Work Text:
Ghoul was on a call with party, showing them a new choker
“And obviously we made it just as a concept but I like wearing it as well, although it’s a bit tight actually” the collar was practically choking him, he realised but didn’t do anything about it until
“Take it off, that’s my job.”
Party looked at him with such a sly expression and such sincerity in their voice -
And that was it. Boom, Subspace. It felt ridiculous to him that such a simple command could have such giant repercussions but there he was.
Removing the collar immediately (and possibly more eagerly than a normal person would), he was suddenly absolutely focused on Party.
Tunnel vision, that was it. Or a sort of… blurry vignette.
It was nice, comfortable. Subspace is kind of like that feeling when you’re meant to get up in the morning, but your blankets are wrapped around you _just right_. The kind of hazy glow, where you know logically that your brain isn’t functioning right, you really should return to the real world - but maybe a few more minutes. Just a few more.
He then started subtly handing little decisions over to party - what colour should the lights be? Could they pick a song for him to listen to?
Seemingly perfectly innocent comments - but really, ghoul just wanted to be told what to do. _Needed_ to be told what to do. By Party. Only by party.
He had to keep slightly grounded to reality, obviously- make sure he didn’t trip up and call them “sir” or “master” or whatever the fuck. They hadn’t exactly agreed on terms of address yet, and he didn’t want to fuck things up without permission.
Party’s permission.
Party’s order.
_Party._