Majestic

Don’t look at me like that…you know it’ll make me go feral 👹😂

literally punch me

his hair is too slicked back

let me rough it up

that’s better :))

Much less terrifying than this:

It's not a joke. That's actually how he really looks. Look at this monumental neck!

The proof and the reference are under cut 😁

PAPA WITH A PAPA

i am not immune to peer pressure, and ever since that once ask i just kinda didn’t want to draw any Ghouls tonight idkkkkk so-

HERES A PAPA WITH A FRIEND!!!!!!! maybe i will post my ghouls anyway (probably) idk yet

lets hear it for transgenderism and faggotry. can I get a round of applause for transgenderism and faggotry

Mentally, he’s doing the Careless Whisper sax solo for me..

bound by lace | cardinal copia x f!reader

summary: after mercilessly teasing you at papa’s birthday dinner, the cardinal can't have you sneaking away from him.

content: 2.8k words, f!reader, dom!cardinal, panty-sniffing, public boners, (semi) public sex, spanking, gagging, mild degradation, praise, rough sex, white suit copia, he’s a bit of a perv here, they're sort of established, 18+ MDNI

This is what happens when @leezlelatch tells me to write a "short" warmup drabble – I spend two days writing purely self-indulgent filth. You should also check out her fic!

Masterlist – Ao3 link

✦ ✧ ✦ 

By now you’re certain that he’s not wearing any underwear. 

You’ve been watching the Cardinal for a few minutes now as he’s palming himself under the table, a black-gloved hand massaging his cock that’s trapped by the tight fabric of his white suit. He can’t take his eyes off of you, his head turned into your direction to make sure you know exactly what or who he’s thinking about. 

You regret that you let him have a say in the seating arrangements. The round tables have been spread out in the courtyard to allow enough space for Papa’s private circle to celebrate his birthday with an opulent outdoor dinner party. As Papa’s personal assistant it would be considered impertinent of you to disappear from the party until dinner is officially over and he knows it. His own position allows the Cardinal a seat at the table with Papa himself whom he entertains from time to time but does not seem to actually listen to. The way your seats are angled gives you a prime view of the Cardinal’s lap – and his stiff cock.

No one else is privy to his actions, distracted by rosemary-marinated steaks and casual conversation. You, however, have been shifting in your seat ever since he started his performance. After not having seen him all day you’ve been plagued by indecent thoughts about his body. He’s been ignoring all of your desperate texts – only to show up in the tight white suit that he knows has your brain shutting down on sight. It’s a game for him, really, and with every flick of his wrist, his smirk only grows wider.

Conversation at your own table flows easily. Instead of participating you’re trying to grind at the edge of the chair for at least some friction, rubbing your thighs together as inconspicuously as possible. The Cardinal’s brows pull together when he sees this, his hand tightly gripping his erection, giving you a little show as he pushes his hips into his hand. You fight the urge to moan at the sight, wriggling on your chair until by accident your panties catch, slipping down your hips by just an inch.

You shift again and again until the fabric fully slides down your ass. Hidden by the white tablecloth, you hike up your skirts, then pull your already dripping underwear down and bunch it up in your fist. When he turns his head to observe your miserable hip-wiggles again, you risk throwing the lacy bundle in his direction from under the table. They land right next to his white leather shoe, the wet patch resting on its pointy tip where anyone could see them if they knew what to look for. His gaze drops down and at the realisation of what exactly you gifted him his eyes widen. Two can play this game, Cardinal. 

You watch with a suppressed giggle as he drops his napkin with a loud whoops and picks it up, hooking his gloved pinkie into your panties. Hidden behind the heavy white fabric that is stained with black lipstick marks he brings them to his face, stopping right underneath his beautiful straight nose. Your eyes widen as he pretends to clean his mouth, taking a deep breath through your underwear that has his chest rising and falling heavily in his tight suit. He catches your eyes just after his exhale and grins at your shocked expression. While he brings the napkin back to rest beside his empty plate, the panties fall into his lap. You can see his hard cock twitching at the contact, straining the unforgiving material of his pants in a way that looks more painful the harder he gets.

You hear a deep cough and look back to his face, his smirk pulling the corners of his mouth up to emphasise the delicious blush that has now spread over his freckled cheeks. He’s so very handsome, so very aware of his effect on you. Almost sensually, he trails his fingers from his belly down to his groin, hiding the panties in his hand and rubbing them over his cock. His eyes close for a moment, his lips parting in an inaudible sigh as he drags them over his bulge again and again. When he finally pushes them into his pocket, they leave a wet stain running along the seam of his crotch.

It’s enough. You can’t keep sitting here watching him while you drip into your dress. Fleeing the scene seems safe – he would not dare to stand up now, showing a whole table of Papas and Sister what’s going on in his pants. As soon as his attention leaves you momentarily, you slip away with an excuse to use the bathroom. For a few seconds you hurry down the cool hallways, the skirt of your dress billowing behind you and allowing a gentle breeze to caress your inner thighs. You have to stop and think to locate the nearest bathroom, but you’re not even close when you hear rapid footsteps behind you, flat heels clicking familiarly on old stone tiles.

You don’t even have enough time to turn around before he’s pulling you into his chest, stifling your surprised scream with his gloved hand. His erection is poking into your ass and he rolls his hips against you, practically humping you from behind.

“You think you can run away after this little show, rattino?” he murmurs. “Leave me sitting there in pain while you sneak away to steal your pleasure from me?”

You can’t help but moan against his fingers. With his arm slung around your waist, he drags you a few steps down the hall, his fingers on your mouth now sliding between your lips and pressing down on your tongue. Impatiently, he pushes you into an alcove that houses an expensive bronze statue based on the Lupa Capitolina. Only instead of a she-wolf the metal was molded into a three-headed hellhound nursing her puppies.

When you start to suck on his fingers, desperate for his attention now, he immediately pulls them out and tuts. “You don’t get to taste me, rattino, not even the leather on my hands.”

His tone draws a pathetic whimper from your mouth. The Cardinal has no mercy. With one hand digging into the meat of your hips, he holds you in place before you can feel the fingers of his other hand sprawling out on your back. For a moment he gently caresses your spine but then he suddenly pushes, bending you over the statue while grinding his hips into yours. You both moan at the feeling, the sound reverberating in the hallway at an alarming volume.

“They’re going to come looking for us,” you whisper. “Please, can we go somewhere else?”

“No no no, I won’t let you run again. You better be quiet, sorella, I know how loud you can get.” You can feel his hand moving between your bodies, fiddling with his pants. “So naughty, throwing your underwear at your Cardinal, teasing him like this in front of our Papa. You were not worried anyone would notice then, no? Did you want to embarrass me?”

You shake your head and rest your warm cheek on the cool metal of the statue.

“Words, rattino, or I will leave you bent over here for the rest of the night.”

You swallow uncomfortably. “No, Cardinal, I did not want to embarrass you. I’m sorry.”

“Hmm, you are, eh?” He starts to rut again, his hard cock rubbing against your ass cheeks through the soft fabric of your dress. “Tell me why you did it, dolce, and maybe I will reward you for your courage.”

“I wanted to tease you back,” you admit. “Seeing you so hard for me was torture. You tortured me with your tight suit and your– your cock.”

He chuckles at your silly outburst. “You are not very patient, amore. Do you not trust me to take care of you in due time?”

“I need you. I needed you all day.”

He gives a melodic hum as he runs his hand from your back down to your ass, hiking your skirts up until you can feel the cool air against your bare cheeks. “That is a good reason, dolce. I will allow it for today.”

His sudden need to converse with you is slowly driving you insane. You push back into him, trying to get him to move, but all he does is grip your hips as tight as he can while his other hand rains down on your butt in a hard slap. The impact echoes loudly in the hollow alcove and you yelp, holding onto the neck of the hound to avoid sliding off its back.

“Ah, I did not say there would be no punishment.”

“’s too loud,” you whine.

“You’re right, I think I should fill that big mouth of yours, rattino.” He chuckles deviously. “And lucky for me you gave me the perfect thing.”

He pulls away to the point where you can’t feel him anymore and lose him in your peripheral vision. But before you can complain he roughly shoves your panties into your mouth. You can feel the cold wet patch against your tongue, the fabric quickly soaking up your spit.

“You know what our sign is, amore, yes?” he asks softly. You dutifully tap your fingers against the metal of the statue three times. “Brava ragazza. Now I will not hear another sound from you until you have received your punishment, okie dokie? I think five more will do.”

You nod and he gently runs his gloved hand over your ass, caressing the spot he just hit. 

“You already had numero uno and since your mouth is ugh… occupied… this time I will count them for you, yes?” He gives you one more soft caress and then his hand comes down again, lower this time, the sound barely muffled by the leather of his gloves. It doesn’t hurt as much as his bare hands and yet you feel the sting so clearly that you bite into your makeshift gag. “Due.”

After this, he switches hands, his weaker left palm meeting your ass with slightly less force. Despite being in a more sequestered area of the abbey, you fell incredibly exposed and it only adds to the wild cocktail of pleasure and pain.

“Tre.”

A short break in which he soothes your skin with the soft leather. He gives you no warning before he strikes you two times in quick succession and you fight off a whimper by biting harder into the fabric in your mouth. No sounds, he’d said. He rewards you with an appreciative hum. 

“Quattro e cinque.” Again, he soothes your skin, using his other hand to tickle your thigh. “You are doing so good, dolce, such a good little rat for your Cardinal. Just one more now.”

For the last one, he uses his right hand again. It’s the heaviest blow, aimed so low that you can feel the impact in your throbbing cunt as you slide further up the statue.

“Sei.”

You exhale through your nose and close your eyes, revelling in the burning sensation of your skin and the pleasure that’s pooling into your core.

“You know, this color is even more beautiful than your blush when I rubbed your panties over my cock,” the Cardinal says behind you with a chuckle and then you feel his lips on your ass. He presses a few gentle kisses to your abused skin, soothing with his tongue. His mouth travels all the way up to your lower back until he’s stopped by your dress. “Are you ready for me now, dolce? You are dripping all over your thighs.”

You whimper desperately at his words. He’s been avoiding your pussy on purpose but now you can feel his finger probing at your slick entrance, spreading out your arousal. A soft hum of relief leaves you at the contact, the sound of his zipper filling your ears like a choir of angels singing their heavenly praise. 

He wastes no more time, slowly easing himself into your drenched cunt. After the long wait, the stretch feels so good that your eyelids flutter closed. For all his teasing, he must have been on edge as well because once he bottoms out, a strangled groan bubbles from his chest and his fingers dig into your hips with a bruising intensity.

“So good,” he whispers. “So f-fucking good, amore. Cazzo.”

And then he starts to move. The first thrust sends you flying halfway across the statue and you wrap your arms around its belly, chafing your finger on one of the edges. The Cardinal doesn’t stop, just pulls your hips back and slams himself into you again. You keen, muffled by the gag, but in your ears the pathetic noises you release and your skin slapping together resound so loudly that you’re sure the whole abbey can hear. He proceeds to roughly fuck into you with no regards for volume, the angle just right so he hits you where you need him. With all the pent-up desire for him you approach your climax fast and hard and you stop caring as you try to hold yourself steady as best as you can.

You’re right at the precipice, dangling so close to the edge when the Cardinal suddenly stops. It’s only then that you hear the clattering of heeled footsteps in the distance. You can almost see Sister yelling at you, the most embarrassing images flashing before your eyes, but with every passing second the sounds fade out more and more. You immediately push yourself back, wriggling as much as you can from your cramped position to get him to hurry up.

“Shhhhh.” He slowly rocks into you again, dragging the tip of his cock along your sensitive walls. “We will not rush this, dolce, no. I want you to feel every bit of it.”

Carefully, his speed picks back up, insistent hips rolling against your ass until he rediscovers his previous rhythm. With your moans stifled by your panties, the only outlet for your growing pleasure is your tight grip on the statue’s tits. The Cardinal must be close as well because soon he falters, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he clumsily slides his hand down to fumble with your clit. It’s all you need to fall. When you come, pleasure spreads over your body like liquid fire. You clench tightly around him and with a strangled moan he spills into you, twitching and shivering into his last few strokes.

For a moment, you stay exactly like that, stuck in the quiet afterglow with only your laboured breathing as evidence. The Cardinal lets you recuperate briefly after he pulls out, his hands soothing the skin of your hips that he gripped so tightly at the height of his pleasure.

“You did so well, amore, so well. Your Cardinal is so proud of you,” he whispers when he leans down to remove the panties from your mouth. “You are okay? Not too much?”

With your eyes still closed, you hum happily and rest your forehead against the cool metal, wetting your dry lips. He lets the fabric of your dress slide back over your tender backside and you whimper at the delicious pain. As you open your eyes to see him moving into your peripheral vision, he gives you an apologetic smile that you can’t help but return.

“We should go back, amore,” he finally says, tucking his softening dick back into his still wet pants. “I think they will be serving dessert soon and I really want the strawberry cake.”

“I don’t know if I can sit anymore,” you mumble, righting yourself on shaky knees. You can feel his seed dripping out of you immediately. He won’t give you the panties to clean yourself but pushes them back into his pocket.

“Maybe you have to sit on my lap for the rest of the evening,” he says, gently kissing your temple as he pulls you close. “Or kneel under my table hehe.”

You playfully push against his chest. “You know Papa hates it when we do PDA. He says we’re obnoxious.”

“Well, I hate it when he sits on my desk and messes up my papers and he does it all the time anyway.”

His hand comes up to cradle your cheek, brushes a strand of hair from your eyes. Up close you see all of his flushed, freckled face, his black eye make-up smudged into sweaty streaks. You wipe at his messed up lipstick but all he does is lean in to press a soft kiss to your lips. Finally tasting him is all the reward you need and you sigh, allowing him to deepen the kiss. His tongue is gentle as it greets yours and when he breaks away, he smiles at you more fondly than ever.

“You know, we could steal some of the cake from the kitchens and just dip…” you propose, pressing a few kisses along his jaw.

His smile widens. “You always have the best ideas, amore.”

✦ ✧ ✦ 

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it – kudos, comments, rbs etc are as always much appreciated ♡

Masterlist – my Ao3

The way im on my fuxkin period rn AND THIS MAN IS MAKING ME GO FERAL

LIKE BRO THE HAIRRR THE MESSY HAIR I JIST WANNA RUN MY FINGERS THROUGH THEM AND HIS VOICEE

everything about this FUXK i need him so bad

(x)

this has me feeling all types of ways

THE TAGS HAD ME SNORTING OMG @rightintheghoulies

But basically, I decided to pull out one of my terzomega artworks I weren’t willing to post because I didn’t like it and I definitely didn’t drew it while being high.

But unholy shit, the height difference-

(it’s also the “something bigger” I said I’ll be working on but I don’t like it still)

ANYWAYS.

Darth Maul heard the term "slay" and applied it to every aspect of his entire life