Placeholder: So through steam-hung billows I watch your flowing form's lithe journey unto sanctum more secluded yet - the locker room, where ladies do disrobe in private bower. My eyes peer reverent through mist veil as your dance carries lithe self past padded benches, peeling off each clinging layer 'neath which sacred valleys and flowering knolls emerge nude and glistening for air's soft tongue. Soon your gym garb joins the sweat-damp heap upon the floor, leaving pale curves and secret clefts painted sole So through steam-hung billows I watch your flowing form's lithe journey unto sanctum more secluded yet - the locker room, where ladies do disrobe in private bower. My eyes peer reverent through mist veil as your dance carries lithe self past padded benches, peeling off each clinging layer 'neath which sacred valleys and flowering knolls emerge nude and glistening for air's soft tongue. Soon your gym garb joins the sweat-damp heap upon the floor, leaving pale curves and secret clefts painted sole

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@generalpha

Prompt

So through steam-hung billows I watch your flowing form's lithe journey unto sanctum more secluded yet - the locker room, where ladies do disrobe in private bower. My eyes peer reverent through mist veil as your dance carries lithe self past padded benches, peeling off each clinging layer 'neath which sacred valleys and flowering knolls emerge nude and glistening for air's soft tongue. Soon your gym garb joins the sweat-damp heap upon the floor, leaving pale curves and secret clefts painted sole

doubles, twins, entangled fingers, Worst Quality, ugly, ugly face, watermarks, undetailed, unrealistic, double limbs, worst hands, worst body, Disfigured, double, twin, dialog, book, multiple fingers, deformed, deformity, ugliness, poorly drawn face, extra_limb, extra limbs, bad hands, wrong hands, poorly drawn hands, messy drawing, cropped head, bad anatomy, lowres, extra digit, fewer digit, worst quality, low quality, jpeg artifacts, watermark, missing fingers, cropped, poorly drawn

2 years ago

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Model

SSD-1B

Guidance Scale

7

Dimensions

832 × 1248

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So through steam-hung billows I watch your flowing form's lithe journey unto sanctum more secluded yet - the locker room, where ladies do disrobe in private bower. My eyes peer reverent through mist veil as your dance carries lithe self past padded benches, peeling off each clinging layer 'neath which sacred valleys and flowering knolls emerge nude and glistening for air's soft tongue. Soon your gym garb joins the sweat-damp heap upon the floor, leaving pale curves and secret clefts painted sole
Before the mirror she stands in faded cotton underthings, old but comfortable. This is intimacy's barrier, where innocence disguises give way to shadowed truth.Slowly, the last vestiges of perceived maturity shed away. First go stockings in crisp white, sliding up shapely calves and securing above the knee. Her reflection watches, expression unchanging, as if through someone else's eyes.Next, a simple short-sleeved blouse, buttons slipping closed almost by their own accord. The starchy collar fe
[real model in flesh] Standing alongside Cupid is Psyche, the mortal maiden who captivated his heart. her delicate figure, is infused with an air of innocence and vulnerability. Psyche's tender features and flowing drapery evoke a sense of delicate elegance, while her gaze, filled with a mix of enchantment and trepidation, reveals the depth of her emotions. Cupid and Psyche are intertwined in a tender embrace, their bodies entwined in a dance of love and desire. The contours of their forms, meti
[ancien Egypt, real photography] The climax of the dance approaches as Satiah's movements slow once again, transitioning into a graceful tableau. She raises her arms toward the heavens, her expression a mix of awe and reverence. Her dance has conveyed the cyclical nature of existence, the union of mortal and divine, and the profound connection between humanity and the gods. As the haunting melody of flutes and harps begins to play, Satiah enters the center of the room, her presence commanding at
The silken sheets writhe and coil around her, their movement almost alive, a sinister dance that mirrors the malevolent presence in the room. The dark aura fills the space, suffocating and oppressive, pressing against her very soul as it looms above, a specter of unknown terror. a macabre caress that awakens a primal mix of fear and desire within her.
And who's to blame you for wanting rest, after leading this body and soul such merry dances through steam and shadow? My hands have scarce stopped fluttering over shutter and film in fevered efforts to lock your magic onto light. But the equipment lays idle now as I watch your steady breaths, heaving bosom stilled at last beneath clinging sleeves. One hand trails idle upon the padded planks, tracing shapes and sigils that stir memories of moonlit revels beneath the trees. And though wild joys ma
a figure emerges from the mists, cloaked in divine radiance. She is the Goddess of Vaccination, her presence a beacon of protection and healing in a world plagued by uncertainty and fear. Her form shimmers with an otherworldly light, her gaze steady and compassionate, as she bestows her blessings upon those in need.
Soon your gym garb joins the sweat-damp heap upon the floor, leaving pale curves and secret clefts painted solely by golden light. One hand lifts free glistening strands from nape, while other thumbs the catch of brassiere in practiced grace. Slow the lace peels back to spill ripe bounties free at last, crowning offerings I dare not yet set starved mouth to sup from. A sigh lifts from your lips, now free of freed of constraining silks, as sunlight's grateful praise bathes nude form in nimbus-ble
all is dark, blood and smoke and battle: the princess, where the flickering candlelight cast shadows that danced across the stone walls, a sense of unease hung heavy in the air. The princess, dressed in a delicate white cotton undergarment agent provocateur set, stood by the open window, her heart racing with a mixture of fear and anticipation. As she gazed out into the moonlit courtyard filled with nobles, soldiers, and citizens, a shiver ran down her spine. The weight of her royal duties pres
Before the mirror she stands in faded cotton underthings, old but comfortable. This is intimacy's barrier, where innocence disguises give way to shadowed truth.Slowly, the last vestiges of perceived maturity shed away. First go stockings in crisp white, sliding up shapely calves and securing above the knee. Her reflection watches, expression unchanging, as if through someone else's eyes.Next, a simple short-sleeved blouse, buttons slipping closed almost by their own accord. The starchy collar fe
And who's to blame you for wanting rest, after leading this body and soul such merry dances through steam and shadow? My hands have scarce stopped fluttering over shutter and film in fevered efforts to lock your magic onto light. But the equipment lays idle now as I watch your steady breaths, heaving bosom stilled at last beneath clinging sleeves. One hand trails idle upon the padded planks, tracing shapes and sigils that stir memories of moonlit revels beneath the trees. And though wild joys ma
With a deep breath, dearie Fiona let herself be embraced by the water's embrace, her form becoming one with its liquid embrace. The feeling was ethereal, as if the lake itself was a conduit to another realm. She glided with a fluid grace, her movements a reflection of the dance she and Deery had shared in the forest. As the water enveloped her, Fiona's hair fanned out like strands of moonlit silver, creating an otherworldly halo around her. Her skin seemed to shimmer with a natural radiance
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