Just My Style
A Ladykiller!Kaname Madoka and Sensual!Homura Akemi AU Fanfiction
By Nagone
Summary: Let me show you my moves.
Rated: M
Genre: Romance, Comedy
Warnings: Kissing, Sensuality, Anatomically Correct Lesbian Sex (late chapters), Groping
Author's Note: Inspired by HyunA's "Oppa is Just My Style" and PSY's "Gangnam Style". Also, in this fanfiction, there is no magic, just two girls, ages 21 (Madoka) and 22 (Homura) falling in love and whatnot.
They met at a café.
It was Friday, a warm and sunny day, and Madoka Kaname had made her way downtown to the main avenue of Mitakihara. The entire city was relaxing in the afternoon, pleased for the end of the work week, and the beginning of the weekend.
Cars whizzed by, barely braking for pedestrians as she cut across crosswalks and corners. More than once, Madoka found herself dodging cars, trying to keep her pristine black jeans and crisp, white button down clean. She had a goal: finding that girl.
The kind of girl that fit her style: free, sexy, warm-hearted, and most of all, sensible. After all, what kind of woman would Madoka be to have some ditzy lady at her side?
Soon, she made it to Yue, a cute, independent coffee shop tucked away in a cozy corner of Mitakihara. To a great degree, it was highly inconvenient, as if to say, "I'm out of the way, but you desire me so much to come and so I'll stay." Still, as much as a bother it was, Madoka certainly found it worthwhile when she saw the beauty tucked next to a bookshelf in the shop.
Long, black hair was pulled into a loose bun, porcelain hands cupping a steaming cup of coffee swirled to a caramel complexion. She had keen purple eyes that, when they spied Madoka, lit up with a mischievous mirth that intrigued her.
"Hey," Madoka said, walking over. Her hips swayed, pink ponytail swishing behind her as she sauntered across the room. She pulled out a seat and crossed her legs, relaxing. "My name's Kaname. Kaname Madoka." A waitress brought her a small cup of coffee, and Madoka drank it down in one gulp, the steaming liquid rushing down her throat. She sat the cup back on the tray and smiled, waving the waitress away.
"Impressive," Homura clapped slowly. "I'm Homura," she said, taking another sip of her coffee. "Akemi Homura." She finished the cup and leaned back, soft pink lips curled up into a coy smile.
"So, Homura," Madoka began, leaning forward, arms on the table, "What would you say to dinner and dancing?"
Homura chuckled. "But you barely know me. Aren't you… getting ahead?"
Madoka nodded. "I suppose so. Or perhaps, I'm right on time."
Homura nodded. "Perhaps indeed." Slowly, she leaned forward, and Madoka's eyes glimpsed a hint of cleavage, perfectly displayed in a triangular window of creamy flesh. Madoka licked her lips subconsciously, and swore that Homura' s lips twitched up in awareness.
"So, was that a no, Miss Akemi?" Madoka asked again, head titled. Her ponytail fell across her shoulder enticingly, baring a column of peach skin.
"I think, Miss Kaname, it's a yes."
They agreed to meet at an Okonomiyaki restaurant. To a great degree, it was an intimate affair, just Madoka and Homura cooking various pancakes filled with cheese, vegetables, noodles, and pork. They tried all sorts of combinations, from an all cheese pancake to one filled with every ingredient they could stuff into the small cake. Both girls laughed until their bellies ached at the last one: it had been a completely disgusting mistake.
"Ah," Madoka said, wiping tears from her cheek. "That was certainly delicious!"
"Ha, that last one tasted terrible!" Homura chuckled, clapping her hands. Their laughter died down and they sighed, eyes connecting as they relaxed into their seats. "I… thank you so much for dinner, Madoka," she said, dapping her mouth with a napkin.
"Believe you me, it's my pleasure, Homura," Madoka said, accenting her statement with a wink.
"You truly are quite the charmer," Homura responded, taking a sip of her water. "I hope that passes onto your dancing.
"Ah, I'm sure you'll find it does."
An hour later, they found themselves at a club in downtown Mitakihara. The music pounded all around them, vibrating their very bones. Bodies writhed around, grinding and humping one another, legs tangled and arms meshing together until the dance floor was one mass of bodies.
"Quite loud, isn't it?" Madoka yelled, scanning the crowd. She gently guided Homura forward, urging her towards the bar.
They found two seats, by chance, next to one another. "Anything to drink?"
Homura nodded. "Sure, I'll take a chuhai[1], preferably black cherry if they have it," she said.
"Ah, going light tonight?" Madoka teased.
"Of course. I have to make sure I can remain enticing." She winked at Madoka and motioned for the bartender to come over.
They chatted over drinks, aimlessly learning more about one another. Homura was impressed: Madoka was quite charming, and rather interesting. She worked at a pet store she owned during the day, tending to all manner of creatures, and at night, taught pet care classes on Mondays and Wednesdays. Homura, on the other hand, worked as a writer, producing, coincidentally, some of Madoka's favorite novels. All together, both women found one another quite fascinating, even over the din of the club. However, their conversation soon began to drift as they took in each others forms.
Homura had shed her jacket, revealing a dark black strapless dress with a sweetheart neckline and a red belt that cut across the widest part of her hips. She accented it with stylish red fishnets and a pair of black heels. Madoka complimented her, with a pair of black dress paints and a grey button down with red buttons and a matching red tie. Her hair was down, and hung all the way to her hips, a few locks curving around the soft curves of her breasts and hips. Homura kept her bun, coiled on top of her hair.
Madoka felt the same growing urge she had earlier when she sighted Homura's cleavage: a growing, almost knowing hunger to take her right then and there. Yet instead of loosing her decorum, she finished her drink and simply asked, "Would you like to dance?"
Homura eagerly agreed, and stood up, smiling up at Madoka. "I'd love to." Quickly, the girls made their way to the fringe of the dance floor.
Madoka tentatively placed a hand on Homura's hips, both in assurance and protection. She guided them a bit further into the heart of the throng, and instantly, the beat swept them away, inviting them into the crunch of bodies. Homura swayed shyly, a bit reserved.
"Just let go," Madoka yelled. Homura nodded, and she swayed a bit more, trying to mimic the dancers around her.
The song transitioned, the beat thrumming hard. Madoka placed her other hand on Homura's hips and guided her, their bodies pressing together.
Madoka swayed, head tossed back as she let the music roll over her in waves. The song wasn't anything special: just imports from America's hip-hop scene. It was filled with bass and synth, perfect for a Friday night at a club. Yet something was coming to life in Homura's eyes. Homura's moves became more confident, steadily becoming assured, as if she herself were changing with the music.
And then it happened.
Homura pulled the pin from her hair and it cascaded down her back, long and straight. She swiveled her hips and Madoka's mouth opened, watching the erotic scene.
It was like a completely different girl.
Homura grew even more attractive to Madoka, her body writhing and free as she shimmied and shook on the dance flood. Her hair flew through the air in a perfect arch, body moving in slow motion as she lifted her arms, the swell of her breasts constantly shifting as she swayed and dipped to the music. Her dress clung to her like it was painted on, shifting with her every move.
Homura looked over her shoulder as she danced, the throbbing music driving her hips faster, heart pounding in time. Soon the sound transitioned into another beat, one with deep bass and hard, fast lyrics, and Homura felt hands encircled her hips, pressing her closer, enticing her to lose control right then and there.
"Well, Miss Akemi," Madoka managed, barely keeping calm. "You're quite the coquette, aren't you?"
"I suppose you could say so," Homura responded, chest rising and falling quickly, "save for the fact I have all the intent of following through." She pressed her hips backwards and Madoka barely bit back a moan, pupils dilating with lust. Her pants pulled tight at the groan and she gulped, barely hiding her growing erection. She pressed it against Homura and Homura nearly buckled over in arousal. "Do you plan on following through?" she managed, voice tight and twisted.
"Of course I do," she answered leaning closer, "Let's go back to my place and let me show you a thing or two."
[1] A chuhai is a shortened form of "shochu highball", which is a fruit-flavored alcoholic drink with about 5-8% alcohol. Common flavors range from lemon, ume/ sour plum, peach, and mikan/Japanese orange to seasonal flavors and rare flavors like pineapple and nashi/Japanese pear. The flavor Homura drinks has yet to be produced.