a/n: no one can convince me jongseob isn't the shyest dom ever. i mean you can put him in the sub category if you want but man. to me he's just the shyest mf bc you're hella intimidating. catch him when he's cocky and he's make you tap out, trust. i wrote this based off this ask btw!
jongseob had tried to ignore you for over an hour. his glasses kept slipping down his nose from how many times heâd looked down at his workbook, only to be distracted again by the soft hum of your voice, your hand brushing too close to his thigh, your lazy giggles every time you caught him squirming. he had begged you. begged. to let him get through at least this one chapter. he had a physics quiz tomorrow. he needed this grade.
but you were no help.
you were wearing his hoodie, but nothing underneath. he could see the soft curve of your bare thighs where you sat across from him on the bed, feet tangled together. his pen had dropped somewhere near your knee. youâd made a show of picking it up. slow, stretching just enough for the hem to ride up and flash the pretty dip between your thighs. jongseob had choked, muttered a breathless âplease, stopâ that didnât sound convincing at all.
you: âstop what?â
your voice was all syrup, all innocent cruelty. he looked up from the page, cheeks already red.
j: âyou know what youâre doingâŠâ
he did that thing again where he licked his lips and immediately regretted it. you watched him. your hand crept forward. fingers slipped up to where his lap was covered by a too-thin blanket.
you: âyouâre so tense. iâm helping you relax.â
j: âi⊠i c-canât focus if you-â
you crawled across the mattress until your face was in his neck, until your hand was curled around his cock through his sweats, rubbing slow just to hear the way he whimpered. jongseob was panting already, his eyes screwed shut behind his glasses. he looked so helpless. head tilted back, adamâs apple twitching, body trembling just from your palm. he always got like this when you teased him. but tonight he cracked.
your palm squeezed. his hips bucked. he grabbed your wrist.
j: ân-no. no more.â
you blinked. surprised by the edge in his tone, even more surprised when he pushed your hand away and shoved the book off the bed. he stared at you for a second, like he wasnât sure he meant to do that, then swallowed hard.
j: âlay down.â
you tilted your head, smirking.
you: âare you mad at me?â
j: âyes. lay down.â
his voice, shaking.
your heart thudded. you obeyed. and for a second you thought he might crumble again. but he didnât. jongseob took off his glasses and set them down like he was about to perform surgery. his hands were trembling as he hovered over you. he stared down at your body like he wasnât allowed to touch it, like one wrong move would make you disappear.
then he touched you. slowly, cautiously. his palm on your stomach, dragging up to cup your chest under the hoodie. you gasped. he whimpered.
j: âiâm not supposed to⊠but youâre not letting me study⊠soâŠâ
you didnât even get the chance to tease him again. because suddenly he was kissing your neck, then lower, licking across your chest with shaky, eager breaths, mumbling little curses into your skin. your hoodie bunched up to your ribs. he slid down between your thighs, face red, hands gripping your hips like he needed permission.
j: âcan i⊠can i taste you?â
you nodded. breathless. he licked his lips and dropped his head, burying it between your legs with a desperate moan like heâd needed this more than air. his tongue was clumsy at first. nervous, unsure. but he made up for it with how hungry he was. whining softly, mouth dragging over you again and again until your back arched.
you were tugging his hair before long, thighs trembling around his head. and still he didnât stop. your teasing was long forgotten. jongseob was shaking, humping the mattress, fully red in the face while he licked you through your moans. you tried to pull him up, he refused.
j: ânot until you cum. i⊠i want it. pleaseâŠâ
you came with his name tangled on your tongue, body writhing under his mouth. when he finally pulled away, his lips were wet, eyes glazed. you tugged him up by the hoodie strings and kissed him, catching your own taste on his tongue.
he moaned into your mouth. hips twitching against your thigh.
you: âyou still mad?â
j: âi need to fuck you.â
jongseob whimpered. pulled your hips into his lap. and the studying was forgotten.
his hands were shaking so hard you almost took over for him. almost. but something in the way he looked at you made you still. like he needed to be the one to do this. like heâd finally snapped and couldnât bear being teased anymore without giving something back. his fingers fumbled with the waistband of your shorts, pushing them down with a soft, breathless gasp when your thighs spread.
j: âi-i donât know if i can do it right⊠just⊠tell me if i mess up.â
he was already hard, tenting his sweats, the head of his cock damp and obvious through the fabric. you could see how bad he wanted it, wanted you. and yet even now, he hesitated, hovering over your body like he was afraid he might break you.
you reached down and tugged at his waistband.
you: âtake these off. youâre already leaking, seob.â
he whined softly, almost embarrassed, but obeyed. his sweats dropped, cock springing free. pretty and flushed, twitching from the pressure heâd built up all night. when he climbed between your thighs, he lined himself up, eyes locked to yours like he was waiting for you to stop him. you didnât.
his voice broke as he bottomed out, hips trembling above yours. you moaned under him, hands gripping his arms as he sank deeper, cock stretching you open inch by inch. he wasnât rough. he didnât know how to be rough, but he was hungry.
he started moving slowly. short thrusts, hips stuttering as he tried to keep control. you could feel how hard he was trying to hold back. biting his lip, forehead damp, little whimpers slipping through when your walls clenched.
you: âfaster. donât hold back, seob.â
j: âi-i canât⊠iâll cum too fast- fuck-â
but his hips picked up anyway. the slick sound of skin against skin filled the room, his cock dragging deep with each thrust. he leaned in, hiding his face in your neck. moaning every time you clenched around him, panting your name like a prayer.
j: âyou feel so good, i c-canât think- y-you kept teasing, i- mmph-â
you dug your nails into his back and rocked your hips up to meet him. he gasped, pace faltering.
you: âgonna cum already?â
j: ân-no- i mean- y-yeah- iâm trying not to- fuck, i canât-â
he started shaking. the moment your walls clenched again, his whole body stiffened and he moaned so sweet and high in your ear. his cock throbbed as he spilled inside you, hips jerking through each pulse, breath ragged and broken.
j: âs-sorry- i didnât last⊠i didnâtâŠâ
you: âyou didnât even try to hold back, seobie.â
j: âi-i couldnât help it. you were so tight. so warm. i⊠i c-can go again though. iâll make you cum. just give me a second-â
he pulled out slowly, cock softening but still twitching. you felt the wetness leak down your thighs. he watched it with wide eyes, cheeks flushed, hands already fumbling to touch you again. this time with less hesitation.
j: âi-i wanna taste it⊠all of it⊠gonna make you cum with my mouth again, please-â
and just like that, nerdy, flustered jongseob had dropped back to his knees between your thighs. studying abandoned. quiz forgotten. only you in his mind now. his only subject, his favorite test.
this time it was different. messier. needier. his tongue lapped through the slick mix of you and him like heâd lost control of himself. moaning, licking, gasping when your hips bucked and your thighs tightened around his head. he didnât slow down.
he growled into your pussy.
j: âkeep your legs open. donât move.â
his voice was muffled, low, soaked in heat and embarrassment and command. you gasped, already twitching under his tongue, barely able to handle how sloppy he was. his hands dug into your thighs, thumbs spreading you wider as he focused on your clit. sucking and flicking his tongue, messy and insistent.
you reached for his hair, but he caught your wrist and pinned it to the bed.
j: âlet me do it. iâm not stopping until you cum.â
his mouth was everywhere. soft licks, sharp flicks, his lips wrapping around your clit just right. and every time your hips twitched, he pressed them back down like he was memorizing what made you squirm. his cock was still twitching, half-hard against the bed, drooling onto the sheets. but he didnât care. not yet.
you: âseob- fuck- baby iâm-â
j: âcum. cum on my tongue, please.â
you broke with a gasp. hips jerking, body arching into his face as your orgasm hit, hot and blinding and so much after how long heâd teased you. he held you down through it, lapping up everything you gave him, moaning like he was getting off from your taste alone.
he didnât stop until your legs were trembling. until your cunt twitched under his tongue, overstimulated and soaked. then he finally looked up. mouth and chin glossy, face flushed, eyes wild.
j: âdid i⊠do okay?â
you nodded weakly. and he smiled, proud but still a little shy, crawling up your body to kiss you with his cum-slick lips.
j: âi think i wanna study like this from now on.â
you laughed breathlessly, pulling him back down.
you: âwho knew nerds were so good with their tongues.â
j: âiâll get better. i swear. just⊠let me try again later.â
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She faces the doll, holding a pill. the doll squirms backward, scared by the unfamiliar object.
"c'mon now, honey. don't make me have to repeat myself. Open."
the doll nervously slides its jaw open. it flinches when She puts Her hand near its face.
despite this, She continues forward, placing the pill in the doll's mouth. She smirks.
"okaaay, now, swallow!"
having already committed to this, it swallows dryly. it's been trained to be able to do so without liquid, but it still hurts a little.
after a few moments, the doll's vision blurs. it slumps over in its seat, fading. before falling asleep completely, it sees Her rushing to catch it.
...
the doll wakes up. sunlight. it can feel Her warm arms around it.
"awhh, hey sleepyhead! did you rest okay?"
the doll blinks. slow. dazed.
"wow, those things really did a number on you, huh? how are your new meds treating you?"
it cocks its head, confused. its fuzzy memory doesn't clear much of the situation up.
"wooowww, I don't know what fucked you up more. the suggestions, or the meds themselves! silly, you can remember now~"
suddenly, the doll realizes.
its owner agreed that She would take advantage of it using its new medication's side effect of making it drowsy
of course, this came with the stipulation that She brainwashed the memory of the meds, as well as asking for the entire thing, right out of its head the doll smiles at its owner.
đïž BLACKSITE ENTRY â âWHY I WRITE THE WAY I DO (AND WHY YOU SHOULD TOO).â
Ever get that gut-punch of judgment?
That whisper that says:
> âDonât write that. Donât say that. People will think youâre insane.â
Ever felt like you were going to get in trouble for writing about an orgasm,
the heat of someoneâs body,
or the scent of their sex?
Ever stopped mid-sentence,
mid-pulse,
mid-thought â
and decided to write about your pet goldfish instead?
That right there?
That hesitation?
That censorship?
Thatâs the silent death of a creative mind.
â ïž THE KILLERS OF ART
Words like:
Pervert
Weirdo
Too much
Rebel
have buried more artists than war or famine.
Not physically.
But spiritually.
They drain the ink before the page ever drinks it.
They silence more voices than dictatorships ever could.
Because when censorship isnât imposed from the outside â
when itâs internalized â
you donât need a prison.
You become your own warden.
And yet â here I am.
Still writing.
Still banned.
Still resurrected.
đ„ MY RECORD OF SIN
Iâve written poems so raw
they were flagged by machines as biological weapons.
Iâve recorded audios so potent
they shattered Redditâs engagement metrics â
so hard that execs came at me under alias DMs
to figure out how I did it.
I told them to kick rocks.
Hours later I was ghosted â
digital Hoffa, buried by the algorithm.
And then I took the same method,
the same cadence,
and broke Literoticaâs audio section wide open â
crowned king without asking permission.
I walked into their poetry division and detonated it too.
Proof: the fearful remember nothing.
The raw become unforgettable.
đ HISTORY DOESNâT REMEMBER THE SAFE
You think this is new?
No.
Censorship is the oldest trick in civilization.
Socrates was executed for âcorrupting the youth.â
Ovid was exiled for writing too explicitly about desire.
James Joyce was banned for making sentences orgasm.
Henry Millerâs books were burned.
Allen Ginsbergâs Howl was put on trial.
Every generation, the pearl-clutchers rise.
Every generation, they try to smother the voices that make them clench.
And every generation, history remembers the banned.
Not the censors.
Nobody quotes the critics.
Nobody rewatches the safe films.
Nobody rereads the clean poems.
They remember the dangerous.
The forbidden.
The ones who were told to shut up and instead wrote louder.
đ§ THE SCIENCE OF WHY YOU FREEZE
Hereâs the part most writers never learn:
When you hesitate to write something raw,
it isnât just âdoubt.â
Itâs your brainâs anterior cingulate cortex firing like a car alarm.
This is the same region triggered by pain and social rejection.
Your body literally treats disapproval like a wound.
Which means when you stop yourself from writing the âtoo muchâ line â
your nervous system is hijacking you.
Youâre not being âreasonable.â
Youâre being chemically blackmailed.
Evolution wired you to crave safety in the tribe.
But art isnât tribal safety.
Art is exile.
Art is risk.
Art is stepping into the fire naked and daring people to watch.
If you donât override that wiring?
Youâll never write anything worth remembering.
âïž THE LESSON NOBODY WANTS TO HEAR
No one remembers the safe.
No one remembers the compliant.
No one remembers the writer who only chased applause.
They remember the dangerous.
The unapologetic.
The voice that dripped when it shouldnât have,
that trembled when it shouldâve been silent,
that made someone clench and reread in shame,
and then whisper to themselves,
> âDamn. I wish I could write like that.â
How Do I Kneel for Someone Who Already Walked Away?
I donât know what to do with him. The man who couldnât love me back then, the one who held me steady when I was drowning but also made me feel like I was too much the second I asked for more. He says he wants back in my life. Heâs flying out at the end of the month, a whole weekend of him in my space, in my bed, in my head again. I keep telling myself I know better. I keep telling myself I learned something from how it ended the first time. But the truth is, I havenât stopped wanting to kneel for him. That part of me doesnât shut off. He knows exactly how to touch that switch, the one that makes me forget every reason I should walk away. And maybe thatâs what I hate mostâthat my body still remembers him as the one who knew how to anchor me, even if he couldnât stay. I donât know if Iâm strong enough to let him back in and not lose myself again. I donât know if this is self-sabotage or if itâs just desire wearing a familiar face. What do I do with someone who couldnât stay, but knows exactly how to make me want to kneel?
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The house/flat/apartment, in which one member has been infected with a obesity/slob virus, whose gradual growth and worsening smells become too much for the others...
The plan to leave is halted after the infected stumbles out of the swamp of their room, the heady gas, thick sweat they flick and spray onto everyone changes their minds.
Now it's just a home of slob, of fat - each person worshipping and encouraging each other to get worse, to gain even more.
