Second Opinion — Pezzy x Reader
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.
“I don’t know how I got this lucky.” You smiled, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “I think I’m the lucky one.” He kissed you again, slower this time, the passion giving way to something softer, something deeper. “You’re stuck with me now, you know that?” he teased, his grin returning as he gently helped you adjust your robe. “Good,” you replied, your smile matching his. “Because I’m not letting you go.” Max helped you gather yourself, ensuring you were comfortable before leaving the dressing room together. The teasing you both endured from the guys was relentless, but neither of you cared. The smiles on your faces told the story better than words ever could.
