#pierre gasly one shot | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

charlesslut16 · 10 months

Note

hi love <3

could you maybe write for pierre :

Like you and your friends are talking about pierre, who alsways wants everything to be perfect in bed but y/n also wants to have quickes. Pierre hears the conversation and decides to show you how capable he is of having quickies with you.

thank you in advance bae ( :

-quickies-

summary : you and you're friends are talking about how pierre doesn't have quickies with you. Pieere hears the conversation and decides to change it.

PAIRING : pierre gasly x fem!reader

WARNINGS : +18, smut, NSFW, dirty talk, dom!pierre, fingering, spanking, p in v, badly translated french, curse words, public sex, unprotected sex (be safe!)

note : i hope you like it! Send in more requests and i will work them off! Love you <3

masterlist

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Pierre opened the front door of your apartment, with the keys you had given him for emergencies, and walked up the stairs to your bedroom, as you hadn't opened the door, when he sent you the message that he was in front of your house.

His step haltered, when he heard his name being mentioned, followed by a very know loud girl group laugh. He stopped in the middle of the stairs and waited quietly.

"So what is he like? Is he like a machine in bed too? Like a beast? " One of the girls asked, cackling, and he chuckled quietly with a shake of his head, a smile visibly on his face.

"No," he head your voice and the smile on his face grew wider. Of course, he wasn't cold and clinical during sex. If there was something people couldn't accuse him, it was the lack of passion.

"I mean, he does want it to be perfect all the time, so in a sense..." He held his breath, his brows knitted together, as he listened to her carefully, being visibly confused.

"You, girl, you're saying that like that's a problem." One of her friends laughed loud and he huffed. He couldn't understand why this sounded more like a complaint than a compliment.

"All my man does for me is put it in and take it out." Pierre's spine straightened a little bit, a smirk tugged at the side of his lip. He could go for hours, and loved to go for hours.

"Of course it isn't a problem, but sometimes I just wish he could do quickies without having to plan a day ahead," you exclaimed.

"Quickies are nice, but we don't have them, you know. I can't just say that we have ten minutes before the race starts or let's have a quickie in the shower before you need to go to the airport, because well... it wouldn't be perfect."

Pierre's eyebrows raised to his hairline. He figured you liked that he'd rather wait than just get it out of the way like it was a meaningless act. You were always the more sensitive one, and so he made sure that you felt cherished and treasured even when you were in bed together.

He couldn't wrap his mind around what the problem with that was. "But the thing is sometimes, you just need to fuck without any special treatment." you stated.

His fingers tapped against the railing before he inhaled deeply and walked up the rest of the stairs. No one had ever had the nerves to complain about his performance in bed. But if you wanted to be fucked, he could give it to her now.

"Good evening, ladies." He flashed them his most dazzling smile before he walked straight to you, grabbed you by the elbow and pulled you up and after him.

"What the... Pierre..." you complained, your voice slightly off from the booze you clearly had, one glass of wine as always, but it was enough to get her tipsy a little bit.

He completely ignored her words, and walked down the stairs, dragged you with him without haltering even for a second. You could only see the sight of his face, but you knew that look very well. He was pissed.

Pierre's jaw was clenched, his fingers dag into your arm so hard you wondered if you were going to get bruises later on. When you both hit the floor area. He turned to the right and headed towards your home office.

"Baby." Your hand tugged at his shirt, but he brushed your fingers off with a low grumble. You bit your bottom lip, felt your panties soaking trough between your legs.

There was something beautiful in a raging Pierre Gasly, how his eyes turned from a light colour to a darker one, his determination shining through. He was always like a force of nature, but these times, he reminded you of a tornado.

"What are you even... Pierre, they are going to... the girls will know..." you said breathlessly as he pulled you into the tiny room and closed the door behind you.

Pierre pushed you up against the wall of the tiny home office, wasting no time before he parted your legs and his hand slipped between your legs, making you almost buckle.

"Je n’en ai rien à foutre qui entende quand je te baise la cervelle," he growled in a low voice, another wave of wetness gushed between your thighs. I don't give a fuck who hears when I fuck your brains out,

"Qu’est-ce qui t’a pris?" You asked, accompanied by a moan, as he pushed your panties aside and thrusted two fingers into your pussy. What the hell has gotten into you?

"Ma copine ne peut pas se plaindre que je ne la baise pas correctement." He grabbed your jaw and pounded his fingers hard in you, in and out, fast and mercyless, his palm brushed over your swollen clit in small circles. My girlfriend can not complain that I don't fuck her properly.

Your knees trembled, and you could feel the familiar pull in your belly approaching you way too fast. Your hips lifted to pierre's hand and a whimper escaped your mouth, when his knuckles brushed over your sweet spot.

His fingers sank into your jaw deeper for a moment, and you hissed quietly. You were about to reply, as he pulled his fingers from your soaking hole and with a well planned moves grabbed you by the hair and pushed your face on the table.

The air, getting knocked out of your lungs, when your upper body hits the hard surface. You could hear him unbuckling his belt behind her and glanced over your shoulder.

Your boyfriend's big veiny hands wrapped tightly around both ends of the belt, and you felt your core pulsing with need, your ass lifted into the air involuntarily.

"Je n’ai pas le temps de parler en ce moment, juste une salope rapide." He smirked at you before the belt came around your wrists and pulled so tight, the leather cut into her skin. I have no time to talk right now, just a quickie, slut.

Your thighs quivered, and you could hear him huffing when you spread your legs just a bit wider. He looked you up and down before giving your ass a little pat.

"Tu vas crier mon nom, princesse, ne laissant aucun doute à quiconque à l’étage sur la façon dont je peux te baiser," You're going to scream my name, princess, leaving no doubt for anyone upstairs just how properly I can fuck you,

You could feel the tip of his cock against your entrance, and you tried to push back to him, but his hand came around your waist and held you so tight, you knew for sure the edge of the table was going to bruise your hipbone.

"Watch the clock. 10 minutes." He ordered, and your gaze fell on the small table clock. Pierre was unbelievable. You were about to make another snarky comment, but he was faster than you.

Without giving you even a moment to adjust to his size, Pierre thrusted into you with one swing of his hips, and you cried out. Tiny colourful blurs appeared in your vision as his cock invaded your tightness, every little bundle of nerves alive for the rough treatment he was giving you.

Pierre was a man on a mission, no doubt about it, fucking you so hard, the table moved inch by inch forwards. You could do nothing but scream as he held you down by the waist and pounded into you so powerful, you were a trembling mess in no time.

"Putain viens me chercher, qu’ils l’entendent." His hand landed on your ass with such strength, the print of his palm coloured your butt checks red, over and over again. Fucking come for me, let them hear it.

He switched between your cheeks before you cried out in desperation, the power of your orgasm nearly knocking you off your feet. It wasn't enough for him tough, not far enough.

"Eyes still on the clock, I hope." He smacked your burning red ass one more time to get your attention and to not let you slip into the bliss of your orgasm just yet.

"3 more minutes." you mumbled, as an answer through your haze, your breathing heavy as you pushed back into him, unable to follow the speed that he dictated.

"Alors vous pouvez m’en donner un de plus, n’est-ce pas?" He growled before one of his hands slipped from around your waist over the line of your spine up lightly to your hair, and he pulled you up against his body. Then you can give me one more, right?

Your eyes rolled back into the back of your head when the angle changed and his cock brushed against your g-spot repeatedly, sending all of your cells into a frenzy.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, Pierre, please!!" You screamed, pierre's thumb brushed over your clit and your body crashed against his when you came undone with a glass chattering scream.

Your swollen pussy clamped down on him, his thrusts turned erratic as he fucked you through your second orgasm before he followed you with a low grunt.

""Was that quick and unexpected enough for you?

"I petition you to be spontaneous more often."

"Next time you criticize how I fuck you, I'm not letting you come for a week." You laughed out but instantly nodded because you knew too well Pierre and his punishments were not to be taken lightheartedly.

#pierre gasly one shot #f1 #formula one #formula 1 #f1 smut #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly drabble #pierre gasly smut #pierre gasly f1 #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly x you #dom!pierre gasly

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norrisleclercf1 · 7 months

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Hi could you please do sunshine reader with Pierre and he like is rude to everyone except her, biggest softy for her, devil for anyone else 🧸🫠

A/N: Honestly I picture Pierre like this in real life, I feel like he's sorta a dick ( I say this with love) but with the people he loves he's a softy

Pierre has never once cared what people think about him. He's the type of person where he said he'd never change for love or for a person. He liked his dirty humor, quick temper, and moving around the world.

So, meeting you for the first time and feeling this overwhelming need to just shield you from everything that makes him, him. Pierre started to slow down, keeping his dirty jokes to himself and not letting his temper flare at the first issues. Pierre even started to not travel around the world unless for F1.

Charles noticed it first, when he brought it up Pierre about bit his head off and that was the end of the conversation. The Frenchman hated when you came up as a topic, refusing to let anyone talk about you.

Pierre started to fall for you when you started to smile at him and always stayed so cheerful. He started to keep that side of himself away from you, he was the thunder cloud and you the sunshine.

"Pierre?" Your voice calls pulls him back into the restaurant as he smiles at you. "Yes, sunflower?" Pierre smiles, Carlos, Charles, Estaban, and some of the others all turn hearing Pierre's sweet voice.

"The waiter asked you what you wanted?" Charles dips his head down, knowing that Pierre hated when people rushed him. "Oh, sorry." Pierre smiles at you, grabbing your hand and kissing it.

"Just give me the special." Pierre's lips tight as he shoves the menu into the waiter's chest. "And for you ma'am?" The waiter goes but Pierre stops him telling him you'll have the same thing as him.

Charles whispers an apology for the harsh Pierre, but the waiter just smiles, Pierre being completely wrapped up in your conversation with Carlos. As the night moves on the more Pierre was slowly becoming irritated with Carlos who was pulling your attention away from him.

"Hey, can you stop talking to my girlfriend so much." Pierre hisses, as you giggle at one of Estebans jokes. "Why?" Carlos asks, batting those eyelashes like he's innocent. The boys hated that you couldn't see the true Pierre as he was sickly sweet with you.

"Asshole," Pierre snarls, you turn hearing the curse. "Pierre, apologies. Carlos has done nothing wrong to warrent that language." Your tone was gently but firm as Pierre white-knuckles his fork. "I apologize Carlos," Pierre smiles clearly fake but you don't notice.

"Good boy," Pierre melts his smile turning real as he leans in letting you kiss his cheek.

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norrussell · 6 months

Text

Paris | Pierre Gasly¹⁰

Pairings: Pierre Gasly x fem!actress!reader

Summary: Pierre comes to visit you in your hotel room, and you know what always happens when you two get together...

Warnings: smut, explicit, descriptive, fwb situation, drastic change of pace, degradation, praise, edging, delayed orgasm, dom!Pierre, orgasm denial, basically everything you can think of this story probably has it

Word count: 5058

A/N: this is several moths old and filthy! Like it's the filthiest thing I ever wrote. For the sake of the story, let's pretend Pierre's family home is in Paris, thanks. Pierre's nickname for the reader is princess so there's a lot of that.

You were in your hotel room in Paris in the middle of unpacking when you heard a knock on your door. You'd be here for several days in France to film on location and wanted to make sure your clothes didn't get wrinkled, so you hastily set down the shirt you were holding before going to answer the door, already knowing who it was.

"Hey you," you said and prompted yourself on your toes to place a kiss on his cheek and give him a hug; he awkwardly hugged you back. "Come on in." you moved aside to let him through and closed the door behind him.

He immediately grabbed your head and put his lips on yours.

"Don't give me that crap ever again, I've waited weeks to see you." he said. "Kissing my cheek and bullshit."

You let out a laugh. "Sorry, we were in the middle of the hallway, someone could see. We're both famous, you know."

"No one even knows you're here." he looked around. "Why are you even staying in a hotel anyway? I told you, you can stay at my parents' house."

"And I told you, I don't want to inconvenient them. Besides, your mom doesn't like me." you continued to unpack, busying yourself by folding shirts and putting them away.

"What?! She likes you, she just..."

"Pierre," you rolled your eyes. "You talk about me all the time, no wonder the woman hates me."

"Did she ever tell you or did something to make you think that way?" he furrowed his brows.

You abruptly stopped in your tracks upon thinking of Pascale's stern advice to not toy with Pierre's affections. That had been an awkward conversation, since you weren't exactly certain what she knew about the two of you; Pierre who always ran his mouth and risked making it seem like you were a couple. But mothers often possess insight beyond what any mortal can explain - and somehow she already knew.

"Nope." you shook your head and folded your pants. "Besides, where would I sleep? In your childhood bedroom?"

"Mm, I would very much like to see you in my childhood bedroom." he hugged you from behind. "And maybe even see you wearing one of my old jerseys in it. Just the jersey." he moved the hair on your shoulder and placed a kiss on your neck.

You lifted your shoulder up, squirming, and removed his hands from around you.

"Don't do that." your folded pants gave you a reasonable excuse to walk away from him and put them away in the closet.

"Do what?"

You turned around to face him. "That..." you gestured with your hands. "Boyfriend girlfriend stuff. We're not that."

"I missed you."

You sighed and ran a hand through your hair. He walked closer to you.

"Haven't you missed me?" he placed his hands on both sides of your neck, his thumbs running across your jaw. "Huh, princess?"

"I have." you tiptoed to close the gap between you.

His lips captured yours in an instant. His hands moved to cup your face and bring you even closer. The warmth of his mouth reminded you just how much you craved him. Your hands reached for the collar of his shirt and knotted into fists there. He kissed you slowly and gently, your tongues tangled together, but it was not gentleness you wanted. Not from him, never from him. You opened your mouth to deepen the kiss, but he only groaned softly into it, slowing you down.

"Slowly, princess." he whispered over your lips. "I want you to tell me just how much you missed me. To show me just how much..." his lips brushed all over your face. "To tell me, where you missed me the most." he rested his forehead on yours, his thumbs caressing your cheeks.

You sucked in your lips and let out a shaky breath. "My..." you swallowed. "My neck..."

You didn't have to tell him twice to move his head to the side and place a light kiss there. You closed your eyes, shivering at the touch.

"Like this?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, exactly like that..." you moved your head, allowing him more space and giving in to the sensation.

Your hands sought out his locks and intertwined with them. He kissed your neck, eliciting soft sighs from you, then lavished attention to the spot behind your ear that made you quiver. His teeth lightly grazed on your sensitive skin, leaving a subtle imprint.

"Where else, princess?" he lightly scratched you with his stubble.

Instead of verbally answering him, you pushed his head down to your cleavage. You heard him chuckle, burying his head between your boobs. He kissed and sucked on the exposed skin of your chest, making his way up to your collar bone, biting and marking it.

Placing your hands on his shoulders, you pushed him down to his knees. He looked up at you and smiled, naughty gleam in his eyes. You took his hands and dug them under your shirt. Your breath hitched when his fingers curled around the bare skin of your waist. His palms started traveling upwards, lifting your shirt with them. The whole time he was staring up at you with those piercing blue eyes, your knees wanted to give out.

He leaned forward; you felt his breath on your stomach and then the brush of his lips. Prompting himself up a bit to be in the level, he slowly began placing kisses all over your stomach area. You gripped his hair, letting him know he was on the right path to drive you insane.

"Pierre, undo my pants..." you said; he seemed to be taken by surprise, but obediently did so and waited for further instructions, looking up at you. He knew you wanted him to pull them down, he just wanted you to say it. "And take them off."

His fingers dug into the waistband and rolled them down. While doing so, he placed a kiss to your hip bone. He gently removed your jeans and tossed them to the side, his eyes back on you again. He took a sharp breath in when he saw you wearing baby blue underwear, but quickly got a hold of himself. He gripped your waist and kissed the other hip bone, sucking on the skin and making a light purple bruise.

"What's next, princess?" he asked.

Oh god, this was torture.

"Caress my legs," you gulped. "With your hands."

He smirked then placed the tips of his fingers on your ankles. He dragged them up over your calves to your knees then dived with his palms into your thighs. Your muscles tensed and you shivered. A faint smile on his lips gave away that he liked it.

"Touch me, with your lips."

He placed a kiss to your left knee and made his way upwards, slightly parting your legs. You breathed through your hung open mouth with your eyes closed. He stopped when he reached your groin and you felt just his hot breath on you. You glanced down at him to find him already looking up at you, smiling. You ran your fingers through his hair.

"Keep going." you whispered.

He buried his face into your other thigh, making you gasp. He could probably see how wet your panties have gotten, but you could now feel them. He didn't even properly touch you and you were already soaking through, it was embarrassing.

"Pierre," you called and made him look at you. "Touch me."

Of course, Pierre wouldn't be Pierre without a little tease. He first ran his fingers around the area where you wanted him to touch you.

"Pierre, please... I need you."

"How bad, princess?"

"So bad... Pierre, please—" you were getting all whiny from the anticipation.

"Shh, calm down, princess, there we go..." he pressed his digits over your clothed pussy and you could finally breathe again.

"Oh, my god, yes... Thank you." you whined.

He chuckled. "You're my good girl, you know that?" he asked, drawing slow circles over your clit.

"Y-yes..."

"My needy good girl." he moved your panties to the side.

Finally, a naked touch. You parted your legs a bit more, spreading them wide to give him better access. His arms pressed against the inside of your thighs as he maneuvered his body for closer contact. A warm breeze cooled your moist skin and brought a red flush to your cheeks. You threw back your head in ecstasy as his rhythmic movement stirred you inside and out.

"Do you want my finger, baby?"

"I want two." you bit your lip to stop from smiling.

"Eager." he smirked, positioning two fingers at your entrance. "Ready?" you nodded your head and he slipped them inside.

A sigh of relief escaped your lips as he began to move his fingers inside you. His movements were initially gentle and slow, but when you grinded your body against him, the speed increased. You match him thrust for thrust, swaying in synchrony.

"Pierre... I want to feel you... your mouth..." you panted.

He stopped his fingers, curled them deep inside of you and then pulled out. He took off your panties next and discarded them aside. Separating your legs, he kissed around before giving your pussy a kiss, making you shudder. Starting with kitten licks, he teased you before fully running his tongue over you, but slowly, very slowly. Your breath caught up in your throat from the feeling. He rolled his tongue between your folds with such pace that was driving you nuts.

You buried your hands deep into his hair, moaning his name. He then decided it was time to bring fingers into play again. He was rhythmically fucking you with his fingers while sucking on your clit at the same time. He drove you to the point of screaming, your knees giving out and only holding onto his shoulders for support prevented you from doubling over.

"Get on the bed, love." he led you to the bed backwards and laid you down.

He kissed a trail up your body, taking off your shirt and moving on to exploring your chest. He wrapped his arms around you, undoneing the clasp of your bra before throwing it aside. His mouth then focused completely on your breasts, sucking and nibbling on your nipples while his hands squeezing them in pleasure. Your hands pushed down on his shoulders, guiding him where you wanted to be touched as he moved lower with his lips and tongue.

He positioned himself between your legs, his head right above your pussy. You prompted your hips up only for him to push them down. He lowered his head, his lips brushing your clit and hot breath making you whine. Opening his mouth, he slowly licked you up once again. His tongue circled all around you, making soft moans escape your lips. This time there was no fingerplay involved, just him sucking on you.

"Give me your hands." he murmured, not separating from your core.

"Why?"

He got a hold of them before you even got to process what was happening. When he reached to interlock your fingers that's when you quickly pulled away.

"No, sorry, I don't do that..." it was too intimate for you. The feelings you held for Pierre couldn't be returned in kind. You wanted to save hand-holding during these moments for when you were completely sure of your emotions, even if it wasn't him.

You noticed his jaw clench and eyes change to a darker shade of blue, but he said nothing. Instead, he pushed your legs back and started devouring you like crazy. You yelped in surprise and yelled his name. That was his trigger, you triggered him. Slow and gentle Pierre was gone.

His tongue lapped around much more rapidly, he sucked harder and even used his teeth to graze you. He was mercilessly eating you out. You couldn't control your moans nor your breathing. He held you in a position you could barely move. The only thing you could do was scream out and squeeze your own tits for some kind of relief.

Soon, your legs started to shake, a pit forming in your stomach and he knew you were closer for you were calling his name repeatedly while begging. But he only sucked on you one last time and pulled away.

"Oh, why, Pierre, I was so close..." you whined and squirmed on the bed.

"I know," he said. "Good girls get to cum. You're not one of them."

"Fuck you." you spat. "I can just make myself cum." you sat upright.

"Great! Do it then." he replied, walking away and taking his shirt off. You frowned and looked after him. He turned around. "Well, what are you waiting for? I don't have all day." he said, undoing his pants and taking them off.

He leaned on the dresser just in his boxers, watching you. You positioned yourself so you were on full display for him. Not breaking the eye contact, you licked four of your fingers, making them nice and wet for your cunt. You played with your pussy, running your fingers up and down your folds, stretching you out and exploring yourself before you started rubbing on your clit. You exaggerated your moans, grabbing your boob and squeezing it in pleasure.

You saw him grip the edge of the dresser, but still he did nothing. The bulge in his boxers was pretty evident even though he tried to hide it. You decided it was time to add some more fingers to the play. Since he wanted to watch, you'll put on a show. You slid two of your fingers into you and sucked on the other two to moisten them for your clit.

His jaw tightened when you started playing with your clit again while also fingerfucking yourself. You let out a very loud moan, almost pornographic. Man, you were really good at this when you had an audience. He put his hand over the bulge, trying to keep it under control, but he was probably just palming himself over the fabric.

Soon, that pit in your stomach started forming again and he knew by your behavior that you weren't faking it. You threw your head back, your legs shaking and moans uncontrollably leaving your mouth.

"That's enough." he hissed, but you didn't listen. You kept going, you were just on the edge. "I said, that's enough." in just two steps he was by the bed, taking your wrists and stopping you.

"What the hell?!" you yelled. "You said—"

"You don't get to cum. Not until I say so. Now get down on your knees, you dirty little slut." he practically pulled you down to the floor by the hair.

You sat back on your knees before him, looking up and waiting. He rubbed himself over his clothed dick a few more times before stripping down. His cock sprung out, almost hitting you in the face. Your mouth started salivating at the sight. You shifted on your knees just wanting to grab and suck it.

“Open your mouth for me—no, no, you don’t get to take it. Only good girls get to take my cock, but you decided to be a disobedient little slut today. No, not even sticking out your tongue will help your case. Now you’re going to get a taste of your own medicine and watch me play with it.” his hand stroked down his length as he moaned.

"Oh, Pierre, please..." you begged and whimpered; your hands itched to touch him.

“Oh, you can beg all you want, it’s only going to make me stroke it faster. But watching you play with yourself made me throb in the places I didn’t even know is possible, I’ll give you that. I’ll have that image in my head for days—oh, fuck…” he let out a long groan. “Oh, this feels so good, princess. My hand, wrapped around my dick… Do you think you could do a better job, huh?”

"Yes, Pi, please, let me just have a taste..." you pleaded.

“Oh, you just want a taste?” he chuckled. “But no, princess, no.” his hand moved faster, making him moan louder. “Well, maybe if you beg and plead hard enough.”

"Oh, Pierre, please, please, please..." you gave him your best doe eyes.

"Okay, princess, you're not even trying right now. I know you can beg better than that."

"Please, let me suck your dick, please. I'll take it like a good girl and never ever disobey you again. I am your fuck toy to be used as you please. I will make you feel so good. Please, daddy, let me have your dick." you didn't mean to call him daddy, but you got so into your speech that it slipped your tongue.

"Mon dieu, the sounds of you begging really turns me on. You know just how to get what you want, don't you? That's what you did to get us here, didn't you, princess?" he talked in between moans. "Fine, you can have a lick. But just a lick," he warned. "Stick your tongue out more."

You prompted up like a child that just got a Christmas present. You licked his head and all the way down his shaft, tracing the veins that popped up, never breaking the eye contact. The gold cross necklace rose with his chest as he breathed.

"Fuck, princess, suck it. Suck the tip. Just the tip." he panted.

You wrapped your lips around his pink head, sucking like you wanted to take his soul. His hands were in your hair, pulling on your roots. You never heard him moan like this, his face twisted in pleasure. You circled your tongue around him to stop yourself from smiling.

"Mon dieu, princess, just take. Take it whole. I need my cock in that pretty little throat of yours." he himself pushed your head down his length, groaning. "Open wider." another groan. "Oh, suck it, princess. Keep sucking, show me that you've learned your lesson."

You took as much as you could of him in your mouth. You bobbed your head up and down, warming up your throat for a deep dive. His fingers curled into your hair every time the tip hit the back of your mouth. He whined and whimpered with his head thrown back.

"Now, princess," he said breathily. "Princess, look at me. I'm going to fuck your mouth, alright?" his hands already positioned themselves to lock your head in place. You could only nod your head, looking up at him, your eyes pleading with him to do so.

He started thrusting himself into your mouth, hitting the back of it repeatedly. You gagged and choked on his dick, your mouth overflowing with saliva that ran down onto your chin. Your eyes stung with tears and and you felt like you couldn’t take a proper breath. He would pull out and instruct to spit on his dick upon noticing your struggles.

"Look at me while I fuck your mouth. Aw, look at you, can't even fit it whole. Is it too big for you, princess?" tears rolled down your cheeks when he forced himself on you. "Don't cry, my princess, you know I would never give you what I know you can't take. God, your throat feels heavenly. Fuck, I'm going to cum." he groaned.

"Yes, daddy, come down my throat..."

"Wouldn't you like that?" he chuckled as his movements slowed down. "I don't know if I want your mouth to make me cum or your pussy."

You begged him, begged him with your eyes to give you a taste of his cum.

"Oh, you want it so much, don't you? Oh, yeah, you fucking do. I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum down your fucking throat and fuck you for way longer after, ugh." he trusted in you in between every word.

As he groaned loudly, his shaft soon disappeared inside of you and you relished in the warmth that surrounded you. You eagerly swallowed every drop and even begged for more. You lapped up every last bit of him from his tip, leaving it spotless.

"Good girl." he praised, running his fingers through your hair.

Moment of break was over. He picked you up and threw you onto the bed on your stomach.

"Ass up for me."

You complied without having him to repeat himself. Rewarding you with a nice slap, he teasingly slid his cock between your folds. His tip rubbed against your clit, tempting you to orgasm right then and there.

"Pierre, please..." you whined.

"Please what?" he said, sliding down.

"Put it in, fuck me." you cried out.

He didn't do it right away, but eventually he gripped your hips and pushed himself into you. Without letting you adjust, he started ramming into you. And why would he? You were already way too familiar with every inch of his body.

"Is this what you wanted all along, you dirty little slut? This dick inside of you? Finally getting it, huh?" you could only moan in response. "God, you're pathetic. The way you begged for it, like you've never had dick in your life. You love it don't you? You love my dick. You love me fucking you. No one has ever fucked you this good, isn't that right, princess?" you shook your head. "God, you can't even form words, that's how good I make you feel. Only me."

Still, you wanted more. You needed more. You took your hand and pressed it against your clit, rubbing fast.

"Move that fucking hand away." he slapped it off, then grabbed both of your wrists and locked them behind your back. "Good girls get to help themselves, but you don't. You think just because you sucked my dick so good you're in my good graces again? No, princess, you're still a long way to go."

You moaned in (dis)pleasure. You let him take control. God, you just hoped the rooms around were empty cause you both have been screaming all afternoon.

"But princess, I'll be so kind and tell you in advance," he grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked it backwards, leaning into your ear. "I'm going to fuck you on every single piece of furniture you see in this room."

Oh god, just that sentence alone could send you over the edge. Your eyes rolled backwards and you just let go, whimpering and whining. After a while, your body started going limp under him, the gap between your thighs wanted to close and walls tightened around him.

"Oh, you're so close already?" he mocked. "And you want to come?"

"Yes, please..."

He only laughed wickedly. "You know you can't." he stopped moving all together, edging you for the third time that day.

He took you by your forearms and pulled you onto his chest. You could barely stand, but he tugged you off the bed with him still inside you, and led you backwards to the coffee table across the room. He sat down on the edge with you on top of him.

"You said you missed me, yeah?" you leaned back on him, trying to come to your senses. His hands firmly held your waist and lips brushed against your neck when you nodded your head. "Now show me exactly how much you missed me. Bounce." he slapped your thigh.

You took a deep breath in and leaned forward, putting yourself in a position you could easily jump up and down his dick. You used his knees for support, establishing a rhythm.

"Aw, come on, princess, I thought you missed me more than that." he cupped your breast and grazed your neck with his teeth. You whined and sped up. "That's my good princess." he whispered. "And good princesses get rewarded." he wrapped his arm around you, pressing the tips of his fingers over your clit.

You leaned backwards, grabbing him by the nape of his neck and whimpering into his ear.

"Oh, you missed me that much, haven't you? You missed me so much you want to cum again?" he hissed.

"Yes, Pierre, please..." you pleaded, rolling your hips on him.

"I'm sorry, princess, but I will have to disappoint you again." you couldn't move anymore so he took matters into his own hands or better say, your hips and started guiding them up and down.

Your whole body was shaking, your head was hanging low, but he wasn't done with you. Not yet. He pushed you off his dick and stood up. Picking you up in his arms, he carried you to the dresser where he sat you down. He separated your legs wide and slapped your pussy with his dick. You leaned back on the wall and bit your lip. Taking you by the legs, he yanked you forward onto his dick again. Wrapping them around him, you pushed him even deeper inside you.

He slammed into you with all his might, making you delirious, not even able to scream anymore, just chant his name under your breath. His mouth got a hold of your nipple, biting and sucking while his fingers pinched the other one. You squealed in surprise, arching your back and losing your fingers into his hair. He moved up to kiss your lips, resting his forehead on yours. You were both sweaty and panting. You looked down, his dick going in and out of you, hitting all the right spots.

"What are you looking at, princess?" he noticed. "You like seeing it disappear deep inside of your tight little pussy and making you feel like a perfect little slut you are, huh?"

"Yeah..." you could feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment. All you wanted was to hide your face into his chest.

"No need to get all flustered now, you know I love you like that." he picked up the pace a bit and in response, you pulled him by the cross necklace into a kiss.

Your orgasm was coming soon again and he felt it. He slowed down, scooping you up and carrying you to the armchair. You groaned into his shoulder.

"I know, princess, I know. Just a little longer, I promise." he caressed your hair.

He sat you down, positioning you on top of him.

"Ride me now, come on, princess, I know it's your favorite. I saved best for last." every atom in your body refused to move from overstimulation, but somehow, you found it in you to rock your hips back and forth. "Yes, princess, ride me." he encouraged. "God, you feel so good." with his hands on your waist, he helped you keep the pace. You even started bouncing a little. "Mm, you're doing so good, keep going." he moaned.

But you couldn't. You threw yourself onto his chest and he instantly wrapped his arms around you, taking over. With only a few more pumps, your whole body started trembling on top of his, your walls tightening like never before. You were on the verge of screaming.

"I'm going to cum." you said.

"No, not yet, princess, hold it." his face twisted in reaching his own orgasm.

"Pierre, please, I need to cum, I need to cum right now!" you yelled.

"Just a little bit longer, princess. Just hold it and we cum together, alright?" he didn't wait for your answer, he kissed you to shut you up. "Now, princess, let go now." he said and pushed himself deep inside of you.

Your moans echoed off the walls as you fell onto him, burying your face in the crook of his neck. You collapsed onto his chest, burying your face in the crook of his neck, still joined together and sweaty from the intensity of it all. His arm was draped over you while the other one stroked your hair, his lips whispering sweet nothings. You could feel his dick still inside of you, twitching ever so slightly.

The only sound that could be heard was that of your heavy breaths. As if to confirm how intense the moment had been, you moved your hand to feel his heart beating rapidly beneath his chest. He kissed your temple and you sniffled.

"Hey," he said, rising you up. "Hey, princess, look at me. Are you crying?" you, in fact, were crying. "Did I... Did I fuck you to tears?" he smugly smirked and you laughed.

"Yeah, you did." you confirmed and he pulled you in for another kiss.

"It was that good, huh?"

"It was." you laid back on his chest as he ran his fingers down your spine.

"It was a bit rougher than I intended to," he admitted. "but you took it like a good girl. I'm sorry if I did hurt you." he kissed the top of your head.

"Nah, it was alright." you lazily replied. "We should do it again later." you smirked.

"Wait, really?" you nodded. "But no, no later for you. You should take a rest. I'm going to fix you a bath and take care of you now."

Your groans of discomfort prompted him to help you up and usher you to the bathroom. There, he filled a bathtub with hot water and bubbles for your relaxation. He then took a shower while you lay there, but when you invited him in for other activities, he told you to keep it light. He certainly had his moments of dullness. After his shower, he went off to look for clothes in the bedroom, leaving you alone in the bathroom. Glancing out of the window, the sun seemed to be just about ready to dip below the horizon.

"Pierre?" you called.

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to go grab dinner with me?"

"Sure, my princess needs to refuel after all that exercising she just did." his smirk revealed he was teasing you.

You rolled your eyes and smiled in spite of yourself. You still tried to persuade him to go further than a dinner date later that night, but he refused your advances. Not even your tight black mini dress could alter his decision. He kept insisting that you needed to rest and take it easy—blah, blah, blah. But the look on his face and his tight pants said something different anyway.

509 notes · View notes

f1version · 1 year

Text

SHAMELESS ★ PG10

pairing: jealous!pierre gasly x girlfriend!reader (she/her)

summary: Pierre is convinced his best friend is flirting with you, his girlfriend, and cannot stand it any longer.

Or this request

warnings: +18 MINORS DNI, slight smut (it’s my first one and english is not my native language please bare with me), fingering — female receiving, oral — female receiving, explicit language, swearing.

word count: 1.46k

note: doing this request was so much fun ! i hope y’all enjoy this little thing :)

Pierre's thoughts were a mess, he couldn't process what he was watching properly. He felt sick, something bitter spreading across every muscle of his body, making him think in ways he usually didn't. He tried organizing his thoughts:

One: He's an idiot.

Or that's what he has been calling himself over and over for the last 20 minutes, because he shouldn't feel like this. He shouldn't feel as if there was a reason to be worried about this.

Two: He's madly in love with you.

It had taken time, getting into a relationship with you, being long-time friends didn't make it easier, being best friends only made it harder, it was a risk he didn't want to take. Now, he's glad he did, but in this particular moment, he didn't know what to think about his other friendships.

Three: He is about to punch one of his best friends in the face.

Here's the thing: It's Charles's birthday, Pierre loves Charles, he is his best friend. Charles and you have been friends for as long as you and Pierre have, and that’s why the three of you are in a beautiful hotel venue, celebrating Charles' birthday with another hundred people. This is nothing out of his comfort zone.

Nevertheless, what he is witnessing is making him feel absurdly desperate and uncomfortable.

You and Charles have been talking for 43 minutes and counting —He doesn't even know why he is counting them— but that shouldn't be a problem because you are friends, right?

Well, friends don't look at other's girlfriend like that.

Charles is flirting with you, Pierre is one hundred percent sure of it. He's leaning in, telling you things that make you laugh, he talks and talks but when you do is like there's only you in this world.

Pierre is going to kill him.

But who could blame him? It wasn't Charles by himself that bother him, but the fact that the Monegasque knew you as well as he did. Not in the same way, but it was still triggering some thoughts.

Pierre was so focused looking at you, but he could feel someone calling him, whom he believes is Lando. It must be.

"Jesus, this man... Pierre!" Lando yells and the Frenchman jumps in shock. "What's wrong with you? Did you drink too much?"

Pierre didn't drink when he was thinking uncontrollably, overthinking was one of his biggest enemies. Lando knew this, but Pierre just shook his head. "Uh no, leave me alone"

"Mate" Lando called out "You are about to murder Charles out of jealousy, and you want me to leave you alone?"

"Jealousy? I'm not jealous. J'suis bon!"

"Sure," the Brit says with a smile, sarcastically.

"Shut up, Lando"

Lando grins, then sighs.

"She loves you, Pierre, she's not going to leave you. And if she is, it's not going to be for Charles, she wouldn't do that to either of you"

"That's not the problem, the problem is that my best friend is in love with her!"

Lando snorts, laughing "Oh mate, you are definitely drunk. Or you are seeing things" Pierre looks at him, deadpan. "You know I'm right, there is literally no in-love in Charlie's eyes"

He doesn't answer, he knows Lando is right, but he better be dead, cheated on, or betrayed than saying it.

"Just leave"

Lando rolls his eyes "Whatever, keep being stupid" He knows his friend is far too deep in his delusion. "I don't even know why I'm getting into this."

You could feel him. His stare, his anger, his jealousy.

It’s funny, your boyfriend being jealous of Charles Leclerc, his best friend. And yes, some would be right about this but you loved Pierre, he was the most gorgeous man in the world for you. Besides, Charles wasn't flirting with you —which Pierre certainly thought he was— he was drunk-talking, and you were his current victim.

You had no problem listening to Charles say the most stupid things, in the end, it was his birthday. But after half an hour, you felt the necessity to go drink something, dance a bit with Pierre, and maybe leave to have some fun with the Frenchman.

That's when the search begins, you try to hook other people into the conversation, yet everyone knows they won't be able to leave. Until Max appears.

Perfect. He was just as drunk, and he loved talking—Maxsplaining.

"Max!" You called and saw Pierre frowning from afar. "Party boy has a question for you!"

Max automatically walks to you two, smiling and looking wasted. "Really? What’s your question, Charles?"

"He just doesn't remember restart procedures!" You say with a little laugh.

"Holy shit. Okay, so you know when..." And he is far gone.

You wait at least five minutes before leaving, making sure none of the two men cares enough to hold you back from their shenanigans.

When you turn around, you see Pierre leaning on a wall. You notice how his face turns just before you look at him. This man.

You approach Pierre, he goes tense at your presence. You know he's holding back, holding emotions he doesn't want to let you know he's feeling; little does he know, you already have him figured out.

"Do you have to be so shameless about it?" you ask tilting your head a bit, more curious about his reaction than his actual response.

"I don't know what you're talking about" the Frenchman answered carelessly, not looking at you. His arms are crossed, and he looks frustrated. You shrug, a grin showing on your face.

Pierre couldn't think straight, he doesn't recall ever feeling like this. This jealous. And when he looked at you, he almost lost it. You didn’t only look gorgeous under the red and blue lights, but you looked so confident, he understood then that you had read him perfectly.

"You know, darlin'," you say while Pierre's eyes shamelessly touched your body. "You look hot when you're jealous."

But now Pierre looks exasperated. "I'm not jealous, I would never be jealous"

"Sure. Just make me a favor and don't become a toxic prick." You say, "Charlie had no intention to bed me, he was just drunk-talking"

Hearing the nickname, that's the exact moment when Pierre lost it. He grabs your hand and makes you sprint through the hotel, leaving the venue, and getting to the elevator.

You giggle.

"Oh, now you're laughing? After you fuck around like that?" He bursts, cocking his head to the side, eyes deep and challenging. You know the only thing behind him was desire.

"Yes," you reply innocently, moving your hands so they rest around his neck. "Is there a problem with that?"

"You are unbelievable. You got me all worked up and for what, your enjoyment?" Pierre rolls his eyes, holding you by your waist, tightly. He moves closer when he whispers into your ear, "I'll give you something to fucking enjoy, mon ange"

And then he kisses you.

It's harsh and hot, his hands are everywhere for a moment before he settles them on your thighs.

"Jump" he demands, and you can only comply, wrapping your legs around his torso, praying all gods that no one wishes to use the elevator right at this moment.

Pierre licks into your mouth, dragging his teeth over your skin, biting your lip, and suddenly it seems as if he's never going to be close enough, even when your bodies feel each other's warmth through the clothes.

The Frenchman felt a hundred thousand different things, he was hot, wanting, and mad, but also wanted to be gentle and remind you how good he was for you. How no one could come closer to this. He needed you to feel all the things he was, he needed to feel you around him, near him.

The elevator door opened, and you felt him shift. One hand moved across your ass to hold you with it alone, his other hand going for the room's key. When he opened, you cursed Charles for assigning them such a spacious suite.

Pierre seemed to be more stressed by it because he didn't bother to walk to the bedroom. Instead, he walked you to the counter in the middle of the kitchen, sitting you down, deepening the kiss while holding your face.

"This is what we're gonna do, mon chéri," he said into your mouth, "you are going to sit down here, be a good girl and I'll fuck this pussy with my fingers and mouth. Got it?"

You let out a whimper thinking about it and nodded, you needed to feel something, to feel him.

"Use your words, my love"

You struggle, especially because you feel how Pierre's mouth hovers over your neck, hot breath sending chills down your spine. "Yes, god, Pierre, I need you"

He doesn't waste more time, bunching up your shirt and pulling down the dark blue dress pants you had on. His eyes turn mischievous and dark —blue eyes turned black— as he sees your loose control.

"All night with him," Pierre says, tracing his finger over your core. Softly, teasing. "Just to become this beautiful wet mess with me." He emphasizes the last word by pressing onto your clit.

Your mouth parts, a loud moan leaving your lips. You can barely keep your eyes open, trying to focus on him, on his words, but the pleasure of the small friction is enough to distract you.

"You're so naughty," he says, grinning. "I love all these little sounds"

You try to stay composed, breathing deeply before saying, "You were so jealous, it was kind of pathetic, Gasly"

He whimpers, you knew exactly what to say to make him hard, in this case, harder. "That is not fair," he complains. "He looked so into you, and you seemed into his bullshit"

"If his bullshit is going to get me here all the time, then fucking be it."

Pierre huffs, his knee moving forward to press onto your core, making you whine. You slide your hand through his hair, just as his hands go down and his fingers shove your panties aside to slowly start playing with your dripping folds.

You hear his breath hitch, his eyes never leaving yours. He kisses you, careless of how needy he may seem. You love it. "Pierre—"

His fingers find your clit, a soft cry leaves your mouth, shocked at how sensitive you were. It was dizzying, feeling him smirk into the kiss, knowing exactly where, how, and when to touch. His pace was slow and steady, but the way he kissed you told you he was ready to fuck you stupid.

"Pierre, do something, fuck." you plead when he didn't move his fingers, when he just kisses your neck, sucking and biting, teasing until you're begging for him to start doing something. "Please, please"

"Please what, ange?"

"Please fuck me, please— your fingers." And he palms hardly your clit, adrenaline overpowering him. His fingers start moving in small circles, and your hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

"Oh my god, merde"

"Hmm, just like that, don't stop your beautiful noises," He says smirking, twirling his fingers just right. "Does that feel good, love?"

"Feels so so good." You say as his fingers speed, your desperate noises ricocheting down the walls.

He stops kissing you, looking at how you squirm below him. His eyes shout hunger, he is only a man whose desire asks him to give, give and give until you are fully satisfied.

Pierre stops teasing your clit, moving his hands to take off your underwear. The friction makes you cry.

A hand on your thigh spreads your legs a little wider, and he gives you a soft kiss before sinking onto his knees. You swear you've never seen him as hungry.

Your back arches the moment his mouth opens to lick your slit, your hands find his hair, and you pull him closer.

"Fuck. Y/n, ange, let me hear you" he asks, eyes closed and mouth pressed to your pussy, you obey, moaning and begging for more. He follows with the same obscene sounds, sending a rough vibration to your folds, enchanted with you.

"Pierre—" You whispered, his tongue curled around your clit. He loved when you called out his name. "Holy shit, I–"

"Yes, baby, yes" He moves to go for air, he wishes he shouldn't. "Tell me who makes you feel like this. Who's making you feel this good?"

Your thighs clench around him, your hand trying to hold onto him. "You" There's a gasp, loud and bold, "You, Pierre, it's only you"

He smiles in satisfaction, changing his mouth for fingers so he can kiss you for a moment.

And you can still feel the kiss when his mouth moves back to your pussy, making you jump in surprise, slightly closing your thighs around his head. He lets out a laugh, opening you again.

He moves a finger into the depth of your core, mouth still sucking and licking your clit. You loved when he did this, he knew it. He knew you too well.

"Pierre, m-merde" You could only whimper and scream his name, it was just Pierre. Pierre Pierre Pierre. Over and over again, until it was the only thing you could ever think about.

His tongue lapped against you, finger simultaneously curling into you. "F-fuck. Almost t-there, baby, I"

"I know, love, I know," He says, stopping for a second.

"Don't stop, don't fucking stop now" you whine, his tongue moving faster—a second finger entering you.

"C'mon, come for me. All for me" Pierre couldn't stop thinking about you, about making you feel so good you forgot everybody else in the world. "You're mine, aren't you? Tout à moi"

You could only moan in return, with desperate pleas—your body feeling the shock of the orgasm, white-hot and dense. Pierre's name was like a mantra stuck in your head, this was followed by yes yes yes, your answer would always be yes when asked that.

He stands up to kiss you sloppily; You feel your breaths slowing, synchronizing, your legs wrap around his waist, bringing him closer.

He smiles, watching you with adoration, the biggest heart-eyes you've ever seen. He was so dumb.

"Fuck your gorgeous face," you protested. "You really thought I would let Charles flirt with me? Better question, why would you think that Leclerc is flirting with me?"

"I was jealous, okay?" He rolls his eyes playfully, his hair a mess. "And y'know what? What if we forget that and finish this in bed?"

You laugh, of course you want more. You always more if it's with Pierre. "Lead the way"

translation (sorry anything is left out!)

ange angel

tout à moi all mine

1K notes · View notes

holllandtrash · 1 year

Text

worlds collide | pierre gasly instagram au

pairing: pierre gasly x famous reader

The newest Wednesday star is seen interacting with F1 driver Pierre Gasly and they don’t even try to keep it a secret

yourusername

liked by jennaortega, pierregasly and 14,461 others

tagged: wednesdaynetflix

yourusername stay tuned #wednesdayS2

view all 1,387 comments

jennaortega welcome to nevermore

yourusername when do i get a school hoodie

ememyers never

yourusername oh

dannielle3 i guess i can’t gatekeep y/n forever :’(

sammieclan_ bby’s doing big things

gastly10ly someone tell me why pierre liked this

peachyric pierre likes everything

yukitsunoda0511 added to their story

pierregasly added to their story

charles_leclerc started following yourusername

yourusername added to their story

pierregasly

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and 478,511 others

pierregasly well rested for race 2 let's go

view all 2,774 comments

landonorris i’ll make sure to wave when I lap you

pierregasly how nice of you

babynorris still waiting for y/n to show up in the paddock

sainzc55 same tbh

jemmaf1fan maybe next race 🥲

liked by pierregasly

yourusername don’t crash

pierregasly i’ll try not to

yourusername

liked by jennaortega, pierregasly and 21,006 others

tagged: jennaortega

yourusername soul sisters i think

view all 1,104 comments

jennaortega 🖤🖤

ememyers can’t even give me photo creds?

yourusername i thought hunter took the photo LOL

babyricc3 can’t believe that she’s dating pierre

chilisainzz she just seems so young?? I think he can do better

ghostlygasly shes not at the races and ya’ll still manage to hate on her, grow up

liked by yourusername

pierregasly “can’t talk, im on set”

yourusername someone’s cranky

pierregasly just answer my text

pierregasly

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and 255,976 others

pierregasly bucharest dump

view all 2,455 comments

danielricciardo since when does f1 race in bucharest

landonorris did i miss this race? Its not on my calender

pierregasly you’ll get the invite next year

liked by yourusername

mariannef1x IS THAT Y/N IN THE LAST PIC

honeynorris04 it has to be her, those are def her shoes

papipierre of course their days off match up 🥺🥺

thursdayadamms i think she finished filming!!

gracegp1997 don’t tell me pierre flew to romania between races to see her im crying

jennaortega added to their story

yourusername added to their story

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly and 27,673 others

tagged: pierregasly

yourusername number 10 on the grid, number 1 in my heart

view all 1,996 comments

jennaortega thought I was number 1?

pierregasly put your phone away we’re in the middle of dinner

landornorris he finished P16

yourusername is his racing number not number 10??

landonorris but hes not 10th on the grid, he’s not even near the top 10

pierregasly thanks lando

carlopezxz we’ve been WAITING for these paris pics

alphataurif1 💙🖤💙🖤

a/n: might do a part 2 for these cuties??

#f1 #formula1 #formula 1 #lando norris #pierre gasly #pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly x you #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x y/n #f1 instagram au #instagram au #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly one shot #famous au

2K notes · View notes

rosegasly · 10 months

Text

Maroon

✧ summary: your period has left you with an itch only your boyfriend can scratch.

alter; an excuse for me to write shameless dirty smut.

✧ pairing: pierre gasly x female reader.

✧ warnings: spit play, creampie, unprotected sex, fingering, vaginal sex, menstrual sex, dirty talk, blood, filthy sex. it's pretty much exactly what the summary makes you think it is.

Fucking hell.

It’s that time of the month, the one that gives you the most problematic of lower back pains, an appetite of a dumpster diving racoon and the insatiable need to be fucked.

“Pierre, I-” The words stay caught, breath and syllables all cluttering together into the spaces of your throat as you desperately try not to rut against your boyfriend’s face.

“Chérie, you smell absolutely divine,” the way he presses his nose against your clothed crotch and fucking inhales has your toes curling, heels digging forcefully into his back.

“Please please please,” you beg, unsure what you’re asking for but there’s a twisting in your gut as heat pools between your legs and you feel yourself growing wetter.

“Please what, mon amour,” you glare between your legs, a futile attempt at trying to coax him, but he just cocks a brow, tongue peeking out from the corner of his mouth as he gazes back, mischief swimming in those beautiful eyes and you want to smack him, kiss him, throttle him and ride him all in the same instant.

There’s a long ringed finger, idly caressing your folds from over the cloth of your panties and you could cry from the edge of it all. It doesn’t take too long, easy as it is, to abandon your dignity and beg when Pierre holds your gaze and presses the flat of his tongue against your clothed clit and drags it.

“Lick me, Eat me out, Let me ride your face.”

At your admission, the cerulean of his eyes grows darker as his gaze rakes your skin, leaving a fire trail without touching it. He grins, smug and cocksure. It’s dripping with arrogance so sweet it’s saccharine, and you would find it disgusting on anyone else, but Pierre wears it well. He holds your attention and slowly drags his tongue against his glistening, full, pink bottom lip in a move so deliberately hot it has you begging all over again, hands fisting in his hair as you tug.

Something in him cracks in response to your pleas, or maybe it’s the lone frustrated, borderline hormonal tear running down your face as you clench around nothing and writhe to find some friction and solace.

The cool of his ringed finger touches the moist edges of your folds as he tugs your panties off in one clean motion, and then he grabs your inner thighs, spreading you out until the fold of your thighs burns. Pierre kisses your parted folds softly, feather-like and barely there and it’s a gesture too soft for him, but before you can say something, he parts your folds and spits.

Your eyes clench shut as the excessive wetness drips down from your clit to your hole, cool against the warmth of your pussy and you tense around nothing. It wasn’t needed. Your arousal mixed in with blood has you plenty wet but you know Pierre. He enjoys marking you, always staking a claim in any way he can and you have no doubt the kinky fucker is delighted at the sight of your hole fluttering close under his spit.

The tip of his tongue circles your clit, almost there but not quiet and you are squirming, trying to catch half breaths and god, you love him. Love the way he makes you feel.

Pierre coats your clit in his saliva before his lips encircle it and suck. You moan, deep and loud and bite your bottom lip to anchor yourself while he teases your pulsing clit. His kisses are gentle, soft sucking motions that almost feel like a pleasurable tickle coming intermittently between rougher, more dominant laps of his tongue. The change in pace and pressure over your clit has you keening, hips grinding against Pierre’s face as you unabashedly chase your pleasure.

It takes you a second, dripping wet as you are and lost in the chase. It takes a moment for you to register as Pierre easily slides two fingers inside you and curls.

“Fuck,” you groan.

The fingers are curving and rubbing right where you need them to, where the pressure leaves your toes twisting and your body taut. Whimpering, you protest when you feel them come out right after and you are on the verge of pleading again when you see his fingers. Glistening and coated ruby red with your blood and arousal.

You blush, eyeing the sticky mess and you hide behind your hands, embarrassed.

“Pierreee”, the whine falls on deaf ears. He finds you peeking and before you can hide again, his lips are parted, tongue out and in slow, deliberate motions, he licks the fingers clean, moaning like he’s sucking on his favourite candy and not your goddamn blood. It’s still bright outside, the sun not setting, when Pierre saw you restless and twitchy and decided you needed to be railed. It’s obscene how he drags his fingers through your folds while dim rays of the sun still illuminate your skin and licks them clean again. Smirks and slides his fingers over his lip, the soft pink staining cherry red, and it’s filthy. Dirty. Beyond fucking hot.

“You’re a menace.” you quip, tugging him close by the chain around his neck. It makes you a little delirious tasting yourself on him, the metallic tang somehow sweet coming from his tongue and you’d be mortified if it was someone else, but Pierre has always been able to make you comfortable. How he treasures every inch of your skin that he grazes leaves you flattered, yearning more.

You hold him there, head tucked in the valley of your breasts when you ask him to fuck you, mouth the words on his lips, and tow his waist closer by your calves. Pierre groans, arresting your hands decent to his crotch and gripping them firmly above your head with one hand.

Holding the root of his cock he buries himself into you in one smooth motion and your breath hitches as you clench, finally assuaged at having been filled. He starts slow but soon you are bucking, pleading for more and it’s all the confirmation Pierre needs before he is pounding into you. The bed rattles under your combined weight but you can’t care for the frame when he’s fucking you like that. Tucking your thighs to your chest to adjust the angle before he’s pushing into you again. Repeatedly hitting the spot that has you mewling, clenching tighter around him as your nails rake a burning path down his back, drenched in sweat, hot and humid under the summer noon. From under him, you see the familiar sky blue of his eyes grow darker into something more delicious, greedy.

It’s too much, the pleasure, the warm muggy touch of his exhales on your skin, the way he whispers dirty encouragements in your ear, coating it wet with his tongue after.

“Come for me cherie, come around my cock and let me fill you up full. Wouldn’t it be nice? Walking around with my cum in you? A tampon plugging it up? You would like that wouldn’t you?”

He’s kissing you through the chase, tongue licking the back of your teeth and it tastes sweet. Despite all his words, the roughness that he enjoys in bed, Pierre tastes like the sweetest confectionery and you are frantic, rocking as you come, clenching tighter around him.

“Fuck, cherie. So good for me, so wet, so tight. Milking me so well,”

The rough pad of his thumb brushes the soft skin under your eye, gently wiping the stray tears.

“You did so good, amour.” Pierre kisses you, less tongue and more fond, before he rests his forehead against yours and with a few quick thrusts, he’s coming too, warmth seeping into you as you lock your legs around his waist and hold him through the high.

His tanned skin glistens bronze beneath the stray filtered beams of the sun when he rolls away to get the bath running, and you admire the view and sigh, content and blissed out.

✧ a/n: hello! if u v come here from my main blog, welcome to my side blog! f1 was taking over my entire personality & tumblr wall so we now have a dedicated space for it. might move all my older stuff here eventually might not idk yet. but! i had fun writing this. i hope u enjoyed it. really cracked the ice with this one. ik u don't believe me now but I write a lot more and better than just filthy dirty smut. so follow! if u d like to read more. & leave me some love and an ask if u feel generous 🥰

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violetszone · 9 months

Text

This Marriage Will Break You

Pierre Gasly x fem!reader

From this request

Summary: You had to arrange a marriage contract with Pierre to cover up his old relationship. He was still seeing his ex while you were madly in love with him and according to everyone you were the bad woman in this triangle.But when your breaking point came, Pierre noticed you.

a/n: I tried so hard to make it long, It's probably pretty ridiculous but that's about all I can do (not edited writing btw)

You had to marry Pierre to cover up his past relationship, you didn't know why they chose you, you just wanted to believe it was because you were so good at acting. Your acquaintance with Pierre was based on your childhood, in fact, you grew up in the same environment as him and you liked him all your life, actually this arranged marriage made you happy at first.

But as time went on, you saw that this marriage was actually the opposite of what you expected, a kind of marriage that will upset you.Of course, you didn't have very high expectations, but you didn't expect that Pierre would still secretly meet with his ex, that you would still bury your love for him in your heart and that the fans would blame you for the separation of the two of them.

According to Pierre's fans, you were the bad woman, but no one saw what was going on inside the house and what happened was not very heartwarming. You were under pressure from your family because your relationship was not realistic, and Pierre almost never came home, when he came, he only went to his room and slept, the company said that you should try harder, and your relationship with the fans was not very good, when they saw you, they either looked at you badly or simply ignored you. Pierre, on the other hand, was enjoying his life with his ex.

Within a few months you had collapsed physically and mentally from the pressures on you, but it took a long time for Pierre, your family and the company to realize that. You were trying to take care of the house as much as you could, and one day, while cleaning in the morning, you accidentally broke a frame and that was your breaking moment. You didn't know that Pierre was at home, you sat in front of the frame and you started to cry, you didn't know why he was crying, you were just too full and you couldn't stand it, you tried to shut yourself up with a sigh, but you couldn't stop. Then the door in front of you opened and Pierre came out of his room, you tried to shut yourself up by pressing your lips together, but it didn't work. Pierre felt a pain in his heart when he saw you, he had never seen you like this and he was just realizing how much weight you had lost in a few months, he came and hugged you.

You didn't want this, you didn't want him to pity you, you tried to get rid of his arms, but you couldn't afford it and continued to cry, he hugged you and stroked your hair until you calmed down, and when he finally asked "Are you okay Y/N", you just shook your head and wiped the tears from your cheeks. You needed his attention before, not now, as soon as he broke the hug, you stood up and brought the vacuum cleaner to clean the floor. Pierre was watching you sadly, forcibly took the broom from your hand and stopped it "Stop doing that please" you looked at him angrily "What, did you think I'm in this house now? I'm sorry I won't make a noise again. You can go on with your life as if I'm not there" as you reached for the machine he pulled back and he grabbed you and walked you to the sofa he made you sit down "Do you realize what you've become Y/N? what's going on with you"

"Why are you interested right now, why are you here right now, it's 11 o'clock, don't you have to have breakfast with your girlfriend?" Pierre turned for a moment and looked at the clock and that was enough for you. You stood up angrily Pierre pressed your shoulders and made you sit down again."Y/N I'm sorry I know this marriage wasn't quite what we both expected but,pff whatever, I'm just sorry I didn't realize you were getting into this, okay now wait a minute" Pierre pulled out his phone and called the company. He told them that he had been secretly seeing his ex for months, how he neglected you, how you had become because of the pressure they put on you, he told them that he would take care of you from now on and that it was his responsibility and not to disturb you.

It surprised you that he was so interested in you, but you still didn't expect much from him.You said, "Is it over? Thanks for your help" and got up from the couch and he grabbed you by the arm as you passed him. "Get ready we're going out" you were surprised "You have to go to a party? I have to dress accordingly, you know then they talk badly about me" Pierre sighed "No, I'm taking you out to dinner, I'm going to spend time with my wife" normally you were always kind to him because you didn't have a problem with him,and you loved him but now you were tired.

"Pierre you don't have to take care of me, I'm really fine you can go about your business I have to clean the floor okay" he didn't stop you when you stood up but called after you "No you're not okay this is not the confident strong and happy woman I married and I want that woman back so I will clean the floor and you're going to come to dinner with me wearing whatever you want, okay?" You knew it wouldn't do any good to oppose him, so you just nodded at him.

On your way to your room to change, you heard the sound of the machine and smiled a little.You were ready in 1 hour, you were dressed comfortably but stylishly you left your room looking for your lipstick in your bag Pierre was sitting on the sofa waiting for you he said "you look beautiful" you looked at him he was smiling and he said sincerely you thanked him and smiled.

While you were spending time together in the restaurant, you realized that he was interested in you for real. You were better than in the morning, you felt happier, you thought you would go home after you finished your meal and got up, but Pierre took you to the beach You were surprised that he was holding your hand. "Oh right, there are people," you said to yourself, but Pierre was holding your hand because he wanted to. You sat on the dock "Thanks for the food Pierre, I'm feeling better" nodded and smiled, it was a pleasant moment. then his phone rang of course his girlfriend was calling but Pierre didn't pick up his phone.

After that day, your life started to progress like a normal marriage for a long time, you were cooking together, cleaning the house, going out and getting to know each other.One night, Pierre said that you were going to attend an important event, you both got ready in a stylish way, holding hands and got into the car. Pierre looked a little nervous you took his hand to comfort him he smiled an kissed the top of you hand.

When you arrived at the place of the invitation, Pierre opened the door for you to get off and took his hand, you went in hand in hand again, of course, because it was a famous invitation, the press was there and everyone went crazy when they saw both of you.Pierre looked at you to make sure you were comfortable. You looked at him and smiled, after a few poses, you walked in, met and talked to the invitees. While you were chatting with someone, Pierre was only watching you, he was looking at you as if he was in love with you.

You had a lot of fun at the party with Pierre, you laughed, you danced, until the person who will spoil your taste approaches you with anger, Pierre's ex-girlfriend.You were laughing again at a joke Pierre made when someone came and grabbed you by the arm, and when you looked, you saw that it was him, of course Pierre immediately freed your arm from his hand and pulled you to him, "What do you think you're doing?" he asked angrily. "Pierre, do you realize how long you haven't been answering my calls and it's only because of this little bug" Pierre raised your hand with the ring on your finger and his own, and showed the girl, "If you remember, I'm married and it's been a long time since I finished this with you, did you hear me now, go away, and don't ever come near my wife again"

You were in shock and everyone was watching you as she walked away angrily Pierre turned to you and looked at your red arm. "Are you okay, did she hurt you a lot?" you nodded as if to say i'm fine "Pierre everyone is watching us can we go home" He looked around nervously, but when he turned to you, his gaze softened.He stroked your cheek with one hand then took your hand and took you out of there.

In the car, neither of you spoke at all, but it was clear how angry Pierre was, which frightened you a little.When he suddenly stopped the car and turned to you, you almost banged your head forward due to the sudden brake and your eyes widened in fear, "I'm sorry Y/N. But I have to say this, I won't let that woman come near us again okay won't spoil your mood" You nodded, but you couldn't believe what had actually happened."you were serious when you were angry with her ,you don't see her anymore" he just nodded.

"I haven't seen her since the day I promised to protect you.I should have done this sooner though" you smiled at him "Thank you" he looked at you "For what?" you watched him for a while "For being with me, by my side" He reached out and took you hand "Of course we're married after all and I have to take good care of my wife, and it wouldn't be right for me to know that my wife is madly in love with me and make her suffer like that"

Surprised, you pulled your hand back "You knew" Pierre laughed "Of course I knew Y/N, imagine if anyone else had gone through what you went through, they would have divorced me on the second day" what he said was right the reason you put up with him was because you fell in love with him.Pierre approached and took both of your hands, "I apologize to you with all my heart, will you let me love you as you love me" you nodded happily.

In the months that followed, everything became more beautiful than you had imagined. You had a real marriage with Pierre. You both loved each other very much. As Pierre promised you, you never saw that woman again.After the fans learned the truth about Pierre's ex, they started to treat you more kindly. You had the comfort of walking hand in hand in the paddock with Pierre.You two were happy.

-------------------------------------------------------

@gaslysainz

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paddockbunny · 10 months

Note

B + Touch + Pierre Gasly

On Deck

Summary : When your boyfriend Pierre has a little time off he whisks you away to a gorgeous hotel…then surprises you further by helping you fulfil one of your dreams. Rating : 18+ Pairing : Pierre Gasly x Reader Word Count : 2,800 ONE SHOT Trigger Warnings : 18+, NSFW, adult language, discussion of sex, intimate touching female, public sex Images : curated from Pintrest

List : List B. Prompt : Touch - our muses touching one another discreetly but intimately in a public setting.

Dating Pierre had many perks. From brands sending you free clothes to being invited to events like fashion shows and tennis matches. But your favourite perk of all was the complimentary holidays and hotel stays he was consistently offered. And while he had to turn many of them down because he was working, on the odd occasions he did accept, you were always his favourite room mate. So this unexpected trip to Sardinia in between races could most definitely be classed as a perk.

The pair of you arrived on the Tuesday to beautiful warm sunshine and every single last drop of tension melted away in both of your bodies. The oranges that lined the driveway to the stunning five star resort filled the air with a beautiful citrus aroma that you could get drunk off and you grasped your boyfriend’s hand tighter when you saw the welcome glasses of champagne awaiting you at the hotel entrance. Pierre loved watching you reactions to experiences only he had been able to give you. He got off somewhat knowing he could impress and dazzle you more than any man that had come before him. It thrilled him to see your eyes widen in awe or excitement rushing around your body at these new adventures he could provide you with. He was glad it was him making these memories with you. And you in turn always made sure to thank him, diligently, thoroughly and exactly how he liked.

For three days the pair of you spent your time rotating between sunbathing, eating and fucking. Pierre was in his element in all three and you were more than happy to do whatever it was he felt like doing just because you were happy to be with him.

On Friday, you awoke to an empty bed. Pierre’s voice was muffled outside on the balcony. You took the opportunity of being alone in the huge, comfortable hotel bed to stretch out like a cat. As your muscles pulled and twisted you felt the burn from your inner thighs. Last night’s energetic sex clearly still reverberating through your body. The smirk crept upon your lips without realising it the memory of your legs up around Pierre’s shoulders as he fucked you hard and deep. You were in your own little world when he re-entered the room and you heard his low rumbling laughter.

“What are you thinking about?” “You.” Your response was quick and his cocky eyebrow raise was met with an equally as confident smirk as your eyes travelled down his body. He was stood next to the bed clad only in his black tight boxers that left little to the imagination and your mouth practically watered thinking about him being in your mouth. You rolled on to your stomach and pulled yourself up on to your knees before crawling to close the space between you. You were still completely naked, the hotel sheets disregarded behind you, and Pierre took full advantage of his view. He didn’t hide the fact his eyes were roaming all over your body. He knew that you knew he enjoyed when you were so completely exposed to him. You watched him checking out your boobs first before those azure blue orbs fell lower and settled to his favourite place, between your legs. Your hands slowly caressing up his chest and around his neck was what brought him out of being transfixed. But what snapped him back into reality was you guiding his hand to where his eyes had just been. Your insinuation of morning sex couldn’t be any more obvious.

What you thought would be met with eager willingness was instead met with a frustrated sounding growl from your boyfriend. “Fuck. I want too, I really, really want too but I’ve just organised a surprise, baby.” He sighed. So that was what he was doing out on the balcony. “A surprise?” Your eyebrows met in the middle quizzically. “What kind of surprise?” He knew you weren’t a huge fan of surprises and were more of a preparer type person. You liked knowing what you were going to do, where you were going, what you were going to wear. Pierre smiled. His fingers ghosted over your delicate folds - a reminder his hand was intact exactly where you had let it too only moments before - as he slowly nodded.

“I’m not going to tell you what we’re doing. You just need a bikini.” You almost didn’t hear his words because your brain was completely distracted by the shudder that passed through you from the action of his fingers. And just because he liked to play with you, he raised his fingers to his mouth. He enclosed his mouth around them, no doubt tasting your wet slick excitement on them, and moaned deeply because he knew exactly how pent up it got you when he teased you.

“Where are we going?” You asked Pierre (threatening to go in a huff) for the fourth and final time as you got into the chauffeur driven Mercedes parked right in front of the hotel lobby. He had been tight lipped when you tried to coax his plans out of him right after he told you you needed a bikini. You tried hard to get the answer from him and even used dirty tactics by holding up two different styles in front of him - the first option was an impossibly tiny thong that l barely covered anything at all; while the second was an extreme high cut that left little to the imagination, it didn’t surprise you when he went for the first option - and when that didn’t work you pouted, lowered your chin so your eyes were as big as they got when you were about to blow him, and asked again. Nothing. The last attempt was when you got in the elevator and tried to trick him into admitting his plans but he wiggled his finger back and forth and told you; “Patience is a virtue, doll”

So there you sat in the back of the car, pretending you were cool with not knowing the plans while Pierre’s hand ran up and down your bare thigh. He pretended like he wasn’t deliberately trying to torture you by pushing the white cotton hem of your dress further up your thigh with each stroke, but you had his number. You deliberately ignored him and gazed out of the window. His grip got harder to make you look at him but you continued freezing him out.

“If you don’t look at me I’ll make the rest of this journey very uncomfortable for you.” He had leaned across the car and purred the line straight into your ear. His body press harshly against your side but you couldn’t ignore the fact his hand had slid up to cup your clothed core. Your mouth dropped open but your head rolled back and your eyes went straight to his. “Good girl.” Was amused that he got what he wanted. Proud of himself even. He sat back - his hand retreating - and playfully shook his head. He knew you were being bratty because he hadn’t told you what was going on and was smug that he still held onto his secret.

The car ride lasted only a short while. Fifteen or so minutes and you had began to twig around 20 seconds ago when the car pulled into the marina. “Did you?” It had been a bit of a dream of yours to go on a yacht one day. A proper yacht, a big one. You had been on small sail boats, catamarans, gondola’s and the motorboats they have in Lake Como but never an actual yacht. “Is this a good surprise?” He bit his bottom lip awaiting your response. It was the best surprise. You couldn’t believe he remembered you talking about going on the types of vessels you were passing by. You didn’t think he paid attention to thought all the Below Deck references you dropped whenever you were near the sea. “The best!” You exclaimed while practically leaping across the car and squishing your lips on to his. Pierre was a romantic at heart. He had an animalistic raw sexual energy sure but deep down, he was the biggest, sweetest sentimental teddy bear.

You finally pulled off your little white dress when Cassandra (your chief stew) disappeared to make the pair of you some cocktails to enjoy on the main deck aft while you sunbathed. Pierre, clad in his now signature orange swim trunks, was already laying out on the sun deck. Every toned muscle on full display. He had been watching you as you removed the practically see through white dress and toss it aside. You watched him swallow and rolled his eyes at your teeny tiny bikini - the one he himself had chosen for you to wear. “I’m going to have a semi all day now I’ve seen you in that.” He groaned into your ear when he pulled you down to join him once you took his outstretched hand. “I know you will.” You winked and playfully but your lip “Don’t pretend you didn’t know that when you chose this one. I did give you a choice.” He laughed because he knew he had stitched himself up. “At least give me something to day dream about while I sunbathe, babe.” His eyes lowered to your equally as small bikini top. He was a butt guy through and through but Pierre couldn’t resist your perfectly proportioned boobs either. You glanced quickly around making sure none of the crew would catch you (or prying eyes from another boat) and pulled down the cups of the black bikini quickly. You counted to five before covering yourself back up again and Pierre burst out laughing out of his enjoyment at your little flash.

You felt little beads of sweat form on your chest as you baked in the hot Italian sun. The salty sea air served as a delicious fan to cool your scorching skin. Your head fell to the side and you took in the visage of your unbelievable boyfriend. His skin was glistening with sweat. The scattering of hair on his chest gleamed with it like they were minuscule little crystals. His cut abs were mere fodder for the v shaped guidelines that disappeared below the stretchy band of his swim shorts. Your mouth watered. How could it not? You had been hot for him all day. From the moment you woke up with the dull ache between your thighs - and sore adductors being a reminder of how good the sex really was. You let an unsteady breath escape your throat as you continued down and drunk in the rest of him. He had one leg propped up, his muscly tanned thighs on full display, and you felt the desperation for him kick in. Swiftly you glanced around again and checked the pair of you were alone. Naughtiness consumed you. You felt possessed by your urges.

Leaning over him you kissed his lips gently. He wasn’t sleeping but hadn’t been expecting your action. Even if it was a welcome one all the same. Your body stayed where it was as your finger danced along the waistband containing what you craved. “Baby….” You purred as you kissed the spot under his ear you knew he liked “there’s no one here, they’re all below deck.” You weren’t sure if that was entirely true but you had seen enough reality tv to know they would disappear pretty quickly if they happened to stumble upon anything. Pierre lowered his sunglasses before asking; “Is my good girl feeling a little risqué?” His mother tongue delighting in the pronunciation of the last word. You nodded and you saw all of the dirty thoughts rushing around Pierre’s brain all at once. “Do you think you can stay quiet?” His hand wrapped itself around your wrist - the one resting on his lower tummy while your fingers played with his happy trail - and guided it away. It collided with the mattress of the sun deck behind you and the pressure Pierre applied made it hard for you to move. His body rolled half way on top of yours. “Well?” He asked wanting a vocal confirmation “do you think you can stay quiet?” Normally Pierre wanted to pull every single loud pant, moan, gasp and sigh from you before he made you scream so now he wanted the opposite it was overwhelmingly thrilling. “I can try.” His eyes narrowed “I promise.”

Your word was enough for him. His hand left your wrist and instead came to the valley between your boobs. His fingers trailed down with delicate lightness. You knew better than to let your eyes follow the direction of his hand. He liked eye contact above all else so you kept staring straight back at him. Your mouth opened and you fought back the sigh that was about to leave it when his fingers dipped past the black neoprene fabric that clothed you. “How long have you been this wet?” He as good as hissed at you. “Since I woke up thinking about the way you fucked me last night.” A shaky yet pleased laugh left your boyfriends own parted lips. His forefinger slipped up and down your throbbing folds and you instinctively opened your legs wider for him. He spread the product of your excitement over sensitive creases before he settled on the bundle of nerves that he was by now, best friends with. You couldn’t help but inhale deeply as he made quick work of circling your responsive bud and drawing more and more quick breaths from you. In a normal, less public, setting you would by now be heavy breathing, moaning his name and gripping hold of whatever your hand could find.

“Pierre….” You whimpered quietly, in a broken, breathy tone that was completely carnal. He stepped up the pace and your hands went to his neck, needing to hold on to something as he worked you closer and closer to your high. “You’re so beautiful when you’re this close.” His words caressed your lips before his tongue delved in. He knew you were close (he always knew) when your hips raised up off the daybed underneath you. Desperately seeking more friction, more pressure from his fingers - which of course he gave you without hesitation. “Fuck, Pierre…” the smallest of pleas left you as his mouth swallowed your words.

And then you had to remind yourself to open your eyes for him as he made you climax, hard and sudden. Your body tensed as the high aroused your soul. Shockwave after shockwave came in unrelenting waves like the ocean below the yacht. Pierre kept going, his pace only slightly slowing, to make sure you rode every last inch of the orgasm he graced you with and only when your thighs stopped shaking did he dip his fingers down to the wetness his actions had produced. You saw the pride and smugness overtake him as he felt what he had done to you.

Then without a single shred of warning his hand left your bikini bottoms and the elastic material snapped back against your skin. “Can I get you both another drink?” Cassandra’s Italian laced voice came from behind us. “We’re fine, thank you” Pierre answers for the both of you. You stayed exactly where you were, clinging to him almost, as he did so. A heat spread up upon your cheeks and you realised you were holding your breath. “She’s gone.” He said quickly before erupting into laughter

“Oh my God!” You yelped and buried your face in his neck. There was no option that to feel instantly mortified. The girl couldn’t have been older than you nor Pierre and she had innocently approached you both after you had been doing something so utterly obscene. “Did she see us? I was quiet wasn’t I?” “Shhh….Mon Amour” he kisses you gently “don’t worry, I’ll just tip them a little extra.” He winked when he pulled back and playfully you hit him on his chest for being so typically well, Pierre, about things. “I’ll tip them EVEN MORE if I can fuck you right here on the deck.” You knew he wasn’t joking but you laughed none the less. “Ok” Your words caught his attention “but first, let’s take a dip…” his reply came swiftly; “Fine, as long as it’s the skinny type”

#Pierre Gasly #Pierre Gasly imagine #pierre gasly imagines #pierre gasly fanfic #Pierre Gasly one shot #pierre gasly fanfiction #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #Pierre Gasly x reader #Pierre Gasly x you #Pierre Gasly x y/n #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfiction

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f1letters · 1 year

Text

you're on your own, kid | pg10

"I wait patiently, he's gonna notice me. it's okay, we're the best of friends"

summary: after what she thought was the best night of her life, she came to the realization that she was nothing but one more girl on his list

warning: angst, childhood best friends, toxic fuckboy pierre, mentions of bullying as a little kid, friend zone, one-night stand, suggestive language, swearing, mentions of feeling used, emotional dependence, heartbreak, miscommunication trope, platonic!reader x charles leclerc

pairing: pierre gasly x reader

word count: 4.1k

note: everything in bold are song references and in italic are thoughts.

whoever guessed 'you're on your own, kid'... CONGRATS!! this one is for you! haha I hope you guys like this one, it's the longest story I've written so far but this is such a special song to me and I tried my best to do it justice! enjoy!

masterlist

Summer went away, still, the yearning stays

I play it cool with the best of them

I wait patiently, he's gonna notice me

It's okay, we're the best of friends

Anyway

For as long as Y/N could remember, she had been completely and madly in love with her best friend.

Pierre and Y/N became an inseparable duo from the moment they met as two little kids trying out for their primary school's football team.

At the time, the other boys tried to make fun of the little girl for wanting to be a part of a "boys' sport", as they called it. Being the only girl there, she was made the target of all the bullying, but when she was about to give in and give up, her hero appeared in the form of 6-year-old Pierre who defended her with everything he had.

Y/N looked at the tiny French boy with wide, sparkling eyes as he took her hand and gave it a little squeeze so she wouldn't feel alone.

From there, the two immediately became best friends and that's how they stayed throughout the years.

But at some point in time, the girl found herself getting butterflies when she was in Pierre's presence, imagining what it would be like to have his lips against hers, idealizing a life where the two would be together as more than just friends.

It was inevitable. Pierre emanated such a powerful energy that it consumed her head and dominated all her senses.

He was like a drug: addictive, impossible to give up and she depended on him for survival - almost as if he was oxygen.

And so it was with so many other girls, victims of the driver's charm, although his playboy fame followed him everywhere since he was a teenager.

And it hurt. It hurt too much.

All those years, Y/N had no choice but to fake a smile and nod as she listened to the Frenchman brag about all his latest conquests, all the models, actresses and singers he got involved with all over the world.

She had no choice but to wait patiently for him to notice her and for him to finally see them as more than the best of friends.

I hear it in your voice, you're smoking with your boys

I touch my phone as if it's your face

I didn't choose this town, I dream of getting out

There's just one who could make me stay

All my days

To be honest, Y/N was already starting to accept that nothing would ever happen between them.

So, the girl chose to distance herself from her friend a little, in an attempt to let her romantic feelings for him fade over time.

She used every excuse in the book to avoid him: I'm tired, I have other plans, I'm working late, I'm sick, I had a family emergency. All of the excuses in the world were used.

Until the day when there were no more excuses and she ended up having to give in, arranging a movie night with the man, as they frequently did over their friendship of nearly two decades.

Y/N arrived at Pierre's luxury apartment in Milan on time as she always did. For a second, she hesitated to knock on the door, letting her anxiety take over, and almost decided to flee in the opposite direction. But as if the driver read her thoughts, the Frenchman appeared from inside his house, seeing his best friend, frozen on top of his black 'welcome' mat.

"Hey! I thought I heard someone coming!" Pierre said excitedly as he gave the girl a short hug. "What are you waiting for? Come in, make yourself comfortable!"

Y/N took off her long coat, hanging it on the coat rack in the hallway, and followed Pierre into his living room, where she saw everything prepared for their movie session. Pillows scattered across the living room floor, two warm blankets crumpled on the couch and two buckets full of popcorn, the smell of which had entered her nose from the moment she set foot inside the apartment.

The familiar image of the boy sitting on his soft carpet made her body relax, and she took the seat next to him while he searched for a movie on his Netflix account. After the two agreed to watch a horror movie, both of them big fans of the genre, the two leaned back against the bottom of the sofa and directed their attention to the screen.

The minutes passed and the two remained in a comfortable silence, commenting from time to time on some of the moments in the film.

Pierre was now closer to the girl's side and the heat he radiated seemed to almost burn her with the tension that appeared to have settled in her room.

Out of nowhere, Y/N felt something cold on her thigh and thought she was daydreaming when she realized it was her best friend's hand. The girl didn't react, fearing that the words coming out of her mouth would be the wrong ones.

She couldn't help but notice how the driver seemed to be studying her every move, out of the corner of his eye, like a predator looking for prey to attack.

It was a look she had seen on his face more times than she could count. But never directed at her.

His hand began to move slowly up her soft thigh towards the warm spot between her legs, testing the waters and seeing how far she allowed him to go. His calculated movement was stopped abruptly when she caught his wrist before he reached his intended destination.

"Pierre, what are you doing?" Y/N asked, turning her flushed face towards him.

The boy was mere inches away from her, a smirk plastered across his face and without any sign of regret or embarrassment at having been caught making his risky move. "Y/N, don't lie to me. I've seen the way you look at me. The way your eyes react when they see me approaching you, when you see me with other girls, or when you see me shirtless." He grinned at her, shamelessly.

The girl remained silent, no words daring to be uttered, and she gasped as his hand returned to its former place on the top of her thigh. The Frenchman narrowed the space between them even more, letting his lips brush over hers.

"Come on, Y/N. I can feel how much you want this, want me right now." The man spoke, his fingers now playing with the elastic of her underwear, threatening to act on his desire. "Don't think too much about it. Just live in the moment and act without thinking about the consequences."

Those words were enough to make her head turn off, completely losing her rationality.

Filled with lust, Y/N acted without thinking and kissed Pierre urgently, as if she feared the moment would end at any moment.

With tongues fighting passionately, touches exploring the curves and details of each others' bodies, and clothes scattered carelessly around the room, the two allowed themselves to enter a new level of intimacy.

And the young woman's heart looked like it could explode at any moment with how full it felt, finally having the boy she craved for so long in her arms.

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes

I waited ages to see you there

I search the party of better bodies

Just to learn that you never cared

The next day, Y/N woke up with the sun's rays coming through the half-open window of a room that she recognized immediately as Pierre's bedroom.

Though she had never woken up in that room like this before: naked, with only the sheets covering her body, and with a satisfying ache between her legs that she hadn't felt in a long time.

Although the driver was nowhere to be seen, a goofy smile appeared on her face, and she brought her hands to her face to cover it up. She let out a silent little scream as she remembered the wonderful hours she'd spent the night before, her exploring Pierre's body, Pierre exploring hers.

Finally, things were going to change.

She finally got the boy she wanted all those agonizing years.

Grabbing a used tracksuit of his that was lying on a chair and a pair of clean boxers from his drawer, the girl got dressed and headed to the kitchen, where she found her lover leaning against one of his kitchen counters, concentrated on the phone in his hand while drinking some coffee.

"Well, good morning!" Y/N said, almost humming with so much happiness filling her as she approached the driver.

"Hey." He replied, short and dry, making the young woman stop in her tracks, dumbfounded by his carefree attitude.

"Did you sleep well today...?" She tried to test the waters to see if it was just her being dramatic and misunderstanding his response.

"Yeah, sure." Pierre spoke again, without returning the question and without taking his eyes off the small screen of his iPhone as he drank a bit more of his coffee.

Nervousness began to replace all the bliss that previously consumed the girl. It was almost as if he never cared, not even after all she gave him the night before. "Is there something wrong, Pierre?" She questioned, clutching the bottom of the hoodie she was wearing in an attempt to hide her uneasiness.

You're on your own, kid

You always have been

"No, sorry. I'm just trying to arrange something here." He replied, more friendly, though he still hadn't even looked at her since Y/N walked into the kitchen.

"What are you planning?" The girl asked, trying everything to strike up a conversation with him. Her heart was beating wildly at that point, and it seemed to crack more and more with each beat.

"Just this lunch thing with a girl I've been talking to for a few weeks." His shoulders shrugged as if his words hadn't pushed Y/N to her limits.

She couldn't explain how hurt she felt. How dirty and used he, of all people, made her feel.

How could he? Her best friend. The person who had been by her side for years. The man she would do anything for.

After suffering in silence for years afraid to act on her feelings, this was her pay for taking a risk once in her life: becoming just another silly girl in Pierre Gasly's long list of lovers.

Just another conquest, another achievement, undeserving of the driver's concern and care, with zero distinction from all others.

"Look, I'm in a hurry. I really have to go, Y/N." He informed her just as he started to walk hurriedly towards the exit, placing a quick kiss on her temple.

As if those same lips hadn't been glued to hers, clinging to every surface of the girl's body just hours before.

"You know the way! Just let yourself out. See you later!" He yelled, leaving the girl stunned, tears streaming from her eyes, as she heard the apartment door close loudly.

I see the great escape, so long, Daisy May

I picked the petals, he loves me not

Something different bloomed, writing in my room

I play my songs in the parking lot

I'll run away

A couple of days later, Y/N found herself sitting in her condo's parking lot one night, balling her eyes out while she played the songs of her favourite artist.

She couldn't believe that her best friend had used her body and taken advantage of her feelings for him. And to make matters worse, the girl has received nothing but silence from Pierre's side since that morning in his apartment.

Left alone with her own confused thoughts, Y/N's head was spinning. She didn't know what to do, what to think, or what to say.

I just want to get out of Milan and go home, she repeated over and over again.

Y/N had never chosen that town.

The young woman remembered every detail of the day when Pierre announced he was going to move to Italy, leaving France.

A life without Pierre was unimaginable for the girl. She couldn't remember a single day when she didn't know him, when she didn't have his presence in her life.

Feeling trapped, with no other option, she simply packed her bags and went with him.

She couldn't help but think what a huge mistake it had been to come after him, especially when he didn't seem to care about having her there at all.

Y/N picked up her phone, preparing to turn off the music that was blaring through the car to return home, but she was stopped by the sight of the image that decorated her lock screen.

It was from last year. Pierre and Y/N were wearing their ugly Christmas sweaters - like they did every year as a silly tradition - cuddled up on the couch in his parents' house. The lights from the tree reflected on them, creating a magical atmosphere around the two friends.

The girl affectionately touched her phone, as if it were his face.

Although the idea of returning to France had been hovering in her head for a while, she knew that she couldn't decide to leave without talking to him first.

After all, he was the only one who could make her stay.

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes

I called a taxi to take me there

I search the party of better bodies

Just to learn that my dreams aren't rare

As tears continued to pool in her sad eyes, Y/N opted to get out of her car, assuring that it was safely locked, and called a taxi to take her to the boy's house, since she wasn't in any condition to drive.

The drive was silent and short, just the typical 15 minutes it took her every time. The girl got out of the car, thanked the driver, and began to walk hurriedly towards the building. Her step was uneven and fast, revealing the girl's erratic and desperate state.

Y/N walked through the door of the building, politely greeting the doorman, and continued on her way towards the elevator.

She was only inside for a few minutes until she reached Pierre's floor, being immediately surprised by the loud sound of music coming from the door of the familiar apartment.

He's having a party, and he hasn't even invited me, she thought to herself.

While she suffered from his absence, Pierre was surrounded by anything but silence.

You're on your own, kid

You always have been

Y/N gained some courage and rang the doorbell, although she was afraid that no one would hear the sound in between the noise coming from the apartment's speakers.

However, seconds later, the driver appeared at the door, wide-eyed at the sight of his friend.

"Hey! Y/N!" Pierre smiled at her, without any sign that he had stopped to think about her during the days that had passed since the night of desire between the two of them. "I wasn't expecting you, come in!"

"Hmm..." The girl hesitantly entered the house and tried to pretend that everything was fine, not wanting to ruin the party. "I was nearby and decided to stop by."

"Oh, good!" Pierre replied, bringing his hand to the back of his neck as his eyes roamed the party full of other bodies. "We're just having a last-minute thing. You know, just a spontaneous hangout." He chuckled, clearly looking to get back to what he was doing before heading to the door.

"Yes, of course, Pierre 'spontaneous' Gasly." Y/N joked, in an attempt to break the tense atmosphere between the two. However, she only received the disinterest of Pierre, who clearly didn't find the joke funny.

"Look, I have to go. I was in the middle of something," Pierre looked back at her, pointing towards a person she immediately recognized. "But Charles is over there with Joris! You can go to them. We'll talk later, okay?"

Without even waiting for her answer, the Frenchman left. The girl's teary eyes followed his image until she saw him returning to his dark couch, where three gorgeous women were waiting for the driver, with hungry eyes on their faces.

The same fucking couch where he'd explored her body, millimetre by millimetre, marking her skin with his touch, days before.

"You know how he gets when he is hosting a party." Charles said, approaching the young woman when he noticed her presence alone in the room.

She shrugged, discreetly wiping the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes. "Yeah, well, my presence was always pointless here for him anyway."

Y/N turned to the Monegasque driver and hugged him tight, longer than usual. The man was caught off guard, taking a few seconds to return his longtime friend's hug, but he did so.

Charles couldn't help feeling that that hug meant something more to the girl, but he chose not to question it since it was apparent in her hurt look that something else was going on and he didn't want to intrude.

Y/N placed a friendly kiss on the boy's cheek, letting her hand rest on his cheek. Her gaze locked with his eyes and he swore he saw a tear fall down her cheek.

"Goodbye Charles." She forced a smile. "I will talk to you later, I love you." Y/N turned her back to her friend and walked out the door, without allowing the driver to respond.

Charles couldn't shake the feeling that this 'goodbye' wasn't just a 'see you later', but, blaming it on alcohol and his imagination, he returned to the party, without giving the matter any further thought.

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes

I gave my blood, sweat, and tears for this

I hosted parties and starved my body

Like I'd be saved by a perfect kiss

In a hurry and with tears flowing freely down her face, the girl returned home and placed all her belongings in suitcases and bags, without any care.

And with that, Y/N ran up and down the stairs of the building where she lived towards her car, filling the trunk and the back seats of the vehicle with everything she had in her small house.

For one last time, Y/N looked at the now lifeless apartment where she lived for the last few years and her heart felt tight, unable to hide the nostalgia that that place was going to leave her with.

She might not have been the happiest there in Milan, but her home had always been her refuge.

However, it was time for her to turn the page, burn the bridge, and finally return to her true home.

Sitting in the car, she took a deep breath and began her long, impulsive journey back to France. It was completely insane trying to make a trip lasting more than 10 hours, especially at that time of night, but the girl simply couldn't bear to stay there another minute.

When the sun started to reappear in the sky, illuminating the endless road with its orange and pink tones, Y/N realized that he hadn't stopped yet and decided to park at one of the available stations to rest.

However, the heartache and the feeling of betrayal still crushed her soul, so she sought refuge in the words of her best friend, Céline, who would certainly welcome her when she reached her destination.

"Y/N? Is everything okay?" Her sleepy tone soon revealed that she had been awakened by the call.

"I'm coming home, Cél." Y/N informed, sniffling her nose. "I gave my blood, sweat and tears for this. I gave it my all but I just couldn't take it anymore."

"What?" Y/N could hear the sound of the sheets and mattress moving on the other end of the line, imagining Céline suddenly sitting up on her bed. "Home? As in France? I don't understand, what happened? Talk to me."

"I'm just a dumb girl who thought the guy she loved for years was going to be her prince charming, coming to save her the perfect kiss." The young woman sobbed, with her hand covering her mouth in an attempt to hide the noise. "Instead, I was just treated like a fucking toy. He didn't even care to know how I felt after he slept with me."

"What? You and Pierre?" His friend questioned, shocked. "Oh my god, I never thought he would be capable of doing this to you. I don't even know what to say."

The two friends stayed for a long time talking, Céline being her usual attentive friend and listening to Y/N's outburst without interrupting her.

"Don't worry, girl. I'll be here with open arms to welcome you home." Cél tried to comfort her friend, making the girl in the car thank her for everything.

Y/N had no reason to be afraid when the people who really cared about her were waiting for her where she truly belonged.

The jokes weren't funny, I took the money

My friends from home don't know what to say

I looked around in a blood-soaked gown

And I saw something they can't take away

The days passed and Pierre went on with his life as normal, not even noticing the girl's absence until Charles asked him about it.

The two were playing FIFA on their PlayStations when the Monegasque spoke. "Pierre, have you heard from Y/N lately?"

The Frenchman felt a wave of shock hit him as he realized he hadn't seen or heard from her since the night of the party when he'd rudely dismissed her.

"I don't know, mate... When I talked to her at the party, she didn't seem right." Charles expressed his concerns. "I've tried texting her, calling her. She doesn't answer me."

"It's probably not a big deal. She's probably just busy with something." Pierre pretended to be unconcerned, trying to convince himself more than his friend that it was just a misunderstanding.

"No, Pierre. You don't understand." The Monegasque insisted, persistent in solving the mystery. "When she said goodbye to me that night... I felt like it was goodbye, a real goodbye."

Goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye.

The word echoed in Pierre's head and regret filled him from head to toe, as he rose abruptly from the sofa.

"I have to go, Charles."

'Cause there were pages turned with the bridges burned

Everything you lose is a step you take

So, make the friendship bracelets, take the moment and taste it

You've got no reason to be afraid

You're on your own, kid

Yeah, you can face this

The driver knocked insistently on the girl's door, almost as if his life depended on it.

"Y/N, please! Open the door!" Fists clenched against the wood, he begged for a chance to apologize.

Pierre knew now that he had acted wrongly with her.

For letting his desire for some release come between them. For using his friend for a night of passion when she was the most important person in his life. For giving her just something fleeting, something ephemeral when she deserved the world at her feet.

For ignoring the girl the morning after the best night in his life. For avoiding her the next few days when he should have run to her and confessed his feelings. For taking the easy way out and looking for comfort in other bodies when the only one he wanted by his side was her.

Pierre gave up knocking and let his back hit the door, sitting on the step. "I'm sorry. For everything. I beg you, give me a chance to tell you everything I should have said ages ago."

"Sorry, but are you looking for Y/N?" An old voice spoke, making the Frenchman look up at the person. "She doesn't live here anymore, young man."

"W- What- What do you mean?" Pierre stammered, feeling like he'd been doused in cold water.

"She left the apartment a few days ago. The landlord is already looking for someone to rent the place." The elderly lady informed him, setting down the groceries she was holding on the floor.

It was too late, he thought. I lost her, forever.

She approached him, placing a hand gently on the boy's shoulder, who now had his head between his hands.

"I'm sorry, but you're on your own, kid."

You're on your own, kid

You always have been

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thank you to everyone that asked to be tagged! please let me know if you want to be added to the next stories! 💌

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vetteltea · 5 months

Text

Pierre Gasly and Big Hugs from the Family [no warnings]

Day 11 of the Vetteltea Advent Calendar

The silvery car pulling up outside of the Gasly’s family home was enough to make your stomach churn. It was breathtaking, truly. A beautiful tiled path leads to the ornate front door, soft lights decorating the roof for the holiday season. The tree, the one he had told you about so many times, how his elder brothers would tease him until he learnt to scale the branches, stood to the left, draped in identical string lights, a reindeer statue artistically placed underneath.

Pierre ceases the engine, his own hands dropping from the wheel of the car. It takes less than a second before one of them finds your own, gently slipping it into his touch and offering a comforting squeeze. He knows all too well, after meeting your parents the previous night, that you only have one chance to make an impression. Despite his lavish and overbearing reputation, your family had fallen head over heels for your boyfriend the previous evening. A quick pit-stop in a hotel that evening, you had spent the day driving to his family’s home for the remainder of the holiday.

He’d given you a gentle reminder during the drive, that only three of his brothers would be present when the two of you would arrive that evening. Even so, your eyes had gone wide from finally seeing the front door, identical to the photos that Pierre had shown you of his five-year old self, standing in front of the door on his first day of school with a huge grin. This was the first time in a long time, after all, that he had bought a girl home.

Everybody knew of his reputation; how every moment of every day he seemingly had a new plaything on his arm; maybe that was the reason you were so nervous of meeting his family; what if Pierre got sick of you in less than a week and dumped you for some pretty blonde he’d crossed paths with in Monaco?

You didn’t have time to be nervous; not before you heard a loud scream from outside of the windows. Both yours and your boyfriend’s head snapped in the direction of the house, Pierre’s mother now stood on the porch. Gently, Pierre slips his hand from your grasp, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to the temple of your head.

“Come on.” He coaxes. “Let’s do it, yes?”

The words are what you need, pushing you from the safe-space of the car. Pierre is the first to move, opening the driver side door and making a beeline to the passenger side, opening the door for you. One gentle hand reaches out, clasping yours when you lift from the seat. By the time you’ve stepped away from the car seat, his mother is already there. You had heard the stories, how Pierre was a mother’s boy because he was the youngest, her baby.

She completely bypassed her son, taking you in her arms and pulling you into her chest. You feel her heart racing in awe, warm hands clasping you so tightly and your chest relaxes. She’s welcoming you, she is already elated by you. When she pulls back, her two hands reach forward to cup your face, pressing a gentle kiss to either one of your cheeks.

“Pierre! Elle est tellement belle!” She’s shouting about how beautiful you are. You’re not like the other girls she sees her son photographed with. You’re naturally beautiful, and she can sense you have a strong head on your shoulders and a good heart. You’re good for him, perfect for him. This time, when she pulls you back into a hug, she pulls Pierre alongside you, tightly squeezing you for one more moment.

“Cyril! Paul! Nik! Aide-les avec les sacs!” Her demand for his elder brothers to come down from the porch and help the two of you with your luggage is met immediately, not before each brother has pulled you into a hug, agreeing with their mother that you are quite simply the greatest women he has ever pulled. Cyril laughs, throwing one arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to his own side. His English is stronger than his mother’s, though he’s still able to understand both.

“Pierre is really punching with you, no?” He laughs, the youngest brother’s cheeks turning pink. “Seriously. You are beautiful. Way too good for him!” This time, you can’t help but join in the laughter, the youngest Gasly’s hands reaching out in mock surrender.

“Yes, alright.” He grins. “She’s too good for me. But she’s still mine.” Cyril eventually removes his arm from around your shoulder, whistling for one of the suitcases to be passed to him, all being taken up to Pierre’s childhood bedroom, he was the most nervous about you seeing that later on. Whilst the three men carry the cases inside, your boyfriend takes the time to wrap his own arms around you, pulling you closer to his chest.

“Are you feeling better now, yes?” He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, letting you relax into his chest. “You’re her favorite now, no questions asked.”

You take notice of his pout, stretching upward and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “It’s okay. You’ll always be my favourite.”

#Pierre Gasly #PG10 #Pierre Gasly x Reader #Pierre Gasly Imagine #Pierre Gasly One Shot #Pierre Gasly x You #Reader Insert #F1 #Formula 1 #F1 x Reader #Pierre Gasly Blurb #Pierre Gasly x Y/N

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norrisleclercf1 · 9 months

Note

pierre and reader who were childhood besties but he cuts ties with her to keep her safe but she gets hurt.

like i imagine they had those pretend weddings and printed out a fake marriage certificate and someone finds it and thinks they are actually married so they hurt the reader.

and pierre flips cus he literally left her to protect her but she still got hurt

A/N: See this is marriage, when you're having a shitty day and your wifey sends me this golden piece

"Will you just grow a pair; we need to find the information." A man hisses, standing in the pitch-black house. They shouldn't be in this house, no one was home, and the owner would not be so forgiving if they found out they were here. "Shut up, you fucker; the only reason we're here is because the boss said so." Creeping down the hallway, they have to be careful.

While this house had no one living in it for a while, they didn't know what type of security it would have. Breaking into the leader of the French Mafia was not brilliant, but they needed something against him. Studying the layout beforehand, they just needed to find the office.

They could use old papers or personal information. Reaching the door, they stopped waiting in case they could hear any ticks or anything to let them know if there were traps. Hearing nothing, they throw their bodies against the door, breaking it.

"Search everywhere." Nodding, the two men go off looking for a picture or a piece of paper with a name on it. One of the men stops, seeing a lock on a drawer. Taking their hammer, they knock it off and stop. "The fuck, he's married?" The other man laughs. "He's not." Reaching in, he pulls out the scrapbook.

"Really? Because this is filled with wedding pictures of him and some chick." Flipping through the pictures, he stares at the young face of Pierre Gasly and some girl in a white dress. "They look young." And they're right. The pictures were taken when you and Pierre were preteens.

It was one of those silly we'll get faked married and then promise to marry each other for real. Pierre was the first boy you loved, like truly loved in an all-consuming way. It was stupid, but you didn't know the future. It didn't realize that Pierre would stop talking to you and drop off the face of the planet. You last spoke years ago but kept the pictures and fake marriage certificates.

Sadly, the two dumbasses now in the office didn't know they were fake; to them, they found the holy grail of breaking Pierre Gasly.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Yes, I'm home." Balancing your phone to your ear as you jam the keys into your apartment door. "Mama, stop. Paris is safe alright, no one followed me, and I'm about to enter my apartment. Please calm down." This was a daily thing, talking down your mother as you walked from work to home.

She hated that you lived in the big city, wishing you stayed home. But Paris has been safe for many years, and it was no worry to you. Walking in, you drop your purse, kick off your shoes, walking to the windows. Your cat, Eclair. The damn cat Pierre got you as a "wedding gift" was still alive. It reminded you of fonder times.

"Mama, I'm safe. It's just me and Eclair here. I'm hanging up." Ending the call, you groan, rubbing the tips of your fingers over Eclair's back. "It's not just you and Eclair here." Gasping, you spin around, coming face to face with a man in a mask. "Tell Pierre we say hello." Raising his arm, something heavy whips across your skull. You didn't even make it to the floor before passing out.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The harsh cleaner smell hits you first, then the feeling of your skull splitting open. Noises leave your mouth, and you want to move your arms, but your body is so heavy it's like lead. "Ow." Throat is tight, so dry from no water or talking for a few days.

"Mhmh." Blinding lights have you blinking fast. Eyes adjusted to the darkness, now facing the light worsens the pain. Yet you fight against it, ears ringing, and finally, settle on the beeping to your right. The blurriness fades away as you take in the pristine white of the room.

You're alive.

Eyes float around the room, taking in everything, but a splash of color has your attention. Dirty blonde hair and tan skin against the black outfit have you squint. You don't know anyone who would dress or look like this. Maybe a cop? Waiting for you to wake up to ask about the attack?

"You're awake?" That voice didn't belong to a cop; no, it belonged to someone you haven't seen for what seems like a lifetime. "Pea-Pierre?" You have to stop the slip of the nickname. The body stands as it moves over to your side, leaning over. Those blue eyes, you dream of those blue eyes.

"I'm here, ma femme." You make a noise, something of a laugh, which has him smiling, his fingers hanging off the railing, touching the cloth wrapped around your head. "Don't talk. They did some damage." Something in those soft blue eyes has them hardened in the corners. No one else would notice, but you have stared into those eyes and learned everything about them.

"I want to apologize, but I can't. I left to protect you, yet my leaving left you unprotected in a way I never imagined. They went after you to get to me." Pierre smiles, seeing how your face morphs, wanting to ask questions, yet you can't. "I can't tell you why," Reaching down, he clasps your hand in his, pressing a feather touch of a kiss to them.

"But, when you get out. You're coming with me, then I'll tell you everything. Just sleep." You hate that you can't fight, but sleep is dragging you down, slipping you back into the darkness you've grown accustomed to.

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norrussell · 29 days

Text

The Restroom | Pierre Gasly¹⁰

Part 1 of Rooms Anthology Series

"God, I wish we were at home so I could do some terrible things to you." "What is stopping you from doing them now?"

Pairings: Pierre Gasly x fem!reader

Warnings: smut

In honor of my Pierre phase making a potential comeback, enjoy this piece I wrote in January last year (omg that was like more than a year ago tfff) French is google translated

The air was filled with the tinkling of crystal glasses and the soft murmur of conversation as you took your seat at the formal dinner event you were attending. You glanced around the room, admiring elegant decor and the impeccably dressed guests. You looked down and saw that your assigned seat was next to Pierre Gasly's.

Pierre and you had crossed paths a few times before at various Formula One events and every time it ended in the same way. You, in his bed. So you kind of formed a friends with benefits type of relationship. And you knew that this dinner was only going to get more interesting now that you were sitting beside him.

As you settled into your seat, Pierre turned to you with a warm smile, his piercing blue eyes sparkling in the dim light of the room.

"So lovely to see you here tonight," he said, his French accent adding a touch of sophistication to his words. "I must say, you look absolutely stunning this evening."

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks at his compliment, grateful for the low lighting hiding your reaction. "Thank you, Pierre. It seems the universe just can't keep us apart." you replied, trying to match his charm.

Pierre chuckled softly at your response, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Ah yes, it seems fate is determined to keep us in each other's orbits," he mused, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his wine glass. "Tell me, cherie, have you been enjoying the evening so far?"

You couldn't help but be drawn in by his magnetic presence, the familiar dance of flirtation between you both reigniting effortlessly. With a playful smile, you replied, "Well, the company has certainly improved since I sat down."

As the first course was served, Pierre and you engaged in polite small talk, exchanging pleasantries and discussing your respective professions. But as the night went on, you found yourself getting more and more restless, not being able to resist a strong pull towards him. And you wanted to see just how far you could push him.

"I must admit, I've been counting down the days until I could see you again," you began to subtly touch his arm as you spoke, leaning in close to him and letting your breath brush against his ear. You could feel the tension building between you, and you knew that Pierre was starting to feel it too. But he remained the perfect gentleman, maintaining his composure and not giving in to your advances.

"Well, I can't say I wasn't looking forward to tonight as well," he replied with a grin. "But I must warn you, cherie, that playing with fire can get you burned," Pierre's warning came out in a low voice, laced with a hint of danger that sent a shiver down your spine.

You couldn't help but be intrigued by the challenge he presented, the thrill of the forbidden dancing between you like a flame begging to be ignited. You couldn't resist the challenge in his eyes as you leaned in even closer, the scent of his cologne enveloping you.

"I've never been one to shy away from a little heat," you murmured, your lips grazing his earlobe before pulling back slightly, a daring smile playing on your lips.

Pierre's expression darkened, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in your bold words and actions, sending one last warning. But you were determined to crack him. You continued to flirt shamelessly, running your hand up and down his thigh under the table, planting soft kisses on his neck whenever you could. And slowly, but surely, the playful facade he'd been trying to maintain all night started to slip away.

"God, I wish we were at home so I could do some terrible things to you," he finally answered to all your provocations, his voice a whisper.

You smirked, satisfied, and whispered back, "What is stopping you from doing them now?"

You heard him suck in his breath, your words obviously hitting a nerve. You looked down and you had what to see.

"Are those pants too tight for you? Maybe you should consider a size up for next time." you put a hand over your mouth to try and suppress a chuckle.

"For god's sake, stop talking," he hissed, running his sweaty palms over his thighs.

"Or what? Wait, don't tell... Are you going to... punish me?" once again, you put a hand over your mouth and turned your head away.

He gritted your name and shifted in his seat, his leg bouncing up and hitting the table, making the silverware clatter. That finally drew attention to you.

"Is everything alright over there?" one of the attendees asked.

"Oh, yes! Perfectly fine!" you were quick to answer while Pierre was grumbling beside you. "I could have a bit more wine, please." you raised your half empty glass and gave them your most charming smile.

"Of course, ma'am," a waiter immediately reacted, refilling your glass with a knowing smile. As the attention shifted back to the rest of the table, you turned your focus back to Pierre, who was shooting you a death glare.

"I can't believe you," he seethed through gritted teeth, his frustration palpable. But beneath the anger in his eyes, there was a spark of something else.

You leaned in closer, your lips grazing his ear as you whispered, "You love it when I push your buttons, Pierre. Admit it."

His jaw clenched, but he couldn't deny the truth in your words.

"But oh well, since I am such a brat, I'll put myself in a time out and punish me myself," you exaggerated your sigh and took your purse. "I'll be in the restroom if you need me." you said, hoping he'll catch on the implication of your words.

Once in the ladies' room, you found yourself in front of a mirror, touching up on your makeup. Just when you were finishing your lipstick, you heard the door open and close behind you. Then you heard some rattling, presuming that the person who walked in blocked the entrance and you smirked to yourself. They approached you, wrapping their hands from behind and breathing in your scent.

"Took you long enough," you remarked, zipping up your handbang.

"Do you know how hard it was to get out of there without looking suspicious?" Pierre murmured between your neck and shoulder.

"Must be tough," you commented.

In response, he turned you around and kissed you hard on the lips. He pressed himself against you to the point where he had to lift you up and put you on the counter. You wrapped your arms around his neck, drawing him closer and he gripped your knees and pulled you into him.

Time seemed to stand still as he kissed you, his tongue exploring the depths of your mouth, their motions in rhythm with each other's breaths. You moaned softly, savouring his dominance. He knew exactly what you wanted, and how to give it to you. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, feeling every muscle in his body tighten against yours.

"You ruined my lipstick," you said in between kisses.

"And you ruined my night," he replied back.

You smiled. "I thought I was making it."

He harshly pulled you down, spun you around and grabbed a handful of your hair so hard that you had to tilt your head back in reaction. You gasped out of thrill.

"You will, if you behave yourself." he gritted in your ear. "Starting now." he bent you forward, lifting your dress and caressing your bum. He wasn't doing much, but still you panted out of pleasure.

"And be quiet." he leaned to whisper, pressing himself against you, you could already feel he grew to his full potential. That made you roll your eyes back and arch your back a little.

You heard him grunt when your ass moved, but didn't let that distract him from his mission. He crouched down and spread your legs to his liking and ran his palms up and down the back of your thighs, stopping right under your ass, holding on the skin tightly.

"Damp. Pathetic." he spat, regarding your thong.

"And you're hard, how pathetic is that?" you dared to talk back.

That rewarded you with a hard slap on your ass cheek. You winced, but it was only turning you on more. Your skin burned with satisfaction and you felt he hit you so hard he left an imprint. But your body was begging for more. He rose up and pulled at your hair again.

"What did I say? Be. Quiet." he reminded. "Now, speak when spoken to, understand?" you laughed and moved your hips against him instead. He didn't seem to notice, or mind at the moment, but yanked your head back lightly. "I said, do you understand me?" he repeated.

"Yes, sir," you bit your lip.

"Bonne fille," he let go of your hair, looking down as if only now taking notice of you grinding on him and smirked. "Look at you. Can't even punish you, you're enjoying this." he steadied your movements with one hand and gripped your ass with the other. He was down on his knees again, this time pulling your panties down as well and spread your thighs open.

"Shit, your thighs are wet as well." he murmured and kissed their inner side, making his way up.

You held your breath not to make a sound. Just when he was reaching the point of your desire, he stopped and you breathed again. He then lightly ran his fingers over your center, your right leg twitched.

"Easy, baby," he chuckled. Yeah, easy for him to say. He's not the one getting teased the hell out of. His fingers pressed harder into you and your mouth hung open. You closed your eyes, trying not to think too much about it or you would scream.

"So already ready for me," he mused, slipping one finger inside. "You don't even need preparation." he fingered you with ease and you were helplessly trying to hold onto something, but there was nothing on the marble counter. You couldn't really control your body at that point and started moving on his finger on your own, but he didn't seem to like that.

"Don't move." he said once.

You couldn't stop, your body not your own. The pleasure was overwhelming and you felt the need to move, to find relief. He pushed his finger deep and curled it inside of you.

"Don't move or I'll stop." he repeated more sternly and grabbed your hips to steady them. He waited for you to calm down before rewarding you with another "good girl" and continuing to finger fuck you.

"Pierre..." you breathed, not caring if that's going to get you in trouble. Even better if so. "More," you demanded.

"More? Baby, I'm already two fingers deep in you. So needy." he shook his head and chuckled.

"What? Two?! When did the second—Oh my god." you didn't have time to gather your thoughts as you felt the third finger stretching you out and laid your head on the cool marble. You would've been a whining mess by now if you had been enabled, but for some reason you decided to obey his "be quiet" rule.

"Put your leg up for me, darling." but he already did it on his own and gave himself more access. Good, because you don't think you had any power to move. He used his other hand to draw circles on your clit. Jesus Christ. Tears rolled down your cheeks as you closed your eyes, panting.

"Are you close, baby?" he asked.

"Mhmm..." you whined.

"No, you're not." he pulled his fingers out and you saw him sucking on them in the reflection, moaning in satisfaction. That motherfucker. You watched him undo his belt and pants with just one hand with just one hand, the scene so hot it was enough to push you over the edge alone. But he did it so slowly, giving your high enough time to come down.

His cock sprung out of his boxers and god, was that a sight. He took it and brought it to your pussy, teasing you with his tip, dragging between your lips and over your clit. You straightened just enough to hold onto the edge of the counter while your head still hung low. He then teased you by putting his head in and out. You were growing more impatient and breathing became heavier and more audible. That seemed to amuse him.

"Is this what you want?" he removed all of your hair to your other shoulder and whispered in your ear while pressing his tip inside you once again.

"Yes," you muttered and he smirked.

"Beg."

Jesus. He removed himself.

"Please, Pierre..." you pleaded.

"Please what?" he grasped your hair and made you look at him.

"Please, fuck me." you could barely make him out from the haze over your eyes.

His smirk widened and he forced your head against the mirror before pushing his whole length inside you. You closed your yes and opened your mouth, but no sound came out. His strokes were deep and slow in the beginning, but he slowly picked up the pace and was pounding into you soon enough that your head hitting the mirror from the force. He fucked you so good you could cry. You did cry.

He tugged on your hair once again. "Look at yourself. I want you to look at yourself while I fuck you. Look what a slut you are. How gorgeous you are under me."

And you did. You really were. Your red lipstick was all over your chin, your eye makeup smudged, mascara running down your cheeks and hair all tangled. And he was breathtaking hammering into you. Your eyes met in the reflection and he smiled. You couldn't keep it in any longer and you softly moaned his name. He immediately stopped.

"What was that?" he asked. Fuck. You stayed quiet. "What the fuck did I say?"

"I'm sorry, it won't happen again." you panted, just wanting him to get on moving again.

He lowered your leg and put your legs together, starting to thrust again. God, it felt so good. So good that your body got out of your own control again. You started shaking and trembling all over. You were biting into your lower lip so hard you could taste your own blood in your mouth. If it wasn't for that counter and him supporting you, you'd be down on the floor. That's when you let out a very loud moan against your will. Your hands immediately went over your mouth, but it was already too late. He pulled his cock out.

"Oh, please, put it back in..." you whimpered.

He grabbed you. "How many times have I had to scold you tonight, hm?" you stayed silent. "Answer me!" he shook you.

"Many," you breathed, leaning against him.

"That's right, many. And if you keep disobeying me like this, not only will I not put it back in, I will not make you cum either. Do you hear me?" he hissed.

"Yes, sir." you replied.

He took you by your jaw, turned your head to face him and kissed you. "Je t'adore tellement."

You couldn't answer him, but you nodded your head and kissed him back. He slipped it back in and your hand went over your mouth to suppress any sounds. He chuckled.

"I'll do it for you, love." he pushed your hand away and replaced it with his own. You rolled your eyes back and just let go while he hammered into you.

"Shit, you're getting tighter," he hissed. "Open your mouth for me." you obeyed and sucked on his fingers, soaking them with your saliva. He removed them and circled his arm around your legs to your clit to add extra pleasure to your reaching orgasm.

"Come on, baby, cum for me," he encouraged.

"I... I can't..." you gasped.

"Yes, you can, baby. Come on, do it."

"A little more..." you cried. "Please."

He grunted, but rocked his hips a little harder and fastened his movements on your sensitive bud.

"Come on now, baby. Cum on my cock." he gritted.

And so you did. You were finally able to let go with a suppressed cry. But then he leaned forward and said, "I want to hear you when you cum."

And with his permission, you let out a long needed moan while he still moved in and out of you.

"Atta girl." he kissed your naked shoulder. "Come here now, princess, get on your knees."

He pulled out of you and you kneeled. He towered over you with his cock in your face, jerking himself off slowly.

"Can you do it?" he asked.

You nodded and wrapped your hand around him. You gave him a few pumps before leaning forward and kissing the tip. You felt him shiver and whisper "oh my god" under his breath. You kissed his whole length and slid your tongue over it too. You sucked on the head, circling your head around it before taking the rest of it in. The tears stung at the back of your eyes when you went to take him whole.

"Jesus, baby." he breathed.

You let go and took much needed breath, but still kept close. He caressed your face, pushing your hair back.

"Look how gorgeous you are sucking on my cock. Your lips so plump and makeup all over your face. You look so pretty when I ruin you." he praised, the whole time you were looking at him with your big eyes.

You opened your mouth to take him again, slowly a first, bobbing your head back and forth, relaxing your throat to open enough for him. He kept on going how amazing you were doing, how good you were for him when you grabbed onto his thighs for support and pushed your head all the way down, digging your nails into his skin.

"Oh, shit, baby..." his voice was shaky. "I'm going to cum in your mouth." he stated.

You backed away a little and nodded. He started grunting, hissing and panting more often, indicating he was getting closer and closer. You began working him a little faster, helping him reach his sweet release. And soon enough, hot liquid oozed on your tongue while he gasped. You looked up at him and swallowed.

"Show me your tongue." he touched a side of your face and you stuck your tongue out, making him smile. "Good girl." he bent down and kissed you.

You stood up and fixed your dress, looking for your panties. You spotted them near the sink and reached to grab them, but Pierre was faster.

"Hey, give them back."

"Oh yeah, these are mine now." he said and put them in his pocket.

"Pierre, give me back my panties!"

"Nope." he already made his way towards the door.

"Come on, I can't just go back there without my underwear in this dress." you reasoned, your voice laced with frustration and annoyance.

"Hm, maybe you should've thought about that before you decided to fuck me in the restroom." he closed the door, leaving you alone with your mess.

313 notes · View notes

formulas-bitch · 1 month

Text

Forbidden Love Pierre Gasly x Leclerc/reader

4.8k words

warnings: charles being a dick sort of

On the morning of June 17th, a day that would change his life forever, Pierre Gasly woke up to the sound of birds chirping outside his window. The sunlight streamed in, casting a warm glow across his bed, and he could smell the freshly baked bread from the bakery down the street. He stretched lazily, enjoying the feeling of being completely unencumbered by the weight of responsibility that had been pressing down on him for so long. Little did he know that this carefree morning was about to be interrupted by the arrival of a woman who would turn his world upside down.

As Pierre made his way to the kitchen to make himself some breakfast, he heard a knock at the door. He crossed the room, still in his bathrobe, and opened it to find a beautiful woman standing on his doorstep. She had long, flowing blonde hair and piercing blue eyes that seemed to capture his attention instantly. She introduced herself as Madeleine Leclerc, the older sister of his best friend, Charles. As they talked, Pierre couldn't help but feel a strange connection with her. Their conversation flowed effortlessly, and he found himself smiling and laughing at her jokes.

After a while, Pierre invited Madeleine inside to have some coffee. They sat in the living room, sipping their cups and continuing their chat. As they talked, Pierre noticed how intelligent and interesting Madeleine was. She had a way with words that made everything she said seem profound and meaningful. He also noticed her striking resemblance to her brother, which only made her more attractive to him.

As the morning wore on, Pierre began to realize that he had feelings for Madeleine that went beyond friendship. He found himself becoming more and more infatuated with her, and couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to be with her. He knew that pursuing a relationship with her would be complicated, given their familial connection, but he couldn't shake the desire that burned within him.

Madeleine seemed to sense his feelings, and their conversation became more intimate as the day progressed. They discussed their shared passions, their dreams for the future, and the things that made them happy. Pierre felt a deep connection with her, and for the first time in a long time, he felt truly alive. but the only thing stopping him from persuading his feeling for Madeleine was Charles.

As the afternoon sun streamed through the window, Pierre found himself lost in thought about what he should do. He knew that pursuing a relationship with Madeleine would mean potentially hurting his best friend, and that weighed heavily on his heart. He didn't want to lose either of them, but he couldn't deny the intense desire he felt for her. He decided that he would wait, bide his time, and see how things unfolded.

The next few months passed by in a blur of work, social engagements, and quiet reflection. Pierre tried not to think about Madeleine too much, but her image seemed to seep into every corner of his life. He couldn't help but wonder if she felt the same way about him.

One day, out of the blue, Madeleine called him to ask if he would like to join her and a group of friends for a weekend getaway at her family's cabin in the woods. Pierre hesitated for a moment, torn between his feelings for her and his fear of hurting Charles. In the end, he decided that it might be best to confront his emotions head-on.

The weekend was filled with laughter, hiking, and late-night conversations around the fire. As they sat together under the stars, Pierre couldn't help but feel a sense of longing for Madeleine. He knew that she was now in a relationship with someone else, and that he had to respect her choice. But the feeling he had for her was too strong to ignore.

As the weekend came to an end, they all said their goodbyes and promised to keep in touch. Pierre found himself unable to concentrate on anything other than Madeleine for the next few weeks. He would daydream about their time together at the cabin, wishing things could be different. Finally, he decided that he needed to talk to her. He needed to know where she stood and if there was any hope for them.

He texted her, asking if they could meet for coffee, and she agreed. They arranged to meet at a cozy little café near her workplace. As Pierre waited for her, he felt a mixture of anticipation and dread in his stomach. When she finally arrived, he couldn't help but notice the way she walked, the way she smiled, the way she moved. It was then that he knew he had to say something.

They ordered their drinks and found a quiet corner to sit in. The air was thick with tension, and Pierre couldn't help but feel that their relationship had changed since the weekend at the cabin. "Madeleine," he began, "I wanted to talk to you about something."

She looked up at him, her blue eyes filled with curiosity. "Of course, Pierre. You know you can always talk to me."

Pierre took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "I just wanted to say that I've been thinking about our time together at the cabin, and…well, I can't help but feel that something has changed between us." He hesitated, searching for the right words. "I care about you very much, Madeleine. More than I've ever cared about anyone else. And I want to be with you."

Madeleine listened carefully, her expression growing more serious with each word he spoke. Finally, she leaned in closer and placed her hand on his arm. "Pierre, I appreciate your honesty. You know how much I value our friendship, but I'm in a relationship now. With someone else. I can't just ignore that."

He nodded, understanding her words but unable to hide the disappointment in his eyes. "I know, I just…I didn't want to lose you. I couldn't help how I felt."

Madeleine leaned back in her chair, her expression softening. "I appreciate that, Pierre. It means a lot to me to know that you care so much. But I need you to understand that I can't be with you the way you want me to be. I love my boyfriend, and we're trying to work through this. I want to keep our friendship, though. I don't want to lose you, too."

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, Pierre wasn't sure how to respond. He knew he should respect her decision, but the pain in his heart was almost unbearable. Finally, he nodded slowly. "Okay, Madeleine. I'll try to respect your wishes. But I just want you to know that I'll always be here for you, if you need me."

Their conversation drifted to safer topics after that, and Pierre did his best to act as if nothing had changed. But every time he looked at her, he could see the spark that had once been there, dimmed by the weight of their situation. They continued to meet for coffee, and sometimes they would even share a laugh or two, but the connection they'd shared at the cabin seemed to be gone forever.

As the weeks turned into months, Pierre tried to move on with his life. He threw himself into his work, spending long hours at the gym , hoping that the distraction would help ease the ache in his chest. He dated other women, but none of them compared to Madeleine. He knew that she was the one who had gotten away, and he couldn't help but wonder if he'd ever find someone like her again.

One day, out of the blue, Madeleine invited him over for dinner. Her relationship with her boyfriend had ended, and she wanted to catch up with him. Pierre couldn't believe his luck. He accepted the invitation without hesitation, eager to see her again.

As they sat down to dinner, Pierre couldn't help but notice the way Madeleine seemed different. She was more confident, more sure of herself. He wondered if it was because she was no longer in that relationship, or if something else had changed.

The conversation flowed easily between them, and Pierre felt a sense of joy he hadn't experienced in months. It was as if they had never skipped a beat. As they ate and drank, their laughter filled the room, and Pierre found himself wishing that this moment could last forever.

Later in the evening, when the dishes had been cleared away, Madeleine leaned back in her chair, her eyes meeting Pierre's. "I just want to say thank you," she began. "For being there for me when I needed it most. You were always so understanding and supportive, and I appreciate that more than you know."

Pierre felt a warmth spread through his chest at her words. "Of course, Madeleine. That's what friends are for. I'm just glad I could be there for you."

Their conversation continued into the night, touching on everything from their favorite movies to their childhood memories. As the hours passed, Pierre couldn't help but feel a sense of longing growing inside him. He wanted more than friendship with Madeleine. He wanted to be the one who made her laugh, who made her happy.

Finally, the moment he had been waiting for all night arrived. Madeleine let out a soft sigh and leaned back in her chair, her eyes locked on his. "Pierre," she began, her voice barely above a whisper, "I've been meaning to talk to you about something." as she was about to speak, a ringing of a phone interrupts them . The ringtone is an old, familiar tune from their childhood. Pierre recognizes it instantly. It's her brother's phone call. He always calls her on this number. The excitement and anticipation in Madeleine's eyes vanish as quickly as they appeared, replaced by a look of apprehension and dread.

"I'm sorry," she says apologetically, "I should take this." She quickly excuses herself from the table and hurries into the other room, closing the door behind her.

Pierre listens to the muffled sound of her voice on the other end of the line, his heart sinking with each word. He can't help but feel a stab of jealousy as she speaks to her brother, Charles, their childhood friend who had always been there for her. They had always been close, and it was clear that their bond was as strong as ever.

He tries to focus on his own conversation with Madeleine, but her words with Charles keep creeping into his mind. "I should get back to him," she says at one point, her tone distant and apologetic. Pierre knows that there's no point in pressing her about it; whatever Charles has to say, it's clearly important.

As the night wears on, Pierre can't help but feel a growing sense of unease. He wants to believe that Madeleine will eventually come back to him, that she'll choose him over her brother. But the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that their connection has been irreparably damaged. Their friendship, once so close and easy, now feels strained and fragile.

He decides to take a walk to clear his head, stepping out onto the quiet street. The cool night air does little to calm his nerves as he paces back and forth, lost in thought. He wonders if he should confront Madeleine about her conversation with Charles, or if it's better to give her space. The thought of losing her as a friend, or worse, as a potential romantic partner, is almost too much to bear.

As he stands there, uncertain of what to do, a car pulls up beside him. It's Madeleine, her eyes red from crying. She steps out of the backseat of the car and looks at him, her expression a mixture of sadness and guilt. "I'm sorry, Pierre," she says softly. "I need some time to myself right now. Can you just give me that?"

Pierre nods, feeling a lump forming in his throat. "Of course, Madeleine. I'm here if you need me." He tries to keep his voice steady, but he can't help the quiver that creeps in.

Madeleine takes a deep breath, wipes away a tear, and then says, "I just need some time to sort things out with him… with Charles." Her voice trails off, and she looks away, out the window. "I don't know what to do."

Pierre nods, understanding the weight of her words. He knows that Charles has always been there for her, and that their relationship runs deep. He doesn't want to interrupt her, but he also doesn't want to leave her alone. "I'm here if you want to talk about it," he offers gently. " and i know Charles is your brother and everything but …i want you to know that I care about you too. and if you need someone to lean on, I'm here. and i don't want you to be in a position where you would have to choose me or him. he's your brother and I'm just the brothers best friend."

Madeleine looks at him, her eyes full of emotion. "I know that, Pierre. And I appreciate it. More than you know." She takes a deep breath and composes herself before continuing. "Charles and I… we've been through a lot together. Our dad died when we were young, and he was always there for me. He took care of me, made sure I had a roof over my head and food on the table. I owe him everything."

She pauses, her voice wavering. "And now, with everything that's been going on… with you and me… it's just… I don't want to lose him. I don't want to lose either of you." Her voice cracks on the last word, and she fights back tears.

Pierre listens, nodding understandingly. He knows that their situation is complicated, and there aren't any easy answers. "I get that, Madeleine. I do. But I want you to know that I'm here for you too. No matter what happens with you and Charles, I'll always be your friend."

He reaches out, gently taking her hand in his. Her skin is cool and smooth against his, and for a moment they sit in silence, their hands intertwined. It's a small gesture, but it feels significant somehow. Madeleine looks up at him, her eyes searching his face for some sign of reassurance.

"I love you, you know that," Pierre says softly. "And I want what's best for you. Whatever you decide, I'll be here for you. You're not alone in this." He leans in, kissing her forehead before letting go of her hand.

Madeleine closes her eyes, taking in his words. A small, fragile smile appears on her lips. "Thank you, Pierre," she whispers. "That means more to me than you'll ever know." She looks at him for a moment longer, then takes a deep breath, composing herself. "I need to go home. I'll see you at the grand prix tomorrow, okay?"

Pierre nods, his heart heavy but determined. "Of course. I'll see you tomorrow. And remember, no matter what happens, I'm here for you." He offers her a reassuring smile, trying to hide the pain he feels inside.

Madeleine returns the smile, a little more convincingly this time, and then opens the car door. As she steps in , she turns back to face Pierre one last time. "Thank you, Pierre. For everything." With a deep breath, she closes the door and is driven away, disappearing into the night.

Pierre watches her go, his heart heavy with a mix of love and concern. He knows that things between her and Charles are complicated, but he can't help feeling a sense of loss as he imagines the two of them growing further apart. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves, and then climbs back into his own car. As he pulls away from the curb, he can't help but wonder what the future holds for them all.

As Madeleine makes her was into her home, she finds the lights turn on and knows for sure that she turned them off before she left. as she makes her way deeper into the house she finds all three of brothers, Charles, Arthur and Lorenzo in her kitchen.

"Oh, hello Madeleine, we were just talking about you." Charles says as he looks at her. There's something in his voice that makes her uncomfortable.

Madeleine glances around the kitchen, noticing that Arthur and Lorenzo are there as well. They all exchange awkward looks before she finally decides to speak up. "What were you talking about?" she asks, her voice steady despite the pounding of her heart.

" oh just how you are going to be moving into my apartment since im not home most of the time and you did tell us you were looking for a new place to live. so i was thinking why not have my older sister move into my place since i have a spare bedroom and it will help you save money too" replied Charles happily.

Madeleine's heart sinks. She knew something was up when she saw them all here, but this… this feels like a betrayal. She takes a deep breath, trying to maintain her composure. "Charles, that's not funny. You can't just assume that I'd want to live with you, or that I need your help financially."

Her words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken accusations. Charles' expression sours, and he glares at her. "I wasn't being funny, Madeleine. I'm serious. I think it's the best solution for everyone involved." "everyone" being Pierre is what Charles meant Madeleine thought

Arthur clears his throat uncomfortably. "Look, Madeleine, we're not trying to push you into anything. It's just that…well, we're worried about you. You've been working so hard, and we want to make sure you're okay. If you need us, we're here for you."

Madeleine feels a lump form in her throat. She knows they're not being malicious, but the situation still hurts. "I appreciate that, Arthur," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I can take care of myself. I don't want to live with Charles, and I don't need you to pay my rent. I just need some space."

Charles scoffs. "Well, we can't exactly let you live in that dumpy little apartment forever, can we? It's not like you're some charity case. You need to start thinking about your future."

Madeleine feels her temper flare. "My future? You mean the one where I work my butt off to support your extravagant lifestyle? The one where I live in the shadow of your success, never getting to make my own choices?"

She glares at each of them in turn, her eyes blazing with anger and hurt. "You know what? Fine. If that's how you all feel, then maybe it's time for a change. Maybe I should move out, find somewhere else to live. Maybe I should start focusing on me for a change.maybe what i need is to get away from you."

Madeleine storms out of the kitchen, leaving the three brothers looking at each other uncomfortably. She heads upstairs, slamming doors and throwing things in her room until she's too exhausted to move. She collapses onto her bed, sobbing into her pillow, feeling more alone than she ever has before.

Later that night, Charles finally works up the courage to call her. He apologizes profusely, admitting that he didn't mean to push her away and that he was just worried about her. He offers her the option to stay in his apartment, but promises to give her space and not interfere with her life. Madeleine listens, feeling a mixture of anger and guilt. She knows Charles means well, but she can't help but feel betrayed by her entire family.

She decides to take some time to herself and think things over. She spends the next few days avoiding everyone, going for long walks and spending time alone in her favorite cafes. The more she thinks about it, the more she realizes that she does need a change. Maybe it's time to move out of the city, find a new job, and start fresh somewhere new.

Madeleine finally returns Charles' call, thanking him for his apology but telling him that she needs some time apart from the family. She explains that she's considering making some major life changes and that she needs space to figure things out. Charles is understanding, but she can hear the disappointment in his voice. He promises to be there for her if she needs anything, and she knows that deep down, he means it.

As the days go by, Madeleine begins to feel a new sense of freedom. She starts packing up her things, slowly but surely preparing to leave the only home she's ever known. She thinks about the possibility of moving countrys , where she has family and friends who will support her. The idea of starting over is both terrifying and exhilarating, but she knows it's what she needs to do to find herself again.

One afternoon, as she's working on her laptop in a cozy corner of a local coffee shop, she feels a presence beside her. She looks up to see Charles, his expression a mixture of concern and curiosity. "Hey," he says tentatively. "I just wanted to see how you were doing."

Madeleine is taken aback. She hadn't expected him to come looking for her. "I'm doing okay," she says, forcing a smile. "Just thinking about what comes next."

Charles nods, leaning in closer. "Look, I know I've been a bit overbearing lately. I just want what's best for you. But if you need any help, any advice…I'm here for you."

Madeleine feels a pang of guilt. She knows Charles means well, but she also needs her space. "Thanks, Charles. That means a lot. But I think I need to do this on my own for a while."

Charles nods, understanding. "Of course. I just want you to know that you're not alone. You can always come to me if you need anything." He hesitates for a moment, then says, "And if you ever change your mind, about staying in the city or needing some help…just let me know."

Madeleine appreciates his words, but she's determined to make this decision on her own. She's been so caught up in pleasing everyone else that she's lost sight of what she truly wants. As she sips her coffee, she can't help but feel a sense of freedom and possibility.

The weeks go by, and Madeleine continues to make progress in her new life. She finds a job in the countryside, working at a small bakery that specializes in artisanal breads and pastries. The owners are a warm and welcoming couple who treat her like family from the start. The work is hard, but Madeleine finds herself loving every minute of it. She's surrounded by nature, breathing in the fresh air, and making connections with the locals.

as the days pass by not a moment goes by where Madeleine thought about Pierre and how he is doing.

The bakery owners, a kind and loving couple named Thomas and Emily, noticed her preoccupation and asked her if everything was alright. Madeleine confided in them about her past, her family and her love for Pierre. They listened patiently and with understanding, telling her that they too had gone through similar experiences in their lives. Emily shared with her a saying from their village, "The heart knows what it wants, and sometimes it takes leaving home to find it."

Madeleine found solace in their words and began to focus on her new life. She threw herself into her work at the bakery, learning the art of bread-making and pastry-making from Thomas and Emily. The small town embraced her with open arms, and soon she had made many friends and felt at home.

One day, as she was taking a break from her shift, she received a letter in the mail. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized Pierre's familiar handwriting on the envelope. With trembling hands, she opened it and began to read. Pierre apologized for his behavior and told her that he loved her and wanted to make things right between them. He asked for her forgiveness and invited her to visit him in the city, where they could talk and work things out together.

Madeleine was stunned. She felt a mixture of emotions: happiness, confusion, and fear. She didn't know what to make of Pierre's sudden change of heart. But she couldn't help but feel a spark of hope. She decided to give him a chance, at least to talk. She wrote back, accepting his invitation and making plans to visit him in the city.

As the day of her trip approached, Madeleine felt a mixture of anticipation and anxiety. She had grown accustomed to her new life in the countryside and wasn't sure how she would adjust to being back in the city. But she also knew that she couldn't ignore the love she had for Pierre.

The train ride was long and lonely, and by the time she arrived at the station, Madeleine felt overwhelmed by the bustling crowds and the familiar sights and sounds of the city. She found Pierre waiting for her outside the station, looking nervous and eager. His smile was genuine and heartfelt, and it calmed her nerves a little.

They walked together through the city streets, making small talk as they caught up on each other's lives. Pierre seemed sincere in his efforts to explain his behavior and make amends. He took her to a cozy cafe where they could talk without interruption.

As they sipped their coffee, Madeleine found herself feeling a sense of peace and contentment. She couldn't help but wonder if this was the same feeling Pierre had felt when he left her all those months ago. She asked him about it, and he admitted that he had been struggling with his own feelings and the pressures of his family's expectations. He had thought that leaving her was the only way to find happiness.

Madeleine listened carefully, trying to understand his perspective. She told him about her own journey and how much she had grown to love her new life in the countryside. She explained that she couldn't just give up everything she had worked so hard for, but she also didn't want to lose him. They decided to take things slowly, to see where their feelings led them.

As they continued their conversation, they began to discover new things about each other. They shared stories and dreams, hopes and fears. The cafe around them faded into the background as they became lost in each other's words. It was clear that they still had a deep connection, despite all they had been through.

Madeleine found herself missing the simplicity of life in the countryside. The peacefulness, the fresh air, the close-knit community. She wondered if she could ever find that again, now that she had tasted it. Pierre seemed to understand her feelings and promised to visit her often, if she decided to return.

They continued their conversation for hours, lost in each other's company. As the sun began to set, they walked hand in hand through the bustling streets, admiring the city lights. They stopped at a small park where they sat on a bench, watching the people go by. Pierre took her hand in his and told her that he would do whatever it took to make her happy, even if it meant moving back to the countryside with her.

Madeleine was touched by his words and felt a renewed sense of hope. She knew that their relationship was far from perfect, but she also believed that they could make it work if they were both willing to put in the effort. She told him about her dream of opening her own bakery one day, and Pierre nodded, smiling. He promised to support her in any way he could.

As they continued to sit in the park, they talked about their future together. They discussed the possibility of finding a compromise, where they could live part-time in the city and part-time in the countryside. They imagined weekends spent in the country, enjoying the peace and quiet, and weekdays in the city, exploring the bustling streets and the endless opportunities.

as they sat there talking, Madeleine realized that didn't need Charles or anybody's opinion on who she loved or what she did, as long as she has Pierre by her side she is happy

#cl16 x reader #cl16 x y/n #f1 blurb #f1 x reader #pierre gasly #pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly fluff #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly one shot #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly x you #pg10 #pg10 x reader #alpine f1 #piarles #formula 1 #Pierre gaslyx leclerc/reader

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holllandtrash · 1 year

Text

better left unsaid | lando norris

pairing: lando norris x reader and some pierre gasly x reader

request: yes 'i was thinking 68 and 70 from your prompt list? maybe lando?' 68. “I wish I’d never met you.” 70. “I’m sorry [Y/N], I’m so sorry.” wordcount: 5.5k+ warnings/tags fuckboy!pierre, asshole!lando, they're all drunk, max (fewtrell) is the only wholesome one, just a bunch of angst rly

You loved Lando, how could you not? You loved everything about him. The way his laugh varied depending on the situation, on who was telling what joke, on how comfortable he felt with the people around him. Same with his smile. You liked to think you were a goddamn pro at being able to tell his smiles apart.

There were slight differences between them. The smile he gave Oscar at the end of completing a pretty successful weekend was proud, but not cocky. He was already thinking about how he could drag this type of energy into the next race as he fist bumped his teammate and made his way through the garage.

The cheeky grin he wore as he walked through the paddock at the end of the day was contagious. The more people who congratulated him, the bigger it grew. He stopped for anyone who asked for a photo or an autograph. There was this sense of joy that radiated off of him, he was on top of the world and everyone saw it.

And then there was the smile that spread across his face when he spotted you standing by the gates. The grin that went from cheek to cheek was the kind that made your jaw hurt if you held it long enough. This was his best weekend in a long time and you were there to watch the whole thing, which made it mean so much more to him.

Lando was one of your oldest friends. You grew up together, went on family vacations together. You were always at his side, metaphorically and sometimes quite literally, while he was making it in the karting world until he eventually made it to Formula 1.

And it was only a matter of time until you fell for him.

You couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment, it was more of a gradual thing. What started as an I like being around him somehow spiralled into oh good god I think I love him.

But of course you couldn’t tell him. Not only was a girlfriend so extremely low on his priority list, but in the past you had tried dropping signs and leaving hints, only for Lando to either ignore them or not even see them. To him, you were simply his best friend. That’s all you’d ever be because that’s all he needed from you. You were his rock, you kept him grounded, you were someone he could always rely on.

He loved you, you knew he did, but not the way you loved him.

“P2 baby. Another podium in the books,” you beamed, your laughter becoming muffled when Lando pulled you in for a tight embrace. It had been well over an hour since the ceremony ended so he had changed and quickly stepped into the shower to rid himself of any grime or sweat from the race.

Lando dropped the bag that was in his hand, wanting to hug you tighter. You didn’t care who in the paddock saw the way he pulled you against his chest. You weren’t concerned about the few curious eyes of those who managed to catch the way his fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, sending goosebumps over your skin.

“I want to celebrate,” Lando’s voice deepened as he spoke directly into your ear. Your heart skipped a beat at his words, knowing exactly what he meant.

Lando rarely drank. The party scene wasn’t for him, with only a few exceptions. A podium, being one of them. You knew he wanted to let loose before the worries of a new race weekend sank in and he wanted you at his side.

A car horn pulled you two apart. You turned your head to see your other friend Max, pulling up in Lando’s McLaren. He put it in park and got out, tossing Lando the keys over the access gate.

“Are you two just going to stand there or are we going out?” Max yelled, earning a laugh from Lando. You watched his face light up before he swung the key around on his finger. He reached for you, quickly giving your arm a tender squeeze, a move so subtle you almost missed it, before he made his way to the car.

You were confused when Max stopped you from heading towards your own car. You drove to the track separately, knowing Lando’s car only had room for two.

“I’ll just meet you guys at the hotel.”

“No you won’t,” Max scoffed, grabbing your keys that you had just pulled from your pocket. He nodded his head towards the passenger door of the black McLaren, “Ride back with Lando.”

“I can’t leave my car here.”

“I’ll drive it back,” Max raised his eyebrows, giving you that specific look he had given you so many times before. If there was anyone that wanted to see you and Lando together, it was him. He was your biggest wingman, he knew about your feelings for the driver and did whatever he could to push you two in the same direction.

“He’s on a high right now, y/n,” Max pointed out. “If there’s ever a time to tell him how you feel, it’s tonight.”

The only reason Max knew about your feelings for Lando was because of one stupid night out almost a year ago. You had more to drink than you should have and while Lando was by the bar, chatting up some girl, you sat next to Max in the booth and straight up asked him what she had that you didn’t.

Needless to say, that sparked the start of a very long conversation. Max got everything he could out of you, knowing that you wouldn’t say any of this when sober. The next morning, he told you everything you had admitted to, but also promised he wouldn’t tell Lando about how you felt. That was something only you could do.

Max gave you an encouraging pat on the arm and pivoted on heels to find your car in the lot. You grabbed the door handle of the McLaren and slid in. There was a sliver of confusion on Lando’s face, but it soon vanished and was instead replaced by a smirk, watching you as you buckled in your seatbelt.

“Max driving your car back?” Lando asked.

You came up with a lie on the spot as to why you weren’t driving it, “Yeah it’s making this strange sound, he said he’d listen for it and let me know.”

Lando nodded, humming to himself in response but you could see it on his face. He didn’t believe your words for a second. He wasn’t going to question you, or Max for that matter, but he knew there was nothing wrong with your car.

“You were incredible this weekend,” you told him after a few minutes of driving in silence. “I love watching you race, it’s exhilarating.”

Lando’s smile grew, “I’m glad you came, truly. I love having you around. You’re my best friend, you know, it almost feels like somethings missing when you’re not here.”

He turned his head and met your stare. His words meant more to you than he’d ever know.

“You know I love you, right?” You said, knowing full well that Lando didn’t understand the true meaning behind that sentence. He tossed that word around so casually when talking about friends, you were no exception.

But he reached across the middle console and squeezed your leg twice, turning his attention back to the road in front of him, “Love you too.”

———————

You had packed for a night out. A black leather skirt, knee-length boots and a top so small that it probably had your ancestors rolling over in their graves. But you looked hot, that was the whole point.

When Lando knocked on your day, he was visibly taken aback by your appearance, needing to do a double take before speaking.

“Are you-” his eyes dropped to your chest and he cleared his throat, “The Uber’s out front.”

You nodded, grabbing your phone from the table and following him out into the hall. You met up with Max who was waiting for the elevator. He let out a low whistle when you turned the corner and your cheeks flushed bright pink.

“You look good, y/l/n,” Max said, not at all trying to hide the way his gaze lingered over your body. You playfully twirled and then rested your arm over Lando’s shoulder for support. When he instinctively placed his hand at the small of your back, you and Max shared a similar, knowing look.

Maybe tonight was the night. Maybe you and Lando would finally get over that brick wall that kept you from being more than friends.

The elevator arrived and the three of you walked in. When it came to choosing seats in the Uber, Max practically sprinted towards the front seat, leaving you and Lando to climb into the back.

You didn’t say anything when his knee brushed against yours. You also didn’t say anything when he casually dropped his hand to your leg, his fingers spreading across your bare thigh as if he had done it fifty times before (he hadn’t). And you especially didn’t say anything when he told you there was an eyelash on your cheek when you turned to look at him and he gently brushed his thumb under your eye.

But in return, Lando didn’t say anything when he most definitely noticed you glancing at his lips. He also stayed quiet when you flicked your hair over your shoulder, but the scent of your shampoo was definitely intoxicating and he just never noticed it before. Or maybe he had and refused to let himself think about it.

And when you finally pulled up outside the club, Lando held the door open for you and held out his hand to help you out. He kept his fingers interlocked with yours until you made it inside and up the stairs towards the closed off VIP section. When he spotted Charles and Carlos, Lando headed off to start a conversation with them after assuring you he’d be right back.

Max appeared at your side, nudging his arm against yours, “So?”

“So what?” You asked. The two of you walked towards one of the empty booths.

“So that entire car ride was filled with nothing but sexual tension and if you say otherwise then you’re either blind or lying.”

“I’m not saying anything,” you shrugged innocently, clasping your hands under your chin as Max just shook his head at you.

Your gaze travelled across the floor, landing on the McLaren driver. He was laughing at something Carlos had said but every so often, he would glance in your direction. And then when Carlos leaned in and whispered something that only Lando would hear, both of their heads turned to look at you. Suddenly feeling very self conscious of potentially being the topic of their conversation, you told Max that you were going to go get a drink.

You were only at the bar for a few seconds before you felt a hand on your back. You glanced up to see none other than Pierre Gasly next to you. He trailed his fingers down your arm, that familiar devious glint in his eyes.

“Y/n,” he greeted you before resting his arms on the surface of the bar. “You came to watch the race?”

You liked Pierre, you did, but you didn’t like his intentions. You and every single woman who were associated with any of the drivers knew all about Pierre’s ways. You had heard the stories of the girls he brought back to hotels and you had even ran into one of them a few weeks ago when you were leaving Lando’s room in the middle of the night after passing out on his couch.

He had tried a few moves on you as well. He wasn’t disrespectful, he never crossed any boundaries. If you were being honest, Pierre was charming, but he wasn’t Lando.

“Let me get your drink,” he offered when the glass was placed in front of you. He pulled out a black card from his wallet and told the bartender to start a tab.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you told him, but Pierre only leaned in close. His warm breath hit your ear and you swallowed in anticipation, wondering which of his lines he would try next.

“The polite thing to say is thank you,” he whispered. Pierre then pulled back the slightest bit, lifting his fingers to below your chin to keep your attention focused on him. “Or you can always find a way to thank me later, chéri.”

Pierre’s arm suddenly dropped and you knew why when you felt a protective hand slide around your waist. You didn’t have to turn your head to know that it was Lando pulling you into his side. Pierre didn’t see Lando as competition though, sending a wink in your direction and not even acknowledging the British driver before turning and walking off.

Lando waited until Pierre was out of earshot before speaking, “Don’t tell me you and Pierre are a thing.”

“No,” you scoffed, taking Lando’s hand in yours as you led him back to the booth.

“Good,” Lando muttered under his breath, stopping you in your tracks.

You turned around to face him, dropping his hand, “Good? What does that mean?”

“Pierre isn’t someone you want to waste your time with,” Lando told you, as if you didn’t already know this, but he didn’t stop his explanation there. “You deserve someone better than that.”

“Someone like you?”

You don’t know what came over you. You couldn’t blame it on the alcohol because you’d barely taken a sip of your drink. You were stone cold sober, and so was he.

Maybe it was because of the way he looked at you in the car ride after the race or how he spoke to you with such truth and passion that set your entire body on fire. Maybe it was the way he was looking for any excuse to touch you all weekend. An hour didn’t pass without him tracing his fingers over your skin or reaching for your hand. Maybe it was because for the first time in years, it seemed like Lando was starting to see you as more than just his best friend and god help you, you needed to act on it.

But then that specific glint in his eyes faded. He inhaled a sharp breath that caused your heart to sink deeper into your chest because without even saying a word, you knew what was going through his mind. His features softened, like he felt sorry for you.

“That wasn’t…” Lando trailed off, lifting his hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “Y/n, I don’t-”

God he couldn’t even get the words out. Was this hard for him or was he trying to save you from the embarrassment?

“I’m only teasing,” you lied straight through your teeth, curling your lips back into a forced smile that he undoubtedly saw right through. He was your best friend, he knew you like the back of his hand.

You wanted him to laugh this conversation off. You wanted him to go along with the lie and say ‘Okay cool, we’re on the same page’. You wanted to take back these last thirty seconds and wipe that horrible, pitiful look right off his face.

But Lando shook his head. This wasn’t something he could just push to the back of his mind and act like it never happened.

“I don’t have those types of feelings for you, you know that right?”

Lando’s words cut through your heart like a sharpened blade. The noise in the club faded into the background and you were worried that if you opened your mouth to say something, all that would come out would be a strangled sob.

“I love you, y/n, I do, but the same way I love Max or Carlos or any of my other friends,” this just kept getting worse. “I’m not in-”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, your voice barely a whisper. “You don’t need to say it. I get it.”

“I’m sorry, Y/n,” Lando’s hand twitched, like he wanted to reach for you but decided against it at the very last second. “I’m so, so, sorry.”

You felt like an idiot as a bitter chuckle escaped your lips, “Why? You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one-” you stopped yourself short. You were the one who fell in love with someone who had only ever seen you as a friend. It was your own damn fault you were hurt.

Why would you think that something would radically change overnight? Lando had never once hinted towards having any sort of feelings for you, but you still managed to find new ways to fall for him every time you saw him.

“It’s fine,” you finally landed on. Nothing about this felt fine. You forced another smile, softer this time, “Go celebrate your podium.”

And what could Lando say to that? This whole conversation was uncomfortable and heartbreaking and the only thing left to do was end it now before it got worse for both of you.

Lando nodded and headed off, muttering something about trying to find Carlos. He didn’t give you a second look and you had to fight tooth and nail to not look over your shoulder at him when you made your way back to the booth.

You kept your eyes down, looking at the drink in front of you instead of at Max who quietly admitted that he overheard most of that interaction.

“You alright?” Max’s hand found your back, rubbing small circles on your skin. It wasn’t the least bit comforting. Your best friend was trying to console you after you had just been rejected by your other best friend. You wanted to crawl into a hole and hide away from the world.

“No,” you sighed, grabbing your glass and raising it up to your lips. You swallowed all of it in a few short seconds and slammed it back down on the table. “I need another one.”

Max grabbed your arm before you could go anywhere, “Don’t do anything stupid, Y/N.”

“Oh you mean like tell my best friend I have feelings for him even though he has never once hinted at having any sort of feelings for me?” You asked, sarcasm dripping from your tongue. Max sank back against the cushion of the booth. “Yeah, too late for that one so I don’t think the night can get any worse.”

God you were so very wrong.

———————

Max tried to keep an eye on you for the rest of the night, but he was caught between you and Lando. He was his friend first and it was his race weekend so when Lando called him over to do shots, he couldn’t say no. You were all out celebrating his successful podium, the only person who wasn’t having a good time was you.

You had just come back from the washroom when you spotted Lando and Max chatting by the bar. Lando himself was a few drinks in and if your conversation from earlier was weighing heavily on his mind like it was for you, he was doing a damn good job at hiding it.

And then Lando did something unexpected.

When you approached them, with the sole intent of telling Max you were getting another drink, Lando’s hand slipped around your waist. It literally had you losing your train of thought mid-sentence.

He had been touchy all weekend, but that was before you decided to wear your heart on your sleeve. His fingers on your bare skin sent a shiver throughout your entire body and you tensed up next to him.

On one hand, you wanted to lean into his touch. You relished over the fact that you were still the one he wanted to be around, even if you meant two completely different things to each other.

On the other hand, you wanted to scream at him. He was leading you on by putting his arm around you when you both knew he had no other intentions. Drunk Lando was still on a high from the podium, he felt like a king. He knew how much you craved being with him and he was eating it up, stringing you along for no reason at all.

“Lando,” you curled your fingers around his hand and peeled it off of you. “Please, don’t touch me.”

His eyebrows pinched together, “What? I’m supposed to treat you differently now because I know that you like me?”

Ouch.

Max uncomfortably looked between the two of you, trying to decide if he should interfere or not.

“No, just don’t touch me. You have no reason to,” you kept your voice firm even though your heart was shattering on the inside.

“It didn’t mean anything,” Lando assured you. The underlying sharp tone in his words struck a nerve as he turned on the defence. It didn't mean anything, it never meant anything. He looked you once over and turned towards Max, “I’m grabbing another drink.” He nodded his head towards the bar, signalling for Max to follow him. You were left alone with nothing but a flash of an apologetic look as he trailed behind Lando.

You could have used another drink as well, but you didn’t want Lando to get the wrong idea and think that you were following him, so you waited, leaning against the railing that overlooked the first floor of the club.

“I’m still waiting for that thank you.”

You recognized the French accent and scoffed as Pierre came and stood next to you. He glanced at the dance floor below you for a second, but his striking blue eyes landed on yours.

“Piss off, Gasly, I’m not in the mood,” you told him, turning your body completely so you were now pressed against the railing. You rested your arms on top of the metal bar, but that didn’t ward him off. If anything, Pierre appreciated the challenge and stepped in closer, knocking his hip against yours.

“What’s wrong, ma chéri?”

“First of all, I’m not your chéri,” you tried to mimic his accent but he only found it amusing and chuckled. “Second, I said piss off.”

Pierre rested his finger beneath your chin, once again guiding your attention towards him and away from the dance floor. You could tell by the look in his eye alone that he wasn’t about to give you the space you asked for.

“I didn’t think you had a temper,” he said, his voice nearly drowned out by the bass of the song coming from the speakers. He then lightly dragged his thumb over your bottom lip and your breath caught in your throat. “You’re always so sweet in the paddock, but I kind of like this side of you.”

“You really can’t take no for an answer, can you?” You retorted, sounding a lot more confident than you felt. You were only human, Pierre was hot. Plus he had a way with words and could quite literally melt you if he tried hard enough.

It didn’t help that you had lost count of the number of drinks you had. You also wanted to stay as far away from Lando as possible for the time being and if that just so happened to leave you falling into the arms of one of the other drivers then so be it.

You weren’t with Lando, he made that perfectly clear.

“Y/n, if you really wanted me to stop you would have walked away by now,” his accent rang through your ears, along with the truth that you didn’t want to accept.

But his hand was still cupping your jaw. His eyes were still pulling you in. Your entire body had turned towards him, having given up quite quickly on trying to close him out.

There was a physical attraction, you couldn’t deny that. Was it only making itself known because the future you wanted with Lando had now been ripped to shreds? Were you only attracted to Pierre because you were slightly intoxicated and wanted a distraction from the horrible turn this night had taken?

These were questions you didn’t want the answer to.

Pierre dipped his head, his lips hovered over top of yours. If you tilted your chin up even the slightest bit they would have connected, but something told you that Pierre was holding off for a reason. He wanted to pull you in more, leave you begging for something you might regret in the morning.

“Do you want to get out of here?” He asked, placing his hand on your waist. The feeling of his rings on your skin was intoxicating. The sterling silver band was cold but his touch was warm and inviting.

You couldn’t bring yourself to answer so you just nodded. You told yourself this would be the one time you’d follow Pierre anywhere.

He interlocked his fingers with yours and turned around, leading the way out of the club. The two of you got halfway down the staircase before you heard your name being called behind you.

Craning your neck, you looked up to see Lando standing there. A mix of confusion and judgement was painted all over his face.

“Where the hell are you going?” He called out, his eyes landing on where your hand connected with Pierre’s.

“Don’t worry, she’ll be home before ten,” Pierre joked, earning him a backhanded slap on the chest from you. You pulled your hand from his and walked back up the stairs, using the top of the bannister for balance when you stopped on the last step, looking up at Lando.

“Are you serious?” Lando scoffed, gesturing towards Pierre. “You said nothing was going on.”

“Yeah that was three hours ago,” you said. “I’m a grown woman, Lando. I can make my own decisions.”

“You’re making a shitty one.”

“Well it’s a good thing I don’t care about your opinion.”

“You seemed to care about it a lot this morning, and yesterday and every fucking day before that.”

You shrugged, “Things change.”

Lando shook his head, his tongue poking out to lick his lips. He was drunk, you both were. This was not a conversation that should have been happening, but no one was stopping you.

“You don’t get to become a bitch to me just because I said I don’t have feelings for you.”

Your eyes widened, “Excuse me how am I being a bitch? Because I’m leaving the club with someone other than you? Because someone else has my attention for once? So sorry I don’t want to sit on your couch for the thousandth time and watch reruns of the fucking Office until you remember to tell me that my flight home is booked for eight am tomorrow.”

Because that would always happen. Lando would send you your boarding pass late Sunday nights and it would be a silent reminder that you couldn’t go with him to the next race, that you weren’t someone he cared enough about to keep around permanently. You’d pass out on the couch in his hotel room and in the morning he’d drive you to the airport, telling you that he was happy you came. Not because he loved you, not because he performed better when you were around, but because you were just one of his friends. Nothing more.

“Okay, I’ll make it easier for you,” Lando said, pulling his phone out of his pocket. You couldn’t see what he was doing, but his screen lit up his face and you could see the concentration in his features. After a few seconds, he locked his phone and smiled at you, “There. If you want to be ungrateful then that’s not a problem, I just cancelled your ticket. Have fun finding a new way home.”

“Oh you asshole,” you pushed on his chest and he stumbled back a bit, the drink in his hand spilling over the sides. “You just want me to need you, that’s all it’s ever been. You don’t give a shit about me or my feelings, you just don’t want me needing anyone else.”

“I don’t give a shit about you?” Lando practically yelled your words back to you. “Who’s the one who pays for you to come out to the races? Whose house do you stay at when you visit Monaco? Who makes sure you get five-start-fucking-treatment during race weekends?” He paused, his gaze landing on Pierre who had now walked up those few steps to stand behind you. “I’m pretty sure it’s not this French fucker.”

“You’ve been paying for my friendship, Lando,” you spat. “You bring me along to these things because you know I always put you on some kind of pedestal. I practically worship the ground you walk on, that’s the only reason why you keep me around.”

He opened his mouth to retaliate but his jaw tightened and his lips pressed into a thin line. If he had an argument to that, it wasn’t strong enough to prove you wrong.

“It’s my own fault for thinking your gestures meant anything more,” you admitted to him. “And it’s my own fault for falling in love with you when I knew damn well you’d never do the same.”

There it was. That four letter word. It had remained unspoken in this context for so long, but it was out in the open now. You finally admitted, not just that you loved Lando, but that you were in love with him. And not in a past-tense sort of way.

You were still stupidly in love with him, despite everything that had been said.

It probably only took a few seconds for you to realise just how much you loved him but it was going to take a hell of a lot longer for those feelings to disappear.

Falling in love was quick. It was effortless. It was carefree and light and it left you feeling blindly optomistic.

Falling out of love was painful. It was hard, it was a treacherous path that would leave you feeling empty and scarred and the only person to blame was yourself.

“Honestly, Lando,” your voice trembled, but you kept going, “I wish I’d never met you.”

For once, he was the one who looked like his heart had been ripped out of his chest, “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” you nodded slowly. You felt Pierre’s hand on your back, but you quickly shook it off. “You make my life a living hell because I am constantly chasing after a man who strings me along but never wants me. I would be so much happier if you didn’t consume all of my waking thoughts, if I didn’t have to worry about when I’d see you next, if I didn’t love you.”

You didn’t want to give him a chance to respond. There was nothing he could say at this point that would make this situation any easier.

So you turned around, pushing past Pierre and making your way down the stairs. You heard the hurried footsteps behind you, but you didn’t get your hopes up into thinking it was Lando that was following you.

It was Pierre. He placed his hand on the small of your back and led you towards the side entrance of the club, knowing that paparazzi would be crowding the main street.

“You don’t need to stay with me, I’ll just get an Uber back,” you said, but the way your voice broke matched the defeated look in your eyes and Pierre just shook his head.

“I’m not leaving you, Y/N, not after that. I may not have the best track record with women, but I’m not a total dick.” Pierre slid his blazer off and draped it over your shoulders before stepping out of the crowded club and into a back alley. He glanced at his phone to see when the Uber would arrive and then looked back at you.

There were tears forming in your eyes and Pierre reached out for you, gently grabbing your arm to pull you into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you and swayed back and forth on his heels, resting his chin on top of your head as your staggered breaths hit the front of his shirt.

“Lando will wake up one day and realise what he lost,” Pierre assured you, a slight chuckle followed his words. You wanted to believe him, you really did.

But in the back of your mind, you knew that whatever connection you had with Lando was officially over. He wasn’t going to need you, not anymore, not after tonight.

And those would be the words you would have to tell yourself over and over until eventually, you no longer needed him too.

what do we think, are we team lando or team pierre? all parts here

#lando norris au #lando norris #lando norris one shot #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #pierre gasly #pierre gasly one shot #pierre gasly x you #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x y/n #f1 one shot #f1 requests #f1 au #holllandtrash #max fewtrell tries his best and thats all that matters

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vividwritinglove · 1 year

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gray sweatpants - Pierre Gasly

I don’t know why but I kind of have the feeling it’s the magic of this campaign that makes me want to write so much at the moment 🔥 and according to that, gray sweatpants are next to a suit the most sexiest thing a man (especially this one) could wear!

warnings: smut (minors dni)

word count: 1.3k

The 2022 Formula 1 season has been over for a week now and after a short vacation in Abu Dhabi, you are finally back home in Milan. For Pierre, however, the work is far from over, his move to Alpine is in full swing and in addition to his training camp for the new season, many more appointments with the new racing team are pending. Because of your work, you won't be able to accompany Pierre often, so every moment you can spend together is sacred for you. However, this is disturbed with the constant work calls that Pierre is receiving.

The first call woke you up shortly after 7 a.m. No morning cuddles. You also did the morning jog alone and brought breakfast from his favorite bakery on the way back home. As you enter the apartment you hear the shower running and you decide to prepare breakfast for both of you. Besides the things from the bakery, you had also stopped at a kiosk to get some magazines to improve your Italian. The table was set, you were sitting in front of your porridge bowl and flipping through a magazine as Pierre left the bathroom in just his gray sweatpants. You look up briefly and the spoon almost falls out of your hand.

Those gray sweatpants are your kryptonite. And he knows it! They hang loose and low around his hips, the waistband of his boxers and his V-line quite visible. Although he has no erection, his cock stands out clearly. His hair still wet and some strains of hair were stuck to his forehead. His skin was noticeably tanned again from the Abu Dhabi sun and defined his muscles at a different level. His body hair had lightened a bit.

Again he had the cell phone to his ear and discussed something in French with the caller. He tapped barefoot into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee, which you had already prepared for him. Your magazine was long forgotten. Thinking of your hot boyfriend and his incredible upper body, you nibble on your spoon with your lips and suck on it from time to time. Pierre doesn't pay any attention to you, at least you think that, because he doesn't look at you and continues to talk on the phone. You continue to languish shamelessly at him. Pierre keeps stroking his own chest and you wish your hands would touch his incredible body. Pierre turns away from you and now you can admire his wonderful back. You love his broad and muscular shoulders, his bull neck and the strong lower back muscles. Still visible from last night, some streaks from your nails on his shoulder blades, as he fucked you without restraint. Not to mention his well-shaped butt, which looks perfect in those gray sweatpants.

Pierre ends the call and now looks at you. Hands propped on the countertop so his arm muscles are tense.

"You have to stop looking at me like this when I'm having important calls," he admonishes you, looking at you seriously. You feel caught and put your spoon down on the table. Pierre's expression changes immediately and he grins cheekily at you. He could never be angry with you, especially not when it comes to the most beautiful triviality in the world.

"Come here." he asks you gently, holding out his hand and you listen to his word. You are crazy about him and would do anything for him.

As soon as you stand in front of him, he pulls you into a tight embrace and lets his big hands roam over your back, down to your butt. He loves it when you put on tight yoga pants, your butt always looks fantastic in them. His hands are now kneading your butt cheeks and your arms are wrapped around his neck. Your foreheads are leaning against each other and your noses are touching.

"I have to leave in two days already." he sighs softly. You had hoped to spend a little more time with him, however you were aware that you would not have an ordinary relationship with him. You knew that you would have a long distance relationship. But your time together is incomparable and makes up for any separation.

Pierre's hands grip tightly into your butt cheeks once again and the next moment he lifts you onto the countertop. Your legs wrap around his middle, pulling him even closer to you. You feel his semi-hard cock through the fabrics on your now wet core.

"What's our sex high score in a day again?" he asks against your lips, then kisses you.

"Probably 5..." you say inbetween kisses, "Maybe 6."

"Hmmh, I think we can top that." he grins into the next kiss.

"Then we shouldn't waste time." you agree with him, opening and taking off your track jacket. Pierre's hands literally fly to your sports bra and massage your tits through the elastic fabric.

Your hands wander from his neck into his hair. By now it was half dry and it was getting a little curly. You love it when his hair is wild and untamed. Pierre's hands are on another foray and find themselves at your waistband. Quickly you prop yourself up on the countertop with your arms so that Pierre pulls down both your tight gym pants and your thong in one go, tossing both carelessly behind him. You spread your legs and present yourself to him shamelessly. Pierre licks his lips. You naked, in his kitchen is an image that he would keep in his mind forever. Pierre also eagerly pulls down his sweatpants and boxers, both landing in a puddle of fabric around his ankles. You slide even closer to the edge of the countertop. Pierre immediately seizes this opportunity and grabs his cock to slide it through your already glistening folds.

"Ouh, already so wet for me." Pierre murmurs and lets his tip roam around your clit. You lay your head back in your neck moaning.

"Do you want to talk or fuck?" you mumble a bit annoyed and start to get impatient.

Pierre has to grin, he loves your unfiltered and direct way. He positions his cock at your hole and thrusts into you bluntly.

You moan and bury your face in the crook of his neck. His hands wrap around your waist to keep his pace even. You want to feel him even deeper inside you and your legs only wrap tighter around his middle.

"Fuck Pierre!" you almost cry out, because by now he's pounding into you recklessly. His pace is getting faster and you know he's about to cum.

You firmly suck the skin on the crook of his neck into your mouth. This will leave a thick hickey and you like the thought of having him marked by you for everyone to see. You were both a few thrusts away from climaxing and as the sweet relief washes over both of you, you linger in the tightly entwined position a little longer.

"You didn't seriously give me a hickey." grumbles Pierre against your collarbone, as he leans his head exhaustedly against your shoulder.

"Oops, sorry..." you say with a grin, and not being sorry at all.

"Cherie, I have photo shoots with the new team. It won't be gone by then..."

"Oh, it’s not that bad." you try to brush off his concerns and examine your artwork. The hickey is more severe than expected, even imprints of your teeth can be seen and your look speaks volumes.

Pierre rolls his eyes and shakes his head, "First the nails and now this..."

"Don't act like you're not into it." you purr as you hop off the countertop and reach for your underwear. As you bend over for it, Pierre gives you a hard slap on your bare ass.

"Such a naughty Madame." he grins.

"The only thing to blame is that gray sweatpants..."

"Thank God for those fucking gray sweatpants!" he mutters as he slips the said pants back over his butt.

#pierre gasly #pg10 #pierre gasly one shot #pierre gasly smut #pierre gasly x reader #f1 smut #pierre gasly imagine #f1 x reader

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