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inkedtae · 3 years

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wave to anchor ⇾ jhs. [M]

⌁ pairing; poseidon!hoseok x curvy!reader (f.)

⌁ genre/rating; s2l, greek god au, slow burn, infidelity, smut, 18+

⌁ summary; trapped in a loveless marriage, all you crave is a wet night full of bliss and passion.

⌁ word count; 21.1k

⌁ warnings; mentions of toxic relationship, (reader’s husband calls her a fat-fuck like the little bitch he is), silver-haired!hoseok, daddy!hoseok, hard dom!hoseok, big dicc!hoseok, brat!reader, sub!reader, jealousy, unprotected sex, rough sex, degradation, humiliation, overstimulation, double penetration (both holes), masturbation (f.), multiple orgasms, orgasm control/denial, pain kink, size kink, dirty talk, sex toys (use of vibrator and trident-ended dildo), oral (m. and f. receiving), fingering (both holes), body worshipping, clit biting, panty sniffing, squirting, spanking, face fucking, some love making, cum eating, rimming, anal play, cum play, spit play, breast play, nipple play, a tidal wave of filth :)))

❥ special thanks to miss sol ( @jamaisjoons ) for making this beautiful banner for me. and huge thanks to kat ( @yeoldontknow ) for titling this monster for me, sammy ( @chateautae ) for reading it over when i was feeling stuck, betaing for me and keeping me motivated, and eva ( @nottodayjjk ) for betaing yet another long ass fic in a very short time frame. ily alll soooooooo much!!

❂ To The Lighthouse

⁂ Hosted by: (yours truly) Professor Bee through @bangtansorciere

⤐ au type: rough waters - infidelity

⤐ themes: god/goddess, slow burn

⤐ kinks: clit biting, panty sniffing, squirting, spanking, face fucking, pain kink, size kink, dirty talk, overstimulation, degradation, humiliation, masturbation, anal play, cum play,

Hoseok flips the page of the book in his hand. To the Lighthouse; your favourite novel. He’s read it fourteen times since you’ve mentioned it a few summers ago. You were eighteen, nervous and shy. You clutched onto the book like a lifesaver, holding it to your chest whenever someone asked you about it. He smirks at how much you’ve grown, that shy smile of yours becoming a bit more confident as you replace the security books for friendship. Hoseok still reads it though. It’s the best way to silently keep a part of you close.

You sit by one of your friends (Jimin might be his name but Hoseok never really cared enough to remember it) across the tearoom. You’re looking up at the one who works here, laughing along as another friend teases him.

“I like you better in uniform,” he smirks.

“I’ll poison your tea, Jungkook. Don’t test me.”

“Don’t get your apron in a twist,” another chimes in. His laughter reminds Hoseok of the seals near his palace under the sea.

“Jiminie, if you’re poisoning drinks I want you to remember that I didn’t say anything. I didn’t even laugh.”

Perhaps the one that works there is Jimin. The one next to you must be Seokjin then? The one trying to remain neutral has to be Nam-something - it really didn’t matter. Hoseok isn’t here for them. His gaze settles on you again, on the way you bite your lip to keep your thoughts to yourself. You look down at your fingers, avoiding your friends’ gazes in an attempt to not laugh along. His heart flutters at the little smile that still manages to play on your lips. He would kiss the corner of it if it meant he could hear you laugh. You have the sweetest laugh - you should be told that more.

I should be the one to tell you that.

“You let me borrow your charger too, Joon, so you’re off the hook.”

Namjoon! Yes, that was his name.

“Does that mean I can laugh then?” Namjoon asks, already chuckling. Seokjin joins in and Jungkook throws his head back in amusement.

“I let you use my sunscreen so I can laugh too, right?” You jump in. There’s a playful glint in your eyes. Your friends laugh louder - much to Jimin’s dismay.

Hoseok finds himself joining, quietly within himself. You’re too cute for your own good. Did you know this? Have they ever told you? When you tease them, he knows they enjoy it. He can feel their delight. He hates to admit that it annoys him, no matter how platonic it all may be. It doesn’t change the fact that a larger part of him wishes you’d talk to him like that. He wants to watch you struggle to hold yourself back, letting pieces of yourself seep through as the conversation processes until you finally bless him with that laugh and those playful eyes and lean into him.

You’re so wholesome, so warm. He adores it.

Jimin deadpans. He casts an annoyed glance over his friends before muttering something about how they shouldn’t be served free drinks anymore. They shoot back insults freely, as though the shop isn’t filled with customers. But, unlike the rest of the store, Hoseok doesn’t mind. It makes you happy, your laughter traveling over all the noise and gracing his ears. He wants to bottle up that sound and play it over on tired days, when you’ve returned to the mainland and he can’t watch over you anymore.

A middle aged woman huffs through her nostrils. She turns her nose up at the interaction, glaring at your friends. Hoseok rolls his eyes. This is the fourth time someone has gotten annoyed with your friends’ antics. She parts her lips to no doubt voice her frustration but Hoseok refuses to let her ruin your fun. He’d rather lose himself in the deepest trenches of the sea than disrupt the sound of your voice.

With a flick of his fingers, Hoseok pushes the woman’s teacup to the floor. China shatters amongst a puddle of tea by her feet. She shoots up from her seat with a yelp, face flushed from embarrassment. Her gaze bounces around the shop before Jimin finally comes to her rescue. He’s gentle and kind with his service towards her and she slowly begins to revert into herself, falling silent and timid.

The guilt must be eating at her, Hoseok thinks. He sneaks you a glance, to make sure that smile on your face hasn’t completely vanished. Seokjin is already looking at him. He has a knowing look in his eye. Scanning Hoseok, Seokjin leans towards you. He whispers something. Hoseok’s blood runs cold.

You follow your friend’s gaze. Upon meeting your eye, Hoseok can’t find the strength to breathe. He sinks into his chair, all too obviously for your friends to ignore. Jungkook smirks into his iced tea, Namjoon pokes his straw around the ice in his cup, and Seokjin is suddenly interested in the menu, despite having grown up on the island.

You don’t seem to notice the way he sips your attention.

I’d let him ruin my throat.

Hoseok swallows. It’s about time he hears your voice, your thoughts. He has to resist the urge to smirk at your silent confession. A few strings of similar declarations follow and it progressively becomes harder to school his features. Lips twitching into a smile, Hoseok redirects his gaze back to the book.

“He’s been looking at you all day,” Seokjin whispers.

You pause all too long for the three of them to not share a look. He catches a hint of sadness in your voice as you remind them, “I have a boyfriend.”

Heart like an anchor, lungs like windless sails, Hoseok stiffens in his seat. The tides still. He can feel it in his suddenly all too heavy bones. The waves lap when he finally lets out a shaky breath. While sea creatures complain about the shift, worried about being shored by an aggressive wave, Hoseok attempts to control his anger. It’s just until you’re safely off the island. Then he’ll crumble this shop to the ground, pull the gardens you planted today into the ocean. When the fuck did you get a boyfriend? Why the hell didn’t he know this? How long have you been seeing someone?

Above the questions, a little voice tells him he won’t do a thing. This island means too much to you. He rather tear himself apart first, plunge himself to Tartarus and confront the Titans all over again.

He should’ve let you see him before. His brothers got in his head about it, telling him humans aren’t worth more than a night. He shouldn’t have listened. He shouldn’t have hesitated. There’s nothing truer than you.

You are worth every drop of the ocean.

Evening inks the sky indigo and splatters stars. With the break of the moon, the sun sinks into the horizon. From the edge of the ferry, you watch the water crash into the shore of Hope Island, pulling what it can back into the ocean. Wind catches the skirts of your seafoam green sundress, whipping it against your legs and outlining every curve. In the midst of saltspray and fragrant hints of shrimp, you take in what little peace you can away from Andrew - wherever he’d run off to.

The beacon atop the lighthouse flickers to life, dragging your attention away from the sea. It sits on the edge of the island, atop a high hill. Moss covered rocks circle the bottom of the hill as the sea thrashes against them, over and over again. At the base of the tall building, run a few children, parents pacing after them. Their gleeful shouts only just meet your ears over the loud engine of the ferry. A little smile tugs at the corners of your lips as the memory of a once fleeting childhood, chasing after waves and hunting tadpoles, crosses your mind. If you squint hard enough, you can almost see it in the distance.

A pod of killer whales pull your attention astray from the shores. You’ve spotted a few in the years you’ve taken this ferry back and forth from the mainland. They have never dared appear close to land, however. At least, you’ve noticed, they never risk such a thing without the possibility of a meal. You once watched a killer whale, while lounging with your college friends in your dad’s yacht, shore itself for just a piece of seal. Worried it wouldn’t last until high tide, Namjoon had called the coast guard. Jimin practically helped him dial as Jungkook cracked open another beer with Seokjin.

The memory makes you smile. If you shut your eyes, with the spray of the ocean and the scent of the fish, you can almost imagine yourself back there. Only a year left of your degree, summering on your childhood island with friends so stupid that there was never a dull moment. It was like it would always be like that, like they would always be there.

Shame shatters the illusion as you remember why it hasn’t stayed that way. Since meeting your husband, you haven’t really spared your friends a second glance. To be fair, Andrew had a tendency to be charming, undenying. In the first few moments you know him, he makes you feel like the entire universe was strategically crafted for the very purpose of meeting him. That mirage soon fades though. You only wish you had noticed the holes in his personality before saying “I do,” before you abandoned your friends, your life. You tried to convince yourself that it was all mutual and natural, but everyone on that freaking island knows you stopped making time, that you were the one to pull back first. You cringe remembering how you didn’t even invite them to the wedding.

“I told you the weather would settle once we got on the ferry.”

“Enough bragging, Farris. You made your point in the car.”

You turn to the old couple a few paces away. The old man wraps his arms around his wife, pulling her into his chest so gently, you almost feel like witnessing it is a violation of privacy. He then presses a kiss atop her head, to which she smiles, and mutters something about how he’s never right and she should just let him have this tiny victory. When she doesn’t reply, he kisses her again.

Envy bubbles in your chest, sinking down to the pit of your stomach with a deep breath. Every time you try to look away, try to dissolve this venomous feeling, it only twists and aches your gut. Chewing on your lip, you turn the diamond ring around your finger. You just can’t help thinking, sneaking another glance at the couple, that whatever this diamond symbolizes, it isn’t love. It isn’t marriage. Maybe, months ago, it could have symbolized trust, possibly friendship. When it held promises of happiness, it could have meant something more than a ring. Now, it barely even glimmers in the light. It pinches your skin and discolours the base of your finger a pinkish-green.

Finally pulling it off, you examine the silver band against the sea. You can see the blue currents through the diamond, disoriented as they splash into the boat. Leaning against the railing, you tease the ocean with the possibility of dropping it. It should scare you. Losing something this valuable should scare you - if it had any value at all.

The ring slips through your fingers. As it falls, you whisper a silent prayer within yourself, so quiet anyone listening would think it was a secret kept from your soul. You pray for peace, tranquility and a moment of hope. You plead for safety, affection and a dose of something, at the very least, similar to love. And to whoever hears this, you find yourself adding, please let this relief come quick.

“Do you not hear the fucking horn? We have to go.”

Andrew appears by your side, a tight grip seizing your arm in seconds. You yank yourself out of his hold with a pointed glare. You had every intention of heading to the car and hopping in without another word. However, as you turn away from him, the elderly couple catches your gaze. They stare with uneasy smiles and you feel your shame heat up your face.

Andrew shifts his weight.

“There’s no need to yell,” you hiss over your shoulder.

He slides a hand around your waist, fingers piercing into your flesh like needles. Pulling you towards him with a little grunt, he shoots the couple a tight-lipped smile then leads you to the car. “I wouldn’t need to do anything if you just did something yourself for once.”

You toss him a confused look, letting him guide you until most prying eyes have directed their attention elsewhere. Does he even know what the fuck he just said? Is he aware of how fucking stupid he sounds? He just told you that you should be the one doing things for him, serving him. You haven’t and would never do a thing for this poor excuse of a man… not again anyways. So, you’re not really sure where this sudden declaration for you to cater to him is coming from after eight months of something remotely resembling a marriage. He should know to never ask anything from you just as you have learned to do with him.

“Andrew, shut the fuck up,” you mutter as you get into his Tesla.

Well, the car was supposed to be yours. Your father had bought it for you as an engagement present. You haven’t driven it yet. The passenger seat doesn’t feel any more comfortable. You don’t have the courage to tell your father. He looked so happy when you returned with a ring one evening. He even let you pick where to have dinner for an impromptu celebration. How embarrassing would it be to complain about a stupid car? You can already hear his response anyway.

It’s barely been a year. You just have to try harder.

Why does it always fall on you? Why can’t he try harder?

Andrew glares at you, shutting his door. “Whatever, fat-fuck,” he replies, much to your amusement.

God, he can’t even insult you properly. A jab at your size? Is he really that unoriginal? He can’t even come up with something a bit more creative? You can’t help the chuckle bubbling through your throat.

He sighs defeatedly, eyes darting every which way to avoid yours. With a shift in his seat, he falls silent. Just as the coward always does when things get too hard, when he can’t exude his petty “power” over you.

The ferry finally docks. Andrew, rather recklessly, squeezes his car around the others in a desperate push to make it out first. You stare at your lap to avoid the curses and vulgar gestures (that are well-deserved) and don’t dare to look out the window until you’re about halfway into the town.

It looks just as it always does when you visit and that alone eases your heart enough for you to relax in your seat. The same worn out signs swing in the breeze, the broken benches and chipped mailboxes no one ever really uses when the post office stands only a few paces away remain where they always do on the edge of the sidewalk. You find renewed comfort in the tulips you helped plant the summer before your wedding. They bloom under the attentive care of the premature July showers.

You wonder when it suddenly began raining, noticing pedestrians pushing open umbrellas or rushing into shops or their cars. Perhaps the forecasts were true in their claims of the ocean’s tantrums. The old man on the ferry did mention something about it settling, following its natural currents as it led you to safety. It seems like the moment you’ve pulled far enough from the docks, the waves resumed their roars. You might still be falling off the avalanche of annoyance from your most recent altercation with Andrew, but you swear it’s almost like the sea is calling you back. Rather ironic, you can’t help but think, you’re being summoned by the ocean when you can’t even swim.

The car pulls close to the sidewalk, engine shutting off. Andrew opens the door without a word, slamming it shut and heading into the general store. You hate the man, cringing at the memory of ever thinking that you might have actually been in love with him at one point, but you just wish he’d at least talk to you with some level of respect. You’re tethered to each other by some stupid piece of paper, so the least he can do is inform you of where he’s going.

And if nothing else, you have a history. It’s one of horrible memories tainting whatever happiness you thought you had, but a history no less. He should respect that too, shouldn’t he?

Why doesn’t he? You bite your lip as your mind plunges into another pool of self-doubt. You’re just not sure what it is you’ve done. It can’t be because you’ve stopped trying. He’s been a douche way before that happened. His behaviour was, in fact, the reason you pulled away too.

You wonder if it is because of the way you look. Andrew is an idiot and hurls tired insults at you since he lacks the ability to think comprehensively for longer than two seconds. And though you are pleased with your body, you know most people aren’t. That usually wouldn’t matter to you if it didn’t also apply to your husband. You looked this way before he married you though. Sure, he didn't want to sleep with you while dating but that was because he wanted to wait. And, judging by the horrid way he fucks, you figured he must’ve been a virgin… or maybe that was just another early sign of his mistreatment you ignored.

With a sigh, you lean your head back in your seat. Your gaze falls on a swinging sign, Fly Tea to The Moon. The little tea store stands to the left of the general store with faded gold letters that glimmer under blue and grey skies. A tidal wave of memories of late night stops with your friends on quiet summer nights return to you in a blur. The urge to take a quick peek inside nibbles at your heart. This might just be the peace you’ve been praying for. You’ve been dying for a bag of seaweed mint tea since your last visit anyways, and you’re rather curious if Jimin ever really convinced Miss Gyuhn to redecorate. This might also be a good way of getting back into your once friends’ good graces. Jimin is always the easiest to break and has quite the mouth. He never really could keep a secret.

In a couple of quick motions, you hop out of the car and jog towards the entrance, eager to escape the gradually hardening downpour. Hair damp and clothes chilled, you step in with a little smile. It looks as it always has with dark green painted pine tables, dressed with doilies and tablecloths, peppering the mosaic floors. Black chairs accent every table, looking refreshed with a new coat of paint. In fact, most of the store looks that way - the once chipped walls now repaired and pictures finally centred with frames.

Jimin leans over the counter, counting tips in his usual pout. He has a new apron, you notice, a deep blue speckled with loose leaves around his chest. You can’t help your smile as you approach him.

“Welcome to- Oh my god, (Y/N)!” He laughs, straightening his posture. He looks between you and the door, stammering before finally asking, “How the- What- When the hell did you get in?”

It seems like he’s forgotten your silence. Or maybe he’s just not as affected by it as you thought he’d be? You don’t dwell on it too long, recomposing yourself quickly. “Like five minutes ago?” you reply, voice jokingly unsure and brows half-heartedly furrowed. “Took the last broadening ferry for the night and I had to come here for some tea.”

Jimin playfully glares at you. Whipping the towel once draped over his shoulder against the counter, he jokes, “And here I was thinking you came here to see me,” he gently swats at you with one end of the towel, “You couldn’t at least pretend?”

“You know I adore you, Jimin.”

“Would it kill you to say it?”

His smile widens upon your hearty laughter, a pleased gleam in his eyes. Looking at him, you can almost cry, the emotion caught in your throat. You swallow it down, catching a twinkle of concern on his face. You’ve stopped laughing, you realized. Catching your reflection in the polished oven behind him, you almost cringe at the grimaced smile on your face. If it had just met your eyes, you probably could’ve gotten away with it.

“Is everyth-”

“Hey, do you still have seaweed mint?” Eager to disarm the shock on his face, you add, “I’ve been dying for it forever.”

Maybe it’s the desperation leaking into your voice, or perhaps even the constant shift of your eyes, but Jimin doesn’t move to question you again. He simply offers a comforting smile and nods. “I’ll get you a fresh bag from the back,” he says, voice so soft the temptation to cry scratching at your throat. He backpedals a few steps from the counter and holds your gaze as if you’d disappear when he turns his back then he rushes into the stock room.

Guilt swirls like a typhoon in the pit of your stomach. You shouldn’t have cut him off. You should’ve waited for him to finish asking then pretended that everything was okay. He would ask again and you would insist that you’re fine. Now you seem rude and ungrateful, turning away a long time friend on the off chance that he’d see through you and your marriage.

“How did you manage that?” A delicate voice asks, lulling you out of your thoughts.

You blink, glancing to your right to find a silver haired man browsing the pastries on display. His beauty forces a double take. Cheekbones high, jawline sharp and shoulders broad, lean and like they were made to carry the force of the tides. His name flows into your stream of consciousness so seamlessly, you’d think it lives there.

Jung Hoseok.

The name was haphazardly scribbled into the first page of To The Lighthouse. He left it behind last year when you first spotted him. Once in a muscle tee and shorts, now in a sweater and some jeans, you think he can’t be more than a couple of years older than you, in his mid-twenties maybe? Not a wrinkle in sight, or exhaustion darkening under his eyes, he doesn’t look to have aged.

He chews on his lip as he eyes a slice of cheesecake. “I’ve been pestering him for seaweed mint for weeks,” he said against the glass, somewhat fogging it up.

Standing to his full height, he finally turns to you and your voice cinches at the base of your larynx. He’s a whole head taller than you, even in the four inches your wedges have added. You find yourself almost having to crane your neck back to properly meet his gaze, and what a fucking gaze it was. His eyes are a honey-hazel, the kind of light brown you’d always thought the seafloor would have, and they twinkle.

His face suddenly flashes from your memories, erupting your heart with delight. That summer becomes clearer as you remember the day Seokjin pointed him out to you, whispering about how he has been conveniently around all day.

The moment you looked over, you regretted it. Your heart somehow twisted beneath your ribcage, struggling to breathe. It yearned for him, pounding aggressively into your ribcage. Your blood rushed so fast, so loud it echoed in your ears. Mesmerized, you found your thoughts spiraling into a pit of filth, imagining his cock so deep in your throat, it might as well replace your need for oxygen. His face shined, shimmered like the tides under rays of sunlight and his lips curved into a little smirk. He gave you a knowing look, like he just caught a glimpse of the position you’ve envisioned.

You chance a glance at his lips now, mentally cursing yourself for making such a stupid mistake again. They’re perfectly shaped, plump enough that you’d be able to feel every curve no matter where he kissed you.

“You walk in and suddenly he has a fresh bag in the back,” he laughs as he continues his thoughts. “So what do you have on him?”

You wonder if he remembers you? He must remember your relationship with Jimin by his questioning at the very least. His causal approach to it is… refreshing. It’s why you’re confused when the joke flusters you. Cheeks hot and lips parted with no voice to reply, you let out a nervous chuckle and shoot one of your shoulders up in a half shrug. Shit, shit, shit. Could you have been any more awkward and pathetic? He said a couple of sentences… about tea. It’s not as if he complimented you. (A fact that makes your heart twinge with pain). He showed you an ounce of interest and suddenly you’re unable to string together a couple of words?

Clearing your throat, you summon your cowardly voice. Perhaps poking some fun at yourself might help ease whatever tension constricts your heart at the sight of him. “I’m not sure what the hell that was,” you joke with a more composed chuckle.

He laughs along. The sound is as calming as the crash of the tides against the shore, the rippling effects settling into your bones with a few shivers. It’s lively and genuine and for a moment you forget there’s a void in your chest. His laughter soothes it over and that alone relaxes whatever tension captivated your nerves.

“What I meant to say is that Jimin doesn’t need much convincing.”

“Not from you,” he corrects. Stepping closer, he lowers his head and whispers, “Think you can sneak me one?”

You find yourself leaning in at the mere rasp of his voice. God, why does he have to sound so sexy? His lively voice drips with forbidden secrecy with every word. If you found an empty bottle in the ocean, you assume when you open it, his voice will pour out and grace you with sweet seascapes.

“And risk my connection?” You playfully tease in the same hushed tone, “I rather not take that chance.”

His eyes glisten with mischief. With a lick of his lips, that tongue now imprinted in your mind as you imagine how warm it would feel against the curve of your breasts, he says, “Fair enough. I wouldn’t either.”

Why would Jimin need convincing anyway? You’re sure seaweed mint is a year round tea. It’s been a staple since the fourth grand opening. (Miss Gyuhn kept confusing her dates.) Scanning the tea selection for the first time since walking in, you notice that seaweed mint is in fact not on display. You read through again, thinking you must have missed it when Hoseok interjects.

“It’s been discontinued for the last six months or so,” he explains.

You don’t remember expressing your confusion. Did your face expose your secrets? Does he catch on to more than your confusion, to your excitement every time another image of his mouth on yours floods your mind? You’ve always been an open book to your friends; you just never thought you’d be just as easy to read to a stranger.

Sadness tips your thoughts to the realization that, despite knowing his name, Hoseok might forever remain a stranger. Maybe that’s always how it was meant to be. He left so fast last summer and might just do the same now.

Being around him, you can somewhat regain that feeling of humanity. It’s as though you are not an abomination, locked away and kept secret. Andrew despises referring to you as anything but an inconvenience. Your eyes water with the realization that this stranger has treated you with more respect in this short conversation than Andrew has even in your best of times.

You mutter a thanks and turn away from him to blink away whatever tears your thoughts have summoned. He stands back to his full height. You can feel his eyes on you, but refuse to meet them. You know he’d ask you if you’re okay. You’ll try to reply but end up crying. You can feel it. The lump in your throat is already forming. God, what would it take to be rid of this feeling?

Jimin finally exits the stockroom with a smile. It wavers when he catches your gaze.

Before he can question you though, Hoseok greets him with a smile so charming, you would have asked for a second bag had it not been for the impending urge to cry out all your frustrations.

“Jimin, was it?”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “I already told you, dude. We don’t have any seaweed mint,” he says as he hands you the tea bag. Seaweed Mint is neatly printed on the label Jimin doesn’t bother hiding.

You curl your lips to hold back your laughter at the glare Hoseok shoots Jimin.

“I understand,” he sighs before looking at you. His eyes soften. That kind smile only just sits on his lips. “I’d keep something that precious safe too.”

A rush of blood flushes your cheeks as you tighten your grip on the bag. The comment is obviously in reference to the tea, but the look in his eyes (that secret sparkle like a sunset dancing on the surface of the ocean), that look leads you on. It's so simple too, easily crafted and just as easily spoken. Yet, it ruins you, crumbling every doubting thought in your mind about how you might have lost value in yourself since your husband can’t even stand to be near you anymore. Not that you need his approval. You just knew it couldn’t have been your fault, knew that Andrew is just a dumb fuck.

Before either you or Jimin can reply, the bell chimes with a new visitor, the opened door bringing the rhythm of the rain into the store. Andrew marches in, dripping wet, with a scowl. He scans the shop, glare hardening when he spots you by the counter.

“I told you to stay in the car,” he whispers when he reaches you.

Despite his quiet voice, you can feel eyes on you, ears tuned into your conversation. Even still, you mutter, “No, you didn’t.”

“Just get in the fucking car,” he sighs, exhaustion draining his face.

You shift your weight. Sneaking a glance behind you, you find Jimin carefully watching your interaction. Hoseok, previously so invested in conversing with you, tightens his jaws, stares at his shoes and chews on the inside of his cheeks.

Resisting the urge to cry out of sheer embarrassment, your voice shakes as you say, “I have to pay.”

“It’s on the house,” Jimin says and you don’t need to look back to know he’s smiling a little too hard to seem natural. “Think of it as a homecoming gift.”

You mutter a quiet thank you, knowing fighting it will only start a well intended argument with him and a tantrum from Andrew. Before following behind Andrew however, you sneak one last glance at Hoseok and study every one of his features again. It’s not enough to memorize every detail but you know you’ll never forget those eyes.

When you finally get into the car, Andrew launches into a scolding about “learning to stay put for once.” Your mind is elsewhere, completely abandoning the notion of going in and out of the conversation. He’s not worth a reply, or even another thought.

No, it’s Hoseok. Hoseok and his soothing stare. Hoseok and his sunshine smile. It’s Hoseok and his tanned skin, sun praised and cloud adored. It’s the way he made you feel like you’ve known him all your life, like you’ve made a new friend. The soft rhythm of his voice is as soothing as rainfall and you smile at the thought of falling asleep to it. His beauty sears your bones, warms your heart and cradles your soul.

You wake at dusk to roaring waves. The setting sun only just pours into the room from the window. The seabreeze follows. You can taste the salt on the tip of your tongue. Or maybe that’s just the residue of your tears. Your face feels puffy, eyes sore, and stomach turns when you recall the source of this lingering, though numb, pain.

Rolling from your stomach to your back, you stare up at the seashell ceiling lamp. The argument returns to you in hot flashes of simmering anger. Discomfort sits upon your chest. It squishes the pumping blood out of your heart and splatters it against your ribcage.

All you wanted to know was what he was hiding in that paper bag. When he returned from the general store a couple of days ago, he had rushed into his room. You didn’t think anything of it until he began locking it. You discovered it this morning when you heard a chime on the other side of the door. Shimmying the doorknob, you were surprised to find it locked. Andrew always left his door open in the hopes that you’d magically become the housewife he thought he could make and clean his room for him. It chimed another two times and you tried the knob again.

“Why are you always up my fucking ass?” He yelled when you questioned him.

“No one gives two shits about your ass, Andrew.”

He was fed up with your tone, attempting to tower over you in the kitchen. You remained expressionless as you held his gaze. He puffed out his chest. You rolled your eyes, muttering an annoyed curse under your breath. When his attempt at intimidation failed, he huffed and turned away.

“I should’ve never married you,” he dryly laughed.

You stood straighter. “Why the fuck did you? Why did you put us through all this if you didn’t fucking want it?”

“I wanted it, you bitch! I just didn’t want you.”

“Fuck you, An-drew!” Your voice broke.

He smirked. “It’s no wonder your father wanted to get rid of you.”

The sinking feeling you felt that moment returns to you now. You sit up in your bed, acid scratching at your throat. Tears prick your eyes as you hold a hand to the base of it. You’re still not entirely sure what he meant by that. You’ve held your phone and stared at your father’s number for hours, debating on whether or not to question him about it. A part of you was relieved when the damn thing died. You don’t want to know what it means. You don’t want to talk to anyone.

The betrayal still sits on your heart. Your lungs are heavy with disbelief.

Wiping your tears, you decide you’ve had enough. Despite having slept most of the day, you're tired of thinking. You take a few deep breaths to collect yourself then push your covers off. Something heavy thuds and jangles as it falls from the comforter and onto the mattress beside you. You eye the silver jewelry box with furrowed brows. It’s no longer than the length of your hand. Glancing at the door, you’re surprised to find it closed. Is this Andrew’s doing? He hasn’t gotten you a thing since that ring you’ve given to the ocean. Did he talk to your father? Is this a tactic to try and wiggle himself back into your good graces?

You shouldn’t open it. You shouldn’t give him the time of day. But the chances of this being from Andrew are slim, even if he had talked to your father. Something within your bones scratches at the palm of your hands. It tells you that it’s worth opening.

You give into it. Grabbing the box, you unclasp the lid. A silver dildo sits in a dark blue, velvet interior. It’s pearled, trident ended and oh so heavy. You examine it in your hand, getting used to its weight. The orange sunlight bounced off it and you’re surprised to find yourself practically salivating when you lick your lips.

Andrew would never have given you something so generous. The one time you slept with him on your wedding night should have been enough proof of just how selfish he is. He was clammy, huffing and absolutely despised when you made a sound. You just laid there, silent, and prayed he’d finally finish. Your prayers were shortly answered.

No, this is from someone else. But, who the hell could have come into your home?

You put the dildo back into the silver box. Your legs press together when you shut the lid, relieving tension between them that you didn’t realize was growing. Placing the box on your night table, you hop out of bed and tiptoe towards the door. Opening it a bit, you peek through to find the hallway empty. You slowly make your way down the hall and try the door to Andrew’s room.

Locked.

Letting out a sigh of relief, you drop your quiet efforts and walk to the living room. It looks the same, untouched from disuse. You reside in your room for the most part and Andrew does the same, when he’s not frolocking around the island. You’re not even sure where the hell he goes. What business does he have on Hope Island? He didn’t even know this place existed before your last summer in college. He thought you were referencing a video game when you mentioned it to him. Come to think of it, how the hell does he know his way around here? He didn’t use a navigation system to find this little bungalow on the edge of the shore. You don’t remember him asking anyone for directions. Of course, his mysterious stop at the general store might have been an opportunity, but that would require him to think rationally for more than two seconds and you just don’t think he possesses the ability to do that.

You check the foyer, the bathroom and finally the kitchen. It all remains the same. The front and back doors are both locked. All the windows are shut. Well, expect the one in your room. You freeze for a moment, holding the kettle under running water. Why is the window in your room open? Did you open it? You try to think back to this morning before Andrew’s big mouth had ruined everything. All you can see are fragments of the argument in your mind.

With a sigh, you get the kettle going, craving a cup of seaweed mint tea to soothe the ache in your heart. You’ll just deal with the box later. The house seems empty for now and if someone really wanted to harm you, they wouldn’t leave gifts behind.

Pushing all thoughts of this horrible day aside, you prepare your tea cup. You grab a mug and the bag of tea from the cupboard. You’re a bit confused when you don’t see your steeper in there. You scour the drawers for it after not finding it in the sink or dishwasher either. Your baby blue bullet vibrator rolls out as you open the last drawer. The memory of you tossing it in there after hearing Andrew come down the hall this morning returns to you.

You snatch it out, a smile playing on your lips. Nothing like a good orgasm to forget the dumpster fire that your life has turned out to be. It’s about the length of your longest finger but has never let you down. You bought it the first summer of college on impulse and have since thanked that impulse every day. Wetting the toy in your mouth, you decide to spend the rest of the night on the couch with your feet propped up on the coffee table and legs spread wide enough to make them shake. And since you were going to save the night for cumming, there was no harm in using this time to tease yourself. At least, just until the water finishes boiling.

You take the bullet out of your mouth and replace it with the hem of your oversized t-shirt. With a little spread of your legs, you pull the edge of your panties aside and glide the cool, wet tip of the bullet between your folds. They’re sticky with the start of your desire, growing wetter with every brush of the toy against your clit. A quiet moan escapes you. Clicking the toy on the lowest setting, you bite back a delighted squeal at the buzz. You swallow thickly, breath already jarred, and cover yourself up again, ensuring your panties hold the vibrator in place.

A hand hovers around your lips as you bring your legs together. The gesture seems to intensify the vibrations against your folds, erupting your clit with bliss. You shiver in your place, eyes fluttering shut. Your hips begin to rock and you find yourself stumbling back into the counter on the tip of your toes.

As the buzzing persists, a charming smile flashes before your eyes. It glows like the sea on a sunny day. Those hazel eyes over take your mind, suddenly peeking up from between your legs. The mental image makes you squirm in place. Fuck, you just know his tongue would be so fucking warm. You know he’d take his time with you too. You remember the look on his face when he talked to you. You saw the sincerity in them, the secret devotion that swam within every other glance. You heard the care in his voice, the rasp of truth in every word.

His name soon sits at the tip of your tongue, ready to be moaned. With a clench of your jaw, you swallow it back. Saying it would be cheating, right? Saying it would make it too real, right? Saying it would feel so good - you know that’s right.

You want him. You wish it was real. You wish he was here. You wish he was the one you shared a house, a room, a life with. Name trailing the tip of your teeth, you tighten your grip on the edge of the counter behind you and pray over and over again for-

“Ho-Hoseok,”

The vibrator dies.

Your eyes shoot open. A frustrated groan tears through your throat as you dig your hand between your legs and pull the vibrator out. Fingers slick with your arousal, you rapidly click at the button, huffing when it won’t respond. Tossing the stupid thing onto the counter, you cross your arms over your chest. You just wanted one fucking moment of peace, of something close to happiness. All you asked for was an honest to God orgasm that makes it so hard to breathe, you’ll need a fucking oxygen tank.

“The water is done.”

You jump back with a scream, snapping your attention up to the owner of the voice. Hoseok stands, or rather leans, against the island counter. You heave in place as the shriek of the kettle finally helps you process his words. Switching the stove off, you remove the kettle from the hot plate and put it on a cooler one.

As you look back at him, a little smirk playing on his lips, you wonder how long he’s been standing there. How the fuck did he even get in? You glance at the front door, then the back. Both remain locked and you don’t remember hearing them open. Then again, you didn’t hear the kettle and it was wailing right beside you.

Shifting your weight, you tug the hem of your shirt down. The bullet rolls behind you to your left. You side step in front of it, hoping to shield it from Hoseok’s cocky stare.

He smiles.

You bite your lip.

“Busy night?”

Is that a joke? Heat rushes to your cheeks. You suddenly can’t meet his eyes. Your heart pounds as your mind fumbles for an explanation. That is, until you realize you should not be giving one. This is your house. You reserve the right to do whatever the fuck you want, within legal limitations, without having to justify it to any one else. He should be the one shaken, nervous and struggling to string a decent sentence together.

“What are you doing here?”

“You called me.”

“My phone’s dead.”

“You prayed.”

I should have cum instead, you can’t help thinking.

“I could help with that,” he smiles.

You freeze. You didn’t say that out loud, did you? Wait… how did he know you prayed? How the fuck did he hear you? You move to take a step back to be reminded that you’re already pressed up against the counter.

Hoseok stands to his full height. He must’ve taken note of your attempt to retreat, that smile wavering. His once cocky features are replaced with concern. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Maybe I should’ve explained first.”

“An explanation would be nice.”

He parts his lips only to bite them. His eyes shift between you to the hall, as if he’s second guessing his visit. Scratching the back of his neck, he sighs and finally says, “You prayed to me.”

“That’s not an explanation.”

He tries again. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you for a while. I was waiting for your call.”

You don’t remember praying to him, but rather for him. Either way, both instances embarrass you. If he’s telling the truth, then that means he can read your mind? Could he have not just heard what you thought, but seen it too? The raise of his brow is enough confirmation.

“How long-”

“Last summer.”

“At the tea shop?”

He nods.

Your face flushes as you recall all the dirty thoughts you had while staring right at him. He heard everything - he’d seen everything… for a fucking while now according to him. Why the fuck didn’t he say anything?

Hoseok lets out a dry chuckle, looking to the side with a shake of his head. “You had a boyfriend. Then, a husband.”

“Andrew is not a husband.”

“I don’t care what the fuck he is,” Hoseok shrugs, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He circles around the counter, making his way towards you. You surprise yourself when you find that you don’t move. He stops about an arm’s length away and adds, “And neither do you.”

You play with the hem of your t-shirt. His words lap around your mind, reeling you in and out of his stare like a wave against the shore. This whole time, he’s been right in front of you. He sat across the room at one point, reading your favourite book and watching over you. Maybe he wasn’t just a stranger, but you just knew that he has treated you better than that little fucker ever did. You knew he cared for you. You knew there had to be something more.

Had this been anyone else, watching you and waiting for you, you probably would have been worried. But, he’s different. He doesn't make you feel like every word is a bullet or every breath is an excuse to fight.

Hoseok reaches a hand out, wiping a stray tear away with his thumb. “I hate it when you think about him,” he whispers.

“I hate it too.”

“I know.”

Right. He can read your mind. You want to tell yourself to be careful but what’s the use? He’s already seen it all.

“Who are you?”

He hesitates. It’s an unfamiliar sight on someone so sure of himself. He couldn’t seriously believe that he could just say he heard you pray, heard your thoughts, and kept an eye on you and not have you question his being, could he?

“Are you sure you want to know?”

“Of course.”

You should have thought it through, you tell yourself seconds after blurting out your assurance. If he is reluctant about revealing himself to you, then you should’ve taken that seriously. There could be a reason.

But what other reason could be great enough to keep you away from him, a little voice asks. If you had wanted him gone, you would have said so. You would have run out of the house yourself and to the neighbours and begged for help. You don’t want him anywhere else but right here, within your reach and watching. Your heart flutters at the idea of him always watching.

Hoseok rolls his shoulders back, as if talking himself up to telling you. He tugs at the collar of his shirt before pulling it over his head. Your attention lingers on the crevices of his toned stomach and broad chest. You knew he was big but shirtless he looks like he’s ninety-five percent muscle.

A loud roar echoes from the sea. His eyes flash a crashing blue. Cascading cyan scales surface on his biceps, forearms, and peek from around his waist - likely on his back too. The edges blend right into his tanned skin. The ones one his neck are a glimmering seafoam green. Little blue gills sit in the hollows of his cheeks. As the ocean settles, Hoseok stands straighter and holds his head higher.

Is he a nymph? A spirit of the sea? A mermaid? He said he heard you praying. Could he be an angel?

He smiles, glittering canines on display. “Did you enjoy my gift?”

Trident-ended, the silver dildo returns to you. Your eyes widen at the realization. “P-Poseidon?”

The sea loudly laps in quick ripples. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think it was laughing.

You take a step towards him, holding a hand out to his face. He lets you graze his gills with the tips of your fingers. They vibrate under your touch.

No… this can’t be. These are just myths, Disney movies at best. The look on Hoseok’s face smugly tells you otherwise. He raises a brow at you, as if asking if you’re seriously doubting his existence when he is standing right before you, half fish and all.

“I’m not half fish,” he corrects while trying to hide a smile.

You mirror his expression. “You have gills.”

“How else do you expect me to breathe underwater?”

“You’re a God. You don’t need to breathe.”

Hoseok chuckles with a shake of his head. The sweet sound provokes your own laughter. He pauses for a second, watching you closely with a peculiar look in his eye. His smile widens at the sound and for a second you think that gleam swimming in his gaze is admiration.

“Would that be so hard to believe?”

Yes.

Hoseok’s face falls. Crap. Did he hear that?

He reaches behind you. The baby blue bullet glistens with your arousal between his fingers. It looks measly in his large hands. You imagine them around your neck, on your ass, gripping onto your thighs. Your eyes widen when he brings it to his nose. With a sharp inhale, his right eye twitches. Then, he puts it in his mouth. He sucks on your taste like a lollipop. You catch his tongue swirling around it from the gap near the corner of his lips. It’s wet with his saliva when he pulls it out.

“I fucking knew it,” he whispers. “You taste delicious.”

He hisses the last word like a sacred calling.

Your breath hitches. Lips parted, you gape up at him, blinking and dazed. Did he just…? He’s been thinking about you like that? Fuck, you wish you could hear this thoughts too. You wish you could be sure that this isn’t a dream, or game, or some sort of sick joke. Though your mind loops every terrible possibility, your heart raptures at the reality. It pounds in your ears, reminding you that you’re still breathing despite having your breath taken away and begs you to give in.

“Do you want me to go?”

“Stay.”

The word rushes out before you can even process it. Your body sways into him, leaning against his chest. Fuck, he even feels big.

He can’t go, your heart thuds. Whether a joke or not, he’s here and he smelled you, tasted you. It’s clear he wants you - for the evening, for a few hours, it doesn’t really matter. What more can become of this? You’re married. You’re married and you’re horny and he’s standing right there, with his arm snaking around your waist, pulling you closer against him. The bulge in his jeans pokes at your stomach, twisting it with desire. From the clothed impression of it alone, you’re sure his cock can reach lengths others only dream for.

Hoseok tosses the bullet aside and curls a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. The gesture reminds you of how messy you probably look. Hair disheveled and face tired from sleeping all day, you probably don’t look as fuckable as you might have liked to.

“If you say one more negative thing about yourself,” Hoseok hisses, pressing his forehead against yours and pulling you out of your thoughts, “I will fuck you into this ground so hard, the entire kitchen will be rearranged. Do I make myself clear?”

Holding back a whimper, you meekly nod. You know he just threatened you, but some good sex is hardly something you’d want to miss out on. It’s been years since you’ve been properly filled and you’ll be damned if you don’t get him inside you.

His voice suddenly drops an octave as he practically growls in a rough rasp, “And for fuck’s sake, make a fucking sound.”

You swallow thickly, about to moan your understanding when you become so painfully aware of how empty your throat is and how hard you’ve been pressing your legs together. You’ve been squirming in place, the little bouts of pleasure not doing very much as you’ve barely even noticed them. How long have you even been doing this? Did he notice?

The little smirk that graces his features is enough of an answer.

You want him. You want him now. You want him so deep down your throat, you don’t want to have to swallow when he cums. You want to be on your knees, staring up at his naked frame.

He grips onto your ass, further pressing your body against his. “Tell me what you want,” he whispers.

If he can read your mind, why is it so important for you to say it?

Hoseok slides a hand under your shirt and up your torso, gently thumbing your nipple in the process. He wraps his fingers around your throat. He applies gentle pressure, enough to make you pout (which happens to be a sight that lights up his eyes), and says, “Because you sound so sexy when you’re desperate.”

“I’m not desperate,” you lie. He had already seen you whine at your missed orgasm, already read every little dirty thought that has crossed your mind, and you both know so fucking well how badly you’ve been needing to be touched. Still, your pride shouts against his words like you have a shred of dignity left.

He tightens his hold on your neck, cutting off your next intake of air. “What the fuck did I just tell you? Didn’t I say not to speak negatively of yourself?”

“Technically,” you find yourself rasping, “I didn��t really say it. I thought it.”

Using his thumb, he tilts your head up so that your lips are inches apart from his. Though anger sinks in his eyes, an amused smirk floats on his lips. He kisses your chin, grazes his teeth against the soft skin then gently licks it, as if tending to a wound. Your nerves burn where his lips were, summoning goosebumps all over despite the warmth he radiates against you.

“A technicality? You think you can wiggle your cute ass out of this on a fucking technicality?” He questions, looking all too smug for someone who technically just lost an argument. Your thoughts seem to only make his grin wider. “Then, maybe I won’t fuck you just yet.”

You fall still, hands once resting on his chest now clutch onto his shoulders. The sheer thought of not getting fucked in any hole now makes your heart sink to the mangled pit of your stomach. You know the easiest way to fix this would be to attempt that you are wrong and in fact did say something negative about yourself.

But the look in his eyes when you talked back is addicting. His pupils dilated, that blue turning indigo against black. And the strength of his hand alone, squeezing around your neck as a poor excuse of a warning. Your arousal drenches your panties so much so that being in them is proving to be comfortable. They stuck to your folds when his smirk widened. Maybe he was right. Maybe you are desperate. But, you’ll be damned if you tell him that.

“You just did,” he smiles. The tips of his canines brush his plush bottom lip.

“I thought we agreed that thoughts don’t count.”

“You thought?” He smirks.

You can’t help but roll your eyes at him. The gesture seems to bring him closer as he hugs your body against his with his free hand. His gaze flickers down to your shirt and he bites his lip. It’s been awkwardly bunched up against him but he didn’t really seem to mind until it obstructed his view of your cleavage. Instead of telling you to take it off, however, Hoseok removes his hand from your neck and tugs at the collar of the shirt. It rips to your stomach. Your gasp cinches in your throat when he takes half a step back and tugs at it again.

He glares at you while pulling the ruined shirt off. “If you hold back another scream, I swear I’ll-”

“Fuck me into the ground?”

His hand tangles in your hair and, with a harsh pull, he forces you to the ground. You fall on your knees with a yelp that sounded all too pleased for your pride to bear. Your gaze falls on his crotch, lips between your teeth at the sight of his clothed erection. Bulging against his thigh, you reach out to touch him, to feel him throb in your hand. Hoseok yanks your head back by the hard grip of your scalp. Your mouth falls open and a cry pours out before you can catch it.

As he messes with his zipper, he asks, “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to like that?” He shoves your open mouth against his jeans, letting your tongue press against his erection, despite having his pants already unzipped and ready to be pulled down.

You lick at it freely as you stare up at him. Lips wrapping around its curves, you half-heartedly suck. He already feels so big and you’ve got much less than half of him against your tongue.

His words die in his mouth, hips swaying forward. He mutters a curse under his breath before letting out a little chuckle. That grip on your hair suddenly eases up, and he pets you. He pushes your hair back and out of your face by petting you. “Is this how you always get away with things?”

Only with the soft ones.

He sets his jaw as that harsh grip on your head resurfaces. The amused glint within the fire of his eyes is enough to let you know that he heard you and he likes it. Pulling your head back, he shoves his pants off with his free hand.

You should have taken his threat to fucking ruin you more seriously. One look at his cock and your pussy clenches in exhilarated fear. Simply stating that he is fucking huge would be an understatement. His cock is bigger than your fucking head, and thicker than the length of his thumb. He’s most definitely not going to fit in your mouth, let alone your pussy - a fact which makes you want to test out that theory all the more.

His erection smacks your chin, smearing it with precum. You don’t waste time and stick out your tongue for a taste. Just like saltwater, you’re pleased to find.

He must’ve liked the sight of you getting slapped by his cock as he holds the base of it and slaps it on your cheeks. The wet splat makes you quietly moan to yourself, the light impressions of pain force your legs together. Your panties smush your arousal against your inner thighs.

“Open your mouth, princess,” he orders in a growl. The pet name still manages to come off endearing and, dare you think, even gentle.

Your tongue sticks out the moment you open your mouth, making Hoseok, despite his anger, smile. He smacks his cock on your tongue and softly grumbles a string of moans. You fist your hands on your knees, eager for a proper taste of him.

He rests his cock on your tongue then purses his lips. A wad of spit falls on your cheek. You whine, mostly at the fact that it hadn’t landed in your mouth, but Hoseok doesn’t really seem to care. He spits again, and again, and again. Some fall on your forehead or cheeks but most land in your mouth and over his cock. For the God of the Sea, he sure has trouble controlling his own saliva.

“You’ve always got something to say, don’t you?”

You wrap your lips around his tip as a reply and swallow the spit he managed to get in your mouth. You can taste the remnants of yourself. They mix deliciously with his precum and your mind suddenly becomes flooded with thoughts of just how well you’d taste together. Another rush of arousal soaks right through your panties.

Hoseok holds your hair in a makeshift ponytail, steadily lowering your mouth around him. There’s a sparking in his gaze at how easily you let him guide you, or you assume as much. And if the little smile on his parted lips is not enough to confirm it, he practically moans, “For a mortal, you can’t stay out of my head either.”

Something about living in his mind swells your heart with pride. You shift closer to him, knees against his feet, and stare up despite how the gesture jabbed his tip at the back of your throat. The burning urge to gag stings your eyes with tears, flushes your face and soon, as his heavy cock rests longer down your throat, your jaw begins to ache. It provokes an unparalleled soothing exhilaration that shoots your hands to his thighs. Suddenly, you’re not so focused on his gaze anymore, but his voice. Particularly, the sound of his raw, raspy moans that seem so natural, you’d think this is a daily occurrence. If you weren’t so dick deprived for so long, you might actually believe it too.

The effects of lacking cock especially arise when you forget how to control your gag reflex. You are able to hold back any sort of sound until he’s halfway in your mouth, tip just breaching the opening of your throat. Your tongue shoots up with a cough and shoulders shake. He tries to pull you back by the grip on your hair, but his words have made you ambitious. Or, perhaps, you’re just eager to prove yourself.

There just has to be a reason why he would want you. Why would he watch you for so long without a single word exchanged if not to simply think about you in this very position. Had the circumstances been different, this fact would have hurt you. However, you’re married and in no way interested in pursuing him out of this moment (or so you keep telling yourself), just as he is with you. The pressure to show him a good time weighs heavy on your shoulders.

So no, you will not retreat until he has lodged himself down the length of your throat and had to convince himself not to nut at the overwhelming squeeze of your swallow.

“You’re insane,” he says through a moan.

You ignore the itch to gag as you take in another inch or so into your mouth. Through blurred vision, you glare up at him. You’re sucking his dick if that’s the last thing you do.

Hoseok tugs harshly on your hair. You jerk back with a whine. Though his cock is out of your mouth, a string of saliva connects your lips to his tip. You pout at the sight, wishing it was his cum instead. He uses his grip to tilt your head up at him and glares, “Stop that.”

“You’re the one that put me on my knees.”

“You know what I mean.”

Of course you do. It’s hard not to when he, himself, is so easy to read. One wrong word, one right look can set him off so easily. If the narrowing of his eyes and furrow of his brows are not enough then the flare of his nostrils or tightening of his jaw will confess his emotions. He’s repeated himself quite a number of times too. It’s just so much fun watching him fumble for control. You forgot how amusing it is to play, to tease, to be at the complete mercy of someone else just to watch how the power gleams in their eyes.

Mentally discarding his previous requests to stop being so hard on yourself, you give him your most innocent eyes and shrug.

“I don’t need to read your mind to know you’re lying.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“That’s exactly my point, princess.”

His words a few minutes ago return to you; You’ve always got something to say, don’t you? And by not having anything to say at all, you must be lying. You hate how well he knows you, hate that he can read through you because he’s been watching - not simply because he’s a god. It coils your blood while igniting your nerves and your heart raptures. You’re not sure which instinct to follow, especially when your pussy continuously clenches and reminds you of its emptiness.

One thing you are sure of is how badly you want him to call you by that name again. You want him in your mouth, using your throat like a toy and telling you just how much he adores you. If he doesn’t hear it in your mind, he sees it in your eyes. The desperation to be ruined has not tried to be concealed since he caught you touching yourself.

“Won’t you just please fuck my face?”

Your words surprise you just as much as him. You were thinking it - you didn’t necessarily mean to say it. Whether or not he can tell, he hesitates. You test his patience, pressing your wet lips against his thick tip again. You rub it against them like a tube of lipstick as he stares down at you. He tries hard to hide his smile but you just know he’s thoroughly amused and captivated. Why won’t he give you what you want then? Doesn’t he want it too?

“Open up, princess,” he finally gives in, gently tilting your head back.

You moan in delight the moment your lips part. He can’t help but chuckle. It flares a frenzy of nerves to your clit, making it throb. Flattening your tongue, you try your best to relax your throat.

Hoseok cups your face with his free hand. Its stark gentleness against the harsh grip of your hair is strangely exciting. “Take a deep breath,” he guides before slowly moving back into your mouth.

His soft start is rather appreciated, though you do find it slightly patronizing. You don’t need to be taught how to suck cock like some virgin. You’ve done a great job in the past without his help and you’re sure you can do it again. You’re just out of practise, that’s all. It’s humiliating, embarrassing and frustrating. You feel so small but so renewed in his hands. All seems right in the world when Hoseok stands over you and talks down to you and tells you what to do in a voice so soft, it’s boarding the line of mockery.

“Stop bitching,” he grunts with a smile.

You’re about to glare up at him when he begins to push between the walls of your throat. You stiffen. Hoseok drops the hand on your cheek to the nape of your neck, gently rubbing his thumb just under your ear. The gesture relaxes you enough to drop your frozen posture. He moves in further and further until his balls, oh so heavy and wet with your saliva from your previous attempt to suck him off, rest on your chin.

You stare up at him. He looks down at you. Holding himself still, his brows furrow and he bites his lip. He looks so pretty when he’s trying hard not to unravel before your eyes, which very soon become blurry with tears. Perhaps you should change that. Taking a breath through your nose, you shake your head a bit. He grumbles a moan with his lips still between his teeth.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, princess.”

It seems as though that’s exactly what he did, though. He prepared you for his cock, guided you oh so kindly, and made a show about giving into your request only to hold himself still in your mouth. If you wanted to warm his cock, you would have asked for it. No, you wanted your throat to be fucking used like his personal hole. You don’t want to be able to string together sentences without losing your voice halfway through from how hard he fuck-

Hoseok pulls himself out and right back in with a quick snap of his hips. Cock heavy and thick, he pushes through the constricted walls of your throat over and over again. His balls smack against your face, the final indication of his wrath. And you can’t do much about it, if you’d even wanted to. He holds your hair with both hands now. His grip is so tight, you feel your face being stretched back. Slobbering, gagging, voice raw and burning, you let him move your head in sync with his hips like the waves of the ocean.

“Is this what princess wanted so badly?” He coos, voice drenched with mockery.

He tilts your head back to rest a good bit of his cock on your tongue. Dripping spit and tears over your thighs, you feel filthy. It’s warm and slimly and you can’t, for the fucking life of you, stop thinking about how fucking good it would feel on your pussy.

And his fucking cock. You’re reminded of just how huge he is every time he pushes himself back in. Your chin is sore with the smack of his balls but that pain sears a certain kind of pleasure only he has ever cultivated within your bones. You adore the way it bruises your face, aches your muscles and makes your jaw slack with fatigue.

Hoseok splats his spit webbed cock against your tongue again as you heave for air. You’ve blinked enough tears away to watch him watch you again. Pupils lust blown, he massages the part of your scalp that he’s been tugging on. He parts his lips like he’s about to say something sincere, but then holds his words with a bite.

You thought he’d shove his cock back in your mouth - give princess what she wanted - but he doesn’t. He wraps a hand around your neck and pulls you back up to your feet instead. A whine, raspy and broken from his recent rub against your vocal chords, escapes you.

His nose brushes yours and whispers, “Shh, no princess. None of that.” When you pout, sliding your hands up and down his chest, he adds, “No, baby, you’ve waited too long.” Then, he cups your pussy with his free hand. You gasp a pathetically high-pitched moan. He breathes a chuckle when he feels your sopping panties stickily clinging to your pussy. “Look at you, princess. You’re a fucking wreck and I haven’t touched you yet.”

He sounds too cocky for your liking. And seeing as he won’t even let you finish sucking him off, you aren’t in your best mood to play. If he was going to make this night about you, then he should let you call the shots, let you be the one in charge-

The tightening grip against your neck cuts your thoughts as short as your breath. Hoseok glares. “Gods, you always fucking do this. You almost got away with all this fucking shit again, hmm? You think just because you’re cute, I’ll let your disrespect go?”

What the fuck is he on about? You weren’t even trying to act cute. All you wanted was to be on your knees for him. Why is that concept so hard to grasp?

You’re asking the wrong questions. By the way Hoseok pushes you to walk backwards by the squeezing grip on your throat, you’ve come to the conclusion that you’ve been asking the wrong questions and should probably refrain from doing so again… at least while he’s choking you.

He chokes you harder.

“You’ve been whiney, bratty, acting like a spoiled little bitch. And I let it all go because you’re needy and desperate and haven’t been able to stop thinking about how much you want me inside you. It’s so fucking adorable how your eyes get so round whenever you do that too.” He rambles as he guides you backwards towards your room. “But, if you think, for one fucking second, that you’ll be getting away with running your fucking mouth like that, you’re fucking wrong.”

The instinct to tell him that you haven’t even said anything dies the moment you recall every disobedient thought you’ve had while on your knees alone. You soften your eyes at him when he opens your door. He remains unfazed.

“I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be sorry,” he quickly interjects, voice suddenly soft. “Just be a good girl. Can you do that for me, princess?”

How the fuck can you say no to that? At a loss for words, you simply nod.

Hoseok tsks. “What did I say before?”

“That if I say something negative about myself-”

“No, no, not that, baby,” he laughs a bit, coaxing a little giggle out of you too. The sound seems to soften his eyes. “The other thing.”

You think for a moment, knowing he made quite a few orders but none you took seriously enough to remember.

“I want to hear you,” he whispers. You’re suddenly aware of just how close his lips are to yours. You can feel his hot breath against them and lick your lips. Your tongue catches a bit of his too. “Be as loud as you want.”

“Are you sure?” You find yourself asking.

Hoseok kisses your chin. “Yes,” he breathes before grazing his teeth over the bruised skin.

The confirmation summons tears. You’re not sure why and you don’t want to find out. Swallowing thickly, which proved to be hard with his hand around your throat, you push away every last negative thought about yourself and your life, and just ground yourself into whatever moment Hoseok is creating for you right now. It doesn’t matter how long he’s staying or why he wants you. He’s here and more committed than you’ve let yourself believe you deserve. You should hold onto that. You do hold onto that.

He sits you down on your unmade bed and lets go of your neck. Then he just stands in front of you. Eyes heavy with… concentration… intrigue… You pause, finally recognizing the look as admiration. It makes you shrink into yourself and you begin to wonder if this really is just a night to him, if you really are just some other mortal girl he’s interested in simply bedding. You’ve heard about the greek gods' tendency to be infatuated by humans for a short burst of time only to move on to the next. Though it would admittedly hurt, you wouldn’t be surprised if that’s all this was.

The look in his eyes says otherwise though. The slight gap of his lips, the relaxed posture it all makes you feel like this should be happening more. That thought doesn’t terrify you. It doesn’t even fill you with guilt. In fact, it excites you. You want him here - you’ve never made that a secret. You just didn’t think you’d want him out of the context of tonight.

Hoseok bends down, placing both his hands on either side of your thighs and he leans over you. Lids only just shut, he looks as though he’s about ready to kiss you. You wonder if his lips will still taste like you, the image of him sucking your vibrator returning to you with a flush.

“I know I’ve been rough with you.”

I love it.

He smirks. “But I need you to promise to tell me when it’s too much.”

It won’t be.

Hooking his finger under your chin, he forces you to meet his gaze. Concern swims with sincerity as he searches your eyes for hints of deception. “Any time you feel like it’s going too far, princess, I need you to tell me. If you can’t say it, then just snap your fingers.”

“Hoseok, I won’t-”

“I want to fuck you senseless,” he says. His voice is so raw with emotion it makes you shiver.

Why the fuck didn’t he just say so?

“Which hol-”

“Both.”

He can be as rough as he wants then. About to bite your lip to hold back your laughter, you recall his very honest declaration to make sure you are aware that it is in fact okay to be as loud as you’d like to. And he laughs along with you, rather enthralled by your excitement.

He points his chin to the head of the bed, silently urging you to sit back against it. You turn around and crawl over there. A hand lightly smacks each cheek, to which you let out playful whines, and when you turn around, you find Hoseok staring at your hips. Dazed, a little smile hovers over his lips.

“Hoseok-”

“Turn over.”

There is no room for hesitance or questions. His growl, his harsh tone sends shivers and awakens goosebumps all over. He doesn’t have that usual annoyance of intriguing in his gaze but something deprived. He looks famished, face sunken with starvation. His nostrils flare and jaw sets, eyes dark and captivating. Words fail you and you cannot summon the courage to speak back. Instead, you swallow thickly and do as you’re told.

You turn onto your hands and knees. Leaning on your elbows, you tell yourself that the arch of your back is just second nature. The spread of your legs is something you know you should be ashamed of but cannot be bothered to.

A harsh smack lands on one cheek, the other feeling the sting seconds later. Two, three, four five burning spanks and you reach a hand back to salvage a chance to catch your breath. Your hand barely covers any surface area, perhaps just a single cheek. He still grants you but a measly moment to embrace the pain before shifting your hand from your cheek to your tailbone. He holds it steady in place by the wrist and continues where he left off. When your other hand falls back for another break, he easily grabs hold of it, without looking his grip on your first hand, and keeps you still.

You fall forward with the next smack. Your pleased pain gets muffled into the mattress. You can’t even breathe well, if at all, but you can’t ignore the yearning for another one and another one and another one. Your back somewhat aches from how you’ve so deeply arched it. You’ve been lifting your ass up for more. His hand is just so large, smacking each cheek in its entirety. Though the sting brings tears to your eyes, you really hope his handprint lasts till the morning.

After a couple more spanks, your voice breaking within whimpers and pitiful yelps, he releases your hands and rubs over your seering skin. “You’re fucking dripping,” he sighs, caught between mesmerization and exhaustion.

You lift yourself back on your hands, face finally out of the bed, and look back at him. He’s already staring at you. A sinister smirk graces his lips at the sight of your tears.

Grabbing handfuls of your ass to massage the pain away, he asks, “Was Daddy too harsh?”

He’s mocking you. You both know this. You both know it swamps your chest with humiliation. And yet, you push your ass back into his hands, moaning so fucking loud, you’d think he’s already fucking you.

His tip pokes your panty-clad pussy, squishing as it meets the sopping fabric. He’s painfully erect. You can feel the throbs well just from his tip, wondering why he wouldn’t just let you suck him off properly. You bite your lip as the fear of being terrible at it makes itself known. Of course, it’s because you didn’t do a good job. Why else would-

“Daddy?” You question in a voice so meek, you wouldn’t have guessed it belonged to you.

Hoseok tightens his grip on your ass, imprinting his fingers into the fat of your flesh. He doesn’t look pleased, glaring at you from his place. “...need to be inside you,” he says through gritted teeth.

You can’t help the wiggle of your ass. “So why aren’t you?”

He laughs. His whole body shakes as he laughs uproariously. Hooking his thumb under the hem of your panties and pulling your cheeks apart, he examines your asshole. “Baby, you probably can’t even handle my pinky yet.”

You want to ask him what the fuck he’s going to do about that when he spits against your hole. Gasping, you try your best not to fall back on your elbows. No, you want to see, to watch him as he plays with you.

He looks so good back there. Naked, cock inches from where you need him, face gleaming in the evening glow and attention absorbed by your body, he looks like he was made to stand back there and ensure you get your daily dose of dick. He dips his head down and kisses each cheek before finally pressing his lips to your pulsing hole.

You lift your ass up. Hoseok groans, pushing your cheeks against his face. His tongue circles around your hole, teasing the possibility of entering but never actually doing it. He comes up for air after a particularly wet kiss.

“Fuck, your pussy smells so fucking good.”

You flush as if he didn’t just shove his face between your cheeks. That’s about all you could do before he rubs his face against your clothed pussy. He inhales your scent, shaking his nose between your folds to get a good whiff. A squeal echoes in the room when he catches your pussy in his mouth. Your jaw drops at the feeling of his wet tongue against your panties, just over your clenching hole. You thought he was just going to tease you with little kisses and licks, maybe even nibbles. Instead, he begins to suction his lips around your folds and slurp the arousal you accumulated out of your panties.

Losing the strength to hold yourself up, you fall on the side of your face back into the mattress. You rock your hips against his face, slow but needy. Your eyes flutter shut, a hand reaching back to hold his head in place. When your fingers tangle in his hair, he sucks harder. You shudder against him.

Then he pulls away. You prop yourself up on your elbow and look back to find him pulling your panties off with his teeth. Eyes widening, you lift your legs to help him out. He holds your gaze as he puts the wettest part back in his mouth. Crawling over your bent over frame, he sucks the flimsy fabric.

His cheeks are glistening with you. He glances down at your lips and nods his head, as if silently ordering you to open your mouth. You comply. He leans in like he’s searching for a kiss and shoves the panties in your mouth with his tongue.

“Have a little taste, princess,” he encourages with a peck on your forehead. “Don’t let it discourage you. Scream all you want.”

You bite down on the ruined blue fabric harshly. A handful of thoughts collide in your head as he retreats to his place between your legs. Mind glitching between them, you can’t make out a coherent sentence. All you know is that there isn’t a rupture within your chest anymore. It’s been filled with something so pure, naming it would only discredit the strength of its work.

Amongst the mental madness, a quiet voice managed to break through. I want to be yours.

Hoseok conceals his face from your view. He avoids your eyes, suddenly so concerned with the mess you’ve been making on the bed. After a quick examination of it, he lies on his back and sneaks his shoulders between your legs. You immediately sit up, hovering your pussy over his lips. Your arousal strings a drop just above his chin. He caresses your thighs with a smile.

“Take a seat, princess.”

You pull your panties out of your mouth. “You’ll suffocate.”

“I’m a God. I don’t need to breathe.”

Perhaps you shouldn’t have dropped yourself on him. Hoseok just makes it hard to think first then act. You can’t control yourself around him. Every movement just bursts out of you, every word falls from your lips and all your thoughts are paralyzed under his influence. When your mind finally catches up, you’ve already done something else you didn’t think so well through.

You don’t want him to breathe anyways. Pulling at his hair, you want him to drown in your pussy, realizing how fucking wrong you are when he starts to lick and slurp you up immedately. He plants his hands on either ass cheek, fingers sinking into your skin, and helps you rut yourself against him. At first, he was trying to hold you in place but he should know better than think you’d keep still.

He tongues your entrance. You buck your hips in his face. He grunts from the sudden impact.

“S-sorry, Daddy,” you weakly moan.

He harshly smacks your ass, consequently causing you to rut your hips into his face again. A deep groan resonates against your core. It almost makes you want to apologize again, just to get another slap or hear him grunt incoherently to himself from how good you taste.

It’s been too long since you last had anyone between your legs, but this might be the first time you sat on someone’s face. You didn’t know cutting off a man’s breath is really the best way to get eaten out. From now on, you decide, if he is not gasping for air, you are not giving it to him properly.

Hoseok shakes his head. His tongue and lips brush between your folds and flick at your clit quickly. It twists the tightening knot of your orgasm but you fight the urge to further sink yourself down on him as you wonder if maybe you’ve suffocated him too long. You’re about to lift your hips when he forces you down with the strength from his forearms. You stare down at them in awe, unable to be quiet even while mildly confused.

Veins lace his arms as he holds you rigid over his face. He shoves his tongue into you. Prodding and swirling, he tries to push through your clenching walls before jabbing his tongue in over and over again. The tip of his nose presses against your clit, the curves of his lips sit beneath your wet folds and his fucking gills start to vibrate against your inner thighs.

“What a good little whore,” he coos, voice slightly muffled.

It takes you a good second or two to realize that he’s speaking through his gills. You’re wet enough, that he can use your arousal to speak to you through his fucking gills. Locked under his grip, all you can do is tug harder at his hair and scream the title he already knew you adored.

You are a fucking whore. You’re his fucking whore. And you know that he is yours. What kind of man would long for you the way he does? Would watch out for you and picture you naked almost always? He can pretend that he has only been around because he cares but you both know that he is a fucking whore for you too. The first thing he did when you questioned his identity was taking his shirt off. What normal man would do that?

He’s your whore, your slut, your fucking cumdump, laying- suffocating under you. He acts composed and collected, but you can just feel by the way his tongue moves inside you, that he would do anything to make sure you’re satisfied far before he is. If you had the strength to utter anything beyond pathetically desperate gasps of air, you would tell him just that.

His teeth graze your clit before he bites down on it. Your eyes widen with a loud scream of his name. Had it not been for his hold on your thighs, you would have jolted off his face. “Hoseok, what the fu-uck!”

He rubs the bite away with his tongue flat as he nods his head. Over and over again against your clit, he sets the pace of the gyrating you would be doing if he wasn’t holding you down so hard against him. He moves fast and precise, his nose hitting what his tongue is missing when it retreats to attack your clit again.

“Daddy! Daddy, p-please, please,” you begin to beg, though you know your orgasm might just unravel on it’s own. “Daddy!”

“Fucking cum without permission and I’ll ruin you!”

“But-”

“You think I’m a fucking whore, you filthy little slut? You’re the one that undressed me with your eyes every time you saw me. If I didn’t take that shirt off myself, you would have done it.”

“Not true!” you shout, voice quivering. Your body begins to shake too. Toes curling and eyes screwed shut, you can feel yourself getting so fucking close. “Pleas-”

He presses his nose against your clit so hard that you’re worried you might break it, and shoves his tongue back in and out of you. “Don’t you fucking dar-”

You cum. It rushes out of you before you can even catch it. Your eyes roll back, head following then hands and soon you’re leaning your entire torso back, hands planted into the bed on either side of his hips. Quaking all over, you can’t hold yourself up for too long but Hoseok cannot seem to care less. You came without permission - without a proper warning - in the middle of one of his threats. Though the fear settling into your exhausted bones should scare you, it only adds to your high.

Head feeling light, your vision blurs. You’re still cumming; he’s still drinking you up, and you think he might even be babbling with cum. The blood is rushing so fast to your head, however, that all you can hear is the hurried flow and fast thumping of your heart.

The entirety of your body feels weak. You want to sit up again and pull his arms off you, tell him that his tongue is just too fucking much. You want to tell him that you came and you’re sorry but it’s over now and you can deal with the consequences later. You know he can hear your thoughts and is well aware of this.

He does not care. He growls and groans through his gills about how you need to be trained or taught or something along those lines. Your senses are still disoriented so you can’t be completely sure. One thing you are certain of is that if he continues to play with you like this, you might just cum all over again.

“I fucking dare you!” His voice finally cuts through.

It takes you a second to realize you’ve been screaming so loud, you’ve lost the majority of your voice to raspy, gasping breaths. You push yourself back to your previous position, clawing at his forearms.

“You made your fucking point!”

He bites down on your clit again.

You grip onto his arm and cry out, “Daddy!”

He pleasantly hums against your folds. “What will you do if you need to cum?”

The overstimulation burns your nerves. Your body just doesn’t know what to do with itself anymore. You need a fucking breath, mind still foggy and voice almost completely gone.

“A-ask!”

Hoseok swiftly flips you over, flopping your body recklessly on the mattress. Standing on his knees between your legs, he finally removes himself from your pussy. The relief from the ongoing pleasure is all you need to suck in a deep breath and try to calm your racing heart. That is until you see his face. Smeared with your cum, his nose, lips and chin glisten in the moonlight. Those magical scales shimmer under your filth. That’s arousing all in itself but it’s that sight of his gills, webbed and stringed with your wetness that forces your knees together.

You don’t want to think anymore. Too much time has been wasted on thinking, why, how and what might come next. You have a god standing over you, face coated with layers of your pleasure and you’ve been lost in your head for too fucking long. Standing on your knees, you press yourself against him with an urgency you haven’t felt in years. Arms thrown around his neck, bodies smushed against each other, you press your lips against his.

There is a rush in the initial touch. A rush that reminds you of forceful currents colliding against the shore. It shocks you, makes you shiver all over and then leaves you craving another splash. His hands hug your waist but trail down to your ass where they seem to love to linger. If he comes back, you’re sure that’s the first place he’ll hold again.

When you let his tongue push through your lips, let it play with yours, you’re overwhelmed by the raw impression of your arousal laced in his mouth. You soon become too accustomed to the taste that it barely makes an impression on your tongue. And you just can’t have that.

Pulling away, you trail your lips along his cheek, licking yourself off his skin. Your tongue glides over his gills, teasingly slow. The tip ticks every soft edge, curling a bit to ensure you pull your every drop of your cum out. They quiver against your warmth. He tightens his grip on your ass. The gesture numbly aches the bruises from his previous hold, making you moan against his gills.

His voice breaks through a moan. His cock throbs against your stomach. You press your lips against the gills upon realizing their sensitivity and suck at them. Hoseok trembles against your body. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think no one has ever played with his gills before.

“Get back on your knees,” he weakly orders.

You press another kiss upon his gills. “But this is so much fun.”

He rubs your ass down to your thighs and somewhat sways against you. The simplicity of the gesture stutters your heart. He feels like someone who can soothe you with the right touch, the right word. He feels like a husband, you regret noticing.

His hands traill up your back, run through your hair, and guide your head back. You know he heard your thoughts. But, when you meet his gaze, you don’t find the pity you thought would be there. Instead, he regards you with that same glint of admiration. It’s almost like you feel like a wife.

He blinks, too rapidly for you to ignore. His gaze redirects to your night table. Whatever vulnerability floated in his eyes is washed over by lust. He smiles when he looks back at you and repeats, “I promise you’ll have more fun on your knees.”

You don’t need much convincing. From the moment he arrived, he did seem to have a plan. It’s clear he’s thought long and hard about this… probably about you too.

Turning around, you get back down to your hands. Hoseok reaches over you, his tip prodding at your entrance. He quietly chuckles in your ear when he feels you clench. “On your elbows, baby,” he whispers, taking both your hands and helping you fold onto your arms. He places a little kiss behind your ear, causing you to arch your back, then reaches for the silver jewelry box he gifted you.

You stiffen. The toy is half his size, but still big. You wonder where he’s thinking of putting it. You’re hardly stretched out enough for either hole to accommodate something so heavy.

“We don’t have to use it.”

“We better use it.”

You’re not sure where this sudden burst of confidence came from but you’re tired of questioning yourself. Yes, he better fucking use that dildo, or you’ll reach back and do it. Either way, you’re going to be filled and fucked until you can’t remember your name.

Hoseok smiles at your eagerness. Still leaning over you, he opens the box and pulls the toy out. He pushes the bulbed tip along the curve of your lips, silently asking you to open your mouth. When you comply, he slowly slides it in your mouth. Considering the toy is not as giant as his cock, you’re able to take it in its entirety without much resistance from your throat or your gag reflex.

He kisses your forehead, muttering, “Good girl,” before pulling it out.

You’re not sure if it was the kiss or his words or simply the toy that was once in your throat, but tears pool in your eyes. “Thank you, Daddy,” you whisper, voice vulnerable against the lump sitting in your chest.

He gives you another then sits back. Your mind is soon consumed with the feeling of the toy gliding between your folds. Despite being in your mouth, it is cold. It shoots a shiver of nerves down your back and makes you squirm.

Hoseok pulls one of your cheeks apart and spits on your tightest hole. “Stay still, princess,” he casually orders before circling his index finger around the rim of your asshole.

You grow impatient as you catch onto his intentions. Wiggling your hips, you whine into your fisted hands. He huffs a sigh behind you and you’re sure this blatant act of disobedience will earn you another few spankings. Instead, he drops the toy and shoves a finger into your pussy. It’s just a finger, but holy fuck does it reach far. Your jaw drops, voice a meek little thing, a notch above a squealing whisper.

“Can you hold your ass open for me, baby?”

Reaching back, you press your cheek into the bed and do as you're told. Hoseok relocates his free hand to your thigh before burying his face in your ass again. His tongue swirls around your hole before pushing through. He’s met with a bit of resistance, all of which you do not fully register as he adds another finger into your pussy. He scissors them, opening up your walls before starting his quick thrusts.

He shakes his head, slobbering a lot more saliva than you thought a man could hold. It trails down to your pussy, warm and slippery and you just want it all over you. Pulling away, he spits one last time then slowly pushes a finger into you. The contrast of the harsh pace in your pussy to the softer insertion into your asshole, makes your toes curl.

After a moment, Hoseok begins to move the finger in your ass too. The time away from being played with like this slowly disperses as the resistance dissolves. He takes this as a sign to add another finger. He stills the hand in your pussy to scissor his fingers against the walls of your asshole.

“You’ve already let someone fuck your ass, you fucking slut?” He growls, jealousy dripping in his tone. “Bet they couldn’t stretch you this much, could they?” he asks, adding another finger.

You shudder through a moan, drooling into the mattress. No, whoever you had let fuck your ass, barely even stretched you the width of his two fingers, let alone three. You can’t even remember his name or his face and you don’t want to. He’s nothing compared to Hoseok. No one will ever compare to Hoseok.

A whine immediately follows the removal of his finger from your sopping pussy. Clenching emptily, you know he’s going to return but that doesn’t stop you from restoring to begging. His fingers are filling enough, he should just let you cum or, at the very least, finally shove himself in and fuck you already.

“Please, please,” you whine, pushing your ass back on him. He smacks your pussy, pushing you back in place. You try again, this time shaking your hips. He quietly groans to himself but spanks you again before rubbing the wet, sensitive area.

You cannot hold yourself back much longer. His hands being right where you need them but not enough at all bends your mind to its breaking point. Babbling with tear stained cheeks, you somewhat sob your pleads. “Please, Hoseok! Pleas- Fu-uck!”

He pushes the dildo into your pussy, the first round pearl stretching you too fucking well to think straight. Your eyes roll back, the left one twitching from the delicious burn pushing your pussy open for more. You whimper, hands falling from your asscheeks and gripping onto the mattress instead. The action smushes your ass against his fingers in your hole.

“What a desperate little slut,” he chuckles, as if he didn’t just tease you only to jab the toy in without even a warning. You can barely even hear him over the euphoric spread of the cold metal in you.

After fully pushing the dildo into you, Hoseok holds it still in place and leans over you again, his lips right by your ear and whispers, “You fucking heard me and you’ll hear me again. You’re a desperate little whore,” he wiggles his fingers in your ass. There’s very little resistance, as if your ass finally recalls the times you bent over just like this for someone else… and maybe sometimes just yourself too. “This says it all. I can’t believe you called me a whore when we both know you’ll spread your ass as many times as you need to for me, isn’t that right, princess?”

His voice settles under your skin like a tattoo and rattles your bones. You cannot escape it when he begins to chuckle too, swirling the dildo around in you and licking at your ear. You can only nod, voice caught in your throat, and hope that it is enough to sway him into giving you what you want.

Hoseok pulls his fingers out of your ass and hugs your waist. He takes the dildo out too, much to your whiney disapproval and kisses your shoulders. You whine louder, sinking into the mattress and wondering if you need to be vocal in order to get what you want. He has been telling you to do so since he first got you in his arms.

“Daddy, I promise to be good,” you quickly whine. “I promise I’ll ask this time. You-you taught me so well. Please just fuck me! Please, please, please.”

“Shh, shh,” he soothes between little kisses on your hair. “Relax, princess. There’s no need to rush.”

You can feel his cock press against your folds. Fuck, why is he being so cruel? You have been good. You have followed all his orders. You haven’t even thought about how being in this position has captivated him more times than you can count. How your ass has not only been the object of his attention but the center of it. You have not pointed out the way you can make him melt into you so easily, you’d think the two of you have been doing this for years.

Your thoughts have distracted you enough to not fully process the tip of the dildo pressing against your asshole. He has flooded your mind enough to make you relax into the bed shoulder falling with every kiss and inhale of your scent from your hair. Your tenseless posture has given him the perfect opportunity to finally push the toy into you.

“Daddy!” You cry, hole clenching around that first bulb.

“I know, princess,” he coos, all hints of that once harsh demeanor dissolving. “I know, but you need to relax, okay?” Then, he bites at the shell of your ear and says, “You know you remember how to do that.”

He’s probably going to hold this over your head the whole time. And that brings a smile to your face. Like a friend, it almost feels like an inside joke. Like a lover, it almost feels like a jealous jab.

You arch your back a bit more and try your best to release the tension in your muscles. The wet toy moves further into you. Pearl after pearl pushes against your walls, fitting so snugly, you’re sure you wouldn’t be able to take his cock without it.

Rubbing his cock against your pussy, tip poking at your clit, he asks, “It’s not so hard to be good, is it?”

You bite your lip. A curse would spill out otherwise and you cannot risk him removing everything and going back to teasing your soul out. You don’t even dare think it, earning a gentle smack of his cock against your pussy. It spreads bursts of pleasure throughout your body.

Aligning himself, he hovers around your entrance only to completely withdraw from you. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He practically promised, didn’t he? He told you to be a good girl. He told you he’d fuck you senseless. You still have your fucking senses. Why the fuck do you still have your fucking senses?

He turns you over so you’re on your back and spreads your legs in a couple of quick motions. Crawling over your body, he glares down at you. “I also told you to be patient, didn’t I?” He asks before spitting at your lips.

Your tongue shoots out to lick it up. His anger collides with amusement, scowl shifting to a smile. The moonlight casts over his features, lighting up his scales again. He’s been standing behind you for so long, you’ve almost forgotten how beautiful he is. That thought is blasphemous all in itself. You wrap your arms around his neck. His scales scratch at your skin. You embrace the little scrap of pain.

Hoseok curls a strand of your hair behind your ear as he gazes down at you. He kisses where he spat, only to pull away when you kiss him back, and spits again. You lick it away, slowly this time.

He waits until you’re done, smiling to himself a bit, then dips his head into the crook of your neck. He inhales your scent before whispering into your skin, “Take a deep breath, princess.”

You fill your chest with air and he pushes himself in. His tip, the first half inch of him, is thick enough to make you slobber over yourself as you let out a shattered cry. You tighten your hold around his head, cradling him against you like a stuffed toy. He was right; you needed to be prepped. You would not have been able to take him so well if you hadn’t already cum.

As he pushes himself in, you become increasingly aware of the fact that he really doesn’t fit. You clench and release with every new inch or so added, arching your back into him and whimpering. “Daddy’s so big,” you whisper aloud to yourself, as if you didn’t already know.

Hoseok chuckles against your neck. He pauses his hips half way through and begins to trail kisses down along your collarbone to the valley of your breasts. He bites at your right one, tongue flicking over your nipple, just to watch you puff your chest out into his face. You’re thankful for the pause, loving the stinging stretch but truly needing a moment to accommodate it after being empty for so long.

Sucking on your nipple, the little bud now between his teeth, making you blush, he hooks his hand under one of your thick thighs and rests it over his broad shoulder. This new angle further opens you up for him. You throw your head back, crying out his name like a prayer. He bottoms himself out. You’re not at all surprised that his tip presses exactly at the spot you need him most. He tugs at your nipple and grinds against the soft area all while holding your gaze.

Tears prick your eyes. It’s too fucking good. It’s too fucking good and he didn’t even really start yet. You just feel so full. Both holes clench around whatever fills them. It rattles your lungs so that every new breath in or out is hiccupped.

Letting go of your nipple, Hoseok grips onto your other tit and squeezes. His eyes darken when you match his grip onto his hair. Before you can even question your action, his hips snap into motion. Back and forth, he rocks your body enough to make you jiggle and shake. He’s enthralled by the sight, releasing your breast to watch them both bounce. He picks up the pace and smacks the left one. A chuckle escapes him when you call out his name. The pain is just as amusing to him as it is to you. He grabs hold of a nipple between his thumb and edge of his finger and pinches.

You should have believed him. He warned you all along the way, but you should have believed him when he first mentioned it. He will ruin you- is ruining you. You cannot see straight, cannot think, cannot even breathe. Filled to your limits, you cannot believe in anything but him.

He smiles. Did he hear you? You don’t care - you never did. Even when he caught you, when you should have been shameful, you weren’t. He knew that enough to visit so unexpectedly. You know that now.

Hoseok lets go of your nipple to bury his face between your breasts again. He pushes one of them against his cheek, licking and kissing as he continues to thrust, thrust, thrust with renewed force each time. “Pretty, pretty little princess,” he groans between sloppy kisses. “Pretty, precious princess.”

You’re not sure which one of you is senseless now. Did he break your mind or are you breaking his?

“You deserve the fucking ocean, princess. I’d- mmm, baby - I’d give it all to you if I could.”

Does he know what he is saying?

“I’ll kill for your smile… For this fucking tight pussy.”

His growl snaps the pressure between your legs, twisting that taut knot looping in your gut. “Daddy-”

“Hoseok!” He corrects. “Say my name, princess.”

“Ho-Hoseok,” you quickly adjust, “Hoseok, I-I’m getting close.”

He moans from his gills, rubbing your soft tits into them. Your cum smears all over your chest. Lost in his own little world created by your body, he brushes off your words. “You have no idea how much attention you deserve. This is not enough.”

Not enough? You’re already shaking. You had forgotten that you shut your eyes somewhere between the first time he sucked on your nipple and the flash of that all too charming of a smile, and that is the reason why you couldn’t see straight anymore. He’s fucking you so well, you have lost all logic. Your senses are most definitely discarded somewhere on the floor.

“Hoseok, please,” you try again, knowing that once you’re really close you won’t be able to properly warn him. Granting his permission now would save you the trouble of having to delay it. “Please, just-”

He moves faster, as if reading your thoughts and acting out of spite. The entire bed rocks. The headboard thumps against the wall over and over, the bed squeaks and the jewelry box, along with the lamp, candle and hair tie you had on the night table, falls to the floor with a clatter. All other sounds seem muffled beneath the loud screams tearing through your throat at every blissful, vigorous thrust into you.

You aren’t preparing for the delay anymore, realizing that you’ve actually been trailing it for a while. Hoseok kisses his way up to your jaw, nibbling at your jawline. He moans loudly with you, gills vibrating against your skin.

“Do you know how fucking adorably cute you get when you’re about to cum?”

“Please, just please,” you sob, barely really comprehending his words. Your words slur and tangle as you clench around him tighter and tighter, trying desperately to be the good little girl he asked you to be. “Please, please, please, please, Hoseok, please,” you cry over and over, the words sounding more like “Hobi, Hobi,” rather than an actual request.

He seems to like it more. Brushing his nose against yours, he smiles and finally gives into you. You would have made up words sooner if that’s all it took.

“Cum, princess. Let’s make a mess.”

And like the good little whore he adores, you follow orders and let yourself go. The high floods your veins so suddenly, you cannot catch your breath fast enough to breathe. Toes curled, jaw dropping, eyes rolling back and fingers digging into his scales, you release a scream loud enough for the sea to hear and respond with a particularly pointed roar of a wave.

Hoseok does not slow down, the new influx in wetness fueling his hips all the more. He’s muttering something about how he’ll never let you go and listing reasons why you’re the center of every one of his thoughts. You wish you can properly hear him, the blood rushing to your head muffling every sound enough to disorient you. It doesn’t help that the orgasm has made you so lightheaded, you can’t even keep your head straight. It wobbles as he fucks you into the mattress.

I want to parade us around Olympus. I want them to see my cum dripping out of you, princess.

He’s gotten into your head. Knowing you can’t hear him, he’s floated right into your dimming stream of consciousness. You sob against his lips. He keeps your pleasured tears away, hips rolling in and out of you sloppily. It doesn’t alter the force of his giant cock.

You’ll look so pretty in olympian blue.

You clench around him again. The thought of being so completely his that he dreams of showing you off, rises goosebumps over your burning skin. Your body still shakes against his beyond the consistent sway from his thrust. The sensitivity overdrives your mind, building a different kind of pressure between your legs. It bunches around your clit rather than the pit of your stomach. The fullness of your ass only further pushes it to its limit.

With one particularly rough jab of his cock, you let it all go. His thrusts begin to splash, you can just faintly hear it over the pounding of your heart, his throaty groans, and the smack of skin on skin. Body convulsing, you come to the realization that you are squirting. Jung Hoseok has fucked you beyond comprehension that you’ve actually been able to squirt. You didn’t think you were able to do anything like this, having never done it before. But, then again, you never thought you’d be fucked again at all… that is until Hoseok blessed you.

You want him so badly to cum in you. That final filling would be all you need to live a wonderful life in a loveless marriage. But, you’re just not sure you can handle another second of this. It’s the same perfectly sensitive spot over and over again. You can’t really breathe, despite how much you’ve tried to convince yourself that you can.

“Daddy,” you whimper. “Daddy, it-it’s too mu-uch. Pleas-” You cut yourself off with a whine, when he pulls himself out.

Yes, it was too much and you truly couldn’t handle another second of it, your voice gone and body still quaking even with him out of you. But, your pussy still clenches pathetically at the emptiness.

It’s not as if Hoseok has completely halted all pleasure though. He sits himself back on his knees and jerks himself off. Staring down at you, he cradles the legs you still have resting on his shoulder and pumps his cum coated cock to the sight of you falling apart.

You meet his gaze, vision less blurry and hearing slowly regaining now that he was out. He looks so pretty with the moonlight casting over him, sparkling his scales and sweat slick skin. He looks so sexy with his messy hair and cock clicking with your wetness with every rough jerk. Where will he cum, you can’t stop yourself from thinking. Your tits? You cup and rough massage them the way he did. Or maybe he’ll shoot it all in your mouth. You have been whining for a taste for a while. Sticking your tongue out, you hope to catch a bit of him either way.

Hoseok kisses the bend of your knee. He smiles down at you, for once at a loss for real words. The only thing that leaves his lips are strangled moans and your name in breathless gasps. On loop, it’s just you.

Move your hands.

You lay them back on either side of your head. So he opted for your tits then? Still, you hold your tongue out. You’ll get a taste anyway you can.

Please cum on me, daddy.

Hobi, he mentally corrects. You’re so cute when you call me Hobi.

Please cum on me, Hobi. I want to be dripping with your cum too when you parade me.

A dark, amused glint catches in his eyes. He bites down on the soft fat of your thigh, just above the back of your knee. When you whimper at the gentle wound, his breath hitches. Those once indigo eyes roll back and his jaw sets as he groans against your skin. His gills vibrate, his body shakes so much the bed begins to rock again and he cums without a verbal warning. Well, that’s not entirely accurate. The sea crashes into the shore with a roaring splash seconds before thick strings of cum shoot all over your stomach, tits, and shoulders. You whine trying to get your tongue in his line of fire, but he seems to have strategically missed your mouth. Could this be your punishment for squirting without permission?

He fucks his fist, coating you with enough cum to have it trail off you and onto the bed. His cock still stands erect when he’s done. You can’t stop staring at it. The red, swollen tip still looks so needy. You wonder if he’ll let you suck it.

“You’re a total fucking cockslut now, huh?” He teases like he wasn’t just so obsessed with you himself, the mere sight of you got him off.

Running two fingers along the curve of your breast, you hold his gaze and put whatever cum you collected in your mouth. It smelled like the ocean, you knew that. You’re still surprised when it tastes like it too, with hints of salt and seaweed. You suck hard on your fingers as if it could produce more.

“A cumslut too,” he mutters, half out of breath. “Need some help, princess?” He goes to lean over you when the trident end of the dildo still clamped in your ass points at his knee. He casually lifts up your other leg and folds you enough for your ass to be open and accessible to him. “Hold ’em,” he mumbles like asking you to grab onto your legs so he can pull the toy out for you is a daily occurrence.

Not that you’re complaining.

Because that would be such a shame.

You playfully glare at his sarcastic comment, replacing his hold on your legs and your own. Get out of my head.

Stop thinking about me then.

You stick your tongue out at him. He smacks your pussy with a chuckle. A gasping laugh tumbles out of you and you forget for a second that you almost have your legs behind your head and a dildo jammed in you.

He rubs the affected area, laughing at the way it makes you whine, then whispers, “Deep, breath, okay princess?” You draw in a large breath and he slowly pulls the toy out, your hole simply gapping at him when he’s done.

Hoseok tosses it somewhere behind him on the bed and takes your legs out of your hands. He lets them rest back down on the wet sheet. It’s only then that you register the buzzing ache of your body. Your legs already feel sore, still spread wide as he lays between them. You don’t seem to mind though, especially not when he intertwines your fingers and holds your hands over your head. You’re really not sure where he’s going with this as his stomach is now too smeared with his own cum.

Sticking out his tongue, Hoseok licks up all the cum from your right breast. You gape at how much his mouth can carry. You know you’d be having it leak from the corners of your lips if you attempted to do the same.

Don’t you want a taste, princess? He asks as he shifts himself up so his lips hover over yours. You open your mouth and welcome the warm cum, swallowing like you have his cock lodged in your throat. You were right - it does leak from the corners of your mouth, no matter how fast you try to swallow it. Hoseok is quick though, he catches what he can and tongues it back into your mouth.

Wordlessly, he repeats the process with your other breast. Then your shoulders. He finds a way to fill you with his cum after all, even while you’re sensitive and possibly done for the night. Your cheeks flush at that realization after swallowing your last mouthful of cum. You really hoped this would last all night, once again getting too ambitious for your own good. It’s just that being done means he’d leave, right?

Hoseok fights off a little smile. He presses his body completely into yours, slightly suffocating you under his weight and whispers, “You’re so sticky.”

“So are you,” you sigh.

He brushes his nose against yours almost… lovingly. “I think we would both do well with a bath then.”

A bath. You haven’t had one of those in a while. Sure, you obviously shower but you used to take baths often before you got married. It was your only time to unwind and relax with some tea and a trashy magazine you wouldn’t mind getting wet. You stopped because your mind would wander and no cup of tea or tabloid magazine could distract you enough from your problems.

You're in his arms before you can properly answer. He’s cradling your body close to him as he leads you to the bathroom. You stare up at his sharp jaw, but he looks straight ahead. He told you that he hates it when you think about your marriage. He knows you hate it too. He knows it’s hard to think about something else. You still feel guilty for it though. He just spent the night telling you how much you don’t deserve shedding tears for someone else and you can’t even honour his time by respecting his efforts.

Hoseok taps the bathroom door open with his foot. The faucet is already going, filling just over a half of the tub. He gives you a disapproving stare. It's the same one he gave you when he caught you talking down to yourself. As he steps into the tub, with you still in his arms he says, “You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

It doesn’t always feel that way, you want to tell him as he lowers the two of you into the tub. The water is warm. Perfectly warm. He sits you down between his legs, his erection pressed flat between your back and his stomach. It makes him groan a bit but for the most part you don’t think he seems to mind. Your comfort has always been his priority.

“I know,” you reply instead. But, I still feel that way.

Hoseok wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you further into his chest. You lead your head back on his shoulder. Your cheeks press against each other, his gills softly brushing your skin. He places a chaste kiss upon your jawline and says, “I’m not going anywhere.”

For now, you mentally add.

Ever.

His voice echoes in your mind, shattering any other lingering thought of self doubt in the process. Is that what having faith does?

“You’ll be here in the morning?”

“I’ll be around.”

That’s not enough. You’re sure he knows this. But the circumstances of your reality call you back to land, you cannot lose yourself to the sea forever. You sink into him. He hugs you tighter. “I’ll take care of you, princess.”

“I know you will, Hobi.”

He smiles against your skin at the nickname. This is all you need now. Until the tides settle, the two of you will be drifting waves, desperate for an anchor of hope.

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.

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