#((ummmm

[just-a-joey]

Painters warm.

Just saying, this isn’t romantic.

[linktoo-doodles]

One day I am gonna grow wings A chemical reaction Hysterical and useless Hysterical and

[artbombx3]

touching grass

[ichxraaa]

pussy inspection

ft. ormund hightower

an: nobody perceive me right now i have the post period hornyness, just finished the latest episode of hotd and this happened, the grasp this terrifying man has on me is driving me insane

pussy inspections with your husband ormund hightower, because of course he does, his control over you has never been a suggestion, you had quickly learned that to survive his strict vision of the world and to avoid the severity of his punishment what he demands is obedience and compliance.

so he always has you seat in that special chair he had made just for the occasion, one that raises your legs in just the right way and gives him an easy view after he's returned from his endeavors, a travel or maybe just a long and boring meeting where the people across the table from him managed to bored him to death. he calls for you and offers that seemingly candid gesture, that smirk that he thinks is a smile but it always seems like a threat to your eyes.

"come here, wife".

he takes in all the details of your shape, making sure the fabric of your dress is appropriate, eyes fixing on the tight fit of he corset around your torso and the way the garment perfectly accentuates the perfect curves of your soft waist. you come close to him as he continues his assessment, fingers making sure there is not a hair out of place, his brief smile the confirmation that he is pleased with your choice of styling.

"I like this, wear it more often like this",not a suggestion, an order in that nonchalant way he is so prone to give. he leans over and pecks your lips with a kiss in a gesture you quickly had to learn to be always willing to correspond with enthusiasm, "it suits you".

he breaks away from you while starting to remove the leather belt around his middle, his heavy valyrian sword going to the rest at the side of the bed: vigilance, a very appropriate name for a sword belonging to the lord you call your husband. you are familiar with the ritual by now, the meticulous ritual of him getting rid of the outer layers of his regal appearance.

"show me".

you know what it means, and yet it still manages to bring a blush into your face without fail, the habit doesn't reduce the scrutiny, and the weight of his stare hasn't gotten easier to bear; on the contrary, it seems every time it gets harder and harder, because much to your dismay your body seems to have grown completely used to his demanding nature.

slowly you take your spot on the high chair and expose yourself for him, opening your legs in front of him as he takes his place in front of you, sitting at the perfect place so your exposed core is right at eye level.

he exhales a sigh as his thick fingers caress the tender skin of your thighs, hot breath fanning over you, skin prickling with anticipation.

"open". he says, as he pinches the doughy fat of your inner thigh.

too used to his command you obey without questioning, you've learned hesitation could very well mean betrayal in front of this man. so you spread your folds in front of him using your hands, he hums in appreciation at the efficiency of your obedience.

he always takes his time, ringed fingers carefully tracing your soft folds and thumb lingering a second longer on the entrance of your tight channel, moist already gathering a his touches, at the way his fingers reached the hood of your clit and pulls, delicately but firm, he repeats the motion several times until you are struggling to not let out a sound, after all he hasn't given you permission to do so.

when one of his fingers finally goes inside is slow, exploratory, making sure everything feels the same as usual, making sure his wife wasn't defiled by somebody else than him. he hums, satisfied with the usual warmth and tightness of your channel receiving him.

a wet 'pop' follows his movement as he retreats his finger and wipes the sticky emission in a white handkerchief that he takes a long inhale from.

his voice is hardened by his desire in a way that has you clenching around the emptiness left by his touch. he starts removing the final layers of his garments, proud member erect and glistening as he positions himself at your entrance.

"let us devote ourselves into birthing an new hightower, the one who shall continue my efforts to put a worthy heir in the iron throne".

[echofades]

(x)

[gutsssee]

let me see the scar?

[kitkatdrawwss]

What a nice group of friends I can't imagine anything bad happening to them!!!

Long overdue higurashi fanart i love this series, (Yes I will read umineko also...at some point)

[fourfan-27]

ALL my favorite characters will be cutesy and pink when i get my hands on them