#adapt fluff

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… 😅

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.

—

warnings: mild angst, insecurity and self-doubt, mentions of alex’s past hookups, party setting with alcohol, feelings of comparison / not feeling like enough, reassurance at the end.

—

the music was loud the second you walked in, bass shaking the floor just enough to feel it in your chest. alex kept your hand in his while he said hi to people near the door, pulling you along behind him like it was automatic. every few seconds someone called his name and he’d turn, smile, dap them up.

it was your first party like this together. not just hanging out with friends — an actual crowded house, random people, people you didn’t know.

at first it was fine. he introduced you to a couple of his friends, arm sliding around your waist while he talked. “this is my girlfriend,” he said casually, like it wasn’t a big deal, and it made your stomach flip a little in a good way.

then a girl walked up.

“alex? oh my god.”

she didn’t hesitate before hugging him. it wasn’t long or anything, just easy. comfortable. like she’d done it before.

he pulled back first. “hey. didn’t know you were coming.”

she laughed, then finally looked at you. he introduced you right away, hand settling back on your waist.

“cute,” she said, smiling.

it wasn’t mean. it wasn’t fake either. just… something about it felt off.

the conversation shifted back to them almost immediately. something about a party from last year. something about him leaving early. they laughed like they were picking up in the middle of a story.

you stood there, nodding like you got it.

and then it kept happening.

different girl. same tone. same kind of familiarity.

“remember that night—”

“you were so different back then.”

you glanced at alex when she said that. he just shrugged, half-smiling. “that was a minute ago.”

you didn’t ask what she meant.

you didn’t really want to know.

he wasn’t flirting. if anything he seemed a little awkward sometimes, answers short, shifting his weight. every so often he’d squeeze your side or brush his hand against yours like he remembered you were there.

but the girls didn’t hesitate around him. they stood close. touched his arm when they laughed. said his name like it was normal on their tongue.

you started talking less without realizing it.

smiling more. letting him do most of the talking.

one girl leaned in to tell him something over the music, her hand resting on his chest while she talked. he moved it off gently, but you’d already looked away.

you slipped your hand out of his.

he didn’t notice right away.

you told yourself you were being dramatic. that it was stupid to care. you knew he had a past. obviously he did.

it just felt different seeing all of it in one room.

like everyone else had already been there before you.

you drifted toward the hallway, then outside without saying anything.

the air was colder out there, quieter. you sat on the steps, elbows on your knees, staring at nothing in particular.

you weren’t mad.

you just felt dumb.

the door opened a minute later.

“why’d you leave?”

you didn’t turn around. “just needed air.”

he came down and sat next to you, close enough that your shoulders almost touched but not quite.

“did i do something?”

you shook your head. “no.”

he stayed quiet for a second. “you let go of my hand.”

you looked down at your fingers. “i know.”

another pause.

“i just felt stupid in there,” you said finally.

he frowned a little. “why?”

you hesitated, then shrugged. “everyone knows you.”

he didn’t say anything, so you kept going.

“like actually knows you. all those stories and jokes and whatever. i’m just standing there pretending i don’t feel weird about it.”

you gave a small, awkward laugh. “felt like i showed up late or something.”

he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, thinking.

“none of that means anything to me,” he said after a second. not defensive. just straightforward.

“i know,” you said quickly. and you did know. that wasn’t really the point.

he glanced back at the house, jaw tightening slightly, then looked at you again.

“i wasn’t even paying attention to them like that. i kept checking where you were.”

you looked at him then.

“when you stepped back, i noticed,” he added.

that made your chest tighten more than anything else had.

he nudged your knee lightly with his. “if you’re uncomfortable, we leave.”

just like that.

no speech. no big reassurance.

you studied his face for a second, trying to see if he meant it.

he did.

“…okay,” you said quietly.

he stood up and held his hand out. you took it, and this time when your fingers laced together, he didn’t let go.

on the walk to the car, he kept you closer than before. not in a showy way. just steady.

like he was making sure you didn’t feel like you were on the outside again.

—

jason just dropped some bullllllllllshittttttttt!!!!!!! ;-;

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.”