#oc: Midori | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

libellule-ao3 · 2 months ago

Text

🔞 Painted & Pinned

Ominis couldn’t see the painting, but he felt it— her gaze burning his skin, the silence heavy, the air thick with anticipation. Then, the first stroke of the brush.

@annarielmidori , I had originally planned to publish this in March, but when I found out your birthday was on the 18th of February, I couldn’t resist trying to bring it forward (despite my snail-paced writing 🐌). I hope you had a wonderful day and that you’ll enjoy this OS! Once again, happy birthday! 🎉

OS | 🔞 | Ominis Gaunt x MC (Annariel Midori)

Ominis stifled a sigh as he heard the brush gliding across the canvas, a muffled, almost inaudible sound, but one that vibrated in his nerves like an invisible caress.

He couldn’t see the image taking shape under Annariel’s hand, but he could sense its evolution through the weight of her gaze that pressed against his bare skin. He stood vulnerable under this subdued light, designed to accentuate his shadows, under this pressure that thickened the air around them. Naked, exposed, with nothing but a simple sheet wrapped precariously around his hips.

‘Stop moving, or you’ll end up looking like a mountain troll!’

The threat was teasing. Ominis could hear the provocation behind the light tone. She was testing his limits and always knew what to say to brush them aside.

Of course, he would have liked to retaliate with a sharp word, something that would make her shudder as much as he shuddered at being used as a male nude study model. But the wizard was too aware of his position, of the heat of the sheet against his skin, of the tension in his muscles from standing so still.

So instead of fighting back, he let his voice slip between them, soft, yet dangerously treacherous.

‘Is that a threat... or a promise?’

A low, husky laugh, laden with innuendo, answered him.

‘More like a prediction,’ she said, dipping her brush in a hue he obviously couldn’t name. ‘But if you keep on being provocative, I might just smear you with paint!’

He sensed a smile tug at his lips before he knew it. It was their usual game. They played the balancing act on a glowing wire, ready to give way under pressure. Caught between lightness and tension, between defiance and abandonment.

‘Why did I agree to this again?’ he murmured, falsely pensive.

‘Because you’re irresistibly devoted to me?’ she suggested, applying the colour to the canvas.

He tilted his head slightly in the direction of her voice.

‘I think it was more the threat of refused kisses.’

The silence thickened around them, saturated with possibilities. With all his senses on the alert, Ominis heard a rustle of fabric close to him, then a breath against his bare skin.

He also perceived the stronger smell of paint mingling with something more intimate, more intoxicating. Annariel’s perfume warmed by desire.

She was there. Close by.

‘Ah, so that’s the kind of ransom you’re asking for?’

He had no time to reply. Her lips locked with his. Everything disappeared. The pose, the canvas, the very reason for his immobility. All he registered was the languor of her kiss, the warmth of her sighs against his mouth and the delicious shiver that ran up his spine like a wave.

His free hand — the one not clutching the sheet around his hips — naturally found her waist and pulled her against him.

Annariel pressed herself against him with exquisite slowness, her clothes brushing against his torso, the friction stealing his breath away.

Then a gesture.

Her arm jerked, and the brush skimmed over his side before gliding lower. A cool trail of paint slid down his skin, sending a shiver down his spine as it trickled toward the sheet, seeping into the fabric. Annariel froze for a moment. He sensed the smile that blossomed on her lips. A grin, dark and satisfied.

‘I told you not to move...’

A deep rumble rolled down Ominis’ throat. He was about to reply, but his words were strangled when he felt the brush against his chest.

‘You make a beautiful canvas, you know,’ she murmured, tracing a wet line from his sternum to his lower abdomen with the tip of the brush.

He lost control. His body tensed under the icy caress, every nerve electrified by the contrast between the freshness of the colour and the lava pulsing through his veins. He didn’t know what colour she was applying. He didn’t care.

What mattered now were her fingers.

The ones that had replaced the brush and were touching the wet pigment, spreading it slowly over his skin in lazy circles.

‘If you want to paint me, you’re going to have to convince me to behave,’ he murmured, his tone huskier than he would have liked.

A slight laugh, a breath brushing his lips and a light pressure on his taut crotch.

‘What if I’d rather have you begging me to keep going?’

She knew exactly how to stoke his desire.

She pulled away.

The absence gnawed at his patience. Just long enough for him to rage at no longer having her against him. Then she came back.

This time, he didn’t just feel her fingers.

He felt her bare skin against his, and her warm, wet palms.

The pigment.

Her hands were coated with it.

A sigh escaped Ominis, a murmur of abandonment to this exquisite torture.

She slid against him, every calculated movement heightened by the colours staining their skin, creating a vivid tableau of desire and provocation. She didn’t hurry.

That was worse. Worse than raw haste. Worse than greedy conquest.

She let him feel every second, every heartbeat suspended in anticipation of the next caress.

‘Darling...’

His tone had become a low growl, a threat veiled in impatience.

She pressed her paint-smudged digits on his chest, tracing arabesques he couldn’t see but felt in every fibre of his being.

‘Hush,’ she whispered against his mouth, amusement in her tone. ‘Let the artist do her thing.’

A shudder ran through him as, with a barely perceptible movement, the sheet slipped from his hips, pooling on the floor in hushed whisper. Ominis bent gently under the force of a languorous kiss and found himself lying on the fabric, a rising heat filling him as Annariel sat down on his thigh.

Then her hands left him for a few moments and her fingers, now clean, trailed down, brushing over his lower abdomen before encircling his throbbing erection, her grip both light and unyielding.

Ominis felt her rubbing slowly against his thigh, her arousal smearing onto his skin in a calculated provocation. A guttural groan escaped him, his hands clutching the sheets in a desperate bid for control.

She knew his limits. She knew exactly how far she could push him before he snapped.

At first, she merely teased him with her fingertips, brushing over the sensitive curve of his tip, tracing soft circles before coating her palm with the moisture already beading at his swollen head. Then, torturously slow, she stroked down his length, her firm grip gliding over him like a silk glove. Every movement was precise, measured—neither too fast nor too slow.

Ominis tensed beneath her, his hips instinctively seeking more friction.

But she dictated the pace, amusement lacing her voice as she asked, 'You like that, don’t you?'

Her palm slid over his cock in an unbearable caress, alternating pressure and release—the same exquisite torment she was inflicting upon him with her own body, rolling her hips against him.

A deep, low growl rumbled in his throat, a sound laced with both frustration and pure pleasure. Yes, he liked it. The way she played with him so deliberately, controlled him so effortlessly, treating his pleasure as though he were a masterpiece in the making. And yes, he wanted more.

His cock throbbed in her grasp, the anticipation coiling in his belly like a liquid fire. She picked up the pace slightly, tightening her hold, twisting her wrist as she slid down to the base before gliding back up in a seamless motion, her fingers teasing the sensitive ridge of his crown with every stroke. Then, just as she tightened her fist around him, enough to send molten fire coursing through his veins—

She let go. Abruptly.

Her hand left him, abandoning him on the very edge of his release, offering him nothing but an aching, excruciating denial.

‘Annariel...’ he growled, his voice hoarse with need and frustration.

She merely shifted, pressing herself more firmly against him, rolling her hips with wicked deliberation, letting a throaty sigh escape her lips. Her pleasure was a cruel taunt, a reminder of everything she was granting herself while ruthlessly withholding it from him.

Ominis was a patient man… until he wasn’t.

Annariel knew this far too well. And yet, she still gasped in surprise when, in a swift, forceful movement, he surged upright and flipped her beneath him, pinning her against the paint-streaked sheets.

She barely had time to catch her breath before her wrists were trapped above her head, held firmly in an unrelenting grip. Annariel offered no resistance. Her legs parted of their own accord, a mixture of defiance and submission in the posture.

His mouth crashed down on hers, devouring her in a fierce, claiming kiss—biting, demanding, stripping her of any semblance of control. When he finally pulled back, his voice fell upon her like a sentence—low, dark, woven with dangerous promises.

‘You played with me, kitten. Now it’s my turn.’

But he didn’t move immediately. He savoured the moment.

The moment when her breath quickened beneath him, when her form quivered in anticipation of a caress that did not come.

His fingers grazed her belly, running over the cracked paint marks in a slow, almost meditative gesture. He moved lower, lazing against her hip, and felt a shiver, a tension betraying his impatience. She gasped slightly, arching her back in silent invitation. But he didn’t give in. Not yet. It was his turn to make her languish.

His breath brushed the delicate line of her throat, and Annariel froze, suspended in exquisite anticipation of what he would do next.

A bite, there, just below her jaw. A kiss immediately followed by his teeth sinking lightly into her flesh. Just sufficient to mark her. Just enough to make her moan.

She arched her back under him, trying to rub her body against his, but he refused to let her dictate anything.

‘Look who’s impatient now...’

She wriggled under him, trying to free herself, but he tightened his hold, his chest pressed against hers, their breaths intertwined in the stifling intimacy of the moment.

‘You enjoy this, don’t you? Being pinned beneath me, helpless, at my mercy,’

She parted her lips, a breath of protest forming, but he seized the instant before she could reclaim control. He rolled his hips, a slow, calculated movement, a studied provocation. His shaft slid against the slick heat of her core, teasing her pearl, a caress that never came to fruition.

‘Is this what you want?’

Annariel moaned, tried to rock her hips to force him deeper, but he pulled back, precisely enough to frustrate her further. She grunted, tugged at his still captive wrists. He smiled against her skin.

‘You’ll have to ask nicely, first,’ he breathed, his voice low and amused.

An exasperated sigh.

A strangled groan.

A spasm beneath him.

She was about to give in.

‘Ominis...’ she whispered, her voice hoarse with desire.

‘You want me to fuck you like this?’ he said, mimicking his thrusts against her soaked folds.

A tense silence.

She shuddered beneath him, her jerky breathing interspersed with moans. Her body was already screaming out the answer she hadn’t given yet.

‘Mmh... I think I hear it, but not quite...’ he breathed against her jaw, a smile trailing in his voice.

She swallowed hard. Her body trembled close to him, offered, vulnerable, ready to plead.

‘... Yes.’

‘Yes, what?’

She tried to capture his mouth, but he distanced himself just enough to deny her.

‘Say it properly.’

A tremor.

Her whole body tensed beneath him, wet, offered, unable to resist the command.

‘I want you to take me like this.’

He smiled against her shoulder.

His hand dropped to one wrist to slide down her curves. It grazed her breasts, traced the line of her ribs, paused for a moment on her stomach before moving down between her thighs.

His middle finger traced lazy circles over her bud. She moaned, her frame arching under the contact.

He played with her.

Slow, calculated circles, punctuated by frustrating pauses, just to see her lose patience.

He rubbed against her again, without penetrating her, the hardness of his cock against her damp heat a deliberate provocation. Then he stopped moving.

Annariel panted, disorientated.

‘Why?’

A toothy smile stretched his lips. ‘In fact, I’m dying to hear you beg.’

She swallowed against the burning tension that consumed her whole.

A silence.

A shudder.

Then, in a hoarse voice, ‘Please... fuck me.’

Dark satisfaction blossomed in his chest. At last he released her wrists and closed his hands on her hips, anchoring her beneath him. With a deep thrust, he drove into her, stretching her wide, filling her to the hilt.

A searing jolt.

She threw her head back, a cry escaping her as her body closed in on him, welcoming him in a vice of heat and pleasure. He could feel the suffocating wetness of their skin pressed together, the irregular pounding of her heart against his chest.

He knew she wanted more. That she needed it... And he wanted to see her break under him.

So he moved.

Slowly.

Deeply.

Obviously, she tried to urge him to go faster, to plunge deeper, but he denied her that luxury, imposing his rhythm. He kissed her, his lips capturing hers in a raw demand, while his touch found her clit.

This time, he would give her no respite.

He sped up, plunging into her with a ferocious pace, each thrust sending her further into surrender.She was his.

Her body quivered, clenching around him as she gasped his name, her nails biting into his back in a desperate plea for more. She was helpless, lost in the ruthless rhythm he set.

He felt the tension inside her reach its peak.

He murmured against her mouth, ‘I can feel you unraveling... Let go, Kitten,’

And she gave in.

An uncontrolled spasm swept through her, her back arched violently beneath him as a strangled cry escaped her. Her body closed over him, pulsing around his hard cock in a wave of unbearable lust. He, in turn, lost his footing, her low moan mingling with his, the heat of their embrace sealing the moment in raw intensity. At that moment, nothing existed.

There was only the heat, the dizziness, and her.

They lay there, motionless, their bodies still entwined, the echo of pleasure resonating within their trembling muscles.

The silence deepened, thick with moisture and a languid residue of tension.

Then a breath, a sigh... and a laugh. Gentle. Playful.

‘I just wanted to do an anatomical study, you know.’

Ominis rolled onto his side, his fingers idly tracing the dried paint still marking his torso with the edge of his nails.

‘And you did. A very immersive one, at that.’

She exhaled, amused, shaking her head.

‘So immersive that the session was completely ruined.’

A knowing smirk curled Ominis’ lips. He let his hand slide to his abdomen, his fingers brushing the invisible arabesques she had painted onto his skin.

‘I’d say the artist got carried away by inspiration… and her very cooperative model simply adapted to her demands.’

‘I should have known it would turn out like this.’

A low chuckle escaped him, his voice still rough from their shared pleasure.

‘You say that as if you didn’t love every second of it.’ He caught her chin gently between his fingers, preventing her from looking away. ‘Tell me you regret it.’

Annariel didn’t answer. Instead, she let her hand slide over his chest, lazily tracing a circle around a dried streak of paint.

And she smiled.

As always, please forgive my imperfect grammar (ESL writer).

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x mc #sebastian sallow #ominis x oc #annariel midori

102 notes · View notes