#bepsysmut

reader = pink

bepsy = purple

ron = blue

lacy = red

jason = orange

silky = green

TOO LOUD

warnings: unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, creampie, praise, slow + passionate sex, lots of kissing/affection, morning-after embarrassment

it’s late, way past when either of you should still be awake. the movie on tv is nothing but background noise, light flickering across the couch where you and bepsy are slouched together.

you’re curled under a blanket, scrolling your phone, pretending you don’t notice the way his knee keeps bumping yours.

“you’re hogging the blanket again,” he mutters, not looking away from the screen.

“you always say that when you’re the one stealing it.”

he smirks, leaning closer. “then maybe you should come share mine.”

you roll your eyes, but the heat in your chest betrays you. “you’re impossible.”

“and yet,” he says, stretching one long arm across the back of the couch, fingertips brushing your shoulder, “you’re still here.”

you glance over, ready with another sarcastic reply—but his eyes are already on you. soft, intent. and suddenly your words stick.

“what?” you whisper.

“just thinking,” he says, lips twitching. “you’re really pretty when you get all defensive.”

you laugh under your breath, flustered. “shut up.”

“make me,” he teases—except this time, his voice dips low, almost serious.

you don’t. instead, you lean in first, brushing your mouth against his.

it starts tentative, a question. but he answers immediately, kissing you back slow and warm, like he’s been waiting for this exact moment. his hand cups your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek, holding you steady as he deepens it.

by the time he pulls back, you’re breathless. “bepsy—”

“been wanting to do that forever,” he admits, forehead resting against yours. “can i…?”

you nod before he even finishes.

he doesn’t rush. his lips trace along your jaw, down your throat, kissing gently like every inch of you deserves to be memorized. his hands slide under your shirt, palms warm against your skin, and he murmurs, “so perfect. i can’t believe this is real.”

the blanket slips to the floor as he eases you back against the couch, covering your body with his. when he lifts your shirt over your head, he pauses just to look, eyes dark but soft.

“gorgeous,” he breathes, kissing down your chest, over your stomach. every word, every touch feels like something he’s been holding in for too long.

when his mouth finally settles between your thighs, he’s slow there too—tongue teasing, savoring, eyes flicking up to watch you fall apart.

“relax for me,” he whispers, kissing the inside of your knee before dragging his tongue slowly up your slit. you gasp, hands flying to his hair, and he groans at the contact, like he’s the one unraveling.

he licks you open, steady, deliberate, circling your clit until you’re trembling. “that’s it,” he murmurs against you. “so sweet. been dreaming about this.”

you can only moan his name, back arching as his fingers slide inside you, curling deep. his pace never rushes—every stroke, every flick of his tongue feels like he wants to stretch this moment forever.

when you finally cum, it’s overwhelming, slow-building and deep. he holds you through it, murmuring praise, kissing your thighs while your body shudders around his fingers.

he pulls back, face flushed, lips wet, and smiles at you like you’re the only thing that matters. “come here,” he says softly, crawling up to kiss you again.

the taste of yourself on his mouth makes you whimper. “need you,” you whisper.

he nods, brushing hair from your face. “yeah? been waiting too long for this.”

he slides inside carefully, groaning low as he buries himself in you. his forehead presses to yours, eyes squeezed shut. “fuck—you feel like everything i’ve ever wanted.”

you clutch at him, gasping as he starts to move—slow, deep thrusts that make your whole body sing. he kisses you between every moan, whispering how good you feel, how beautiful you are.

“look at me,” he urges, tilting your chin. you meet his gaze, and the intensity there makes your chest ache. “that’s it. want you to know how much i mean this.”

his pace stays steady, unhurried, dragging out every second. each roll of his hips pushes you higher, his hand slipping down to rub your clit gently, perfectly.

“bepsy, i—”

“i know, baby. let go for me.”

you cum again, clenching tight around him, and he groans, thrusts faltering. “fuck—you’re perfect. so perfect.”

he buries himself deep, spilling inside you with a shaky moan, kissing you through the rush.

after, he stays pressed against you, arms wrapped tight like he never wants to let go. he kisses your hair, your cheek, your lips, murmuring, “worth the wait. so worth it.”

—

the next morning, you shuffle into the kitchen, hair tangled, searching desperately for coffee. ron, lacy, jason, and silky are already gathered around the counter mid-argument.

“it wasn’t me,” ron blurts as soon as he sees you, holding his hands up. “don’t even start.”

lacy smirks into his cereal. “yeah right. you’re always the loudest.”

“not that loud,” silky says, grinning. “whoever it was last night—man, the walls were shaking.”

jason groans, rubbing his face. “thought somebody was dying in there. couldn’t sleep at all.”

your stomach drops.

ron points accusingly at jason. “had to be you. you’re the one who sneaks girls in.”

“not i don’t weirdo,” jason protests. “it wasn’t me or silky. so who the hell—”

the hallway door creaks open.

bepsy strolls out of your room, hair sticking up in every direction, stretching like he’s never slept better in his life.

the kitchen goes dead silent.

then ron breaks first, nearly spitting his drink. “no. way.”

silky points between you and bepsy, eyes wide. “oh my god.”

lacy just starts laughing, head in his hands. “unbelievable.”

jason groans louder. “knew it. i fucking knew it.”

you wish the ground would swallow you whole.

bepsy only scratches his neck, completely unbothered. “morning.”

the room explodes—ron wheezing, silky clapping like it’s a performance, lacy bent over laughing.

your face burns, but bepsy just grins, slipping an arm around your waist like he’s proud of it. “worth it,” he says again, and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

(NOT PROOFREAD!)

Bepsy: purple

Reader:pink

Adapt:red

Jason:green

Note:bro I’m so sorry this took so long to get out, I just started working on it today, so sorry if it rushed, anyways hope yall like it!

Caught!

NOT PROOFREAD

You and bepsy have been dating for about 4-5 months it all started when you went to the faze house a couple of months ago to visit adapt, and that’s when you saw him, he was on the couch with his fluffy hair, and baggy clothes, you guys made eye contact for a split second.

reader = pink

bepsy = purple

BEPSY HEADCANONS 2

warnings: light swearing, playful teasing/banter, reader is a streamer, bepsy helps behind the scenes (not on camera), mentions of chat shipping, blushy moments, mutual pining vibes

bepsy x reader (casual playful banter)

• he always sits in your chair while you’re setting up. when you tell him to move, he just says, “nah, it’s mine now,” and keeps scrolling on his phone until you physically shove him out.

• if you’re stressing about what to stream, he’ll toss out the simplest ideas: “just play the same shit you always do, they’re not here for innovation.” you glare at him, but he’s right and he knows it.

• whenever you ask for his opinion on a thumbnail, he’ll barely glance before going, “terrible. use it.” you end up laughing because somehow that’s more helpful than actual feedback.

• you complain about lighting, and without even looking up, he mutters, “move it a little left.” it works perfectly, which annoys you even more than the smirk he gives after.

• if you’re live and he’s in the background, chat will spam questions. he never acknowledges it, just keeps eating chips or scrolling, but you catch the slight grin when you tell chat to shut up.

• sometimes he’ll stand behind your chair during a stream, quietly pointing at things on screen to distract you. you try not to laugh mid-game, which only makes him do it more.

• after a long stream, he’ll stretch out on your bed and say, “you talk too fast when you’re excited.” it sounds like a critique, but the way he avoids eye contact after makes it feel like something else.

• when you thank him for helping, he just shrugs and goes, “yeah, well. someone’s gotta keep you from being a clown.” his ears are pink when he says it.

• when you’re setting up for a stream, he’ll sit in your chair and spin lazily until you try to shove him out. “what? i’m the talent, you’re just the sidekick.” you roll your eyes but he only moves once you threaten to go live with him sitting there.

• you complain about being nervous before a big collab stream and he goes, “don’t worry, you’re just gonna embarrass yourself in front of, like, a few thousand people. no big deal.” you throw a pillow at him, and he’s grinning the whole time.

• whenever you’re live and he’s hanging in the background, chat spams about him until you finally snap, “he’s literally just here eating my food, don’t hype him up.” he always smirks, mouth full of chips, like he knows he’s winning.

bepsy x reader (shy, casual flirting edition)

• when you’re setting up your cam at the faze house, he’ll stand behind you quietly until you ask, “does this look fine?” he’ll glance at the screen, clear his throat, and mumble, “yeah… you look good,” before quickly correcting, “i mean, the frame looks good.” his ears turn red while you try not to laugh.

• if you’re brainstorming stream ideas out loud, he’ll toss suggestions from the couch without looking up from his phone. “mm… try a q&a, chat likes those.” but if you praise him for the idea, he just shrugs and hides a smile, acting like it was nothing.

• he doesn’t love being on camera, so whenever chat catches him walking past in the background, he pretends not to notice. you tease him after — “you’re basically famous now” — and he mutters, “don’t start,” but he’s smiling into his sleeve.

• he’ll quietly leave snacks or a drink on your desk while you’re live. you’ll thank him into the mic and he’ll shake his head like, don’t drag me into this, but his grin betrays him every time.

• when you’re tired and sigh dramatically about content ideas, he’ll sit down beside you and go, “you’re overthinking it. just do what you usually do. people watch because it’s you.” the way he says it is so simple and sincere that it makes you blush.

• sometimes, while helping with thumbnails or editing, he’ll lean closer than he means to, shoulder brushing yours. both of you freeze for a second before pretending it didn’t happen — though you catch him biting back a smile.

• you’ll thank him for helping after streams, joking that you should put him in your credits, and he always mutters, “nah, i don’t need that,” but his cheeks are pink.

• he doesn’t flirt loudly; it’s in the subtle things — the way he saves the best chair for you, the way his eyes linger on you a beat too long before looking away, or how he always notices when you’re stressed and quietly pulls you away from your setup to breathe.

(NOT PROOFREAD!)

warnings: explicit sexual content, p in v sex, dirty talk, suit/tie kink, dom tones, reader insert, explicit language, consensual power dynamics

—

you’re on the couch, legs tucked under you, laptop balanced on your thighs, watching jason’s stream while the guys get ready for the streamer awards.
the chat’s moving fast, donations rolling in with the usual mix of hype and shit-talking.
jason’s in frame, fixing his tie, silky and adapt giving him shit about looking like he’s going to prom before putting on his jacket.
rage is off-camera yelling something about cufflinks.

then bepsy walks in.

all black suit—sharp, tailored, the kind of cut that makes his shoulders look broader, waist narrower.
white shirt crisp against his skin, thin black tie knotted clean, sitting perfect at his throat.

he adjusts his jacket once, casual, then leans down to tie his shoe.

the way the fabric pulls across his back, the way the pants hug his thighs—you feel it immediately.

heat low in your stomach, thighs pressing together without thinking.

he stands up, says something to jason that makes everyone laugh, and the camera catches his profile—jaw sharp, eyes crinkled.

you close the laptop a little harder than necessary.

the stream goes on, but you’re barely watching anymore.
every time the camera pans to him—fixing his cuff, laughing at a something ray said, manspreading with his hands in his pockets—you feel it again.

by the time the awards wrap and he texts you on my way home, you’re restless, hoodie feeling too warm, skin too tight.

the door opens an hour later.

he walks in slow, jacket unbuttoned, tie loosened just enough to show the top of his chest, shirt sleeves rolled once.

in person it’s worse.

he drops his keys on the table, looks at you standing in the hallway.

“hey.”

his voice is lower than usual, tired from the night, but it still hits you.

you cross your arms, trying to play it cool.

“you looked good tonight.”

he steps closer, eyes narrowing slightly, reading you.

“yeah?”

you nod, gaze flicking to the tie, then back up.

he notices.

follows your eyes.

“the suit?”

you shrug, heat creeping up your neck.

“it’s… doing something for me.”

he’s in your space now, hand sliding to your waist, thumb brushing the hem of your hoodie.

“tell me.”

you meet his eyes.

“it’s hot. you in that tie, the whole thing… turns me on.”

he doesn’t smile right away.

just looks at you for a second, like he’s letting it sink in.

then his mouth curves, slow.

“yeah?”

he kisses you—firm, deliberate, backing you toward the bedroom.

your hands go to his tie immediately, fingers curling into the silk.

he pulls back just enough to mutter, “keep it on?”

“keep it on.”

clothes come off fast—your hoodie, your shorts, your panties.

he keeps everything but the jacket.

shirt open, tie still knotted, slacks unzipped just enough.

he pushes you onto the bed, climbs over you, tie brushing your chest when he leans down.

slides in slow, one deep thrust, groaning low when you take him.

starts moving—hard, steady, the fabric of his slacks rough against your thighs with every roll of his hips.

you reach up, grab the tie, pull him down for a kiss.

he moans into your mouth, thrusts harder.

every time he pulls back you tug the tie again, bringing his lips to yours, swallowing his sounds.

he breaks the kiss once, voice rough.

“you really like this tie, huh?”

you clench around him on purpose.

he groans, hips stuttering.

“keep it on forever,” you whisper against his mouth.

he grins, breathless, kisses you messy.

“done.”

he fucks you deep, tie brushing your skin, your hand wrapped in it, pulling him close every time he tries to breathe.

you cum hard, shaking, moaning into his mouth.

he follows right after, hips pressed tight, groaning your name against your lips.

after, he collapses beside you, tie crooked, shirt wrinkled, breathing hard.

you trace the silk with your finger.

“wear this more often.”

he turns his head, kisses your shoulder.

“already planning on it.”

reader = pink

bepsy = purple

TALK YOU THROUGH IT

warnings: 18+ (oral f!receiving, p in v, praise kink, light dom!bepsy, dirty talk, talk-you-through-it style), fluff undertones

you were already squirming before he even touched you, laying back against the sheets with your legs parted, nerves buzzing because you knew exactly how he was looking at you. bepsy leaned over you, his big hand sliding down your thigh before resting just above your knee, anchoring you open.

“relax for me, baby,” his voice was low, calm, the kind that instantly made your chest feel warm. “just let me take care of you.”

you nodded quickly, lip caught between your teeth, but the moment his mouth was on you, you gasped, grabbing at his hair like you needed something to ground yourself.

“that’s it,” he murmured against your skin, tongue moving slow and deliberate. “don’t fight it princess. just feel me.”

every word sent heat straight through your body, making you whine without realizing it. he groaned softly at the sound, sucking harder, and then pulled back just a little.

“you’re already shaking,” he said, smiling up at you, chin wet. “don’t hold it in. i want all of it, baby. let me hear you.”

you couldn’t even answer because he dove back in, two fingers pressing inside you, curling just right. your back arched, a loud moan spilling out of you.

“good girl,” he praised, voice rough as he worked you through it. “just like that. fuck, you’re so perfect.”

by the time he finally pulled away, your body was trembling, and he crawled up to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his lips. his hand went to his belt, and your eyes widened with need.

“you want me inside you now, don’t you?” he asked, forehead resting against yours.

“please,” you whispered, voice wrecked.

he chuckled softly, kissing the corner of your mouth. “you don’t have to beg. i’ll give you whatever you want.”

sliding into you slowly, his breath hitched, and his hand cupped your face, thumb stroking over your cheek.

“look at me,” he whispered. “i need you looking at me.”

you did, and he groaned low, bottoming out before pulling back, his pace steady but deep, every thrust making your breath stutter.

“that’s it, baby. take me. you feel so fucking good.”

you couldn’t stop moaning, nails dragging over his back, and he bent down to kiss your throat, whispering between thrusts:

“you’re mine. only mine. say it.”

“i’m yours,” you gasped, tears pricking your eyes at the overwhelming pleasure.

his hips snapped harder into yours at your words, his voice breaking with a groan. “fuck—good girl. i’ve got you. i’ve always got you.”

(NOT PROOFREAD!)

reader = pink

bepsy = purple

BEPSY HEADCANONS 3

warnings: warnings: fluff, soft romance, bepsy being lowkey but flirty, late-night date vibes, mutual pining energy, casual teasing, small acts of affection, slight tension but nothing explicit

bepsy x reader (fluffy date headcanons)

1. bepsy’s idea of a perfect date is lowkey as hell. he’s not big on fancy restaurants or attention — instead, it’s late-night drives, old r&b playing quietly, and you two ending up at some empty parking lot with slushies and snacks.

2. he always lets you pick the music, but he’ll hum along sometimes — and it’s stupidly attractive because he never sings out loud unless he’s comfortable.

3. before every date, he’ll text something like “don’t be late this time.” but he’s always the one waiting outside your place ten minutes early, sitting in his car, tapping on the steering wheel while he waits.

4. when you walk out, he always looks up — and his whole face softens. doesn’t say much, just smirks a little and goes, “you look nice.” quietly.

5. if you’re eating out, he’ll subtly push his drink toward you without saying anything. just a quiet “try it” like he’s testing if you’ll share with him.

6. he teases you when you can’t decide what to order — “we’ve been here five times, how are you still thinking?” — but ends up splitting something with you anyway.

7. whenever you talk, he leans in. always listening, eyes flicking between your mouth and your eyes when you get too into a story.

8. he pretends to hate couple-y photos but will absolutely take them for you. will act annoyed, like “one more? really?” but keeps checking the pictures with you after, smiling to himself when you laugh at them.

9. if you go out shopping together, he’s the one holding your stuff without you asking. jacket, drink, whatever. he’ll just grab it out of your hands and go, “you’re gonna drop that.”

10. sometimes after your dates, you’ll both just sit in the car outside your place. not talking, not rushing to leave. just sitting in the quiet, his hand on the wheel, your knee brushing his.

11. when he finally drops you off, he always watches until you’re inside — waits for you to turn around and wave before driving off.

12. and sometimes, when you text him after saying “had fun,” he replies with just “me too :)” — simple, understated, but you can tell he means it.

(NOT PROOFREAD!)

reader = pink

bepsy = purple

BEPSY HEADCANONS 4

warnings: explicit sexual content, oral sex (f receiving), light bondage (belt), 18+ only, fluff, soft domestic vibes, possessive/jealousy undertones, flirting & thats it!

bepsy x reader (fluff headcanons)

bepsy’s version of quality time is just doing nothing together. he’ll be sitting on the couch editing or on his phone, you curled up next to him, legs tangled. hours pass and neither of you mind.

he doesn’t show affection loudly — it’s in the little things: making sure you’ve eaten, saving you the last bite, handing you his hoodie without saying anything.

he’s the kind of boyfriend who doesn’t say “i miss you” often, but you’ll see it when he shows up at your door with your favorite drink after a long day.

he’ll tease you for being clingy, but if you pull away for even a second he’s already reaching for you again.

whenever you’re both out somewhere crowded, his hand finds your waist without thinking. it’s not possessive — just instinct.

he loves hearing you laugh more than he’ll ever admit. he’ll try to hide his smile behind his hand, but his dimples always give him away.

he’s the one who stays up late even when he’s tired, just so he can walk you to your car or make sure you get home safe.

if you fall asleep on him, he freezes for a second — then goes completely still, phone in one hand, your hair tangled in his fingers, heart doing that thing it shouldn’t.

he has this quiet habit of saying your name softly when he thinks you’re not listening — just testing how it sounds in the air.

and when he’s really comfortable, he’ll rest his forehead against yours and stay there — not saying a word, just breathing you in.

bepsy x reader smutty headcanons

bepsy loves the build-up - tracing your skin with his fingertips for ages, light kisses that turn hungry, sliding in inch by inch until you’re begging for more.

he’s addicted to your reactions. he’ll pause mid-thrust, thumb brushing your lip, whispering “tell me what you need” while watching your face like it’s his favorite stream.

oral is his secret weapon - he’ll spread you open with his hands, tongue flat and relentless, humming low when you arch, only pulling back to say “not done yet.”

bepsy’s late-night voice is pure gravel - he’ll roll over at 3 a.m., hand sliding between your thighs, murmuring “couldn’t sleep without tasting you first.”

he’s a tease with control - cuffs your wrists with his belt, kisses down your chest, then stops to grin and ask “still think you’re in charge?” before making you cum twice.

after a long edit session, he’s feral - hoodie half-off, eyes dark, he’ll lift you onto the desk, fuck you hard and fast, growling “been thinking about this all day.”

he loves kissing every inch of you - starts at your eyelids, down your neck, across your collarbone, stomach, thighs, lingering wherever you shiver, whispering “mine” between each press of his lips.

he’s an aftercare king - wraps you in his hoodie fresh from the dryer, carries you to the couch, feeds you water and kisses, arms locked tight until you drift off.

(NOT PROOFREAD!)

reader = pink

bepsy = purple

MORNING LOVE

warnings: pure fluff, domestic vibes, soft compliments, bepsy being in love, sleepy kisses

you always swore you weren’t a morning person, but bepsy thought otherwise. at least, not when it came to mornings with you.

he was awake before you — not by much, just long enough to take in the quiet of your shared apartment. the street outside was still asleep, blinds half-open letting in a line of early sunlight. he lay on his side, one arm tucked under the pillow, the other draped lazily over your waist. your breathing was slow and steady, the rise and fall of your chest calming in its own rhythm.

your hair was messy, sticking out in random directions, and you had that soft frown you always got when you were dreaming. to you, it would’ve been embarrassing. to him, it was beautiful.

you stirred after a while, eyes still closed as you mumbled into the pillow, “stop staring.”

he smiled, voice still scratchy from sleep. “i wasn’t.”

“liar,” you groaned, rolling onto your back, shielding your face with one hand. “i probably look horrible right now.”

bepsy leaned down, kissed the edge of your hand until you dropped it, then kissed your cheek for good measure. “you look perfect.”

“i look like a disaster.”

“the prettiest disaster i’ve ever seen,” he shot back instantly, grinning when you tried to push him away.

“you’re so annoying.”

“you love me.”

“unfortunately,” you teased, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

he moved closer, resting his chin against your shoulder, letting his arm snake around your waist again. “nah, admit it — you like when i wake up first. means i get to tell you how beautiful you are before you can argue with me.”

you groaned again, burying your face into his shirt now. “i literally look half-dead.”

his laugh rumbled against you. “you look like my favorite person in the world.”

that quiet stilled you. it was said so casually, so effortlessly, but it sank into your chest and settled there like warmth.

you tilted your head enough to meet his eyes, your sleepy voice soft. “what did i do to deserve you?”

he smiled at that, brushing your hair back with his fingers. “probably saved the world in another life. or… maybe you just got really lucky.”

you snorted. “you’re impossible.”

he kissed your forehead. “and you’re stuck with me.”

—

eventually, the smell of coffee brewing filled the apartment, pulling you both out of bed. you padded into the kitchen in his hoodie, sleeves too long, hair still a little wild. he trailed behind you, leaning against the counter as you opened the cabinet for mugs.

“you can’t just watch me make coffee like this,” you complained, laughing softly when you almost dropped the sugar spoon.

“why not?” he asked, folding his arms. “it’s cute. you’re cute.”

“i told you, i’m a mess right now—”

“mess i’m in love with,” he cut in, stealing the spoon from your hand and setting it down before pulling you into his chest.

you rolled your eyes, but your hands still rested on his chest, your voice dropping softer. “you really don’t get tired of saying that?”

he tilted his head, studying you. “never. i mean, look at you. sleepy eyes, soft voice, hair all over the place. you’re literally perfect to me.”

your face heated, and you hid it by pressing your cheek into his shirt. “you’re insane.”

he grinned, wrapping his arms tighter around you. “yeah. insane for you.”

you groaned into his chest. “i can’t believe you just said that.”

“believe it,” he laughed, pressing a kiss into your hair.

—

after coffee, you ended up sitting in his lap at the small kitchen table, his arms wrapped around you while you sipped from your mug.

“you’re clingy in the mornings,” you teased, though you weren’t moving an inch.

“you’re one to talk,” he replied, resting his chin on your shoulder. “you’re literally in my lap right now.”

“you pulled me here.”

“yeah, because i knew you’d stay.”

you rolled your eyes again, but you were smiling.

—

the morning stretched like that — small kisses stolen in the kitchen, playful complaints about how clingy he was, quiet reassurances that he never wanted it any other way.

eventually, you’d have to face the day: answer emails, run errands, deal with the little chaos of life. but mornings like this? they were yours.

and he meant it when he looked at you, hair messy, voice soft, and said, “you’re beautiful.”

because to him, there was never a version of you that wasn’t.

(NOT PROOFREAD!)

okok last one from request, ill open them later so stay on the lookout for that post!