it makes me want it more
summary streamer university was the perfect opportunity to connect with all kinds of people. but the only person you had in your mind was plaqueboymax.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ pairing plaqueboymax x black!fem!reader, cw smut, cowgirl position, soft dom!max, reader cries during coitus, word count 1.6k
𝓅laqueboymax wasn't the main reason you applied to streamer university, but he was definitely a contributing factor.
the idea of collaborating with your favorite streamers while simultaneously building your fanbase was an enthralling concept for you. this isn’t an opportunity you could ever pass up.
seeing max would be a benefit, too.
you’d collaborated with him a multitude of times in the past, having a relationship that didn’t have a label in it. you were more than friends yet less than anything intimate—almost sounding like a situationship, as much as you hated to admit it.
the two of you tended to flirt on and off camera. however, it never went further than exchanging pet names and lingering touches.
“y’all seen that clip of wardrobe saying plaqueboymax ‘walk like it’s heavy’?” you ask your chat, waiting for the responses to roll in before continuing your sentence. it’s a chorus of agreements, given that everybody who watches wardrobe or max had seen the clip at this point.
“i’m not gon’ lie, he definitely does. and i’m tryna find out.”
you semi-regretted the words the moment they left your mouth. you meant what you said, but you didn’t mean to say it to the tens of thousands of people watching you. your chat exploded, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to escape this clip for the next few months. at the very least.
OH I’M STARTING A RUMOR
tryna find out?? like tryna find out if it’s heavy???
is this real
oh he finna have a field day with this clip 😭
“wait, y’all are taking my words out of context,” you make a poor attempt at explaining what you just said.
you continue to feebly explain yourself away as you walk around the outside of the campus. you don’t have a specific destination in mind, simply wanting to be away from your room or the dense cafeteria.
you’re not paying much attention to the people around you until you hear “hey, boo,” from wardrobe. you see max walking next to him, and you’re just ‘bout ready to drop dead. you’re being overdramatic, but you could barely face him after what you’ve said just moments ago.
“hey, wardrobe. hey, max.”
“hey, girl. tell me why i just saw your clip tho?”
“what clip?” it’s no way he could’ve seen the clip of you talking about max that quickly. it barely happened ten minutes ago, and he’s already questioning you about it.
“you said you tryna find out if it’s heavy, right?”
“if what’s heavy?” max asks.
you already know somebody from your chat snitched on you, and there’s nothing you could do about it at this point. you could deny it despite the undeniable evidence presented, or you could own up to it and face the embarrassment.
you decided to go with the latter.
“you know when i read that comment that said you ‘walk like it’s heavy’? yeah, that,” wardrobe said, his attention directed to max.
“what?”
“okay, so in my defense,” you started, attention aimed to max, “you do walk like it’s heavy! and somebody in my chat brought it up, so i had to speak my mind.”
“nobody in your chat said that,” wardrobe refuted, but you and max ignored him.
“you tryna find out?” max asks.
“in theory.”
“in theory?”
“in theory, i’m tryna find out if it’s heavy. ‘cause the streets saying that it is.”
wardrobe looks between you and max, and then to his camera. he’s in utter disbelief in the scene unfolding in front of him. he’s aware that you and max have sensuous relationships, but he’s never seen it firsthand until now.
“shit, come find out then.”
“well, imma see y’all later,” you’re desperate to escape this situation because not only are you embarrassed, but you also feel like you’ll be fucking him on stream if you stayed around for any longer. “i got somewhere to be.”
“no she don’t—“
“yeah, imma see you later, ma,” max calls out to you while you’re walking away.
“oh, what y’all got going on?” wardrobe questions, yet max walks away without responding. that was the most tension-filled thing he ever had the displeasure of being a witness to.
“my life isn’t real,” you mutter to your stream as you walk away—still without a destination in mind. you didn’t care as long as you were far away from the chagrin that was the interaction you just had.
your stream had been turned off hours ago. practically everybody’s had been except for the few people doing twenty-four-hour streams.
max’s dorm room was lacking wardrobe. despite the love and respect you held for him, you couldn’t care less about his whereabouts. you were preoccupied with the feeling of max’s hands on you, the warmth of the cramped room.
your hands were planted on his chest to steady yourself whilst you struggled to get used to his length. his hands were planted on your waist—not guiding you, simply resting there instead.
you lift yourself by a few inches, knees planted on the mattress next to his hips, only to sink right back down onto his dick. it’s the first time you’ve moved since taking him in full.
“fuck—you gotta move, ma.”
“‘s too big, max,” you whine.
his grip on your hips tightens and he thrusts into you once. you push your palms further into his chest, another frail attempt to regain your composure. it’s arduous for you to pull yourself together with the man you have under you—looking up at you with both amore and salaciousness.
he thrusts up into you once more. “fuck, max. do that again.”
you don’t have to tell him twice for him to follow your command. hands still grasping your hips, he begins to steadily plunge upwards, into you. all the meanwhile, your hands stay planted on his chest, head hanging low and chest heaving.
he’s nearly as disheveled as you are, if not more. beads of sweat find solace on his forehead, and he’s breathing heavily. the grip he has on your hips would be agonizing if you weren’t lost in the feeling of his dick inside of you. he’s so deep, it almost feels like he’s in your stomach.
the quickness in which he’s fucking you has rapidly increased. you would’ve practically been falling over if you weren’t holding yourself upright.
“nghh—right there!”
“you like that, ma?”
you’re only able to let out an ensemble of moans instead of a verbal response. you nod your head in response, though you’re unsure if it’s perceptible.
“i need you to tell me.”
you’re still unable to give him a verbal response, causing his movements to halt. you whine at the loss of mobility. you attempt to raise yourself in hopes of plunging back down onto him, but him holding you down prevents you from doing so.
“tell me you like it before i stop.”
“like it s’ much, max. don’t stop,” tears gather at your lacrimal glands, giving your eyes that glassed-over look mere moments before your tears are released.
“jus’ like that, ma.”
he continues thrusting into you at the pace he established before he stopped. the only sounds that are audible in the room are skin slapping, your breathy moans, and max’s continuous grunts underneath you.
you feel your orgasm briskly approaching, and all you can do is try to take hold of yourself. it’s an inefficient attempt, ultimately failing you. the tears that were gathering earlier hastily fall down your face, completely out of your control.
“‘m so close,” you whimper out.
“let that shit go for me,” max tells you. the speed of his thrusts starts to falter, signaling that he’s on the cusp of ecstasy that you were.
he doesn’t have to say anything else because you fall apart upon hearing his words. your orgasm shakes your entire body, and your body falls completely forward. you don’t attempt to hold yourself upright, instead allowing yourself to fall into his chest.
a few moments later, max swiftly pulls out, and you feel his cum splatter on your lower back. his head falls back against his pillow, and he rubs a hand down his face while he struggles to catch his breath.
you stay lying on his chest while you also struggle to regain your composure. for a few drawn-out moments, you’re listening to the sound of his heartbeat while both of you mellow out.
“you wanna stay the night?” he asks, a hand coming up to rub from top to bottom of your back.
“yeah. wardrobe not comin’ back?”
“nah. not til’ the morning.”
you wondered what he was doing that caused him to be out all night, but you didn’t care if that meant you got the night alone with max. “okay, i’ll stay.”
“yeah, ‘cause that’s the right answer,” he jests, but you both know you would be stayed regardless.
around six a.m the next morning, you’re attempting to sneak out of max’s dorm room and back into yours. you could only pray that you wouldn't run into someone who was streaming. you had no explanation prepared if you were caught fleeing his dorm room.
“hey. girl, wait. who you spend the night with? ‘cause you not in this dorm.” wardrobe asks you while you’re walking past him—going to your dorm after spending the night in max’s. you’re exiting the elevator while wardrobe’s entering it.
you’re in a hoodie that’s too big, evidently not yours, and a pair of lounging shorts you’d never wear on stream. the hood is over your head and your hair is a little more than messy, but you’re only focused on making it back to your dorm room before too many people catch you in the hallway.
“bye, wardrobe. imma talk to you later.”
“oh, i know that’s right.” he doesn’t say anything else, but he and his stream watch you languidly walk away. your movements are sluggish and filled with exhaustion, like you’ve had a long night.
oh where she been?
she definitely got some 😭
whole time she was js with plaqueboymax
the hoodie and the messy hair? that’s the morning after look fs