#pierre gasly blurb

[pucksandpower]

Could’ve Had It All

Pierre Gasly x social media manager!Reader

Summary: Pierre Gasly has taken a lot from Esteban Ocon over the years … but losing you to him before Esteban ever even really had a chance to have you hurts the most

Based on this request (I wasn’t going to post this yet, but with the news that came out earlier some angst felt fitting)

Esteban makes his way down the narrow hallway of the Alpine motorhome, his heart pounding in his chest. This is it — he’s finally going to confess his feelings for you. He’s had a crush on you for years, ever since you started working with the team. Your sharp wit, radiant smile, and passion for the sport have captivated him from day one.

As he approaches your office door, he hears a strange noise coming from inside. It sounds like ... moaning? Esteban freezes, his brow furrowing in confusion. What’s going on in there? Against his better judgment, he reaches for the door handle and pushes the door open without knocking.

The sight that greets him makes his heart stop. There you are, pressed up against the wall, your fingers tangled in Pierre Gasly’s messy waves as he trails heated kisses down your neck.

Pierre, his teammate ... his rival ...

“What the hell?” Esteban blurts out before he can stop himself.

You and Pierre break apart instantly, faces flushed with embarrassment and ... something else. Desire? Esteban feels like he’s been punched in the gut.

“Estie!” You exclaim, hastily smoothing down your rumpled clothing. “I ... we ...”

“You two are ...” Esteban can barely get the words out, his mouth suddenly dry.

Pierre straightens up, running a hand through his disheveled hair. There’s a defiant glint in his eyes as he slips an arm around your waist, pulling you close. “Yeah, we are.”

Esteban’s world comes crashing down around him. All this time, he’d been harboring these feelings for you, dreaming of the day he might finally work up the courage to tell you how he felt. And now, to discover that you’re already taken ... and by his own teammate, no less.

“How long has this been going on?” He demands, his voice thick with emotion.

You bite your lip, unable to meet his gaze. “A few months.”

“A few months?” Esteban can’t believe what he’s hearing. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“It’s not like that, Esteban,” Pierre interjects, his tone stern. “We didn’t mean for this to happen, it just ... did.”

“Sure, mate. Whatever you say.” Esteban shakes his head in disbelief. He can’t bear to look at the two of you, so intimately entwined. It’s like a knife twisting in his heart.

“Estie, please ...” you begin, taking a step towards him. But he holds up a hand, stopping you in your tracks.

“Don’t,” he says, his voice strained. “Just ... don’t.”

With that, he turns on his heel and storms out of the office, slamming the door behind him. He needs to get out of here, needs to clear his head before he does or says something he’ll regret.

As he stalks through the paddock, Esteban’s mind is a whirlwind of emotions. Anger, hurt, betrayal ... they all swirl together in a toxic mix that threatens to overwhelm him. How could you do this to him? And with Pierre, of all people?

He finds himself wandering aimlessly, his feet carrying him to the Alpine garage without conscious thought. Maybe some mindless work will help take his mind off this mess, at least for a little while.

But as he approaches the garage, he hears a familiar voice calling out to him.

“Esteban! There you are.”

It’s Pierre, jogging to catch up with him. Esteban grits his teeth, steeling himself for the confrontation he knows is coming.

“What do you want?” He snaps, turning to face his teammate.

Pierre holds up his hands in a placating gesture. “Look, I know this is a lot to take in. But you have to understand, what’s happening between me and Y/N ... it’s real, yeah? It’s not just some fling.”

“Oh, spare me the bullshit,” Esteban scoffs. “You’re sleeping with the social media manager, Pierre. How do you think that looks for the team?”

“It’s not just about sex,” Pierre insists, his brow furrowing. “I really care about her. More than I’ve cared about anyone in a long time.”

Esteban laughs bitterly. “Right, and I’m supposed to believe that?”

“Believe what you want,” Pierre retorts, his jaw tightening. “But don’t act like you’re some victim in all this. We both know how you feel about her.”

Esteban tenses, hating how transparent his feelings for you have apparently been. “That’s got nothing to do with this.”

“Doesn’t it?” Pierre challenges. “Face it, you’re jealous. You’ve had your eye on her for ages, and now that she’s with me, you can’t handle it.”

“You’re delusional,” Esteban spits, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

Pierre shakes his head, looking almost ... pitying? “Keep telling yourself that, mate. But the truth is, you had your chance with her. And you blew it.”

Those words hit Esteban like a physical blow. Because deep down, he knows Pierre is right. He had been too cowardly, too afraid of ruining your professional relationship to ever make a move.

And now, it’s too late.

“Just ... leave me alone, Pierre,” Esteban mutters, turning away. He can’t bear to look at his teammate’s smug face a second longer.

As he retreats into the garage, Esteban feels a profound sense of loss settle over him. He’s lost you, the woman he’s been pining after for years, to his own teammate and rival. How is he supposed to move on from that? How is he supposed to work alongside you and Pierre every day, knowing what he knows?

The rest of the race weekend passes by in a blur of forced smiles and awkward silences. Esteban does his best to avoid the two of you, throwing himself into his work as a distraction. But no matter how hard he tries, he can’t escape the ache in his heart whenever he sees you both together.

Finally, as the chequered flag waves and the race comes to an end, Esteban allows himself a moment of respite. He sinks down onto a crate in the garage, burying his face in his hands as the weight of his heartbreak threatens to crush him.

“Estie?”

Your soft voice cuts through the chaos around him, and he tenses. Of course you would seek him out now, when he’s at his most vulnerable. He lifts his head, meeting your concerned gaze.

“What do you want?” He asks, his voice dull and lifeless.

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, clearly struggling to find the right words. “I ... I just wanted to talk to you. About what happened.”

“What’s there to talk about?” Esteban shrugs, feigning indifference. “You’re with Pierre now. End of story.”

“It’s not that simple,” you protest, taking a step closer. “You’re one of my closest friends. I never wanted to hurt you.”

He laughs humorlessly. “Well, you did a bang-up job of that, didn’t you?”

You flinch at his harsh words, and Esteban immediately feels a pang of regret. This isn’t your fault, not really. You can’t help how you feel, just like he can’t.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, your eyes shining with unshed tears. “I never meant for any of this to happen. But ... Pierre makes me happy. In a way I haven’t felt in a long time.”

Esteban’s throat tightens at your words. Of course Pierre makes you happy. Stupidly handsome, charming Pierre with his easy smiles and effortless charisma. How could Esteban ever hope to compete with that?

“I’m glad he makes you happy,” Esteban manages to choke out, even as the words feel like shards of glass in his throat. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”

Your face softens, and you reach out to place a gentle hand on his arm. “You’ll find someone, Estie. Someone who makes you just as happy as Pierre makes me. I know it.”

Esteban wants to believe you, he really does. But in this moment, with his heart shattered into a million pieces, it’s hard to envision a future where he’s anything but hopelessly alone.

Still, he manages a weak smile for your sake. “Yeah, maybe someday.”

You return the smile, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze before stepping back. “I should go find Pierre.”

The words are like a knife to Esteban’s battered heart, but he bites back the anguished retort that rises to his lips. This is your choice, your happiness. As much as it destroys him, he has to respect that.

“Yeah, of course. I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

With one last lingering look, you turn and make your way across the garage, disappearing into the crowd. Esteban watches you go, mourning the future he had allowed himself to dream of — a future where you were his and his alone.

But that future is gone now before it ever had a chance to even take root. All that’s left is an aching emptiness where his heart used to be. Esteban closes his eyes, drawing in a shuddering breath as a single tear trails down his cheek.

It’s over. The woman he loves is lost to him forever. And for the first time in his life, Esteban has no idea how to move forward from here. All he can do is pick up the shattered pieces of his broken heart, and hope that one day, somehow, they’ll mend.

[thef1diary]

2k thot 🫣 voice kink w Pierre, just loving it whenever he speaks French even if you don’t know what he’s saying. Make it as spicy you want 🙃

Keep Talking | P. Gasly

warnings: 18+ smut, doggy (it’s Pierre okay 🫣), slight choking, and obvs voice kink

wc: 800+

masterlist

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work

You found yourself on all fours, your body arched in ecstasy as Pierre's firm hands gripped your hips. Each thrust sends a jolt of pleasure coursing through you, igniting a fire that consumes every inch of your being.

His fingers dance with precision tracing tantalizing circles around your swollen clit, each touch sending ripples of pleasure through you. But amidst the intoxicating symphony of sensations, it's Pierre's voice that truly sets you ablaze. It's not just the words he speaks, but the language he speaks in, his mother tongue.

"Tu es tellement belle, mon amour," he breathes next to your ear, his voice a velvety whisper that sends shivers down your spine.

You whimper in response, your body trembling underneath his as his words wash over you like a tidal wave of passion. Each syllable, spoken in his native French, is a seductive invitation to lose yourself in the depths of pleasure.

"Tu vas si bien pour moi," he murmurs, the intensity in his voice igniting a firestorm of desire within you.

Each whispered word, each guttural moan, reverberates through you like a melody, his voice a siren's call luring you to the edge of oblivion.

"You're squeezing me so tight, baby, missed me that much, huh?" He asked, switching languages so you can understand and give him an answer.

You whimper and clench involuntarily at his words, biting your lip as he speeds up his thrusts. His fingers slip away from your clit and you almost whine at the loss of pleasure but those fingers quickly wrap around your throat. With his lips grazing your ear, he whispers, "réponds-moi."

"Oui, please, please, Pierre, I missed you so much," you rush out in one breath before another wave of pleasure brings you closer to the edge.

His lips brush tenderly against the side of your head, and you can sense the curve of his smile before he mutters, "that's my good girl."

You make a concerted effort to stifle your own cries and whimpers as his fingers return to your clit, pinching and circling in time with his thrusts. You wanted to focus solely on the intoxicating sound of his voice. Each low groan that escapes his lips, every ragged breath he takes above you, becomes a precious melody that you yearn to etch into the depths of your memory.

Every time he mumbles anything, you clench around his cock, earning a breathless chuckle from him. His amusement is palpable as he realizes the effect his voice has on you, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"Do you like it when I tell you how good you feel around me?" he questions, his voice husky with desire. His fingers trail lightly along the curve of your spine, sending a shiver of anticipation throughout your body.

With a soft whimper, you nod, unable to form coherent words as his voice weaves a spell around you, drawing you deeper into the throes of passion.

"Or," he murmurs softly into your ear, his words a tender caress against your skin, as if he's sharing a precious secret. "I think you love tout about my voice."

You inhale sharply at the sensation of his warm breath against your ear, a shiver running down your spine as his words sink in. The intimacy of his tone sends a rush of desire coursing through you, threatening to consume you whole.

"Is that what it is, mon amour?" He continues, his voice barely above a whisper, laden with a mixture of amusement and desire.

You can't help but nod, unable to find the words to express the overwhelming rush of emotions welling up inside you. It's not just the sound of his voice that enthralls you, but the way it makes you feel — cherished, desired, and utterly adored.

You arch into him, grinding your ass against him as he slips in and out of you. You reach your hand behind you, placing your palm on the nape of his neck, bringing him closer.

"Please," you gasp, your voice a desperate plea as waves of pleasure wash over you, threatening to engulf your senses entirely.

Your eyes flutter shut, your head falling forwards in ecstasy as you struggle to form coherent words amidst the overwhelming sensation.

"Don't... don't stop talking," you manage to grit out, your voice trembling with need. Each syllable is a struggle, torn from your lips as if by sheer force of will. But the urgency in your tone is unmistakable, a fervent plea for him to continue, to keep the intoxicating stream of words flowing.

As his voice washes over you like a soothing balm, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of oblivion, lost in a haze of pleasure that threatens to consume you whole. And in that moment, all you can do is surrender to the overwhelming tide, clinging to his every word like a lifeline in the storm of sensation.

So you do surrender to the overwhelming sensation, allowing yourself to be consumed by the raw intensity of his voice, knowing that in its embrace lies a sanctuary where time stands still, and all that exists is the intoxicating symphony of your shared desire.

Taglist: @lochnoch @llando4norris @monsieurbacteria6 @namgification @lilymurphy03 @sargeantdumbass @hiireadstuff @racingheartsposts @d3kstar @xjval @namjoonswaifu @isabellewinchester @thedecalcomania-blog @casperlikej @khaylin27 @mlioravanfleet @nikfigueiredo @sya-skies @wonnou

[love-belle]

i want sweet revenge and i want him again !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which their post break-up era is them ignoring their feelings and making the worst decisions.

or

for when they will always be your summer love. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // pierre gasly x fem!reader

sequel - you were my summer love ⋆·˚ ༘ *

warnings - language

author's note - posting this at 3am bc i have midterms from monday and it's very unlikely i'll post again this month 💔💔💔💔 i love u all so much thank u for reading <3

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yourusername "get him back!" is finally out!!!! i wrote this song in my car after breaking down over the consequences of my own actions and getting yelled at by my twitter girlies <3 summer was fun i had fun we all had fun but the aftermath is not pretty so fuck them boys u all stay happy and thriving hydrated!!!! get ur sweet revenge and get him back!!!!! but fr pls tell his mom her son sucks ❤️

8,628 comments

username there's too much going on idk what to decipher first

username the caption omg 💀💀💀

username her captions never fail to blow me away like girl 90% of these things do not belong here 😭😭😭😭😭

username not her telling us to get our man back but also tell his mom that her son sucks

-> username top tier advice idc

username THE SONG'S A FUCKING BOP OMG

username those lyrics are so her and him coded like 💔💔💔💔💔

charles_leclerc don't call me weird

-> yourusername this is so unprovoked get out

-> username nah what the fuck is charles doing here 😭😭😭😭

-> username CHARLES????

username "bc everyone knew the guy was missing a screw" BABE LET HIM GO!!!!!!!!

username THE TEXT OH MY GOD

username i miss her and that dude ngl

-> username no bc they were so cute together 💔💔💔

-> username why do men ruin everything 😐😐😐😐😐

username "i can fix him" GIRL YOU ARE WORSE THAN HIM

-> yourusername UNCALLED FOR

username i fucking love her and her fans so much like the way we're all js best friends with her and she's sooooo in touch with her fans ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

-> yourusername not true u all js bully me

-> username bc u make stupid decisions

-> yourusername ://

username y/n having beef with 80% of her fans will never not be funny to me like wdym ur FANS bully u

-> yourusername i have proof and im not afraid to use it

-> username "proof" and it's literally just her being a dumbass and us having NORMAL reactions to it

-> yourusername FURTHER PROOF UR HONOUR

username so MUCH for summer LOVE and saying US cause u weren't mine to LOSEEEE

username this is sooo 2000s romcom coded idc

landonorris WEIRD??? ME???

-> yourusername GET OUT OF MY COMMENTS SECTION THIS ISN'T ABT Y'ALL

-> username what the fuck is doing on

-> username im so out of loop wtfff

username "i want sweet revenge and i want him again" unhinged behaviour fr

username every time we think she's healing she comes back and writes a song that's basically a BIG cry for help like girl pls we're getting tired 💔

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paddock.club rumours have been swirling around pierre gasly and his anonymous girlfriend, who's affectionately called 'augustine' by his fans, and their alleged break-up for weeks now. the said rumours were confirmed as gasly was seen out in monaco and he certainly wasn't alone — or with just one consistent company. "this may confuse some people but they were very different from each other," sources close to the couple claimed. "after summer break ended, it felt like so did whatever they had going on." this comes as a shock as despite knowing almost nothing about augustine, fans adored her and they're devasted about the end of their summer love. click on the link in our bio for everything that we know about their relationship.

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pierregasly you're trippin'

9,638 comments

username NAH THE AUDACITY OF M*N SOMETIMES

username BROTHER IM STILL RECOVERING FROM THE AUGUSTINE REVEAL SLOW DOWN

username HELLO???????? HE'S SEEING SOMEONE???????

-> username "he said i was the only girl but that js wasn't the truth"

username the fact that he used HER lyrics for his caption like..........im SICK rn

username when 😭 i 😭 told 😭 him 😭 how 😭 he 😭 hurt 😭 me 😭 he 😭 told 😭 me 😭 i 😭 was 😭 trippin 😭

username im actually in shock rn like my jaw is on the FLOOR

landonorris caption 😬

username no bc im here thinking like she called his friends weird 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 that's why charles and lando were so offended in the comments 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

username boy she's over there listening to summer love by one direction WHAT R U DOING

username that's not y/n in the last slide and im throwing up rn i need them BACK

username need this all to be a nightmare bc i cannot fucking do this anymore 💔💔💔💔

username it's on SIGHT when i see u on streets

username im so 💔💔💔💔💔

username y'all i feel bad for bullying y/n bc if i were her i too wouldn't move on from this man

-> username fr like we gave her sm shit for being in love with him and im like "girlypop same omg"

-> username real like i see what she saw

charles_leclerc nice choice for caption 👍 very strong words 👍

username here for charles and lando calling him out for the caption like yasss kings ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ do ur work ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

username y/n needs to be more cunty rn bc this is so wtf

username L caption 🤣🤣🤣🤣🫵🫵🫵🫵

username im gonna miss their summer love era so much like we were FED ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

username "and when he said something wrong he'd just fly me to france" WOW OKAYYYY

username something about his last post before this being all about augustine and their summer and now this one is basically shading her like 💔💔💔💔💔

username everyday we stray further away from good

username ripping my hair out why cant bitches be happy ffs

[lolapiastri]

his sinful secret | p. gasly

warnings: smut, heavy religious imagery and themes, a sinful amount of dirty talk, like pierre cannot stfu, heavy degredation, everyone gets head, choking, a some praise, spitting, this is like actual filth maybe being ill makes me horny idk

author's note: i'm blaming this filth on the fact that i'm under the weather rn but jesus christ be fucking warned, she's a roller coaster

pierre prided himself in his religion. it was important to him, that belief in a higher power was the faith he needed to live the life he did. it seemed the driver life was one full of jealousy, gluttony and lust, but he was determined not to fall victim to the sins like so many before him.

so he payed his dues. he went to church whenever he had a free sunday, said a silent prayer for his friends and family every night, gave thanks to the lord before every meal as a token of appreciation.

his religion wasn’t a joke to him, it never would be. it was a belief that kept him sane, kept him in order, kept some sense of purpose and responsibility in his life. it wasn’t something that he would pick and choose whether to follow or not. he was all or nothing with his belief, and he chose all.

until he met you.

you were his sin personified, his dirty little secret. whenever you two were together all thoughts of his religion left his mind, as he now existed to serve you, to worship in between your thighs, listen to your moans as if they were gospel. it was like any holy thought left his mind the second your skin brushed over his.

he never wanted to give into the temptation. he saw you as a challenge, a sign to resist sin and stay thinking holy thoughts. but when you showed up at the club in a tight white dress, hair tumbling over your shoulders as your hips swayed provocatively to the music, he knew that nothing could stop him taking you home that night, and many a night after that.

which is how he ended up knocking on your flat at 9pm on a monday evening, the day after a tough race where he just felt useless. a double dnf for alpine followed by a race without points. he felt horrible, felt like a failure, and all the comfort that his producers and members could give him could never make him feel as good as you could.

the warm orange hues of a southern french sunset lit up your apartment as you swung open the door, the golden hour glow accenting the faint highlights in your hair. you were underdressed for pierre's standards, normally revealing yourself to him in a lacy set he bought for you, or sometimes even nothing, looking like a greek statue as you left nothing to the imagination.

today was different. you weren’t expecting him; you had no warning to any chain of events about to follow. so you opened the door to show yourself in a white linen shirt, almost certainly his, that was so large on you it was practically a dress, that you had been lounging around your flat in.

pierre didn’t care, however, thinking you were still as stunning as ever. the white made your tanned skin seem darker, and with a few buttons undone your cleavage was truly out on display, a teaser at what he would truly see later. a pair of large hoops hung in each ear, with a small chain around your neck with ‘10’ engraved on it finishing the look. he loved that necklace, a sign that you and him had some kind of connection, even if it was only through a piece of jewellery.

“you alright?” you asked, eyes scanning from head to toe. it was rare for pierre to show up without telling you, if he ever had. there was a silent agreement that he would let you know when he needed to release energy, to be in your presence, to succumb to the sinful energy you supposedly emitted.

he shook his head. “fucked the race yesterday. now wanna fuck you.”

and there it was. the switch that flicked where pierre ignored his religion, ignored the purity and goodness he was supposed to uphold, and you became the deity he worshipped.

his hands grabbed your face as he pulled you into a needy kiss, calloused fingertips rough against your smooth skin. the kiss held a thousand emotions: anger, upset, disappointment, lust, love, and enough passion to knock you back on your feet, needing the stability of pierre's hands to stay upright.

he always kissed you like it was his last on earth, like he may never get to do this again so he was going to savour every second of it. and he was so passionate - maybe because he was annoyed, maybe because he was stressed, or maybe because you were the only person who got to see this pierre. this raw, untamed, animalistic pierre who you adored seeing so much.

he slowly edged you back into your room, hips pushing against yours ever so slightly, enough to encourage your hips up against his, creating the tiniest bit of friction to ease the growing need between your thighs. you heard him shut the door behind you, never once taking his lips off of yours, befor his hands slid from your face to your neck.

you let out a quick gasp as he squeezed into your skin, feeling him smirk into the kiss as your breathing got shallower and shallower. he often did this. pushed your boundaries as far as he could push them. watched as your slowly cracked under the euphoric torture he performed on you.

he pulled back from you, letting out a chuckle as you chased his lips. he looked down, easily towering over you, a look of fake-pity etched all over his face.

“look so pretty with my hands wrapped around your neck, huh?” he asked, almost certainly a rhetorical question as he squeezed that slight bit harder, looking down at your thighs rubbing against each other, determined to find some relief from the ache in your core. “and you love it as well, love it when i choke you, when i treat you like a slut.”

his words went straight to your core, and you couldn’t rebute them without the lie showing all over your face. pierre eased up on your neck, hands now trailing down your body, over your rib cage, counting down with such an intent focus you would think it’s the first time he’s ever seen your body.

“wearing my shirt, must have missed me?” he asked, tone nonchalant but undertone the opposite. the agreement is that you don’t miss each other. you don’t have feeling for one another. you fuck. that’s it.

you took in a deep breath as one hand crawled under the white linen and felt the material of your underwear. lace, of course. pierre's favourite. you were aware of how his race went yesterday, and you were planning on sending him some photos to ease the pain. you did that often, when things weren’t going so well for him in the f1 world, a little pick me up in the form of barely lit lingerie pictures and videos of you moaning his name.

“never,” you teased, your hands rising over his shirt, pulling it off his body and exposing him in all his glory.

my god, was he stunning. you had never seen another man like him, one so broad and muscly yet slim and defined. his skin had grown darker in the past few weeks, undertone becoming more and more golden as his hair lightened under the european sun. he’d been keeping his hair long lately, and though you weren’t a fan at first, when you gripped it while he was your legs it was safe to say it grew on you. his eyes had a chill behind them, one only you were lucky enough to see, which told you that he had one hundred wonderful and wicked ideas to try out with you.

“white lace?” he questioned, having a peek under the shirt, the colour not normal for you. pierre liked navy, so that was what you normally wore, as well as black and red. he didn’t even know you owned a white set, and he had seen a lot of lingerie on you.

you hummed. “you like it?”

he loved it. loved the way the white material contrasted your skin, the way the quickly fading light bounced off it making you glow, the way he could already see the wetness collecting from your arousal. and most of all, he loved the way you looked angelic in it, look like the heavens yourself had sent you, because nothing you ever did was angelic. you were never angelic when you sucked him off, let him fuck you into oblivion, enjoyed being degraded and teased, and when you dressed the part, it somehow made everything more dirty for him.

“would love it more if you got on your knees.” the suggestion was an order, and of course you obeyed, sinking into the cold wooden floor of your bedroom and looking up at him with blinking eyes.

he looked majestic, light pouring out from the window behind him. and when he went to unbuckle his belt, your mouth already starting salivating in preparation, knowing what was coming. pierre must have been able to sense your eagerness, as he let out a wry chuckle looking down on you.

“always so fucking desperate for it, aren’t you?” all you could do was nod in response, leaning forward as mark slid his trousers down to pull his dick out from his boxers.

you were still in awe every time you saw his cock. sure, you’d been big dicks before, but pierre's was something in of itself. it was as majestic as his body was, and taken care of the same way.

you went to take it in your mouth, but pierre quickly tangled a hand in your hair and pulled you back, letting out a soft chuckle as a pout appeared on your lips.

“honestly, i don’t fuck you for two weeks and you forget all your manners. you think you just get to suck my cock? you think you’re worthy of that? dumb little girl.” his degrading words went straight to your core, you having to resist the urge to squeeze your thighs together as you looked up at him pleadingly.

“please, pierre,” his hand tilted your head up, nothing stopping your eyes from baring into his, seeing the devilish glint in his eye, “please.”

“please what? come on, good girls know how to beg properly,” he teased, watching down evilly as you whined at his harsh words.

you took in a deep breath. “please let me suck your cock, pierre.”

he nodded. “keep going.”

“please, just wanna make you feel good. please let me suck it, all i wanna do,” you were unravelling, slowly losing any previous willpower you had to resist his charm, diving headfirst into the depths of hell you two created together. it was a beautiful chaos, a place the two of you could completely unravel and just be morsels of sex and passion. “please, pierre, just want your cock in my mouth.”

“fuck, your such a whore for me. never seen such a lovely girl want cock so bad. but you’re not a lovely girl, are you?” you nodded, so desperate for him. “that’s right, baby, you’re a desperate little slut who’s only thought is dick, so why don’t you show me how much you love this one, yeah?”

his words would be the death of you. they were your bible, you would have done anything he asked you do when he was speaking in that deep, honey tone, french accent getting thicker and thicker as he lost himself in the moment. whatever he preached in church, said as he prayed, these were the opposite of that. these were the thoughts that hid in the back of his mind until he was around you, and then they were an unstoppable spew of sin and lust and as many other unholy emotions he could think of.

you sunk down on his cock as soon as you had permission, taking as much in as possible before starting to bob your head, swirling your tongue when you rose to the tip of his dick. he let out a deep groan when you choked around him, his length still too big even after a few months of sucking him off. his hand tightened around your scalp, guiding you up and down and up and down.

you pulled back to catch a breath, a string of saliva still attached to his dick, creating a link between you. pierre watched as you licked it up, before replacing your mouth his your hand, throwing his head back as your thumb rubbed over his tip.

“tell me how much you love this cock, baby,” he grunted, his words not surprising to you. when everything seemed to be going wrong in his life, pierre thrived on the praise of others. his parents, his mechanics, his engineers, and in this state you. any words that made him feel appreciated, needed, loved, he thrived on.

“love it so much, baby,” you panted, “so so much.”

and with that you started sucking again, still using your hand on everything you struggled to fit. his breaths got shallower and shallower as you kept going, feeling the muscles in his chest tensing as he got closer and closer to his high.

“look at you on your knees for me,” the hand in the back of your hair tilted your head towards the mirror you had in your bedroom, and the sight was one you were sure would be engraved in your memory for years to come.

it was like a renaissance pairing, the way the two of you looked. both glowing in the sunset light, sweating clinging loose strand of hair to your foreheads. pierre's mouth was hung open, defined abs clenched, looking completely gone with pleasure. your back was arched while on your knees, thighs clenched together as your mouth swallowed pierre down, tears slowly building in your eyes, threatening to break loose and paint your cheeks with mascara stained water.

“want me to finish in your mouth?” he groaned, obviously so near to the edge. but he always asked. no matter how intense anything was, pierre always asked.

you hummed in agreement around his cock, sending vibrations through the sensitive skin and bringing his orgasm that little bit closer. he took complete control now, fucking your face with sporadic, wild thrusts, before pulling back and waiting for the orgasm, your hand guiding him through it.

“open your mouth, baby,” he grunted, on the brink of the most sinful euphoria he could feel, “stick your tongue out for me- there you go. pretty little slut on her knees for me. never seen such a beautiful girl act like such a whore-”

and with that he came, covering your tongue and lips with his cum, groaning as he finally got the high he’d craved after the last two weeks. you carried him through it, keeping your mouth open until he’d completely finished.

“show me your tongue, baby,” he panted, a maniacal laugh appearing when you eagerly showed him your face. “god, you’re so good for me, you look so pretty covered in my cum, huh? go on, look at how messy you are for me.”

you turned you back to the mirror, and you got a proper look at how gone you were. your tongue was still out, eyes dazed over, nose to chin covered in pierre's cum, with your cheeks stained with mascara tears.

he pulled your head back, forcing you to look back up at him, before he leant over and spat in your mouth, the most sinful action of the night.

“swallow it up, yeah, there you go,” he almost whispered, and you did as he said, taking everything he had given you and the rest that he swiped in from your cheeks. “god, you’re always such a good girl for me.”

he was always softer after an orgasm, like he suddenly became aware of how harsh his words were, how you could easily take them the wrong way. you never did, but you appreciated the effort, and you appreciated him.

wait. no you didn’t.

“up you get, baby,” he cooed, helping you stand up and immediately wrapping your legs around his waist, carrying your through your flat like it was his own. he had spent so much time here it might as well have been.

he placed you down on the bed, letting you lean against the frame as he dimmed down the lights, leaving the room in a small, romantic glow. he finished undressing himself, before finally turning all of his attention to you.

this is where it became a sin.

see, pierre didn’t believe that pre-marital sex was a sin. well, whether or not it was he was more than happy to partake in it. what was a sin, however, was worshiping false deities. yet that’s exactly what he did to you.

after the agression you had just experienced, pierre knew it was time to turn his attention to in between your thighs, somewhere he could sit for hours and never get bored. it was a form of worship, how he treated you, one that he could never admit to the universe, a secret shared between the two of you.

his hands ran up your bare thighs, kneading them as his mouth followed, leaving a trail of wet, sloppy kisses along your skin. your legs spread automatically, a sigh of pleasure already coming from your mouth, just the motivation pierre needed to keep going.

"fuck, baby," he gasped, as one of his fingers stroked over your panties, feeling your sticky wetness caused from pierre's dirty words earlier, "fucking soaked for me, huh?"

"yes," you sighed as one of his fingers found your clit, making ever so light circles over the lace, "only for you, pierre."

"i know, baby, god you look so beautiful like this."

and he wasn't lying. with your back arched, a thin layer of sweat coating your skin, his shirt bunched up around your ribcage so he could see the rise of fall of your stomach as your breathing got shallower. he thought you were majestic, undenyable beauty, something to be worshipped.

so that's what he did.

he pulled your panties off and dived straight into your pussy, nose hitting your clit as his tongue worked wonders, lapping up the wetness and causing pornographic sounds to emit from your throat. god, was he good at eating you out, and when he added to fingers and curled them against that spot inside of you, you knew you were not lasting long.

"baby- oh my god, pierre- i'm gonna cum," you whined, hips bucking so much pierre had to use one of his arms to hold you in place.

pierre chuckled against your clit, the vibrations just bringing you closer to the edge. "yeah, i'm making you feel good."

"so good, pierre, so so so good."

and that was enough for him. sometimes he would make you beg, have you crying from the edging he would put you through, but he knew he was harsh earlier, and you had been so good your deserved to come.

"come for me then, baby," he grunted, fingers speeding up their pace, "come all over my fingers, make a mess of me, baby."

he words tipped you over the edge, the feeling of euphoria washing over you as pierre carried you through your high, breathing finally slowing down as pierre abandoned your pussy and staring leaving open mouthed kisses against the soft flesh of your thighs.

"think you can go once more for me?" he asked between kisses, and however tired you were you always wanted to please him, always wanted to make him feel good.

so you pulled him over you and braced yourself as he pushed inside of you, the stretch making you hear colours as his lips finally connected with yours for the second time that night, tongue exploring your mouth until he was fully inside of you.

"never gonna get over how good you feel wrapped around me, baby," he mumbled against your lips, pleasure evident on his face, "so fucking warm and wet, this pussy was made for me, wasn't it?"

you couldn't even respond, mouth stuck in an o-shape as he began to thrust in and out, his tip hitting your cervix as he picked up the pace.

"don't know what i would do without this cunt, think i would go insane not knowing this is always here for me, because it is, isn't it? this is my pussy."

pierre told himself he would hold back but he just couldn't help it, the feeling of being inside of you driving him crazy as his hips snapped against yours. only pierre's sinful words and the sound of skin against skin filled the room now, the feeling ever so dirty and sinful, just the way you both liked it.

"my fucking pussy to do whatever i want with, my playtoy, that's what you are, yeah?" he teased, and all you could do was whine in response as you grew closer and closer to your second orgasm.

"just a set of holes for me to use, aren't you? can't even speak because i'm fucking you so good, huh? just a cumdump for me, a slutty, pretty, cumdump. you want my cum, my pretty little whore?"

all you could do was nod, hoping that was enough for pierre right now. he chuckled, but you could tell he was close by the way his thrusts were growing irregular. and he could tell you were close by the way you clenched around him.

"you wanna cum? tell me who's making you feel this good."

you mustered up all the energy you had left to speak, hoping the words came out of your mouth. "you, pierre, only you can make me feel this good."

"tell me you belong to me," pierre didn't even know what he was saying at this point, the words leaving unconciously, his sinful desires becoming more and more evident in the world.

"i'm yours, pierre. every part of me is yours, i belong to you. god-"

"yeah, that's right, i'm your fucking god," he grunted, and that word, even though it's not what you meant, made both of you come undone together, a moan leaving both of your mouths as pierre collapsed against your chest, chests rising and falling as you attempted to calm down.

pierre pulled out, ever so gently, and knelt on the floor at the end of the bed, watching as some of his cum escaped from your swollen pussy. gently, he used his finger to scoop it up, and push it back into your cunt, before leaning back over to meet your lips in a kiss.

"thank you," he muttered, "for this. hope i wasn't too harsh."

you chuckled. "a little, but you know i like it. shit, though, i would have called you god sooner if i knew it would get that reaction."

with those words, pierre froze. those words should have never been said, should have never been put into the universe. it reminded pierre of his sin, of everything you tempted him towards. with no other option, he chose to escape your lustful allure, and made a mental note to pray tonight.

"gotta get back to the office, usami will be expecting me," pierre left one final kiss on your cheek before leaving.

you pouted, so many unspoken words floating on your tongue. stay. be mine. i love you. yet none of them were said, instead sending him a sad smile before grabbing your phone from your bedside table, just hoping deep down he felt the same way.

if only you knew you were just his sinful secret.

[russellsppttemplates]

Dad Pierre cleaning and the kids helping and they are so proud that they’ve managed to help

"Can I do this one?", Celeste asked as she wiped the coffee table.

"Yes, amour, just don't go on stepping stools or climb on anything, okay?", Pierre offered, "mama's surprise is going to be a clean house and not one of you in the hospital", he warned.

Louis swept the floors while Elódie helped in the kitchen, sorting all the plates and cutlery and Alexandre was the one in charge of the beds, "why are there so many people in this house? I did all four of the bed!", the oldest mused.

By the time you got home, you found it to be very far way from the mess you left behind this morning. Because you were in a rush and the week had been so busy, you neglected the housework that needed to be done. It seemed, however, that your husband and kids had it under control.

"Did you do all of this?", you wondered.

"Yes! I cleaned the floor and Celeste made sure there were no fingerprints on the glass!", Louis smiled, "did you like your surprise, mama? We all helped papa!".

"I did, amour, the house looks so nice!", you gushed, "Merci", you offered.

"It's alright, this way you can rest now!", Alexandre smiled.

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

[f1smutwriter]

Hi tis me again

I feel awkward with all the request. I'm just obsessed with f1 rn.

Pierre learning to do your acrylic nails so he can spend more time with you during the f1 season.

This guy's love language is acts of service and quality time

Chilling in the hotel in pajamas drinking wine and sushi getting your nails done by pierre gloating about your man on socials like "your bf could never but here's what mine does." Maybe he gets teased about ut by the other drivers but who cares he bagged a bad bitch and he's in love.

Almond shape but otherwise what ever is fine.

| 𝐌𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐧 (𝐩𝐠𝟏𝟎)

𝐏𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Pierre the perfect boyfriend anyone could ask for. He adores his girlfriend and treats her like the princess she is. So he learned to do nails just for his princess

Warnings: nothing just some tea and cursing

Notes: Gosh these Pierre fics you request gosh I love them. Like these are my favorite things to write when the guy just does something to spend time with you. This is my first time doing the Instagram thing on tumblr but I do them all the time on Wattpad so if you don’t like it just let me know and I’ll change it for you girl. Hope you love it!

——————————————————————————————————————————————————

“Ma chérie you ready” he called out for me as I come out of the bathroom with a smile. “Hi handsome” I smiled kissing his lips softly as I sit down on the bed so he can paint my toes. “I learned this cool new thing. Best thing ever” he smiled as he rubbed my feet softly making me sigh feeling more relaxed.

“Handsome I don’t know why you do this, you don’t have to” I whispered softly making her chuckle softly. “Mon cœur I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t want to” he smiled softly kissing my leg making me shiver softly. “I get to spend more time with you, plus I want to pamper my girl” He smiled making me blush from his words.

“Why do you have to be so perfect all the time” I mumbled before he snorts causing me to laugh with him. “You know what sounds amazing right now” I whispered softly as he looks up at me. “Why are you whispering” he laughed making me kick him softly. “Sushi and wine” I groaned softly craving both of them. “Want me to order us sushi and wine” he asked softly making me nod frantically. He goes over to the phone and orders room service.

“Coming in about 30 minutes” he said softly making me squeal. “thank you baby” I whispered kissing him feeling him grab my waist to kiss me back softly. “Gosh you have no idea how in love I am with you” he whispered kissing my neck softly. “Let’s get back to your nails before I take you right here right now” he said sitting me down on my chair while he paints my nails.

˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡

yourusername

Liked by pierregasly, and 1,000,000 others

yourusername: get you man who does all this for you, and his excuse to do all this was. “Amour I need to pamper you”

Tagged: pierregasly

view all comments

charles_leclerc: this needed to stay in the drafts

yourusername: someone is mad I took their man

charles_leclerc: mad your always second place 🤷‍♀️

yourusername: really because last time I checked I’m first place babes 😙

pierregasly: my pretty girl I love you ❤️

yourusername: I love you more handsome

User: Charles hate to break it to you but your second

charles_leclerc: I know :(

alexandrasaintmleux: oh for Charles to do this for me

yourusername: you don’t need Charles babe you have me 😉

charles_leclerc: back up bitch or we fight

yourusername: I’m slashing all your tyres

carlossainz55: NO please don’t we need to win

yourusername: oh well bye bye Ferrari

lilymhe: the fact I’ve been stalking your page

yourusername: babe stalk my page all you want

alexalbon: not only are you stealing my girl but Charles girl to

yourusername: I’m after all the wags my master plan

lilymhe: tbh I’d let her take me

alexalbon: 😣

maxverstappen1: he’s lowkey whipped for you

yourusername: yes he is and guess what I love it

pierregasly: I am she gives good head 💁‍♂️

yourusername: 😧

pierregasly: it had to be said Mon amour I’m sorry

User: I want a guy to treat me like this

User: me to they make me feel so single

˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡

“Mon amour you posted me” Pierre asked shaking his head making me giggle. “Yes I had to baby, had to show everyone who my man was” I smiled before he grabbed me putting me on his lap. He started kissing my neck softly, feeling myself let out a small whimper. “I love you so much you have no idea baby” he whispered softly in my ear making me blush. “I love you more handsome” I smile before he kissed my head softly. “I love you the most princess” He whispered going back to kissing my neck.

˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡

Pierre just got on the paddock now walking towards his garage to look at the car, but he got stopped by one of his best friends. “Bro painting her nails and all of that your whipped mate” Charles snorted before laughing at him. “Why am I whipped because I love my girl” He smiled at Charles before Charles shakes his head.

“I do it because I don’t spend time with her I’m always away, so it gives us some time together” Pierre explained making Charles let out a small smile. “It’s nice to see you like this man, all in love and everything” Charles commented as Pierre feels his cheeks get red. “Me in love what about you and Alex I see how you guys are with each other” Pierre laughed softly now making Charles blush a bit. “Look at us two blushing fools” Charles snorted making them both laugh out.

“Who would have thought” Pierre laughed softly as they both walk down the paddock.

“Who would have thought” Charles smiled softly

——————————————————————————————————————————————————

Notes: I’m sorry this was short but I kinda was running out of things to say. I hope you guys liked it, and please send more requests I beg you.

[f1version]

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

[yourstrqly]

★ . . . 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄, 𝐏𝐆𝟏𝟎

pairing: pierre gasly x gf!reader

in which you want to welcome your boyfriend home with a plate of his favourite cake but he craves the sweetness of you more

warning: kitchen sex, penetrative sex, bare (wrap it if you don't want babies!), french nickname for reader ( ma minette = my kitten), just a small smut for my fav french fucker

HAPPY NEW YEAR !!

the kitchen looked like a tiny battlefield as you searched the drawers for cinnamon, which was needed for your boyfriend's favourite cake. in the background softly played piano music, creating a relaxed atmosphere; it was your ideal afternoon and in just under 30 minutes pierre would walk through the front door of your shared apartment.

time flies, the cake baked in the oven whilst you cleaned the counters, deep in thoughts which resulted in not hearing the man of the house coming home.

pierre smiled at your swaying figure, entertaining the thought of you having a child, his mini me or yours, besides you excitingly telling you about the day — he'd loved to being the father of your children but that would have to wait for another year or so as he wanted to focus on your relationship a bit more. his eyes darted over your body, spotting a white tee of his, kinda see-through if he was being honest, and if this wouldn't turn him on, then nothing else could. the French was a sucker for you and after two weeks of being separated from you, he'll do anything to fuck you now and later make love to you in your shared bed.

but for now he was going to fuck you in this kitchen as his way of welcoming you back in his arms. he just had to have you now.

a gasp left you as you felt something, someone pressing against your back, striking heat, and a bulge hidden under the rough jeans fabric rubbing against your ass. you immediately fell backwards, lowering your head against your man's shoulder to catch his eyes.

"how i've missed you, ma minette", pierre mumbled against your ear, his hand tracing along your jawline down to your breasts while watching you fall apart by the second. "to see you quiver under my touch."

he stepped away from you, quickly undressing himself as you catch your breath, holding onto the cold stone. then he grabbed the hem of your panties to pull them down your hips, letting you step out of it, and kicked it away. you could already guess what was coming next, based on the strong arm around your stomach and his hot length rubbing against your legs.

the french rumbled behind you, feeling your wetness gathered around the head of his cock even though he hadn't entered you yet.

you waited, feeling desperate for him, desperate to be close to him again, to have him inside you, so you trust a bit back; pierre gripped your hips and rushed his length in your cunt, groaning loudly as a nasty squelch chimed though the kitchen. you're no better, moaning in relief and arousal at the feeling of his hard cock plunging into you over and over again, going at a rapid speed that has you grip the edge of the counter tightly. his need of you reaches out to you, as he worked his body almost frantically — you needed him just the same.

one of pierre's hands returned to your breasts to stimulate them in turns, drawing circles against the swell of your soft flesh and pulling on your hard nipples. his cock inside you felt wide and long, hitting your spots just too good.

your clit throbbed, hungry for attention, and pierre, a man knowing which buttons to press, slid his hand down your stomach to your pussy. his fingertips landed on the slick bundle of nerves, fingers rubbing over it, playing you like a piano. the French knew exactly how to please you and it was mere moments before you felt your orgasm approaching. you shrudder as it nears, moaning and whining as the rough fingers pinched and rubbed against your clit, his thick length bullying its way inside, just to leave his fat tip in your cunt — then he plunged deeply into you again, making you see the stars and getting a groan out of you, a sound he loved to hear, tipping him over the edge.

[rosegasly]

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 🥰

[mariclerc]

Amore <3 ,puedes hacer otra historia de pierre ❤️‍🩹🤞

your wishes are orders bestie 🫡💗💗

Hot sweets | pg10

Summary: where do you make some cupcakes and some sneaky frenchman wants a taste.

Warnings: none, just fluff.

Sunlight streams through the window, illuminating a flour-dusted counter. Pierre peeks his head around the corner, a playful grin on his face.

“Whatcha baking there, mademoiselle?” he says in a teasing tone.

You look up from your piping bag, a startled laugh escaping your lips, you quickly twist the bag shut with a flourish. “Ah, Pierre! Don't sneak up on me like that.” you say flustered.

Pierre saunters into the kitchen, his eyes glued to the counter. Little mountains of colorful sprinkles and a tray lined with cooling cupcakes take center stage.

“Cupcakes? Those look amazing! Can I have one?” he says curiously.

You glance down at the cupcakes, their golden domes still steaming faintly. “Well, they're not quite ready yet. They're still a little... hot.” You say a little hesitant.

Pierre, ever the daredevil, reaches out a hand, ignoring your warning.

“Come on, a little heat never hurt anyone.” he says confidently.

He snatches a cupcake off the tray, but yelps as his fingers brush against the hot surface. He drops the cupcake back with a hiss, shaking his hand dramatically.

“See? I told you they were hot!” you say bursting out laugh.

Pierre winces, rubbing his fingers, but can't help but grin at your laughter. The sound is like music to him. “Okay, okay, you win. Maybe I should have listened to the fire safety expert, huh?” he say a little sheepish.

You walk over to him, concern momentarily replacing your amusement.

“Are you okay? Let me see.” you say a little bit worried.

You take his hand gently, examining his fingers for any redness.

“Just a little ouch, nothing serious. Besides, the reward was worth the risk.” he melt under your touch.

He leans in, his breath warm on your cheek. You feel a blush creep up your neck. “Reward?” you asked him shyly.

“The sound of your beautiful laugh, of course.” he smirks.

He winks, then ducks away playfully as you swat him with the piping bag, a smile blooming on your face.

“Cheeky! Now go wash your hands before you touch anything else.” you scold him while smiling.

Pierre raises his hands in mock surrender, a wide grin on his face. “Yes, chef!” he says smiling.

He turns to leave, then glances back at you, his gaze lingering.

“Seriously though, those cupcakes look incredible.” he say softly.

You return his smile, your heart fluttering.

“They're for you... and me.” you say softly.

Pierre winks again, then disappears out of the kitchen. You shake your head fondly, a contented sigh escaping your lips. You turn back to the cupcakes, a newfound pep in your step as you continue decorating, the afternoon sun casting a warm glow on the kitchen.

[thatsdemko]

the art of attraction (it’s always been you) - p.gasly

masterlist

pairings: Pierre gasly x leclerc!fem!reader

warnings: fluff + some inaccuracies of Pierre and Charles careers + some angst

note: when I do “—“ to break the scene the next scene in this instance is rather not the next day or later that evening(unless specified).

summary: the story of how Pierre and y/n leclerc fall in love.

a/n: just something to lighten the mood❤️

AGE 5 & 7

maybe that’s when you knew.

when he covered your ears while your parents swore at each other, their voices rising with anger and he slipped into your bedroom to distract you and Arthur from the argument downstairs.

you could smell is freshly shampooed hair from behind you, you could hear his heart beating against his chest as he shushed any worries down your throat.

the concerns wash away as you sink against his chest, the words finally died down and his hands come off from over your ears, “Qu'est-ce que tu as entendu?” he asks in concern that you didn’t pick up any new vocabulary that you shouldn’t of heard. pierre was used to it by now with karting, but you were three years younger than him, and you definitely shouldn’t of heard what you did. what did you hear

“nothing.” you lie knowing that’ll satisfy him. he moves from behind you so you can look him in his eyes. his beautiful ocean blue eyes that you could drown yourself in.

“you pinky promise you didn’t hear?”

“I pinky promise.”

when your pinky’s interlace you could feel the electric waves, you could feel your heart pace increase, eyes growing with hopefulness that maybe he feels it too.

“come on, cherie let’s go find Charles.”

and just like that, your hope was gone. but it started a fire inside your chest and butterflies to form. nothing about Pierre gasly would ever be the same to you.

AGE 7 & 9

the most important day of the year for you was always overlooked; your birthday. it end up typically being on a Sunday or a race weekend, which meant the whole family’s focus was on Charles or Arthur and never on you.

you’d pout and fuss about no presents, birthday cakes, or well wishes from family members. but there was one person who was determined to make your birthday matter. Pierre.

“there she is!” his mother, also named pascale, beams with excitement seeing you in the stands to cheer on your big brother, Charles, and of course her son, Pierre.

“just a little gift for the birthday girl, it’s from all of us.” she presses a soft kiss to your cheek handing you the tiny pink bag with tissue paper falling out of the top. you thank her for her generosity and wait to open the gift until after the race. it was common curtesy, but you knew your own mother wouldn’t be pleased for you to spoil the joy for Charles.

it was yet another birthday spent in an hour of boredom and wishing for something better.

this was the time your mind would race of imagination. the world of delusion was limitless, and most of the time you wished of Pierre. you wished for Pierre to be the one to hand you the birthday gift instead of his mother, or wishing for Pierre to kiss you after his race. your mind never seemed to leave the Frenchman out of your fantasies.

—

“p1! congratulations.” you’re lost in the sea of family members and friends, but he finds you first. you cant help but wonder if you stuck out like a sore thumb or just someone he so desperately wanted to see after his win.

“happy birthday.” he engulfs you in a tight hug, you can smell the sweat and lingering scent of his shampoo that takes you back to two years ago when he held you against him.

you close your eyes and enjoy the moment before it’s taken from you. he’s ripped off of your body by Charles, who’s now congratulating him. a frown forms to your lips as you look down at the pink paper bag that was crumpled against his body. somehow it hurts that the only thing you wanted was something you couldn’t have. it couldn’t be wrapped a tiny bag.

but his hug was better than the silver pendant necklace that you knew he and his mother picked out.

it was the one you eyed summers ago at the antique store in southern France. he watched your big eyes shine under the jewelry’s beauty, and you knew it was Pierre who forced his mother to go back.

maybe it wasn’t such a bad birthday after all.

AGE 10 & 12

“you don’t want to swim?”

his brown wet hair drips over his eyes, he takes his hand and pushes the locks back so he can see you straight. you’re in your tankini(a horrible fashion choice as you look back on it) sitting in the lounge chair pretending to be interested in the gossip magazine in front of you.

“not up for it.” you shrug your shoulders and look back at the gossip of brad Pitt and Angelina, two people you could care less about. because right now, you’re chewing the inside of your cheek watching a new girl swim laps with your brothers and Pierre.

she was a girl from school. of course she was, and she had long blonde hair and was wearing bikinis because her chest has developed. you hoped she couldn’t see you glaring at her from underneath your sunglasses as she plays basketball with the boys in the pool. you were trying very hard to be different in hopes that maybe Pierre would notice you and forget about the blonde girl. of course your attempts failed when it was Arthur who swam up to you.

“what? you always want to swim.” Pierre’s shocked, it took your parents hours to get you out of the pool you loved it so much. he was wondering what had changed since last summer.

“she’s in some weird phase leave her alone.” Lorenzo grumbles at your attitude. the boys go back to playing the pool while you attempt to wrinkle under the sun, except every time she laughed you had to make sure it wasn’t at something he said.

this was the part that hurt while being in love, is trying to be okay with them finding someone else.

AGE 13 & 15

it’d been months since he’d last seen you. karting was taking him to new places that he hadn’t been home in forever. he was beginning to forget the smell of the salty oceans, the sound of the seagulls in the morning, and you. all this time away from home, he found himself itching for you.

when he heard the sound of the car door slamming and the mixed chatter coming from the front door, he could feel the sense of belonging again. all that time away, it changed him, and he wondered if it had changed you.

the front door clicks open and Pierre looks away from the television. he watches your family members pile in one by one, he sits in an anticipation that’ll you show, and when you do it doesn’t disappoint him.

your hairs a bit shorter from the last time, your legs are tanner, and you’re wearing mascara, but nothing about you changed. the smile when he made a joke, the shyness you got around him, it all was the same.

it’s his turn to feel the butterflies when he looks at you. and this time when he looks at you, and when your eyes connect you actually feel it radiating off of him.

he was in love.

—

“mind if I join you?” he steps up into the attic. it was a place you five used to play in when you were kids. it wasn’t safe, as there were many holes in the flooring, but it became your quiet place when you needed time alone.

you look over your shoulder to see he has a peace offering, a tiny glass of limoncello that he stole from downstairs.

a smile is brought to your lips as you motion for him to come closer, “you didn’t have to steal to come here.” you chuckle taking the plastic cup from him while he situates himself beside you.

“well you could’ve turned me down. I needed a plan to make you want me to stay.” he nudges his shoulder into yours and watches you swallow the liquor with a bitter face.

he laughs and it’s like music to your ears. you can feel the little hairs in your ears stand up, the chill run down your spine, and the familiar swarm of butterflies in your stomach. it was too easy for him to make you feel this way.

“awful?”

“horrible actually.” you choke out setting the cup on the ledge. you swore you could’ve thrown up then, but everything in you stops when you feel his knuckles against your chest.

“you still wear this?” he holds the the necklace charm against his palm, a soft smile forming against his lips. all you can do is nod. he took the words right out of you as his blue eyes flicker upwards towards you.

“I think I have a birthday gift that might top this one.” he lets go of the charm and finally you can breathe again. you feel your muscles relax as you touch the charm that was once in his hand.

“what do you have in mind?”

“close your eyes and I’ll show you.”

you’d never obeyed faster. your eye’s immediately shut. you could feel the world around you spinning with anticipation as you wait for his whatever it is.

you can feel the warmth radiating off of his body, he must’ve moved closer. his palm rests against your cheek and before you know it his lips are pressed against yours. the kiss is soft and gentle, but his lips fit like a glove. you can feel the sparks, they warm your bodies up as you move closer to him with the exact same energy kissing him back.

“hold on,” Pierre whispers, pulling away. he watches your eyes flutter open in utter confusion, “that was really good.” he whispers, chest visibly rising and falling as you just took the air right out of him.

“but?”

“we’re just kids, y/n. maybe some other time, I just don’t think we should date yet.”

AGE 15 & 17

your first everything was Pierre. at fifteen there wasn’t much you needed to experience besides a crush and kiss, but lately you had noticed high school moved at a much different pace.

half the girls you were friends with had already had sex, boyfriends, or multiple kisses, but you still clung onto that one evening when Pierre not only kissed you but then ripped a bandaid right off your wound. that night still hurt.

and while you were encouraged to move on and find other boys, nobody compared to the beautiful Frenchman.

you’d experimented with other boys, which meant fooling around making out and an occasional nude photos, but your mind never stopped going back to Pierre. no matter how much he had hurt you that night, you still wanted to experience something more than a kiss with him.

it was one sided though, as Pierre had began dating a girl a year older than you and she’d shown up to many of his races. you’d thought you’d have moved on, but that was until it was the first birthday where Pierre had no gift for you. that was when you realized you still really cared about him.

“just move on from him.” your dear friend whispered into your ear as you watch the two walk hand in hand to the track. you could’ve sworn you were about to be sick to your stomach.

“I can’t.” you whisper back pulling your knees into your chest, you watch her pepper his face with kisses, “I need to leave.” you stand up from your spot in the stands and climb down the steps, you brush past the two and for the first time you don’t even look over your shoulder to see if he’s watching, but he is.

—

“you don’t wear my necklace anymore?”

your neck looks bare under the dim lighting of the attic. he wonders when the last time you wore it was, because he hadn’t noticed the last time that it was gone.

“why do you care?” you snap taking a sip of beer from your red solo cup, the contents make the sour look against your face contort, and it makes him laugh. that damn laugh. you could curse him for finding this moment funny, because all thoughts you had cleared of him come running back.

“because you loved that necklace.”

“have you thought about that maybe the guy who gave it to me was an asshole?” you raise your eyebrow and watch the little smile across his lips vanish. he knows exactly what you’re referring to. the night when you were thirteen, he shot you down. he could never forget the look on your face and how you cried into Lorenzo’s arms. the look on the elder leclerc’s face was enough to scare him off.

“I was an asshole, but I’m your asshole.”

the words started that fire you sure was burnt. you could feel the flames ignite in your stomach as you push yourself closer to his body, you can thank the alcohol for that.

“in order for you to be mine, you have to ask me.” you rest your hand against his chest, you can feel the beat of his heart quicken under your palm.

his hand finds your hip, he licks his lips, “I don’t think I need to ask when I know the answer.”

“just ask me, asshole.” you grit through your teeth, he throws his head back laughing and says something in French that you can’t make out.

“y/n leclerc, will you be my girlfriend?”

“yes.”

AGE 17 & 19

the pendant necklace, a beautiful silver promise ring, and silver dangly earrings are the gifts you couldn’t take off even if you wanted to.

he’d made up for the lost time of traveling in Monaco for karting and his transitions into f3. Charles had tagged along, the two still conjoined at the hip despite the new relationship that had unfolded between families.

“you like them?” he asks watching you fiddle with the silver hoops he’d picked out with his first sponsor paycheck. he promises once he can afford it, Tiffany diamonds is all you’ll ever know.

“like them?” you turn to face him from your vanity, “my Pierre,” you get up from the chair and press a kiss to his lips, “I love them.”

he chuckles against your lips, you can feel the vibration run down your body, “good.”

your friends had told you his gift giving was excessive, but you couldn’t have been happier. he made time for you, now with an income he could fly from France to Monaco to visit you for holidays and birthdays, but it did mean he spent a lot more time in the cars than he did with you.

“will you be at the track tonight? I can’t race without you.” his fingers brush your hair back behind your ear, he pulls you into his lap, “I need my good luck charm.” he presses a kiss against your lips.

it’s your turn to giggle against his lips, “you’re awfully needy today.” you say wrapping your arms around his neck, “but I wouldn’t miss a race, p. I’ll be there for you.”

“what about me?! I exist too you know!”

“shut up, Charles!”

AGE 18 & 20

he missed it.

you couldn’t believe it. he missed your birthday for the first time since dating.

you waited by your phone for hours that day. it was one of your very first birthdays where it wasn’t surrounded by karting and formula 1, it was a birthday that everyone was free as a bird and he missed it.

“I’m sorry, Cherie.” Charles peers into your bedroom, a visible frown against his lips, “I really thought he’d call.”

“it’s fine, cha.” you brush him off, but he knows better. he sees the sadness in your eyes that he didn’t call.

“it’s not fine, y/n. he’s your boyfriend now, he’s supposed to remember stuff like this.” Charles comes into your bedroom, he takes a seat at the end of your bed, “next race, I’m going to push him off the track.”

“don’t jeopardize your race for his mistakes, Charles. just play fair.”

“well he’s going to get something don’t you worry.”

AGE 19 & 21

he barely called anymore. life was shaping him into becoming a formula 1 driver and he just never gave you the time anymore.

you’d moved out of your parents house and into a small studio apartment in Monaco that overlooked the hairpin of the infamous Monaco circuit. you’d be able to see his car one day drive that turn and maybe bring home a victory. but right now, Red Bull was taking your love away from you.

the phone on your nightstand finally rings. it’s a miracle that after all that praying he calls. it’d been over two weeks since you’d heard his beautiful voice.

“bonjour,” you say almost instantly when you pick up the call. you can hear the chatter in the background, it must’ve been a mistake, a butt dial perhaps. but you stay on the call in case.

“y/n, you there?”

“yeah I’m here.” you say turning away from your homework that desperately needed your attention, but the man on the phone sounded unfamiliar to you. you knew it was him, but something had changed.

“hey, I’m sorry I have to cancel dinner plans.” he says, the chatter is still on going. was he really doing this now? in front of his team?

“that’s fine.” you exhale a deep long sigh that might’ve been over dramatic, but you were annoyed. it was another dinner you had planned that you would be eating alone.

“what’s wrong?” he shush’s whoever was talking so he can hear you better.

“nothing, Pierre, it’s just I haven’t seen you in two weeks.”

“I’m sorry, you know that right? it’s just training and simulators, I need to focus.”

you sigh. this really is it, huh? becoming best friends with his voicemail box and eating shitty dinners alone. you couldn’t do it any longer. you couldn’t believe this would be the thing that would tear you apart. you could’ve sworn once you were together, there would be no stopping your love. but it turns out formula 1 had its own plan in the making of your relationship.

“well let me help you focus even more, because we’re done.”

AGE 21 & 23

he was driving the cars he’s always dreamed of doing so. he finally was in formula 1. this day couldn’t be better, but maybe it could. after seeing you arrive with Charles for his start at Alfa Romeo, the pang of regret and guilt stings his chest.

he’s reminded of the days and nights he didn’t call, the anniversaries he missed, the celebrations he should’ve been at, but the days he missed were the reason he got the seat in the first place. it came with a hefty emotional price.

but seeing you in the paddock surrounded by his family, and your family, he couldn’t believe what a fuck up he was. it shouldn’t be like this, and he knows it.

“good luck out there, sweetheart.” your mother wraps him in a tight hug, it looks like he’s held hostage, but you believe he deserves it. he put you through an emotional rollercoaster that you’re happy to be off of, but a girl never stops loving her first crush.

because while you should be angry at him, your heart still goes putty over him. your heart still beats to his rhythm despite the torture he put you through. you couldn’t calm yourself down when you looked over at him, his cheeks flushed red in embarrassment, his jawline covered in stubby hairs. he looked much better than you did.

he gets podium. his first formula 1 podium and the radio conversation is still buzzing in your ears. he took the time to thank not only his family, but you. it had to have been you, he called you his good luck charm, and you knew it was you by the way his mothers eyes beamed under the sunlight.

you attempt to look anywhere that’s not him. your eyes try to concentrate on Lewis Hamilton and his beautiful tattooed hands as they grasp the lip of the bottle, and just as your eyes were finally settled on him, you felt the spritz of champagne against your skin.

your eyes find the man who’s leaning over the edge with a bottle of champagne pointed towards the crowd. his blue eyes search the sea of fans and team members until he finds you, your body is squished against the barricade front and center.

even if you wanted to hide from him and become just another fan lost in the crowd, you couldn’t. your heart always pulled you towards him even if it broke every vessel in your body.

he moves down the podium steps, you could feel your heart against your chest. he had the capability of doing this, after not speaking for nearly years he had the ability to start a fire in you with just a blink of an eye.

you watch it happen in slow motion. he moves across the barricade allowing fans and other team members pat his shoulder and chest with encouraging words to boost his ego. the smile on his face is irreplaceable, his cheeks are red from the sweat, tears, and discomfort of his own grin, but he can’t pull it off. he’s inches away from you, allowing his mother to hug him and kiss his champagne flavored cheek, he allows Charles to pat him on the back, and finally it was your turn.

you can feel the bodies against your back pushing you into the metal trying to get as close as they could to him. their hands touch his chest, shoulder, or anything they could grab onto as he leans in and smashes his lips against yours.

your fingers pull his face closer to you, as you kiss him with all of your might like the world was going to end if you didn’t. the cheering and whistling becomes background noise as he pulls away from your lips, resting his forehead against yours, “I love you, y/n.”

“I love you so much more, Pierre.”

—

“for you, I’m going to try and make this right.” he whispers, the words stuck against your sweaty skin, kisses peppered against your shoulders, “you’re my endgame. I believe it.”

heat spreads across your face as you attempt to burry your head into his chest, “I want to be your endgame.” you say curling into his body, your ear is pressed against his chest, you can hear his heart pounding against its cavity.

closing your eyes and then opening them, you try to make sure that this is real. the boy you once dreamed of having was fast asleep underneath you, small snores escape his lips, you can’t believe he’s yours again. lost, found, lost again, and then found once more.

this was a love only ever written in novels.

AGE 25 & 27 (NOW)

“I thought I’d find you up here.” he says reaching the final step into the attic. he’s tall enough now that his head nearly hits the roof, he has to crouch to make his way over to where you sit looking out the window of the house.

“where else would I be?” you turn to him, a chuckle escaping your lips as his head bumps right into the roof before he sits down across from you.

“everyone’s waiting for us.” he takes your hand in his, thumb caressing your knuckles. you look up into his eyes, he looks handsome today. in fact, he looks handsome every day but he looks even better in his tuxedo with a crooked flower pinned to the jacket.

“they can wait a little longer.” you carefully move onto his thigh leaning your back into his chest, “I just want to be with you. alone.”

he hums in response, and just wraps his arms around yours. you rest your head back against his shoulder and suddenly it’s like your five again. the smell of his shampoo is a little faint from the cologne, but when you inhale once again there it is.

“you ready, mrs.gasly?”

“I’m ready, mr.gasly. take me home.”

I'll follow you into the park

Through the jungle, through the dark

Girl, I never loved one like you

That's true, laugh until we think we'll die

Barefoot on a summer night

Never could be sweeter than with you

And in the streets you run a-free

Like it's only you and me

Geez, you're something to see

Oh, home, let me come home

Home is wherever I'm with you

tags: @oconso @xcicix @imsorare @weasleyswizardwheezes-blog

[pucksandpower]

Pierre Gasly x girlfriend!Reader - Instagram AU

yourusername

Liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc, and 247,356 others

yourusername step one: whisk him away

View all 815 comments

pierregasly will you please tell me where we’re going?

yourusername just like the last FIFTY times you asked me: no

charles_leclerc look at who’s being all romantic

yourusername one more word and i’ll tell everyone that you cried while watching the notebook with us

charles_leclerc didn’t you just tell them???

yourusername oops … anyway 🥱

yourusername

Liked by pierregasly, yukitsunoda0511, and 251,893 others

yourusername step two: get him flowers (because men like flowers too)

View all 902 comments

pierregasly i now get the hype

yourusername i’ll have to get you flowers more often

pairofpierres this is so wholesome 🥺

paddockgirlie taking notes from the queen herself for my next relationship 📝

yourusername

Liked by pierregasly, alpinef1team, and 258,634 others

yourusername step three: fill your entire camera roll with photos of him being adorable

View all 931 comments

pierregasly draw me like one of your french girls? more like sculpt me like one of your french boys

yourusername okay but only if i get to do the sculpting

alpinef1team quality pierre content 🤩

yourusername if you ever want to hire someone to be his full-time photographer, i basically do that job already

yourusername

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yourusername step four: surprise him with a birthday dinner

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pierregasly best birthday ever

yourusername anything for you, mon amour

yukitsunoda0511 the cake was so good

yourusername thank you! i made it myself

yukitsunoda0511 really?

yourusername no, i quickly learned that i can’t bake to save my life

pierregasly

Liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, and 681,497 others

pierregasly step five: thank her repeatedly for an amazing birthday

View all 2,135 comments

yourusername you deserve it and more ❤️

pierregasly your love is the greatest gift i could ask for

charles_leclerc i love you guys but spending too much time around you being all obsessed with each other makes me need a root canal

pierregasly sounds like a you problem

pompompierre my actual parents

[nataliawrites]

I keep thinking about Pierre Gasly and a shy reader who likes to read and paint. While he's the complete opposite of a party boy

Opposites Attract // Pierre Gasly

Four times your friends thought your relationship was doomed to fail and one time they finally understood otherwise.

One

A group of sweaty men made their way out of the grinding crowd on the dance floor and, with a lack of grace lending itself to plenty of drinks and the leftover adrenaline of a Grand Prix, shakily made their way up the stairs to the VIP area.

Among them, sprawled lazily in the extended booth they now occupied, a certain Monégasque turns to his best friend like a gossiping school girl, “that blonde was totally into you.”

The French best friend in question raises an eyebrow, “well I totally wasn’t into her.”

“Who are you and what did you do with Pierre?”

“I’m still me, Charles.”

“Could’ve fooled me. Up until a few months ago you would’ve never turned down someone as ehm well endowed as her.”

Pierre rolls his eyes, “up until a few months ago I wasn’t in a loving relationship.”

“A loving relationship in which your girlfriend stays in your hotel room while you party all night long?”

“What does it matter? Y/N gets anxious and this isn’t really her scene. She knows I would never do anything to hurt her or our relationship and she trusts me.”

“She should be here supporting you.”

“She does support me. Tirelessly. And I do the same in return by making sure she’s not forced into situations that make her uncomfortable.”

When they return to their hotel in the early hours of the morning, fairing none too well after a night of endless partying, Charles can’t help but peak into the suite that Pierre and you were sharing after Pierre was too drunk to properly shut the door.

You were still up despite the ridiculously late hour and reading a lengthy book using the warm light of a lamp on your nightstand.

Charles watches through the crack as you carefully mark your place in the novel and get out of bed to greet your inebriated boyfriend.

“Hi, Pear.”

Pierre leans in to give you a messy kiss, missing your lips almost entirely, “hello, mon coeur. I missed you.”

“I missed you too, love. There’s some painkillers and water by your toothbrush. And I put your boxers by the clean towels for after you shower quickly.”

“I need help.”

“Help with what?”

“Help me shower,” Pierre whines softly, “pleeeeeaaaasssseee.”

“Okay, you big baby. Let’s get you washed.”

Charles hurriedly shut the door when Pierre went to drop his pants.

Two

You paced up and down the gallery, hands linked in front of you to stop their shaking … mostly. It was your first public art exhibition and the tremendous milestone meant stepping far outside your comfort zone and into a social setting to show off your hard work.

Your eyes ran over the paintings carefully hanging on the walls for the hundredth time. They were perfect. The result of pouring your entire soul into the images that flowed from your hands and onto the canvas. Everything would be perfect. Almost everything, that is.

“How sucky that your boyfriend couldn’t be here for you.”

You turn around to face a classmate and friend from art school, “it’s not his fault. He has a job to do.”

Your boyfriend of nearly a year was going to have to miss the exhibition not matter how much you knew he wished he could be here to support you. But Formula 1 waits for no one and he was stuck on the other side of the world among the chaos that came with a race weekend.

“I’m just saying,” she throws her hands up defensively, “what about his job as your boyfriend?”

“Pierre does that daily, thank you for your concern. His attention to me whenever he isn’t actively working more than makes up for the time he dedicates to racing.”

You move to turn back around but stop and about-face, “and his dedication and passion to that part of his life are part of the reason I love him.” Then you finally spin on your heel and go back to surveying your work for any imperfections.

You were broken out of your thoughts as the curator lightly tapped your shoulder, having been ignored when she quietly called your name while you were lost in your own head.

“Miss Y/N, there’s a delivery for you. Shall I tell them to bring it in?”

A delivery? You were fairly certain you didn’t order anything though with how anxious you were as the exhibition approached, maybe you did and just forgot about it.

“Of course! So sorry. They can put it down wherever there’s space.”

You watch in shock as courier after courier after courier after courier filed their way into the gallery and places overflowing vases of every flower under the sun on the floor before going back outside and returning with even more bouquets.

When you can barely see the tile floors and the gallery looks more like a botanical garden than a low-key space to showcase art, one of the couriers approaches you and hands you a card.

I wish I could be there celebrating your achievements with you. I am so incredibly proud of you and all that you’ve managed to do. I will be carrying a little bit of you with me when I race tonight.

Love you always,

PG

You can’t stop the tears that threaten to overflow when you spot the small photo of a print of your favorite painting tucked carefully into his helmet that was taped to the card.

Your classmate makes her way into the atrium again, “Five minutes till showtime! Oh my god? Who robbed a florist.”

“No robbing,” you laugh, “just Pierre being Pierre.”

Three

Pierre excitedly opens the door to welcome his friends from around the grid into his Milan apartment for their annual visit after the Italian Grand Prix.

“Hey, guys! Come in. Y/N just went to the market to quickly get some fresh fruit.”

The group of drivers files into the foyer and stop just short of smacking into each other as they stop and take in the apartment around them.

When Pierre bought the apartment a few years ago, he immediately hired a top interior designer to take care of all the decorating. Since then, the place he called home was sleek and modern and even whiter than his AlphaTauri race suit. Nothing like the apartment his friends were currently staring at with open mouths.

This apartment was a controlled chaos of colors that should not have gone together but somehow did. The walls were lined with paintings and photographs and little hanging plants that the interior designer would have fainted at. The ceiling of the entry way had a rather impressive recreation of the Sistine Chapel ceiling … with cats instead of humans.

“This is … wow.”

“I know! Isn’t it amazing? Y/N did it all herself after she finally moved in,” Pierre gushed.

“It’s definitely unique.”

“It just feels so much more like home, you know? It took a while for her to finally believe me when I told her I wanted her to redecorate but now we both love spending time here whenever we can.”

The boys exchange wide-eyed glances as Pierre rambles on and on about all of the changes that you made. What happened to the luxurious party boy who barely remembered the names of the women that graced his bed? Since when did Pierre Gasly spend five minutes describing how you painstakingly crocheted a throw blanket to perfectly match your new couch? The mark you made on him was becoming just as clear as the mark you made on his your home.

Four

It was cruel, really. With Pierre’s home Grand Prix being left off the schedule, you had promised to join him in Austin instead. Art school was relatively flexible and you didn’t anticipate any issues taking a week off to fly to Texas.

Until a teacher suddenly announced a project that had to be completed in class during the week you were meant to be at the United States Grand Prix.

You tried to hide a sniffle as you explain that you won’t be able to support him in person to Pierre over the phone during your lunch break. You stare at your salad, pushing the greens around as any appetite escaped you.

“It’s not worth your tears, mon coeur,” Pierre’s soothing accent cracks through your speaker. “Do not even worry about it. I promise that I will take care of everything.”

You see your classmate drop into the seat next to you and wave as you finish your conversation with Pierre.

“Hi! What’s-”

“Were you seriously planning to miss a week of school to go on vacation with your boyfriend?”

“It’s not exactly a vacation.”

Your friend rolls his eyes, “Semantics. You were going to fly halfway across the world and miss a week’s worth of classes for him. He’s been a bad influence on you. You would have never dreamed about skipping even a day of class before you got together with him.”

“Being in a relationship has made me reevaluate my priorities,” you explain. “Don’t get me wrong — I love art and school is important but nothing beats being there for the people you love.”

“Whatever,” he sighs, “no use talking about it now. There’s no way you’re getting out of doing the project to go on your trip. Might as well cancel your tickets now.”

“Pierre said he’ll take care of the class so I’m not giving up hope yet.”

“Right … the second you get excused from the project is the second that pigs fly.”

You didn’t know which of you was more shocked when your boyfriend walked into the room like he owned it halfway through class the next day. He beelined towards your teacher with a purpose and you tore your attention away from the unfinished painting in front of you to watch as they talked. You can’t make out what they’re saying but see Pierre gesturing towards you and then slipping an envelope into your teacher’s hands when he gets a nod. They shake hands and Pierre makes his way to you.

He pecks your lips as your classmates’ eyes all turn to you, “Done. You’ll have an extra week to finish the project under supervision when you get back from America.”

“No way! How?”

“All it took was two paddock passes to Imola next season.”

“You’re actually the best, Pear. I love you so much.”

“Not more than I love you.” He turned to leave, “I’ll pick you up for dinner later?”

“Can’t wait, love.”

As the class dispersed an hour later, you couldn’t help bumping into your friend, “guess pigs learned to fly, huh?”

+ One

It wasn’t until the following season that his friends finally realized that you and Pierre were meant to be. You flew out to Belgium with him, knowing that Spa was especially hard for him emotionally and wanting to be there for your boyfriend. The morning of race day, you joined Pierre and the rest of the grid as they went to pay respects to Anthoine Hubert. You watched as various drivers left flowers and cards and stepped forward after they were done.

“I hope you don’t mind. I know that I never met Anthoine but I feel like I know him through all the stories Pierre tells and wanted to leave something to honor him too,” you pull a canvas out of your tote and kneel down to place it against the fence.

There’s silence as the men around you take in the portrait of a smiling Anthoine that you left among the flowers and wreaths.

Pierre pulls you in for a hug and you hold him tight as you feel your shoulder grow wet from his tears, “thank you, mon coeur. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Pierre’s friends take in the sight of the two of you lost in your embrace. Maybe you’re not who they imagined Pierre would end up with but turns out that you’re exactly what he needs.

[love-belle]

loved you three summers !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which she's living her dream and he's just her biggest supporter.

or

for when you know it'll be them, forever and always. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // pierre gasly x fem!reader

warnings - language

author's note - hope u like it!! thank you so much for reading, i love you <3 requests are still open!!

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, lilymhe, yourbestfriend and 357,825 others

pierregasly missing this one and her astonishing but understandable lack of enthusiasm about life

tagged yourusername

5,528 comments

username she's so pretty oh my god

username genuine question can pierre fight

-> yourusername no he cannot

-> pierregasly stfu yes i can

username she's so me

username THIS COUPLE OMG

username in love with their relationship like ❤️❤️❤️❤️

landonorris missing my uno opponent

-> yourusername miss making you cry during uno

-> landonorris IT WAS ONE TIME LET IT GO

username i want her

yourusername missing u and ur annoying gossip too ig

-> pierregasly don't act like u don't text me everyday ASKING for gossip

-> yourusername lies

username they're so ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by pierregasly, lilymhe, danielricciardo and 57 others

yourusername duality of student life

26 comments

landonorris can u even handle that much alcohol ?

-> yourusername says the one who passed out after drinking tequila

-> landonorris I WAS TIRED OKAY

danielricciardo i would drink colourful shit in the first picture

-> yourusername my dude that's phenolphthalein and methyl orange

lilymhe missing u so bad rn

-> yourusername too real missing my wife :///

carlossainz55 please call pierre he's crying

-> pierregasly STFU NO IM NOT

-> yourusername HELP OMG

pierregasly TOTALLY not crying because i love you!!!!!!! NOT at all!!!!!!!!!!

-> yourusername ofc!!!!!!!!! i believe u!!!!!!!!

pierregasly i love you ❤️

-> yourusername je t'aime ❤️

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, landonorris, yourbestfriend and 796,327 others

pierregasly when she's in love with you AND a phd student

tagged yourusername

4,691 comments

username HELP THAT'S SO CUTE

username oh my god i want this?????? so bad?????

username I WANT WHAT THEY HAVE

landonorris proof that y/n is secretly a hopeless romantic

-> yourusername don't spread misinformation x

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-> yourusername and ur blocked.

username THESE BITCHES SO IN LOVE IM SICK

username pls be mindful of the single people on this app 🙏

username im so ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ about them

danielricciardo that skeleton in the last slide in so me like i can't explain it

-> pierregasly "that's daniel idk why or how" is what she said when she sent that to me

-> yourusername and i spoke nothing but the truth

yourusername who said im in love with u?????

-> pierregasly "i love u so much ur so pretty and im so lucky to have u like idk im just so in love with u" ok.

-> yourusername ALL MY TEXTS ARE UNDER MY COPYRIGHT BUT OK GO AHEAD

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yourusername i've loved you three summers now honey but i want 'em all

tagged pierregasly

27 comments

charles_leclerc you should know that he's been giggling at this post for 20mins

-> yourusername LMFAOOOO

-> pierregasly STOP

landonorris omg she has feelings!!!!!!!! shocking!!!!!!!

-> yourusername this is why i have you saved as "stupid asshole" in my phone

lilymhe it's hard to see my gf with another man 🫤🫤🫤

-> yourusername he's just a side hoe babe dw abt it

lewishamilton roscoe misses u 🫶🏼

-> yourusername i miss my godson :///

danielricciardo PARENTS

-> yourusername SON????

-> pierregasly we have one but thanks

-> carlossainz55 YOU'RE PREGNANT?????

-> carmenmmundt OH MY GOD

-> alex_albon HELLO THIS IS HUGE

-> charles_leclerc WOAH

-> yourusername PIERRE U STUPID FUCK

-> pierregasly I MEANT SON AS IN OUR CAT WHAT THE FUCK

pierregasly i love you ⁉️

-> yourusername EVERYONE THINKS IM PREGNANT THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT

-> yourusername (i love u so much)

[chrisevansonly]

idt theres a pierre blub and i want to show some love if u dont mind? pierre gasly x reader where reader makes him stuff like flower crowns and paper rings? ty 💓

aww my first little pierre blurb, i’m dedicating this to all my pierre girlies 🫶🏻

by now the pile of little flower crows and colourful twine rings were growing on the living room coffee table in your home, pierre, your ever loving boyfriend playing model as you worked away on these crafts for your girls weekend coming up.

“pierre, can you please try this one on too?”

“combien de temps encore mon amour” he replied, a slight hint of annoyance in his tone but you knew he didn’t mean it

“a few more please? then i’ll leave you alone..i promise”

pierre knew you never asked much of him, so really he was more than happy to sit here with you and let you place as many flower crows on his head as you wanted

“i’ll sit here for however long you want baby, i’m just messing around”

“really you sure you don’t mind?”

he nods leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips

“i don’t”

“okay, thank you lovie…i promise it’s just this last one”

you carefully took the soft daisy crown in your hands before raising it to his head, smiling when it fit him perfectly

“one sec stay there..”

he was about to ask what you were doing but when you took your phone out to snap a picture, he didn’t need too. pierre was sure to indulge you, making funny faces as you giggled, knowing you’d keep this pictures of him forever

“so do i get to keep any of these or was i just a model today”

you nodded, fixing the daisies on his head

“yes, this one is yours, for um well putting up with my crafting for almost 3 hours”

he laughs stretching his arms dramatically as if he’d been sitting for days

“i love it, thank you…im finally free”

“hey!”

smacking his chest lightly he couldn’t hold back a laugh as he pulled you down to the floor with him

“tu aimais m'aider, ne mens pas”

“oui, parce que c'est pour toi...en plus maintenant tu peux venir jouer au padel avec moi!”

pierre continued to laugh as you groaned, knowing padel was not your favourite sport to play, but for him, you’d endure hitting the ball back and forth over a little net, until you’d give up taking your place with alexandra on the bench to watch charles and pierre battle it out

in his eyes, it was a win-win situation.

[russellsppttemplates]

Could you do a Pierre blurb where the reader is a famous model and the kids are amazed to see her dressed for the Met Gala while they stay with their grandparents while she and Pierre go to the event

"C'mon, kids! Your papa and your mama are scheduled to arrive soon!", Jean called them so they could all sit on the sofa to watch the arrivals.

"Is mama there yet? She told me her dress was white and then with flowers at the end", Alexandre offered.

"And papa's suit is green!!", Elódie added, sitting next to Pascale as she held Celeste on her lap.

"I think I spotted mama! Look! It's her there!", Louis got up from the sofa an pointed on the TV screen, "That's mama! Oh, sorry, grandma, I forgot you said no fingers on the TV", he apologised.

"It's okay, mon petit - come sit back on the sofa before your eyes get hurt though", she patted the pillow, "it is your mama indeed - she looks stunning!".

"Mama is very beautiful, and the dress she has makes her look even more beautiful", Alexandre beamed.

"She looks very nice - the way her hair is done suits her, don't you think chérie?", Jean asked his wife.

"Yes, she looks good with her hair up like that!", she smiled, "and Pierre looks nice too, I like his suit!".

"Mama looks like a nature princess", Elódie offered as Celeste turned around to see the screen, calling you and Pierre.

"When mama gets back, we have to tell her this! Do you think she will bring the dress home? Maybe she can wear it a few more times!", Louis mused.

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)