#adapt fluff

alex/adapt = red

reader = pink

STAY FOR A BIT

warnings: fluff, shy!reader, protective adapt, light teasing

the stream had been running for a couple hours — just alex talking, scrolling through clips, answering random chat questions. it was one of those calm nights, nothing crazy, no games, just him and his setup glowing in the dim light.

you’d been sitting off to the side the whole time, on your phone, half-listening to him talk. chat had already figured out you were there — they always did.

“we hear her”

“y/n lurking again??”

“can we say hi aga”

alex glanced at the messages, exhaling through his nose. “you guys need to chill,” he said, smiling a little. “she’s not on camera. relax.”

you looked up. “they know i’m here?”

“they always know,” he said, spinning in his chair to face you. “you could breathe too loud and they’d clip it.”

you laughed quietly. “great.”

he leaned back, head tilting slightly. “you could just come sit here. make it easier.”

“alex, i don’t know what to do on stream.”

“you don’t have to do anything,” he said, voice soft but sure. “just sit here. i’ll handle it.”

you hesitated, then sighed and moved over, sliding onto the edge of his chair. his hand found the back of your knee under the desk — just a small touch, grounding.

chat caught on immediately.

“hiii y/n :)”

“bro she’s so quiet LMAO”

“agahi y/n”

alex read a few messages, smirking. “she’s nervous. don’t make it worse.”

you laughed quietly, trying not to look at the chat feed flying by. “this is so weird.”

“nah,” he said, voice low. “you’re fine. just talk if you want to. or don’t.”

so you didn’t — at least not for a bit. he kept the conversation going, joking around, reacting to stuff, occasionally asking your opinion just to make you smile.

“what do you think about that?” he asked after one clip.

“uhh,” you said, realizing too late that chat was listening, “it’s… dumb.”

he laughed. “see? professional commentary right there.”

“she’s funnier than him fr”

“nah keep her on stream PLEASE”

you shook your head, trying to hide your smile. “they’re gonna make fun of me.”

“they already make fun of me,” he said, shrugging. “you’ll fit right in.”

after a while, it stopped feeling weird. the room felt quieter, even with the chat going off. he’d glance at you between sentences, his hand brushing yours now and then when he leaned over the desk.

eventually, you whispered, “i think i’m done.”

he nodded, muting his mic. “you did good.”

you smiled, soft and tired. “i literally said like two words.”

“yeah,” he said, grinning, “and they loved you for it.”

you rolled your eyes, standing up. “you’re such a liar.”

“nah,” he said, turning back to the monitor, “i’m serious. they’re already asking when you’re coming back.”

you gave him a small look, half amused, half embarrassed. “we’ll see.”

he reached over, squeezing your hand once before unmuting again. “alright, chat, she’s leaving. say bye before y’all scare her off forever.”

“BYEEE Y/N”

“SHE SURVIVED HER FIRST STREAM”

alex smiled at the screen, shaking his head. “you guys are ridiculous.”

when you left the frame, you could still hear him laughing quietly — that small, proud sound he always made when he thought you weren’t listening.

(NOT PROOFREAD)

reader = pink

alex = red

gilbert = orange

adapt x reader - kept on tape / smut

warnings: smut, filming during sex, praise kink, soft dom!alex, possessive language, pet names, & almost getting caught.

—

adapts guest house was quiet except for the low hum of the air conditioning and the faint freeway noise outside. alex had been hinting at it for weeks, always bringing it up in that soft, careful way he did when he really wanted something.

“i want to film us,” he said one night, lying next to you in bed, fingers tracing slow circles on your bare hip. “just for us. no one else ever sees it. i just… i want to be able to watch you later. watch how pretty you look when you’re taking me. the faces you make when you cum. i want to keep that.”

you were nervous, but the way he asked, gentle, honest, eyes dark with want. which made it hard to say no.

“only if it stays between us,” you whispered. “promise?”

“i promise,” he said, kissing you slow and deep. “i already bought another camera. it’ll be safe.”

that was how you ended up in his bed with the camera set up on the dresser, red light blinking steadily.

alex was on top of you, moving slow and deep, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other gripped your thigh.

“look at the camera, baby,” he murmured, voice rough as he thrust into you. “let it see how good you look when i’m inside you.”

you tried to turn your face away at first, shy, but he gently turned your chin back.

“don’t hide,” he whispered, kissing you softly even as his hips kept rolling. “i want to watch this later and remember exactly how you sound when you cum for me.”

you moaned into his mouth, legs wrapping tighter around him as he fucked you deeper, the camera catching every gasp, every whimper, every time your back arched off the bed.

he made sure to talk you through it the whole time, low and intimate.

“that’s it… so fucking pretty. taking my cock so well. you feel so good, baby. so tight and warm.”

he kissed down your neck, then back up to your lips, still thrusting deep and steady.

“look at you,” he breathed against your mouth. “so wet for me. you love this, don’t you? love knowing the camera’s watching while i fuck you.”

you whimpered, nodding, nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure built fast.

“alex—i’m close—”

“good girl,” he groaned, picking up the pace just a little, hips snapping harder. “cum for me. let the camera see how pretty you look when you cum on my dick.”

you came hard, crying out his name, back arching as your walls clenched tight around him. alex followed right after, burying himself deep with a low, broken groan, spilling inside you while the camera kept recording every second.

after, he turned it off, kissed you slow and sweet, and held you close.

“you were perfect,” he whispered against your lips.

—

the next day alex was getting ready to stream.

gilbert walked in and started setting up like usual. he reached for the small camera on the shelf, the one that looked exactly like the streaming camera. he picked it up, already adjusting the angle.

alex’s eyes widened the second he saw which one gilbert had grabbed.

“not that one,” he said quickly, voice sharper than normal.

gilbert paused, confused, holding the camera in his hands.

“why? this is the one we always use.”

alex stepped forward and gently took the camera from gilbert’s hands, setting it back on the shelf. he reached for the correct streaming camera instead and handed it over.

“uh no… use this one,” he said, trying to sound casual but failing. his ears were turning red.

gilbert stared at him for a second, then at the other camera still sitting on the shelf. he opened his mouth like he was about to ask why there were two identical cameras, then closed it again.

he didn’t even want to know.

“whatever you say, dude,” gilbert muttered, shaking his head with a breathy laugh as he started setting up the right camera. “i’m not asking questions.”

alex rubbed the back of his neck, clearly relieved.

“good. thanks.”

gilbert just sighed and kept working, pretending he hadn’t seen anything.

some things were better left unknown.

—

short but good

hopefully… 😅

reader = pink

adapt/alex = red

STEADY HANDS

warnings: alcohol use, fluff, protective!adapt, soft comfort, touchy/drunk affection

you didn’t remember much about how you got so tipsy—only that one drink turned into another, and suddenly you were laughing way too loud at something stupid ron said at the kickback. your head spun when you stood, the room tilting, and that’s when alex was immediately at your side.

“alright,” he said, his hand steadying your waist, voice firm but not annoyed. “that’s enough for you.”

you pouted up at him, words slurred. “m’fine, i swear.”

he just gave you that look—half amused, half worried—and shook his head. “yeah? ‘cause you can’t even stand without leaning on me right now.”

still, he didn’t make a scene. instead, he slipped an arm around you, guiding you out of the noise and toward the car. the night air was cooler, brushing against your skin, but his presence was warmer. you held onto his hoodie sleeve like it was the only thing keeping you steady.

when he was buckling you in, you tilted your head to look at him, eyes heavy but soft. “you’re so handsome, you know that?”

he froze for a second, then let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “you’re drunk.”

“nooo, i’m serious,” you insisted, clumsy hand grabbing at his hoodie strings. “i’m so lucky i have you. you take care of me, and you… you look like, movie star level handsome.”

his ears went red instantly. “jesus…” he muttered, hiding his smile by ducking his head.

before he could close your door, you reached out, cupping his face with both hands and pulling him closer. “alex…” you whispered, your lips puckering dramatically like you were about to kiss him.

he blinked, half shocked, half trying not to laugh. “oh my god,” he murmured, carefully moving your hands back down. “you’re literally trying to make out with me in the parking lot.”

you whined, leaning forward in your seat. “but i want to kiss you.”

“yeah? you also wanted a third shot an hour ago. you’re not exactly reliable right now,” he teased, but his voice was softer than his words.

you pouted again, tugging weakly at his hoodie. “just one kiss…”

his throat bobbed as he cleared it, shaking his head quickly. “nope. not like this. i want you to actually remember it.”

the ride was quiet after that, your forehead pressed against the window while he drove, though every now and then you reached over to poke at his arm or lace your fingers with his.

by the time you got back to the faze house, he was practically carrying you inside. you kicked off your shoes, mumbling about how the hallway felt like it was spinning, and he just muttered, “i got you, don’t worry.”

he sat you down on the edge of his bed, kneeling to grab a bottle of water and some advil. “here. drink this. you’re gonna thank me tomorrow.”

you stared at him with glassy eyes, suddenly giggling. “you’re so bossy when i’m drunk.”

he rolled his eyes, though the corner of his mouth twitched up. “somebody’s gotta make sure you don’t wake up feeling like shit.”

you downed the water clumsily, half spilling it down your chin, and he caught it with the sleeve of his hoodie, wiping it away gently.

when he tried to move away, you tugged at his hoodie again, pulling him closer until your face was almost buried in his chest. “alex, stay. please? and maybe… maybe just a tiny kiss?”

he froze again, staring down at you. his chest felt tight. god, he wanted to. but instead, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your hairline instead. “that’s all you get. now lay down.”

you giggled like it was the sweetest thing in the world, finally letting him tuck you under the blanket.

climbing in beside you, he let you curl into his chest, his heartbeat steady against your ear. his fingers stroked gently through your hair, his voice low.

“just sleep, baby. i’ll take care of you.”

and even as your eyes closed, you mumbled into his chest one last time, “handsome… mine.”

he laughed quietly, shaking his head but pulling you closer. “yeah, yours. now sleep.”

(NOT PROOFREAD!)

i deadass think this is the cutest fluff i’ve ever written omg, ima make myself a jason version hehe.

alex = red

reader = pink

jason = orange

ron = blue

warnings: situationship tension, jealousy, emotional confrontation, insecurity, crying, raised voices, hurt feelings, messy communication, unresolved ending & swearing

-

adapt’s stream plays on your laptop in the dark, the purple glow from his leds spilling through the screen and washing faint color across your bedroom walls. chat scrolls endlessly beside his gameplay, messages stacking too fast to read, but you aren’t watching the match. you’re watching him. the way he leans forward when he’s focused. the way his lips twitch when he’s trying not to laugh. the way he runs a hand through his hair when he’s overwhelmed.

jason’s voice cuts through his headset. “yo bro, when are you gonna introduce your girlfriend to us?”

adapt doesn’t even hesitate. he snorts softly, eyes still on his monitor. “i don’t have a girlfriend, jason.”

your stomach drops.

ron laughs. “oh yeah? so i guess y/n isn’t your girlfriend?”

jason adds, “we just waiting for you to claim her, bro.”

adapt shakes his head, cheeks faintly pink as he leans back in his chair. “shut up, both of you. you’re annoying.”

he says it with a laugh.

like it’s not serious.

like it’s just another joke.

chat explodes.

WAIT WHAT

ISNT HE DATING Y/N??

PRE BOSS CALL LOL

adapt keeps smiling at his screen, trying to focus on the game while donations ping quietly in the background. he doesn’t correct himself. doesn’t explain. just lets the moment pass like it doesn’t matter.

like you don’t matter.

your throat tightens.

you rewind the stream.

watch it again.

“i don’t have a girlfriend.”

the words feel heavier the second time.

you mute the stream and just stare at the screen, your reflection faint over his frozen smile. your chest feels tight, like you can’t breathe deep enough, like something is pressing down on you.

you close the tab.

open it again.

then sit there in silence until the stream finally ends.

“alright chat, i’m getting off,” he says casually. “i’ll stream tomorrow.”

adapts offline screen flashes once his outro ends.

your room feels suffocatingly quiet.

you grab your hoodie without thinking.

—

the drive to his place feels like it takes forever, streetlights blurring together through watery eyes you keep angrily wiping dry. your hands tighten on the steering wheel every time his voice echoes in your head.

i don’t have a girlfriend.

you park. sit there for a moment. then get out before you can change your mind.

you knock harder than you mean to.

adapt opens the door, surprised. “oh — hey,” he says softly. “babe, i didn’t know you were—”

you walk past him.

his room is still glowing purple, monitor humming quietly on his desk, chair pushed back like he just stood up. everything looks normal. calm. peaceful.

it makes your chest hurt more.

he closes the door gently. “what’s wrong?”

you turn to face him, arms crossed tightly like you’re holding yourself together. “was it funny?”

he blinks. “what?”

“earlier.”

“earlier what?”

“on stream.”

he looks genuinely confused. “what happened?”

your jaw tightens. “ron and jason.”

“what about them?”

“the girlfriend thing.”

he stares at you. “i don’t get it.”

frustration spikes hot in your chest. “you said you don’t have a girlfriend.”

“…because they were joking?” he says carefully.

you laugh once, but it breaks halfway through. “i’m a joke?”

“what? no.”

“you said you don’t have a girlfriend alex.”

“babe, it wasn’t serious.”

your voice rises despite trying to keep it steady. “am i not your fucking girlfriend, alex?”

he freezes.

“what are we then?” you continue, tears blurring your vision. “just two people with feelings for each other that you don’t want to admit exist?!”

“that’s not what i meant,” he says quickly.

“then what did you mean?”

“they were messing around—”

“so you deny me?”

“i didn’t deny you!”

“you literally said you don’t have a girlfriend!”

“because chat doesn’t need to know our business like that!”

“OUR BUSINESS?” you shout. “it’s a relationship, not some secret scandal!”

he runs a hand through his hair, frustration building. “you’re blowing this up.”

“because it fucking hurts!”

your voice cracks and you hate that it does, wiping your face angrily as tears spill anyway.

“do you know how embarrassing that felt?” you ask. “sitting there hearing you pretend i don’t exist?”

“i wasn’t pretending—”

“it felt like it!”

silence crashes between you.

adapt’s expression softens when he sees you crying. he steps closer carefully. “hey…”

“don’t,” you say, backing away.

“i’m trying to fix this baby please.”

“you can’t.”

“why not?”

“because you meant it.”

“i didn’t!”

“then why was it so easy for you to say?!”

he doesn’t answer fast enough.

and that silence says everything.

you let out a shaky breath, voice smaller now. “i just wanted you to be proud of me.”

he swallows. “i am y/n.”

“clearly not enough for you to admit it.”

he steps closer again, reaching for your arms gently. “please just calm down.”

you push his hands away. “stop touching me.”

he freezes.

“i feel stupid,” you whisper. “like i made up something that was never real.”

“it is real babe,”

“then why do i feel alone in it?”

he looks at you helplessly, like he doesn’t know what to say that won’t make it worse.

you grab your jacket.

“wait,” he says quickly. “please don’t leave angry.”

“i don’t want to look at you right now alex.”

“we can talk about it, please just sit.” he says directing towards the couch

“you should’ve talked about it on stream.”

the words land harder than you intend.

you open the door.

he doesn’t follow this time.

doesn’t try to stop you.

the hallway air feels cold against your face as you step out, chest tight and eyes burning.

the door closes behind you with a soft click.

—

adapt stands there staring at it, jaw tense, hands restless at his sides. the purple lights still glow overhead, his monitor humming quietly like nothing happened.

but the room feels different now.

too quiet.

too empty.

he sinks into his chair slowly, rubbing his face as everything replays in his head.

and for the first time, the silence feels louder than the stream ever was.

—

reader = pink

adapt/alex = red

NO MORE “TYB”

warnings: stream drama, chat spamming, light swearing, fluff, protective alex

you’ve gotten used to being background noise in alex’s streams—curled up on the spare chair in his setup, scrolling on your phone, half-listening while he games. it’s comfortable, second nature by now. sometimes he forgets you’re there until he glances over mid-round and smirks like it’s some inside joke just between you.

but tonight, you notice the shift before he does.

chat’s moving faster than usual, a blur of text that makes you glance up from your phone. and there it is again, like clockwork:

TYB. TYB. TYB.

tara yummy boyfriend.

you sigh quietly, tucking your legs up under yourself. it’s been going on for months—this dumb running gag chat won’t let die. sometimes alex brushes it off with a laugh, sometimes he just ignores it. but tonight it’s everywhere, flooding the feed.

then one message stands out: “sorry y/n, but he’s tyb forever.”

your chest tightens.

alex keeps his eyes on the monitor, but his jaw works a little. “alright, chill with that,” he says suddenly, tone sharper than his usual offhand way of talking to chat. “you don’t need to spam tyb every two seconds.”

you glance at him. he’s still gaming, but you know him too well—he’s reading it, and it’s getting under his skin.

instead of easing up, the spam keeps coming.

“you can’t run from it adapt.”

“tara yummy’s #1 fanboy ong.”

“nah chat weird for that.”

he leans back slightly, headset shifting on his head. “nah, for real, cut it out. i’ve let y’all rock with that for a while but it’s tired now. not funny anymore.”

chat splits down the middle—some defending you, some doubling down.

he exhales through his nose, then finally looks right into the camera. “i’m not tyb. i’m not her anything. i’m with y/n. so stop spamming that shit, because all it does is disrespect her—and i’m not cool with it.”

the room feels like it goes still. even you freeze in your chair, heart hammering.

chat slows for a beat, then erupts again—different this time.

“finally addressed.”

“WEDIDIT.”

“y/n > tyb any day.”

others jump in quick, shutting down the lingering spammers.

“been knew y/n was endgame.”

“stop comparing women, that’s lame.”

“no more tyb. adapt + y/n only.”

you can’t help the way your lips tug upward, warmth rising in your face. alex glances at you out of the corner of his eye, and for a split second his expression softens—before he turns back to the screen.

“yeah, so… that’s that,” he says into the mic, steady. “tyb’s done. if you still wanna spam it, enjoy your timeout. respect my girl or don’t type at all.”

the casual way he says it knocks the air out of you.

the rest of the stream feels lighter, almost playful. chat keeps tossing your name around, but in a different way—affectionate, supportive. when alex clutches a win, they type: “y/n buff confirmed.” when he fumbles, someone adds: “he’s distracted thinking about her.”

by the time he ends, you’re practically hiding in your hoodie, a grin you can’t wipe off your face.

“alright chat, i’m out for the night,” alex says, pulling out of the match. “appreciate everyone—except the tyb warriors. you can stay banned.” he smirks, waves at the camera, and hits “stop streaming.”

the second the stream cuts, he yanks off his headset and groans, scrubbing a hand over his face. “jesus christ.”

you uncurl from the chair. “alex.”

he drops his hands, looking over at you with a mix of exhaustion and guilt. “didn’t mean to just… blurt it out like that. it wasn’t supposed to be some big reveal, i just got tired of the same shit every night. and when they started dragging your name into it?” he shakes his head. “nah. couldn’t let that slide.”

you walk over, setting your hands lightly on the back of his chair so he has to look at you. “hey. you don’t have to apologize. you did the right thing.”

his brow furrows, skeptical. “me snapping at chat live?”

“you standing up for me,” you correct, smiling faintly. “it was sweet. honestly… kinda hot.”

that pulls a laugh out of him, surprised and low. his cheeks tint, just barely, as he shakes his head. “you’re insane.”

“i’m serious.” you nudge his shoulder, grinning. “plus, you should see twitter right now. #nomoretyb is trending.”

he groans again, throwing his head back against the chair. “oh my god. i’m never hearing the end of this.”

“probably not,” you tease, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. “but at least now they know. and you made it clear—I’m the one you’re with.”

his eyes meet yours, grin tugging at his mouth. “always.”

later, curled up together on the couch, you scroll through clips of his little outburst. fans are already editing it into highlight reels, pairing it with captions like “respect my girl or get banned” and “adapt shutting down tyb once and for all.”

you laugh into his shoulder, scrolling, while his arm rests comfortably around you. the noise of chat, the stupid spam, the months of dragging—all of it feels smaller now, drowned out by the louder truth he said without hesitation.

respect my girl.

and it’s all you hear, even when the rest of the world won’t shut up about it.

(NOT PROOFREAD!)

alex/adapt = red

reader = pink

OFFICIALLY OURS

warnings: mild language, social media chaos, mentions of privacy + fame, pure fluff, embarrassed bf alex, soft domestic vibes

adapt had been live for about four hours now. you’d been half-watching from your apartment — laptop open on the kitchen counter, his stream running while you did a dozen other things. he was doing what he always did when he didn’t have a plan: reacting to random clips, scrolling through twitter, laughing at chat’s chaos.

he’d told you earlier that it’d be a short stream tonight since he wanted you to come over later. you’d only half believed him — alex and “short” never really went together — but you still smiled at the thought.

no one knew you two were dating. not officially. sure, people speculated; chat caught the way he’d soften whenever your name came up, or how he avoided mentioning anyone else when you were around. but neither of you had ever said it out loud.

around the five-hour mark, you sighed and closed your laptop, deciding to get ready to head over to the faze house soon.

meanwhile, alex was leaning back in his chair, ready to end stream when someone in chat sent a twitter link.

“what’s this?” he muttered, clicking it without thinking.

and immediately regretted it.

the clip opened to a shaky video — clearly recorded from meta glasses — of the two of you sitting in a restaurant. laughing, leaning close, his hand brushing yours. it was so normal, so harmless, yet so damning when seen through a fan’s lens.

“oh my god,” he muttered under his breath, his whole face flushing red. “uhh… not sure what this is…”

he fumbled with his mouse, closing the tab as chat exploded.

“BRO IS THAT Y/N??”

“CAUGHT”

“NOWAY they caught you like this”

he tried to play it off, running a hand through his hair, hiding the smile that kept breaking through. “why are y’all typing ‘caught,’ bro,” he said, laughing softly — the kind of laugh that gave everything away.

his cheeks were tinted pink, his grin a little too wide, his voice too shaky to sound casual.

after a few minutes of trying (and failing) to change the subject, he ended the stream with a final embarrassed laugh, muttering, “alright, that’s enough twitter for tonight.”

—

you showed up at his place an hour later — dressed comfortably, lip gloss still fresh, heart pounding a little faster than it should’ve.

the second he opened the door, you knew something was up. he smiled, but it was tight, like he was trying not to laugh.

“what?” you asked suspiciously.

he scratched the back of his neck. “so… funny story.”

“oh god,” you said immediately. “what did you do?”

“me? nothing.” he laughed nervously. “twitter, though? twitter’s losing its mind.”

he led you inside, grabbed his phone, and showed you the video — that same clip from the restaurant.

you froze. “alex,” you said, voice caught somewhere between shock and disbelief, “what the actual hell.”

“yeah.” he sighed, still half smiling. “chat sent it mid-stream. i tried to brush it off but, uh… yeah. didn’t really work.”

you groaned, pressing your palms to your face. “oh my god. they know.”

“they think they know,” he corrected, lightly tugging your hands down so he could see your face. “we don’t have to say anything. not unless you want to.”

you looked at him — his face soft, his expression more nervous than you’d ever seen it — and your chest ached a little.

“i don’t mind,” you said quietly. “as long as i’m not, like, in your content. i’m okay if people know. i just don’t wanna be… everywhere.”

he nodded immediately. “yeah, of course. i wouldn’t do that to you. we’ll keep it private — just not secret.”

“private, not secret,” you repeated with a small smile. “i like that.”

—

the next night, alex went live again.

the stream was normal at first — reacting to clips, talking about the subathon — until the chat brought it up again.

“so about that restaurant clip…”

he paused, hand frozen on his mouse, then said quickly, almost under his breath, “yeah okay fine, we’re dating,” before immediately changing the subject and taking a sip of water like nothing happened.

for a second, chat didn’t even catch it. then it hit.

“WAIT DID HE JUST—??”

“HEALED”

“WEDIDIT”

alex’s face went red immediately. he covered his mouth, laughing so hard his shoulders shook. “alright, alright, calm down,” he said through a grin. “you guys win. whatever.”

back at your apartment, you weren’t even watching the stream live — you’d been scrolling twitter when you saw it.

the clip of him admitting it — five seconds long — already had hundreds of thousands of views. your notifications were flooded, your phone buzzing nonstop.

“I KNEW IT.”

“power couple.”

“he’s so whipped it hurts.”

you couldn’t stop smiling. it was chaotic, messy, and completely unplanned, but somehow it felt perfect.

your phone buzzed again — a text from alex:

alex: “that went well right?”

you: “twitter’s on fire.”

alex: “worth it.”

you laughed quietly, dropping your phone beside you.

and yeah, he was right — it was worth it.

(NOT PROOFREAD!)

warnings: explicit sexual content, belt riding, edging/denial, dom/sub dynamics, dirty talk, “good girl” praise, overstimulation, reader insert, explicit language

—

he’s in his desk chair, legs spread wide like he owns the room, hoodie pushed up just enough to show the low waistband of his jeans.
the big chrome hearts belt buckle glints under the lamp light—silver cross heavy and cold against his stomach, the leather strap thick and worn from use.

you’re straddling him, knees digging into the chair on either side of his hips, hands gripping his shoulders for balance, nails already leaving little crescents in his skin.

he’s looking up at you like you’re the only thing in the room, eyes dark, hungry, but patient.

“go on,” he says, voice low, calm, almost challenging.
“ride it. show me how bad you want it.”

you lower yourself slow, the thick leather strap pressing right against your clit through your soaked panties, the cool metal buckle nudging your entrance with every shift, sending a sharp jolt through you.

you roll your hips once, tentative, feeling the ridge drag perfect, the buckle cold and hard against your slick heat.

he groans soft, eyes locked on your face, watching every little reaction.

“fuck… look at you.”

you start moving—slow circles at first, grinding down, feeling the leather warm under you, the buckle pressing just enough to make you gasp.

your breath hitches, thighs trembling already.

he doesn’t touch himself tho.

just watches, hands resting light on your thighs, thumbs tracing slow, teasing circles on your skin.

every time your eyes flutter or your mouth falls open, he leans forward a little, like he can’t get enough.

“so pretty,” he murmurs, voice rough.
“keep going. let me see that face when you’re desperate.”

you speed up, chasing it, hips rocking steady, the friction building fast, slick soaking through your panties, dripping onto the leather.

he can tell you’re close—your grip tightens on his shoulders, hips stuttering, breath coming in short, needy pants.

he grabs your waist, stills you hard.

you whine, frustrated, trying to move.

“not yet.”

you try to grind again.

he holds you firm, fingers digging in.

“slow.”

you glare down at him, cheeks flushed, lips parted, brows pinched in frustration.

he’s mesmerized.

“god, your face,” he says, voice thick with want.
“love watching you like this. desperate. trying so hard to be good.”

you’re shaking now, clit throbbing, so close you can taste it.

he lets you move again—just a little.

slow rolls, dragging it out, the buckle pressing cold and perfect against your clit.

your face is wrecked—eyes glassy, mouth open, little whimpers slipping out.

he stops you again.

right at the edge.

“alex—fuck—”

“shh. one more.”

you’re whimpering now, grinding tiny, needy circles, tears pricking your eyes from how bad you need it.

he lets you get right to the edge—eyes on yours the whole time, watching every expression, every twitch, every desperate plea in your face.

then stops you.

you drop your forehead to his shoulder, breathing hard, body trembling.

“please—i can’t—”

he kisses your temple, hand sliding up your back.

“cum for me baby.”

he lets you move.

you do—hard, fast, chasing it like your life depends on it.

the buckle digs in perfect, leather slick with you, friction overwhelming.

you come with a broken moan, shaking hard, nails digging deep into his shoulders, ur clit pulsing, slick gushing down the belt.

he holds you through it, hands gentle on your waist, whispering praise against your ear.

when you finally still, panting, body limp, he kisses you slow, deep.

“good girl.”

you laugh weak, still trembling, face buried in his neck.

he grins, hands sliding to your ass, squeezing.

“this buckle’s staying forever.”

you bite his shoulder, soft.

“it better.”

warnings: explicit sexual content, oral sex (f receiving), dom/sub tones, commanding language, body weight/size talk, overstimulation, reader insert, explicit language

—

you’re straddling his chest, hovering, thighs trembling.

he’s flat on his back, hands on your hips, trying to pull you higher.

“come on, babe. sit.”

you shake your head, cheeks burning.

“i’ll crush you.”

he laughs, soft, not mean.

“crush me? baby, i bench more than you weigh on a bad day.”

you bite your lip, still unsure.

“i’m serious. what if i hurt you?”

he looks up at you, eyes dark but gentle.

“you won’t. and even if you did—worth it.”

he slides his hands to your ass, squeezes.

“trust me. i want it. want you on my face, want to feel you let go.”

you hesitate.

he tugs again, firmer.

“sit. now.”

you lower slow, knees on either side of his head, still holding yourself up.

he groans the second you’re close enough for him to smell you.

“fuck, that’s it.”

you’re barely resting on him, most of your weight still on your knees.

he growls, grabs your thighs, yanks you down hard.

your full weight settles on his mouth.

you gasp, hands flying to the headboard.

he moans into you—like it’s the best thing he’s ever felt.

then he gets to work.

tongue flat, licking slow from your entrance to your clit, again and again.

no teasing. just hungry.

you try to lift up—he locks his arms around your thighs, holds you down.

“stay.”

his voice is muffled, vibrating against you.

you relax a little, start rocking on instinct.

he hums approval, sucks your clit hard, flicks fast.

your legs shake.

“alex—”

he doesn’t stop.

just eats you like he’s starving, nose buried, tongue fucking inside you, then back to your clit.

you’re grinding now, chasing it, head thrown back.

he loves it—every time you let more weight down he groans louder, hands spreading you wider.

you cum hard, thighs clamping around his head, crying out his name.

he doesn’t let up—keeps licking through it, drawing it out until you’re shaking, oversensitive, trying to lift off.

he holds you there, gentle now, soft kisses to your clit until you’re boneless.

finally lets you slide down his chest.

you collapse on him, breathing hard.

he’s grinning, face shiny, lips swollen.

“see? didn’t crush me.”

you hide your face in his neck, laughing weak.

“shut up.”

he kisses your temple.

“told you i could take it.”

then quieter, smug:

“do it again?”