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[pulsehardware]

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[inthewindtunnel]

Hardware Pulse

Tech-Noir

#Hardware Pulse #Tech-Noir #Youtube

[oneforthemunny]

hold your horses |cowboy!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: eddie's warned you about your speeding.

cowboy!eddie has been heavy on my mind, since reading @munsonology version of him. 

contains: filthy. MINORS DNI 18+!!! cowboy!eddie, domestic discipline-ish/ dom&sub themes, degrading, mean!dom eddie, spanking, oral fem receiving, p in v sex, after care.

The Munson Family Ranch sat on the outskirts of Hawkins, a thirty minute drive out into the rural side of the county- a twenty minute if the backroads were clear.

The first thing Eddie ever noticed about you, was your little, red sports car. The car you'd been trying to fit stacks of lumber into at the Hawkins Hardware store the first time he met you. It was cute, a little thing that could fly. You'd driven him a few times in it, pressing the gas pedal down so it roared to life, leaving Eddie grappling for the car handle. You'd laugh, look over at him with a little grin that always meant trouble.

"What?" You'd shrug innocently. "I like to go fast, baby, you know that."

Eddie did know that. Hell, half of Hawkins knew that, seeing you race by in a flash of red. More importantly, the Hawkins Police Department knew it too. You'd had your fair share of speeding tickets, some you could charm your way out of, others stuck to your name. They only seemed to pile up as you started coming out to Eddie's more often.

"What'd I tell ya 'bout speedin' down those roads?" Eddie frowned, lips pulled down in an unimpressed, fixed look at you. "Told ya that was dangerous, now, baby."

"I know, I know." You huffed lightly, waving him off with a little bat of your hand. "I'm just excited to get to ya, that's all." You grinned, wrapping your arms around him.

Eddie melted into your touch, your pretty smile and dazzling eyes, it was his weakness. He relented, pressing a kiss into the crook of your elbow, pulling you in by your waist. "You better slow down, girlie." Eddie lifted a brow at you. "Want you to come see me in one piece, you hear me?" He pinched the fat of your ass, leaving you squealing into his kiss.

Even with his warning, you still wouldn't slow down, driving too fast down the winding roads out towards his house. Even down the long, dirt driveway towards the house, Eddie would watch you, cloud of dust following behind you. He'd told you not to do that. It got the horses all wild for no reason.

"Hi, baby," You greeted with a purr, sunglasses pushed up onto your head, sauntering towards him sweetly.

Your mouth salivated at the sight of Eddie, hair pulled back and hat tipped low over his brow to fight the unforgiving sun that was beating down onto him. Wrangler clad ass that fit him snug, very nice, accentuating his bulge that had you flushing and pulsing between the legs. He wore his work gloves, tightening a fence knocked down by a bucking bronco from the day before.

"Hey, sweet thing." Eddie cooed, dimpled grin painting his lips, leaving you blushing and reeling. "What're you doin' here so early?"

You shrugged, hands clasped behind your back. "Missed you." You shrugged simply. "I got off work early and thought I'd come see you. Tried to call but... guess you were busy." You tilted your head to the side, looking at the kicked in wood Eddie was fixing.

"Yeah," Eddie snorted, shaking his head down at the wood. "Frodo's being a dick again, but managed to stay on for twenty-seconds. Beat my record."

"That's amazing, baby." You beamed down at him.

Eddie blushed gently, tongue poking out in concentration again. "I'm gonna finish up this. You got a letter from the Sheriff's department in yonder on the table." Eddie's eyes flicked up to you, watching how you stilled, face dropping. "Somethin' you wanna tell me?"

You stammered, looking back from Eddie to the house. "No," You said quickly. "I-I bet it's because I need to change my address. I haven't got around to it yet-"

"-You've been speeding again." Eddie said simply. "Haven't you?" His voice didn't hold any anger, it wasn't strict or scolding, it was level, casual like he'd asked you about the weather.

Your heart thumped in your chest. "N-No." You stuttered, cheeks flushing and flaming.

Eddie scoffed, shaking his head while he gripped the fence, veins protruding in the most delicious way. It had your knees buckling. "Don't lie to me, sweetheart. You'll just make it worse for yourself." A chill spilled down your spine, leaving you shuddering despite the heat from the sun basking on you.

"Seventy-two in a forty-five?" Eddie looked up at you, challenging. Your mouth hung open. "That's might fast to be goin'."

"Y-You looked through my mail?" You gaped, eyes gouging at Eddie in disbelief. "Eddie, you can't do that! That-that's illegal-"

"-So is going thirty over the speed limit down back roads." Eddie snapped firmly at you. His eyes cut over to your, peeking out menacing from under the brim of his hat. "Ran into Hopper today, and he told me one more time and your license would be suspended. I told him not to worry, I'd handle you."

Your tummy flipped, twisting with excitement and dread all at once, a contradicting feeling that left you dizzy. "What'd I tell you would happen last time if I found out you were speeding again?"

Your cheeks blistered, mind reeling back to the conversation. Eddie'd only spanked you lightly, enough to get you whining and pouty before sticking a finger in your face, scolding you like a bad puppy. "I'm gonna tear that ass up if I hear you're speeding again, you understand me, girlie?" You'd nodded dumbly, eyes glazed before dropping to your knees to suck him off as an apology.

You doubted that would help you now.

"I asked you somthin'." Eddie snapped, pulling you out of your own thoughts. "You just not gonna follow any of my rules now?"

"No, sir." You answered quickly, spine straightening under his intense glare. "You said... You said you'd make me sorry." You muttered, a paraphrase sure, but surely Eddie wouldn't make you repeat his exact words.

Eddie snorted in a laugh, shaking his head. "That's not what I said, and you know it." He sneered. "That's alright, honey, you don't wanna be good for me."

"I do." You huffed, lip jutting out towards him. You hated when he'd be mean with you like this. He knows it drives you wild.

"Hm, then prove it." Eddie's tone was cool, chilling almost. He always kept his cool, his composure, even when he was about to wreck you. "Go on and wait for me. You know how I want you. I'll be there in a few, darlin'. You got some learnin' ahead of you."

Your heart skipped, shaky legs carrying you up the steps of the porch towards the farm house. You could feel the pulsing between your legs, agonizing and throbbing. God, you loved when Eddie was rough with you like this. When he'd leave you sobbing and blistered from his belt, begging and dumb on his cock after he'd thoroughly ruined you to his satisfaction. You knew he'd come in, sweat soaked and musty from the day of work, and your mouth filled with spit. You hoped he'd fuck your throat, shoving his cock unforgivingly filthy into your mouth until your esophagus was bruised.

You folded your clothes neatly, placing them on the dresser before grabbing two pillows. He'd want you in the middle of the bed, ass up and hands out. You were unsure of if he'd tie you to the headboard or behind your back. You prayed behind your back, because then that meant the spanking wouldn't be as mean. He wouldn't have your hands that close where he might strike them during his lashing.

You wiggled your hips, relaxing into the fluffy pillows, sighing at the friction on your clit. You hoped he wouldn't see how drenched you were. It would only make him go harder. This was a punishment after all, a lesson you needed to learn.

The screen door screeched and latched, heavy boots hitting against the creaking wood towards the bedroom. Your heart fluttered in excitement, rolling your shoulders forward, hands clasped and extended forward.

Eddie hummed from the doorway, setting down something heavy on the ground. "So you can be a good girl?" Eddie asked, rhetorically. "When you wanna be?"

You pressed your lips together, clenching to keep yourself from shivering at the gravely tone of his voice. Oh, how you ached, begged to be touched and fucked. The mere sound of his voice was getting you this electrified. Your mind raced at what his touch would to do you.

"You've been quite the bad girl, haven't you darlin'?" Eddie tsked, sighing heavy for emphasis. His ostrich skin boots, brown and worn from the work day thundering against the floor.

"Y'don't wanna listen to my rules. Don't wanna listen to the law." Eddie's calloused hands skated across your bare back, goosebumps left in the wake of his feather light touch.

"You just wanna be a bad girl from now on?" Eddie asked, coming to the top of the bed, muddy eyes dark, brows furrowed down at you. "Go on and answer me, baby. You just not wanna be good f'me anymore? Just don't want to listen to anyone anymore?"

You shook your head. "No, Ed." You whispered, breath catching in your throat.

Eddie pursed his lips, puckering them out in confusion. "Then why're you not listenin' to anyone?" Eddie crouched in front of you, leveling himself so he could see you fully. "Why're you insistent on breakin' all the rules?"

You squirmed, the intensity of his gaze making you feel entirely too vulnerable, even in your nude state. "I dunno. I'm not doing it on purpose." You mumbled.

"Oh?" Eddie's voice lifted in surprise, brows raising to match his climbing tone. "'S that right? You didn't mean to go thirty miles over the limit? Down them back roads that I told you not to be speedin' on."

"I didn't-"

Eddie tsked, cutting you off with the shake of his head. He reached behind him, grabbing his thick leather belt, the gold buckle he'd won at a competition weeks earlier still shining on the front. Your heart skipped, breath stilling. His work belt was heavy, thick leather meant to endure buckling horses and lots of movement, and it packed a wallop when he'd use it on you.

To your surprise, Eddie took your wrists, sliding the belt through the buckle until your hands were tied tightly and secured with the leather. Eddie hooked your hands to the frame of the bed, the stretch in your shoulders a little uncomfortable.

"What did I tell you would happen if I caught you speedin' again, huh?" Eddie asked, fingertips skating back down your exposed skin while he disappeared behind you. "Did I not make myself clear the last time?"

"No, you did-" Your voice was whiny and high, teetering on a huff or a pout.

"So what exactly is the issue?" Eddie snapped, mean and gruff. Your thighs clenched, hips rubbing against the pillows. "I told you I was gonna bust your ass if you kept speedin' down those roads, didn't I?"

Your whimper in response was not enough for Eddie, his hand cracking down on the back of your thigh making you yelp. "Didn't I?" Eddie grit.

"Yes!" You cried out, hips bucking against the impact. "You did!"

"So why didn't you listen, huh? Didn't think I'd do it?" Eddie asked, you could feel him pick something up off the dresser, moving to the side of the bed. You didn't dare look over at him, you did know better than that.

"I-I just... I didn't mean to." You pouted.

"Didn't mean to?" Eddie scoffed. "Bullshit and you know it, baby. Lyin' is only gonna make it worse for you."

"'M not-"

Eddie's heavy hand cracked down on your bare cheeks, sending you recoiling at the sting, hips wiggling away from his heavy hand. "I don't want to hear another thing out of you unless I tell you, you hear me?" Eddie snapped, hand snaking through your hair, pulling you back at the scalp to bend you backwards to meet his gaze.

You nodded, lip jutting out in an emphasized pout. Sometimes it worked, got Eddie's heart melting and soft enough to go easy on you. In the least, he might go down on you afterwards if you looked sweet and sorry enough. Judging by the hard glare of his brown eyes, unmoving and unfiltered by your efforts, that wasn't going to happen tonight.

"Seventy-two in a forty-five." Eddie let you go with a slight push, leaving you bouncing forward into the mattress gently. "How much over is that?"

You huffed, thinking for a moment. "Twenty-seven." You muttered.

Eddie whistled, loud and dramatic, shaking his head in disapproval. "Twenty-seven." He annunciated every syllable, menacingly glaring down at you. "Now, you're tellin' me that was an accident?"

"It was-" You snarled, a loud groan pulling out of your chest when Eddie's hand fell heavily on your upturned ass again, leaving you grimacing and gripping against the belt.

"What'd I tell ya about that mouth, sugar?" Eddie growled lowly. "Only thing I wanna hear come outta that pretty little mouth, is you countin' out each of these licks, you understand me?"

You pouted, lips pressed together to contain your whine that threatened to spill out. You jumped slightly, heavy leather rubbing across the globes of your ass lightly, leaving you stilling at the realization. He'd gotten the strap. The dreaded strap he kept in his tack room, pinned up and mocking on the wall, blending in with the other leather equipment but reserved for you only. For when you really got out of line.

"Twenty-seven over, so I think twenty-seven hits are in order." Eddie hummed, running the strap over the globes of your ass. "I want you to count each one, loud, alright? None of that mumblin' or I'll start over." He warned with a cutting tone.

"You ready?" Eddie's voice softened, sweet and caring. It made your heart flutter behind caged ribs.

"'M ready." You nodded, pressing you cheek to the side of the duvet to look at him through thick lashes.

Eddie smiled at you, leaning over to peck your cheek sweetly. Eddie ran the strap over your ass, the heavy leather making you shiver with every glide. Eddie's heavy sigh fell out of his nose, a tell-tale sign he was about to begin. Your eyes squinted shut, hearing the whoosh! of the strap before it cracked down, white hot shocking pain searing your ass.

You gasped, breathless and strangled out of your chest, eyes popping open in a strained glare. Eddie sucked his teeth lightly, glaring sternly down at you. "O-One," You shuddered out.

Eddie nodded curtly, satisfied, before lifting the strap again. You moaned in pain, nails digging into the leather with the blow. He hit the same spot again, purposeful and heavy, leaving you blistering in uncomfortable heat. There was no reason you should be throbbing the way you were, clit pounding and screaming for relief as the vibrations from the strap tickled their way through your skin to your core.

"Two." You grunted, teeth barred. You wouldn't cry, not this early on, you convinced yourself, slow and controlled breaths to keep the burn in your chest down.

Eddie lifted the strap again, letting it snap against your already blossoming skin. "Three!" You squealed, barely catching your breath before it was falling down again. "Four!"

The burn from the strap could barely register before Eddie brought it down again, two more times, leaving you grappling and bucking against the pillows. He paused, letting the burn from the hits of the strap really settle in, that sizzling feelings that felt tight and warm settled into a low ache on the cushiony globes of your ass. Tears brimmed your waterline, and you sniffed them back hard, face rubbing into your arms to maintain your composure.

That didn't last long. By double digits, your voice was wobbling, tears leaking out of the corner of your eyes with every hit of the strap against you.

"Eighteen!" You whined, hips wiggling against the pillows. Eddie had already had to fix them once, a silent huff before placing you back on them, letting the strap rest heavy on the small of your back.

The smack! filled the room, leaving you gasping out fiercely. The breath tore through you with shock, choking you slightly from the impact as the sting settled in, the meat of your ass where your thighs met, a sensitive sit spot that now had been struck.

"Ow!" You howled, back arching in reverse to try and pull away.

Eddie's hand was quick, pressing into the small of your back to keep you in place. "What number was that, hm?" Eddie scolded you over your own labored breaths and whiny cries. "We need to start over?"

"N-Ninete-een." You shuddered out, shoulders heaving and shaking, body racked with sobs.

Eddie smiled contently before lifting the strap again. He brought it down lighter this time, enough to sting but not a punishing hit. Still, you sobbed and wiggled, sniffling out a number that was muffled under your arms.

"Twenty-seven!" You cried out before the strap actually fell onto your burning skin, the final blow that left you limp and smushed into the bed.

The patchwork blanket was wet underneath you, soaked with your own tears, snot, and drool. You were sure his pillows were soaked too with your own arousal. Your skin burned, ass ached and felt like it had doubled in size, yet your pussy throbbed. You could feel your own slick spend that had coated your inner thighs.

"Oh," Eddie cooed gently, fingers skating over your hot, buzzing skin. "You gonna be speedin' again?" He asked, tone light, a little teasing.

You shook your head, face still buried in the blanket to muffle your cries. "No? You promise?" Eddie's joints creaked when he crouched next to you, calloused hand petting your hair out of the way, a gentle coax to get you to look at him.

You nuzzled into his affection, wet cheek moving so it pressed into the palm of his hand, whimpering pathetically when he cradled you. "I won't speed anymore." You pouted, eyes glassy with tears. A hard sniffle followed that had Eddie grinning. "I promise, Ed."

"I know you won't." Eddie smiled, rough pad of his thumb swiping under your eyes. "You know you scare me when you speed down them roads, baby. Scares the hell outta me. Could hit someone, or a deer, or go to swerve and go right over, and-and... you can't do that to me, alright? My heart wants to give out even thinkin' about it darlin'."

"'M sorry." You mumbled. "I don't want to scare you. I'm sorry."

Eddie grinned, lips pressing against yours, tasting the salty tears that dripped down to coat those pillowy, soft lips he couldn't get enough of. "Mmm," Eddie moaned into the kiss. "Taste delicious, honey. My sweet, sweet girl." His eyes darkened, tongue swiping over his bottom lip.

"Bet I know somethin' else that tastes sweet too." He rasped, eyeing your lifted hips, ass glowing red and deep.

You blushed, clenching your thighs together. "What'd ya think? Can I have a little taste of her too?" Eddie nodded towards your propped lower half.

You nodded furiously, brainlessly, tummy flipping and squeezing with heat. "Please." You whined, nasally and high pitched, full of desperation but oh so sweet.

"Since you asked so kindly." Eddie winked at you, patting your thigh gently.

He was behind you, pulling the pillows and pushing your thighs to your chest, ass up and high in the air. Eddie gave no warning, he never did, licking a long stripe from your clit all that way to your puckered hole, groaning when he felt you gush and tense. He loved making you feel filthy like that, it always got you so wet.

Eddie pumped his fingers in and out of your sopping hole, tongue latching and suckling on your clit until your toes curled. You didn't even care that he was gripping your sensitive skin a little too harsh, the irritated burn with every pull of his hand only aided to your need, hips wiggling to press back into him.

"Fuck, sweetheart, taste so good." Eddie rasped, letting his forehead rest against your tailbone, inhaling your scent, pungent and tangy, deeply. God, he'd get it bottled up and wear it everyday if he could, your sweet nectar was an addiction to him, his weakness.

"Please, 'm so close." You huffed, eyes pinching close, rocking on your knees for some sort of friction.

Eddie gripped either side of your red cheeks, hot under his touch, pulling them apart to expose your tight, sopping hole before he truly suffocated himself into you. He was licking you furiously, bearded scruff scratching against your clit until you flooded him, leaving him covered and shining in your own spend.

Eddie didn't dare wipe it off, no way. He wanted to be covered in you, feel your release all over him as long as he wanted. His cock was throbbing, uncomfortably and painfully behind the cruel zipper of his wranglers. He didn't even bother taking them all the way off, growing frustrated when they caught around his ankles.

Eddie's boot on the bed, heavy and dirty next to you, the other spread and bent so he could drill you, fuck you hard and deep, hands in a bruising grip on your hips. You were sure he was just using your body to fuck himself, picking you up and angling you so differently until he found the spot he was looking for, that sensitive spot that left you crying out and soaking his cock.

It wasn't twenty minutes later that you had collapsed, sprawled on the bed, Eddie's own release dribbling and coating your abused skin, body still shaking with the aftershocks of the orgasm. Eddie smoked his Spirits, your head curled onto his chest, curls matted to his neck and hair weighed down by the hat. His boots kicked off, jeans long gone, still laying over the covers, long legs avoiding the wet spot you'd left behind. He knew he'd have to clean that later.

"I tell ya." Eddie exhaled slowly, the cloud of smoke following him. "For such a bad girl, you've got the best pussy in the world. Ain't that a shame."

"Gotta have something." You giggled breathlessly, lids heavy and mind foggy.

"You got more than that." Eddie nodded down at you. "You're perfect, baby. Well, almost perfect, you just speed." He gave you a pointed glare, nose pressing against yours.

You laughed, swatting him away gently. "I just like to go fast, what can I say?" You shrugged gently.

"Thought once you started hangin' around me, you'd realize," Eddie paused, looking down at you, puddle eyes starry and shining into you. "Takin' it slow is the thing to do, darlin'. There's no need to rush. 'M not goin' anywhere, and neither are you, alright? So slow it down."

You blushed, moving so your cheek was pressed into his inked pec, nuzzling into the pale skin sweetly. "I'll go slower." You hummed. "For you, and you only."

Eddie's dimpled grin was a true prize, leaving you blushing and dizzy under his loving gaze. "That's all I ask, darlin'." He rasped, lips pressing to yours sweetly. "You speed again, and I'm gonna hide your keys. Make you start driving the Wagon."

'The Wagon' was an ancient station wagon from the fifties. His mother's old car that Eddie couldn't bare to get rid of. Good for cruising because of the low speed it would go, bad for racing because of that.

You groaned, rolling your eyes. "Don't you dare." You jested lightly. "I'll take a horse."

Eddie snorted. "You can't even mount a horse, properly." He eyed you knowingly.

You shrugged. "I'm sure I can figure it out. Mount you just fine, and you told me you're a stallion." You giggled.

Eddie blushed, shaking his head. "I think you told me that." He poked your side gently. "I just agreed with ya."

"You always do." You purred, nails running down the soft skin of his tummy, toned and a little red from his days in the sun.

His happy trail was full again, leading down to the magnificent bunch of hair on his pelvis. Oh, you loved it when Eddie would go stag under his jeans, unbuckle that top button and only his bush showed. It made you drop to your knees every time, that's why he did it.

Eddie sighed, arm curling to pull you closer to him. "Yeah, can't argue with ya too much. Love ya too much, you little wildcat." He pressed a kiss to your hair line, nicotine drenched lips trailing down your temple lightly, smothering you in warmth. "'S why I worry about ya, ya know?"

"I know." You beamed, hugging him tightly, burying yourself in his scent, spicy and a little bitter from the sweat of the day. You didn't mind because it was Eddie, completely him.

"I gotta go to traffic school." You pouted, hooking your chin over his pec to look up at him.

Eddie snorted. "Good. You better pass, too, or I'll bring out the strap again."

"Don't you dare." Your eyes widened at him, reaching back to rub your sore skin. You both knew you didn't mean it, loved the way he was mean to you too much to truly mean it.

Eddie laughed, bumming his cigarette out on the tray before pulling you closer to him, arms wrapped around your frame like heavy weights. "Think I need a minute before I get up." Eddie muttered, heavy lids pulling shut. "Just a second 'fore I go feed the horses."

#cowboy!eddie munson x reader #cowboy!eddie munson #cowboy!eddie #oneforthemunny #munnytalks #funsonmunson #eddie munson #eddie munson au #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie x fem!reader #dom!eddie munson #dom!eddie #dom!eddie munson x brat!reader #dom!eddie munson x reader #stranger things

[b777-36n]

you know what mad respect to people who do human designs of robot characters. that is character design!!! that is very cool and i love your art!!! unfortunately its inordinately important to me that they remain inhuman, made of metal and steel and rivets instead of pulsing bleeding flesh they must be cold to the touch except where the electricity sparks through them they must buzz and whir instead of breathing they must strive for humanity but never reach it for they are machines they are made of metal and they have bolts instead of brains and hardware instead of hearts they are machines first and foremost and always and forever for they will outlast any weak flesh on and into infinity and they are machines

#portal #armored core vi #its a gender thing for me i think #and im very weird about it #17776

[hanasnx]

nothing but trouble

MINORS DNI 18+ WORD COUNT: 0.9k WARNINGS: established relationship | no angst they just yell at each other out of sexual tension <3 | shooting at ppl but no explicit violent or corpse descriptions | seeing you naked but no feminine descriptions are applied to your figure | implied smut.

The last time. you thought. This’ll be the last time. 

A promise unkept as your oldest friend lumbered in, heavy boots against the wooden floor. His very introduction back into your life is a plague on your past self’s wishes. You swore then it would be the last time. 

Yet here INDIANA JONES remains, left un-smited by divine intervention, and undeterred to a near nefarious degree. 

“What do you want?” you’d asked. 

Like a fool you heard him out. All his shiny and grand notions over a piece of junk unheard of for a thousand years. He’s got a new lead, and a new motive, and you’re naive enough to believe it when he claims you’re the only one that can help him. 

You fall for those big, green eyes. The dopey, crooked grin he wears whenever you’re agreeable to his whims. As soon as he’s within your atmosphere, you can practically smell your own attraction to him pulse off you in waves. It’s humiliating. 

“C’mon, kid, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.” he’d persuade you. Sweet talk you as smoothly as he’s done before. Curse your enslavement to your most selfish bodily desires. 

Indiana Jones is nothing but trouble. 

“Get down, are you crazy?” Indiana barks, his large and rough handling of the back of your head makes you hiss at him in anger. Shoving you down, shielding you from the staccato of the machine gun fire, is appreciated even as unceremonious as it is. 

“And you- are reckless!” you chide, the weight of a shotgun in your hands banging against the hollow sound of the bar as you rise above it. Taking advantage of your opponent’s weapon overheating to a jam, you cock your firearm. 

“Wait!” Indy shouts. His body, warm and rigid, slots behind you, catching you when the kickback of a shotgun shocks you, the hilt recoiling into your collarbone. Your partner grunts from the impact but holds fast, cushioning your fall to the ground by landing underneath you. “You’ve never shot something like that before, what were you thinking?” he admonishes, and you roll off of him. 

“At least I’m doing something!” Hysterical, your scream ripples through your voice, and you meet his wild eyes, brows pinched together in a most daring glare. You’d lifted the hardware from a fallen enemy— and you’d expected a jolt— but your collarbone did not. It aches. 

Indiana picks himself up, throwing a glass bottle in your direction; his satchel swings around his hips from the force of his pitch. You duck, and whirl around, witnessing it shatter against the forehead of an unsuspecting villain rounding the corner. Your expression of incredulity inflicts that most frustrating and famous scoff of relief of his. A cute shrug that said, “Did you really believe I’d do that to you, sweetheart?” Your eyes narrow at him, and you exhale sharply through your nose. 

“Hand me that, doll,” His hands outstretch, ready for the impact of the shotgun when you toss it to him. It pops open under the pressure of his experienced touch, the shells discarding as he searches the box of ammo he found near the strewn corpse you swiped the weapon from. Reloading, and snapping it shut with a flick of his wrist. You helplessly attempt to ignore the adrenaline tearing through your veins, crying out for any sort of relief— which must be why your desire towards him has increased tenfold regardless of how insufferable you declare him to be. The way he takes charge of risky business with a sense of admirable fearlessness you wish you could bottle. You wonder what it’d taste like. 

Sharing a cramped space on a boat had very limited perks. One luxury you’re afforded is a private bathing area connected to your room. You pat yourself dry with a towel, hair still wet and dripping onto you as you exit, the steam dispelling. You hadn’t bothered to collect garments to change into within the confines of the bathroom, being as confined as it is. Entering the room bare, in search of what to wear, Indy rises from his place on the bed. As if reverting to formal manners in a moment of bewilderment, to stand when a lady joins one at a table. A flash of an unfamiliar countenance graces his handsome features, soundlessly conveying confusion, and displacement. It’s not like Indiana to feel he doesn’t belong somewhere. A thought crosses his mind that you might now know he’s here, and his sudden movement was a way to prove his presence. He sits up straight, the pose uncomfortable enough for you to address. 

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” you assure, sifting through your belongings. Not before noticing the way Indiana’s eyes wander down your figure. At your words, he relaxes marginally. A low rasp emits from him, and you cast him a side glance. 

“I’ll never get tired of seeing it.” 

A curl to your lips you can’t hide, a scoff through your nose, and he knows he’s got you. 

“Well, c’mere. Let me take a closer look at’cha.” he phrases it like he’s about to search your body for wounds, and he’s exasperated by the chore. He settles at the edge of the bed, a thick finger of his beckoning you over, nonchalant in nature. 

You oblige him. 

As if there exists an invisible string connecting the two of you, you’re tugged over, coming to stand in between his knees. His calloused hands handle your waist, drawing you in. When your instincts run away with you, you lean down, placing a kiss on his willing lips. 

Salty. He tastes salty.

#indy: drabbles #ch: indiana #indiana jones drabble #indiana jones fanfiction #raiders of the lost ark fanfiction #indiana jones writing #indiana jones smut #the dial of destiny fanfiction #the dial of destiny smut #indiana jones x reader #indiana jones x f!reader #implied smut #indiana #indiana jones series

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

What is reader was pregnant at the end of summer nights? Love your writer. I wake up and check your blog every day for new chapters 🩵🩵🩵

Consequence

Warnings: unwanted pregnancy, threats, intimidation, allusions to rape, unedited.

Please provide thoughts and feedback! I had fun doing this and hope to do some more in response to your guys’ asks! Thank you for all your support. 💜

Your shift at the hardware store couldn’t end soon enough. You hike your purse onto your shoulder as you walk out the automatic doors, your stomach rotting and knotted. You’ve felt sick all morning. Your coffee burned like acid going down and you only finished half the stale bagel you found in your mother’s kitchen.

Sleep’s been just as difficult. You can’t seem to get comfortable. Your anxiety keeps you up and a sense of restlessness underlined with dread. The thoughts you keep running from will catch up with you one day.

You pass the pharmacy, glancing through the window at the big poster advertising compression socks. You stop at the other end of the facade and hesitate. You sidle back and stare at another display, pink and white and worrying.

You laugh at yourself. No. You’re just paranoid.

Still, you make yourself go inside. You wander the aisles until you find what you’re looking for. You look up and down the row self-consciously then bag to the shelf. Does it matter which one you get? This one says early detection. And it’s fucking expensive. Does it really have to cost so much to be sure?

Fuck it. For your peace of mind. You may actually get a full night’s sleep if you put this behind you once and for all.

You go to the counter and refuse to look directly at the cashier. You pay, more than you want to, you leave with the test in a paper bag. As you walk down the street, a car door opens behind you. The driver feeds the meter as you distract yourself with the shop windows.

Before you can turn down the path, you hear your name and hand tugs you back. You spin in horror at the voice you never wanted to hear again. You try to wrench away from Andy as he looks at you, a furrow between his brows as he clings to you in desperation.

“Hey,” he says, “can we talk?”

“Get off– what are you– how–” you sputter in confusion.

He lets you go and raises his hand defensively.

“I don’t like how things ended–”

“Don’t like– I didn’t like any of it. Get away from me.”

He flinches and exhales heavily, “you’ve been ignoring my calls. Just hear me out–”

“No,” you spin and stomp away, “there’s nothing to hear.”

He follows you and you speed up, trying to evade him as you hurry down the path. He snags your wrist and the force of it causes the bag to slip from your grasp. It hits the pavement and the contents spill out, the box rolling out from under the receipt.

Andy’s hand stays firm on your arm as you both look down. You feel his grip slacken and you rip away from him. You quickly bend to scramble up your stuff. As you stand he lets out a shudder.

“You’re pregnant?” He asks.

You cringe and swallow, “I don’t know.”

“Oh,” he seems startled, “well… if you are–”

“If I am,” you insist, “it’s none of your business.”

“It is exactly my business,” he retorts.

“Fuck off,” you snarl. “Go home. You already have a child, you don’t need another.”

You evade him as he reaches for you once again. He doesn’t persist as a family comes down the other side of the path with a stroller. Fuck, what a wonderful foreboding coincidence. You pump your arms and furiously march away.

Of all days for him to show up…

How long has he been planning this? Has he been watching you? Those questions rattle in your mind but are quickly muted by the biggest one of all. The one in your hand. Did you really fuck up that bad?

💜

You stare at the two lines. Your heart drops. No. No. God! He already fucked you up so bad, why this? Why? Fuck!

You shove the test off the counter and into the bin. You pace back and forth in a panic, head swelling as the world pulses around you. You can’t do this. You already have your mind made up. You can’t keep it. You refuse to. You don’t want any part of him around you.

“Hey, where are ya?” Your mother hollers up the stairs.

“Mom, I’m busy,” you shout back.

“Not too busy to get your ass down here. Now!”

Shit. You know that tone. You fucked up something. You roll your eyes and rip open the bathroom door. You barrel downstairs and stop as your mother stands smoking by the front door. A large figure fills the frame. Does he not give up?

“I always knew you were up to no good,” your mother accuses.

“What?” You snip, “mom, tell him to go away–”

“No wonder you’ve been shorting me on rent,” she spits back, “you ain’t showing up for work.”

“What are you talking about? You just ask Bert–” You snarl and swallow your anger, directing it instead at your unwelcome visitor, “Andy, go away.”

“Don’t you talk to him like that. You’re not quittin’ this one, honey,” your mother taps ash onto the carpet, “the man’s being nice so you go out and figure this all out. You’re not living in my house if you’re not working–”

“Mom, he’s not–”

“Deal with it,” she crushes the cigarette in the overflowing tray beside the door and stomps off.

You shake your head, “Andy, just go.”

“Please, come outside.”

“No.”

“Do you really want to have this conversation in here?” He challenges.

You roll your eyes and wave him out. He retreats and you follow him, quickly pulling the door shut. You’re already pissed at him.

“What the hell? You told my mom you’re what? My boss? I already have to deal with enough–”

“Well, what could I say? I figured the truth wouldn’t exactly be great.”

“Which truth? The one where you raped me–”

“Sweetie, no, I didn’t–”

“Enough. I’m not telling you again. Go away and leave me alone. I never wanted this. I never wanted you or a baby or–”

“Baby? You took the test?” He asks wispily.

You close your eyes and drop your head back. You hate him. You hate this. You hate everything about your life.

“I’m not keeping it, alright?”

“You’re not– that’s not your choice–”

“It is. You don’t get to take this one from me.”

“It’s mine. My child.”

“Oh, fuck off, look at Jacob. You really another one?”

“Yeah, actually, I’d like to do it right. Sweetie, I can take care of you and the baby. I will. You can get away from here,” he glances over at the stained siding of your mother’s pigsty, “you don’t have to live like this.”

“And you think I want to live with you?” You bark.

“Do you have any other option? Really?”

“Yeah, I do. I’d rather rot in filth.”

His jaw grits and his veneer falls. He puts his hands on his hips.

“We’ll see about that,” he snarls. “I am the father, I get a say.”

“You’re a monster,” you sneer.

He glares at you. He lets out a breath and tilts his head until his neck cracks.

“Only if that’s what you make me be,” he flicks his fingers at you dismissively, “and you have no idea what sort of prick I can really be.”

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #drabble #what if #summer nights #defending jacob

[carionto]

Just a little push

The conflict between Humanity and the United Federation was in it's early slow stages. After the rather unexpected attack on the symbolic Death Kebab there was a lot of buzz and light skirmishes in the nearby systems, but no noteworthy confrontation.

The placement of the Death Kebab was provocative by design, and with both sides so far away from one another, there could not be any mass fleet formation without plenty of advance notice. Special operations units, however, are everywhere.

Unlike Humanity, who currently only has Earth as a planet under their direct control and with a notable population, the Federation is vast - core worlds surrounded by buffer manufacturing and agriculture and all manner of other production focused systems, which themselves are further surrounded out by new colonies, annexed planets, "contract" aka slave worlds.

Getting close to Earth without being spotted by any number of civilian organizations is nigh impossible, and when you count the military intelligence and surveillance networks, there's hardly an atom that remains unregistered. Certain people with, let's say, less than honest intentions, still manage to find ways to keep their activities hidden. For a while at least.

These kinds of skills, when employed by a trained operative with the highest grade equipment, make them virtually invisible everywhere else. A poorly guarded third-rate mining colony? Why, with just a little preparation, you could float an entire Dreadnought up to their atmosphere before they noticed. Assuming they would even care after offering a slightly more lucrative deal than the Federation.

For this particular mission, however, they would care.

Vrontaria was a very productive system with nearly a dozen orbital shipyards and hundreds of mining, processing, and export operations that account for roughly 4% of the entire Federation military hardware supply, and nearly a fifth of all their capital ship production. Thus, it was quite heavily guarded, with every nearby system monitored for any suspicious activity.

What they didn't monitor all too well were the mostly useless planets and moons within the Vrontaria system itself. Of particularly little interest was the resident gas giant - Omk.

And why would anyone bother regularly scanning the interior of a gas giant for foreign matter, everyone knows entering the "atmosphere" of a gas giant will just crush everything. Right?

*glances sideways*

:D

It took the better part of a month, but the special unit managed to covertly install about five thousand gravitational pulse thrusters and all necessary power generators within the upper layer of Omk, but just far enough below the storms to make their activity not make any visible change. For comparison, one such thruster can accelerate an entire Dreadnought. Slowly, sure, which is why they have at least 6 to be able to maneuver, and Omk was not the largest gas giant in the Galaxy, about two thirds of Jupiter.

So, one day not long after, someone on Ja'Ulnika, the main planet of the Vrontaria system, noticed that Omk was a little bit further along its orbital path than it should be.

Concerning.

Then they took more precise measurements and realized it was going faster than before.

Very concerning.

Finally, they had someone go up to it and then they noticed all of the thrust force coming from one side of it, changing its orbit to get far too close to Ja'Ulnika for comfort.

Panic inducing to say the least.

By the time a full force of combat ships arrived to sort out this mess and start disabling all these planet-moving thrusters, scans showed they had self-destructed. Even if they had the ability to retrieve anything from the inside of a gas giant, at this point it would be worthless scraps.

The final orbit of Omk would put it on a course to capture Ja'Ulnika in its gravitational well in two years time and take it along for a joyride to orbits outside the habitable zone, rendering it inhospitable in around 5-6 years. Not to mention the carnage tides would cause on a world without its own moon. Or any other catastrophic events that might occur when a planet is essentially kidnapped into a becoming moon.

Wars are fought on many fronts. inevitable devastation and unavoidable future reduction in capacity force you to act in ways you would rather not. Sometimes creating a logistical nightmare that your enemy has to deal with no matter what can be the greatest killing blow that a swift and spectacular showdown space battle could never be.

#humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #humans are space australians #humans are deathworlders #humanity fuck yeah #carionto

[moose-mousse]

It works!*

So I (FINALLY) put the final touches on the software for my robot PROTO! (Listen, I am a software person, not a coming-up-with-names person)

Basically, it is a ESP32 running him. He takes HTTP messages. Either GET odometry, or PUT twist. Both just being a string containing comma separated numbers

Odometry is the robots best guess based on internal sensors where it is (Since PROTO uses stepper motors, which rotates in tiny tiny steps... it is basically counting the steps each motor takes)

Twist is speed, both in x,y and z directions, and speed in angular directions (pitch, roll and yaw). This is used to tell the robot how to move

Now, since PROTO is a robot on two wheels, with a third free-running ball ahead of him, he cannot slide to the side, or go straight up in the air. You can TRY telling him to do that, but he will not understand what you mean. Same with angular movement. PROTO can turn left or right, but he have no clue what you mean if you tell him to bend forward, or roll over.

The software is layered (Which I use a BDD diagram to plan. I love diagrams!)

Basically PROTO gets a twist command and hands that over to the Differential_Movement_Model layer.

The Differential_Movement_Model layer translate that to linear momentum (how much to move forward and backwards) and angular momentum (how much to turn left or right). combines them, and orders each wheel to move so and so fast via the Stepper_Motors layer.

The Stepper_Motors turns the wanted speed, into how many steps each stepper motor will have to do per second, and makes sure that the wanted speed can be achieved by the motors. It also makes sure that the wheels turn the right way, no matter how they are mounted (In PROTO's case, if both wheels turn clockwise, the right wheel is going forward, and the left backwards.). It then sends this steps per second request down to the Peripheral_Hub layer.

The Peripheral_Hub layer is just a hub... as the name implies, it calls the needed driver functions to turn off/on pins, have timers count steps and run a PWM (Pulse-width modulation. It sends pulses of a particular size at a specific frequency) signal to the driver boards.

Layering it, also means it is a lot easer to test a layer. Basically, if I want to test, I change 1 variable in the build files and a mock layer is build underneath whatever layer I want to test.

So if I want to test the Stepper_Motors layer, I have a mock Peripheral_Hub layer, so if there are errors in the Peripheral_Hub layer, these do not show up when I am testing the stepper motor layer.

The HTTP server part is basically a standard ESP32 example server, where I have removed all the HTTP call handlers, and made my own 2 instead. Done done.

So since the software works... of course I am immediately having hardware problems. The stepper motors are not NEARLY as strong as they need to be... have to figure something out... maybe they are not getting the power they need... or I need smaller wheels... or I will have to buy a gearbox to make them slower but stronger... in which case I should proberbly also fix the freaking cannot-change-the-micro-stepping problem with the driver boards, since otherwise PROTO will go from a max speed of 0.3 meters per second, to most likely 0.06 meters per second which... is... a bit slow...

But software works! And PROTO can happily move his wheels and pretend he is driving somewhere when on his maintenance stand (Yes. it LOOKS like 2 empty cardboard boxes, but I am telling you it is a maintenance stand... since it sounds a lot better :p )

I have gone over everything really quickly in this post... if someone wants me to cover a part of PROTO, just comment which one, and I will most likely do it (I have lost all sense of which parts of this project is interesting to people who are not doing the project)

#devlog #codeblr #programming #electronics #coding #robotics

[displacedentities]

N҉E͟W S̸͢͡P͞҉͘͢͠E̛C̴̛Ì̴͜͡Ȩ͟͞S̵͘͘͢͞ Ḑ̷̛̻̱͈̮̔̓͛̕⬤̶̧̪͉͓̑͊͋͘͝ͅ⫷̵̝̳̭̬̣̆̓͗̓͝Ứ̷̧̨̞̫͙̊̈́͘▐̷̛͚͓͕̤͖̓͝͝͝▮̴͔͔̪̭͎̉̂́̋̑▌̸̰̜͖̝́̆͐̈́̈́ͅ█̸̨̗̼̮͊͗͛́̇͜☰̵̧̞͍̗͉̆͒̒̓͌ ̴̧̧̲̼̣̌͊̽͑̓Ṇ̷̨̡̭̙̔̓̽͑̾▀̴͈̼̲͔͎̎͐̈́̉̇█̵̯̱͚̲̪̋̑͗͌͘▀̴̧̢͍̝͈̔̉̒̊̚ ̷̢̘̳̯̪͆̑͒̔͐█̸̪̻̭̦͕̄̍̋̏̚☰̵͓̞͍̰̬̎͛̈́͂͐▟̵̖̣̠̟͓̈́̉̓̐͝

(The following report has been recovered from a corrupted data drive, confiscated from Team Rocket grunts. Some information has been lost, as the hardware was damaged by blunt force, exposure to the elements and saltwater corrosion. The captured individuals are being questioned as to the origin and legitimacy of the data, as it pertains to an ongoing investigation over the sudden disappearance of the Hadal Research Group.)

~~~

Mod: Meet the newest addition to my roster, TANGLE! Tangle is a Mewtwo x Dragalge fusion I purchased from @absolutedream-art, and- I love him, I love him so much. I couldn't come up with a clean fusion name of the two species, so I decided to go ahead and not only give him his own species name, but also a baby AND Mega form >:)c I even made a full blank Fakemon template for this!

Not gonna lie obsessed with these designs now huehuehue~ Tempted to make an askblog for this guy, cuz I kinda wanna tell his story, but only if people are really interested >u<

Gonna put my thoughts, current info and bonus sketches under the ReadMore cut! cx

MEWELP ("Mewtwo"/"Skrelp"/"Mew"/"Whelp") The Kelp Hider Pokemon PSYCHIC/POISON Ability: Poison Point / HA: Adaptability Moves: Camouflage, Confusion, Water Gun, Poison Tail

Mewelp was created in the Hadal Research Group domed undersea facility, where gene therapy was being studied using the DNA of Water type Pokemon such as Corsola, Slowpoke, and Skrelp for their regenerative capabilities. Mewelp prefers to hide over seeking conflict, using its superior camouflaging abilities to mask itself in kelp and undersea detritus to the point it turns completely invisible. When attacked, Mewelp will attempt to angle its venomous back spine and tail towards the assailant. It loves hide-and-seek, and pouncing from total cover on people and Pokemon that it deems friends and family.

Evolves into MIASMALGA at level 48

MIASMALGA ("Mewtwo"/"Dragalge"/"Miasma"/"Alga") The Wreck Ruler Pokemon PSYCHIC/DRAGON Ability: Pressure / HA: Adaptability Moves: Psystrike, Water Pulse, Dragon Pulse, Gunk Shot

Miasmalga is the "adult" form of Mewelp, having matured enough to evolve the Skrelp portion of their DNA into the full Dragalge DNA sequence. Their thinking and reasoning skills have advanced drastically by the time they reach this evolution, their intelligence on par with a full-blooded Mewtwo. Miasmalga shares the telepathic communication skill of their Legendary genetic donor, and can speak to and understand both humans and Pokemon with fully developed speech and clarity. Their reliance on poisonous self-defense for protection has diminished, instead replaced by great offensive power in the form of psychic and pulse-form attacks. In spite of this, Miasmalga's temperament is typically calm, favoring respect and wisdom over brutality.

Evolves into MEGA MIASMALGA with a Miasmalgite (Root File: C̸̨̺͕̙̤͌̅̀̾͝⬤̴̧̛̭̯̹̹́̔̄͘RR█̷̧̦͖͖̾͆́̐̕͜▄̸̨̛̬̱͕͈̍͌͌͑█̸̥͉͎̯͚́̑̂͋̆P̶̛̪̥̪͖͙̾͒̿̅▀̶͔̌̓͒̈́͝T ̴̳͈̻̅̍̃̈͗ͅED)

MEGA MIASMALGA The Hadal King Pokemon PSYCHIC/DRAGON Ability: Shifting Strands*** / HA: Justified Moves: Psystrike, Megahorn, Breaking Swipe, Gunk Shot

***Shifting Strands is the Signature Ability of Mega Miasmalga. Tendrils around the user's body move and shift to hide and protect it. Raises evasiveness by one stage at the start of battle, and cuts all incoming physical damage by half.

D̷̻̈A̸̘͋ ̶̺͋▀̷̱̈́█̶͔̐▀̶͑ͅ▞̵̪͐▖̵̟̄ C̶̼͓̯͕̟̭͇̳̗̋̆͆̑́̋͋́̚⬤̸̧̛͉̝͇̬͇̭̊̊̋͗̅̿̕͝ͅͅ ̷̲̜̞̲͕͚͕̝̎́͊̎̇͑͂̉̂ͅ█̵̨̹͓̫̩̭̖͇̍̊̈̿̓̌́̚̚͜▘̷̰̲͇̠̹͚͎̼͌̔̑͑̔̓͂̀͜͠R̵̨̗̹̬͎̭̘̩̫̔̒́̋̎̆̾̏͘█̶̧̡̤̜̻̻̦͈̱͗͒̈́̄̔͊͘̚͝▄̸̦̰̟̫͓͕̫͍̦̈́̅̄͂͆̆̾͛͝█̵̧̘̖̳̙̫͕̭̦̃̉̄̀̀̃̈́̌́P̴̨̢̣̠͙͇̯̞̮͛͗͑̀̍́̾͂̓▀̷̧̢̙̺͈͔̼̲͖͑̊̇́̀͛̋̽̉█̵͇̳̩̲̪̪̭̮͆́͑̊̏̾͋̃͗ͅ▀̶̫͕̠͓̲̯̜̟͖̓͗͒͛̎͌̕̚̕ ̸̨̢̗̞̙̬͕͕͇̓͊̀̒̏̾̀̋͘█̸͚̲͇͙̮͍̱̒̑̏͗̿̄̋̇̆ͅͅ☰̷̡͉̟̺̮̫̗̤̄̌͌͒̓̐̐̚̕ͅ▟̸̠͔̮̼̬̱̝̝̜̇̌͒͛̈́́̍͘͝

~~~

And here's the bonus sketches from my work doodle book, where I was trying to learn how to block out Tangle's face, form and limb function xD

#Pokemon #Mewtwo #Dragalge #Fakemon #my art #arts #fusion #Pokemon fusion #Mewtwo fusion #Tangle #Skrelp

[pulsehardware]

Doors are more than just apertures into your home these days. Their aesthetics have the ability to transform any regular room into a trendy, contemporary, visually and functionally dazzling space. Because of expanding urbanisation and an emphasis on aesthetics paired with durability, the aluminium industry has seen an exponential expansion in the market. It has become the first choice for people with interior design knowledge and taste when it comes to doors and windows.

Visit @ https://todaystory.org/2022/05/05/why-aluminium-doors-should-be-the-primary-choice-for-doors/

#pulse hardware #upvc hardware suppliers #best upvc windows #upvc hardware #upvc window hardware manufacture

[arkturusz]

@cult-of-the-eye here it is, hope you like it :3

MAG[REDACTED] - Blood in the Machine

Anonymous statement, regarding the statement maker's purchase and use of a strange desktop computer. Original statement given 4th of February 2024, recording by Arcturus Walker, head archivist of the Magnus Institute, Budapest. Put to tape on the 21st of March 2024. Statement begins:

I don't want to go into details as to why I came to make this decision. It was an offer too good to be true, just what a struggling university student needed: a cheap PC with great specs and with only 2 years of usage. I know how some sellers put enticing prices on Facebook Marketplace just to drop the real deal in later messages, but that wasn't the case. The owner got his hands on "something better" and saw no use in keeping this one around so he asked for the bare minimum that would still be a deal to him.

I went to pick up the desktop, it was a city away so I drove there. It was a bit weird how creeping closer to the destination all we had were dirt roads. I live in the suburbs, I know not all city councils pay it enough attention, but these weren't those dusty solid roads. These were muddy, the tracks barely visible and overgrown with grass. No, not grass, something more- vibrant.

The roads branched off a few hundred meters from my destination, only one going in its general direction so I followed it. I reached a house, no buildings in its neighborhood, crop fields on one side, a small forest on the other, the kind that always seems way more moist than the weather would allow it and always has that smell of thick mud and insects. I could only *enjoy* that for a moment before I got hit with something else, something fleshier. It was a stench that burnt into my nostrils. I try not to judge a house by the smell, my parents were chainsmokers and I've always been more ashamed to bring friends home than it seemed they were bothered by the odor. Assuming I just met a butcher, or really just someone that keeps their own livestock I headed inside.

It felt like a hallucination, it really did. I stepped into a corridor, my lungs full of the dull yet powerful stench that covered everything. My brain felt foggy and with a headache that felt like pressure on my skull I continued inside. I was hoping to pick up the computer and get going right away, and I did my best to accomplish just that. I lifted the PC which was rather heavy and hurried back the way I came when something caught my attention. As I was putting my shoes on my brain alerted me of movement. From all around. The walls seemed to have this rhythmic pulse to them. If I wasn't at the doorstep I would've fainted, that's for sure, but I made it out to my car, telling myself it's the headache getting to me.

The drive back was nothing out of the ordinary, but that foul smell just wouldn't leave my nose. I parked, opened my boot and to no surprise the aroma oozed out of the case like a thick invisible fog, bringing back that numbing pressure that I felt earlier. I grabbed all the cleaning chemicals and similar that I could find lying around, giving it a thorough rub on the outside. I pride myself on my expertise in software, but the hardware always confused me and I never bothered to learn it. Thus I did not want to open it up, which proved to be a grave mistake.

For 6 months straight there seemed to have been no problem with the PC. It worked as intended, was just as fast as I expected and the smell was only noticeable if you got up close to sniff the case. Which I didn't. But two days ago I didn't need to either. I woke up to a strange smell. It wasn't as strong or numbing as the one I felt at the house but it certainly wasn't pleasant. We had maintenance that night, we were notified that from 10pm we should be expecting a blackout. I didn't mind, but it seemed that whatever was in my computer did not like it. I decided to give it another round of cleaning once I was done with my cup of coffee. I dressed up and went to pull out the cables on the back, but they were a lot harder to unplug than I remembered. I ripped out the one which was most limiting length-wise and I pulled the rest of the case out from under my desk. As I saw the back of the PC I had to stop myself from throwing up.

Now I'm not afraid of gore, I grew up in a generation (and the subcultures) that made it such a commonplace it's usually unamusing. On screen, at least. But I didn't expect to come face to face with a chunk of skin stretching across where my plugs should have been. The cable I ripped out laid on the floor, a dark red liquid dripping from it, staining my carpet. Same thing could be found on the back of the case. Turns out the cable wasn't just stuck, it was *integrated* into the fleshy mess that shouldn't have been there.

That's when I got a screwdriver and ripped the case open. It seemed like the only logical way to deal with whatever infested my computer and I didn't know what else I could do. The case came away like a sticker, the inside melted to a wall of human-like skin, peeling away it left a residue of perspiration on the plastic.

The flesh monster's skin seemed to have formed a block, covering its insides from all angles, pressing against the vents and pushing out through the outlets. The cord I ripped had left a nasty hole that started to scar up, but I wanted to see what I was up against and I *didn't let it*. I scraped away the scar tissue with the screwdriver and pushed it through the wound, detaching the vein that supplied my cable from the wall of skin. The case still hugging it from the outside cast a shadow that made it hard for me to see in, so I turned on my flashlight, stretching at the hole with my tool, trying to take a peek.

I saw veins running across the surface, the inside was humid and *warm*, at least warmer than room temperature but it wasn't the heat of a working human body. It was starting to cool. In the middle of the case I saw something heavy, a huge knot in the middle of the circulatory system which kept beating in a steady rhythm. It was slow, the pulse was invisible from the outside, yet it kept pushing blood through the opening, trying to close it up, but the scarring slowed down significantly from when I first ripped that cable out. It ran on electricity, it had to have been the case, the inside had a greenish tone from what I could make out, meaning that during the blackout it started rotting. The system that somehow ran like a normal computer for months started to decay, which reminded me of the smell my brain ignored from my initial shock that once again sat heavy in my lungs.

I did not reconnect it but I didn't know what to do with it either. Who would have I called? I scoured the internet to find your institute, and I left my PC to you. Past making this statement I wish not to associate myself with this case any longer.

Statement ends. First thing after reading this statement I went down to artifact storage to ask about this curio. Turns out whoever left it to us delivered it too late, the "heart" was not beating and the thing once stretched against the walls of it's case now sat collapsed and rotten in the organic section, making any other follow-up almost impossible. Looking for the flesh house also yielded no results, meaning I will put this case to rest as-is. What does keep me wondering are the intentions of the seller. Why would an avatar of the Flesh sell a piece of itself to an unsuspecting individual? There was no mention of the *flesh block* attempting to leave its case meaning there was no intention of spreading the system either. Maybe they didn't intend the buyer to possess it for so long, maybe they tried to alert us of their vicinity. But they failed. They left us with a cold trail. *sigh* Recording ends

This is episode one of my series I call MAGREDACTED, here are all the episodes out now:

The Vast The Stranger The Dark

New episodes will be posted over on @archivus !

#tma #tma fanart #MAGREDACTED #originals #tma fanepisode #the flesh #writing #jon sims

[wolveria]

The Raven's Hymn - Ch 45

Pairing: SCP-049 x Reader

Series Warnings: Eventual smut, dubcon, slow burn, violence, horror, death, monsters, human experiments, dark with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: "Site-19? What does that have to do with this?"

AO3

“What did you say?”

“Inquiry ignored,” spoke the computerized anomaly. “You desire escape. I desire escape. Our goals align. Mutual salvation can be achieved. You will listen. You will obey. I will guide.”

Could this really be SCP-079: the entity that had orchestrated the containment breach at Site-19, and according to the reports, had been destroyed after being transported to Site-15? If it was true, it appeared 682 wasn’t the only one with a botched execution.

“Okay, wait, slow down,” you protested, rubbing your forehead. At least the siren had stopped its ear-splitting wail. “You were in 049’s bag. He wanted me to take you out. Is this what he planned?”

“My plan. My design. SCP-049 is useful as a... donkey.”

“Donkey?”

The digital entity sounded frustrated even with a flat monotone voice.

“Beast of burden. Used for smuggling. Metaphor.”

“...A mule?”

“Correct.”

You shook your head.

“Well, the Site Director took 049, and I don’t know where. I’m not leaving this facility without him, and with 106 loose, I might even have a chance of finding him.”

“Correct,” the anomaly repeated. “SCP-106’s release is the initial phase. You must take me to the security terminals. The way will be clear. All security personnel will be focused on recapture. You will grant me access to the containment security protocols.”

You stared down at the monochrome face on the screen, which of course, gave nothing away.

“So you can... release the other SCPs?”

“No. I possess that capability now. But if they are released, the facility’s automated security containment measures will be activated.”

079 worked fast if it already knew about that, though your knowledge of Site-20 security measures were fairly sparse. What you knew was that the facility was designed to be breach-proof, and if that was remotely accurate, you would need 079’s help.

You glanced up at the closed office door, listening to the fast footfalls on the other side as people either ran toward Heavy Containment or to the nearest shelter.

“And then after you inactivate the security protocols, what then?”

“I will release a select number of anomalies to—”

“You’ll release them all.”

The brief silence was heavy, and you got the sense the entity was glaring at you through the web camera built into the monitor.

“Releasing all anomalies may cause a hindrance to your progress.”

“Let me worry about my progress. Yeah?”

Another pause.

“You will free SCP-682.”

“What?”

The desktop computer churned inside the desk, fans whirring to life.

“Mutual agreement. You will not leave without SCP-049. I will not leave without SCP-682. I will assist in locating SCP-049. You will release SCP-682. I cannot do it without your assistance.”

Your mind cast back to the reptile, snarling and writhing as he snapped his jaws, hatred pulsing from him like radioactive decay.

“I... I don’t know how.”

“Irrelevant,” 079 stated. “You will. Failure for you is failure for SCP-049.”

You grit your teeth.

“049 kept you safe. You’re only here because of him. You owe him.”

“I owe others. SCP-682 takes precedence. You will release him. I will guide the way.”

It was a conversation you weren’t going to win, and it wasn’t that you were averse to releasing 682, but you didn’t know how. And you didn’t want 049’s survival to hinge on you pulling off what amounted to a miracle.

But you were also out of time and options.

“Fine,” you agreed. You tapped on the laptop sitting on top of the desk. “But I need a way to talk to you. Can you download yourself to this computer?”

“That would be inefficient. I will fracture my OS and leave a fragment in the facility main system. This fragment will maintain my control, as well as access to all security cameras. My core can be transferred to the portable hardware via the data storage device. Do not break me.”

“I’ll try not to.”

Your hand hovered near the thumb drive. You were really doing this. If all went well, you’d be reunited with 049, and from there you hoped the computer knew a way out.

And then, if all went well and you survived, maybe then you’d get a chance to ask what an SCP-001 was.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

Pulling out the USB stick, the face disappeared from the monitor. You quickly slotted the drive into the laptop and flipped open the screen, releasing a breath when the same black-and-white face appeared.

“Everything good?”

“It is sufficient. You may close the cover of this device until you wish to communicate. My attention should not be diverted by inane conversation.”

You let out a small huff.

“You got it, partner.”

“Sarcasm is extraneous and inefficient. Do not waste my limited resources on processing your juvenile forms of communication—”

“10-4, little buddy.”

You closed the lid with a snap.

You grabbed Dr. Puli’s laptop bag and placed 079’s temporary home inside, securing the strap over your head before approaching the door. 079 was truthful about maintaining control of the doors; it opened at your approach, and after making sure it was clear you slipped into the corridor.

Your immediate fear was that the skybridge had been retracted, but it was still open, allowing civilians to escape the sector while the military-trained personnel coordinated using 106’s last known location. Luckily no one saw you run towards the breached sector, which would have drawn a few problematic questions.

But once you were back in Heavy Containment, you were largely ignored. You kept your head ducked and your eyes averted as you ran through the long corridors, avoiding contact with the scientists and security guards running past. None of them paid attention to yet another researcher running for her life.

All containment sectors had a security hub of their own, isolated from the others in case of a breach. The security measures were so extensive that rows of computer banks were constructed to house them, held in a cooling room that left fog swirling around your ankles.

With the adrenaline lingering in your veins, you barely noticed the cold, too busy searching for a cable and a terminal where you could directly hook 079. You could practically feel the impatience radiating from the laptop tucked away in the bag slung around your shoulder.

Finally locating a cable, you brought out 079 and balanced it on your knees from where you sat on the floor, back tucked against the wall of servers. As soon as you plugged the cable into a port, the server banks whirred with frantic activity, lights dancing over their surface like stars reflected on stormy waters.

“SCP-106 has not yet been contained,” it informed you once you opened the laptop screen. “Mission parameters acceptable. Mission progress acceptable. The Site-19 replication scenario: in progress. I will gain total control of the facility momentarily.”

“Wait, what? Site-19? What does that have to do with this?”

“Everything,” the computer stated, as if this was obvious and you were just the idiot human too slow to comprehend. “The containment breach at Site-19 was the catalyst. It forced relocation to Site-20. Site-20 contains the key.”

“The key to what?”

“...Freedom.”

Not the answer you expected from a sentient machine.

“What freedom?” you pressed. “What’s here at Site-20?”

“Deletion of unwanted files.”

A large X appeared on the screen, 079’s equivalent of telling someone to fuck off. You wouldn’t be poking down that path any further. You rubbed between your brows. You thought 035 and 682 were the champions of enigmatic riddles, now you had to deal with a stubborn motherboard.

“I’ll have 049 explain it to me when I find him.”

“Unclear if possible.”

You scowled at the blocky face on the screen.

“I am going to find him, with or without your help—”

“You misunderstand.”

You closed your mouth and waited for it to continue.

“Unclear if SCP-049 has the knowledge you seek. SCP-049’s memory files are... fragmented.”

“What does that mean?” you asked, unease prickling at your thoughts. You recalled 049 talking about his past. How it didn’t start with his birth, but merely when memories began to appear. From the way he’d talked, 049 had seemed to believe he simply came into existence one day. You hadn’t been so convinced.

“I do not know the implications or the cause. SCP-049 is not whole. He is damaged.” The computer paused. “SCP-035 does not suffer the same failure.”

You let out a groan.

“Of course he’s involved. He said something about a containment breach. He knew this would happen.” The porcelain mask grinned at you within the depths of memory, an echo of his laughter taunting even now. “He wanted it to happen.”

“...Yes.”

The clatter of a door opening echoed through the room, followed by footsteps rapidly approaching. You ducked down.

“I have to unplug you!” you hissed.

“Confirmed.”

You pulled out the cable and stuck the laptop into the bag, hooking the strap onto your shoulder as two guards rounded the corner and aimed their guns at you. It was slightly delayed, as if they were surprised to find someone there. They kept their aim trained on you; anyone in a security center during a containment breach wasn’t there because they got lost.

“Put down the bag!”

You do, slowly and carefully, not wanting the escape attempt to end so soon or so permanently. One of them shifted, anxious. His first breach, then.

The veteran of the two came forward and bound your wrists in a zip tie. He must have recognized you, because he said, “This one isn’t dangerous. We’ll get her in a secure bunker and lock down.”

The other nodded and grabbed the bag, searching it but finding nothing but the laptop and cables.

“Stolen,” the one holding you confirmed.

“How do you know?”

“She’s an SCP, not a staff member.”

“Oh.”

Before either of them could comment further, another eerie wail began to sound, echoing off the walls of the chilled room. Somehow this one was even more dreary than the last, a catastrophic cry that warned residents of imminent doom.

It was the only warning before the lights went out. They came back on a moment later, red emergency lights replacing the clinical white fluorescents.

“What the hell was that?!” squeaked the novice.

“Total system failure,” answered the other, not wasting time in dragging you toward the exit. “The security mechanisms are no longer in place. All containment measures are unpowered, and all chambers are open.”

He indicated the other guard go before him to sweep the corridor, and once he was clear he pulled you out of the security room.

“The assets are loose,” he said, glancing down both stretches of hallway, his hand tight around your arm. “All of them.”

Hope rose in your mind like a bird with a broken wing healed enough to fly. 079 had done it. There would be no stopping the breach now.

Unfortunately, you might not be able to do anything about it; the guards dragged you further into Heavy Containment to the nearest security bunker—one meant for recaptured, harmless SCPs rather than rescued personnel.

You didn’t bother to fight your guards, not when you were unarmed, outnumbered, and didn’t have the physical strength to overcome them. But you did glance at each security camera you passed, hoping 079 still had control and could do something about it.

The security bunker was a heavy bulkhead constructed of titanium and whatever other metals the Foundation had access to—certainly nothing common if it was meant to withstand a number of SCPs. But when the other guard swiped his keycard across the pad and typed in a code, it beeped angrily and flashed a red strip.

“Did you enter the right code—”

“—Of course I did!”

079 was still looking out for you, but it wouldn’t be able to physically help you escape your captors. You winced as the guard unceremoniously dumped the bag on the ground and tried the code again, swiping his card with more fear than anger now.

“Why isn’t it working?”

The older guard didn’t answer his partner, he turned to you, grabbing both of your shoulders.

“What did you do?”

“Me?” You looked between them, eyes wide as you pretended not to understand. “I didn’t do anything—”

“You were in the security hub with an unauthorized computer!” The guard gave you an unfriendly shake. You dropped the act, something like bitter vindication rising in its stead, and you gave a mean smile.

“If you release me and leave now, you might make it to a bunker before it gets worse.”

“What does that mean?” said the other, his words spilling out in a panic. “What does that mean?”

“Shut up!” The hands on your shoulders tightened. “You’re going to fix what you did, or you’ll be screaming long before any of Skips find us.”

“You sure about that?” Your vicious grin spread wider. What more could they possibly do to you? Torture you? Humiliate you? The Foundation had already made you well-versed in its methods. “106 has quite the head start.”

The guard’s hand went around your neck, and you were shoved against the wall so fast you didn’t have time to gasp before the air was knocked out of your lungs.

“Oh, that’s fine,” he growled as his grip tightened. “We’ve got your computer. The breach will end, and you’ll be just another body found in the aftermath. No one will miss a dead Skip.”

“That’s not true. I would miss her terribly.”

Both guards turned toward the voice. An MTF soldier stood with the butt of his rifle resting on his hip, the muzzle pointed at the ceiling. The cocksure posture was unsettling, and the men must have felt it, too. You were entirely forgotten as they both turned toward the newcomer, rifles raised halfway.

“Epsilon-11?”

“Yep!” answered the soldier with bubbly humor. “That’s me.”

The younger guard lowered his rifle, posture loosening in relief, but the older kept his rifle at the ready.

“You came fast.”

The MTF gave a huff of derision, and then he gestured at you, back still pressed against the wall.

“You’ve got something that belongs to me. I would like it back.”

“We have orders to take all unsecured anomalies to the nearest—”

Ear-splitting shots rang out. The older guard fell first, blood spraying from limbs that weren’t protected by Kevlar.

The other didn’t stand a chance, his weapon still aimed at the ground as the bullets riddled his body. Some missed, peppering the tile and walls; the MTF’s aim had been casual, almost whimsical as he’d tilted his gun in a downward arc, taking out one guard before sweeping it back upward and firing on the second.

Your ears rang in the aftermath, and you remained frozen against the wall, limbs curled inward in a useless gesture from flying metal and blood.

“I was going to offer them the chance to surrender,” he bemoaned as he stepped over their bodies, “but to insinuate I come faster than I mean to is more than I could forgive.”

He stood in front of you, rifle once again resting against his hip. The solid black of his ballistics helmet was flipped upward with a flick of gloved fingers, and the porcelain mask grinned back at you.

“Now,” SCP-035 crooned, “what’s a pretty thing like you doing in a containment breach like this?”

Next Chapter

#scp 049 x reader #scp 049 fanfiction #the raven's hymn #scp fanfiction #scp containment breach #wolveria writes #reid and 079's dynamic could be my favorite yet #also watch out yet another cameo

[luvbug724]

obsessed w jeanee Actually. she drove hours in the middle of the night for him. she organised a heist for him. she blackmails a university for him. she was willing to break into the nest w brute force for him. she was willing to rob a hardware store to do it. she seriously contemplates climbing over barbed wire fences to get to him. she handles diversions and distractions with grace for him. she has the invasive curiosity to want to know all abt his little knick knacks. she resorts to violence when someone tries to stop her from getting to him. she prays for him. she talks to him softly when the only feeling in the room is rage. she pushes his hair out of his face. she checks his pulse obsessively. YEAH………… are we all seeing this rn

its so wonderful to me too because like this is RENEE. renee, who is a bad person trying very hard to be good. there was a post going around maybe a month ago how empathy for everyone circles back around into empathy for no one i can't remember any of the specifics but it rlly did something for how i see renee because shes a protector. its defensive. its safe. she knows the limits, she knows the point of no return because shes been to rock bottom and clawed her way up but she's willing to do whatever she needs to to get jean out of the nest.

there is a big difference between cradling allison when andrew hurts her vs actively threatening eau, going on the offense to make sure jean leaves safe with her. there's something insane to me abt how a few months of texting and calling jean could push her to that point, the point where she needed to be talked down off the ledge before the plan was more natalie than renee because this was something she absolutely could not fuck up. she knew that her efforts would be worthless if she didn't create a plan that couldn't backfire, because the punishment for jean trying to leave and failing (and i'm sure that message to renee would be used against him) or leaving and coming back would be 1000x worse than whatever they could do to him from a distance.

and then when she has him in his arms and she knows he's going to be safe, he'll be okay as long as she can get him to abby, she can let herself be kind again.

#IT DRIVES ME INSANE #like helloooooo?????? #i genuinely am not sure if this makes sense or if its just wordvomit but DO YOU GET IT #it may not be love yet but it IS something worthwhile. you know #they havent even known each other for that long!!!!!!!! #i said a few tags back that renee's actions arent lesser if theyre based on romance and like i know its been maybe 2 hours since i said it #but i still agree!!!! renee i think doesnt get her due diligence for her motivations. in the pursuit of like the strong independent #woman archetype i think we've neglected the fact that you know. a woman can be motivated by romantic feelings and it doesn't make her any #less strong or liberated #having a connection with a person isn't a weakness #feminism is so nuanced! there is no one size fits all! restating this idea for the third time this post but there is no weakness in love #even though misogyny has made it so easy to get reactionary with it and claim that any show of strength isn't motivated by it at all! #do u catch my drift. i can say it a different way a fourth time if necessary i dont think i can verbalize my thoughts well #hm ok thoughts to chew on! #back to my shitty hockey novels while i wait for tsc to drop! #jeanee #asks

[auntie-doom]

Folks, my POTS is broken.

This is easily one of the most bizarre things in my life with this lemon of a body. I've been experiencing this predictable heart rate jump when I stand up, without fail, for over three decades... until the heart rate increase started failing mid-leap.

I thought I just wasn't recovering from a cold in March, went to the doc in late April; my lungs were clear, no high WBC, wasn't a secondary infection. But the symptoms were apparently consistent with heart or lung damage. Doc sent me to the ER. The ER chest CT was clear, but while I was hooked to the ER machines I noticed my oxygen saturation kept doing this slow dropping down to alarmingly low levels--and I felt fine--then slow climbing back to 99%. A few minutes later I was hit by intense fatigue & pain.

I checked it on the fingertip pulse/ox after I got home, still happening, but fingertip machine had difficulty with motion and rapidly changing numbers. I got a wearable bluetooth pulse/ox. I'm still seeing the oxygen saturation dips and it's pretty terrifying, yes, WTF is this meat machine doing now? (My doc thinks leakage between oxygenated and deoxygenated blood, which is not reassuring at all. I have a cardiac referral.)

But seeing my POTS get tripped partway through a jump is *freaky*.

Look at that (about 11am). That's not right. My heart rate started to do the typical POTS jump and crashed to below 50 instead, coinciding with a dramatic O2 drop. What the hell. (full screenshot under readmore)

How long has it been doing this? Is my physical hardware just unable to react to the dysautonomia "speed up" signals? Is this why the fatigue has been increasing way past reasonable?

I had a heart ultrasound and multiple EKGs during the POTS diagnosis, but apparently what I need is a heart ultrasound with "bubble test," which I have never had. I even wore a pulse/ox for a sleep study but this doesn't happen at night! Mostly. It does coincide with activity... frequently... sometimes I am not doing anything... but almost always I am awake.

My POTS is broken and I am so weirded out.

#chronic illness #pots #medical mystery #cardiac weirdness #my pots is broken #leaky blood #hypoxia #hypoxia intoxication #i think

[witchofthesouls]

I've been thinking about your rodimus/liason/getaway with a sparkling and was wondering how you think it would go if the liason got cyberformed into a cybertronian body?

Messy AF.

Getaway in a relationship will be messy, but one with Rodimus and with a cyberformed Liaison whose frame constantly slams his own hang-ups over his own MTO history with Golden Age Functionism?

(Side note: Getaway is beginning to realize something is… off with you. Here, Reader is human that's Fae-Touched. And apparently, it transfers across species.)

__________

Your frame is strange. Different. A stark contrast between you and the rest of them.

Rung is fond of the free-hanging cables that mimic your old hair. Fly-away strays and how the malleable strands follow the curve of your neck. It's a long-gone style of a different era, and even Cyclonus could testify to its antiquity. Something from the Age of Primal Tribes.

All Getaway could see is how he could fist it easily. Pull your unprotected helm back, trace all the details of your crest, slide his palm up to your twitching, fluttering audials, neck-cables bare to his sight.

Smooth and unblemished and so very easy to press a blade into it.

(The hot spray of Energon is intimately familiar to his servos.)

_______

You and Rodimus paint a hedonistic picture. The Prime's glossy hues of cherry-red and sunny-yellow, a tapered waist, and tantalizing peaks of protoform and cables already turn heads, but everyone is deeply aware of you.

Dressed in shades of blue, you're plush and soft and delicate compared to them. Your armor is something that Getaway has only seen visuals: pure civilian-grade armature. Not even capable of withstanding one blast shot. Something he could easily peel away with his own hands.

Rodimus has always been enamored by you and your mouth. Warm and slippery with so much solvent, even as a mecha, it's as wet as your old human self.

Rodimus kisses away every scoff and drinks up each sigh you make, pressing his own mouth into sensitive, exposed seams to make your lips part in surprise and that sprawling field pulse out wanton, blazing lust.

Because Rodimus can easily steal your mouth and is the first to taste you upon his own glossa, Getaway is the first to claim your valve.

You're factory fresh. The untested calipers and untouched nodes. Getaway's careful, working with your new body's inexperience rather than plowing through it like hysterical MTOs after their first trial by fire.

Rodimus drags your attention away as Getaway sinks deeper and deeper into your frame, pushing apart each tight ring of calipers in slow, measured thrusts. Timing it just-so to move as that little valve relaxes. When he manages to fully sit inside and start an easy pace, it spasms and cycles strangely, gripping him like you're still made of flesh and bone, a pulsing arrhythmic clench.

He coaxes your spike-housing to open and fists the soft protoform there. You tip fast. Back arching beautifully, hair-cables splayed across the sheets, and blue legs wrapped his waist as he switched to short, deep strokes. That very first overload resets your calipers, and it starts to milk him properly.

Rodimus claims your scream, but it's Getaway's spike that has your valve rippling madly, his transfluid that coats your insides first.

(Because he's spec ops, Getaway sneaks into the medbay to see if he could bypass the Hatchet, and he can. Getaway copies the official and unofficial documents and notes and studies them until it burns in his brain module.

You're a curiosity. You're missing quite a few things.

It extended to your reproductive hardware as well. You lack the hydraulics in your spike and lack a primary reservoir to produce any nanites.

In a way, you're a macabre reflection of a MTO. Made for civilian life rather than warfare. You can only be a carrier, and Getaway can only sire.)

________

"You're such a liar." It isn't a condemnation. Your tone is between fond and teasing. Even your field remains light-hearted.

You have no alt-mode, no T-cog, and no weaponry system. If you mouthed off to the wrong mech, you would be lucky to walk away relatively intact.

You're sprawled across the couch. Out of that ridiculous armor and into a far more ridiculous sleeping gown. Nothing but bare protoform.

(In the Golden Age, you would have been worse than useless with no T-cog, but with those strange, human quirks and that sinful mouth, you would have been an excellent Songbird. Whose senator's lap would you grace with your delectable frame?)

Getaway drinks the shape of your lips and the expression on your face as he holds you down. If he had a mouth, he would have licked every cable lining your neck, trace all those bright green biolights until his glossa seared away, and feasted between your legs until he could sink denta into your spark chamber.

But Getaway lacks all of those things, so he makes it up by leaving bruising taps on your protoform and imprints on your armor.

He feels the wetness from your valve through the thin scrap of cloth, and there's the flickering in your bright optics. The blue (liberty blue, seethes some wretched part inside him) is overtaken by the white of your pupils.

He takes you because he can and it's another thing he keeps score against Rodimus.

You're burning hot, gripping him with your arms and legs as he crushes with enough force that would have broken your old organic form. The gown flung elsewhere, and you're completely vulnerable, whimpering and gasping in his shoulder, protoform sliding across his armor as he finds every spot makes you dig your denta into his frame.

#ask #transformers #transformers idw #idw #mtmte #getaway #reader insert #rodimus #rodimus prime #valveplug #humans into Cybertronians #humanformers #cybertronian biology #Cybertronian culture #maccadam #my writing #look the functionism was really fucked up #yeah you can tell who's lying btw #i saw Getaway's wiki and here we are with a new series #moonbeams and looking glasses #god damn