MY MAFIA STEPBROTHER 🔞 JEON JUNGKOOK X READER

6

{SMUT WARNING}

I could feel the pressure building inside me, like a storm on the verge of breaking, but it wasn’t just the tension in my body. The heaviness of the house, the suffocating darkness of it all—the people, the atmosphere—clung to me like a shadow I couldn’t escape. The minute I stepped away from that room, frustration gripped me with such force that I almost clawed at my own hair in an effort to release it. What was wrong with me? Why was I losing myself to this madness?

The sky outside mirrored my internal chaos—bleak, endless, and overwhelming. I couldn't shake the feeling that everything around me was closing in, from the people in this house to the very air I breathed. It was all too much. I wasn’t like this, not normally. I didn’t lash out or let my emotions drive me to the brink of despair. Yet, here I was, doing and saying things that I couldn’t even recognize as my own. The anger that boiled inside me wasn’t just for show; it was a response to the deep, unsettling realization that I could, in fact, act out of sheer fury. But why? Was it because deep down, I knew I wasn’t capable of something so dark, so wrong? Maybe it was easier to act out than to confront the truth.

Taehyung had always been cruel, but I had been taught better. My father drilled it into me from a young age: never stoop to their level. "If you're above them," he'd say, "why crouch down and make yourself their step stool?" That wisdom echoed in my mind, but here I was, teetering dangerously close to doing just that.

I barely registered Jungkook walking me to my room. The layout of this house was a mystery to me, and I hated having to depend on him to lead the way, especially when his eyes couldn’t seem to focus on anything other than my backside. I stayed close but never too close, making sure to either trail behind or walk beside him, just to avoid his gaze. It wasn’t until we reached my door that I felt my irritation spike once more.

As I fumbled with the doorknob, his hand caught my wrist. “I feel like this is the part where you kiss me goodbye,” he said, his voice low, almost teasing.

“N-no,” I stammered, hating myself for the way fear crept back into my voice. Where had my confidence gone? It had disappeared as quickly as it had arrived, leaving me vulnerable again. He chuckled, flashing a smile that took me by surprise—white, perfect teeth that somehow made the situation even more unsettling.

I tried to turn away, to escape into my room, but his hand found my waist, pulling me back. "Wait," he began, his voice softer now, almost coaxing.

“How did you get that girl to do exactly what you wanted?” I asked, my thoughts finally catching up with me. “She’s the girl Taehyung cheated on me with, right? Why would you bring her here?”

Jungkook’s eyes darkened, and he sighed. “Her family,” he said simply. “And yes, she is. But I didn’t want one of your worst memories to be of them together. When you think of that moment, I want you to remember her being the one who… well, chopped off his nuts,” he added with a sly smile.

For a moment, I didn’t know whether to laugh or be horrified. In some twisted way, Jungkook was trying to protect me, or at least make me feel like he was. It was bizarre, but strangely thoughtful in a psycho kind of way. It almost made me smile.

I nodded, turning to leave again, but he stepped closer, pinning me against the door with his body. His eyes searched mine before they drifted down to my lips, and before I could stop him, his mouth was on mine.

His lips were soft, moving against mine in a way that was almost hypnotic. For a second, I didn’t resist. The warmth of his kiss spread through me, pulling me deeper into the moment. It wasn’t until his hand squeezed my ass that reality came crashing back. My mouth opened in shock, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue in.

“Kiss me back,” he breathed against my lips.

I shook my head, breaking the kiss. He stopped, his eyes locking onto mine, studying me as if trying to read my every thought. I didn’t have the strength to resist much longer. Nodding to myself, I decided to pretend none of this was happening, that I wasn’t about to give in to the heat building between us.

“I can feel how wet you are through your pants,” he said, his voice dark and knowing. I blushed deeply, unable to look him in the eye. His hand moved down to feel for himself, but I clenched my thighs together, trapping him.

His laugh was low and dangerous. “Relax,” he whispered, prying my legs apart and lifting me onto the bed. I should’ve pushed him away, screamed, done something. But I didn’t. Hormones surged, overpowering any logical thought I had. Before I knew it, I was lying there, legs open, as he peeled my pants off, his eyes fixating on the wet spot that had formed on my underwear.

I gasped as his lips found my skin, his fingers working deftly to undress me. His mouth moved lower, each kiss sending jolts of pleasure through me until his lips finally reached where I wanted them most. The moment his tongue flicked against my clit, I lost all control. My body arched off the bed, and a moan escaped my lips, unbidden.

He was relentless, his tongue expertly driving me to the edge. And then, just as I was about to fall over, he slipped two fingers inside me, stretching me in a way that made me moan even louder. My hips moved on their own, desperate for more, for everything he had to give.

He murmured something in French, but I barely registered it. All I knew was the pleasure coursing through me, pushing me closer to another release. My fingers tangled in his hair as he worked me over, his name falling from my lips like a prayer.

And then it happened again. The intensity of my orgasm left me trembling, gasping for air as he looked up at me, his eyes full of something I couldn’t quite place. Hunger, maybe. Satisfaction. But also something darker, something that made my heart race for entirely different reasons.

“Take your pants off,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. My body ached for him, and I needed more.

With a smirk, he obliged, stripping down in record time. His thick, hard length made my breath catch in my throat, but before I could fully comprehend what was about to happen, I heard it.

“Y/N.”

The sound of my name yanked me out of the haze I’d been lost in. I blinked, realizing I was still in bed, sunlight pouring into the room. It had all been a dream. Or was it? I wasn’t sure anymore.

Jungkook was sitting at the edge of my bed, smirking down at me. “How was your sleep?” he asked, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Or should I say, how was your dream?”

I felt my face heat up, the blush creeping up my neck. “W-what dream? I didn’t dream,” I stammered, looking anywhere but at him. He raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing me.

“Allora perché stavi gemendo il mio nome?” he teased, the Italian rolling off his tongue effortlessly. {Then why were you moaning my name?}

I groaned inwardly. I couldn’t even look at him.

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