#veer mechanical

[isherengineeringworks]

How Does a Potato Planter Work?

1. Seed Potato Distribution

At the heart of a potato planter is the mechanism that handles seed potato distribution. In most planters, there’s a hopper or a seed box that holds the seed potatoes. The seeds are fed from the hopper through a series of tubes or conveyors. Depending on the design, the distribution system may use a belt, chain, or rotating discs to deliver the potatoes to the planting area.

2. Placement Mechanism

Once the seed potatoes are distributed, they need to be placed in the soil at the correct depth and spacing. This is where the planting mechanism comes into play.

Manual Planters: For smaller operations, manual planters often use a wheel or lever system to create furrows in the soil. The operator places the seed potatoes into these furrows manually, and the machine then covers them with soil.

Mechanical Planters: Larger, mechanized planters have more advanced systems. They might use rotating discs or plow-like blades to open furrows, followed by a mechanism that drops the seed potatoes into the furrows. Some models also feature adjustable settings to control the depth and spacing of the planting.

3. Soil Coverage

After the seed potatoes are placed in the furrows, the next step is to cover them with soil. This is usually done by a set of covering blades or discs that follow behind the planting mechanism. These blades push soil over the seed potatoes and compact it to ensure good seed-to-soil contact. Proper coverage is essential to protect the seed potatoes and promote healthy sprout development.

What is a Potato Planter?

A potato planter is an agricultural machine specifically designed to plant seed potatoes in the soil. These machines automate the process of placing seed potatoes in rows at a uniform depth and spacing, which is crucial for optimal growth and yield. Potato planters come in various designs, ranging from simple manual devices to complex mechanized systems, and are used by both small-scale farmers and large agricultural operations.

Types of Potato Planters

Potato planters come in various types, each suited to different scales of operation and planting conditions:

Single-row Planters: Ideal for small gardens or hobby farms, single-row planters are simple and often manually operated. They are perfect for precision planting in smaller plots.

Multi-row Planters: These are designed for larger-scale farming and can plant several rows of potatoes simultaneously. They are often towed behind a tractor and can handle more significant quantities of seed potatoes.

Precision Planters: These sophisticated machines offer precise control over planting depth, spacing, and even seed size. They are usually used in commercial farming to maximize yield and efficiency.

Advantages of Using a Potato Planter

Efficiency: Potato planters save time and labor compared to manual planting, making large-scale operations much more manageable.

Consistency: These machines ensure uniform planting depth and spacing, which contributes to more even growth and higher yields.

Reduced Soil Disturbance: Modern planters are designed to minimize soil disruption, which helps in maintaining soil structure and health.

Cost-Effective: Although the initial investment in a potato planter can be significant, the increase in efficiency and yield can offset the cost over time.

Conclusion

Potato planters are a vital tool for modern agriculture, transforming the way potatoes are planted and making the process more efficient and less labor-intensive. Whether you’re managing a small garden or a large farm, understanding how these machines work can help you choose the right planter for your needs and optimize your potato planting strategy. With the right equipment, growing potatoes can be a smooth and rewarding experience, leading to bountiful harvests and delicious results.

For more information, please contact us!

Website :- www.veermechanical.com

Contact No. :- +91–8630287830, +91–9358434496

Email :- info@isherengineering.in, isher.engg.works.1981@gmail.com

[castleinthemist]

playing crimson shroud is like 'they never stopped making turn based ff games they just went different directions from the mainline stuff'

[f-imaginings]

I am a bit tired and sad. Family stuff just gets raw (not RAWR XD lmao) when you go to therapy to recognise the patterns and learn to feel emotions better. Can't fall back on tried and true repression and ignoring behaviour patterns and my feelings now I acknowledge how dysfunctional it really is, and now I just feel sad when these things happen instead of busy or inspired to write escapism or blindly optimistic to the point of denial. I feel so flat and discouraged and irrelevant when this is usually the time of year where my friends make me feel cherished and recognised and I'm struggling to muster the positivity I usually have in the face of bullshit.

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

megumi 🤝🏽 yuuji

dying even if it’s only for a good minute only to be brought back to life bc fate realizes if they died for real then they would need to find someone else to fuck over. those two are like fates favorite barbie dolls.

apologies if this post is going to seem all over the place, just bear with me. i don’t even know if you’re going to see this BUT it’s okay bc i need to get this out my system 😭.

starting off — god, imagine the chaos that will ensue when megumi tells nobara & yuuji about his very tragic history with the zenins. but like he wouldn’t even tell them straight up, he’ll just make a little deadpan joke (my sarcastic, sassy son) & the others would look at him like : ??? wtf do you mean by that sea urchin head???

like imagine itafushikugi going shopping for like traditional japanese clothes for a little festival or some shit (megumi was dragged by his spikes to come along) & nobara is having the time of her life finding outfits for her & the boys. like it got to the point where she’s dressing them herself & she shows megumi an outfit that looked similar to the robe he was forced to wear bc of the zenin (it’s obviously not the same) & megumi just refuses to wear a robe with similar color patterns to the zenin robe.

megumi: that looks like the outfit the zenin forced me to wear. i wonder what happened to it, cause the last thing i know, i got blood all over it. so as the second member of the zenin hate club, im not wearing that….

megumi: wait that blue one looks decent. i’m going to try it on.

nobara:

yuuji:

nobara: …did he really leave without giving us the “ getting blood on a zenin’s robe” story?

imagine maki complaining about naoya in front of the first years, & maki just brings up naoya’s onesided beef with megumi & her stories of how naoya was so petty back in his childhood made him remember who tf naoya is (megs have selective memory, it’s okay)

megumi: ugh, he was so annoying. i remember when he came to my middle school back when gojo was busy dealing with the aftermath of his evil ex boyfriend evil plan & he basically kidnapped me. i was stuck in a car with that man for 40 minutes..you would hate him nobara.

maki: yeah you would hate him nobara.

yuuji: i’m sorry he kidnapped you??? why did you say that so casually?

nobara: fuck that. megumi is a disney princess, we know this already. BUT we’re just gonna gloss over gojo had an evil boyfriend?

& imagine when megumi finally tells his friends about the zenin clan was when yuuji just came back from the dead & they were asking how tf that’s possible. & somewhere in that conversation megumi just let it slip that his heart stopped beating once & itakugi looks at him in silence:

megumi: yeah the zenin clan basically forced me to exorcise some curses & complete a ritual to get a snake — that snake fucking bit me. it was my least favorite. but yeah i basically died. then yuuta brought me back. then i was blind for a good minute.

nobara, yuuji, & even sukuna:

megumi: it was a terrible time for me. gojo was even more clingier & protective. it got to a point where he started treating me like i was 6 again… reading me bedtime stories, singing me lullabies & describing the pictures in the stories since i was…yknow blind.

cue itakugi & even sukuna wanting to burn down the zenin but ofc they can’t do that…so they settle for pulling pranks on the members & traumatizing them ofc.

IM ALSO imagining how funny it would be for yuuji to be jealous of yuuta. like bro is basically living yuuji’s fantasy world. i’m giggling at the idea of yuuji fighting for his life to be either megumi favorite or nanami’s favorite.

you also opened my eye to the potential of maki & tsumiki… like i also like to imagine that in a happier world, they would understand each other on such a deep level. but they would also find parts of the other that they wished they had. but on a happier note i like to imagine that megumi would suffer whenever it was brought up that his aunt is basically dating his step sister. like maki would be a menace to megumi. every little thing he do? maki is texting tsumiki in a corner.

maki watching itafushi cook together in the kitchen: i can’t believe megumi has a boyfriend. it’s so cute that he thinks that he can hide this from me. lemme go snitch to tsumiki.

maki listening to megumi describe his fight with sukuna, a cursed spirit who apparently has a stripping problem: oh my god. megumi is truly yuuta’s boy. they both got cursed spirits obsessed with them…i need to tell tsumiki.

maki to megumi after witnessing his suicidal tendencies: don’t make me tell tsumiki.

i honestly love your story. the way you added so much more to megumi childhood is beautiful. it just make soooo much sense. but also your characterization of gojo is so precious to me. i’m waiting for gojo to go apeshit on the zenin. i’m also giggling in anticipation at gojo finding out about yuuta attachment to megumi. i like to imagine him to be kind of worried about it actually, bc that’s not fucking healthy. but i imagine him getting used to it since megumi will have a protector in the form of yuuta & his power of love.

i’m also curious to see mai’s role in this story since.

*sighs in disappointment at gege writing choices*

since she had a crush on megumi…yeah. but imma just interpret that as she wants to be his family. it keeps me sane

i also wanted to ask if there’s a chance that you would write a megumi POV of what happened in the zenin clan? ofc i would understand if you wouldn’t since it leaves a much more ominous feeling to the events. plus yuuta running commentary is a good mix of angst & humor so ofc i understand.

Yuuji: man fushiguro almost checks the boxes for a Disney princess. except he was never kidnapped or enslaved

Megumi, sold to the Zenin clan, who later kidnapped him: *sweating*

Nobara and Yuuji would be the co-vice presidents of the "fuck the Zenin clan" club if they knew what happened. They would be the presidents but yuuta and maki are already in a death match for the position and they're trying to avoid the bloodshed. they are not allowed to be treasurer because neither of them know how money works.

megumi is unaware that a formal club has been formed.

Megumi is suffering SO HARD in any world where maki and tsumiki are together. they won't stop ganging up on him when it comes to his love life and general wellbeing and holding hands where he has to see it. maki lectures him about his suicidal tendencies in the field, holds up one finger, calls tsumiki, and lets her pick up where she left off. maki tries to talk to him about relationships one (1) time and he tries to drown himself.

see i'm pretty open to writing a megumi POV but it, like most of my stories, falls in this nebulous category of "if i have the time." like, i've thought about writing megumi's pov before, there's a lot of stuff that happened that exists as like, background knowledge for me that will never make it through yuuta's pov because it doesn't make sense for yuuta to find out about it. It would be very tonally different, but if i did write it, it would be a different work entirely and i'd be making sea glass gardens into a series.

i'm eternally tempted by the siren call of making my works into a series. If i did it with sea glass gardens, i would want to add a one shot of Megumi's pov during the time leading up to sea glass gardens and a short multi-chapter of the gojo, nanami, shoko teen parenting trio. If I have the time, it will exist; if i don't, it won't.

[musewrangler]

The range would have made a great deal more sense for him to take his mood out upon, but this was guilt that he was working out and merely firing a blaster wasn’t enough.

Lobbing dentons might have done it, but then, Piett would have thoughts about that upon his Lady. Hells, the Lady would have thoughts about that.

“What do you think?” he said aloud to the ship, wondering if she was listening to him or if all her attention was upon her unconscious Admiral. Doubtful. She was…unique. And massive.

“Lob a few dentons around in here? You could make sure nothing opens to vacuum?”

Her lights flickered at him.

He wasn’t as adept as Piett in reading her moods and so he tapped at his datapad before shrugging out of his duty jacket and rolling the sleeves of his henley over his elbows.

She had obliged by placing a copy of the ship’s safety policies next to a picture of Piett which showed him raising an eyebrow and giving his best ‘Fleet Admiral’ look.

Veers breathed out through his nose, dealing with the pain the image caused.

You had better be healthy enough to give me that look soon, Firmus.

“Yes, all right. No wanton destruction to the ship,” he sighed, exiting the office and striding to the vast array of lockers on the far side of the bay where the AT-ATs were stored.

[keep-this-all-in-mind]

why is sandra tennyson's characterization so different between UAF and OV? D: like i know it's Funny to have her be the mom variety she is in OV but it's like a 180 from how she is in UAF? and i know she's a background character for the most part but. still.

[saints-who-never-existed]

For the six characters:

Collins, Fitzjames, Gore, Sophia, Little and Blanky

:)

Good lord, these really are getting harder! I want to marry and smooch and be nice to all of them!

Marry - Collins! He's kind-hearted and selfless! He's intelligent, loyal, and capable! He's - and I cannot stress this enough - very, very large and hairy! What more could a gal ask for? Again I sayeth - Hubba hubba! 👀

Kiss - Gore! Because he's a good lad and he deserves it. I think he'd be very gentlemanly about it and surprisingly chaste too - let me make that lovely man blush, please! :)

Be Room-Mates With - Blanky! Need I explain? I feel like there'd always be something new with him in the best possible way - just mad Dad/Uncle shit left, right, and centre. One minute he's stripping down an engine in the living room, the next he's building an incredible bit of furniture from scratch, the next still he's brewing beer in a cupboard or raising a school of rainbow trout in the bathtub. I feel like he'd just be good at everything - infinite madness, infinite fun. :D

Wrap a Blanket Around - Sophia! Get your slippers back on and come in out of that cold, snowy courtyard, babygirl, I've got you! <3

Push Off a Cliff - Fitzjames! I've really been trying to shake things up between each ask just for fun but my answer on this one must remain the same this time. Fitzjamie is built for base-jumping, ultra-marathons, cave-diving and other such adrenaline-based nonsense. Push him off a cliff with a rudimentary parachute, 100%.

Set on Fire - Little! I do feel bad about it since he is of course my all-time blorbo. Can we just pretend that this means I mildly singed him while lighting candles for a romantic bubble bath? Or that he burned his tongue on some delicious non-Dundy soup I prepared for him? Please?!

[sansofhumor]

So, a concept I may or may not do something with, but I've been thinking about papyrus' staunch insistence that sans not eat at grillbys and how papyrus hates grease etc and I'm thinking it's bc of stomach problems

Like, they're skeletons they can't process greasy fatty foods the same way other monsters can. Lighter magical foods are easier to process and skeletons are prone to some idigestion issues with heavier foods.

So while they can ingest the completely charred remains of a spaghetti box (theres nothing to process lmao just absorb the magic and let the rest flake out / no need to worry about oils and fats if you incinerate them), eating a grease covered burger could get like physically painful

It's probably also why sans doesn't actually eat in front of frisk

Anyways, on his own, sans doesn't care enough to avoid food that'll distress him (is possibly struggling with the fact that his favorite foods used to NOT stress him out, but with all the you know emotional turmoil lately it's been causing him issues). so papyrus tries to keep sans from waking up at 3am with the worst symptoms by making him limit the amount of times he goes out to eat

I like to imagine papyrus was a picky eater as a kid (for a bunch of reasons, only one of which is the tummy aches) so he's used to having food limitations but sans isn't. some times food sensitivities set in later in life or are induced by stress and, like, I wonder what recent or relatively recent events may have caused physical upheaval in sans' life, lol

I just like these two dichotomy skeletons except theyre both completely not functional lol. Sans avoids and neglects and papyrus over-attends and fixates. Sans sleeps all the time, papyrus refuses to. Sans chooses the short cut, papyrus will run at top speed (or... twirl in the air) to a secondary location. I think papyrus is also one of those health nuts who are uh, not healthy bc they keep getting up at 2am to run 12 miles and then eat a kale salad... when is he going to collapse?????? Except he's not quite, like, a health nut per se, he just needs distractions and stimulation and routines to follow? That's a tangent I can't quite follow through on haha. I just like the idea that papyrus isn't, like, 100% well adjusted or anything just great at masking.

[butchlifeguard]

i dont wanna decide on a career unfortunately everyone wants me to soso bad

[meowww-ffxiv]

Meowdred: I'm so MAD.

Meowdred: I'm gonna VENT.

Theodore: Go for it.

Meowdred: *folds his ears down into his hair and makes kettle whistling sound with his mouth* PHHHHHHHHH

Meowdred: OK. Much better.

Theodore: ...Cat. 😩 *pinches his cheeks*

[cosmics-beings]

one lost light au playing along in my head is that one of megatron's children ends up getting with tarn and overlord's child - one that the two of them created to be an ultimate weapon but he ends up meeting megatron's daughter and the two of them get together.

[megapocalypse]

AU where Shen Yuan plays a PIDW otome spin-off game where you date all the male characters and he decides to give it a shot because he heard Luo Binghe's characterization was really good in it. He's a hardcore LBH fanboy and he can't pass this chance up, but it's one of those games in which you need to unlock guys by finishing the first few and because LBH is the protagonist he's not only locked behind another character but he's also paywalled and his route is extremely difficult.

Shen Yuan ends up spending 100+ hours into this game and trying to explore all the routes and side quests, he's gotten almost all the secret endings for every guy and he's maxed the dlc characters.

LQG - One of the first love interests. You meet him when you find him poisoned, you protect him from a three headed snake monster and he's deeply indebted to you.

MQF - Unlocked via LQG's route, you get him when your MC has to take LQG to get healed.

GYX - He helps you on a mission to Bailu Forest, only romancable once you unlock the Huan Hua area.

YQY - Unlocked after you complete the good routes of all the romancable peak lords of CQM. His good ending is extremely hard to get.

ZHL - Unlockable after you romance GYX, he's a dlc character.

TLJ - Also a dlc character, you can romance him once you've completed every character's route.

SJ - Arguably the hardest romance route, almost all options lead to the bad ending and you really have to be specific with which routes you choose for your New Game + playthrough. Not to mention he has a secret ending that's even harder to unlock.

Now Shen Yuan has FINALLY gotten to LBH, you meet him through SJ's route as a white lotus disciple, but you have to romance SJ and TLJ before you can romance him. In his bad ending he kills you for siding with CQM, the neutral ending you become part of the harem. You can only unlock the good ending by unlocking SJ's secret ending. The good ending you get an option to tell LBH your feelings, it's an experimental game mechanic where you can literally type out a response. Some people may shit post on this section, but SY puts down his real and genuine thoughts out towards LBH. LBH then asks SY to promise him that they would stay together forever, and SY chooses the yes option.

Okay so new game plus time, SY got through all the endings now he needs to replay to get the super uper duper ng+ secret endings, so he plays the game normally just speeding through with the first love interest, Liu Qingge; but as he's on the rank 7 love confession scene, the game suddenly crashes and he has to reboot the game. His save file got erased so he just plays again normally, but for some reason it keeps veering him towards Luo Binghe's route, when he meets him during Jinlan City...

Every time he tries to get the other routes his save file crashes, or it would just go right to Luo Binghe's route. He looks it up on the Internet to see how to fix the bug... Nobody else is having this problem.

So he just decides to keep going with the Luo Binghe route again since he liked it so much, and he gets back to the true ending where he promises Binghe he'll stay with him forever. But then, suddenly there's an error message on the screen saying "System Reboot: initializing" and when it fully loads it says "Welcome User 002, to Proud Immortal Demon Way". And then the power cuts out, Shen Yuan is a little startled and confused until he feels an electric jolt. He falls limply to the ground, and wakes up in a new world.

A pop up screen shows up in front of him

Select your Name

________ ________

It's the PIDW start up screen.

.

Okay my brain is fuzzed but basically SY gets doki doki fucked and transmigrates into the game. Luo Binghe is a yandere who keeps trying to mess with the system, maybe he kills a few guys just to be silly 😜. Yada yada that's all I got.

[idesofrevolution]

Cult of Personality

The blistering New Mexico heat bared down on Douglas' '99 Chevrolet Cavalier. The small blue coupe meandered up I-25, enroute from Las Cruces to Santa Fe. The old man quietly sighed to himself, fruitlessly trying to think of a better pitch to sell his Solar Panels to the rich folks up in Albuquerque. Las Cruces ended up being a bust, just as much as Tucson: the damn things were just too expensive up front. Not that the company gave a single damn, quotas are quotas. Thus, still empty handed, he passed the exit sign for Socorro- still an hour until he'd reach his destination.

As he passed the exit, he noticed a bright red glint a bit further up the road. Douglas adjusted his glasses, squinting his eyes to see. He slowed down on the empty highway as the sight became clearer. It was a car. In fact, it was a bright red '67 Mustang; it's owner leaned on the hood as black smoke bellowed from the tailpipe. Douglas looked down at his watch, knowing fully well that he needed to be in Albuquerque before sundown. Though, as he approached the broken down muscle car, the sweltering heat of the Chihuahuan Desert at high noon would be a killer. The young man leaning on the car turned his head, not even sweating a single drop, and stared blankfaced at Douglas as he pulled up.

Douglas hit the brakes, stopping his car right alongside the young man. He strode up to the old man's car, leaning in and resting his elbows onto window ledge. His stoic expression slowly melted into a wide grin, licking his lips before he spoke.

"You headed toward Albuquerque?" A thick Texan accent flowed from the man's lips, his dark brown eyes nearly black even in the blinding light of the sun. Douglas felt an odd twinge of nervousness as the grinning young man casually smiled; it felt off. Behind that handsome visage, something was brewing within.

"I'm headed to Santa Fe, but I can call you a mechanic from Socorro, he'd be here in a jiffy!" The young man's smile didn't fade, he simply shook his head 'no.'

"Phone's got no service out here, brother. I sure would appreciate a ride. It's just a mile or so up the road." He turned, pointing down the seemingly endless highway. Before Douglas could deny the young man his request, the hitchhiker leaned in closely. It may have been the heat, or it may have been his exhaustion, but for no more than two seconds, he thought he'd heard whispers blowing in the wind. Douglas said nothing, and the young man's grin grew wider. "Thank you, brother. I'll hop in the back."

As he strode back to his car, grabbing a duffel bag from the trunk of his car, Douglas wanted to slam on the gas and blitz out of there. An air of menace surrounded this man, despite his magnetic charisma; yet his foot did not press down on the pedal. The passenger side door opened, as the man hopped into the back seat of his coupe. Too late. The door slammed by itself, evidently thanks to a gust of wind he neither felt nor heard. He pulled the car out of park, and off the duo went. He glanced into his rearview mirror, taking in the sight of his hitchhiker.

He nearly took up the entire backseat. The duffel bag sat next to him, his muscular arms tightly holding it against his side. He was easily above six feet tall, likely even more than six and a half. He threw his arms behind his head, kicking his large feet onto Douglas' armrest. Outwardly, he seemed like just another good looking guy- one he'd likely see on his granddaughter's TikTok. But his guard remained on high alert.

"Just keep driving, brother. I'll tell ya when to turn off." His velvety voice was disarming, a carefree confidence just wafted from him alongside the strange heat which seemed to emanate from his muscular body. For about an hour, the two sat in silence as they rocketed down the highway. Each glance he shot into his mirror, Douglas would see the man smirking- his gaze never meeting the old man's. Thus, as the road veered to the left in the distance, their silence was broken. "Don't turn, just keep going straight." He carried a tone of authority in his voice, a natural command that would be highly unlikely to be ignored.

"There isn't a road straight ahead..." The hitchhiker finally stared into the mirror, his eyes locked on Douglas' reflection.

"Go straight."

As if of their own accord, the old man's hands kept steadfast on their trajectory. As the road began to curve, the Cavalier shot in the commanded direction, straight into the sands of the desert. They swerved, avoiding large rocks and towering Saguaros, before the foothills of the mountains started to come into view. Through the mirage before them, Douglas could see what looked like a campsite ahead, just beyond the thicket of green brambles. A crowd of maybe 50-70 people had gathered in the bowels of the desert. For what purpose, Douglas did not yet know. But as he slowly began his approach, the entire crowd had turned their eyes toward the car. Like the parting of the Red Sea, the crowd split in two; leaving a clear straight shot toward a makeshift platform right at the base of the mountain.

"Thank you for the lift, brother. Do me a favor, will ya? Stick around. I have a feeling you'd love what we have going on today." Again, his timbre was less of a request- and far more of a demand. The tone was never raised, nor was it ever aggressive. However, he felt as if one would be wise to heed his instructions. Douglas simply nodded, turning the car off, and opening the door.

The crowd was filled with a diverse cast of people, all of which were fit, energetic, and young. Not a single soul had seen a day over 30, no less than 21. They stared with vacant expressions in silence until the hitchhiker exited the backseat, at which point they erupted in cheers and applause. Douglas watched with confusion and shock as the young man walked toward the platform, shaking hands, playfully punching shoulders, giving out high fives like condoms at a clinic. Who the hell had he picked up? Where the hell was he? As he hopped atop the wooden structure in one single leap, easily five feet off the ground, he shucked the grey tank top and tossed it into the crowd. A young woman caught it, tenderly holding it against her chest as the onlookers admired his chiseled build. Raising his arms, the crowd went silent.

"Brothers and Sisters, today is the day! Are you ready? Are you rearing? Tell me!" The crowd erupted, Douglas stared around the transfixed athletes, feeling entirely out of place- as if he wasn't meant to be there. "For one full year, you have trusted me to build your bodies into machines: daily training, nightly runs, some of y'all are out there doing some of the hardest workouts we have to offer. Look at you now!" More cheers. "When I told you that your bodies were temples, to treat them as such, each and every one of you took my words seriously. I said that each of you had the potential to become something incredible. You said, but Cameron, I can't ever get to where you're at! But guess what? You followed the regimen, you became part of our family, you became a part of something so much bigger than you even knew. And we are here today, your induction into our movement, the final hoo-rah!" Mimicking the leader, every single one of the parroting people began to chant hoo-rah, once... twice... thrice... like a warcry on the battlefield. Douglas turned, searching through the sea of people to find an escape route. Instead, he only saw five men of the same jacked physique of the leader handing out what looked to be bottles of water. Peering closely, the unlabeled bottles carried a milky white liquid.

"What sort of Jonestown shit is this..." The bottles were disperse quickly amongst the crowd, the cheery if not dim young men had seemingly finished in minutes as the leader droned on. Douglas took the opportunity to make his way back toward the car, only for a moment of dread to wash over him. It was gone. In it's place, a line of tire tracks came to an abrupt end, no vehicle in sight. The old man felt a hand on his shoulder, turning quickly to be face to face once again with 'Cameron' himself.

"I wanted to thank you for helping me, Douglas. I'm more than happy to reimburse you, you've saved the day." Whispers again started to rise around him, incoherently babbling a language far outside of his own knowledge. "Today, my friend, your journey begins." Douglas tried to pry his eyes away from Cameron to no avail. The deep brown eyes seemed to swallow any thought, any desire, any need. Cameron's pupils started to pulse, mimicking the old man's heartbeat, growing larger and larger, until the inky blackness had swallowed his entire iris & sclera. Cameron smirked as he watched the old man's posture fall forward, his shoulders drooping and his jaw hanging loosely. "Mmmmmmm. Good, fall deep, vessel. For your assistance today, your reward is to be one with me, just as all in my inner circle have done."

The black-eyed stud gently guided Douglas away from the crowd, who were busy downing the contents of their respective bottles just as moans and groans started ringing out from the poor fools. The five members of Cameron's inner circle followed suit, their eyes flooding black and mouths curling into devilish grins. The group soon arrived in a clearing of the thicket, circling around a pile of filthy clothes strewn across the dirt. Douglas was slowly guided to them, entirely unwavering in his stonefaced obedience.

"Well, my children. You continue to serve me well. I admit, this body must be hard to say no to. He is a joy to wear." The five goons chuckled menacingly, one or two of them groping at their bulges through their running shorts. "Today, as you all did before him, Douglas aided me in my time of need. On a momentous day as this, such acts must be rewarded. Today, you welcome your new brother." With a swipe of his hand, Douglas' corporate clothing dissolved into thin air, burnt ash flying into the desert wind. He stood there in the nude, the group watching in anticipation as Cameron simply pointed down to the pile of reeking clothes, and Douglas could do nothing but obey.

One by one the articles began to tremble, before sliding across the sand toward their soon-to-be owner. Cameron snickered, snapping his finger. A sweaty jockstrap quickly flew into the air, levitating for a moment before shooting toward the old man's groin. Like a liquid hitting a solid, the grimy fabric collided with Douglas, warping and wrapping around his legs and package until it had settled into it's new home. The brothers grinned, as they watched the old man's admittedly humble bulge swell rapidly. It expanded outward, his balls dropping like ten pound weights as they grew, and his cock elongated and widened until it peeked it's head out from the bottom of the sweat stained pouch. Douglas moaned as his ass swelled thick and bulbous, the formerly wrinkled and smooth skin sprouting dark brown hairs as his bush followed suit. Cameron grinned, strutting over to cup his hand over the musky horsecock and balls that had sprang from his jock.

Another snap of his fingers, and the shorts shot upward, wrapping around Douglas' legs, quickly inflating them with thick mass. His hamstrings widened, his quads becoming hard as iron while his calves tightened. The chicken legs he used to possess now were two massive slabs of hard meat. Cameron continued to grope and massage his prey's bulge, the fabric of the jockstrap growing sticky with his pre as he moaned. The five grunts slowly lowered their own shorts and jockstraps, releasing their sweaty dicks into their waiting palms.

"You humans are so... simple." *snap* The socks slithered like snakes across the ground, surrounding Douglas' toes and sliding around his heel and fastening around his ankle. "All it takes is slipping into some attractive male, and you'll be worshipping at my feet. As will you." The old man's feet cracked and stretched wide, his soles growing soft and sweaty as the stinking running shoes melted around his gigantic feet. The rubber and fabric contorted and stretched, the funk of a thousand runs in the desert heat wafting from within their confines as they reformed into a perfect fit. The group started to stroke their cocks, small droplets of black sludge seeping from their slits. Cameron grinned, sliding his hand into Douglas' jockstrap and wrapping it around his throbbing member. "You, however, will be a prince among men."

*snap* The pot belly which had plagued Douglas for 30 some odd years slowly receded, fading into obscurity as if it had never been there to begin with. His abs tightened, his pecs became lean, his waist slimmed quickly with powerful obliques and cum gutters pointing toward his hose. Whispers started to echo in the wind as the five cultists stroked their cocks, streams of black, tar-like slime coalescing into pools at their feet.

"You will be a father of my spawn, a carrier of my seed." Cameron continued to pump the massive dick, watching with malicious glee as his arms grew sinewy and lean, his hands large and wide, his fingers long and slender. "Today, our army is founded." The possessed stud placed his hand on the balding head of the former salesman, pushing him to his knees; his mind blank as his master's shorts slid down to his thighs, releasing a grotesque sight. Whatever his host's member used to be was long gone, now corrupted with demonic seed. It stood upright, intricate black symbols wrapping around the foot long shaft all the way to his foreskin. "Receive my blessing, mortal. Be one with me." The ripe rod inched forward, dripping thick globules of the black sludge onto Douglas' thighs as it pressed against his face. His mouth opened, and it was over.

In a single thrust, the monstrous cock pushed past his lips and deep into his throat as Cameron began to face fuck the old man. The pools of black sludge from his minions writhed toward him, engulfing his legs in their glistening form before slinking toward his tight hole. Cameron threw his head back in ecstasy, howling a thunderous and unnatural roar as his underling's seed seeped into Douglas' rear. The sounds of squelching, cracking, suction rang out as the roars began to grow louder. Each slap of his face against Cameron's bush reformed his aged face. New hairs sprouted on his scalp, a thick forest of black spreading across his head. His lips plumped as they slurped on the smelly cock, his skin tanning and all wrinkles disappearing. The last vestiges of the black sludge squeezed into his hole, and with a wicked, fiendish grin the possessed stud cursed out into the open desert air:

"WE... ARE... ONE!" 'Cameron' released his gift down into his new son's throats, a torrent of black seed rushing out of his length and into Douglas' transformed body. His veins started to flush dark, until an inky blackness had sprawled across his lean, taut figure. Whatever remained of Douglas sunk into a void of darkness, only to be encompassed by the viscous corruption. 'Cameron' grinned, his will quickly overwhelming the spirit of the old man before slipping his demonic essence within it. More and more of him flooded into the body, squeezing into the soul, until it was unclear where Douglas began and 'Cameron' ended. Dismounting his new creation, he watched with glee as the convulsions died down, and it's eyes opened, revealing an endless inky black as it grinned.

"Yes, my master, this vessel shall fit our needs quite nicely." As his eyes slowly started to return to their normal hazel, the corruptive sludge within his veins reformed, pushing upward through the capillaries and into the skin, now little more than tattoos to the naked eye. 'Cameron' grinned, another human ensnared into his dark consciousness, little more than a husk to house his essence.

'Dougie' smirked as he pulled up his fetid shorts, quickly masking his cock dripping the black sludge of his master and brothers as he threw his sweaty arms around his new family, walking toward their new army.

---

"Alright, Santa Fe! Are we ready to get fit?" The crowd erupted as Cameron stood before them, his arms raised on the roof of the building, grinning over the 200 new disciples he was prepared to imbue with his gift. Those who had been with him at Socorro stood silently amongst the unsuspecting enthusiasts, ready to 'assist' their 'ascension' should the need arise. Just beside the building, his sons had gathered behind the truck in a circle, chanting words beyond our most vivid imagination as they stroked eachother's musky cocks into the large vat of water. 'Dougie', now a favorite of Cameron, devilishly grinned as he felt the first torrent of his corruption spew into the clear water, the thick black sludge slithering about before dissolving into the liquid as if it were never there. Round after round, they shot their father's seed into water, until there was more of the seed than there was of the water.

"Alright, brothers. I think that should do it." His deep, bellowing voice brought each of his brothers attention on him as they put their cocks back into their shorts. "Hah, and not a minute too soon." The crowd of feckless initiates began to line up, in desperate need of hydration, of which 'Dougie' was more than happy to provide. He hopped up onto the bed of the truck, as his brothers ladled their refreshment into individual bottles. Snatching one, 'Dougie' snickered. "Who's thirsty?"

[nishimuramp4]

untitled #2

synopsis: you're the one responsible for riki's ostracization in school. but after you catch your boyfriend cheating, it's him you use for comfort.

content warnings: dubcon veering towards noncon, public sex, humiliation

wc: 3.5k!

it wasn’t like you had hated him from the start. on the contrary, when riki had walked into homeroom in october, a month after the school year had started, you had actually found him attractive enough. he was tall, with pouty lips, a scowl that you would soon learn was permanent, and dark hair that fell into his eyes. his eyes, which you couldn’t stand. their gaze was disconcerting; they held a quiet sort of power, a hidden well of dominance. it made your skin crawl. 

you had watched him from the back of the classroom. the tables in your classroom were clustered into tables of six. you and your friends always took the back of any room, so you could get away with sneaking a hit of the ubiquitous vape that got passed around. riki, after mumbling his name to you all with his head bowed, had shuffled to one of the empty seats at the front. 

“new kid’s not bad,” yiyeon had said. she twirled a mechanical pencil between her fingers, her eyes running over the back of his head. 

“he needs to get his ass on the basketball team,” sungho had said, garnering a few chuckles from the others. your boyfriend, heeseung, didn’t say a word. he was sitting beside you. he, too, was staring at the new kid. unlike yiyeon, his curiosity stemmed from a source you recognized well. insecurity. a transfer student with handsome features, height that rivaled heeseung, a low, rumbly voice, and the faint beginnings of self-assurance. 

you had snapped into action quickly. “he’s all right,” you had said, glancing at heeseung for approval. he was still unmoving, eyebrows creased in annoyance. unwilling to let things continue, you had scoured your desk. finding a small white eraser, you waited until the teacher had their back turned to the class before throwing it at riki’s head. he rubbed the spot, reached down, picked up the eraser, examined it. it had bothered you that he didn’t immediately turn around to see who it was. 

finally, riki slowly looked behind him, one hand still on his head. you gave him a sarcastic smile and a little wave, which finally made heeseung laugh. “careful,” heeseung had said, ruffling your hair, “he’ll get a crush on you.”

“please,” you said, emphasizing the pronunciation of your words so riki could read your lips. “incel over there wishes.”

sungho slapped the table, fighting off a laugh. “he does look like an incel,” he had said, gesturing at riki. “school shooter-looking ass.” riki had been wearing a large black hoodie over a pair of camo pants that day. you remembered it well. 

“school shooter,” lee, a girl you vaguely suspected was trying to steal your man, said with an overly effusive laugh. “he really does, though.”

heeseung had grinned at you as though you had made the joke, and you beamed at him. riki had turned back around, head hunched and shoulders bent. 

you hadn’t intended on bullying him, necessarily. things just happened that way. he happened to have the locker near yours, so you would tell him to eat shit and threaten to slam his face into the metal. he happened to share the same gym class as your boyfriend, so you’d break into his locker and cut holes into his uniform. apparently he was broke, like a lot of the students here were, so he had to walk around wearing tattered clothes. how were you supposed to know? 

the incel comments weren’t your fault, either. you had made the first move, but riki perpetuated it by always wearing baggy clothes, lumbering down the hallway with his headphones over his pierced ears, by mumbling when he spoke. 

once, you had tossed your milk container on the contents of his locker. you had had a shitty day, and your friends were all busy that lunch break, so you had been wandering the halls aimlessly. now you got to see riki’s hands lock up, his mouth gaping as he stared at his soiled belongings. 

“it’ll reek,” you had said, crunching the carton in your hands and tossing it inside his locker. it landed on his wet school binders. “you’re used to smelling like shit, so this should be nothing to you.”

riki’s lip had trembled, but not out of fear. no, this was the indignance of a child that had been spanked, knowing that an injustice had been dealt but lacking the strength to do a thing about it. “why do you do this?” it was rare for riki to speak, so hearing his gravelly voice surprised you. you masked it with an easygoing shrug. 

“why not?” you had replied breezily. 

“why me?” his voice had a cloying, pleading tone that warmed you to your bones. it pleased you so much, you nearly reached out to pinch his cheek. then he looked at you, and his eyes frightened you. there was that steely resilience again, that iciness underneath a countenance best described as “simpering.” it disturbed you, enough that you took an imperceptive step back. 

“because,” you had said. “i just don’t like you.”

riki had looked up to the ceiling, biting his lip, before looking down at you again. “you don’t even know me.”

“don’t need to,” you had said, wiping a drop of milk that had landed on your sleeve. 

students streamed by the two of you, ignoring the spectacle. for the better. you hated an audience. it was heeseung who liked to have all eyes on him, who liked to command attention, assert himself. you were comfortable being his girlfriend, lavishing in the privilege of getting to blend in. people were like nails: if they stuck out, they needed to be hammered into submission. 

“you’ll get yours,” riki had said softly, crouching down to examine his binders. the surety with which he said the words disturbed you, so you slammed the locker beside his, just to see him flinch. 

“you keep believing that,” you had said. “you keep believing that bad things happen to bad people. childish dumb-fuck.”

“they do,” riki said, and you resisted the overwhelming desire to wrench some of his hair into your hands, twist it, make him scream, make him cry. you couldn’t make a scene. heeseung would hear about it, anyways. 

instead, you crouched to riki’s level. “then you must be a bad person,” you had said. “bad things just keep happening to you, huh?” 

there was a small droplet of milk resting on his lip, stray spray from the carton you had thrown. he had noticed you staring at his mouth and wiped it off himself. “like i said, you don’t know anything about me.”

“ooh,” you had said, mockingly raising your hands in the air. “look out. tough guy riki.” riki stood up, having finished his assessment of his binder, and you realized just how tall he was. you quickly scrambled to your feet. “see you around.” with a final bang on his locker, you had left, the memory of his stare lingering in your head. 

of course, you loved bothering him. there was something satisfying about seeing a guy so tall, so broad, flinching when you threw something at him. when you walked by him, you reveled in the way he would avert his gaze, awaiting the next cruel taunt. it didn’t help that you were constantly flanked by your friend group, including heeseung. besides being tall, heeseung had long since developed a reputation at the school. the best parties were at his place, he organized the bonfires in the woods at the school, he had an older brother who could get his friends weed. being his girlfriend awarded you with social capital you wouldn’t have on your own.

which is why you almost fell apart when you walked into the parking lot after school and saw heeseung sucking face with lee against his car, a beat-up honda civic. a part of you wanted to confront him, but you knew that a public confrontation would turn into a private fight, and possibly a breakup. you didn’t know if you wanted to break up with him. the three of you had all had academic obligations which required you to stay later after school, so the plan was to finish up, have heeseung drive you to his place, pre-game, then go to a party at sungho’s. you had finished up a little earlier, so you had wanted to surprise heeseung. instead, you watched as your boyfriend of six months and a girl who had previously referred to you as her friend made out with each other in broad daylight.

spinning on your heel, you stormed into the school’s building, searching for a place to cry. you had to recollect yourself, find a way to regain control of yourself. the bathrooms were no good: at any given time, there was a cluster of girls in them smoking or vaping or passing around a plastic bottle of vodka. a teacher might come into an empty classroom, and the last thing you needed was to bare your soul to someone who loathed you as much as you did them. 

finally, you decided on the computer lab on the second floor. it was still open at this time, and it was very rarely occupied by other people. it was hardly a lab, a collection of 12 computer monitors organized into two rows, back to back, in a classroom tucked into a corner of the school. 

you spotted a mop of straight hair. riki.  of course he would try to hide out where no one could find him. he was drawing, using something on a computer screen as a reference. riki wasn’t the best in academics, and the ostracization from others had prevented him from ever getting involved in sports, but you could begrudgingly admit that he was a good artist. he was supposed to receive some stupid school award for it. 

the tears that had been threatening to spill mere moments before dissipated as you closed and locked the door behind you. riki looked up at the sound. you loved the way he cringed, tried to make himself seem smaller, shrinking himself in his chair. 

striding over towards him, you snatched up his sketchbook and flipped through it. unfortunately, there was nothing you could say about his art, so you would have to lie. “looks shit,” you said. maybe you could rip a few pieces out. instead, you put the book down on the table and scrutinized riki. he was looking at you warily, his sharp eyes analyzing your every move. 

“they’re not shit,” he said. 

“you wouldn’t know. you have bad taste in just about everything.”

riki must have been feeling pretty confident from that little award, because he met your gaze and said, “so do you.”

you walked closer to riki, who was sitting in the blue plastic chair. he straightened out his posture, hands clasped together. first heeseung, now riki was getting cocky on you? “and what makes you say that?”

“your boyfriend is pretty ugly,” he said, and his eyes widened like he couldn’t believe himself. 

your blood boiled. the disrespect towards your boyfriend, the reminder that he was hardly your boyfriend right now, the fact that riki thought he could say that to you. you grabbed his hair and yanked his face towards yours, relishing in his sudden fear. if he had maintained his new persona, you would have done something drastic. 

“you think you’re better than heeseung?” you hissed, jerking his head again. he yelped quietly. “answer. you think you’re better than heeseung?”

riki’s eyes were squeezed shut. all the better for it. “yeah,” he mumbled. “i do.”

still clutching his hair, you reached under your skirt and tugged your underwear. riki stared at your panties, jaw slack and eyes hazed over. you slipped them off and shoved them into your hoodie’s pocket. then you swung your leg up, resting your foot on the desk. “prove it. prove how much better you are.”

riki had this stupid look on his face. “what?”

you didn’t have the patience for it. you brought his face towards your pussy. “eat me out,” you said, “or i swear to god i’ll get heeseung and the others to jump your scrawny ass.”

riki tried to pull his head away, but you yanked at his scalp, eliciting another cry from him. “i don’t know how,” he said.

“first time seeing pussy? you really are an incel,” you said. the hand that wasn’t in riki’s hair rubbed at your clitoris. “you see this? you just have to lick this. it’s not rocket science.”

haltingly, riki’s pink tongue poked out before he retracted it and looked at you. “i’m not…i don’t…”

twisting his hair, you said, “do it or heeseung will fuck you up. that’s a promise.”

with a little whimper, riki kitten-licked your clit. it had been a while since heeseung had properly eaten you out, citing a lack of interest, so you were responding more to riki than you cared to admit. you couldn’t let riki catch wind of any pleasure you were deriving from this, so you clamped your mouth shut. still, every inexperienced lick caused frissons to dance through your body.

riki tentatively reached out to hold your hips in place, and you flinched as you felt his large hands on you. you thought about pulling his finger back so he would let go of you, but he licked your clit in just the right way and the thought escaped you. you bucked your hips into his mouth. “faster,” you ordered. 

he sped up, lapping at your clit. riki’s grip on your hips settled, and you bit back a moan. then riki pulled his head away from you, and you sputtered. “the fuck are you doing?” 

“am i doing it right?” absent-mindedly, he wiped some of your arousal off of his face with his sleeve. then he looked at the wet streak and frowned. 

you groaned in frustration and shoved his face towards your pussy again. “shut up.” 

riki returned to licking at your clit, experimenting this time. he flicked his tongue against the small nub, something you hadn’t even known you liked. “you watch a lot of porn?” he didn’t answer, thankfully, so you continued pressing your cunt into his face. “i bet you do. gross coomer, holed up in your fucking room.”

his tongue was wide and agile, and you almost hated yourself for how quickly your orgasm was approaching. you gritted your teeth and fixed your eyes on the top of riki’s head. if you looked away, you were admitting defeat. 

when you came, it was a full-body orgasm. waves of pleasure trickling from the center of your body down to your very fingertips.  “how does my pussy taste?” you taunted, blinking slowly so that the stars flooding your vision wouldn’t overtake you. it had been good, too good. you lifted your leg off of the table and straightened up, even though all you wanted to do was take a nap. 

riki’s face was coated in your arousal, and you found that the sheen complimented his pretty, plump lips well. “find out,” he said. he made a rough noise at the back of his throat, stood up, and spat in your face. 

you spluttered, wiping your face and smearing any liquids on his clothes. “are you fucking crazy?”

riki shrugged, rubbing your juices off of his face with his sleeve again. “maybe.” 

“i’ll kill you,” you said, stepping away from him. “i’ll fucking kill you.”

to your evergrowing annoyance, riki’s gaze was as imperceptible and cold as always.

you didn’t kill him. instead, you stewed about the incident for a week straight. heeseung was acting sheepish around you now, burying his head into your neck and giving you soft, warm little kisses. lee didn’t make eye contact with you, talking to you with such sycophantic fervor that even you felt embarrassed. annoying. if they were going to cheat, then do it wholeheartedly. 

you didn’t bother riki for the entire week, and you could tell it was starting to bother him. you would catch him glancing at you curiously before whipping his head away when he saw you pick up on his staring. freak probably got a crush on you after you made him eat you out. or maybe he thought you really would have heeseung jump him. it only served to benefit you. you had a surprise to give him at the assembly, and you wanted to catch him off-guard. 

the assembly was held in the school gym during homeroom. the students crammed in the bleachers, talking amongst themselves. normally, you would have skipped along with your friends, but you told them that you had to be there. you had given them your pissed-off face, so they had dropped the issue. 

while you filed out of the classroom with the rest of the students, you trailed behind riki. seemed like he was really proud of himself, between the accolade he was about to get and his act of defiance yesterday. when you entered the gym, you sidled next to him. he looked at you uneasily. 

“let’s sit together,” you said. it sounded innocent enough, but you knew that riki would understand the threat behind your words. his head whipped around the gymnasium, and without an escape plan, he sighed. 

“fine,” he said. “where?”

“back row,” you said, nodding your head at the far corner of the bleachers. you all but shoved him towards that spot, settling down beside him so that he was caged between the sides of the bleachers and you.

for the first fifteen minutes of the assembly, you hardly moved a muscle. the principal was talking about school announcements, a topic so banal your eyes would have glazed over had you not had revenge on your mind. creeping your fingers towards riki’s thigh, you ghosted your hand over his crotch. he flinched, whispering, “what are you doing?”

“shut the fuck up,” you replied. “don’t make any noise.” you mimed a knife being dragged over your throat, and riki swallowed. 

with that, you started rubbing him over his baggy blue jeans. he tried to fold his legs, preventing you from touching him, but you pinched and pulled at his inner thigh until he spread his legs again. he was big, bigger than you thought, and you didn’t bother hiding the fact that you were ogling his bulge. it made you smile, knowing that no one else had touched him like this. his very first handjob, and it would be sloppy, messy, and very public. 

riki squirmed under your grasp. “please stop,” he whispered. you looked up into his face and saw that, for once, that sharp, cold gaze of his had been replaced by desperation. instead, you pressed your hand down harder, drawing your touch out to an agonizing degree. riki let out a shaky, pained moan. “stop,” he pleaded, one hand gripping his thigh. his knuckles were turning white.

“fine,” you said, lifting your hand off of him. “i stopped.” you crossed your legs and smoothed your skirt down, smiling at him. 

shuddering, riki leaned his head against the back of the bleachers and closed his eyes, panting heavily. to your delight, he actually canted his hips into the air, ever-so-slightly, at the lack of touch. 

“you want more, don’t you?” you asked. 

“no,” he whispered, “no, no, i don’t…” but his lips were twitching, and his bulge was so prominent it was almost obscene. he was a complete virgin, would probably cum in a minute if you kept going. his foot bounced against the bottom of the bleachers. 

“are you sure?” you dragged your knuckles over his clothed cock and riki squeaked. 

“i hate you,” he said, tears welling up in his eyes. “i fucking hate you.”

“aw, you’re using big boy words,” you cooed, running your hand over his crotch again. riki grunted and looked away from you, his teeth gritted. briefly, you glanced around the auditorium, making sure that no one was looking at the two of you. thankfully, everyone was either focused on the announcements, looking at their phones, or whispering to each other. you softly kneaded riki’s bulge, and he let out a shaky little sob. his foot stopped bouncing, and his breathing quickened. you stroked his entire length, noting that he might feel good after all. if heeseung ever pissed you off, maybe you could have fun with riki.

his cock twitched under your hand, signaling his imminent release. riki covered his mouth with his hoodie’s sleeve, eyes scrunched shut as he finally came. you could have crowed with laughter, seeing the way the front of his jeans dampened. today, riki had opted to wear a hoodie that cut off at his hips, meaning that there was no way to hide the offensive stain. 

riki’s name was called for him to receive his award, and you did let out a small giggle as you watched him hastily unzip his hoodie and wrap it around his waist in a feeble attempt to hide the cumstain. there he went, plodding down the stairs. 

you had won, for now.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Soldat

A random drabble for @startcarvingdarling

Warnings for fear, kidnap, and spanking.

Character: Bucky Barnes, side of Peter Parker

“Peter? I’m waiting,” you say as he finally picks up. 

“Hmm? Waiting? What do you mean?” He asks as you hear something whirring in the background. 

“What? Don’t tell me you forgot.” You sneer, “you’re at the lab, aren’t you?” 

“Uh, yeah, of course. Where am I supposed to be?” He sputters. 

“Meeting me for our date!” You snip. “Ugh, I’m so embarrassed.” 

“Date? What—I didn’t-- I guess I forgot but I don’t remember--” 

“You never remember anything, do you? Not unless you’re getting some award or simping for Tony.” You huff. 

“What? I mean it. I have no recollection of this--” 

“You texted me last week. Said you want to spend some time together since you’ve been so busy and—Never mind. I’m not doing this. I’m not responsible for keeping your mind straight,” you shake your head, “bye.” 

You hang up as your eyes prick. You should have expected it. You can barely get a message back so why would he follow through on this? Besides, all he ever talks about are his gadgets. 

You drop your arm and turn to the restaurant. You look up and groan. He probably didn’t even make a reservation. You drag your feet away and head back down the street. 

The marquee lights reflect off the dark pavement and cast your shadow across the curb. As you walk, others pass by merrily in couples and groups. They’re raucous as they head out for a night of fun. For time with people who care about them. 

You turn down the next street. It’s emptier, and darker, away from the main strip. Your footsteps echo and you cross the street, undeterred as the traffic is sparse. As you get to the other side, you flinch. You turn. You thought you heard something. 

As you turn back, you jump. There was a shadow there. You spin and search the darkness. You’re imagining things. Even if that’s the case, it is New York. 

You speed ahead through the cones of light glowing from the tall street poles. You pump your arms as your breath hitches. Your heart is racing. You hear another scuff. You turn but see nothing. 

You jump as there’s a clatter down the alley and you squeak, stumbling back. You whirl around again and this time, your path is blocked. The silhouette of a man looms between the safe haven of the lights. His shoulders are broad and his feet wide. 

“Um, you—take it,” you throw your purse at him. He swipes it away. You flinch and step back. “Sir, I don’t--” 

He steps forward and your voice fizzles in the air. You know him. It’s Bucky. Yet, it doesn’t seem like him. His posture is different and he has a black mask over the lower half of his face. His eyes are almost black and he move mechanically as he comes closer. 

“Bucky? What are yo--” 

He grabs you by your throat and you cough. You latch onto his wrist as your phone bounces off the sidewalk. You whimper. The street light is swallowed up in his pupils as brings you near. He presses his nose to yours, the fabric of the mask rough. 

He tilts his head as he pulls back and launches you up. He takes a step and catches you easily over his shoulder. He veers and marches into the alleyway as you squeal. His hand cracks across your ass and your voice catches. He squeezes until your whine, digging into your flesh. 

“Wait- what--” 

He hushes you as he keeps going. You kick your legs and swipe at his back. He doesn’t stop. It’s as if he can’t hear you. As if your pleas are nothing, just like your weight on his shoulder. 

His laughter echoes against the brick walls as he carries you into the shadows. You don’t know where he’s taking you, or why, but you know you should be afraid. This isn’t Bucky, this is what he used to be. 

[pucksandpower]

Think I Need Someone Older

Fernando Alonso x Ocon!Reader

Summary: you know you should stay away from your brother’s ex-teammate, but if it’s wrong, why does it feel so right?

Warnings: 18+ content, manipulation, pregnancy

You look around with wide eyes as you walk through the paddock, following your brother as he gives you a tour. This is your first time at a race weekend, and the excitement and nerves are battling inside you. Esteban has told you so much about his world, but seeing it in person is entirely different.

The smell of rubber and gasoline hangs thick in the air. Mechanics and engineers are buzzing around the garage, focused intensely on the sleek pink and blue car before them. Esteban places a hand on your shoulder, guiding you forward.

“Here she is,” he says proudly. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

You nod, eyes wide. The carbon fiber curves of the car seem to shimmer under the lights. Your gaze sweeps over it, drinking in every detail.

“She’s amazing,” you breathe.

Esteban grins. “Just wait until you see her on track.”

He keeps talking, but you’ve noticed a man walking towards you. Even in a paddock full of fit, athletic people, he stands out. Shorter than your tall brother, but compact and muscular. Dark hair sweeps across his forehead as he removes his sunglasses, revealing sharp brown eyes.

“Esteban,” he calls in a Spanish accent. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your lovely companion?”

Your brother turns, smile fading. “Fernando. This is my sister, Y/N.”

“Y/N,” Fernando purrs. “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” He takes your hand, brushing a kiss over your knuckles.

You feel your cheeks flush even as Esteban frowns. Fernando’s touch lingers a beat too long before releasing you.

“Don’t you have a setup to work on?” Esteban says sharply.

Fernando shrugs, eyes still on you. “The car is nearly there. I thought I would come meet my new fan.”

“I’m sure Y/N doesn’t want to be bothered-”

“It’s no bother,” you interrupt. Fernando’s presence is magnetic in a way you can’t explain. The intensity of his gaze makes your pulse quicken.

He smiles. “There, you see? The lady wishes to talk.”

Esteban huffs but doesn’t argue further. Fernando slings an arm around your shoulders, guiding you away. You glance back at your brother’s glowering face but allow yourself to be led.

Fernando steers you to a quiet corner of the paddock, away from the bustle. Leaning against the wall, he gives you another long look over.

“Tell me, Y/N,” he says conversationally, “How does a girl like you end up with a brute like Esteban for a brother?”

You laugh, surprised by his bluntness. “He’s not so bad.”

“No? The man has the personality of a rock.” Fernando shakes his head. “I do not understand it. Such a warm, engaging young woman. And him — cold and dull as a fish.”

You bite your lip. It’s true your brother can be reserved, but-

“You barely know me,” you point out.

Fernando touches your chin lightly. “I know enough. I have an eye for these things.” His fingers trail down your neck, along your collarbone. You shiver.

“We only just met,” you whisper.

His mouth twitches. “You felt it too, no? A … connection.”

You’re no longer sure if it’s a connection or merely intoxication. Fernando’s presence envelops you like a drug.

“I ...” You falter, words failing.

Fernando leans in as though to kiss you. At the last second, he veers, lips grazing your ear instead.

“Have dinner with me tonight,” he murmurs. It’s not a question.

You nod helplessly. Satisfied, Fernando pulls back, putting professional distance between you again. Yet his eyes continue undressing you.

Over his shoulder, you see Esteban approaching, scowling. Fernando follows your gaze and sighs.

“Until tonight, my dear.” He squeezes your hand and walks away.

Esteban reaches you, glaring between you and Fernando’s retreating back. “What did he want?”

You stare at the ground, afraid your expression will give everything away. “Nothing. Just … talking.”

Your brother snorts. “I’m sure. That man always has an agenda.” His eyes soften, noticing your discomfort. “Come on, let’s continue the tour.”

You let Esteban lead you back into the bustle of the garage, his concerns about Fernando fading as he delves into explanations about the car. But you aren’t really listening. Your thoughts swirl with the memory of Fernando’s touch, his lips, his hungry eyes. The things he made you feel with nothing more than a look.

You’ve never reacted to someone like this before. The impropriety of it — your brother’s rival, a man nearly twice your age — only heightens the exhilaration. You should be appalled by his forwardness. Instead, you’re counting down the minutes until you’ll be alone with him again.

Dinner tonight. Your heart races faster at the thought. What will happen there? What might have already happened if Esteban hadn’t interrupted?

You glance around, half expecting Fernando to be watching you still. But he’s nowhere to be seen. Esteban guides you to look more closely at the car, oblivious to your distraction.

You try to focus on your brother’s words, on the amazing machine in front of you. But your thoughts keep circling back to Fernando — his intensity, his confidence, the promise in his eyes.

This weekend just got a lot more interesting. Fernando looked ready to devour you whole. And despite yourself, you want to be consumed.

***

You smooth non-existent wrinkles from your dress for the tenth time, nerves making you fidget. The hotel restaurant lounge is busier than you expected for a Thursday night. Groups of team members, drivers, and media fill the tables, the air abuzz with a mix of languages.

Scanning the room, you don’t see Fernando yet. You chose this public place with the hope it would feel safer, less intimate than being alone with him in one of your hotel rooms. But now, the crowded restaurant only ramps up your anxiety.

You check your phone again. Still no texts from Fernando. Your foot taps impatiently.

“Y/N.”

You startle at the sound of your name purred in that accent. Turning, you find Fernando behind you, looking sharp in a tailored suit jacket and dark designer jeans. His gaze sweeps over you appreciatively.

“You look exquisite tonight.”

Heat blooms in your cheeks from the hunger in his eyes. You resist the urge to fidget with your dress again.

“Shall we?” He gestures to a table, placing a hand on your lower back to guide you.

You tense at the contact, hyper aware of every point his body meets yours as you walk. Fernando’s hand presses more firmly, as if enjoying your reaction.

At the table, he holds your chair out with exaggerated chivalry, letting his fingers trail across your bare shoulders. You suppress a shiver.

Once seated across from you, Fernando lounges comfortably in his chair, perfectly at ease. You envy his confidence. One look from his intense eyes still makes you blush furiously.

A waiter appears for your drink order. You ask for a white wine. Fernando requests an expensive Scotch.

Alone again, his gaze bores into you. “Now, where were we earlier? Before we were so rudely interrupted.”

You wet your dry lips. “I-I’m not sure that was ...”

“Appropriate?” Fernando supplies with a wolfish grin. “And here I thought you liked my hands on you.”

Your blush deepens. God, being around him is intoxicating. You can’t bring yourself to admit it out loud, though.

Fernando leans forward. “I see the way you look at me, Y/N. Like a woman who wants to be … pleased.”

His use of the euphemism makes you squirm even as heat pools low in your belly.

“You’re my brother’s rival,” you protest weakly.

Fernando shrugs. “All the more exciting, no?”

When you don’t respond, he sits back with a knowing look.

“You pretend to be a good girl. But I see the passion in you waiting to come out.”

The waiter returns with your drinks, providing a temporary respite. You sip your wine, grasping for composure.

Fernando continues watching you like a cat with a mouse. “Does Esteban know you’re out with me tonight?”

You shake your head. Your brother thinks you turned in early, exhausted from the day at the track. If he knew ...

“Sneaking around on a date with his rival.” Fernando tsks. “What would he think?”

“This isn’t a date,” you retort, but the denial sounds weak even to you.

“No? Then why so nervous?” His foot brushes against yours under the table. “Why so willing to deceive your dear brother?”

You have no response. Fernando sees right through you. It’s terrifying and thrilling all at once.

His eyes glitter with victory. But his tone softens. “It is only dinner. No need for guilt.”

He refills your wine glass, coaxing you to relax as you order. The food provides a welcome distraction. He draws you into conversations about travel and music, keeping things casual. Bit by bit, your nerves unwind. Fernando is charming company when he wants to be.

You find yourself laughing at a story about his home in Spain. Your eyes meet and the air shifts. The easy rapport slips away, replaced by simmering tension.

Fernando’s fingers graze your hand resting on the table, tracing delicate patterns on your sensitive skin. Your breathing quickens.

“Your skin is so soft,” he murmurs. “I wonder if all of you feels this good to touch.”

The images his words invoke make your head spin. His thumb strokes your wrist, feeling your racing pulse.

“Fernando ...” It comes out a half-moan.

Abruptly he releases you, sitting back. You stare, confused and bereft.

“Come.” Fernando stands, holding out a hand. “Walk with me.”

Heart pounding, you let him pull you up and guide you toward the exit. The night air hits your flushed cheeks. Fernando’s hand on your back urges you wordlessly down the street toward the harbor overlooking the city lights.

At the railing, he moves behind you, hands resting casually on your hips. You tense, every nerve aware of him surrounding you. His breath tickles your neck.

“Look at me, Y/N,” he commands softly.

You turn your head, body rigid. Fernando smiles, trailing a finger down your jaw. Eyes locked with yours, he presses closer until no space remains between you. Your lips part involuntarily. Triumph flashes in his expression.

“You want me to kiss you.” It’s not a question.

You close your eyes, unable to deny it. Fernando’s thumb brushes your bottom lip.

“Look at me,” he repeats.

You force your eyes open. His face fills your vision.

“Not here,” he says. “Not yet.”

You ache in frustration, but Fernando is immovable as stone. He releases you and steps back. The loss of his touch is a physical pain.

Turning you firmly, he nods at the view. “Enjoy the lights, hmm?”

On unsteady legs, you move to the railing. Fernando stands casually beside you once more. For long minutes, silence reigns.

When you finally chance a look at him, his lips twitch into a smug, satisfied grin.

“You’re playing games,” you accuse shakily.

He lifts an innocent brow. “Games? I merely enjoy a lovely view with a lovely woman.”

You frown, unconvinced. This whole evening has been him expertly stoking the fire between you, only to withdraw at the critical moment. It leaves you trembling with unfulfilled desire.

As if reading your mind, Fernando strokes your cheek with the back of his hand. “Patience, my sweet. I have no wish to rush this.” His eyes burn. “The anticipation will make your surrender so much sweeter.”

Surrender. The word sinks into your bones, igniting a yearning you don’t dare name.

Fernando glances at his watch. “Come. I will walk you back.”

The return to your hotel is silent, charged with restless energy. At your door, Fernando grasps your hand, raising it to his lips. The kiss undoes you in a way his mouth on yours might not have.

“Goodnight, Y/N. Sweet dreams.” A promise lurks beneath his polite words.

You watch him walk away down the hall before letting yourself into your room on wobbly legs. Collapsing back against the door, you close your eyes, body humming.

He was right about one thing. After tonight, you’ll never look at Fernando the same way again. And despite the unfulfilled desire burning through you, part of you thrills at his control, his patience.

You don’t know what this game between you is yet, or what price it might exact. But as you lay sleepless in tangled sheets, replaying each burning moment, one truth rings clear — you trust Fernando to take you wherever this desire leads. And you’re powerless to do anything but follow.

***

The next two days pass in a haze of stolen glances and brief, electric touches that leave you trembling. At the track or hotel, Fernando finds ways to brush against you, to whisper heated words in your ear when no one else is close. But he never pushes further, leaving you a tangled mess of growing need.

Tonight is the final night before the race, the paddock thick with tension and excitement. You pick at your food during the Alpine team dinner, eyes drifting to Fernando at a nearby table with Aston Martin. He meets your gaze with a knowing smirk but stays focused on his own group.

You all but flee back to your room afterward, nerves pulled tight. Pacing the floor, you debate going to him, giving in to this madness. A knock interrupts your thoughts.

You open the door to find Fernando, hunger etched on his face. He steps inside, backing you to the wall. Caging you in place with his body, he strokes a finger down your cheek.

“No more waiting, I think,” he murmurs.

You sway toward him but Fernando holds you firmly in place, denying what you crave. His lips graze your ear instead.

“Say you want me, Y/N. I need to hear you say it.”

You shudder, clinging to the last frayed threads of resistance. Sensing it, he drifts lower, tongue and teeth teasing your neck in a way that ruins you. A gasp escapes your lips.

“Say it,” Fernando commands, the words vibrating against your skin.

“I-I want you,” you breathe, the admission cracking you open.

Triumph flares in his eyes. Then his mouth is on yours, claiming you in a fierce kiss. Weeks of pent-up desire explode as he devours you against the wall. Your fingers twist in his shirt, urgent sounds escaping between kisses.

When you’re both breathless, Fernando pulls back. Eyes wild, he strips off your dress in rough motions, leaving you in only lace undergarments. Ravenous hands explore your newly exposed skin.

“So perfect, just as I knew you would be.”

He lifts you effortlessly and you wrap your legs around his waist. Carrying you to the bed, he lays you across the sheets. You reach for him desperately but he catches your wrists, pinning them over your head.

“I am in control here. Understood?”

You nod, writhing beneath him. With a pleased growl, Fernando releases you to strip away the rest of your clothes. Then he’s above you again, letting you feel his need as he grinds against your aching core. Even through layers of clothing, it makes you dizzy with want.

“Tell me who you belong to,” he demands.

“You, Fernando, only you,” tumbles from your lips.

With a satisfied smile, he sits back to remove the rest of his own clothes, eyes scorching your bare skin. Then he covers you once more, warm skin against skin, teasing your entrance as his mouth finds your breasts.

Your head falls back, lost in sensation, but Fernando grips your chin. “Look at me. I want to see your eyes when I claim you.”

Holding your gaze, he enters you in one long stroke. The feeling of him filling you so completely wrenches a shattered moan from your lips. Fernando gives you no chance to adjust, pulling back only to drive into you again and again. You cling to him helplessly, taken over by a pleasure so intense it borders pain.

Fernando murmurs filthy praise and endearments in your ear as he possesses you. When his pace quickens, you shatter around him with a keening cry. He follows you over the edge with a growl soon after.

Still buried inside you, he brushes damp hair back from your face. “Such a good girl,” he praises, stroking your cheeks.

You cling to him, overwhelmed with sensation, with intimacy like you’ve never known. Fernando kisses you lazily before withdrawing to lay beside you. He gathers you close against his chest.

“Sleep now. You will need your rest to watch me win tomorrow.”

His arrogant assurance makes you laugh weakly. Fernando smiles, eyes softening.

“Laugh now if you wish. But after tomorrow, your brother will be the one sulking.”

His mention of Esteban pierces through the haze of bliss. Guilt twists your stomach. With everything that just happened, you forgot entirely about your brother.

As if sensing the direction of your thoughts, Fernando tilts your chin up. “Do not look so troubled, hmm? Esteban need never know.”

You bite your lip. “He won’t approve. He warned me about you.”

Amusement flickers in Fernando’s eyes. “Did he now? And yet here you are.” His expression grows serious. “I will not share you, Y/N. Not even with family.”

The words, though alarming, send a thrill through you. To be wanted so possessively is disturbingly intoxicating. You know you should pull away, but you’ve already crossed so many lines tonight.

Fernando kisses you again, more gently this time. “Sleep, my sweet. No more worrying.”

Wrapped securely in his arms, you let the steady rhythm of his breathing lull you under. Everything else can wait for tomorrow. Tonight, you simply need to feel Fernando surrounding you, keeping you safe in the shelter of his embrace. Whatever comes next, you know you are his now. For better or worse.

***

Morning light streams through the curtains, rousing you from dreams of warm skin and demanding touches. For a moment, you reach across rumpled sheets, expecting to find Fernando’s solid form beside you. But you’re alone.

Sitting up, you spot a piece of hotel stationery on the pillow, his bold script across it:

Y/N,

Last night was magnificent. I wish I could wake to your beautiful face, but it is race day and I must prepare. Tonight, we celebrate properly. Wear something special for me.

Yours,

F

You trace the letters, a complicated mix of emotions swirling through you. The sheer joy of last night, giving in fully to each other. The guilt that creeps in with morning’s harsh light. Uncertainty of what comes next.

But most powerful of all is the magnetic pull towards him, this man who looked inside you and saw something even you didn’t know was there. Fernando unlocked it effortlessly, leaving you craving more.

Your phone buzzes with a message from Esteban, jolting you fully back to reality. He’s checking that you will be in Alpine hospitality for the race. You text back a vague confirmation, stomach twisting. Facing your brother today, pretending everything is fine while memories of Fernando claiming you play on repeat in your head, will be its own special kind of torment.

You take extra time getting ready, needing the armor of makeup and nice clothes before seeing the team. When you finally make your way trackside, the chaos of race day surrounds you. The garages burst with activity as crews make final preparations. Fans pose for photos and scramble for autographs. But your eyes scan only for Fernando.

You find him outside the Aston Martin garage, surrounded by engineers and PR reps going over last minute details. His race suit is unzipped to the waist, undershirt clinging to his toned chest. Fernando looks up and meets your gaze, desire flashing hot and quick across his face before he masks it.

Heart pounding, you flee to the Alpine suite before he can approach. The morning passes in a tense haze of avoiding Fernando and trying not to show your turmoil. You pick at food, choke down drinks, focus on breathing evenly.

When it’s time for driver introductions, Esteban finds you, pulling you in for a quick hug.

“Wish me luck out there today,” he says with a boyish grin.

You try to smile back naturally. “Good luck. I’ll be cheering for you.” The lie burns your tongue.

Esteban hurries off to prepare and you make your way trackside, pushing through throngs of fans to get a view of the grid. On the big screens, you watch the orchestrated chaos of the buildup.

Your breath catches as Fernando comes into view, prowling the asphalt in his fireproofs like a predator. His confidence and command fill the space around him.

The sight of your lover gearing up to battle your brother is surreal. But the excitement shining in Fernando’s eyes triggers an answering heat in you, eclipsing any conflicted emotions.

As the cars line up on the grid for final preparations, you spot Fernando scanning the crowd. When his gaze locks with yours, he presses two fingers to his lips then holds them out towards you.

Blood pounds in your ears. Everything else fades away except him. In this moment, nothing else matters but the connection between you.

The start lights flash and the cars roar to life, rocketing down the track. You’re jostled by the surging crowd of Alpine guests but keep your eyes glued to the screen, following Fernando’s bright green car. He keeps pace near the front of the pack, battling for position on each turn.

When he overtakes Esteban, your pulse leaps. You shouldn’t want your brother defeated, but the thrill of watching Fernando drive is too powerful.

The race unfolds lap by lap. Fernando runs a flawless strategy, overtaking rivals and avoiding risks. Esteban has moments of brilliance but spends more time defending his position than attacking.

In the closing laps, Fernando emerges through the chaos at the front of the pack, keeping two challengers at bay to the checkered flag. Your heart leaps as he takes the victory to the roar of the crowd around you.

On screen, Fernando pumps his fist before peeling off his gear and climbing atop his car for celebratory photos. Even with helmet hair and soaked in sweat, he looks like a warrior king surveying his territory. Exultant. Dominant. Yours.

The screens cut to Esteban climbing from his car in the midfield, frustration etched on his face. Your joy dims slightly, guilt creeping back in. Seeing your brother’s defeat firsthand twists your stomach.

But before regret can take hold, your phone buzzes with a message from Fernando.

Come celebrate with the conquering hero. My room tonight.

Any hint of doubt burns away. Esteban will have the rest of the team to console him. Tonight, you belong to Fernando.

The hours until the evening crawl by. You pace your room, unsure what to expect from the night. At last, dressed in a slinky black dress, you make your way to Fernando’s room.

He opens the door bare-chested, hair still damp from the shower. Hunger flashes in his eyes as he looks you over.

“Exquisite. Come here, my sweet.”

He draws you inside, mouth finding yours. You melt into him, the kiss deep and claiming. This time when Fernando backs you against the wall, you arch into him, wanting more. But he lifts you effortlessly instead, carrying you to the bed.

“I believe a celebration is in order.”

With deliberate care, he peels your dress away, hands roaming your newly bared skin. Stretched out beneath him, you let Fernando relearn every inch of you, patient this time, focused only on your pleasure.

By the time he finally joins your bodies, you’re drunk on sensation, clinging to him desperately. Fernando’s pace builds unhurriedly, drawing out your ecstasy until you shatter around him with a cry. He follows after, praising you again and again as he finds his own peak.

This time when he gathers you close afterwards, there is no guilt, no conflict in your sated bliss. You know with absolute clarity that this man owns every piece of you now, mind, body and soul. And you would give yourself to him again and again, consequences be damned. For in Fernando’s arms, you feel truly alive for the first time.

***

The end of the race weekend approaches too quickly. You wish you could freeze time, stay wrapped up in Fernando without the outside world intruding. But reality awaits.

On the flight home, Fernando secures you a seat beside him, hidden away in a secluded corner of the private jet. He slips his jacket over your entwined hands, shielding touches and whispered words from prying eyes.

“I want you in Spain as soon as possible,” he murmurs. “No more sneaking around.”

You lean into him. “I want that too.”

The stolen moments already feel unbearable after having him so completely. Fernando smiles, fingers stroking your cheek.

“Soon, my love. I will show you my home, my life there. We will never be apart.”

His words paint a picture more tempting than you can resist. Still, doubts creep in.

“What about Esteban?” You whisper. “My family here?”

Fernando’s eyes harden. “Your life is with me now. They will understand in time.” He grips your hand tighter. “I share you with no one.”

You know you should argue, but the command in his voice thrills you too much. Esteban will be furious when he learns the truth. Yet the thought of losing Fernando cuts far deeper. Your brother will forgive you eventually. But losing Fernando would break you.

At the airport, Fernando kisses you fiercely, heedless of anyone who might see.

“I will come for you soon,” he vows. “Be ready.”

Over the next weeks, you make discreet plans and excuses, preparing to leave your old life behind. Fernando texts and calls when he can, reminding you what awaits. The life he paints, together in his Spanish villa, sounds like a fairytale.

Too soon, though, reality intrudes again. Alpine invites you to a sponsorship dinner before the following race. Declining would raise Esteban’s suspicions, so you accept reluctantly.

You take pains with your appearance that evening, needing the armor. But when Esteban greets you with an affectionate hug, guilt pierces through.

“I’m so glad you could come, little sister. It’s been too long.”

You blink back tears, letting him escort you inside. Other team members welcome you warmly, expressing what a delight it is to see you again. Their kindness cuts sharpest of all.

The only balm is Fernando, across the restaurant with Aston Martin again. His gaze finds you, a question in his eyes. You give a small, reassuring nod. This changes nothing.

Dinner passes in a tense haze of pushing food around your plate and avoiding wine, afraid your fragile composure will crack. You make excuses to leave early, feigning jet lag.

Esteban walks you out, frowning when you evade his offer to get dessert somewhere.

“Everything okay? You seem distracted tonight.”

The concern in his voice nearly breaks you. But before you lose your nerve, a sleek silver car pulls up, back door opening. Fernando steps out, beckoning you.

Your brother’s eyes widen in shock and fury. “What the hell is this?”

“Esteban-”

“Did you know he would be here?” Esteban demands. “What are you doing with him, Y/N?”

You back away, tears escaping. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

“Go? You’re leaving? With him?” Esteban looks between you and Fernando, comprehension dawning. “No. No you would never ...” He grabs your wrist.

Fernando is there in an instant, prying Esteban’s grip off easily. He pulls you behind him, staring your brother down.

“Do not touch her again,” Fernando warns, danger in his tone.

Esteban’s face twists in anger and betrayal. “She is my sister, not yours to take.”

“She belongs with me.” Fernando’s absolute conviction brooks no argument. “Accept that, and we will have no quarrel.”

He turns, guiding you gently into the waiting car. Needing to see Esteban one last time, you glance back. The hurt and confusion in his eyes tears at your heart.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper as the car pulls away. Fernando cradles you close as sobs wrack your frame. Grief wars with relief now that everything is in the open.

“Hush now, he will understand in time,” Fernando soothes, stroking your hair.

When your tears slow, he tips your chin up. His eyes shine with possession and pride. “You are mine now. Truly mine. Are you ready?”

You nod, no doubts left, your fate sealed. Fernando kisses you until the lingering guilt washes away. By the time you fall asleep cradled against his chest, you feel only peace. Your future stretches before you, boundless and breathtaking at Fernando’s side.

Stepping into it will mean losing so much and gaining even more. The path will not be easy, but with Fernando’s hand clasping yours, you know you can weather any coming storms.

This is your destiny now. All your broken, scattered pieces made whole in his arms. And you will let nothing stand between you, consequences be damned. For your heart belongs to Fernando alone.

***

The months that follow are bliss and agony.

Fernando whisks you away to his estate in Asturias as promised. There, you settle effortlessly into domestic life with him, days filled with sunshine, languid meals on the veranda, and nights spent tangled in silken sheets. Fernando dotes on you, lavishing you with attention and affection. Under his guidance, you blossom, leaving your past self behind.

Yet the guilt lingers. Esteban refuses your calls and texts, cutting you out fully. Your parents write you off as bewitched when you try to explain. Only Fernando’s steady reassurance gets you through those dark hours when you fear you’ve lost your family forever.

“They will come around, my love,” he murmurs against your hair. “One day they will understand this was destiny. That we belong together.”

Privately, you pray he’s right. Your new life feels hollow without your brother’s laughter and your parents’ warm hugs. But Fernando fills the void as best he can, surrounding you with his love.

As summer wanes into fall, you throw yourself into supporting Fernando’s training regimen and race preparations. The coming season will be pivotal for him at Aston Martin. You’re determined to be the perfect partner — encouraging yet not demanding, understanding of his grueling schedule and focus.

You savor each moment at home between races. Fernando takes you sailing along the coast, shows you his favorite local villages, and teaches you to cook traditional dishes. At night, his touch erases the lingering ache of your family’s rejection.

When race weekends come, you follow Fernando dutifully, maintaining a low profile. Those around the paddock eye you with curiosity and judgment, but their opinions matter little. Only Fernando’s happiness concerns you now.

The races become a test of will. Watching Esteban battle to succeed with Alpine as you lurk in the Aston Martin garage twists your stomach. But you bear the pain, focusing on Fernando’s victories and commiserating during setbacks. Your efforts earn you his praise and devotion. Slowly, the paddock gossip fades to background noise.

Months pass in a blissful haze. Fernando secures key podiums, cementing himself as a title contender. Off track, he takes you traveling during breaks — Switzerland, Dubai, the Maldives. The outside world and its judgements fade away.

When Fernando wins the season finale, you greet him with a tearful smile, so proud of his achievement. Lifting you off your feet, he swings you in giddy circles before capturing your mouth in a crushing kiss. Cameras flash all around, but his eyes see only you.

“This victory is yours too, my love,” he declares later that night, still elated. “You give me strength.”

Curled in his arms, you cling tightly, overwhelmed with emotion. Fernando has proven your faith in him justified, in both racing and your life together. Whatever sacrifices you made, his love has been worth it.

In the glow of Fernando’s championship, the offseason flies by. Before you know it, new season preparations are underway. Fernando secures a multi-year contract extension with Aston Martin, cementing his status as their star driver.

When you arrive for pre-season testing, the garage buzzes with anticipation. Fernando struts with authoritative confidence, embracing his role as the team’s champion leader. He draws you close when you appear, kissing you soundly.

“Look at them stare now,” he murmurs smugly. “You are untouchable.”

It’s true. No one dares whisper anymore when you pass. Fernando’s stature grants you protection, and with it, a new confidence. You hold your head high, welcoming the envious glances.

One person’s attention, however, you try desperately to avoid. Esteban keeps his distance, but you catch him watching sometimes, face unreadable. The renewed pain of his estrangement cuts deep. You cling to Fernando’s side throughout testing, avoiding any risk of confrontation.

On the final test day, you beg off going to the garage, emotionally drained. Fernando is reluctant but acquiesces to your needs, dropping you at the hotel to rest.

By late afternoon, guilt creeps in. You should be supporting Fernando now, not wallowing. Before you can lose courage, you head back to the track.

The Aston Martin bay is empty when you arrive, the garage eerily quiet. You’re about to turn and look elsewhere when hushed voices catch your ear. Fernando’s unmistakable accent, and one achingly familiar.

Heart pounding, you creep toward the sound, peeking around a supply crate. Fernando and Esteban stand mere feet apart, tension radiating between them. Your brother’s hands clench at his sides.

“I want to see her,” Esteban demands.

Fernando scoffs. “You lost that right long ago.”

“She is my sister-”

“She is mine,” Fernando cuts in sharply. “You rejected her. I gave her the life she deserves.”

Esteban flinches. “I was hurt. Angry. But she is still family.” His eyes turn pleading. “Just let me talk to her, Fernando. Please.”

Your heart lurches, desperate to run to him. But Fernando stands immobile as stone.

“No. I have seen how you make her cry and doubt herself. She is happy now, and I will not let you ruin that.”

“I just want to know she’s okay-”

“She is perfect.” Fernando steps closer, looming. “Go back to your garage and your racing, little boy. Y/N is no concern of yours anymore.”

Esteban’s face twists. For a moment it seems he might shove Fernando back. But finally he deflates, defeat in the slump of his shoulders.

Your brother turns without a word, nearly reaching your hiding spot before stopping short. His eyes find yours, widening in shock.

“Y/N ...” he breathes.

You stare, frozen. Esteban takes a half step toward you, hand extended. The months apart feel erased, love and longing surging-

“Y/N.” Fernando’s sharp voice lashes like a whip. You jolt from the spell, tears burning your eyes.

Esteban’s face crumbles. But he only nods once, a goodbye, before walking away.

Fernando is at your side instantly, clutching you close, a hand cradling your head as you tremble against him.

“You see now?” He murmurs. “He only wishes to hurt you more.”

You cling tighter, the echo of your name on Esteban’s lips haunting you. Burying your face in Fernando’s chest, you let him soothe away the renewed ache, the hope dying again.

Later back at the hotel, Fernando undresses you with gentle reverence, worshiping every inch of exposed skin until thoughts of your brother scatter.

“You are everything I need, my sweet,” he vows as your bodies join. “Only you.”

You know it’s true. Whatever Esteban hopes to reclaim, too much has changed now. The girl he knew is gone. Your fate lies with Fernando alone.

So you let your lover consume you with pleasure until nothing else remains. And when Fernando’s possessive whispers of ‘mine’ finally lull you to sleep, Esteban’s haunted eyes cannot follow.

***

And then a surprise is tossed your way. You throw yourself into preparing the villa for a baby, grateful for the distraction. Fernando dotes on you even more than usual, making sure you want for nothing.

At night, he lays you back with utmost tenderness, hands and lips caressing your changing form.

“You grow more radiant each day, my love,” he murmurs. “Motherhood suits you beautifully.”

Privately, you hope the coming baby might also soften your estranged family’s hearts. But Fernando shuts down any mention of reconciling.

“All we need is right here,” he insists, cradling your belly. “Our child will want for nothing.”

You try to take comfort in his words. With the new life growing inside you, loneliness for lost family cuts deepest of all. But you swallow the hurt, focusing on what lies ahead.

As your due date nears, Fernando reluctantly leaves for preseason activities. You encourage him to concentrate on racing, hiding any lingering sadness. This year must be his best yet with a child on the way.

The season opener comes quickly. Fernando wants you resting comfortably at home, but you insist on being there to support him. After lengthy persuasion, he concedes.

Stepping back into the paddock on Fernando’s arm, you keep your head high despite stares following your pregnant belly. Let them judge and gossip. You and Fernando know the truth.

Seeing the Aston Martin crew embrace you and Fernando as family sparks an ache you thought long buried. With Esteban still refusing contact, this child will have only one doting uncle on the grid in Carlos Sainz.

During the race weekend, you catch Esteban watching you pensively across the paddock several times. Each glimpse cuts like a knife. He always looks away quickly, his expression unreadable.

Sunday unfolds in a chaotic blur of pre-race pageantry and tension. From the cozy Aston Martin hospitality suite, you cheer loudly as Fernando battles fiercely for position. In the closing laps, he makes a daring pass to claim a hard-fought podium.

When Fernando emerges from the cool down room, still elated, he makes a beeline for you. Sweeping you up carefully, he kisses you passionately, heedless of the room’s occupants. You cling tightly, swallowing against stubborn tears.

The bittersweet reunion is broken by Carlos, swooping in to hug you both. He presses a hand to your belly with a grin.

“Let me properly meet my future sobrino or sobrina!”

His joyful fussing over you makes your heart clench. Glancing to the back of the room, you find Esteban watching silently, an array of emotions on his face.

As Carlos distractedly moves on to congratulate other drivers, Esteban turns and slips away. Impulse seizes you. Murmuring an excuse to Fernando, you hurry after your brother before he disappears.

You catch Esteban at the elevator, grasping his arm. He tenses but doesn’t pull away, eyes dropping briefly to your belly before meeting your gaze.

“Can we talk?” You plead breathlessly. “Just for a minute?”

Esteban hesitates, glancing down the hall where sounds of celebration continue. Finally he nods, gesturing you into the empty elevator.

The doors close and awkward silence descends. Now that you have him here, you’re lost for words.

Esteban breaks the tension gently. “You look happy. Pregnancy suits you.”

You offer a tentative smile. “I am happy. This baby will have two loving parents.” You bite your lip before adding, “But it could use an uncle too.”

Esteban looks startled, then conflicted. “Fernando would never allow it.”

You shake your head. “I don’t need his permission. Or yours.” Taking Esteban’s hand, you squeeze tightly. “You’re my family. I know we can’t go back to before, but can’t we find some way forward? For the baby’s sake? For mine?”

Esteban searches your face, hesitant. You see the longing warring with old hurts.

“Please,” you whisper. “I miss my brother.”

Your pleading eyes break him. Esteban crushes you into a hug just as the elevator doors open. You cling to each other, both crying.

Footsteps approach and you pull back to see Fernando standing there, concern fading to understanding. Over Esteban’s shoulder, you gaze at your lover beseechingly.

Fernando’s jaw tightens. For a moment, you fear he’ll force you to choose again. But then his eyes soften, nodding once. Relief crashes over you.

Esteban turns, instinctively shielding you protectively. Fernando raises a pacifying hand.

“It seems we have much to discuss.” His mouth quirks wryly. “Shall we find somewhere calmer?”

Cautious hope dawns on Esteban’s face. Together, the three of you retreat to a private corner of the Aston Martin motorhome. There, awkwardly at first, you begin reconciling.

It’s not quick or easy after so much hurt. But you now have a child’s future to consider. Heart by heart, the ice thaws between the men who both love you in different ways. They will never be friends, yet reach an understanding.

When Fernando pulls you close and whispers, “Whatever you need to be happy, my love,” you know this olive branch is genuine. You kiss him tenderly, letting your joy speak for you.

In the weeks and months that follow, bonds slowly rebuild between you and your family. Fernando keeps his promise, welcoming Esteban into your lives, albeit warily at times. He seems to take pride in your returning happiness, though.

Your daughter’s birth months later cements the change. A redemptive joy surrounds you as she’s passed gently into Esteban’s arms. Fernando looks on with unmatched tenderness, pressing a kiss to your hair.

“Our family is complete now,” he murmurs. And you know it’s true.

The years that follow hold challenges and triumphs, heartbreak and healing. You watch your little girl grow surrounded by love. She becomes the bridge connecting two worlds once torn apart.

There are times old wounds threaten to reopen. Jealousies flare, harsh words spoken in anger. But you face each crisis together, choosing reconciliation over rupture. And your family emerges stronger for it.

At your daughter’s second birthday party, you pause during the chaos to take it all in. Fernando whirls the giggling birthday girl around while Esteban looks on grinning. Music and laughter surround you.

Watching your child beam, you feel only joy now, and gratitude. However painful the path, every sacrifice was worth it to arrive at this peace. You know the bonds connecting you now can weather any storm life may bring.

Fernando catches your eye, blowing you a kiss. His love gave you courage once to chase an impossible dream. Now you stand surrounded by the reality — a family woven together by resilience and forgiveness.

Your daughter toddles to you and you sweep her up, kissing every inch of her sweet face as she squeals. Over her shoulder, you meet Fernando’s proud eyes. In them you see the past, present, and future. And you know — you would do it all again a thousand times for this happiness you’ve found.