#pezzy fics

f!reader, gaming chaos, fluff, teasing romance, soft pezzy, heart rate monitor, request🦋

The glow of Pezzy’s gaming monitors bathed the small room in a mix of blues and purples. He was mid-stream, the guys’ laughter echoing through his headset as they explored the creepy halls of an abandoned asylum in their multiplayer horror game. His heart rate monitor was visible on the screen, the numbers holding steady at 80 BPM as he expertly dodged a ghost that nearly cornered him. “Pezzy, my guy, your heart rate’s too normal,” Droid teased. “I’m starting to think you’re immune to fear.” “Don’t jinx it,” Pezzy replied, his voice steady but focused. “Y’all know how these games go. One big scare, and I’m done for.” “Done for? Bro, you’d have a better chance surviving Y/N walking into the room looking—” Smii7y started, but he never got to finish his sentence. Because just then, the door to Pezzy’s gaming room creaked open, and you walked in. Fresh from the shower, your damp hair clung to your shoulders, and the soft, slightly damp robe hugged your figure in a way that made it impossible not to notice.

You didn’t think much of it—you were just popping in to grab a charger from the desk near him. But for Pezzy, the sight of you rendered him completely useless. His heart rate monitor spiked immediately, jumping from 80 to 120 BPM, as he froze in his seat. The guys noticed instantly. “Yo!” Droid shouted. “What the hell just happened? Pezzy, you good, bro? Did the ghost get you?” “Forget the ghost,” Puffer chimed in, cracking up. “Pezzy just died in real life. His heart rate shot up like 40 points in two seconds!” You paused, confused by the sudden outburst. Turning your head, you caught a glimpse of Pezzy’s screen, where his heart rate monitor was flashing wildly, the numbers climbing higher and higher. Then you looked at him, his face flushed and his jaw slightly slack as he stared at you. “Wait…” you said, a slow grin spreading across your face. “Was that because of me?” “Don’t,” Max said quickly, his voice strained as his gaze darted from you to the screen. “Don’t say it.” “Oh, it was definitely her,” Grizzy laughed, practically wheezing.

“Y/N, what are you even wearing? My man’s heart can’t take it!” “It’s just a robe,” you replied innocently, though the mischievous glint in your eye betrayed you. You turned to Pezzy, leaning on the edge of his desk. “You okay, babe? You seem a little… distracted.” His heart rate spiked again, and the guys erupted into another round of laughter. “Bro, this is better than the game!” Puffer howled. “We don’t even need the ghost to kill him—Y/N’s got it covered.” “I hate you all,” Max muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “And you,” he said, pointing at you. “Stop.” “Stop what?” you asked, feigning innocence as you leaned in closer, your damp hair brushing his shoulder. “I’m just standing here.” His heart rate monitor hit a new high, and Droid lost it completely. “Someone call 911! We’re losing him!” You couldn’t help but laugh as you straightened up, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “I’ll leave you to your game,” you teased, heading for the door. “Try not to die, okay?” The door closed behind you, and Max let out a shaky breath, leaning back in his chair.

“Pezzy,” Puffer said through his laughter, “you’re the first guy to die in a horror game without even leaving the safe zone. Congrats, man.” “Y’all are the worst,” Pezzy grumbled, though the small, lingering smile on his face said otherwise. The game continued after you left the room, but Max was a shadow of his usual self. His responses were delayed, his movements clunky, and his heart rate refused to dip below 100 BPM. Every time someone teased him, it only made it worse. “Pezzy, focus up, bro,” Droid said between laughs. “We’re in the middle of a hunt, and you’re still recovering from Y/N’s jumpscare.” “She’s not a jumpscare,” Max shot back, his voice flustered. “She just—” “Walked in and broke your brain,” Grizzy finished for him, snickering. “It’s okay, man. We get it. Love does things to a guy.” “Shut up,” Max grumbled, trying—and failing—to regain focus. His character rounded a corner in the game, and the ghost appeared out of nowhere, screeching as it lunged toward him.

Max yelped, slamming his keyboard as his heart rate monitor spiked again. “He’s dead again!” Droid cackled, his laughter echoing through the headset. “Double kill—ghost and Y/N, tag team champions of the night!” Max let out a long, defeated groan as his character crumpled to the ground. “I’m done. I’m so done,” he muttered, leaning back in his chair. The guys howled with laughter as Max reached for his headset, muting himself as he leaned back with a heavy sigh. He glanced at the door, debating whether to follow you or finish the stream, but he knew he didn’t stand a chance of focusing with you still on his mind. “Alright, chat,” he said, unmuting briefly to address his audience. “We’re calling it for tonight. Thanks for hanging out, and uh… yeah, see you next time.” He ended the stream quickly, ignoring the flood of teasing messages from his chat. Peeling off his headset, Max stood and headed out of the gaming room, following the soft hum of music into the living room. You were curled up on the couch in your robe, scrolling through your phone, completely at ease.

“Done gaming already?” you teased without looking up, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, well,” Max started, running a hand through his hair, “it’s hard to focus when my girlfriend decides to look like that.” You laughed, setting your phone down as he came closer. “It’s just a robe, Max.” “No, it’s a distraction,” he corrected, sitting down beside you. “You literally derailed my entire stream.” You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Should I apologize?” He grinned, shaking his head. “No, but you should probably make it up to me.” You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Oh? And how do you propose I do that?” Leaning in, he brushed a hand over your damp hair, his smile softening. “Just stay here,” he said simply, pulling you into his arms. “No heart rate monitor. No jumpscares. Just us.” You let yourself relax against him, his warmth chasing away the chill from your still-damp robe. “You’re impossible, you know that?” And you’re dangerous,” he replied, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Tags: Established Situationship, Drunk Confession, Friends to Friends with Benefits to Lovers, Angry Confession, Mutual Pining, Miscommunication, Happy Ending

🔹 Fluff 🔹 Secret Relationship Reveal 🔹 Protective Pezzy 🔹 Soft Dom Energy 🔹 F!Reader 🔹 Chat Loses Their Minds 🔹 Supportive Friend Trio 🔹 Teeth-Rotting Affection 🔹 Cuddling & Caretaking 🔹 Request🦋

Pezzy had always been careful about keeping your relationship private. It wasn’t that he was ashamed—far from it. He loved you more than anything. But the internet was a different beast, and he wanted to protect you from the chaos that came with being in the public eye. Only his closest friends knew about you. Which is why, while he was live with Puffer, Droid, and Grizzy, you stayed quietly in the background, busy with your own little tasks. Today, that task was changing the bedsheets. A simple job, right?

Wrong.

Because being short meant that trying to shake out and spread a giant blanket was practically an Olympic sport. You huffed as you stretched on your toes, arms fully extended, trying to get the damn thing to even out. Almost… You wobbled on the soft surface of the mattress, the blanket slipping from your grasp just as you lost your balance. “Shit—!” The world tilted, and you crashed to the floor, a loud thump echoing through the house. “Bro, that’s bullshit—” Pezzy started, mid-argument with Puffer about some in-game nonsense, when—THUD. A loud crash echoed through his mic. His head whipped around, his gamer instincts instantly overridden by pure concern. “Hold up,” Pezzy said quickly, ripping off his headset. “Wait, what? Where you going?” Droid asked, but Pezzy was already bolting out of the room. “Uh-oh,” Puffer muttered. Chat exploded.

WTF WAS THAT??

WHY DID PEZZY RUN LIKE THAT HELLO??

SOMEBODY FELL???

BRO HAS A WHOLE ASS GIRLFRIEND AND DIDN’T TELL US???

DO WE HAVE A SECRET GF LORE DROP??

Grizzy, Puffer, and Droid exchanged looks. “Uh—SO ANYWAY—” Droid said loudly, trying to distract chat. “You guys ever see that one video of the raccoon who—” “Nah, they’re already onto it, bro,” Grizzy chuckled, shaking his head. Puffer just sighed, sipping his drink. “Yeah, Pezzy’s cooked.” Back in the room, Pezzy found you on the floor, rubbing your side with a pained wince. The blanket was half-draped over you, and the shattered glass of a picture frame was scattered nearby. “Are you okay?” Pezzy crouched beside you in an instant, his hands checking you over. “Why the hell didn’t you just wait for me?” You sighed. “I didn’t wanna bother you—” He narrowed his eyes. “Babe. You could’ve seriously hurt yourself.” You did hurt yourself, actually. Pezzy noticed a small but nasty cut on your palm where you must’ve landed on the glass. “Alright, c’mon,” he muttered, lifting you up effortlessly. “Kitchen. Now.” And as Pezzy walked you to the kitchen, chat got a full view of him gently holding your injured hand, guiding you to sit down, and rummaging through the cabinets for the first-aid kit.

CHAT WE ARE WITNESSING TRUE LOVE

WTF

LOOK AT HOW GENTLE HE IS???

HE’S SCOLDING HER BUT IT’S CUTE AS FUCK??

“Why didn’t you wait for me?” IM SCREAMINGGGG

PUFFER, GRIZZY, DROID—EXPLAIN

The guys were desperately trying to hold the fort. “I mean—y’know, could be his mom, could be his sister—” Puffer tried. “Bro, that is not his sister,” Droid deadpanned. Grizzy just grinned. “Nah, let him cook.” Back in the kitchen, Pezzy gently dabbed at your cut with antiseptic, his lips pressing into a thin line as you hissed. “I don’t care if I was live—you could’ve texted me, babe.” “I didn’t want to ruin your stream…” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze. Pezzy paused. Then, softly cupped your cheek, tilting your face up to his. “Listen to me,” he said, his tone firm but full of love. “I don’t give a single fuck about streaming when it comes to you. You come first. Always.” Your heart swelled. “But… you wanted to keep us private—” “Not if it means you think I don’t care about you,” Pezzy said. “If chat finds out, they find out. Doesn’t change shit for me.” You stared at him, a warmth spreading through your chest. “You really mean that?” He smirked. “Do you want me to go announce it on stream?” You laughed. “Maybe not immediately…” “Good,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Now, let me finish patching you up.” The second Pezzy sat back down at his desk, his chat was on his ass.

BRO EXPLAIN

DON’T JUST SIT THERE

WE HEARD EVERYTHING

??? I AM UNWELL

HOW LONG HAVE Y’ALL BEEN DATING SPILL

f!reader, ovulation, shower sex, request🦋

You could hear him in the next room, voice drifting down the hallway—Pezzy’s familiar laugh and quick-witted banter filling the quiet apartment. Usually, his streams were just background noise while you puttered around, made dinner, or scrolled through your phone. But tonight was different. Tonight, his voice had that certain rasp, as if he’d been talking nonstop for hours, and the low, gravelly tone did something to your stomach you couldn’t ignore. It didn’t help that you’d been feeling the effects of your cycle all day. Your body was on high alert, hormones churning beneath your skin, leaving you warm, restless, and needy. Each time you caught a faint snippet of his voice, it sent a pulse of heat through you. You were ovulating, and your body knew it—every cell seemed to be calling out for him, making your thoughts wander to all the times he’d pressed close, murmuring soft, teasing words against your ear. In the bedroom, you tried to distract yourself: straightening pillows, folding laundry, checking your phone. Nothing stuck. You kept straining to hear him, picturing the way he’d look hunched over his desk, hair a bit messy from running his fingers through it, eyes bright as he joked with chat. The idea of that raspy voice turning its attention solely on you twisted in your chest and lower, making you shift your weight, chew your lip, fight the urge to just barge in there and demand his attention. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you heard his closing words—his voice even huskier now, quietly thanking everyone for watching.

The sound of the computer chair sliding back, a soft sigh, and then footsteps. You braced yourself, heart thrumming, as he stepped into the doorway. Pezzy looked tired, but in that deliciously rumpled way: eyes still crinkled from smiling, shoulders slackened now that the performance was over. “Hey,” he said softly, voice still rasping, cool blue eyes sweeping over you. “Sorry that took longer than I said it would. The last match dragged on.” You tried to keep it casual, leaning against the dresser. “It’s okay,” you managed, though your voice sounded a bit thinner than usual. “You have fun?” He shrugged, coming closer until he could touch your arm, fingers brushing lightly. “It was good,” he replied. “Chat was wild. And now my throat’s paying for it.” He cleared it softly, grimacing a little. “Might need some tea or something.” Your stomach flipped at the reminder of that rasp. God, even clearing his throat had you tensing. You took a shaky breath, knowing you should just say what you wanted, but words felt sticky. Instead, you stepped closer, letting your hand rest on his chest, feeling the warmth of his body through his t-shirt. “You sound…hot,” you admitted, cheeks flushing. “That rasp…I don’t know, it’s—” You broke off, embarrassment creeping in. How do you say you’ve been turned on the whole evening, pacing the bedroom like a restless cat? Pezzy’s brows rose, a slow grin tugging at his lips. “Oh? I sound hot?” He teased, leaning in a fraction, the scent of him—soap, a hint of cologne—curling around you.

“Didn’t know I had that effect.” You rolled your eyes, half-laughing, half-desperate. “You know damn well you do,” you murmured, hooking a finger in his belt loop, just to feel him that much closer. Your body was practically humming. The ache low in your belly intensified, the reminder that you were ovulating spiking your need. All you wanted was him—his touch, his voice murmuring filthy things in your ear. He sucked in a breath, eyes darkening with interest. “Is that what this is?” he asked, voice dropping even lower. “You’re all worked up, waiting for me?” Before you could answer, he dipped his head to ghost his lips over your jaw. The lightest touch, but you shivered, pressing into him. “I missed you,” you whispered, voice cracking slightly. “And I’m—” You paused, feeling shy about admitting it. “It’s that time, you know?” Understanding flickered across his face. He knew your cycle well enough by now, knew how intense it got for you around this point. “Oh,” he said softly, that one word laced with sympathetic desire. “That time. Got it.” He kissed your temple, trailing his nose down to your cheek, slowly working toward your mouth. “Want me to take care of you?” he asked, tone quiet but sure. “I can feel you trembling.” You nodded, releasing a shaky breath. “Please,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. Your skin felt too warm, clothes too tight. But before he could deepen the kiss, he pulled back slightly, smirking ruefully. “Let me shower first,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m gross—sweaty from sitting under those lights. Two minutes, okay?” Your heart sank a little at the wait, but you knew he was right. He always showered after a long stream, complaining of that sticky feeling. “But,” he began and you nodded, feeling hopeful. “I wouldn’t mind if you join me.” Your pulse spiked, relief and excitement mingling. “Yeah?” you said, barely above a whisper. Pezzy leaned in, mouth grazing the shell of your ear. “Yeah,” he promised, voice a low rumble. “Come on.” The bathroom lights were softer at this hour, as if the house sensed the shift in mood. Pezzy turned the shower on, testing the water temperature. Steam began to curl around the edges of the glass door, fogging it slightly. You stood behind him, heart thudding, watching as he peeled off his shirt and dropped it in the hamper. The sight of his bare back made something twist low in your belly—he looked strong, relaxed, and utterly yours for the taking. He glanced over his shoulder, catching your stare. With a gentle tug, he pulled you forward, fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt, helping you out of your clothes piece by piece. No words were needed; the quiet hunger in the air said it all. When you stepped into the shower, the warm spray hit your shoulders, and you sighed, letting the heat loosen some of that coiled tension. Pezzy followed, sliding the door shut. He pressed close behind you, one hand braced against the tiled wall, the other skimming down your side. Your breath caught as his fingers traced your hip, lingering at the curve of your waist.

“How’s this?” he murmured against your neck, voice still rough. The water beat down, plastering your hair to your skin, droplets rolling over his collarbone and down his chest. “Perfect,” you managed, leaning back into him. The scent of his shampoo mixed with the steam, and his warmth pressed along your spine. You moaned softly when he leaned down to kiss your shoulder, his lips hot against your wet skin. Your body responded instantly—ovulation was a live wire in your veins, every nerve singing. You felt him smile against your skin as you tilted your head, giving him better access to your neck. “You’re so sensitive tonight,” he murmured, voice thick with admiration. “I love it.” You whimpered something incoherent, pressing your hips back. His hand slid forward, across your belly, dipping lower. The way he touched you—slow but not hesitant, confident but tender—made your knees tremble. “Max,” you whispered, the name slipping free like a prayer. He hummed in response, encouraging you to continue. “I need you.” He turned you gently, water splashing between you, catching the edges of your lashes and making you blink. He cupped your face, his gaze dark with want. “I know, baby,” he said softly. “Come here.” He coaxed your leg up around his hip. The warm water cascaded over both of you, and when he pressed into you, you let out a shuddering sigh that mingled with the hiss of the shower. His forehead touched yours, eyes never leaving your face as he began to move.

The slick slide of water and your own arousal made every thrust feel like silk and heat. “You’re so tight,” he rasped, voice nearly lost in the sound of droplets hitting tile. You moaned, fingers digging into his shoulders for balance. “I’m burning up,” you confessed, words stumbling out. “Couldn’t focus, just wanted you.” The honest need in your voice made him groan, mouth seeking yours for a messy, open-mouthed kiss. It was intense but unhurried, like he wanted to savor every second. You clung to each other, the steam and sensation blurring the world outside. When you finally unraveled, body clenching around him, he whispered your name against your lips, voice cracking with emotion. He followed you into release moments later, shuddering as he held you close. For a long moment, you just breathed together, letting the water wash away the tension. Then he pressed a kiss to your forehead, smiling softly. “Feeling better?” You huffed a small laugh, still catching your breath. “Much,” you admitted. “But don’t get too comfortable. I’m still… I might need you again.” His grin was playful, but his eyes held a promise. “I’ll give you everything you need,” he said, turning off the water. “But let’s not prune up in here.” As soon as you two were dried off, the next moments blurred together: the quiet rustle of towels hitting the floor, his hands skimming along your curves, your whispered pleas for more, closer, now. He guided you onto the mattress, his body hovering over yours, and you could feel the heat radiating off him.

“You’re still buzzing, aren’t you?” he murmured, lips grazing your ear. “I can see it in your eyes.” His breath, warm and moist, made you arch your back, chest pressing to his. “Yes,” you admitted, voice trembling. “I…I can’t stop thinking about having you. Need you inside me.” You swallowed, cheeks burning at your own bluntness, but ovulation stripped away your filters, made you desperate and honest. He groaned low in his throat, that rasp sending sparks across your nerves. “Fuck, baby, that’s exactly what I want to hear.” His hand slid down your thigh, lifting your leg around his waist, positioning himself. “I love how honest you get when your body’s calling the shots.” You moaned at his words, at the press of him nudging at your entrance. “J-just…please,” you stuttered, nails dragging lightly along his damp shoulders. He pressed forward slowly, carefully, letting you feel every inch. His head tipped back, a quiet curse leaving his lips. “You’re so warm,” he choked out. “Always so perfect.” He began a steady rhythm, and you answered with soft gasps, the tension that had coiled inside you all evening unwinding with each thrust. His voice, still rough from streaming, wrapped around you like velvet, muttering your name, telling you how good you felt, how he’d do this all night if you needed it. Your body responded, rising to meet him, craving every bit of friction. You whimpered something about how you needed him deeper, and he obliged, shifting the angle. Your breath hitched, stars dancing behind your eyes.

He leaned down, capturing your mouth, swallowing your moans. “That’s it,” he urged softly, voice thick with pleasure. “Give it to me.” Each roll of his hips sent waves of warmth through your belly, making you ache with need. The idea that your body was ripe and ready, that any moment could lead to something more permanent, hovered in the back of your mind, intensifying the fire. As he sped up, the sound of your mingled breaths and quiet gasps filled the air. “Look at me,” he murmured, and you did, meeting his gaze. The intensity there, the love and hunger, nearly unmade you. You squeezed your eyes shut as the climax built, a gentle roar in your ears, your body tensing beneath him. When you came, it was with a soft cry, body arching, clutching at his shoulders like a lifeline. He followed moments later, voice breaking on your name, burying his face in your neck, warmth flooding you in a way that sent shivers down your spine. You stayed like that, bodies tangled, breathing unsteady, hearts racing. Eventually, he lifted his head, pressing a lazy kiss to your jaw. “Better?” he teased, voice still rough but now with the edge taken off by satisfaction. You laughed, breathless and soft. “So much better,” you sighed, brushing damp hair from his forehead. “I needed that.” He grinned, curling an arm around you to pull you snug against his chest. “Good. Because I’d do anything to make you feel this good. Next time, just drag me out of the stream room sooner.”

🔹 Fluff🔹 Comfort🔹 Lap Sitting🔹 Face Kisses🔹 Affectionate Reader🔹 Flustered Max🔹 Soft Boyfriend Energy🔹 Established Relationship🔹 f!Reader🔹 Request🦋

Max didn’t expect his lazy Sunday to take this turn. One minute, he was scrolling through his phone, half-watching a random movie, and the next, you were climbing into his lap like you belonged there—which you did. “Hey,” he said softly, his brows raising in question as you settled yourself comfortably on his thighs. “Hi,” you whispered back, your hands gently cupping his face. He tilted his head slightly, his lips twitching with a small smile, though his cheeks already carried a dusting of pink. “What’s this about?” Max asked, his voice quieter now, almost reverent as he gazed up at you. “Nothing,” you replied with a shrug, your thumbs brushing against his cheekbones. “I just wanted to look at you. My sweet boy.” The color in his cheeks deepened immediately, and he huffed a little laugh, his hand instinctively coming to rest on your waist. “Sweet boy?” he repeated, his voice cracking just a little. You nodded, leaning in to press a kiss to his forehead. “Mhm. You’re my sweet boy. The sweetest.”

Max’s hand tightened slightly on your waist, his other hand finding purchase on your thigh as he shifted beneath you, clearly flustered. “Okay, you can’t just say stuff like that and expect me to survive.” “You’ll be fine,” you teased, kissing the tip of his nose this time. His head fell back against the couch with a groan, but his smile betrayed him. “You’re gonna kill me, y’know that?” “Not my fault you’re so cute,” you said, pressing another kiss to his cheek, then another to the corner of his mouth. “Y/N,” Max warned, his voice low and soft, though the smile playing on his lips showed there was no real heat behind it. “Max,” you mimicked, your lips brushing against his jaw as you spoke. He let out a shaky breath, his hands pulling you a little closer. “You’re not playing fair,” he murmured. You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, your hands still cradling his face. “I’m just loving on my sweet boy. Is that so bad?” Max’s heart stuttered at the pure affection in your voice, and he gave you a sheepish smile. “No, it’s not bad. Just… a lot.”

“Well, get used to it,” you said with a playful smirk, leaning in to press one last kiss to his lips. When you pulled back, he was looking up at you like you hung the stars in the sky, his cheeks still red but his eyes soft and full of adoration. “You’re impossible,” he mumbled. “And you love it,” you replied, grinning. “Yeah,” he said softly, his fingers brushing against your waist. “I do.” You smiled at his admission and leaned in to kiss his forehead again, lingering for a moment as your thumbs caressed his cheeks. “You know what else I love about you?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Do I want to know?” Max teased, his tone light but his gaze searching yours. “Everything,” you said simply, punctuating the word with a kiss to his temple. “The way you laugh, the way you care about your friends, the way you get so passionate when you talk about something you love. And your dimples,” you added with a soft laugh, poking at one as it appeared. He groaned, but the smile on his face didn’t fade.

“You’re really laying it on thick, huh?” “Only because it’s true,” you replied, your hands trailing down to rest on his shoulders. “You deserve to hear it.” Max’s hands slid up your sides, settling just below your ribs as he looked up at you with a mixture of shyness and adoration. “You make it really hard to act cool, you know that?” “Good,” you said with a grin, leaning down to rest your forehead against his. “Because I’m not trying to be cool. I’m just trying to love on you.” The words hit him square in the chest, and for a moment, all he could do was stare at you, his lips parted in surprise. Then, he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist as he buried his face in your neck. “You’re too good to me,” he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin. “Not possible,” you replied, your fingers threading through his hair. You sat like that for a while, the movie forgotten as you held each other. Max’s breathing slowed, and you could feel the tension in his shoulders melt away the longer you stayed in his arms. When he finally pulled back, his eyes were glassy, and his smile was soft.

🔹 Smut 🔹 Gang Bang 🔹 Foursome 🔹 Rough Sex 🔹 Size Kink 🔹 F!Reader 🔹 Overstimulation 🔹 Degradation + Praise 🔹 DP 🔹 Choking 🔹 Spit 🔹 Filthy Dirty Talk 🔹 Limits Pushed 🔹 Request 🦋

The room was hot—sweltering, even—but it had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the way you were sprawled out between them. A wicked, filthy game, one you weren’t sure who started, but once it began? There was no stopping it. Grizzy. Puffer. Pezzy. Droid. All of them. All for you. It had started as harmless teasing, the usual banter laced with flirtation, until the tension had become something real—something palpable. You’d seen the way they looked at you, the way their eyes darkened when you pushed them, and tonight? Tonight, they weren’t holding back. Pezzy was behind you, his large hands holding you open, a deep chuckle vibrating in his chest as he muttered, “Look at you. So fucking needy.” Puffer’s lips brushed against your ear, hot, teasing, as he ran a rough hand down your thigh. “Think you can take us all, sweetheart? ‘Cause you’re gonna.” Grizzy groaned, impatient, starving, his grip bruising as he spread you further apart. “Fuck. We’re ruining you tonight.”

Droid? Droid just smirked. That cocky, teasing grin. “Better hold on, baby. We’re gonna break you.” And they did. They pushed your limits, tested your endurance, devoured you from every angle. Hands gripping, pinning, claiming. Mouths biting, sucking, owning. Cocks filling, stretching, fucking. Your moans shattered the silence, the filthy sounds of skin on skin echoing through the dimly lit room. Pezzy’s hand was tangled in your hair, pulling your head back so you could look at them—so you could see what a mess they’d turned you into. “Fuck,” he groaned, watching your body tremble, watching the way your lips parted in a helpless gasp. “You were made for this.” Puffer was the worst—cruel, relentless. He held you down, his voice a growl in your ear. “Where’s that smart mouth now, huh? Thought you could handle us.” Grizzy chuckled, dark and low. “They’re handling us just fine,” he teased, palming your throat, his thumb pressing down just enough to make you dizzy. “Aren’t you, baby?” You nodded—whimpered, really—but it wasn’t enough.

f!reader, shopping shenanigans, fluff and smut, spicy but sweet, unexpected confession, request🦋

Shopping with the guys had been chaos from the start. It was supposed to be a simple trip—Kelly wanted to pick up a few things, and you decided to tag along for company. Somehow, it spiraled into half the group tagging along, mostly for the entertainment of watching Wildcat argue about the price of socks. But now Kelly had dipped out early, leaving you alone with the guys in the middle of the lingerie section. “Why are we even here?” Jaren grumbled, leaning on the cart like he was physically weighed down by the sight of lace and satin everywhere. “I’m just grabbing one thing,” you replied, holding up a red bra you’d been eyeing. “Then you can all go back to the manly side of the store with the sports equipment or whatever.” “That’s fine,” Droid chimed in. “But why are we here in the first place? Didn’t Kelly ditch us like, 20 minutes ago?” “Because I need a second opinion,” you explained, holding the bra against yourself to check it in the mirror. “And she’s not here, so… Max?”

Pezzy, who had been silently scrolling through his phone, froze mid-swipe. His head shot up, his eyes widening as he registered your expectant look. “Wait, me?” “Well, yeah,” you said with a shrug. “You’re the only one I trust to give me a real answer.” “You trust him?” Jaren laughed, throwing an arm around Droid. “Good luck, Pez. Try not to pass out.” Ignoring them, you motioned for Pezzy to follow you to the dressing rooms. “Come on. I just need to know if it looks good.” Max hesitated, glancing back at the others, who were already making obscene gestures and exaggerated faces. He shot them a glare before trailing after you, his heart already pounding in his chest. You slipped into the dressing room and shut the door behind you, leaving Max awkwardly lingering in the small hallway. A few moments later, you called out to him. “Okay, you ready?” “As ready as I’ll ever be,” he muttered under his breath. When you stepped out, Max nearly forgot how to breathe.

The red lace bra hugged your figure perfectly, the intricate detailing drawing his attention in all the worst—and best—ways.

You twirled lightly, hands on your hips as you looked at him expectantly. “So? What do you think?” Max swallowed hard, his brain short-circuiting. “Uh… it looks… nice.” “Just nice?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Not sexy enough to, you know, maybe snag a guy one day?” His face flushed instantly, and he stammered, “I—I didn’t mean just nice, I meant… yeah, it’s definitely sexy. I mean, you’re sexy! Wait, no, that’s not what I—” You laughed, cutting him off. “Relax, Max, I’m kidding. But seriously, does it fit okay?” He nodded quickly, still trying to keep his eyes from wandering too much. “Yeah, it… it looks perfect.” “Good,” you said with a smile, completely unaware of the internal meltdown he was having. You leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Thanks for being a good sport. I owe you.” Max’s breath hitched, and he swore his heart was going to give out. “Y-yeah, no problem.” You stepped back into the dressing room, leaving Max standing there, still trying to recover from the visual assault you’d just delivered.

He ran a hand through his hair, muttering to himself, “Pull it together, Max. She’s just messing with you.” But when you opened the door again, still wearing the bra and leaning casually against the frame, his heart rate spiked. “Hey,” you said, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “I just realized—if it’s too much trouble to go back to the guys, I could always get your private opinion.” Max froze, his mouth opening and closing as his brain short-circuited. “Uh… private?” You stepped closer, your confidence growing as you noticed his flustered expression. “Yeah, you know. Like… a second opinion. Or maybe you could… help me test how well it holds up?” Your tone was teasing, but there was a flicker of something more in your eyes—a challenge. Max’s throat went dry as you reached for his hand, guiding him into the dressing room and closing the door behind him. The space was cramped, the air thick with tension as you turned to face him. “Max,” you said softly, your voice losing some of its playfulness.

“You okay? You’re kinda quiet.” “I… yeah,” he managed, though his voice was barely above a whisper. His eyes flickered over you, taking in every detail. “You look… amazing.” You smiled, stepping closer until there was barely any space left between you. “You’re sweet, you know that?” His breath hitched as your fingers brushed against his chest. He was trying so hard to keep himself in check, but the way you were looking at him—like he was the only person in the world—made it impossible. “Do you really think I look sexy?” you asked, your voice dropping to a whisper. “Yes,” he blurted out, the word escaping before he could stop it. His hands twitched at his sides, desperate to touch you but unsure if he should. Your smile widened, and you closed the gap between you, your lips brushing against his ear. “Good,” you murmured. “Because I think you do, too.” That was all it took for him to snap. His hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him as his lips crashed into yours.

The kiss was hungry, desperate, and laced with all the pent-up feelings he’d been holding back for so long. You gasped against his mouth, your hands tangling in his hair as he backed you against the wall. His lips trailed down your jaw and neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. When his mouth finally reached the edge of the bra, he hesitated, his breath warm against your skin. “Is this okay?” he asked, his voice rough with restraint. You nodded, your chest heaving. “More than okay.” His hands slid up your sides, his fingers brushing over the delicate lace as he kissed along the curve of your breast. Your head fell back against the wall, a soft moan escaping your lips as his touch grew bolder. “Max,” you breathed, your voice barely audible. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with desire. “I’ve wanted you for so long,” he admitted, his voice trembling. “You have no idea what you do to me.” “Show me,” you whispered, pulling him back to you. And he did.

Every kiss, every touch, every whispered word left no doubt about how much he wanted you. The small dressing room faded away, leaving just the two of you, lost in each other. Max’s lips found yours again, softer this time but no less fervent, as his hands roamed your sides, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You could feel the restraint in him, the way his fingers hesitated at the hem of the lace, his lips pausing as though waiting for you to pull him closer. And when you did—hooking your arms around his neck and pressing your body firmly against his—he let out a low groan, his control fraying at the edges. “God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured against your lips, his voice husky and raw. His hands slipped behind you, fingers brushing along the clasp of your bra before stopping. “Can I?” You nodded, your breath hitching. “Please.” With practiced care, he unhooked the clasp, letting the straps slide down your shoulders. The red lace fell away, and his breath hitched as he took you in, his gaze so full of awe it made you blush.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his hands gently cupping your sides as his lips returned to your neck, trailing down slowly. His kisses were deliberate, each one igniting a spark that left you clinging to him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “You’re not even looking at the bra anymore,” you teased breathlessly, your head tilting back to give him more access. Max laughed softly, his lips brushing over your collarbone. “The bra’s great. Fantastic, even. But it’s what’s under it that’s got me distracted.” His words sent a jolt of heat through you, and before you knew it, your hands were tugging at the hem of his shirt. “Fair’s fair,” you said, your voice teasing yet laced with need. He let you pull his shirt over his head, his toned chest and shoulders now on full display. You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander, a small smile playing on your lips. “Not bad,” you murmured, biting your bottom lip. “Not bad?” he echoed, a playful smirk tugging at his mouth. “Guess I’ll have to try harder to impress you.”

Before you could respond, he lifted you effortlessly, pressing you against the wall as his lips captured yours once more. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, the new angle sending a surge of heat through you. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you securely as he kissed you like his life depended on it. The air between you was electric, the confined space of the dressing room amplifying every sound, every breath, every whispered name. But even amidst the passion, Max was careful, his touch reverent as though you might break beneath his hands. “Max,” you whispered, your voice shaky but insistent. “I want you.” His forehead pressed against yours, his breathing ragged as he fought to keep control. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. Your lips found his again, softer this time, full of unspoken promises. “Then stop waiting.” Max’s lips crashed into yours again, any hesitation melting away as his hands roamed your body with newfound confidence.

His fingertips traced over the curves of your waist, your hips, as though committing every inch of you to memory. The weight of his touch, the sheer passion behind it, sent heat pooling in your core. Your back pressed against the cool wall of the dressing room as his lips trailed lower, brushing over the sensitive skin of your collarbone before descending further. He paused, his breath warm against your bare chest, his hands steadying you as though giving you one last chance to stop him. But the soft whimper that escaped your lips only encouraged him, his tongue darting out to taste your skin. “Max,” you breathed, your voice trembling as your hands tangled in his hair. He groaned at the sound of his name, his lips capturing your nipple and tugging gently, earning another quiet gasp from you. His other hand slid down, gripping your thigh and pulling you even closer against him. Your legs tightened around his waist, the friction of his jeans against your bare skin driving you crazy.

“You’re so—God, you’re so good at this,” you whispered, your head tilting back as he switched sides, his kisses trailing across your chest. “You make it easy,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and rough. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you flush against the growing hardness in his jeans. The pressure made you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders as your body pressed into his. You shifted, grinding against him just enough to draw a strangled sound from his throat. His head fell against your shoulder, his breath hot against your neck. “You’re gonna kill me,” he muttered, his voice tinged with both amusement and desperation. You couldn’t help but laugh softly, your lips brushing against his ear. “I thought you could handle me.” He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes filled with so much heat it sent shivers down your spine. “I can,” he said, his tone dripping with confidence. “But you’re making it real hard to be a gentleman right now.” You smiled, your hands sliding down his chest and resting on the waistband of his jeans.

“Who said I wanted you to be a gentleman?” His resolve snapped. In one fluid motion, he had you pressed even harder against the wall, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss as his hands roamed lower. His fingers skimmed over the waistband of your panties, teasing the edge as if testing your patience. “Max,” you whispered, your voice heavy with need. “Please.” That was all he needed. His fingers slipped beneath the lace, exploring your warmth as his lips returned to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that made you shudder. His movements were deliberate, his touch skilled as he drew soft moans from you, each sound sending a jolt of electricity straight to his core. The intensity between you was overwhelming, the small dressing room feeling like it might combust from the heat of it all. His name fell from your lips like a prayer, your hands gripping him tightly as he worked you to the edge. And just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore, he pulled back, his breathing ragged as he rested his forehead against yours.

“We should stop,” he said, though his voice betrayed how much he didn’t want to. You shook your head, your lips brushing against his. “Not yet.” His lips curled into a small, almost smug smile before he kissed you again, his hands sliding up your thighs as the tension built between you once more. Max’s smile turned into something more devilish as he leaned in again, capturing your lips in another searing kiss. His hands gripped your thighs firmly, supporting you as his body pressed even closer. The way you moved against him, desperate and wanting, only spurred him on further. “God, you’re perfect,” he muttered against your lips, his voice raw and breathless. He made quick work of sliding your panties down, letting them drop to the floor as his fingers teased along your heat. You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as his touch sent waves of pleasure coursing through you. The intensity in his eyes was almost too much to bear, as though he was worshiping every inch of you with his hands and mouth.

“Max,” you whimpered, your head falling back against the wall. “Please… I need you.” Those words were his undoing. With one hand, he quickly unfastened his jeans, letting them fall just enough. He reached into his back pocket, fumbling for a condom he must’ve carried by habit, and with trembling fingers, he slid it on. His other hand steadied your hips, holding you firmly in place. He met your gaze, his eyes searching yours for confirmation one last time. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice softer now, laced with a tenderness that made your chest ache. You nodded, your hands cupping his face as you pulled him into another kiss. “I’ve never been more sure.” With a low groan, he pushed into you slowly, the stretch sending a shiver through your entire body. Your breath caught as he filled you, your legs tightening around him instinctively. He stilled for a moment, his forehead pressed against yours as he let you adjust, the intimacy of the moment making your heart race even faster.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice gentle despite the tension in his body. “Better than okay,” you whispered, your lips brushing his. “Move.” That was all he needed. He began to move, his rhythm slow and deliberate at first, each thrust sending sparks of pleasure through you. Your moans filled the small room, mixing with his low grunts as he picked up the pace, his hips rolling against yours with a precision that left you breathless. The intensity between you built with every movement, every whispered name and broken moan. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, his lips finding your neck once more as he murmured praises against your skin. “God, you feel so good,” he groaned, his voice rough and ragged. “I’ve wanted this for so long.” His confession sent a new wave of heat through you, your nails raking down his back as you clung to him. “Me too,” you admitted, your voice barely audible. “You have no idea.” Your words seemed to ignite something in him. His movements grew more urgent, his thrusts deeper as he pushed you closer to the edge.

You could feel the tension building in your core, your body tightening around him as you reached for that release. “Max,” you gasped, your voice trembling. “I’m—” “I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice filled with both determination and adoration. “Let go, baby. I’ve got you.” His words sent you tumbling over the edge, your body arching against his as waves of pleasure crashed through you. Your cry of release was muffled by his lips as he kissed you deeply, his own movements becoming erratic as he chased his climax. With a low groan, he followed you over the edge, his grip on you tightening as he buried himself inside you one last time. For a moment, the two of you stayed like that, tangled together in the quiet aftermath. Your breathing was heavy, your bodies pressed tightly together as the reality of what just happened began to sink in. Max was the first to break the silence, his voice soft and full of emotion. “You’re… incredible,” he said, his forehead resting against yours.

🔹 GN!Reader 🔹 Soft Fluff🔹 Makeout Session🔹 Tender Hands, Lazy Kisses🔹 Slight Teasing🔹 “Is This Real?” Energy🔹 Comfy Couch Vibes🔹 Request 🦋

It starts slow.

You’re lounging together, limbs tangled on the couch, some random video playing in the background that neither of you are paying attention to. His hoodie sleeves are too long and your hand’s tucked under them, holding his fingers like a secret. Max keeps looking at you. Not in a “what’s up” kind of way—but in a lingering way. Like he’s memorizing the curve of your smile, the shape of your lashes when you blink slowly at him. And when you finally tilt your head and smirk, “What?”—he only shrugs. “Dunno. You’re just cute.” You raise a brow. “Just?”

He leans in a little closer, lips tugging at the corners. “Cute. Hot. Way too good at stealing all my hoodies.” Your laugh is warm and quiet. But he doesn’t laugh with you this time. Instead, he shifts closer. One hand slides over your waist, slow and easy, like he’s testing the waters—but he already knows you’ll let him drown there. His other hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing beneath your eye. You don’t even have to ask. He kisses you. Not rough. Not rushed. Just soft and full and present. He kisses you like he’s been waiting for this exact moment all day—and maybe he has. It deepens naturally. A little more pressure. A slight tilt of your chin. You feel his breath against your skin when he pulls back for half a second, nose brushing yours, before diving back in like he just couldn’t stay away.

His hands stay respectful—but greedy in their own way. One cradling the back of your head, the other gripping your thigh just enough to say, mine. You make a noise in the back of your throat, not even a moan—more like a surprised breath. Like oh. This is real. Max laughs against your lips. “You okay?” he mumbles, forehead resting against yours. You nod. A little dazed. “Yeah. Just… kinda forgot how to think.” He kisses the side of your mouth, then your jaw. “Good. ‘Cause I wasn’t planning on stopping anytime soon.” You spend the rest of the afternoon tangled up, kissing like there’s no timer on the moment. No rush. Just you and him and the soft rhythm of your heart finally beating in sync.

You’re both deep in it. Limbs tangled, his hoodie scrunched halfway up your back, Max’s hand under your shirt (respectfully… mostly), just resting there with his thumb rubbing lazy circles on your skin. Your legs are hooked around his, your fingers in his hair, and you’re both breathing like you’ve just finished a marathon—not from doing anything intense, just from all the damn kissing. That’s when the front door opens. And slams shut. “YO, PEZZY, YOU LEFT YOUR—” Yumi’s voice cuts off immediately. You don’t even get a chance to spring apart. You and Max just freeze like two guilty teenagers caught by the school principal—only worse because Max still has his hand up your shirt and you’re halfway in his lap. Yumi stands there for a beat too long. Mouth open. Eyes wide. Bag still in his hand.

Then he slowly puts the bag down on the entryway table. Still not blinking. “…I’mma go. I saw nothing. Y’all continue your National Geographic mating ritual in peace.” And then he’s gone. Door slams again. You bury your face in Max’s shoulder and scream into the fabric of his hoodie while he just wheezes into yours. “Oh my God,” you mutter, voice muffled. “We are never living that down.” Max, trying to contain his laughter, snorts, “He’s definitely telling the others.” As if on cue, his phone buzzes on the coffee table. A Discord notification lights up the screen:

Bro was FULLY gripping cheeks

that’s crazy

WHICH cheeks?

Both.

Double homicide.

lemme find out pezzy got W RIZZ

BLOCKED. ALL OF YOU. BLOCKED.