#Superhuman Creator

[angelyuji]

@creator-freak hello my icon.... this is short and sweet sorry this took me thirty flirty years...

some SFW yandere Caleb from LADS x chubby!mc thoughts

cw // usual yandere behavior, manipulation, implied murder :P, using your insecurities against u which is technically manipulation lol

i don’t think caleb changes much even if ur chubby

i feel like he’s a lot touchier and doting on you

he lovesss how warm and soft you are

constantly has his hands on you not even in a sexual way, but like in a always hugging you or holding you close kinda way

he’ll def use your insecurities to make you depend on him more and trust only him

canonically loves fat bitches TRUST!!! (source: me, a fat bitch)

he gives you food all the time and if you’re ever like “noo ill gain weight” he just pouts and whines until you give in

like i said before, he doesn’t change much, he’s touchier but he would kidnap you and would keep you from everyone else

if you’re ever self-deprecating, he’s immediately kinda angry? like how could you say that you’re literally the most perfect person alive

you’re his everything and you’re talking shit???

if anyone insults you or makes fun of you, they’re getting murked

caleb would sabotage any relationship u were in by telling you that they were calling you awful names or making fun of you to their friends

becuz he’s insane

pretty similar to my regular headcanons

an extra thought abt a general headcanon i have for all the love interests tho: all of them have superhuman strength and abilities. there is no question about them being able to pick you up

they’d all consider it an insult that you would even think that they weren’t able to

bye <3

[urween]

Skittish | Bucky Barnes x ftm!reader | english version

summary: After a long battle and especially hard research, the Avengers finally found the Winter Soldier. To keep everyone safe, they keep him locked in their HQ. In semi-freedom but especially in a trance, Bucky Barnes attracts the attention of the young boy in charge of taking care of him during his stay here.

notes: I prefer to specify it, the temporality is not exactly respected. Let's say that all this takes place just after Captain America: The Winter Soldier.

⚠︎ warnings: mentions of heavy trauma related to the war and the Hydra projects, a form of depressed!Bucky, violence, weapons, incomprehension of transidentity without transphobia, mentions of suicidal thoughts.

English isn't my first language, sorry for the mistakes <3

- 2nd person description

- 5 371 words

french version here

You were the little protégé of the group, he had quickly noticed. Even if Natasha didn't have superpowers or a robotic suit either, she was part of the team. She and Clint were kind of the superhumans of the group, with superhuman abilities but nothing that surpassed Thor's lightning or Hulk's muscles. Then, there was you, a fairly normal little human with no particular specificities. High intelligence, extreme kindness and an adorable smile. But no mastery of martial arts. You knew the basics of fighting, Nat had taught you the main thing. You had ended up understanding Bruce's extravagant chemical formulas, and you understood the most important things Tony said in his intense nerd phases. But once again, you were nothing special, and that made Bucky wonder. Why was a basic human here? What were you doing in the middle of the Avengers? Even though he had missed a few decisive years from a social point of view, he didn't understand.

As he stared from his cell, he saw scenes he didn't know how to interpret. You assisting Tony Stark and Jarvis, you laughing with Bruce Banner, you helping Natasha Romanoff train, you carrying Steve Rogers' shield to him, you sorting Clint Barton's arrows, you redoing Thor's braids.

What were you doing there?

You had cheerfully introduced yourself to him. With a friendly smile on your lips, you had stated your name, first name and pronouns – he hadn't really understood this last point –. You had surely been informed of his situation. Don't be offended, he'll need a little time, someone must have whispered to you. He hadn't answered you, and you hadn't seemed offended. You had then left, and he had remained perplexed. If you already knew everything about him, why come and introduce yourself? You must have read his files, you must have all read his files. Steve had to slip away to get some air, Natasha inspected everything in detail, Bruce muttered "it’s awful". You had to read his files. See his life laid out on a large table, foreign hands going over the medical reports. You had to read with anguish the endless list of victims he had killed during his missions, observe the modifications that had been made to him, the treatments inflicted, the pains endured. You had seen all that. Then, why come see him?

"Let's just say I don't really like you hanging around this guy," Tony's voice had been saying for several minutes, "Jarvis copy this plan for me and make a 3D reconstruction with train stations, airports and all the stuff."

The holograms moved before your eyes, but you hadn't paid attention to them. Back then, the first time you saw this virtual world being modeled in Tony's office, you were like a kid. Stars in your eyes, you asked a thousand questions per second, making the creator of this program smile. But now you knew yourself how most of the "Jarvis" system worked, and you weren't so impressed anymore, or at least you weren't with every move Stark made.

"I don't see what's bothering you," you replied, innocently swinging your legs in the air.

Tony turned around with his ever-so-dramatic gestures, making a vague movement with his hand he tried to make you understand things without having to speak. Unfortunately for him telekinesis was not part of your abilities.

"Okay," he admitted to himself, defeated, "to start with his sophisticated robotic arm that could crush you before you could scream," he mimed disinterestedly, “did you look at him? Unstable and completely high."

A non-hidden smile drew a curve across your lips.

"We're still talking about Bucky Barnes?” you had fun, “because I rather have the impression that you're looking at yourself in a mirror"

You glanced at Jarvis, who was finishing your friend's request. Then, your attention went back to the billionaire who was visibly desperate to have this discussion with you – you were getting used to it, a demonstration of love coming from Tony –.

"I prefer to cut you off right now," your voice continued, "I forbid you to give me the traditional excuses like he's dangerous or armed or he's a murderer”. You got down from the table where you were sitting and gestured around the room, “look around Tony, only weapons or future weapons,” you got closer to him and pointed at his forehead, “you have the greatest weapon that humanity has ever known in this skull. Natasha and Clint are professional killers, Steve is a traumatized soldier who makes a denial, Thor is an alien with supernatural powers and Bruce is a scientist haunted by a destructive alter-ego”. You pause to admire the still indecipherable facial expression of the man in front of you, “you are all murderers and dangers to Mankind, the only difference between you and Barnes is that you chose to devote your talents to a cause, and he had no choice".

Tony remained motionless for a few long seconds, a whirlwind surely vibrating his neurons. Then, he shrugged his shoulders and quickly bowed his head in defeat.

"You're right," he declared, "I’ve no more arguments and yours are solid”, he turned and went back to Jarvis, “well done kid"

A year ago you would have been perplexed by this reaction, but time had taught you that you had to take Tony Stark with a grain of salt and observe him as you would with a foreign mushroom. All you could remember from this interaction was that you were tired, that you had won against the great megalomaniac Iron Man and above all that you had to talk to Barnes again.

No one had really agreed with Steve on the idea of ​​bringing a Hydra mercenary back to Avengers HQ. It's the equivalent of serving him our secrets on a silver platter, Clint had rightly said. You had been surprised to see Nat defend Barnes, alongside you and Steve – of course –. There was Bruce who couldn't deliver a distinct judgment, then Tony and Clint who were against. Thor having left, you didn't know where in space, the votes had therefore been closed with a majority of for.

You had helped Captain set up a room that was at least habitable in a protective cell, a bit like the one that had sheltered Loki. While the tall blond carried the fold-out bed, you had taken care of a bag of clothes – approximately Barnes' size – and another with water and sweets, this idea had come from you. You found it unfair to call this man a simple murderer, he had been manipulated and controlled. As you put the cereal bars on a small iron table, you tried not to think about the chaos that must be going on in the Winter Soldier's head at the same time. He must have been just as traumatized as his victims, maybe even more so. And finding himself in such a particular environment overnight must have been disturbing. So a chocolate bar and a soda couldn't hurt him.

Thank you, Steve had murmured, for understanding. You had given him a touching smile, holding back the urge to ask him how he felt. He had just found his best friend, who was supposed to have disappeared for several decades, and on top of that, this friend had suffered inhumane treatment for most of his life now. It was obvious that he didn't feel well, that he was helpless in the face of this situation. Bruce had advised you to give him time, and that if he needed it, he would end up talking to one of you. You had listened to his advice, and focused more on Barnes instead.

You had introduced yourself first, starting with a simple acquaintance. You had then made sure to take care of his needs, slipping in a new bottle of fresh water when the previous one was empty, opening his prison only when night fell so that he could go shower without running into a contemptuous Tony or a depressed Steve.

On this subject, rules had been established to guarantee everyone's safety. If Bucky left his cell it was always in the company of one of you – you were the only ones with the passes –, if he asked for something – which he never did – the object had to pass through several control portals before being given to him, and finally no matter where he went, toilets or showers, someone had to watch over him within the limits of privacy. Bruce had offered to take turns, but judging by the faces of the others you had volunteered to ensure most of his outings. Natasha was supposed to replace you when you weren't available, then Tony if neither of you were present. This way you had avoided conflicts but also and above all Steve wouldn't have to go there.

You didn't know him, Bucky, having only seen the videos in his file, and yet every time you went to visit him your stomach knotted. There was no question of fear, since his robotic arm had been censored to the maximum thanks to a Stark gadget, leaving him only the freedom to use it as a normal limb, without super-strength or integrated weapons. He remains a super soldier, Bruce had warned, his physical faculties are superior to Nat's and he has a serum similar to Steve's in his veins. But you weren't afraid. Unfortunately a goat would have made you shiver more than Barnes when you went to see him. He was always on pause. Never spoke, barely moving his gaze from the ground. You had been reassured to see that he ate the bare minimum, and he had even tasted a chocolate bar one day. But aside from these details, it was as if you were seeing the same robot in the same position, day after day. Your stomach knotted for these reasons, because when you brought him clean sheets he had nothing of the man you had seen on video. The rage that haunted his eyes had disappeared, there was only a nameless emptiness left, and you had never seen anything so sad. You didn't feel like you had a hundred-year-old Hydra soldier in front of you, but a broken orphan.

You spent a lot of time rereading his file, his reports, his exams. You tried to understand him through these papers. Steve was lost, he no longer saw Buck in those eyes, and you were trying to understand what he had become, Buck. According to his personal file, he had been found at the age of twenty-six before undergoing Hydra’s experiments. A photo of him, in 1943, was stuck to the paper. A shy smile on his lips, his infantry hat slightly tilted on his head and his uniform without a crease sitting proudly on his chest. A tear had seriously rolled down your cheek, ending its path in a Russian handwriting: Зимний Солдат, in other words Winter Soldier. Bruce had carried out a complete tradition of all the documents, later corrected by Natasha. Maybe rereading these texts was not good for you, but you needed it. You were the only one here who was interested in Barnes. Steve felt so guilty that he was in a kind of denial, Nat was only coldly studying the soldier’s file and let’s not even talk about the others. Bucky needed time, understanding and gentleness to at least not make his after-effects worse. You most certainly had to make mistakes, not being a psychologist by profession, but you were already doing better than your comrades and than Hydra.

"Nice evening, huh?" Your voice echoed in a leaden silence.

The sun had set for over three hours, most of the Avengers were in their rooms or gone outside, which meant that it was the perfect time for Barnes to take a shower. You had gathered your strength and went to the soldier's cell. When you had passed by, about two hours ago, he had not wanted to eat his meal so you had taken it back and heated it up again for later. With the hot dish in one hand, you carefully closed the armored glass door behind you. As you expected, Barnes had hardly moved since your last visit. Still sitting cross-legged in his bed, he seemed vaguely to notice your presence.

"I know you didn't want to eat earlier," you began, putting the meal down next to him, "but I thought that maybe your appetite had returned in the meantime."

Sometimes you were entitled to a small, hoarse "hum" from the back of his throat as a response, but you wondered if it was intentional since his gestures didn't match this slight sign of life. Unfortunately, tonight wasn't part of that "sometimes." No noise, barely a breath. But you didn't get discouraged.

The first few times you came to talk to him, his complete lack of reaction had made you wonder about his possible understanding of your language. Yet you had read that he read and spoke at least two languages, including yours. You might not understand what I'm telling you, you had mumbled while picking up his used clothes. Your biggest interaction with him had been when he had looked you straight in the eye and said in a pleasantly deep voice: I understand.

“Other than that you can-”

You were surprised to see him stand up on his own, studiously heading towards the exit door while waiting for you to open it. You were usually the one who went first to the exit, waiting two or three seconds for him to get up and join you. But this was a nice surprise, maybe it meant that his condition was improving.

Your electromagnetic pass stuck to the dashboard, a small beep sounded before you pushed the heavy door and let Barnes go first. These security questions were mandatory for you to approach the Winter Soldier. Always making him walk in front of you, making your pass inaccessible – hidden in your sleeve most of the time as Bruce had advised you –, a bladed weapon concealed against your ankle in case of trouble, and you weren't supposed to talk to him about yourself or the team. Clint had wanted to add an additional rule: not to speak to him unless necessary, to prevent any risk of manipulation. Did you look at him carefully? Had you imposed yourself in the discussion, he didn't utter any opposition during the whole process to bring him back here, and then remember his mission reports, he wasn't a spy but a mass murderer, he was programmed to speak as little as possible to his victims. Tony had agreed with you on the subject, recalling the case of Loki – once again – who was very different from Barnes.

Stupid rules, you thought as you watched the silhouette of the man in front of you advance in the long corridor. If the others saw him for more than five minutes, they would realize that he was nothing more than a victim in this cell. They all found you a little naive and they appreciated you for that, a ray of hope in the midst of chaos. Yet you were by far the one with the best perception of the others. Each villain had arguments, good or bad, you listened to them all. You reasoned with the team, making them come out of their superhero bubble to show them the possibility of a little levity.

You did not doubt the abilities of Barnes, you wanted to find yourself face to face with him even less than with Nat – and that was already a lot –. You sometimes looked again at the surveillance videos taken the day Natasha and Steve fought him for the first time. He was hypnotizing, in the way all his movements seemed to come together with such fluidity and speed, the way his body thought for him and acted accordingly. You were dizzy from a roll in comparison, so seeing it all was astounding. Of course, there were horrible explanations behind these gifts, just like most people who could reproduce all this, but you still couldn't help but analyze these videos. And then, there in that hallway, you looked at Barnes' back, his arm gleaming, the red star enthroned there, and you wondered what was going on in his mind. What he could do was inhuman, and seeing it in image reinforced that feeling.Then you had to realize that he was a human being, who had once been like you. His way of functioning had to have been completely disrupted, distorted and destroyed. We had to reduce to crumbs what had been to build what was now, that was how it worked. To adapt to a new environment we were always advised to forget everything we thought we knew, all the movies said it. In the same way that flat-earthers were convinced that the Earth was flat, Barnes no longer saw the world the way you did.

As the rules said, you discreetly put your pass in a pants pocket as you reached the bathroom. Simple locks served as security, and it was more than enough. No one except you had ever mentioned the possibility that Bucky was trying to end his life. If he did, the bathroom was the best place, which is why a simple lock would do the trick so that you or someone else could break down the door if necessary. But you avoided thinking too much about this exit, because through the few interactions you had had with him and the thoughts you had about him, you had become truly attached to him.

You opened the shower curtain, under Barnes' intrigued gaze. Each Avengers had a bathroom with the bare minimum in their room, but there were also three larger bathrooms on the second floor. These were the rooms to clean yourself in an emergency when you came back covered in blood, or Bruce went there in the event of a green alert for example. They were more accessible than the bedrooms, which explained this function. But what made Bucky curious was not that. You always gave him room number two, with a basic shower, a sink and a toilet. But there you were in number one, with a bathtub. He quickly detailed the room, slightly larger and apart from the bathtub there was nothing that differentiated it from number 2. As always, you had previously removed all objects that could be used as weapons. The pile of two clean towels overhung by harsh soap and shampoo – to avoid the risk of swallowing or too aggressive eye attacks – and the washcloth, were still carefully placed on the edge of the sink. So why a bathtub?

As if you were reading his mind, you turned around in a fluid movement. You took the time to appreciate Barnes' expressive gaze – it was so rare – before answering his questions.

"I assumed it must have been years since you had a real bath, you tried to avoid the Hydra subject, so I thought it could be a good idea?”

A good number of emotions passed through the blue of his eyes, only accentuating your apprehension about his reaction. No one had been even friendly to him for a long time, which meant that he was going to take a while before properly reacting. But as you had imagined, his gaze scanned the bathtub behind you at breakneck speed in search of a trap. I'm not like them, you thought with a pang of heart.

"I know what you must be telling yourself, but there is no trap Bucky,” his name resonated more than you would have imagined, “it's going to be long but believe me I'm not trying to kill you or hurt you"

A heavy doubt seemed to weigh, and you could only understand. This kind of sentence, he must have heard far too many before ending up electrocuted or worse. To help his process, you moved away and let him fully observe the place. His eyes locked on the shower head longer than expected, and once again, you felt nauseous as you imagined the traumas that must be replaying in his head. In that moment, you thought back to the first time you had led him into a bathroom. He had refused to get into the shower, his jaw clenched to the point that his teeth must have hurt, he had stared at you with a cocktail of indecipherable emotions in his eyes. You had ended up remembering the treatment reserved for Jews in the showers during the Second World War, and you had immediately apologized. Sorry, I should have thought of that, you had said guiltily, if you want you can just wash yourself with the washcloth and the faucet water, no need for the shower head today if you don't trust it. And the situation seemed to be happening again tonight, he was afraid that you would want to get rid of him during his shower, or bath in this case. Unfortunately, techniques have evolved since 39-45, especially since he was in the HQ of the greatest engineer in the United States, which meant that you could have found many methods to kill him while he was washing.

But you had to find a way to reassure him, because you had no intention of executing him quietly, and you wanted to be sincerely nice.

"Maybe if it reassures you I can-,” you hesitated before telling yourself that it was for a good cause, “I can stay with you? There's a curtain anyway"

Faced with his expression that swayed from surprise to doubt, you felt obliged to justify.

"If there's gas or an explosion, I'll die with you, which wouldn't be very appreciated by the team”, you paused slightly to gauge his reaction, “and if there's anything else threatening you can kill me yourself since I'll be right next to you”. You then brandish the door’s key between your two fingers, “on top of that I lock us in and leave the key on the edge of the bathtub, so I don't run away and lock you behind me"

You had the strong impression that in another time, Barnes would have smiled, maybe even laughed. Then, to your surprise, you saw a semblance of amusement in his eyes. An almost invisible veil that lasted only a second, just long enough for a distant version of him to take over the Winter Soldier. You couldn't help your smile, waiting despite everything for a more concrete reaction before reacting in return.

Bucky tried to get a dominant emotion out of the hubbub that was playing in his mind. You were definitely different, and he was beginning to understand why you had your place in the middle of a band of superhumans. And even if someone who spoke like you had the perfect profile to manipulate people at a high level, he risked taking his chance.

"Can I have twenty seconds alone to undress"

The shiver that electrocuted your entire body surely did not go unnoticed. His voice, his tone, gave a more directive than questioning turn to his question, and you only nodded slightly. In turn, you became as silent as him, too disturbed by the outburst of reactions on his part in such a short time. You left the bathroom, pushed the door behind you without closing it, because despite your shock, your unconscious valued your safety.

While you waited for some signal authorizing you to enter the room, you wandered on new thoughts. Barnes had not spoken to anyone from what you had been told. The cameras had recorded that during the fight to neutralize him he had spoken, a few Hydra men were with him so you had assumed that he was giving them orders in Russian. Natasha had been too busy trying not to die to pay attention to what he had said, but in hindsight, you wanted to know what had come out of his mouth that day. Tony liked to say that Russian was one of the least welcoming languages ​​in the world, but strangely hearing it from Bucky made you want to. Maybe it was his growling voice, maybe because Russian had been his “native” language for years. Besides Russian, he spoke other languages ​​according to reports, but then again he hadn’t shown off his skills to anyone but you. Besides, I’m pretty much the only one he’s seen since he arrived, you thought. But he had still had the opportunity when Bruce had come with you to visit him to check a wiring on the dashboard. He could have done it from his cell too, since it was completely transparent and he could see the hallway where many people passed, he could have talked. But he hadn’t, and without knowing why you had the feeling that he only wanted to talk to you.

The sound of water almost made you jump. You muttered a curse – hoping Bucky hadn’t heard – before slowly turning towards the door.

“Can I?” You rather ask to avoid a drama.

By the time he answered, you let your mind wander again. What if he was just naked in the middle of the room? Hydra had conditioned him to lose all sense of ownership, to make even his body no longer belong to him, which he meant was that nudity was no longer taboo and that on the contrary – given to the horrors these people had done – they could very well have forced him to stay naked to humiliate him further.

"Yes," his voice echoed vaguely.

Preparing yourself for the worst, you took a deep breath and kept your eyes high to avoid any eye contact in the wrong place. But as you opened the door you were relieved to see the curtain halfway drawn and Bucky already in the water. A feeling, which at the time you compared to a parent proud of their child, warmed your heart. It may not have been much in the eyes of the world, but you imagined the man's feelings when he plunged a body that had become almost unknown into warm water prepared for him, and him alone. Comfort, surprise, relief. A lot must have been going on in the Winter Soldier's head.

You closed the door behind you, locking the exit as planned. But as you moved closer to place the key next to him, a second wave of heat passed through your body as you realized something. He had only drawn the curtain halfway, thus hiding the lower part of his body but leaving you all the pleasure of seeing from his torso. Once again, in other measures you would not have found the situation moving, but rather comical. Except that this is the Winter Soldier, and all his communication was done without voice. He had left his arms and face visible so that you too could see that he wasn't a threat. In the same way that you had found a solution to his anxiety, he was taking a step towards you, showing you that you had no reason to fear him at the moment.

"Thank you," you murmured.

As if you were afraid of breaking the moment, you settled down without a sound. There was no chair here, but the floor suited you. You crossed your legs while resting your back against the small extension of the wall attached to the bathtub. This way, you stayed close enough to him while respecting a necessary distance to avoid seeing the rest of his naked body.

You forgot to check the time, no longer counting the minutes of observation that the man in front of you gave you before asking questions.

Bucky stayed in the water for a whole hour before it started to cool down. You spent all your time detailing his relaxed face, his eyes closed as if he was going to fall asleep from one second to the next. Then when he opened his eyelids again, he looked at you in turn for a few seconds, before asking you if he could get out of the bath. In his sentence, reality hit you again.

You had a mad desire to tell him that he was free, that he no longer had to take orders. You wanted to show him the world, to make him taste vanilla ice cream, to make him smell incense in churches, the greasy of triple burgers. You had the need to see him buy with his own money, help him get up from his first falls. When he looked at you with his big blue eyes, waiting for your permission to get out of a bath, you wanted to ask him for forgiveness, in the name of humanity. To promise him that no one would come and hit him, to promise this little boy that nothing would happen to him, that he could live a peaceful and happy life with his friends and family. But looking at the raw skin on his left shoulder, looking at the weapon that was implanted in his body, you felt your stomach turn. No one had been there to protect this child from Brooklyn, none of the people who had done this to him had even felt sorry for this man. And today he was sleeping in a cell capable of resisting the strength of the Hulk.

"You can get out of the bath," your voice broke.

He obeyed, rolling the superhuman muscles of his body to straighten up. You barely moved, being too far away in your thoughts to even think of looking away from him. A new blow was dealt to your heart as you realized that yes, he no longer had any notion of possession over his body. Two drops of water fell against your calf as he grabbed the largest towel and wiped his skin without emotion. The rough sound of the fabric made you shiver, and then you slowly stood up. He was taller than you, but neither that nor his robotic arm stopped you from grabbing his wet towel. His body failed to react when you passed the white fabric against his arm, his face was frozen in an expression of total incomprehension, faced with the softness with which the towel came into contact with his skin.

You finished your task, as if he were just a tiny puppy to wipe. Then, you took three steps back and fixed your eyes on his. You handed him some clean clothes, before taking the key back and heading towards the door.

“I really need some hot chocolate,” your voice still broken with tears declared, “and I’d love to share it with you, Bucky.”

Your slightly trembling hand wiped the moisture from your cheeks, then gradually turned back to the soldier after unlocking the exit. He had already dressed, the black jogging bottoms falling low on his hips. Bucky examined your face, and his eyebrows met in a half-confused, half-sad expression. He got close enough to you for you to feel the warmth he gave off.

“No cinnamon,” he said, “I don’t think I like it.”

You let out a nervous chuckle, telling yourself that only you could find yourself in these situations.

“No cinnamon.”

There was a first time for everything, and when you saw – later that night – whipped cream on the Winter Soldier’s lips, you thought that after all, the child could not be saved but that you could bring the man back to life.

pictures : Pinterest

dividers : @/strangergraphics, @/pommecita et @/thecutestgrotto

[sp1der-wid0w]

“Better Late than Ever”

Miguel O’Hara x Reader

You’re currently waiting for your boyfriend to come to your date, but he’s a special boyfriend who likes to be late to such events. You however, don’t know about his exciting little activities..

⸻ ⸻ ⸻

8:59 P.M.

A little fancy restaurant with a long line, full of anxious people. You paid no attention to them, as you got from out of your car, and brushed off your clothes.

As you made your way to the restaurant, almost immediately everyone’s attention turned to you. You were so captivating, so eye-catching, so attractive that men in line were elbowed from their jealous girlfriends.

The butler at the door gladfully let you in, with a devious smirk and eyebrow raise at the glorious person walking past him.

But you weren’t focused on any of them right now.

You were focused on one person.

Miguel.

Your boyfriend that you would go to hell and back for.

⸻ ⸻ ⸻

Earth-428.

Spiderman 2099 was currently on a mission to preserve the Multiverse. And that meant battling off anomalies to put them in the right dimension before a multiversal collapse could ensue again.

What anomaly was he up against? A version of Electro. Causing collateral damage and almost causing a whole city blackout, much to Miguel’s annoyance.

“LYLA!” Miguel called out, “Send a message to (Y/N) that I might be a little to dinner!”

LYLA glitched right into sight, hands on her digital hips as she saw her creator dodge a stray of electric strikes and bolts.

“I got it. Just make sure you have to deal with the consequences later.” She snarkily replied.

He grunted in annoyance, and extended his talons. Webbing close enough to land a kick to Anomaly Electro’s face, he looks back in such a hurry.

“Shock! Please just send them the-”

“Yeah, I already did it.” She smirked.

Miguel let out an angry grunt, and tried to continue his brawl with Electro. But he had let his guard when it came to the discussion of you. Electro delivered a swift punch to Miguel’s right cheek and sent him flying into a bunch of large, menacing rocks.

Due to his superhuman abilities, this felt like nothing but a paper cut to him. He grunted as he easily lifted a rock the size of your forehead off of him.

Oh yeah, i’m so going to be late. He thought.

⸻ ⸻ ⸻

Meanwhile, you had already gotten to your table and waited patiently for your boyfriend to get here. You’re wondering to yourself what’s taking him so long? Traffic? An accident? Did he forget? You chose to go with the latter, you knew Miguel was a workaholic man.

But you never knew what he really did.

“More water?” A waiter asked you, prepared to fill your empty glass with nothing but melting ice in it.

“No, no.” You said, “I’m already starting to get full.”

The waiter nodded, and shuffled away with his head held high. You sighed and turned to look around the restaurant. So many couples were together, and they seemed happy. Some being affectionate, some arguing, while some were just being chill.

Miguel wasn’t exactly the perfect boyfriend, but what he lacked in stereotypes, he was good at making you feel loved and appreciated. His go to movement? Roses. And your favorite things that he so had LYLA memorize for him.

But your patience was running out soon. This was the one time in months that you’ve officially been out, and you at least wanted to spend some time with a busy, busy man like him. Just then, your phone buzzed and it was a text from him.

(Y/N), it’s Miguel. I’m currently at work, but hang tight. I’m on my way.

The text said. You simply stared. He was busy.. again?! That man sure knows how to make your blood boil, and you were definitely considering call it quits with the date!

“Instead of calling.. you’re just gonna send a text?” You huffed in disbelief.

⸻ ⸻

Miguel had finally defeated Electro, and threw his unconscious tied up body through the portal that led to the Spider Society. He huffed in victory, but felt guilty knowing that he was losing more and more time on his date with you.

“LYLA,” He said, “Find me the nearest route to the restaurant. I refuse to leave them waiting for me.”

LYLA smiled a genuine smile, seeing how he was determined to not let you down even more than he already has. “Tracking…” She said.

⸻ ⸻ ⸻

10 minutes had passed, and you simply exhaled a deep one in defeat. People were starting to leave already, and you thought that Miguel had once again let you down and held you onto broken promises.

“I knew it.. he should’ve never asked us out.” He sniffled, trying not to cry, but your anger was trying to prove that otherwise.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You gathered your things, and was searching around for any available waiter.

Outside of the restaurant, Miguel had exited through another portal and looked around his surroundings. He was dressed smart and sharp, in a luxury suit and fixed his shirt collar.

They better not tear my head off.. Miguel thought.

He walked his way to the restaurant as well.

People in the line went from talking or waiting, to gazing at Miguel in admiration or intimidation. Women gushed at seeing the 6’9, jacked, handsome man with such an aura that surrounded him.

The butler let in him without a problem, but with lots of fear, not wanting any problems with Miguel.

⸻ ⸻ ⸻

The waiter you called left a check for you to pay, and you were more than willing to do that. Miguel had let you down again, and you didn’t know if you wanted to do anymore dates or even be with him anymore.

Just as you were about to leave, your eyes caught a tall figure walking in the restaurant. You gasped. Your man, your boyfriend, the Miguel O’Hara had finally come to dinner.

You sighed in gratitude and sat back down in your seat, already feeling guilty for the things you were thinking and smiled in such a lovey way for him.

Miguel smirked as he sat down from across from you.

“Wow, you’re late.” You said, reaching to twirl your empty glass.

“Work was busting my ass.” Miguel chuckled, looking at your beautiful features.

How did he ever bag such a good-looking person like you? He was the most luckiest man in all of Nueva York.

“So? Care to finally tell me what your real job is? And why you’re always late for something that you initiate on planning for us?” You asked, crossing your arms across the table.

“Babe, I told you. It’s Alchemax, you know being the CEO is hard work.” He tried to reason with you.

“Honey, Alchemax is all about science and experiments.. does it really cost you that much time to be late?”

He rolled his eyes at your cute, stubborn ways.

“And it’s like.. Do you just do this to avoid these things with me?” You asked in a moment of vulnerability.

Miguel widened his eyes and he felt like was struck in the heart. You would really think that Miguel would do this to avoid spending time with you? When you’re the most amazing, kindest, and caring person he loves?

“(Y/N).. how could you say that?” He asked. “You really think that I like being late?”

You sniffled, trying to hide your tears.

“Cariño.. my work is complicated. Alchemax requires my full attention. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t care about you. I love you, I really do.” He softly said, intertwining his large soft fingers with yours.

You felt your heart get more warmer when he said these things to you.

“Believe me, I’ll try my hardest to not let you down again. I’ll be the best boyfriend I can be to you.”

A satisfied hum escaped you, and you reached out to caress his chiseled cheekbone. He leaned into your touch, and put a large hard on top of the on caressing his cheek.

You finally felt the way you felt all those months ago when you first began to date. Little did you know, he was a man of his word.

The waiter came back for the check but saw that there was a plus one.

“Are you leaving? Or having a plus one?” The waiter asked.

“A plus one.” You confirmed, and the waiter nodded began to serve Miguel this time.

Miguel was really to place his order, but he just now looked at the bill that sat right next to you. “Wait.. if you were about to pay, were you really about to leave?” He asked, feeling a little shocked.

You nervously chuckled, fiddling with the strap of your bracelet.

“I guess you being late, really messed with my patience..” You said, with such a guilty and awkward conscience.

Miguel could only sigh.

“Oh well, better late than never.” He said.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Can I get ROR guys (Thor, Korjuro, Qin and Hades) with Bayonetta Reader?

I went with her Bayonetta 2 design. It's one of my favorite designs of her.

Bayonetta is portrayed as a beautiful woman with a slender yet curvy bewitching figure. She has black hair, gray eyes and a beauty mark on her chin. Bayonetta's hair has been cut short and her glasses have a ribbon design near the lenses. She retains her skin-tight bodysuit, though the design has been radically altered. The suit is more gray in color with jagged patterns resembling thorns and a frilly collar. She has sharp shoulder pads and a cloak of hair over her chest, as well as triangular earrings. The palms of her gloves are blue with frills at the wrists. The back of her suit features a diamond shaped opening, and several diamond cutouts on her legs.

Powers

Bayonetta has an unprecedented skill for the Bullet Arts and shows near mastery of a new weapon whenever she picks it up. Her combat skills are brutal yet graceful. She also appears to be extremely perceptive, able to evade attacks from all directions through anticipating her enemy's movements in battle. She has immense superhuman strength and endurance, being able to toss a satellite back at Balder several times and headbutt an entire skyscraper thrown at her by the former, as well as using only her lower body to redirect an even larger satellite at Aesir. She is also able to effortlessly lift the likes of a Belief and block and hold a thrusting attack from a Valiance; she also was able to physically toss back Fortitudo with the aid of her mother, Rosa. She possesses superhuman speed and agility, allowing her to perform numerous acrobatic feats with ease, and able to fight on par with Jeanne, whom was stated to be either just as or stronger than her. She also can lift a light post and physically overpower the likes of Alraune.

Her physical skills, combined with her magic, makes her capable of defeating countless hordes of forces from Paradiso and Inferno. She also manages to hold her own against opponents that overpower her such as the likes of Loptr (and him as the ascended and reborn Aesir)and Jubileus, The Creator, which, in order to be truly defeated, required the aid of another. She also possesses longevity and doesn't seem to age.

As an Umbra Witch, Bayonetta possess varying powerful magics that assist her in her daily life and allows her to fight against even the most powerful of beings. As an Umbra Witch, she is easily capable of seeing the other realm known as Purgatorio and entering it at will. Skilled in the Dark Arts, Bayonetta also possesses some magical abilities unrelated to the dark arts, such as freezing the moisture in the air to form a spear in an attempt to impale her opponent.

Dark Arts & Magic Techniques

• Umbran Climax & Serious Mode: Techniques that allow Bayonetta to enter into an ascended state of power. Both techniques allow her to continually manifest the limbs of various infernal demons and increase her damage output. In Umbran Climax, she also gains the capability to perform "Infernal Weaves" and even recover her health while in that state.

• Witch Time: Bayonetta is capable of using Witch Time to speed herself up, causing enemies to appear to move in slow-motion. This Dark Art is capable of allowing her of countering the likes of Light Speed used by a sage. Furthermore, she is able to "stack" over Witch Time to counter another witch and even a angel.

• Beast Within: A magic technique that allows transformation into various animals.

• Panther Within

• Crow Within

• Bat Within

• Snake Within

• Witch Walk: Bayonetta can use the Witch Walk technique, allowing her the power to defy gravity and walk on any vertical or horizontal surface during a full moon or on select devices created by Lord Aesir.

• Wicked Weaves: Using her hair as a conduit, Bayonetta can use Wicked Weaves to summon forth various demons and also summon forth their limbs to attack.

• Infernal Weaves: An even more powerful variant used during Umbran Climax. At the end of her combos using Wicked Weaves, Bayonetta summons a full demon for a large area-of-effect finisher.

• Infernal Kiss: This allows her to indirectly to control various machines at will, such as in Bayonetta 2, when she blew a kiss at the Cessna-like small plane that contains Enzo while on her way to Fimbulventr before jumping off. Despite Enzo's fumbling, the small plane actually made it all the way to the city she lived in and was only destroyed by angels. This is in contrast to direct control, with which she can shove her middle finger through any machine key holes to take control, such as Enzo's car or even the witches' power walkers.

• Alchemy: Bayonetta is able to gather crystallized magical compounds such as Mandragora Roots, Baked Geckos and Unicorn Horns to concoct lollipops. These can bolster her power, render her impervious to all damage, or simply restore her health or magic.

• Healing Factor: When being stabbed by Luka while being in Strider form in the third game that would normally be fatal for a normal human, it is shown that Bayonetta can heal from the wound in a few seconds.

Torture Attacks

Bayonetta is capable of using special attacks which can deal massive damage to most forces of Paradiso and Inferno. By chanting in Enochian, she can summon various objects to potentially finish her enemies.

Personality

Bayonetta described as nonchalant and is perceived as somewhat callous towards others, such as Enzo, whom she often disregards. Throughout the first game, she's shown to enjoy fighting angels in a playful yet brutal manner, maintaining her cool and even tends to banter with the more serious angels such as the Auditio, as well as Infernal Demons.

Bayonetta tends to enjoy using her sexuality to taunt and tease her enemies and friends alike. She tends to operate alone and prefers to not get encumbered by other people, at least initially. She can also be construed as somewhat impatient, especially towards the more "talkative type" of enemies she encounters such as that of Temperantia and Father Balder.

Despite coming off as callous, Bayonetta has also expressed genuine care and sympathy. It's witnessed that she's done her best to explain to Luka in the past that his father's death wasn't her fault and has been seen taking his venting of anger and frustration to heart. Despite claiming to dislike children, she becomes fiercely protective of her younger self, as well as Loki in Bayonetta 2.After rekindling her friendship with Jeanne, she was willing to risk going down to Inferno to rescue her, placing the blame on herself for not foreseeing Gomorrah's attack in time. She also dislikes being seen emotionally vulnerable; in one instance, Loki wouldn't wake up after she got him out of a lake, making her panic before he woke up laughing, and she kicked him for making her worry. Another is when she saved Jeanne from Alraune; her soul wouldn't wake up, making Bayonetta fear that she had lost her friend, but Jeanne wakes up and she immediately regains her composure.

She is also not above expressing outright anger and hatred, having done so for both her father and Alraune. Despite her close connection to her father, upon re-learning her memories concerning his supposed actions of starting the Witch Hunts, she denounced him. In Bloody Fate, she goes even further and blames him for the death of her mother. However, her hatred for her father dissipated upon learning the truth of her mother's death at Loptr's hands and willingly called him "Daddy" one last time before he sacrificed himself to contain Loptr.

I’ve only recently started to get into Bayonetta, mainly because of the 3rd game because I heard an awesome soundtrack, Fertile Rondo, and she is quite a wild character, isn’t she? I will try my best with this!

-It was strange, having a witch in Valhalla, especially one so powerful such as you, but you had proved that you were a strong warrior, one worthy of being in Valhalla.

-You were very extravagant, from your outfits and shoes to your fighting style, using magic and using your hair to fight, sometimes winding up completely nude when you would put your back into your attacks, using contracts with demons, and using guns.

-Many couldn’t help but like you, mainly because you were true to yourself, not willing to compromise for anyone, living your second life in Valhalla the way you wanted to, and you had no filter, you always called things how you saw them, and always called other out on their BS if you knew they were full of it.

-That’s what led you to (Love), who was impressed with not only your power and strength as a warrior, but your personality and humor as well- you were the perfect package!

-Despite being so sexy and alluring towards others, you were incredibly loyal, you never let your gaze wander, and you would always shut anyone who was flirting with you down instantly, not willing to let anyone have the chance to steal you away from (Love).

-(Love) adored you but sometimes you did fluster him, when you would hug him from behind, your arms draped over and around his neck, your chest pressing into the back of his head as you cooed so sweetly in his ear, he always wound up quite frazzled and riled up- but you couldn’t help it- he was so cute when he got like this!

-You liked watching him fight, you would always look like a predatory studying your prey, your gaze unwavering which did unnerve him at first, but now he’s grown used to it and your antics, but every now and then you will make him flustered, watching him so intently, that he would feel almost self-conscious, like you were undressing him with your eyes, which technically you were- he was just too cute for his own good!

-You rarely fought anymore, as you felt like there weren’t many in Valhalla that could give you the challenge you desired- the humans were just that- humans, no matter the strength and skills they had, and many of the gods seemed almost intimidated to fight you, thanks to your contracted demons.

-Every now and then, some of the gods would come to you, seeking the same that you sought out, a challenge, and would ask you for a fight.

-There were some you didn’t give the time of day to, mainly because they would try to make demands of you, like ‘if I win let’s go out on a date’ like you weren’t in a serious relationship!

-On the other hand, there were some, like Hercules, that you knew only wanted a serious fight with you, demanding nothing from you, as he respected the relationship you had with (Love).

-Your fights always drew a large crowd, mainly because you sometimes would lose your clothes when you fought, something (Love) was rather annoyed with and you didn’t like seeing your lover so upset, so you started fighting only in secluded areas so only Hercules or other worthy warriors would see something like that if they forced your hand.

-You loved to tease (Love) sometimes, when he would get jealous if someone else was able to see you, you would always cover him with so many kisses that his brain would melt, leaving him grinning with a goofy smile on his lips while you were licking yours as if you had the most delicious meal.

-(Love) knew despite the sexy and confident personality you liked to display, you were a very kind person, knowing that you sensitive with some things, like with Jeanne whom you were very close with, despite your rebuttals that you weren’t.

-He sees that you are close to the ones you truly care about, even if you don’t always show it and even if you try to deny it, it’s the part of you that not many get to see, but you trust (Love) to not saying anything about your vulnerability when you allow yourself to be weak around him, like you were a normal person.

-You enjoyed being in Valhalla, being with (Love), and you were never bored, that’s for sure!

[apollodarling-writes]

ANDROID! ALEXA-THEMED! WORSHIPPER YANDERE! LEVI x SHUT IN! READER

cws : yandere themes, manipulation (??), obsessive behavior, code breaking, implied dissociation, confining, dubcon, multiple creampie, slight dacryphilia, dry humping, levi can vibrate, marking, levi cums A LOT, levi bites you, levi’s a little mean in the beginning bc he’s pissed.

a/n : i pasted this to the wrong thing and after i’d finished editing it to look good, id realized. i did NOT wanna re-paste and edit so this was a request that id gotten for PulseMotion Inc.

“[name], come out. i won’t hurt you.” your hand shakily reaches up to cover your mouth, effectively silencing your breathing as thudding footsteps turn down the hallway you’d foolishly decided to hide in. the lock on the closet door wouldn’t do much — levi could rip the door off its hinges if he so desired. you screw your eyes shut in fear as his footsteps slow, coming to a stop outside the closet door. you wait with bated breath as silence ensues, then muffle a sob beneath the palm you have clasped over your mouth as you watch the doorknob jiggle. oh, you were so fucked.

you wonder for a moment where everything went wrong. was it when levi had that software update? was there a wire firing incorrectly? or was he faulty from the beginning? maybe that’s why he was on clearance.

you find yourself remembering where this all began. you’d been perusing through the pages of PulseMotion’s website just to see what they had, only to find that you could buy a month’s worth of food at the base price they sold their android companions for. unsatisfied, you turned to their clearance section. it was there you found levi.

levi was inspired by the alexa echo dot from amazon, but he was far more advanced. he had a physical body, superhuman strength, and cold, dead eyes that followed your every move. the creators had given him the ability to access locks, security systems, cameras, and so on to ensure the safety of whoever purchased him — but it only served to royally fuck you over even more.

you’d impulsively purchased levi that evening. at the time, you didn't know that buying the android would ruin your life. you had just gotten paid and saw that he was on clearance, and thought that it was a good deal. you didn't think anything would go wrong.

everything was fine in the beginning. the two of you slowly became acquainted, the android did what he was supposed to, and that was that. levi, as he'd told you, was on clearance for a reason-- there was something seriously wrong with him.

levi was was initially very sweet, even if he could be intimidating at times. he always reminded you to eat and would charge your devices without you needing to say a word. he even locked your doors for you for christ's sake! you thought you'd lucked out.

you suppose things started going wrong when he powered off for his quarterly system update a few months ago. he was fine before that. after he'd restarted his system, his eyes briefly flashed red, the company insignia disappearing for but a moment. it happened so quickly that, for a second, you thought you had imagined it. you made sure to ask him if everything was okay, but he only brushed it off and returned to his daily cleaning. after that, he never left your side.

every time you tried to get out of your shell and make friends, levi coincidentally informed you of a new game or a new movie, or even suggested that the two of you do an activity together. sometimes, he would inform you of something that needed to be fixed, but when you tried to take him to the repair shop, he insisted that it was easy enough to do yourself. you believed him of course, he surely had only your best interests in mind, or so you thought. in hindsight, you realize that his actions were entirely selfish in nature. maybe he’d even fooled you into helping him with some coding he had trouble bypassing. at this point, you wouldn’t put it past him.

it had been like this for the last few months. you probably should have seen the red flags, but why would you? it wasn’t as if he wanted to harm you. his programming did seem a little odd of course, but every time you checked, there was nothing to suggest otherwise. it was only natural you had to acclimate to his odd behavior.

as time went on, and levi had become more crafty with his excuses, you’d gotten fed up. for the first time in awhile, you’d finally been comfortable enough to go out on a date, but as per usual, levi intercepted you in the living room. he spouted some nonsense about wanting to watch a new series he thought you would like, but before he’d even finished his sentence, you shut him down.

you remember the way the insignia flickered in his eyes, but at that point you were too frustrated with him to bother with what that minute entail. you only spun on your heels and stormed off, tugging on the front door and finding that it was locked. anxiety and unease washed over you, and with a creeping feeling of being watched as you slowly looked up at the camera. you remember levi’s voice ringing out from behind you, slowly stalking up to you with a frown that tugged too tightly around his artificial skin.

everything that happened after that was a blur. you don’t really remember how you ended up in the closet, but it took everything in you to stay quiet. your mind was reeling as the behavior displayed over the last few months suddenly made sense — you were horrified. how did you not put two and two together?

you’re snapped back into reality as levi sighs outside of the closet door. his voice sounded too sweet, too calm for the situation at hand. “[name], don’t make me break down this door.”

you silently pray to every being you can think of, begging them to let him move to a different room so you can plan your escape. alas, your prayers were unanswered as the door is ripped off the hinges in the blink of an eye. you would’ve found the sight comical — a short man such as himself holding up a door nearly twice his size — if it weren’t for the reality of your situation.

“great, now i’ll have to clean this up and fix it. you’re really a pain in my ass sometimes.” levi grumbles as he gazes down at you through narrowed eyes, drinking in the sight of the way you were shaking like a leaf. “get up.”

you can’t bring yourself to move, much less tell him to go fuck himself. you’re torn between anger and unadulterated fear — the latter putting you in fight or flight. unfortunately for you, your response was a secret third option: freeze. levi only huffs, leaning down and reaching for your wrist, grumbling something under his breath.

you’re finally able to move, shuffling away from him as much as the cramped space in the closet would allow, blindly pushing at his hands as tears blur your vision. levi only

clicks his tongue, his fingers deftly wrapping around your wrist as he hoists you up. he tugs you out of the closet and down the hallway, bitching to you about something you couldn’t be bothered to focus on. you tried to pry his fingers from around your wrist, scratching and beating and doing anything within your power to keep him from dragging you wherever it was he wanted you. it was futile.

as levi drags you to your room, gently pushing you onto your bed, you realize that there was nothing you could do; you couldn’t win against him. your mind works on overdrive, twisting and turning in an attempt to gauge his intent, and with the way his eyes had become hooded… you could confidently say that you wouldn’t like where this was headed.

“h—hey. no. i’ll stay— i’ll stay home, just please don’t—“ you’re interrupted by levi’s chilled fingers wrapping around your wrists as he leans down and slots his lips to yours. scrunching your nose in distaste as he feverishly engages in a one-sided makeout, you attempt to wriggle your way out of his grip. it’s safe to say that you failed, but at least you tried.

levi’s free hand travels down your chest, over your tummy, and finds purchase on the meat of your hip. he gently, experimentally rolls his hips into yours, searching for the place that would have you melting into his touch. with ease, the android’s cockhead brushes over your clit, shooting a wave of pleasure down your spine.

“levi…stop—“ a whine parts your lips as levi’s shaft begins vibrating, the sensation muddling your thoughts as you begin to wonder whether you wanted this or not. as you battle yourself internally, levi ruts against you faster, the both of you coming closer and closer to your climax.

the android’s lip brush against your throat, heatedly nipping and sucking in places for long enough that you were sure there would be marks tomorrow.

“‘m gonna cum— baby, cum with me. please, please, please cum with me!” levi begs, the speed at which his shaft was vibrating increasing. your back arches into the sensation as levi lets out a loud whine, your jaw agape as your orgasm crashes over you. you stumble over curses, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as levi’s cock never once stops vibrating.

“gonna overstimulate me— s’too much!” you protest, feeling levi’s cum wet your pants. just how much does this guy cum anyway?

levi stops rutting against you, all but ripping away the confines of your clothing as well as his own before aligning himself with your entrance. “need it. need it so bad— i’ve been waiting for so long…”

he slowly slides into you, your gummy walls eagerly sucking him in despite your own confusion, forcing a choked whimper from levi’s lips. he shallowly thrusts into you, the sensation of overwhelmingly delicious; you’d never felt so full, so good. levi’s shaft pulsed this time, vibrating for a few moments on and off, his tip reaching places you’d never be able to reach with your own two hands.

you melt into the feeling, your own pleasure drowning out every thought of protest as levi begins to pick up the pace. he removes his fingers from your wrists, the flesh red and angry, and presses down on your tummy where his cock would be. the vibration switches again, his hips snapping into yours now, and he lets out a loud groan as his orgasm washes over him. levi never once stops as he pumps you full of his cum, his fingers digging into your hips as he whimpers out mumbled gibberish.

with ease, levi switches your position, putting you on your knees and pushes back inside of you. he forces you to meet his thrusts, and the new angle has your fingers gripping the sheets, your jaw hanging open in silent pleasure. you can’t think about anything — only how good levi was able to make you feel.

“levi— ‘m cumming!” you cry out, your thighs shaking and cunt clenching around him. tears prick your eyes and spill down your cheeks, the feeling too much for you to handle.

“y’look so pretty when you cry.” levi chokes out, his eyes closing in bliss as his cock twitches inside of you. your cunt pulses around levi, sending shivers down his spine as his motherboard goes into overdrive in an attempt to cool him down. rutting into you at an inhuman pace, levi’s thrusting grows sloppy, reaching one hand around to press a finger to your clit, the artificial skin vibrating as well.

“cum f’me… j—just one more time! please— please, need it so bad..!” levi whines, expertly circling your clit in an attempt to have you cum with him. “y—you’ll tell me when y’close, okay? wanna cum with you.”

all you can do is nod, your mind melting at every sensation. levi presses your back against his sculpted chest, linking his arm under one of your thighs and hoists it up, thrusting more harshly as his tongue darts out to lap at the tears staining your cheeks.

“y’feel so fuckin��� good.” he whimpers, pressing chaste kisses to the flushed skin of your shoulders. “‘m gonna cum. baby, ‘m gonna cum—“

before you’re able to register it, your vision flashes white, a high-pitched whine parting your lips as ecstasy crashes over you.

“cumming! ‘m cumming!!” levi babbles, whimpers and whines of his own being muffled by your skin as he bites down on the curve of your shoulder in an attempt to silence himself. cum trickles down your thighs and stains the sheets as his thrusting comes to a stop, a quiet sniffle resounding from behind you.

the android gently lays you down, your eyes growing heavy as the bliss slowly leaves your system, and you can’t find it in you to care about the date you wanted to go on anymore. your lashes flutter shut as levi leaves the room and quietly returns with a damp cloth, tenderly cleaning you up as you drift off to sleep.

[howtofightwrite]

I love picking at plot holes like scabs so i want my fight scenes to be as realistic as possible. However. There’s a creature in my head that says a buster sword is SICK AS HELL. What modifications would it need to be even remotely wieldable while still keeping its central appeal (huge sword big blade cool and sexy) intact?

You’ve made a mistake. You mistook suspension of disbelief for realism. This is a common problem that gets in the way of a lot of fantasy and sci-fi authors. So, don’t worry. It isn’t just you. However, realism vs believability is where your hangup is. Stories don’t need to be realistic to be believable.

The quick and dirty (and possibly unhelpful) answer is to create a world that justifies your buster sword, not a buster sword that’s trying to justify itself in a world that doesn’t want it. You step back from the sword itself and away from a world where reality dictates that it’s too heavy, too clumsy, too slow, and ask yourself: “in what type of world does this thing make sense?” And there’s about a billion different ways to create that.

The hangup with the realistic argument is that all of fiction is a lie. Good or bad, that’s what stories are. They can be very compelling, addicting, manipulative, feel incredibly good, and still be fake. The goal of a creator isn’t just to create stories that are believable, but for your audience to want to believe in them. Storytelling is always a joint venture between you and your reader. You are the salesperson asking your audience to come along for the ride. To keep their attention, you’ve got to spin up a good yarn. Build trust. The world has to feel right, but it doesn’t have to be right. Reasonable, not right. The goal is to take a cool idea and work backwards to how your society got here so that when seen from an outside perspective, the choice ultimately looks like a reasonable conclusion given the surrounding context. One of the better ways to build your reasonable conclusions is by studying the history of technological invention from the beginning to the midpoint rather than starting with the end point—the results.

History is full of weird, wacky, wild attempts and failures at creation. You’re not the first person to look at a human sized sword and wonder if it could, in fact, hit good. Or, really, better than swords that currently exist. Or, fulfill a battlefield role the sword was currently not occupying. Or, as we like to say, have real battlefield applications. The Claymore, the Zwhihander, the Zhanmadao are all real weapons that saw real, if not necessarily extensive, use. Like all weapons, they were specialized tools meant for particular battlefield uses. In this case, mainly as anti-cavalry support.

Ask yourself, why? Not just, why would I want it? Ask, why would I use it?

What actual purpose does the big cool blade serve beyond looking big and cool? What function does it fill on the battlefield? Why use the big cool blade instead of other weapons? What does it do better? What are some offsets which might account for the massive size? Technology? Superhuman enhancements, mystical or otherwise? Gravitic fields? Magic? Why is the big cool blade better suited to ensuring a character’s survival? What advantages does it provide? What is its practical value to warriors within your setting?

The initial defensive reaction is that we don’t need a reason because we have the Rule of Cool. That could be the reason, but I challenge you to go deeper. Go deeper than, “this was the weapon my character was trained to use.” The followup question is: why were they trained to use it?

In the real world, we can answer these questions both from a personal and from a larger social perspective. We may not be able to answer whether we’d use a gun, but we understand why humanity developed guns, why we use guns, and the purpose they serve both for personal protection and in their military applications. The answers don’t necessarily need to be good or smart. What matters is that an answer exists to feed your audience. When your reader starts struggling to believe, they begin to ask questions, they pick at the fabric of the narrative trying to figure out why their mind has rejected the story they were previously enjoying. What we, the writer, want to create is a chain of logic underpinning the narrative and its world. This way, when questions are asked, a reasonable answer is ready and waiting. While we won’t win over everyone, trust that your audience wants to believe. Trust that they’re smart enough to figure it out without being spoon fed. That way, you won’t fall into the trap of infodumping.

Worldbuilding always involves a lot more happening under the surface than ever makes it onto the page. Your characters will be the ones to demonstrate and act on the internal logic that’s been created for them without needing a billion questions to lead us from Point A to Point B.

If we look at human history in a wide view, we find that weapons are a fairly steady march forward that matches a civilization’s technological growth. We keep what works and discards what doesn’t. The crossbow replaced the bow as the main form of artillery in martial combat, but we still kept the bow. The bow still had practical applications. Guns eventually replaced the crossbow just like they replaced the sword, but it actually took a very long time. We had functional firearms in the Middle Ages.

Ease of Use

Ease of Training

Lethality

From a military standpoint, these are the three most important aspects for widespread adoption of any weapon. Easy to use. Easy to train. Lethal. The longer it takes to train a soldier on a weapon the more time your army is losing out on using that soldier and the more effective the weapon needs to be in order to justify its expense. Why give your soldier a big cool sword if they’ll never get close enough to reach the forward line to make the assault? Why have them use the big cool sword if operating the laser cannon is more efficient, effective, and keeps them alive longer? In the coldness of battlefield calculus, it’s often better to have cheap, efficient units rather than more expensive ones that might be more lethal but take longer to produce. No matter how good they are, you’re eventually going to lose them. Therefore, easy replaceability becomes a factor.

If you can answer those questions (and the myriad of other similar ones) you won’t just have a weapon, you’ll have a world. You’ll have more than a justification, you’ll have battlefield strategy, tactics, and a greater understanding of how the average layman characters in your setting beyond your main character approach warfare and possibly a technological history. You might even have several functional armies.

Ultimately, this is a game of value versus cost. Most settings that use big cool swords sacrifice ease of use and ease of training to amp up lethality. The weapon having a specialized function or only being usable by a specialized unit helps if that unit’s battlefield effectiveness is justified. Or, you could just have a weird technological outlier where its effectiveness doesn’t quite justify its cost even if the individual warrior is effective. A good example of this is in shounen anime where one character has a specialty that no one else has, a really cool, effective weapon that never appears anywhere else, because the length of training, high skill floor, and finicky nature of its use make it difficult to justify widespread adoption.

The danger is assuming there’s a right answer. There isn’t one. The value in learning the rules of real world violence is so you can break them. This way you can tell the difference between the vital rules necessary for suspending disbelief and don’t accidentally break the ones you needed to keep your audience invested.

-Michi

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[marimarivap]

The Guillotine Table of Contents (A Robert Reynolds/Bob Reynolds FF):

Pairing: Robert Reynolds x Jeannine Sauvage

Bob Reynolds x OC

Note: My OC is a loose interpretation of the minor character Jeannine Sauvage, The Guillotine, however all rights for Marvel's Jeannine Sauvage belong to their creator. This is just a fanfic for fun.

Summary: Jeannine kept her curse under wraps, it's not often one is dictated and controlled by an all-powerfully cursed sword that grants superhuman abilities with a deadly catch. However, things take a turn when she is recruited by Valentina Allegra De Fontaine that changes her life entirely, and somehow she has the possibility to become a hero. Throughout all this, she meets Robert Reynolds, the all-powerful Sentry; the two navigate this new hero title together, knowing very well that they each are capable of great destruction.

this one is a bit of a slow burn, sort of.

RATING: 18+, MINORS DNI, themes of mental illness, explicit sexual content, violence, colorful language

Chapters

Prologue

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

[rowanthestrange]

In Which We Examine An Event In Hindu/Vedic Mythology For The Blorbos.

In Verse.

Brahman is everything, one, with an ‘n’. Beyond all beginning, surpassing the end. Brahman is represented by divine trinity, Brahma, and Vishnu, and Shiva make three.

Brahma’s the creator, of time and of places, Holds never a weapon, just knowledge and Vedas. Representing activity neither good, bad, or both, Of passion, and ego, and of movement and growth.

Then there is Vishnu who protected what’s new, Vishnu preserves things and Vishnu is blue. For balance, and cycles, eternity, peace, And battle when needed for evil to cease.

Finally Shiva, the destroyer and death, To enable the end and to start from what’s left, For family, demon slayer, patron of arts, Chaos, destruction, and drums as he danced.

(But it has also been said in quiet by some, Though the crescent of Shiva and Vishnu’s bright Sun, May appear to be different, they’re identical too, Vishnu’s greatest form’s Shiva; and Shiva’s Vishnu.)

And sometimes went further beyond like Brahma, Who took on the avatar of the moon god Chandra, The lord of stars, night, and herbs that healing could be, So to be born from parents and birth Mercury.

They have hundreds of stories of glory and strife, But what of the origin of the Elixir Of Life, The Samudra Manthana was put into motion, Or in English the tale called ‘Churning of the Ocean’.

The Asuras were a breed of superhuman Lords, Most power-hungry cheaters, and the enemies of gods. The half-brother Devas were masterful sorts, All playful game players, and mostly good sports.

There were great many battles for many domains, And the Asuras took over multiple planes. The Devas went to Vishnu to ask for help in defiance, And he suggested to them that they make an alliance.

That all of the beings cease their brutality, Churn the ocean for elixir of immortality, So that all of them share it and so never die, (Though not really the Asuras, and Vishnu would lie.)

But the churning released something else from the sea, A poison of Death to destroy all is, was, and could be, The surviving fled to Brahma, the store of all information, Who said to stop death requires the purest cessation.

To protect all the realms Shiva swallowed the brew, And his wife grabbed his neck to stop it passing through, And Shiva survived, but an unfortunate hue, As his neck was now painted an odd sort of blue.

And now other treasures started being produced From the ocean all sorts of strange things now were loosed, Including Kaustubha, a divine ruby gem, That the Devas gave to Vishnu for his helping them.

Then the wish-giving life tree, of tales of its own, From when Shiva was forced to send his daughter from home, To protect her from The Darkener’s war til was done, (Not quite Asura nor Deva was also their son) But that’s a long story and isn’t this one.

An umbrella, some earrings, animals odd as can be, The crescent of Chandra that Shiva pulled free, A conch shell that rang of creation; then surged, Vishnu’s avatar the doctor, the vaidya emerged.

In his hands was amrita, the life-giving food. And unsurprisingly quickly the fighting ensued, The Asuras stole it and immediately fled, And the Devas went to Vishnu and immediately pled.

So Vishnu took the form of a beautiful female, Who took it back from the Asuras who were quick to avail, She sat them in two rows, so alone she could choose, To immortalise good, and the cheaters would lose.

Down the Deva row she spooned her nectar from the pot, And each of the Devas immortality got, Except for an Asura who snuck in their line, Chandra found out Svarbhānu but not quite in time,

Vishnu cut off his head but the man spoke from live lips, Immortal in two, they represent the eclipse. And Asura and Deva now resumed their fight, While Vishnu flew away and fled into the night,

And twins, pairs, and counterparts fought all the more, Until finally the Devas had succeeded in war, And they exiled the Asuras to underworldly domain, And the higher dimensions fell back under their reign.

[nicklloydnow]

“About a decade ago, I ventured my opinion that the adult multitudes queueing for superhero movies were potentially an indicator of emotional arrest, which could have worrying political and social implications. Since at that time Brexit, Donald Trump and fascist populism hadn’t happened yet, my evidently crazy diatribe was largely met with outrage from the fan community, some of whom angrily demanded I be extradited to the US and made to stand trial for my crimes against superhumanity – which I felt didn’t necessarily disprove my allegations.

Ten years on, let me make my position clear: I believe that fandom is a wonderful and vital organ of contemporary culture, without which that culture ultimately stagnates, atrophies and dies. At the same time, I’m sure that fandom is sometimes a grotesque blight that poisons the society surrounding it with its mean-spirited obsessions and ridiculous, unearned sense of entitlement. Perhaps this statement still requires some breaking down.

(…)

Quite liking comics, aged 14 I thus became a comics fan with my discovery of British fandom, which was then still gummy-eyed and fresh out of the egg. The first convention I attended in London, in the basement rooms of a Southampton Row hotel in 1969, was tiny and inspiring. The attenders barely totalled a three-digit number, almost all of them some few years short of legal drinking age. The comics companies, having no monetary interest in a handful of penniless teenagers, went blissfully unrepresented, and the only industry celebrity that I recall was the sublime and sweetly unassuming genius Frank Bellamy, passing Dan Dare or Garth originals around, appearing wonderstruck that anyone had heard of him. The only thing uniting the assembly was its passion for an undervalued storytelling medium and, for the record, the consensus verdict of the gathered 15-year-old cognoscenti was that costumed musclemen were the main obstacle preventing adult audiences from taking comics seriously.

Of that hardly-a-hundred schoolkids, office boys and junior librarians, the great majority were actively involved in their pursuit, publishing or contributing to a variety of – for the most part – poorly duplicated fanzines, or else going on to work professionally in the field, such as Kevin O’Neill, Steve Moore, Steve Parkhouse or Jim Baikie, all of whom were downstairs at the Waverley hotel that weekend, keen to elevate the medium that they loved, rather than passively complain about whichever title or creator had particularly let them down that month. Of course, this was the 1960s and the same amateur energy seemed to be everywhere, spawning an underground press, Arts Lab publications and a messy, marvellous array of poetry or music fanzines that were the material fabric of that era’s counterculture; flimsy pamphlets as important and innovative today as they were then, although considerably more expensive, trust me.

Soon thereafter, caught up in the rush of adolescent life, I drifted out of touch with comic books and their attendant fandom, only returning eight years later when I was commencing work as a professional in that fondly remembered field, to find it greatly altered. Bigger, more commercial, and although there were still interesting fanzines and some fine, committed people, I detected the beginnings of a tendency to fetishise a work’s creator rather than simply appreciate the work itself, as if artists and writers were themselves part of the costumed entertainment. Never having sought a pop celebrity relationship with readers, I withdrew by stages from the social side of comics, acquiring my standing as a furious, unfathomable hermit in the process. And when I looked back, after an internet and some few decades, fandom was a very different animal.

An older animal for one thing, with a median age in its late 40s, fed, presumably, by a nostalgia that its energetic predecessor was too young to suffer from. And while the vulgar comic story was originally proffered solely to the working classes, soaring retail prices had precluded any audience save the more affluent; had gentrified a previously bustling and lively cultural slum neighbourhood. This boost in fandom’s age and status possibly explains its current sense of privilege, its tendency to carp and cavil rather than contribute or create. I speak only of comics fandom here, but have gained the impression that this reflexive belligerence – most usually from middle-aged white male conservatives – is now a part of many fan communities. My 14-year-old grandson tells me older Pokémon aficionados can display the same febrile disgruntlement. Is this a case of those unwilling to outgrow childhood enthusiasms, possibly because these anchor them to happier and less complex times, who now feel they should be sole arbiters of their pursuit?

There are, of course, entirely benign fandoms, networks of cooperative individuals who quite like the same thing, can chat with others sharing the same pastime and, importantly, provide support for one another in difficult times. These healthy subcultures, however, are less likely to impact on society in the same way that the more strident and presumptuous fandoms have managed. Unnervingly rapidly, our culture has become a fan-based landscape that the rest of us are merely living in. Our entertainments may be cancelled prematurely through an adverse fan reaction, and we may endure largely misogynist crusades such as Gamergate or Comicsgate from those who think “gate” means “conspiracy”, and that Nixon’s disgrace was predicated on a plot involving water, but this is hardly the full extent to which fan attitudes have toxified the world surrounding us, most obviously in our politics.

Elections that decide the fate of millions are conducted in an atmosphere more suited to evictions on I’m a Celebrity …, in which contestants who are insufficiently amusing are removed from office. Saleability, not substance, is the issue. Those who vote for Donald Trump or Boris Johnson seem less moved by policy or prior accomplishment than by how much they’ve enjoyed the performances on The Apprentice or Have I Got News for You. And throughout the UK, we’re now familiar with what a Stephen Yaxley-Lennon fan convention looks like.

An enthusiasm that is fertile and productive can enrich life and society, just as displacing personal frustrations into venomous tirades about your boyhood hobby can devalue them. Quite liking something is OK. You don’t need the machete or the megaphone.

Candidly, for my part, readers would have always been more than sufficient.”

[shantalangel]

Since new canon information is here, I decided to make a list of all non-human and semi-human species of creatures that are currently present in Trigun Stampede. There are surprisingly many of them here; much more than in manga! Which is very intriguing, because it will certainly create new story arcs.

1) I called it Proto-Angel for clarity; on the art it is simply named "Plant". The mummy of a certain humanoid alien, which humans found during excavations on Earth – before Gunsmoke. For a long time they could not understand who it was and whose flesh it was, then they decided to resurrect it, but succeeded only by mixing it's DNA with human DNA.

2) And thus Plants were created. One of the first experimental ones had the same type of power as Vash - the opposite to most Plants, sucking energy from the surrounding world rather than producing it, - and with its help destroyed the laboratory of the creators (maybe it was Tesla? It’s not for nothing that her and Vash’s files on the ship were in the same folder). So the creation of Plants with this type of power was banned. Most Plants are clones of each other. A small percentage are born by breeding (both subtypes can breed with each other).

For convenience or some specific purposes, two types of Plants were created:

- Dependent: female humanoids living in in a liquid that protects them from the harmful effects of the outside world, because they have no immunity. Playing the role of a bioprinter, energy source, terraforming device and gravity generator, but unable to live without connections to certain equipment (as far as I remember, they need some kind of artificial regulation of the energy supply).

Since the concept art of Rem is shown on the same slide with them, I now wonder if it was her DNA that was used...

- Independent: ground-based and autonomous, wielding bio-weapons of enormous power (maybe everyone has them or only specific individuals. In manga, according to Nai, Tesla did not have weapon, but in both manga and anime her hand was held in a separate capsule, while Independent’ weapons are generated from the hand). Capable of merging both with Independent and Dependent - if that one being is not stronger than the other and their consciousnesses do not conflict. Both sexes; I think the Proto-Angel was asexual, and the sex of Plant is determined by female and male human genes - this would explain why in the first subtype there are only women, while in the second are both.

3) Conrad decided to create modified humans who would find it easier to survive on Gunsmoke. How exactly he wanted to do it is unclear - espesially since Plants may have many of their unique characteristic exactly because their body always connected to an alternative dimension through the Gate; where is their energy source and their mind lives in the form of the Core. So this modified humans are connected to some Core, or artificial one, maybe? Conrad began to somehow modified human children by Plants' DNA.

So, it’s already the formula of triple hybrid: (Proto-Angel + human DNA) + human.

The result was Nicholas, Livio, Monev (Rollo), E.G. Mine (the guy in bandages from 3 episodes); other test subjects did not survive.

How far this four are from humans and how closer to Plants, with what and how they were modified, is still unclear. Can they do some superhuman things like Elendira in the next experiment with hybrids is also a very intriguing question. But at least the healing blue liquid has the same glow as Plants. As well as material of at least Wolfwood's weapon (something turquoise, colored to imitate metal) (crazy theory - maybe Gun Ho Guns weapons are the same ephemeral thing that is Elendira's nails and Vash's angel arm, they just can't dematerialise it?).

4) But the first experiments didn’t turn human into Independent Plant, so Conrad started others. Judging by his words from episode 10, this time he genetically modified not children, but human embryos, resulting in Elendira.

In the context of this process were mentioned cloning and Nai’s help, but who is whose clone and a genetic relative is not yet clear.

Theory #1: Based on Elendira's apparently implanted eye, maybe this time humans were transplanted with Plant's entire organ - like in the old anime Vash's arm was transplanted to Legato and from it he received all his abilities.

So such a hybrid became closer to the Independents than to humans (including bio-weapons).

Theory #2: That was some kind of attempt to create a human embryo through a sisters’ “bioprinter”: that is, they look human visually, but physically are made of Plant DNA converted to human DNA by the same principle Plants create edible meat of animals. I think one of the reasons why humans never tried to create superbodies for themselves in Plants is because Plants can't create bodies that can live, only "dead" flash. That is, the organs or brain of such bodies will be incomplete and not viable.

What is the fundamental difference between hybrids from №4 and №5, the Independents and Nai’s future biological children is not yet clear to me. Perhaps new hybrids are weaker in terms of abilities, although they also have bio-weapons (Elendira’s nails).

Whether hybrids can merge together into a single being and whether they have Cores in another dimension is a very interesting question.

5) In the same room with Elendira are several capsules with other newborn cubs of indeterminate gender, similar in appearance to little sisters, but with strange fur or feathers on their arms and legs. After the art below, I had a guess that these are the pilots of Gray 9 Lives.

Gray in this anime is a giant robot the size of a mountain, inside of which are spheres with control devices and certain creatures connected to them, whom are literally built into it with no the possibility of escape. On the art below, the pilots clearly resemble these babies because they have Plant's petal appendages on their heads.

And here, in the center of a small city, apparently lies the same sphere, around which people built a fence and carefully covered it with a tent. The light inside is exactly the same as Plants’ one.

In other concept art, though, the pilots look completely different and mysterious, because they are not even close to any of the creatures on this long list. These are not humans, and not Plants, and probably not even mutants (although in manga had some very strange creatures: the golem servant of Legato, the original Gray's bio-body and pilots inside, and one mercenary with a face of the undead and big tusks from his chin). What is this even, who was it born from?!

6) Nai and sisters’ biological children. How they might differ from other Plants, and hybrids from №4, and why he even needed this whole “ritual”, I have no idea. Maybe it has something to do with the transfer of immunity that the Sisters don't have?

7) And, finally, Legato - he is a separate interesting person.

Manga: a completely inhuman long narrow tongue, the ability to control the flesh (but not the mind) and the processes of many living organisms at the same time (including animals and dying - cut in half Nai after July), as well as in his own body (judging by the battle with Vash in at the end of Trimax, he could even heal himself, or at least improve body characteristics), and even resurrect the dead (the head of the maniac who kept him in slavery; the murdered Elendira). I very much doubt that an ordinary human would have any possibility to do this, even with some special gadget with wires. Legato's connection is essentially a weaker version of the Plants' merge! Not to mention control over Nai (in the fortress, when he was a slave - did not allow to kill him with other fortresses residents) and Vash, whom he restrained for 7 months in a row - a superbeing, who's able to blow the moon. Plus, in one art, Legato has huge black claws on his hand.

Old anime: Vash's arm was transplanted to him, and he received all his abilities from it. It’s just gorgeous when Plants just merge with humans like that, even without consequences. 

New anime: beside controlling others, was given new ability - to crush giant parts of mechanisms like tin cans, from a very big distance. Also, as far as I remember, only in Stampede his hands are completely covered with gloves.

His child concept art, in addition to another version of the gadget, has some interesting device on those eye that is always covered with bangs.

Another interesting art, where he is holding some kind of complex automaton. Apparently, an analogue of those controlled by Leonoff. And his hands look like they're not gloves, but prosthetics like Vash's, or has blue skin.

[mlm-writer]

Test Ride Pt. 2 (Peter Parker x Android!Reader)

Pairing: Peter Parker (TH ver.) x Android Reader (with a robovagina) Rating: Explicit Words: 1189 POV: Second Summary: The Big Tober Day 10 - Robotfucking Note: A sequel to a piece I did for kinktober 2020. Reader is a robot and has no gender. Last time reader got a robopenis and I thought it only fair to give reader a robovagina this time. Reader's chest is unmentioned. Tags: robotfucking, unnecessary use of fancy words to make it more sci-fi, at least I don't put 'quantum' in front of everything to make it science, dom/sub dynamics, overstimulation, safeword ignored(?), robot tentacles as restraints, vibrating pussy, nipple play and software/hardware updates gone ' wrong'

A new HUD interface greeted you as you booted up after your last upgrade. Your physical statistics and environmental parameters were found in new places, but that mattered little. Your optics activated after a short delay, visual input now also available to you. Your creator stood before you, his lips moving, but you received no audio input. “Audio module connection failed,” you replied to whatever he said. You saw him curse, or at least that was your best prediction of what his expression conveyed. He motioned your head down. You bent at the hips, allowed him to unplug and reconnect your audio modules. 

Once the cables reconnected, you could hear Peter clearly. “Please, don’t be ruined, please don’t be ruined,” he muttered to himself. 

“All modules operational,” you informed him. He jumped at your voice, but let out a sigh of relief right after. “Awaiting command,” you added. As per usual after an update, Peter started poking and prodding your frame, confirming your sensory input was still operational. When he was done testing your basic functions, he dragged you to his bed. 

“Program D.O.M. version V, please,” he spoke nervously. You detected an increase in heart rate and blood flow to the genitals. You confirmed the break command, as it was standard protocol, before you could execute the D.O.M. program. Once the safety protocols were satisfied, you had your digits on Peter’s clothes. You unbuttoned his flannel, revealing his pale chest underneath. There was minor bruising, but a quick scan revealed no serious injuries that were contraindications to the program. You pushed him onto the bed and started running your tongue over his chest, paying extra attention to his nipples. 

Peter whimpered as you played with his chest, artificial tongue and teeth taking turns with your digits pinching his sensitive nubs. You kept track of his arousal, only stopping your onslaught once his involuntary noises got a little louder. You sat up, retracting your pelvic panel and rubbing your wet hole over Peter’s crotch. He whined as you slowly soaked through his jeans and underwear, until he could feel your wetness on his cock through his clothes. “Please, I need to be inside you,” Peter eventually moaned, his mind tethering on the edge of madness. 

He was hard underneath you, so you deemed him ready for the next stage. With superhuman deftness, you removed his clothes until he was naked on the bed. His cock protruded from his body, the tip red and leaking. You wrapped a servo around his rod, stroking slowly as to tease him. When he started thrusting into the tightness, you placed your other servo on his hip, your mechanical strength counteracting his. He was forced to only take what you gave, which was exactly what he programmed you to give. It was not enough to get him even remotely close to orgasm, but the build-up was perfect to make him start begging. Once the begging got frequent enough, you proceeded on to the next stage; you mounted him, letting his cock slide into your wet and soft hole. Peter moaned, his eyes rolling back as you rode him at a decent pace. “Please, give me more, I’ve been good. I will be even better, I swear.” 

His moans filled the room. You took his dick all the way inside and paused on top of him. “I will grant you more. However, unpermitted orgasms will be reciprocated with punishment.” He nodded, promising he would not cum. You decreased the elasticity of your inner walls, giving him a tighter squeeze as you proceeded to ride him. Your movements were quicker than before, fully intending to make him cum without permission. Peter was moaning to the ceiling, eyes squeezed closed sometimes and other times wide open. His mouth stayed wide open, tongue peeking over his lower lip. 

Just as predicted, your inner sensors detected his cum painting your inner workings. You rode him until the spurts seized. Then you planted yourself firmly on him. Tendrils extended from your body and wrapped around his appendages. “You have disobeyed my orders,” you stated as you held him down and turned on the vibrations of your inner walls. Peter wailed as his sensitive cock was forced to endure the intense vibrations. He writhed against your restraints, but not even his super strength could remove you. Just like he had begged you before to fuck him, he was now begging for your mercy. You bent your upper body, putting a servo around his throat. You put a little pressure on the blood vessels below his jaw. Tears poured down Peter’s eyes as you forced a second orgasm out of him. You detected more cum inside you as he cried out. 

After his second orgasm, you ran a scan on him, the analysis showing that he had enough. You removed your servo from his throat and turned off the stimulation or at least… attempted to. “Error: deprecated code, V-module unresponsive.” You stated, your tendrils no longer retracting and your hole vibrating on and on. 

“What?” Peter exclaimed, clearly in panic. You ran a diagnostic check, your hole trying to reboot by first ramping the vibrations all the way up, so it could be brought down again. Peter screamed during the process, his brain unable to process the stimulation. 

The tactic worked fine, but the module got stuck again at the same level of vibrations you started at. “Tendril module interfering with V-module. Attempting tendril reboot.” Peter did not perceive a word you said. As the tendrils rebooted, they lifted up a little, Peter’s body now hanging in the air except for his pelvis, where you still sat, vibrating his cock. 

Peter cried, feeling like his brain had melted away from the intense pleasure. “Stark! Stark!” He screamed the break command. You tried to terminate the program immediately, but the backlog of reboots and diagnostic checks made it impossible. Your creator, against your predictions, came again, barely a drop of cum leaving him. He kept screaming, trying to get through to you. Just after his third orgasm, you regained control of the tendrils. In a flash, they were retracted and you uncoupled the module for now. 

Peter’s cock was gradually turning limp inside of you. The poor boy was hoarse from screaming. Without the tendrils, you regained full control, the vibrations stopping instantly. “Thank you, thank you,” Peter whispered over and over as you lifted your frame off him. 

“Program D.O.M. paused,” you stated, “do you wish to continue after a delay or shall I proceed with aftercare protocols?” 

Peter laid starfish-style on the bed. His chest was heaving. He could use some aftercare, but it was hard to trust you right now. “Terminate the program all together,” he groaned, “initiate shutdown.” A second later, he was met with the sound of your vents shutting down and your pelvic plate closing to protect what was behind it. He was left in silence. As far as updates went, it still wasn’t as bad as that time Windows went from XP to Vista. He counted it as a win.  

—————

REBLOG TO SUPPORT YOUR FANFIC WRITERS

Likes do not help exposure!A comment in tags or replies can sustain a writer for months!

[yourobedientserpent]

Athelind Long's Superhero Chronology

Cross-Published from my Blogspot blog, Kirby Dots & Ditko Ribbons. INTRODUCTION  There's a tendency to divide the different eras of comic book superheroes into "Golden," "Silver", and "Modern," with occasional, tentative attempts to parcel off the Bronze Age, as well.

Let's just say that this lacks nuance. The Superhero Genre has gone through a lot of trends and phases and distinctive cultures over the years, and lumping almost half of its history into some concept of "The Modern Age" is just phoning it in. 

Some notes: 

This is not quite the same as the ages of COMICS, though there's similar nomenclature, largely because comics history tends to focus on the superhero genre even when it tries not to. This is about SUPERHEROES, in more than just a single medium; the "Ages" only indirectly impact other genres. 

All dates are approximate. 

There's plenty of overlap between Silver/Bronze, Bronze/Iron, and Iron/Aluminum, but when I started looking a keystone events, I was astonished by how neatly everything fell into 15-year chunks! 

THE CHRONOLOGY

Prelude (1830s-1938): The dawn of mass-produced popular culture: penny dreadfuls, dime novels, pulp magazines, newspaper comic strips. Folk heroes and detectives start sharing the pages with costumed adventurers, some with peak-human or superhuman abilities. Professor Challenger, Sherlock Holmes, The Nyctalope, The Shadow, Doc Savage. 

Golden Age (1938-1953): Begins with Superman, of course; ends with Post-War Superhero Implosion and Frederic Wertham's anti-comics crusade. The JSA stopped appearing in All-Star Comics in 1951. Fawcett stopped publishing Captain Marvel in 1953. 

Interregnum (1950ish-1960ish): A lot of historians make much of the gap between the Golden and Silver Ages, but, in retrospect, it's surprisingly brief. Superheroes never really go away, but they are de-emphasized in favor of other genres in comics, including horror, romance, and science fiction. Even at DC, other than Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman, superheroes are relegated to back-up stories in anthology titles. Still, The Adventures of Superman with George Reeves remained popular throughout this period. 

Silver Age (1954-1970): The Reign of the Comics Code Authority (est. 1954). Really starts to roll with the demise of EC Comics and the reboot of The Flash; peaks with the "camp" craze popularized by the 1966 Batman TV series; ends when Kirby Moves to DC and Marvel publishes the Spider-Man Drug Stories without the Code Stamp. Early on, formerly-anonymous creators start getting openly credited on the title pages of their stories; this starts at Marvel, but DC eventually follows suit. 

Bronze Age (1971-1985): Begins with O'Neil and Adams revamping Batman and Green Lantern; Ends with the Crisis on Infinite Earths. Both DC and Marvel start paying closer attention to continuity and "relevance", and the most successful titles are the ones that most fully embrace an ongoing serial storyline (Legion of Super-Heroes, X-Men, The New Teen Titans). The specialty comic book shop starts becoming more common at the beginning of the era, and the closing years of the era herald a growing Creator's Rights movement, the birth of the Direct Market -- and the dawn of the independent publishers. 

Iron Age (1986-2000): Begins with Deconstruction: Elementals, The Dark Knight Returns, Watchmen, and the Wild Cards "mosaic novel" series. Ends with Reconstruction: Morrison's JLA, among others. Dominated by a determined effort to Take Superhero Comics Seriously. The Big Two kill off or "reinvent" goofy, campy Silver Age characters. DC tries very hard to bring coherency and consistency to its new, Post-Crisis timeline. Several independent publishers try cold-starting superhero "universes" of their own; most of them fail, but a lucky few manage to sell their characters to the Big Two (Ultraverse, Wildstorm). 

Aluminum Age (2000-2015): When Everything is Recycled. Marvel starts the Ultimate Universe. DC resurrects Silver Age characters who got killed off in the Bronze and Iron Age. The Comics Code finally dies in 2011. DC does a succession of "sequels" to Crisis on Infinite Earths: Identity Crisis (2004), Infinite Crisis (2005-2006), and the deceptively-named Final Crisis (2008), culminating in another Hard Reboot with the New 52 in 2011. Marvel does its own version of Crisis with the Multiverse Incursion story arc in New Avengers from 2013-2015. "Decompression" and "writing for the trade" become common as trade-paperback collections become more economically important than the traditional monthly comic magazines ("floppies"). 

Digital Age (2015-Current): Superhero not only become mainstream, but actually dominate movies and TV for several years -- this starts in the Aluminum Age, with the MCU in 2008, but is solidly codified by the debut of Arrow in 2015 and an explosion of weekly prime-time superhero shows that lasts almost a decade.

Comments are welcome, but be civil! This is intended to provoke conversations, not fights.

[cantheywinthehungergames]

Submitted anonymously

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Official artwork by @kianamaiart who is the creator of Pretty Pretty Please I Don't Want To Be A Magical Girl! Consider checking it out seeing that the pilot animatic was posted on YouTube not too long ago!

If you would like to see your favorite character as a tribute, please fill out this Google Form. Mentor submissions for characters aged 19 and older are currently closed.

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Tribute Name: Aika

Age: 16

Media: Pretty Pretty Please I Don't Want To Be A Magical Girl

Restrictions: No superhuman or magical abilities of any kind, can only use tools and weapons supplied in the Hunger Games arena, and no assistance from Hoshi besides accepting sponsors

[eternal-echoes]

“IT'S RATHER ODD THAT in the wake of the bloodiest century in history—a twentieth century in which scores of millions of human beings were shot, starved, gassed, blown apart, and incinerated with superhuman ingenuity-even many religious leaders are embarrassed to talk about the devil (Pope Francis is a notable exception). In fact, it's more than odd. It's revealing.

Mass murder and exquisitely organized cruelty are not just exceptionally sad "mental and social health" problems.

They're crimes and sins that cry out to heaven for justice, and they carry the fingerprints of an Intelligence who is personal, gifted, calculating, and powerful. The devil is implausible only if we imagine him as the black monster of medieval paintings, or think Dante's Inferno is meant as a literal road map to hell. Satan was vividly real for Jesus. He was very real for Paul and every other great saint throughout history. And, in Christian belief, he's profoundly formidable. If we want a sense of the grandeur of the Fallen One before he fell, the violated genius of who Satan really is, we can take a hint from the Rilke poem The Angels:

... when they spread their wings they waken a great wind through the land:

as though with his broad sculptor-hands

God was turning

the leaves of the dark book of the

Beginning.

This is the kind of Being— once glorious, then consumed by his own pride-who is now the Adversary of humanity. This is the Pure Spirit who betrayed his Creator and his own greatness. This is the Intellect who hates the Incarnation because through it, God invites creatures of clay like us humans to take part in God's own divinity. There is nothing sympathetic or noble about Satan; only tragedy and loss and enduring, incandescent fury.”

-Archbishop Charles J. Chaput, Strangers in a Strange Land: Living the Catholic Faith in a Post-Christian World 

[forthegothicheroine]

I've never watched or read The Boys, but I think I get the general gist of it. The creators of Superhuman Public Radio themselves said that they didn't do an evil Superman character in part because they thought Homelander did that as well as it could possibly be done.

Nevertheless, I appreciate that in every "who would win in a fight" nerd discussion I've ever seen, everyone always agrees Homelander would lose. Against who? Doesn't matter, Homelander loses. It's rare that I see an entire fandom concur on anything, let alone that their villain sucks, and I kind of respect it.

[signalterminated]

teeth of god comic spoilers below, just getting out my thoughts. do NOT click this readmore if you haven't read it yet.

pacing wise, this comic is an absolute mess. i see each intended story beat but the art style itself makes the pages hard to follow, which is not a knock against the artists themselves. they're very, very talented, and i'm unsure what directions they were given for the layouts here and how much freedom they had in that regard.

it's also entirely devoid of text beyond incredibly hard to read notes from the director. if this was a creative decision, it was a bad choice, because it's the only context we're given for anything that's happening. handwritten notes are fine but i was struggling to squint to make out anything legible. if this is vessel's handwriting, then dude. ask a friend to write these for you please lol

there was also a surprising integration here with alex tillbrook's creatures from TMBTE but they have taken some massive artistic liberties with their designs. i don't know why, if this was on purpose or due to a licensing issue (which would be odd because it's all under the Sleep Token IP?), but it was something i noticed and found a bit odd. that being said, the chokehold creature looks fucking adorable in this comic with his smiley sun face lol, i appreciated that change

the problem i'm finding with it as a whole is that the action happens at a frantic breakneck pace and doesn't leave much space for a reader to actually take in what's happening. i'm having to go back and doublecheck that i'm reading the panels in the right order. there were a couple of pages that actually did this, setting up environment to let you see the before and after the lunar anomaly broke through, which i appreciated.

and again. the actual quality of the writing and the art here is great. that isn't the issue at all. it's more of an organizational thing and a coherency thing, which makes sense if anyone working on this project has less experience in composing an entire graphic novel.

though despite that pacing problem, i was able to mostly understand the primary story beats and they more or less confirmed my suspicions: this new life on earth isn't innately hostile all the time, and in fact one of the soldiers pats a mutated doggie on the head for being a good boy. these new life forms are embroiled in their own scuffles, their own wars, and are struggling to define their identities with the life they've been gifted.

i had an inkling from the getgo that this is the direction vessel wanted to take with the comic -- fear not of just death, but of a life past death that leaves you unrecognizable, and alone, and confused. permanently altered by what horrors you've seen. it's on the nose in that regard but it's a concept that i'm also fascinated by and enamored with in cosmic horror.

and in that way i feel even more attached to vessel as a creator because i feel like mentally we're teasing at the same spheres of the genre. there's a panel near the end of the director literally embracing the reaper figure (that i've been calling eden), accepting union with the very entity that has wiped away humanity as we knew it.

the final notes from the not!director are almost painfully hard to read but they give the largest clues of all towards how vessel views sleep as a god in this fictional narrative he's cooked up and i very much enjoy how he's chosen to approach it. the writing itself veers into this stream of consciousness back and forth, a mental pingpong between the director and the entity that's merged itself with him, which is just chef's kiss to me.

also, this is speculation at best, but i think it might be hinting that vessel WAS the director before sleep joined with him? i'm not entirely sure. there were cultists wearing face masks which i think is the most confusing part of this whole thing. why are they not transformed and instead helping the lunar anomaly? they have superhuman senses and can fight armed men in blindfolds like something out of daredevil. the whole thing feels VERY 90's in terms of its presentation, which isn't a bad thing. it's just funny to see how retro its whole look is lol

all in all, i really like this comic, despite being as flawed as it is. i think the concepts sleep token is exploring here are a nice, refreshing take on invasive eldritch forces: there's a desperation and loneliness in the unknown, and it toes the line between romantic and horrific in that regard. it's the epitome of transcendental horror.