#Signal Lights Market

[electronalytics]

Signal Lights Market Emerging Trends and Forecast by 2017-2032

The Global Signal Lights Market size is projected to grow from USD 25.8 billion in 2021 to USD 46.98 billion by 2032, at a CAGR of 5.6% during the forecast period 2022-2032.

The competitive analysis of the Signal Lights Market offers a comprehensive examination of key market players. It encompasses detailed company profiles, insights into revenue distribution, innovations within their product portfolios, regional market presence, strategic development plans, pricing strategies, identified target markets, and immediate future initiatives of industry leaders. This section serves as a valuable resource for readers to understand the driving forces behind competition and what strategies can set them apart in capturing new target markets.

Market projections and forecasts are underpinned by extensive primary research, further validated through precise secondary research specific to the Signal Lights Market. Our research analysts have dedicated substantial time and effort to curate essential industry insights from key industry participants, including Original Equipment Manufacturers (OEMs), top-tier suppliers, distributors, and relevant government entities.

Benefits of a Market Research Report:

Informed Decision-Making: Market research reports provide critical data and insights that enable businesses to make informed decisions. This can include decisions related to product development, market entry, expansion, and investment.

Competitive Advantage: By staying up-to-date with market trends and competitor strategies, companies can gain a competitive advantage. Market research helps identify gaps and opportunities in the market.

Risk Mitigation: Understanding market dynamics and potential challenges allows companies to proactively address risks and uncertainties, reducing the likelihood of costly setbacks.

Targeted Marketing: Market research helps in identifying and understanding the target audience, enabling companies to tailor their marketing efforts for maximum effectiveness and customer engagement.

Product Development and Improvement: Research reports provide insights into consumer preferences and needs, aiding in the development and improvement of products or services that meet market demands.

Key Trends in Market Research Reports:

Digital Transformation: Market research is increasingly leveraging digital technologies, including AI and big data analytics, to gather, process, and analyze data more efficiently.

Globalization: With the globalization of markets, companies are relying on market research to assess opportunities in international markets and navigate cross-border complexities.

Sustainability and ESG: There's a growing focus on environmental, social, and governance (ESG) factors, and market research is often used to understand and align with sustainability trends and consumer preferences.

Data Privacy and Security: As data privacy regulations evolve, market research reports are adapting to address concerns related to data collection, handling, and protection.

Predictive Analytics: The use of predictive analytics in market research is on the rise, allowing businesses to anticipate market shifts and consumer behavior more accurately. This trend is particularly prominent in forecasting future market conditions.

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Market Segmentations:

Global Signal Lights Market: By Company • Emerson • Grote Industries • WISKA Lighting • J.W. Speaker • Federal Signal • Arcus Light • Philips Lighting

(This is a tentative list, the report on delivery will have additional companies profiled with potential/new entrants within the major shareholder market: Please subscribe to the latest sample report to know more)

Global Signal Lights Market: By Type • LED Signal Lights • Flash Signal Lights Global Signal Lights Market: By Application • Automotive • Traffic Lights • Warning Signal • Other

Regional Analysis of Global Signal Lights Market

All the regional segmentation has been studied based on recent and future trends, and the market is forecasted throughout the prediction period. The countries covered in the regional analysis of the Global Signal Lights market report are U.S., Canada, and Mexico in North America, Germany, France, U.K., Russia, Italy, Spain, Turkey, Netherlands, Switzerland, Belgium, and Rest of Europe in Europe, Singapore, Malaysia, Australia, Thailand, Indonesia, Philippines, China, Japan, India, South Korea, Rest of Asia-Pacific (APAC) in the Asia-Pacific (APAC), Saudi Arabia, U.A.E, South Africa, Egypt, Israel, Rest of Middle East and Africa (MEA) as a part of Middle East and Africa (MEA), and Argentina, Brazil, and Rest of South America as part of South America.

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Here are some key highlights you might find in a market research report:

Executive Summary: A brief summary of the report, including its purpose, methodology, key findings, and recommendations.

Market Overview: An introduction to the market, its size, and its growth potential.

Market Size and Growth: Information about the current market size and anticipated growth trends, including historical data and forecasts.

Market Segmentation: Details about how the market is divided into segments based on factors like product type, application, region, and more.

Competitive Landscape: Analysis of key players in the market, their market share, strategies, and competitive positioning.

Market Trends: Identification of current and emerging trends that are shaping the market, including technological advancements and shifts in consumer behavior.

Market Drivers: Factors that are fueling market growth, such as changing consumer preferences, regulatory changes, or technological innovation.

Market Challenges: Obstacles or issues that the market faces, such as regulatory hurdles, economic downturns, or supply chain disruptions.

Opportunities: Areas of growth and potential that can be harnessed by businesses and investors.

Consumer Behavior: Insights into consumer preferences, buying patterns, and the factors influencing purchasing decisions.

Regional Analysis: Information about the market's performance in different geographical regions, including factors specific to those regions.

Industry Best Practices: Recommendations and insights into best practices for businesses operating in the market.

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[youneedtostudyives]

I made a little commercial for my GoFundMe campaign to feel like I'm getting somewhere with my fundraiser, lol.

[trendingreportz]

Visible Light Communications (VLC) Market - Forecast(2024 - 2030)

 The Global Visible Light Communication market is valued of $ 6.9mn during the forecast period 2017 -2023. As the developments pertaining to VLC are being executed incessantly complimented by the exponential rise in the data transfer due to on-going IoT wave will boost the market. Europe remained a significant market for VLC developments in 2017. The access and station point’s shipments in this region totaled around 4.7 thousand units in 2017 and is forecast to advantage at a CAGR of 153.6% while Americas evaluated to witness the highest CAGR of nearly 178% in the forecast period. 

What is Visible Light Communication?

Visible Light Communication is the sub segment of Optical Wireless Communication technologies. This communication technologies, data has been transferred using visible light in the range of 400 to 800 THz. Fluorescent light lamps are used in this technology for signal transmission at the rate of 10Kbps.

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What are the major applications of Visible Light Communication?

Ubiquitous Computing is one of the major application where visible light spectrum communication has been broadly used. The reason behind, VLC devices such as traffic signals, car headlights, indoor/outdoor lamps, TV’s, commercial displays have the accessibility to use anywhere. This VLC is applicable only for low-power applications. Smart Lighting integrated with VLC will control the illuminations and communicate which will remarkable lessen the consumption of energy and wiring inside any infrastructure. In Aviation, VLC is used to offer media applications to the passengers without using wires.  The most significant advantage of using VLC as replacement of radio-frequency is, visible light spectrum is 10,000x of radio frequency spectrum.

Ric transformer.

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Market Research and Market Trends of Visible Light Communication 

Mergers & Acquisitions:  Light Fidelity (Li-Fi), one of the developing VLC technologies in which very few companies making investment to enhance its application. Lucium Communication is one of the predominant player in VLC Technologies which was recently acquired by Phillips Light which is the major market player in Lighting Technologies. It is expected that, this acquisition of Lucium by Phillips electronics would be less than EUR 10 million. This business move done by Phillips shows that its development of its abilities in LI-Fi, the VLC technology in which data can be transferred by light at an extraordinary speed.

Infrastructure Development: It is estimated that the market value of VLC in the Middle East countries is $72.3mn with a CAGR of 97.3% in the next few years. Since the growth rate is high Many Dubai based companies such as Telco Du., Zero 1., are coming forward to invest in Li-Fi and to make the middle east to be the first nation to have full Li-Fi coverage. It is expected that the demand for innovation in infrastructural development would give prominent rise in the development of Li-Fi Technologies by the companies in the Middle East regions.

Research & Development:  Li-Fi has not only explored the world but also in progress to explore the Space. NASA has signed a Space Act Agreement with LVX Sys Corp. to enhance and innovate the technology in high-speed wireless communication. It is expected that Kennedy Space Center will provide research and technological development offer in VLC to LVX System in the next five years.

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Who are the Major Players in market?

The key players operating in the Visible Light Communication Market are Panasonic Corp., Philips NV., Firefly Wireless Network., Lucibel, LVX System., GE Corp., Axrtek, and other 10 more companies. 

What is our report scope?

The report incorporates in-depth assessment of the competitive landscape, product market sizing, product benchmarking, market trends, product developments, financial analysis, strategic analysis and so on to gauge the impact forces and potential opportunities of the market. Apart from this the report also includes a study of major developments in the market such as product launches, agreements, acquisitions, collaborations, mergers and so on to comprehend the prevailing market dynamics at present and its impact during the forecast period 2017-2023.

All our reports are customizable to your company needs to a certain extent, we do provide 20 free consulting hours along with purchase of each report, and this will allow you to request any additional data to customize the report to your needs.

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Key Takeaways from this Report

Evaluate market potential through analyzing growth rates (CAGR %), Volume (Units) and Value ($M) data given at country level – for product types, end use applications and by different industry verticals.

Understand the different dynamics influencing the market – key driving factors, challenges and hidden opportunities.

Get in-depth insights on your competitor performance – market shares, strategies, financial benchmarking, product benchmarking, SWOT and more.

Analyze the sales and distribution channels across key geographies to improve top-line revenues.

Understand the industry supply chain with a deep-dive on the value augmentation at each step, in order to optimize value and bring efficiencies in your processes. 

Get a quick outlook on the market entropy – M&A’s, deals, partnerships, product launches of all key players for the past 4 years. 

Evaluate the supply-demand gaps, import-export statistics and regulatory landscape for more than top 20 countries globally for the market. 

[monstersflashlight]

A/N: This is the story I prepared for my Monster Championship finalist! You can read the dragon one over @monstersholygrail account, go give her some love, too. Enjoy!

Tentacled

Gn!Tentacle-monster x fem!reader || size difference, dub-com (very light), overstimulation, double penetration, tentacle sex

Once you stepped into the monster’s match event, you didn’t know what was going to happen. You filled a very long quiz about your preferences, and you were a bit shy when you gave it to the monster on the front desk, your face flaming as you checked over your answers… tentacles being the big thing you were looking for after trying all tentacle dildos available in the market. That costed you a little fortune, and you wanted more… you needed more. You didn’t know why, but there was something inside of you that craved that. That craved to be so full of monster that you couldn’t think anymore. And then you saw the event… and you swallowed your embarrassment and signed up.

And there you were, nervous and excited, anticipation boiling inside your tummy and making the butterflies go crazy. You were more than ready to be debauched by a tentacle monster, hopefully.

“Follow me,” a naga with a clipboard said, pointing to her right. She took you down a corridor framed by doors at either side. “It said you didn’t care if the monster could speak your language, is that right?” You nodded. “And you also didn’t mind the gender of your monster, correct?” You nodded again. She checked something over her clipboard and opened a door to her right. You gasped as she said: “This is Al… enjoy?” The naga said, chuckling a little as she moved away, leaving you staring at the biggest monster you’ve ever seen.

The monster did something akin to a chirp, you couldn’t understand any of it but it felt like a greeting, so you raised your hand in a salute. Their big mouth with teeth as sharp as knives opened in a smile, and you shivered, but then the rest of his body moved and you could see the dozens of tentacles dancing around, and your insides clenched. Your body tensed in anticipation as you approached the monster in front of you.

They reached to you carefully, a slimy tentacle touching your hand. You took it, squeezing it in reassurance that you wanted to be there, you craved to be there, to be touched by those tentacles, to be fucked until you couldn’t walk.

And that’s all the signal they needed.

Their tentacles embraced your body as you squirmed a bit, trying to get comfortable over the giant monster under you. It was so much and not at all at the same time, you needed more but didn’t know how to ask for it. The tentacle monster under you was smiling in almost a creepy way, but it only made you feel more aroused, the edge of danger making you as horny as ever.

In a blink, you were naked, and there were tentacles all over your soft skin, caressing and touching, probing and pinching until you were squirming and your pussy was getting wet.

A tentacle teased your asshole, and you were more than glad you prepped before arriving, your asshole already stretched and ready to be fucked into next week. The monster seemed to appreciate it, too, grunting as the tentacle pushed inside slowly, the suckers all over your body adding pressure. You knew you’d be all marked up the next day, and that only made your pussy wetter, clenching over emptiness and making you whimper.

You wanted to scream at them to take you already, to fuck your pussy so deep you could feel them against your cervix. But they didn’t. They only fucked your asshole slowly, the rest of the tentacles caressing your body and sucking everywhere they could. It was exhilarating and wild, and you felt like you were about to burst at any second.

But then another tentacle found your open mouth, gaping in pleasure, and slowly parted your lips, caressing the inside of your cheeks, latching the suckers to your tongue in something akin to a kiss that made you groan around it, your lips closing over it and making the big monster rumble under you.

You sucked hard, and the monster stopped moving, as if you surprised them. You did it again, and the tentacle in your asshole started moving faster, the tip wriggling inside of you and sending a cascade of fluttery sensations down your spine. You tried to scream, but the monster only takes the opportunity to slip the tentacle further down your throat, making you gag a little as you sucked around it.

You felt overwhelmed in the best way possible.

But you still felt so empty with your pussy dripping and empty. You rolled your hips, asking for more, wanting more… And then you felt it. The tip of the biggest tentacle pressing against your warm opening. You moaned, and the monster purred under you. It was so close to fucking your pussy… So close….

You didn’t get a warning before the tentacle pushed deep inside your welcoming heat, tickling your cervix and starting a fast pace that had you moaning and gagging, your body under their control as the rest of the tentacles held you and moved you like a doll. The tentacles fucking every one of your holes plus the ones sucking and pulling at every sensitive place of your body were driving you insane.

There were tentacles everywhere, sucking on your nipples, latching to your clit, fucking every one of your holes as they moved you around… It was everything you desired and more.

You came. And they didn’t stop. They kept fucking you until you were propelled over the edge again. And again. And again. So many times you couldn’t keep count, and you still craved more. It was like the tentacles unlocked something more inside of you. It was too much, but you couldn’t get enough. You were spiraling into a pleasure you never knew existed…

And then everything exploded into a thousand stars behind your closed eyelids as pleasure ripped through your body and made you scream around the tentacle buried down your throat. It was even better than the orgasms you had before, bigger and stronger in a way you didn’t even know could be possible. It was like your whole body changed around the tentacles holding and fucking your body. It was earth-shattering, it was just… indescribable and better than you could ever imagine.

The monster grunted, a low vibration that drove you further into pleasure as you felt warm release filling your holes, washing over your body as every tentacle around you released a clear warm substance that tingled your skin and made you more sensitive to touch. You screamed as the tentacle in your mouth pulled back, your voice getting hoarse as wave after wave of heat ran down your body, your breathing erratic and your lower holes clenching over the tentacles still filling your insides.

You closed your eyes for a second, your brain going blank as your body seized with pleasure. By the time you came back down, you were still stuffed, but the tentacles weren’t moving anymore, only caressing your gross skin, covered in fluids.

You were trying to get your breathing under control when you heard it. “You were perfect, my mate,” the voice sounded inside your brain and you let out a screech.

“You… You just talked inside my head,” you let out with a manic laugh, still a bit breathless and sore all over.

“A communication only reserved to true mates, my love, my lovely human…” They said, their tentacles once again caressing your bruised skin. You shivered when more tentacles joined, probing your tender holes again. “Do you need more? Do you crave me as I crave you, my mate?”

You could only nod as the tentacles pushed inside of you once again and your brain melted in pleasure.

[occamstfs]

Man Of Your Dreams

Wallflower Dylan is gifted a new psychedelic from his friend. Used to watching frat bros from afar he finds the pill seems to affect far more than his mind.

Intended this to be plot light but so it goes! Probably going to take this week off to avail myself to other authors entering my Viral Transformation Challenge! The next story will likely be my own take on the theme so look forward to that next week alongside those from a litany of other stellar TF writers! Until then! -Occam

Dylan was fairly straight-laced, going into his senior year of university he hadn’t strayed much at all from class besides tagging along with his friend from high school to some of the more boisterous frat parties. Said friend Tony was quite more of a wild child, often invited himself because he was the source of some of the more illicit substances to be found at these parties. He’d invite Dylan whenever he’d need a more sober pair of eyes, namely if he was planning on rolling or otherwise getting high on his own supply. Despite his mild manner, Dylan always hopped on the chance, going to ragers was supposed to be part of the whole college deal right? And besides, he didn’t mind the chance to ogle brazen men he would under normal circumstances be fearful of making eye contact with.

Knowing of his friend’s meek disposition, and repressed hunger for the most vulgar of men, when Tony hears of a crazy new psychedelic on the market he has a feeling Dylan might finally let his hair loose. Reviews say the stuff makes reality feel like a waking dream. Anything seems possible and to your body it might as well be. Steamier sources swear that dreaming about sex on the stuff is even better than the real thing. Tony, never concerned about side effects of his material, gets straight to hitting up the usual channels to see what he can get and is able to scrounge up a single pill of the stuff. He wonders if he should try it out himself first before deciding he owes his friend at least first dibs.

Dylan is floored at how quickly he agreed to taking the pill. After initially being standoffish at Tony’s suggestion that he use it to fuck frat bros in his mind, once his friend started explaining what he’s heard Dylan couldn’t pass up the opportunity to really live out his fantasy. He’s not going to outgrow being a wallflower, nor is at all confident that any of the performatively masculine men would fuck him. Staring at the pill the only thing holding him back is Tony’s vapid instructions. ‘Just have a blast dude, fuck your way through those bros hah!’ Dylan’s asking about the side effects falls on deaf ears as Tony just crassly humps the air to try to convince his friend to go out on a limb. Despite his qualms and fears, and the lack of confidence inspired by Tony’s actions, Dylan feels sure that his friend wouldn’t give him something actually potentially dangerous.

Holding tight to that misplaced confidence, as soon as Tony departs Dylan pours himself a glass of water and chokes the pill down. The small tablet leaves a metallic taste in his mouth, quickly hidden by the copious amount of saliva and bile starting to rise in the back of his throat as he immediately feels the urge to vomit. Man of will despite appearances, he keeps it down and just as soon scowls as he thinks about the lack of preparation offered by his friend and prepares to tear into Tony as soon as the trip is over. Standing up he feels the room spinning around and murmurs in shock, “su- surely it’s shouldn- work this… fas-” He stumbles over to his bed and falls face down as he feels his body growing sweaty.

Before his well-practiced anxiety response can rise his mind is flooded with every pleasant hormone it’s able to produce. Every muscle in his body tenses and he feels his cock struggle to force itself erect in the awkward position he’s fallen in. Dylan moans as every sensation sends signals so intense and potent that his mind can barely maintain consciousness. Indeed he finds himself struggling to even hold his eyes open as his eyelids grow weighty. Even perfunctory bodily functions feel erotic as he begins to fade, the burning of cold air in his stretching lungs, the sound of his own heartbeat and the warmth of blood coursing through his veins. Drool immediately pools under his head as he crests into a stuporous induced unconsciousness, far too unprepared for what awaits him in his trip, and the new world he is to encounter afterwards.

Dylan is sitting in a chair across from a man he knows too well and not at all. Face to face with Ben Harrington, president of Beta Delta Alpha, Dylan has to push down the immediate rush of fear. Taking a breath he reminds himself that this is a dream, one that Tony swears he should have pretty lucid control over. As the president stands opposed, leaning on nothing he flexes his arms and the pastel button up Dylan usually sees him clad in changes into a t-shirt with the sleeves torn off. He smirks as he pushes sunglasses up his face and speaks in a tone intoxicated, under the influence of nothing but Dylan himself. His raspy voice sends a shiver down the meek man’s spine as he feels himself unable to retreat, “So, uhh, Dylan is it?” 

Approaching enough to touch him, Ben puts an arm over Dylan’s shoulder, exposing his clearly unwashed pit. Dylan takes a deep breath and forces his eyes closed from the burning over-stimulation of this man baring down on him. Still, from the sticky breath blowing across the face it's clear he is continuing to inch even closer, “You want me do you?” Dylan gulps as the man gets even closer, Ben’s lips almost touching his own, “Or do you just want to be me?” This takes Dylan out of it as he steps back away from the imposing man. Eyes opening he tries to manipulate the scene as Tony implied he should be able to. The Ben of his mind tilts his head and tsks, “‘Fraid you’re not the one in charge here after all.”

Ben closes the gap once more and throws his arm around the easily manhandled Dylan pulling his body against his own sweat stained form. He smirks and leans in directly to whisper something into the dreamer’s ear, “and if you do really wanna fuck me, well. You’re gonna have to become something more my type. Yeah?” Dylan blinks in surprise, he’s heard of bad trips and the like but something seems decidedly wrong here. Before he’s able to come to any cogent conclusion the dream Ben reaches down his free hand into Dylan’s pants. His sweaty hand instantly wraps around the smaller man’s balls and squeeze. Dylan hasn’t a chance to scream in shock he feels himself lose control. Of his body, his mind, and the world around him as he begins to fall back.

He’s humping the air as he’s falling into an abyss. He doesn’t feel the fear that this descent should evoke. Usually nightmares that turn this way immediately blast him back to consciousness, instead it fills him with adrenaline that only heightens the delight coursing out from his cock. Sure that he’s now laying face down in a pool of his own semen in the real world, Dylan does what he can to focus on the pleasure as intended. 

The sound of wind tearing past him makes him unable to hear his moaning screams as his clothes are shredded by the searing gale. Rapt in delight, the blaring gusts begin to slow. Air caresses him like a full body hug and suddenly he is deposited onto soft ground. Dylan doesn’t quite repose as his body continues convulsing. Cum begins to sprinkle down on him from the plethora of loads released during his descent and he finally finds wherewithal to paw at his crotch. Grasping at his balls he finds them unmistakably larger, “Wha?” No longer falling, Dylan opens his eyes and seems to be back in reality.

Dylan awakens and blearily rubs his eyes with clearly semen stained hands. “Oh what the, ugh- Am I awake?” His eyes take a few seconds to adjust to the lighting of a room that is decidedly not his bedroom. “Can’t be right?” Shaking the mess off his hands without a second thought he stands to his feet with a grunt and feels his cock bobbing, still impossibly rigid. His hands return to this turgid beacon before they almost happenstance fondle his balls. His sluggish mind struggles with how heavy and large they feel, nothing like the ones he has in reality. He smirks as the last words of Ben snake through his mind- “Become something more my type.” Who’d’ve thunk the president was into horndogs.”

Sniffing the air he begins to inspect the room surrounding him. Dirty clothes litter the floor and he finds a pervasive musk filling the air. Something in the back of his mind itches that there should be a can of axe around somewhere to cover it up, which he ignores for a number of reasons. He should be able to will the room to stop stinking. He certainly wouldn't do so with cheap body spray, and for the life of him he can’t bring himself to want to. Each deep breath of the stink he finds himself growing even hornier. Dylan feels his balls churning as he grasps them, he’s already cum a good number of times and yet he still craves release. 

He imagines the firm ass of a frat brother and leans against his dresser he uncontrollably begins to hump once more. Something flickers at the back of his mind yet again and he rips into an open drawer. Throwing clothes onto the pile of dirtied garments already littering the floor, Dylan removes a fleshlight which he proceeds to make exuberant use of. No time for his mind to question why he’s suddenly a top as his cock fills the sex toy more with every grunting thrust. 

Pubes scratch against his thumb as his crotch shifts into one that would instantly render a razor unusable. Likewise hair that has never even had to be controlled on his ass begins to thicken, growing itchy as a true jungle of curls begins to flourish on both sides of his waist. Soon enough his cock grows large enough that the toy is rendered unusable, with a furrowed brow and ungrateful grunt he tosses it to his room leaving it dripping on the floor as he somehow remains just as sexually unfulfilled as when he began, “Fuck I need the real thing…”

The real thing not present Dylan looks down at his cock and gasps as he sees what has become of his package. He doesn’t have a ton of sex but he usually keeps it clean and pretty hairless down there just for his own sake. Beyond the forest of pubes thick enough to get his hand stuck in, he covers his mouth in shock as he sees a veiny cock larger than he’s ever seen on a man with the low hanging massive balls to match. He does his best to focus up on anything besides how horny he is, but as pre continues to trickle from his hardened cock that becomes increasingly difficult. He bites his lip and looks past his throbbing cock at the floor. If he puts it away perhaps it’ll quiet of its own accord.

Dylan doesn’t pay heed to which clothes are clean or dirty as he throws on whatever best could hide his cock from his hands and mind. Nor could he notice just how far cleanliness and decency have fallen as priorities for him as he struggles to fit his package in clearly stained sweatpants. Itching at his waist as his pubes begin creeping up into a treasure trail racing to mee the spreading curls beginning to decorate his chest, his dull awareness finally notices that his whole body has begun changing. His thin arms have clearly put on powerful muscle from his mindless sessions of self-love, veins trailing down them make it difficult for him not to get straight back to masturbating at the thought of his own strength.

Similarly his eyes latch onto a chest that has somehow exploded into pecs without his knowing. Muscle that has never begun to grace his body now jiggles with every movement. He clenches his jaw hard trying to muster willpower not to give into his most basal urges, but as he feels his thighs fill the sweatpants he just threw on he wonders how long he could possibly hold out. His cluttered mind struggles to recall that he is on some kind of psychedelic trip as he fails to remember how long Tony said it would last. Instead swimming through dulling memories the voice of his, er, the frat president speaks up. “Ah god… You’re looking fucking good Big D. How’s your mind hangin’ in there?”

It takes a few moments for the words to sink in before Dylan can reply, “My, unh- mind?” His balls pulse as his eyes dash across the room while he struggles to think. God he’s been struggling to think this whole time. His cock lurches as he’s able to realize that every thought in his mind has been growing increasingly clouded. “Big D?” Dylan can’t help but smirk as his beyond impressive cock strains his sweatpants at being called Big D. He grunts as he tries to shake off the lusty delirium, “Need to chill out. Ugh. Sober up.” He hears the president tsk at him yet again, waiting with bated breath for the mans words his pecs bulge even larger on his chest. “Too late for that bro, just give in. Why have a trip into true unadulterated ecstasy when you can have a lifetime. You can finally be the man of your dreams.” 

As soon as the words of Ben, his president, are spoken in his mind it becomes clear that Big D doesn’t even have the ability to fight back against the ever-present urges that now control his body. He tears off the sweatpants that were barely holding in there as he fully give himself to whatever is calling out for him, the drug, Ben Harrington, whatever. His body bulks beyond measure to become man enough to carry the vulgar package that lies in his crotch. He masturbates into the leg of his sweatpants torn asunder as his torso bulks up, evidence of his endless celebrations as a man of Beta Delta Alpha.

Bestial body hair begins to cover his torso as his beard grows thick and dark. The tangle of hair in his pits thickens and spreads enough that it, nor it’s dominating musk, could ever be hidden. Muscle bulges on his arms large enough to haul kegs and toss out fuckers that get to rowdy at their festivities. Beyond apathetic to manicuring his appearance as he knows he’ll have people lining up at his doorstep regardless of needless things like hygiene or cleanliness he rubs his thick sweat covered thighs and feels how sensitive every inch of his skin has become. 

He smirks as he imagines, recalls rather, how constantly he gets to enjoy the sensual opportunities offered by his new form. He’s got all he needs dangling between his thick thighs and everyone who matters already knows it. The president certainly does. Big D smirks as he thinks of their vacations together on the frat’s dime. He puts his arms behind his head and sniffs his musky pits as he lays in repose, a thick cloud of musky sweat surrounds him as he begins to hear the sound of festivities breaking out on the floor below him and someone’s fervent footsteps racing up the stairs to his den.

Suddenly there’s a knock at the door and Big D imagines that some couple is looking for an empty room with urgency. He paws at his crotch excited to join in on their fun. Instead he sees some nervous looking guy who freezes as soon as he sees the behemoth, fear in his eyes. “D-Dylan!? I- That drug, there was something, something s-” He stutters and his hands shake as Big D rolls his eyes and stands almost two heads taller than he should over Tony, one of their frat’s little party drug dealers. Still, he wouldn’t have come up here for no reason. Big D silences him with a finger and slams the door shut behind him. Tony’s brow furrows as he looks around the room in confusion. Even his perpetually drug-addled mind can tell something unreal, something impossible has happened to his friend. “That pill can’t have done this right?” Tony takes nervous breaths and Big D’s musk rapidly fills his lungs, distracting him from whatever petty issue brought him in. Who cares about concern when his small cock is beginning to rise from simply standing near the priapic titan.

Big D’s voice rumbles through Tony, making him weak at the knees, “You wanna have some fun don’t you?” The drug dealer can’t help but nod and swallow the drool pooling in his mouth as the bestial Adonis stands over him, cock dripping ever-ready for another round. Tony isn’t sure if he’s started tripping himself or what, but as he begins making out with the frat bro he finds himself not minding as memories of whoever Dylan was disappear. After all pleasure is the most important thing, and no one is better at spreading heady delight than Big D.

[logaenhowlett]

I ONLY WANT TO BE WITH YOU - L.H.

Summary: The small things are never just small things. For Logan, they're the constellations charting the story of him and you.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Fluff (your heart may not be able to handle this), Established relationship, Domestic AF

A/N: I'll jump at any chance to write for Origins!Logan (he's my man fr). Here's another one for my A Weekend with Logan Howlett event! The prompt was ELATION. Title creds to Shelby Lynne.

MASTERLIST

“Honey, I’m home.”

“In the backyard!”

Keys follow a graceful arc as Logan tosses them into the tray by the door. And as always, they land with a soft clink, a quiet exhalation of metal on ceramic signalling the end of his workday.

The tray itself - a chipped, sun-faded thing you'd unearthed at an antique market one afternoon - bears the loving imprint of time. He remembers the way your eyes lit up immediately, declaring it "perfect" before playfully haggling with the vendor, your laughter ringing through the crowded stalls like a cascade of wind chimes.

Boots thud against the floor. As he toes them off, the memory of your gentle chiding surfaces; "Baby..." drawn out in an affectionate warning as you gestured to the offending muddy tracks.

Logan glances down, half-expecting the telltale streaks of dirt. Instead, the polished wood gleams back, pristine and devoid of smudges. And he knows, with a sweet certainty, that you'll be pleased.

His jacket sways the already-leaning coat rack, adding to the precarious balance of hats, scarves and dog leads you insisted on buying for the neighbour's German Shepherds. Those evenings - leash in hand as the dogs bound ahead, your face alight with a smile rivalling the setting sun - nestle warmly in the depths of his heart.

Couch cushions, dented from countless hours of cuddling and late-night reading, yield lightly beneath his touch as he ventures through the living room. On the coffee table, lit candles cast shadows across faint, nearly invisible rings of condensation, ghosts of beer bottles past.

The fireplace crackles merrily, chasing away the frosty air he'd braved last night to gather the wood piled neatly beside it. "Do you have to?" you'd murmured as he reluctantly unwound himself from your embrace. "I'll be quick, darlin'", the promise sealed with a kiss upon your nose.

Framed photographs adorn the mantlepiece above. One catches Logan's eye in particular: your first Christmas together. The ridiculously ugly sweater you'd crocheted with painstaking - and slightly misguided - enthusiasm encases him. He's tucked into your neck, seeking refuge from both the camera's flash and the itchy wool, but a small, happy smile betrays his discomfort.

Warm apple pie, its sweetness a siren's call, beckons him into the kitchen. A traitorous urge tempts him with visions of a generous sliver. But then he remembers your hand, light yet firm, swatting his greedy fingers away. "Dessert's after dinner, Lo," followed by his usual retort: "As long as you're on the menu, baby."

With a chuckle, he retrieves a bottle of ice-cold water from the fridge, briefly studying the disarray on its shiny surface. Sticky notes, some containing important reminders such as "Bring eggs please!" and "I love you" scrawled alongside silly doodles, compose a riot of colour and ink.

Just beyond the kitchen's threshold, a laundry basket rests patiently under the hallway light. Messy sheets from the morning spill over the rim, tangling with several orphaned socks and those boxers - the unbelievably soft ones you'd gifted him - that Logan swears he can't live without.

Familiar notes sound from the record player. Whistling along, he heads towards the bathroom, the basket bumping gently against his hip. And soon, the rhythmic whir of the washing machine falls in with the melody.

The chipped bathtub stands as evidence of an incident both clumsy and intimate from last week. Steam billowed in a thick cloud as warm water lapped at your shoulders. And in the heat of the moment, Logan's claws scraped a jagged scar across the smooth porcelain. The sudden snikt had been a jarring interruption, but the shared fit of giggles quickly dissolved any tension.

All these thoughts of you urge him straight towards the backyard. And happiness hits him square in the chest, because there you are - kneeling amidst flowerbeds, hands working the rich soil as you nurture your plants.

And then, the pieces fall into place.

Nights whiled away on the porch steps, dreaming about your lives together. The letter, a clerical error addressing you as Mr and Mrs Howlett, which you'd jokingly hung on the wall, echoing a quiet promise. Musings of tiny footprints padding across the floor of what's currently the spare bedroom.

This is it. This is his future.

Without warning, his arm curves beneath you, sweeping you off the ground. "Logan!" you exclaim, clutching his shoulders.

“Marry me. What do you say, sweetheart?"

[cherry-romper]

Realising they like you

+ Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Marco, Jean, Connie, Sasha, Levi, Erwin, Hange, Reiner, Bertholdt, Annie, Porco, Pieck, Zeke

Warning; alcohol consumption

Eren; It was while you played in the ocean. You were messing around with Sasha when a piece of  seaweed touched your foot. Having never seen seaweed before, you panicked and threw yourself at the nearest person for safety - that person was Eren Jeager. Taken aback by the sudden weight, he fell into the ocean, you along with him. You apologised profusely while helping him out of the water, but he just stood there. You watched him carefully as he moved the hair out his face. You worried that you might have hurt him during the fall, so you asked if he were alright. Again, you were met with silence. You looked back at the others for support, but were cut off by Eren laughing. He let out the most genuine belly-laugh you had ever heard. He was smiling like an idiot, keeling over as he clutched his stomach. Your heart squeezed, as did the others. Eren hadn't laughed, nor smiled, in months. You soon giggled along with him. You even held onto his arm for support. Once he'd calmed down, he looked at you, from your eyes to your lips. He uttered a small "thank you," before pulling you into a deep hug.

Mikasa; It was just a normal day. You had been doing your chores around the garrison and were now eating your fill, along side Connie and Sasha, in the mess hall. The two you were sat with were, once again, arguing over food. They bickered like children, throwing food and hurling insults at one another. You laughed at them, dodging the occasional piece of bread that came flying your way. Mikasa was stood at the door, staring at you in awe. The way the sun fell over your hair and framed you face was like something out of a renaissance paining. She admired your every crevice. From the way your nose curved to the shape of your lips as you smiled. She saw how your uniform draped over your shoulders as they bounced while you laughed. She was stood far away but could still see your eyes as the shone in the light. As far as she could tell, you were glowing. You were radiating serenity - the kind she'd been looking for her whole life. She'd never seen you in this light before, it caught her off guard. The more she watched on the darker her blush got.

Armin; He'd liked you since you were kids but fell head over heals for you when you saved him from a titan. He had been assigned a separate group from you during a mission beyond the walls and you were leading a rescue squad to his distress signal. You found him being cornered into a tree by two small titans. He was waving his swords at them helplessly, begging for them to not eat him. You made quick work of the two titans, cutting them both down in the same motion. He watched you wipe off your blades as you asked if he was alright. He was so thankful you'd saved him, he started babbling on about him repaying you. You shushed him and told him that if he were to make it out alive, that would be payment enough.  He knew then he'd marry you.

Marco; When you were injured while on a mission beyond the walls. He'd never felt so strongly for someone before. He sat with you on the ride back into the walls, the whole time he was gawking at your injuries. He held onto your hand tightly while he cried into his sleeve. Jean, who was riding a horse next to the cart the two of you were in, asked why he was so upset, you'd survived hadn't you? Marco just shrugged, unsure how to answer, but the aching in his heart answered for him. He stared at Jean, a broken expression on his face. Jean knew, just from that look, that Marco loved you.

Jean; On a day off you'd gone to the market place. There was a band playing in the square. Some people were drinking and laughing, others were just passing through. There was a group of people dancing to the music. You and Jean watched on in awe. You were mesmerised by the way the women's dresses flowed as they danced and Jean watch as the men moved freely as they sways their partners around. While you watched on, someone pulled you in. You were a little shocked, but took to it straight away and started dancing with the others. Jean eyes gazed over your dancing figure. You were beautiful. Truly beautiful. He was so entranced by you he hadn't notice you nearing him. You stood in front of him and gave him a mischievous smile. He cocked a brow at your expression, but before he could ask you pulled him into the circle. His hand naturally glided to your waist and yours to his shoulder, your bodies held close. The two of you swayed together in rhythm with the music. His chest tightened as he stared at your smile. There was no doubt in his mind, he loved you.

Connie; You'd both been drinking. While it wasn't illegal to drink at your age, but it wasn't smart. You both knew you had training in the morning but you drank anyways. Connie had convinced you, or vice versa, at this point you couldn't remember. Neither of you were light-weights but between you, you'd had gone through nearly a barrel of ale. You didn't feel as drunk as you were but still you ended up throwing up really badly. Maybe it was the fact that this was your first time drinking in months or the fact you and the ale tasted like shit, either way, you were hacking up as much as your body would let you. Connie panicked a little, you were both in no fit state and it was hard too see in the dark, but you were his first priority.  He comforted you, moving any hair out of the way as you threw up. After a while, you'd appeared to have finished, or at least calmed down. The two of you slumped down against a tree. You tried to say sorry but the soreness of your throat wouldn't let you. He shushed you, pulling your head against his shoulder. He told you to rest, he explained that he'd take responsibility for the two of you being late in the morning. While you rested, he could hear you softly snoring to yourself, a sting of dribble hanging from your mouth. He thought you were so cute. And even though you were in a vulnerable position, you trusted him to take care of you and that meant the whole world to him.

Sasha; You'd gone hunting with her and finally managed to kill the boar you'd wanted to for weeks. In celebration, you flung your arms around her nuzzling your face into her neck as you squealed with joy. She felt so warm and fuzzy, she hadn't felt that way before. It was new, refreshing even; like a breath of fresh air. She held you there, close to her chest, for a few moments more before she began jumping for joy with you. On the way back to camp, you both gushed over what dish you were going to cook with all the meat you now had.

Levi; You left him a note one day when you were sent on a mission. It read: while I am gone, remember to stay healthy. Asshole. Notes were your thing, but for some reason this one made Levi's heart skip a beat, a rare smile found it way across his cheeks.He replied to the note in his head: as long as you promise to come back to me, dumbass. He wouldn't admit it aloud but he was giddy with excitement waiting for you to return.

Hange; You brought them a Titan back from one of your missions. It was one that they'd had a hard time capturing, an abnormal beyond the walls that Hange desperately wanted to study; they'd already named it Alexander. When they realised you'd risked your life to help their studies and free humanity, they knew you meant more to them than they could fathom.

Erwin; You'd been gone for nearly a month. Your convoy had been spilt up from the main unit and everything had gone horrible wrong. You were outside the walls for 3 and a half weeks before you found your way back. You and one other in your unit had survived, out of the 28 that been split. When he saw your face he nearly fainted. Your whole unit had been presumed dead, the probability of your survival was less than 0.067%.  You and your other comrade were malnourished and dehydrated, they had lost an arm in the carnage. You only survived because of the sacrifices made by the other members of your unit, who'd unknowing donated their gas and gear through their deaths. No one could believe it, you both became legends, both being awarded medals for your bravery. It wasn't like Erwin to loose his composer but you seemed like an angel in that moment, as you were brought to the safety of the walls. He stared through you, like you weren't real, his legs moving on their own as he stumbled to you, slumping his arms around you, pulling you in for an embrace he swore he'd never release.

Reiner; You followed him. After he betrayed everyone and left with Bertholdt and Ymir. You followed him on your own volition. He was at a loss for words, he betrayed you, as if he'd murdered your friends and family with his own hands. Still you were soft with him, asking if he was okay, telling him you'd be fine no matter what happened, you'd stay with him. You knew he didn't want to do the things he was forced to do, and you were willing to hear him out. He just listen to you talk, slack-jawed, that someone as kind as you had come into his life to guide him down the right path. He was in awe of you and he knew he'd do whatever it takes to keep you safe in Marley. 

Bertholdt; You knew his secret and confronted him about it. You told him after everything you still loved him and that if he needed saving you'd be right there to do it. They were the words he'd wanted to hear his whole life and he was so happy they'd come from you. He sought comfort in you from then on and invited you to talk with Reiner about going back with them. 

Annie;

It was while she was in her crystal, you had visited her any chance you got, explaining the situation to her. You'd known she was the female titan before her reveal, and you confessed that too her crystal. You cried as you explained that you wish you could have stopped her, or at least found a way to help her. You been talking to Reiner about it all, as you figured out their secret to. He'd agreed to take you to Liberio with them, as long as you pledged allegiance to Marley. They were empty words, but you did so anyways, and conjured up a plan to rescue her.

Porco;

He'd known for a while that he liked you but being the stubborn ass he is, he denied and denied his feelings until it was you who confessed to him. He had convinced himself that relations like that were pointless, given his limited lifespan. During your confession, you mentioned that even though he didn't have long to live you were happy with any amount of time with him because your forever could be even better than nothing at all. He was at a loss for words, in disbelief that you'd be willing to go through that for him.

Pieck;

She'd liked you for years, but never really found the time to talk about it with you because she'd been deployed to Paradis. The most casual confession known to man. You were sure she hadn't realised what she'd said. She'd finished reading a book she'd recommended a millennium ago and were talking to her over how the characters had fallen for one another. She simply replied with "yeah, I think he fell for her the same way I fell for you, Y/N". You eyed her cautiously, she wasn't even looking at you, she was just sorting through her papers. A gargled string of flustered sounds made it way out of you mouth in response, unable to form a real sentence. Finally she looked up from her work, smiling at you knowing, she had no doubts that you liked her back so she felt no need to tip-toe around the subject. 

Zeke;

He knew when you were walking along the docs with him. He was having a smoke, basking in the sunset, it was the calmest he'd felt in months. Looking to you, he saw that you were messing around with a piece of seaweed that had found its way to the waters surface. He saw how you absentmindedly played with it, it brought him peace that you could still find joy in the little things, despite what you had witnessed. Seeing you lit by the setting sun, finding solace in his company was enough to solidify the rising emotions in his heart.

[pastryfication]

winter wonderland

pairing: kimi antonelli x leclerc!reader

note: i’m not really satisfied with this but it’s cosy and christmassy so we ball 🙂‍↕️

part one of my advent celebration

december had a way of coming creeping just at the right time. it brought a lightness to everything, spreading a nice warm feeling across everything as it rolled around with its christmas cheer and holiday cosiness.

to celebrate christmas that year, your family had rented out a cabin at your favourite ski resort, nestled in the heart of the french alps. it was a tradition you had kept up for a long time, but for the first time, the friend you brought wasn’t just a friend. he was someone much more special.

the small chalet style cabin your brother had arranged for your group was the perfect charming blend of rustic elegance and winter magic. it was made of dark wood with steep, snow-covered roofs adorned with twinkling fairy lights that cast a warm glow as the night settled in. snow piled neatly on the nearby balconies, where wreaths and red ribbons hung along the edges, adding festive touches to the scene.

you and kimi had gotten your own room—much to arthur’s dismay—and it was as magical as the rest of the house. until then, you had enjoyed your evenings together, cuddled in the warm, cozy bed, but as it was your boyfriend’s last night with you before he flew home to spend the holidays with his family, you had decided to go explore a small village located just outside the boarder of the resort.

you were walking along a small road close to the middle of the town. the square was alive with the cheerful hum of holiday spirit, and market stalls lined the cobblestone paths, selling everything from hand-knit scarves to spiced cider and roasted chestnuts. a large christmas tree stood proudly at the center, its branches decorated with delicate glass ornaments and shimmering tinsel, while the soft notes of a carol floated through the air from a street performer’s violin.

beyond the village, you could see the ski runs snake down the mountainside, illuminated by the golden light of the setting sun. skiers and snowboarders still dotted the slopes, gliding gracefully down the white mountainside. the peaks of the surrounding alps, capped with snow, rose majestically against the sky shifting from pale blue to the soft lavender of twilight.

it was getting late, and your mum had already sent a message to let you know that you had to be home soon, but everything about the moment was so absolutely perfect, and you didn’t want to break it just yet.

the snow crunched delicately under your boots as you took another step through the magic winter wonderland of the small village. the street performer had changed to a christmas love song, the soft tones creating the perfect backdrop to your walk.

despite the thick, fluffy gloves you both were wearing, kimi’s hand felt warm in yours. every so often, he’d squeeze it a little tighter, a silent signal that made you glance up. his eyes always met yours with that familiar, loving sparkle, sometimes followed by a quick kiss on the tip of your cold nose.

he adored the way you looked all bundled up in your thick coat, scarf and woollen hat with a frosty blush covering your cheeks. it made him all giddy on the inside and he couldn’t help but let his gaze linger as a goofy smile took over his face. it made your heart skip; it was rare to see him this relaxed, away from the newfound pressure of the track and cameras.

“i wish we could stay like this forever,” you whispered as you passed a stall selling handmade ornaments. kimi’s fingers squeezed yours again, and when you looked up, he had that smile—the one that made your heart flutter.

“me too,” he said, his voice low and earnest, before he suddenly stopped in his tracks.

you looked at him, puzzled. he turned to you fully and whispered your name, his breath visible in the cold air. “i love you.”

your smile widened, a new blush spreading across your cheeks—this time not from the chill. “i love you more.”

“not possible,” he immediately remarked back, not giving you a chance to protest. even if you hadn’t been able to see his face, you would still have been able to hear the smile in his voice.

you smiled right back up at him, but before you could respond, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. it was short and sweet, both of you smiling into the kiss, and when you pulled apart, giggles filled the air between you.

“we should probably head back,” you said, the reluctance clear in your voice as you glanced at the sky now deepening into night.

he sighed, nodding. “yeah. wouldn’t want to give your brothers another reason to dislike me.”

you pouted, your gloved hand coming up to caress his cheek. “they don’t hate you. they just have a hard time accepting the fact that i’ve grown up.”

he leaned into your touch, nodding his head with soft eyes. “yeah, yeah. whatever you say.”

✦ ✦ ✦

later, as found yourself at home in the cabin once again, with the glow from the windows of the chalets and lodges reflecting off the snow, casting a magical light over the landscape, you found yourself back at your favourite place in the world: your boyfriend’s arms.

the scent of pine trees and wood smoke came in from the slightly open window and mingled with the faint sweetness of hot chocolate coming from the kitchen, where your mum and charlotte were cooking up snacks for your movie night.

a small fire crackled in the stone fireplace, its warmth spreading throughout the room. your family were all gathered around, laughter and cheerful chatter filling the air. charles emerged from the hallway with a soft smile, leaning down to ruffle your hair before pressing a kiss to your temple before he moved on to alex, who sat on the couch with an amused grin, and they exchanged a friendly nudge and a few teasing words.

arthur was sprawled out in one of the armchairs, wrapped in a blanket with only his tousled hair visible. he shot you a playful glare when he caught sight of you and kimi on the loveseat, but it was softened by the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

lorenzo was resting next to him, more up right and put together, but still relaxed in a way he only was around you. next to him, two empty spots were waiting for the rest of your close knit family.

leo was shuffling around on the floor, overwhelmed by the amount of cuddly people within his vicinity. his cute little snout poked at all of you as he surveyed the room, before he finally decided to join you and kimi by jumping into your lap.

you let out a small giggle and went to pet him. as the dog settled in between you, kimi’s arm tightened around you just a bit and you looked up at him with an adoring smile.

this, right here, felt absolutely perfect. this was your epitome of happiness. this was your wonderland. the most magical place in the world.

[eelnoise]

currents

roronoa zoro x gn!reader cw: fluff. giving zoro some much needed validation. established relationship wc: 3.2k an: it's been a while, hasn't it? ao3 link

beneath the safety of a sea cave large enough to house the thousand sunny, the straw hat pirates dock on a modest island, its location far from the nearby village to remain unnoticed. the cavern’s towering rocky walls cast long shadows, shielding the crew from view, while the sea carries the scent of damp stone and salt, mingling with the faint echo of waves crashing against the it’s mouth.

eager to stretch their land legs, the crew wastes no time in disembarking. they split up almost immediately, each drawn to their own interests—some head to the market, some to the beach, and the rest scatter to explore the town’s hidden corners. zoro starts to wander off on his own, one hand lazily resting atop the swords at his side and his expression focused, but makes it no more than five feet away from the others before a hand gently wraps around his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

“not so fast,” you say, touch still resting lightly on his arm as his gaze tilts down to meet yours. “where to? i’ll come with ya.” while your tone is light, it’s a firm one that leaves no room for argument—you're tagging along with him, though happy to let him lead the way, whatever that looks like. 

zoro grumbles something about “not needing a babysitter”, but he doesn’t protest. instead he gestures vaguely toward the path ahead and starts walking, his pace slow to allow you to keep up.

the village is a vibrant mix of tropical greenery and a lively marketplace, its narrow streets bustling with midday activity. merchants call out to passersby, their stalls overflowing with colorful fruits, handmade trinkets, and the occasional exotic spice. the air is thick with fresh produce and salty sea breeze, joined by the sounds of the day-to-day clientele. it’s the kind of place that just feels alive, every corner teeming with energy and life.

he leads you through its winding roads, his sense of direction as unreliable as ever, but eventually, you reach a quiet spot near the edge of town where the bustling markets give way to dense forest. the clearing he finds seems perfect for training—shaded by tall trees, with enough room for him to swing his swords without worry.

silently, he shrugs off his green coat and tosses it in your direction, trusting you to catch it before unsheathing two of his three swords. he begins with a series of fluid, precise strikes, the blades cutting through the thin nothing with a whistle. even without anything to land blows upon, his focus is unwavering, his body moving with the kind of practiced ease that comes from years of discipline.

you settle nearby, draping his coat over your lap as you lean against a tree. the rhythmic sound of his movements blends with the distant hum of the town. for a moment, you wish you had brought a book along—something to pass the time while he trains. but then again, watching him isn’t exactly a hardship. 

as the sun climbs higher in the sky, the watch on your wrist chimes softly, signaling that it’s time to regroup with the crew. you glance over at zoro, who’s mid-swing, his movements precise and his focus unshakable.

“time to head back for lunch,” you call out, holding up your wrist to show him the watch, though you know he doesn’t need proof. “unless you’d rather keep training?” you add, a teasing lilt to your tone.

zoro pauses mid-swing, his blades freezing as he turns to look at you. his brow furrows for a moment, and you can almost see the internal debate playing out in his head—training versus food. but then his stomach growls loudly, betraying him, and he lets out a grunt, sheathing his swords with a practiced flick of his wrists. “food first,” he mutters, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “i can come back to this.”

you can’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you stand to hand him his coat. “thought so.”

—--

the walk back into town is quiet, the two of you navigating the maze of streets side by side, your steps falling into an easy rhythm. the sound of laughter and clinking dishes spills out into the street as you push open the door of the tavern, and the warm, inviting atmosphere quickly envelops you. the rest of the crew is already gathered around a large table, their voices rising and falling in animated conversation.

the bar is lively and ripe with the clatter of dishes, the hum of conversation, and the occasional burst of laughter. zoro slides into a seat across from you, his swords propped against the wall beside him. he grabs a tankard of ale from a passing server, taking a long drink before setting it down with a satisfied sigh. you settle into your seat, your own drink in hand, content to listen to the chatter around you.

already halfway through a mountain of meat, luffy’s enthusiasm remains undiminished by the sheer volume of food in front of him while sanji flits between the table and the kitchen, much to the visible annoyance of the tavern staff. he’s not cooking this time, but that hasn’t stopped him from swooping in to carry plates to the table, adjust the presentation of dishes, and interrogate the chefs about their seasoning choices. 

franky and robin are seated nearby, their heads bent together as they discuss something in hushed tones, though robin occasionally glances up to watch sanji’s antics with an amused smile.

the meal is in full swing, the table alive with chatter and clinking dishes, when nami’s voice cuts through the noise, sharp and pointed. “—and don’t think i’ve forgotten about the 10,000 berries you owe me, zoro,” she says, her tone dripping with mock sweetness as she leans forward, her eyes glinting with mischief. “you know, for that incident with my ledger last week.”

zoro, who had been mid-bite, sets his chopsticks down with a clink, his scowl deepening. “i already told you, i didn’t ruin your stupid ledger. you left it on the deck. that’s on you.”

nami’s eyes narrow, her smile turning dangerous. “oh, so it’s my fault you decided to drink like a maniac and spill sake all over it? typical.” she crosses her arms, leaning back in her chair. “face it, zoro. you’re just bad with anything that doesn’t involve swinging a sword or napping.”

zoro rolls his eyes, leaning back in his chair. “whatever, witch. just add it to my tab.”

sanji, who had been setting a plate of food in front of robin, immediately turns on zoro, his face red with anger. “don’t you dare call nami-swan a witch, you brute!”

zoro doesn’t even look at him, his tone dismissive. “shut the hell up, love-cook. no one even asked you.”

nami, seeing an opportunity to twist the knife, smirks and leans forward. “you sure you’re any better than he is, zoro? at least sanji’s obvious about it. you think we don’t notice how you act when someone’s around?” she tilts her head meaningfully in your direction, her grin widening. “you’re softer than a marshmallow, and it’s almost worse because you don’t even realize you’re doing it.”

the two burst into laughter, their voices ringing out above the noise of the tavern. the rest of the crew, engrossed in their own conversations, barely notice the exchange. zoro’s face darkens, his scowl deepening into a face of sudden rage as he slams his chopsticks down on the table.

he stands abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the wooden floor, and storms out of the tavern without another word. the table falls silent for a moment, the crew exchanging uneasy glances, before the chatter slowly resumes.

you scowl, pinching the bridge of your nose as you glance between them. “you three are going to be the fucking death of me,” you mutter, your voice low but strong enough to cut through their laughter. they pause, looking at you with a mix of amusement and guilt, but you don’t give them a chance to respond. pushing your chair back, you stand and follow zoro, ignoring the curious looks from the rest of the crew.

the cool afternoon air hits you as you step outside, and you scan the bustling street for any sign of zoro. it doesn’t take long to spot him—his green hair and imposing figure being hard to miss in a crowd. he’s already halfway down the street, his shoulders tense and his fists clenched at his sides.

you call out to him, quickening your pace to catch up. he doesn’t stop, but he doesn’t tell you to leave him alone either. you fall into step beside him, matching his long strides as he leads you toward the edge of town. the sounds of the port fade behind you, replaced by the rustle of leaves and the distant call of seabirds. you don’t say anything, giving him the space he needs, but your presence alone is a quiet reminder that you’re not going anywhere.

the two of you walk in silence until you reach a quiet spot near where the forest meets the sea, where the bustling streets give way to a small, secluded clearing. a large, flat rock sits nestled under the shade of a towering palm tree, and zoro heads straight for it, dropping onto the surface with a heavy sigh. you sit down beside him, close enough to offer comfort but not so close that it feels intrusive. for a while, neither of you speaks. the only sounds are the rustle of leaves in the breeze and the distant crash of waves against the shore.

zoro’s shoulders are still tense, his teeth clenching as he stares at the ground. you don’t push him, letting the silence stretch between you. finally, after what feels like an eternity, he huffs and runs a hand through his hair. “am i really like that?” he asks, his voice low and gruff, like the words are being dragged out of him against his will. he doesn’t look at you, but you can hear the frustration in his tone. “do i really… act different when you’re around?”

you glance at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his question. “different how?” you ask gently, giving him the space and time to explain himself.

he hesitates, brow furrowing as he struggles to find the right words. “i don’t know. softer. like i’m… like i’m not as strong as i should be.” his voice trails off, and he clenches his fists, clearly frustrated with himself. “i don’t want to be seen as weak. i can’t afford to be weak. not when i’ve got a promise to keep.”

you frown, turning to face him fully. “caring about someone doesn’t make you weak.” you reach out, brushing your fingers lightly against the back of his hand, a small but deliberate gesture to ground him. “it just makes you human, and i think it’s a sign of strength to realize that being human can be a boon.” 

you let the words hang for a moment, watching as his mouth tightens and his gaze flickers to yours before looking away again. “and who cares what they think anyway?” you add, your tone condensed but not unkind. “they're just trying to get under your skin. they don’t get to decide what you are or aren’t.”

he doesn’t respond right away, his gaze fixed on the ground. you can see the conflict in his expression, watching as he wrestles with his thoughts. finally, he lets out a frustrated breath and shakes his head. 

“but i don’t even know how to be a… a—” he pauses, and you can hear him swallow hard, like the words are stuck in his throat. “—whatever this is,” he finishes, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. his voice is quieter now, almost uncertain.

you tilt your head, studying him carefully. “what do you want it to be?” you ask, your voice soft but steady. “this thing between us—it doesn’t have to fit into some box. we get to decide what it means.”

zoro lets out an intense exhale, his shoulders slumping slightly as he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “that’s the problem. i don’t know what it means. i don’t even know how to—” he cuts himself off, his jaw tightening as he struggles to articulate his thoughts. “i’ve never had to think about this kind of stuff before. it’s… hard.”

you smile faintly, your hand still resting lightly against his. “you don’t have to have all the answers right now. but you can’t just ignore it, either. not if it’s bothering you this much.”

he looks at you then, his gaze searching yours for a moment before he looks away again. “it’s just—,” he mutters, but there’s no real bite to his words. “i don’t want to mess this up.”

“you won’t,” you say simply, your voice firm. “not if you’re honest with yourself.”

zoro is quiet for a long moment, his fingers flexing against the rock beneath him. the silence between you is comfortable, though, and you don’t push him to fill it. instead, you sit there beside him, your presence a quiet reminder that you’re not going anywhere. eventually, he lets out a slow breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. 

“i’ll figure it out,” he says finally, his voice low but resolute. “just… give me some time.”

you nod, squeezing his hand lightly before pulling away. “take all the time you need. i’m not going anywhere.”

he glances at you then, his expression softening just enough for you to notice. “you’re stubborn, you know that?” he says, his tone dry but with a hint of amusement.

you grin, leaning back on your hands. “takes one to know one.”

zoro huffs out a laugh, the sound rough but genuine, and for the first time since you left the tavern, the tension in his shoulders seems to ease. the two of you sit there in silence for a while longer, the weight of his unspoken thoughts hanging in the air. but for now, it’s enough just to be there with him, offering the quiet reassurance he needs.

—--

a week and a half passes, and they find themselves hastily docking at another island to allow franky to work his magic on the patch-job after an unexpected storm damages part of the thousand sunny’s rigging, a few insist on taking the opportunity to top off their stores and supply.

in the days since your conversation with zoro, things between you have remained the same—comfortable, familiar, and unspoken. he hasn’t pulled away or acted differently, and neither have you. if anything, there’s a quiet understanding between you now, a sense of patience as he works through his thoughts. 

the ship is quiet with most of the crew either asleep or still in the village, enjoying the island’s nightlife. you’re on your way back to your room after helping sanji organize the pantry when you pass by zoro’s door. just as you’re about to walk past, the door slides open, and a strong hand grabs your shoulder, pulling you inside before you can react.

“zoro—?” you start, but the words are cut off as he pulls you into a tight bear hug, his arms wrapping around you with a firmness that leaves no room for escape. you can feel the warmth of his chest against yours, the steady rise and fall of his breathing, and the faint scent of steel and sweat that always seems to cling to him.

you don’t hesitate, wrapping your arms around him in return and hugging him just as tightly. you know better than to question when zoro initiates physical affection. instead, you let the silence speak for itself, the quiet understanding between you filling the room.

“zoro?” you ask again, your voice muffled against his shoulder. “you okay?”

he doesn’t answer right away, just holds you there for a moment, his grip unyielding but not uncomfortable. finally, he lets out a quiet breath, his voice low and rough. “yeah. just… happy you’re here.”

after a moment, he loosens his grip slightly but doesn’t let go. you can feel the tension in his shoulders, the way he’s still wrestling with something he can’t quite put into words. 

“i’m happy too,” you murmur, your thumb brushing lightly over his cheek before cupping it in your palm gently. zoro leans into the touch almost unintentionally, his features softening under your hand. “really happy.”

zoro’s brow furrows slightly, but he doesn’t pull away. instead, his hands rest loosely on your hips. “happy, huh?” he asks like he’s still trying to wrap his head around the idea.

“yeah,” you say softly, your voice steady and sure. “being here with you, like this… it means a lot to me. more than i can really put into words.”

he looks at you for a long moment, his gaze searching yours as if looking for confirmation. you can see the conflict in his eyes, the way he’s still trying to reconcile his feelings with the image he’s always had of himself. but then, slowly, his expression softens, and he lets out a quiet breath, his shoulders relaxing under your touch.

“you make it sound so simple,” he mutters, his tone dry but without any real bite.

“because it doesn’t have to be complicated,” you reply, smiling faintly. “whatever this is,” you add, waving a hand in the space between the two of you.

zoro looks at you for a long moment, his hands tightening slightly on your hips while a grin plays at the corners of his lips. then, without a word, he leans down, closing the distance between you. his lips meet yours in a kiss that’s soft, deliberate, and a quiet affirmation of everything he hasn’t been able to say. you kiss him back without hesitation, your fingers sliding into his hair as you pull him closer.

the kiss is tender, unhurried, and full of the understanding that’s always been between you. it’s not the first time you’ve kissed him, but it feels different this time—deeper, more intentional. like he’s finally letting himself be fully present in the moment, without the walls he usually keeps up.

when you finally pull back, zoro rests his forehead against yours, his breathing slow and steady. “you’re a pain in the ass, you know that?” he says, unable to hide his fondness. 

you laugh softly, your hands still resting against his face. “takes one to know one.”

he huffs out a quiet laugh, his arms tightening around you as he pulls you into another hug. this one is less intense than the first, but no less meaningful. you can feel the tension in his shoulders easing, the way he’s finally starting to let go of the weight he’s been carrying.

for a moment, the two of you simply stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the quiet of the room wrapping around you like a blanket. but then zoro shifts, his hands sliding up to cradle your face as he leans in again, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that’s softer, deeper, and far more confident than before. this time, there’s no hesitation, no unspoken question hanging between you—just the quiet certainty that this is where you’re both meant to be.

[electronalytics]

Signal Lights Market

Signal Lights Market

[idolindrawer]

Snap

IVE Yujin x Male Reader Smut 3.4k words

I'm not a native English speaker, so some expressions might sound odd. I'm always open to suggestions for improvement.

"Whatever you wish for will come true if you wish for it correctly,” the fortune teller says.

"That's not what I came here for," you say, stubbing out your cigarette in the ashtray with a huff of annoyance. "Don't you have any better advice?"

"This is the best advice I can give you," the fortune teller replies, completely unfazed. "The key is to do it correctly. Wishes need a trigger."

Growing increasingly irritated, you begin snapping your fingers repeatedly to vent your frustration. You came seeking guidance on how to improve your life, but this is a huge disappointment. 

The fortune teller seems oblivious to your anger and says cheerfully, "There you go, use that as your trigger. Whenever you make a wish, snap your fingers."

"This is like throwing 50,000 won down the drain," you sigh in exasperation, grabbing your bag and jacket, ready to leave the fortune teller's tent.

"Well, feel free to go,” the fortune teller says, looking surprised as if he had never met a customer who didn't believe in his words. "But it'll be worth 50,000 won if you give it a try."

Because of that fortune teller, the lunch break was wasted. You hurry along the path to your office, but as usual, you get held up by the traffic lights just 200 meters before. Being late is unavoidable.

While waiting, a bank advertisement on a nearby building catches your eyes. A celebrity girl dressed in the bank's signature green gives you a broad smile. You've seen her in other ads before. Isn't her name An Yujin or something? She must be a member of some idol group. You vaguely recall your niece being a huge fan.

Even when you look back at the red light of the traffic signal, you can’t get her out of your mind. How much did she earn from that bank ad, anyway? She’s probably around twenty, but her bank account must hold far more than my lifetime earnings... Damn it.

Seriously, if I were giving that huge amount of money to a young girl like her, I’d demand a much more provocative ad. I’d have her wear a skirt so short that her underwear can be seen in front of the press and have her shamelessly flaunt her ass to the cameras. Now that would be sure-fire marketing! You snap your fingers idly, indulging in this wicked fantasy of degrading celebrities to satisfy your ego.

Suddenly, someone's shoulder bumps into you from behind, jolting you back to reality. The light is green.

Just before leaving work, you scroll through social media and are stunned. It turns out that the girl from the ad you had seen at your lunch break was involved in a promotional event just a few hundred meters away. Moreover, she was wearing a skirt so short that it was almost revealing her underwear. The innocent young girl from the ad photo, now in a video from just two hours earlier, was dressed as if the whole of Korea had run out of fabric, shamelessly revealing her toned thighs to the gathered crowd. With a playful twirl, she revealed a glimpse of her white underwear covering her buttocks.

You happen to recall the words of that fortune teller: "Whenever you make a wish, snap your fingers." Did I actually snap my fingers? If so, then that fortune teller must have been a true psychic. If, as he said, wishes can really come true, is there anyone who wouldn't wish for something bigger?

Mesmerized by Yujin's legs on the screen, you swallow hard and imagine her sensual image. Tight-dressed Yujin is kissing in the dimly lit hotel room. As her dress is unzipped, black lace lingerie is revealed. Her buttocks are just covered with a bare minimum G-string, which she teasingly lets fall to her ankles, spreading her legs to accept the cock...

You snap your fingers once, forcefully. If this is going to work, the closer to her, the better chances might be. The event should have ended about an hour and a half ago, but is she still there? Hastily gathering your belongings, you clock out and run out of the office building towards the event venue.

The streets around the venue are teeming with people who have gathered information from social media, yet Yujin is nowhere to be seen. Disappointed to find that the event has ended, most people slowly drift into nearby cafes. Some remain standing, visibly dissatisfied, and frantically searching social media for any trace of her.

You open social media, but find it worthless due to the numerous accounts already capitalizing on her popularity and leveraging it to gain attention. “We're selling rare photo cards!” “Try this dating app for guaranteed meet-ups.” #IVE #YUJIN “Click here for an AI-generated celebrity sex tape...” In the sample video, a porn star with Yujin's face, digitally altered and occasionally glitching, kisses a naked man in a hotel room. His hand reaches for the zipper at her back, unzipping it to reveal her skin, which is trimmed with black lace lingerie...

Wait, can this really be the wish come true? The video is eerily close to what I imagined, but if this is it, then it’s a joke taken too far. The fortune teller must have been a fraud after all. Feeling everything is suddenly absurd, you shove your phone into your pocket and start walking toward the station.

Near the venue, the same posters of Yujin that you saw during the day are displayed, her trusting smile reaching out to you. The fortune teller's words echo in your mind: "The key is to do it correctly." What if the fortune teller was a genuine psychic, and the way to wish was wrong? The first wish came true, after all, and her sex was pulled off even in a rubbish way. It might be too early to conclude that he is a fake psychic.

There could be several reasons for the failure, but simply imagining her sex scene wasn't enough. That is, it requires imagining myself having sex with her. As vividly as possible, the feel of her body, myself slipping in between her legs...

You imagine carefully, snapping your fingers. Fate should take care of the rest. If this doesn't work, tomorrow I'll storm back to that fortune teller and demand my money back.

Before catching the train at the station, you detour slightly to use the public restroom. Using this station over 250 days a year, you know exactly where to find the always empty and relatively clean toilets.

You finish your business, wash your hands carelessly, and as you lift your head to see a tall girl staring at you from the mirror. Her white skirt is so short that her underwear is almost visible.

"An Yujin...ssi?"

It's definitely her. She's wearing the same outfit she had on at the daytime event, her arms crossed, looking slightly displeased at you.

"Why are you here?" you ask timidly. 

"Isn't this what you wanted?" With that, Yujin strides towards you, her hand reaching for the belt of your pants without hesitation. "Let's get this over with." 

Intimidated by the girl's boldness, you calmly scan the surroundings to ensure it’s safe, then guide her by the arm into the cleanest stall you can find.

"Are you the real An Yujin?" You whisper, keeping your voice low to avoid being heard. 

"There's another me?" She glances at you exasperatedly, then returns to dealing with your pants. With the same detachment as unlocking a door, she unbuckles your belt, lowers the zipper, and pulls off your pants. Her movements are awkward, but she's completely focused on her task, as if you weren’t even there, and that annoys you a little.

Despite her businesslike demeanor, every time her slender fingers brush against your lower body, your cock stiffens with the intimacy of contact you haven't felt in a long time and the anticipation of what's to come.

“But I haven't done anything yet?” Her fingers caress through your underwear, confirming your arousal. Looking satisfied with the heat of your groin, she smiles.

“May I take these off?” Before you can even nod, she’s already crouching down, pulling the waistband of your boxer briefs down to your ankles, revealing you completely.

Yujin remains crouched, staring at your exposed cock with interest. As you glance down, you notice her tight white mini shorts peeking out from under her skirt. Your cock responds to it, twitching with excitement before her eyes.

“You like being watched, huh?” Yujin says with a knowing smile. As she wraps her hand around your cock, giving it a few strokes, she stands up. You, expecting oral sex or something more, are disappointed and surprised. 

“Hey, is that all?”

"I'll do what you wished," she says with a mischievous grin. Then, balancing on her tiptoes and spreading her legs slightly, she holds your cock between the middle of her thighs carefully. "Feel free to move.”

You realize you've messed up again. When you snapped your fingers, you may have been too focused on her legs, and the wish was misinterpreted as thighfuck with her.

“Uh, wait a moment, let me snap my fingers again. This time, I’ll do it right,” you babble in a flustered tone, causing Yujin to look at you with curiosity. “Snap your fingers? What do you mean? Are you already satisfied?”

No way. The wish may have been downgraded, but it's the worst outcome to lose the favorable situation that's already come true. You pull yourself together and direct your full attention on the sensations of her two legs.

Her thighs are curvaceous compared to her slender waist, wrapping around your shaft and transferring her warmth from all directions. As you hold onto her thighs and move your body slowly back and forth, you can feel her bare, soft skin follow together, and the firm muscle layer beneath grips your cock tightly and never releases it.

"Your legs are incredibly gorgeous," you mutter, and for the first time, Yujin looks genuinely embarrassed. It's unclear why this celebrity girl was sent here, but it’s clear that she’s here to provide sexual services to this stranger, so why not make the most of it?

You put your hands on her hips and accelerate the reciprocating motions. As you press your lower body against her legs, the silky surface of her thighs ripples in response. Yujin grips your shoulders to stay balanced, trying to keep steady despite the constant kinetic energy. Your chin rests on her shoulder, and her hair brushes against your face. The sweet scent of her conditioner unexpectedly captivates you.

As sweat beads on your forehead, you wonder why, even though the wish was downgraded, things are still happening that you didn’t expect. Perhaps there’s no rule saying that once a wish is granted in a silly way, nothing else can occur. It might be up to the one who wished to make use of the situation.

To get the most out of the circumstances, you begin to secretly explore the boundary. Slide your hands back on her hips slightly, then cover her ass. There is no indication of her resistance. You knead on Yujin’s tight buttocks and move as if you were thrusting her. It seemed you heard a faint noise leak out of her mouth, but she didn’t stop you.

Then you bring your hands a little bit towards her waist, slipping them under the hem of Yujin’s blouse. Carefully touching her bra in her clothes, your eyes meet hers.

"Can I touch them?"

“Get it done quickly, okay?” Yujin says, looking away. You take that as approval and rub her breasts roughly. She's wearing something like a bandeau bra with no wires underneath her clothing, and you can feel the softness of her breasts even though they’re covered with the bra. But seized by an inevitable urge to see the hardness at the center, you forcefully pull the bra down.

Yujin's breasts are perfectly proportioned, and their distinct curvature and firmness bring a sense of satisfaction. When you touch their smoothness, you’re amazed to see your fingers sinking more than you expected. At the center, a reddish-brown areola the size of a coin surrounds a taut, protruding nipple. You pinch them lightly, then electricity runs through her body. She bashfully covers her mouth with the back of her hand, trying to hide her rough breath.

When you get carried away and go to kiss her, she pulls you away. With her flushed face, she said, “Focus on finishing this” while suffering the pleasure of her upper body.

As you explore Yujin’s youthful body freely, your cock is growing more sensitive and nearing release under the pressure of her thighs. However, your overwhelming passion for the ultimate goal makes it impossible to be satisfied with just releasing your desire between her legs.

“But I wanna be inside you.”

“Just come like this,” she responds bluntly. Expecting this answer, you decided to try another approach.

You stop moving for a moment, pull the hot shaft out from between her legs, lift her hips up, and then push it back in, at a higher position than before, so it can rub against her mini shorts.

“Wait, what are you…” Yujin becomes upset, but when you start moving it, she lets out a small moan. Thrusting your thickness, you can feel the softness of her pussy through the fabric. As you adjust the angle to hit her sweet spot, her hips twitch slightly in response to the pleasure.

Yujin grabs your shoulders and lowers her head, rounding her back to resist the temptation. Although you can't see her face, her shallow, quickened breaths sync with your sensation. You shift one of your hands from her hips to her chest, palming her breast and teasing her nipple with your fingertips.

Her short cry echoes in the empty train station restroom, and both you and she look at each other in surprise. The air feels frozen for a moment, but as you realize there’s no one around to hear it, you both resume the session.

As you gaze into Yujin's eyes, she meets your stare with disheveled hair and a messy face. She is flushed and damp with sweat, and her eyebrows are filled with shame and pleasure. Every time you tease her breasts with a nipple, she bites her lower lip, indicating that your treatment isn’t wrong.

“Keep going,” Yujin murmured with words that were neither order nor plea, revealing her desperate need for ecstasy. You see this as an opportunity to negotiate with her in the heat of the moment.

"After I get it into you," you say clearly, and Yujin seems unsure of how to respond, looking confused. The wish granted you fake sex with IVE's Yujin, but if you want anything more, you’ll have to achieve it on your own. So, does this mean that the An Yujin in front of you is genuinely struggling with whether or not to accept your cock, regardless of the power of the wish?

You think the last push is necessary and sneak your hand inside her shorts, searching for her clit. Her pussy is already soaking wet, and as you slide your fingers on her sensitive skin, which is coated with lube, unbearable pleasure spreads throughout her body. Yujin lets out a muffled moan, and she hugs your neck to keep herself from collapsing. Finally, she gives in and says, "Okay, okay.”

She looks at you awkwardly, pinches the waistband of her shorts, and then lowers them with a polite gesture. As she lifts her leg and removes the high heels from her shorts, you catch a glimpse of her completely shaved pussy. With a hand on the stall door, she turns around and slightly lifts her skirt, presenting her buttocks to you.

"Oppa, hurry up.”

Her curt tone sounded like a cheap whore, which rather turned you on. You place your cock against her wet labia and press gently. You are permitted to enter through her moist skin and proceed into her feverish depth. As your head glides along with her mucus walls, she groans in sensation. Retracing the path, you feel her pussy waves and grips your cock tightly, pulling you back to inside.

While you teasingly savor her insides, Yujin gestures with her sweaty hand to thrust more. You grab her waist roughly and drag her buttocks toward your pelvis. The sounds of skin slapping against skin echo through the empty restroom, her buttocks undulating, and the young idol's unrestrained cries fill the air.

Yujin's breathing becomes irregular and intense as a result of your relentless thrusting. She tries to soften the impact by moving away from you, but the small stall offers no escape. Despite her effort, the insistent slamming continues unabated, and she appears to be on the edge of collapse.

“Oppa, I need a…" She manages to whisper, shaken by the assault from behind. You pretend not to hear her while constantly stirring her pussy. You fiercely grasp the artistic shape of her ass with both hands, thrusting the heated shaft in and out of the lubricated hole in the center.

With one thrust, Yujin rounds her back and convulses her whole body. After a few seconds of trembling, exhaustion overwhelms her, and she’s about to fall. You quickly catch her, turn her around, and sit her down on the lid of the closed toilet.

Her face is flushed red, and she is barely catching her breath. Her nipples move up and down as she breathes, and her legs hang on either side of the toilet, displaying her undressed lower body. The contrast with her cheerful smile in the advertisement is intensely stimulating, but you avoid staring at her to keep her from realizing how she looks now and getting back to reality.

Yujin's inner thighs are glistening with a few streaks of wetness. You take and place them on your shoulders, inserting your still-hot cock from the front. She moans softly and becomes addicted to the sensation of your shaft stretching out her vagina.

As you push your cock through her labia and into her depth, the force causes her breasts to jiggle. You are immersed in the awareness of your movements piercing through her entire body, unable to stop yourself from moving frantically. Instinct guides your hands to her swinging breasts, your lips to her sweat-slicked neck, and then to her lips for a kiss. This time, Yujin doesn’t resist and gives in to your approach. You and this idol caress each other's lips, entwine their tongues, and share the taste of saliva.

Slamming your shaft into Yujin's pussy, you rub her clit with the thumb of one hand a few times. She twists her face and manages to remain silent in a desperate effort, but as the moment of release approaches again, her expression turns into a mix of fear and anticipation.

She presses both hands against her mouth, and after a split-second of weakness, her body trembles with orgasm on the toilet lid. Her inside is spasming around your cock, but you can't stop moving because you feel the dopamine approaching. Thrusting her lube-soaked, fluttering cunt just a few times, hot semen rushes into her depths.

Breathing heavily, you and Yujin watch the cock is pulled out of her pussy, which is glistening with mucus, and the sperm runs out. Yujin's hair is tangled, and she appears fatigued, but there is a strange satisfaction on her face as she looks at the spilled secretions.

As you're wrapping the toilet paper, you hear a few men entering the restroom. Hey, come on. It's gonna take a while to get out. The instant you are distracted by the noise outside, you feel a warm, wet touch on your lower body. Yujin is bending over, eagerly putting your cock into her mouth, and bobbing her head to suck out every last drop of your cum. Surprised, yet unable to resist the seductive sensation of her tongue gliding over your shaft, your cock quickly returns to its earlier state.

"Looks like we can't go out yet," leaving lips from your cock, Yujin whispers teasingly. "There's still time for another round, right?” she says, carefully sitting back down on the toilet lid so as not to make any noise, and spreading her graceful long legs wide.

Damn, it’s really worth 50,000 won.

[10thmusemoon]

I think a lot about yqy, who had no specific attachment to gender, feeling dysphoria the first time he realizes that the women in SJ’s bed at the WRP were delicate with elegant soft features. He spends a night turning a copper mirror every which way, struggling to apply cosmetics with shaking hands when something finally clicks and he thinks to himself “I could never look like that, I could never be what Xiao Jiu wants.”

Maybe the thought lingers long enough to drive yqy to action, to bring him down the mountain and into a brothel where the women look eager to eat up this soft spoken man and show him the ways of the world. Unfortunately that’s not what he wants, instead of seeking the delicate touch of a woman he wants to emulate it. It’s hardly unheard of, they manage all sorts of requests at brothels, and this one is simple enough.

The first time YQY sees himself properly done up, his breath catches in his throat. That is, of course, still his face beneath the white powder and red dots, those are his eyes behind the kohl liner, and yet it’s…softer. In a certain light he could almost be called delicate.

The older woman must recognize something in his expression, the hand at his shoulder gently squeezing and apologizing that they don’t have anything in his size, but if he were to return with enough notice, perhaps something could be arranged.

Yue Qingyuan returns.

Again and again and again.

Each time the spells sinks its hooks into him, a fantasy of a different life where he was a different person, one that Shen Qingqiu could bring himself to touch. Maybe even to love. The feelings that inspires cling to him like the last remnants of summer’s warmth, sparking a small joy that lasts throughout the following days until it flickers out, signaling his return.

It’s a noticeable change in Yue Qingyuan. Disciples and peak lords alike notice his improved mood, an errant An Ding disciple sees him browsing hair pins, the fine silk of women’s robes in a market place and a rumor spreads like wild fire.

The sect leader has lover!

It’s not the first time such a thing has been said, Shen Qingqiu tracks these rumors like a farmer tracks the seasons. Each and every time the claims come up unfounded, and yet…when the recent whispers from chatty hall masters reach his ears he listens. This time around, there’s a marked change in Yue Qingyuan.

An improved mood, yes, but not only that there’s…a distraction.

The sect leader’s visits to Qing Jing Peak grow further and further apart, and when he does dare to show his face it’s always followed by a visit cut short, a distant air to his demeanor. Bile turns in Shen Qingqiu’s stomach, a familiar ache in his chest pounds against his rib cage, begging to be freed. It’s the same jagged toothed creature that would bare its fangs when the likes of Shi Wu would dare call out for Qi-ge’s attention.

Shen Qingqiu did not cut Yue Qingyuan out of his heart just for someone to pick up what he discarded.

This bears investigation.

In the dark recesses of Shen Qingqiu’s mind, he’s conjured up an image of what Yue Qingyuan’s lover would be like. A soft spoken woman from a noble family or humble shopkeeper, a shy thing that inspires love from all the meet her, a paragon of purity and morality that stokes Yue Qingyuan’s bumbling courtship. He would go through the proper channels of course, through her family if she had one, or simply jump straight to providing for her if she did not. Shen Qingqiu can just imagine it, Yue Qingyuan’s sweet little lover hidden away in house that he visits under the cover of night, bringing to her the gifts Shen Qingqiu has been offered but had turned away.

It just riles him up!

That the righteous YQY would sneak around everyone’s backs to defile a hapless woman that doesn’t know better! That he could be hunched over her, rippling muscles over bearing as he whispers confessions of love under the moon light.

The idea of it makes Shen Qingqiu’s heart race and fists clench. It’s simply unacceptable!! That should be-

Yue Qingyuan shouldn’t!

He doesn’t keep his promises!

It is only for the sake of the woman that YQY has duped into being his doe she lover that Shen Qingqiu follows him.

Shen Qingqiu was convinced it would take several attempts to find Yue Qingyuan’s secret abode. Surely his wife would be protected by the strongest talismans and spells available to a sect leader. So when his tracking leads Shen Qingqiu to the red light district of another town, it’s as if the world was turned on its heels.

That righteous bastard!

Yue Qingyuan is no better than any other man!!

White eyes with fury, Shen Qingqiu bursts into the brothel, accusations of hypocrisy on the tip of his tongue. But Instead of finding YQY rutting against a woman like the swine he is he is…

He’s…

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t know what he’s looking at.

There’s women screaming and filtering out the door, his sword is brandished but SQQ’s hands have gone numb from the pressure.

Yue Qingyuan is-

He is-

…beautiful.

-

And that’s where I stop!! Happy 9/7 day YQY definitely uses his new found confidence to put the moves on SQQ, with a shakey voice he ask if he likes YQY better like this and SQQ is already stepping close to cup YQY’s face in his hands.

“Explain”

So he does and everything about how wrong SQQ was shakes him to his core because yqy would do this…found this part of himself… in order to be appealing to Shen Qingqiu…

Shen Qingqiu never tells YQY about the lover he had invented (and grown to loathe) in his jealousy, but as he’s giving him the first and most thorough fuck of his life, SQQ makes plans to buy his own secret cabin in the woods.

Just in case.

[blimpintime]

jade green part two

azriel x reader

in which Azriel has a personal healer, and she needs to be saved.

word count: 1.1k

warnings: rhys is annoying ?

unedited!

Cradling two warm cups of tea in scarred hands, Azriel approaches you standing in the cold next to the jewelry booth at the market that cold winter morning. The steam from the cups rising to his chilled face, he looks at you with a sense of content knowing you are well enough to be walking around now. 

He wouldn’t let you leave the healer hut unless you put on the brand-new Illyrian winter gear he had bought for you. You huffed about him being a mother hen but put them on regardless, a warm feeling settling in your chest knowing that he cares about you. 

You turn to him walking towards you with a graceful smile, “That for me?” You ask him softly. 

He hums in return and hands you the toasty cup fingers grazing yours, “Yes and it’s extra sweet.” You flush timidly and grumble under your breath, “Yeah cause who likes to drink dirty leaf water plain.” Azriel huffs out a subtle laugh in response and raises his eyebrows at you above his tea when he takes a sip. 

“Mmmm, yummy dirty leaf water.” He taunts you, and you roll your eyes at him and scrunch your nose.

You make your way back to the jewelers’ tent, snow crunching under your boots. The new gear Azriel had given you was working like a charm keeping the biting cold off your body, but your face was going numb with the frigid wind. 

Getting into the tent was a help staying out of the freezing wind and luckily it was only you, Azriel, and one other customer there.

“You two are a lovely couple.” An older man standing next to you in the tent, says to you and Azriel. 

You both stutter and go warm in the face shaking your head, words overlapping about how you are just friends. 

The old man seems embarrassed for a moment and the bashfully grins, “Sorry, you two just remind me of my wife and I when we were younger.” He reaches towards two jade green bracelets that shine in the light of the sun reflecting off the snow and purchases them. 

“Here, an apology.” He says and hands them to the two of you. You flush. Mouth agape about to refuse, when Azriel nods his head and thanks the man. 

You turn towards Azriel as he nudges you out of the booth. You two are walking in a comfortable silence and when you approach a quiet seating area out of the cold, you ask him about the bracelets. 

“I am not sure, it felt wrong to decline the old man.” He says to you with a flush on his cheeks.

“Well, hand them over.” You say and hold your hand out. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the bracelets that were wrapped in a soft fabric and hands them to you. 

“I am not sure that is even going to fit over my hand.” He says now inching closer to you on the bench feet overlapping each other. You look at him and smile, “Doesn’t hurt to try right?” He holds eye contact with you for a moment. “No, I suppose it doesn’t.” 

You pick up one of the same-sized bracelets gently and go to put it on his wrist when the jade starts to glow a deep green and widens to fit around his hand. When it reaches his wrist it tightens again to snuggly fit but not uncomfortably. You both look at it in awe, and you let out a giggle. 

“Your turn.” He signals, he picks up the next bracelet and this one glows the same, but once it is flush with your skin it starts to change color, as did his. They both glowed a bright shade of white and pulled your guys’s wrists together in an abrupt clank. You make eye contact with him and his eyes are full of wonder and yours full of concern. 

“Az- what is this?” You ask. 

You nod towards the conjoined bracelets and try to pull your hand back but it has no give. You yank again, and this time so does Azriel. After minutes of you both trying and realizing that you are now cuffed together, you let out a sharp laugh. 

“I am not sure. We can go to the libraries and see if there is anything on this.” He suggests. 

“Well, I guess if I had to be cuffed to anyone I am glad it is you, soldier.” You say endearingly. 

He grunts, “You say that now.” He looks away for a moment and then grimaces when he hears the city’s loud bells go off in a familiar rhythm. 

“We need to leave.” He stands abruptly, pulling you with him. 

“What is happening?” you question and he doesn’t respond. “Azriel. Answer me.” You sharply pull at your attached wrists still following him but wanting answers. 

“Those bells mean a terrible blizzard is on its way. So, if we want to be safe and comfortable we need to leave now. Head towards my apartment.” He takes a breath and makes a serious face. You stare at him confused. 

“Are you okay?”  You ask. He looks down and sighs. “I was trying to winnow but it looks like the bracelets are affecting that.” 

“It’s okay buddy, performance issues are normal under pressure.” You say with a cheeky grin and avoid his hand coming down to swat at you. 

“You’re terrible.” He says with a small smirk. 

I assume you heard the bells brother.  He hears in his head and you wince like you’re hearing it as well. Yeah well, unfortunately, I can’t winnow right now so I’ll be spending this blizzard in my apartment. 

You can’t or you won’t? I know I upset you with what I said, but it’s better you understand to stay away from Elain and move on.  You don’t want to be seen as a lost puppy anymore, do you? 

“What the fuck?” You say out loud. “Who is talking to you like that?” You spit out angrily. Azriel looks shocked that you heard any of that and shuts Rhys down his heart tugging that his own brother views him that way. 

“You heard that?” He asks and then shakes his head like he is erasing the thought. “Nevermind. We will figure that out later, here,” he says to you and holds his arms out awkwardly considering you are still attached. 

“Huh?” You say, “We are going to fly.” He responds. 

“Oh.” You clear your throat. “No thank you.” He stares at you incredulously. 

“I have a fear of heights,” you mumble out. His face goes blank. “I have a fear of freezing to death, those are our options.” He tells you. 

“Right, yes.” You tumble out the words. “Please don’t drop me.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it, dollface.” and then with a wink you both shoot up into the sky. 

a/n: sorry it took so long for the update!

let me know your thoughts!

taglist:

@janesalvaretelochanarcheron @scatteredstardustt @bunnyredgirl @scarsandallaz  @siriuslystyle1989 

[cxffecoupx]

snowflakes

yoon jeonghan + holiday shopping dates wc: 846 (got carried away) warnings: just wholesome, romantic winter vibes author's notes: a little late, but i loved writing this so much. for someone who's never experienced a snowfall before, i sure do like the concept a lot... i really hope you all like it <33 winter wonderland masterlist

jeonghan knew he was in trouble when he heard you call him by his full name.

"yoon jeonghan," he heard you speak into your phone through gritted teeth.

oh no, jeonghan thought. not the full government name.

it didn't even take him a full second to sit up straight in his bed. the next second, he rushed to the washroom.

"hey, babe. i'm just getting my jacket on; i'll be there soo-"

"you only just woke up, didn't you?"

he stops right in his tracks, and gulps. then he just chuckles, "eyyy, you know me too well."

he hears you take a deep breath before replying, "i will wait for 10 more minutes. if you're not here by then, i will buy everything myself. have i made myself clear?"

"yes, ma'am."

that's the day jeonghan realised he could get fully ready by six and a half minutes.

after a very (uncomfortably) silent ride to the christmas market, he finally sees you smile watching all the glittery jewelry and ornaments lying around — fairy lights in all shapes and forms, tinsels of different colours, little snowmen with warm, glowing lights in them, wreaths of all sizes. there's a glint in your eyes as you look at them, a sparkle only he can see. and even though you got angry at him in the morning, seeing that smile so faint on your lips makes it all worth it.

just as he gets lost in the beauty of it all, he feels a tug on his jacket sleeve, that turns into a pull so hard he gets yeeted and bumps into a couple of people on the way. before he can mumble a quiet sorry though, you're pulling him into one of the smaller shops on the street. the bells ring to signal your arrival.

after what felt like something around five hours (but honestly, was just two hours; he just likes to exaggerate), you both reach the counter with baskets full of little knick-knacks, from bells and bubbles to fake snow and candy canes. you proudly hand over each filled basket to the cashier while he decides to rest on a nearby bench.

he watches you silently as you stay there, a little hop to your feet even while you're just standing. christmas has always been your favourite holiday: the whole idea of decorating your house and inviting friends and family over, getting together, having warm, homely meals. december only started for him when he sees you bring him a cup of hot chocolate with that childlike smile on your face. and slowly, jeonghan, who'd started getting bored of the monotonous year-ends and holidays, once again started to find the joy of it all.

or maybe it's just because you have that effect on him.

anyways, he shakes his head to get out of his little bubble and sees you call out to him before exiting. just as he starts to walk out, he crashes into your body.

"oof- what happened, love?"

when you don't reply, he bends down to look at your face. he follows your gaze to see a box, and then looks back at you, standing there with a wanting glaze in your pretty, pretty eyes.

"hannie... it's so beautiful..." you say, breathlessly, and lift it up for him to see.

it was a snowglobe.

it had a figurine inside it: a couple sitting on a bench, illuminated by a streetlight beside the bench, and the moon high above. snowflakes floated around the figurine. pretty simple, but it was special.

why? because it was a scene that reminded him of your first date. a date in the park, that was almost cancelled because it started snowing unexpectedly.

"yn... it's the first snow," he'd said, voice just a dreamy whisper through the phone. "you know what they say about the first snow."

"well, my grandmother used to tell me that if you wish upon the first snowflakes, it comes true."

"oh- i... didn't know about that... you know what's the other thing they say about first snow?"

you didn't need anymore convincing.

and so you met, two lovers in the heart of the park, snowflakes floating around you as you looked into each other's eyes. it drifted around and settled on your heads. the giddy smile on your face and the rosy tint on your cheeks only grew bigger as he leaned in to kiss you, a kiss that warmed your insides in a way you could never describe.

he wiped away a snowflake that melted on your cheek. "i love you," he said. "and i'll keep loving you for the many first snows to come."

when jeonghan comes back to the present, the first thing he does is press a kiss to your lips. you smile into it, just like you had that day. buying the snowglobe didn't take any discussion like the rest of the items you bought.

back then, you'd always wished you had something to remember it by. now you believe it's all the snowflakes you wished upon that's swirling in the snowglobe.

prompt by @novelbear divider by @adornedwithlight

[mediocre-shark-tales]

Paddock Debut

Doohan Sister Reader F1 Driver Reader Cadillac Formula 1 Reader

The sounds of the paddock were overwhelming, a chaotic symphony of roaring engines, hurried footsteps, and indistinct chatter that seemed to blur into a constant hum of noise. And I wasn’t even inside yet.

Nico had just parked, and through the windshield, I could already see the swarm of media gathered near the entrance, waiting like vultures for any driver to pass by. I exhaled sharply, bracing myself.

“Alright, Y/N, let’s get that helmet on and set up your mic and speaker,” Nico said, his voice calm yet firm, the way it always was when he was guiding me through moments like this. “It’d be good if you try to answer a few questions or acknowledge fans. Your choice who, but the team wants you to show that this is how you’ll be communicating. That way, media can adjust and not harass us about it.”

I nodded, reaching into my bag and pulling out my new helmet. The moment my fingers brushed against the smooth surface, I couldn’t help but smile. Seeing it up close now, with all the intricate details finally in place, made it feel real—like a piece of me had been etched into its design.

“You did well with this one,” Nico said, a hint of pride in his voice as he took a closer look. “Honestly, kinda proud.”

“This is my first truly personalized helmet,” I admitted, running my thumb over the paintwork. “I’ve never been with a team that wanted to market my persona, let alone let me go this custom with my design.”

Nico gave me a small, fatherly smile before gently taking my hair in his hands, tying it up to fit properly inside the helmet. He didn’t say anything—he didn’t need to. He just made sure I was set, helping me pull the helmet on and securing it into place.

A few adjustments, a quick check of the mic, and I was ready.

The moment I stepped out of the car, the noise around me seemed to swell, my nickname being called from every direction—media, fans, a whirlwind of voices all trying to get my attention. I scanned the crowd, my eyes instinctively drawn to a small figure near the entrance.

A little girl, no older than twelve, clutching a karting helmet to her chest. Her sign, slightly crumpled from being held tightly, had one simple request: Ghost, will you sign my helmet?

Something in my chest tightened.

I gave Nico a quick pat on the shoulder as a signal and jogged toward her. The second she realized I was heading her way, her eyes widened, her entire face lighting up in disbelief. She fumbled slightly, quickly holding out her helmet and a pen with shaking hands.

Kneeling down to her level, I took the helmet gently, inspecting the scratches and scuff marks that told stories of laps driven, battles fought, and dreams chased.

“Been racing long?” I asked, my voice coming through the helmet’s mic, slightly distorted but still warm.

She nodded eagerly. “Since I was eight! I—I wanna be in F1 one day.”

I grinned beneath my visor. “Good. Keep pushing, yeah?”

With careful precision, I signed my name across the top of her helmet, right where she’d see it every time she put it on. As I handed it back, she clutched it to her chest like it was the most valuable thing in the world.

“Thank you, Ghost!” she beamed.

I gave her a small nod before standing back up, feeling a little lighter despite the storm of media still waiting for me.

Maybe today wouldn’t be so overwhelming after all.

However, I could not have been more wrong about that.

It only took an hour for my day to begin its slow, agonizing descent into what would probably be a disaster.

Back in Cadillac’s hospitality suite, I sat stiffly at a table while the media team laid out the day’s schedule. Across from me, Franco sat with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. The entire atmosphere was suffocating, and it wasn’t because of the sweltering heat outside—it was him.

“So, here’s the plan,” one of the media reps began, scrolling through a tablet. “You two will be doing a few mini-games together—lighthearted, fun stuff. The goal is to give fans more insight into who you are and, more importantly, show that you’re a strong team heading into the season.”

I barely suppressed an eye-roll. Strong team. Right.

“We want people to feel like they can relate to you both,” the rep continued, “and get invested in your journey this season. Chemistry between teammates is crucial, and showing that in content will go a long way—”

“Is there a reason we’re being told to act like we like each other instead of just being asked what the actual problem is?” I interrupted, my voice sharper than intended.

The table went silent for a beat. The rep hesitated, looking between Franco and me like they’d rather be anywhere but here.

Franco didn’t say a word. Didn’t even look at me. Just kept his eyes fixed on the table, his jaw tight, his fingers tapping a slow, rhythmic beat against his arm.

I sighed, leaning back in my chair. Of course.

Fine. If he wanted to keep whatever this was up, I could play along. I had no issue pretending to be the picture-perfect teammate for the cameras. But I wasn’t going to be the one to keep walking on eggshells. If there was a problem, Franco needed to be the one to speak up.

And if he didn’t?

Then I’d just keep moving forward, with or without him.

The first game seemed innocent enough—a rapid-fire Q&A where we had to guess each other’s answers. Simple. Harmless. Supposed to be fun.

Supposed to be.

Franco and I sat side by side, the lights bright enough to make my suit feel even heavier. My visor remained down, my voice modulator already active, making sure whatever I said came out just right—deep, neutral, unremarkable. Just the way it needed to be. The camera was set up only a few feet away.

A member of the media team clapped their hands. “Alright, first round! We’ll start easy. Franco, what’s Ghost’s favorite track?”

There was a pause. A long one.

Franco leaned back slightly, arms crossed, barely masking the fact that he had no clue. He glanced at me for a fraction of a second, then shrugged.

“…Indy?”

Indy. Seriously? That wasn’t even a track—it was a whole damn racing series.

“No.” My voice came out through the modulator, smooth and emotionless. “Suzuka.”

The media rep chuckled, trying to keep the mood light. “Alright! First one’s always a warm-up. Ghost, your turn. What’s Franco’s favorite track?”

I didn’t hesitate. “Spa.”

Franco’s head snapped toward me, caught off guard. I could feel his eyes lingering on my visor, like he was trying to see through it, trying to figure out how I knew. But I just sat there, unmoving.

Round two.

“If Ghost wasn’t a driver, what would they be doing?”

Franco exhaled sharply, shifting in his seat. “Uh… a mechanic?”

I tilted my head slightly, the only sign of my annoyance. “No. Photographer.”

His brows furrowed, like the thought had never even crossed his mind.

The media rep barely gave us time to breathe before moving on. “Ghost, what would Franco be doing if he weren’t a driver?”

I tapped my gloved fingers against my knee. “Retired on a beach in Argentina, making cryptic Instagram posts about his mysterious past life.”

Silence.

Then, unexpectedly, Franco let out a short laugh—more of a sharp breath, really, but enough for me to notice.

The tension cracked. Just for a moment.

But then came the next question.

“What’s something the two of you genuinely admire about each other?”

And just like that, the air thickened again.

I felt Franco tense beside me. I didn’t move.

The silence stretched.

The cameras were rolling. The media team was waiting. The whole world was waiting.

I curled my fingers into a fist, pressing them into my knee, the material of my gloves creaking slightly.

Then, finally, I spoke.

“I admire Franco’s focus,” my voice clear, deep, and steady thanks to the modulator. “He’s got this ability to zero in on a goal and block everything else out. It’s something I’ve always respected in him.”

I could feel Franco’s eyes on me, even though I didn’t look to see his expression. He was probably studying my every move, trying to read between the lines of my words. But I wasn’t giving him anything.

The media rep nodded. “Alright, Franco, your turn. What do you admire about Ghost?”

Franco shifted in his seat, clearly not as ready to answer as I was. He opened his mouth but paused, his voice low when he finally spoke.

“Ghost... has a way of staying calm in chaos. It’s like nothing phases them. You can throw them into the deep end, and they just... keep swimming. I admire that.”

I couldn’t help the flicker of surprise that crossed my mind. Was that his way of trying to soften the tension between us? Or was it some sort of veiled jab, implying I wasn’t fazed by anything because I didn’t care?

I forced myself to stay neutral. No matter what he meant, I couldn’t let it show.

The tension was thick in the air as the media rep looked between us, clearly trying to push the narrative of “teammates who get along” and “bonding moments.” But it wasn’t going to be that simple. Not with Franco’s ice-cold demeanor and my well-practiced patience.

“Alright, Ghost,” the media rep began, a smile barely breaking through the tension, “How would you describe Franco in one word?”

I glanced over at Franco, the stiff way he sat told me all I needed to know. There was an unease in his posture, as if the very idea of being here—together—was rubbing him the wrong way. But I couldn’t show that I noticed. I couldn’t let the cracks show.

“I’d say Franco is dedicated,” I answered calmly, my voice steady and warm despite the silence between us. “He’s always pushing to get better, even when things are tough. You can see that in everything he does.”

I saw Franco stiffen slightly, but his eyes didn’t meet mine. He just stared straight ahead, his body language stiffening even more, like a coiled spring.

The media rep nodded, clearly trying to gauge the dynamic between us. “Franco, same question. What would you say about Ghost?”

Franco hesitated, his hands clenched slightly, but he forced out the words. “Ghost... is good at what they do. They’ve got this... calmness about them, even in chaos.”

It was the type of response I’d expected—distant and guarded, as if he was saying just enough to fill the silence but not enough to give anything away. He wasn’t looking at me when he spoke, as though I wasn’t even worth making eye contact with.

But I didn’t let the chill get to me. I didn’t let his coldness stop me from trying to tear down this tension, at least for the camera.

“You’re not wrong,” I said, a small smile tugging at my lips. “I’ve always felt the need to stay calm, especially when things are crazy. Keeps the focus sharp.”

But even as I said it, I could tell he wasn’t listening—not really. His eyes were fixed ahead, and the sharp edge in his posture didn’t soften. It wasn’t lost on me that he wasn’t acknowledging me, wasn’t trying to connect.

The media rep, sensing the awkwardness, quickly moved on to the next question. “Alright, final question: Who do you think is more likely to get into trouble off the track?”

I shot a glance at Franco, waiting for his answer. I knew he’d probably pick me. I’d heard the rumors, the whispers around the paddock. People liked to speculate that the mysterious ‘Ghost’ was trouble waiting to happen.

Sure enough, Franco didn’t even hesitate. “Ghost.” The word came out sharp, almost like he was accusing me of something. “Definitely Ghost.”

I didn’t take offense, though. If anything, it was just more of the same—his way of keeping me at arm’s length. But I didn’t want to play that game. I wanted to make it clear I wasn’t here to create tense distance, we could at least be amicable in front of the cameras. But I guess with his skill already proven on track, he had nothing to worry about. 

“Fair enough,” I said, my voice light, even though I felt a pang of disappointment. “I guess I can be a little unpredictable at times, but I’d like to think it keeps things interesting.”

The media rep nodded, signaling that the session was over. “Thanks, you two. That was great.”

As the lights flickered off and the cameras were packed away, I took a moment to glance at Franco. He hadn’t moved much, still wrapped in his own bubble, trying to remain as untouchable as possible.

But I wasn’t discouraged. I knew he was tough—guarded, wary—but I’d make sure he knew I was here, not just as a teammate, but as someone who actually cared. And maybe, just maybe, he’d realize that I wasn’t going anywhere.

As we walked off to the next mini-game area, I couldn’t help but wonder if he ever thought about trying to get to know me. Or if, deep down, he didn’t even care enough to try.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the media team wrapped up their session with us. They gave us a few minutes to cool down, but those minutes evaporated faster than I could blink. Within moments, we were being pulled into another media duty.

Franco and I walked in silence, a heavy weight of unspoken tension hanging in the air as we followed our PR managers. He kept his head down, eyes scanning the ground like he was trying to ignore the world around him. I couldn’t blame him—I was doing the same, though the quiet between us felt suffocating.

Then, out of nowhere, Franco’s eyes lit up. He straightened his back, almost like a different person, and I followed his gaze, seeing exactly what had caught his attention. The McLaren boys had caught up with us—Lando had an arm casually draped over Franco’s shoulder, and I saw the instant shift in Franco’s demeanor.

It stung, but I tried not to show it. I turned my head away, focused on the path ahead as I continued to walk, though the sudden weight of his indifference weighed heavier than ever.

But just as the ache started to settle in, something caught my eye on the right. Bright papaya orange.

I looked over to see Oscar, a soft smile on his face, glancing back at me. His calm demeanor was a welcome contrast to the knotting tension between Franco and me.

"Hello, I’m Oscar," he said, his voice warm and inviting, with none of the guardedness I’d become so used to.

"Nice to finally meet you," I replied, giving him a friendly smile as I shook his hand.

Oscar’s smile widened. "I have to ask, are you from Australia as well?"

I nodded, feeling an instant connection. "Yeah, I am."

Oscar chuckled softly. "That’s lovely. It feels like the paddock’s being taken over by Aussies now. We may even start to outnumber the Brits soon."

I couldn’t help but laugh along with him. The lightness in his voice eased the tension inside me, and I felt a little bit of the weight lifting. "It sure does feel like that, huh? It’s nice to have a bit of home here," I said, the conversation flowing easily between us.

Oscar was one of those rare people who didn’t seem to have an agenda or any walls up. His ease was contagious, and I found myself actually enjoying this small moment of calm amidst the chaos of the paddock.

As we walked, I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe—just maybe—there were people I could connect with here, even if the rest of the grid felt like a minefield of strained conversations and cold shoulders. Maybe Oscar was one of those people, someone who didn’t need to play games or keep up a facade.

It felt good, even just for a second, to not be a part of the tension-filled silence between Franco and me.

All too soon, we reached the entrance to the media room, the buzz of the paddock still swirling around us. Almost every driver was already waiting just outside the doors, a mix of chatter and quiet anticipation filling the air. We would be sorted into groups, each group getting about 30 minutes of media time inside the room.

Luckily, I wasn’t in the last group, so it wouldn’t take forever. But that did mean I wouldn’t get to be in the same group as Oscar—my new and only friend on the grid. He was with the first group, alongside Franco, Lance, Gabriel, and Charles. It stung a little, knowing I wouldn’t get to chat with him again so soon, but there wasn’t much I could do about it.

As the first group filed in, I took my place in the mini waiting room. The TV overhead played the press conference from inside the main media room. I watched as the guys found their spots on the long couch to the right of the host, their faces a mix of practiced expressions and subtle eye rolls at the typical media questions.

While I was lost in the press conference, the drivers around me engaged in casual conversation, the sound of their voices a soft hum in the background. I didn’t mind the quiet, the screen almost hypnotizing as I observed the others, lost in my own thoughts.

“So, this is the infamous Ghost I’ve been hearing rumors about?”

The voice startled me, breaking me from my trance. I turned to see Lando, leaning casually against the armrest of the small couch I was on, a smirk tugging at his lips. He’d caught me off guard, and I shot him a look of mild surprise before raising an eyebrow.

“I need to know, first off,” he continued, “does it ever get too hot wearing that helmet all day?”

I scoffed lightly, a laugh escaping me. “You think I haven’t figured out how to stay cool in this thing after all these years?”

Lando’s eyes widened in astonishment. “Years?! I thought this was a new thing for you.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at his bewilderment. “Nope. Been like this since my first year karting, back when I was 13.”

Lando stared at me for a moment, his expression shifting from shock to something softer. A hint of respect? He leaned back slightly, his tone quieter now, as if I’d earned some unspoken honor in his eyes. “Thirteen, huh? That’s... that’s impressive. Didn’t realize you’d been doing this for so short compared to the rest of us. That’s some serious talent to move up so quickly.”

I smiled, feeling a little lighter now. It wasn’t often I got to explain the full extent of my journey to someone. It felt nice to be seen, even if just for a moment. Lando’s attitude had changed, no longer just curiosity but genuine respect for me. 

Our conversation continued to flow effortlessly, an unexpected but welcome break from the tension that had been weighing on my shoulders all day. Lando had a way of making things feel light, even in a room filled with drivers sizing each other up. But just as I was starting to relax, something on the TV caught my attention.

My name.

The sound of it, spoken with a certain edge, made my body tense. Both Lando and I turned toward the screen, the easygoing atmosphere between us vanishing in an instant. The interviewer had just asked Franco a pointed question, their tone laced with barely veiled skepticism.

"So, do you really like having Ghost as your teammate so far? Or are the rumors true that they act too privileged to participate in media duties?"

I felt my stomach drop.

Lando let out a low whistle. "Damn. That's a loaded question."

I didn't answer, my entire focus on Franco's reaction. I expected him to shut it down quickly, maybe laugh it off or at least defend me. After all, we were supposed to be a team. But Franco’s posture shifted, his jaw tightening slightly. He hesitated for just a second too long before answering.

"They definitely… keep to themselves a lot," he finally said, his voice measured. "It’s been an adjustment."

That was all. No correction, no defense. Just vague enough to leave room for interpretation. Just enough for the rumors to take root.

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into the fabric of my race suit. It was subtle, but I knew what he was doing. He wasn’t outright throwing me under the bus, but he wasn’t pulling me out from under it either.

"Wow," Lando muttered, glancing sideways at me. "That’s cold."

I swallowed down the lump in my throat, refusing to let the cameras or the drivers around me see how much that stung. I had spent the entire pre-season so far trying to be a good teammate, trying to show Franco that I wasn’t some arrogant mystery driver who thought I was too good for the press. And yet, here he was, letting people believe the worst of me.

I forced myself to exhale slowly, my voice steady when I finally spoke. "Guess I know exactly where we stand now."

Lando studied me for a moment before shaking his head. "You gonna let that slide?"

I turned away from the screen, my expression unreadable behind my visor. "What choice do I have?"

Because at the end of the day, I could fight for Franco’s trust all I wanted. But if he wasn’t willing to meet me halfway, then maybe I was just wasting my time.

I saw Lando’s expression shift—first worry, then frustration, then something softer, something like understanding. He was close with Franco, and now, after actually talking to me, I could see the conflict in his eyes.

He didn’t know what to do.

He couldn’t defend Franco after meeting me, not when he’d just seen firsthand that I wasn’t anything like the rumors painted me to be. But at the same time, I knew he wouldn’t throw Franco under the bus either. Loyalty was a tricky thing, and right now, he was caught in the middle.

"Look," he finally said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Franco… he’s not always great with new people. He’s cautious. And with you—" Lando gestured vaguely at my visor, at the anonymity I carried with me like a second skin. "It’s not personal. He just doesn’t know how to handle it."

I let out a slow breath, staring at the floor as I debated whether or not to say what had been sitting in my chest like a weight since the season began.

Lando was waiting for a response, but when I didn’t give one, he pressed further. "I mean… why do you care so much?"

I almost laughed. Why did I care?

Because before this helmet had a mic. Before I had a voice. Before anyone could even hear me properly—I had been so incredibly alone.

I clenched my jaw, forcing down the lump forming in my throat. "Because I know what it’s like to go through this sport alone," I said quietly. "For years, it was just me. No teammates who actually talked to me, no friendships in the paddock, no conversations like this." I swallowed hard. "Even when I was surrounded by people, I was silent. I didn’t have a choice. And even if I did… I don’t think anyone would’ve listened anyway."

Lando didn’t say anything. He just watched me, his face unreadable.

I exhaled sharply. "But now, I have the chance to change that. To be something more than just a ghost in the background. And I guess I just… I hoped Franco would be different." My voice cracked slightly, but I shook it off. "I thought maybe, for once, I wouldn’t have to do this all alone."

The words hung in the air between us, raw and vulnerable in a way I hadn’t let myself be in a long time.

Lando exhaled, shaking his head slightly. "Damn," he murmured. "That’s… yeah. That’s rough."

I huffed out a humorless laugh. "Yeah, well. You get used to it."

He didn’t look convinced. Instead, his expression softened just a fraction. "You shouldn’t have to."

I shrugged. "Maybe not. But here we are."

Lando studied me for a long moment, then finally said, "If anyone can get through to Franco, it’s probably you. I mean look how friendly we got in such a short amount of time."

I sighed. "I don’t know if I have the energy to try anymore."

Lando gave me a small, knowing smile. "Yeah, you do."

I watched as Lando disappeared into the crowd of drivers, his words still lingering in my mind, looping over and over like an unsolved riddle.

I didn’t know what to think anymore.

How was it that someone I had just met seemed to understand me on a level that even the people I’d raced alongside for years never had? It was a lot—too much, almost. It made me question everything I had convinced myself I needed to do to survive in this world.

Maybe I didn’t need to befriend Franco.

Maybe I didn’t need his approval, his trust, or whatever camaraderie I had been desperately chasing since the pre-season began. Maybe I had been looking for something in him that wasn’t there—wasn’t meant to be there.

Sure, the garage would be lonely. The long hours at HQ would be filled with silence, nothing but the hum of machines and the distant chatter of engineers who still didn’t quite know how to act around me. But the paddock… the grid… maybe even life outside of race weekends—

Maybe those wouldn’t be so lonely after all.

Maybe, for the first time in a long time, there was a chance for laughter. For connection. For something more than just existing in the margins of the sport. I wasn’t sure if I believed it yet. 

The door to the media room swung open, and I stepped inside with the others. The atmosphere was thick with artificial lighting and the faint buzz of microphones, cameras, and murmuring journalists preparing for the next round of questions. Max, Lewis, Lando, Oliver, and I took our places on the couch, the host smiling as he shuffled his notes before glancing up at us.

I forced myself to relax, to sit back and appear at ease. This was just another part of the job. Just another session of answering the same recycled questions.

And at first, it was.

"Ghost, you've taken the motorsport world by storm. How does it feel to finally be in Formula 1 after climbing through many different series?"

An easy one. I nodded slightly before speaking through my voice modulator, keeping my tone even. "It’s been an incredible journey, and I’m grateful for the opportunity to be here. Every series taught me something new, and I’m excited to bring that experience to this championship."

A few more harmless questions followed—thoughts on the upcoming race, how the car was feeling, expectations for the season. Simple. Straightforward.

But then, the shift happened.

"Many people find it strange that you insist on hiding your identity. Some say it’s a gimmick, others believe you’re hiding something. What’s the real reason behind the secrecy?"

I felt my muscles tighten, fingers curling slightly against my gloved knee. I had prepared for this, expected it, but it didn’t make it any less exhausting.

"I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again," I responded, keeping my voice steady. "This isn’t about hiding—it's about racing. My performance on track should speak louder than my face ever could."

The interviewer wasn’t satisfied.

"Right, but don’t you think fans deserve transparency? It’s almost deceptive, don’t you think? You’re building a brand off of mystery rather than merit."

Before I could even open my mouth, Lewis leaned forward slightly, his expression unreadable but his voice firm.

"That’s unfair," he said. "Ghost is here to race, just like the rest of us. Ghost shouldn’t have to reveal who's under the helmet just to satisfy curiosity. When I leave the paddock, I can’t just walk around without being surrounded, watched, or filmed every second—why shouldn’t he get to keep that freedom? Their talent is what’s important here."

Lando nodded in agreement, crossing his arms. "Yeah, and if anything, Ghost has done more than enough to prove he deserves to be here. It’s not like he’s asking for special treatment."

The journalist hesitated, but before they could regain control of the conversation, Max spoke up.

"I don’t care who’s behind the helmet," he said simply, shrugging. "As long as he’s fast, that’s all that matters."

Oliver, who had been quiet up until now, nodded. "Exactly. It’s about results. If Ghost wasn’t capable, he wouldn’t be here."

The room fell into an awkward silence, the interviewer realizing that they had lost the battle.

I exhaled slowly, grateful, but also slightly overwhelmed. I hadn’t expected anyone to defend me—not like that. 

The press conference ended, and I exhaled slowly, rolling the tension out of my shoulders as I stood. The room had been suffocating, but at least I had made it through. Lando gave me a quick nod before heading off, while Lewis clapped a reassuring hand on my shoulder before disappearing down the hallway. I wanted to thank them, but the words didn’t come. There was no time to dwell on it anyway. 

Within a few hours, I had returned to the paddock and now I was back in my race suit, helmet secure, visor down. The only thing that mattered now was the track and how the next 2 practice sessions would take to the car. 

FP2

The car felt good. No, not just good—great. It took every input I gave it, responding perfectly as I pushed through each sector, dialing into the flow of the circuit. The wind rushed past my helmet, the world beyond the visor reduced to a blur of asphalt and curbing.

Yet, despite the perfection of the moment, my mind wandered.

I thought about the press conference. About the way Lewis, Lando, Max, and even Oliver had backed me up without hesitation. It was unexpected. Unnerving. I wasn’t used to people standing up for me like that. I had built walls so high that I never considered what it would feel like if someone else was willing to fight for me.

Would it really be so bad to let those walls lower?

Then there was Franco. My own teammate—the one person who should have my back but instead viewed me as some kind of inconvenience. Did he think I didn’t notice his side glances? The way he tensed up every time I walked past?

I wanted to fix whatever this was between us. But did he?

The thought lingered, looping in my mind until—

"Doohan and Ocon are getting aggressive ahead, slow down, we will get a race worthy time next lap"

My race engineer's voice snapped through my radio, and my instincts took over before my mind could fully catch up.

Ocon and Doohan were ahead, too close, too aggressive. I saw it unfolding in real time—Doohan hesitating on the inside line while Esteban committed too late. The contact was inevitable, carbon fiber snapping as their tires tangled and Esteban spun.

I had only seconds to react.

I swerved hard left, barely missing Esteban’s car as it slid across the track. My tires skated on the rumble strip, the car momentarily unstable before I caught it.

But Franco wasn’t so lucky.

My sudden evasive move had forced him to brake hard to avoid ramming into me. He locked up, tires screeching in protest as he lost all momentum.

I barely had time to process what had happened before the session was red-flagged. My heart was still hammering as I coasted back to the pit lane, knowing full well that once I stepped out of this car, I was going to have an even bigger problem than just avoiding a crash. I was going to have to face Franco and he didn’t like me before this. 

The moment I stepped out of the car, I barely had time to process what had just happened before Franco was on me.

His helmet was off before I could even blink, his jaw tight, eyes burning with frustration as he stomped toward me. His movements were sharp, almost aggressive, like he was trying to keep himself from completely losing it. The moment he got close, he squared up, taller than me, chest heaving with anger.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" His voice was sharp enough to cut through the thick tension in the garage. "That was my best lap—my best lap! And you—" He gestured wildly at me, his face twisted in frustration. "You just had to pull some reckless stunt and ruin it!"

I didn’t move. I didn’t even flinch. His voice rang in my ears, the weight of my helmet making me feel eerily detached from the whole situation. Around us, the garage had fallen silent. Engineers, mechanics, and other team members had stopped in their tracks, watching as the scene unfolded.

I wanted to stay calm. I really did. I wanted to let him scream, to let him get it out of his system, and just walk away like I always did. But something inside me had enough.

"Reckless? Reckless!?" My voice came out sharper than I intended, my gloved fingers curling into fists at my sides. "I did what I had to do because if I hadn’t, I would have T-BONED DOOHAN, Franco!"

He opened his mouth, but I wasn’t done. Not this time.

"Do you even get that? Do you even fucking realize what you’re saying?" My voice rose, shaking with frustration, exhaustion, and something deeper that I wasn’t ready to unpack. "That crash could have killed either of us! Do you think your goddamn lap time is more important than that? Do you think I WANTED to be forced into a move like that?"

I stepped forward, invading his space, jabbing a finger into his chest.

"I had no time. You did. I had no choice. You did." I inhaled sharply, my breath ragged inside my helmet. "And you want to stand here and act like you're the victim?"

He blinked, his expression faltering for just a second, like he wasn’t expecting me to fight back. But then, just as quickly, his jaw tightened again.

"You didn’t have to go that wide," he muttered, shaking his head. "You could’ve controlled it better. You—"

"Are you even listening to yourself right now?" I snapped, cutting him off. My heart pounded against my ribs, a mix of fury and disbelief coursing through me. "I refuse to risk my life for someone who doesn’t even have the decency to treat me like a human fucking being."

Silence.

The garage was dead quiet, the weight of my words hanging heavy in the air. The only sounds were the distant hum of the paddock and the occasional shuffle of someone shifting uncomfortably.

Franco's mouth opened slightly like he wanted to argue, but nothing came out. His hands flexed at his sides, his whole body stiff, like he was debating whether to keep fighting or actually listen for once.

I didn’t care anymore.

Shaking my head, I stepped back, the weight of the moment pressing on my shoulders.

"Take a breath, watch the replay, and if you still think I’m the problem, then maybe you’re not as smart as I thought you were."

With that, I turned on my heel and walked away, the tension still suffocating as I pushed past the stunned crowd.

I didn’t look back.

Masterlist