#LOVE YOUUUU 😘😘

[singsweetmelodies]

Game For Two

piarles ~ friends with benefits ~ 27.7k words ~ rated e

"So, uh, I guess that makes us officially friends with benefits, then?" Charles says hesitantly. "Do we need to, I don't know, sign a contract or something?"

Pierre has to laugh at that. "Sign a contract? What are you doing, agreeing what your ride is for next year?" He lets himself grin then, fiendish. "Hmm, I guess you are doing that. But I'd much rather seal it with a kiss."

Charles Leclerc wants to explore his sexuality after his recent break-up. Who better to give him a helping hand than his loyal (and devastatingly gorgeous) best friend?

Part 2 of the Baby Bi Bi Bi series

written for my beloved @welightitup - Tia, ily so so very much, and i hope you adore this (not so) little piece of piarles insanity as much as i loved writing it ❤️🦑❤️ i hope you have had the best birthday, my darling, and here's to many many more together! ❤️💙💚

biggest hugs and forehead kisses to @redyellowstupid (Part 1) and @leclerctops (Part 3) for being the best co-creators and partners in crime and giggles i could ever ask for! bi the way, i love you both so fucking much 💕💜💙

[cirillo-10]

[esmerulia-chantelle]

A GIFT FOR YOUUUU😭💗💖💗💗💖💗💖

JSNSIJSKDNDKDNDIDNDJBSJSNSBJSBSJSJSKSNSKSNDIHSUWHSBXBZJJWIWEJNXISNSKSJZNZJS

AZUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUL!!!!

Oh my gosh. Yaoyao, you didn't have to do this 🥺 Having you as a friend is a gift itself! ✨ Thank you for this 🥹🥹🥹 I LOVE IT!! 🩷💜🩷💜

[bulldog-butch]

tagged by @deathbyfemme to post 6 selfies 🥰

i’ll tag @meleninnnn, @loverbear-butch, and @strickenstud if y’all wanna 😘

[mrburnsnuclearpussy]

Daryl Dixon ❤️💓💗💖❤️‍🔥❣️💕💞💝💘💖💔💕💖❣️💓💓❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🩹❣️❤️❤️💜💜❤️🧡❤️❤️💘💖❤️‍🩹💓💖💕💕💞💘💕❣️❤️‍🩹💟💟💖❣️❤️‍🔥💗❤️💕❤️💟❤️💗💖💕❤️‍🩹💔💗💓❤️💖💖🧡💗💘💞💝💘💗💓❤️❤️💜💟💖

[halucynator]

Babes you’re wonderful, amazing, lovely & a great writer. Ignore stupid people 🖤🖤🖤🖤

awwww thank youuuu

also dw idgaf what those people say haha also that person who put that comment did not do it because of my writing but because of an argument we had in highschool (we used to know each other and I know you're thinking, how do you know it was them? they were on anon? well simply because that exact person put the exact same comment on my friend @m3ntallyunstable34 but forgot to turn on anon so yeah. i mean if you're gonna hate a) do it smartly and b) at least be creative) so yeah

and youre an amazing writer please teach me your waysssss like i could never be able to write like youuuuuu

alsooo thank you for thissss it made my dayyyyyy

[babsvibes]

Is it cheating to ask for Louigan songs if I've got your Louigan playlist?? A song for Louigan and a song for Louisica??? 💝🙌

It miiiight be cheating but I’m going to cheat right back by giving louisica a song referencing Adventure Time

Louisica: Marceline by Willow I was about to try to explain myself but you know what? The point of the game is vibes and this is alternative lesbians to ME

Louigan: confused by this because every song is about them?? But let’s go with an angsty-ish song today! HEADCASE by young friend

[whump-queen]

I- I'm sorry I ran away. They don't treat me like I'm anything special. Won't you hurt me again like I mean something to you?

awww poor little anon ::))) that apology was pathetic you can do better.

show me you’re special and scream nice and pretty for me, yeah?

[tofangirlonly]

Not our favourite small crab but they're for you anyway 🦀😘

[singsweetmelodies]

5, 42, 47 for piarles obvy bcs i wanna see you go insane 😘❤️

i haven't looked at what these numbers' relevant questions are, but i highly suspect that you are either the absolute worst or the absolute best. either way, ily so fucking much 😘😘 let's do this ;D

5. Describe their cozy night in.

HA I LOVE THAT! okay, and actually i have a really clear headcanon for this one :DD so, the thing is... they don't really have cozy nights in. oh, they try. on the rare occasions they both have time off on the same night, and they get to be in the same country too, then yes, they try. it seems so cute and romantic to have a movie night curled up on the couch together, no? except... that means they have to choose a movie. and to my mind, they would NEVER be able to agree on that, lmfao. charles, angel-faced charles, has been on record that he loves watching horror and psychological thrillers. pierre has been on record that he calls charles a psychopath for liking them. so just imagine these two idiots trying to have a movie night 🤣🤣 charles would be all "no, but this would be so interesting!" with wide eyes and a dimpled smile, and pierre would just be like "you're very cute and i love you but we're NOT watching the fucking jeffrey dahmer show on our one night together, thank you very much" and then charles is all huffy like "well i don't want to watch top gun for the five hundredth time, either" ...and then of course they have to fuck about it 😌👌

that's the core of my headcanon, actually. no matter what they try, they always end up fucking before so much as an hour has passed. like, even if they're just eating together, they probably won't even be able to finish dinner because one of them will jump the other "because you were teasing me by licking that spoon like that, charlo, you cannot blame me" or "how was i supposed to not get on my knees when you look that good cooking for me?!" and... yeah. you get the idea 😆 essentially, they just CANNOT keep their hands off each other, which means that any "cozy night in" very quickly devolves into pierre bending charles over the couch, or the counter, or any available surface, really (and very occasionally, it's charles fucking pierre, too.) they're just obsessed with each other, tbh. and who can blame them 😌

42. What's their favorite type of weather to enjoy together? (getting snowed in together, watching thunderstorms, etc.)

(ngl, my first thought when seeing this was "42 the answer to life the universe and everything 😍" so HA, tysm for that one, akira. ily <3333)

and as for the actual question: WELL, i'm going to give two answers for this one - the pierre version and the charles version. charles, i like to think, is the kind of person who gets cold super easily, but loves snow and wintry weather. (probably because he loves to steal pierre's jumpers and hoodies and beanies etc. etc.) wintry weather also gives him a hundred and one excuses to snuggle really close to pierre, bcs pierre always runs hot. (yes, pierre would totally make a hundred and one jokes about that, btw.) ALSO, i firmly believe that as much as charles loves stealing pierre's things, he'd also take great personal satisfaction in putting some of his own things on pierre - like a ferrari-branded scarf, or beanie, or whatever, under the guise of being a caring boyfriend and making sure pierre doesn't freeze. (pierre puts up with it because he knows charles is secretly a possessive bastard, too, and he loves it. freaks, the both of them, ngl. they're the best.)

now, pierre - i don't want to make him sound like too much of a rich fuckboy, but then again... that's what he is, isn't it xD so my headcanon is that pierre loves to take charles somewhere like ibiza or the greek islands, and spend long hours lazing on a yacht together, alternately swimming, sleeping in the sun and fucking on the deck of the boat (where someone probably won't be able to catch them, but you never know, and that's the thrill of it, of course.) and since the weather is so hot and humid, they have to spend all their time in swimming shorts and very loose (& usually unbuttoned) linen shirts, of course. (if there are even any shirts in the first place.)

so yeah 😆❄️🏖 i headcanon these two as total opposites regarding what types of weather they enjoy - but it's not as though either of them are complaining, hehe. best of both worlds, etc etc <3

47. Does either of them have a secret that could potentially ruin their relationship?

ooohhh, this is a good one 👀 and... call me a soppy romantic, and otp-obsessed, but i'm going to go for no. no, they don't.

hear me out, though! they've been friends for so long that i think they just... well, firstly, they already know almost everything about each other. but secondly, even if there was some devastating secret -- they'd be able to get through it. again, they have known each other for so long. when you've been friends forever, you can't imagine your life without that person. you would also forgive them for pretty much anything, and i think that's true for piarles. if one were so inclined, you could make that toxic, but to me it's just kind of beautiful. that security and safety net of "no matter how badly you fuck up, i'll still be there to catch you, because that's what we do for each other. we always have, and we always will." just. yeah. ❤️💙

(obligatory otp asks)

[danielsrightshoe]

Happy Valentine’s Day Remy my love !💍💗

[bulldog-butch]

I think you're super cool and a great friend and I wanna suck you silly

only if i get to return the favor 😈

confess something to me

[dinaslovr]

i love angel-gbc for making this mod 😍🙏🙇‍♀️

[halucynator]

✨🧡🌙SEND THIS TO OTHER BLOGGERS YOU THINK ARE WONDERFUL. KEEP THE GAME GOING ✨🧡

I love you 💖

[browneyes-issac]

I- *new love unlocked* 👀🤭⌚

I loveee his outfit, like you said... It's so Dieter, but so elegant. 😍 and he got to wear his everyday jewelry... 😮😍

I have no words.... 😍🔥🥵 That was soooo evilly delicious!!! 😍😍

Complications

Dieter Bravo x f!reader

|| Consent universe oneshot but can be read independently from the series ||

{ Fuck Yeah Holidays | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E

Prompts: Dieter shoots a watch ad | New Year's Eve

Summary: Dieter shoots a watch ad at a New Year’s Eve party. What could possibly happen - specifically in the VIP powder room - when the ball drops?

Warnings: !WATCH KINK!, dirty talk, fingering, semi-public sex. These holiday fics are for fun, so not as *rigorously edited* as my regular stories, please forgive any mistakes or plot holes!

Word count: 2.3k

In horology, a complication is any feature of a mechanical timepiece beyond the display of hours, minutes and seconds.

Dedicated to Maddie @imaswellkid for loving watches on Pedro boys as much as I do 😘

‘Sweetheart. C’mon, stop pouting.’

‘I’m not pouting.’

Dieter brushes the pad of his thumb across your lips, pursed petulantly despite your denial. ‘You so are.’

You swat away his hand then cross your arms. ‘I’m scowling. There’s a difference.’

You’re not sure who made the executive decision to appoint Dieter Bravo as the brand ambassador of a watchmaker. The man’s never worn a watch in his life. Time is but a social construct to him.

But what’s done is done, and he will be launched as the face of their new line of luxury watches at a New Year’s Eve party hosted by the brand this very evening - a last-minute decision that’s upset your plans for your first new year together.

Pete is throwing a bash at the warehouse conversion he’s just moved into, and you’ve been looking forward to seeing your backstage friends from Resurgence since you got the invite. You pull out your phone to text him your apologies, which Pete responds to speedily with a string of sad face emojis, and follows up with a call to Dieter.

You can hear Pete whining through the receiver even though the phone isn’t on speaker as your boyfriend pacifies him. ‘Man, you know how much I wanted to come, but this work thing came up last-minute. We’ll make our way over right after the countdown, I promise. Yes, pinky promise.’

Your lips quirk despite your mood.

Hanging up as the car rolls to a stop in front of a swanky hotel, Dieter sighs at your long face. He leans over to press a kiss to your impassive lips, his brown eyes pleading. ‘I’ll make it up to you sweetheart, ok?’

‘Fine,’ you huff, softening just the tiniest bit as the car doors are flung open, and with one last smile at you, Dieter is whisked away by his PR team.

Midnight is still a few hours away, and the schedule is tightly packed with a photoshoot beforehand and filming of behind-the-scenes footage for social media. They settle you in the lounge of the presidential suite while Dieter gets ready in the other room, and you begrudgingly accept a glass of champagne and the plate of canapes they leave you on the coffee table.

You pace yourself, making the bubbles last. Pumped up dance music spills from his room as the door opens and closes with the rush of pre-shoot chaos. Garment bags, shoe boxes and makeup trolleys come and go as you entertain yourself with the glossy magazines on the coffee table while the PR team buzzes about, wired to earpieces and shouting orders into their phones.

You’re halfway through an embarrassingly engrossing magazine quiz - how hot is your sex life according to your fave side dish - when a shadow falls over you.

‘Sweetheart, we’re heading down to the party now. Come with?’

You can’t help but stare.

To be honest, you had no expectations whatsoever for this gig. You thought they would dress him up in a generic black suit, take some generic shots with him fiddling with his cufflink while showing off his timepiece like every other generic watch ad. It’s not like you don’t appreciate a sharp suit or a nice watch, you do - but it’s just not Dieter.

And it looks like the stylist heard your prayers.

Instead of a traditional two-piece, Dieter is wearing relaxed dress pants, a light knitted pullover tucked into them over a smart belt. Rounding off the ensemble is a smart knee-length black coat with sharp lapels. His signature sunglasses perch on the tip of his nose, his curls styled messily.

The sleeves of the coat are folded up to expose his strong hands, but what really catches your eye sits on his left wrist - a large, square-faced watch with a steel chain bracelet.

While you don’t count yourself a connoisseur, you know enough to recognise that this watch is the real deal. The time display is in refined Roman numerals, and an elegant moonphase complication sits at the top of the dial. The pièce de résistance is the small, circular window at the bottom of the face that offers a peek into the sacred inner mechanics - the tourbillon. Beneath the glass is a gorgeous criss-crossing of gold wheels, brass cogs, and silver springs, all tangled in perfect synchronisation, endless moving parts that tick and spin.

It is a beautiful watch, no doubt, and a hugely expensive one at that.

To your consternation, they’re letting him wear his ratty knitted bracelet he bought from a vendor on a farflung beach in Thailand on the same hand, as well as his rings with the black gemstones on his index and pinky fingers.

While unusual in theory, the contrast somehow pays off. The whole look just works - it’s Dieter. You could kiss the stylist on the mouth with joy even though your boyfriend is standing right there.

‘Sweetheart?’

Your eyes fall to Dieter’s palm, open and outstretched in invitation. Then they move just a few inches upward, lingering on the smooth steel encircling his wrist.

You swallow thickly and put your hand in his, letting him pull you onto your feet, knees wobbly. A shiver runs down the length of your spine when the watch brushes your skin.

It should come as no surprise to you that Dieter is just as good on the set of a photoshoot as a movie. He works the angles, ever aware of the lighting and the cameras, hitting pose after pose like the professional that he is.

The photographer’s assistant shows you the stills on a laptop as they snap. With the set outdoors in the dark, the raw lighting - bordering on harsh - lends a gritty overtone to the photos, the tone far more artistic than commercial.

There’s no tweaking of cufflinks or stale power posing here. Dieter’s smouldering at the camera, peeking through his hand while the watch takes centre stage. He’s raking his fingers through his hair, lips grazing the metal strap as he gazes into the lens.

But when he brings it to his mouth, biting the steel case with the pink of his tongue peeking through, your knees all but give out.

By the time the photographer yells it’s a wrap, you’re a mess. Tension hums under your skin and there’s a stickiness between your legs that puts you in a highly inconvenient position given that Dieter will be fully occupied for the next hour and a half. You adjust your dress as discreetly as you can, jumping when his palm lands warm on your back as he ushers you indoors before you can pull yourself together.

This party is not your scene. Formulaic pop music blares from the speakers, beautiful people mill about in sequins that sparkle under the disco lights and bounce off blindingly from mirrors everywhere you look. The only redeeming detail is the delicious champagne that flows liberally, at least that tempers the tedium.

Everyone wants a piece of him. Sometimes you find it hard to believe that this is the same guy who doesn’t know how to load a dishwasher. He handles the relentless demands with aplomb - a selfie with a fan here, a few words for New York Times Style magazine there, all the while performing for the live stream camera that trails two steps behind him.

You linger nearby, following discreetly while sipping on champagne. Even from a distance, the watch catches the light whenever he moves. Dieter notices you staring, jaw slack, more than once. But the harder you try to act normal, the more on edge you get. He sends you more than one quizzical glance over the top of his sunglasses, but with people buzzing around him like pesky wasps, it’s not until twenty minutes to midnight that he catches a break and drags you unceremoniously into the VIP bathroom.

The heavy oak door shuts out the blasted music as Dieter locks it behind him, wheeling you around with his grip on your elbows. ‘Alright sweetheart, what is it? Are you still mad about Pete’s party?’

You grit your teeth and force yourself to keep your eyes on his. ‘No.’

He sighs. ‘We can go afterwards. I told Pete we will, I just need to do this countdown thing and we can go right after.’

‘I said it’s not that,’ you insist, fighting the damn magnetic force trying to drag your gaze downwards.

Tugging you into his arms, Dieter traces his nose on your cheek. ‘C’mon sweetheart. I’ll make it up to you.’

Your voice trembles. ‘I’m not lying, I’m fine.’

Clearly unconvinced, he arches an eyebrow at you before pulling back, cocking his wrist to check the time.

The whimper slips from you without you knowing, suspended in the air between you that thickens instantly like some chemical reaction.

Dieter looks at you sharply. ‘What was that, sweetheart?’

You give in and take a peek at his watch for just one second, but he catches you - of course he does. A cocky grin tugs at the corner of his lips as he drawls, ‘What have we here - found a new accessory that you like the look of?’

You whine, a hot flush of embarrassment in your chest. ‘I don’t know why it turns me on.’

‘What does? The fact that I can tell time?’ he teases. Splaying his left palm on the nape of your neck, the cold bracelet of his watch caresses the side of your neck. ‘First my rings, now this? You filthy girl.’

‘I can’t help it,’ you gripe.

Knowing exactly what it does to you, Dieter takes another exaggerated look at his watch, head tilted to the side. ‘We have fifteen minutes. Can you be quick, sweetheart?’

At your desperate nod, he backs you up into the full-length mirror on the far side of the powder room before spinning you around, crowding you against the cool surface. His entire body engulfs from behind you as he trails kisses down the side of your neck, watching your reflection squirm in his grasp from the corner of his eye. With no preamble, he bunches your tight skirt all the way up your hips and tugs your panties to one side impatiently.

‘Look at how wet those panties are,’ he moans into your ear. ‘Have you just been standing there checking me out, rubbing your thighs together all this time?’

A gasp catches in your throat. ‘Yes.’

His left palm trails down your body, and you stare openly as the watch skims over your body, the hard steel scraping the swell of your cleavage as it descends. You’re panting by the time Dieter’s fingers slide along your folds until the tips nudge your slick entrance, a cry wrangled from you when the watch falls to the base of his hand and the strap grazes your clit. With a growl, he presses his inner wrist into the sensitive apex of your thighs. ‘Feel good, baby?’

You make an incoherent sound when two thick digits slip into your sodden pussy. ‘Oh fuck, yes, please.’

‘Rub that needy clit on my watch, sweetheart,’ he orders, dark eyes on you. ‘Smear yourself all over it.’

You mewl and do as you’re told. Riding his fingers, you feel every ridge on the watch strap as you grind into the smooth steel, your movements crude and fitful. Dieter has to hold you up with his free arm wound tight around your waist while your hands cling to the back of his neck.

‘Fuck, you’re getting so wet,’ he says through gritted teeth, as if in awe, and pumps harder into you. ‘Oh yes, I feel your cunt clenching around me, you’re close, aren’t you?’

You moan, words failing you. ‘Don’t stop, please -’

‘Fuck, baby, you’re getting my watch all wet,’ he grunts, pinching your chin between his fingers, making you look at yourself in the mirror. ‘See how it’s shiny with your slick? So fucking pretty, sweetheart.’

You feel another gush of arousal drip down his hand, and his watch slips, the bracelet catching your clit in an angle that makes your back arch. You cum hard, writhing desperately in his grasp as he whispers filth into your ear through your high. ‘So good for me, baby, that’s it, such a good girl, dripping all over my expensive watch, you filthy thing -’

Dieter nuzzles your neck as you catch your breath, the scrape of his beard on your sensitive skin making you tremble and squirm in his grip. He gently eases out of you, sucking his fingers clean before turning you around and kissing you slowly and deeply so that you can taste yourself on his tongue.

You’re still drifting in the aftershock when a frantic series of knocks on the bathroom door shakes you out of it. With an irritated snarl, Dieter barks, ‘What?’

‘Um, Mr. Bravo - we’re five minutes from midnight, you need to come out right now -’

‘I can read the fucking time,’ he snaps and gives you an apologetic kiss to the temple. ‘Sorry baby, work beckons.’

Your hand shoots out of nowhere to grab him, and locking your gaze with him, you drag the flat of your tongue across the damp strap, tasting yourself on the metal.

His nostrils flare and you can almost hear his jaw crack, pupils blown wide and black as you give him a wicked grin. Snaking one palm all the way down to rub his straining erection, you breathe into his ear. ‘I want you to stroke yourself until you cum all over that fancy watch later, okay?’

He groans, burying his nose in your hair. ‘How am I going to count down with this huge fucking boner in my pants, baby?’

You wink and give him a full-mouthed kiss. ‘Just think of it as a countdown to something else after.’

Dieter chuckles against your lips. ‘Happy fucking New Year indeed, sweetheart.’

Notes: I finally did it. A watch kink fic! Honestly, it's not as wild as it could've been, but damn I had the best time writing it. Thank you for reading, wishing all you wonderful people a very happy new year! ❤️

As soon as it was became clear from the results that NYE was going to be paired with the watch ad prompt, I just knew instantly I had to set it in a NYE party. Thank you Hayley @haylzcyon for this request that went perfectly with my idea:

ooohhh don't feel pressured to write this in if you do the NYE prompt but the idea of a swanky NYE party where reader and dieter get a little tipsy, sneak off for a quickie in a coat room or something and realize they missed the ball drop when they come back would be hilarious. dieter can't imagine a better way to ring in the new year than between your thighs 😏