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riboism · 2 months ago

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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.

#thank you!!!!!!#I was really happy with his characterization here and I’m glad you liked it too!#thank you for reading <33 #[💕] feedback #i love queue

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riboism · 2 months ago

Text

thank you dear 🫶🏽🥹

frankenstein

》 pairing: frankenstein! s.mg x mortician! fem reader

》 wc: 4.0k

》 plot: in the wake of her husband’s tragic death, a grieving woman defies nature itself to bring him back. but the man she resurrects is not the same one she lost. his memories are wiped, his mind fragile, his body stitched together by her own desperate hands. as he relearns the world through her guidance, he begins to question the life she has confined him to and the strangeness of his appearance, unaware of the terrible truth she cannot bear to tell him.

》 content tags: frankenstein! mingi, mortuary school student! reader, story takes place in the 1800s, reader is low key manipulative but it’s okay because she’s still in grief, insecure mingi MY SHAAYYLAAA, smut, oneshot, angst, subby bby mingi, body worship, blowjob, riding, multiple orgasms, creampie, very sweet love making :(, this is for the REAL freaks, morally gray area warning, mentions of scars and stitches, this is heavily inspired by the movie Poor Things (2023).

》 song: frankenstein by rina sawayama

You were itching to go home. The streets were quiet, the cool night air nipping at your skin as you hurried along the cobbled path. But it wasn’t the cold winds that urged your hurried steps; You worried about Mingi. You knew he didn’t like it when you were away from him for too long. He’d grow lonely and bored, and each time you returned home late, you would find him sulking in your room, curled up in the corner, his silence like a quiet punishment. He never voiced his grievances out loud, but his sulking made his feelings clear.

Perhaps you had only yourself to blame. You spent too many hours in the library at the university, fingers ink-stained as you skimmed over anatomy texts and alchemical treatises. You should have been home with him, tending to the life you had so desperately clawed back from the grave.

At last, you reached the old manor. Fumbling with the iron key, you locked each of the heavy bolts behind you, securing the house as if the world itself might try to pry open the secrets hidden within. The wooden stairs creaked beneath your hurried steps as you made your way upstairs.

“Miiingii,” you called in a playful tone as you pushed open the door to your bedroom.

You found him lying on the bed, facing away from you. His back was stiff like a wall shutting you out.

“Mingi?” you tried again, softer this time. You crossed the room, settling onto the bed beside him. The mattress dipped under your weight, but he didn’t stir. Your fingers wove into his silky, dark strands, still holding on to the scent of lavender oil from the rinse you had given him the night before.

“I’m home,” you whispered.

You waited for him to turn toward you, but his body remained still.

You leaned closer, brushing your lips over his ear. “Dear, what’s wrong? Look, I brought you something special.” You rattled the small paper-wrapped bundle in your hands. “Figs, fresh from the market.”

His only response was a slow, quiet sigh.

You scooted even closer, resting your chin lightly on his shoulder. “Won’t you let me see you?” You pouted. “I missed you all day. You used to meet me at the door before I could even set down my books.”

Before, he would pull you into his arms the moment you stepped inside, clinging to you as if afraid you might vanish. His unrestrained affection had been overwhelming at times, but now, you almost longed for it. Now, he was different. More withdrawn. More aware. It almost scared you.

This wasn’t the Mingi you had first fallen in love with. That Mingi had been strong, independent, a force of nature. He was your guardian angel, your protector, the one who made you feel safe and loved in a cruel, heartless world. When he was taken from you, the emptiness was unbearable. Life without him was an unfathomable reality you refused to accept.

In your grief, you buried yourself in your books, drowning in theories, alchemical formulas, and desperate calculations that defied both God and nature. You searched for a way—any way—to bring him back. And in the end, you succeeded. But what returned wasn’t truly Mingi.

His body was whole, his limbs moved as they once had, but the man you knew was gone. His memories had been erased, his mind an empty slate, his gaze void of any recognition. He was like a newborn, unable to walk, to speak, to feed himself. And so, you taught him. Day by day, step by step, you guided him through life once more, as if he had been born again.

He clung to you and depended on you for everything. It was exhausting at times, but every time he looked at you, something inside you softened. He was here. He was with you. That was all that mattered. Or so you thought.

Now, looking back, you realize how much simpler things had been when he was still learning, when his world revolved only around you. He was different now. He had grown. He devoured your books, and pored over your notes, his mind hungry for knowledge. With every page he turned, every lesson he absorbed, he grew more aware. His mind was sharp, restless, and full of thoughts and questions. Questions you couldn’t bring yourself to answer.

Who was he?

What had happened to him?

Why wouldn’t you let him leave the manor?

You knew the truth was closing in. Soon, he would figure it out. But still, you tried to keep it from him for as long as you could. Because once he knew, you’d lose him forever.

You leaned in closer, nuzzling into the curve of his shoulder and neck. “Please say something,” You whined into his cool skin. “You’re making me sad.”

For a moment, he laid still, not letting your words tempt him. But soon, he gave in to your whines, sighing deeply before shifting onto his back.

You smiled, relief washing over you as you looked at him. Even now, with shadows cast across his face from the flickering gaslight, his features brought you warmth, chasing away the cold that bit at you all night.

“There you are,” you said softly, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead before pressing a tender kiss to his lips. Mingi lay motionless, his eyes wide open, lips refusing to move with yours. You pulled away slightly, your brows drawing together. “What’s the matter?”

Mingi lowered his eyes, hiding from your gaze. “You said you’d be back before sunset. It’s past eleven.”

Your shoulders sagged, guilt settling heavily in your chest. You reached for his hand, but he didn’t take it.

“Oh, love, I’m sorry,” you murmured, your voice soft with regret. “Professor kept me longer than I expected. He needed my help with a post-mortem examination, an elderly man. His family wanted a full report before burial. By the time we were finished, I rushed to the library to work on my essay. I didn’t mean to stay out so late.”

Mingi said nothing, but the way his jaw tensed told you he was still upset. His fingers idly twisted at the hem of the blanket, his mind working through his thoughts.

You placed your fingers under his chin, tilting his face toward you, forcing him to meet your eyes. “I’m sorry, my love” you whispered, sincerely. “Please don’t be upset.”

His lips parted slightly, hesitating as if the words were too difficult to push out. Finally, he spoke.

“Why don’t you let me come with you to your lectures?”

Your heart clenched. You pressed your lips together, bracing yourself. “Mingi, we went over this—”

“I feel so lonely in this big, empty house,” he interrupted, his voice quieter now, but still laced with frustration. “Why can’t we at least take a stroll outside? Just once?”

You hesitated. The room was so quiet you could hear the soft creaking of the wooden beams overhead, the wind whispering through the cracks in the window.

He faced you now, his eyes dark and full with a heavy sadness. “Are you that ashamed of me?”

He spoke so quietly, yet his words struck you harder than any shout ever could. You steadied yourself as you spoke. “Ashamed of you?” You asked. “Why on Earth would I be ashamed of you, Mingi?”

“Because I’m a hideous monster!” he roared, his voice breaking. “My complexion is pale and gray, my body stitched together like some grotesque experiment gone wrong! I look like the creatures in those horrible Brothers Grimm tales!” He panted, his chest rising and falling unevenly. His gaze met yours, filled with raw, agonizing pain. “You’re ashamed to be seen with me. That’s why you keep me locked in here. Just admit it!”

Before you could reach for him, he shoved himself upright, his sudden movement forcing you back. His shoulders shook as he sucked in a ragged breath, but it did little to steady him. He turned away, his back to you, his head bowed as his body shuddered with suppressed sobs.

A hollow ache carved into your chest. You had seen him in so many states—curiosity, fascination, confusion, frustration—but never like this. Never so broken and angry.

You pushed yourself up, the bed frame creaking beneath you as you rose to your feet. Slowly, you tip-toed around the bed carefully, afraid he might flinch away. But he didn’t. He remained still, his head hanging low, shoulders trembling with each uneven breath.

Gently, you cupped his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing against his cold cheeks. His lashes, dark and wet with tears, fluttered as he hesitantly lifted his gaze to meet yours.

Your heart sank. “Oh, Mingi,” you whispered, the words carrying all the tenderness you could muster. “You are no monster.”

His lips parted, but no words came at first. He swallowed hard, his breath warm and shallow against your fingers.

“Yeah? Then what am I?” He asked in a low voice.

You held him tighter as if your grip alone could hold him together and ease the ache buried deep within him.

“You are my greatest love,” you said, your thumbs tracing slow, soothing circles against his skin. “My beating heart. My light, my darkness. My gentle giant.” You leaned in, your forehead resting against his, your breath mixing with his own. “My most beautiful creation.”

His lips quivered, his brows drawing together as more tears spilled down his cheeks. He searched your face as if trying to find some hidden deception in your words, but there was none. Only love.

“That’s why I have to keep you here,” You explained, your fingers ghosting over his cheek, tracing the faint lines of stitches that held him together. “You’re far too precious to me. What would I do with myself if you were to wander outside and hurt yourself, hmm?”

Your voice was gentle, but firm. A careful balance of love and control. “The world out there is dangerous and unpredictable. People wouldn’t understand you the way I do. They wouldn’t see you the way I do. But here… here, I can keep you safe. I can protect you. I can’t ever lose you, Mingi. You understand?”

The thought of you suffering because of him was far worse than any pain he could endure himself. He never wanted you to be hurting. His loneliness, his longing for the outside world, meant nothing if it meant keeping you safe. If staying within these walls was the price to keep you happy, then he would pay it willingly, again and again.

You felt his resistance softening, the tension in his shoulders easing beneath your touch. He nodded his head eagerly, convincing you that he understood. Yes, you were only protecting him. And where else would he need to be than be here with you?

Mingi buried his face into your chest, his breath warm against the fabric of your dress. His arms wrapped around you, desperately clinging onto you as if you might slip away on account of his emotional outburst.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice small and fragile. “I just… I look at myself, and I worry that I’m not enough for you.” His words muffled in the soft folds of your clothing.

You sighed, your fingers weaving through his dark hair, stroking it gently. You had known for some time that he struggled with his appearance. How he would glance at the mirror only to turn away, jaw tightening, shoulders slumping under the weight of his self-loathing.

It felt like a cruel joke, that you, with your flawless skin, and warmth and radiance, could love someone like him. It didn’t make sense to him. He was the beast, an unnatural creation held together by a thread. And you… you were his beauty. The light in his darkness. The one thing that made him feel human.

“How do you look at me and not run away?” His voice was raw with insecurity. He curled his fingers into the lacy fabric of your dress, gripping tightly, as if bracing himself for an answer he feared.

You didn’t hesitate. Gently, you cupped his cheeks, your thumbs reuniting with the cool, uneven texture of his skin, feeling the faint ridges of stitches beneath your fingertips. You lifted his face, urging him to meet your eyes.

“Because I love you,” you said, your voice filled with certainty. “You are my darling husband. Must I need any other reason?”

Your eyes searched his, willing him to believe you. To see himself the way you did. Not as something broken, not as something unnatural, but as yours. Entirely, unconditionally, yours.

Though you spoke fondly, your words didn’t land. Mingi’s brows drew together, his lips pressing into a thin line as doubt clouded his mind. No matter how many times you reassured him, no matter how gently you held him, he struggled to accept that someone like you could love someone like him.

You leaned in closer, your lips hovering just above his. "Let me show you," you murmured softly. Slowly, you closed the distance, capturing his lips with yours in a tender kiss. His initial hesitation melted away, replaced by a tentative hunger as he responded to your touch. His hands found your waist again, and he pulled you closer, the erratic beat of his heart thumping against yours.

As your kiss deepened, you felt Mingi's hands exploring, sliding up your back with a newfound confidence that sent shivers down your spine. It was as if his self-doubt unraveled with every touch you brought him. The way you melted into him, the breathy moans slipping past your lips, served as undeniable proof that you wanted him as much as he wanted you. And for the first time, he allowed himself to believe it.

You pulled back slightly, your eyes locking with his, silently asking for permission and offering reassurance. His gaze held nothing but trust and longing, a silent plea for you to continue, to take the lead.

Carefully, you began to undo the buttons of his shirt, your fingertips grazing over his bare skin. You pushed him gently down onto the mattress, a spark of desire burning in your lower abdomen as you climbed on top of him.

Your lips reconnected with his, and you couldn’t help but rut your hips, grinding yourself over his growing bulge. His moans vibrated against your lips, a low, primal growl that sent shockwaves through your body. He was always so reactive to your touch, his big body seemingly getting smaller as he melted just beneath you.

Your kisses trailed down his neck and over his exposed chest, lips lingering gently over the scars just above his heart. Your hands roamed over the hard plane of his muscles, tracing over the contours of his body with a light and playful touch. You could feel Mingi stirring beneath you, groaning as his big hands found their way to your hips, pulling you closer, wanting to feel every inch of your body against his. He moved you back and forth, a sticky wetness already staining his freshly worn trousers.

Mingi's head fell back, his eyes shutting tightly as you took his nipple into your mouth, suckling gently. His chest rose and fell rapidly, a mixture of pleasure and anticipation taking over as you played with his tender flesh, biting and pulling ever so slightly. A wanton moan escaped his lips, a low, pleading sound that filled you with glee.

“Y/N…” he whined, his voice soft and pleading. His hands rested on your shoulders, his fingers lightly gripping your skin, silently begging you for more. When you looked up at him, your mouth still busy on his nipple, you felt a rush of power. His hair was slightly disheveled, falling over his forehead in a way that made him look even more breathtaking. His eyes, wet and glassy, met yours, and his puffy lips were slightly parted, as if he was going to cry out your name again.

Your clothes had fallen to the floor, discarded in the heat of the moment. Your naked body, now warm and flushed, pressed against his own, his large frame resting back against your soft flesh. You kissed him passionately, your lips trailing down from his jawline until making home over his neck. Your hand reached around and stroked his hard cock, a gentle caress that made his hips buck.

"So pretty,” you breathed, your head resting against his shoulder as you studied his long length. “Every inch of you is a work of art, made just for me…Look how perfectly you fit in my hand."

His cheeks flamed at your words, his eyes lowering as he melted in your hand. Only you could say such filthy things to him and make it sound so eloquent. It made him wet, forcing a dribble of precum to escape his slit, which you thumbed over and circled against his throbbing head.

You then moved around his large frame until you were kneeled before him, dipping your head just enough to spit on his cock, his breath hissing as your saliva dripped down his shaft. Mingi watched intently, his breath catching as you took all of him into your mouth, your lips stretching wide around his girth. He whimpered at the sudden warmth of your mouth. His own hung open as he sat and watched in awe as you sucked and slurped him, making sure to give him all the attention he needed. His eyes rolled back, and for a moment he felt weightless, as if he was floating on a cloud, a strong bliss taking over his senses.

You bobbed your head and took him deeper, forcing your hair to fall forward and frame your face. Captivated by the sight, Mingi gently gathered your loose strands and tucked them behind your ear. He desperately wanted to tell you that you looked so beautiful at this moment, that he admired how hard you worked to make him feel good, but the words got stuck in his throat each time your throat gagged around him, so he kept tending to your hair, pulling the strands away from your eyes so they didn’t bother you. His touch, so tender and loving, made your heart flutter in your chest.

“You taste so good,” You moaned against his cock, gripping a hand tighter at its base. “I can’t get enough of you.” He shuddered as you traced wet kisses along his vein, your tongue exploring every ridge and curve.

Sucking on his tip, you pumped him up and down, your grip becoming even tighter. Mingi's eyes widened, and he shuddered again, unable to hold back any longer. His breath hitched, and his body tensed as a wave of relief washed over him.

With a powerful thrust, his cum shot into your mouth, filling it with his warm seed. You moaned, your eyes closing in satisfaction as you took him deep, a sensory overload that left him breathless.

Mingi turned a delightful shade of pink, embarrassed to see his cum dripping from your lips. It was adorable seeing him so flustered. He started to apologize and offered to get you a towel to spit on, but your actions left him speechless. You hummed in satisfaction, a deep, contented sound that turned his brain to mush. Without hesitation, you swallowed his load, licking your lips clean, a sign of your complete devotion to him.

You pressed a gentle kiss to his sensitive cockhead, a gesture that made him snap back to reality. Looking up at him, you saw his flushed, sweaty expression, and your heart skipped a beat. The sight of him, so vulnerable and raw, made you sigh in adoration.

"You're so handsome when you cum, honey” you whispered. “Such a good boy for me.”

He blushed, a subtle pink tinting his cheeks. He could feel your love radiating toward him, and it felt almost overwhelming, a beautiful connection that he just couldn’t describe. Something inside him ignited, both a hunger and a need to give back, to be the one to pleasure you. With a swift and gentle movement, he pulled you onto his lap, your bodies aligning perfectly like two puzzle pieces.

His lips crashed against yours, tasting his saltiness on your lips. You moaned, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer. The feel of his hard cock rubbing against your wet folds sent goosebumps all over your body, a delicious friction that had you wanting more.

Mingi pulled away, his eyes darting down to your wet heat, admiring how pretty your slick juices look all over his cock. Meeting your gaze, he spoke softly, his voice filled with undeniable want. “I want to make you feel good, Y/N. I want to be good for you…please, I’ll be so good.” It almost pained him to want you this way, to desire you this badly, and he needed your permission to put out this fire that burned within him.

Your heart bursted at his words, a rush of love and appreciation washing over you. You nodded, a subtle gesture of consent, and he smiled, a sweet, loving smile that melted your heart. He leaned in, his lips trailing kisses down your neck, his hands roaming all over your body before settling them at your waist. He guided you over his cock, and you sank down, gasping at the stretch. His brows furrowed with concern, a fleeting moment of worry before you leaned in and kissed him to reassure him. You rocked your hips back and forth, getting used to his length.

“Mingi,” You whined, your pace quickening as you found your rhythm. He was buried so deep inside of you that it made tears well in your eyes. You continued kissing him hungrily, your lips moving from his mouth to his neck, leaving behind a trail of purple bruises. His hands roamed your back, a comforting touch that contrasted his hardness that rocked inside of you. As you pulled away to catch your breath, you caught sight of Mingi's eyes, which were as teary as your own. His gaze was fixed on you, an intense lock that spoke volumes about the deep love that he undoubtedly had for you. You almost wanted to cup his sweet face and kiss away his tears.

Before either of you could speak, his grasp on your waist tightened, a silent plea for you to stay put. You felt his cum releasing inside you, a warm sensation that mixed with your own, filling you to the brim. You cried out, your eyes locked on his as you reached your climax. It all felt so overwhelming, but he worked you gently and slowly over his cock, bringing you down from your peak with a tender and caring touch.

Exhausted, Mingi collapsed against the bed, pulling you down with him. You tumbled forward, your body molding against his as you rested atop him, breathless and sweaty. With a soft hum, you began peppering his face with tender kisses over his eyelids, his cheeks, and the sharp line of his jaw; each one a silent prayer, a vow of devotion. Your fingers traced the familiar contours of his face as you sighed, content.

“My Mingi,” you whispered, a gentle smile curling at your lips. But then, a sudden darkness took hold of you.

He wasn’t your Mingi.

The man beneath you, holding you, loving you, was something else entirely. A being shaped by your grief, your desperation. A body stolen from the earth and brought back by your own hands. A carefully crafted illusion of the man you lost. And he had no idea, no idea that you stole him, reimagined him, all for your own selfish intentions.

The realization threatened to crush you, your chest tightening as the weight of the truth nearly pulled you from the moment.

Mingi, ever attuned to you, sensed the shift in your expression. His brows knit together as he reached up, his thumb gently brushing away a stray tear that had slipped down your cheek. Though he didn’t understand the sorrow behind it, he smiled softly, his eyes full of adoration, his love for you unshaken.

He pulled you closer, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, anchoring you back to him.

“I love you so much, Y/N,” he whispered to you. And just like that, he drifted off to sleep, his own qualms put to rest, while yours just began to crack at the surface.

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riboism · 2 months ago

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