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Spider-Gwen, Gwen Stacy
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- Original Prompt
- Spider Gwen from Marvel Gwen Stacy,, ligotée dans sa chambre, ligotée avec du scotch gris brillant, bras attachées avec du scotch gris brillant, bras dans le dos, jambes attachées ensemble, legs wrapped up together, assise, position de faiblesse, regarde le spectateur inquiet, rougis et lutte dans ses liens,, porte son costume de Ghost Spider, le costume a un texture en latex, il brille et reflète la lumière. Gwen est sexy, looking at viewer, la chambre est éclairée par des néons rose et violet, corps entier, 1girl, best quality, masterpiece,
- Mode
- flash
- Size
- 992 x 992
Model & LoRA used
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character: spider-gwen, gwen_stacy
1girl, solo, spider-gwen, hooded bodysuit, hood up, mask, tape gag, tape bondage, cocooned, web cocoon, bondage, struggling, lying, sitting, bedroom, from above, looking at viewer, wide-eyed, blush
An overhead view looks down upon a figure in a white and black hooded bodysuit with a mask covering her face. She is cocooned in thick, sticky white webbing that wraps her torso and limbs into a tight, immobile bundle, leaving her in a slumped, semi-sitting position against the floor of a bedroom. Silver adhesive tape is wrapped firmly around her mouth as a gag, and additional strips of tape bind her wrists and ankles tightly beneath the web layers. She is struggling against the restraints, her body tilted slightly to the side, with the webbing compressing the fabric of her suit. The bedroom is dimly lit by a single bedside lamp, casting a warm yellow glow across the carpet and creating deep, soft shadows in the corners of the room. The white of the webbing and the suit reflects the lamplight, while the silver tape has a sharp, metallic glint. The figure's eyes are wide and focused upward toward the camera, conveying a sense of frantic effort. Quiet tension.
Bertrand Poil
character: spider-gwen, gwen_stacy
1girl, solo, spider-gwen, gwen stacy, blonde short hair, asymmetrical bob, blue eyes, white hooded bodysuit, hood up, white mask with large white eye lenses pulled over the face, black web-pattern under the hood, tape gag, silver duct tape strips pressed across the mask's mouth area, tape bondage, cocooned, cocoon, duct tape wrapped in overlapping silver bands around the torso and arms pinning them to the ribs, sitting, sitting on a bed, lying down, upper body fallen back against the mattress, struggling, arched back, twisted hips, knees drawn up, toes curling, flexed wrists, straining shoulders, head thrown back, bedroom, bed sheet, pillow, nightstand, lamp light, from above, close-up, dutch angle
Viewed from above at a slight dutch tilt, the camera looks down the length of a narrow bed in a small dark bedroom, Gwen filling the frame diagonally from the lower left corner toward the upper right. She is seated on the mattress with her pelvis as the pivot and her upper body toppled backward, so her shoulders and the back of her hood press into the sheet while her hips still hold the sit — a half-collapsed sit-turned-lying, spine bowed in a taut arc, the weight of the torso carried by the mattress and the weight of the legs held by nothing but her own strain. Silver duct tape is wound in overlapping flat bands from her ribs to her elbows, sealing her arms against her sides and squashing the white suit's shoulders into puckered creases where the tape crosses the web pattern; more banding continues past her hips over her thighs, pinning her knees half-drawn toward her chest, the thigh tape wrinkling the white fabric and tightening in bright diagonal highlights wherever her legs fight it. Across the lower half of the mask, three strips of the same silver tape lie flat and slightly overlapping, edges lifting at one corner where her jaw pushes against them, the tape stuck to the mask itself and deforming with the flex of the underlying face rather than the skin. Her head is thrown back into the pillow, hood crushed sideways, chin pushed up, and her gaze goes up and across the sheets toward the far corner of the room rather than to the lens. Both fists are clenched and twisted outward inside their tape bands, the tape biting ridges into the suit at the wrists; her knees sag apart and then snap back together as she fights, one heel dug into the mattress dragging a bunched ridge of sheet toward her, the fabric piling under the arch of her foot while the opposite side of the sheet stays smooth. The bed frame is a plain dark wood rectangle, a pillow dented under her hood, one nightstand at the head of the bed holding the only lamp in the room: a warm bulb above and left of her, throwing her shadow across the sheets in a long soft silhouette behind her hip, lighting the top-facing planes of the tape bands into hard silver and leaving the gaps between band and band deep black. The lamp is the only light source; beyond its pool the bedroom wall, the doorway and the curtains drop into a deep brown-black. Palette stays to the white and black of the suit, the grey-silver of the tape, the cream of the sheet and the warm amber of the lamp, with no other hue admitted. Cool, tense, confined.
Bertrand Poil
character: spider-gwen, gwen_stacy
1girl, solo, spider-gwen, gwen stacy, blonde short hair, asymmetrical bob, blue eyes, white hooded bodysuit, hood up, white mask with large white eye lenses pulled over the face, black web-pattern under the hood, tape gag, silver duct tape strips pressed across the mask's mouth area, tape bondage, cocooned, cocoon, duct tape wrapped in overlapping silver bands around the torso and arms pinning them to the ribs, sitting, sitting on a bed, lying down, upper body fallen back against the mattress, struggling, arched back, twisted hips, knees drawn up, toes curling, flexed wrists, straining shoulders, head thrown back, bedroom, bed sheet, pillow, nightstand, lamp light, from above, close-up, dutch angle
Viewed from above at a slight dutch tilt, the camera looks down the length of a narrow bed in a small dark bedroom, Gwen filling the frame diagonally from the lower left corner toward the upper right. She is seated on the mattress with her pelvis as the pivot and her upper body toppled backward, so her shoulders and the back of her hood press into the sheet while her hips still hold the sit — a half-collapsed sit-turned-lying, spine bowed in a taut arc, the weight of the torso carried by the mattress and the weight of the legs held by nothing but her own strain. Silver duct tape is wound in overlapping flat bands from her ribs to her elbows, sealing her arms against her sides and squashing the white suit's shoulders into puckered creases where the tape crosses the web pattern; more banding continues past her hips over her thighs, pinning her knees half-drawn toward her chest, the thigh tape wrinkling the white fabric and tightening in bright diagonal highlights wherever her legs fight it. Across the lower half of the mask, three strips of the same silver tape lie flat and slightly overlapping, edges lifting at one corner where her jaw pushes against them, the tape stuck to the mask itself and deforming with the flex of the underlying face rather than the skin. Her head is thrown back into the pillow, hood crushed sideways, chin pushed up, and her gaze goes up and across the sheets toward the far corner of the room rather than to the lens. Both fists are clenched and twisted outward inside their tape bands, the tape biting ridges into the suit at the wrists; her knees sag apart and then snap back together as she fights, one heel dug into the mattress dragging a bunched ridge of sheet toward her, the fabric piling under the arch of her foot while the opposite side of the sheet stays smooth. The bed frame is a plain dark wood rectangle, a pillow dented under her hood, one nightstand at the head of the bed holding the only lamp in the room: a warm bulb above and left of her, throwing her shadow across the sheets in a long soft silhouette behind her hip, lighting the top-facing planes of the tape bands into hard silver and leaving the gaps between band and band deep black. The lamp is the only light source; beyond its pool the bedroom wall, the doorway and the curtains drop into a deep brown-black. Palette stays to the white and black of the suit, the grey-silver of the tape, the cream of the sheet and the warm amber of the lamp, with no other hue admitted. Cool, tense, confined.
Bertrand Poil
character: spider-gwen, gwen_stacy
1girl, solo, spider-gwen, gwen stacy, blonde short hair, asymmetrical bob, blue eyes, white hooded bodysuit, hood up, white mask with large white eye lenses pulled over the face, black web-pattern under the hood, tape gag, silver duct tape strips pressed across the mask's mouth area, tape bondage, cocooned, cocoon, duct tape wrapped in overlapping silver bands around the torso and arms pinning them to the ribs, sitting, sitting on a bed, lying down, upper body fallen back against the mattress, struggling, arched back, twisted hips, knees drawn up, toes curling, flexed wrists, straining shoulders, head thrown back, bedroom, bed sheet, pillow, nightstand, lamp light, from above, close-up, dutch angle
Viewed from above at a slight dutch tilt, the camera looks down the length of a narrow bed in a small dark bedroom, Gwen filling the frame diagonally from the lower left corner toward the upper right. She is seated on the mattress with her pelvis as the pivot and her upper body toppled backward, so her shoulders and the back of her hood press into the sheet while her hips still hold the sit — a half-collapsed sit-turned-lying, spine bowed in a taut arc, the weight of the torso carried by the mattress and the weight of the legs held by nothing but her own strain. Silver duct tape is wound in overlapping flat bands from her ribs to her elbows, sealing her arms against her sides and squashing the white suit's shoulders into puckered creases where the tape crosses the web pattern; more banding continues past her hips over her thighs, pinning her knees half-drawn toward her chest, the thigh tape wrinkling the white fabric and tightening in bright diagonal highlights wherever her legs fight it. Across the lower half of the mask, three strips of the same silver tape lie flat and slightly overlapping, edges lifting at one corner where her jaw pushes against them, the tape stuck to the mask itself and deforming with the flex of the underlying face rather than the skin. Her head is thrown back into the pillow, hood crushed sideways, chin pushed up, and her gaze goes up and across the sheets toward the far corner of the room rather than to the lens. Both fists are clenched and twisted outward inside their tape bands, the tape biting ridges into the suit at the wrists; her knees sag apart and then snap back together as she fights, one heel dug into the mattress dragging a bunched ridge of sheet toward her, the fabric piling under the arch of her foot while the opposite side of the sheet stays smooth. The bed frame is a plain dark wood rectangle, a pillow dented under her hood, one nightstand at the head of the bed holding the only lamp in the room: a warm bulb above and left of her, throwing her shadow across the sheets in a long soft silhouette behind her hip, lighting the top-facing planes of the tape bands into hard silver and leaving the gaps between band and band deep black. The lamp is the only light source; beyond its pool the bedroom wall, the doorway and the curtains drop into a deep brown-black. Palette stays to the white and black of the suit, the grey-silver of the tape, the cream of the sheet and the warm amber of the lamp, with no other hue admitted. Cool, tense, confined.
Bertrand Poil
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