𐙚 Heat Like This - Masami 𐙚
Genre: Smut, Fluff elements MDNI 18+
Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Rough sex, Drunk sex, Dom!Masami, Hair pulling, Choking, Breeding kink Finger play, Overstimulation, Marking (hickeys, biting), Semi-public sex (in a private room during a party)
Your friend had begged—“It’ll be fun, I swear”—but you weren’t in the mood for a house full of sweat and strangers. The moment you walked in, the air was humid with cheap beer and too many bodies. Music pounded through the floorboards, bass heavy and muffled by shouts and laughter. Cups clinked, doors slammed, someone upstairs screamed with joy. Wild, chaotic, alive.
You weren’t dressed to impress, but no one here was. Everyone looked like they came to forget something.
And you were already halfway through your first drink when you noticed him.
Leaning against a wall in the back corner of the living room. Not dancing. Not talking. Just watching.
Sharp jawline, rings on his fingers, black hoodie layered over a white tee. He looked like someone who didn’t have to try. The kind of person who didn’t speak unless he had something to say—and even then, barely raised his voice. You watched him through the bodies. Something in his stillness made your stomach twist.
He caught your gaze. Didn’t smile. Just tilted his head a little like he was trying to decide what kind of trouble you were.
Your friend grabbed your wrist suddenly. “Come on. Spin the bottle. Don’t make me go alone.”
You groaned, about to protest, until you saw him push off the wall and head in the same direction.
You ended up on the floor in a circle of strangers, some half-drunk, some already kissing each other sloppily. The lights were dim, colored by a cheap LED strip blinking blue-red-purple. Someone passed you another drink. You took it.
You weren’t even paying attention until the bottle landed on you. Cheers. Catcalls. You smiled, tipsy enough not to care.
He hadn’t even sat with the group. Just stood nearby, one hand in his pocket. He didn’t hesitate. He just stepped forward and offered a quiet, “Come here.”
The kiss should’ve been quick. Silly. A formality.
But the second your lips brushed his, your body went still. Heat bloomed deep in your chest. His hand slid around the back of your neck. Just enough pressure to hold you there a second longer.
Just… walked off like it was nothing.
You sat back down, breath uneven.
Someone else spun. The game moved on. But your eyes stayed locked on him as he disappeared down the hall.
Fifteen minutes passed. You couldn’t stop replaying the kiss in your mind.
Eventually, you followed. The hallway was dim, mostly empty. A couple people were making out near the bathroom door. You stepped around them, moving further, past coats and empty rooms.
A hand hooked around your wrist.
You turned. He was standing in an open doorway, low light spilling out behind him. His face unreadable.
His voice was low and smooth, like he’d been expecting you.
He pulled you inside and shut the door behind you.
The room was small. Spare. Probably a guest room. Faint music vibrated through the walls. Outside, the party roared on. But here—here it was quiet.
He stepped closer. “Tell me if you want to stop.”
Your breath caught. “I’ll tell you.”
He stared at you for one more second—then kissed you like he was done waiting.
His mouth was slow and steady, tongue pushing past your lips like he wanted to taste the whole night on you. You moaned into it without meaning to, fingers bunching in the fabric of his hoodie. He backed you up against the wall, body pressed to yours, and you could feel how hard he already was.
“You kept looking at me,” he said against your mouth.
His hands slipped under your shirt, dragging up your skin until you raised your arms and let him pull it off. He leaned back to look—eyes dark, hungry, slow-traveling from your chest to your mouth.
Then he grabbed a fistful of your hair and tilted your head back, kissing down your neck, dragging his teeth across the skin until he found the perfect spot to suck.
You gasped, gripping his shoulders.
“Louder,” he muttered, biting a little harder. “Let me hear it.”
Clothes disappeared in pieces. He pulled your pants down just enough to get his hand between your thighs, fingers pressing through your underwear, then under, finding how wet you already were.
“Messy,” he muttered, half amused. “And we haven’t even started.”
His fingers circled your clit with slow, deliberate pressure, making your hips jerk. He watched you with sharp eyes, other hand gripping your throat—not squeezing yet, just holding, claiming.
You blinked at him, breathless. “Want what?”
He kissed the corner of your mouth. “Everything.”
He didn’t fuck you right away.
Fingers deep inside you, slow and curling until you were whining into his shoulder, clawing at his back. He kissed you through it, hand tightening in your hair when your legs started to shake.
When he finally lined up and pushed inside, it was with a low groan against your neck. You cried out at the stretch, still slick and overstimulated from his fingers.
Held you by the throat and your hip, fucking you into the mattress with a pace that was unrelenting, rough, but so goddamn good it stole every thought from your head. The sound of skin on skin, of your whimpers and his breath breaking in your ear—it filled the tiny room.
You were drunk, dizzy, ruined. But you didn’t want it to end.
He bent over you, one hand gripping the back of your neck, the other tangled in your hair, yanking you back so you arched just the way he wanted.
“You feel that?” he rasped, voice cracked and low. “Feel how deep I am?”
You nodded helplessly, sobbing out a curse.
“You’re gonna let me finish inside?”
“Yes,” you moaned. “Yes—just—please—”
He laughed once, low and mean, then reached down and pressed a hand to your lower stomach as he fucked into you harder.
You were already right there, body locking up around him, vision going white.
Just groaned as he spilled into you, deep, rough, relentless. Kept going until your legs gave out beneath you and the only thing left was heat and sweat and breathless silence.
You laid there for a long time, the party still going somewhere out there in the house, but you couldn’t hear it anymore.
He pulled you close eventually, one arm still locked around your waist.
You blinked up at him, still catching your breath.
“You okay?” he asked again, this time softer.
He brushed your hair off your forehead. “You wanna go out sometime?”
You blinked. “Seriously?”
“Yeah,” he said, completely calm. “I liked that. Liked you.”
You gave a weak laugh. “This how you ask all your first dates?”
“No,” he said. “Just you.”
And somehow, that felt honest.
