Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Qualityâ Free Actions
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
fic_promptly's theme for today was [blood]. so you know. my time to shine.
Prompt: robot fascinated by human blood / nosebleed
Ship: Robot Spy <-?-> Sniper
Rating: T for violence
====
The robots ainât fucking shit. One in the shape of Spy tries to knife Sniper in the back, trying to sneak up behind him with its lighted eyes and creaky joints so loud that Sniper can practically hear its clunky steps from two stories up. Itâs a poor imitation of the real thing, and Sniper has seen some shitty imitations in the past year. Even the enemy spy can do better.
Sniper swings around, kukri in hand. The robotâs blade knicks Sniperâs forearm, a flick of blood arcing in the air. It doesnât even sting, but Sniperâs temper flares.Â
The thing isâthe robot donât got that same fluidity that Spy has. None of them do. Plastic wires canât replace the satisfaction of slicing through arteries or veins. Canât enjoy the feel of flesh giving in to a blade or how the muscles of a panicked body tense before relaxing for a good fight. Sniper drags his kukri out of the machine and the only feedback he gets is the mundane scrape of metal against flimsy panels and brittle cables.Â
Even getting hit doesnât have the same exhilarating rush. The robotâs fist is nothing interesting. As impersonal and stupid as accidentally running into a wall. Spy wouldâve thrown a punch with knuckles and nails and a little laugh that can linger in the back of Sniperâs head like a broken record. Itâs actually insulting how the robot even tries.
Stumbles to the ground all wrong, makes all the wrong dying sounds, makes stupid decisions like trying to switch to a revolver when it shouldâve stuck with the balisong. Sniper drops down over the machineâs body, hands around a cold metal throat that he canât crush. Canât gasp out a breath with no lungs. No windpipe to block. No pain to make âem think twice about moving.
Maybe thatâs the only good thing. The robotâs body is modded after Spyâs, got the same shape and weight under Sniper. Spy wouldâve gone still like a snake, trying to get some air. The robot still shifts and struggles to move its arms despite all its loose strings of snapped cables and bent metal coverings.
Blood drips from Sniperâs nose. It splashes across the robotâs shoulders and face, bright red against cold shiny blue paint. The robotâs eyes flash.
Sniper looks down at it with detached curiosity. He can feel the mechanisms still whirling under him. It putters and restarts, almost like a dying breath. With his own blood covering it, it does look like its dying.
The real Spy wouldâve started complaining about getting blood on his suit, and Sniper wouldâve let the bastard complain.Â
âCourse the robot doesnât a word. It stops its weak struggle under Sniper, gap-jointed fingers suddenly letting go of Sniperâs wrists in an attempt to free its neck.Â
Another well of blood falls from Sniperâs nose. It hits the robot right over the right eye.
It freezes, and so does Sniper.
Stupid thing canât even wipe its eyes, he thinks, just as the robot reaches upwards to do just that.
Its fingers are flat and square, but it smears the blood from its eye over the painted image of its black glove. When it rubs its forefinger and thumb, the blood goes tacky, sticking the fingers together until it forces the components apart.
The robot inspects its fingers, almost with the same detached curiosity as Sniper, before it does the same careful swipe across its shoulders and face, every spot where Sniper had bled over it.
The real Spy wouldâve hated this. Wouldâve gotten revenge on Sniper for getting blood on his suit.Â
Never wouldâve stared fascinated by his own blood-covered fingers. Never wouldâve reached out to brush across Sniperâs bleeding nose and mouth for more.Â
Sniper watches it drop its hand back. It shudders before going still, the flicker light from its eyes dimming.
Sniper stares. More blood falls over the robotâs face, but it gets no reaction and the machineâs body goes quiet like real death. Sniper tips his head back and sniffs to stop his nose from dripping. He lets go of the robotâs neck, slowly sitting back with a sharp exhale that accidentally blows out another splatter of blood anyway.
also made this, it was supposed to be a gift but since it was MY idea it was based on i guess it ended up being more of a gift to myself, which is bad.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Qualityâ Free Actions
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming