#Pierre gasly wallpaper

[redskull199987]

Zandvoort GP 2023

1. Max Verstappen

2. Fernando Alonso

3. Pierre Gasly

[allphatauri]

i love this photo so much not only because it's absolutely gorgeous as a photo but because he's . he's really just in awe (who wouldn't be!!) and . yeah

[daddyricsdoll]

[bright-and-burning]

f1 unlocked wallpaper, unedited logo version under the cut

[willboland]

a couple f1 lockscreens of the boys 💛

[ferraricedes]

F1 wallpaper edits made by me <3

Feel free to use them!

George Russell

Pierre Gasly

Charles Leclerc

[thatsdemko]

love affair- a.leclerc & c.leclerc

masterlist

requested: n

pairings: Arthur leclerc x gasly!fem!reader & Charles leclerc x gasly!fem!reader

warnings: nsfw + not intended for minors + mentions of nudity + mentions of oral (f receiving)

a/n: mwahahaha I love creating chaos 😌 also the lyrics are from 5sos! I am well aware none of these men(and the beautiful y/n) are not English! it’s just part of the lyrics! this has zero to do with my previous Arthur x gasly!reader fic! feedback is always appreciated xx

《 the following content is not intended for minors. 》

It started on a weekend in May

I was looking for attention, needed intervention

his beautiful green eyes are glued to your body as you move across the hot sand of the beach. you begged your brother to pull over so you could take a dip, cool off, you said.

maybe it was your plan to get him to look, you were never going to say. but you felt those eyes in the passenger seat, he watched your breasts bounce up and down as you jog up to the car, the water that’s left on your tan legs glisten in the sun.

“don’t get your wet bottoms on my seats!” Pierre calls out as you dance around the hot pavement, Charles throws his jacket over the leather before you slip in.

“thank you, Charles.” you reach behind the seats pressing a friendly kiss to your brothers best friends cheek, Pierre groans trying to wipe the ends of your wet hair off the leather.

he watches you collapse against the burning black leather seats. little does he know that in exactly six hours he’d be crammed up in the back eating you out. he’d be shoving his hard cock into your swollen pussy, his hand gripping your throat while you choke his name.

Before I knew it, it was serious

Dragged me out the bar to the back seat of her car

TWELVE HOURS EARLIER

you think you’re the only one awake. you still tip toe around the creaking old floors, you’re in nothing but your brothers old alpha tauri shirt and a pair of an ex boyfriends boxers. when you make your way into the living room you half expect to see someone else awake.

“my my, is this a sight to see.” Charles smirks, chuckle escaping his lips. he’s never seen in anything other than a tight shirt and a pair of bottoms that are way too short. even when you were kids your style was far similar to what it is now.

“oh fuck off,” you mumble slipping next to him on the love seat, and he extends the blanket over into your lap. two of you now watching whatever old black and white movie was on.

“can’t sleep?” he asks, voice in a hushed tone watching your body settle into the seats, thigh quickly brushing his before you pulled away. he can’t help but feel the nervousness scatter his stomach.

“not with my brother snoring in the other room.” you roll your eyes, as much as you love Pierre, his nostrils were the death of you every time you take this summer trip.

“why don’t you sleep in my room? Arthur doesn’t snore. we can swap beds.” he suggests, and you almost laugh knowing he doesn’t want to spend his nights in your pink and white wallpapered bedroom. as much as you know he’s in touch with his feminine side, you’re sure he won’t last the night with the pink colors mocking him.

“that or we could just piss Arthur off, have Pierre sleep in your room.” you suggest and he nods. the silence and crackling of the old film are what occupies the air, it’s almost unfamiliar to you both. this room was always full of laughter and joy, you hate hearing it so dead.

“why don’t you just sleep in my bed with me?” he’s half serious, the sleep deprivation was doing most of his talking right now. when he looks you in the eyes he doesn’t expect you to say yes, but you do. now you’re wrapped in his white linen sheets and the cool breeze from his window blows into your face.

you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t wish this was something more. part of you woke up because you knew he was down there shirtless lounging around in nothing but his tiny shorts. you’re not sure if it’s your own sleep deprivation convincing you that you needed him, but will you be thankful in twenty four hours for what god brings you.

NOW

“sleep well?” Arthur watches you nearly stumble down the stairs into the living room. you’re practically limping, it’s obvious you either hurt yourself at the club or whoever left all those hickeys on your neck left you disoriented.

“something like that.” you wave him off heading into the kitchen where the smell of bacon, eggs, and toast are coming from. your mouth is watering you’re so hungry, you almost don’t even catch your brothers glare while you scarf down two plates of food.

“do I even want to know?” he asks, fork gesturing to the purple and yellow bruises that scatter your neck. he can’t even look at you, he’s disgusted by whoever the man was that left his marking. little does he know the man is his best friend who just entered the kitchen mumbling his late good mornings.

“where were you for our run? I knocked on your door five times.” Lorenzo shoves a plate of food into his brothers chest half caring that some of the egg fell on to the floor. he’s disappointed in his younger brothers lack of motivation and discipline.

“I overslept.” Charles lies. that’s partially true, but while Lorenzo was knocking on his door at five in the morning, you were giving him a good morning treat before his run. he claims it to have been the best way to wake up, it’s why he skipped the run.

Pierre nearly chokes on his dry toast when he sees the nail marks against his friends back. they are still fresh and bright red, he’s surprised Arthur didn’t say a single thing when he walked by.

“and somebody was worried about not getting something this trip.”

“oh wow,” Arthur barely touches one of the marks on his back, it earns a hiss from Charles as he tries to swat the younger man to move along, “these are going to leave quite the mark for awhile.”

you try to hide the red hue that’s floating across your face. you’re lucky all of them are too focused on the nail marks and the details of his wild night. you didn’t expect them to be so obvious, but the acrylics were still fresh from the other day and sharper than you expected them to be.

“would you see her again?” Lorenzo asks sliding into the chair next to Pierre. the question brought you a wave of nausea, you get up instantly once he sits down. there’s no way you’ll be able to hear the truth or the lie. either way you know you crossed a line, and seeing Charles in that setting once more wasn’t an option for you.

“yeah, I would.”

—

“you don’t own a single thing that doesn’t compliment you, huh?” he takes your hand in his allowing you to twirl and show off the tight body con dress.

you shrug, sheepish smile spreading across your lips, “you like it?” you’re not sure what’s provoked you to ask, but he just nods tongue licking his bottom lip watching you saunter on over to find a pair of high heels to match.

his eyes trail after your body, it’s like he’s never seen an ass and a pair of tits as good as yours. everything about you demanded his, hell anybody’s, attention. every inch of you screamed perfection, it’s impossible for a man to look away, and right now it’s impossible for him.

“what’s on your mind, leclerc?” you bend down to pick up your black high heels and move to a chair to slide them on. he’s right at the edge of the coffee table doing it for you instead. his fingers pull the little string through the hoops, finger tips grazing your legs.

“you.” he says, watching you slide your leg off his thigh and stand up adjusting the dress down your thighs. his eyes follow your body with lust, you swear you’ve never seen a man wrapped around your finger so quickly.

you’re smiling, he’s so pure, you think to yourself, as you use your index finger to tilt his chin upwards, “I’m thinking of you too, Arthur.” you bend down, head dipping to press your lips against his. they’re sweet and soft just like he imagined them to be, he practically moans at the delicacy.

he runs his hands up and down your body, you don’t mind that they linger a little too long on your ass, you think it’s adorable how excited he is. little does he know he’d have you sucking on his swollen cock in the public restroom of the bar. you’d be on your knees listening to him moan your name and later that evening he’d be asking if he was just as good as the guy from last night.

he’d then take you to that same car, and just like his brother, his hard cock would be entering your throbbing pussy each stroke full of passion and intimacy. you could melt at how careful the leclerc’s take their sexual activities.

you can’t tell him who’s better, there’s no clear winner. but god forbid you would never tell him the man before him was his own brother.

When the lights go out, she's all I ever think about

The picture burning in my brain, kissing in the rain

I can't forget, my English love affair

[iconocon]

what about me | verstappen

⚔︎ ✧ (short)

there he was.

a wet max verstappen stood in the doorframe of your apartment smelling like the mini-bar of a cheap hotel and it was not a good look on him. your eyes went from the bird's nest of a hair on his head to the dark wine-red half-smudged lipstick stain on his white collared shirt to the belt around his waist that was left on one notch too big.

"i didn't know where else to go"

"why would you come here"

"i needed you please don't make me go home"

you hated him. hated that he always knew exactly what to say to suck you in, to forgive him for the stupid shit he does but your heart was too big to kick the wet beaten-down puppy anymore so with a big sigh you stepped backward allowing him into the hallway.

"max"

you two knew each other well enough by this point that he automatically tried reaching to take off his wet black dress shoes but I'm sure the rain mixed with the cheap vodka was too much for him and he went tumbling to the wooden floor in a mess. if anything your patience with him was wearing thin and with one glance into your living you would see the big clock above your sofa laying out the time of 3:25 in the morning. so slowly getting down to his height you reached for one foot while he reached for the other, of course, you managed it way before him and even chuckled at the frustrated look on his face as he struggled with the knot he himself made which did all but distract his gaze to your face. the way he stared at you was unnerving, as if he wanted to say something so bad but didn't have the guts to do it and that probably scared you the most because if he of all people was scared to say something it was not something you wanted to hear.

"come"

before you could even say no or turn down the offer the man himself nudged your knee out from underneath you with just his foot laying you flat on ur butt/the wet footprints he made himself minutes before.

"what the fu-"

"i don't know who i am anymore" he interrupted and before you could say anything he stopped you with a hand on your knee as he stared mindlessly with glazed-over eyes into your beige wallpaper abyss of a hallway, "I'm not happy not at home, not on the track, I don't know how to make it okay again" you wanted to reach out and touch him but every time your fingers moved closer to his body he shifted around them so he was just so out of reach which at this point should have been a normal occurrence for you but it still didn't stop the pain in your chest. "i went out and i did what the guys wanted, i drank and drank, and i danced with some girl who only liked me fo-" the hiccup stopped he sentence but the lipstick mark on his collar told the story for him. "i wanted to be okay just for one night" this time you didn't allow him to push his body away from you and instead sat shoulder to shoulder with him grabbing his damp head and pulling it down into your lap. as you ran your fingers through his hair you hummed a familiar song that you both loved as children even going as far to label it as ‘your song’.

max was a tough guy. growing up in the way in which he did he wasn't allowed the luxury of being a crazy teen or a child that could talk back to his parents. he was a prodigy meant to be something greater than all the other kids on the block and you saw it in him the moment you met on track. at that time you wanted to be something too, you wanted to be bigger than all the stars, but reality set in for you too young making you realize that you weren't cut out for the same dreams as your peers however that didn't stop you from being a selfish child then adult and keeping him.

your crush on max was visible from day one, he was all chubby bright pink cheeks and fury. you want to say the first time you realized your crush was the same day he yelled at pierre gasly (one of your now both good friends) for pushing you off track after he broke late in one of the corners making you cry your eyes out because you were finally able to compete for a podium. it was dumb and it was stupid but he was your savior even as children making sure to do everything he could to make you laugh even making himself look stupid to onlookers in restaurants by putting straws up his nose one day when you were sad your mom said you couldn’t have ice cream.

when he too grew up and left it was probably the hardest thing you had to go through because to you he was your peace, your home, but as a teen, it was hard for you to realize at the time that you weren't his. racing took your best friend away, and it was bittersweet because he was so good. he was better than you thought he was, and now your drunk sad best friend was a two-time world champion who could be recognized around the world. for fucks sake he raced in countries you could only dream of on a normal person's salary and even when it felt like you grew so far apart you knew he still needed you as he did now. you were the one person in the world he knew he could come to and cry and cry and do it again until he couldn't feel any more but yet maybe he didn't understand why that hurt you. why right now as he was laying in your arms you were so focused on the way his heart skipped a beat when he snored that your own heartbeat fell in tune with him.

you loved max verstappen and even though you could never be enough for him you selfishly hoped now as you did as children that he would always need you even if that meant waiting forever but, for now, you slept dreaming of what it could be like if maybe just maybe he did too.

⌯

AN

this is so short and probably bad but i was SAD and i might delete it idk i haven't written in so long but i have a few in the chamber anyway pls send prompts I love u!

[oyesmendes]

heartbreak anniversary

a/n: just saying, i may break your heart... and this has barely anything to do with the song...

masterlist

pierre is laying flat on his back, eyes tracing the wallpaper lined on the ceiling. he never thought wallpapers should be put up there, but that wasn't what you thought. the intricate details of the slightly reflective material curving the white background reminded him of stars in the sky, the shining light in darkness. he remembers the exact day you picked this out, lugging the entire roll through the front door.

-

"mon amour, what are you doing?" pierre asked worriedly, helping you to pull the roll through the door.

"wallpaper! thought it'd look good on the ceiling." your forehead was covered in sweat, but you still grinned at him lovingly.

"wallpaper on the ceiling? what for? our walls are painted just fine."

"oh just wait till i stick it up there."

"careful, mon ange." he warns.

you look down at him smiling, "i'll be okay, pierre."

the door bell rings, and that's pierre's cue to snap back to reality. he trudged to the front door, opening it to reveal charles, holding a case of beers and takeout.

"i'm really not in the mood, charles." pierre tells him as he walks straight into the house.

charles chucks the beer in the fridge, "well, i honestly couldn't care. you need to get out of this foul mood you've been in for the last month."

"i broke up with her, don't expect me to be popping champagne." pierre mumbles.

"yeah, you made a mistake. mourn, then get over it."

mistake. yeah, he made a grave mistake. pierre plops himself on the couch while charles pulls out plates for the both of them, piling each one with food. he hands one of them to pierre - chinese takeout from your favourite restaurant. but he couldn't blame charles, the boy wouldn't have known a mere chao mien could bring up unwanted memories.

charles takes a seat next to him, "she's in milan, yknow. walking for dior and versace next week."

pierre nearly drops his chopsticks, but he turns to look at charles.

"how did you know?" his friend looks at him sympathetically, but turns back to his plate.

"i had dinner with her and charlotte a couple of days ago. she was in monaco."

pierre doesn't respond, a silence falling between them. he thinks to the time they went on double dates, travelling the world together, doing the things they loved. they made a great friend group, if only he didn't fuck up.

"she's doing okay, pierre." charles finally says. pierre hums in response.

"you fucked up, but she's doing okay. she's moving on, maybe you should too."

fucked up. that was the understatement of the year. he more than royally fucked up, pierre knew he broke the one good thing he had going on in his life just because of a bad night.

-

"i can't believe you, pierre gasly. i can't fucking believe you." you pace the walls of the room, anger boiling in your chest.

"we had one bad argument, then you get on the plane without me - fly home and find some chick?!" you shouted, almost screamed at him. pierre sat on the couch with his head in his hands. he hasn't seen you this angry in the two years he's known you.

"i'm sorry, mon ange. i'm sorry, i'm so sorry." he shakes his head, repeating the words over and over again.

"what were you thinking? do you still want to do this?" your voice cracks, and god knows you're trying so hard not to cry. pierre's head shoots up at your words, and he grabs your wrist.

"don't leave, mon amour. i still want us, i still want you."

you pull away from him, crossing your arms in front of you, "i don't think you do, pierre."

"i do, i really do." the pain in his voice was unbearable to you, and the tears started to fall.

"then why did you do that, why did you even bring her to see your mom? how could you do such a thing?"

"i-i didn't, you have to trust me on this, mon ange. we were at a cafe, and saw my mom- and i- we-" pierre had tears in his eyes, he was choking on every emotion he was feeling in his body. he wanted to scream at those damned paparazzi, following his every move; if the pictures didn't leak, maybe none of this would've happened.

"i don't know if i can trust you anymore." although it was sort of a relief, hearing that he didn't exactly mean for his mother to see that woman, you still felt so stuck, so in pain that the one person you trusted with your whole life had betrayed you, just like that.

"please, mon ange." he begged.

"i''m sorry, pierre."

-

"it's our third anniversary tomorrow." pierre finally says.

charles looks at pierre, and he can't quite decipher his emotions - was it sadness, pain or anger? he squeezes his best friend's shoulder, "it'll be okay, you will get through this."

will he though? no one actually knew. not pierre, not charles, not even the gods above. charles gathers both their plates - his empty, pierre's barely touched, and puts them in the dishwasher. he contemplates getting a beer for both of them, but decides against it as he watches his best friend stare into empty space.

charles sighs, "i'm gonna let you have the space. i'll see you next week, pierre."

"thank you for dinner." was all that pierre managed to say. his friend smiles at him, "it's the least i could do."

midnight strikes and pierre is still laying on the couch, tear stains on his cheeks, and his ragged breathing returning to normal. he picks up his phone to check the time, and the dreadful notification is on the top of his screen.

💕third anniversary!!💕

he doesn't know why he needed to set up a god damn calendar notification, because everyone knew that was the one day in the year no one could touch. he almost throws his phone to the ground in anger but he stops himself, unlocking the screen and going straight to your name. your contact was saved with a picture of you in his helmet at the very first race you were invited to, your eyes were glistening with joy. it was one of his favourite pictures, though he could barely see your face, he could feel the happiness even through the screen. he taps on the keypad carefully, making sure there were no typos, no mistakes.

joyeux troisième anniversaire, mon amour. tu me manque.

happy third anniversary, my love. i miss you. hit send. the deed was done. he couldn't turn back now. the screen dims for a moment, then lights up, three hopeful dots changes the mood in the room immediately. he watches the text bubble move, then disappear; move, then disappear.

it takes an hour, whole sixty minutes before his phone vibrates again. immediately pierre grabs his phone, fumbling with the screen to get to your message. it's only one sentence, but he didn't expect it to break his heart all over again.

j'espère que tu vas bien Pierre

i hope you are doing well, pierre. nothing more, nothing less. and it hurts. like a knife to his chest, it hurts like hell. pierre pushes his phone onto the coffee table, dragging his body through the house and into the room. he practically throws himself on to his unmade bed, burying his head in his pillow.

he was defeated, and he felt in his heart that this was the end. there was no return for you and him. this was goodbye, he thought to himself. this was the sign he needed to move on.

but the phone buzzes once more.

tu me manques aussi

i miss you too.

-

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[formulagrafica]

Speed Bandit - Pierre Gasly

If you like these wallpapers, don’t forget share it with your friends and download your favorite 🏁

[discopaddock]

BIEVRE RIVER - PIERRE GASLY (PART 2)

PAIRING: pierre gasly x fem!reader

GENRE: fluff

WORD COUNT: 841

NOTE: finally found time to write 2nd part! hope you guys like it. PART 2 TO THIS

WARNINGS: none just my english

The next few days were living hell for Pierre. Everything reminded him of his ex-fiancée. In addition, he had to arrange the wedding and hoped to get his money back. Because he was the one who took care of the financial issue of planning the celebration.

Unfortunately, his family did not leave a dry thread on him, constantly asking him about the reason for Dulcinea's run off from the church.

As if they couldn't leave him alone and end up with one and the same question.

Plus, Charles kept telling him about some girl that he should talk to her, and he honestly couldn't remember anything since his run away from the church on that fateful day.

But when he saw a photo in his gallery with a Y/H/C girl looking to the left, something clicked on his sad mind.

He also remembered that drunk as a bum, he asked her for her phone number. So when he went to the contacts on his phone and saw an unfamiliar name there, he felt a twist of embarrassment in his stomach.

He had no idea what he had said or how he had behaved that afternoon and evening, and he was embarrassed and disgusted with himself.

So he forced himself to write two short text messages in which he introduced himself and apologised for his behaviour.

Unfortunately, he had to wait a long time for the answer, because it came more than two hours later.

He was happy and relieved when he saw the message, the content of which said that Y/N was not angry with him at all and did not blame him for his behavior.

But the text that she thought he had forgotten about her made him huff appalled.

"I never forget, sweets ;)"

He replied yes and then started a completely different topic of conversation. About macaroons. He asked about her favorite flavor of those stupid cookies she had brought with her that day.

Y/L/N nearly spat out the tomato soup she was eating when she read the text. Nevertheless, she wrote him back, and so began their conversation, at the end of which they agreed to meet on the beach of the Bievre River.

When Charles heard from his friend that he was going to meet a girl next week, he thought the friend was joking. He was terribly surprised to find that Gasly was deadly serious.

Of course, Pierre emphasised at every turn that it was not a romantic or sexual meeting - he didn't know this girl and wanted to meet her sober.

And so he did, and Y/N herself turned out to be his first platonic, or so he thought, soulmate.

She was a wonderful friend, and not only in his opinion, because Charlotte Siné herself fell in love with her (reciprocally) at first sight.

Lottie became very close to her and together with Eszter they were confidants of Y/L/N's secrets.

They were also the first people to know about her crush on Pierre.

This happened about five months after their first meeting. Of course, Y/N had liked Gasly before, since they'd really met, but she thought that phase with him would pass.

Unfortunately, that didn't happen.

The first one to discover it was Balog, who noticed that her best friend's phone wallpaper was no longer with Timothée, whom she had adored since she was about fourteen, but with Pierre, and it wasn't some random Pinterest or Instagram picture of that man. It was a photo the brunette had taken on the day of his failed wedding as Charles was driving them home.

Eszter confided her discovery to Charlotte, who immediately stated that she would come from Monaco to Paris for coffee and told the Hungarian woman to prepare bedding for her.

That night was not easy for Y/N, who admitted her infatuation and cried, thinking that it was not serious that she liked a man whom her fiancée had just left, Pierre would not like her that way and she should not push herself like this relationship because only I will suffer.

And well, she might be right about the last one, but about the first two, according to the girls, she was wrong.

Soon after, Charlotte accidentally spilled a little crush on Charles to Charles, who promised not to tell Gasly.

He lied.

He lied perfidiously.

The very next day he told his best friend about it, who, hearing the source of this fact, only hit him on the head.

Pierre had already noticed that Y/N had become interested in him in a romantic way, but he also didn't want to enter into any relationship at the time. He had just finished dealing with the cancellation of the wedding, and here Leclerc told him to go on a date.

The brunette man really liked Y/N. He found her extremely attractive and thought she was an amazing person.

But he needed time.

Plus, he didn't want Y/L/N to feel like a temporary distraction.

First he had to heal, and only then enter into new relationships.

[amberfaber40]

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[jennnnhunt]

Just Pierre obsessed with monza just as much as us fans 😭🥹

[f1schumi]

can i please request a pierre gasly wallpaper edit? 🥺❤️

I hope you like them ❤

Pierre Gasly wallpapers

Like or reblog if you use them

I also take requests:)

[f1stuffpsd]

pierre gasly lockscreens

like/reblog if you save!

only suggestions!

credits on twitter: @f1stuffpsd

[russellnoir]

⌨︎ᵎ pierre gasly lockscreen/wallpaper⌨︎ᵎ [i actually don’t like them but these are the best i can do]

• [♡] if u save, please

• request

• if u want a iphone 11 version let me know

•send requests, please

hope u like it!