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thedevillsmaid · 1 month ago

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⋆˚࿔ walking on water - 엔하이픈

[ SCENE ] ⟡ wet with enhypen

━ ⋆.˚ warnings: nsfw, mostly soft dom enha, sex in watery places wc. 1000~ per member

⋆˚࿔—minors dni | 18+ only | nsfw—⋆˚࿔

did not test read ㅜㅜ but i hope you likey @ taglist

⋆˚꩜｡ ──── REBLOG FOR A KiSS AND A GiFT !

Jungwon | Private Onsen in the Mountains

Setting: Late evening, deep in the Japanese mountains. A private onsen shrouded in thick steam and moaning cicadas. The mineral water is hot. The air is cold. And Jungwon’s eyes are starving.

The wooden steps groaned under your bare feet as you stepped into the open air. Cold mountain wind kissed your skin, raising goosebumps on your arms—but the steam from the onsen rolled over you like silk. Thick. Heavy. Almost alive.

You spotted Jungwon already waist-deep in the hot spring, arms outstretched along the edge, head tilted back. The moonlight caught the sharp line of his throat, jawline glistening with droplets. His eyes opened slowly, locking onto you like a predator spotting prey.

“Finally,” he said, voice low, already thick with heat. “Took you long enough.”

Your bikini clung to your curves with every movement, the thin straps digging in just right. You stepped down into the water, inch by inch, hissing as the heat licked up your calves, then thighs. Jungwon watched you like he couldn’t blink. When the water reached your hips, you paused, heart thudding.

He didn’t move. Just waited.

Then, finally, you lowered the rest of your body in, sitting across from him.

“You gonna come closer or sit over there pretending you’re shy?” he asked, tone teasing but eyes sharp.

You met his gaze and slid through the water—closer, closer—until your knees touched his. The heat wasn’t just from the spring anymore. It pulsed beneath your skin. Between your legs. In every inhale that tasted like steam and him.

His fingers reached for your wrist, guiding your hand to his thigh under the water. He was already hard.

“I’ve been like this since you said onsen.”

You bit your lip, heart slamming, as your fingers brushed up his inner thigh. He hissed, jaw clenching.

“You like the view?” you whispered, smirking.

“You have no fucking idea.”

The mist curled around you both like a curtain, shielding the rest of the world. His hands slid along your waist, thumbs dragging under the water. You moved closer, straddling his lap slowly, your knees digging into the rocky seat as his cock pressed up against the fabric of your bikini bottoms—thick, heavy, pulsing.

No towels. No barriers. Just thin soaked fabric and want.

Jungwon’s lips ghosted over your neck, mouth warm and wet. His hands smoothed down your back, then slipped beneath your bikini top, cupping your breasts, thumbing your nipples until they stiffened.

“You’re so soft here,” he murmured. “So fuckable.”

Your hips rolled against him involuntarily, making both of you gasp. His cock throbbed against you, and you reached between your bodies, fingers curling around him under the water. He groaned into your mouth when you stroked—slowly, then faster. You traced the veins, teased the head with your thumb, your wrist flicking just right. His head fell back.

“You wanna be in me,” you whispered, lips brushing his jaw.

“I want to wreck you,” he growled.

He grabbed your ass with both hands, lifting you just enough to align. The fabric was yanked aside, your bikini bottoms tugged roughly to the side by his fingers, and then—

He slid in.

Thick, slow, stretching you inch by inch as the water rippled around you both.

The heat of him inside you was blinding. You buried your face in his neck, teeth scraping skin as you adjusted to the feeling—full, tight, deliciously overwhelmed. His hands didn’t stop moving—up your back, into your hair, gripping your hips as he started to move.

Slow.

Deep.

Each stroke was a punishment and a gift. The sound of water sloshing mixed with breathy gasps, moans, skin hitting skin under the steam. Jungwon fucked like he wanted to leave a mark on your soul. Like every thrust was a signature on your body.

You rolled your hips, grinding down, and he cursed hard, gripping you tighter.

“That’s it,” he whispered, teeth at your earlobe. “Fuck yourself on me, baby. Take all of it.”

And you did.

You rode him, water splashing against rock, steam clinging to your skin. His cock hit every spot inside you just right—every thrust making your vision blur. He played with your clit under the water, fingers fast, relentless.

When your orgasm hit, it was violent.

You clenched around him, back arching, a cry tearing from your throat that echoed off the mountains. He fucked you through it, growling, fucking harder—until he suddenly pulled out and came all over your stomach, hot and thick, groaning your name into the steam.

You collapsed against his chest, shaking, water lapping at your skin.

He stroked your back as you came down, lazy and warm. Then he kissed your shoulder and whispered, “We’re not done. The moon’s still out.”

Heeseung | Rain Shower in a Penthouse Suite

Setting: High-rise penthouse suite. The shower is all glass, wide open, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline. Outside, rain streaks the glass like tears. Inside, he’s about to make you forget how to breathe.

The water poured from above like rain, hot and steady, soaking your hair and skin. You stood still for a moment under the rainfall showerhead, hands braced against the cool tile, letting the heat wash away the tension in your shoulders. It was late, past midnight, the city outside glowing like a circuit board—cold blue and violet light flickering through the full-length windows.

And then you felt him.

Heeseung’s presence behind you—close, confident. You didn’t even hear him come in, but now his body heat licked your spine through the rising steam. A whisper of breath at your neck.

“You look so fucking good like that,” he murmured.

You turned slightly, the strap of your bikini sliding off your shoulder. Heeseung’s eyes dropped immediately, fixated. He was shirtless, damp already, swim trunks low on his hips and clinging to every line of muscle. His hair was wet, dark and tousled, drops sliding down his jaw.

“Is this how you imagined it?” you teased, voice quiet.

His hand touched the small of your back. “No,” he said. “This is better.”

He stepped closer, chest brushing your back, one hand sliding up your arm with an almost reverent slowness. You could feel his breath on your neck, his nose grazing your skin. The rain from the shower soaked you both, water running in rivulets between your bodies.

His hand reached around, fingers splaying over your stomach. Slowly. Purposefully.

“You get shy when people look at you,” he whispered in your ear, voice low and rough. “But right now you want me to see everything, don’t you?”

You swallowed hard, nodding. His fingers slipped down, brushing the waist of your bikini bottoms.

“I want you to say it.”

You hesitated, breath catching. “I want you to see me.”

“Mmm.” His hand dipped lower. “Good girl.”

He peeled the soaked bikini from your hips with both hands, letting it drop to your feet. His mouth kissed down your spine, slow and wet, until he knelt behind you. You felt his hands spread you apart—bare, dripping, exposed to the open glass and glowing city lights.

He didn’t touch you there.

Not yet.

He just breathed.

“Fuck,” he said. “You’re already so wet. You need me, huh?”

“Yes,” you gasped.

He stood, slowly, the shift of his body up your back maddening. You reached behind, grabbing his wrist, guiding his hand between your thighs. His fingers slipped through your slick folds, circling your clit, teasing your entrance.

You moaned, forehead pressed to the glass. It was cold, but you burned.

He kissed your shoulder, bit your neck.

“I want you to feel everything,” he said. “The water. The window. Me.”

You felt his fingers curl inside you, slow and firm. His other hand reached up, bracing on the glass next to yours, boxing you in. His hips pressed forward, his cock hard against your ass through his trunks.

“Can I?” he asked, voice strained.

“Take them off.”

The trunks were gone in seconds. You felt him line up behind you—thick, already twitching—and then he was pushing in, slow, deep, dragging a groan from both of you.

Your eyes squeezed shut. “Fuck, Heeseung—”

“I got you,” he whispered, lips at your ear.

He fucked you against the glass. Long, slow strokes that hit deep, grinding at the end of every thrust like he wanted to feel you shatter. The water ran between your bodies, down your thighs, making everything slick and obscene.

His hand wrapped around your throat—firm, possessive.

“Look outside,” he whispered. “Let them watch you come.”

You opened your eyes.

Rain painted the skyline in streaks of light. Your reflection glared back at you—wet hair, flushed cheeks, parted lips as Heeseung fucked you hard from behind. You could see the way his hips snapped, the muscles in his arms flexing as he held you in place. The way your tits bounced with every thrust.

You wanted to scream.

You pressed back into him harder, grinding, chasing the orgasm building like thunder in your spine. His other hand slipped around to rub your clit—fast, tight circles—and you broke.

Your legs shook. The glass fogged up. You came with a moan that echoed against tile and sky, trembling in his arms as he fucked you through it, lips at your ear, voice rough and shaking.

“That’s it, baby. That’s my girl.”

Then he cursed—deep and desperate—and pulled out just enough to come against your lower back, hips jerking, thick ropes spilling hot onto your skin as the shower washed it away.

You both collapsed to the floor of the shower, steam curling around your bodies. His arms wrapped around you from behind, holding you close, lips on your shoulder.

The rain kept falling.

The city kept watching.

You didn’t care.

Jay | Luxury Hotel Jacuzzi

Setting: Late night, rooftop suite. The jacuzzi is sunken into marble, surrounded by glass and gold, with champagne chilling nearby. The stars are out. The bubbles are high. And Jay? He’s sitting there, spread wide, watching you like you’re dessert.

The air was warm with a hint of champagne and night breeze, the rooftop city view glittering beneath you like spilled diamonds. The jacuzzi gurgled softly, hot bubbles fizzing to the surface in lazy, rhythmic pulses.

Jay sat in the water like he owned the entire hotel. And maybe he did.

One arm draped along the edge, the other holding a champagne flute, legs spread under the water just enough to be disrespectful. His black swim trunks clung to him like a second skin, soaked and outlining the thick shape beneath. The lights under the water turned the bubbles golden around him.

His eyes were already on you as you stepped out onto the marble.

Bikini, tiny, black. Skin glowing. Your hair was slightly damp from the shower. You walked toward him with a sway in your hips that wasn’t entirely innocent, and Jay’s lips curled like he knew exactly what you were doing.

“You took your time,” he said.

You stepped into the jacuzzi slowly, one foot after another, the hot water lapping up your calves, thighs, hips. You slid in with a little shiver, breath catching at the warmth.

Jay’s eyes dropped immediately to your chest. Bubbles clung to your skin, gathering between your breasts. You sank down until the water kissed your collarbones, settling across from him.

“I wanted to make sure you were thirsty,” you said.

He raised the champagne to his lips, sipping slow. His throat moved as he swallowed, and then he set the flute down with a soft clink.

“Oh, I am,” he said. “But not for this.”

Your foot brushed his leg under the water.

Then his thigh.

Then his cock.

Hard already.

You smirked. “I didn’t even touch you.”

“Baby,” he said, leaning forward, voice low and deep, “you’ve been touching me since you walked in that bikini.”

You crawled across the water toward him, bubbles fizzing around your thighs, arms slipping around his neck as you settled into his lap. His hands found your waist instantly, gripping like he’d been starving for it.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “You feel perfect.”

His cock pulsed against your core, only the thin layers of wet fabric separating you now. You shifted your hips—grinding—slow and taunting, making his breath hitch.

His hand grabbed your ass, hard. The other snaked up your spine, fingers threading into your hair.

“You keep doing that and I’m gonna fuck you right here, with the whole fucking city watching.”

You leaned in, your lips ghosting over his. “Do it.”

Jay’s eyes locked with yours.

And that was it.

He kissed you like he was claiming territory—tongue deep, teeth grazing, lips devouring. You gasped into his mouth as he rolled his hips up into you, cock grinding against your folds under the water. You rocked against him, pace matching the rise and fall of the bubbles.

“Take these off,” he growled, yanking at your bikini bottoms.

You obeyed.

He didn’t wait.

He pulled the waistband of his swim trunks down, just enough. And then he grabbed your hips and guided you down—onto him.

You moaned, loud, as he filled you in one slow, slick thrust. The water surged around you. His cock stretched you just right—thick, pulsing, deep.

“Eyes on me,” he said, voice low and wrecked.

You looked at him.

And fuck, it made your walls clench. His stare was molten, unreadable, full of restraint and possession.

“Look how good you take me,” he whispered. “So fucking tight.”

You rolled your hips, grinding in slow circles. He hissed through his teeth, fingers digging into your skin. He pulled your bikini top down, freeing your breasts, watching them bounce as you rode him.

“Fuck. Look at these.” He cupped them, thumbs flicking your nipples, voice husky. “You wanna come just from this? From being so full?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “God, Jay—yes.”

“Then ride it, baby. Come on. Ride this dick.”

You moved faster.

Up and down, rocking into him, moaning shamelessly. The water splashed with each motion, wet sounds filling the air between your gasps. His cock dragged in and out, thick veins rubbing your walls, tip hitting the perfect spot inside.

His mouth was everywhere—neck, collarbone, sucking your nipples between teeth, groaning against your skin.

You couldn’t hold it anymore.

Your orgasm crashed over you like a wave, legs shaking, voice breaking as you came on him, walls spasming tight. Jay held you through it, biting your shoulder, grinding slow and deep as you shook.

Then his hands gripped your hips, and he fucked up into you hard.

Once. Twice. Three sharp thrusts—then he came, hot and thick, deep inside, voice low and broken against your throat.

You collapsed against him, chests heaving together in the bubbling water.

He kissed your cheek. “Next time,” he whispered, “we’re doing it on the edge of the tub.”

Ohhh yes.

Jake | Beach at Night

Setting: Midnight. A secluded private beach, moon glowing high, waves crashing just feet away. You’re walking barefoot in your bikini, and Jake’s right behind you—eyes low, voice deeper, hungry. The sand is warm, the air sticky, and your patience? Gone.

The sand was still warm from the day, clinging to your feet as you stepped off the wooden path. Wind whipped your hair around your face, cool with salt and ocean mist. The sound of the waves was constant—loud, rhythmic, endless.

And Jake was behind you.

He’d followed you down without a word, barefoot in nothing but his loose black swim trunks, a towel slung over one shoulder, that damn look in his eyes.

You stopped near the edge of the water. The sea foam reached for your ankles like fingers.

“You okay?” you asked, glancing back.

His answer was a smile. Slow. Sharp.

“I’m great,” he said. “But you’re killing me in that bikini.”

You raised a brow. “You’ve seen it all day.”

“Exactly.” His voice dipped. “And I’ve been hard all day.”

Your breath caught.

He dropped the towel.

Then stepped right into you.

His hands slid to your hips, fingers brushing the knot of your bikini bottoms, thumbs teasing just under the fabric. His eyes roamed your face, your lips, your chest, like he was still debating whether to worship or devour.

“You walk ahead of me on purpose, huh?” he murmured. “Swishing that little ass. Pretending you don’t know I’m about to lose it.”

You smirked. “You say that like you didn’t stare the entire way.”

“I always stare.”

His mouth met yours before you could sass back—warm, sweet, but needy. Tongue sliding past your lips, hands grabbing your ass, grinding his hips forward until you could feel just how hard he really was.

You whimpered into his mouth.

The waves crashed nearby, but your body drowned in him.

“Lie down,” he said, tugging you toward the sand.

You hesitated. “Here?”

He just raised an eyebrow. “Scared?”

You dropped like a challenge.

The sand was soft. The night wrapped around you like heat. Jake knelt between your thighs, eyes locked on yours as he untied your bikini bottoms—slowly. Like he was unwrapping a gift.

He tossed them behind him. His fingers slid up your thighs, spreading them open until the ocean breeze kissed your bare pussy.

“Fucking perfect,” he muttered.

Then he bent down.

His mouth on you was heaven.

Hot. Wet. Starving.

He licked slow at first, tasting every inch, then locked onto your clit and sucked. Hard.

Your back arched. You grabbed his hair, moaning, grinding up into his face as his tongue pushed inside you, his hands keeping you open. The ocean roared behind him, but all you could hear was your own breathy gasps.

He pulled back only when your thighs started shaking.

“Not yet,” he said, crawling up your body. “I wanna come with you.”

You grabbed at his trunks. He helped, yanking them down, cock springing free—thick, flushed, dripping at the tip.

You both groaned as he lined up, teasing your entrance.

“Ready?”

You nodded.

Then he pushed in.

Slow.

The stretch made your breath catch, your legs wrapping around his waist as he filled you inch by inch.

“Jake—fuck—”

“You feel so good,” he groaned. “So fucking wet already.”

He didn’t give you time to adjust. He started thrusting—deep and slow, hips rolling like the waves, every stroke grinding against your sweet spot. His hands were everywhere—your tits, your waist, your throat. He kissed you hard between moans, tongue messy, hips snapping faster.

The sand shifted beneath you. The stars blurred above.

Your orgasm built fast, dizzying.

“Jake—fuck, I’m close—”

He grabbed your face, forehead pressed to yours. “Look at me when you come.”

You did.

Eyes locked, pussy clenching around him, mouth open in a cry as you came hard—shaking under him, vision gone white.

He fucked you through it, then growled your name as he spilled inside you, cock twitching deep, hot cum flooding your pussy as his hips stuttered.

He collapsed onto you, both of you breathless, waves brushing your toes.

You laughed, gasping. “You’re insane.”

He grinned against your shoulder. “And you’re gonna walk back to the villa with my cum dripping down your legs.”

Sunghoon | Indoor Pool, Low Lights

Setting: A private indoor pool, lights dimmed to dusky blues and shadows, water cool enough to bite. Echoes of your breath bounce off the walls. You’re alone. Just you. And him. And nowhere to run.

The pool was silent.

Empty.

Still.

Only the low hum of underwater lights filled the space, glowing cool blue beneath the surface. Shadows rippled across the tiled walls, and the air smelled of chlorine and something electric.

You stood at the edge, bare feet on the tile, the sleek black bikini hugging your skin like sin. You could feel his eyes on you before you even looked up.

Sunghoon stood waist-deep in the water, arms resting on the edge behind him. Black swim trunks. Hair pushed back. Face unreadable—until you caught that glint in his eye. That flicker of hunger he always tried to hide.

You stepped in, slowly. The water was cold. Sharp.

You hissed as it hit your skin.

Sunghoon smirked.

“Too cold for you?” he asked, voice echoing in the cavernous stillness.

You took another step, the water licking up your thighs. “Not if you warm me up.”

His gaze dropped to your hips. “I could do that.”

By the time you reached him, the water was up to your ribs. You paused in front of him, not touching, heart pounding.

He reached out lazily, dragging one finger up your stomach. You shivered—part chill, part anticipation.

“That bikini’s illegal,” he muttered.

You smirked. “Do something about it.”

And just like that—the switch flipped.

Sunghoon grabbed your waist, yanking you against him with a splash. You landed on his lap, straddling him in the water, your bare thighs bracketing his as his cock pressed thick and unmistakably hard against your soaked bikini bottoms.

“You feel that?” he growled against your neck.

You nodded, grinding your hips forward.

“Fuck,” he hissed, voice tight. “You’re already soaked.”

You leaned back just slightly, letting your breasts rise above the water. His eyes went dark. He cupped one through the fabric, squeezing slow, then tugged the top down with one sharp pull.

Cold air met your nipples. So did his mouth.

He sucked hard—no teasing. No build-up. Just filthy, wet pressure, tongue lapping, teeth scraping. You moaned aloud, back arching into it.

His hand slipped between your legs, under the water, pulling your bottoms to the side. He didn’t ask. He didn’t need to. One finger slid inside you, then two—deep.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, clinging to his shoulders.

“You like being fucked in the water?” he growled. “Like a dirty little secret?”

You clenched around his fingers in response. He grinned, then pushed them deeper, fucking you slow, hard, relentless. The water rippled with every movement.

“I’m gonna ruin you,” he said.

“Then do it,” you whispered.

He didn’t need to hear more. Sunghoon lined up his cock—already bare under his trunks, slick and heavy—and with one sharp thrust, he was inside you.

You cried out, nails raking his back.

He fucked up into you in hard, cold snaps, water splashing around your hips. The chill made every nerve fire like lightning, made his cock feel hotter, thicker, deeper.

“Fuck—fuck, you feel so tight,” he groaned. “So fucking good around me.”

You held on for dear life as he bounced you on his cock, fingers bruising your hips. Your moans echoed off the tile—sharp, desperate, drowning out the splashing water.

His teeth found your neck, biting, marking.

“You gonna come for me?” he demanded. “Come on my cock like a filthy girl?”

“Yes—yes, fuck, Hoon—don’t stop—”

He reached between you, thumb circling your clit with perfect pressure. Fast. Mean. Exactly what you needed.

You came so hard your vision went white.

Your scream hit the ceiling, your pussy clenching like a vice, milking his cock. He cursed violently, then thrust hard—once, twice—and came inside you, thick ropes filling you up as he buried himself deep, holding you down with a growl.

Your legs shook. Your head fell to his shoulder. Water lapped lazily around you, cooling the heat that burned in every inch of your skin.

He kissed your temple.

“Still cold?” he murmured.

You laughed, breathless. “Not even close.”

Sunoo | Scented Bubble Bath, Candlelight

Setting: A massive tub carved into stone, lit only by dozens of flickering candles. The water smells like jasmine and vanilla. Bubbles float over the surface. Sunoo waits inside, back against the curve of the tub, hair pushed back, eyes already dark with intention.

The bathroom glowed gold.

Hundreds of tiny flames flickered in the candlelight—lining the tub, the counters, even the floor. Shadows danced on the marble walls, and the scent of jasmine mixed with the thick steam curling in the air. The bath itself looked like something carved for royalty—deep, wide, with milky, foaming water bubbling gently over smooth stone.

You stepped inside slowly.

Sunoo was already in the bath, half-submerged, hair damp, skin glowing in the golden light. His arms were spread along the edge, legs splayed just wide enough to pull the breath from your lungs.

He looked at you like he’d ordered this moment. Like you were exactly where you belonged.

“I was about to come pull you in,” he said.

You dropped the towel from your hips, the black bikini clinging tight to your skin. “Then I guess I’m lucky I made it in time.”

His smile turned wicked.

“Take those off.”

Your fingers moved without thinking, untying the strings, the soft whisper of wet fabric falling to the floor. You stepped into the water slowly, letting the heat swallow your legs, then thighs, then hips. Bubbles curled around you, hiding nothing from his gaze.

When you reached him, he pulled you into his lap like it was instinct. His hands slid up your back, wet and warm, until your chest was pressed to his. His cock was already hard, throbbing against your core under the water.

“You smell so good,” he murmured, lips brushing your neck. “You always do.”

You rolled your hips forward—slow, teasing—and his breath hitched. He gripped your ass with both hands, squeezing, grinding you down on him harder.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he warned, voice low.

You grinned. “I always finish.”

His eyes flashed. Then he kissed you.

Not soft. Not gentle.

Sunoo’s kiss was heat and teeth, tongue pushing in like he wanted to taste your soul. His hands tangled in your hair, dragging your head back as he bit your lip, sucked it between his teeth.

You moaned into him, grinding harder, faster.

“Fuck—stop,” he muttered suddenly, pulling back just enough to pant against your mouth.

“Why?”

“Because if I fuck you like this,” he growled, “I’m going to spill before you even scream.”

You swallowed hard.

He gripped your hips and lifted you. One hand grabbed his cock under the water, guiding the thick head to your entrance, and he looked you dead in the eyes.

“Ready?” he asked.

You nodded.

And he dropped you onto him.

You cried out, hands clenching his shoulders, as he filled you—slow, stretching, deep. He stayed there, buried to the hilt, breathing hard against your skin.

Then he snapped his hips.

Once.

Twice.

Fast.

Hard.

You screamed, fingernails raking down his back.

“Fuck—yes,” he hissed. “That’s it. Take it. Take all of it.”

The water splashed over the rim of the tub with every sharp, filthy thrust. Your moans bounced off the stone, echoing between the candles. His cock hit deep, grinding against your sweet spot with punishing precision.

“Touch yourself,” he said. “Rub that clit while I wreck you.”

Your hand slid between your bodies, fingers trembling. You rubbed circles fast, gasping, body starting to tremble. He watched you do it—eyes locked, mouth open, moaning your name as you clenched around him.

“You wanna come, baby?” he growled. “You wanna soak my cock?”

“Please—”

“Then beg for it.”

You sobbed.

“Please, Sunoo—don’t stop—fuck me, please, harder—”

That’s all it took.

He slammed up into you, grip bruising your hips, and your orgasm exploded—so intense you nearly blacked out. You screamed his name, thighs quivering, water thrashing around you as your body convulsed.

Sunoo held you down and fucked you through it, biting your throat, groaning into your skin.

Then he came inside you.

Hot, thick, endless. His cock pulsed deep inside, filling you up as he groaned your name like a prayer and a curse.

You collapsed against him.

The water stilled.

The candles flickered.

His hand stroked your back as he whispered, “You’re mine now, you know that, right?”

You smiled against his skin.

“I always was.”

Ni-ki | Dance Studio Shower Room

Setting: Late night. Everyone else is gone. The studio’s quiet, the locker room lit in low flickering fluorescents. Steam clouds the air from the showers. You’re both sweaty, flushed, and still in your practice clothes. You weren’t supposed to be alone with him.

The music had finally stopped.

The studio was dead quiet, except for your breathing and the dull thump of your heartbeat still echoing in your ears. Your skin was slick with sweat, body trembling from the intensity of the last run-through.

You leaned on the barre, chest rising and falling, when you heard his steps behind you.

Slow.

Controlled.

Predator.

Ni-ki.

You turned your head just enough to see him in the mirror. His shirt was sticking to his chest, hair damp and hanging in his eyes. He was still breathing hard—but not from the dancing anymore.

“You pushed me hard tonight,” you said, voice light, teasing, though your pulse was already racing.

He stepped closer. “You always act like that wasn’t the point.”

You met his gaze in the mirror.

“Wasn’t it?”

That was it.

In an instant, his hand was in your hair, yanking your head back as his mouth found your neck—hot, wet, desperate. You gasped, hands scrambling for the barre as he pressed his body flush to yours from behind, cock already hard against your ass through his joggers.

“You think I haven’t noticed?” he growled. “Every time you bend over in front of me… every time you moan during warmups?”

“I wasn’t moaning—”

“You were,” he cut you off. “And now you’re gonna really make noise.”

He dragged you toward the locker room—fast, rough, hungry.

The moment you crossed the threshold, steam hit your face. The showers were still running. Warm mist rose around you, mixing with the echo of dripping tile.

He shoved you up against the cold wall.

His hands yanked down your leggings, your soaked sports bra already halfway off before you could blink. You weren’t wearing underwear. His breath caught as he saw how wet you were—not from sweat.

“Fuck,” he whispered, dropping to his knees.

You braced yourself against the tile as his mouth met your pussy, tongue immediate, no warm-up. He ate you like he’d been starving, lips sucking, tongue flicking your clit in fast, precise strokes that had your knees buckling.

“Ni-ki—shit—fuck—”

He moaned into you, arms wrapped around your thighs, holding you in place as you writhed, hips grinding against his face. His tongue slipped inside you, curling, and your hands slammed against the wall as the first orgasm tore through you—sudden, sharp, spine-arching.

He pulled away, lips wet.

“You done?” he asked, cocky.

You glared down at him. “Not even close.”

His smile turned feral.

He stood, shoved his joggers down, and lined his cock up without ceremony. He grabbed the back of your neck, shoved you hard against the shower wall—and slammed into you in one thrust.

You screamed.

He didn’t stop.

Ni-ki fucked you like he’d had this fantasy for months. Fast, deep, dirty. His hips slapped against your ass, wet skin smacking loud in the tiled room. His hand tangled in your hair again, yanking your head back so he could hiss in your ear.

“This what you wanted?” he growled. “Fucked like a slut in the locker room?”

“Yes—fuck—yes—”

“You gonna come again on my cock?”

“Ni-ki—”

He pulled out. Flipped you around. Lifted you against the wall with raw strength, one hand under your ass, the other choking you softly as he slammed back in.

You wrapped your legs around him, water streaming down your bodies.

He was deeper now—angled just right, cock hitting that spot that made your whole world flicker. You clawed at his back, shoulders, kissed him hard as your second orgasm built—fast, unstoppable.

“You feel so fucking good,” he growled. “Tight, warm—fuck, you’re perfect.”

You broke apart with a cry, body clenching down on him, soaking his cock as your orgasm rocked through you. He fucked you through it, eyes locked on yours.

Then with one guttural moan—he came inside you, cock pulsing deep, filling you up until it spilled out around him, mixing with the water.

You stayed like that. Pressed to the wall. His breath panting against your mouth.

“I knew it,” he whispered. “You were waiting for this.”

You smirked, voice wrecked. “I was waiting for you to snap.”

should i make more ot7 scenarios??

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angelsfat3 · 6 months ago

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ⓘㅤ 𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐔𝐋. ⠀⠀( 崇拜我的罪恶，先生。)

𝓢ummary “ ✉. In a time when women were burned for using reason and men were supposed to follow the words of God, a demon took possession of a beautiful young man to teach a lost priest, to love.

⠀،،⠀Genre. ’ Sci-fi, drama, religious au.

( 𝒄/𝒘. )───Repression, forbidden fruit(?), teasing, tension, religious trauma.

The confessional was nearly dark, illuminated only by the faint flicker of a candle on the nearby altar. You, the priest, sat on the small bench, trying to steady the tremor in your hands as you heard footsteps approaching.

You knew who it was even before he knelt on the other side of the screen.

“Father [...], the world has always been this way, ever since Adam and Eve tasted the forbidden fruit,” Ni-ki began, his tone not just penitent but laced with something darker, something far more intimate. “We were born with sin inside us… as if it were part of our flesh.”

You knew what his words meant, what he was truly trying to say.

You bit your tongue for a moment, tasting the danger in his confession. You responded carefully, your words measured to avoid suspicion but firm like a warning.

“Sin always lies in wait, Ni-ki,” you said with a calmness that barely masked your own turmoil. “But don’t forget that redemption exists, even for the most tormented hearts.”

What you didn’t say was that those very words had failed you on so many nights when the flesh spoke louder than your faith, when your spirit surrendered to Ni-ki.

From the other side, Ni-ki let out a short, almost imperceptible sigh, but to you, it sounded like a scream.

A heavy silence settled between you. You could feel his breath on the other side of the screen, and you knew he was wrestling with himself. Finally, his voice broke the stillness, trembling and barely audible:

“What if… what if sin doesn’t just lie in wait but calls to me? What if my soul leans toward it, as if I can’t resist?”

Heat rose to your face, and you gripped your knees tightly to maintain your composure. You knew him too well.

You knew he wasn’t just talking about sin in the abstract; he was talking about you, about what you’d shared in those fleeting moments where the world seemed to vanish.

“Ni-ki, sin always waits for us, but our will must be stronger than the call of anything that leads us astray,” you said, your voice steadier than your heart.

It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either—not when you yourself had strayed so many times toward him, toward his lips, toward the abyss of his body.

“Well, we are human, and… the flesh is weak, Ni-ki,” you said, the weight of your own words almost unbearable. “But we must not give in. Each time we fall, we drift further from the grace that has been granted to us.”

“And what if my will isn’t enough?” Ni-ki pressed, his breathing growing heavier, as if your words hurt him as much as they hurt you. “What if there’s no hope for those who have already fallen?”

The question struck you like a dagger. You knew he wanted you to tell him yes, that there was hope, that what you shared wasn’t condemned. But you couldn’t say that—not here, not ever.

The confessional turned into an oven, the air so thick it was nearly impossible to breathe. Your hands clenched into fists on your knees as you fought the tremor in your chest.

Finally, you leaned closer to the screen, lowering your voice even further.

“Ni-ki… none of us are worthy, but don’t forget that God’s mercy is infinite. No matter how far you think you’ve fallen, there is always redemption… but only if we are willing to let go of what drags us into the abyss.”

Your words felt hollow, even to you. You knew they spoke of him, of the two of you, of the secret you shared that, if discovered, could condemn you both.

Ni-ki didn’t respond immediately, but the silence that followed wasn’t one of repentance. It was one of restrained desire, of something no prayer or penance could erase.

The silence was unbearable. You could imagine his expression on the other side—the mix of pain and frustration you’d seen so many times in his dark eyes.

“And what about you, Father?” he finally whispered, his voice sharp enough to leave you breathless. “Can you let it go?”

The question hung in the air, both an accusation and a plea. You felt your lips move, but no words came out.

You didn’t have an answer because you knew, despite the guilt eating away at you, despite every moment with him being a reminder of the risk you were taking, you couldn’t imagine a world where you didn’t seek him out.

But you couldn’t say that.

“Pray, Ni-ki,” was all you could manage, your voice breaking at the end. “Pray that we both find the strength we need.”

Finally, you heard his voice again, barely a murmur.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned… and I will sin again.”

A chill ran down your spine. You couldn’t see him, but you knew his eyes were fixed on the screen, searching for yours through the thin barrier.

You closed your eyes and clutched the crucifix hanging from your neck, trying to remember why you had chosen this path.

You heard him stand, his steps retreating slowly, but you didn’t dare to look. You remained there, in the dim light, the unspoken words weighing like chains around your heart.

You knew that when the day ended and the shadows once again blanketed the village, you would seek him out. And that would be your true sin.

The echo of Ni-ki’s footsteps should have faded, but the silence that remained was unsettling, as though something unseen had filled the space.

You stayed seated on the bench of the confessional, your trembling hands clasped tightly in front of you, searching for solace in the words of your own prayer.

Then, a sharp sound shattered the moment. The door on your side of the confessional creaked open. You looked up, your heart stalling for an instant.

Ni-ki stood there, framed in the doorway, his silhouette outlined by the faint glow of the candles. His dark eyes bore into yours—not with the softness or the pain you had grown used to seeing in him.

This time, there was something else, something that made your skin crawl.

He remained silent, his lips slightly parted, as if the words refused to leave. His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, as though caught between the urge to move forward and the fear of crossing a line from which there was no return.

But what unsettled you most was what you saw in his eyes: a dark void, a need that didn’t seem human.

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t. You were frozen.

You could only stare, paralyzed by the intensity of his presence. He was Ni-ki, and yet he wasn’t. The gentle warmth that always lowered your guard now seemed overshadowed by a darkness that made him look… different. Unreal.

Finally, you drew in a breath, trying to regain your composure.

“Ni-ki, what are you doing?” you asked, though the question came out as little more than a whisper.

He didn’t respond. He stepped into the confessional, and his shadow seemed to stretch, swallowing the space between you. There was no fear in his gaze, but neither was there comfort. It was as though he was about to consume you with his eyes.

“You… look different,” you continued, your hands gripping the edge of the bench to steady yourself. “What is it that you need?”

His reply was barely audible, an echo that seemed to come from some deep corner of his being:

“You.”

Your chest tightened, and the air seemed to abandon you entirely. But there was something in the way he said it—something not like the restrained passion you knew. It was something else, something that chilled you to the bone.

You closed your eyes and began murmuring a prayer, the words spilling from your lips in desperation.

“Our Father, who art in heaven…”

Ni-ki took another step closer, and the heat in the small cabin became suffocating. You could feel his gaze on you, intense and heavy, as if he sought to strip more than just your resolve.

“Hallowed be thy name…” you continued, your hands now trembling uncontrollably. “Deliver us from evil…”

Ni-ki’s voice, softer yet laden with that inhuman intensity, cut through your prayer.

“Do you think that will save you from me?”

Your eyes snapped open, and you saw him so close you could barely breathe.

Ni-ki’s face was mere inches from yours, but his expression was that of someone caught between suffering and ecstasy.

He was real, and he was here to claim you.

Your breaths came shallow, barely enough to keep you conscious as Ni-ki’s gaze pierced through you. His eyes, as dark as the deepest night, glimmered with something you couldn’t name—something that made the air feel heavier, as if reality itself bent to his will.

Ni-ki raised a hand slowly, his fingers brushing the wood of the confessional as though savoring every grain. His voice, low but filled with a power that didn’t seem human, broke the silence.

"You cannot pray against what is already within you, Father."

The words struck like a weight on your chest, stealing the air from your lungs.

This place, sanctified by so many prayers and penances, now felt like a battleground where the sacred and the profane faced each other head-on.

"Ni-ki, you don't know what you're saying," you murmured, though even you doubted your own words. Your voice trembled, unable to hide the fear creeping into your heart.

He tilted his head slightly, his expression almost... curious. His lips curved into a smile that never reached his eyes.

"Don’t I?" he replied, taking another step closer, so near now you could feel his warm breath against your skin. "Or is it you who doesn’t understand what we are?"

The word we echoed in your mind, an unrelenting whisper that refused to fade.

You shook your head, trying to hold onto reality, to what you knew to be true. But even as you did, you felt your conviction crumbling like a sandcastle under an unstoppable wave.

"This isn’t real," you insisted, though the tremor in your voice betrayed your growing despair. "Ni-ki, you... you’re not this."

His smile widened, and a dangerous glint appeared in his eyes, a spark that made you instinctively retreat against the pew.

"Not this?" he asked, almost amused. "Then what am I, Father? The frightened boy who sought comfort in your words? Or the man who has patiently waited for you to stop pretending?"

The intensity of his gaze made you look away, but you couldn’t escape the weight of his presence, which seemed to fill every corner of the confessional. It was as if he were absorbing the light itself, leaving only shadows in his wake.

You tried praying again, your lips moving quickly as you muttered.

"Deliver us from evil, amen. Deliver us from evil..."

But Ni-ki leaned closer, stopping you with a hand that lightly touched your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. His fingers were warm, but his touch sent a chill down your spine.

"Stop fighting," he whispered, his voice so soft it felt like a caress. "The evil isn’t outside of you, Father. It’s here. With me."

Your heart pounded in your chest, every beat reverberating in your ears as you tried to pull away from him. But you couldn’t.

Not because you lacked the strength, but because something in his gaze held you still, as if you were caught under a spell.

"Ni-ki, please..." you managed to say, though your voice broke into a whisper.

He leaned even closer, his lips just a breath away from yours.

"Please what?" he asked, his tone dripping with a mix of mockery and something darker, something that sent shivers down to your very bones. "Please stop? Or please stay and make me yours?"

The tension was unbearable, and you felt your will falter. Deep down, you knew you were on the brink of something from which there was no return, something that would challenge not just your faith but everything you believed yourself to be.

And then, Ni-ki smiled—that same smile that now seemed to belong to someone—or something—entirely different.

"Choose, Father," he murmured, his voice soft, yet the words thundered in your mind. "But remember... you can’t save us both."

The silence that followed was suffocating, laden with a palpable tension that seemed to freeze the air between you. Ni-ki didn’t look away, his smile cutting into you like a blade.

His hand remained on your chin, holding you with a gentleness that only made the situation more unbearable. You could feel the warmth of his skin, but the touch burned as if marked by something unholy.

"Why do you tremble, Father?" he whispered, leaning even closer. His breath brushed against your lips, and his dark gaze glimmered with a mix of challenge and... delight? "You shouldn’t fear me. After all, you’re the man of God, aren’t you?"