☆ synopsis: you find out your husband, jae jun, has been cheating on you and it suddenly all starts to make sense.
☆author's note: bleh i don't even remember when or why I started writing this but it's finished!
She first approached you on a cold, winter night. It had been a few months since your first wedding anniversary with Jae Jun.
She told you her name, Moon Dong Eun. She also said she had some proof that your husband had been cheating behind your back. Then, she left without another word. Without giving you the answers you needed. You had had the sudden urgency to defend him in the moment, but she had not given you enough time.
If you were being honest, you did not know enough about your husband to deny those claims or not. Yes, you had been married for a little over a year, but it was simply a marriage of convenience. And although it was originally not supposed to be much more than a transactional marriage, making the other look good, Jae Jun had been an amazing husband.
He had been the most loving person in your life. He had been very considerate on your wedding night, reassuring you he wouldn’t try anything you didn’t consent to. After that, he never brought anything like that up again. You were the one who approached him the first time, and he was more than happy to satisfy your needs. He bought you flowers every day, made you breakfast before leaving… he was the perfect husband.
At first you were reluctant about him, hearing from his friends that he was violent and controlling. You had even been on the verge of cancelling the wedding in spite of everything.
The only reason you walked down that altar and said the words “I do,” loud and clear was a promise. A heartfelt promise from his lips.
“I will treat you like a princess. I will honor and respect you as my wife. If you want to live in separate houses, that’s fine. If you want to sleep in separate rooms and only talk to me when strictly necessary that is fine. The only thing I need is one chance. And if you give it to me, I swear you won’t regret it.”
Yes, you had at first felt weird at the idea of him begging like that. He was a young, handsome, and rich bachelor, he could have any woman he wanted.
But looking back now, it all made sense. His insistence on getting married at the same place as her, same date, same caterers, similar looking cake, making sure her and her family would sit in the very first row, honey moon at the same location as her and her husband.
Of course, her smug smirk as she “accidentally” dropped a whole glass of red wine on your wedding dress. She never once apologized, yet Jae Jun asked you to let it go.
It was all falling into place now, he didn’t marry you because he wanted you. He married you because you because he needed to be married to make her jealous. And you fell right into the slot he needed to fill to have her wrapped around his pinky.
You had to stop thinking of this, you decided as you wiped a few tears away. Leaving the restaurant you and Moon Dong Eun had met at, you made your way home as quickly as possible. You needed to be there when he arrived. To confront him. You needed to stop thinking and start taking action.
When Jae Jun arrived home, he immediately called out to you. After not receiving a reply, he entered the bedroom. There you were, sitting on the edge of the bed, still thinking over those words.
“He’s cheating on you. You know who she is.” Your mind keeps flashing back to that moment. The photos. The video of them stepping out of the fitting room at his store, hair messed up and fixing their clothes.
“Y/n?” His voice close to you brings you back. “What’s wrong, honey?” You turn to look at him and he instantly hands you the flowers. You stare at them, not too thrilled at the idea of receiving flowers from a cheater.
“Are you tired?” He asks, caressing your face. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, giving you a sweet look. You don’t answer.
“Alright honey. You do look tired. Lay down to rest. Did you have a filling dinner?” He continues, lifting the covers of the bed and ushering you under them. You comply, not wanting to say much. You only nod.
“Okay. Well, I’m gonna put these in a vase and get ready for bed. You go to sleep, honey.” He sets a sweet kiss on your forehead, “I promise I won’t make much noise when I come back.”
He walks away and turns off the lights before you speak.
“Jae Jun?”
“Mmh?” He turns, looking back at you with the uttermost attention.
You aren’t sure how to start confronting him so you simply ask one question.
“Who is Moon Dong Eun?” His face contorts into that of someone who is horrified but genuinely shocked. An expression you had never seem from him.
It confirmed your suspicions. And her words.
He turns the lights back on, coming back to your side of the bed. You sit up, hoping for clarification. Still in his sweet voice, he asks. “Where did you hear that name?”
You had to be honest— that was the only way you could get anywhere in this conversation.
“She told me you were cheating on me.”
He splutters incoherent words out, but you lift your hand as a signal for him to stop. He obeys.
“If you liked Yeonjin, you could’ve just said that. There was no need to make me feel special.” A long, silent pause comes between you as he doesn’t deny the allegations.
“I’m filing for a divorce.” You add.
He tries to defend himself, but falls short and stops altogether. “I’m sorry. I really am. Yeonjin and I, we—.”
“I don’t want to hear it.” You add. “And I don’t want to see you again. So if you could please sleep elsewhere tonight. Or would you rather I—”
“No.” He stops you. “You’re already comfortable. Let’s talk about this tomorrow, after we both get some rest.”
He leaves. You think this will be the end of it. Tomorrow you will wake up and start filing for divorce and sooner or later you would be free. But this is only the beginning, because now more than ever, he has a reason to hate Moon Dong Eun. And instead of going to bed, he is going to demand an explanation from her.
synapse: a nervous college girl lands a job at siesta luxury, unknowingly catching the dangerous, obsessive attention of jae-jun the moment he decides she’s already his.
pairing: jeon jae-jun x reader
contains: age gap, dark romance, power imbalance, suggestive fantasies
a/n: if you’ve read my work before, it’s evident i have a type
. . .
The bell above the door at Siesta Luxury chimed with a delicate, expensive sound, but Y/N barely heard it over the frantic thumping of her own heart. She smoothed down the front of her blazer, her palms clammy despite the cool air conditioning. The boutique was a temple of minimalism and price tags with too many zeros, and she felt like an intruder. Still, beneath the anxiety, a current of calm determination flowed. She needed this job.
A impeccably dressed woman with a sympathetic smile greeted her from behind a crescent-shaped counter. "You must be Y/N. He's ready for you. Just through those doors, in the back office."
Y/N nodded, her throat tight, and pushed through the heavy, silent doors. The air in the back office was warmer, thicker with the scent of expensive cologne and something else… something sterile and sharp, like whiskey. A man stood with his back to her, his shoulders broad beneath a tailored jacket. He was meticulously pouring a golden liquid from a crystal decanter into a heavy tumbler.
"The position is for a sales associate," he began, his voice a low, bored monotone. He didn't turn around. "Hours are flexible, but demanding. You're expected to know every product, every designer, every client's name. Discretion is non-negotiable. The commission is generous, but one mistake and you're out. Understood?"
Y/N swallowed, her voice coming out quieter than she intended. "Yes, I understand."
He took a slow sip of his drink, the ice clinking softly in the quiet room. "Good." He finally set the decanter down and turned, leaning against the expensive bar cart. And his entire demeanor changed in an instant.
The bored, dismissive mask evaporated. His eyes, which she now saw were a striking shade of brown, swept over her. It wasn't a glance; it was a long, deliberate appraisal that started at her polished shoes and traveled slowly, lingeringly, up her legs, her waist, the line of her throat, and finally settling on her face. A flicker of surprise, followed by a hungry, possessive interest, lit his gaze. He saw the carefully applied makeup, the professional attire, but he was looking past it. He was looking at the wide, innocent eyes that were trying so hard to appear confident, the slight tremble in her bottom lip, the way she stood with her shoulders squared but her hands clasped tightly together in front of her as if in prayer. She was a lamb who had accidentally wandered into a wolf's den, and the wolf had just found his appetite.
The silence stretched, thick and charged. Y/N felt a blush creep up her neck under his intense scrutiny. She forced herself to move, stepping forward and holding out the manila file she'd been clutching like a shield. "My resume."
Jae-jun didn't take it immediately. He held her gaze for a moment longer, a slow, almost predatory smile gracing his lips. Then he reached out, his fingers brushing deliberately against hers as he took the file. The contact was electric and made her flinch. He didn't apologize. He simply broke eye contact to look down at the documents in his hand.
He actually read it. His eyes scanned the neat, typed lines, absorbing her limited work experience, her stellar academic record, her volunteer work. He didn't skim. He consumed it. He saw the girl who got good grades, who worked part-time at a coffee shop to help her family, who listed "reading" and "long walks" as her hobbies. It was a portrait of such earnest, unremarkable innocence that it was almost jarring. It was perfect.
He tossed the file onto the polished surface of his desk without a sound. He picked up his drink, taking another thoughtful sip, his eyes never leaving her.
He wasn't going to ask her about her strengths and weaknesses. He wasn't going to ask where she saw herself in five years. He didn't need to. He'd already made his decision.
"You start tomorrow," he stated, his tone no longer bored, but firm and final. "Be here at nine. My assistant will go over the inventory with you. Don't be late."
Y/N blinked, stunned. "That's... it? Aren't you going to ask me any questions?"
A ghost of a smirk played on his lips. "I have all the answers I need." He took another step closer, invading her personal space, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Welcome to Siesta, Y/N."
. . .
The afternoon sun cast long, expensive shadows across the pristine floors of Siesta Luxury. Several hours had bled into a steady rhythm of client consultations and credit card swipes. From his position behind the main counter, Jae-jun feigned interest in a sales report on a tablet, but his eyes, sharp and predatory, were fixed on Y/N.
She was a natural. It wasn't just that she was beautiful; she was genuinely good at the job. She had a warmth that disarmed even the most haughty of clients, a way of making them feel seen and understood.
He watched her guide a middle-aged woman through the collection of silk scarves, her laugh light and genuine as she shared a story about the designer's inspiration. The woman, who had walked in looking for a quick purchase, was now completely captivated, nodding along as Y/N suggested a matching handbag.
Another thousand-dollar sale, sealed with a smile. She was a goldmine, and he hadn't even had to train her.
But her sales acumen was only half of his focus. Her uniform was a sleeveless, A-line dress in a soft gray fabric, professional yet deceptively simple. And every time she bent over a display case to retrieve a jewelry box, or reached up to adjust a handbag on a high shelf, the hem of that dress would lift just enough. It was a fleeting glimpse, a tease of soft skin at the back of her thighs, but it was enough to send a jolt of heat straight through him.
His grip tightened on the edge of the tablet. The numbers on the screen blurred, dissolving into the vivid, graphic scenarios playing out behind his eyes.
He wasn't at the counter anymore. He was in his office, and she was on her knees, those innocent eyes looking up at him as he unbuckled his belt. He pictured her bent over his mahogany desk, the gray dress hiked up around her waist, the sound of his name leaving her lips in a breathy gasp as he took her from behind. He imagined the contrast of his hand against the pale, unmarked skin of her ass, the way she would squirm and cry out, torn between pleasure and the shock of his raw intensity. The thoughts were filthy, possessive, and utterly consuming. He wanted to ruin that innocence, to be the one who introduced her to the kind of darkness that lived inside him.
"Mr. Jeon?"
Y/N's voice, close and clear, snapped him out of his fantasy. She was standing right in front of the counter, holding a digital signature pad and looking at him with those wide, expectant eyes. He hadn't even noticed the client she had been helping leave.
Jae-jun cleared his throat, forcing a neutral expression onto his face. He could feel the heat still crawling up his neck. He took the pad from her, his fingers brushing against hers for a second too long, and quickly scrawled his authorization on the screen.
"Excellent work," he said, his voice a low rumble. He met her gaze, letting his eyes linger on her lips for a moment before returning to her eyes. "You're a natural. Keep it up."
A faint blush colored her cheeks at the praise, and she gave him a small, pleased smile. "Thank you, Mr. Jeon. I'll try."
As she turned and walked away to assist another customer, Jae-jun's eyes dropped down to the gentle sway of her hips, the way the gray fabric of her dress clung to her form.
He took a slow sip of the water he'd poured for himself, trying to cool the fire burning in his veins. It was going to be a very long, very hard day. And night.
. . .
The boutique's lights dimmed, leaving only the security glow of the spotlights on their prized merchandise. Y/N carefully folded the last of the scarves, her movements practiced after a full day of work. A wave of exhaustion washed over her, but it was paired with a deep sense of satisfaction. She had survived. She had even thrived.
"Y/N."
The voice made her straighten up instantly. Jae-jun was standing by the counter, his posture relaxed, his jacket now unbuttoned. He had shed the formal air of the boss and now looked more like the powerful, confident owner.
"You did well today," he said, his tone a low, smooth murmur. "Very well. The clients liked you. More importantly, I like your work."
"Thank you, Mr. Jeon," she replied, a genuine smile touching her lips. "I really enjoyed it."
A slow smile spread across his face, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Good. Then we should celebrate." He pushed off the counter and took a step closer, his presence filling the space. "Let me take you to dinner. My treat. There's a place I know you'll like."
The invitation hung in the air, heavy with implication. It wasn't just a dinner; it was a test, an invitation into his world. For a fleeting moment, the thought of being wined and dined at a place she could only dream of was tempting. But the reality of her deadline crashed down on her.
Y/N's expression softened with genuine regret. "That's incredibly kind of you, Mr. Jeon, but I can't. I'm so sorry."
His smile faltered, a flicker of surprise and annoyance in his eyes. He wasn't used to being turned down. "Oh? Got other plans?"
"Unfortunately, yes," she said, her voice apologetic. "I have a major essay for my English literature class that's due tonight. I haven't even started it, and I only have three hours to get it submitted."
She said it so casually, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Jae-jun stared at her, his mind momentarily blank. He had processed every word she said, but one part of it didn't compute.
He tilted his head, his brow furrowed slightly. "You're taking English literature?" he asked, his tone now sharp with curiosity. "You speak English?"
Y/N looked taken aback by the question, as if it were an odd thing to ask. "Yes, fluently. It's required for my major."
Jae-jun was genuinely stunned. In his world, English was a tool, a blunt instrument for international business deals, spoken in stilted, formal phrases by translators. It was a language of contracts and conference calls. The idea that this nineteen-year-old girl, this fresh-faced creature of innocence he'd been mentally undressing all day, could speak it fluently—that she could be writing an entire academic essay in it—was a revelation. It added a layer to her he hadn't seen, a depth and intelligence that was both intriguing and, to his surprise, a little intimidating. It made her more than just a pretty face. It made her a person.
He recovered quickly, his mask of smooth control sliding back into place. The predatory glint in his eyes returned, but now it was mixed with a new, sharper curiosity.
"An essay," he repeated, a thoughtful smirk forming on his lips. He took another step closer, lowering his voice. "A smart girl, too. I like that." He let the compliment hang in the air, a clear indication that her intelligence didn't deter his interest; it fueled it. "Well, we can't let your grades slip, can we? Raincheck, then. Dinner. Soon."
It wasn't a question. It was a statement of fact. And as Y/N nodded, feeling a strange mix of relief and unease, she knew he wouldn't forget.
. . .
The scent of new leather and expensive perfume was a familiar comfort by now, but it did little to soothe the headache throbbing behind Y/N's eyes. A few days into the job, she was finding her rhythm, but the quiet professionalism of the boutique was about to be shattered.
The bell chimed, and in stumbled a man who looked like he'd been on the wrong end of a three-day bender. His long hair was a mess, his eyes were bloodshot and sunken, and his clothes were rumpled. It was Son Myeong-o, radiating a toxic aura of entitlement and hangover sweat. His bleary eyes scanned the shop before landing on Y/N, and a slow, greasy smile spread across his face.
"Well, well," he slurred, making a beeline for her. "What do we have here? Jae-jun's been holding out on me."
Y/N forced a polite, professional smile. "Welcome to Siesta Luxury. How may I help you, sir?"
"You can help me by letting me help you," he said, his voice thick and overly familiar. He watched as she stacked a few heavy shoeboxes. "Whoa, that looks heavy. A pretty little thing like you shouldn't be lifting that." Before she could protest, he snatched the top box from her stack, his fingers brushing deliberately against her hand. "Let me get that for you."
"Thank you, but I have it," Y/N said, trying to step back and create distance. His proximity was making her skin crawl.
Myeong-o just laughed, setting the box down but not moving away. He leaned in closer, the sour smell of last night's soju on his breath. "You're new. I'm Son Myeong-o. A very good friend of your boss. We go way back." He looked her up and down, his gaze lingering far too long on her chest. "You know, a girl with a face like yours could go far in this business. Especially with the right… friends."
Y/N's smile tightened. "I appreciate the advice, but I'm just here to do my job. Is there something specific you were looking to purchase?"
"I'm looking to purchase a drink with you," he said, his flirtatious tone hardening into something more insistent. "Come on. Don't be like that. I can show you a much better time than stuffy old Jae-jun."
"I'm not interested," Y/N said, her voice firm and losing its polite edge. "Please, I need to get back to work."
The rejection wiped the sleazy smile right off his face. His eyes narrowed, the hungover lethargy replaced by a flash of malicious anger. "Not interested? Do you know who I am?" He took another step forward, crowding her against the display counter. "I told you, I'm close with the owner. One word from me and you'll be out on your ass before you can even blink. You think this job is so special? I can have a dozen girls like you in here by tomorrow. So why don't you reconsider that drink?"
He raised a hand, not to strike her, but to trail a finger down her arm, a gesture that was both threatening and violating. Y/N flinched away, her heart pounding in her chest. This was going too far.
"Myeong-o."
The voice that cut through the tension was like ice. Jae-jun stood in the doorway of his office, his face a mask of cold fury. He had seen the entire exchange.
Myeong-o jumped, his drunken bravado instantly deflating. "Jae-jun! Hey, man, I was just… getting to know your new employee."
Jae-jun didn't even look at him. His eyes were locked on Y/N, taking in her pale face and the defensive way she was holding herself. Then he turned his gaze to Myeong-o, and the look in his eyes was murderous.
"You're late," he stated, his voice dangerously quiet. "And you're drunk. And you're harassing my staff."
"It was just a little fun, come on," Myeong-o stammered, backing away.
"Get out," Jae-jun commanded, taking a step forward. "Now. And don't come back until you can pull yourself together. You're an embarrassment."
Myeong-o, all bluster and fear, scrambled for the door, shooting a venomous look at Y/N before disappearing into the street.
The silence that followed was heavy. Jae-jun stood rigid for a moment, his jaw clenched, then slowly turned to Y/N. The anger in his eyes melted away, replaced by a look of intense, proprietary concern. He closed the distance between them in three long strides.
"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice low and urgent. He reached out as if to touch her arm, then stopped himself, his hand hovering in the air between them. "Did he hurt you?"
Y/N shook her head, still shaken. "No. He just… scared me."
Jae-jun's gaze flickered toward the door Myeong-o had just fled through, his expression hardening again. "He won't bother you again," he said, the words a flat, cold promise. It wasn't just a reassurance; it was a declaration of ownership. Myeong-o hadn't just harassed an employee; he had touched what was beginning to belong to Jae-jun, and there would be a price for that.
synopsis ━ in every single way, hyunju vows to spoil you.
warnings ━ MDNI!! 18+ wlw. SFW. post-bottom surgery hyunju. after the cut are NSFW headcannons featuring bondage, strap, and softdom!hyunju.
requested by anon!
SFW:
you wake up most mornings to the soft glow of seoul’s skyline filtering through floor-to-ceiling windows since hyun-ju’s penthouse is basically yours now.
she is already awake, of course, scrolling through markets on her tablet while her free hand traces lazy circles on your bare shoulder. at twenty-five you still sometimes catch your breath at how effortlessly she claims the world, and then hands pieces of it to you.
hyun-ju spoils you without hesitation, as if generosity is simply her love language. the first time she paid your entire college tuition you cried in her lap.
she only kissed your forehead and murmured that your future was too bright to be dimmed by loans. now your degree sits framed on the marble console, right beside the limited-edition hermès bag she surprised you with the day you graduated. hyun-ju never makes a show of it since the gifts arrive quietly, and sometimes through her assistant, or sometimes delivered by her own hands when she wants to watch your eyes light up.
one week it is a custom wardrobe from a quiet atelier in paris, each piece tailored to the exact measurements of yours she memorized long ago. the next it is a matte-black g-wagon parked downstairs with your name on the registration and a tiny diamond charm hanging from the rearview mirror.
you once joked that you didn’t need a car in the city so she answered by booking a private driving instructor and a track day at yeongam so you could learn to love speed the way she does. you came home flushed and laughing, and hyun-ju rewarded you with a new necklace that matches the thin platinum band she wears on her wrist.
jewelry is her favorite way to mark you as hers. the prettiest rings live on your fingers now with stacked bands of rose gold and pavé diamonds, a chunky emerald cut that catches every light, and the simple solitaire she slipped on during a private dinner on a maldivian overwater villa last summer.
the ex-marine had the jeweler fly in from antwerp just to size them perfectly while you slept. every time you glance down at your hands you remember the way her voice sounded when she said, “these stay on you always, even when i’m not here, love.”
last month, hyun-ju cleared her schedule for ten days in santorini, Kos, ios, and corfu in greece. the two of you tucked into a private villa with its own infinity pool that spilled straight into the aegean. she arranged a sunset yacht, a private chef who only cooked your favorite banchan alongside greek mezze, and a helicopter ride over the caldera just because you mentioned wanting to see it from above.
you spent most evenings tangled in silk sheets while she read market reports aloud and fed you chilled lychees between sentences. when you asked why she does all this, your woman simply pulled you closer and whispered, “because watching you happy is the only return on investment i care about.” (hyunju is so tea ahhh)
back home she keeps spoiling you with your favorite skincare arriving monthly in a refrigerated crate from tokyo. don't worry, the refrigerator is always stocked with the exact seasonal fruits you crave, delivered from farms she quietly invests in.
when you casually admired a limited-run sneaker collab online, a pair in your size appeared on the shoe rack the next afternoon.
also, she pays your rent even though you live with her now just so the money can go into a savings account she opened in your name and refuses to let you touch.
“that’s for emergencies I hope you'll never run into,” she says, kissing the tip of your nose, “not for bills.”
you love her back just as deeply. you leave little notes in her briefcase, cook her favorite late-night ramyeon when she returns from board meetings, and curl into her lap after long days.
she spoils you because she can, but you both know the real wealth is the way your laughter fills her marble halls and the way her name sounds on your tongue.
the spoiling never stops. yesterday she surprised you with a weekend in kyoto during cherry blossom season, complete with a private ryokan and a tea ceremony master who taught you both how to whisk matcha perfectly.
tomorrow it might be a new apartment in busan or a simple gold necklace engraved with coordinates of the first place you kissed each other. you never ask for any of it, yet she gives anyway, as naturally as breathing.
you are hers, and she is yours.
“everything i have is yours,”
NSFW:
always, stylists will drape you in the finest lace and silk.
once, you tried on a sheer black teddy that hugs your curves, with the fabric whispering against your skin. hyun-ju watched from a velvet chaise, her eyes darkening with desire.
after giving you so many compliments she pulled you onto her lap, with her hands sliding under the lace to cup your breasts, thumbs circling your hardening nipples.
you grind against her strong thigh, feeling the heat building between your legs. she paid for your degree, after all, and now she wants to reward your body.
hyun-ju's fingers dip lower, tracing your folds through the thin black material before pushing it aside to stroke your clit. you moan, riding her hand as she whispers promises of more trips, and more gifts. she makes you cum right there in the dressing room, with her mouth claiming yours in a deep kiss, before buying every piece in the store that you touched.
on the greece trip mentions above, after a late night boat ride hyunju untied your top, exposing your breasts to the warm breeze, and sucked on your nipple while her hand slips into your bottoms.
right away, her strong and manicured fingers plunged into your wet pussy, curling to hit that spot that makes you arch. you grip the railing, legs trembling as she finger-fucks you, her thumb pressing your clit. the waves rock the boat in rhythm with her thrusts.
she edges you twice before letting you shatter, your cries echoing over the sea. later, in the master suite, she straps on a harness with a pink 9 inch dildo and fucks you with deep and long strokes, her hips grinding against yours.
she cums with you, bodies slick, whispering about the diamond ring waiting in her safe.
that same trip, naked on the silk sheets she positions you on all fours, admiring the jewels catching the light as she spreads your ass cheeks. hyunju moves Lowe ran a sniper position, and her tongue laps at your pussy from behind, delving deep while her fingers tease your entrance.
"tell me you're mine, dear," she growls, before filling you with a vibrating toy she bought just for this.
"fuck! I'm yours, hyunie!"
the rings clink softly on your hands as you brace against the headboard, with her free hand pinching your clit behind. she builds you up, denying your orgasm until you're begging, then flips you over to eat you out face-to-face, with her own arousal dripping down her thighs.
when you finally cum, it's explosive, soaking her chin and on the expensive bedsheets below.
she holds you after, promising endless trips and treasures.
once, in the nyc penthouse hyun-ju rented for a few months because of work, she cooked a gourmet meal for the two of you.
however, her dessert was you.
she spoils you with experiences money can't buy... wait, it can, since she's a billionaire.
hyun-ju is obsessed with using the many colorful silk scarves from her collection to bind your wrists to the headboard, with your body splayed on egyptian cotton. she trails ice from your champagne glass over your skin, melting it with her hot mouth on your inner thighs.
"you deserve it all, y/n," she says before burying her face in your pussy, with her magical tongue swirling your clit relentlessly. you buck against the restraints, loving the control she wields as she adds fingers, three of them, stretching you as she sucks harder.
your orgasm crashes but she doesn't stop, flipping you to eat your ass while using another scarf to wrap around your face, so you couldn't see.
when she finally unties your hands, but keeping the silk over your eyes, it's to straddle your face.
the sugar momma rides your tongue until she squirts, drenching you in sensory overload. it was nice, and you cuddled afterwards. while laying onto of her chest, hyunju whispers,
"do you want to go to hermes tomorrow, sweetheart?"
synopsis ━ your girlfriend has hundreds of perfumes, because of her hyper fixation with perfumes.
warnings ━ fluff, non-squid game AU, hints of overconsumption
hyun-ju has a hyperfixation with perfumes and scents. she can describe the smallest notes in each perfume. most people cannot which describes this endless obsession of hers that has every corner of your shared apartment turned into a fragrant gallery of glass and golden liquid.
she collects them the way some people collect memories with each bottle representing a mood, a season, or a feeling that she wants to wear forever.
for example, hyun-ju still has a full bottle of the marshmallow vanilla perfume she wore on your first date. that was two years ago. the next time she will wear it is on your wedding day, she says.
however, gourmand scents are her favorite. she loves warm vanilla bean, dripping caramel, toasted hazelnut, brown sugar crusted pastries, and anything that smells like dessert fresh from the oven on a slow sunday morning.
when she closes her eyes and inhales, her whole face softens like she's coming home.
when you first moved into her home, she threw open the doors to her overflowing shelves without a second thought.
“they're ours to share now!” she said, voice bubbling with excitement like a little kid with ice cream, like she was sharing the best secret she'd ever kept, "you can use any of them whenever, i love when you smell like me.”
you remember the first time you reached for her most-loved bottle. at first, you thought she'd be reluctant, but you saw the way that she watched you with her eyes sparkling, as if you'd just chosen her all over again.
however, hyun-ju's collection never stops growing. your woman gets packages arriving on the porch almost weekly with sleek black boxes with satin ribbons, pale pink tissue paper crinkling, and little thank-you cards tucked inside.
hyunju gives the most detail reviews on websites about the perfumes, and those online reviews get thousands of likes. therefore, companies send her a 'thank you' for being so detailed with needed critique.
all of her perfumes pile up, and taking the time to develop some organization has never been her thing. bottles crowd every surface of the vanity room with tall flacons tipping against squat travel sizes, discontinued treasures buried behind body mists, and sample vials rolling loose in drawers like forgotten marbles.
inside of the bathroom, the counter looks like a perfume market stall after a windstorm. once, you once found a dusty bottle of an old bottle wedged behind a tower of hand creams, waiting years to be remembered.
you live for order with sorting and grouping. it's soothing, like smoothing wrinkled sheets or folding laundry still warm from the dryer. so when hyunju kissed you goodbye that morning with her lips still sweet from her pistachio gourmand and left for work, you knew today was the start to fix her small problem.
first, you started by clearing every shelf, every drawer, and every windowsill. hundreds of bottles were moved to the bed in careful, fragrant rows. you breathed them in as you worked, letting the families introduce themselves with rich vanillas first, then nutty pralines, coconut suns, bright fruits, and soft powdery florals.
all of the difficult grouping came next.
you were nervous, since hyunju had the olfactory nerves to pair perfumes in groups. however, the vanilla gourmands claimed the center of the main shelf anyways.
you arranged them in a gentle gradient with pale whipped-cream shades on the left, deepening to boozy bourbon and dark amber on the right. one of hyunju's favorites sat the middle like it belonged there, surrounded by its closest cousins.
nutty gourmands got their own warm corner with pistachio, hazelnut, and almond croissants captured in glass. you placed them near the vanillas but gave them room to breathe, like little pastries cooling on a wire rack.
florals climbed higher, where the light stays gentle. every single one of the clean white flowers were together, then powdery roses, then the lush white florals which contained jasmine, tuberose, gardenia (according to the bottle, you couldn't put those into words by smelling it yourself like hyun-ju could.) that hyunju reaches for when she wants to feel impossibly romantic.
the tropical coconut scents lined the sunny window ledge since sunlight poured through the colorful bottles, turning the liquid inside to liquid gold. honestly, you smiled while seeing them through the window, and took your own aesthetic picture since they all looked like bottled beach days glowing in the light.
next, the fruity summer ones took the colorful spot near the mirror with all of the bright pinks, corals, sunny yellows. you sorted first by bottle hue, then by note with grapefruit on one end, mango and passionfruit on the other, like a little fruit stand caught in crystal.
you'd ordered a few quiet surprises for your love.
for example, a sleek black acrylic stand arrived days earlier which was minimalist, elegant, five tiered shelves. you filled it with the bottles she reaches for most often, the ones she never has to hunt for because they're already in her hand.
they sat there like treasures on display, catching the light from the blinds just right.
also, you got a woven basket. you added cardboard dividers wrapped in pretty paper with one section for gourmand minis, one for freshies, one for evening scents. suddenly all those tiny travel sized bottles had dignity instead of chaos.
by late afternoon everything was done.
all of the shelves were dusted, bottles were wiped clean, and labels were facing forward. the perfume corner looked like it belonged in a boutique and it looked so loved.
the front door opened at 1400.
“baby? i'm home—”
at first, you didn't say anything as you stood in the vanity room. footsteps filled the kitchen, then the foyer, and back into the hallway towards the bedrooms before the vanity room door opened.
there, her bag dropped with a soft thud onto the carpet. you smiled brightly, standing in the middle of the room while hyunju froze as her eyes went wide, with her lips parting.
she blinked once, then twice, since the room had basically rewritten itself while she was gone.
“what… happened here?”
you rubbed the back of your neck, suddenly shy under her gaze.
“i organized them. i know you love your collection but it was kind of… everywhere.... and i like organizing.... honestly, i thought it'd be nice if you could actually see everything.”
she walked forward slowly, like she was afraid to disturb the bottles. the woman's fingertips brushed the edge of the acrylic stand.
“you got this,” she whispered, “for my everyday ones.”
“they're the ones you always reach for,” you said quietly, “I've figured that they deserved to be easy to find.”
she looked up at you and her eyes were already glassy. it wasn't the materials that got to her, but it was your love that you poured into this organization project, “you noticed.”
“of course I did, love.”
she turned in a slow circle around the room and took it all in. the coconuts glowing golden in the window. the fruity rainbow by the mirror along with the neat little basket of minis.
“you grouped the gourmands… and the vanillas are all together and the coconuts... ugh they look so pretty with the sun hitting them.” her voice cracked softly, “it's perfect.”
she spun back to you with her cheeks flushed, and her brown eyes are shining bright.
“this is the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me.”
you barely had time to smile before she closed the distance, with her strong arms wrapping tight around your waist. she buried her face in your neck, breathing deep while probably catching whatever scent you'd tested earlier while you worked.
“thank you,” she murmured against your skin, over and over like a prayer, “thank you, thank you, thank you.”
you hugged her back, smiling brightly as your hands slide gently up and down her spine, “i had fun. it was like… a really expensive, really good-smelling puzzle.”
she laughed, soft and a little teary, then pulled back just enough to cup your face in both hands. she leaned in and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead, staying there like she was sealing something important.
“you're incredible,” she whispered, “i don't know what i did to deserve you.”
“you exist,” you said simply, “that's more than enough for me.”
hyunju glanced around again, still dazed, then back at you with that mischievous little smile you love.
“can i show you how much i love it?”
you raised an eyebrow, already knowing what idea she might've had in mind, “does it involve picking a scent and forgetting about dinner?”
she grinned, already reaching for one of the bottles on the stand.
Author's note: I'm currently in the beautiful islands where I was born, it's been a while, in fact, it's been since ATWOW was released loool.
This post will be released while I'm enjoying the beautiful beaches and the sunrise of the first day of this year 2026 with my beloved friends and family.
Most of my post are programmed while I enjoy my vacations, but I can tell you that the breeze is warm and sweet, I hope that some day you get to enjoy a feeling like this.
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