"C'mon, a few kisses won't ruin anything."
"That's against the rules, though."
"Rules are meant to be broken."
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
In the midst of your friendship, you realise your insecurities hold you back in more ways than one. A newly heartbroken Jungkook se...
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Jungkook is always a good fuck. A great one. Plenty of women would be grateful to have the opportunity to boast about being under him, bragging at brunch to their friends about faint scratches they would rake onto his back.
He isn't community dick, obviously, but he knows his way around a womans body. Knows how to make her cum. Guys make it harder than it seems, he thinks. Maybe because they don't pay attention, because they care about themselves. It's not exactly hard for him to get laid, either. If anything, it seems like he's shaking girls off of him left right and centre, a magnetic force around his waist attracts these women like lovesick honeybees, and Jungkook? He's the sweetest flower in the whole goddamn garden.
The relationship he has with sex could be sweeter. Considering she who must not be named used sexual intimacy as some sort of ultimatum, you can't really blame him for turning sex into some sort of hook to get people to stay. A tether.
Unsatisfied, he would always feel the same way waking up the next morning to an empty bed, it's nothing but a reminder. No matter how good you make them feel, they always search for better. Like he was the lowest class of drug there is.
The fulfilment he couldn't achieve in fucking until he passed out wasn't because he's bad at it. He's more than good. There's just no special connection there, and that isn't anybodys fault. You can't push polarising magnets towards each other. Sure, there have been plenty of attractive girls that can get him off pretty well, but they're nothing special. He can't put his heart and soul into something he knows wouldn't last.
Making love, to him, was a symphony, now there is no conductor, no beat or melody. He is alone, erratic in his tempo, plucking at the strings of his poor beating violin until his fingers bleed. There is no beautiful harmony, just irregular shrieks of untuned notes.
To him it's dirty, stress relieving of course, but disgusting when he's finished. Because he knows what comes next. Post nut clarity hits harder than you think. The sinking feeling in his stomach that nags at him when he sleeps, telling him that this is all his life will be now. One simple fuck after another. Again, making love and fucking someone are not the same.
So, after his muffled whimpers died down, his hips stuttering at the air once he came to the thought of his best friend, he figured he was absolutely, positively fucked.
It's best to forget about it, he thought. Yeah, that's it. There's no need for a stupid dream to take away anything from a friendship that means more to him than anything else. In his mind, he saw you in a way that he'll never get to see you in reality, and he's more than content with that, because it won't ruin anything. Right?
☆
The morning sun kisses your forehead and boots you out of bed, you stretch, groan, yawn. Hiss at the cold wooden floor that jabs at your toes, you recoil back into the warmth of Jungkooks' duvets as if the floor was, ironically, lava.
