#motor wp

[prcg]

Matt Mullenweg habla sobre los problemas financieros y de personal de Automattic en TechCrunch Disrupt

El cocreador de WordPress y director ejecutivo de Automattic, Matt Mullenweg, habló sobre su lucha con WP Engine, los problemas de personal de Automattic y las finanzas de la compañía en TechCrunch Disrupt el miércoles. Mullenweg repitió muchas cosas del mes pasado sobre la lucha por la marca registrada, WP Engine no contribuye a la comunidad y engañó a los clientes haciéndoles creer que estaba…

[saraw4ters]

[alphabetboyluvr]

throttle - jjk | five

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven

warnings - jk and yoongi showdown (by showdown i mean they just glare at each other a bit), THE BUSAN CHRONICLES BEGIN!!! anyone who has read throttle know how important busan is for these babies he he, depictions of sex that aren't smut (i'd argue?), hair pulling, she's on top, existential crisis thoughts during it all, unprotected sex, creampie, HELLO KIM TAEHYUNG, he's a sleaze, ANGST, cc watches jk wank himself off <3, a lil mutual masturbation moment, cute kisses <33, cums on her tummy <3, character insight! backstory! ugh! i love the busan chapters! i'll upload the rest of the busan chapters now too

word count - 18.5k

minors dni // posted to wp late 2021 // series masterlist

Jungkook has a face straight from a nineties rom-com. Boyish charm, eyes that linger; teeth that nibble on thin lips, and a smile that breaks like sun through a thunderous sky.

You're convinced that if he actually was a movie star, you'd watch every single film he was in - twice, at the very minimum. Maybe one would even become your comfort movie, for the days when real people felt like too much to handle; solace through the silver screen. 

His nose slopes and points so delicately at its tip, that you always find yourself staring; marvelling. Wondering how an angle so simple could have you at such a loss for words. Eyes are wide and dark, they're like a vat of melted down dark chocolate, slowly hypnotising you with every stir of the rich delicacy. 

It's when he smiles, though, that you really find yourself lost in everything he is. It's radiant, the way those plunging, round eyes of his crease at the sides, a deep line forming beneath them. His brows raise, and the dewy skin on his cheeks begins to tighten as they apple, and then his teeth - pristine, you think, ignoring any imperfection - are on show. You're home. 

Home in his laugh, in his happiness, in the way that he always seems to be like this around you. Home in how he always finds an excuse to be touching you in some capacity, home in the sanctuary of unspoken words, and home in the hopes that maybe one day, he'll be brave enough to say them.

Hope is a funny thing, though.  So much to gain and yet so much to lose - but if you never really had it, can it be considered a loss at all?

You're musing about this when Yoongi comes in through the side door, palms slick with motor oil, a few streaks staining his face and his shirt from where he's been a little bit careless. He cocks a brow, and throws you a cautious, coy smile. 

"What are you doing here?" He angles his body away from you, almost as if he suspects you're about to throw something at him. His tone is slow, reserved, a little bit accusatory, if you do say so.

"My job?" You question - but you know exactly why he's asking such a thing. 

You're always getting Jieun to cover you these days. He thinks you've barely worked enough shifts to cover the rent this month - and he's right.

He just doesn't realise that you have money sitting in the bank from stocks and bonds that had been purchased in your name when you were just a few months old. Rich people shit. Shit you wished you didn't understand, but were thankful for nonetheless. You may not be on good terms with your family, but you're not ignorant of the fortune you've had as a result of their choices. Having the ability to run from them is a privilege in itself.

"You still remember how to do it?" He teases. "Don't forget to offer the customers a receipt, and make sure you always pull up the right pump tab. Don't wanna be charging a soccer mom for some asshole's jeep tank."

"I remember, Yoongs," you say with a roll of your eyes and a narrowly hidden smile. He likes this smile of yours; the one you don't want to give but can't help but deliver regardless. "Thanks for the crash course, though." You thread your fingers together and stretch them in front of you. The way they click together has Yoongi looking at you like you've just shagged his dad. "Sure you don't wanna work my shifts all the time?"

"I'm sure," he nods. "Not a chance in hell I'm covering for you again."

And then there's that look on your face; the one he can never resist indulging in. 

"Don't you dare," he says.

But you've always been up for a challenge.

"Yoooongs," you sing, voice high and sweet, like a hit of coke up his nose and down to the back of his throat, washed clean with Ribena. He knows what's coming, and he knows he won't like it - but he does like the way you bat your lashes for him. "Watcha doing this weekend?"

There's a resistance, but the invisible string that tugs on his lips is stronger than he cares to admit. He smiles, and you know he's where he's always been; wrapped right around your little finger.

"Why?" he deadpans, not hiding his infatuation well. "You asking me out?"

He laughs as if it's not what he wants more than almost anything in the world; as if he doesn't know it's the last thing in the world you'll be asking.

You laugh too, but it's to cover the guilt that weighs down on you. You thought he'd be over it by now.

"Not exactly."

"You should really start dating someone who respects your work schedule," Yoongi jokes, but it's kinda totally not a joke. He doesn't say it, but he'd always respect your work schedule. Would never ask you to make compromises for him; would never ask you to prioritise him.

But Jungkook doesn't do that, either. It's your choice.

"I'm not dating anyone," you say. It's childish because even though you aren't technically dating Jungkook, you're not exactly not dating him either. The 'what are we' talk hasn't happened yet. You're not ready for it. He won't ever be ready for it. You don't know this though, so you just think you're at the same stage, which is a whole lot more comforting. Think that things will progress naturally. Fall into place when they need to.

"But you're about to ask me to cover for you so you can go on a date, no?"

"...No?"

I mean, you're not. 

You're not going on a date with Jungkook. You're going to his childhood town. So you're telling the truth - no dates involved.

But fuck, he'd held your hand as you stood beneath his shower together, telling you all about how he was going to take you to his favourite places, and you'd giggled when he told you that he'd force you to go swimming in the ocean with him, even if it was below zero.

You'd told him that it was fine, that you love winter beaches, and then you'd challenged him to a race from sand to shoreline. He'd agreed, of course, and then your laughter had dissolved into the pitter-patter of his shower, the warm water running over your body like a poor imitation of his hands, which were preoccupied elsewhere.

So no, you're not going on a date.

You're not dating Jungkook, full stop.

But you are existing together. Most nights these days. He works a night shift here and there, and sometimes you just need a little alone time - but more often than not, you'll head to his after work and wait until he finishes whatever he's working on. Your toothbrush has moved from the bathroom cabinet to the pot by the sink. 

Your presence is undeniable, even if you are in denial.

Feels like you're lying to everyone, including yourself. 

Especially yourself, actually.

Yoongi's back stiffens, his soft gaze that once was on you hardening as he glances out towards the forecourt. He nods curtly to his line of vision, and you know. He doesn't have to say anything because you can read Yoongi like a book.

His eyes look green in this light.

Beneath his breath, he mutters, "Speak of the devil."

And what a devil he is; dressed down in a pair of dark jeans with a black raincoat pulled over his head. You're down so bad that you're enamoured with the fact he's dressed for the weather, as if he's not a fully grown man very much capable of making such choices. 

You think it's cute, and imagine him looking out the window as he was getting ready, heading back to his wardrobe for the anorak upon seeing the rain.

By the time you turn back around to tell Yoongi to fuck off, he's gone; snuck out the back to finish whatever work he was doing. He's not interested in watching you play happy families with some fucker he knows isn't worth your time. Jungkook could have been a brain surgeon, a charity worker, a fucking saint, and Yoongi still wouldn't have cared. 

And by 'wouldn't have cared', he'd have been internally seething and ignoring the very existence of him, regardless.

"Just can't stay away, can you?" You say as you turn on your heel to walk away from Jungkook as soon as he enters the store. You're getting around to the cashiers' side of the till, creating distance.

Not because you want it, but because you think it might make him want you more.

It does.

"The cashier at Kang's ain't half as pretty," he flirts, and you swear that smile of his might send you to an early grave.

"Checking out other women, are we?"

"I'm here, aren't I? Not at Kang's?"

You want to argue with him just for sake of the flirt, but that anorak is really doing a number on you. All you wanna do is squish his cheeks and tell him how cute he looks in polyurethane-coated nylon.

"Touche," you grin, but it's muffled as he rests as palm on the kiosk and uses his other hand to pull you closer and steal a kiss. It's a risky move. Something he shouldn't really be doing. Not when there are three windows behind him. 

He's on display like a puppy in the pet shop windows downtown. Anyone could drive by. Pull in. Anyone. Daegu ain't as big as it likes to pretend to be.

"So, I'm lying," he says, voice sweet and low. "I actually do have an ulterior motive."

"Mhmph," you breathe through your nose, rolling your eyes. "You're a boy, Jungkook. I know you didn't drop by just to ask how my day was."

"Okay, one - ouch. And two - I always want to know how your day is."

For a chronic liar, he's refreshingly honest when he wants to be.

"But?" You encourage, not wanting to skip the flirting, but anxious of the outcome for whatever it is he's here for.

He pokes at the bagged sweets like he so often does, his tattooed fingers gently prodding and pushing them about with no real purpose. He appears distracted, but he's anything but. You know this now; know it's just a Kookism.

"Buuuut," he takes his time, dragging out the word because he knows it will drive you insane. "I was thinking why don't we just head over to..." he pauses. Suddenly feels uncomfortable declaring the plans you have so publically. What if he hadn't noticed someone behind a shelving unit? What if your coworker is listening in? He carries on as if he didn't skip it, but waffles so much you don't have a chance to interject. "Straight after work? We go straight from here? You finish round about now, don't you? I know we were gonna wait till the morning, but I got itchy feet, baby. Wanna get outta this place."

You nod as his questions pour out like a broken faucet. You don't have to worry about your shifts, 'cause Jieun's already swapped with you. You'd struck a deal to work her typical early shift that day in return for her covering you over the rest of the weekend. 

Truthfully, you weren't going to ask Yoongi to cover for you earlier - you were just going to ask if he'd watch the shop for 5 minutes until Jieun arrived so that you could escape a little earlier than you were meant to. He'd only just started his shift, opting for a later rota than usual. Weird, but not weird enough for you to question it too hard.

"Lemme just get changed," you smile, having come straight to work from Jungkook's apartment that morning. 

The way you're always in each other's company, it's as if he'll suffocate without you around - which admittedly does feel like it's true, but it's more so that he's scared of what could happen if he's not there watching over you. Scared that someone will interfere with what he's doing. Scared the rug will get pulled from beneath your feet before he's gotten a chance to scatter pillows on the ground beneath you.

Running late, you'd skipped dropping by your place that morning. You weren't feeling all that fresh, despite the shower you'd had at his that morning, thanks to the second-day clothes you'd arrived in, so had opted for the uniform spares in the back rooms. The sizings were all off, and you're pretty sure you felt filthier in them than your own clothes, but it was rare for you to ever feel all that hot in your work uniform.

Jungkook is left alone in the shop as you head to the backrooms. He figures your colleague will be out soon enough to man the tills, so goes about looking a little busy. Eyes up the stale pastries that are definitely past their best in the cabinet next to the till. Reads the magazine covers, and wonders why the fuck people care so much about celebrities.

It's as he's flicking through a copy of Drivers Weekly that he hears a cough. "We prefer it if people don't read the magazines in the shop."

His eyes land in the direction of the voice, towards a man who is shorter than stature than Jungkook, but somehow feels taller. Broader. Stronger. A better man. Competition. 

"You must be Yoongi, right?" Jungkook nods, voice a little hoarse. He's on edge. Doesn't like the way Yoongi is looking at him as if he can see straight into his soul - not that he'd find much there. 

That's the trouble that comes with making a deal with the devil; he'll eat you from the inside out. It won't be long before Jungkook implodes, bones caving in on themselves. He's got a little while left to go until then, though. Maybe some major organs left to harvest. A little bit of liver for all the soju he's gonna need to drink to get over this, and the tiny sliver of his heart that belongs to someone else. 

To you. 

"Heard a lot about you," he continues. 

Yoongi laughs. It isn't kind. "Funny. I've heard fuck all about you."

He stays stoic as he watches Jungkook purse his lips; shoulders rising ever so slightly and dipping again as he nods, letting out a scornful laugh. "Right."

Despite all he's done, all the stupid little mistakes he's made, Jungkook isn't dumb. He knows how to read people - and currently, Yoongi is a pair of burning red capital letters: F. U. 

A petty remark rests on the tip of his tongue, one that could spark and ignite the dry wood of the bridge between the two men. There's no water beneath it yet. Jungkook would incinerate the entire structure.

Best not to. Not yet, at least.

"Hey babe," he calls instead, loud enough for you to hear, and direct enough to crawl beneath Yoongi's skin. You muffle a response to let him know you're listening. "I'm just gonna wait in the car, alright?"

"Okay!"

"Don't keep me waiting too long," he flirts, but he's looking at Yoongi. He's smirking. Eyes narrow. Winning. "We've got a hotel room to check into."

It's childish and he knows it, but he wants Yoongi to know exactly who's gonna be making you cum that evening. 

You're cringing, knowing that Yoongi will be mentally imploding, but you also think that Jungkook is none the wiser. "Go wait in the car!"

"There's a place just off Gwangalli," Yoongi says, his attempt at looking unbothered fairly convincing - but not to Jungkook. He's convinced that everyone wants to fuck you just as much as he does, so would have always figured Yoongi was jealous. "A shoreline hotel. She really loves it. Maybe you should book a room there next time."

The insinuation is clear; Yoongi knows where you like to stay. For all Jungkook knows, maybe he's even stayed there with you.

But Busan is Jungkook's old stomping ground, and funnily enough, he does actually listen to you. He knows all about the hotel you love, and the fact you've never actually stayed there. Just dreamt of it; bridge views over the harbour, sleek marble coating the walls.

He also knows that it's overpriced and that there's a far better hotel just a few blocks up that doesn't get half as much attention. It's the place he's booked - 'cause fuck taking you home to meet the family - for the weekend. 

Apart from the final night.

He's got you the hotel you love for the final night.

He'll say goodbye to Busan with you, just as you feel like you're saying hello.

There's an acute awareness that things between the pair of you won't always end happily, so he's trying to make the memories sweet. Giving you happy endings to daydream about when you forget that you hate him, as you inevitably, eventually will.

He's so caught up thinking about it that he forgets to reply to Yoongi. His train of thought is interrupted by Yoongi once more, his voice low this time. He's trying to avoid being heard by you.

"Just... be careful with her."

Silence in the wake of Yoongi's request deafens them both. His words are weighted. Jungkook knows Yoongi is telling him to take care of you, but part of him can't help but wonder if it's a warning. Maybe he should be careful of you, instead. 

He's not the only one with secrets. Naive of him to assume he is.

"Thought you were waiting in the car?" You smile as you finally emerge. 

Jungkook's eyes are on you immediately, and suddenly you're not the only one with a chime in your stomach. There's one in his too, and it's humming to the beat of his heart.

He'd already figured that you'd stolen one of his shirts before he woke, thanks to the fact your dress was hooked over the back of his desk chair that morning.  It's grey and faded, a billion sizes too big, resting just below your midthighs. You're wearing tights again, because of course you are.

He knows, within about a second, that he isn't gonna be able to make it to Busan without being inside of you at least once. There's gotta be a side lane close by that you won't get caught in. Shit. Maybe he should just take you in the back rooms right now. Yoongi'd get over it, he's sure. 

Cheeks a little hot, Jungkook is cringing at himself as he feels the blood rush to his cock. He can't be getting a semi in a GS-fuckin'-25. Wouldn't be the first time, but-

"Kook?"

"Sorry," he says with a smile, and pretends as if he was listening all along. "Was just talking with - sorry, what was it again? Yooji?-"

"Yoongi," you correct sweetly, eyes so smitten that Yoongi thinks stabbing himself in the eye with a motor oil dipstick would be less painful.

"Yeah, that. Didn't really how much we have in common. Both love our cars, real penchant for good soju..." Both wanna rail you so hard you forget your own name. "Interesting guy."

You look over to Yoongi, and it's clear as anything that he doesn't agree with a single word of what Jungkook is saying -but you think Jungkook is trying, and that only makes those eyes of yours even drunker in lo-

"You not have a hotel to get to?" Yoongi grimaces.

"Pollution's bad today, baby," Jungkook mumbles softly into your hair, ignoring Yoongi. It's said out of concern for you, but also for himself. 

It's easier for him if your face is a little obscured; easier to deny that you're the one he's holding onto for dear life as he leads you out of the shop. You think nothing of it, pulling up the mask that had been resting below your chin before the cold wind gets a chance to hit your face.

He's not wrong - the midday skies are clouded, a thick smog obscuring the mountain peaks that you love to look at so much. You love the winter sun, but it has you wishing for rain. It always clears the skies a little more; brightens the world up.

Daegu is dreamy, in the obscure, nightmarish kind of way that made you eat cheese before bed as a child. The best kind of dreams were always the ones that made you feel something - and as Jungkook starts up the pony, you're terrified. 

It's not a big deal. Going to Busan is casual. But being invited into a world that is exclusively his? Well, that's not casual at all.

It's weighted and deliberate, and intentional. He wants you there. Wants you in every aspect of his life, and yet you haven't even had the 'what are we' conversation yet.

You wait until Jieun arrives, just a minute later, before you make your departure. She says goodbye with a knowing look, and Yoongi is already out back working on breaking up a written-off car that came in for parts earlier that morning.

Jungkook's hand is on your back as he guides you out, the mask he had insisted on you wearing for air pollution purposes obscuring your face. It doesn't stop his eyes from darting all over the place, making sure he hasn't missed anyone lurking. He knows he's getting sloppy; that he could trip up at any point, and fall at the feet of the men who had sent him into your shop all those weeks ago.

But as the pair of you pull onto the highway, your dainty hand resting at the top of his thigh, nothing but the open road ahead of you and the smell of your perfume wrapping around his senses, he doesn't care.

He'd do it all again, he thinks.

In fact, he thinks he'd kiss you sooner, just to get a few more in. Your days are numbered. He knows you're not gonna last long enough to see the cherries blossom, and maybe it's better that way.

When he got into this mess, he was in search of a spring day to break; the seasons to change, and life to renew. The deeper he gets, the more futile he realises that dream was. You're the only thing he wants to see bloom, these days.

Such a shame he has to cut you from your roots, and watch you wilt instead.

────────────

Jungkook doesn't know what 'home' feels like anymore, and hasn't done for quite some time, now. He doesn't know what it feels like to be completely content, nor at ease, within his own body. 

Sometimes, though, when he's behind the wheel, the balls of his feet pressed to the pedals, he thinks it might feel close.

When the scent of gasoline seeps through the vents, and a toxic combination of burnt rubber and wiper fluid clouds the atmosphere behind his tinted windows, it seems like he could have a grasp on what it means to be 'home'. Or to have one, at least.

Maybe that's why he clings to the idea of you so much, and the way that your hair smells like gasoline. 

It's a trick of the mind; a subtle deception that perhaps you could feel like 'home', too.

He thinks of this as his car rolls onto a street he hasn't visited in what must be years, by this point. 

He's silent, glancing over to where you nap peacefully in his passenger's seat. Light scatters through the branches of trees which are yet to bloom, refracting as it hits the pale stone in your necklace. The underside of your chin is painted in rays of rainbow light. Your throat, too. Impossible, he thinks, for someone to be so ethereal without even so much as trying. Thinks that you're magic. 

But magic isn't real. He knows that deep down, beneath the scent of your hair and the taste of your rainbow stained skin, you're not real, either.

You're an illusion; a projection, just like that refracted light. 

Still, he smiles as you begin to stir, neck aching from the uncomfortable position you've had it in for the last thirty minutes. 

"Morning, sleepyhead," he teases, while you squeak and stretch your body out at far as you can. Palms on the dash, your head feels all stuffy and horrible, the nap only serving to make you feel even more sleepy. You bring the back of your hand to cover your mouth as you yawn, brows raised, eyes closed. 

"We here?" you mumble, turning to face the road, only to find the view is obscured by cargo lorries ferrying things to the harbour.

The shipping container next to you is a deep navy blue, its history etched onto the corrugated steel with white chalk markers. It rusts at the joints, paint flaking off and scattering into the atmosphere. It's remarkable, you think, how even things built to sustain the most brutal of weathers can still have areas of weakness.

"Just about," he nods, turning the radio up a little louder now that you're awake. His phone is plugged into the aux for once, but it sounds like it's still your playlist going. It's not. He's been crafting his own, taking note of the songs you like, and adding his own into the mix. Subtle integration of you into his life, perhaps. "About 10 minutes away from the hotel."

You hum a response as you sit up a little straighter, a frown on your face. You hadn't meant to sleep through the journey, but late nights with him and early starts at the gas station have really been doing a number on you.

Jungkooks thinks he's benefitted from your sleepiness, as it made you so bloody endearing that he found himself wanting to let you sleep, instead of pulling into a vacant side-road to sort out the awkward hard-on he's had since the moment he saw you in GS25 earlier on that day.

There had been a brief moment, when the pair of you had stopped by your place to pick up your travel bag, that he'd considered making a move - but you were excited to get going, and so was he.

Why waste time in Daegu? He wanted out of there. Wanted to be elsewhere, anywhere. Wanted to hold your hand in public, with your mask off and your hood down, just to watch the way other men would double-take you. 

Maybe because it's unknown - being with you, without fear of getting caught - or maybe it's because his intentions with you have changed in recent weeks. Whatever reason it is doesn't matter, though. The outcome will still be the same.

You watch as the cargo trucks begin to roll into gear, and then you're chasing the sun, heading towards your destination. Jungkook hasn't told you anything about where you're staying, just that he thinks you'll like it. Part of you hopes it will be that hotel you love along the shoreline, and as he takes a right onto the next road over, edging closer and closer to the shore, you think you might be in luck.

These hopes are short-lived, though, when you see a sign with the branding you know so well - even if you've only ever seen it online - and watch it disappear in the rearview mirror.

Funnily enough, there's no disappointment that follows this realisation. You couldn't care less where you stay. All you seem to care about is who you'll be staying with.

A smile tugs at the corner of your lips when his indicators begin to tick, and his hand, flat against the wheel, begins to pull clockwise. The place he's turning the car in to is nice. Too nice. There's a surface level car park, for starters, not one tucked beneath the first floor of a drive-in motel, like you'd half been expecting. 

The exterior walls are finished with European style red bricks; purpose-built and not in keeping with the dated architecture of its surroundings. There's an attitude to the building; attention-seeking without trying, refined yet unassuming. It reminds Jungkook of you, in a way. Reminds him of how no matter what you do, his focus always seems to be on you.

"Had this place on my bucket list," he says. "Opened up around the time I left town. Always said I'd stay here if I came back with someone else."

His last comment is unnecessary. He doesn't need to tell you he'd never brought anyone home to Busan, and yet he does, because it somehow feels important. 

A hotel resident swings through the front door as you're getting out of the car, and you can't help but notice that the chime is eerily similar to the one of the GS25 door. Identical, almost, to the one in your stomach. 

"Pretty," you muse, adoringly looking at the ivy that trails up and down the side of the building. 

"Prettier in summer," he says, taking your luggage from your hands and tilting his head forward as if to say 'ladies first'. "There's another vine running through it that blooms like nothing I've ever seen before. It's too cold for it to flower, yet, I think."

You smile as you listen to him talk, enamoured that a man so brash and bold can be so delicate and gentle when he wants to be. Mindless chatter fills the space between you as you enter the lobby, and wait for the concierge to check Jungkook's booking on the system, just to find out there's been a free upgrade.

"Wish she hadn't announced that," Jungkook mumbles in your ear as you head towards the elevator. "Totally would have pretended I'd splurged out on the upgrade instead."

You laugh, and tell him that he's stupid - and that you also saw the room rates by the front desk, so in your eyes, even the standard rooms are a splurge.

He shrugs, and insists he got it cheaper online thanks to some bullshit discount he can't be bothered to lie too deeply about. He wanted to experience this hotel, and he wanted to experience it with you. He'd have paid the price, whatever. 

Chances are he'll be making the money back in a weeks time, thanks to you, anyways. 

Thanks to you. Because of you. In spite of you. Whatever. Same difference. 

Same disgusting guilt that coats his skin like oil and drips from his body. Dare you strike a match, he's sure he'll set fire. Ablaze with the glory of whatever the fuck he feels for you; the flames of his failures smoking him to suffocation. Failure to act quick enough, failure to control himself, failure to do wrong by someone that feels so right. 

He shakes the thoughts from his head, his guilt steeped stomach a constant aide-mémoire.

"613," he reminds you of the room number as you reach the sixth floor. 

It's not quite the top floor, but it's far enough up that your view of the harbour will take your breath away, you're sure.

He laughs when you squeal in response, thankful for the fact you don't try and downplay your excitement like he knows you would have done when he first started seeing you.  He assumes you're comfortable now. Assumes you trust him. Assumes you feel safe. Assume, assume, assume. You're rubbing off on him, it seems.

He's got a rucksack on his back, and your own bag hooked is over his shoulder, yet he still uses his free hand to hold onto your waist as he walks behind you. He's so desperate to keep you close; fearful of what could happen if you ever were to part. His fingers grip a little tighter when you take a stride further than he anticipates, and he doesn't shuffle back when you finally reach the door. He rests his chin on your head instead, and watches the light on the door handle flash green when the room key taps against it.

The pair of you walk into the room in the same position, your back pressed to his chest, his strides wide behind you, so that he can walk in time with you. It's clumsy, and awkward, and hard to synchronise, but both of you are laughing so much that you're almost distracted from the view that floods in through the wall-length windows. Almost.

You stop in your tracks when you see it, gasping at the sight. Jungkook looks up from your hair, his arms tight around you, to see what you've noticed - and then he notices it, too. 

"Holy shit," you say, unable to articulate anything else. 

The ocean in front of you spans for miles; endless upon the horizon, with nothing but Gwangalli bridge standing in its way. Boats dapple the vast expanse, tiny and delicate, obscured by the incredible distance between you. 

It's blue. Blue, blue, blue; the skies, the sea, the way you feel sorrow in your chest from never having seen anything so beautiful before.

Jungkook is smug as he whispers into your hair, "Boy did good?"

You've not even looked at the crisp white sheets, yet, freshly laundered on a  queen size bed, nor the decadent hotel decor that you're sure will be identical in every single room. The other rooms don't matter to you, though; just 613, and the boy with bleach blonde hair who had driven you to Busan in his bright red pony. 

The stuff of fairytales, some might argue.

"Boy did good," you whisper back, turning your head to steal a kiss. He smiles into your lips, your body his to move as he pleases, as he begins to walk you to the bed. 

A soft puff of air blows around your body as it lands on the outrageously fluffed duvet. He crawls onto the bed with you, one hand on your cheek, the other laced with yours above your head. 

"View like this and all you wanna do is waste it?" You grin into his lips, voice as sweet as his touch.

He's quiet as he presses his lips to your throat, slow as he trails his tongue down it.

"Not a waste,' he says, as his teeth graze ever so gently. The firmness of his crotch is devastatingly erotic as it presses against you. "And fuck the view. Rather look at you."

You go to argue against him, but he's adamant you're far prettier. Tells you if it means that much to you, though, he'll be willing to take you from behind so that you can look at the view - which is how you end up wrapped in a duvet, hair a mess and mascara a little smudged half an hour later. 

You're sat together on the floor, backs against the side of the bed, looking out at the view as his arm drapes around your shoulders. His lips are nestled into your hair, because it seems to be his happy place, but neither of you are talking. Just existing, like you so often like to do together.

There's an unspoken understanding that this is an unusual occurrence for the both of you. 

He doesn't do romance. He doesn't really do anything that would ever indicate a shag is more than just a shag. He'll compliment, and he'll charm, but he'll never say any words of actual worth. Not like he does with you. He doesn't cuddle, doesn't snuggle, doesn't kiss outside of the realm of a fuck. Again, not like he does with you.

When you turn to face him, catching the countenance in his eyes as he looks at you - chin, nose, eyes, lips, eyes again - you know that any kiss that could follow would be fatal. 

It would seal the deal that neither of you have been brave enough to make.

There's hesitation. His breaths are heavy, prick still a little plump beneath the sheets that covers his modesty, but he's not hard. Not horny. It's not what's leading his thoughts, nor his actions. 

And then, suddenly, but somehow also so perfectly predictable, he kisses you. 

It isn't simple. It isn't just because he can - but it's also not for any ulterior motive, either. It's soft, his lips not as hard against yours as they usually are. They squeeze your bottom lip, then release. And then he does it again. No welcome intrusion of his tongue. No hands roaming to your chest. No smile as he does it. 

But why would he be smiling when he's terrified? 

He just kisses, and kisses, and kisses. He makes no further moves, not even when you let the sheets slip, nor when you hook your leg over his lap and move across to straddle his thighs. You're so incredibly wet, his touches minimal, yet so deeply intimate, that he can feel you leaking all over him. His cock is flushed, stiff, and stood to attention, resting against the base of his abs. 

Still, he doesn't really touch you. His wrists are resting on the top of your thighs, but his palms aren't lying flat. They're open, not balled into fists, and you can't quite figure him out. You feel shy and insecure, because why isn't he touching you? Doesn't he want you? 

But then you go to pull away from his lips, and he whines and shakes his head.

Come back, baby, he wants to say, but it gets trapped in his throat, and all he can get out is a little grunt. 

He knows he's being pathetic. Knows that he must look like a fucking weirdo.

Part of you wants to laugh; wants to ask where the man who ate his own cum out of your pussy and spat it into your mouth is. 

Most of you, though, is consumed by the sheer terror that's encompassing him. You feel it too. All of this is so unfamiliar, and scary, and alarming and yet so... safe. 

His palms finally lay flat, prowling to your ass, where he squeezes as if to say hello. Eventually, he pulls you further up his lap. You're raised above him, the heat of your pussy so warm, and welcoming, and inviting, that he simply can't hold back any longer. 

No words are spoken, you simply nod. 

You aren't kissing anymore. Just looking at one another. He doesn't drop his gaze when he lines himself up with your entrance. 

It's only when you sink down onto him that his eyes close, as his head leans against the corner of the mattress. The expanse of his throat is pristine, not a hickey in sight, and you like it this way. It - you - somehow still feels like a secret. One shared, but one that is safe. Just for you. Just for him. For one another.

Jungkook lasts longer inside of you than he thinks he will. The silence is only broken by hushed whines and dulcet groans. Your hands rest on his shoulders, and stay there the entire time. It's almost like you're both petrified that changing position will change the way that you're feeling. You look at one another like you're holding hands across a tightrope, dependent on one another to stay alive. 

If he falls, so do you. 

But it's not the falling he's afraid of. Not really. He's been enjoying the freefall for the past few weeks, now. It's the inevitable crash and burn that scares him.

There's something about the angle, the way he's got you deep and slow, that has the tightrope tying itself in pretty little bows around the bell that lives rent-free in your stomach. 

Jungkook sees the way that your brows begin to furrow. He grunts as your lips rest ajar, restless gasps shying away, hiding in your throat. His hips keep at the pace he's set. He knows what's happening, and even though he's spent the last couple of weeks desperately trying to not let happen, he knows he's gotta let you come undone. 

He wants you to. Needs you to. Needs to know that it's not just him that can't control himself.

It's euphoric when it happens. His arms wrap around your back, pulling your chest to his, and only then does he realise how hard your nipples are; how much your entire body has begged him for this. He squeezes you so tightly that your back clicks, but he doesn't really worry because you're shaking on him, muscles out of control as the orgasm he was fucking into you finally cascades over your body. 

You're thankful for the way he's holding you close, your pussy so tight that Jungkook finds himself whining into your neck; and then he's kissing it, pressing his teeth to your skin, holding them there as his muffled moans vibrate against you. 

'Shouldn't-' he thinks, even his thoughts stuttering and getting all confused. 'Shouldn't do this. Gonna end in tears. Gonna end - shit. Gonna fucking end. Shit. So good. So fucking good.'

Pussy so good he swears he'll fuck it forever, and then his thoughts catch up with him, and he's spiralling all over again. 

'Fucking disaster. Heaven in human form. Temptress devil dressed as an angel. Shut the fuck up, Jungkook. The fucking audacity,' he begins to scold himself. 'Prick. She never fucking lied -' And then his head is battling against itself. '-but she did though - she didn't - did-'

"Shut the fuck up."

He doesn't even realise he's said it until your laboured breaths and spent body seem to falter, but you fail to muster up anything more than a "Hmm?"

You're sure you must have heard him wrong.

"Nothing. Not you," he husks in your neck, though he can't really get his words out 'cause he's seconds away from spilling into you. "You sound so good, baby. So good. Gonna make me cum so fucking hard." He knows he shouldn't be encouraging it, but he can't stop. "Keep moaning for me, baby. Let me know how good I feel."

You hum a laugh, so sweet and saccharine that Jungkook thinks you must be laced in some kind of addictive substance. It's the only way to explain how he feels. He's an addict, hooked on you. 

The moans that roll off your tongue aren't fake, but you let yourself be a little louder for him. 

"Like that," you tell him. You're already done, spent, but you want him to feel just as good as you do, even if his size has you feeling a little sore by now. You encourage him, knowing that it'll become painful if he doesn't finish soon. 

It almost feels like there's something holding him back, though. You think he's just edging himself. You don't notice the way the lines in his forehead crease together in such a way that they almost spell out words. You'd have studied them, if you had noticed. Would have convinced yourself that you could read 'trust,' in the lines, and not 'traitor,' instead.

You move your hips against his, ass bouncing against the top of his thighs in a way that you haven't done for the entire session. He's been working so hard for you that it's about time for you to return the favour, it seems. 

The way his neck stretches back, eyes shut, lips pouted and perfect as he fails to formulate anything other than "fuck, baby," lets you know it's appreciated.

'I'm going to fucking hell,' he tells himself. 'When I die, which seems like a sooner rather than later kinda thing, I'm going straight down to the pits. Pussy like heaven, so fucking good that it's a sin. Angel. Angel, angel, angel, baby. Gotta have you. Can't let anyone else have you. Fuck, no. Shouldn't. Shouldn't have you. Fuck it. Need you. Oh, god. Like that. Like that.'

He pulls on your hair so that you're sat up straight as he rams into you, your fucked out face the only thing he wants to see when he finally succumbs to your body. He nods at you, as if he's trying to say something that you don't quite understand. Letting you know he's close? Letting you know that he feels the same way, too? It's unclear, but you're in no position to ask - so you just nod back, and let the rapture happen.

"Shit," he all but whimpers, and then he's in purgatory; heaven and hell meeting at some kind of divine intervention as he spills all that he is into a vessel of freedom that he isn't sure he can afford anymore. "Jesus Christ," he chokes, the mess of his load leaking from you and down his shaft. 

The lines in his forehead have smoothed, now, brows open, eyes half-closed. He laughs, once, twice, unable to stop himself. He forgets it all in the wake of his orgasm; his turmoil, your troubles, the turbulent path he knows he's about to go down. 

All he can think about is you, him, the present, the physical. The right now. The way that you're in Busan, and how the dreary streets of Daegu can't hurt you. 

Rather foolish of him to think that little deaths would have you falling in love, when he's the one whose head feels like cotton candy, heart beating like a butterfly bursting from its cocoon. 

The screen of his phone is alight on the dresser, again. You had noticed it earlier, but neglected to say anything; mainly because you didn't want to lose the moment, but also because you feared that whoever was on the end of the line could have you losing him, too.

The freedom of your arrangement, the unspoken boundaries, affords you great comforts, but also leaves you with lingering doubts. You aren't naive. You know that men his age - men in general - aren't ones to be trusted with your heart. Platonic, romantic, familial. Not a single man has ever deserved to hold it in their hands, and any that you have given the chance to have dropped it at the first hurdle. It's a death sentence, you think, giving Jungkook your heart.

So you simply won't.

But in the comedown of a fuck that really didn't feel much like a fuck, more like a meeting of minds, bodies, consciousnesses - fuck it - hearts, you find yourself thinking that maybe it would be nice to try. 

You're still in his lap when he stands, his cock inside of you, even if a little soft, now. He's gentle, and slow, taking you with him, picking you up and wrapping your legs around his hips. There's comfort in his silence as he leads you to the bathroom; familiarity in his feverish need to shower.

His phone continues to ring out on the dresser, silent and sinister, the glow of his screen the only source of light other than the moon that pours in through the windows. He clocks it as he turns to close the door, while you let your body become acquainted with the pressure of the shower on your skin.

And then, he presses the door firmly shut. The world can wait just a little longer, even if only for a night. 

Tonight, he's yours, even if you never asked him to be. 

He's yours, because he knows that come next weekend, you really will never ask him to be.

But you're just as much his. 

He'll wrap you up in a fluffy white towel, and lay down with you in white sheets, that are creased only by the illustrations of your entanglement. He'll give you a tissue, white, to clean yourself up with, after he loses himself inside you once again. He'll laugh with you, teeth on show, white, as you talk into the early hours of the morning. He'll watch the moon reflect in the ocean waves with you, white, until you both fall asleep.

And you'll feel all pink; rosy cheeks, blushed lips, bubblegum heart and peachy pigmented skin from his kisses that bloom like posies. Pink like the early dawn skies over quiet ocean waves, and pink like your favourite wine that can get you tipsy with just a few sips. Pink and pretty like his lips that pout even when he's asleep. Pink like the pads of your feet as you tiptoe to the bathroom to get a glass of water as quietly as you can. Pink, like the faint light next to the plug socket where his phone is plugged into a charger. Pink, like the tiny light at the top of his screen to let him know he has a flurry of unread notifications; missed calls. 

Except it's not pink at all. 

It's red. 

Your eyes are just tired, and you're deluding yourself. Just like you have been of every single red flag that Jungkook has presented to you so far. 

But when you look at the mess of blonde hair that belongs to the man hidden in the white sheets which have kept you warm all night, everything is pink again. 

"Sleep," he mumbles as you crawl back into bed, his arms wrapping around your waist to hold you close. His lips rest in the crook of your neck, a lazy kiss delicately finding its home there. 

"I'm sleeping," you whisper, the white lie nothing more than a joke that you're both in on.

"Promise?" he sleepily humours you, to which you smile.

"Pinky."

────────────

There's a magic to sea air.

It's not quite Disney, and definitely isn't Hogwarts, but it's something. It makes you feel all excited, and giddy, and like the world is at your feet. If you say the right words, or swish and flick a little bit of driftwood in the right order, then maybe you'll find that the world isn't all that hard to acquire.

Because maybe it's not the sea air that's magic. Maybe it's just what comes with being beside someone like Jeon Jungkook.

You quickly learn that there's a side to him you never knew. It's one that's incredibly mundane, but just as refreshing as the peach teas he points out to you on every cafe menu, 'cause he knows how much you like them, and doesn't want you to miss out on the opportunity to indulge in something you find such simple pleasure in.

Jungkook smiles.

He smiles a lot.

He smiles at the harbour views, at the elderly as they walk past, and at the market stall owners who charge him far too much for a stick of strawberry tanghulu. He smiles when you ask him about his life in Busan, and he smiles when you get distracted by every single dog you walk past, regardless of the conversation you've been engaged in.

He smiles when you tell him you fancy Italian for dinner, instead of engaging in an awkward back and forth of 'what do you want?', 'no, what do you want?'.

He smiles when you reach the halfway checkpoint of the Igidae coastal trail. You're leaning on the wooden bannister, clearly out of breath but pretending to look at the view instead - and it's a beautiful view, at that. Clear blue skies, waves that crash and mellow within the same second, and an endless cerulean sea.

He thinks about all the possibilities out there, and half-wonders if maybe he could just get on a boat with you and say goodbye to the choices he's made.

The only choice he's been sure of lately is you, and when his horizon is blocked by your sloping shoulders and claw-clipped hair, he's pretty sure you're the only opportunity he wants to experience from now on.

He's never walked this trail before, but he wanted to show you the best of Busan, hoping it would convince you that you're also seeing the best of him. As he pulls on your hand, pointing out the little numbers some poor soul had scribbled on the stairs to reassure other hikers how many were left, you're positive that you'd walk the trail a thousand times over, just to be met with his smile at the end.

Because Jeon Jungkook smiles.

He smiles and he smiles and he smiles.

He smiles over dinner, in a tight little hole-in-the-wall pizzeria, that at least attempts to make pizza authentic, even if they do have '+corn, 500w' next to every single option. He smiles when he tells you to put your card away, 'cause it's on him, and then he smiles when you trip on the ledge between the restaurant and the street.

You don't fall because he's holding your hand with a grip so tight you swear your fingers might actually fall off.

"One beer and you're legless," he teases, his hold on your hand tightening as he loops his arm over your shoulder. It's a warm embrace; one that fills your nose with the scent of his aftershave, and plasters an equally large smile on your face. He's infectious, it would seem, and not once has he insisted that you wear a mask since you arrived in Busan.

"Fuck off," you laugh, walking down the street together as if this is how it's always been.

Not a single person gives you a second glance, not even the middle-aged men sat drinking outside of the bar at the end of the street. It's dark, lamposts and decorative fairy lights guiding you home, the city alive with the hustle and bustle of whatever happens after dark. The noraebangs in the area are all hostess bars, and the actual bars are packed, so home is where you're headed. There's no company you'd rather keep than one another's.

"I love this place," you muse. There's a vibrancy here that you've been missing in Daegu, but if you were to take a moment to think about it, the cities have nothing to do with it. It's the boy, and the lack of distractions from him, that you really enjoy.

"Home sweet home," he replies nonchalantly. "Ain't nothing like it."

"You miss living here?"

Your question is met with silence. You leave it a moment, thinking that Jungkook is just debating his answer. Perhaps it isn't something he's ever given much thought to before. That seems like a safe assumption to make.

The answer would reveal a truth that Jungkook isn't quite ready to admit to just yet - but he wants to admit it. Wants to tell you everything.

All the things you should know, and all the secrets he wishes you'll never find out.

It's inevitable that one day you will find out, and he wonders if it would hurt more coming from his tongue. Regretfully, he thinks it will. To lie is to be merciful, or so he tells himself.

"You're so-" he begins so decidedly that it's almost a surprise, yet he cuts himself off. It's like he shocked even himself with the outburst. He glances down to his hand - the one you're holding onto - laughs, and then gazes back to the end of the street, where the dark tide is rolling onto a shallow beach. With a shake of his head, he says 'fuck it' to his reservations, and tries out a little honestly. "You're fucking with my head, you are."

There's a smile on his lips despite the accusation, and it has you smiling, too. You think nothing of it more than flirtatious banter.

"Oh yeah?" You toy. "How so?"

He knows this tone of yours, and knows you've taken it well; knows that all he can do is play along, so as to not raise suspicions. He doesn't mean to be so erratic with his thoughts, and in turn, his words - but he isn't kidding. You really are fucking with his pretty little head.

"How are you not?" He flirts back. "Can't think straight when I'm around you."

He watches as you drop your head, your nose all scrunched up, in the same way his own nose scrunches up whenever you're too kind to him. The only difference is he doesn't believe he's being kind at all.

You deserve more than he can - or is willing to - give you.

There's untapped potential between the pair of you, that will sadly remain that way. He figures he should make the most of this while it lasts; hold your hand as much as he can, get lost for days in the scent of your hair, and make you laugh for hours on end. He knows he'll miss hearing it when it all ends.

You don't know it yet, but you'll miss it too.

Maybe you'd do things differently if you knew that your time was limited.

"You're stupid," you reply rather childishly, because it's the best your bashful brain can think of. "Is that why you nearly hit me that night on the bridge? When you were racing? Too distracted by how much of a mindfuck I am?"

"You have any idea how much easier my life would have been if I had just hit you?" He muses, looking down at you.

You wait until he's finished his words to look back at him, but you wish that you hadn't, 'cause there's a look in his eyes which makes you think he isn't lying.

It should scare you - but like an uncomfortably awkward damsel in distress from a vampire movie, crushing on a bloke who is definitely a little bit too creepy for anyone's liking - it doesn't.

"Far easier," you guess, not letting your smile drop. "Waking up next to me must be torture."

"Waking up next you," he nods. "Sharing my aux with you, paying my water bill after learning just how much you like showers hot enough to kill a lobster. Hate it all."

"Oh god, me too," you say quickly before his lips cut you off for a second, only to let you finish a moment later. "Hate it so much. So glad we're on the same pa-"

This time, it's not the lips of the boy you like a little too much cutting you off, but the voice of a boy you're sure you could grow to like just as much, if ever given the opportunity.

"Well I fuckin' never," a voice booms from across the street in your direction.

You ignore it, not really thinking anything of it - just some rowdy lads who are talking amongst themselves after a few too many beers, you assume - until Jungkook's head snaps in the direction of the voice.

His expression is startled, but quickly softens to his usual boyish disposition. There's a defensiveness, though, to the way his hand tightens around yours - until he drops it altogether.

"Kim Taehyung," Jungkook beams, adjusting his posture so that you're partially shielded from the man across the street, who's checking both sides to make sure it's clear before he crosses.

He's handsome, in a way that's entirely different to Jungkook. His broadness isn't exclusive to his shoulders, but the way he carries himself, and the sleazy smile that rests on his lips where a cigarette fits snug. He exhales, and crosses the road, the grin on his face only getting larger.

"Jeon Jungkook," he nods, greeting him with such familiarity that you feel all embarrassed.

You've no idea who this man is. His name has never been mentioned before. In fact, no names have ever been mentioned. There's little you know about Jungkook.

Sure, you know how he mindlessly fidgets, and how he whines when your tongue strokes against his taint, but what do you really know about him? Nothing of any value. Nothing that signifies you're of any value to him.

"And who's this?" Taehyung asks, but Jungkook's reply only further confirms your assumptions.

The question is addressed to you, Taehyung looking just as dangerous as that cigarette in his mouth is. He's a slow burn, you think, the kind of boy who'll grow on you, and before you know it, you'll be just another victim of his charm. It's unsurprising that he would be acquainted with Jungkook. After all, the company you keep is a reflection of yourself.

You look to Jungkook, who looks over his shoulder back to you. He's not really looking at you, per say, not how he does when you're alone. When he turns back to face Taehyung, you see the way his cheeks rise to smile, and you don't mind his coldness all of a sudden.

But then he opens his mouth and you think if you weren't such stone-cold bitch, you'd cry.

"Just a friend from Daegu. No one special."

It's humiliating, granted, but any reaction would only serve to embarrass you both - so you simply keep quiet, and smile. Your brows lift a little, eyes on Taehyung, who takes a toke as he looks between you and Jungkook.

He's smirking as he exhales, like he knows Jungkook is full of shit.

"Well, fuck me. I gotta find myself some friends in Daegu. Taehyung," he says as he holds his hand out for you to shake, with a look on his face like he hasn't eaten for a week.

There's something about him that's refreshing. He's an asshole, yes - undeniable - but at least he doesn't pretend not to be, like Jungkook does. He's undressing you with his eyes in the same way that Jungkook does with his hands. And for what Jungkook just said? You're pleased. Maybe you should let Taehyung take you home instead - after all, according to Jungkook, you're just a friend from Daegu. No one special.

"Uh-uh," Jungkook shakes his head. He's teasing, but he steps further in front of you, blocking Taehyung from your vision. "I know what you're like, Tae. Hands off this one."

The way he's talking makes you wanna turn on your heels and walk all the way back to fucking Daegu. Whoever it is that's currently shielding you from the danger of a fuck boy isn't Jungkook. Not the Jungkook you know at least.

"I'm just a friendly guy," Taehyung jokes back. "You know me. What brings you back home? Haven't since you since the wake. Been a while."

Jungkook's back stiffens, but Taehyung doesn't notice.

"Just some family stuff. Thought I'd make a weekend of it." He tilts his head back towards you. The movement has Taehyung's eyes on you again. To feel so unapologetically desired is thrilling, but it kind of makes you sick. You want Jungkook to hold your hand. Signify that you're his. Tell Taehyung that he doesn't stand a chance. But of course, he doesn't. "Thought I'd show her around. Visit some old haunts. How have you been?"

"All good," Taehyung replies, not really interested in what Jungkook has to say. It's formality, really. If he cared that much about what Jungkook had been up to, he would have made more of an effort to keep in touch. "Saw your brother yesterday, actually."

God, it's like one sucker punch after another. A brother? You've no idea who this man is.

"Seeing him tomorrow," Jungkook nods, and again, it's bloody fucking news to you. "He good?"

"Baby's keeping him up all hours apparently, he looks fucking exhausted. Met the baby yet?"

"Nah, nah, tomorrow," Jungkook says, and you're surprised by how... mundane the conversation is. You can't tell if they're friends, or if there's something more troubling at play. Everything feels coded, but you're struggling to read into it. You're too fixated on how much of Jungkook's life you're unaware of.

"Oh, nice," Taehyung replies. "You should come by the boxing club while you're in town. Be good to see you. I'm sure the boys would be pleased to see Busan's finest back where he belongs." He looks over Jungkooks shoulder to you, again, and smiles in that sultry way you're sure enables him to never go without a bed to sleep in. "Bring your friend with you. Think we could all do with a new friend."

The way he talks is crude. It's unapologetic, and if it were any other man, you'd probably be repulsed - but you're too busy being pissed off with Jungkook to care.

"Think I could do with a new friend, too," you hum back, lips pouty, chest a little pushed forward. "See you there?"

"Oh, I'll be waiting," Taehyung almost fucking moans.

Jungkook presses the pad of his thumb across the tops of his fingers, one by one, clicking them in their sockets. His frustration is evident, but the grave he's in is one that he dug himself.

You may feel like you don't know him, but he knows you. He should have anticipated that you wouldn't play nice after he said something like that.

But oh, on the contrary - you think you are playing nice. Very nice. For Taehyung, you'll be the nicest girl in the world.

And that's all Jungkook can think about.

It's intrusive, the thought of just how nice you can be.

He's thinking of your hair, all nice and tied up in a ponytail, and how Tae's hand could wrap around it. He's thinking about your pretty little knees, and how good you look when you're on them. He's thinking about your chest - God, he fucking loves your chest - and how it stands to attention when you're cold. And of course, you'd be cold, 'cause he's imagining all of this happening in the back rooms of the boxing club. At least you wouldn't be able to come, but he's barely been making that happen lately, anyways.

If there's one thing he hates more than the idea of you with Tae, it's himself.

Taehyung says his farewells, and lets his gaze linger on you for far too long, and says "you've got a look about you, friend from Daegu. Something familiar," before heading back to where he came from. The gaggle of lads he was with are still waiting for him. It seems as if he's in charge; the ringleader of sorts.

It intrigues you.

But he doesn't entice you the way that Jungkook does.

There's no softness to him, not like Jungkook with his big, round, chocolate button eyes and ever-scrunched nose.

You're mad at him now, though. Pissed. In fact, you begin to walk away as soon as Taehyung is gone, because you simply don't want to be around him any longer. You're even thinking about booking yourself in for a separate hotel room. Fuck his gestures, and fuck the effort he's made. Means fuck all, now.

Who the fuck does that? Who brings you to their hometown - into their life - and turns around and dismisses what you are to them so cruelly? He'd paid god knows what for that hotel, driven the pair of you to the city, paid for everything despite your protests, and asked for nothing in return.

You know full well that if you'd have gotten back to the hotel before the Taehyung incident, and had been too tired to fuck, or just not in the mood, Jungkook wouldn't have cared. Even sex wasn't something he seemed to think he was owed. Not like most guys.

He'd have probably stroked love letters onto your back with the tip of his index finger until you fell asleep, instead.

See, there are - or at least there were - no expectations with Jungkook, which is probably what makes this all so disappointing for you. Foolishly, you thought you had a good one in him.

He's a man, though. How good can they ever really be?

Heels clicking against the pavement as you walk, you sound far more powerful than you feel. You want to take your stupid fucking shoes off and launch them at his stupid fucking head. How dare he reduce to nothingness.

"Hey," he calls after you, as if he hasn't just torn your heart out, hands all bloody while he toys with it. "CC! Hold up!"

There's a trail of blood as you walk that leads to the hole in your chest, and so he follows it like a bloodhound in search of its prey.

He repeats his call when you ignore him, catching up with you far too easily for your liking. You don't like getting caught.

"What?" You snap, arms folded across your chest, but you keep on walking. A gaggle of girls walk by, far too drunk to be in heels that high, and they coo a little bit as they clock Jungkook. You find yourself sneering. "Oh look. Some more friends for you to make."

"Hey, c'mon," he reaches out for you but you shake him off, so he tries again, a little harder. It doesn't hurt, and if you want to, you can pull away.

Shamefully, you can't bring yourself to. Those with the power to hurt are also apparently those with the power to heal - and all you want is for him to put your heart back where it belongs and kiss it better.

"You know I didn't-"

"Didn't what?" You fight, because that's all you're really good at. "Mean it? Mean to say it? Or didn't think that this actually meant anything?"

"Fuck," he seethes a little, teeth gritted and jaw sharp. He loosens his grip on you, and rubs the pads of his fingers against his jaw instead, tongue pressing into the side of his cheek. His nostrils are flared, and there's bite behind his bark. "Don't turn this into something that it isn't."

"I'm not turning it into anything," you say so calmly that it's almost unsettling. "But turn it into what? A lovers tiff? No worries. We're just friends, babe. Can't turn it into one of those."

"You're being unreasonable."

"I'm being perfectly reasonable."

"CC-"

"I've got a name," you remind him. "Maybe use that, instead. CC feels a little... I don't know. More than friendly? And we wouldn't wanna blur those lines, would we?"

"Christ. Can you stop?" he pleads, the frustration he feels overwhelmed by the desperate need to control the situation. "You know I didn't mean it like that."

"I don't think you know what you meant, Jungkook," you shrug, because fuck letting him think you're hurt. "You just let some guy fuck me with his eyes, because according to you, we're just friends. You saw that, right? You saw the way he was looking at me like a piece of fucking meat? And you let him."

Jungkook doesn't say anything for a moment. His body is stiff, as if he's rebooting; calibrating to find an answer. Yes, he had let Tae do whatever the fuck he liked, because it was easier than explaining the truth of who you are to him. Safer. In his eyes, it had been a lesser of two evils, but you're seeing Jungkook as the only evil.

Your chest is beating so hard in your chest that the thump, thump, thump has drowned out the chime that's usually there.

"No," he tries again. "It's not like that. I know what I said, but it's not what I meant."

And then you do that thing again. You calm yourself, your voice so serene and superficial that it makes his skin crawl. He can tell how angry you are, and yet you're so fucking pleasant. It's psychotic - but how can he complain about your anger when you're fucking smiling at him like he just saved a bird from drowning?

"You don't have to explain, Jungkook. It's cool"

"No," he protests, but it's met with vacancy behind your eyes. "I do."

"No," you say, tone firm and assertive. You don't need to be let down gently. Your feelings don't need to be spared. "You know what I'm like. I need to stop making so many assumptions."

Ouch. He can practically feel the dagger you have for a tongue slicing at his heart.

"Well what did you assume?" He asks, because playing along seems like the only way he can get you to engage in conversation with him.

"My assumptions are mine," you say quietly, walking closer towards him, until your index finger can tap against his chest. "Maybe if we were friends, I'd share them with you. But I don't share with people who only know how to take. From the look in Taehyung's eyes, it seems like he knows how to give a thing or two, so who knows, Jungkook? Maybe I'll share with him."

Jungkook is silent.

It's a threat. He fucking knows it's a threat.

All those missed orgasms seem like a terrible idea, now. He thought he'd been helping, thought that you'd just think he was an idiot, like any other guy who didn't know where the fucking clit was. Thought it would help slow the feelings that are developing regardless.

But you knew he knew.

He's a fucking connoisseur. He's had you coming undone in ways that no other man has ever gotten close to. For him to suddenly forget how to make you tremble on his fingers was laughable.

You'd chosen not to mention it, because foolishly, you thought that you were the issue - but if he's gonna hurt your pride, then you're gonna hurt his right back.

You shake your head, and walk to the curb, raising your arm for the taxi that's hurtling down the road. There's a screech as it comes to a stop, almost like a reset button being pressed.

You feel a weight being eased from your chest, glad to have finally put him in his place for the no-gasm issue, but a new weight is just as heavy on your feet. You open the door, think about getting in, but can't. For some reason, the idea of leaving without him has you close to tears.

Asking the driver to wait just a minute, you turn to find him fixated on you, those soft chocolate eyes of his so warm as they stare you down. His brows are lifted, mouth firmly pursed shut, but you can see from the way his chest is beating that he's breathing heavier than his lungs can really manage.

You've never seen him cry, but you think you might tonight.

"C'mon," you eventually say, knocking your head to the side. You've a lot fight in you, but far more fear. You don't know what you mean to Jungkook, and you're not gonna kid yourself and pretend like you feel secure in it - but you know what he means to you. The idea of him staying elsewhere has you feeling all feeble and pathetic. You don't think he would, but you know that he could. "It's late. Let's just go back to the hotel."

He stuffs his hands into his front pockets and looks down, the usual confidence he wears masked by a thin layer of shame. It has a sheen to it; a stain. He's not the man that he wants to be for you, and he knows you're starting to wise up to it.

"Kook," you encourage, but he still resists.

He doesn't deserve this; doesn't deserve you. Doesn't deserve the olive branch you're extending, when he knows he should be on his knees begging like a dog.

He could do that for you. Beg like a dog, in his own, fucked up, kind of way.

On his hands and knees. Begging.

In fact, he thinks it's the only thing can do for you right now.

And so he gets in the taxi as you ask, and stays quiet.

The drive is silent, but taxi rides often are, so he tries to ignore it. When you go to pay, he holds your hand back, and offers up his card instead. The grip he has is gentle, but it burns like the heat of a thousand matches, and when it leaves, you're left smouldering. You don't want to lose the heat, no matter how much damage it can do.

Silence permeates, and dulls the chime in your stomach that you'd expect to hear in a hotel elevator with Jungkook.

So much silence.

Silence as the door to your hotel room clicks open, and silence as you kick off your shoes. Silence when your bag is tossed on the bed, and silence when Jungkook's shoes join your own.

There's silence as he walks to stand behind you while you look out onto the midnight sea, and there's silence when he presses a kiss into the crook of your neck.

There's silence when he whispers your name, and silence when you hum in satisfaction from the way his lips feel against the expanse of your throat.

Silence so loud that you want to scream.

Silence so loud that you wouldn't be able to hear the scream regardless.

Silence, silence, silence that is so fucking loud, you must be deaf.

But you can hear the small intakes of breath that he takes between the kisses he peppers on your skin. You can hear the click of his lips, and the way he whispers 'I didn't mean it,' as if it would eradicate the hurt caused by such a simple exchange of words.

And then his hands of fire are creeping beneath your shirt, and you're all warm and pliable for him.

You so desperately want proof that he didn't mean what he said, and if there's one thing you're sure of, it's that he doesn't fuck you like you're just a friend.

So you think you might just let him.

He can tell you're apprehensive and he knows why, and that he has to prove himself to you. Moonlight pours in through the window, and you're bathed in it like some kind of ethereal goddess that will surely disappear when dawn breaks. He has to make this last.

He strips you of your clothes, and funnily enough, it isn't the most vulnerable you've felt in the last few hours. In fact, you feel confident, now. You know what you're doing when it comes to matters of the body. Matters of the heart? Not so much.

Your capabilities for either of those aren't required now, though. This is all on him.

He encourages you to the bed, so you sit by the foot, and wait for instruction.

"Lie down," he says, eyes remarkably on yours, and not your tits instead. It must be a first.

It's curious how softly he looks at you; almost like you could break.

Maybe it's because he knows he has to be extra careful, because he's the only one capable of breaking you.

And so you nod, because maybe, just maybe, he could fix you, too.

In fact, when he gets to his knees and grips his palms around your ankles to drag you closer to the end of the bed, you can almost feel your heart swelling. Healing.

Y'see, it's familiar, and safe, and certain; Jungkook will fuck you, and you will mistake the way he kisses you when he cums as a declaration of something more than what it is.

For now, though, he's only thinking about ways to get you off. Anything is on the table. He'll do it all. Do whatever you ask. Do things you're too afraid to ask.

He spreads your legs apart, and spends longer than is normally comfortable staring at you. He's appreciating it; the way your lips slowly part, a little damp and so delightfully warm. He loves your scent. Wishes he could bottle it up - but for now, he'll settle for drinking from the source.

When his tongue strokes against you, it's slow. The pressure behind it feels intentional, the warm studs of his tongue piercing making your toes curl from just one touch. He exhales against you, then inhales because - fuck me - you smell divine. His tongue licks again, languid and flat, his head nodding ever so gently. The change in movement has your hands gripping onto the sheets, a shallow affirmation of 'fuck, Kook, yes' spurring him on.

He hums against you, and you swear it's better than any vibrator you've ever had. It's almost as if he's saying something, but can't get his words out - which would make sense, given the fact his mouth of full of your pussy. His tongue points, as his palms rest on the underside of your thighs to angle you a little better for him.

He pushes his tongue into your entrance, and it has you mewling. Wetness seeps into his mouth, sweet and musky, just how he fucking likes it, and he's doing that thing where he whines against you again, and you swear you might just cum right there and then.

It's noticeable, though, how your grip is on the sheets, and not him.

Your heels are digging into the duvet, not pressing against the top of his spine, and your fingers aren't in his hair.

Still, your pussy is leaking onto his tongue, and arguably, he could be fooled into thinking you've let down your guard for him.

But you haven't really.

He can see this; the way you've detached sex, and the pleasure that it coexists with, from the emotional intimacy he's fostered with you.

It's like he can touch you, but you're scared to touch him. You're using him - and he knows he deserves it.

When he pulls away from you, clear strings of slick connect his mouth to your core. The sheen covers his lips, his chin, the tip of his nose. Moonlight drenches him, and in turn, so do you. He watches how your chest heaves as his fingers come to replace the pressure from his tongue on your pussy.

Your body may be his, but you're not.

'Touch me,' he wants to say, but he's embarrassed by how badly he seems to have fucked up the one good thing going for him - and so he pushes his fingers into you, hoping that he'll be able to get you forgetting about the fact he's no good for you; get you wanting him like you used to.

And you do.

Oh god, you do, so badly.

There's nothing you want more than to have your fingers tangled in his hair, have him hissing when you pull a little too hard, keeping him locked in position against the mess he's made - but you're embarrassed. You fear that by taking any kind of leading role, you'll be forcing him to play along to something he isn't really all that into.

As much as you could pretend like you don't care about what happened earlier, it's chewing you apart, inside out, making it harder for you to get there.

Your body keens for him, though. The sounds of his fingers working your pussy are lewd, and only amplified when he spits on it in that way he always does. It drives you insane, but even now, you're floundering.

"Hey," you whisper, and your hand finally comes to rest against his hair. He leans into your touch, heart stiff in his chest as it appears to stop beating altogether. How a touch so simple can have him so damn wrecked is beyond him. He hums a response, and is met with a gentle tap against his bleached ends. He looks towards you to find you looking back, and the stillness of his heart is replaced with a beat so loud he swears it sounds like a thunderstorm is hurtling across the ocean. "Stand."

Your voice is soft, and Jungkook is confused, but he doesn't question it. He does as he's told, because quite frankly, he'll do anything you want at this point. He'd get on his knees, on his back - fuck it, he'd even get face down, ass up, if that's what you wanted - but you don't. Not now, at least. Maybe another time.

Right now, you want him as vulnerable as you feel.

When he stands, he keeps his fingers inside of you. He's gentle, massaging, making sure the movements aren't too rough. You've never shied away from things getting a little heated, but there's a time and a place for that. You don't want it hard. You want soft. Soft, soft, soft, like his eyes.

"Clothes," you say, almost timidly, unable to string your words together in a way that makes coherent sense. He knows what you mean, though, and slowly pulls his fingers from you, not caring to wipe them off. You're pristine, in his eyes. He couldn't care less about how dirty you could make him. He'd wear it like a badge of fucking honour.

He takes his shirt off first, eyes never leaving yours. He can see the way your heart is beating beneath your chest, and decides pretty quickly that he needs your tits in his mouth at some point before the night is done. His favourite fuckin' feature of his favourite fuckin' person - when he's horny, at least. He could list a million things he likes just as much, but his brain kind of just short circuits when he can see your chest looking all heavy and pliable and like it belongs in his mouth.

There's a clang, the metal of his belt tapping against itself, his tattooed fingers working quickly to rid himself of all his constraints. He pulls it from the loops of his trousers, tossing it on the bed just in case he'll need it later.

Your lips rest ajar, but you close your legs a little, watching him unbutton his jeans. He lets them drop, revealing the white of his Calvins.

He usually wears dark boxer briefs, which are always welcomed by you - but there's something about the white that has you salivating.

The outline of his cock is thick. He's stiff, and there's a tiny tell-tale mark of precum leaking from his tip. The contrast of his honey skin against the crisp white is the kind of visual you'd expect to see on a Hollywood billboard; not in your hotel room with you.

He'd worn them deliberately, expecting this kind of reaction, but had anticipated a far different feeling in the room.

The look on his face doesn't match the confidence that his strong body oozes. His wide eyes are just as vulnerable as yours. You both look like you're gonna fucking cry, which is actually kinda funny, when you think about it - but you don't laugh.

Perhaps that would be the most vulnerable thing you could share with him, and he with you: tears. There's a heaviness between the pair of you, the weight of unspoken words, hidden truths and deceptive intentions, which have led to the cluster fuck that is the relations of which you engage in.

It's just fucking, but it's also not. Not really. If it was just fucking, he'd be railing you right now, just like he did on that very first night you spent together.

But instead, he's cautious as he asks, "Where do you want me?"

You have to bite your tongue and stop it from saying 'inside me.' You're trying to keep your heart safe. Distance is needed. You're scared he's gonna steal it if he gets too close.

Pulling your legs up, cross-legged in front of him, you give him a look that he doesn't understand, but one that he knows means no harm.

He thinks you're asking permission to move, so he nods, and is proven right. You crawl a little further towards him, on your knees, until you're at the end of the bed. You sit up on your knees, shorter than him still, but the height is more matched than it is when you're standing on solid ground.

You give him that look again, and so - of course - he just nods. He's yours. You can do whatever you fucking like to him. He'd take anything you'd give him, pleasure or pain. He's stoic in the way that he stands, but you can see his jugular vein beating like he's just gone three rounds in the boxing ring.

Hooking your thumbs into the waistband of his underwear, right where the V of his hips meets the fabric, your eyes are on his.

It's torture, knowing you could be watching his thick, swollen cock spring free, but this isn't about the sex. Not really.

He bends a little, pushing his underwear to his ankles, kicking them off to the side and resuming his position in front of you. You still haven't looked at his cock, even though the thought of it has slick wetness seeping onto your inner thigh.

Your hand finds one of his, and pulls it to his cock. It throbs as you wrap Jungkook's hand around it, nodding at him, before retreating.

He's stood at the end of the bed, naked, hand tight around his fat, leaky cock, eyes on yours as you sit by the pillows. Your legs are crossed, knees up, covering your chest, light from the moon washing over you both.

He looks heaven-sent in this light. A white halo whisps around his fluffy blonde hair, the thick lines of his tattoos defined, his body carved from marble. And yet there's still a softness to him. It's in his eyes. Big and round; home in human form.

And so, for all the fear, for all the ways he has you scared about his intentions, for all the sheer instances of turmoil you put your heart through, none of it really matters.

In this moment, you feel safe.

"Wanna watch," you say quietly. You can see the way he swallows, his chest doing a terrible job of hiding the fact he actually seems to be a little bit nervous.

"Watch?"

You nod. "Wanna watch the way you get yourself off."

The request is simple, but it feels more complex than that - and it is. You want him vulnerable. You want him weak. You want him falling apart all over you without even so much as a single touch from you.

In his heart of hearts, he knows all this.

He knows, and still, he wants to do it for you.

There are sins to repent, and this feels like a start.

"Wanna see the way you touch yourself when you think about me," you continue, because you like the way his eyes look so pure and chaste at such a request.

There's a shadow to his face, the moon only illuminating half of his body, but it runs deeper than that. Divine feminity is a gift from the celestial body that watches over you, and it overcomes him, too.

Despite the hardness of his muscles, the metal of his piercings and the stiffness of his cock, he's so, undeniably soft for you.

Soft and velvety, just like his eyes. Soft and timid, like the boy who cried wolf and finally got caught. Soft, and softer still, when he says your name in such a hushed tone it barely reaches your ears.

"You do that, right?" You ask, though the answer is granted by how utterly enthralled he is with you - or at least, your body. "You think of me when you touch yourself?"

He nods, licking a slow stripe across his lower lip, before biting down on it.

His tight fist begins to roll up his cock, slowly bringing it back down again to the base of his shaft. There's a hypnotic quality to the way his foreskin retracts, exposing how red and flushed the tip of his cock is. There's desire burning through it, and he needs you - your pussy, your mouth - to soothe it.

He knows he isn't getting it, so instead, he revels in the pain that comes with being refused your body.

He's tepid as he starts, but his pace quickly builds, and so does the way he's moaning. It's a miracle you can even remember how to breathe. His torso is tense as he lets the pleasure run over his body, head tipping back, the expanse of his throat thick and wide, just like his cock.

He hums, imagining the way your pussy is leaking as you watch the show he's putting on for you.

He's not a performer, not by any stretch of the imagination, but the way he moves his body has you thinking that maybe in a past life, he could have been. You'd pay good money to watch him on stage. You'd devote yourself to him. Watch from the crowd as he sold himself to a thousand people every night. He'd be the main event, the headlining act, and maybe if you were lucky, he'd stick around for an encore.

What a shame, you think, that he never took advantage of his boyish charm and deliriously handsome face - but more fool him. You're the one who gets to reap the benefits, as you watch him now, free of charge, front row seat.

And yet, somehow, he seems to adore the crowd more than the crowd adores him. It fills your ego. Has you convinced that you've ruined this poor boy's life. Maybe you have.

"You're gonna think of me for the rest of your life," you tell him of your conclusion from your perch up by the pillows.

He so often talks in definitive certainties, that it's only fair you return the favour - but, remember, you're just friends, according to Jungkook. Best not to get ahead of yourself.

You find yourself prowling down the bed on all fours, stopping just beyond his reach. There's something primal about his gaze now. Predatory - but you aren't his prey. You're not going to get caught.

"Give it twenty years," you simper, rolling onto your back so your ankles are by the pillows, eyes on his cock as you tilt your head back. Kneading one of your boobs, you let your other hand dip between your legs. "When you're married, and your poor wife can't get you hard anymore, it's gonna be me who you think about."

"Shit," he hisses, both hating and loving what you're saying. Hating it because you're probably right, but loving it because, again, you're definitely right.

"It's gonna be me," you repeat. "When you get hard in your car, 'cause another girl has put her hand on your thigh. It's gonna be me you're thinking about."

He wants to protest. Wants to tell you that there'll never be another girl. He'd be lying, probably, but fuck knows why he'd ever give you up. Would have to be insane, you think, or something like that.

You know just as much as he does, that symbiotic energy like yours doesn't occur all too often.

"When your couples therapist asks what you think could be done to spice up your dead marital bedroom, it's gonna be me - gonna be this, right now - that you think of."

"C," he husks, unable to even get the full term of endearment out. There's a clammy sheen to his body now, his arm jerking at such a pace his veins are all engorged and pretty, just how you like them.

"It's gonna be me," you say again, barely a whisper, but it's enough.

And he agrees. "It's gonna be you."

Victory and defeat all in one blow; you're his forever, but it's likely he won't be yours.

He senses the heaviness behind his words, and the weight they've put of your chest, so he tries distraction as a method of easing it.

"Open your legs," he husks, the final syllable catching in his throat. When you do as you're told, he fucking whines.

The slickness pooling around the top of your thighs is sticky and hot, strings of clear fluid connecting your legs - all of you - together as you spread yourself for him. He nods, and it's your turn to obey, now.

Your fingers begin to rub at your clit, and Jungkook almost just give himself upright in that second. He swallows back the saliva that's pooling in his mouth, his cock growing hotter and heavier in his grasp. The way he's pumping himself is gonna have him finishing far quicker than he'd like, but he can't stop.

Not when you're looking up at him like that. Not when you're matching his moans.

"Don't stop," you almost beg as you see him begin to ease up. Returning his eyes to yours, his lips are parted. His hand continues to jerk, just a little slower.

"I gotta," he whines, but does as he's told, his grip a little looser than it had been. The muscles in his abdomen are tight. His balls, too. You want them in your mouth.

He watches as you turn, resuming the position you'd been in earlier.

As you wrap your arms around his neck for support, Jungkook finds himself grunting, picking his pace back up. He can smell you, your gasoline hair and sweet pussy, and it has him unable to think straight. Unable to do anything other than jerk himself off for you, because it's what you want.

The world. He'd give you that. If you wanted it, he'd give you it. He thinks he'd give you anything. Everything. Whatever he could.

The only thing he can't give you, not really, is himself.

And so he'll settle for everything and anything else your heart could ever desire.

But as your lips meet his, he knows that he's fucked, and that the only thing you really want is him.

Your kisses are slow, and tepid; a stark difference from the way his hand is working his cock, but it's everything he needs. How selfish, it is, that he still gets what he wants.

Unaware, you pull away, pressing your foreheads together, lips brushing his as you say, "you're gonna cum for me, now."

He tries to ask where, but you just kiss him instead. You kiss, and you kiss, and you kiss, and he's so fucking consumed that he barely notices when he starts gasping against your lips. His body begins to stall, muscles mirroring the way he begins to stutter, and then it's happening.

The tip of his cock is pressed against your stomach as he begins to unload himself, once, twice, and then he's sensitive, and trying to pull back, but he's still coming and - "Oh, fuck, babe" - he's painting you white with the innocence of the way he feels about you.

It's everywhere by the time he's done; your tummy, the underside of your breasts, dripping down to the mound of your pussy. He can barely fucking breathe, so caught up in the way it always feels to have you kiss him through his orgasm.

His hands grip your jaw, pulling you in for more, because he needs to distract his mouth from the words he's scared are gonna tumble from it. You both ignore the fact they're covered in the seed that's just spilt over onto them. It's nothing new, after all.

It's not like he's gonna declare love, or anything fucking ridiculous like that, he just doesn't know how the fuck he feels - and that's dangerous.

Unpredictability only leads to messiness, which it could be argued is what's happening right now.

Still, Jungkook hooks his hands beneath your ass and moves onto the bed with you, and thinks it's a pretty nice problem to have.

His cock is firm still, nestled in the warmness of your pussy as your legs wrap around his hips. Neither of you care about his cum, and it's interesting how often you seem to be covered in one another, with no desire to rid yourselves of it.

He didn't make you cum, but it was your choice, this time.

It's funny, because you're one who is scared now that an orgasm could have you falling in love. You don't want to give him that power back. Not yet, at least.

Your kisses dissolve into light pecks, the pair of you unable to hold back from worshipping one another. But you must, for it's foolish to idolise mortal Gods.

"This doesn't seem very friendly, Kook," you whisper.

Your chest feels uneasy as you joke. He closes his eyes, hanging his head in shame against yours, knowing that it was him and his inability to ever say the right fuckin' thing that had you refusing to fuck him that evening.

He's not stupid. He knows you stopped him from making you cum. He knows why. And he hates himself for it.

He presses a kiss against your cheek, once, twice, and works his way to your lips. It's goofy, the way he's planting little seeds of love all over your skin, but only time will tell if he'll water them. For now, you think you'd quite like to imagine the wildflower garden that could bloom in their wake.

"It's cause it's not, CC," he admits. "It's not very friendly at all."

And then, you just can't seem to help yourself as you tease, "Even if I'm just a friend from Daegu?"

He smiles, because he knows you're trying to soothe the burn of his words. Naked, spent, and vulnerable, Jungkook rolls off of you, repositioning himself so that you can rest your head on his chest. Still, neither of you care to get cleaned up. There's no disgust, nor discomfort.

More fool the both of you for thinking that this isn't love.

"You're my only friend from Daegu," he whispers, pressing a kiss against your hair. It's not strictly true, but he sort of wishes that it was. Wishes he knew you before he knew them.

"What about your other friends?" You ask gently, because maybe it's your fault you don't know more about him. Maybe you just haven't been asking the right questions.

Jungkook pulls the comforter over your body, 'cause he can feel how hard your nipples are against his torso, and guesses that you aren't exactly still horny now that you're asking him shit like this. Again, there's zero care for clean up just yet. Zero care for anything but one another.

And then you tack on an extra little question that has Jungkook mentally groaning.

"Who's Taehyung?"

Convinced that you're snug like a little comforter-human-burrito, Jungkook holds you tightly. He's still stark bollock naked and doesn't really care to be covered, but he wants you warm. Wants you happy.

And knows that your happiness, now, rests on open communication.

"I knew Taehyung in high school," he eventually admits. "We were both on the boxing team, and we were friends, but -" he stops, and laughs a little. "Well, I kept beating him. So on the days I'd stay behind and work on my form, shit like that, Tae would..." Jungkook sighs. And then he laughs again. "This is so embarrassing." He gently shakes his head, and then thinks fuck it. You deserve the truth, so the truth is what you're gonna get. "I started going to club more often, thought about going pro. I was pretty serious about it. Got to the point where Tae couldn't compete with me - but one thing he could do, apparently, was fuck. And I didn't know, but apparently, he could turn that into a competition, 'cause on the days I trained alone, he'd go hook up with my girlfriend."

It doesn't upset Jungkook anymore. Not really. Annoys him a little - and means there was no way he was letting Taehyung think you meant anything more to him than just casual sex.

"Shit," is all you can say.

"Yeah," Jungkook sighs. "Went on for like, 6 months. I didn't know till my dick started fucking burning. Turned out he'd given her chlamydia from someone else and in turn, me."

"Bastard."

"Right? At least wrap it up if you're gonna fuck about. Anyways, after that, it was rare for him not to pursue any girl I was interested in," Jungkook finally admits, and it feels good to get it out. Good to share. Fucking fantastic, actually. "Me saying what I said... It was a defence mechanism more than anything, and I'm sorry. I just didn't wanna give him any reason to try it on with you."

You nod slowly, because there's a lot to unpack. "What happened? With the girl?"

"We broke up," he says honestly. "That was the nail in the coffin, really. He's done it with a few other girls I've dated or fucked since then, to the point where it's definitely a pattern of behaviour, but I tend to avoid serious relationships. If I'm being honest, I haven't had one since."

"Since high school?"

God, it's mortifying, he thinks. "Since high school."

Heartbreak is a funny thing, though. You're similar in that regard. Neither of you ever want to give another person the power to break the one thing keeping you alive. It's just asking for trouble.

Then again, every single fucking thing about your 'friendship' is asking for trouble. Maybe it's fitting.

"I'm sorry," you say, because you're not sure what else to say. He squeezes the comforter bundle you're in and shrugs.

"Don't be. Just please don't have sex with Kim fuckin' Taehyung."

You laugh, because such a thing feels absurd - but it would do. You trust Jungkook. You care about Jungkook. Care for him. Care for his opinions, his well-being.

Would be a shame if that ever were to change.

But that doesn't feel like a possibility right now, so you simply don't think about it. Instead, you ask the question that you've been holding back, because you wanted to at least look a little compassionate before you got ahead of yourself.

"So what you said to him about me," you begin, and he rolls his eyes, 'cause he knows exactly where you're going with this.

"So what I said about you."

"You lied."

"I lied, CC."

The way he whispers it back to you has you all giddy and docile for him. He's dangerous, in the most delectable way.

"You like me," you accuse, and you're met with a shallow kiss, his lips curving upwards because he can't help but smile at how fucking smitten you look.

"I'm terrified of you," he smiles. "The way you make me feel scares the living daylights out of me, CC. This isn't... I'm not good at this. I mean, hello? Been out of practice since high school."

"Mmmm," you interject, questioning his statement. "You've fucked plenty of girls since high school."

His eyes roll again, because he knows you're just trying to get him to be specific.

"What do you want me to say, huh, CC?" He nudges his nose against yours, his grin prevailing as he sinks them down into a kiss. "That I spend my whole entire fuckin' day thinking about you? You stay at my place all the time. My Netflix account reckons I'm halfway through season one of Gossip Girl." You smile. It's a guilty pleasure. You watch it at his place when he leaves early for work, or on the days you arrive before him. "There's a spare toothbrush by my sink, and it's yours."

The way he emphasises 'yours' has the chime in your stomach ringing like a church bell.

"I haven't been serious about anyone since high school, so yeah, I'm a bit out of practice. I don't wanna put labels on things or move too fast or say things I can't take back. I just know it would really fucking sting if you slept with Taehyung," he smiles, attempting to lighten the fact he's basically just put his heart on the line for you. "So please just... don't."

The issue is, Jungkook's forgetting himself.

He's forgetting that you're not just you. He's not just him. The way you met wasn't organic like you think it was, and he's letting himself get wrapped up in the idea that the pair of you are just normal people who found one another despite all odds.

The thought creeps into his mind, but frankly, he wants it to fuck off. So he kisses you. Slow and deep. Just him, and you.

If he'd have met you under different circumstances, he'd have probably already asked your father's permission to-

And then it hits him. The reminder that he can never have a happy ending with you, all thanks to your fucking father.

Jungkook asked you to come to Busan for a reason. There are things you need to see, things you need to understand before it all goes to shit.

"I want you to come somewhere with me tomorrow," he husks against your lips, your noses stroking gently against one another. "Somewhere important. I've got some errands to run, and I'll see my family alone, but after that, I wanna show you something."

You nod to confirm that it's okay. Of course, you don't mind him seeing his family alone, and you could do with running a few errands yourself, so it works out well. He's opening up. Sharing. And that's all you can ask for.

It has you thinking that maybe you should do the same for him.

"Thank you," he whispers.

It's a loaded phrase, and you're not sure which part he's thanking you for, but you accept it nonetheless.

This is progress, you think.

Funny, 'cause Jungkook's the blonde one. If anyone should be a dumb bitch, it's him.

But the blonde is fake, and he's smarter than he should be after all those blows to the head in the boxing ring.

You're private school educated. Could have been anything you wanted. Could have had the world. Your daddy worked hard to make sure of it.

But as Jungkook leads you to the bathroom, stripped of everything except for the stain of his sex, you think you already have the world.

You think, for once, you finally have something good that isn't the result of nepotism or political fear.

Your daddy worked hard. He worked real hard. He gave you the world, and then some - but the world doesn't come for free, and there's a little collateral that he never counted on caring enough to fuck with his self-made solar system.

Yeah, your daddy gave you the world.

But it's Jungkook's job to give it back to its rightful owners, whether he wants to or not.

And so, as the shower begins to heat up, and the pair of you are doing what you do so well, his phone begins to buzz in the bedroom. It goes unnoticed. It's not Jungkook's priority anymore, which leaves him in quite a predicament.

The outside world can wait for a moment. He's letting himself indulge in the fantasy of you one final time.

What a brilliant, intangible fantasy you are.

But fantasy is just that;

a lie.

────────────

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven

[armatofu]

¿Por qué un avión cazahuracanes es un avión de hélice y no uno de turbina tipo jet?

Este avión es uno de los dos aviones WP-3 Orion que tiene la NOAA; así es, solo existen dos en todo el mundo.

Estos dos aviones están masivamente modificados para llevar a cabo su misión, pero podría parecer extraño que fueran de hélices. ¿Por qué no un jet?

La respuesta simple es que el motor de turbina jet es mucho más frágil que un motor turbohélice. Las condiciones en las que vuela un avión cazahuracanes son adversas: hay granizo, turbulencia, lluvia y, especialmente, hielo. Si este último llegara a entrar al motor, podría golpear los álabes, o las pequeñas paletas que tienen los motores por dentro, lo que podría provocar que el motor deje de funcionar por completo.

El motor turbohélice del avión cazahuracanes no es tan susceptible a esta situación debido al tamaño de la entrada de aire. Solo mira el tamaño de sus hélices; cada pala es masiva.

Y nuevamente, es un avión altamente modificado. Tiene radares en la parte inferior, superior, así como en la nariz, y cientos de sensores que se usan para obtener lecturas muy precisas.

Desde tierra, tenemos radares meteorológicos que nos ayudan a obtener información de los huracanes. Desde el espacio, tenemos satélites que nos brindan mucha información, pero ambos tienen limitaciones, y ahí es donde entran en juego nuestros dos aviones. Uno se llama Piggy y el otro La Rana René.

La única misión de estos dos aviones es penetrar hasta el centro de un huracán en las condiciones más adversas para obtener datos y poder predecir sus trayectorias.

La tripulación normal consta de dos a tres pilotos y cerca de 22 personas, muchos de ellos científicos que estudian el clima.

Definitivamente, es un trabajo que no es para cualquiera.

Crédito al autor

Seguimos aprendiendo juntos en EL PORTAL DEL SABER

[sucede-es]

KTM 990 Duke 2024

KTM lanzó la 990 Duke 2024 en el EICMA 2023, destacando mejoras en motor, chasis e iluminación.

El motor LC8c de 947 cc ofrece 123 CV y 103 Nm, aumentando 8 CV y 11 Nm en comparación con la 890 Duke R. El chasis de tubos de acero presenta un 8% más de rigidez lateral y un 5% de torsional. La suspensión WP Apex, frenos con ABS Supermoto, y neumáticos Bridgestone S22 mejoran el rendimiento. La iluminación LED frontal cuenta con tecnología 'Coming Home'. La instrumentación incluye una pantalla TFT de 5". Disponible en naranja y negro, la moto celebra los 30 años de la saga Duke.

[puckeyldigest]

The Puck Shooter's Field Encyklopedia

Hey there, puck shooter! Below, you may find a compendium of free-to-consumer resources of multiple medias in alphabetical-ish order on various enthralling subjects. Searching for PWHL/LPHF-specific news and media? Look here!

[last updated: 05-MAR-02024]

Index: . >> Athletics {empty} . >> Geography {new additions!} . >> Health, Exercise, Sports Science {new additions!} . >> Hockey, Competition {new additions!} . >> Hockey, Fundamentals {empty} . >> Language {empty} . >> Recreation {empty} . >> Social Studies {new additions!} . >> Miscellaneous / Uncategorized {empty} . >> Epilogue {new additions!}

Puckey seys Note: Note what? Pucke oft’ sez: A smart person knows how to spend their time. Do w/that whatcha will.

Index: . [Link] == weblink of unspecific origin. . [OP Link] == weblink to original publication. . [WP Link] == weblink to Wikipedia.  . [YT Link] == weblink to YouTube.

_# ATHLETICS #_

{empty}

_# GEOGRAPHY #_ subsections . > PWHL Cities . > PWHL Nations

PWHL Cities

Boston: [WP Link]

Minneapolis–Saint Paul: [WP Link]

Montréal: [WP Link]

Ottawa: [WP Link]

New York City: [WP Link]

Toronto: [WP Link]

PWHL Nations

Canada: [WP Link]

United States of America: [WP Link]

_# HEALTH, EXERCISE, SPORTS SCIENCE #_

Note well: Not a substitute for qualified medical consult; for informational purposes only.

Bipedal Gait Cycle [WP Link]

Body Schema [WP Link]

Female Athlete Triad / RED-S [WP Link]

Exercise [WP Link]

First Aid [WP Link]

Motor Control [WP Link]

Motor Learning [WP Link] - Puck sez NB! “Knowledge of performance, knowledge of results” under §Feedback given during practice

Motor Skill [WP Link]

Motor Skill Consolidation [WP Link]

Muscles of the Human Body, Skeletal, List of [WP Link]

Muscle Architecture [WP Link]

Muscle Memory [WP Link]

Neuromechanics [WP Link]

Neuroscience Crash Course Playlist (Brain Discoveries) by TED-ED [YT Link]

Neuroscience Crash Course Playlist (Exploring the Senses) by TED-ED [YT Link]

Neuroscience Crash Course Playlist (Mind Matters) by TED-ED [YT Link]

Nutrition Science Crash Course Playlist (You Are What You Eat) by TED-ED [YT Link]

Procedural Memory [WP Link]

Psychology Crash Course Playlist (Mental Health Awareness) by TED-ED [YT Link]

Psychology Crash Course Playlist (The Way We Think) by TED-ED [YT Link]

_# HOCKEY, COMPETITION #_

Ice Hockey at the Olympic Games [WP Link]

_# HOCKEY, FUNDAMENTALS #_ {empty; proposed subsections:} . > Skating . > Puck, stick handling . > Hockey Sense / IQ . > Puck tracking . > Goaltending

_# LANGUAGE #_

{empty}

_# RECREATION #_

{empty. what are the puck shooter’s reading, watching, listening to nowadays? send word! meanwhile, here’s wonderwall 🌱}

_# SOCIAL STUDIES #_

Living wage calculator, methodology [Link]

Media Literacy Crash Course Playlist (Hone Your Media Literacy Skills) by TED-ED [YT Link]

Universal human rights described by UN Sustainable Development Goals [Video] [Audio??] [Print]

_# MISCELLANEIOUS / UNCATEGORIUZED #_

{empty}

Think something’s missing? Comments/Questions/Feedback? Feel free to Mail in at, none other than, **foobo(alloneworld) chider1 (aht)gee, whizze… electronic-snail-mail (dawt, you get it…).

— Puckey Digest

also available via:

Medium .commahe

Substack .com,,,,,

and, ofc, TuMbLr [¿r we getting meta nao? X3c]

click here 4 a good time

[MORE AMENDMENTS COMING TO PUCK-O-PEDIA SOON! ☻]

[last updated: 05-MAR-02024]

_# EPILOGUE #_

Pucke Says! The athlete and critical problem-solver should — among other things — learn to approximate and convert units of distance, weight, and time on-the-fly, off-the-cuff, & ad-hoc. Such skills will take one far in life, and serve the athlete and problem-solver well in many contexts.

Knowledge is power; France es bacon; and, lest I forget:

[MORE AMENDMENTS COMING TO PUCK-O-PEDIA SOON! ☻]

[last updated: 05-MAR-02024]

⚘❃⚘⚜❃❁❀✿✾✽ Many Flowers 4 U~!! ✽✾✿❀❁❃⚜⚘

[x-cl-br]

it's Friday, and tomorrow is...

TABLETOP NIGHT AT MY APARTMENT

so I'm doing another one of these posts about my custom ttrpg system that i run for my friends. it's been a bit, so to recap: the system was modified from Call of Cthulhu's mechanics, with the express purpose of reducing the importance of numbers and math. my players just want to roleplay a bunch, so removing those barriers lets them do what they want without worrying too much about crunchy numbers, making the whole thing a lot more immersive.

last time, I talked about the players stats: Physique, Motorics, Stealth, Mind, Rhetoric, and Shivers. Everything is binary pass/fail, and players have to roll better than their stat value for a success so that they can still hit those huge nat 20s. As for the weird stat names, the game's vibe is intense horror, so I wanted the stats to feel less like your own attributes and more like a disconnected evaluation of a person's faculties, kind of like an autopsy. the goal is to make it feel a little off-putting and cause just a tiny bit of discomfort before the session even starts.

now, onto the new stuff:

THIS WEEK'S TOPIC: WILLPOWER

so this is a secret extra stat that I didn't share in the last post! it works very different from all the other stats because it's more of a consumable meter, like mana, in a way.

What does it do?

players start with 25 willpower (or WP), and can use some of it to buff their rolls. it's meant to be this "power of the human spirit" kind of thing, where through sheer force of will, the characters can alter fate. kind of like when you drop something and catch it before it hits the ground, or like any anime scene where the mc calls on his heart or whatever.

What can you spend WP on?

for a few examples, players can use 2 will to push a roll, meaning they can reroll a failed check, but if they fail again, the consequences will get much more severe. this one's ripped straight from CoC, but I like it a lot so I put it in the wp system.

there's also the higher cost options to REALLY power through a check if you desperately need that success- 5 WP can allow you to retry another players failed roll before the consequences hit or give yourself advantage on your own roll. these can be combined, too- I'm not too picky on it, because none of my players have broken the game using the system, but we'll see what they do this week!

finally, as a last ditch option, 6 willpower can be used to shrug off a non-lethal hit for 0 damage, OR to barely survive a lethal one with 1hp.

it's not perfect, obviously.

these costs are a little finicky, and very much not final- I'd love to tune them a bit more as well as adding a lot more options to use WP on, but that'll come with more play testing with the system. currently, though, I think it's in a good place: players are using it often, and they seem to like how it feels! but there's definitely one question left:

what keeps them from using all their willpower (and how do you get it back)?

so I've been working on this for a bit- there used to be willpower damage from encountering scary stuff or seeing someone die, but that just made it so nobody wanted to burn WP on anything so i axed it. currently, if you run out, you get all your stats debuffed by 2, so it's not super severe, but still pretty bad. to that end, WP comes back from resting, taking medication, or making progress in the story, kind of like a measure of the teams morale. if they're doing good and making progress, their willpower increases.

all in all I think it's a really fun system that I'm very proud of at this point, I love letting the players have those intense hero moments where they can pull through a hard situation with their fighting spirit. it definitely needs work, but im iterating on it almost every session.

Thanks for reading!

I'll be back next week with another one of these because I'm bored at work and don't have much else to do lol

[culinaryburst]

Full Review: Best Ninja QB3001SS Ninja Fit Compact Personal Blender

Pricing

The Ninja QB3001SS Ninja Fit Compact Personal Blender is currently priced at $69.99 on Amazon.com. It is also available on other websites, such as Walmart and Target, for similar prices.

Here is a breakdown of the pricing details:

Product price: $69.99

Shipping and import fees: $60.09 (for shipping to India)

Total price: $129.08

Please note that prices may vary depending on the retailer and shipping location.

Chapter 1: Introducing The Ninja QB3001SS Ninja Fit Compact Personal Blender

With its compact design, powerful 700-watt motor, and 16-oz cups, the Ninja Fit is the perfect choice for busy people who want to make healthy, delicious meals and snacks at home.

Compact Design

The Ninja Fit is designed to fit on even the smallest countertops, making it ideal for small kitchens or apartments. It also comes with two 16-ounce cups, so you can blend and go without transferring your drinks to another container.

Powerful Motor

The Ninja Fit’s powerful 700-watt motor can easily crush ice and pulverize frozen ingredients, so you can make your favorite frozen drinks and smoothies in seconds. It’s also powerful enough to chop nuts, seeds, and herbs, making it a versatile tool for food prep tasks.

Easy To Clean

The Ninja Fit is easy to clean, with all its parts being dishwasher-safe. The blades are also removable, so you can easily clean them by hand.

Recipe Inspiration

The Ninja Fit has a 50-recipe inspiration guide to get you started, with recipes for smoothies, frozen drinks, sauces, and more. So whether you’re a beginner or a seasoned pro, you’ll find recipes to love in Ninja Fit’s recipe guide.

Nutrient Extraction

Frozen Blending

The Ninja Fit is perfect for blending frozen ingredients, so you can make your favorite frozen drinks and smoothies in seconds. It can easily crush ice and pulverize frozen fruits and vegetables, so you can enjoy your drinks and smoothies at the perfect consistency.

On-The-Go Convenience

The Ninja Fit comes with two 16-ounce cups with spout lids, so you can blend directly in the cup and attach the spout lid to take your drink with you on the go. This is perfect for busy people who want to enjoy healthy and delicious meals and snacks on the go.

Overall, the Ninja QB3001SS Ninja Fit Compact Personal Blender is a versatile, easy-to-use blender perfect for making shakes, smoothies, frozen drinks, and more. With its compact design, powerful motor, and easy-to-clean parts, the Ninja Fit is an excellent choice for busy people who want to make healthy and delicious meals and snacks at home.

Also: Full Review: Best Ninja BL610 Professional 72 Oz Countertop Blender

Also: Full Review: Best Powerful Immersion Blender, Electric Hand Blender 500 Watt With Turbo Mode

Also: Full Review: Best Ninja BN801 Professional Plus Kitchen System, 1400 WP, 5 Functions For Smoothies

Chapter 2: Benefits Of Using The Ninja QB3001SS Ninja Fit Compact Personal Blender

The Ninja QB3001SS Ninja Fit Compact Personal Blender offers a variety of benefits, including:

Make healthy and delicious smoothies on the go. With its compact design and 16-ounce cups, the Ninja Fit is perfect for making smoothies on the go. Blend your ingredients in the cup, attach the spout lid, and you’re ready.

Crush ice and pulverize frozen ingredients for resort-like frozen drinks. The Ninja Fit’s powerful motor can easily crush ice and grind frozen ingredients, so you can make your favorite frozen drinks at home. Whether craving a margarita, daiquiri, or piña colada, the Ninja Fit can help you create the perfect frozen drink.

Prepare food quickly and easily by chopping nuts, seeds, and herbs. The Ninja Fit is also a versatile tool for food preparation tasks. It can quickly chop nuts, seeds, herbs, and puree fruits and vegetables. It is excellent for making pesto, hummus, and other sauces and dips.

Easy to clean and dishwasher-safe. The Ninja Fit is easy to clean

For full article: Click here

[totaleditorial]

https://www.wordstream.com/blog/ws/2022/01/20/copywriting-techniques

What is phonosemantics?

Phonosemantics (aka phonoaesthesia, aka sound symbolism) is a portmanteau word defining the theory that meanings come from sounds. Each sound, or phoneme, carries a specific psychological impression. Whereas onomatopoeias are a category of words that define themselves in the way they are pronounced, phonosemantics says that any word can make an impression based on the way it’s pronounced. It’s a form of copywriting psychology.

Which explains why you guessed Grataka as the land of mean-spirited hunters:

Hard /g/ and /k/, together with abrupt rhythm and short vowels, make this word sound rude. And the citizens of Lamoniana seem good fellows because of soft /l/, /m/, /n/, long vowels, and polysyllabic rhythm in their land’s name.

Phonosemantic associations

To illustrate phonosemantics, here are some phonemes and the associations they trigger:

/r/ – movement and activity

/p/ – precision and patience

/mp/, /str/ – force, efforts

/o/, /u/, /e/ – powerful, strong, authoritative

/b/ – round, big, and loud

/i/, /ee/ – small size, tenderness

/gl/ – shining, smooth, brightness

/l/, /n/ – soft, gentle

Phonosemantics is not new.

Sacred texts of Hindu philosophy (The Upanishads) describe mute consonants (b, c, d, f, g, p, t) as those representing the earth, fire, and eyes; sibilants (/s/) as representing the sky, air, and ear; and vowels representing heaven, the sun, and the mind.

Plato believed people could choose names for things depending on their features and the features of the sounds. In his book Cratylus, he suggested the letter and sound /r/ for the expression of motion and activity.

Russian scientist and poet Lomonosov suggested writers use the repetition of /i/, /e/, and /yu/ for creating the effect of something tender, pleasant, and soft, while repeated /o/, /u/, and /y/ would work to depict something terrifying, dark and cold.

Sound symbolism & the bouba-kiki effect

The mechanism of sound symbolism is yet unknown, but one suggestion is that it lies in verbal gesture—the way we use lips and tongue to pronounce the word. This concept, the bouba-kiki effect, was first introduced with an experiment in 1929 and has been confirmed by more recent studies.

In the experiment, participants were shown the below two shapes and asked which one is bouba and which one is kiki.

https://www.wordstream.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/01/copywriting-strategy-phonosemantics-bouba-kiki.jpeg

Ninety-five percent of people call the spiky one kiki and the rounded one bouba because those visual shapes align with what our lips do to say these words.

One of the most prominent researchers in sound symbolism, Margaret Magnus, nails it in her book Gods in the Word. She explains that:

Many words beginning with /b/ relate to so-called “barriers, bulges, and bursting” headings because our lips come together and form a barrier to the airflow when creating the /b/ sound. It results in a bulge and a burst of sound.

When pronouncing “kiki,” on the other hand, our lips narrow and our tongue makes a kind of sharp movement, therefore increasing Kiki’s chances to appear spiky.

Another idea around why this happens involves the connections between sensory and motor areas of the human brain. When hearing a sound, the brain doesn’t leap to a concept but associates it with a shape, a color, or an emotion—and responds accordingly.

Phonosemantics is an argument of little substance for most linguists denying such a relationship between sounds and meanings. And yet, conventional linguistic theories don’t have any alternative explanations for the bouba-kiki effect.

6 phonosemantic copywriting techniques to influence your readers

When it comes to copywriting (impressive copywriting examples here), it may seem super challenging to choose particular phonemes and combine them accordingly to influence readers’ perceptions and emotions.

But that’s not so.

Sound symbolism is not as hard as it sounds and may come in handy when coming up with business names, advertising slogans, or headlines for your content assets. Here are six ways to use them in your content to hook readers and generate sticky messages.

1. Use repetition & alliteration

Repetition and alliteration are two great techniques to practice here and make your written words memorable and more powerful.

It stands to reason that you won’t focus on just these sounds when crafting your ad copy, emails, or other marketing assets. Consider it an alternative copywriting technique to try in headings, intros, or conclusions whenever applicable.

Here’s how Aaron Orendorff applies it to his blog posts at iconiContent:

/b/ is everywhere—big, round, and loud

Repetition is used to pinpoint attention

Alliteration  encourages readers to speed up

https://www.wordstream.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/01/copywriting-technique-phonosemantics-writing-example.png

2. Insert sensory words

Phonosemantics refers also to choosing sensory words for your content.

These are words, mainly verbs and adjectives, that help readers see, hear, taste, and feel your content. Best described by Henneke Duistermaat, they are more potent than ordinary words thanks to their more descriptive phonic nature. (Emotional words and phrases are super-potent too!)

She highlights five types of sensory words, according to different senses they evoke from people reading them:

Sight, indicating colors, shape, or appearance.

Hearing, describing or mimicking sounds.

Taste/smell, relating to tastes or odors, respectively.

Tactile, expressing concepts, feelings, and textures.

Motion, aka active words describing movements.

https://www.wordstream.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/01/copywriting-techniquie-phonosemantics-sensory-words.png

While sensory words can make your copywriting more compelling and memorable, it doesn’t mean you should stuff your business or marketing content with them. One to two sensory words in a headline or an email subject line are already enough to hook the audience and add personality to your writing.

3. Bust out the bucket brigades

According to research, bucket brigades (aka transition words and phrases) affect reader comprehension. These words improve coherence by conveying the structure and providing logical connections between arguments. Bucket brigades influence a text’s readability, which is especially critical for introducing new content topics. They show information flow, serving as hooks to encourage us to keep reading.

Here goes the example from your humble narrator’s oldy-moldy guest post for SEMrush. In it you’ll see the following bucket brigades:

It is true; but it is also true

More than that

To cut a long story short

Not very inspiring, huh?

Keep reading to find out

https://www.wordstream.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/01/copywriting-techniques-bucket-brigades-examples.png

Bucket brigades also make for great SEO copywriting because they get and keep readers hooked—which can increase CTR and dwell time.

4. Converse with your readers

Notice also that I used conversational language in the above example. A writer can evoke particular emotions from readers with different types of bucket brigades. They engage a reader’s brain and create an impression of dialogue (rather than a lecture), making texts sound more “alive.”

Here are some additional words and phrases to use for conversational bucket brigades:

Look:

Let me explain why

Here’s the deal

More than that

On top of that

In other words

Put another way

What does this mean?

So what

How so?

My point is

Plus, conversational writing is also in our list of landing page trends for this year.

5. Drop soundbites

Going on and on and tasking your reader with keeping track of everything? This is one copywriting mistake to avoid through the use of soundbites.

These are short yet powerful and poetic phrases that can better communicate the essence of a writer’s idea and make readers remember the core message.

Journalists and essayists know it as a thesis statement, screenwriters call it a logline, and speechwriters refer to it as a slogan (unforgettable advertising slogans here). The trick here is to choose lexical items and stylistic devices that would express your core message best, so the audience can’t help but remember it.

A classic example is John F. Kennedy’s “Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country.”

Writing techniques like repetition and contrast make this soundbite so attractive. Playing metaphors, rhythm, and phonemes are also great to practice for soundbite creation.

Let’s take Henneke Duistermaat’s blog post at Copyblogger as an example:

https://www.wordstream.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/01/copwriting-strategy-soundbites-example.png

Write less. Read more. Talk listen more.

What do we have here?

The alliteration of /r/ expresses activity and motivates readers to act.

The repetition of less/more gives the soundbite rhythm.

The contrast of less – more / talk – listen / write – read) hooks attention and makes the conclusion memorable.

Here are some ways to use soundbites:

Put them in the last sentence of a paragraph or post for the audience to remember.

Include them at the top of a section as the “tl;dr”

Write them as one-sentence paragraphs (bolded or using the callout quote feature in your CMS if you have one)

Share tweetable quotes through a click-to-tweet tool

Visually appealing, they hook and share core messages of blog posts for readers to remember.

https://www.wordstream.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/01/copywriting-technqiues-soundbite-example-click-to-tweet.png

6. Use paragraph rhythm to make your content sing

For better engagement and desired perception, your content needs to sound smooth, with each line flowing. Besides the above-mentioned bucket brigades, paragraph length/rhythm is your instrument to use for that.

Consider the classic example from Gary Provost, the author of Make Every Word Count:

This sentence has five words. Here are five more words. Five-word sentences are fine. But several together become monotonous. Listen to what is happening. The writing is getting boring. The sound of it drones. It’s like a stuck record. The ear demands some variety. Now listen. I vary the sentence length, and I create music. Music. The writing sings. It has a pleasant rhythm, a lilt, a harmony. I use short sentences. And I use sentences of medium length. And sometimes, when I am certain the reader is rested, I will engage him with a sentence of considerable length, a sentence that burns with energy and builds with all the impetus of a crescendo, the roll of the drums, the crash of the cymbals—sounds that say listen to this, it is important.

It’s all about the rhythm of your writings. So:

Use short paragraphs with spaces between them, like in the article you’re reading right now. A mere look at your content piece should create an impression that it’s easy to read. (The human brain is super lazy, remember?)

Switch between short and long sentences (like Provost’s example shows) to make your content sound smooth.

Blend your content with one-sentence paragraphs now and then to highlight ideas (soundbites, remember?), provide a smooth reader experience, and create a dramatic effect when needed.

Phonosemantics: complex word, simple and effective copywriting technique

Copywriting may have formulas, but it is very much an art and there are no limits to the creativity you can apply to your marketing assets.  It stands to reason that phonosemantics isn’t the silver bullet for content creators to drive engagement, win over readers’ love, or improve sales. And yet, it can become a powerful weapon in the arms of a writer who knows how (and when) to use it.

The basics of sound symbolism will help you analyze short- and long-form content, generate brand names and slogans, and influence the buyer decision process with psychology. 

Just rememeber, while phonemes can trigger feelings and help you create emotionally rich content, it’s context and content value that matters most. So, treat phonosemantics as a faithful assistant, not a devil helping you manipulate a reader’s mind. Here is a quick recap of the copywriting techniques we covered in this post

Alliteration and repetition

Sensory words

Bucket brigades

Conversational language

Soundbites

Paragraph rhythm

[fastlanewithjeff]

I’ve been working for Lexus for 7 years now and have seen the release of several new models. A particularly memorable year was 2018 when the all-new LC was released along with a totally redesigned LS. The LS is the flagship sedan, and the LC is a large luxury sport coupe. For the first time, the all-new LS 500 received a turbo 6-cylinder engine rather than the traditional V8 that had been used in the LS since its origination with the brand. The 2018 LS 500 received a boost of 25 horsepower over the outgoing 2017 model. Having driven both models I can be certain that the LS 500 is a superior driving machine and though the power boost on paper is less than ten percent the change in driving dynamic is profound.

                Having spoken with many Lexus owners during ride-alongs and elsewhere I know that reliability is a particularly important selling point. Working as a technician I question if the reliability of the reliability of the three-and-a-half-liter twin turbo V6 is up to par with the outgoing V8. We have seen some issues with the new engine, but I would say that the failure rate is rather low and the 4.6 V8 was not without its issues, especially with over one hundred thousand miles. The original 4.0 and 4.3 V8 engines were the best that Lexus ever made and are arguably the most reliable engines of all time. In 2022 Lexus sold 2,679 LS 500 models in 2022. A rather pathetic figure when compared with RX sales, which topped 96,000 units in the same year.

                The RX is Lexus’s bread and butter, in fact, it is the best-selling luxury car period. Not just the best-selling luxury SUV but the best-selling luxury vehicle across all model designations. For 2023 Lexus unveiled the all-new Lexus RX which for the first time received a turbo four-cylinder engine. I imagine you are seeing a trend at this point toward smaller cylinder counts, and Lexus is not alone in that trend. Government mandates and consumer demand have compelled manufacturers to turn out smaller more efficient engines. The challenge is to beat the power, reliability, and refinement of the larger motors. Lexus cannot simply match the outgoing engine they must surpass it even with the smaller cylinder count. Lexus’s first four-cylinder turbo motor was the two-liter 8AR-FTS. It debuted in the 2015 NX and 2016 IS, RC, and GS. This motor makes a poultry 241 HP in its most powerful form and response feels delayed especially in IS and RC models. The new 2.4 turbo motor in the 2023 RX does not suffer from this problem and manages to outperform the V6 in power, feel, and refinement.

Image Credit:

Lexus News Room. (2023). 2023 RX Gas. [Photograph]. https://lexus-cms-media.s3.us-east-2.amazonaws.com/wp- content/uploads/2022/05/2023_RX_Gas_HERO-1500x1000.jpg

[usagoodnews]

Michelle Yeoh’s Longtime Love, Jean Todt: A Journey of Love and Support

Intro.

Let’s discover the adorable story of Michelle Yeoh’s enduring love with Jean Todt. This article throws light on their extraordinary relationship, from their casual meeting in Shanghai to their historic wedding after 19 years of engagement. Let’s take a look at the life of the man who has been Michelle Yeoh’s constant companion in crucial moments of life.

A rendezvous and a whirlwind romance in Shanghai

Famous actress Michelle Yeoh and former Ferrari CEO Jean Todt had a fateful meeting in June 2004 in Shanghai. Their connection was instant, and within a month, they got engaged and the two embarked on a beautiful journey of love.

Witness historical moments together

Throughout their journey, Michelle Yeoh and Jean Todt have celebrated many important achievements. One of the most unforgettable moments was Yeoh’s historic Oscar win in 2023, where she created history as the first Asian woman to win the coveted Best Actress award. Jean Todt proudly stood by her side and caught the world’s attention with her love and support.

Tying the knot after a long engagement

After being engaged for 19 years, the couple finally tied the knot on July 27, 2023, in Geneva. The news was happily shared by Ferrari Formula 1 driver Felipe Massa on Instagram along with a photo from their wedding ceremony. The wedding was a heartwarming celebration amidst dear family and friends.

getting to know Jean Todt

Jean Todt is from France, he was born on February 26, 1946, in Pierrefort, Cantal. His educational journey took him to the prestigious École des Cadères School of Economics and Business in Paris before his passion for motorsports surfaced.

A remarkable career in motorsport

Todd’s exciting career in motorsport began as a co-driver in 1966, eventually helping him win the Manufacturers’ World Rally Championship in 1981. He later served as director of racing for Peugeot until 1993. His remarkable expertise attracted Scuderia Ferrari, where he found a new home and eventually rose to the position of CEO from 2004 to 2008.

Unwavering support in career endeavors

In their nearly two-decade-long relationship, Michelle Yeoh and Jean Todt have supported each other’s careers. Whether cheering Yoh from the stands at various motor races, including the British Grand Prix or gracing Hollywood events to support him, Todd has been a constant source of encouragement and love.

proud father

https://usagoodnews.net/wp-content/uploads/2023/07/Michelle-Yeoh-.png

michelle yeoh movies

Michelle Yeoh is a talented Malaysian actress known for her roles in various action, drama, and martial arts films. Here are some of her notable movies:

“Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon” (2000) – In this critically acclaimed martial arts film directed by Ang Lee, Michelle Yeoh portrays Yu Shu Lien, a skilled warrior who embarks on a quest to retrieve a stolen sword.

“Tomorrow Never Dies” (1997) – Yeoh played the role of Wai Lin, a Chinese secret agent, in the James Bond film starring Pierce Brosnan as Agent 007.

“Supercop” (1992) – Also known as “Police Story 3: Super Cop,” this Hong Kong action film features Michelle Yeoh as Inspector Jessica Yang, who collaborates with Jackie Chan’s character to take down a drug lord.

“Heroic Trio” (1993) – In this Hong Kong superhero film, Yeoh stars alongside Anita Mui and Maggie Cheung as three female crimefighters with unique abilities.

“Memoirs of a Geisha” (2005) – Although not a lead role, Yeoh’s performance in this film adaptation of Arthur Golden’s novel is memorable as she plays Mameha, a mentor to the protagonist.

“The Lady” (2011) – In this biographical drama, Michelle Yeoh portrays Aung San Suu Kyi, the Nobel Peace Prize laureate and leader of the pro-democracy movement in Myanmar (Burma).

“Police Story 3: Super Cop” (1992) – The third installment in the “Police Story” series, where Yeoh reprises her role as Inspector Jessica Yang alongside Jackie Chan.

“Tai Chi Master” (1993) – Also known as “Twin Warriors,” this martial arts film features Michelle Yeoh alongside Jet Li as two friends who take different paths in life.

“The Touch” (2002) – Yeoh plays a martial arts expert seeking revenge for her sister’s murder in this action film.

The love story of Michelle Yeoh and Jean Todt is one of age-old love, commitment, and unwavering support. From their casual meeting in Shanghai to sharing the red carpet at Hollywood’s grandest events, their love has endured and triumphed over the years. With their recent marriage, they have taken their bond to new heights, and have shown the world the strength and beauty of their extraordinary relationship.

Michelle yeoh net worth

Michelle’s net worth is around $40 million.

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TomDaya Timeline: Unveiling a Captivating Love Story of Zendaya and Tom Holland

[prcg]

El cofundador de WordPress, Matt Mullenweg, dice que una bifurcación sería "fantástica"

El cofundador de WordPress y director ejecutivo de Automattic, Matt Mullenweg, hablando en el escenario de TechCrunch Disrupt 2024 el miércoles, dijo que no le preocupa que el reciente drama legal entre su empresa, Automattic, y el host de WordPress, WP Engine, pueda conducir a una bifurcación del código abierto WordPress. software. De hecho, dijo, lo agradecería. “Puede que haya una bifurcación.…

[sbknews]

King Of The Comebacks: Hail The New KTM 890 SMT

Sharper, sleeker, sportier. Take a touch of touring, a pinch of unbeatable tarmac performance and spice with a large portion of Supermoto legacy and serve with speed: KTM is delighted to reintroduce the KTM SMT back into the fold. No compromises and no catches. This regeneration of a KTM icon will sweep all highway traffic aside. Imagine the ultimate Supermoto ‘play weapon’, combined with a bike that boasts a number of technical features, necessary for extended touring capabilities: you can attack the apex while knowing full well that the bike will take you much further. Essential information: - KTM 890 SMT back in the spotlight with re-tuned KTM 890 LC8c platform, developed to hit marks at the top of the Supermoto touring segment for power/torque-to-weight ratio. - A street focused chassis, adjustable suspension, and premium tyres and brakes elevate this purposeful model between KTM ADVENTURE and KTM STREET product ranges. The perfect foil for both hill passes and the roads that lie thereafter, in equal measure. - The 2023 KTM 890 SMT is relaunched with fanfare and a pulsating ‘hill climb’ concept in the hands of former AMA Superbike and Supermoto racer Chris Fillmore. The only way is up. The racing skills of former AMA Superbike and Supermoto ace Chris Fillmore were an apt conduit to display the potential of the reimagined KTM 890 SMT. The American, and Pikes Peak winner, throttled the Supermoto-tourer along a Sardinian mountain climb to show petrol heads and the motorcycle industry what they had been missing – and what they had been waiting for. Fillmore gassed the super-torquey 889cc LC8c parallel twin and counted on 105 hp at 8,000 rpm. The engine is the same platform behind the enviable stats and output of the KTM 890 ADVENTURE model and its variations: with a 20% increase in rotating mass over the KTM 790 platform, providing stability and reassurance through corners, the knock control and 46 mm dual Dell’Orto throttle bodies guaranteeing optimum momentum, while the fuel consumption from the 15.8 litre tank is fantastically low at 4.6 litres/100 km. The KTM 890 SMT is just as happy pushed through low revs as it is pinned in higher gears - in fact Fillmore used the full range of the KTM 790 DUKE’s motor to ace his second Pikes Peak hill climb record in Colorado back in 2018. The tank itself plays a forceful role in the ergonomics and has been slimmed and designed specifically for the KTM 890 SMT. The form of the tank slides the rider even further ‘into’ the bike with a wide and comfy contact patch, but is still compact enough for free and flowing movement (aided by the single piece Supermoto shaped seat at 860 mm height). The aero-optimised, smoked windshield is placed just above the double fender concept, with a low splash guard on the fork legs. Cruise or attack? You decide. Chassis-wise the KTM 890 SMT has a CroMo steel frame with a tighter geometry that apes the KTM ADVENTURE's stats. The structure is typically light and superbly agile on the move but also ensures fierce stability the faster a rider pushes. The shock absorber is angled further to reduce the seat height and accommodate the longer swingarm, contributing to both a forwardly inclined rider position as well as straight line stability.

Feeling the KTM 890 SMT on the go is an excellent experience: agile and responsive. The WP APEX suspension (43 mm open cartridge upside-down forks with 180 mm of travel, the same as the rear shock) is fully adjustable and complements the 17” wheels. The Michelin PowerGP tyres supply more than enough stick for the slickest tarmac and have been especially selected for their specs and appropriateness for the KTM 890 SMT’s demands. The state of the art 5” TFT dashboard is made from optically bonded mineral glass and is scratch and glare resistant, and fully customisable while divulging the easy-to-use infographic menu system for setup preferences. The bike can be moulded even further. The three standard ride modes (RAIN, STREET, SPORT) can be expanded with an optional TRACK setting, permitting the rider to toggle between different amounts of throttle response and traction control through 10 levels. Cornering Motorcycle Traction Control (MTC) is an important safety feature, sensitive to the bike's pitch and behavior at lean. Try six different handlebar positions with a 30 mm range. The show can slide and be rapidly wrenched to a halt with its potent brakes, consisting of four piston calipers, putting pressure on a 320 mm disc up front, while double piston calipers grip the 260 mm rear. Putting this stopping power into action employs Cornering ABS and Supermoto ABS - placing both technically advanced provisions into the mix for an excellent safety profile. More add-ons available include heated grips and the chance to add Motor Slip Regulation (MSR), ideal for better control in low grip situations and for fast downshifts, to the software package. QUICKSHIFTER+ and Cruise Control are optional and ready to go with a simple activation process at Authorised KTM Dealers. Connectivity with the bike means full access to navigation possibilities and the advantages of the KTMconnect App, including roadside assistance, owner manuals and a digital service booklet for service and maintenance. It would be very modest of us not to mention the looks. The KTM 890 SMT says a lot with its Supermoto-tourer style, from the 17" wheels to its sporty graphics. The SMT cuts a sharp profile and will be impossible to miss, and even harder to outgun, on the road. As ever, don’t forget the encompassing collection of KTM PowerParts (to include accessories, TRACK and TECH Packs) and KTM PowerWear to look the part whether you're on the hill, the highway or any other route to KTM 890 SMT happiness.

2023 KTM 890 SMT Highlights // KTM 890 LC8c reworked for special sport touring emphasis and the next generation of the KTM 890 SMT thanks to 100 Nm of Torque and 105 hp with unbeatable power delivery // A chassis ideal for the perfect Supermoto-tourer that achieves the desirable pitch between aggression and relaxed long distance cruising, with a sportier feel // Frame, engine, wheels, WP APEX suspension all tweaked for lithe performance // Blast the gradient of any hill climb with Cornering MTC, Cornering ABS and Supermoto ABS all applicable thanks to premium bike behavior functionality. More customisation possible with adjustable Suspension and TRACK mode options // Performance with function: get excited by the tech specs and then revel in the touring aspect of the bike, with elements such as the 5” advanced TFT dashboard, Michelin PowerGP tyres, optional QUICKSHIFTER+ and Cruise Control - among other add-ons // LED lights, eye-catching styling, 17” wheels and KTM 890 SMT spirit from the first throttle roll KTM 890 SMT UK pricing confirmed as £12,499.00 on the road - available to order now and landing in Authorised KTM Dealers from May 2023. For more KTM Motorcycles UK news check out our dedicated page KTM Motorcycles UK News or head to the official KTM Motorcycles UK website www.ktm.com/en-gb.html

Read the full article

[miawashere]

LARGE COMPANIES KNOWN FOR HARASSING WOMEN

Examples of these companies include:

Macdonald’s, Google, Brandy Melville, Fox News, Ford Motors, & many more. While this isn't unheard of, there are so many people, NOT JUST WOMEN who face sexual harassment and discrimination, in the workplace. Sexual harassment violates U.S. federal law (Civil Rights Act of 1964, Title VII)

If you are having to deal with any harassment, tell an employer & fill out an EEOC (Equal Opportunity Employment Commission) within 180/300 days of the incident (depending on where you live) & if the problem persists, get legal help. NO ONE SHOULD HAVE TO DEAL WITH HARASSMENT IN THE WORKPLACE.

links :)

https://nationalpartnership.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/02/know-your-rights-sexual-harassment-in-the-workplace.pdf

https://swartz-legal.com/employment-law-resources/penalties-sexual-harassment/

[themotorbikechannel]

QJ MOTOR 921 RR 2025 - EICMA https://themotorbikechannel.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/11/QJ-MOTOR-921-RR-2025-EICMA.jpg Source: QJ MOTOR 921 RR 2025 – EICMA by MOTOR LIVE. Please don’t forget to give the Video a “Like” on Youtube and subscribe to the channel! Bienvenue sur Motorlive pour une couverture complète du salon EICMA ! 🏍️ Rejoignez-nous pour découvrir toutes les nouveautés, interviews exclusives, et moments forts du plus grand salon de […] https://themotorbikechannel.com/qj-motor-921-rr-2025-eicma/?feed_id=22854&_unique_id=67456417880d5