#the glory

[the-candy-man]

[kyuuuu]

whenever I would watch the Glory (great drama btw) I would get irrationally angry when Dongeun’s boy toy would show up on screen. Like I would be gleefully listening to the sociopathic banter is going on between the literal worst people in Kdrama history but I get disgusted if there’s Yeojung drinking his vitamin juice. Sometimes I would get so bored by him that I would just stop watching the drama to browse on my phone until his scene is over.

[the-candy-man]

[the-candy-man]

[big-poppa23]

Conflict of Interest

terms of employment- part two “conflict of interest”

synapse: his fascination with the college student he hired is becoming impossible to hide, and even harder to control

pairing: jeon jae-jun x female reader

contains: age gap, dark romance, power imbalance, suggestive fantasies, sexual tension, masterbation

a/n: the sequel no one asked for but part one did ok

. . .

The store was silent and bathed in the ethereal glow of the security lights. Long after closing, Y/N was still there, the quiet hum of the air conditioner the only sound as she meticulously scanned barcodes and logged inventory into the tablet. Her task took her to the evening wear section, and one dress in particular caught her eye. It was a deep sapphire silk, simple in its cut but breathtaking in its elegance, the kind of dress that felt like it belonged on a red carpet, not in a shop.

A mischievous impulse, born of exhaustion and the quiet solitude of the empty store, took hold. She glanced around. 

She was completely alone. With a quick glance at her watch, she figured she had a few more minutes. Snatching the dress from its hanger, she slipped into the large, luxurious dressing room at the back, pulling the heavy velvet curtain closed behind her.

What she didn't know was that Jae-jun had entered through the private back entrance, his own keycard disabling the silent alarm. He was on his way to his office when he saw the light on in the dressing room and heard the faint rustle of fabric. Peeking through a nearly imperceptible gap in the curtain's edge, he froze.

Y/N had already unzipped her uniform dress and let it pool at her feet. She stood in her simple, white lace underwear, completely unaware of the audience she had. 

Jae-jun's breath hitched as his eyes roamed over the soft curve of her spine, the delicate slope of her shoulders, the gentle swell of her hips. He watched, mesmerized, as she stepped into the sapphire silk and pulled it up, her movements clumsy but endearing. She struggled with the side zipper for a moment before giving up, leaving it partly undone and revealing a tantalizing sliver of her back.

She turned to the mirror, her eyes lighting up as she saw her reflection. She ran her hands over the smooth fabric, a small, private smile on her lips. She spun once, the silk swirling around her legs like water. On a whim, she grabbed a matching clutch from the shelf inside the room and held it, striking a playful pose, completely lost in the moment of fantasy.

That was when Jae-jun decided to make his presence known.

He pushed the curtain aside with a soft, deliberate sound. "It looks good on you."

Y/N gasped, spinning around, her face flooding with a deep, horrified crimson. "Mr. Jeon! I-I'm so sorry! I wasn't thinking, I just… I'll take it off right now, I shouldn't have—" Her words tumbled out in a panicked rush.

He held up a hand, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his face. "Relax." His gaze was intense, taking in every inch of her in the dress. "It suits you…But you didn't even zip it up properly."

Before she could protest, he was inside the room with her, the space suddenly feeling impossibly intimate and crowded. He gently took her by the shoulders and turned her around to face the mirror. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt his fingers brush against the bare skin of her back, finding the cool metal of the zipper.

He pulled it up with agonizing slowness, his knuckles grazing her spine, sending a shiver down her body that had nothing to do with the cold. The fabric tightened against her form, molding perfectly to her figure. His hands lingered at her waist for a moment before he met her eyes in the mirror.

"You have a beautiful figure," he murmured, his voice a low, possessive rasp. "This dress was made for you."

Y/N stared at their reflection in the mirror, his tall, powerful frame behind her, her smaller one encased in silk, his hands still resting possessively at her waist. It was a portrait of power and submission, and it terrified and thrilled her in equal measure.

He leaned in closer, his lips near her ear. "A dress like this… it's for someone special," he said. "Someone who shows their worth." He straightened up, his hands leaving her waist and leaving a sudden, cold void in their wake. "Work hard. Prove you belong here. And maybe, eventually, I'll gift it to you."

Without another word, he turned and walked out, pulling the curtain closed behind him.

Y/N stood frozen in front of the mirror for a long moment, her heart hammering against her ribs. The dress felt like a second skin, a brand. She carefully, reverently, slipped out of it and hung it back on the hanger, her hands trembling slightly as she zipped the uniform dress back up, the feeling of his touch still burning on her skin.

Y/N emerged from the dressing room, the heavy velvet curtain falling shut behind her with a soft thud. The sapphire silk was back on its hanger, and she was once again in the plain gray uniform. The air in the quiet store felt charged, the ghost of his touch still lingering on her skin. She kept her eyes down, focusing on the practical task of gathering her bag and shutting down the inventory tablet. She just needed to get out of there.

Jae-jun was leaning against the counter, exactly where he'd been before, but the energy radiating from him was completely different. He watched her in silence, his gaze heavy and unreadable as she packed up her things.

"It's late," he said, his voice breaking the tense quiet. "You shouldn't be going home by yourself."

Y/N slung her tote bag over her shoulder, forcing herself to meet his eyes. "I'll be fine, thank you. I have a ride."

He pushed off the counter, a smooth, fluid motion. "I can take you. It's no trouble."

The offer hung in the air, thick with unspoken meaning. It wasn't just an offer; it was a claim. Y/N felt a surge of defiance, a need to establish a boundary, any boundary.

"That's okay," she said, a little too quickly. "My boyfriend is picking me up."

The word "boyfriend" hit him like a physical blow. Jae-jun's friendly, concerned expression vanished instantly. His eyes, which had been warm with possessive interest, hardened into chips of ice. A muscle in his jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, and a dangerous, jealous glint flashed through them. It was a look of pure, unadulterated territoriality, the way a wolf might eye a rival encroaching on its kill. But Y/N, focused on her own escape, didn't see it. She just saw her boss standing there.

Just then, the sharp flash of headlights swept across the storefront as a car pulled up to the curb. The sound of its engine was a welcome relief.

"That's him now," Y/N said, her voice bright with relief. She offered him a tight, polite bow. "Goodnight, Mr. Jeon. Thank you again."

She turned and hurried toward the front doors, eager for the sanctuary of the car and the normalcy it represented.

Jae-jun didn't return the farewell. He simply watched her go, his expression unreadable. Then, with a silent, predatory grace, he followed her. He didn't say a word as he trailed a few steps behind, his hands shoved into his pockets. He wasn't walking her out for her safety. He was walking out to inspect the competition.

Y/N pushed the door open and stepped into the cool night air, immediately going to the passenger side of a modest, well-kept sedan. A young man with a kind, open face got out and smiled, kissing her on the cheek before taking her bag. It was a simple, sweet gesture of affection.

Jae-jun stood in the shadows of the store's entrance, his hands clenched into fists in his pockets. He watched them, the easy familiarity, the comfortable smiles, the simple, genuine affection between them. 

He sized up the boyfriend: average height, unremarkable clothes, a gentle demeanor. He was nothing. He was a placeholder, a nobody. And yet, he had something Jae-jun wanted.

Y/N got into the car, giving a final wave to her boss before the door closed. As the sedan pulled away from the curb and merged into traffic, Jae-jun remained standing there, his eyes following the taillights until they disappeared into the city glow. The friendly facade was long gone. In its place was a cold, calculating resolve.

. . . 

The familiar comfort of her bedroom did little to soothe the restlessness thrumming beneath Y/N's skin. She had showered, changed into her softest pajamas, and tried to lose herself in a textbook, but the words blurred into meaningless shapes. Her mind was a broken record, replaying the scene at the shop over and over.

The way Jae-jun had looked at her.

It wasn't just a glance; it was a physical act. She could still feel the weight of his eyes on her, the heat of them as they traced the exposed skin of her stomach, the predatory intensity that made her feel simultaneously like prey and the most coveted thing in the world. Her body flushed with a warmth that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room.

Then came the other memory, sharper and more invasive: the dressing room. The ghost of his fingers on her bare back, zipping up the silk dress. The possessive way his hands had lingered at her waist. The low murmur of his voice in her ear, "You have a beautiful figure."

A jolt of arousal, hot and sharp, shot through her. She squeezed her thighs together, a wave of shame immediately following. This was wrong. This was her boss, a man who was manipulative and dangerous. She had a boyfriend, a kind, sweet boyfriend who cared about her.

She needed to get control of herself. Pushing the textbook aside, she lay back on her bed, closing her eyes and forcing herself to think of her boyfriend. She imagined his gentle hands, his soft kisses, the comfortable warmth of his body next to hers. Her own hand drifted down, slipping beneath the waistband of her pajama bottoms. She tried to picture his face, to summon the familiar, safe affection she felt for him.

But the image wouldn't hold. It flickered and dissolved, replaced by another.

Jae-jun's face.

His dark, possessive eyes. His sharp, knowing smirk. The memory of his touch was suddenly more vivid than her own. The shame fought a losing battle against the tide of desire. Her body didn't care about right or wrong; it only craved the intensity he made her feel.

She gave in. Her mind, now completely under his spell, constructed a new scene. It wasn't her bedroom anymore. It was his office. The leather couch she had seen in the corner, the one he looked so at home on.

In her fantasy, she was straddling him, her hands braced on his strong shoulders as she rode him hard and fast. He was still fully dressed in his expensive suit, a picture of powerful control, while she was lost to pleasure, her head thrown back. He wasn't saying anything, just watching her with that same hungry, possessive gaze, his hands gripping her hips, dictating the rhythm, claiming her with every thrust. The thought of his raw power, of being completely at his mercy, sent her spiraling over the edge.

A soft gasp escaped her lips as her body trembled with the force of her orgasm. The pleasure was intense, immediate, and left her breathless and shaking.

But as the waves of sensation receded, a cold dread washed over her. 

She opened her eyes, staring up at the ceiling of her own room, the fantasy evaporating and leaving a bitter taste in its mouth. The arousal was gone, replaced by a profound sense of self-betrayal. She had just pleasured herself to the thought of her dangerous, possessive boss, using the memory of her boyfriend's kindness as a disposable stepping stone to get there.

And the terrifying part was, a dark, treacherous part of her couldn't wait to see him again.

. . . 

The low, pulsing bass of the upscale club was a familiar backdrop to their toxic reunion. Jae-jun sat in the VIP booth, one arm draped along the back of the plush velvet seat, but his attention was miles away. He held his phone low, the screen's glow illuminating his face in the dim light. He wasn't listening to Yeon-jin's self-important story about a rival broadcaster, nor was he watching Sa-ra stare blankly at the swirling ice in her glass. He was scrolling through Y/N's Instagram.

He was completely mesmerized. A picture of her laughing with a friend at a cafe, sunlight in her hair. A selfie from her bed, her face fresh and makeup-free. A photo of the book she was reading, propped up on a simple, floral bedspread. Each image was a window into a world so pure, so normal, that it felt like another planet. He was so engrossed, a small, unconscious smile playing on his lips, that he didn't notice the eyes on him.

"What's so fascinating over there, Jae-jun?" Hye-jeong's voice was laced with syrupy mockery as she leaned across the table, trying to peek at his screen. "You look like a teenager with his first crush."

Jae-jun's head snapped up, his smile vanishing as he quickly placed his phone face down on the table. "Don't be ridiculous. Just checking business."

"Business?" Sa-ra drawled, her voice raspy from disuse. She leaned forward, her eyes unnervingly sharp. "Let me see." Without waiting for an answer, she snatched the phone. Jae-jun tensed, but didn't stop her. Sa-ra navigated to the app he was just on. Her brow furrowed as she scrolled. "Who is this child?"

"She's not a child," Jae-jun said, his voice low and warning.

Sa-ra let out a dry, cackling laugh. "She looks like she should be in high school." She squinted, tapping on a photo to see the details. "Wait... 'Nineteen'? She's nineteen?" She looked from the phone to Jae-jun, her expression a mixture of disgust and amusement. "Jae-jun, you're thirty-five. When you were sixteen, getting drunk and pretending you owned the world, she was just being born." She leaned back, delivering the final blow with a cruel smirk. "If you'd met her two years ago, you'd be a criminal. She'd still be illegal."

Yeon-jin, who had been observing with a bored air, finally picked up her martini glass, swirling the olive. A slow, venomous smile touched her lips. "Illegal or not, I never figured you to be so lonely, Jae-jun. Settling for a child. Is that what it's come to? Can't find a woman your own age who'll have you?"

Jae-jun's face was a mask of cold fury. He held out his hand to Sa-ra. "Give it back."

Sa-ra dropped the phone into his palm with a clatter. "Just looking out for you. Don't want to see your name in the papers for the wrong reason."

He ignored her, his eyes locking with Yeon-jin's. The playful teasing was gone, replaced by the old, simmering hatred between them. "At least I don't have to trap a man with a baby that isn't his to feel loved," he shot back, his voice dangerously quiet.

The air in the booth froze. Yeon-jin's smile tightened, her eyes flashing with murder. Hye-jeong and Sa-ra shrunk back, knowing they had crossed a line.

But Jae-jun didn't care. He picked up his phone, his thumb stroking the dark screen where Y/N's face had been just moments before. All he could think about was her. And in that moment, the opinions of the three toxic women in front of him mattered less than nothing. They were just ghosts from his past, and she was his future.

. . . 

The last customer had left, and the quiet hum of Siesta Luxury at closing time was a familiar comfort to Y/N. She was just finishing the final wipe-down of the glass counters when she saw it. A large, cream-colored shopping bag from the store was sitting on the main counter, right where she couldn't miss it. Her name was written on a small, attached card in Jae-jun's sharp, confident script.

With a hesitant hand, she peeked inside. Nestled in tissue paper was the sapphire silk dress. The one from the dressing room. Her breath caught in her throat. He was actually gifting it to her. The memory of his promise, "Prove you belong here. And maybe, eventually, I'll gift it to you," came flooding back. Had she already proven herself?

The soft click of his office door made her jump. Jae-jun emerged, his eyes finding her instantly. A slow, knowing smile curved his lips as he saw her standing by the counter, staring into the bag.

"I see you found it," he said, his voice a low, smooth rumble.

"Mr. Jeon... I... I don't know what to say," she stammered, her heart thudding. "Thank you. It's too much."

"It's not too much," he dismissed, walking closer until he stood beside her. "It's a reward for good work." He gestured toward the dressing rooms. "Go on. Try it on. We need to make sure it fits perfectly. In case any adjustments are needed."

The phrasing was clinical, but his eyes were anything but. Trapped by a combination of gratitude and his undeniable authority, Y/N could only nod. She took the bag and disappeared into the back.

She emerged a few minutes later, the silk clinging to her form, the zipper still undone halfway up her back. She felt exposed and vulnerable under the bright store lights.

Jae-jun was waiting. He didn't say a word, just closed the distance between them. His hands were on her in an instant, turning her away from him. One hand rested possessively on her hip while the other found the zipper. He slowly, deliberately pulled it up, his knuckles grazing the length of her spine, making her shiver.

"Looks good," he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. "But the shoulders..." His hands came up to her shoulders, his thumbs stroking the sensitive skin there. "A little loose." His fingers trailed down her arms, a feigned adjustment that was purely an excuse to touch her. "And the waist..." He slid his hands around to her front, his palms flat against her stomach, pulling her back flush against his chest for a moment. "We need to make sure it's snug right here."

Y/N's breath hitched, her body rigid with a mixture of fear and a terrifying, unwelcome thrill. He finally let her go, only to step in front of her. His eyes were dark, intense, and fixed on hers. He slowly raised a hand, his index finger tracing a deliberate path down her collarbone, then down the delicate slope between her breasts. The touch was feather-light but burned like a brand.

His finger stopped at the V-neck of the dress, and he hooked it inside the fabric, gripping the top of the dress. With a firm tug, he pulled her hard against him. Their bodies collided, and she could feel it, thick and insistent, pressing against her through his trousers.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "Do you have any idea what I want to do to you in this dress?" His voice was a raw, possessive growl. "I want to fuck you on every surface in this store. I want to rip this silk right off your body and hear you scream my name."

His other hand began a slow, torturous journey down her body, over her hip, down her thigh, claiming her with every inch. Y/N's mind went blank, her body betraying her, arching into his touch despite the screaming voice in her head telling her to run.

The moment shattered.

The chime of the front door cut through the thick, charged air. "Y/N? Are you ready? I'm here to pick you up!"

It was her boyfriend's voice. Cheerful, innocent, and a world away from the dark, dangerous reality she was currently lost in.

Jae-jun froze, his entire body tensing. He pulled back just enough to look over her head toward the door, his expression one of pure, unadulterated fury. The possessive heat in his eyes was extinguished, replaced by a cold, murderous rage. He didn't let her go. His grip on the dress tightened, a silent warning.

Y/N gasped, finally snapping out of her trance. She pushed against his chest, and he let her go with a reluctance that was palpable. "I have to go," she whispered, her voice trembling.

She didn't wait for a reply. She fled from him, from the intoxicating terror he represented, and ran toward the one person in the world who represented safety.

"I'll be just a moment!" Y/N called out, her voice tight and high-pitched. She didn't dare look at her boyfriend's face as she fled, her feet carrying her back to the sanctuary of the dressing room. She needed air, space, a moment to process the seismic shock of what had just happened.

Her boyfriend, Ji-hoon, stood by the entrance, a patient smile on his face. He glanced around the boutique, impressed by its sleek, expensive design but feeling slightly out of place. He heard footsteps and turned as Jae-jun strolled out from the back.

Jae-jun was a master of transformation. In the ten seconds Y/N had been gone, he had rearranged his entire persona. The raw, predatory lust was gone, replaced by a calm, almost paternal authority. He looked like nothing more than a hard-working boss finishing up a late night. He extended a hand as he approached Ji-hoon.

"You must be here for Y/N," he said, his voice smooth and friendly. "I'm Jeon Jae-jun. I'm her boss."

Ji-hoon shook his hand, the grip firm but not overpowering. "Ji-hoon. It's nice to meet you. Thanks for looking out for her."

"It's my pleasure," Jae-jun said, his smile never reaching his eyes. "Honestly, she's been a godsend. In the short time she's been here, she's become one of our best assets. Incredible instincts, a real head for business. She's wasted in a classroom, if you don't mind my saying." He paused, letting the words hang in the air before delivering the final, subtle blow. "She has a very bright future ahead of her. She's a girl who's destined for... bigger things."

The implication was clear, a verbal landmine laid with surgical precision. Bigger things than you. Ji-hoon's smile faltered for a fraction of a second. He was silent, a knot of confusion and quiet offense tightening in his gut. This wasn't just a compliment; it felt like a dismissal. He didn't understand the game being played, but he could feel the condescension.

Just then, Y/N emerged from the dressing room, now back in her uniform. She looked pale and flustered, her eyes avoiding everyone. Jae-jun's gaze immediately locked onto her, the friendly mask melting away for a split second, replaced by the same intense, possessive heat from moments before. 

It was a flicker, but Ji-hoon saw it. 

He saw the way Jae-jun's eyes tracked her every movement, like a wolf watching a lamb that had strayed from the flock.

Something primal and protective stirred in Ji-hoon. He didn't know what was going on, but he knew he didn't like this man. He didn't like the way he looked at his girlfriend.

Stepping forward, Ji-hoon closed the distance to Y/N. "Ready to go, honey?" he asked, his voice overly bright. 

Before she could answer, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. It wasn't their usual gentle peck; it was a firm, deliberate kiss, a public declaration. His lips pressed against hers with a clear, unspoken message: She's mine.

Y/N froze, her hands flying to his chest in surprise. A hot wave of embarrassment washed over her. A kiss like this, here, in front of her boss, felt aggressive and out of place. She gently pushed him away, her cheeks burning. "Ji-hoon, not here," she whispered, shooting a panicked, apologetic glance toward Jae-jun.

Jae-jun stood by the counter, his expression unreadable. He offered no reaction, no change in his posture. But his eyes were cold, flat, and dangerous. He had witnessed the challenge, and he had filed it away.

"We should go," Y/N said quickly, grabbing Ji-hoon's hand and pulling him toward the door, desperate to escape suffocating tension of the boutique.

"Goodnight, Mr. Jeon," Ji-hoon called back over his shoulder, a forced cheerfulness in his voice.

Jae-jun gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. As the door chimed shut behind them, he remained standing in the silent, empty store. The friendly facade was gone, replaced by a chilling certainty. The game wasn't just about desire anymore. It was about ownership. And Ji-hoon had just made it a competition.

. . .

[the-candy-man]

[the-candy-man]