#fazeadapt

[mollymargiela]

adapt x reader – face-sitting

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?”

christmas break? 0-o

[unidentifiablecorpse]

These are my chud sons PLEASE be homophobic to them

[wroetofaze]

My faves

[mollymargiela]

request: Shy!reader gets on adapt stream for the first time 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)

sorryyy i haven’t posted, so many cookie orders to finish :p

[mollymargiela]

request: Adapt or Ron angst/fluff being overprotective because somebody tried to hit on you at a party

reader = pink

alex/adapt = red

stranger = orange

WATCHING OVER YOU

warnings: jealousy, argument, protectiveness, swearing?, emotional tension, soft ending

the party’s packed — music thumping, lights flickering too fast, heat sticking to your skin. you’d been talking with some friends near the back patio, drink in hand, trying to enjoy the night without getting pulled into another random conversation.

alex was somewhere inside, probably with ron or lacy, and for once, you weren’t glued to his side. it was fine — until some guy you didn’t recognize leaned against the wall next to you.

he smiled like he knew you. “you here alone?”

you laughed a little, polite but distant. “no, just out with friends.”

“oh yeah? boyfriend not the jealous type then?” he asked, too close now, his tone smug.

before you could even come up with a response, a voice came from behind him — sharp, clipped, familiar.

“you got a problem?”

you froze slightly before turning around. alex stood there, one hand in his hoodie pocket, the other holding a drink, eyes locked on the guy.

the stranger blinked. “what?”

alex tilted his head, stepping closer. “you heard me.”

the guy looked between you two, muttered something like “relax, man,” and disappeared fast.

the moment the door shut behind him, you sighed. “alex—”

he cut you off, running a hand over his jaw. “why do you always talk to dudes like that?”

“like what?” you frowned.

“like that,” he repeated, frustrated. “you just stand there letting him talk to you like that. you didn’t even move away.”

your brows knit together. “he was just talking.”

“he wasn’t just talking,” alex said, voice raising slightly. “you think i didn’t see the way he was looking at you? that guy wasn’t trying to be friendly.”

you stared at him for a second, the music inside still pulsing behind you. “okay, but i didn’t do anything wrong.”

he laughed once — not because it was funny. “yeah, i know you didn’t. that’s not the point.”

“then what is the point?”

he finally met your eyes, expression tense. “the point is that i hate seeing shit like that. i hate it. people looking at you like they could just—” he stopped himself, shaking his head, words falling apart before they could get ugly. “i don’t know, it pisses me off.”

you softened a little, the edge in his tone fading under the weight of his honesty. “you could’ve just told me that instead of getting mad.”

he exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “yeah, well, it’s not exactly something i can say nicely when some guy’s two inches from your face.”

you didn’t say anything for a moment — just looked at him. his jaw was tight, eyes still flicking toward the door like he wanted to chase the guy down again.

“alex,” you said quietly, “you know i only care about you, right?”

his eyes finally met yours, that frustrated look wavering just a little. “i know. it’s not about that.”

“then what?”

he sighed, stepping closer. “it’s just—” his voice dropped lower, softer but still edged, “you don’t get it. you walk in a room, and people look. and half of them don’t even hide it. and i’m just supposed to stand there and pretend i don’t notice?”

you blinked, caught off guard by how real it sounded. “you get jealous easily,” you said, almost teasing, but the tone didn’t land.

“yeah,” he said, blunt. “i do.”

the honesty hit harder than anything else he could’ve said.

you reached out slowly, fingers brushing his sleeve. “i don’t want you to be mad, okay? i’m sorry if it looked bad.”

he stared at you for a second — the fight still in his eyes but dimming. “you didn’t do anything wrong,” he muttered finally. “i just… hate feeling like that.”

“i know.” you gave a small smile. “but you don’t need to protect me every time something happens. i’m not helpless.”

“i know that too,” he said, lips tugging into something almost like a smile. “doesn’t mean i can watch it.”

for a second, it was quiet — the air heavy, but calmer now. then he reached up, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “you’re too good for this shit.”

you laughed softly, shaking your head. “you’re dramatic.”

“maybe,” he said, a ghost of a grin appearing. “but you’re mine. i get to be.”

the words came out quieter than you expected, but they still made your heart skip. you rolled your eyes, still smiling. “you done being mad?”

he sighed, shoulders dropping. “yeah. maybe.”

“good.”

you leaned up just enough to kiss his cheek — barely there, but enough to make him blush a little.

“come on,” you said, tugging at his hoodie sleeve. “take me home before you pick another fight.”

he let out a low chuckle and nodded, hand finding yours as you both walked out of the noise and into the cool night.

(NOT PROOFREAD!)

wow its really over, noooo

[mollymargiela]

request: adapt fic when you’re really mad at him so he makes smut happen to try to get you to relax and you still are kinda making petty comments during but secretly enjoying it then at the end reader softens up :)

reader = pink

adapt/alex = red

FORGOTTEN BIRTHDAY

warnings: 18+, a lil angst over forgotten birthday, EVERYTHING IS CONSENSUAL, sexual tension and kinda teasing, p in v, verbal conflict, frustration and emotional vulnerability, late-night setting, consent emphasized.

the apartment is quiet except for the faint hum of the fridge and the glow of the tv. you’ve been scrolling your phone for the past hour, pretending to be busy, but really just staring at the clock and feeling your chest tighten.

the door opens quietly and alex steps in, hoodie half off, sneakers scuffing the floor. he freezes when he sees you on the couch, knees pulled to your chest. “hey,” he says low. “you’re still up?”

you don’t answer right away. just look at him, tired eyes sharp enough to make him shift.

“yeah,” you say finally. “couldn’t sleep.”

he nods slowly, like he already knows where this is going. “i was with the guys—”

“i know,” you cut him off. “i saw the stream.”

he blinks. “oh.”

there’s a long pause. the tv hums quietly in the background.

you push your hair out of your face. “you didn’t text me today.”

he frowns. “i— i thought i did earlier—”

“no. you didn’t. you didn’t call, didn’t message, nothing. you spent the whole day streaming while i sat here waiting.” your voice shakes a little. “forget it.”

alex runs a hand through his hair. “y/n, come on. i didn’t mean to ignore you. you know how crazy today was—”

“yeah,” you snap. “so crazy you forgot my birthday.”

he freezes. mouth opens, then closes again. “shit.” he steps closer. “y/n, i—”

“don’t. don’t start with ‘i forgot’ or ‘i didn’t mean to.’ that’s the problem. you always don’t mean to. always busy, always distracted, and i’m just—here. waiting.”

he swallows. “i know i messed up. but it’s not like i don’t care—”

“then show it!” you shout, standing. “because right now it feels like i’m the only one who does!”

silence falls. the tv flickers. both your breathing sounds loud in the quiet.

alex runs a hand down his face. “you really think i don’t care about you?”

“i think you don’t try,” you say quietly.

he flinches. shakes his head, muttering, “unbelievable.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“it means i screw up one day and suddenly i don’t care about you?” his voice is louder now, frustration slipping through. “you know how much i’ve got going on, and you still—”

“alex,” you cut him off, voice trembling. “it’s not about your schedule. it’s about me.”

he finally exhales, quieter this time. “you’re right. i fucked up.”

you don’t answer.

he steps closer, softer now. “i’m sorry. i really am.”

you cross your arms, trying to stay mad, trying to ignore how drawn you are to him. but then he’s close enough that you can smell the faint cologne on his hoodie, feel the warmth of him standing there.

he reaches out, fingers brushing your arm. “let me make it up to you,” he murmurs.

you don’t look up. “how?” your voice is small. “you can’t take it back.”

he tilts his head, watching you — jaw clenched, eyes glassy but stubborn. his thumb drags lightly across your wrist. “you’re tense. just… let me fix it, yeah?”

you finally look at him — hurt, mad, and still stupidly drawn in. and right there, in that quiet apartment, the tension between you feels almost unbearable, a weight pressing down, heavy and electric.

the moment hangs, the night still, and everything is waiting — just before it shifts into something more.

he doesn’t wait for an answer.

his hands slide to your hips, gentle, palms warm through the thin cotton of his hoodie you’re wearing. he pulls you close, slow, giving you every chance to shove him away. you don’t. you stand rigid, arms locked across your chest, jaw set so tight it aches, eyes fixed on the wall behind him.

“i’m so sorry,” he whispers, voice raw, cracked open like he’s been holding it in all day. his forehead rests against yours, breath shaky, the faint scent of red bull and cologne clinging to him.

“save it,” you snap, the words sharp enough to cut. “your words don’t fix shit.”

he sinks to his knees without another sound. his palms glide up your thighs, calloused fingertips tracing the soft skin just above your knees, pushing the hoodie higher inch by inch. the fabric bunches under your ribs, cool air kissing the newly exposed skin. goosebumps bloom in the wake of his touch. you don’t help, don’t move an inch, just glare down at him—eyes glassy, lips pressed thin, every muscle screaming still furious.

he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your cotton shorts, tugs them down with deliberate care. the elastic catches on the curve of your hips, then slides free, pooling at your ankles in a soft heap. you step out of them, one foot at a time, still not giving him anything.

“let me take care of you,” he says, voice low, almost pleading, eyes searching yours for any crack in the armor.

you scoff, cold. “you had all day to care.”

he spreads your knees gently, wider, until the couch edge presses into the backs of your thighs. he settles between them, the heat of his breath ghosting over your inner thigh before his mouth makes contact. the first touch is tender—just the flat of his tongue, one slow, reverent lick from your entrance to your clit. the warmth of it sends a jolt up your spine; you inhale sharp through your nose, fingers curling hard into the couch cushion, knuckles white. he does it again, slower, parting you with his thumbs so he can taste every fold, every slick inch.

“this doesn’t fix it,” you say, voice clipped, icy.

“i know,” he murmurs against you, breath warm, vibrating faintly. “but i want to earn it.”

he seals his mouth over your clit, sucks soft, then firm, the pressure perfect. two fingers circle your entrance, teasing, tracing the rim without entering. you shift, hips lifting a fraction, chasing friction, but he doesn’t rush—just waits, watching your face with those sorry, desperate eyes.

“alex—”

“tell me,” he says, voice muffled, lips brushing you. “tell me what you need.”

you bite your lip, stubborn, teeth sinking in hard enough to sting. he waits, fingers still, mouth hovering, the silence thick and heavy. the denial stretches—five seconds, ten—until the ache between your legs is unbearable.

“please,” you finally mutter, hating how small it sounds, hating that he heard it.

he rewards you instantly—two fingers deep, curling slow, mouth sealing over your clit, sucking steady. the wet sound of it fills the room, deliberate and reverent, the slick slide of his fingers in and out, the soft hum of his throat when he tastes you. his tongue flicks in perfect time with his fingers, building pressure without rushing, every stroke measured, worshipful.

you grip his hair, anchoring hard, nails scraping his scalp. “this doesn’t mean i’m over it.”

“i know,” he says, pulling back just enough to speak, lips shiny, chin glistening. “but i’m here now.”

he adds a third finger, stretching you open, scissoring slow, the burn sweet and sharp. your thighs start to tremble, muscles tensing. he curls them again, pressing firm against that spot inside you, holding the pressure until your breath stutters.

“you’re still an idiot,” you manage, voice shaking.

“i am,” he agrees, voice rough with want. “let me prove i’m your idiot.”

he stands, shoves his joggers down in one motion. his cock is heavy, flushed dark, a bead of pre-cum glistening at the tip. he drags it through your folds once, twice, slow, coating himself in your slick, the head nudging your clit with every pass. then he lines up, hands braced on the couch beside your hips.

“eyes on me,” he says, soft but firm.

you do. his eyes are dark, focused, sorry—pupils blown wide, lashes damp with sweat. he pushes in slow—one thick inch at a time, letting you feel every ridge, every pulse, every vein. the stretch is exquisite, a slow burn that makes your toes curl. when he’s fully seated he stills, hands braced on either side of your head, forehead pressed to yours, breath mingling.

“feel that?” he whispers, voice trembling. “that’s all for you.”

you clench around him involuntarily, walls fluttering. he groans, low and broken, hips rolling once, deep, grinding against you.

“gonna let me make it right?”

“don’t get cocky,” you hiss, but your hands are on his back, nails digging in hard enough to leave crescents.

he starts to move—long, measured strokes, pulling almost all the way out until just the tip remains, then sinking back in, bottoming out each time with a soft, wet sound. the couch creaks under the rhythm, springs protesting. he angles his hips, finds that spot inside you, and stays there, grinding slow, relentless.

your breath hitches, sharp. “fuck—”

“tell me baby,” he says, voice rough, desperate. “what do you need?”

“don’t stop.”

he obeys. grips your hips, lifts them slightly off the cushion, thrusts deeper, slower, the angle perfect. the slap of skin on skin is soft, intimate, punctuated by the wet slide of him moving inside you. sweat beads at his temple, drips onto your collarbone, warm. he leans down, mouth on your neck, kissing gently, then sucking a slow, deliberate mark just below your pulse.

“i should’ve been here,” he says between thrusts, voice cracking. “should’ve had my mouth on you at eight instead of in a fucking discord call.”

you moan, quiet, back arching off the couch. “keep going.”

“should’ve eaten the cake off your stomach,” he murmurs, hand sliding between you, thumb circling your clit in tight, slick strokes, pressure perfect. “should’ve lit every candle while you were in my lap, while i was inside you, while you came on my tongue.”

the image hits you hard—candles flickering, chocolate smearing, his mouth on you. you come with a soft, broken cry, walls fluttering around him, pleasure rolling in slow, deep waves. your whole body trembles, thighs clamping around his hips. he doesn’t stop—keeps moving through it, drawing it out until you’re shaking, oversensitive, tears pricking your eyes.

“alex—”

“i’ve got you,” he says, voice strained, reverent. he flips you gently onto your stomach, pulls your hips up until you’re on your knees, chest pressed to the cushion. enters you again from behind, one slow, smooth thrust that makes you sigh into the fabric.

he sets a steady pace—deep, careful, the angle perfect, every stroke dragging against that spot inside you. his hand slides under you, fingers back on your clit, rubbing soft, slow circles. the second orgasm builds slower, sweeter, coiling tight in your belly.

“still with me?” he asks, voice trembling.

“yes—fuck—yes—”

you cum again, clenching hard, a quiet, muffled sound into the couch. he follows seconds later—hips stuttering, a low, broken groan against your spine as he spills inside you, warm and pulsing, filling you completely.

he stays buried, chest heaving against your back, arms sliding under you to hold you close. after a minute he pulls out slow, turns you over, gathers you into his lap. you’re both slick with sweat, breathing hard, the room thick with the scent of sex and apology.

he kisses your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth—soft, lingering. “i’m sorry,” he says, voice soft now, cracked open. “i’ll never forget again.”

you lean into him, fingers tracing the sweat at his neck, the anger finally gone. “cake’s still in the fridge.”

he smiles, small and genuine, eyes glassy. “i’ll light the candles. then i’ll eat it off you.”

you laugh, quiet, exhausted. “you’re still sleeping on the couch tonight.”

“worth it,” he murmurs, kissing you slow, deep, like he’s got all the time in the world to prove it.

(NOT PROOFREAD!)

omg i wish u guys could try these cookies i just made

[mollymargiela]

request: Maybe where adapt or Ron gives you a hickey when you guys are making out and then you guys walk out of the room and all the guys see the hickeys and start laughing

reader = pink

adapt/alex = red

ron = blue

silky = purple

lacy = green

jason = orange

OBVIOUS

warnings: making out, hickeys, teasing from faze boys, light swearing

you didn’t plan on this. not really. it was supposed to be a lazy afternoon—just hanging out in alex’s room while he complained about missing shots in a game earlier. somehow, though, the two of you had ended up lying across his bed, close enough that his arm brushed yours every time he shifted.

normal. fine. except alex had been giving you that look—the one where he’s trying not to smile, like he’s holding something back.

“you’re quiet,” he said finally, nudging you with his knee.

“just tired,” you answered, eyes still on your phone.

he leaned over, plucked it right out of your hands, and tossed it on his nightstand. “then stop scrolling.”

you rolled your eyes, but before you could snark back, his mouth was on yours. quick, almost testing. then he kissed you again, firmer, like he realized you weren’t going to push him away.

it escalated fast. one second you were sitting up, the next you were flat on your back, his hoodie falling off the bed, his weight braced over you. he kissed like he’d been waiting—messy, eager, but still grinning against your lips like he couldn’t believe it was happening either.

“you’re ridiculous,” you whispered when you pulled back for air.

“so are you,” he murmured, chasing your mouth again.

you laughed against him, but it cut off when his lips trailed down your jaw. lower.

“alex.” your hand pushed weakly at his shoulder. “don’t—”

he hummed, ignoring you completely. the warm pull of his mouth at your neck made you gasp.

“alex!”

he leaned back, smug grin plastered across his face. “what?”

you bolted upright, rushing to the mirror by his dresser. sure enough—dark, obvious, right where everyone could see. “no way. you did not just do that!”

“looks good,” he said easily, flopping onto his back.

“alex!” you whirled on him, pointing. “i can’t walk out there like this!”

he just shrugged, stretching like it was no big deal. “sure you can.”

you grabbed his hoodie off the floor and shoved it over your head, tugging the collar high. it barely helped. alex’s grin widened when he noticed.

a knock came at the door before you could scold him more. ron’s voice carried through: “yo, adapt, game’s on. you comin’?”

alex’s eyes lit up like he’d been waiting for this.

“don’t you dare,” you warned.

he ignored you, slinging an arm around your shoulders as he opened the door.

the second you stepped into the living room, it was over.

silky noticed first. he sat up straight, eyes going wide. “nahhh. nahhh. what is that?”

jason turned, saw your neck, and actually dropped his controller. “bro! no way. nah, you really a vampire, adapt.” he doubled over laughing, clutching his stomach.

ron let out a long whistle, shaking his head. “unbelievable. didn’t even try to hide it.”

lacy leaned back on the couch with a smirk. “that’s uh— bold, man. real bold.”

you yanked the hoodie higher, cheeks burning. “shut up. all of you.”

the room erupted. silky was still cackling, jason couldn’t stop repeating “vampire adapt” between wheezes, and even ron was grinning while pretending to watch the game.

alex, meanwhile, looked way too pleased with himself. he tugged you closer against his side, like showing you off. “what can i say? guess i’m just memorable.”

you smacked his chest lightly. “no, you’re impossible.”

he bent down, lips brushing your ear, voice low enough just for you: “nah. i’m unforgettable.”

your stomach flipped, and you hated how much you smiled into his hoodie to hide it.

(NOT PROOFREAD!)

i wasn’t gonna post but i got bored, also this is sadly the last batch of requests until the end of october.

idk what i’ll write during october, soooo… we’ll see

[mollymargiela]

request: adapt smut where reader seduces him to focus on her and not tara yummy (she’s too fine 😫)

reader = pink

adapt/alex = red

warnings: smut (18+) + jealousy + possessive!reader + subby!adapt energy + riding + praise + eye contact + light dom!reader, creampie + overstim hints

FOCUS ON ME

tara had been too close all day. leaning in when she didn’t need to, laughing extra hard, brushing her hand down alex’s arm like you weren’t sitting right there. and maybe he wasn’t entertaining it, but he wasn’t exactly shutting it down either.

you kept your mouth shut. you weren’t the type to make a scene.

but now you were alone. and you were gonna remind him exactly who he belonged to.

—

he was laid out on the bed, scrolling through his phone like nothing had happened — like you hadn’t spent all day watching some girl eye him like he was her next meal.

“hey,” he mumbled without looking up. “you good?”

you didn’t answer. just slipped your hoodie off, slow. no bra underneath. your shorts were small enough to be underwear, tank top tight enough to be intentional.

he looked up.

and froze.

“uh… damn.”

you just stood there for a second, watching his eyes trail over you. then you crossed the room and climbed on top of him without a word, knees on either side of his hips.

he blinked up at you, already smiling, hands going to your waist. “what’s this for?”

“you’ve been distracted,” you said, reaching down to tug at the hem of his shirt. “so i’m fixing it.”

“distracted?” he laughed softly. “what, ‘cause of—”

“don’t say her name,” you said flatly, dragging your hand down his chest. “just look at me.”

his breath hitched when you ground down against him, your barely-covered pussy pressing right where he was already hardening under his sweats.

“you’re really mad, huh,” he murmured, hands tightening on your hips.

you leaned in close, lips brushing his. “i’m not mad.”

another slow grind.

“just wanna make sure you remember who gets you like this.”

he moaned softly, head tipping back. “fuck, i didn’t even do anything—”

“no, but you didn’t stop her either.”

your hips rolled again and he cursed under his breath, fingers digging into your skin.

“take it out,” you said, voice calm but firm. “wanna feel you.”

he obeyed instantly, like his body moved before he could think. you helped him push his sweats down just enough, your eyes locked on his flushed face the whole time. he was already so hard — the tip glistening, twitching like he’d been waiting all day for this.

you pushed your shorts to the side, dragged his length through your slick, slow and teasing. alex let out a choked sound, hands fisting the sheets beside him instead of grabbing you like he wanted.

“you wanna touch me?” you asked softly.

“yeah,” he breathed, eyes wide. “fuck, please—”

“not yet alex, keep your hands to yourself.”

his jaw flexed. you sank down on him in one slow motion, watching his face twist, his eyes flutter shut. his head tipped back against the pillows with a groan, already falling apart.

“jesus christ—”

you started riding him slow, deep, making sure he felt every inch of it. your hands pressed into his chest, keeping him down while you used him just how you wanted.

he looked so fucking pretty like this — all flushed and shaky, lips parted, hands gripping the sheets like if he touched you he’d lose control completely.

“this is all yours,” you whispered, leaning down so your mouth brushed his ear. “but you gotta act like it.”

his hips twitched up instinctively and you pinned him down harder.

“stay still.”

he whined, actual whined, and you felt your walls flutter around him just from the sound.

“you feel so good,” he gasped. “fuck— you’re so wet, i can’t—”

“yeah?” you smirked, rolling your hips a little faster now, dragging broken moans out of him with every movement. “you gonna cum for me like this?”

“fuck, baby— i’m close, please… can i?”

“you want me to let you cum inside?” you teased, tightening around him. “you think you deserve that?”

his whole face flushed. “please— yes, yes, please, i’ve been good, i swear—”

you leaned in again, kissing him softly this time. “then give it to me.”

he moaned into your mouth, thrusting up hard one last time before he stilled beneath you, cock pulsing deep inside as he came hard, breath stuttering in your ear.

you kept riding him slow through it, grinding down until he was squirming, almost too sensitive, little whimpers falling from his lips.

you finally stilled, watching him try to catch his breath.

his hands came up slowly, shaky, holding your waist like he couldn’t believe you were real.

“i love you,” he said softly, eyes glazed and full of awe.

you leaned down and kissed his cheek. “i know.”

(NOT PROOFREAD!)

hi sorry its kinda short, never thought id write subby adapt but here we are lol,

also someone requested a lacy fic so i thought id let y’all know that i wont be writing for him from now on. he’s just a weird  person and i don’t ever wanna write for him again lol.