" The healer has the bloodiest hands."
Pairing- Mute (fem) reader x father's right hand man Jeon.
Genre: Dark romance, Mafia au (one shot)
Warnings: Arranged Marriage, Mutism, moments of trauma, Dominant Male Lead, Protector Dynamic, Violence, morally grey ml x soft fl, Intense, smut , explicit content, virgin reader, hair pulling, rough sex, manhandling, choking, possesive , nsfw content , explicit language, Underworld Setting, mentions of death.
Synopsis: After a near fatal attack inside her own home,Y/n who's mute since childhood and the only daughter of a powerful underworld figure is given to one man no one dares to cross: Jeon Jungkook, her father’s feared right hand. Desperate to protect what matters most, her father sacrifices her freedom for safety binding her fate to a man more dangerous than the enemies lurking in the shadows.
The chandelier above the marble foyer dripped with crystals. Blood stained the edges of the staircase streaking through the house. The guards were already covering the windows, dragging corpses in black masks out into the night. Her father’s enemies had breached the mansion.
She sat curled in the corner of the hallway, her gown torn at the shoulder, eyes wide with wordless trauma. The knife they’d held to her throat had left a warning stroke. Her trembling hand tried to hide it with her hair. But her mutism left her defenseless. Not a sound had escaped her as they broke through the back entrance and dragged her by her hair across the floor.
“Enough” her father growled, voice like broken gravel, soaked in fury. His custom Italian shoes crunched over the glass as he walked past the dead men without blinking.
“Call him” her father barked at his men . “I want Jeon here tonight. Now.”
The mansion gates rattled as a blacked out Mercedes Maybach G Class tore down the drive like it didn’t belong to the world outside. It didn’t slow for the turn.
The guards stepped aside the second they saw the license plate.
The door swung open before the engine even died.
Jeon Jungkook stepped out.
The guards nodded with respect or fear. Likely both.
Jeon had arrived. Towering. His gaze swept the the room, unfazed.
Inside the hallway, his jaw clenched as he took in the blood smeared on her skin, the tear down her dress. His fingers flexed at his side like he was fighting the urge to draw his gun again and again.
He moved with purpose, unbothered by the corpses around him.
Her father, standing near her, stepped forward.
Jeon didn’t acknowledge him.
One hand on his knee, the other pulling off his black coat with a single motion and simply draped it over her shoulders. He adjusted it covering the torn part of her dress, his knuckles brushing the side of her throat. And for a moment just one his fingers gently touched the corner of her eye, brushing away a strand of hair clinging to her cheek.
Jeon stood. Wrath boiling just beneath the surface.
He didn’t speak to her, not yet. His attention turned back to her father.
“I want them all dead” her father spat, pacing. He walked over to his desk, slammed his fist on it, then turned toward Jeon. “Their children, wives, mistresses I don’t care. Burn their money.” Her father stormed into the main room, hand shaking in fury. His voice echoed off the marble walls.
“My daughter. My only blood. You understand what that means Jeon? She can’t scream. My daughter doesn’t speak. She hasn’t since she was five. And those bastards knew it" he growled, voice rough.
“They got through” her father snapped, his voice strained. “They knew when the security was weakest. They timed it for when you were gone.”
He threw a glass against the wall shattering it.
“ If they’d dragged her out of here tonight, if they’d taken her I would’ve never heard a sound. She’d be gone without a trace!” Her father's voice cracked just slightly.
“Whoever did this,” he said calmly, voice low and razo sharp, “won’t see the end of this week.”
Her nails dug into the floor.
“I said marry her. Tonight, tomorrow I don’t care. I want your name on her. I'm not asking. You owe me this Jeon. Chain her to the one thing no enemy will dare touch.”
Y/N stood, suddenly. Her legs buckled. Jeon caught her instinctively, one arm locking around her waist.
“Careful” Jeon said, voice sharp and low as he caught her.
One word quiet but commanding. Protective. Possessive.
“She doesn’t get a say?” Jeon asked, quietly.
“She doesn’t need to. She knows.” Her father replies, emotionless.
Because if Jeon claimed her the world would think twice before trying to claim her too.
Jeon’s jaw ticked. He looked down at Y/N. Her eyes met his, glassy and panic stricken.
The smallest nod. Then he looked up again.
“I’ll take her.” he said, voice a weapon.
And her entire world turned black.
Jeon caught her without hesitation.
Her father stepped forward but Jeon’s glare stopped him cold. “Don’t” Jeon said, his voice like cold steel. “She’s had enough for today.”
He gently shifted her into his arms, bridal style. Her lashes fluttered faintly.
“She’s not strong enough for this” Jeon muttered under his breath, but no one missed the edge in his tone. He wasn’t angry at her
“She will be” her father said from behind, eyes locked on Jeon. “Make her strong. I know only you can protect her with your life.”
She awoke to unfamiliar silence.
Not the echo of her room. This silence was warm. Deep. Covered by expensive walls and dim lights. And the scent..masculine. Clean and Spiced leather.
She blinked slowly, eyes adjusting to the low light.
Soft sheets beneath her. A velvet headboard behind her. She wasn’t in her bed.
And the coat was still on her. Draped gently over her like a blanket.
Her fingers clutched the fabric instinctively.
Her eyes turned and she froze.
Jeon was standing near the tall glass windows, back to her, hands in his pockets. His sleeves were rolled up, showing his tattooed arm. His black shirt clung to his frame like a second skin.
He turned his head slightly just enough to show her he knew she was awake.
“I had your clothes and other things brought” he said quietly. “They’ll be here soon.”
She sat up slowly, groggy. Her mouth opened, but no words came. Just silence.
“I know” he murmured, approaching her. “You don’t have to try.”
She looked at him, eyes still unfocused.
He added, slower now. “We’re getting married. Tomorrow.” Jeon leaned down slightly, just enough to meet her eyes where she sat, still clutching his coat.
“I don’t expect you to like it” he said. "I’m a complicated man. Soft isn’t in my nature. But I’ll keep you alive whether you like it or not."
Then he reached for the coat on her shoulders just to fix it where it had slipped and for a second, his fingers brushed her bare collarbone.
His touch was warm. Gentle.
Too gentle for the man he was. Just long enough to make her breath catch.
Then he stood back, stone faced again. Controlled.
And with that, he left her alone with his scent, and a future that belonged entirely to him.
The wedding wasn’t held in a church. It wasn’t held in any grand hall or estate garden.
It was conducted in the study of Jeon’s private estate deep within stone walls behind biometric locks and guarded by men who’d kill before they questioned.
A single table sat in the center of the room. Two chairs. A stack of marriage documents. Two pens.
Y/N stood in a white dress that wasn’t chosen by her but fit her too perfectly to be coincidence. Simple. Elegant. Long sleeved. High neck. Lace at the cuffs. A delicate veil draped over her face, shielding her expressions from the world but not from Jeon.
He stood across from her.
Black shirt. Collar unbuttoned, sleeves rolled halfway.
There were no vows. No priest.
Only a government official who had the good sense to keep his mouth shut and sign the documents quickly. He glanced nervously at Y/N before pushing the papers toward her with a pen
Jeon watched her. Not impatient just still. Like a wolf watching its chosen mate.
Her name sealed her fate. Then Jeon stepped forward and signed with a single movement firm and confident.
The official stood, grabbed the documents and exited the room without a word.
The door shut behind him. They were alone.
Bound by paper and blood.
Y/N stood motionless, staring down at her hands. She didn’t hear Jeon move. But she felt him. He stopped just inches from her.
Then slowly without hesitation he reached up and lifted the veil from her face. His eyes drank her in. No hunger.
Just possession. Quiet, deep possession.
His fingers lingered on the edge of the veil before lowering it behind her shoulders.
“You’re my wife now” he murmured. “And that means something.”
Y/N's lips parted slightly, eyes wide. Her breath hitched.
Jeon reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black velvet box. The motion was smooth, practiced like he’d thought about this already. He opened it.
Inside was a diamond unlike anything she’d ever seen. Oval cut. Set in a band of platinum. Crystal clear with an icy blue fire trapped inside it rare, cold and exquisite. A stone that whispered of danger, power and obsession. It mirrored his nature.
Jeon took her left hand in his, eyes not leaving hers as he slid the ring onto her finger.
“This isn’t for show ” he said lowly. “It’s not for love either.” He leaned in, breath brushing against her skin.
“It’s for my claim on you."
Her chest rose too fast, her lips parting but no sound came.
His thumb brushed under her eye, slow, grounding. And then, without warning Jeon leaned in. And kissed her forehead.
His voice was low and unyielding
Y/N didn’t move at first but when his hand extended toward her, open and waiting something inside her stirred.
Obedience. She placed her hand in his.
His fingers wrapped around hers like steel.
He led her out of the study without another word.
The hallway was dim, the lights low and warm against the hard lines of the estate. The only sound was the subtle click of her heels against the marble floor each step echoing louder than it should have.
Too loud. Too sharp. Then she stumbled just slightly.
Her steps were uneven. The heels were too tall, and her ankles hurting beneath her.
He didn’t say a word. Just stopped. Turned to her. And without warning, scooped her into his arms. She gasped silently, clutching at his shoulder as he carried her down the corridor like she weighed nothing.
“You shouldn’t be walking in these” he muttered, glancing down at the heels with a flick of annoyance in his expression.
She looked away, heat blooming in her cheeks.
But he kept walking. Strong, steady, with every step deliberate. He didn’t put her down until they reached the master bedroom. The door swung open at his touch.
Luxury greeted her in silence dark walls, silk sheets and blackout curtains drawn tight. It was beautiful. Cold. Intimate. When they entered the bedroom, he didn’t put her down immediately.
He set her down gently on the edge of the bed, kneeling in front of her as if it were nothing.
Then his hands reached for her ankles. She flinched slightly. But he didn’t stop.
One by one, he unclasped the straps of her heels with a precision that didn’t match the rough strength of his build. When he slid the first heel off his thumb brushed the bone of her ankle. He held her foot in his palm and pressed his thumb just above the heel. Just enough to send a wave of warmth spiraling up her leg.
He moved to the other ankle. Did the same.
The silence between them was deafening.
Y/N sat on the edge of the massive bed, barefoot now, her ankles still tingling from where Jeon’s fingers had worked away the pain. Her dress was pristine still fitted, still proper but she felt anything but proper.
Jeon stood across the room, his back to her for a moment, as he removed his watch, unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled his sleeves up revealing his tattoes slowly with the precision of a man preparing for something inevitable.
When he finally turned, his dark eyes locked on hers. He walked toward her slow, measured, his shadow stretching across the bed before his body did. Her breath caught, her fingers curling into the sheets.
He stopped in front of her.
“You’ve never done this” he said quietly. It wasn’t a question. His voice was low, dark and heavy.
She looked up at him, lips parting. But her nod was small, hesitant and real.
Jeon’s jaw clenched. He knelt in front of her again just like before but this time, his fingers didn’t reach for her heels.
They reached for the hem of her dress.
“Look at me” he ordered. She did. He dragged the fabric up slowly, baring her knees, then her thighs, his eyes following every inch as it was revealed.
“I don’t do gentle” he said, his voice firmer now. “And I take rough. Because that’s who I am.”
Y/N’s heart slammed in her chest.
He leaned in closer, lips ghosting near her ear. “But I’ll only take what you give.” And then he waited. She could’ve pulled away. Shaken her head. Instead, she reached for his shoulder. Just barely. Fingertips brushing over the black fabric of his shirt. A whisper of touch.
He stood again, this time pulling her to her feet. And with a single tug he unzipped the back of her dress. It slid off her body pooling around her ankles. He looked at her like she wasn’t just his wife now she was his territory.
He brought his hands to her waist, rough palms moving over her bare skin as he turned her slowly making her face the mirror above the dresser.
“Look at yourself” he whispered, voice like gravel. “Look at what belongs to me now.”
And in the reflection, she saw him behind her..his chest broad, his hands large on her hips, his mouth brushing the nape of her neck as he kissed it, hard.
His lips moved lower. And then she was on the bed. Flat on her back.
And Jeon’s mouth was on her inner thigh, kissing high.. too high. His tongue teased the edge of her lace and she gasped.
The lace was torn away. Not removed. Torn.
His eyes darkened. He stripped his shirt. Then his belt. Then everything else.
She saw the full weight of him and her breath faltered. But his hand gripped her thigh pushing it open again. “I’ll make it hurt” he said darkly “but only so you remember it was me.”
And then he was inside her. Her eyes watered. Her fingers dug into his forearms. He cursed softly under his breath. “Fuck” he growled, hips still. “You’re so tight, it’s fucking driving me insane.” He held still, letting her adjust, breathing hard against her skin.
When her fingers relaxed when her body stopped resisting he began to move. Slow at first. Then brutal. Rough. Possessive.
His hand gripped her throat not to choke but to hold her still as he fucked her over and over again. Her nails clawed his back and though she made no sound, her body screamed for him in every trembling movement.
And Jeon listened. He heard her in her silence.
He lay beside her, breathing hard, pulling her into his chest without asking. His hand slid into her hair, gripping the strands gently, anchoring her. And for a long, heavy moment, the room was still until he reached for a glass of water on the nightstand and held it to her lips.
He pulled the blanket over her body then slid beside her again gathering her into his chest. His hand stroked the back of her head in slow, hypnotic movements, guiding her into sleep.
And she did sleep. Eventually. Her breathing evened out. Her fingers loosened their grip on his shirt.
And only when he was sure absolutely sure that she was asleep, did he move.
Jeon rose from the bed and walked toward the balcony, pushing the glass door open just enough to let the cold night air kiss his skin.
He lit a cigarette. Leaned against the marble pillar. And stared out into the darkness beyond the estate.
Eyes narrowed. Mind racing. One arm crossed over his chest, the cigarette burning between his fingers.
She was his now. And no one was going to touch what was his.
Jeon turned back to glance at her but only the diamond on her finger catching the dim light. Only the proof that she belonged to him now in every way that mattered.
The first breath of night air had barely touched Jeon’s skin when the sharp crack shattered the stillness.
The balcony glass exploded inward shards like frozen daggers scattering across the marble floor, glittering in the dim light.
Jeon’s cigarette dropped from between his fingers. His eyes snapped , danger flaring in them like a storm igniting.
Y/N’s eyes flew open. Her body jerked awake, heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped animal. The sound of breaking glass had ripped her from sleep.
Her breath hitched, her silent panic blooming in the darkness. Before she could fully process, Jeon was there fast as a shadow, stronger than any storm.
He slammed the door behind him locking it with a fierce click.
“Stay close!” he barked, voice low and unforgiving.
His hand was iron around her wrist, pulling her toward a narrow hallway.
They moved quickly with no words exchanged but only the sound of their footsteps striking stone floors and the faint echo of their own breaths.
Jeon’s grip tightened when she stumbled on her bare feet.
“I told you to be careful!” he hissed. But his voice was more warning than anger. He led her down a concealed staircase.
The walls closed in thick steel, reinforced doors, blinking panels of high tech security.
The kind of place no one knew about but him.
He locked the door behind her, palm pressed to the scanner until the seal hissed shut.
“You don’t open this for anyone but me” he ordered, stepping toward her. His voice was low but it vibrated with something feral.
She nodded shakily. His hand came up, touching her cheek before leaving.
And the door sealed shut behind him.
Jeon’s world went silent as soon as he stepped back into the night. No hesitation. No mercy. His world narrowed into one burning point: find the man , the man who dared to shoot at what Jeon claimed as his.
Jeon followed the faint trail of heat signatures and scattered footprints beyond his mansion's perimeter and he found the man. Waiting. Armed.
Jeon was Merciless. Predator and executioner.
Within minutes he cornered the shooter in an abandoned warehouse. The man's face pale with regret too late to matter.
With one brutal sweep he disarmed the man's fingers snapping the gun clean from his grip. Jeon’s fists crashed into the man's ribs, jaw, throat each hit a silent sentence.
The man gasped for air, eyes swimming with panic.
Blood soaked Jeon's knuckles by the time the body hit the ground, unrecognizable.
Because she could’ve died. And he would’ve burned the world if she had.
She sat curled on the edge of a chair in the secure room.
The silence gnawed at her. Her legs wouldn’t stop shaking.
The sound of that glass missing her by inches still echoed inside her skull.
And then the door hissed. Unlocked.
She looked up and froze. Jeon stepped inside.
His shirt was soaked in blood. Blood stained his neck, clung to his jaw. His eyes still wild still dangerous swept the room and landed on her.
She didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate. She ran. Straight into him.
Her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, burying her face into his chest despite the scent of blood, sweat and mental
His arms crushed around her in an instant.
Her breathing trembled against him. Her hands clutched his back like she didn’t care what he’d done only that he’d come back.
“Shh” he muttered, his voice still rough with rage. “It’s over baby”.
And then he pulled back just enough to see her face. There was a streak of dried blood across her cheek. With the back of his hand, Jeon wiped it off. Slowly. Carefully. The same hand he had used to kill just minutes ago.
Jeon’s breath was still ragged. The silence of safety hadn’t touched him yet not fully.
He needed something stronger to calm him.
He needed her. His fingers gripped the back of his shirt yanking it over his head in one swift motion. The blood slicked fabric landed on the floor as he stood before her, bare chested, muscles twitching with leftover fury.
Y/N looked up at him seyes glassy with exhaustion and something else she couldn’t name.
She barely stood when his hands came to her waist.
He moved toward her slow, dangerous and turned her around with one sharp pull. Then he grabbed the back of her night gown and ripped it open.
He didn’t unbutton anything. He ruined it fist clenched in the lace as he yanked it down her arms and let it crumple around her bare feet.
His palm slid up the curve of her spine. She shivered. Her knees buckled. He caught her again. Effortlessly.
Jeon spun her and slammed her back into the wall caging her in with his body, one hand gripping her throat just holding her still while the other dragged her panties aside.
“Tired?” he rasped darkly, mouth brushing her ear.
“Good. I'm gonna do all the work.”
Her head rolled back. Couldn’t even nod. But she didn’t resist. And that was enough.
Jeon groaned low and feral and then slammed into her with a single brutal thrust.
She cried out but her entire body jerked in response, legs instinctively trying to close but his grip kept her spread open .
One hand under her thigh. One hand fisting her hair.
Bounced her on his cock like a machine rough, fast, punishing.
His hips snapped against hers, every thrust shoving her harder against the wall, her back scraping the stone but she couldn’t even feel the pain. Only him.
“Look at me!” he growled, yanking her face up with a grip on her jaw. “Fucking look at me while I remind you who owns this body"
Her wide eyes met his glassy, desperate, barely coherent. But he saw everything in them.
The trust. The surrender.
She was completely gone. And that drove him mad. His lips crashed into hers but not gentle, not tender. Just brutal, teeth and tongue devouring her mouth as he fucked her harder , deeper and raw.
She gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders, her thighs squeezing around him.
She didn’t need words. He knew. He felt it.
Her body clamped down around him.
“Fuck” Jeon groaned, head dropping to her shoulder. He slammed in one final time raw and deep.
He stayed like that for a moment. Still inside her. Still holding her against the wall like a shield.
Then he pulled back carefully watching her eyes dazed, lips parted, hair wild against the wall behind her.
He kissed her. Once. Just her cheek. Then he lifted her up again cradling her after all that brutality.
He dressed her in one of his shirts and carried her back upstairs. Back to their bedroom.
Glass shards had been cleared. Fresh sheets replaced. Guards outside.
He pushed the door open with his shoulder and stepped inside, laying her down on the bed slowly. Then he climbed in behind her. One arm wrapped around her waist one hand tangled in hers.
She laid her head on his shoulder, her eyes fluttering closed.
Her hands didn’t cling. They simply rested.
As if her soul finally knew it didn’t have to run.
[ Hi guys! It’s been a while I know. I’ve been incredibly busy these past few months, life is hectic.]
