the broken ones (m) | preview
muses: corporate heir!jungkook.
ceo!yoongi. ceo startup!reader.
genre: fluff, angst, smut.
Warning: “Darling, I love the broken ones.”
There was nothing more you hate than having to stand two straight hours in a 6 inch heels, holding a glass of Chateu Margaux that you’ll never finish, drowning in the slow rhythm no one danced to whilst trying to retain the smallest crumb of self-control as to not make a beeline for the inviting double doors where the valets await to return your Audi in front of the doorsteps. But ah, you’d arrived here with Jungkook as he’d hinted a few times too many that you came together. Just to feed the press something to chew on for next few days.
Your eyes wandered through the dress adored figures and suited bodies in search for said boy who you found in less than a heartbeat. When you’re the corporate heir of J&J Group, there’s nothing that can hide your from the spotlight of swooning heiress and a couple lonely corporate wives. And if it wasn’t the forming crowd of the female species that drew you, it would be the uncontained giggle of drunken lovers with painted features in hopes to attract the eye of the gala.
Lovers. Jungkook had a lot of those, far too many than both fingers combined and no further than a phone call away. They’d come running without him having to say the words of courting nor profess his undying love with flowers in their doorsteps.
Love. It was another thing that the young heir was full of too. There was never a spot too small or unfitting in his heart. If the opposite sex needed it, then he would, without a moment’s hesitation, gather her in his arms and show her what it meant to be treated as the queen she is. He would cherish her, worship her, kiss every inch over her skin and whisper her perfection. But it would only be for tonight. As Jeon Jungkook had many lovers and he loved them all.
“But baby, you’re my favorite.” He would murmur against the sensitive flesh of your neck, arms banded around your waist as he trailed butterflies down your shoulders. He never failed to tell you each night you spent together in his king bed, glistening with sweat and lust and greed and love.