The Tyrant's Secret fetish-Chapter 36

Ye-jun

I spent the whole afternoon locked in my room. My body still hurt in places that felt both bad and good at the same time. Every muscle remembered last night his hands, his weight, the way he moved inside me until I couldn’t think anymore. The cucumber and eggplant were shoved back in the drawer, hidden like dirty secrets. My phone screen had a new crack from how tight I gripped it. I kept replaying the same clips over and over. Gay porn, Thai shows, American shower scenes anything with guys who looked like they knew what they were doing. I watched and talked to myself out loud.

"Slow down there, don’t rush it. Make him feel every inch."

"Hip roll like that yeah, eyes on him the whole time."

"Grip the headboard hard. Don’t let go."

I practiced moans too. At first they sounded fake, like I was acting in a bad movie. But the more I did it, the more real they got. My voice cracked, then turned low and needy. I told myself over and over, "You got this, Ye-jun. Make him chase you. Make him regret acting like you don’t exist."

But every time I closed my eyes, I saw Si-woo’s cold face from dinner last night. That blank stare. No smile. No touch under the table. Nothing. It made me so angry I couldn’t think straight. My chest felt tight, like someone was squeezing it.

I showered two more times. Hot water. Soap everywhere. I wanted to feel clean again, like last night never happened. But it did. And I still wanted more.

After the shower, I picked clothes on purpose. The black shirt he once said made my ass look "edible." Tight jeans that hugged every curve he used to grab my hips in these and groan. I left my hair messy because he liked pulling it when we kissed. I sprayed cologne heavy on my neck and wrists. The smell filled the room. I looked in the mirror. Flushed cheeks. Bright eyes. Ready.

I was going downstairs to make him look at me. Really look.

Around seven-thirty, the front door banged open. Si-woo’s voice came loud through the house right away.

"Dad, I’m home! Agency confirmed we’re in the running for real now!"

His footsteps were heavy. Up the stairs fast, then down again. Straight to the kitchen. Mom was already there, pots clanging. I stood at the top of the stairs, arms crossed, listening.

"You’re the best, seriously," he said to her. "This smells insane."

She laughed. "Anything for my favorite boy."

Favorite boy. Not one word about me. Not "Where’s Ye-jun?" Not even a quick look up the stairs. Nothing.

My stomach twisted. He hated her most days. Said her cooking was too salty or too sweet. Said he hated that her poor ass married his dad. But now he was kissing her ass? Just to impress Dad? So low.

I felt the anger rise fast. Hot. Sharp. Like fire in my throat.

What the fuck? He fucks me senseless all night. Makes me cry out his name. Makes me beg. Makes me swallow every drop like it’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted. Then he comes home and acts like I’m a piece of furniture? Used. Dumped. In less than twenty-four hours? Classy. Real fucking classy.

I took a deep breath. Counted to five. Then I walked down the stairs slowly. Each step felt heavy. I kept my eyes down at first. Counting the steps. One. Two. Three. My heart banged loud in my ears.

I reached the bottom and went straight to the dining table. I sat opposite where Si-woo plopped down next to Dad. He already had his phone out, showing sketches. Excited. Loud.

"Look at this," he said. "The neckline here draping like that. The model’s got insane proportions. Agency says if we nail this design, the contract’s ours. Millions. Every girl at the shoot will want a version. Custom orders pouring in. We secure this and the company is set for years."

Dad leaned over. Nodded hard. "Brilliant, son. The beadwork on the bodice? That’s what’ll sell it. We finalize tonight. Pitch tomorrow. No mistakes."

They kept talking. Designs. Fabrics. Deadlines. Money. Mom brought food kimchi jjigae, rice, grilled fish. She smiled at Si-woo like he hung the moon. He smiled back. Thanked her again. Not once did his eyes flick to me.

I sat there. Silent. Fork in my hand. Food untouched. My black shirt felt too tight now. The cologne suddenly too strong. My jeans squeezed my thighs. I shifted in the chair. Crossed my legs. Uncrossed them. Nothing.

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore.

"So," I said. Voice low. Calm. But sharp. "Big day, huh?"

Si-woo looked up. For the first time since he walked in. His eyes met mine. Just for a second. Then they dropped back to his phone.

"Yeah," he said. Casual. Like we were strangers. "Big day."

Dad kept talking about the pitch. Mom asked Si-woo if he wanted more rice. He said yes. Smiled at her.

I stared at him. Hard. Willing him to look again. To remember. To feel something.

He didn’t.

My hands shook under the table. I gripped the edge of my seat. Anger mixed with something else hurt. Deep hurt. The kind that burns quiet.

Last night he had whispered in my ear. "You’re mine." His fingers in my hair. His mouth on my neck. His body moving with mine until we both broke apart shaking.

Now? Nothing.

I pushed my chair back. Stood up slow.

"I’m not hungry," I said.

Mom looked worried. "Ye-jun, you okay?"

"Fine," I lied.

Si-woo didn’t even glance up.

Mom set plates down, smiling big. "So proud of you, Si-woo. Eat up, you need energy for all this."

I cleared my throat loud, fork tapping my plate. "Hey, congrats on the big project. Sounds huge. Must feel good getting recognized for once."

Si-woo didn’t even glance up from his phone. "Yeah. It is. And what do you mean for once? I’m always recognized bro."

I tried again, voice sharper. "So the dress, what color? Red? Black? Bet it’ll look killer on that model. You always had an eye for that stuff."

Dad answered instead. "They want midnight blue, metallic thread. Si-woo’s got the vision locked. But a design with a better color will still work."

I laughed, short and mean. "Cool. And I’m just sitting here invisible, right? Like last night didn’t happen at all."

Mom frowned. "Ye-jun, what’s with the attitude? Si-woo’s excited, let him talk. The only last night that happened was you getting drunk."