open post : picture prompt

[pseudocode]

OPEN PICTURE PROMPT MEME



respond to a character in this post with a picture!
or a few!
(this tumblr may be helpful.)
i will set the scene based on the picture.
fun ensues!
(link if they're particularly huge, numerous or nsfw, please!)
or you can leave me a comment and i'll hit you with picture prompts instead.

aus are totally chill.
if someone's on my muselist but not this post
hit me up and i'll drop a comment for them.

Comments

[gusset]

Satsuki, as Shiro knows her, is a sharp blade and surprisingly soft eyes, beautiful and radiant. In the moments between the quieter warfare that is business and the noisy warmth that is her - their - family, the moments they have for themselves, she's... cute, in her way. His fingers flutter under hers when she touches him, and when they break he sighs breath out.

He leans into her without protest or second-guessing, familiar as stitching a seam, pleasant as a freshly-pressed coat. "Your confidence makes it impossible to rest on my laurels, you know," he says, gently pleasant, and skims his fingers down her arm. "We should hang this up," he says, and it's not just because he doesn't want it to wrinkle.

she's not cute...she's manly as hell.

[paramountcy]

Satsuki's acquiescence is in a soft mm, punctuated by a squeeze of her hand low on his back. It would be cheeky coming from anyone else; from her, it's...cheeky. "As you say." She turns her head once more, to get one final, full look at the dress in the mirror. Her blind eye to any shortcomings in his handiwork aside, it really is beautiful.

Deftly, but handling the dress as though it's the powdery membrane of a moth's wings, she reaches behind her to continue working open the closure, needling at his impatience with her steady, unhurried hand, and knowing he has two of his own, if he has such a problem with it. And, in truth, the process doesn't need her leading to make it any more arduous. Hung and bagged, the bag looped, the bag tied, his kit pushed safely back beneath the work desk they've been using half as studio, half as office. She stops moving so slowly, then.

Less a testament to her capacity for multitasking and more a testament to her capacity for eyefucking, Satsuki holds his gaze while her fingers work, forfeiting another kiss for this.

she's both.

[gusset]

The woman who was content to tease him through chiffon moments ago has been left behind with such swiftness he's very nearly surprised. Very nearly isn't certainty, though, and his hands duck around her to start from the bottom of the row of closures. Satsuki is the master of eyefucking in this relationship, her intensity narrowed down to live hot under his skin, but Shiro has been making board meetings more exciting with his fingers on a pen and half-lidded eyes for years. This dress, born of his hands, is a child's six-piece puzzle, solved with ease, and when it lays open he finds her skin.

He brushes the pads of his fingers in a loose arc across her back just before he curls his grip closed, and he gently begins to draw the fabric forward, drawing his lower lip between his teeth and barely catching more skin revealing itself in the corner of his eyes.

a woman of many trades

[paramountcy]

She can't stand when he bites his lip like that. It's enough motivation to draw her into retaliating; Satsuki ducks her head, not all shyness this time, but vigor. Her nose just touches his; their mouths and the rest of them, she keeps separate.

"Frightened?" she asks, even the word a challenge, as if she might bait him him into slipping from the game. (And why not? Why play when they're this close together?)

One of Satsuki's arms slopes across her ribs, collecting the dress before it can fall too far from her body or hit the floor...but it's low enough. Satsuki handles this disrobing with a care she rarely shows for clothing. She's nearly tender with the way she helps it fall. She touches the back of his neck, then his chest, then her own waist. For a moment, it seems she might let their mouths touch again, but it's a ruse - a trick to rouse his teeth from his bitten lip in pursuit og her.

and master of all of them

[gusset]

He knows the shape of her reaction the moment his lip moves. She's not predictable, but she is fond of a challenge, and he won't give her the empty satisfaction of a victory barely won. His eyebrows rise, and he blinks, long. This quickening is anything but fear.

His fingers draw free of fabric, finding the dip of her spine, and he lays his palm there with enough pressure it can't be immediately dismissed. He draws in a breath, eyes flicking toward her mouth - and he knows she won't miss it, because when has she ever? Her trap is confident, and there's a thought of resisting for a moment longer, but hasn't he waited enough? He leans up to close the space between them. If she doesn't like his lip between his teeth, perhaps she'll like hers there better.

brows emote

[paramountcy]

The moan that leaves her mouth is earnest, her lips parting as soon as they brush back against Iori's. She lets him draw her into his mouth without resistance. It's what she wanted, the unbridled crush of his body against hers. The slight pain from his teeth in her lip is a thrill, and she finds herself pulling back just enough to make it sting her. She won't forget it soon; he'll be bitten back soon enough, not retaliation but escalation.

She's been holding up the dress so diligently that it's almost compromised the minute she pushes back into his kiss. Satsuki is a woman of resolve and will, and it's will and resolve that keeps her from trashing his handiwork. His firm hand on her back keeps her still, and it's in this stillness that her stomach shivers, twitches against his, an alien, but too familiar fire lighting in it. She's short-sighted with the heat of want, and she fidgets her hands and body anxiously, the way only she can.

Now her hands won't stay away from him. They travel back up his chest and into his hair and stay there this time, thumb tickling the back of his ear. But, oh, the dress - and, her tongue touching his upper lip, Satsuki grunts again, impatiently. She lets it drop, purposefully, neatly, letting it piled soft on the floor. They'll kiss without end if left to it; she's happy to move the action to a more comfortable place.