MY MAFIA STEPBROTHER 🔞 JEON JUNGKOOK X READER

10

As soon as we stepped into the mansion, the tension was tangible. My mother’s eyes flickered to my bruised knuckles, widening as she processed the dried blood, while Mr. Jeon raised an amused brow. There was something mischievous in his gaze, a glint of approval almost, as he looked back and forth between Jungkook and me. I gave a tight smile, feigning innocence.

“Best day ever,” I said dryly, which earned a soft chuckle from Mr. Jeon.

He turned to Jungkook, his expression hardening. “It was supposed to be controlled. You were there to ensure discretion, but instead, you’ve brought us more attention.” His voice was calm, measured, but the weight of his disappointment hit like a tidal wave.

Jungkook didn’t flinch. Instead, he stepped closer to his father, his voice a low growl. “I was there to protect her, not your name,” he shot back, his eyes darkening. “Remember who you’re talking to, ricorda, ti possiedo. Provaci ancora.” His Italian words rolled off his tongue, cold and biting, his gaze steady.

[Translation: remember, I own you. Try again.]

A silent stare-off ensued, tension coiling in the air. Finally, Mr. Jeon’s rigid posture softened, and he looked at me with a smirk. “Judging by the state of your hand and the lack of bruises on your face, I’m guessing you won?” he asked, a grin teasing at his lips.

Relief flooded over me as I nodded, unclenching my fists to reveal the angry, raw knuckles. The pain throbbed dully, but I wore it proudly. “Yeah, I guess my anger got the best of me.”

Mr. Jeon’s gaze lingered on my knuckles for a moment, then he took a step forward, offering to tend to my hand. Just as he reached for it, Jungkook stepped in, his grip firm around my waist. “I’ll handle it,” he said, the authority in his voice unyielding.

But Mr. Jeon didn’t back down, and after a moment, Jungkook released me with a reluctant glare. Following Mr. Jeon to the nearest room, I found myself seated while he gathered supplies, his hands surprisingly gentle as he uncurled my hand.

“What happened, davvero?” he asked softly, using the Italian word for “really” as he began to wipe away the blood. His touch was gentle, yet there was an odd thrill to his calm probing.

“It was… girl problems,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t pry further.

A faint smirk appeared on his face as he continued. “Girl problems, huh? Must have been some ‘problems’—this looks like you tried to punch through concrete,” he teased lightly, cleaning the wound with a tenderness that felt strangely fatherly. For the first time in a while, I felt a bit of comfort in that.

“She said things about my dad. And my ex.” I hesitated, glancing away. “Things that cut deep, things I didn’t realize might hurt so much until I heard them.”

Mr. Jeon studied my face, his expression softening. “Do you believe what she said?”

“No,” I said immediately, then paused. “I mean… there are moments when the loneliness is deafening, like maybe what she said held a shred of truth. My dad didn’t choose to leave me, but Taehyung did. It… It hurts to think I was left, even if I know better.”

Mr. Jeon’s eyes were sympathetic as he began wrapping my knuckles. “You’re not alone, Y/N,” he said, his voice surprisingly warm. “In our world, loyalty and family come above all else. You have people here who would never leave you.”

It was reassuring, yet I couldn’t shake the sense of caution I felt around them all. The Jeons had a way about them that was intoxicating yet dark, a blend of loyalty and mystery I couldn’t quite decipher.

“Then why wait until now to say that?” I asked, meeting his gaze.

He smiled faintly, focusing on the gauze. “You needed to grow a bit. Some things you only learn through experience.”

Once he’d finished, Mr. Jeon stood and patted my hand, and I managed a grateful smile. “I enjoyed our talk, Y/N. Now let’s get you back to Jungkook before he loses his patience.” His smirk suggested he knew more than he let on, which didn’t surprise me—Mr. Jeon always did seem a step ahead of everyone.

As we stepped out, Jungkook was waiting right outside the door, grabbing my arm with a possessiveness that made me suppress a grin. He barely spared his father a glance as he led me upstairs.

The second we reached my room, he turned to me, his face tense. “Are you okay?” he asked, his gaze scanning over me as if checking for any additional bruises.

“I’m fine,” I assured him, though the weight of the day was settling heavily on my shoulders. Jungkook’s expression didn’t ease, his jaw tight as he took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, Bunny,” he murmured. “I shouldn’t have let things get this far.” He stepped closer, his hand cupping my cheek with such tenderness that it stole my breath. “I let you get hurt.”

“It’s not your fault, Jungkook.” I placed my hand over his, trying to reassure him. “There were a hundred other ways I could have dealt with it.”

A smirk curled at the corner of his mouth. “True, but è stato davvero sexy,” he murmured, his voice dropping to that deep, teasing tone he knew made my knees weak. [Translation: it was very sexy.]

My heart skipped a beat as he stepped closer, the space between us disappearing. His thumb traced gently along my jawline, sending a thrilling shiver down my spine. “Can I kiss you?” he whispered, his breath brushing over my lips.

Nodding slowly, I closed my eyes as his lips met mine in a soft, searing kiss that seemed to drown out the rest of the world. He deepened it, pulling me closer, his hands firm against my back as he took control, guiding me toward the bed. His touch was slow, deliberate, as he trailed kisses along my neck, leaving a path of warmth in his wake.

Just as his hands reached the edge of my skirt, he pulled back, smirking. “You know,” he said, his voice laced with amusement, “I don’t usually reward girls who start fights.”

“Oh, really?” I arched a brow, my fingers tangling in his hair as I pressed him back down, enjoying the surprise in his eyes. “Then let me remind you who you’re dealing with.”

Taking charge, I pulled him closer, and this time, there was no holding back.

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