The Tyrant's Secret fetish-Chapter 37

Ye jun

Si-woo finally looked at me, eyes flat as ice. "What do you want, Ye-jun? A medal for showing up to dinner?"

I stared back, heart hammering. "Nah. Just wondering why you’re acting like I don’t exist after you spent all night reminding me how much..... Or was that just talk?"

Dad sighed heavy. "Not now. Work talk, family later."

I bit the inside of my cheek till it bled, nodded fake sweet. "Sure. Wouldn’t want to ruin the genius moment." Dinner dragged on forever, them geeking out over fabrics and deadlines, me pushing food around my plate, every laugh they shared feeling like a slap. When mom started clearing I stood up fast. "I’m out. Enjoy your victory lap."

Si-woo didn’t say shit. Didn’t even watch me leave.

Upstairs I paced my room for twenty minutes, muttering "he just used me, fucked me raw, drugged me into begging, then comes home and treats me like air? Like I’m some hookup he’s already forgotten? My own mom didn’t even ask how I was, dad didn’t notice I was dying inside, they’re all so wrapped up in perfect Si-woo and his million-dollar dress that I’m nothing. Fine. If they won’t recognize me, I’ll make them. Starting with him."

I waited till the house quieted, TV off downstairs, mom and dad in their room. Si-woo’s light was still on, door cracked. I knocked once, pushed in. He was at his desk, shirt sleeves rolled, staring at his laptop, sketches everywhere. Didn’t turn.

"Hey," I said, closing the door soft. "You look wrecked. Want a massage? Shoulders are probably knotted from all that genius sketching."

He didn’t look up. "No. Busy."

I stepped closer anyway, voice dropping low. "Come on. You’ve been ignoring me since you walked in. What, last night was fun till it wasn’t? You drug me, fuck me till I’m crying and begging, then pretend I’m invisible at dinner? Real ice-cold devil move, Si-woo. Why’d you do it? Just to prove you could?"

He stood up slowly , chair scraping loud, got right in my face so fast I stepped back into the door. "You want to know why?" His hand shot out, grabbed my wrist, yanked me forward, other hand diving straight down my jeans, palm cupping my dick hard, fingers squeezing through the fabric. "To remind you who you belong to. You think you can sit there talking about your ’other guys’ and ’options’ like I’m not in the room? Flirt with everyone at work, laugh like I don’t matter? Next time you do it openly, one way or another, I’ll remind you again. And it won’t be gentle."

Tears hit fast, hot trails down my cheeks, but I didn’t pull away. I laughed instead, shaky, mean, leaning into his grip even as it hurt. "Belong to you? That’s cute. Real cute, grabbing my cock like it’s a leash. You think that makes me yours? You drugged me, made me your bitch for hours, then ghosted me all day like I was nothing. But look at you now, hard already just from touching me. Pathetic."

His fingers tightened, thumb pressing right where it made my knees buckle. "Keep running your mouth and I’ll fuck the sarcasm out of you right on this desk."

I smirked through the tears, voice cracking but steady. "Go ahead. Try. See how far you get before I flip it and make you beg. I’ve got plans, Si-woo. Big ones. And you’re gonna fall so hard you won’t know what hit you."

He stared at me, eyes dark, something flickering anger, want, maybe the tiniest crack of fear then he let go abruptly, stepped back, wiped his hand on his thigh like I was dirty. "Get out. I’ve got work."

I wiped my face with my sleeve, laughed again, bitter and wet. "Yeah. Work. Always work. Don’t worry, I’ll be around. And next time you won’t be able to push me away so easy."

I turned, walked out slowly , closed his door with a soft click, but the second I hit the hallway the tears really came, I muffled with my hand, sliding down the wall outside his room because my legs gave out. "He grabbed me like that, squeezed me like he owned me, but still won’t look at me like I matter, still treats me like a secret he’s ashamed of, my own family doesn’t see me unless I’m quiet and good, and it hurts so bad I can’t breathe, like my heart’s bruised black and blue inside my chest, and I hate him, I hate him so much but I want him to want me back for real, not this twisted ownership shit." I cried harder, rocking a little, snot running, laughing through it because it was so stupid. "Look at me, sitting outside his door crying because the guy who drug-fucked me might actually care a little, hilarious Ye-jun, real champion, crying over a dick-grab like it’s romance."

But the anger surged back fast, wiping my face rough. "He thinks he can remind me who I belong to? Fine. I’ll remind him who’s really pulling strings now. I’ll be so good, so irresistible, he’ll chase me, beg for me, and when he’s hooked I’ll decide if I let him keep me or if I walk and leave him broken like he left me in that shower." I stood up shaky, went to my room, locked the door, flopped on the bed face-down, tears soaking the pillow but smirking into it. "Game’s just starting, asshole. You used me? I’ll make you need me. Then we’ll see who’s crying."

I grabbed my phone, opened those porn tabs again, watched one more scene where the bottom turns dominant, whispering lines I practiced soft. "You want this dick? Beg for it, daddy." Laughed quiet, tears still falling. "Yeah. That’s the one. Tomorrow I start small, one at a time, brush past him in the kitchen, wear less clothes around the house, drop comments about my ’busy social life.’ Make him jealous. Make him snap. Make him remember I’m not going anywhere unless I choose to."

I fell asleep like that. The next day I’d wake up sore, eyes puffy, but ready. Because he wanted to play ownership? I’d play revenge. And I was gonna win.