★ | glass box
drabble w/@sooniebby 's original character!
sypnosis: you come home drunk from a team celebration with your co-workers. your boyfriend doesn't like it, he doesn't like that others has seen you like this; a mess. to ease his worries, he makes an even bigger mess of you.
𝅄 ༊࿐⠀ִ⠀this is my first time writing for a character that doesn't belong to me, haha. this drabble is all over the place, goes from point a to point b really quickly. still, i hope you enjoy this self-indulgence as much as i did 𖦹 ´ ᵕ ` 𖦹
ily soonie for lending me moon jae! i'm looking to even more fics of him and for more of your works! i love every bit of your works <33 !!
cw: mdni. reader is mentioned to have a dick. spanking (mentioned once), overstimulation, dick squirting, dumbification, inserting plot in porn is not my best suit.
"...ngh." you choke on your moans. saliva coated the necktie that's stuffed in your mouth. you think you're going to throw up. you sure drank a lot tonight together with your co-workers and your team manager. you were drunk enough to forget you had a boyfriend at home, waiting for your return. "jae—hnghh... m' gohnna—"
slap!
you whimpered at the harsh slap of his thick, veiny palm on your round ass cheek. you cried, sobbing in humiliation as your dick squirts cum.
your boyfriend’s resounding chuckle made your hips twitch, and your thighs quiver. he rested his palm on your redden ass cheek, caressing it softly with a pinch. his other hand's three digits deep inside your tight hole, pressing against the bundle of nerves as you twitch in overstimulation. "that quick?"
you pant, the pillow under your dick was soaked in your cum. your dress shirt's drenched in sweat, and your underwear's hanging on your ankle. you were a perfect mess; a mess only meant for moon jae. his alone.
seeing you walk inside the house, face flushed, hair messy, and your collar button undone made him feel irritated. you let others see this side of you—the side that was only meant for him, not anyone else.
"i came..." you let your tie fall down as you swallow your saliva, gulping oxygen. "for... five times—"
"let's make it six?" the condescending tone in his voice paired with the sudden thrust of his fingers inside you made your stomach tingle, your insides tighten around his fingers. your soften dick twitched to life as you cried on his lap. god, you loved his fingers. so thick, so big, and soft. he took great care of his hands despite his nonchalance for important things.
"... can't anym'..." you sobbed, bound hands tied together by the cuffs jae bought a while back for you, a congratulatory present for your promotion. you thought back then, if he had the money to buy such an expensive, mundane item, then why is he relying on you for expenses?
he shushed you, hissing through his teeth as he pats your head, slowly picking up the pace of his fingers. "you can, doll. you will." he promises you with his fingers entangled in your hair. "lift your hips for me."
his whispered promise did wonders to your almost stupefied brain. it's times like these that you forget all rationale thought and give in to his whims, bending your joins and going along to his rhythm like a doll. you forget that this man has not only been freeloading off of you, but he has constantly wronged you in the past. still, instead of kicking him our of your house and your life for good, you suddenly are on your hands and knees, taking his length like a good whore. he'll whisper apologies, whisper unfulfilled promises into your ear as he cums in you, filling up every crevice he can and will reach.
he imprints himself in you, making sure that the claws of his talons will put you in your place. make you stay in the nest you built, never letting you go.
"ffuuuckkk—" your tounge lols out of your mouth, the tip of it peeking out as your eyes gradually lose focus. you grip the cushion of the couch beneath your fingertips, trying to find purchase in the unbearable waves of pleasure that came crashing down on you, pulling you in with utter ecstasy. "shoo ghoood... ah—sho fucking good—"
"yeah? you like it?" he leans down, towering over your quivering upper half on his lap. there was a satisfied smile on his face, a grin stretched wide enough for it to look unsettling. he pistons his fingers inside you, lube and the cum he shoved in you from your previous orgasms sloshed and squirts out from your hole. you can't think of anything else but the fingers inside you, messing you up no other people could ever do. he makes sure of that.
"'ove it s'much..." you whimpered, fucked out dumb. your mutters were almost incoherent, the slapping of his fingers in you and your juices squelching were louder than your hoarse voice. "don'wan you ... hng—'t stop..."
"you don't want to?" you shake your head as he tuts, gripping your jaw and shoving two of his fingers inside, playing with your lax tounge. "use your words, doll. you know i like it when you're vocal."
"dohn'wann ... shtap–" you suck on his fingers, toes curling as both of his fingers fuck you in unison. your eyes roll back, your insides spasms in pure bliss. your body goes lax, too tired to fight off the pleasure that's being instilled in your bones.
you barely register the laugh moon jae released. for him, this was the best version of you. you were uptight, organized, prim, and proper. he remembered the day he met you. it was at a highschool reunion get-together party. you were like any other corporate slave, you were dull in every way possible. you were bland and boring, you didn't catch his eye.
he went out of the party to smoke, and he saw you squatting down on the smoking area, puffing a cigarette. he didn't pay you any mind. you were no one to him. but that night, if he hadn't forgotten his lighter; if he hadn't teased you back then; if you hadn't reacted that way to a light-hearted question back then...
"you kept staring at me." he remembers the slightest widening of your eyes, your mouth parting a little big bigger than it was supposed to. "do you like me?"
oh. jae thought as the tips of your ears flush, your lips in a weird wobbly shape as you stare at him wide-eyed, like a deer caught in the headlights. like a doll you caught suddenly moving to life. oh.
"—ae! hnngg!" your little squeal snapped him out of his reverie. he had four fingers up in you now, fingers pressing against your sweet spot as you tremble on his lap. your hips moving on their own as you beg him to keep moving, to give you another deliciously painful release.
he blinked, drinking the sight of you in. he was right. you looked best when you're like this. you looked absolutely ethereal, being ruined by him.
"nghh—jaeeee..." you whined his name, lifting your head up, using your arms to support you as your flushed face greets him. the tear streaks on your chin with the shine of your unshed tears made his heart skip a beat, his dick already angry and hardened on his pants. god, he wants to ruin you over, and over, and over again. "hurry up... 'm sorry for getting drunk ... please let me cum ..."
how can he deny you when you're this gorgeous?
moon jae stares at you a little longer, grinning at your confused, fucked out, expression before resuming his assault on your body. you squeal in shock, your moans could rival church choirs with how angelic they sound. he sighs in content, feeling you squirt again. but instead of halting, he kept going. he kept caressing your walls, kept drilling into you even as you wet the couch with your lust.
"that's right. that's a good boy." he says it in such a gentle tone, your body quivers. he smiles, satisfied. "i'm the only one who gets to see you like this. okay?"
and just like that, you find yourself stuck inside a glass box of obsession made by your dollkeeper. only showing what he wants others to show and keeping you for himself when people leave. you will always be stuck in this glass box, lest he gets tired of you.
you let the pleasure take off your thoughts, tears falling down your cheeks like water droplets from leaf dews. you will never be free from your glass box.
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WIP Wednesday: Caught
GFFA Soulmate AU (follow-up to this post)
Anakin is two screws and a hex bolt into dismantling the saber, hardly ankle-deep, when the front door slides open.
And Obi-Wan steps in. “Padawan, have you seen my…”
Anakin grimaces in mortification as his Master trails off, clearly having found what he was looking for.
He looks calm, but a spark of fear lights in Anakin anyway. If his Master knows, if he catches wind of this insatiable need that Anakin has—
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says carefully. His body is tense. “What exactly are you doing?”
“I’m sorry, Master!”
He’s been made. He’d tried to pry Obi-Wan open and crawl inside while his Master wasn’t looking, and now he’s been caught red-handed, still covered in his blood.
The two of them are Master and Padawan, but—
He knows that doesn’t give him permission for this kind of intimacy.
At best, Obi-Wan will see it as rude and violating.
At worst, he’ll see it as a betrayal.
“I just wanted to see,” Anakin begs. “I’m sorry, Obi-Wan. I know I should have asked.”
“Oh.” His Master’s gaze flickers to the mess on the living room floor, the electrical and mechanical parts scattered around from Anakin’s various projects, and then back to him.
Obi-Wan furrows his eyebrows, looking nonplussed.
“So this is… purely academic interest?”
Anakin seizes upon the excuse gratefully, trying to rein in the rampage of feelings inside him. “Yes, exactly! I wanted to see how it was different from mine, especially given that we’re using a lot of the same materials.”
Obi-Wan raises a hand to cover his mouth, stroking his beard, which means he’s a little rattled and needs a moment to regain his composure.
Anakin can relate.
“Tell me, Padawan. What do you feel when you touch my lightsaber?”
“What do I feel?” Anakin asks in surprise. “I guess— um.”
He scrambles for an answer he can say out loud, something other than Like I’m yours. Anything Obi-Wan would accept.
He remembers, with sudden clarity, the incident with Ferus’s lightsaber two years ago.
“I feel like I’ve eaten a good meal,” he lies. “Like I’ve eaten my fill, and I’ll never be hungry again.”
It’s only half a lie, anyway. Obi-Wan does make him feel all those things, with the way he looks after him, ensuring he always has more than enough to eat, even when they’re on missions.
It’s just not the lighstaber that does that.
Still, the answer has some kind of tension releasing from his Master’s form. Obi-Wan sags a bit, his expression settling into a small smile.
“Well,” he says lightly, shaking his head. “I suppose I can’t begrudge you that.”
Obi-Wan points a finger at him, mock-stern.
“But I expect you to ask next time, Padawan.”
Anakin, still reeling from the easy acceptance— from the explicit permission, the absolute trust— snaps to attention. “Yes Master!”
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