"their fingers tipping ur chin up, caressing your jaw and their thumb slowly parts your lips, dipping it into your mouth" for Copia, GN reader!
this has been in my inbox for a long time. please forgive me!
“Do not be nervous,” the Cardinal purrs, his finger already traveling up your neck from the collar of your shirt. It’s gloved, the sensation smooth with pressure that assures you he is in control.
That doesn’t make you any less nervous.
A shattered breath leaves your lips, and he has the audacity to chuckle. “You aren’t listening to me, are you? Too lost in the way my hand feels, hmm?” This time, he drags his forefinger to your jaw, pressing in hard, and you struggle to contain yourself. He grabs your chin hard and forces you to look up at him, to see him in his unholy greatness.
“Say something.” He nearly laughs, amused by your reaction. But, how can you react any other way? A call to the Cardinal’s office was never anything to celebrate unless it came with a certificate of completion for his Ghoulish Glimpses course, which was so very popular. You hadn’t taken the course.
“I don’t know why I’ve been called here,” you muster, hands hanging limply by your sides despite how tight the rest of your body is. “Usually… usually it means—“
“You are in trouble, yes.”
You want to throw yourself on the ground at his feet and beg his forgiveness. Instead, your mouth pops open in a silent “oh.” He takes the opportunity to throw you off with sudden tenderness in his touch. Thumb going back to caressing your jaw, tipping your head back only slightly, but enough that it’s uncomfortable.
“If you continue to daydream during my sermons, I will have no choice but to punish you.” His voice is silk, weaving inside your ears with ease as if he wasn’t threatening you. Brows knit together, and your lip trembles. “Now, none of that,” he husks.
The Cardinal’s thumb finds your lips, just the gentle brush of it sending chills down your spine. Then, he dips it inside your wet, warm mouth. Eyes widen in shock, and you make a choked noise that is muffled by his digit. This time, he outright laughs, and you’re so close that you can see his crow's feet wrinkle with delight. Then, he presses down on your tongue. Hard.
Your mouth closes around his thumb, and you moan, delicious and flustered.
“If I didn’t know any better, I would say you might like my kind of punishment, mm?” He removed his thumb from your mouth and brought it to his own lips, his tongue flicking out to lick the leather. Your stomach churns with heat and fear as something starts to unravel inside you.
“Run along, now.” He dismisses you without a wave of his hand. “Before I change my mind.”
