching himself over his boxers. He needed a release and he needed it soon.

"Are you feeling good? Tell them"

A soft slap in your nipple sounded in the whole bedroom, followed by a whimper.

"Yes. I'm feeling so good. They are so good to me."

The orgasm washed soon over you. Danny cuddled you close and praised you for how good you have been to them. You closed your eyes and shook hards. The moans leaving your lips were so pretty. After the whole afternoon waiting for this, you finally felt relieved and pleased.

George and Pierre pulled back when you tried to giggle away from them, feeling too overstimulated after so much.

You looked at them and smiled. They looked so handsome with your juices on their face. They were both blushing deep. They had a crush on you for a while, both of them thought of trying to flirt with you before knowing you were there with Danny. Now, they had made you cum.

"Good boys." Danny praised them "Now kiss"

George gasped, but Pierre was the most shocked one. Kiss Danny was one thing, kissing George was another.

"Only if you want to" You whispered. When Danny got all dominant he sometimes forgot to ask for permission.

George swallowed deep. It's not that he didn't want to. Same to Pierre. He couldn't move, he didn't know how to start. Gladly, you were there to help them. You moved closer and cupped George's cheeks. You always had a soft spot for his pretty face and big eyes. You kissed him slowly, savouring yourself on his mouth and playing with his tongue.

Pierre couldn't stop looking at your mouth and the way you kissed George, he wanted that too.

Daniel had taken the opportunity to get rid of his trousers, without stopping looking. He couldn't miss his girl messing with the two guys.

When you pulled back from George and looked at Pierre, the French knew what he had to do. He leaned to kiss you. Just like, Danny. He thought. It was apparent you were used to kissing each other because apart from the difference between your mouths, you felt the same way. Looked at Daniel, who was right next to him. He thought he might be a ghost because he didn't hear him move. Danny was quick, he cupped his cheeks and kissed him. George moaned. This was better than he had ever imagined. And when he pulled back, you and Pierre were looking. His eyes went to Pierre's and any of them gave it a second thought. They kissed under your and Dan's gazes. Your boyfriend kissed your forehead and then your cheek.

When Pierre and George pulled back, they were even more flustered than before.

"Well, that was nice. Wasn't it baby?"

"It was" You told Danny. He kissed you.

"Do you want to give these guys a reward?"

You nodded and bit your lip.

"How do you want them?"

You patted the bed.

"Lay please"

Both of them climbed onto the bed and lay against the headboard, with was kind of funny for Danny. You knelt between them and giggled your ass, earning a spank from Danny.

The Aussie reached for his pink shirt and pulled it off your shoulders.

"I don't want you two to cum on it. It's too expensive" He said throwing it away.

Pierre swallowed at the sight of you. George had already reached for your bra and looking at you with his big blue eyes, he asked:

"Can I take this off?"

You nodded and helped him. The moment your chest was bare, Danny cupped your breast and was playing with your sensitive nipples.

"She likes to have them sucked."

Any of the others needed more orders. Soon you had them both licking and sucking your nipples. YOu moaned happily and ran your hands through their hair.

Daniel hugged you from behind and kissed your neck. You could feel him hard against your ass and wonder if he'd fuck you now. He loved to do it while you used your mouth on others.

"Oh guys" You whispered.

It felt good, but you wanted to please them too, so you pushed them until they were laying again.

You leaned over Pierre and kissed his chest while your finger traced George's muscles.

"You are so handsome, guys"

"Not more than me" Danny joked behind you.

You rolled your eyes.

Leaving kisses over their skin and switching between them, you made your way down and soon you had George in your mouth and your hand on Pierre's balls. They were both in awe looking at you.

"I understand now why you are always smiling, mate" Pierre told Danny when you moved to him and deepthroated him with no warning.

Daniel only laughed hard. To be fair, he was a bit jealous. Both of them looked so good and fucked out, only because of you. He wanted that some.

You mouthed your way down to Pierre's ball and sucked them as you moved your hand faster over George. The brit whimpered and leaned against the french.

Daniel kissed your shoulder and caressed your sides.

"Maybe we could share, baby"

Both guys looked at Daniel. He wanted to...

"If they are in" You added.

George found your dynamic quite fun. Daniel was impulsive and you always took careful steps.

"What do you say'" You looked at them.

They both nodded. Pierre swallowed hard and George bit his lip.

"Okay" George said.

"Yeah." Pierre felt more relaxed now, but he still could believe this was happening. He couldn't belive that Daniel Ricciardo was caressing the inside of his thigh as your moved your hand around his tip.

Soon, both of you were working in tandem. George and Pierre were so hypnotized. You had your mouth on George and hand on Pierre, contrary to Danny.

"F... Fuck" Pierre groaned when Daniel took him fully on his mouth. Danny had his eyes closed and was humming with each movent.

You were sucking George tip and he was breathing so hard. Again, they could nocite how you were much calmer, with slower movements and taking your sweet time on George member. Meanwhile, Daniel was fully invested. He wanted Pierre to cum soon and nice. Hard.

"Oh, YN baby... You are so good" George whimpered.

"She really is" Daniel said pulling back. There was some saliva on his lips and you couldn't contain yourself. You kissed him deep, humming and smiling. You loved him so much.

Blowing a couple of guys together was something new for the both of you, but you were having such a good time. At some point, you were both on George, mouthing and kissing up and down while Danny had his hands on Pierre. The French was so lose now, he was leaning his head on George and Heaven left a couple of kisses on his neck.

George was so sensitive and responsive, so having Danny sucking his tip and you licking his balls was disastrous for him.

"I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna... Agh"

Soon, he came in both of you and his abdomen. You gasped in surprise.

"Oh fuck" He said whimpering and covering his face.

Danny locked his lips and smile.

"We are good, huh"

George opened his eyes and looked at him. He thought he would laugh or something, joke about how little he could last. But no, Daniel smiling so proud.

"Such a good team, baby" You sad kissing his cheek.

George felt his heart beating fast. He felt so nice, so high. You two were amazing.

Daniel kissed you deeply and you moaned as his fingers reached your pussy again. He hooked them on the fishnet and broke it.

"I'm gonna fuck you now" He whispered on your ear but loud enough for the others to hear. "And you will make Pierre cum with that pretty mouth of yours"

You nodded and looked at Pierre, who bit his lip and got comfortable on the bed.

When George had recovered enough and still a bit shaken, he got up to pick somethingto clean you both. When he came back, Danny was already between your legs. You were on your back and Pierre was kneeling next to your head.

He got closer and cleaned you first. You kept your eyes on him as you jerked the French and he felt intimidated. Your eyes were so intense.

"Give me a kiss" You told him once he had finished.

And he did, he kissed you nice and slow, sucking your lips and pulling them between his lips.

Danny was smiling. He loved how much you were enjoying yourself.

Pierre pinched your nipple and you moaned on George's lips.

Then, George cleaned Daniel, who just stayed there with a smile and then asked for a kiss too. George pulled back with a smile and laid next to you, watching the scene and feeling the exhaustion of the day coming to surface. It was always like this after cumming, but today it felt even more intense.

Pierre caressed your lips with his fingers and you opened your mouth for him.

"Be gentle, Pierre. Don't hurt her"

"I won't"

Daniel nodded and spit on your center before sliding in you, who moaned around Pierre.

It was truly a sight to be seen, George thought. You all looked amazing and he was proud of himself for this.

Daniel felt so good in you, he was being slow so you could work properly on Pierre. He wanted the French to cum first so he could fuck you nicely and how he wanted

And you knew it. It was a routine by now.

Pierre knew he wouldn't last long. He could feel it already close. He was being careful as Daniel said, but you felt amazing. You were so talented with his mouth. Every time you would push him deep, he would groan and gasp for air.

Daniel thought that he maybe needed something more, so he played with his nipples, which made Pierre giggle because he hadn't have anyone doing it to him before. But the little waves of pleasure that Daniel give him, were going directly to his member, were you were perfectly working your magic and moaning around.

Even when Danny was slow, the intense activities of the day had you still on the edge, you knew you wouldn't last.

At some point, Pierre grabbed your head and kept you still. Daniel stop breathing for a second before you touched his abdomen. He felt you were fine. Pierre came in your mouth with a loud moan and let you go.

You pulled back gasping for air but smiling so widely. You swallowed and showed the three men your clean tongue.

"Good girl" Daniel said finally relaxing.

You bit your lip and looked at Pierre.

"Kiss me"

And he did, tasting himself on your mouth and groaning. He hadn't cum so good in weeks.

Then you pulled back and made George kiss you too. The brit let a high pitch moan and you smiled. He was so cute.

Last but not less important, Daniel, who cupped you cheek and laid over you. As he kissed you, he started fucking you deeper and harder. You let a loud cry out and hid on his neck. Your nails were leaving red marks on him.

"Oh fuck baby" Daniel moaned on your ear.

"You feel so good, Danny. So big"

Pierre sat next to you and felt lost for a second. How would it feel? He didn't care which side, he couldn't push the thought out of his head. You two looked awesome, you were completely wrapped around Daniel and he was grabbing you so tenderly.

Danny had a funny ass move when he fucked, the French thought.

Then you let a sob out and both guys looked down at your face. It was George who reached to you, touching your hair gently.

"Oh fuck... I'm gonna come... Please Danny make me come"

"Of course I will, baby"

He sat on his heels and pulled your legs together. The new position was enough for you. You came hard and loud, grabbing into both guys at your sides but looking at your boyfriend, who didn't stop until he came. It was so erotic to see his thick neck blushed and tense, head falling back, lips open and eyes close as he emptied himself in you.

Daniel pulled back groaning and let you legs carefully fall on the bed. It had been intense and he needed a minute. Why having those two pair of blue eyes plus yours looking at him made him come so hard? After long seconds, he looked at the three of you. You seemed to have gone to heaven and back to earth for a second. George was playing your head while Pierre caressed your belly.

"Fuck. You are all so beautiful. So so beautiful" He said out of breath. "I'm so lucky to have had you three at the same time"

You smiled.

"Kiss?"

Daniel kissed you for long before moving to them.

"Thank you guys" He said looking between them. "Sometimes it's difficult to keep her happy. You see, three dudes..."

You lunched his elbow.

Daniel was the best after moments like this. He made them comfortable and both guys laughed happily. No pressure, no nerves, no uncomfortable post sex silence.

Ten minutes later, you were all tangled in bed afted a little reprimand from Danny's side.

You two had gone to the toilet, shared a couple of kisses and pleased smiles and when you came back they were getting dressed. Danny had called them a couple of idiots and had insisted about both of them being more than welcomed to spend the night. He had opened you favorite biscuit package and now you were all on the bed.

You had changed into more comfortable underwear and the three man were on his boxers. You were laying on Danny, your back on his chest as he rested again the headboard. George was laying with his head on your stomach and you were playing with his hair. Pierre was tucked under Danny's arms. All of you had thrown some blankets over and were watching TV and sharing the biscuits.

"So... Nobody fucks YN? Like ever?"

"Or Danny. We don't let anyone fuck us."

Both guys looked at you surprised. "What? Danny is not always a Dom"

"Spilling my secrets?"

You giggled and looked up asking for a kiss. Danny pecked your lips and nose.

"We don't let anyone fuck us at least the first time"

And the gasp they left was snough for Danny and you to laugh hard.

Wow. What a day.

#daniel ricciardo #pierre gasly #George russell #Dr #Pg #Gr #Smut #Fic

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