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AI art "Yaku and latex dress"
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Yaku and latex dress

#Japanese clothes#Kimono#solo#Confused Question Mark#Looking at viewer#Latex#Girl#full body#Indoors#The 100 Girlfriends Who Really, Really, Really, Really, Really Love You#Yakuzen Yaku
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Prompts on PixAI are public by default, but creators can hide them on any artwork they publish. The creator of this one chose to, so the words used to generate the image stay private — only they can see them. Hiding a prompt doesn't change anything else: the artwork is still public, and you can like, comment on and share it as usual.
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AI artwork
t
character: rosa_(pokemon) 1girl, 1boy, rosa (pokemon), brown hair, double bun, donut hair bun, long hair, blue eyes, black glossy skin-tight spy suit, zipper, partially unzipped, black two-piece swimsuit underneath, bare shoulders, lying on back, backless bench, unconscious, sleeping, eyes closed, relaxed body, peaceful expression, head tilted, body slightly tilted, one arm hanging down, bare feet, stranger, faceless man, leaning over her, hand on zipper, pulling zipper down, close-up, cowboy shot, from above, from side, dutch angle, cinematic lighting, fitting room, dark interior, fitting room stall, mirror, clothes rack, dramatic lighting, depth of field, film grain, chiaroscuro, Cinematic side-angle close-up from slightly above, tilted a few degrees off level into a dutch tilt, inside a dim fitting room. The frame is dominated by a long backless bench set in the dead center of the room, its padded top bare of any backrest, upholstered in dark worn vinyl that catches one long soft highlight along its edge. Rosa lies curled neatly along it: her body tilted slightly toward the camera, shoulders and hips rolled a little so the line of her spine reads as a lazy S, knees drawn up together, bare feet stacked at the far end of the bench. Her head rests turned to one side on the bench's edge, brown hair spilling from its two round buns and loose strands sticking to her cheek, lashes resting closed, lips parted a hair's breadth, breath slack in her throat -- deeply, peacefully asleep. Her right arm lies folded across her stomach; her left arm has slipped off the bench and hangs straight down below it, knuckles slack, fingers half-curled and drifting an inch above the floor. The black glossy spy suit hugs her from throat to ankle in a single seamless skin of patent leather, lo stretch panels creasing at the waist and knee where the curl of her body compresses it, the surface throwing a hard narrow specular line down her flank and thigh that tracks every contour of hip and rib. The zipper runs from her collar down the center of her chest, and it is caught halfway open: a stranger's hand has the pull tab pinched between thumb and forefinger and is dragging it lower, the two halves of the suit parting in a widening V that exposes the black two-piece swimsuit beneath -- matte black fabric against the wet shine of the leather, the top's edge riding just under her collarbone, the flat plane of her stomach showing between top and bottom hem. The stranger leans in from the right edge of the frame, a tall silhouette in a plain dark shirt, faceless in the low light, head bent toward her chest, his other hand braced flat on the bench beside her hip to take his weight; his shadow falls across her body and cuts her in two at the waist. She does not stir. The fitting room around them: a row of curtained stalls receding into the dark background, one curtain half-drawn, a mirror on the left wall catching a dim doubled reflection of the bench and the hanging arm, a clothes rack of indistinguishable dark garments blurred at the edge of the frame. The only light is a single cold overhead bulb just off-frame above the bench; it pools on the leather and her exposed skin and dies quickly into absolute darkness at the corners of the room, leaving the stranger mostly rim-lit along the shoulder and the back of his hand. Palette is black on black on black -- patent shine, matte swim fabric, dull vinyl -- cut only by her brown hair and the cool white of the bulb. Shallow depth of field; the stitching of the suit, the pull of the zipper teeth and the goosebumps along her bared stomach are all in sharp focus. Quiet dread, cinematic.
Thnhdox
AI artwork
d2
character: rosa_(pokemon) 1girl, rosa (pokemon), brown hair, double bun, hair bun, long hair, blue eyes, black glossy skintight spy bodysuit, shiny latex, skin tight, black gloves, from behind, over-shoulder composition, profile, leaning forward, pressing against door, back against door frame, peeking, sneaking, hand on door edge, looking at another, two strangers, silhouette, 2boys, from side, cinematic shot, dramatic lighting, dark warehouse, film set, abandoned warehouse, one eye visible, brown eyes, tense expression, rim light, depth of field, 3girls? no, 3 people total, medium shot, foreground figure, midground conversation, background set walls, The camera sits low and slightly behind the girl's right shoulder, looking past her through a gap at the hinged edge of a heavy steel warehouse door. She is closest to the lens, her body flat against the door's back face, cheek pressed near the frame, one gloved hand curled around the door's edge with fingertips just hooking it, the other hand braced flat against the door panel at hip height; her weight is on her front foot, back heel lifted off the concrete, her spine curved so the suit's glossy black surface catches a thin line of light along the shoulder blade and down the side of the thigh. Only the outer edge of her face and one blue eye are visible past the frame — that eye is fixed through the gap at the two figures inside, brows drawn, mouth a flat tense line, breath held. Beyond the door the warehouse room opens up: two strangers stand close together in the midground, both in dark anonymous clothing, one leaning in with a hand raised mid-gesture, the other turned half away, heads near each other, their faces falling into shadow so only jawlines and shoulders read; neither looks toward the door. The environment is clearly a film set of an abandoned warehouse — exposed steel beams, stacked pallets and crates along the far wall, a chain-link fence panel, coiled cables and a light stand visible in the background with a softbox casting cool white light from the far left, and a faint warm work light above right, dust hanging in the beams. Light comes from inside the room, so the strangers are rim-lit and the girl is mostly in silhouette with a hard bright edge tracing the curve of her shoulder, hip and calf; her side of the door is dark, the concrete floor dusty with scuff marks and a few dropped cable ties. The palette is cold steel blue and near-black with a single warm amber pool from the work light, deep shadows filling the door side. Shallow depth of field keeps the girl's shoulder and eye crisp while the strangers and the set walls fall soft. Tense, cinematic.
Dicavec2
AI artwork
d3
character: rosa_(pokemon) 1girl, solo, rosa (pokemon), lying face down, prone, unconscious, sleeping, eyes closed, relaxed body, limp, curled up on chair, one arm hanging down, body tilted, close-up, cinematic angle, from above, low key lighting, changing room, black glossy skin-tight spy bodysuit, shiny leather, skintight, brown hair, double bun, hair bun, blue eyes, A cinematic close-up from a high three-quarter angle looking down into a changing room, where a single young woman lies face down and unconscious across a padded bench chair at the center of the frame, her slender body curled neatly along the seat and slightly tilted so her hips roll a few degrees toward the camera while her shoulders stay low against the cushion. Her cheek is turned flat to the upholstery, blue eyes fully closed, lips softly parted in even, soundless breathing, brows slack and smooth -- the whole face given over to deep sleep, no tension anywhere in it. Her brown hair is gathered into two round buns at the crown, a few loose strands fallen forward over her temple and one strand trembling against the seat edge where her breath stirs it. She wears a black glossy skin-tight spy bodysuit that reads as wet-look leather: it hugs every contour of her back, ribs, waist and hips, the high collar snug at her throat, sleeves running to her wrists, and along her spine and the curve of her lower back a long specular highlight slides and breaks over the shine, following the small of her back where the fabric creases faintly at the bend of her waist. Her torso lies along the chair, chest pressed to the cushion, both legs drawn up together and tucked shorter than the seat, one black-gloved hand resting limp near her stomach, and her other arm slipping off the edge of the chair to hang straight down below the seat, fingers slack and half-curled, swaying with no resistance. The changing room around her is narrow and quiet: a bench against the far wall, a row of lockers with thin louvered vents, a curtain rail, a full-length mirror leaning at the left edge of the frame catching only a soft smeared reflection of her hanging arm and the chair leg, and a pile of her discarded visor cap and folded clothing heaped on the bench -- the only bright warm shapes in the room. Lit by one overhead fixture, a single cool pool of light falling straight down onto her back and the seat, the shine on the suit brightest at the shoulder blades and hip, while the floor, the corner behind the lockers and the space under the chair sink into deep shadow; a short hard shadow of the chair legs and her dangling hand darkens the tiles below, and the light source is the only one in the room, the rest absolute dark. The palette stays narrow and cool -- black, charcoal, cold steel grey and the varnished sheen of the suit -- with the small warm ochre of her discarded clothes as the single offset. Her dangling hand hangs perfectly still and does not swing, held by nothing but gravity. Quiet, cinematic hush.
Dicavec3

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