#Traction Control System

[pertamax7]

Fitur Canggih Motor Yamaha Dukung Touring Semakin Nyaman Menyenangkan

Fitur Canggih Motor Yamaha Dukung Touring Semakin Nyaman Menyenangkan ., salam pertamax7.com, Fitur Canggih Motor Yamaha Dukung Touring Semakin Nyaman Menyenangkan Link ponsel pintar ( di sini ) Salam Yamaha Semakin Di Depan. Ada info resmi dari pulau Jakarta, 17 Februari 2025 – Touring dengan sepeda motor saat ini tengah menjadi salah satu aktivitas adventure yang tengah popular. Selain…

[iwan-fadila]

Kado Akhir Tahun 2023, Yamaha Luncurkan Varian XMAX Tech MAX 

motogokil.com – Assalamu’alaikum wa rochmatullohi wa barokatuh, semoga kita semua selamat di perjalanan sampai ke tujuan. Kabar gembira hadir bagi para pecinta skutik premium di tanah air. Pasalnya pada penghujung tahun 2023, PT Yamaha Indonesia Motor Mfg. (YIMM) meluncurkan varian terbaru di jajaran skutik premiumnya, yaitu XMAX Tech MAX yang berlangsung pada Sabtu (9/12) di The Upper Clift…

[roald-ragin]

It looks like one bad valve solenoid was all it was taking to make my truck act stupid. A $30 part. Achilles type vibe I guess.

[marketresearchnews24]

Smart Traction: Intelligent All-Wheel Drive Market Accelerates to $49.3 Billion by 2030

The intelligent all-wheel drive market is experiencing remarkable momentum as automotive manufacturers integrate advanced electronics and artificial intelligence into drivetrain systems to deliver superior performance, safety, and efficiency. With an estimated revenue of $29.9 billion in 2024, the market is projected to grow at an impressive compound annual growth rate (CAGR) of 8.7% from 2024 to 2030, reaching $49.3 billion by the end of the forecast period. This robust growth reflects the automotive industry's evolution toward smarter, more responsive drivetrain technologies that adapt dynamically to changing road conditions and driving scenarios.

Evolution Beyond Traditional All-Wheel Drive

Intelligent all-wheel drive systems represent a significant advancement over conventional mechanical AWD configurations, incorporating sophisticated electronic controls, multiple sensors, and predictive algorithms to optimize traction and handling in real-time. These systems continuously monitor wheel slip, steering input, throttle position, and road conditions to make instantaneous adjustments to torque distribution between front and rear axles, and increasingly between individual wheels.

Unlike traditional AWD systems that react to wheel slip after it occurs, intelligent systems use predictive algorithms and sensor data to anticipate traction needs before wheel slip begins. This proactive approach enhances vehicle stability, improves fuel efficiency, and provides superior performance across diverse driving conditions from highway cruising to off-road adventures.

Consumer Demand for Enhanced Safety and Performance

Growing consumer awareness of vehicle safety and performance capabilities is driving increased demand for intelligent AWD systems. Modern drivers expect vehicles that can confidently handle adverse weather conditions, challenging terrain, and emergency maneuvering situations. Intelligent AWD systems provide these capabilities while maintaining the fuel efficiency advantages of front-wheel drive during normal driving conditions.

The rise of active lifestyle trends and outdoor recreation activities has increased consumer interest in vehicles capable of handling diverse terrain and weather conditions. Intelligent AWD systems enable crossovers and SUVs to deliver genuine all-terrain capability without compromising on-road refinement and efficiency.

SUV and Crossover Market Expansion

The global shift toward SUVs and crossover vehicles is a primary driver of intelligent AWD market growth. These vehicle segments increasingly offer AWD as standard equipment or popular options, with intelligent systems becoming key differentiators in competitive markets. Manufacturers are positioning advanced AWD capabilities as premium features that justify higher trim levels and increased profitability.

Luxury vehicle segments are particularly driving innovation in intelligent AWD technology, with features such as individual wheel torque vectoring, terrain-specific driving modes, and integration with adaptive suspension systems. These advanced capabilities create compelling value propositions for consumers seeking both performance and versatility.

Electric Vehicle Integration Opportunities

The electrification of automotive powertrains presents unique opportunities for intelligent AWD systems. Electric vehicles can implement AWD through individual wheel motors or dual-motor configurations that provide precise torque control impossible with mechanical systems. Electric AWD systems offer instant torque delivery, regenerative braking coordination, and energy management optimization.

Hybrid vehicles benefit from intelligent AWD systems that coordinate internal combustion engines with electric motors to optimize performance and efficiency. These systems can operate in electric-only AWD mode for quiet, emissions-free driving or combine power sources for maximum performance when needed.

Advanced Sensor Technology and Data Processing

Modern intelligent AWD systems incorporate multiple sensor technologies including accelerometers, gyroscopes, wheel speed sensors, and increasingly, cameras and radar systems that monitor road conditions ahead of the vehicle. Machine learning algorithms process this sensor data to predict optimal torque distribution strategies for varying conditions.

GPS integration enables intelligent AWD systems to prepare for upcoming terrain changes, weather conditions, and road characteristics based on location data and real-time traffic information. This predictive capability allows systems to optimize performance before challenging conditions are encountered.

Manufacturer Competition and Innovation

Intense competition among automotive manufacturers is driving rapid innovation in intelligent AWD technology. Brands are developing proprietary systems with unique characteristics and branding to differentiate their vehicles in crowded markets. This competition accelerates technological advancement while providing consumers with increasingly sophisticated options.

Partnerships between automotive manufacturers and technology companies are creating new capabilities in intelligent AWD control systems. Artificial intelligence, cloud computing, and advanced materials are being integrated to create more responsive and efficient systems.

Regional Market Dynamics

Different global markets exhibit varying demand patterns for intelligent AWD systems based on climate conditions, terrain characteristics, and consumer preferences. Northern markets with harsh winter conditions show strong demand for advanced traction systems, while emerging markets focus on systems that provide value-oriented performance improvements.

Regulatory requirements for vehicle stability and safety systems in various regions influence the adoption of intelligent AWD technology. Standards for electronic stability control and traction management create baseline requirements that intelligent AWD systems can exceed.

Manufacturing and Cost Considerations

The increasing sophistication of intelligent AWD systems requires significant investment in research and development, manufacturing capabilities, and supplier relationships. However, economies of scale and advancing semiconductor technology are helping to reduce system costs while improving performance and reliability.

Modular system designs enable manufacturers to offer different levels of AWD sophistication across vehicle lineups, from basic intelligent systems in entry-level models to advanced torque-vectoring systems in performance vehicles.

[kathaelipwse]

Set Me Off || J.Wooyoung

Pairing: Wooyoung (ATEEZ) x Actress.Idol!Reader

Requested: Yes

Word Count: 7242 words : Reading Time: 26-ish mins

Trope: Idol x Actress | Slow Burn to Lovers | Hidden Relationship | He Falls First and Harder

Warnings: Mild language, mentions of hate comments, slow-burn tension, eventual mild intimacy (towards the end)

Synopsis: Everyone knows you as the queen of K-dramas, always cast in sweet romance roles. But your gritty new action film flips the script—and catches the attention of ATEEZ’s Wooyoung, who’s instantly obsessed. What starts as admiration turns into something deeper as secret messages, live chemistry, and late-night confessions unfold. Fame might complicate things… but love? That’s the real headline.

Author’s Note: This is my love letter to powerful women, supportive men, and the chaos that comes when celebrity crushes turn mutual. Expect flirty tension, viral moments, soft love, and a lot of heart.

Request are open <3

The award show pulsed with manufactured euphoria. Sequins shimmered under the relentless assault of camera flashes, a galaxy of idols clustered beneath the stage lights, their attention divided between the ongoing performances and hushed predictions of who would clutch the coveted trophies. It was the usual orchestrated spectacle: saccharine romance trailers that elicited polite applause, glossy cosmetic brand ads promising unattainable perfection, dramatic teasers hinting at future on-screen turmoil. Fluff and glitter, meticulously curated for maximum impact.

Then, the manufactured brilliance fractured.

The house lights bled out, plunging the auditorium into sudden darkness. A collective murmur rippled through the crowd, a momentary suspension of the carefully constructed reality.

The colossal screen, which had moments before showcased smiling faces and glistening products, dissolved into an absolute, consuming black.

And then your trailer began.

A cacophony of sound ripped through the silence: the sharp, concussive reports of gunshots, the high-pitched whine of tires fighting for traction, the chillingly distinct shick of a blade being drawn from its sheath. And then, you materialized. Stepping into the frame as if conjured from the shadows, clad in a black leather jacket that seemed to absorb the remaining light. Your eyes, sharp and assessing, cut through the darkness. Your lips, painted a defiant blood red, curved into a dangerous smile, a flicker of untamed fire dancing in their depths.

"Target acquired," a voice, low and husky – hers – drawled from the screen. The camera shifted, revealing her perched on a rain-slicked rooftop, a silhouette against the artificial twilight. Black leather molded to her form, a gun holstered with lethal grace against her thigh. Her eyes, lined with a stark precision, mirrored your own intensity. Her lips, too, were curved in a knowing smirk.

The entire auditorium held its breath. The low hum of conversation had vanished, replaced by a profound, almost reverent silence. The collective memory of your previous roles – the sweet ingenue clutching a notebook, the girl blushing over a tentative first kiss – seemed to evaporate into the charged atmosphere.

The images on screen shifted with brutal efficiency. You, a whirlwind of controlled violence, flipping a man twice your size with effortless ease, sending him crashing through a pristine marble table. You, a figure of fierce determination, shooting your way out of a towering high-rise as lightning split the stormy sky. You, smirking, a smear of blood a stark crimson against your flawless cheekbone, your beauty amplified by the raw power you exuded. You were terrifying. And undeniably, breathtakingly beautiful.

"Tell heaven I sent you," she murmured, her voice a silken threat before the deafening roar of an explosion ripped through the sound system. A car erupted in a fiery inferno behind her as she turned and walked away, her silhouette unwavering against the blaze. And then – another explosion, closer this time, the screen erupting in a blinding, white-hot flash. “Blood Petals” – A Netflix Original. Coming Soon.

Silence hung heavy in the air for a beat, two beats, an eternity.

Then, the dam broke.

A collective gasp swept through the auditorium, a wave of pure shock rippling through the assembled stars. A smattering of hesitant cheers broke out, quickly swallowed by the dominant sense of stunned disbelief.

ATEEZ? Their usual boisterous energy seemed to have been momentarily suspended. They sat frozen, eyes glued to the now-blank screen.

Wooyoung? He was a statue carved from disbelief. Utterly silent, his eyes blinked slowly, as if trying to process a reality that had just violently overwritten his expectations. It was as if his entire definition of an ideal had just materialized on screen, holding a grenade and a vendetta.

“Bro,” San whispered, nudging his arm gently. “Was that… her?”

“She just killed five guys and licked blood off her thumb,” Mingi muttered, his eyes wide and unfocused. “I didn’t know I was into that, but apparently, I am.”

Wooyoung remained unresponsive, his brain seemingly undergoing a complete system reboot. Finally, in a voice barely above a whisper, he breathed, “She’s so hot I think I blacked out for a second.”

And then – your cue.

Blinding spotlights flooded the stage, cutting through the residual darkness. You stepped into the incandescent glow, a vision ripped straight from the aesthetic of your trailer. Your gown, the color of deep red wine, clung to your figure like liquid night, sculpted to every curve and angle. The gloves reached past your elbows, adding an air of dangerous elegance, while the slit in the skirt climbed high enough to steal the breath from every lung in the room. Your hair was slicked back, revealing the sharp angles of your face, your expression a study in cool, lethal grace.

Every single eye in the auditorium was fixed on you.

Including his.

Wooyoung watched, his mouth slightly agape, as if you had indeed descended from the ceiling on a wire, a real-life embodiment of a Mission: Impossible fantasy.

You smiled – a cool, collected curve of your lips that somehow managed to convey both power and amusement – and your voice, smooth and confident, filled the stunned silence. “Best Performance Group: ATEEZ.”

A ripple of movement went through their section. They rose, a wave of applause finally breaking the spell. But Wooyoung? He moved as if through water, a dazed expression still clouding his features.

As Hongjoong stepped up to the microphone to accept the award, the unforgiving eye of the camera captured everything. The genuine gratitude on Hongjoong’s face, the supportive smiles of the other members – and Wooyoung. Wooyoung, who couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from you. His eyes followed the line of your dress, the sharpness of your jawline, the knowing glint in your eyes, the subtle curve of your smirk. Your entire aura seemed to have him ensnared.

And then, as you gracefully handed over the gleaming trophy to Hongjoong, your eyes flickered in his direction. Just a fleeting glance. Just one subtle, almost imperceptible smirk.

It was over.

He was done.

Dead.

Buried under a mountain of newfound fascination.

Twitter exploded within minutes.

🎥 “wooyoung folded like a lawn chair watching her walk out I CANNOT.” 📸 “she smirked. he malfunctioned. we all saw it.”

Later that night, back in the familiar chaos of their dorms, the boys were starting to unwind, the adrenaline of the award show slowly dissipating. Everyone, that is, except for Wooyoung.

He was curled up in his bed, the hood of his sweatshirt pulled low over his head, the glow of his phone illuminating his face as he watched your trailer on repeat.

Click.

You walked out of the inferno, the flickering flames casting dramatic shadows across your face, a gun held loosely in one hand, the sharp snap of your heel against the imaginary concrete echoing in his ears.

“Target acquired.”

He exhaled, a long, shaky breath, as if he had indeed glimpsed something divine.

Yeosang cautiously peeked his head around the doorframe. “Are you… okay?”

“She blew up a car. In HEELS.”

“That didn’t exactly answer the question.”

“She’s so cool, guys,” Wooyoung continued, his voice a hushed reverence. “She used to be in all those fluffy romcoms, and now she’s killing people and being sarcastic and walking in slow motion away from explosions. I didn’t know I had a thing for powerful women who could destroy me.”

“Ah,” Seonghwa said, a wide grin spreading across his face. “You’ve fallen. Hard.”

Mingi punctuated the statement by throwing a soft pillow at Wooyoung’s head. “Confess already.”

“I can’t even breathe,” Wooyoung whispered into his blanket, his voice muffled. “She smirked at me. I think I transcended.”

--

Soon enough The Premiere night descended upon the city like an electric storm, the air crackling with anticipation. Paparazzi, an organized frenzy, lined the velvet ropes like a high-powered firing squad, their flashes a relentless barrage of light. Fans, a roaring wave of adoration, pressed against the barriers, their screams a fervent symphony of excitement. The rapid-fire click of camera shutters punctuated the night, a relentless soundtrack to the unfolding spectacle.

And then, the sleek black car pulled up to the curb, its tinted windows a final veil of mystery. The collective breath of the crowd hitched. The door swung open, and you emerged.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. The carefully orchestrated chaos outside the theater erupted into pandemonium. Shouts of your name ripped through the air, drowning out everything else.

You were a vision sculpted from darkness and fire. Custom black silk, impossibly fluid, cascaded around you, embroidered with intricate gold threads that seemed to writhe and shimmer like molten lava. The dress, a masterpiece of design, clung to your form as if painted on, a second skin crafted by mythical beings. A dramatic slit revealed a tantalizing glimpse of leg with every step, while the low back hinted at a hidden strength. Your hair, swept up into a sleek, architectural style, framed your sharp features. Gleaming gold ear cuffs, like miniature sculptures, caught the red carpet lights, adding a touch of fierce elegance.

And your expression? Imperturbable. Powerful. The same captivatingly dark femme fatale aura that had sent shockwaves through the internet after the trailer’s release now radiated in person, amplified tenfold. You were a living, breathing myth, a fire-walking siren who had stepped out of the screen and into reality.

Even as you moved, the digital world was reacting in real-time. Edits began to coalesce on social media, capturing your every step, every glance. Tweets poured in, breathless and awestruck.

💬 “This isn’t a premiere. This is a coronation.” 💬 “She didn’t come to slay. She came to rule.” 💬 “Y/N is literally a Bond villainess and the Bond girl at the same time. My brain can’t comprehend.”

But it wasn't just your otherworldly glamour that held the crowd captive. It was the unexpected glimpses of the person beneath the formidable facade.

As you posed for the relentless cameras, a young female staffer behind you stumbled, her simple blouse slipping awkwardly off one shoulder. In a seamless movement, without a flicker of hesitation, you shifted your position, subtly placing yourself between her and the unforgiving lenses. Your head dipped slightly, and those who were close enough saw your lips move, a whispered word of comfort as the flustered staffer quickly adjusted her top, her face flushing with gratitude.

Moments later, as you made your way towards the theater entrance, a small gasp rippled through the nearby fans. A little girl, her bright pink frock a little too long, had tripped, her face crumpling in distress. Without a second thought, you knelt down in your breathtakingly expensive gown, your movements graceful and unhurried. Your long fingers gently smoothed the ruffled fabric of her skirt, and you carefully adjusted the tiny strap of her heel, offering a warm, genuine smile that melted away her tears.

Halfway up the grand staircase leading into the theater, you paused, your sharp eyes catching a minor imperfection. Your co-star, a usually impeccably dressed actor, had a crooked tie. With a playful shake of your head and a soft laugh that carried in the sudden lull of noise, you reached out and straightened it, your touch light but precise. A blush bloomed on his cheeks, making him look endearingly like a teenager caught off guard.

The internet, already teetering on the brink of collapse, finally shattered.

🎥 “She’s gorgeous, graceful, and kind? This woman’s a SIMULATION. There’s no way she’s real.” 🎥 Fan art, vibrant and immediate, flooded Twitter. TikTok edits set to soaring symphonic music, captioned with the simple, powerful words ‘Queen Energy,’ dominated FYPs. 🎥 # Y/NsEra surged to the # 1 trending spot worldwide, a testament to the captivating force you had unleashed.

And somewhere across the sprawling city, within the familiar, slightly chaotic haven of the ATEEZ dorms, Wooyoung was staring at his phone screen as if it had personally delivered a devastating blow.

She was perfect.

She was unreal.

And she had just posted a picture from the premiere – the black and gold dress shimmering under the intense lights, her gaze direct and magnetic, captioned with two stark emojis:

“🖤⚔️ Blood Petals, now streaming.”

He didn’t pause to consider the implications. He didn’t overthink. His fingers moved with a speed born of pure impulse. He just hit ‘follow.’

And three seconds later, in the small, interconnected universe of social media, the world seemed to tilt again.

💬 “WOOYOUNG FOLLOWED Y/N???” 💬 “We have contact. I repeat. We HAVE CONTACT.” 💬 “Not Wooyoung folding on MAIN like this. I’m deceased.”

Even his own group chat, usually a steady stream of memes and inside jokes, erupted into a flurry of panicked messages.

Mingi: BRO San: no way you just followed her like that Hongjoong: bold. very bold. Yeosang: should’ve made a finsta first lmfao Jongho: you’re so obvious it’s painful Wooyoung: leave me alone Seonghwa: she was really pretty though. and nice. and cool. Wooyoung: I KNOW. I KNOW SHE WAS AND SHE IS.

The next morning, the news broke with the quiet confidence of undeniable success. Netflix officially announced that "Blood Petals" had soared to the # 1 movie spot globally. It had cracked the Top 10 in over eighty countries within the first twelve hours of its release. Critics, who had once pigeonholed you, now lauded your performance, praising the stunning cinematography, the visceral choreography, and your terrifyingly captivating grace. Audiences were spellbound by the transformation, the seamless shift from the soft-spoken sweetheart of romantic comedies to the high-heeled harbinger of doom.

Wooyoung became a dedicated disciple of "Blood Petals." He watched it again and again, dissecting every scene, every nuance of your performance.

But it wasn’t just the movie that consumed him.

He delved into the archives of your public appearances, binging interviews where your witty, sarcastic answers were delivered with a playful smirk that sent a shiver of something he couldn’t quite name down his spine. He watched behind-the-scenes footage, charmed by your easy camaraderie with the stunt team, your genuine laughter at your own bloopers.

And then there were the fan edits. Oh, the fan edits. Compilations of your most striking moments – you in slow motion, flipping gleaming knives with deadly precision, a knowing smirk thrown over your shoulder as you walked away from fiery explosions, all set to a soundtrack of haunting melodies or pulse-pounding club beats.

He was whipped.

Fully.

Entirely.

Completely.

Even the sharp-eyed fans, masters of observation and deduction, sensed the shift in the cosmic balance.

💬 “They haven’t even breathed the same air publicly but I just KNOW he’s head over heels in love.” 💬 “He’s fighting for his life in that dorm right now, trying to play it cool but failing spectacularly.”

And they were right. Because even without a single shared glance captured by the cameras, without a single public interaction…

The ship, fueled by a shared smirk and a single, fateful click of a ‘follow’ button, had already irrevocably set sail.

--

A month had passed since the explosive premiere of "Blood Petals." Your face was plastered across magazine covers, your interviews were dissected frame by frame, and your social media notifications pinged with the relentless energy of a thousand buzzing bees. Your movie reigned supreme, a global phenomenon that solidified your transformation from rom-com darling to action icon. You were booked solid with appearances, endorsements, and talk show circuits.

But through the whirlwind of newfound fame, nothing – and absolutely no one – had managed to truly ruffle your carefully constructed composure. You were a seasoned professional, adept at navigating the chaotic landscape of celebrity.

Until today.

Stepping onto the brightly lit set of a reality show felt different. The studio lights blazed with an almost aggressive intensity, the screams of the live audience were a physical force, and a knot of pure, unadulterated nerves tightened in your stomach, pulling it taut like a drawn bow.

Because today, you were filming with Wooyoung.

Yes. That Wooyoung.

The one who had casually followed you on Instagram weeks ago, triggering an internet meltdown of epic proportions. The one whose award show fancam, capturing his utterly besotted gaze as you presented ATEEZ with their trophy, had inexplicably garnered four million views in a mere seventy-two hours. The one you had, in the quiet corners of your mind, secretly, foolishly, undeniably been crushing on since his debut days.

You’d handled the online frenzy with your usual cool detachment, offering a wry comment here and there, expertly deflecting any direct questions. On the outside, you were the epitome of unbothered grace.

But seeing him in person, sitting across from you at the brightly lit panel table, his fox-like smile radiating genuine warmth, the silver rings on his fingers catching the studio lights, his dark hair artfully messy in a way that somehow only looked perfect on him?

Yeah. Game over. All your carefully constructed walls crumbled like ancient ruins.

“Hi,” he said, his voice a smooth, slightly breathless murmur as you finally settled into your seat. His eyes held a spark of something… intriguing.

“Hey,” you replied, your voice betraying none of the internal chaos, maintaining your signature cool even as your heart rate decided to stage its own private rave.

He leaned in ever so slightly, a conspiratorial air about him. “You look… dangerous.” His gaze flickered over your outfit, a sleek black jumpsuit that hinted at the lethal grace you portrayed on screen.

A familiar smirk tugged at the corner of your lips. “That’s kind of the brand now, isn’t it?” You met his eyes, holding his gaze for a beat longer than strictly necessary.

The show kicked off, a whirlwind of bright lights and enthusiastic energy. Games were played with varying degrees of success, laughter echoed through the studio, and the usual delightful madness of variety television unfolded. You found yourself surprisingly at ease, bantering with the other guests, your sharp wit on full display.

And then, the host, a seasoned entertainer with a mischievous glint in his eye, turned to you mid-segment, a wide grin spreading across his face. He thrived on creating memorable moments, and the palpable energy between you and Wooyoung hadn’t escaped his notice.

“So, Y/N,” he began, his voice laced with playful curiosity, “people were absolutely obsessed with your bike scenes in Blood Petals. The way you handled that motorcycle in those incredible heels… Do you think you could still ride in heels in real life?”

Without missing a beat, you smoothly crossed your long legs, the movement drawing attention to the very heels in question – a pair of impossibly high stilettos. You casually flicked a loose strand of hair over your shoulder, your gaze steady. “Of course. I could ride in stilettos if I had to. Though I might prefer a slightly more… aerodynamic model than what I usually wear to premieres.”

The audience erupted in cheers and whistles, thoroughly enjoying your confident response.

But the host wasn’t finished stirring the pot. He clapped his hands together dramatically, his eyes twinkling. “Amazing! Absolutely amazing! Well, we have a bike right here on set for our next segment… Anyone here wanna volunteer to ride behind our action queen and, you know, test out her skills?” He punctuated the question with a wink at the camera, clearly intending it as a lighthearted joke. The cast members chuckled, anticipating the usual playful refusals.

Except for one person.

“Yes.”

Wooyoung’s voice cut through the laughter, clear and unwavering. He didn’t even blink, his expression utterly serious, calm, and brimming with a quiet confidence that sent a fresh wave of unexpected butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

The entire room seemed to freeze mid-breath. The camera zoomed in on the audience, capturing their collective gasp of shock and burgeoning excitement. Screams started to bubble up from the fans, a sound that was rapidly escalating into something bordering on feral. The other cast members exchanged bewildered glances, some wheezing with suppressed laughter, the staff members behind the cameras cackling with glee at the unexpected turn of events.

And you?

You turned your head slowly, deliberately, to look directly at him. His gaze was intense, a playful fire dancing in his dark eyes. He was smiling at you like the damn devil himself, an irresistible invitation in his expression.

So, of course, you said, your voice a low, challenging purr, “Let’s ride.”

The live segment instantly became legend.

A sleek, black motorcycle was wheeled onto the stage, gleaming under the studio lights. You swung your leg over it with an effortless grace that suggested you had indeed been born on two wheels, the sharp click of your stilettos against the pedals echoing in the sudden hush. Wooyoung hesitated for a split second – just enough to play it off as a moment of playful apprehension – before swinging his own leg over and sliding in behind you, his movements surprisingly fluid.

His hands hovered awkwardly in the air behind you, a palpable tension radiating from him.

“Is it okay if I—?” he started, his voice a hesitant murmur.

“Yes,” you said, cutting him off before he could even finish the question, a hint of amusement lacing your tone.

His hands settled on your waist, lightly at first, his fingers brushing against the fabric of your jumpsuit. Then, as the camera zoomed in for a close-up, his grip tightened subtly, a silent acknowledgment of the close proximity. His breath warmed the shell of your ear as he spoke, his voice a low rumble.

“You sure you’re good?”

“You’ve asked me ten times,” you said, a teasing lilt in your voice. “You nervous?”

“Just trying not to pass out,” he muttered, the words barely audible.

You pretended not to hear the slightly flustered admission, but the knowing smirk playing on your lips said otherwise.

The internet, predictably, imploded. Again.

💬 “The chemistry is NOT just acting. I refuse to believe this is just for the show.” 💬 “They’re touching like it’s a first date AND their third date at the same time. The awkwardness is endearing and the underlying tension is… palpable.” 💬 “Someone check on Wooyoung’s blood pressure. I think it just spiked into the stratosphere.”

After the exhilarating chaos of the live broadcast, as you finally had a moment to yourself, you opened Instagram. Your fingers hovered over his profile for a fleeting second before you made the decision.

And finally – finally – you tapped the ‘follow’ button.

Within mere seconds, the eagle-eyed fans noticed the digital acknowledgment. The news spread like wildfire.

💬 “Y/N FOLLOWED HIM BACK. WE’RE WITNESSING HISTORY UNFOLD BEFORE OUR VERY EYES.” 💬 “This isn’t just a ship anymore. It’s a luxury yacht sailing through international waters.” 💬 “They’re gonna get married and I can FEEL IT in my bones. Save the date!”

Meanwhile, back at the ATEEZ dorm, the atmosphere was one of bewildered amusement.

Mingi burst into the living room with theatrical flair, phone clutched dramatically in his hand. “YOU SAID YES ON LIVE TV?! TO RIDING BEHIND HER?! ON A MOTORCYCLE?!”

Yunho followed, shaking his head in disbelief, a wide, slightly incredulous grin on his face. “You looked like you were about to propose on that bike, hyung.”

Wooyoung simply shrugged, a goofy, lovesick grin plastered across his face – the grin of a man who was clearly, irrevocably, way too far gone. “I meant it.”

Mingi and Yunho groaned in perfect unison, collapsing onto the nearby couch.

“You’re down bad,” Mingi declared with mock solemnity.

“Embarrassing,” Yunho added, though the teasing tone lacked any real bite.

Wooyoung just flopped back onto the cushions, his phone already displaying a rapidly growing collection of fan edits from the show – snippets of your confident smile, his awestruck gaze, the charged moment on the motorcycle.

And he smiled, a soft, genuine expression that reached his eyes.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice laced with a quiet contentment. “I know.”

It starts the night after the variety show.

Your phone buzzes at 1:12 a.m. with a DM request.

Wooyoung.

You open it without hesitation.

@ wooyoung_official Hey… I hope this isn’t weird or too much but I just wanted to say I had so much fun filming today. I meant what I said about the bike thing, by the way. You were incredible. If I came off too strong, I’m sorry—I was just really nervous and trying not to make it obvious I’ve been a fan of yours forever lol. You’re insanely talented. And hilarious. And kind. I don’t usually DM people like this but… I didn’t want the day to end without saying thank you. Hope I wasn’t too much.

You stare at the screen, heart thudding. Not just because it’s sweet. But because it's real.

You reply faster than you probably should.

@ you That wasn’t too much at all. I had a great time too :) I’m glad it was you behind me on that bike. And if you were nervous, you hid it well. We should do that again sometime. (Maybe without the cameras.)

There’s a pause. Then another ping.

@ wooyoung_official …wait was that flirting Are we flirting now Because I’m ready

You laugh, then send your number as he had sent his.

--

From that moment, it takes off.

Texting every day. Morning check-ins. Late-night venting. Voice notes filled with sleepy laughter and dramatic reenactments of chaotic schedules.

You send each other memes, inside jokes forming faster than you can keep track.

He tells you about the stress of comeback season, the pressure to stay sharp, the ache in his bones from back-to-back rehearsals.

You talk about the constant need to be “on,” the way you sometimes feel like a product instead of a person, the weight of comments that cut deeper than they should.

And through it all, Wooyoung listens. Never tries to fix you. Just sees you.

And hypes you—loudly.

When you land another guesting on a show with him, fans immediately clock the shift.

The way he looks at you when you speak. The inside jokes mid-interview. The not-so-subtle way his hand brushes yours during games.

Clips go viral.

💬 “They’re literally in their own world.” 💬 “Why does Wooyoung look at her like that 😭😭” 💬 “Not him fixing her mic like a boyfriend.” 💬 “HE SAID SHE DESERVES TEN OSCARS??? GET HIM A RING.”

It gets worse (or better?) when he starts defending you online.

Any hate comment?

Deleted.

Any fan shading your acting?

He’s replying with full essays about your talent and work ethic.

He comments under your posts with things like:

💬 Queen behavior. 💬 She acts, she slays, she saves lives. 💬 Where’s your award? No seriously. 💬 No one’s touching her. I mean that.

And when you text him—

💬 you You really don’t have to defend me like that all the time, you know. 💬 wooyoung Yes, I do. You deserve someone who shows up for you. Always. I want to be that.

--

One night, after a long shoot, you break a little.

You text: “Some days I feel like I’ll never be enough no matter how hard I work.”

His reply comes thirty seconds later.

You don’t have to earn the right to rest. You’re enough just as you are. And I know this world is loud and cruel sometimes. But when you need quiet? I’ll be your quiet. When you need noise? I’ll be your loudest.

You cry.

And when he sends a sleepy voice note later saying:

“Just wanted you to hear my voice. In case it helps.”

—you fall asleep smiling.

-

One year. Three hundred and sixty-five days of whispered messages that painted the dawn, late-night phone calls that chased away the shadows, stolen secret coffee runs in disguise, the comforting rhythm of shared playlists weaving through your days, matching hoodies bought on a whim and worn in the privacy of your own spaces, a silent testament to a connection only you two understood.

You and Wooyoung had cultivated a world just for yourselves, a sanctuary built on stolen moments and shared laughter. It wasn't about hiding from the relentless glare of the public eye, though that was a necessary byproduct. It was about cherishing something precious, something untouched by the often-brutal scrutiny of public opinion. It was yours, and his, and belonged to no one else.

He had become your unwavering safe place, the calm in your often-turbulent storm. You, in turn, had become his soft landing, the quiet reassurance in the demanding world he navigated. You had shared everything – your fears, your triumphs, your silliest jokes, your deepest vulnerabilities.

Except for this.

Your next movie. A project shrouded in secrecy, filmed during snatched moments over the past six months. A bold, breathtaking action-romance that promised to redefine your range, where you played the lead opposite a talented rising actor. And yes – there were intimate scenes. A handful. Tastefully shot, with a closed set and an intimacy coordinator ensuring everyone felt safe and respected. Carefully choreographed, like any other dance sequence.

Necessary for the story, your director had emphasized, his artistic vision unwavering. And executed with professionalism and respect, you knew. You believed in the script, in the message it conveyed. You loved the complexity of your character. You just hadn’t… told him.

You had envisioned it as a surprise, a new facet of your artistry to share when the time was right, perhaps at the official trailer drop. But when the first press article landed, its headline screaming the word “intimate” in bold, accusatory letters… it wasn’t the carefully curated reveal you had planned.

Your phone began to vibrate incessantly, a relentless buzzing that echoed the growing unease within you. Notifications flooded your screen – concerned messages from your team, speculative comments from fans, and then, his name flashed across the display.

💬 Wooyoung: Can we meet? Just us. Please.

The café was a hidden gem, tucked away on a quiet, tree-lined street in the familiar bustle of Mapo-gu. The early afternoon crowd was sparse, mostly locals lost in their own conversations. No one paid you a second glance as you slipped inside. He was already there, seated in your usual corner booth, the familiar soft grey of his hoodie pulled low, the brim of his black cap shadowing his usually bright eyes.

As you slid into the booth opposite him, he looked up, and a sharp pang of something akin to guilt and worry twisted in your chest. He wasn't angry, not outwardly. But an almost palpable anxiety clung to him, a restless energy that made him seem smaller, more vulnerable than you had ever seen him. It was as if something was crawling under his skin, an invisible itch he couldn’t quite scratch.

"Hey," you said softly, your voice a gentle anchor in the tense atmosphere.

"Hey." He offered you a tight, strained smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Then he exhaled sharply, the sound filled with a nervous energy. "I—I'm sorry. I shouldn't have dragged you out like this, I just… I couldn't keep it in. Not for another second."

Without a word, you reached across the small table, your hand finding his. His fingers curled around yours instantly, his grip surprisingly tight, as if he needed the physical connection to ground him. He took another shaky breath before the words finally tumbled out, quick, nervous, raw with vulnerability.

"I trust you. You know that, right? God, you have to know that. I trust you more than anyone I've ever met. But when I saw those articles, the way they were talking about it, the… the emphasis on those scenes… I—I just panicked. My head went somewhere I didn't want it to go. I know it's acting. I know it's your job, your art. But I couldn't stop imagining it, replaying scenarios in my head. I hate that I felt this wave of… of jealousy. It's so stupid. I hate that my brain spiraled like that. I just—God."

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He looked down at your intertwined hands, his thumb tracing small, agitated circles on your skin.

"I think… I think I love you so much it scares me sometimes. It makes me… irrational. I don't ever want to be the guy who tells you what to do, what roles to take, what not to film. That's not who I am. But I'd be lying if I said it didn't make this awful knot form in my stomach, like I was losing you. Or worse… that I didn't deserve you, that someone else… someone else would see that side of you, that intimacy, and… and that I wouldn't be enough."

Your own chest tightened, a wave of empathy washing over you. You understood his vulnerability, the quiet insecurities that even his bright stage presence couldn’t always mask.

Without a word, you slid out of your seat, moved around the small table, and knelt down in front of him, your knees pressing gently against the worn wooden floor. You reached up, your hands framing his face, your thumbs gently stroking his cheekbones.

"Wooyoung," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "You're allowed to feel all of that. Every single bit of it. You're not wrong for being scared, for letting your mind wander. It just proves how much you care. But you're not losing me. You've never even come close."

His dark eyes darted across your face, searching, questioning, glassy with unshed tears that made his eyelashes look impossibly long. “I just… it’s just that the way they wrote about it…”

"I love you." You leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his, the contact a silent reassurance. "I love you. Jung Wooyoung. Not anyone else. Not any character I play. Not any co-star I share a scene with. Just you. Always you."

He blinked slowly, a single tear escaping and tracing a path down his cheek. “You… you do?” The question was barely a whisper, filled with a mixture of disbelief and a fragile hope.

"I have for a long time," you confessed, your voice soft but firm.

Then you kissed him.

It was a tender kiss, slow and deliberate, a silent language of reassurance and unwavering affection. It deepened gradually, becoming a heartfelt expression of everything you had ever wanted to say, everything that words often failed to capture. His hands, which had been gripping yours so tightly, now moved to your waist, pulling you closer, his own lips finally responding with a fervor that spoke volumes of the restraint he had been holding onto.

You broke apart just enough to breathe, your lips still brushing against his.

"The scenes in the movie?" you said gently, your gaze unwavering. "They're choreography, Wooyoung. They're storytelling. They're a performance. Not emotion. That has never, and will never, be a part of what I feel for you."

You pressed a soft kiss against his jawline, feeling the slight tremor beneath your lips.

"My heart doesn't perform for a camera. It beats for you, and only you."

You stood, taking his hand, your fingers lacing together as if they were meant to be intertwined. You left the quiet café hand in hand, two figures melting into the anonymity of the afternoon shadows, a shared smile gracing your lips – the quiet, knowing smile of two people who had just reaffirmed something precious and unbreakable.

And maybe you had stolen something from the universe. The unwavering certainty of each other's love, a bond forged in vulnerability and trust. And that, you knew, was a treasure beyond measure.

--

Two years. Seven hundred and thirty sunrises witnessed through sleepy eyes, countless whispered "goodnights" across continents, an immeasurable tapestry woven from secret smiles exchanged across crowded rooms, stolen moments tucked away from prying eyes, phone calls that stretched into the velvet depths of midnight, sharing the quiet anxieties and exhilarating triumphs that came with navigating your extraordinary lives. It was about fiercely protecting something real, something fragile and precious, in a world that seemed determined to twist every genuine connection into a sensational headline.

But love, as it often did, bloomed in the quiet spaces, making you both a little braver, a little more willing to step out of the carefully constructed shadows.

So there was no dramatic announcement, no carefully worded statement released through official channels. No grand, orchestrated gesture, no notes app apology for… well, for simply finding happiness. Instead, you both eased into the public acknowledgment of your relationship with the same gentle tenderness that defined your private world—slowly, softly, like the first blush of dawn.

A seemingly innocuous selfie, posted amidst a flurry of solo shots, where a familiar black jacket was just-so-casually draped over your shoulders. A behind-the-scenes video from a shoot where a distinct, joyful laugh echoed in the background, a laugh that sharp-eared fans instantly recognized. A fleeting glimpse of a hand, undeniably his, resting near yours in a group photo.

The fans, those astute observers of every pixel and every shared glance, already knew. They had suspected, theorized, and meticulously documented every potential clue for months. Edits set to romantic ballads, intricate timelines of your subtle interactions, and countless “I swear they’re secretly dating” comments had flooded every corner of the internet you both inhabited.

So when it finally became “official”—just a casual, almost offhand, "yes, we’re together, and we’re really happy" during a lighthearted interview about your recent projects—the internet didn't explode in scandal. Instead, it melted with an outpouring of genuine joy and heartfelt congratulations. It wasn't a shocking revelation; it was a confirmation of something beautiful that they had already sensed. It was a celebration of a connection that felt real, honest, and earned.

And Wooyoung? He never stopped being your biggest fan, his unwavering support now blossoming into something even more profound. Every post you shared, no matter how trivial, received his immediate like, a digital affirmation that always brought a small smile to your face. Every press junket, every interview you gave, he watched with an almost reverent pride. Every stray negative comment, every whisper of doubt from the darker corners of the internet, he seemed to drown out with an even louder, more radiant display of his affection.

You weren’t just a fleeting “celebrity crush” in his eyes anymore. You were his. His partner, his confidante, his equal. His favorite person in a world filled with dazzling lights and fleeting connections.

And he was yours. The steady anchor in your often-turbulent sea, the warm hand that always found yours in a crowded room, the comforting voice that whispered reassurances in the quiet hours.

The premiere night of your latest film was, as always, a dazzling spectacle. The relentless flash of cameras, the chorus of voices calling your name, the crimson carpet stretching out like a runway leading into the starlit sky. You stood tall, radiating confidence in a gown of rich crimson velvet that seemed to absorb and reflect the light, your poise a silent testament to the journey you had navigated.

Wooyoung didn't walk beside you, his arm linked with yours for the cameras. That wasn't your story. But he was there, a steadfast presence tucked away in the guest section, the hood of his jacket pulled up, the brim of his baseball cap low, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made you feel like you held the very moon in your hands.

Every time your eyes met his across the crowded theater, a fleeting, private moment amidst the public frenzy, your smile softened, a genuine warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the flashing lights.

Later, as the buzz of the after-party began to fade, the air thick with congratulations and champagne bubbles, the two of you slipped away unnoticed, seeking the quiet solitude of a rooftop overlooking the sprawling cityscape.

The city hummed below, a symphony of distant traffic lights flickering like fallen stars, the faint wail of sirens a melancholic counterpoint to the gentle breeze that kissed your skin. You leaned against the cool metal railing, the vastness of the night sky stretching above you. He stepped up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you close until your back rested against his chest, his chin finding the curve of your shoulder.

"You killed it tonight," he murmured into your hair, his breath warm against your ear.

You turned in his embrace, your hands finding his. “You always say that.”

He smiled, a soft, genuine curve of his lips that you knew so well. "Because it’s always true. You shine so brightly, you know that?"

A comfortable silence settled between you, the city lights twinkling like a silent audience. The air tasted like something sacred, a shared moment of quiet intimacy amidst the surrounding chaos.

“I don’t want to lose this,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper, the vulnerability of the past two years momentarily surfacing.

His grip tightened gently on your hands. “You won’t,” he replied, his voice firm, filled with a quiet conviction. “Not if we keep choosing each other, every single day. Not if we keep protecting this, our own little world.”

You nodded, a small, understanding smile gracing your lips. You leaned forward, resting your forehead against his, the familiar scent of his cologne a comforting balm.

And in that quiet space, between the distant hum of the city and the steady rhythm of your heartbeats, you both silently reaffirmed the promise you had made to each other long ago – to never let the relentless demands of the world, the intrusive glare of fame, the insidious tendrils of fear and doubt, or the deafening noise of public opinion come between the fragile, beautiful thing you had built.

The next morning, as the world began to stir, a blurry, zoomed-in shot surfaced on Twitter, quickly going viral. It was an imperfect capture of a perfect moment. You were laughing, your hand playfully covering your mouth, your head tilted towards Wooyoung, who stood close beside you, his hand gently, possessively, holding yours. The background was indistinct, the focus soft, but the emotion captured in that single frame was undeniable.

The caption, simple and heartfelt, resonated with millions:

“When your celeb crush becomes your person.”

And just like that, the world kept spinning, the endless cycle of news and gossip continuing its relentless churn. But for once, it felt like the universe was tilting ever so slightly in your favor, bathing your quiet, hard-won happiness in a warm, gentle light.

-- THE END

[raitonsfw]

𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎'𝚜 𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚑𝚗𝚒𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 | 𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚜𝚞𝚐𝚞 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

synopsis: They made a fucking bet – whoever made you cum first wins first fuck of the night. The drawback? They can't drop their cursed techniques, Gojo with his Limitless and Geto with his Curse Manipulation. You can only imagine where this was gonna go, your legs already spread open wide for the sorcerers.

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, fem!reader (she/her pronouns), threesome, inappropriate use of cursed techniques, sex toy (vibrator with insertion), clit play, doggy style, facefucking, creampie & cum swallowing, dirty talk, banter, satosugu arguing like idiots, geto pisses gojo off, geto kinda cheats, toji's worm pins reader down, gojo's love language is touch (so this is really hard for him), gojo being a bit cocky and geto being a bit condescending, satosugu don't interact sexually (i know, i'm sorry), endings kinda weak but who cares?

a/n: with this treasure i summon– dunno came up with this plot like a few weeks ago cuz i was really intrigued by satoru's technique and not being able to touch him like- if there are mistakes, just know i suck at distinguishing the power system of jjk so my bad. wc: 2.2k. m.list

divider credit: @hitobaby

“Aw, she’s crying…” You heard from afar and you knew instantly– you were fucked. 

“Satoru, don’t tease her.” 

The two men made a bet– of who could get you to cum without dropping their technique wins first fuck of the night. Naturally, Gojo had it much worse as he couldn’t touch you but Geto was able to do whatever he pleased… with the exception of his curses clinging to you. And that made you squirm with discomfort– you hated his curses, they skeeved you out and you were worried they might attack you even though Geto’s assured you many times he has full control of them. 

You reached out for Gojo again but you were met with traction, the slipping feeling of reality falling apart and breaking your hand’s outstretch. Tears slipped from your eyes as you were fooled yet again, the pressure vibrating through your body becoming way too much and you tried to pull from Geto’s grasp. But the wormed curse he summoned kept you tight and taut against the heat of the mattress, the vibrator flush with your clit and you frowned.

You couldn’t cum like this– with the way Geto’s slimy purple worm looked, so goddamn disgusting…and all you wanted was Gojo’s affection. You wanted him to touch you– to crave you like he always did. He was such a touchy man and the fact that he sat in front of you without so much as reaching out killed you.

Geto had you in his lap, the worm clinging onto one of your arms and the other expelled out towards Gojo. Geto ran the vibrator down towards your entrance and you writhed against him again, your back arching up with a whiny moan but you were met with the babbling of the wretched worm next to you and you instinctively tried to flung it off. “Getooo… Get it off me.” 

Geto pressed a tiny kiss to the back of your head, his other hand stroking your hair with a quiet murmur of ‘sorry baby…’ which didn’t make you feel any better. Gojo sat in front of you in a criss cross position, looking quite bored as he leaned his elbow against his knee. “Bring out another curse, Suguruuu. Toji’s worm’s weak.” 

“I’m not going to scare her.” Geto sighed, his hand faltering on your cunt and you visibly relaxed as he pulled it away from you. Instead he slipped the other part of the vibrator inside you curtly, leaving it there as his fingers brushed your clit. “At least I can touch her.”

Jealousy flashed on Gojo’s face as Geto rubbed circles on your clit, earning another whine from you– a long needy whine too. Your eyes threatened to squeeze shut, barely able to concentrate on anything besides the incessant vibrating pressing into you. Gojo huffed out dramatically, his eyes leveling towards your cunt then back towards Geto. 

“Just because I can’t touch her doesn’t mean I can’t get her off.” The sly remark from the white haired sorcerer went unnoticed by you as the toy nudged deeper into you, the force much more prominent than before. 

You moaned out as it started to fuck in and out of you, the motions absurdly fluid as it pinned your sweet spot, making you tremble. Your hips rolled into the sensation, your hands clutching against the silk of the bed sheets quickly. When you vaguely registered where Geto’s hands rested – one in your hair and another rubbing your clit – you realized that it wasn’t him thrusting the vibrator in you.

You glanced down quickly and through blurred vision, you recognized the invisible energy dragging so heavenly along your walls– Gojo was using his technique.

The vibrator moved to the force pulled within the constraints of his limitless technique, infinity constriding your every nerve and you writhed against Geto, completely forgetting about the curse that crawled against your arm. Your eyes met Gojo; his hand flush with cursed energy glowing a bright blue along with the crystals he called eyes, the damned things nearly taking your breath away. It felt like you were on display for him, taking in every whimper and moan coaxed out of you by his precious power.

He seemed so into it now, his cock straining in his boxers– he found a loophole of course – and he was sure he was going to win the bet. Gojo felt his cock leak as your pretty pussy clenched around the toy, his hand wavering slightly at the thought of it being his– ‘cause God, you’d squeeze him so fucking hard sometimes when he fucked you that he saw stars. Your pussy slicked the little toy with a mass of your arousal, glistening the ribbed toy beautifully and he had to stop himself from drooling. 

When he wins the bet, he’s going to suck the life out of you– your clit and your soul.

The fucking bet sucked his soul right out of him though; all he wanted right now was you on his lap, quivering against him as he played with you. His dick would settle right against the small of your back and he’d grind up into it as you rutted yourself against the little toy and then he’d press the head of his cock right against your aching cunt– maybe even next to the juddering toy, teasing you until you were crying for him and– 

“Stop toying with her.”

The vibrator was delicately pulled out of you, the pleasure ceasing and leaving you empty with pure neediness. You whined out, trying to grasp at Geto’s wrist but his black portal had materialized next to it and another one of his curses grabbed you and kept you still. You grimaced in disgust, leaning forward from Geto before you were forcefully pushed back by strong, uncontrolled energy. 

Gojo was wildly annoyed; you could tell. In fact, you weren’t sure if he could go one more second without touching you– or punching Geto square in the face. 

“Gojo, don’t–” You started, but it was too late now. He was livid, because how dare Geto. How dare he just fucking pull it right out of you with not even an inkling of regret etched on his face. Especially since you were so close– he sensed it, practically saw you tensing up in chase of your release and he just ruins it for you? 

“I’m not toying with her. That was fucking allowed–! Put it back in her.” Gojo growled, his eyebrows furrowing in anger. Animosity dripped from his presence, his body leaning close towards yours before stopping in harrow. 

“Do it yourself.” Geto smirked. He definitely wanted to get under Gojo’s skin; anything to get him to lose the bet. “Maybe I’ll fuck my cock in instead…”

You noticed Gojo stiffen, a menacing look painting his face for a split second before it fell away into a lazed attitude. You watched as his jaw clenched, his fists balling up against his lap as he crouched forward. He had a slight pout to his features, which you adored– he was always in a mood whenever it came to Geto’s taunting. “You wouldn’t.” 

“Oh? Satoru– you should know me by now.” 

“That’s cheating, Sugu.” You leaned up to look at him, kissing at his jawline to prevent any more arguing. His hands found your clit again, feigning more circles into the soft bud and you cooed at him with a tiny whine. His fingers dipped into your pussy slightly which in turn, made you buck your hips against them and his eyes never left Gojo’s as they tranced him into a challenge.

“Who cares? I’ll win anyway. I’m just getting a headstart into the night, pretty.” Before you had time to readjust underneath Geto’s intoxicating touch, his curses pulled you upwards; sitting you directly against Geto’s thick cock. 

And there it was– a flash of blue. Your body was instantly flush against Gojo’s chest, his strong arms embracing you like he was trying to protect you from harm. He pulled you into a desperate kiss, his fingers roaming over your waist as he lapped his tongue against yours in a soft hum. God, he missed this– he missed you, even though it was only for a few minutes. As his mouth sucked a tiny bruise down your neck, revelling in the way you keened, he vowed to never fucking make a bet with Geto Suguru ever again. 

Geto’s curses faded away back into the portal, disintegrating against the black mass as soon as Gojo touched you. “Told you, Y/N.” 

Geto’s big hands wrapped against your hips, the tip of his cock already prodding against your entrance as he aimed to mount you right then and there. No, he didn’t want to waste any time because just as quickly as Gojo lost the bet, he could turn it towards his favor; the damned idiot spinning you like a hot wheel whenever he flashed his mesmerizing eyes at you.

One wink and you could probably squirt a mile for him. 

Geto turned your chin towards him with his forefinger, his dark eyes sending chills down your spine as he bottomed out. You took to your hands and knees, unable to hold onto Gojo any longer as Geto filled you full. A slight blush spread throughout his cheeks as he let out a low deep groan, his eyes fluttering shut for a second. “Fuck… Just keep your eyes on me, darling.” 

You had your eyes on him for like five seconds before your head was tilted back towards Gojo, his cock now directly in front of you and he slicked the tip against your mouth while pumping it shallowly. “Open wide, baby.”

“Not going to scold me, Satoru?” Geto teased, pulling out his cock lightly and slamming it back into with fervor. You whimpered out, your eyes rolling towards the back of your head as Gojo tried to feed his cock into your mouth. 

“Just need her right now– shit…” He stuttered out as you sunk down on him eagerly, his cock hitting the back of your throat in one go. Oh, you must’ve broken him– his entire body jolted forwards to fuck into your mouth and his mouth dropped open in a shuddering moan. Or he was already broken beforehand, unable to keep his cock to himself as you were almost fucked without his permission. 

Geto was a dirty cheater, but a brilliant fucker; his hips snapped into you at the perfect angle and you whined happily around Gojo’s cock as he rammed into your sweet spot. You drooled on Gojo’s cock, unable to do anything but take it– take both of them in one sitting and try not to die from the pressure building in your tummy. Geto fucked into you so deep, his stamina barely faltering as he pounded you from the back with breathless pants seeping from his mouth. 

You wished you could turn back to look at him– or better yet, his hand tangled into your hair and pulled you towards him but he wouldn’t go that far to piss Gojo off. You could only imagine the sight of him, his long hair snaking down his back and sticking to the frame of his face while Gojo glared at him. Geto wouldn’t care though– because he won fair and square in his eyes, his cock pressing against your cervix with a tremble to his thighs now due to the way you clenched around him. 

And you knew Gojo wanted so badly to feel you squeeze around him– so you hollowed out your cheeks and smoothed one of your hands over his thigh as you looked up at him through your eyelashes. He took the golden opportunity to face fuck you, his hips rolling into you with a broken groan. 

“Ah, k-keep going. That’s it… you love being stuffed by the both of us, huh? Can’t even fucking think straight– fuck, do that again…” Gojo babbled above you as his hips thrusted into your wet mouth, your tongue sliding up the underside of his twitching cock. 

You felt your release practically racing towards you as Geto fucked into you relentlessly now, the crown of his cock catch on your hole each and every time he plunged in. You breathed through your nose as your walls fluttered around him through your orgasm, feeling the warmth of Geto’s following not long after. 

His groans were quickly overtaken by Gojo’s desperate little whines, both of their hips slapping against you being one of the few sounds in the room. Gojo could only be out of the limelight for so long before his moans became downright filthy whimpers when he came down your throat, burying his cock deeply into your mouth. “Swallow it all, princess. Don’t waste a goddamn drop…” 

And you did– you swallowed every goddamn drop that dribbled from his cock while Geto fucked his cum into you greedily. As you pulled off of Gojo’s cock, you wobbled against the bed slightly before the two of them held you up and placed you carefully against the pillows. Looking at the two of them, there seemed to be no sign of ill intent racking their brains. Maybe they wouldn’t fight and you could sleep peacefully, snuggled against them in a warm, cozy blanket.

“Next time you make a bet, fucking keep it Suguru.” Gojo breathed out, his voice void of malice but there still was a bite to it. Wedged between the two of them, you felt Geto shake with laughter– the mocking kind that dug at Gojo’s psyche.

Or maybe not.

“What, you really think you’ll win next time?”

“I know I will.”

a/n: y'all want them to make another bet or no?

[lrgcarter]

I have designed a new Pride Flag.

I believe it fills a gap in the span of flag coverage. I might be wrong, feel free to ignore if so.

This is the What Are You, A Cop? flag.

Do you want to know more?

Who is it for?

This flag represents any aspect of identity that you contain but don't want to actively broadcast, be it sexuality, gender, absence of either, disability, ethnicity, race, or anything else that I'll inevitably remember I wanted to mention the moment I hit post.

When I say you don't want to actively broadcast it, I don't mean you're keeping it secret. I mean you're just not bringing it up in conversation. And if people want to ask, it's up to you whether you tell them.

The flag encompasses people who have always been who they are, and have therefore never had a "coming out" moment and don't want to have one now.

The flag encompasses people who are happy talking about themselves to those they trust, but think everyone else should mind their own business.

The flag encompasses people who are questioning their identity and don't feel the need to show their workings so far.

The flag encompasses people who think surveys and the state don't need to know these aspects of you identity and should just regard you simply as human.

The flag encompasses people regardless of their reasons for identity privacy.

The flag does NOT encompass secret bigotries, but I imagine if they heard about it bigots would try to co-opt it. Meh, I don't believe this post will gain any traction so I don't need to worry about that.

What Does It Represent?

The design is inspired by this image from the Information Security Wikipedia page.

Central Circle - Existence of Self

The central circle represents yourself and your own identity information.

It stands as a statement that you exist.

Triangle Points - Who has Knowledge of Self

The three points of the triangle represent who has/has not got access to knowledge of your self.

One triangle for those allowed access.

One triangle for those forbidden access.

One triangle for yourself, representing your own journey of self discovery.

Rings - Controlling Access to Self

The rings represent your right to control who knows about your self.

The inner yellow ring represents your right to control knowledge of your physical being.

The black ring represents your right to control knowledge of your mental/psychological being.

The outer yellow ring represents your control knowledge of how your collected physical and mental self interacts with external systems/environments. (eg, whether an environment casts you as disabled.)

Black Field

The square of black in the background represents how designs need to sit on an appropriately shaped 'base' if they are to function as a flag.

Style Guide

The flag uses just two colours because that makes them easier to get hold of.

The colours of yellow and black were chosen because if you can get hold of any fabric or paint, these will commonly be among your options.

Also, these colours mean Back Off in nature.

The design is shoddily constructed. The edges of the circles are messy. The width of the rings is uneven. The black circle fits awkwardly on the yellow triangle.

This is because not everyone has the time, energy, skill, or other resources to make a flag that looks good. Make it all neat and smart if you like, but you don't have to.

You could even just draw it in lines; circle, triangle, two more circles.

Draw it how you like, I'm not a cop.

Though, the symbol as depicted was intentionally drawn so as to suggest a cop had shot a bullet through a triangle. You know what sort of triangle. Fuck the police.

Licensing Information

What Are You, A Cop? Pride Flag by lrgcarter is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License

[ceaselessims]

i'm following up on this post i made a few weeks ago because there is a post gaining traction about how this idea of the fear domains being run primarily by people in power or people abusing power is reductive of the original message of tma.

i invite people thinking this way to listen to season 5 again, and the avatars that we meet. jon makes a point to explain that someone is either being watched or the watcher. Either way, you are part of the system.

in tma, the fears are a stand in for the inescapable, comic weight of oppressive and exploitative systems. there is nuance in how people participate and become involved in them, but nonetheless the avatars are exemplary figures of these systems. Callum Brody, a child, explaining that he was afraid and now he likes to make others feel afraid. Helen and Jon fighting about Jon's inability to accept the fact that he is a willing and active participant in the suffering of others. Peter Lukas and his family using their prominence and power to lure people into the Lonely. And of course, Jonah Magnus using the power of his institute to control and seize power from everyone he could possibly even slightly manipulate.

Even Martin has to deal with the fact that by being with jon he is contributing to the suffering of others, by chosing to not be watched he is participating in the apocalypse no matter how well intentioned he is.

does it take away from the more broad metaphorical messaging by spelling it out in protocol? maybe a little bit, but the idea that avatars are extensions of the fears, and therefore the exploitative systems (i.e. power), has always been present in the overall story of the magnus archives. a theme of the show is choice, yes, but it's also about the nuance of choice under corrupt systems that have already placed you on a certain path.

[pertamax7]

Yamaha NMAX Turbo Bengkulu : Touring Sejarah dan Wisata Kuliner

Yamaha NMAX Turbo Bengkulu ., salam pertamax7.com, Yamaha NMAX Turbo Bengkulu : Touring Sejarah dan Wisata Kuliner Link ponsel pintar ( di sini ) Salam Maxi Mania Ada info resmi dari Bengkulu berjudul Nmax Tour Boemi Nusantara : Jelajahi Wisata Sejarah Kota Bengkulu Hingga Wisata Kuliner di Kota Tertua di Indonesia   Setelah diperkenalkan pada bulan Juni yang lalu, Yamaha NMAX “Turbo” konsisten…

[whirligig-girl]

(zoom in!)

Two double-headers on the Trans-Gooiw Railroad passing each other in the hills, dragging long freight trains behind them, during the early days of the Pan-Mellanus Oil Crisis.

More mellanoid trains: Guz's Model Garratt | Museum-piece carrying rocket parts | Advanced Steam Tank Engine | Guz's bigger model Garratt | Tram and Coal Mine loco sketches.

The diesel-hydraulic at the front of the foreground consist, already somewhat old and tired by this point, dates back to around the time period that steam engines were originally retired on Mellanus. It's not very fuel efficient as it is, and with the oil rations, diesels can not handle the trains on their own any longer.

For a few years now the railroads have been taking their steam engines out of mothballs and museums, as coal was comparatively dirt-cheap. Still though, the various maintenance and operational complexities of running steam locomotives resulted in a lot of losses for the railroads.

Pictured here behind the diesel is an early attempt at the Advanced Steam Engine concept, modifying a member of a very prolific and successful 2-8-0+0-8-2 Garratt class with a gas producer combustion system, more modern cylinders and valve gear, and entirely replacing the cab with an electronic control system (with the more diesel-like control stands moved to separate cabs on the tenders). The electronic control scheme allows for the steam engine to be connected to a diesel engine to be run as a multiple unit, cutting down operational costs. However, as a modified prototype, this locomotive lacks some of the other features which exemplified the Advanced Steam era, such as modular ashpans, computerized control, and precision engineering.

On the other track, moving the opposite direction, we see a double header of two steam locomotives, another 2-8-0+0-8-2 loaned from the Slaibsgloth Coal Mine Railroad, and a 2-10-2 'easy' type non-articulated loco leads the train. In this case, there is no electronic connection, so a crew of four mellanoid slimes is necessary to operate the train.

The eagle-eyed railway fans will notice that there are radiators for a dynamic brake on the diesel, yet the diesel is an electric. Diesel-electric dynamic brakes switch the traction motors into generators, and dump the electricity out as waste heat--but there's no traction motors on a hydraulic. So why the radiator fins? There's still a dynamic engine brake on the diesel-hydraulic, so it still needs to be able to dissipate heat, especially on the mountain routes.

WIP images follow:

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Gateway Bronco LUXE-GT, 2023. A restomod 1970s Ford Bronco that has been bought up to date using a Ford 5.0 Coyote V8 with a 10-speed automatic gearbox and two-stage shift-on-the-fly all-wheel drive system. The body has been reinforced with a new ladder chassis, there's also anti-lock brakes, electronic stability and traction control. The Gateway Bronco has been developed in Australia with 2 years of testing behind it and will be built at the rate of 25 cars per year. Gateway Bronco has bCeen operating for 7 years and claims to be the highest-quality builder of vintage Broncos, having earned an official license from the Ford Motor Company

[theresattrpgforthat]

SYSTEM OVERVIEW: Forged in the Dark (FitD).

I’m taking a break from my regular recommendation posts this week to talk about a few different indie ttrpg systems that have gained a lot of traction over the past few years - how they work, why I like them, and what kinds of games there are out there that use them!

I don’t think it’s a secret that I’m a big fan of Forged in the Dark games. I’ve sung the praises of games like Brinkwood, Slugblaster and The Wildsea time and time again, and I’m even designing my own FitD hack! So let’s talk about what makes this system tick.

The Action Roll

The core mechanic of Forged in the Dark games is the Action Roll. To do most things in these games, the player will have to assemble a small pool of d6s. These dice may come from skills, special abilities, inventory - it depends on the game, but you’ll usually have somewhere between 0 and 4d6 to roll.

When you roll, you look for the single highest dice (or multiple highest, if you manage to get two 6s). If your best result is a 1-3, you’re not going to get what you want. If your best result is a 4/5, you’ll probably get a success with a cost - whether that be harm, only part of what you want, or more trouble down the road. If you get a single 6, you do it - and if you get multiple 6s, you do it well!

What I like about this is that it’s easy to tell at a glance how well you do, and that the dice used for this system are the most accessible dice on the market. Not only that, the possibilities of a 4/5 are quite broad - you could have a consequence that is physical harm to the character, but you could also embarrass them, break their stuff, or just hint at bad things to come!

But Mint, how do you roll 0d6? Well, in particularly difficult scenarios, the player will roll 2d6 and take the lowest number instead. This originates from the progenitor of Forged in the Dark games, Blades in the Dark, which is meant to be particularly difficult and punishing.

Position & Effect

Another core mechanic of FitD games is Position & Effect. These are narrative tools that help the GM communicate to the players how dangerous the proposed plan of action is, as well as how likely the characters are to succeed.

Position is going to be Controlled, Risky or Desperate, indicating how much danger the characters are in, but also the stakes of failure. Failing a Controlled roll means you’re probably going to get out of there with minimal harm, or possibly a chance to try again. Failing a Desperate roll means that shit is going to hit the fan, and you’re going to be caught up in all of it. Risky rolls are somewhere in the middle, and considered the "standard" difficulty.

Effect is a metric for how successful your character is going to be. Picking a lock might not be dangerous, but if your character isn’t a thief and doesn’t have any lock-picks, they might not be very effective! Players can alter the effectiveness of their actions by changing how they go about solving a problem, using the gear they have on hand, or agreeing to approach the problem from a more desperate Position.

What I like about this is that Position & Effect encourage conversation and agency between the GM and the players. The players have final say over what they do, but the GM is able to communicate why they feel certain approaches may be more or less effective. The story is generative, and the way the rolls are adjudicated allow all of the parties to contribute to what happens next.

The Resistance Roll

Related to this conversation about agency is the Resistance Roll. If a player doesn’t like the consequence that the GM hands out, they can choose to Resist the consequences. They usually do this by rolling a certain number of resistance dice, and spending a player resource called Stress. (Other games use other names.) Depending on the consequence, the player might resist it outright or reduce the severity, but spend too much stress and you run into different kinds of consequences - whether that be Trauma (Blades), Trouble at Home (Slugblaster) or something unlucky (Antiquarian Adventures). Stress can be managed during a phase typically called Downtime, through various activities dependant on the setting.

I like this mechanic not just because it gives players agency, but also because of the Stress track tied to it. This is a player resource but it can also be a track pointing a change in the character, a chance to build in narrative themes, or a reason to role-play certain narrative effects. Many different FitD games use Stress in a number of unique ways, and I think tweaking this element can do a lot to determine the tone of the game.

Crew Sheets

This leads to the next bit of Forged in the Dark games that I really like - Crew Sheets. Similar to a number of other narrative games, FitD has character playbooks (which are kind of like character classes in D&D, but also are a carryover from PbtA games - I’ll talk about them more in the PbtA post), but Forged in the Dark games also have a uniting theme that gives your players a reason to work together.

In Neon Black, this is your local community, which both takes care of you and asks you for favours. In Moth-Light, this is your Pact, which determines not just your group’s goal, but also the tone and themes of your story. In Brinkwood, this is your Rebellion and the Faerie patron who is taking care of you - but it’s also the Mask playbooks that all of the players share, with special magical powers that help you fight Vampires.

Modular Systems

There are bits and pieces that also exist in FitD games that help define the experience. Clocks, for example, are abstract representations of looming consequences or player goals, and allow you to work towards a big pay-off over time. Factions can represent a changing social landscape, with friends and foes that you can turn to for help or strike out against in order to gain ground. Harm can alter how many dice you roll, or how effective you are when acting. These are interlocking pieces, but they’re not necessarily required.

Most of what I’ve covered in this post is not strictly necessary for a Forged in the Dark game. The Wildsea doesn’t use Stress or pre-set playbooks. Protect the Child doesn’t use Trauma. Scum & Villainy adds a Gambit mechanic that gives you extra ways to earn dice. Slugblaster changes how you Resist consequences, and External Containment Bureau moves the Clock mechanic to the front and centre, while doing away with Factions pretty much altogether. All of these games have enough pieces to be considered Forged in the Dark, but the play experience is very different, and each mod included, altered or dropped are usually choices that support the genre or tone of the game.

I’ve talked about a number of Forged in the Dark games in the past, but here’s a few more that I’ve got my eyes on.

Dusk Academy, by Skullery Maids, is a game about a private school for teaching magic to girls.

CRASH/CART, by Galen Pejeau, is a game about paramedics in a near-future California.

a|state, by Handiwork Games, is a game set in a strange and Dickensian city.

Girl By Moonlight, by Evil Hat, is a game about magical girls, mech pilots, and other larger-than-life characters.

There is a good list of Forged in the Dark games on the Blades website, and I've also got a Forged in the Dark collection on Itch.io!

If you are looking to make your own game, John Harper has released the Game SRD on the BitD website. These rules are licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution (CC-BY) license, which means that you can create your own games using this system as long as you give appropriate credit to Harper.

What Forged in the Dark game has caught your eye? Let me know in the tags / comments!

[onion-souls]

Aetherdrift preview season in MTG and honestly, I think "racing" is a terrible genre in tabletop games, be it TTRPGs, boardgames, or CCGs.

Fundamentally, most games are a race of some sort - the goal of the scenario is to reach a target number/space before your opponent, over a series of turns. The issue is that the fun part of a race is the kinetics of the experience. In a real-life race, or a good video game simulation, you have that tactile sense- the feeling of rapid motion, traction, maneuvering, shifting gears, the controller in your sweaty grip, the pain in your feet and the pounding in your chest, the wind in your hair... all things that you can't do in a tabletop game.

It's one reason most games seek engagement in their number-shifting system with a layer of fictional insulation- something as immediate as tactical violence or as broadscope as resource logistics. Because whenever I've sat down to a racing-themed game, I feel like I'm experiencing nothing but the numbers-go-up of the game.

Perhaps why the better racing games actually turn into tactical miniature war games on a donut

[abearinthewoods]

On cis men, trans men, and oppression.

Lately I've seen a lot of posts about what words to use to talk about trans men's specific issues and oppression. I'm not gonna address that debate in this post. (Apparently transandrophobia and anti-transmasculinism are the problematic/misogynistic ones now and transmisogny and transemasculation are the new politically correct ways to talk about men/trans men's oppression)

What I do want to talk about how ever is the trend in far too many of such posts to include some quip affirming that `of course, I would never claim cis men are oppressed` or trying to rewrite the term misandry to say it explicitly doesn't include systemic "oppression" which is something they imply only happens to non-cismens. I used to ignore such quips, I understand where they are coming from, but after the election I've decided there is no more room for such divisive language that can only serve to alienate potential allies.

Every trans man following my blog knows what its like to see people post bullshit arguments online about how not oppressed trans men are. They understand the feelings of invalidation that can come from seeing argument built out of misrepresenting or ignoring trans men's experiences gain traction. So why are some of you so fucking eager to cast that same hurt upon cis men?

I once saw somebody on tumblr helpfully point out that in order for a group to be considered a marginalized group, they need to meet only one criteria: that the group's unique concerns or issues are treated as insignificant or unimportant.

Men qualify 100% on this metric. Men's unique issues are commonly derided as a mockery to even bother considering. To that point that trans men can't even talk about their own oppression without being expected to separate their language from cis men first to avoid accidentally advocating for cis men too.

So yes, men are marginalized, men are oppressed, and all of the trans men in my mutuals and byond should spend less time trying to build unity with these detractors who will always hate the mere concept of advocacy for men's issues, and more time building unity with cis men, who can empathize with trans men on quite a few parts of misandry and androphobia both trans and cis men face but won't want to be allys with trans men if they see trans men throwing them under the bus by adding a quip in their please-let-me-talk-about-my-oppression-using-language-i-choose post about how of course cis men aren't oppressed" in some lame attempt to appeal to bad faith actors who were always going to have an issue with any form of advocacy for men.

No amount of equivocation or self flagellation will work. You can't appease them because there is no logic. They will always have a new bone to pick. All you can do by catering to it is allow them to exert undue control over how you talk about your own fucking oppression which they will without fail use to frustrate and subtly suppress such conversations.

[dn-838]

It’s not Third-Party voters fault that the Democratic Party lost the election in America, it’s not leftists fault the Democratic Party lost the election, it’s not the fault of “inherent bigotry” that reactionary movements have gained such massive traction across the West, it’s not Russian and Chinese propaganda causing a rightward shift.

It’s not immigrants causing problems in Industry, it’s not LGBT+ people causing birth rate decrease, it’s not some grand conspiracy causing an increase in Immigrant populations across major cities, it’s not some secret society running the world.

It’s all Class, the billionaires, Corporate CEOs, national leaders you think represent you, all withhold the exact same system, neither the Democrats nor Republicans will ever represent or care for their people, the USA is controlled by a bunch of regressive, Imperialist, Genocidal racists, no matter which of its two parties are in power, they are monsters, Fascists of the worst kind. Kamala Harris was a Warmongering, Genocidal Transphobic Fascist and any perceived “lesser evil” from her was built off of pure convenience for her campaign and not because she was genuinely in any way a better human being than the man she was opposing at heart. Trump, the Republicans, are complete lunatics made up by a bunch of Reactionary billionaires, and matter how much you think they agree with you, Billionaires are never allies of working people… no exceptions. No, not Gabe Newell or George Lucas, if they reached Billions, their hoarding of wealth in of itself is enough to deserve a lack of respect, nevermind whatever unethical things it likely took to get to that position in this era of such worker or economic exploitation.

There’s no relying on these “Liberal” or “Conservative” politicians, they all represent the same thing, they all value you just as little, anti-immigration policies aren’t going to fix the problems, giving marginalised groups effective access to what they need is not going to fix the problem. Any success or progress countries make is temporary, as is the cycle we’ve seen again and again all across the world for the last 2 and a half centuries. If anyone actually wants anything to happen effectively, they need to look to the root of all the problems in the first place, class, wealth inequality, Imperialism, Corporate controls. There’s no way forward the way the world is now, there needs to be change, a lot, and everywhere actors the globe.

[boxboxblog]

How Do F1 Cars Work?: Setup pt 1

Alright, so I wanted to explore car setups and how they effect F1 cars. Enjoy!

So, setting up an F1 car is a very complex process, They have to balance numerous elements in the car to suit things like weather, track type, driving styles, etc. But what do they actually alter on the car? And how does it effect the driving?

Altered Components:

Aerodynamics - The easiest and most obvious adjustments are to the aerodynamics, like the rear wings or front wings. These are usually the ones chosen for change in aerodynamics, but they might also change the side pods or diffusers to effect the downforce of the car. They most often change aerodynamics for circuit styles. A tight street circuit will require higher downforce set up, as it gives them more control around the corners. A classic circuit will often switch to a low downforce set up, which gives them speed on the straights. Most teams try to have a good balance, however.

Suspension - Suspension settings control how the car responds to bumps and turns. Whenever they discuss a car porpoising too much, it is usually because the suspension set up is wrong. They change variables including ride height (distance between lowest point of car and track surface), camber (angle of wheels relative to the vertical axel from the front), toe (angle of front wheel when viewed from above), stiffness of springs, and anti-roll bars (parts that connect left and right suspension systems, which help control body roll). For example, cars can have negative or positive camber, which really effect things like grip, tire wear, etc. These aspects of setup are usually altered to suit a drivers style and preferences.

Tire Setup - This essentially envelopes tire pressure and starting temperature, which impact grip and wear rates. For example, lower tire pressure increases the grip, but leads to faster degradation. Higher does the opposite. This is usually altered depending on track temperature and style, or even ti make up for their weak areas. If they do not have good tire management, for example, they may alter the tire setup to degrade slower.

Differential - This controls the relative speed of the rear wheels, a big part of traction control. It is adjusted to either open or lock more. An open differential allows the rear wheels to rotate at different speeds, helping with corner entry but leading to oversteer a lot of the time. A locked differential keeps the wheels rotating together, offering stability on exits but leading to a lot of understeer. This is an aspect that is often changed to suit driver preference. Some can handle the oversteer very well, but other find understeer easier to deal with.

Brake Balance - This is the balance between the front and rear brakes, and is used to prevent lockup (when too much force is applied to the brakes, causing the disc to stop or rotate slower than the car's motion) and improve stability. This is altered by changing the bias, or distribution of braking force, and is often discussed in terms of percentages. More rear brake bias improves rotation in corners, but increases chance of rear lockup. More front brake bias stabilized braking, but can make turn-in more challenging.

Engine Mapping- This refers to the software settings in the car that controls how the engine delivers power. Things like throttle response, fuel injection, ignition timing, and turbo settings are all altered. All of it changes how a car accelerates, responds to stimuli, and consumes fuel. The different types of maps include qualifying maps (max power for short time), race maps (balanced and conservative), fuel-saving maps (usually end of race), and wet maps (softer throttle response, less sensitive car). ERS Deployment is a big part of this, and refers to the management of the kinetic and heat generators. They choose different ERS deployment depending on what they plan to do. For example, if they are planning on trying to overtake they will charge their battery and then use a lot of power to give the car a boost.

Gear Ratios - These ratios determine the relationship between the RPM (engine speed) and the speed of the wheels. There are eight forward gears in F1, and each one changes this ratio to some degree. The ratios dictate how much the engine must rev for the wheels to turn at a certain speed. The two major types of gear ratios are long ratios and short ratios. Long ratios reduce the torque but allow for higher top speeds, suited for tracks with long straights. Short ratios provide more torque which allows for faster acceleration, better for twisty tracks.

Setup Types:

While there are so many different aspects to set up, there are a few main types that most teams follow. Between them, a variety of factors change, but the core of them remains the same.

High-Downforce - One of the most basic set ups, it prioritizes grip on corners by increased downforce. Usually used for twisty, slow-medium circuits like Monaco or Singapore.

Low-Downforce - The other more basic setup, it lowers generated downforce to minimize drag and optimize for straight-line speed. It does sacrifice corner grip, so is best suited for classic circuits like Silverstone or Monza.

Wet - In wet races DRS is disabled, and drag is at an all time high. So teams usually focus on getting a huge amount of downforce, making car less sensitive, and making sure their tire set up is as grippy as possible. The differential is also changed, as drivers should be able to keep traction, ride height is raised, and suspension is softened. This is kind of a subsection of the high-downforce set up, though for different reasons.

High/Low Temp - Both hot and cold temperatures have massive impacts on F1 cars. So if they know they will have a race with an extreme on either side, the set up must be altered to reflect that. In hot Singapore, for example, they must lower tire pressure, change the camber, and boost the cooling systems to avoid overheating engine and degrading tires fast. In cold Montreal, tire pressures are raised, brakes are placed in different settings to keep warm, and the camber is also changed.

Alright, I will continue my discussion on setups in next post, as this one is getting quite long.

Cheers,

-B