𓂃 𑁍ࠬܓ — The only one left… || ADAM HAZBIN HOTEL || SMUT 18+ || ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘࿐
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⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ I — Obsessive Adam x Fem!reader — |
ART BY ME, pls dont flop i took hours on it, and yeah it does NOT look like the perfect fit for this story since the story is toxic while the picture looks romantic, might change it soon
Author’s note: this is my first time writing a story so please expect mistakes and rushed writing, im only used to writing janitor ai bots
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word count: 11033
Summary: Adam— with the help of Lute—killed y/n’s friends to make her think they abandoned her. She clung to him for "protection". Soon when she realizes his true intentions. He caught her.
TW: Dark!Adam, Villain!Adam, Murder, Heavy Gaslighting, Psychological Manipulation, Isolation, Stalking, Obsessive Behavior, Stolen Items, dubcon, non-con, Rough Sex, Significant Dick size, Overstimulation, Degradation, Forced Praise. Adam.
══════════✦═══════════ ໋֢ 𖥻 ㅤㅤ۫MDNI please…
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Each character’s message will look like:
ㅤㅤ— Adam: Hazbin hotel blog by vhislvt
— Asher: Hazbin hotel blog by vhislvt
— Y/N: Hazbin hotel blog by vhislvt
— Elias: Hazbin hotel blog by vhislvt
— Lute: Hazbin hotel blog by vhislvt
— Vera / hailey: Hazbin hotel blog by vhislvt
══════════✦═══════════ Being a Winner in Heaven is honestly a vibe. She’d think the afterlife would be all standing on clouds and singing, but it’s actually more like a never-ending summer break with better architecture. Her social circle is a pretty solid mix of people who make the "forever" part of eternity feel like it’s actually going to be fun.
There’s Elias, who is basically the human equivalent of a warm cup of tea—always down for a late-night walk or a deep conversation about nothing. Then she’s got Hailey and Vera, her closest friends who are always gossiping about everything and everyone in the silver city.
And then, of course, there’s Adam.
He’s… a lot. He’s the "First Man," and he absolutely never lets anyone forget it. Most people find him exhausting because he’s loud, crude, and has an ego the size of the pearly gates, but somehow she and him just clicked. He’s the guy who crashes her quiet afternoons to show her a new riff on his guitar or to drag her off to some "exclusive" party he’s throwing for himself. He’s a total asshole, but he’s her asshole best friend. He’s also incredibly gross in a way that’s almost impressive. He spends half his time bragging about his "manhood"—constantly reminding everyone that he’s the "Dickmaster" and the original blueprint for every guy in existence. He’s obsessed with his own anatomy, making crude jokes about his "original dick" that usually make her roll her eyes and tell him to get therapy. What’s even weirder is that it works; he has no trouble getting girls into his bed without even trying, and there’s always someone new falling for his rock-star bullshit.
Then there is Lute. She’s super professional, quiet, and cool—honestly the complete opposite of Adam in every way possible, even though she’s with him most of the time. She usually looks like she’s mentally calculating the most efficient way to clear a room, acting as the grounded, serious shadow to Adam’s chaotic energy.
But with her, it’s different. She’s the only person he actually listens to, and she spends her time calling him out on his bullshit while they both share a bag of chips and he rants about how much he hates the Seraphim. It’s a messy, weirdly balanced life, but between the gossip sessions with Hailey and Vera and the absolute chaos Adam brings into her day, she’s actually really happy. Everything feels easy, and she’s just enjoying the ride.
Group hangouts are honestly a total fever dream. It’s usually just all of them—Hailey, Vera, Elias, and Lute—piled into one space while Adam acts like he’s the guest of honor. The "movie" playing in the background is basically just white noise at this point because Hailey and Vera are too busy whispering the latest drama about some seraphim to her, their heads huddled close as they spill secrets that would make a saint blush.
Elias is usually caught in the middle, trying to actually follow the plot and failing miserably because Adam won't stop shouting fake spoilers he definitely made up just to get a reaction. Even though Lute barely trusts anyone besides Adam, she’s grown comfortable with her since Adam is so clearly at ease; she usually just sits back, watching the chaos with a rare sense of relaxation, eventually falling asleep normally or heading out when the night gets late.
Gossip sessions are even messier. Just as the girls get to the juicy tea, Adam inevitably barges in to brag about his "original blueprint" manhood, ruining the feminine vibe with his sheer volume. She’ll tell him to shut up and shove a pillow in his face, but he just laughs and steals her chips, making himself right at home. Lute usually drops a dry, savage roast to quiet him for five seconds, which Elias just watches with a small, knowing smile. Even "girls' night" sleepovers turn into group events because Adam doesn't understand the concept of staying away. He’ll crash on the floor with his guitar, trying to force everyone to watch a documentary about his own life while she and the girls are just trying to do face masks.
The "peace" of the group eventually gets tested when Elias introduced his friend, Asher, to the circle. Asher started crashing every hangout, and it was painfully obvious he was trying to get close to her—always "randomly" picking the seat next to her or trying to catch her eye across the room. He was clearly crushing hard.
Whenever she’s actually in the middle of a conversation with Asher, Adam will physically pull her away, moving her to the other side of the room under the guise of "needing" her for something. He’ll barge into her space with a loud, obnoxious greeting just to drown Asher out.
It’s the best when everyone else eventually taps out. Hailey and Vera crash early, leaving just her and Adam awake in the middle of the night. The vibes are way different when it's just the two of them; it’s quieter, and he actually tones down the "rockstar" act for a second. He actually lets her mess with him. She’ll get her makeup kit out and he just sits there on the floor, complaining the whole time but not moving an inch. She’ll spend forever doing his eyeliner, trying to get the wings perfect while he grumbles about how "the Dickmaster doesn’t need glitter". She even makes him wear a fuzzy spa headband to hold his hair back, and he just takes it.
He mostly agrees to it because he’s obsessed with how close she has to get. Since they’re both on the floor, she ends up kneeling right between his legs to get a good angle. When she’s leaning in close to fix his eyeliner, her chest is basically right in his face. He goes totally still, enjoying the view of her tits and the fact that she’s finally focused only on him.
"Alright, babe, enough with the sparkles," he’ll mutter, leaning in closer. "I’m the original.' Make me look as badass as I actually am"
The rest of the group—Hailey, Vera, Adam, her, Lute, and Elias—is still trying to keep things normal, but that possessive energy is vibrating off Adam. During movie nights, everyone is piled onto the floor watching scary movies, but Adam makes sure he’s basically a wall between her and Asher. Lute just watches the drama unfold with a smirk, while Elias looks increasingly stressed about his friend's life expectancy.
But it’s been a week and asher is getting close to y/n. Today, the kitchen was quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the fridge until Adam swaggered in. Asher was just standing there, filling his glass, when he felt the air in the room shift. He turned around and found Adam leaning against the counter, his arms crossed over the blue "A" on his chest. Adam didn't say a word at first. He just stood there with his visor squinted in a heavy, disgusted scowl, watching Asher like he was a stain on the floor he was waiting to scrub off. Then, he dramatically flared his nostrils, his head tilting back in a sharp, exaggerated wince.
"Sup, Bitch" Adam barked, his voice a low, jagged rasp of disgust as he cocked his head to the side with a sly grin. He made a show of waving a hand in front of his visor, backing Asher into the sink with his sheer presence."
Asher flinched, water spilling over the side of his glass. "Jesus! Adam, I’m just getting a drink. Relax."
"Don’t tell me to relax, fuck-face" Adam snapped, stepping into the orange light. He moved with a heavy, arrogant swagger, crowding Asher until he was pinned against the sink. "I’ve been watching you all night, you’re always 'randomly' ending up next to her, trying to catch her eye, thinking you’ve actually got a shot. It’s fucking embarrassing to watch.."
Asher tried to shrug it off, though his heart was hammering. "We’re just friends, man. We were just talking—"
"I’m not you’re man, and you’re NOT her ‘friend'," Adam hissed, leaning down until the jagged line of his mouth was right in Asher’s face. "Let’s get one thing straight: i don’t care who you think you are or how long you’ve known her, i’m the one she’s hanging out with, and i don’t like some random dipshit sniffing around my business, you’re a guest here because I haven't kicked you out yet, but if you touch her, I'm gonna fucking end you."
Asher’s mouth went dry. "Adam, chill, it’s not like that—"
"Oh, it’s exactly fucking like that, bitch," Adam growled, his golden wings flaring out with a sharp snap, boxing Asher into the corner. "Look at me, then look at yourself. I'm the fucking First Man. You're just some background nobody who looks like shit. She doesn't need to be talking to a loser like you when she’s got the best thing ever right here," Adam said, jabbing a thumb toward his own chest selfishly. "So take your water and get the fuck out of my sight before I lose my patience and smite your ass."
The thing about Asher is that he clearly has zero survival instincts. Like, none. Despite the literal First Man giving him a Very Detailed warning to back off, Asher kept lingering in her space like a moth with a death wish. He was offering her snacks, laughing at her jokes, and basically doing everything in his power to get himself smitten out of existence. It was that specific brand of "nice guy" audacity that makes you want to hide because you know the disaster is coming.
And then, it happened. The literal breaking point. She was sitting on the rug with her makeup palettes spread out like a ritual, and Asher had the nerve to ask if she’d "do his next." She laughed, thinking it was just a joke, and reached out to blend a little shimmer onto his cheekbones. Her fingers were right there, touching his face, focusing on him like he actually mattered.
Adam walked back in and the room went dead silent. You could practically hear the gears of his ego grinding to a screeching halt. To Adam, being her canvas wasn't some shared hobby—it was an exclusive, one-man-only VIP privilege. He’s the First Man; those hands are for his face, his vanity, and his skin only. Seeing her waste that attention on a "walking landfill" like Asher didn't just annoy him; it was a total act of war.
Eventually, Asher was going home. He was just passing a narrow, dark alleyway when the air suddenly went freezing. Before he could even gasp, a strong hand grabbed him by the throat, slamming him against the brick wall.
Adam's visor flickered to life in the dark, his jagged yellow eyes glowing with a terrifying, neon intensity. "I told you I don't share, didn't I?" Adam’s voice was a low, distorted rumble. "I told you those hands were off-limits. But you just couldn't help yourself. You had to let her touch your disgusting, shitty face."
Asher’s eyes widened, but then, something in him snapped. Maybe it was the adrenaline or just pure, exhausted stupidity. He let out a wet, shaky laugh, his heels kicking against the bricks.
"You're… you're actually pathetic," Asher choked out, a defiant, mocking grin tugging at his lips. "The 'First Man' is so insecure he has to jump a nobody in an alley? What’s the matter, Adam? Scared she actually likes talking to someone who isn't a total narcissistic prick? You can threaten me all you want, but you can't force her to—"
"Wrong answer, dipshit."
Adam didn't even let him finish. The jagged, cruel grin on his visor vanished, replaced by a cold, flat line of pure boredom. In a flash of blinding, holy light, Adam summoned his golden guitar-axe. He didn't hesitate. Adam stabbed Asher straight through the chest with the guitar-axe, the jagged blade tearing through bone and organ as if they were nothing. Asher’s eyes bulged, his mouth falling open in a silent, final gasp. His golden blood began gushing out, hot and shimmering, soaking his clothes and splattering against the brick wall in a grisly, divine mess.
Adam stood there, looking down as the light faded from Asher's eyes. The gold ichor was everywhere—thick, steaming splatters were painted across Adam’s white and gold robe, and a messy streak of it was smeared across the side of his masked face. He stared coldly at Asher's limp, dead body for a long moment, the silence of the alleyway only broken by the heavy drip-drip-drip of blood hitting the pavement.
Then, slowly, a wide, shit-eating grin stretched across his visor. He looked down at the mess he'd made, feeling that familiar, narcissistic rush of power. He'd won. He always won.
"Guess you weren't so 'talkative' after all," Adam chuckled, the sound distorted and cruel. He casually wiped a bit of the golden blood off his visor with two fingers, looking at it before flicking it away with a huff of laughter. He adjusted his shoulders, his golden wings giving a small, satisfied flutter. "Totally worth the laundry bill."
"Seriously, look at this," he muttered, gesturing vaguely at the scene with a gloved hand. "This whole thing? Totally fuckin' avoidable. Like, this shit?s one-hundred-percent on you, buddy."
With a final, mocking kick to Asher's side, he turned on his heel and vanished into the night.
He made a quick detour to his own place, humming a rock ballad under his breath while he stripped off the ruined robes. He scrubbed the gold from his skin and visor with the practiced efficiency of someone who had done this a thousand times. A fresh robe, a quick check in the mirror to make sure his halo was sitting perfectly, and he was out the door.
Ten minutes later, he was swaggering back into the room where the sleepover was still going on. He didn't look like a man who had just committed a brutal murder in a dark alley; he looked like a man who had just finished a very relaxing walk.
He flopped down on the rug right in front of her, his wings tucking in neatly and his visor displaying a perfectly crafted, innocent expression. He looked up at her, his jagged yellow eyes wide and blinking with a mock-sweetness that was almost nauseating.
"Hey, babe," he said, his voice smooth and devoid of any of that earlier rasp. He leaned his head back, exposing his throat and jawline, presenting himself to her like a prize. "I'm back. I, uh, took a little walk to clear my head. Nature is great and all."
He sat there patiently, the picture of angelic purity, waiting for her hands to return to her face. The same hands that, just an hour ago, he was ready to kill over. He gave her a small, charming tilt of his head, acting like Asher was a name he’d never even heard.
She giggled, the sound light and airy—the perfect contrast to the absolute carnage Adam had just walked away from. She pulled the makeup kit toward her, the plastic clicking against the floor as she settled in directly in front of him. Adam watched her, his visor tracking every move she made with a predatory sort of satisfaction disguised as simple affection.
"There we go," he murmured, his voice dropping into a soft, honeyed hum as he leaned forward just enough to be in her personal bubble. He watched her nimble fingers sort through the brushes, his chest swelling with the realization that he had successfully "cleared the board." There was no one else here to touch her. No one else for her to look at. Just him. The First Man. The only man.
He held his head high, chin tilted up to give her the best angle, his expression one of pure, wide-eyed "innocence." If she noticed the slight lingering scent of ozone or the fact that his hair was a little too perfectly damp from his quick shower, she didn't say anything.
"Use the shiny stuff, babe," he prompted, a smug, shit-eating grin threatening to break through his angelic act.
He sat there like a king on a throne, basking in her undivided attention. As she reached out to brush a stray hair from his forehead, Adam’s eyes flickered with a dark, secret triumph. He had literally just paved the way for this moment with golden blood, and yet here he was, getting exactly what he wanted—her hands on him, and him alone.
When she finally finished, she didn't move away. Instead, she leaned in and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight, cozy hug as they both turned to face the vanity mirror. Adam let out a surprised "Oof," but he didn't even think about pulling back—he just melted into her, his large hands coming up to rest securely on her thighs as he preened in the glass.
The "First Man,"the guy who had just brutally ended a life in a dark alley… looked absolutely, pathetically adorable.
The eyeliner was the kicker—she’d drawn it out into these long, thick, flicked-out points that made his eyes look exactly like cat tails. It gave his visor this wide-eyed, feline look that was a far cry from his usual jagged scowl. The gold glitter was everywhere, catching the light every time he blinked his "innocent" little eyes, and the blush had given his cheeks a soft, rosy glow. With the glossy lipstick making his mouth look pouty and soft, he looked less like a rock-and-roll god and more like a high-maintenance doll that belonged entirely to her.
"Look at you," she whispered, her chin resting on his shoulder as she beamed at their reflection. "You look so cute like this! "
Adam let out a huff that was supposed to be a "tough guy" scoff, but it came out as a needy, vibrating purr. He leaned his head against hers, his eyes fixed on the mirror. He loved it. He loved how she had marked him. He loved that he looked "weak" and "cute" for her, because it was a secret only they shared—well, and the dead guy who wouldn't be telling anyone anything ever again.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m a total babe," he muttered, though the smug, shit-eating grin was back in full force. He squeezed her slightly, pulling her closer against his chest, basking in the warmth of her hug.
He felt a dark, shimmering sense of peace. The "nuisance" was gone, his face was covered in glitter and cat-tail wings, and he was wrapped in the only arms he ever wanted to be in.
A few days had passed, and honestly, Adam was riding a serious high. He walked around with a permanent smirk, still feeling the lingering buzz of having her undivided attention. But apparently, word hadn't gotten out that the "First Man" didn't play well with others—or maybe people in Heaven were just naturally born with a death wish.
Because then came Elias.
Elias was one of those guys who was too "earnest" for his own good. He caught Adam near the training grounds, looking all flustered and hopeful, clutching a handful of celestial lilies. He actually had the balls to look Adam in the eye and tell him—with a straight face—that he was going to confess his love to her. He went on and on about how "special" she was and how he’d been waiting for the right moment to tell her how he felt.
Elias stood there, clutching his celestial lilies, his chest puffed out with a brand of confidence that was frankly offensive. He actually looked Adam in the visor and said it: "No, man. I’m perfect for her. Honestly? I don't think anyone fits her vibe like I do. Not even you!"
The moment the words left Elias’s mouth, the air in the alleyway seemed to turn to ice.
Adam froze. He didn't move a muscle. His golden wings stayed locked in place, and for a solid three seconds, the only sound was the faint hum of his halo. The audacity. The sheer, unmitigated gall of this background character to suggest he—the literal First Man, the original blueprint, the baddest soul in the sky—wasn't "perfect" for her?
His visor flickered, a jagged, glitchy line appearing where his mouth should be. A low, vibrating growl started in his chest.
"Not even me?" Adam repeated, his voice dropping an octave into something dark and jagged. He let out a sharp, breathless laugh that lacked any humor. "You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve, cunt. Seriously. Do you have any idea at who the fuck you’re talking to?"
Elias didn't even have time to realize he’d just signed his own death warrant. He opened his mouth to double down, maybe to explain why his "gentle soul" was a better match, but Adam was done talking.
"You think you’re a masterpiece, huh?" Adam hissed, his visor glowing a violent, neon yellow. "Let’s see how you look as a fucking smear on the pavement."
In one fluid, blurring motion, the golden guitar-axe materialized in Adam's grip. He didn't swing it like a warrior; he swung it like a jealous god. The blade tore through Elias's chest before the poor guy could even drop his flowers. There was no 'innocent' look now—just Adam’s masked face reflecting the spray of golden blood that doused his robes.
He watched Elias collapse, the lilies soaking up the shimmering gold ichor. Adam stood over him, breathing heavily, his visor fixed in a wide, terrifying grin.
"Guess I'm the only 'perfect' one left, always have been." Adam spat, stepping over the body.
He took a deep breath, forced his wings to settle, and spent the next twenty minutes scrubbing every trace of Elias off his skin. By the time he walked into her room, his visor was back to that wide-eyed, "innocent" look.
The silence in Heaven was starting to feel heavy, like a physical weight pressing down on her chest. One by one, the people she cared about—the ones she laughed with, the ones who made the days feel bright—just stopped existing. She’d wake up and realize another seat was empty, another voice was gone from the choir.
She wandered the halls, her heart aching with a desperate, hollow confusion. Every time she tried to approach someone new, they’d catch a glimpse of the shadow behind her and scatter like glass shattering on stone. Desperate for answers, she finally found Lute alone.
"Lute, please," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Do you know where everyone went? Asher, Elias? it's like they just evaporated"
Lute didn't even turn her head. "I don't know what to tell you," she said, her voice flat. "People move on. Heaven is a big place. Maybe they just found somewhere else they’d rather be?"
Later that afternoon, she caught them together. Adam and Lute were swaggering through the plaza. Adam was leaning back, casually sipping on a blueberry slushie, his tongue stained blue to match his ego.
"Adam? Lute?" she called out, running up to them. Her eyes were red. "I can’t find them. Any of them. Please, did you see where they went?"
Adam paused, the straw still between his lips. He slowly pulled it out with a soft pop, his visor displaying a look of such exaggerated, wide-eyed confusion it was almost mocking.
"Oh, those guys? Yeah, I actually saw 'em together right before I went for my walk days ago," Adam lied, his voice airy and casual. He took another long slurp of his slushie, watching her face crumble. "They were talking about how bored they were being here. Honestly, babe? They said they don't even really like you. Said you were kind of a drag and they wanted to find some actual 'fun' people to hang with. Sucks, right?"
Lute nodded once. "Like I told you. They moved on. They weren't worth your time anyway."
She stood there, frozen, the world blurring as the realization hit her—they didn't just leave; they left her. Adam didn't move to comfort her. Instead, he just looked her up and down, his visor flickering with that annoying, smug glow.
"You're thinking too much, babe. I can practically hear your brain short-circuiting from here," he said, his voice dripping with mock pity. "Look, if they were too stupid to realize what they had, that's on them. I’m the only one who actually gives a shit about you anyway. Just go back to the room and get some rest. You’re starting to look like a mess."
With that, he turned on his heel and walked away. As they moved further into the golden light, Adam leaned his head toward Lute’s, their voices dropping into a secret, low-toned conversation.
"You see her face? Fucking priceless," Adam muttered, his shoulders shaking with a dark, private laugh. "She actually thinks they ditched her because she’s a 'drag.' Now she'll rely on me for everything since she thinks I'm the only one who can put up with her."
Lute didn't smile, but her eyes cut toward him with sharp approval. "It’s more efficient this way, sir. No more distractions. I'll keep an eye out for any other 'friends' who try to get close."Do that," Adam replied. "I want her so lonely she’ll be begging me to never leave the room."
Lute glanced back at her, then back to Adam. "You're too obsessed with her," she stated. "Doesn't it make you feel bad at all? Seeing her like that?"
Adam let out a sharp, dismissive snort. "Nah. It’s just easier to stay the favorite when there’s no competition around to mess with her head. Besides, i’m doing her a favor. She’s better off with just me."
Adam would never admit he was obsessed—to him, it wasn't a fixation; it was just how things were supposed to be.
Days later, Adam and Lute were back at the house, plotting in the quiet. Adam was pacing the floor, his frustration boiling over as he stopped in front of Lute.
"I'm serious, Lute. Help me kill Vera and Hailey tomorrow," Adam snapped, his voice tight and sharp. "I am so fucking done with them. Every time I walk into a room, they look at me like I’m a fucking joke. They think they’re so hilarious with that 'popular girl' humor, whispering and laughing like they run the place. It’s annoying as hell, and I’m over it."
He slammed his drink down on the counter, leaning toward her with a look of pure, possessive malice. "They’re the last ones who actually care about her, and I can’t have them whispering in her ear, I want them gone for good. No more 'they left' stories, I want them dead so she finally realizes that everyone else is gone and i’m the only one she has left. By tomorrow, I want those two snarky bitches erased."
That night, Lute pulled out a burner device. She began typing a message to Vera and Hailey. She made it sound exactly like an ad for the ultimate girls' night, dripping with fake excitement and emojis to lure them in.
""
Lute stopped, staring at the screen for a long beat. A look of profound disgust and confusion washed over her face as she read over the cringe-worthy, glittery text she had just composed. She looked up at Adam, holding the device away from her as if it were a piece of rotting garbage.
"Are you actually sure this is gonna work?" she asked, her voice flat and deeply skeptical. "it’s… revolting "
Adam let out a loud, confident cackle, leaning over her shoulder to admire the handiwork. "Fuck yeah it is! This girly talk is gonna get them! They’re basic, Lute. They see a hashtag and a 'tea' emoji and they'll come running like idiots. Just watch."
The next morning, Vera and Hailey followed the directions, giggling as they navigated toward a secluded, dimly lit alleyway. They found the door mentioned in the text—a heavy, nondescript entrance tucked away from the main path.
"Oh my god, is it in here? This is so sketchy-chic," Hailey laughed, reaching for the handle.
The moment she pulled the door open, the "VIP party" ended.
Adam was standing right there in the doorway, his golden guitar gripped tight in his hands. His visor was lit up with a wide, crazy grin that flickered with a jagged, manic energy. It was the look of a man who had been waiting for this punchline all week. Before they could even gasp, he swung.
Adam squatted down over the mess, his knees popping as he settled into a predatory hunch. He reached out and gripped Hailey’s hair, yanking her head up with a sharp, violent tug to force her face toward his. His visor was lit up with a wide, crazy grin, the jagged light reflecting off her dull, empty eyes.
He let out a sharp, mocking cackle, pitching his voice up to perfectly mimic that condescending "popular girl" fry they always used to use when they were whispering about him behind his back.
"Omg, no way, girls, you look drop dead gorgeous," he drawled, his grip tightening as he shook her head slightly to punctuate the joke. He looked between the two of them, his voice dripping with nasty, rhythmic sarcasm. "Emphasis on the DROP. DEAD. part. Like, seriously? This is such a look for you. It really brings out the nothingness. Total vibe, right? You're literally slaying."
He let go of her hair with a disgusted flick of his wrist, watching her head hit the stone with a dull thud. He stood up, wiping his palm on his robe as he looked at Lute with a dark, triumphant spark in his eyes.
"See? I told you. They’re finally doing something they're actually good at being silent. It’s like they finally found their true calling. Best makeover ever."
Lute stepped into the doorway, she surveyed the scene. "Are you finished, sir? We need to clear this out before the morning patrols pass through"Yeah, yeah, I'm done," Adam said, his voice returning to its usual arrogant rasp. He grabbed his guitar and headed toward the alley exit. "Just had to give them a proper send-off. They loved a good joke, right? Well, that was the punchline."
He paused at the edge of the light, looking back one last time. "Make sure they disappear completely. I want her to think they just.. grew out of her. I'm going back to the house to be the only shoulder she has to cry on."
"Totes awkward that you can't reply to the group chat anymore, though," he continued, his grin widening into something truly ghoulish. "Such a bummer! I guess the 'tea' was just a little too strong for you besties. Maybe next time don't be such basic bitches in my city."
Hours later—Adam had wiped the remaining flecks of gold from his attire, took a deep breath to steady his racing adrenaline, and replaced his manic grin with a mask of soft, rehearsed concern. He pushed open the door to her room, the light from the hallway spilling across the floor where she sat huddled, the glow of her phone illuminating a face streaked with tears.
"Hey, babe… what’s with the waterworks?" Adam asked, his voice low and uncharacteristically gentle. He sat down on the edge of the bed beside her, his large frame casting a shadow that seemed to wrap around her. He didn't wait for an answer; he already knew she was staring at a screen full of "Delivered" messages with no "Read" receipt in sight.
He reached out, slowly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Let me guess. Vera and Hailey? Still nothing?" When she let out a small, broken sob and nodded, Adam let out a long, heavy sigh of mock disappointment. He pulled her into his side, tucking her head under his chin so she couldn't see the dark spark of triumph still flickering in his eyes.
"I hate to say I told you so, but I told you so," he murmured, his hand rubbing soothing circles into her shoulder. "I ran into them right before they left. I asked them why they weren't answering your texts, and Hailey just rolled her eyes. They said they were done with you, babe. Said you were just 'too soft' to keep up with them anymore." He felt her flinch at the words, the cruelty of it sinking in. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a sympathetic whisper that felt like a trap closing. "They said you were a drag and that they needed people who actually had some edge. They literally laughed about it," he lied, his thumb tracing her jawline. "But hey, forget them. If being 'too soft' means you're not a total bitch like they were, then I like you better this way. You don't need those fucking cunts. You’ve got me. I’m the only one who actually gives a shit about you, right? I’m the only one who stays." He rested his cheek on top of her head, listening to her cry into his chest. He felt no guilt, only a profound sense of peace. The room was quiet, the distractions were gone, and finally, she had nowhere else to look but at him.
She clung to him, her fingers gripping the fabric of his robe with a quiet, shaky desperation. The weight of the empty seats and the ghosted messages had finally crushed her spirit. "I don't want you to leave me too," she said softly, her voice barely a whisper against his chest. It wasn't a loud, dramatic plea—just a simple, hollow confession of how much she feared being truly alone. Adam’s grip tightened instantly, his large hands splayed across her back as he pulled her flush against his robe. This was it. This was the moment he had worked so hard for. He felt a surge of absolute power at her words, his heart thudding with a dark, electric joy. Over her shoulder, where she couldn't see, his visor flickered with a wide, crazy grin of pure, unadulterated satisfaction.
"Leave you? Babe, get real," he murmured, his voice a low, steady rumble. He pulled back just enough to tilt her chin up, looking at her with a fake kind of "concern" that she was too drained to see through. "I’m the First Man. I don't bail. I’m the only one in this whole shitty friend group who’s actually got your back."
He let out a short, annoyed huff, sounding like the only person who was actually on her side.
"Honestly? Those cunts did you a favor. I heard them talking before they left, said you were 'too soft' to keep up. They were literally laughing about it"
He brushed a thumb over her cheek, his smile softening into something that looked—to her—like genuine affection, though it was nothing but triumph. "Those cunts didn't deserve you anyway,"
He pulled her back into the hug, resting his chin on her head and staring out at the room with narrow, predatory eyes. He had finally cleared the board.
The terrifying pattern hadn’t started with Asher and Elias, Hailey and Vera; it had been a slow, agonizing erosion of her life. At first, she thought it was just bad luck—a friend moving to a different district, another suddenly getting a "promotion" that required them to leave immediately. But then the gaps grew shorter. A boy she had started talking to in the gardens vanished before their second meeting. A group of girls she grabbed lunch with never showed up to the cafe again. Every time she reached out to connect with someone, they simply... ceased to exist.
It was driving her to the brink of insanity. She would sit in her room, clutching her head, whispering to herself, "What the fuck is happening? Am i cursed?!" She had started checking the corners of her room, feeling eyes on her even when the doors were locked. The isolation wasn't just lonely; it was haunting. She felt like a black hole, consuming anyone who dared to stand too close to her, and the lack of answers was a slow-acting poison in her brain. She clung to Adam like a lifeline, hoping he won’t disappear too.
Even weirder, and far more unsettling, was the way her personal space felt violated. It started small—a favorite hair ribbon gone, a bottle of perfume missing—but then it turned invasive. Her undergarments were disappearing. She’d do laundry and realize her bra was gone, or her fav panties had vanished from her drawer. There were no signs of a break-in, no ruffled windows, just the chilling reality that while she was out looking for her missing friends, someone was in here, touching her things, taking pieces of her life for themselves.
Adam watched her spiral from the doorway, his heart swelling with a dark, twisted pride. He saw the way she paced, the way she checked her locks, the way she trembled. He loved that she was losing her mind, because it meant she was losing her grip on everyone but him.
"You’re just overthinking it, babe," he’d tell her, pulling her away from her empty drawers and tucking her against his side. "Heaven’s a big, confusing place. Things get lost, people get flakey. You're lucky you've got me to keep your head straight, or you'd really be in trouble." He’d squeeze her shoulder, his mind flashing to the locked box beneath his own bed, filled with the "souvenirs" he had gathered from her room and the final screams of the people who had tried to take her time away from him.
It had been a few days since she started living with Adam. She’d agreed to stay the moment he asked, mostly because her friends were turning up dead and she didn't want to be next on the list—completely unaware that the guy "protecting" her was the one who had killed them.
Adam was out, likely banging some random chick like he always did, leaving her alone to finally neat up her bag. She was sitting on the floor right next to his massive bed, smoothing out her clothes, when she caught a glimpse of something tucked under the frame.
She leaned down, and her heart nearly stopped.
Tucked away in a neat, hidden pile were her things. Her favorite bras and panties. Right next to them sat her favorite perfume and the hairties she thought she’d lost weeks ago. They weren't just tossed there; they were kept right under where he slept.
Later that night, Adam came back. Everything seemed normal at first; he was his usual loud, arrogant self before eventually retreating to his room. Once the door was shut and he thought she was asleep, he reached under the bed, his hand sweeping the floor to grab his "collection." He’d been thinking about it all the way home, ready to finally get some time alone to jerk off to the scent and the feel of her things.
His fingers met nothing but cold, empty floor.
He froze, the expression on his visor shifting into a look of pure, panicked realization. The frustration and disappointment hit him instantly. Just then, she walked into the room, holding the bundle of clothes in her arms. She looked at him, her face twisted in genuine confusion.
"Adam? Why were these under your bed?" she asked, her voice wavering as she held the items up. "Where did you even find them? I thought I lost these weeks ago"
Adam’s usual swagger vanished. He looked at the clothes, then at her, his wings giving a sharp, embarrassed twitch. His posture shifted, suddenly looking small and strangely vulnerable. His face was obviously nervous, his visor mimicking his wide-eyed, frantic expression. He hooked his index finger into his stiff, high collar, pulling at it as if it were suddenly choking him. He looked genuinely rattled, his gaze darting around the room to avoid hers, clearly pissed that he’d lost his "entertainment" but too caught off guard to hide the guilt.
"Uhh, I don't know," he muttered, his voice cracking slightly as he tugged at his collar. "Maybe you just… forgot them here or somethin'? When you were moving in? I dunno. I just saw 'em and put 'em there so they wouldn't get stepped on. It's not a big deal, okay?"
She stood there for a long moment, her brow furrowed as she watched him fidget. The excuse was flimsy, and seeing him this shaken only made a cold knot of suspicion tighten in her chest. It didn't make any sense, but she was too bewildered by his weird behavior to find the right words to argue. Swallowing the urge to keep questioning him, she gave a slow, hesitant nod and brushed it off.
"Alright," she said, her voice trailing off as she clutched the clothes to her chest. "If you say so…"
The house was deathly quiet. Adam had stepped out, leaving his phone face-down on the nightstand. After finding her clothes hidden in his closet earlier, she finally reached for the device because she was hella bored. She swiped the screen open, and her heart began hammering against her ribs when she saw the first thing on the screen: a message thread with Lute.
There was only one recent message:
Lute: Asher is getting too close to her. He’s been hanging around the perimeter. It’s only a matter of time before he figures out she’s in there. Want me to take him out?
The air left her lungs. The realization that he had her trapped while her friends were being hunted outside made her blood run cold.
Thud. The front door slammed shut downstairs. She froze, the phone still glowing in her trembling hand.
Clomp. Clomp. Clomp. The heavy, rhythmic sound of his boots hit the stairs, slow and steady. Every step brought him closer to the door, closer to catching her with his secrets in her hand. She could hear his faint, arrogant humming echoing in the hallway, completely oblivious to the fact that the girl he was "protecting" finally knew the truth.
Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. She scrambled to shove the phone back onto the nightstand, mimicking the exact angle he’d left it at, and dove under the covers. She barely had time to steady her breathing before the door handle turned.
The door creaked open, throwing a sliver of hallway light across the bed. Adam stepped in, smelling like the cold night air and leather. He didn't look like a monster; he just looked like her "savior."
"Sup, babe!" he greeted, his voice loud and confident.
She didn't answer with words. Instead, she sat up and immediately clung to him, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist as he sat on the edge of the bed. She played the part perfectly—the same clingy, desperate girl she’d been months ago when Hailey, Vera, and Elias first started "disappearing." Back then, she had reached for him because she was drowning in grief; now, she was reaching for him to stay alive.
But as she buried her face in the crook of his neck, a sick part of her realized she still craved the warmth. Even knowing what was on that phone, she was so broken and isolated that she instinctively wanted his affection, her body seeking comfort from the very hands that were stained with her friends' blood.
"Whoa, easy there," Adam murmured, a low, satisfied chuckle vibrating in his chest. He wrapped his large hands around her, pulling her flush against him. "Missed me that much, huh?"
"I hate being alone," she lied into his skin, her voice muffled and trembling. "I feel like… like everyone else just left, and you're the only one who stayed."
Adam’s grip tightened, his fingers digging into her waist with a possessive edge that made her skin crawl even as she held him tighter. "I mean, duh. That's because I'm the only one who actually appreciates you, babe."
He leaned back just enough to tilt her chin up, his eyes searching hers for any flicker of the truth. "You're all mine. You know that, right?" His possessive words made sense now, she used to think he was just being overprotective…
Adam felt her clinging to him with that familiar, desperate intensity. He leaned back slightly, his arms still looped around her waist as she rested her chin on his shoulder, facing away from the nightstand. To anyone else, it was the picture of a girl seeking solace in the only person she had left.
While she stayed buried in his neck, hiding the terror in her eyes, Adam’s hand reached out, his long fingers grazing the surface of his phone to pick it up.
As his skin touched the glass, he paused.
It wasn't cold. It was warm—the distinct, lingering heat of a screen that had been active only seconds ago.
His eyes narrowed into a sharp squint, his expression shifting from warmth to a cold, analytical calculation. He raised a single eyebrow, his gaze dropping to the back of her head. He stayed perfectly silent, his mind reaching a simpler conclusion. He didn't think she'd cracked his passcode or seen his messages; he figured she was just bored and lonely, probably using the phone to watch videos or scroll through old photos to distract herself while he was out.
He didn't say a word about the heat of the phone. He didn't want to break the "perfect" moment they were having. Instead, he just tightened his hold on her, his fingers splaying across her back as he stared at the wall. If she was getting that restless, he’d just have to make sure she was too distracted by him to go looking for entertainment elsewhere.
The next day, the house felt even more like a tomb as she stood in the kitchen, her heart hammering a frantic, sickening rhythm against her ribs. Adam had gone for another "patrol," leaving his phone on the counter—a careless mistake, or a trap she was already falling into.
She waited five minutes, breath hitched, until she was sure he was clear of the driveway. Her palms were sweating, making the glass slick as she bypassed the lock. She scrolled past the old messages, her eyes darting across the screen, needing to see the full extent of the nightmare.
Lute: Hailey and Vera are handled. They won’t be calling her again. Elias is gone, too. She has no one left.
Adam: Perfect. I told her they all just got tired of her drama and blocked her. She was a fucking wreck, Lute. She was clingin to me the whole time, sobbin into my chest like I’m the only person left in the world who actually loves her. It’s exactly where I want her.
Lute: And the gear? You want me to keep the stuff I took from her room?
Adam: No, bring it to the house. I want her things close to me. I’ve got her favorite bras and that silk set hidden in the closet. She’s so scared of the "stalker" she hasn't even noticed they're missing. She’s so dependent on me now, she wont even go to the kitchen without checking if I'm there. It’s working perfectly. 🤟😆
The phone nearly fell from her hands. It wasn't just the casual way he talked about her friends being "handled"—it was the raw, jagged joy he took in her grief. Every time she had clung to him, shaking and crying because she thought she was being abandoned, he had been mentally high-fiving Lute over the success of the plan.
The emojis at the end of the last message felt like a physical slap. He wasn't her protector. He was a predator who had systematically dismantled her life just to watch her crawl into his arms for safety.
The more she read, the more the time blurred together, the minutes slipping away unnoticed. She didn’t realize how much time had passed until a large, slender hand—clad in black—reached into her line of sight. It pressed firmly against the head of the phone, applying a slow, deliberate pressure that forced the device down and away from her face.
She looked up, meeting Adam's gaze. He looked more annoyed than anything, his jaw set in a hard line. "You shouldn't have seen that," he stated, his voice flat.
He started walking, his massive frame eating up the space and forcing her to stumble backward. She kept retreating, her heart racing, until the back of her legs hit the mattress. Her balance gave way and she fell back onto the bed, but Adam didn't stop. He followed her down, crawling over her until he was settled on top of her, his weight heavy and undeniable. He planted both hands on the bed beside her head, his face hovering just above hers.
"Look, I was helping you, okay?" he said, sounding exasperated, like he was explaining something simple to a child. "I worked my ass off to keep you happy and safe in here so you wouldn't have to deal with any of that bullshit."
"They're my friends, Adam," she choked out, her voice trembling as she thought of the images on the screen. "They cared about me!"
"Cared about you?" Adam cut her off with a sharp, mocking laugh. "Babe, get fuckin’ real. They didn't give a fuck about you. They were using you. These bitches are all nothing but low-life pieces of shit, but I’m the one who actually stepped up. I’m the man who brought you here. I’m the one fucking providing for you, bitch, so start acting like you fucking get it. You don't need those fuckin' losers. They’re nothing. You’ve got a god right here."
He didn't give her a second to catch her breath before he crashed his mouth back onto hers. The kiss was deep and passionate, a raw explosion of the need he’d been building up over the weeks he’d tried to get her to this point. His tongue forced its way in, claiming her mouth over and over again. As the kiss hit a fever pitch, his weight shifted. One hand stayed pinned by her head, but his other hand slid down her body in a rough sweep. He didn't hesitate, sliding his hand firmly between her legs to her pussy.
She let out a sharp, muffled cry into his mouth as he began to finger her, his movements rhythmic and heavy-handed. He pulled back just enough to watch her expression shatter, his eyes dark with a mix of hunger and absolute triumph. He looked incredibly smug, his thumb working against her as he drove his fingers deep, determined to make her body betray her.
"Yeah," he hissed, a dark, jagged smirk pulling at his lips. "Forget about them. Just focus on what I'm doing to you right now."
"No… they… hnnn!" Her voice hitched into a high-pitched whimper, the sound caught between a sob and a moan as her body began to unravel under his touch. Her hands clutched at the sheets, her knuckles white, her head tossing from side to side on the pillow as she tried to cling to the memory of her life before him. "They loved… they loved me, Adam… they had to…"
The way she said it was desperate—like she was begging herself to believe it while his fingers worked relentlessly against her pussy. Adam’s eyes narrowed, his expression shifting into that intense, distorted "pity" he used to justify everything. He didn't slow down; he kept the rhythm heavy and constant, making sure she couldn't get a single moment of mental clarity.
"Babe, listen to yourself. You’re pathetic," he hissed, leaning down until his forehead pressed against hers, forcing her to stay present with him. "They didn't love you. They loved having someone to use. They were bottom-feeding fucking cunts who would've stepped over your corpse for a promotion. I’m the one who did the good deed here. I saved you from that rot."
He pushed his fingers deeper, making her hips jerk involuntarily against his hand, her moans becoming louder and more frantic.
"I brought you up here to a fucking paradise because I'm a great guy," he continued, his voice dropping into a rough, low growl that vibrated through her. "I'm the one providing for you. I'm the one making you feel like this. You're way better off with me than you ever were with those pieces of shit. I’m the only thing that's real for you now."
He didn't give her another second to think. He captured her mouth again, his kiss drowning out her last protest, his tongue forcing its way deep into her mouth as her climax finally began to break over her. As the pleasure finally peaked, she let out a broken, high-pitched cry against his lips, her body shuddering violently under the weight of his hand. She was completely undone, her breath coming in ragged, shallow hitches as she tried to find her bearings. As she settled back into the mattress, her leg brushed against him, and she felt the unmistakable, heavy pressure of his bulge straining against his clothes.
Despite the tears still drying on her face, a deep flush crept up her neck, staining her cheeks a bright, startled gold.
"Fuck… y-you’re seriously hard?" she stammered, her voice breathless and thick with shock.
Adam didn't even flinch; instead, he let out a low, cocky giggle that rumbled against her chest. He looked down at her with a look of pure, unadulterated triumph, his smirk wider than ever, radiating pure arrogance.
"Uh, yeah? No shit, babe," he said, his tone dripping with his usual brand of overconfidence. "Look at you. You look like a total fucking smokeshow right now and you expect me not to get hard? Please."
He shifted his weight, grinding his length deliberately against her thigh to make sure she felt exactly how much he wanted her. He leaned down, his lips ghosting over hers as his grip on her wrists tightened just enough to remind her who was in control.
"I’ve been waiting for you to finally stop whining and realize who's actually taking care of you," he growled, his voice dropping into a rough, jagged rasp. "Now that you're finally seeing it my way, I'm gonna show you exactly what happens when you play nice for the big fuckin’ man."
He didn't even wait for her to ask. Seeing her golden flush and the way she was looking up at the mask's digital glow, Adam reached up with one hand, his fingers hooking under the edge of the helmet. With a sharp hiss of pressurized air, the seals unlocked. He pulled it off and tossed it carelessly, the metal clattering against the floor as it rolled away.
The mask clattered against the floor, leaving nothing but a heavy, electric silence between them. She’d seen his face before, sure, but seeing him like this… right now… it was… different. Seeing him so stripped back. So… serious. So… obsessive.
It sent a shiver through her that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the way her body was betraying her. The molten gold of his eyes seemed to glow with a dark, concentrated focus, and those eyebags… they only added to the rugged, exhausted heat he was radiating. They made him look… so fuckin’ hot. With the dark stubble framing his jaw and his expression fixed on her with such raw, singular intent, he looked… handsome. Actually… hotter. Way… hotter than before.
She was at a total loss for words, her gaze flickering over every inch of his face as she felt herself… dripping. Her body was responding to this version of him—the one that wasn't performing for an audience, but was solely, violently… focused on her. Adam’s smirk didn't just radiate arrogance; it was pure, predatory triumph. He could see the exact moment she stopped thinking and started just wanting.
"Yeah, look at me, babe. Don't look away," he rasped, his voice a jagged, low vibration. He leaned down, his stubble scraping deliciously against her golden-flushed skin. "I know i’m a lot to take in when i’m like this. You look fuckin' hot staring at me like I'm your whole world,"
He let out that low, cocky giggle, his thumb moving with a slow, agonizingly wet pressure against her, making her back arch off the mattress.
"But that's 'cause I am," he hissed against her lips, his gold eyes boring into hers. "This big fuckin' dick is the only thing you’re ever gonna need."
She was at a total loss for words, her gaze flickering over every inch of his face as she felt herself… dripping. Adam’s hand moved with a fluid, careless grace, hitching the hem of his robe up to his waist. He was packing a monstrous 16-inch dick (cuz hes so tall like 9.2ft so it makes sense his dick is 16 inch), and it was… terrifying.
"Adam… the fuck- I can't handle all that—" she gasped out, her face flushing a deep, shimmering gold. "You're… you're so fucking big…!"
Adam’s grin widened, his chest puffing out as he took the compliment. "Fuck yeah I am! I'm hung like a fucking horse, babe! What did you expect? I’m the First Man, the original! Of course i’m gonna be the biggest thing you’ve ever seen."
He leaned down, his voice dropping into a low, smooth purr. "Don't worry. This is a once-in-a-lifetime deal, babe. Not everyone gets the privilege of being with me. You’re the lucky one."
Hearing that, something in her finally snapped. She stopped fighting it, her body going soft as she finally… gave up. Adam didn't waste another second. He gripped her hips with bruising force, his large hands anchoring her to the mattress as he started… pushing. She let out a sharp, strangled moan of pain, her eyes fluttering shut as the sheer scale of him began to stretch her open.
Seeing her struggle, he immediately leaned down and crashed his lips onto hers, kissing her deeply and hungrily. He used his tongue to claim her mouth, desperate to distract her from the initial sting. But Adam… he wasn't the type to stay calm for long. The moment he felt she relaxed into the kiss, his patience evaporated. He let out a muffled growl against her lips and thrusted… deep. He buried himself inside her all at once, the sensation of her tight heat enveloping his massive length being almost too much to bear.
"Fuck…" he choked out, pulling back just enough to look at her.
It felt so good—so impossibly perfect—that his gold eyes actually teared up. He looked down at her, his face a mask of raw, overwhelmed pleasure, his breath coming in ragged hitches as he stayed buried to the hilt. The sudden, heavy force of him bottoming out caused her to let out a sharp, strangled cry—a jagged sound that sat right on the edge of raw pain and overwhelming pleasure. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, her nails scratching against his skin as she gasped for air, trying to process the sheer volume of him.
She pulled back from the kiss, her eyes wet and flickering with genuine heat as she glared up at his overwhelmed face.
"A-Adam! you fuckin- bitch!" she hissed, her voice a strained, breathless scold. "I told you I couldn't handle all of that, and you just shoved it in anyway! You’re gonna break me in half!"
Adam stayed frozen for a second, his massive frame trembling above her. He looked completely wrecked, his gold eyes shimmering with those rare, overwhelmed tears because of how good she felt. Despite her cursing him out—he hated getting insulted—yet a slow, dark smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. He let out a low, husky chuckle, the sound vibrating deep in his chest and echoing through her body where they were joined.
"Relax, babe," he rasped, his voice dripping with that effortless, smug arrogance. He leaned down, nuzzling his face into the sensitive crook of her neck. He let out a shaky breath, his stubble grazing her skin as he inhaled her scent, his hands still gripping her hips with bruising force. "Just breathe for me," he murmured against her skin, his dick pulsing deep inside her. "You’re doing just fine, babe, i’m fuckin' Adam, I know exactly how to treat the ladiesss~." He emphasized the word teasingly, a low vibration against her throat.
The moment he felt her body finally start to give in, any lingering shred of patience Adam had went up in smoke. He didn't just want her; he wanted to claim her. His grip on her hips shifted, his fingers digging in deep enough to leave bruises as he began to move with a violent, relentless energy. He wasn't just thrusting anymore; he was pounding into her, his massive frame snapping forward with enough force to make the bed frame groan under the weight. Each time he slammed his dick home, the impact was so heavy it knocked the breath right out of her lungs. He was being completely rough, his movements jagged and unyielding, treating her body like it was his personal playground.
"Yeah, that’s it, take every fucking inch of me, bitch" he snarled, his voice a dark, distorted rasp. He reached up, grabbing both of her wrists and pinning them above her head with one hand, his gold eyes burning with a terrifying, primal hunger. "I want you to feel exactly how much man you're dealing with."
He hiked her hips up higher, tilting her pelvis to get an even deeper angle, before driving himself back in with a brutal, bottoming-out thud.
"You think those stupid fuckin' cunts can satisfy you the way I do?" he roared, his sweat dripping onto her golden-flushed skin. "You think Asher or Elias have a chance? Fuck no. They’ve just got those pathetic drummer dicks. They’d be fucking drowning in here. They couldn't even touch the spots I'm hitting right now."
He didn't slow down for a second, his pace turning into a punishing, rhythmic assault that had her head tossing back and forth against the pillows.
"FUCKING tell me," he hissed, his face inches from hers, his expression a mask of raw, arrogant triumph. "Tell me i’m the only one who can fucking stretch you out like this. Tell me i’m the only one who fucking matters!"
She was struggling to draw in enough air, her head tossing against the pillows as the sheer force of him bottoming out turned her thoughts to static. As he leaned in close, his face inches from hers with that mask of arrogant triumph, she finally broke, the admission forced out of her by the relentless pressure of his body.
"Y-yes… Adam!" she choked out, her voice wrecked and trembling as she looked into his burning gold eyes. "You're… you're the only one who can actually satisfy me like this!"
Adam let out a sharp, jagged laugh, his ego flared even brighter than his eyes. He didn't slow down; he drove into her with a sudden, violent burst of speed, his movements full of the reckless intensity he was known for.
"Fuck yeah, bitch!" he barked, a cocky, toothy grin spreading across his face. "You're fucking right! Those cunts can't even touch you the way I do! They couldn't even get close to this level of perfection. I'm the fucking man for a reason!"
He gripped her hips with iron force, leaning his full weight into her as he prepared to bury himself to the absolute hilt.
"I’m the only one who gets to ruin you like this," he growled, his voice thick with that signature, self-obsessed grit. "I'm the first, I'm the best, and I'm the only one you're ever gonna need. Now say it! Fucking tell me I'm the best!"
She couldn't hold it back anymore. As he drove into her with that final, punishing rhythm, she threw her head back, her fingers digging into his muscular forearms.
"You’re the best!" she screamed, the words tearing from her throat in a raw, breathable peak. "Adam, you're the best! You're the only one— fuck, you're the only one!"
"…A-ANNNGHH… ADAMM!"
Hearing her moans was the final trigger. Adam’s breath hitched, a low, gravelly groan vibrating in his chest as his pace became desperate and erratic.
"FUCK!" he choked out, his head snapping back as he felt himself hit the point of no return. "God-fucking-damnit, you're so- ugh, fuck!"
He couldn't take it anymore and he finally came. He let out a loud, guttural roar of pure, arrogant victory, his entire body tensing as he slammed into her one last time. He buried himself to the absolute hilt, pinning her down with his massive weight as he finally lost control.
As the pressure of his release finally settled, Adam leaned down and sank his teeth into the sensitive skin of her neck, marking her with a territorial bite. She let out a sharp, high-pitched moan at the sting of his teeth, her body still vibrating from her own peak. Spent but completely satisfied, Adam let his head drop, burying his face against one of her tits. He inhaled deeply, the sound of his ragged breathing muffled against her skin. Even in his exhaustion, his hands remained possessive; one stayed anchored by her head, while the other moved up to squeeze her other tit in a firm, claiming grip.
He eventually lifted his head, his gold eyes hooded as he loomed over her. "Babe, you realize this is all on you?" he rasped, his voice dripping with smugness. He reached up, tracing the reddening bite mark on her neck with a thumb. "None of this shit would’ve happened if you didn't let those fucking micro-dicks get close to you."
She looked up at him, her expression hardening into one of pure annoyance. "Adam… you still didn't have to do all that" she snapped, her voice still rough and strained. "They're my friends, Adam… I miss my fri—"
Before the word could even leave her lips, Adam’s expression darkened. He lunged forward, his mouth crashing onto hers to effectively swallow the rest of her sentence. He reached up and grabbed both of her hands, forcing her arms wide and interlocking his fingers firmly with hers, pinning her palms flat against the mattress.
He used the weight of his body to anchor her down, his tongue forcing its way past her teeth to claim her mouth with an obsessive, rhythmic heat. He kissed her until the room felt silent, his grip on her fingers tightening every time she tried to squirm, forcing her to stay present in the suffocating heat of his hold.
The kiss lasted until her struggles subsided into a heavy, defeated stillness. Adam finally pulled back, though he didn't let go of her hands. His fingers remained tightly interlocked with hers, pinning her wrists against the pillows as he loomed over her, his chest still heaving from the exertion.
He looked down at her, his golden eyes narrowing as he took in her annoyed expression. A sharp, jagged scowl crossed his face. "Seriously, babe? Get your fucking head in the game," he snapped. "I just fucked you’re brains out and you’re really gonna sit there and talk about those losers? You shouldn’t be thinking about anyone but me right now."
He leaned down further, his nose brushing against hers, his grip on her fingers tightening just a fraction. "It’s honestly fucking insulting. I just moved mountains for you, stretched you out, and gave you a god-tier climax, and you’re gonna ruin the afterglow by whining about some micro-dick nobodies? Fuck that."
She let out a soft, tired huff and tilted her head, pressing a lingering, soft kiss to the side of his neck. "Don't be jealous, Adam," she murmured against his skin.
The effect was instantaneous. Adam’s entire frame went rigid, and a deep, hot flush crept up his neck and across his cheeks. He let out a flustered, choked-off noise, his mouth opening as if to deliver a cutting comeback, but nothing came out. Instead, he finally released her hands, but only to immediately wrap his massive arms around her. He pulled her flush against his chest, tucking her head under his chin and cuddling her close in a silent, possessive embrace.
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