Hopeless | Ominis Gaunt x Reader

19

Ominis would never even dream of hurting you, you were sure of that.

Yet for the first time, he was far from gentle, far from handling you with the hesitance and caution he normally handled you with. It was thrilling to see his demeanor so unrestrained, to watch him touch you with a newfound intensity, ardent desire burning in his eyes.

Every kiss was bruising, dripping with unspoken jealousy, with every single one of his pent-up frustrations. He didn't want to try to explain just what he felt at the thought of you anywhere near Sebastian, didn't want to put into words his exasperation. No, he wanted to show you.

Wanted to make sure you felt it in the way his teeth grazed the sensitive part of your throat and bit down on your bottom lip until you whined. Wanted to make sure you were certain of it in every punishing thrust, in the way he tangled his fingers in your hair and forced your head up so he could swallow every pretty little noise you made for him as it came out of your mouth.

More than anything, he wanted to make sure you remembered it days later from the sore ache between your thighs, from the marks littering your skin in places only he could touch.

Some part of him — a part buried deep under thick layers of guilt and self-restraint — wanted to ruin you the same way you had ruined him. Passionately and vindicating, an equaling of the playing fields.

What did he have to do to have you wrapped around his finger the same way he was so pathetically wrapped around yours?

He wished he could take a look inside of your head, wished he could find out if passion and obsession burned their way through you from the inside out, the same way they raged through him.

Was your fire as all-consuming as his was?

Did it suffocate you with the thick, black smoke of infatuation or did it consist merely of smoldering embers? Was it as devastating as fiendfyre or a tiny inkling of a flame?

It was wrong — he knew it was — but he hoped it was unbearable for you.

If he burned, he hoped you would at least burn with him.

He wrapped his fingers around your throat and tugged you towards him harshly. You fought an amused smile as he pulled your lips to his — admittedly enjoying this new side of Ominis a little too much.

"What, are you enjoying this?" He inquired tauntingly as he pulled your panties to the side and brushed two fingers through your folds, groaning at the wetness slicking his fingers. "Fuck, you're soaked — you like it when I treat you like this, is that it?"

You nodded hesitantly, your cheeks warming at the condescending tone to his voice, every word going straight to the heat pooling between your legs.

"Use your words," He ordered, finally sinking his fingers into you, moving in a deliberately languid and torturous pace. "Say it. I want to hear you."

"I – I like it so much, please–" You obliged breathlessly, desperate for relief. "I need you — I —"

"If only I knew you were this filthy sooner." He groaned as his lips met yours, slow and passionate, cutting off your lust-driven pleading.

You melted at the affection, at the stark contrast between the gentle way his mouth moved against yours and the callous manner in which he was pinning you down by your throat — complimenting throws of pain and pleasure that left you weak to your core.

He brought his thumb to rub in a tight little circle against your clit, pushing you further and further to ecstasy as his fingers found a steady rhythm in and out of your core.