summary: you wonder how far you have to push adam until he can break.
wc: 1.1k of pure porn sry
warnings: fem!reader, bratty!reader, adam glenn is hung, adam glenn is vocal, adam glenn is perfect, size differences, gratuitous lusting over adam's form, self indulgent as always, reader is a fucking FREAK!, cum eating, handjobs, a taste of p in v at the end. yippeeee yayyy fun i need him.
a/n: i felt possessed by lust and wrote this in a couple hours. i don't know what to say. minors dni or we will have PROBLEMS.
“ There’s like, no fucking way this is going to fit, is there? ”
Adam’s would reply if your hand wasn’t gripping his cock, his hips jumping instead at your crass words; your fingers don’t quite meet, the nails he’d paid for you to get still just shy of allowing you to wrap around the whole of him. Despite this your grip is tight, the beads of pre cum that have been steadily leaking from the flushed tip providing ample slip. He feels dizzy, head thrown back to the ceiling and eyes squeezed shut because if he looks at you he thinks he’ll cum immediately.
Is this what being in love is like?
“Hey, can you pay attention to me? M’asking you a question!” Your voice is chiding in the same bratty way it always is, insistent and only a tiny bit whiny. Usually it makes Adam’s heart (and cock) swell, but right now he just thinks it’s unfair; he knows you don’t actually expect him to answer, just wanting to see how much you undo him.
“I’m trying, princess, I am, you’re just — ah — “ He has to break his words off into a deep groan, hips bucking up through your hand in response to you beginning to stroke. “ — you’re too good, baby, I dunno if I can — fuck — handle it. “
All this does is elicit a giggle of evil and malice from you, and any thought that his pleads would make you go easier on him disappear in a resigned haze of pleasure. So he nods, though he still can’t make himself look at you.
“ ‘Course you can handle it, you’re my big strong boyfriend — it feels good, yeah? You’re throbbing. ” Your sweet voice saying such vulgar things pulls another groan from him, sweat beading his skin with how hard it is to keep from using your hand (and you) however he pleases. It’s like every muscle is straining under you and it’s becoming addicting. He finds his rhythm like this, enjoying the push and pull and your little coos of affirmation through it all.
You stay like this for a while, hand pumping up and down in time with his thrusts. Your panties are ruined by this point, the sight of him above you like this making you leak. He’s so beautiful, thin sheen of sweat glistening on rippling muscles, thick cock shiny and heavy in your grasp, veins throbbing so deliciously you have to stop yourself from licking up the length of them. He’s perfect, you think, face flushed the same deep pink as his cock, lips open in what seems like a constant groan. His noises spur you on, every “Fuck” and “My perfect girl” that fall from his lips only making you need more.
You’ve always thought he was perfect — You’ve never met a guy who fucks like Adam, so focused on making you feel good with the blessing he’s given, eagerly vocal to show you how you make him feel on top of that. It’s addicting, much in the same way you are to him. It feels filthy, sometimes, how much you need each other, and the way he’s thrusting up into you — slow, insistent, deep — makes you so horny you could cry. How on earth is it gonna feel when he’s inside? You’re not sure you could handle it, if your bark could match your bite. You wonder if he’d be as gentle as he always try to be, if he’d fight against what he really needs in an effort to hold back for you. You hope he won’t; you might just keep pushing until he stops.
Adam’s just mustered up the courage to lift his head and open glazed brown eyes to look down at you, but he’s surprised to see you already eyeing him, drinking in every reaction he gives. His cock twitches in your hand and you giggle again, but this time it feels less … mean. You’re all starry-eyed, cockdrunk just from touching him. He feels both objectified and deified, and it makes him ache.
And then your eyes lock onto his as you lean forward to give a soft kitten lick to his tip, and he loses his grip.
Warmth floods your sensations, thick ropes shooting across your face and your chest and your hand accompanied by an almost guttural groan. You stroke him through it, intent on milking everything out, little wondrous whimpers of “Oh wow” and “There’s so much…” prolonging it more than he even thought was possible.
By the time he’s done Adam’s hips are twitching, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath — you’re still eyeing him like you want to eat him, but when he feels your hands leave his cock he thinks he might be safe.
Will he ever learn?
“S-sweet girl, thank you, that was so — fuuuuuck. “ He watches you lean forward to lick off some of his cum that had pooled across his abdomen, tongue sliding into the divots of his abs. He’s shaking again, and the sweet, smiley, almost dopey look you give him as you do makes something snap in his brain.
You don’t process that you’re moving until you’re already in the air, legs dangling as he picks you up; you let out a loud squeal as he throws you onto the bed, the high-pitched “Adam!” doing little more than make his still-hard cock jump again. You forget that your boyfriend Adam, also known as the boundlessly powerful He-Man, has very little refractory period. Dangerously little.
His eyes are just a bit darker when he throws you down onto the bed, and you’re sure you’re going to hear about this later ( ‘Did I hurt you?’ ‘Are you okay?’ ‘Was I being too rough?’ ), but you don’t care. Right now, you feel like how you imagine some of the unluckier Eternia villains do, basking in the light of the Power of Grayskull.
“What are you going to do to me?” It would sound awful if you weren’t so obviously turned on, watching him come to hover over you with a practically giddy smile.
He can’t help the matching grin he sports while looming over you, hips thrusting softly to come under your skirt and run his thick cock through your folds, head catching your clit and making you gasp. No underwear. Dirty.
“Whatever I fucking want to.” He breathes it into you, lips brushing yours at the same time his cock breaches your cunt and every muscle in your body contracts to arch your back up. Maybe it won’t fit.
Adam notices your expression and, seemingly reading your mind, shakes his head. “Don’t worry, beautiful —“ His weight is bearing down on you now, impossibly big cock bullying its way into you, “ — we’ll make it fit.”
Through their Love they saw the mystery of the world’s equilibrium, and that they themselves were a symbol and expression of this balance. Two triangles united in them into a six-pointed star. Two magnets melted into an ellipsis. They were two. The third was the Unknown Future. The three made One.
P. D. OUSPENSKY — The Symbolism of the Tarot, cited in A Dark Muse: A History of the Occult [Ed. Gary Lashman], (2004)
The distance between us is shackles upon my wrists. I find myself within a shrinking skull each time you vanish. These four walls are a sponge, drinking in the very sap of my life. The stench of burning lingers — the Reaper has knocked upon the door. I seize every sound, every scent: I must feel you, lest I be ground into dust. Are you still uncertain of me? Remain by my side, always. You are my tomorrow.
tires spit gravel as he pulls in a little fast, the house unchanged from the day he left it. windows were sealed, paint dulled by years that had passed without him, and there was already a woman waiting on the front lawn. shit, he exhales to himself, his chest tightening because he was late, but in his defense he didn't want to be here at all. he was halfway out of the car, apology already forming, when the angle of her face caught his attention and made him pause. the clock suddenly dialed back until he was seventeen again with grass stains on his jeans and his father's voice in his head. he recognized her not as the talented art dealer his attorney had promised, but as liz from a few houses down. older now, but standing where she once hovered with a sweating glass of lemonade. " my flight was delayed. " his hand stalled midair, his name lodged in his throat. did he really need to introduce himself? " i got here as quickly as i could. " / @driftse
