#my works: she’s my collar

[riboism]

she's my collar

》 pairing: assistant! k.ys x CEO! fem reader

》 wc: 5.3k

》 plot: For three years, Kang Yeosang was the quiet, obedient assistant to one of the most powerful women in tech—until she fired him with a cold, impersonal email. Drunk and furious, he confronts her at a bar, expecting to see the same ruthless CEO he once feared. Instead, he finds a woman exhausted by control, desperate to let someone else take over. Now, she’s offering him that power. Yeosang has spent years following orders—but can he step up and be the one giving them? And what happens when surrendering control turns into something neither of them can resist?

》 content: babygirl (2024) inspired, office sex, power dynamics, pet names (puppy), humiliation kink, submissive reader, face-fucking, shoe-grinding, cumplay, smut, comedy, this was written around Christmas time so it’s set around that time as well, also set in NYC

》 playlist: she's my collar- gorrilaz and kali uchis, leash- sky ferreira, crack baby- mitski, the perfect girl- mareux, closer- nine inch nails

Yeosang stared at his laptop screen, the faint glow of the monitor illuminating his face while all the color drained from it. His hands trembled slightly on the keyboard, his breathing growing shallow and uneven. Each word on the screen struck him like a dagger. He reread the message as if repetition might change its meaning.

Subject: Employment Termination

Dear Mr. Kang,

We regret to inform you that, due to recent budget cuts and ongoing concerns about your performance, we have made the difficult decision to terminate your employment with ChromaTech.

Please arrange to return all company property, including devices and ID badges, to our office as soon as possible. Alternatively, we can schedule a FedEx pickup from your home.

Your final paycheck will be processed and deposited later this week.

We appreciate your contributions to ChromaTech and wish you the best in your future endeavors.

Regards, HR

The words blurred together as Yeosang's vision clouded, his mind racing to make sense of it all. Performance concerns? He clenched his fists, trying to suppress the surge of humiliation and anger that coursed through him.

This wasn’t just a job to him—it was stability, routine, a cornerstone of the life he’d painstakingly built through hard work and commitment. Now it was gone, reduced to a cold, impersonal email that left no room for explanation, no chance to plead his case.

Yeosang let his head fall into his hands, the faint whir of the laptop's fan echoing in the room. It all felt surreal to him like he woke up to find the ground had shifted beneath his feet, leaving him dangling over a dark abyss.

He looked over at his digital calendar, every hour clogged up with reminders, appointments, and deadlines for the next month and a half, all completely useless now. For the first time in years, he had no idea what he was supposed to do next.

The rest of the day passed in a hazy blur. Yeosang drifted from room to room in his cramped East Village apartment, his gaze occasionally landing on the precarious stacks of Amazon boxes littering the floor. A pang of regret twisted in his chest. He’d splurged on gifts for his friends, family, and—most indulgently—himself during the holidays, telling himself it was fine to celebrate, that he deserved all the latest new tech and shiny sneakers. Now, staring at his dwindling savings, the extravagance felt like a slap in the face. Great timing.

After scheduling the FedEx pickup and stuffing his work belongings into a battered cardboard box, he tossed it into the corner, out of sight but never out of mind. Every motion felt mechanical, his thoughts distant and dulled. He couldn’t sit in this suffocating silence anymore, couldn’t let the reality of his situation consume him.

Tomorrow was Thursday. No work, no obligations. Now he had all the time in the world and no idea what to do with it.

Fuck it, he thought. If life wanted to kick him while he was down, then he’d kick back, even if it meant getting obliterated in the process. Grabbing his coat, he made a decision. Tonight, he wasn’t going to sit in his misery. He was going to hit the fanciest bar he could find and drink himself into oblivion, maybe even pick up a cute girl to take home. Consequences could wait until tomorrow.

⸻

Yeosang slouched over the bar counter, his cheek nearly pressed against the cool wood, looking more like he was napping than nursing a drink. The Manhattan in his hand felt cold, its amber glow reflecting faintly in his tired eyes. He swirled the liquid absently, his thoughts as muddled as the cocktail before him.

He regretted coming here. Liquor wasn’t his thing—he’d always avoided it, telling himself he needed to stay sharp for work. But the truth was simpler: alcohol made him sleepy. One drink, and he’d be nodding off like some human embodiment of the Sleepytime Bear. There’s no way any girl would want to go home with him like this. 

And yet, here he was, sipping on a cocktail he’d never had before tonight, all in the name of free will. He’d picked it for no other reason than its price tag—it was one of the most expensive options on the menu. If he was going to spiral, why not spiral in style? The bitterness of the drink soured his tongue, but he kept sipping, his mind already drifting into that hazy, detached state where everything felt just a little less sharp, a little more bearable. It wasn’t the escape he thought it would be, but for now, it was enough.

Yeosang had served you diligently for almost three years, though to him, it felt more like a decade. When he first got the position as Executive Assistant, he’d been thrilled—not for the prestige or the title, but for the hefty paycheck that came with it. A corporate job was soul-crushing, sure, but at least it paid handsomely for the privilege of grinding you into dust.

For three years, he’d been your shadow. He made your coffee just the way you liked it, meticulously scheduled and rescheduled your endless meetings, and trailed after you as you tore through Midtown in your impossibly dainty heels. Somehow, your So Kate pumps made you walk faster than him, even in his worn-out tennis shoes. 

He picked up your dry cleaning, planned your trips down to the minute, and waited bleary-eyed at baggage claim after grueling international flights to haul your overweight suitcases to your hotel room. He booked your dinner reservations at trendy restaurants, juggling waitlists and cancellations like a magician. He prepared your reports and presentation notes, answered your emails, your calls, your texts—every last trivial thing—so the only task left for you was to look polished in your Banana Republic pencil skirt and flash a pretty smile at investors.

To everyone else, you were the epitome of success—the poster child for Women in Tech. An Ivy League graduate at the helm of one of the country’s biggest tech companies, you embodied the impossible standard, all while maintaining a buzzing social life, and an aura of poise that never cracked, no matter how demanding the circumstances. While others juggled, you danced, balancing it all with a grace that seemed almost superhuman. To the outside world, you weren’t just successful—you were aspirational, the kind of woman others admired, envied, and tried to emulate. But to Yeosang, you were a full-time job, a 24/7 whirlwind that consumed everything in its path, leaving him wiped out and drained.

Performance concerns. He knew exactly what that meant.

It had been a few weeks ago, late at night. You were stressed, working overtime in your office, which, of course, meant he had to stay late too. The request wasn’t anything unusual—just your evening coffee: Colombian roast, vanilla creamer, a delicate dusting of cinnamon powder on top. Simple enough.

He’d handed the mug to you with both hands, careful not to spill a drop. Then he lingered, waiting for you to assign something else. But you barely looked up, waving him off with a flick of your fingers. As he turned to leave, his eyes caught your reflection in the glass doors.

That’s when he saw it.

A look of disgust twisted your features as you took a sip, your lips curling ever so slightly in disapproval.

The memory of it hit him like a slap. At first, he hadn’t understood. But back at his desk, it came rushing back, sharp as a pin in his chest. Peppermint mocha.

He’d grabbed the festive creamer that someone had left on the kitchen counter instead of the usual vanilla you liked. It wasn’t intentional—just an absent-minded mistake made after hours of exhaustion. But in your world, there were no small mistakes.

And now, sitting alone at the bar with his life upended, that one moment felt emblematic of everything.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t just the peppermint mocha creamer.

His nerves had always been his downfall, often betraying him in the form of small but noticeable mistakes. A double-booked meeting here, a forgotten reservation there—usually because he was too busy helping you pick out a new pair of Christian Louboutins for your Paris trip, or researching market pricing for an upcoming presentation. There was also that time he missed a few typos in a report you handed to the company heads, which earned him a withering glare in front of the whole boardroom.

But could you really blame him? You treated him like he had six arms, and the ability to teleport with the speed of light when in reality, he was just one man. No matter how hard he worked, it was never enough. If he meticulously completed every task you gave him, you’d point out the smallest flaw. If he preempted your needs, you’d call him presumptuous. Every win felt hollow because you’d always point out what could have been done better. Pleasing you was like chasing a mirage—no matter how close he got, the finish line kept moving farther away.

Still, one thing was certain: the peppermint mocha creamer had been the final straw. A small, almost insignificant mistake in the grand scheme of things, but for you, it had been enough to seal his fate.

Yeosang's ears perked up, his sluggish thoughts snapping into focus at the sound of a familiar voice. He froze, the glass of Manhattan halfway to his lips, as he scanned the dimly lit bar. And then he saw you.

You were tucked into the corner booth, surrounded by a few friends, with a pink cocktail in your hand. The faint hum of laughter carried over the low jazz music, and you looked so relaxed, so carefree. It was as if nothing had happened—as if his world hadn’t just imploded because of you.

A spark of anger flared in his chest, simmering, then growing hotter with each passing second. How could you? How could you throw him away so carelessly and then go out for drinks, laughing and clinking glasses like it was any other night?

The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. He’d done everything for you. Everything. He’d missed his niece’s first recital because you needed him to oversee a last-minute report. He’d skipped Thanksgiving with his family because you insisted on an "urgent" trip to Japan that turned out to be nothing more than a glorified shopping spree. His love life? Nonexistent. How could he have one when you were the only woman in his life, demanding every ounce of his time, energy, and attention?

And now, here you were, sipping cocktails without a care in the world. You didn’t even have the decency to tell him to his face why you let him go. The least you could’ve done was look him in the eye and explain yourself, to acknowledge the years he gave you, the sacrifices he made.

Yeosang clenched his jaw, his grip tightening around the glass in his hand. He felt the weight of all those buried resentments rising to the surface, demanding release. For the first time in three years, he wasn’t going to stay silent.

Yeosang drained the last of his Manhattan, the liquid fire burning its way down his throat as if fueling his decision. The warmth spread through his chest, blurring the sharp edges of his hesitation. When he saw your friends stand to leave, laughing as they hugged you goodbye, he seized the moment. The alcohol coursing through his veins muffled his nerves, and the simmering anger propelled him off the barstool.

He approached you with purpose, his heart pounding harder with each step. He’d imagined this confrontation in his head for hours, maybe even years. But when you looked up, your eyes narrowing in confusion, it all dissolved.

“Yeosang?” you said, your tone laced with surprise as you squinted at him. “What are you doing here?”

For a moment, he froze, caught in the trap of your gaze. Then, the words tumbled out before he could stop them, anger surging past his control. 

“An email? Really?” Yeosang spat, his voice cutting through the low hum of the bar. His eyes were dark with anger, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might snap. “You couldn’t even— didn’t even have the decency to say it to my face? Are you that much of a coward?”

You stiffened, the weight of the bar patrons’ stares pressing down on you. You reached out toward him, your voice was soft but firm. “Hey, let’s calm down—”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!“ he roared, his words slurring slightly, his stance wobbly from the alcohol. “Three years! I gave you three years of nonstop devotion, and I don’t even get a proper goodbye? No thank you, no explanation? Do you know how much shit I had to sacrifice for you?”

His voice cracked, his frustration spilling out with every word. “You love parading around with this ‘girlboss,’ fearless woman-in-tech image, but you’re just a scared little girl. Too scared to even look me in the eye and tell me what I did so wrong that you had to hide behind HR to fire me!”

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment as you caught the awkward glances of nearby patrons, their murmured conversations stopping as they pretended not to eavesdrop. You pursed your lips, your patience snapping like a brittle thread. Grabbing his arm roughly, you dragged him out of the bar, ignoring his protests as the cold, snowy air hit both of you like a slap.

“You really wanna do this here?” you hissed, your voice low but sharp, cutting through the quiet of the empty street. “Fine. Let’s do this.”

Yeosang blinked at you, his anger simmering as he swayed on unsteady legs.

“You want to know why you were fired?” You stepped closer, staring him dead in the eye. “You’re a terrible listener. You fuck up my coffee order. You double-book meetings, forgot to confirm reservations, and just last month, you botched the presentation I needed for the board by misspelling half the client names. Do you know how humiliating that was for me?”

Your words hit him like gunshots, but you didn’t stop. “You don’t listen, Yeosang. You never pay attention to detail. I needed someone I could count on, someone who could make my life easier. I’m not asking for much. Instead, I got someone who left me to fix their mistakes half the time!”

Yeosang flinched at your words. But even as they sunk in, indignation burned in his chest. He didn’t believe he deserved this—not for the mistakes you listed, not for everything he had done for you.

He stepped closer, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a mixture of defiance and pain. The cold outside nipped at your skin, but the heat of his breath against your face made you hyperaware of the tension between you.

“I listen,” he said, his voice low but firm. “You’re just impossible to please.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but he didn’t let you.

“I double-booked your meeting one time because you refused to confirm your schedule with the finance group until the last minute. I misspelled the names on that report because the stupid intern—your intern—gave me an Excel sheet with half the names wrong. And reservations? You spring that shit on me while I’m busy walking your dog or picking up your overpriced $20 salad. And the coffee? The fucking coffee? Give me a break!”

His voice cracked with frustration, his breath coming faster now. “You act like I’m some incompetent idiot when all I ever did was clean up after your chaos. Do you know what it’s like working for someone who changes their mind every ten minutes, who expects you to read their mind and be three steps ahead all the time? No matter how much I did, no matter how fast or how perfectly, it was never enough for you! You are a soulless, narcissistic, she-devil, and you love making everyone around you miserable because nothing makes you happy!”

You were nose to nose with him now, the closeness electric and unnerving. Yeosang didn’t realize how close he had gotten until he could see every delicate detail of your face. But he didn’t back away. He didn’t want to.

For the first time, he felt taller, stronger, more in control. He wasn’t just the assistant trailing behind you, fetching your coffee and carrying your bags. Right now, you were the one looking up at him, your confidence faltering under the weight of his hard gaze.

Then, something shifted. His anger, which had been a roaring fire just moments ago, flickered and dimmed. His eyes dropped to your lips, noticing how you worried them slightly between your teeth. The cold had turned them soft, flushed red, quivering as though they couldn’t decide what to say next. He felt the heat in his chest start to dissipate.

“All I ever wanted was to please you, but you never gave me a chance” he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost soft. His words hung between you like a fragile thread, and he didn’t know whether to pull it tighter or let it snap.

His gaze met yours again, and for a brief moment, the tension shifted into something vulnerable. He remained where he stood, towering over you, suddenly feeling exposed, but the weight of his words lingered, heavy and unanswerable in the snowy silence.

You couldn’t explain it, but you liked this side of him. It was the first time you’d seen raw emotion in his face—anger, frustration, passion—it was fascinating. For as long as you’d known Yeosang, he had been quiet as a mouse, his replies clipped and deferential: Yes, ma’am. Right away, ma’am. Always composed, always distant, like a shadow that existed only to serve.

But now? Now he looked alive. His dark eyes burned with intensity, his lips still slightly parted from his impassioned outburst. You hated to admit it, but he looked almost…sexy? The sharp line of his jaw, the way his breath puffed in short bursts against the cold, the heat radiating off him even in the freezing air. And his voice—you liked how deep it gets when he’s mad. You liked it enough to disregard the she-devil comment. It almost delighted you. You liked being talked down to. Not enough people had the balls to do so.

“I can give you another chance…” The words slipped from your lips before you even realized you were speaking. Your tone was quieter, almost sultry, betraying the tug of something entirely outside good judgment. You had nothing but the liquor to blame. You tilted your head slightly, holding his gaze, the weight of your offer hanging heavy in the cold air.

“To please me, that is.”

His breath hitched, his eyes widening slightly before narrowing in confusion. The air between you crackled with tension, unspoken implications simmering beneath the surface. For a moment, you both just stood there, the snow falling softly around you, caught in an electric silence neither of you knew how to break. 

After a moment of hesitation, Yeosang broke the silence. “Okay.” 

⸻

"I'm not sure if I understand," Yeosang said slowly, blinking up at you. "Ma’am." The word left his lips instinctively, like muscle memory, but his voice was hesitant.

You sighed, shifting your weight against the desk, arms crossed. The two of you were alone in your office, the usual hum of the busy workday long gone. The only sound was the soft ticking of the wall clock and the faint buzz of the city outside.

He sat stiffly in your chair, the black leather cool against his back, making him even more uncomfortable. He didn't belong there—you both knew it. But this was an experiment, after all.

You tilted your head, your patience wearing thin. "It’s simple. I’m letting you be the boss today. You just have to tell me what to do, and I’ll do it." Your lips curled slightly. "And don’t call me Ma’am."

Yeosang swallowed, his getting throat dry. Power had never been something he craved. He had spent his life taking orders, following directions, and anticipating needs before they were spoken. Most people in tech burned out quickly, leaving to chase the dream of being in control, of being the one to give orders. That drive had never come to him. It wasn’t in his nature.

And yet, here you were, handing it to him.

His fingers curled against the leather armrests as he searched for something—anything—to say, his mind wading through unfamiliar territory.

"Then what do I call you?" he asked finally, his voice quieter now.

You held his gaze, a small smirk playing at the corner of your lips.

"Anything you want."

Yeosang mulled over your words, his mind scrambling to process what was happening. Call you anything he wanted? Tell you to do whatever he wanted? It was the kind of fantasy teenage boys dreamed about, yet his mind was a complete blank.

You sighed, exasperated by his hesitation. "Can I give you a suggestion?" You asked, stepping closer.

He nodded, swallowing hard, the words still stuck in his throat.

You leaned in slightly, your voice dipping just enough to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand. "Ask me to get on my knees."

Yeosang's breath hitched. His mind latched onto the words, turning them over, considering. Then, slowly, he nodded in agreement.

You chuckled. "You have to say the words, Mr. Kang."

His ears burned. "Oh, right," he said quickly, his voice a little too high, a little too quick. He cleared his throat. "Get on your knees."

The words felt foreign and awkward, but the way you looked at him made something tighten in his chest.

Mr. Kang.

No one had ever called him that before. It was always Yeo, Yeosang, or, on occasion, the intern—his young face fooling half the office into thinking he was some college kid on summer break. But Mr. Kang…He liked the way it sounded coming from your lips.

He sat frozen, watching as you slowly sank to your knees in front of him, settling neatly between his legs. His breath hitched, his pulse hammering against his skin.

You looked up at him, eyes glinting with something—Desire? Amusement? He couldn’t tell, but whatever it was, it left him breathless.

You waited, patiently, expectantly, your lips slightly parted as if anticipating his next command. You almost looked like an obedient little puppy, so much so that he almost called you pup. 

Yeosang exhaled sharply, gripping the leather armrests as his mind raced. He was supposed to be in control. Supposed to be giving the orders. But right now, sitting in your chair, watching you kneel before him, it felt like he was the one unraveling.

“Take off your shirt.” 

He was getting comfortable now. He watched as you unbuttoned your top and discarded it to the side, leaving you only in your lacy black push-up bra. You placed your hands neatly over your lap, patiently awaiting his next request. Yeosang was stunned at how easily and effortlessly you followed his instruction, not showing a single sign of shame as you undressed in front of your junior. He wondered how far he could take it. 

“Take that off too.” 

You unhooked the back part of your bra and tossed it to the side with your blouse, your hands returning to your lap. 

Yeosang let himself relax into your chair, eyes fixed over your soft and bare skin. He bit the skin around his thumb, drinking in your physique. He wanted to touch them, knead them, feel their weight in his hands, but he kept himself restrained. He was growing to like this game and wanted to see what else he could make you do. 

He licked his lips, finally settling on his next request. “Come here.”

You scooted closer to him, your eyes now level with his clothed cock. 

“Kiss it.” 

Without hesitation, you leaned forward, letting your lips trail slow, deliberate kisses along the outline of his growing bulge. You could feel the firmness of his balls from beneath the thick fabric, the desire to see them making your core ache with need. Glancing up through your lashes, you took in the sight of Yeosang already succumbing to the pleasure, his body relaxing into the chair, eyes dark with lust. He was undeniably beautiful, every feature accentuated by the flush of arousal, and the thought of pushing him to the edge, of watching him cum, was a temptation you could hardly resist. 

You began palming his cock, feeling it stiffen just under your touch. “Can I please take it out, Mr. Kang?” You asked in an airless and sultry voice which no doubt made Yeosang feel weak. 

Yeosang gripped the leather armrests and nodded. “Go on.” 

With glee, you unbuttoned his pants and fished out his throbbing cock, his skin feeling warm and tender as you gave it a few lazy strokes. You leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his blushing tip, the sudden touch making him hiss from his seat. 

You giggled softly at his reaction, continuing to leave a trail of kisses on the sides of his cock, your hand gripping at the base. He felt so hot and heavy in your hand, and you were growing impatient for a taste. 

“Put it in your mouth.” 

You eagerly fed him into your mouth, the weight on your tongue already making you dizzy. You salivated around his length, a few dribbles of drool rolling down his shaft. Yeosang could feel himself twitching inside you. The sight of his uptight boss with her mouth so full of his cock made his head spin, all the hesitations and apprehensions he had in the beginning now dissipating while a hunger took over him. 

“Now suck it.” 

You began sucking at his head, the thickness of his hard cock proving to be a challenge, so much so that you could only really take the tip in your mouth. You grabbed onto the base with both hands, bobbing and slurping him as his breathing grew more unsteady. When you looked back up at him with your big, puppy-dog eyes, you were delighted to see that same Yeosang from earlier—the one with fire in his eyes, with furrowed brows and a sharp tongue, throwing demands and names at you without hesitation. Gone was the quiet, obedient assistant who trailed behind you like a shadow. In his place sat a man who, for the first time, wasn’t afraid to take up space. And you liked it.

“Fuck,” He moaned, “That’s it, that’s a good puppy…take all of me in that dumb little mouth, yeah, just like that.” 

You loved hearing him coach you, loved when he called you a dumb little puppy. You could feel your wetness leaking through your stockings, a need aching so strongly between your legs that you had no choice but to grind yourself over Yeosang’s new shoes, your slick wet juices glistening over the rubber soles. 

Yeosang was so far gone now, his only purpose left being to chase his high. His hands gripped your strands tightly to hold you in place. Before you knew it, he was thrusting himself into you, his whole length pushing down into your throat with no warning. He set a brutal pace, fucking your mouth with no mercy, reveling in your wet gagging sounds as he makes use of your throat. 

“Fuck, I love fucking this little mouth,” He panted, “Good little slut, gonna take my cum? Gonna swallow all my cum down your little throat, huh?” 

Tears streamed down your face as he ruthlessly plowed into your mouth. Despite his roughness, your body trembled with need, your hips continuing to grind against his shoes, desperate for release. Your muffled moans vibrate around his shaft, spurring Yeosang on as he chases his pleasure. 

Yeosang gripped your hair tightly, thrusting and plunging his hard cock deeper into your eager mouth. For years, he dealt with your nonstop nagging and bitching, and he had to admit it was nice to finally get you to shut up, with a mouth full of his cock no less. “This is what you like, huh? You like being put in your place? Like being a little fuck doll for me?” 

He punctuated his words with harsh snaps of his hips. The term fuck doll was enough to send you over the edge. Your hips stilled, your core tightening as you came, your moans muffled by his hard cock. A devilish grin spread across his face as he playfully tapped the tip of his shoe against your swollen clit, the jolt of overstimulation sending shivers cascading through you. He relished in the sight of you laid bare in vulnerability, a stark contrast to the composed persona you typically wore.  “Such a mess for me” He sighed, satisfied with your mascara-stained cheeks and reddened, slobbery lips. “So, so pretty…”

You grunted with each thrust, the tight clutch of your throat milking his cock deliciously. You looked up at him with pleading eyes, silently begging for his cum as you took everything he gave you. Your tongue danced along his shaft, massaging the sensitive underside as he fucked your face with wild abandon. You swallowed around him greedily, your throat convulsing along his length as you strived to please him. 

With a final hard thrust, Yeosang buried himself deep into your warm mouth and let go, flooding your throat with ropes of his hot cum. His breath hitched, a deep, guttural sound of pleasure escaping him as his seed spilled and trickled from the corners of your lips. With firm hands, he held your head snugly against him, grinding against your face as he emptied himself, savoring the sight of you taking every fervent drop.

Your eyes brimmed with tears as you took him deeper, the bittersweet taste of his seed offering a strange satisfaction on your tongue. As you pulled away with a soft pop, Yeosang gently traced your lips with the tip of his cock, leaving a glistening trail of his pearly essence. You couldn't help but lick your lips in delight, a soft moan escaping you as you savored his flavor.

Yeosang felt like he could cum again from watching you grind your cum-drenched face on his cock. You were so desperate, so depraved, he almost couldn’t believe this was you. The same career-driven CEO he had dutifully served, the woman who made decisions with razor-sharp precision, who commanded everyone’s attention with a snap of her fingers—this was what you secretly craved? To be stripped of control? To be the one taking orders instead of giving them? Who knew that the woman he had once feared, the one who dictated his every move, secretly longed to be a mindless servant, void of responsibility, bound by nothing but the will of someone else?

You gazed up at him adoringly, drinking at the sight of his ruffled hair, his heaving chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. The rawness of him, unfiltered and unrestrained, filled you with a thrill you hadn’t felt in so long.

To serve someone else for once.

To be the one waiting, watching, hoping for approval.

To do so well for someone that it left them utterly speechless.

It was nearly midnight now, and you had a meeting at 7 AM. You should have stopped, should have called it a night, and sent him home. But how could you now? Not when your body was buzzing with anticipation, not when you craved more—more of his voice, more of his praise, more of him.

You wanted to keep going. To do more for him. To hear him call you his good little puppy again.

Slowly, you pushed back onto your heels, your wide, eager eyes locking with his.

“What would you like me to do now, Mr. Kang?”

I would greatly appreciate reblogs with comments and replies. please consider giving feedback if you enjoyed this.

[fumifooms]

Holy shit Lycion in a shirt when he isn’t in uniform. Bonus Fleki being rude af

[starry-bi-sky]

Oh man, I binged the first 20 episodes of The Princess's Jewels a few days ago after watching a few review videos on it because I had to see just how bad it actually was, and I've decided to talk more about it here.

For the entire spite-fueled four hours of reading, i kept stopping to take screenshots to send them to @the-navistar-carol and then talk about how stupid a lot of the plot points were. I jokingly called Ariana a jellyfish based on her hairstyle, and the nickname stuck after Gen said "yeah and she's like an actual jellyfish by how the trick you into getting closer because they're so pretty before paralyzing you with their stingers."

I'm putting this under a read more because, as normal, I write a lot.

We all know Jellyfish sucks, but what gets me the most is the wasted potential of the guys (among other things). They are all so! Interesting! And they befall the same fate as female harem members in that their backgrounds and personalities all get set to the wayside in favor of fawning over the MC. They all come from unique, diverse backgrounds that don't get touched up on at all. For example:

Why did Efrit wear a mask all the time when his older brother didn't? Why did he say that "he finally found the woman he was going to reveal his face to" to Abal after he met Jellyfish? Is it some kind of cultural thing for the soldiers and warriors of Xek to wear masks until they fall in love? That would explain why his brother has his face revealed, cuz he's not a warrior! Why is the second prince in charge of the country's army and not the king himself? Why did he STAY the general of the army after he fucked off to another kingdom to become the lover of a foreign state?

Why was Haun Baek taken in by the royal family? The flashback of the queen giving him a new name implies to me that he may have been a slave of some kind, which puts a lot of perspective on why so many people were against his rise to power and disliked him. He was mentioned to be a general and head of the security division of the king, but as far as chapter 21 goes, this has never been brought up again. He's the Harem Pretty Boy who does all the work in high society for Jellyfish.

Speaking of fighting -- when did Jellyfish get a thigh tattoo to summon her sword? What's the backstory behind that? It probably has something to do with the 'swordmaster' thing (which is ANOTHER thing) but when did she get it? Why was she even allowed to learn swordfighting if she came from a seemingly implied patriarchal society? More importantly -- why was everyone okay with this? Why is it only the off-screen "evil old advisors" that hate her doing this.

Are these evil old advisors in the room with us right now?

Why are Nell and his family werewolves? Where did their magic recorder ability come from? This was just seemingly a power that he had that came out of nowhere when they were looking into Benela and her family. From the videos I had assumed he was a poor family that rose into dukedom after the war, but apparently they've always been? Dukes? And the other advisors still see the family as a threat? On one hand I can see where they're coming from, but on the other I don't think the comic is portraying them as "threats" the way I think they are. Nell and his family are seemingly treated like they were commoners who suddenly rose into nobility, rather than pre-existing nobility that fell onto hard times.

I want to know more about Jade and the fact that he's from a holy house from an entirely different country -- i cannot believe Ariana got away with that btw. Like im not even touching the gross overreach of power that is her demanding a noble not of her kingdom to be castrated, but more so on the fact that she practically coerced and stole a descendant of a saint and faced?? No backlash from this? None whatsoever? The gods and the people just let her get away with it because oh, it's an honor for this snobby empirical princess to come in and steal one of their chosen saintly descendants all because his dad pissed her off?

Like I agree that the dad was a scumbag, but Ariana calling him out on it is like the pot calling the kettle black.

Also, I wish Benela and her family were a bigger threat than TJP claims they are. Like, this is apparently the emperor's favored concubine who stole the love of the emperor away from the empress and successfully murdered the crown prince without getting caught. She's apparently some master manipulator but Jellyfish faces no trouble thwarting her at every turn. So what is it? Is she a master manipulator or is she a dunce? Or is the emperor just an idiot who doesn't care about his sons because with the way he treats them, you'd think they were bastard children.

The banquet "queen heel syndrome" scene gets me especially so because that was a good fucking plan!

Benela's plan to reveal and shine a light on Jellyfish's harem and how it was negatively impacting her image and high society was a good plan! That was brilliant! Because it had basis of truth in it. I don't know if the queen heel syndrome thing was a false rumor, or something she deliberately fabricated -- the comic never actually goes out of it's way to disprove it. In fact, I'd argue the QHS thing is *backed* by it, because just a few chapters prior when we first meet Benela, there's a side comment made by a noble woman about how her daughter was chasing after some man she was infatuated with.

But what I do know is that Jellyfish has been disgraceful towards her fiancé and that she has been indulging in her harem. By all accounts, by the implied societal standards of Arbezela or Azkaban, Jellyfish is being a whore. I am not one for mindlessly slut-shaming, but sometimes slut-shaming IS okay if it has a narrative purpose. And it does here. And Jellyfish doesnt even disprove any of their arguments, in fact she does a 1st grade level deflection and instead goes right for insulting Bavilo's lack of marriage prospects, which wasn't what they were talking about at all.

I'd applaud the deflection if it wasn't Ariana doing it, and if it wasn't such a serious and valid accusation that Benela and her family were making.In any other manhwa, this would have worked. This would have damaged Ariana's reputation, and it should've had some actual consequences to it. Instead they completely skip over this plot because the author knows that Ariana has no defense, she can't talk or excuse her way out because regardless of the truth behind the Queen Heel Syndrome, the fact remains what she is doing is inherently shameful.

Like! I am so mad that their scheme didn't work, because it! Was! A! Good scheme! All the best lies have some part of the truth in it, and Ariana should not have been able to weasel herself out of that so easily. In fact, the fact that she did just makes the emperor look like an even bigger incompetent.

Wanna know how this ended? It ended with the emperor blowing up at Bavilo because Bavilo said that he "could make it to the top on his own without the help of talented subordinates" and the emperor perceived that as a slight against him because, apparently, Bavilo was claiming to be heir to the throne? When nowhere in that sentence did Bavilo even so much as say or imply such a thing?

and also--- WHY is it such a bad thing that he's claiming to be vying for the heir seat? It's empty! The Emperor hasn't announced a new successor yet, of course Bavilo would say he wanted to be the crown prince. Nothing that Bavilo said was insulting towards anyone, and was actually quite admirable.

What gets me too is that right after this chapter, the empress claims that the princes are "illegitimate children" because they're the sons of concubines, and that if they were chosen for the role of "carrier of the light" people would question their parentage-- ???

First of all, not at all how concubines work. Concubines are a legitimate role in a harem structure and quite literally their job is to produce more heirs for the throne as back-ups in case something happens to the Heir Apparent. Like that's literally their job. They are official members of the royal palace, to claim that their children aren't legitimate is to claim that they're merely mistresses, not concubines. This was both an insult to the concubines AND the emperor.

Like my god I do not have the time to go into all of the plot holes of this webtoon. I haven't even gone into the total lack of consequences Ariana experiences both politically and socially, and how all of the interesting conflict happens off screen, nor the blatant racism and misogyny present throughout the webtoon, NOR the absolute SHIT worldbuilding.

[sacred-june]

New years resolutions:

1. Draw more smut

2. Have a fat ass

3. Get a collar

[pergaminaa]

Yo are we just going to forget about how Erawan had his eyes on Manon???? Like that fucker made it clear that he wanted her??? And she was right there with him in Morath???

And I’m CERTAIN awful grandmother knew of his intentions. She might as well just pushed Manon in his direction and welcomed his suggestion. Because with how evil she is? She saw it as a way to gain more power. She will literally be on top of the food chain if Erawan won the war AND took claim of her granddaughter.

[shooks-stupid-stuff]

webcomic-era/current masumii redesign (she also just needed to be slightly simplified lol)

i was going to draw takoshi next to her but i'm tired and redrew his face like 20 times bc it wasn't looking right so. i'll draw him tomorrow-

[hysterical-cats]

Some Cassandra would be really nice! :D

Cassie is a real popular lady to get two requests!!

[riboism]

Your Yeosang fic... I need a part 2... I NEED MORE 😭😭 it was so so so good 👏🏼👏🏼

eeeee yayyy thank you I’m so happy you liked it !!!! 💗

[byteofwhump]

to live without the dignity of people

(radmilla and elfreide belong to @dresden-syndrome ; thanks for letting me borrow them ehehehe. cw for noncon kissing, collars, muzzles, hair-pulling, creepy/intimate whumper. this is lady whump, dl;dr. if u saw the version where i mispelled elfreide's name no u didnt)

"you know, kitten," elfreide purrs, "from what i have heard, i expected more from you." she leans down, lifts a strand of radmilla's hair between her fingers, twisting it as if to inspect it.

radmilla glares, even as she can feel her eyes start to water. she wants to scream, to swear, to tear elfreide's throat out with her teeth. she wants to run, run as far from this place that was once her home to anywhere that will take her.

"all that talk," elfreide says, petting radmilla's hair with gentle touches, "and yet, for all you have lost, your precious comrades in arms have gained nothing. at best, they remain the same as they once were. at worst..." she slips a finger below radmilla's collar, a feather-light touch against her skin. "i do so hope they managed to catch the tall one. she would look marvelous on her knees, don't you think?"

radmilla growls, muffled by the muzzle across her face, and tries to swing her head up, pull away. elfreide's hand tightens, cutting off radmilla's growl into a gasp of pain. she pulls the girl's head back, tilts it up until her throat is bared, forces her to struggle to breath against the tension.

"you *lost*, little traitor," elfreide hisses. she flicks the tag on radmilla's ear, smiles to herself at the whimper it draws from the once-proud revolutionary. "now look at you." she forces radmilla's head to turn, angles it so she can see herself in the mirror, a pathetic *thing* kneeling on the floor, collar at her throat and muzzle across her mouth. "bound and gagged at the feet of the very enemy you sought to depose."

tears run down radmilla's face, dripping onto the muzzle. elfreide smiles, leaning down and bringing her lips to radmilla's ear. "*this*, my darling little rebel, is what it means to 'live without the dignity of people'." elfreide brings a hand beneath radmilla's chin, tilts her head so she can lean down and kiss her through the muzzle, licking her lips to taste the savory taste of radmilla's pain that pool there as she throws the girl's own words back in her face.

"i do hope," elfreide purrs, "that you will find it to your liking."

[petra-dot-png]

I *had* to draw this interview bit. It’s so damn funny My original sketch below (previously posted)

ermmmm do i tag this as 2doc or not. i cant decide lol

[sysig]

Bowtie Charm! Inspired by @zarla-s​‘ super cute rendition hehe 💕 (Patreon)

Bonus collar breakdowns:

Changes depending on the doodle!

[seraphiec]

Pretty Little Liars, S1E1.

[albusthefakepitbull]

inside you are 2 wolves: one knows that r+ will take longer but stick better and the other wants to slap a prong on and be a lazy trainer

[nikikikiko]

Every so often I think about Liberta & Morgana and I take psychic damage.

if i impulsively write something within the next day or so. don’t look at me

[swag-system]

literally go ahead its Your blog

fuck yes massive win i love to yap.

so basically theres this really really fucking gorgeous trans girl that comes into the store i work at (literally just some convenience store) every once in a while n every time she came in id get like. rlly flustered n shit. bcs i am a USELESS QUEER!! n she apparently noticed that!! and apparently thinks im cute!!! wow!!!!!!!

anyways last time i saw her before today she mentioned how she noticed i get flustered n teased me a bit and yes i was insane about it for the rest of the day. a pretty girl teased me. how could i not be insane about this

so today while i was at work she came in again (apparently shes been coming to the store just to see me!!) and i FINALLY got the bravery to ask for her number. her response was "its about time you asked". i nearly died.. my poor little heart nearly exploded!! she was teasing me the whole time she was there (WHICH WAS A WHOLE ASS HALF HOUR BTW) and i got basically no work done today (DO YOU BLAME ME??? GETTING MY JOB DONE ISNT THE PRIORITY IF THERES A PRETTY GIRL GIVING ME ATTENTION...)

anyways we might be having a date on sunday after im done with work?? i might die of death before i make it to sunday but i will be strong guys... i will be strong!!

[icewindandboringhorror]

Lineup of all of the characters that appear long enough to need a visual representation of them in the game lol