Mafia & Nephew
chapter 1
The woman beneath him moaned his name like a prayer.
She arched her back, fingers clawing into the black silk sheets of his bed as the weight of him pressed her deeper into the mattress. The room was dark, lit only by the amber glow of a single bedside lamp that threw shadows across the walls like silent witnesses. Whiskey glasses sat half-empty on the nightstand. Her perfume—something expensive, something she'd chosen carefully for this exact moment—hung thick in the air, mixing with the scent of sweat and sin.
Taehyung didn't moan. He never did.
His jaw was set, his dark eyes half-lidded but focused—not on her face, not on the curve of her body beneath him, but somewhere else. Somewhere far. His hips moved with a rhythm that was mechanical, practiced, the kind of motion that came not from passion but from necessity. Like breathing. Like killing.
She pulled him closer, her painted nails raking down his back, and he let her. He let her think she was touching something real. He let her believe that the man above her—the one with the tattoos crawling up his neck like black veins, the one whose name was whispered in恐惧 { fear } across every district in Seoul—was actually *with* her At this moment.
He was always somewhere else.
Her breathing quickened. Her fingers tightened against his shoulders.
The word fell from his lips like a command, low and absolute, and she obeyed instantly because that was what people did when Kim Taehyung spoke. They obeyed. They silenced themselves. They became nothing.
He finished without a sound. Pulled away. Stood.
The woman—what was her name? tina? Tia ? Something pretty and forgettable—lay on his bed with her chest rising and falling, her lips parted, her eyes hazy with the kind of satisfaction that only came from being wanted by a man who was dangerous. She looked at him like he was a god.
Taehyung looked at her like she was a ghost.
kim teahyung
Stay if you want," he said, reaching for his robe. "Breakfast is at eight. Don't."
Tia
She blinked. "Don't... stay for breakfast?"
kim teahyung
Don't eat my food.
He pulled the silk robe over his shoulders, covering the tattoos that mapped his body like a
kim teahyung
There's a car waiting downstairs. It'll take you wherever you want.
His back was to her when she whispered
He paused at the bedroom door, one hand on the frame. The lamp cast his shadow long and sharp across the floor, stretching like a dark stain.
Tia
This. Bring women here. Use them. Throw them away.
She sat up, the sheet pooling at her waist.
Tia
You don't even look at us.
author
who look when they do night stand $|ut 😂
He turned his head just enough for her to see the edge of his jaw, the corner of his mouth, the cold geometry of a face that had been handsome once—before the world had gotten its hands on it.
kim teahyung
You knew what this was before you walked through that door."
The silence that followed was louder than anything she could have said.
He left the bedroom and walked through the penthouse—his penthouse, the one that sat atop the tallest building in the Rishabh Society industrial district like a crown on a kingdom of rust and machinery. The floor-to-ceiling windows revealed Seoul at 2 AM: a sprawl of neon and shadow, of towers and slums, of millions of people sleeping without knowing that the man in the glass tower above them controlled whether they woke up.
Taehyung poured himself another whiskey. The glass was cold. The liquid was colder.
He drank it in one swallow.
His phone buzzed on the kitchen counter.
He glanced at the screen. The name that flashed across it killed whatever lingering warmth the whiskey had left in his chest.
His brother. His blood. His enemy.
Taehyung stared at the screen for three rings. Four. On the fifth, he picked up.
Jeon Jungkung
Father's study. Now 💢
Jungkung's voice was gravel and grease, the kind of voice that sounded like it was always negotiating, always scheming.
Jeon Jungkung
There's a meeting. The old men want to talk about succession.
kim teahyung
Succession was decided when Father died. ❄️
Jeon Jungkung
Decided by *you*🤬
The venom in Jungkung's tone was unmistakable
Jeon Jungkung
Not by everyone.😡
Taehyung's grip tightened around the phone. He looked out the window—at the city he had bled for, the empire he had built on the bones of his father's legacy—and felt nothing. Or rather, he felt the one thing he always felt when his brother called.
Hung up before Jungkung could respond.
He set the phone down and pressed his palm flat against the cold marble counter. For a moment—just a moment—his reflection in the window looked like someone else. Someone younger. Someone who used to laugh.
Taehyung walked to the closet, pulled on a black suit, and left the penthouse without looking back at the woman still lying in his bed.
The elevator descended forty floors in silence.
When the doors opened, the underground parking lot greeted him with the smell of gasoline and the quiet hum of a black sedan already running. His driver, a man named Park who hadn't smiled in six years, held the door open.
park
The family house, sir?
Taehyung slid into the back seat and let his head fall back against the leather.
kim teahyung
The family house.
The car pulled out into the neon-soaked streets of the industrial district, and Seoul swallowed him whole once again.
chapter 2
The phone vibrated again. A third time.
Taehyung's jaw clenched. He let out a slow breath through his nose, the kind that measured patience he didn't have. His thumb hovered over the screen, and for a moment he considered throwing the device out the window and letting it shatter on the asphalt like everything else that demanded his attention tonight.
But something made him look down.
Not Jungkung's name. Not the flash of some business contact or lieutenant or politician needing a favor.
Two words on the screen, glowing soft and warm against the dark of the car.
Jungkook 🐰** — Those two words changed everything. The name that could crack the armor Kim Taehyung wore like a second skeleton. The one person in this rotting empire who saw past the tattoos, the cold commands, the women and the whiskey. The nephew he'd loved since the boy was small enough to ride on his shoulders through this very district, back when the Rishabh Society was just their father's playground and not a kingdom built on blood.
Taehyung unlocked the phone.
Jeon Jungkook
Uncle… when are we going to meet? I miss you.*
The message sat there, simple and devastating in its sincerity. No agenda. No ulterior motive. No poison coated in blood relation. Just a boy — no, a young man now, twenty-two and away at university in Busan — reaching out to the only person who made him feel like family still meant something.
Taehyung stared at the screen for a long time. The neon outside painted his face in shifting colors — red, blue, violet — like the city itself couldn't decide what mood to cast him in.
His thumb moved before his mind could stop it.
kim teahyung
Come home. I'm heading there now. We'll meet after.
He watched the typing bubble appear almost immediately. Jungkook had always been fast — eager, bright, the kind of person who answered messages like they mattered, like the person on the other end mattered.
Jeon Jungkook
Really?? I was going to surprise you but okay okay I'm booking the train now
Jeon Jungkook
Wait are you okay? It's 2am uncle
kim teahyung
I'm fine. Meeting at the house. Don't worry about me.
Jeon Jungkook
I always worry about you lol 🗯️
Jeon Jungkook
Don't do that thing where you pretend you're not eating properly. I'll check the fridge
A sound escaped Taehyung's throat. Something between a breath and a laugh — quiet, barely there, swallowed by the darkness of the car before it could reach the air. It was the kind of sound that would have shocked anyone who knew him. The lieutenants. The rivals. The women whose names he couldn't remember.
Kim Taehyung didn't laugh.
But Jungkook pulled sounds from him that the rest of the world couldn't even reach.
kim teahyung
Eat your own food. Don't waste your money on the train, I'll send a car.
Jeon Jungkook
No!! I'm taking the train. I like the train. You always send cars for everything, let me do this one thing.
Jeon Jungkook
Learned from the best 😤
Jeon Jungkook
I'll be there by morning. Save me breakfast?
kim teahyung
I'll make the cook prepare something.
Jeon Jungkook
No I mean YOUR breakfast. The one you make. Nobody makes eggs like you uncle
Taehyung locked the phone and pressed it against his chest without thinking. The screen's glow faded, and the darkness of the car returned, but something in the air had shifted. Something lighter. Something that felt dangerously close to warmth.
He looked out the window.
kim teahyung
He'll come through the front door🗯️
He always uses the front door, never the side entrance, because he says the front door is for family and he's family.
He could see it already — Jungkook walking in with that duffel bag he always carried, the worn brown one with the broken zipper he refused to replace. His hair would be different. It was always different. Last time it was long, curling at his neck. Before that, buzzed short, exposing the sharp line of his jaw that made him look older than he was.
He'll see me and his whole face will change.
And it would. Taehyung knew that face better than his own. The way Jungkook's eyes — big, dark, impossibly earnest — would widen first, then crinkle at the corners. The way his mouth would open into that wide, toothy grin that showed his front teeth and made him look like he was still fifteen instead of a grown man. The way he'd cross the room in three strides and—
Taehyung's grip tightened on the phone.
kim teahyung
He'll hug me 🗯️
That was all. That was always all. A hug that lasted two seconds too long. Arms that wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him close with a familiarity no one else in his life dared to attempt. The scent of cheap soap and university laundry detergent and something underneath that was just *Jungkook* — clean and warm and achingly real.
And Taehyung would stand still. He always stood still. Because if he moved — if he held on the way he wanted to, the way something deep and unspeakable inside him demanded — he didn't know what would happen. He didn't know what it would mean. He didn't know if he could survive the answer.
Park's voice broke through the silence like a stone through glass.
Taehyung looked up. The Kim family house rose before them — a sprawling hanok-modern hybrid at the edge of the industrial district, all dark wood and glass and shadows that remembered too much. It had been their father's house. Now it was the seat of an empire, and every room in it smelled like power and decay.
Taehyung stepped out of the car without a word.
The night air hit him cold and sharp. He buttoned his jacket, adjusted his cuffs, and became someone else. Not the man who'd just texted a twenty-two-year-old about breakfast. Not the man who'd almost laughed in the back of a car.
Kim Taehyung. The successor. The one who'd taken their father's throne and kept it through force.
He walked through the front door.
The study was already full
Five men sat around the long oak table — the *old men*, as Jungkung called them, though most were only in their fifties. Advisors, lieutenants, and shareholders in the family's legitimate fronts: shipping, real estate, import-export. Their faces turned toward Taehyung as he entered, and the room's temperature seemed to drop.
Jungkung sat at the opposite end of the table.
He was fifty-two — eighteen years older than Taehyung, though he carried it like a man who'd aged on purpose, using every line and grey hair as evidence of seniority, of *entitlement*. He wore a navy suit that fit too well and a smile that didn't fit at all.
Jeon Jungkung
Little brother
Jeon Jungkung
So kind of you to join us.
Jeon Jungkung
Taehyung didn't sit. He stood at the head of the table, hands in his pockets, and let the silence speak for him. It always did.
We need to discuss the restructuring," said Mr. Cho, the oldest of the advisors, a man with a face like folded paper and hands that never stopped moving. "There are concerns about—
kim teahyung
Concerns from whom?
Jeon Jungkung
Leaned back in his chair. "From me."
Jeon Jungkung
I've been in this family longer than you
Jungkung continued, his voice oiled with false patience.
Jeon Jungkung
I've built relationships with people you don't even know exist. Father's contacts, his networks — they came to me first. Not to you. You were *busy*."
Jeon Jungkung
He gestured vaguely.
Doing whatever it is you do at night.
kim teahyung
Father named me.
Jeon Jungkung
Father was dying and confused.
The words landed like a slap. Two of the advisors looked away. Mr. Cho's hands went still.
Taehyung took one step forward. Just one. But the air in the room shifted as though the pressure had dropped.
kim teahyung
Say that again.
Jeon Jungkung
Jungkung met his eyes. The hatred between them was not new. It had been growing for years — fed by jealousy, by resentment, by the simple unforgivable fact that their father had chosen the younger son. The cold one. The violent one. The one whose hands were stained with things Jungkung couldn't stomach but envied all the same.
Jeon Jungkung
Father was confused. He didn't know what he was doing when he—"
Not the side entrance. Not the back. The *front door*.
The sound echoed through the hallway, and every head in the study turned.
chapter 3
Footsteps — quick, light, familiar — crossed the wooden floor of the entryway. A bag hit the ground. A coat was thrown over the banister.
Taehyung turned from the table completely.
Jungkook stood in the hallway in a white t-shirt and dark jeans, a train ticket still clutched in one hand, his hair pushed back and slightly damp from the rain outside. His cheeks were flushed from the cold. His eyes — those impossible eyes — scanned the room until they found the one face they were looking for.
The one that showed his front teeth. The one that crinkled the corners of his eyes. The one that made him look fifteen and made Taehyung feel like the floor had opened beneath him.
Jungkook crossed the room in three strides — exactly three, the way Taehyung had imagined — and threw his arms around Taehyung's shoulders.
The hug lasted two seconds.
Taehyung stood still. His arms stayed at his sides. His jaw was locked. His chest was burning with something he had no name for and no right to feel.
But Jungkook didn't let go at two seconds.
Jeon Jungkook
I missed you
Jungkook whispered against the collar of Taehyung's jacket
Jeon Jungkook
I missed you so much
The study was silent. The old men stared. Jungkung's face had gone rigid with something that looked like disgust.
Taehyung raised one hand. Slowly. Deliberately. He placed it on the back of Jungkook's head — fingers threading through damp hair — and held him there for one heartbeat. Two.
kim teahyung
You came early
His voice was steady. His eyes were not.
Jeon Jungkook
I took the last train
Jungkook grinned up at him, breathless.
Jeon Jungkook
Told you I'd be fast.
kim teahyung
"Meeting's over."
The words left Taehyung's mouth before anyone in the room could react. He didn't look at Jungkung. He didn't look at the advisors. He looked at Jungkook, and Jungkook looked at him, and the rest of the house could have burned to the ground without either of them noticing
Jeon Jungkung
This meeting is not—
Taehyung's voice dropped to the register that made men stop breathing.
kim teahyung
We'll continue when I decide. Not before.
He walked past the table, past his brother, past the old men and their open mouths, and put his hand on the small of Jungkook's back.
kim teahyung
Have you eaten?
kim teahyung
I'll make something.
Jeon Jungkook
Jungkook's eyes widened. "You're cooking? You never—"
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