#drakensmut

The door slammed open.

“Surprise, ladies!” Baji’s voice carried through the suite, wild grin splitting his face, shirt already halfway undone.

Of course it was his idea.

The rest trailed in behind him—Mikey with that lazy smirk, Mitsuya looking put-upon but secretly amused, Takemichi flushed before anything even happened, and Draken himself, rubbing the back of his neck like he regretted letting Baji talk him into this.

The DJ—the big fat traitor—flipped the track into something slow, dark, filthy.

“Dance for us!” a bridesmaid shrieked.

And just like that, the room caught fire.

**Mikey: The Silent Tease**

Mikey went first. Naturally.

He didn’t rush—just rolled his shoulders, tugged his jacket off, and let his hips sway in lazy circles that made every woman lean forward without meaning to. His hand toyed with his belt buckle, thumb teasing the leather loose.

“MI-KEY! MI-KEY!” the chant started.

He dropped low, ground up again, obscene and deliberate. One lazy hip roll and the heavy outline in his dark jeans was impossible to ignore.

**Draken: The Bachelor’s Gift**

You should’ve expected it, but when the girls shoved a chair into the center and pushed you into it, veil bouncing, you squealed in shock.

“Lap dance! Lap dance!”

Draken looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor. “Hell no,” he muttered, but Mitsuya’s smirk said coward, and the bridesmaids weren’t taking no for an answer.

So he sighed, then flashed that smirk that always made your knees weak.

The bass rattled. He stalked toward you, planted his large hands on the chair arms, leaning in so close you could smell his cologne.

“M'girl ready?” he murmured, just for you.

And then his hips rolled down against yours.

Thick cock pressing hard against tan trousers, dragging along your thigh until you gasped. He dropped low between your knees, thrusting up like he was fucking the music itself, then rose again, slow grind dragging every inch against you.

Bills rained. The girls screamed. Heat burned through you until tears of arousal pricked your eyes, threatening to slide down your flushed cheeks.

When he caged you in, lips brushing your ear, voice low and filthy, your whole body jolted. You were already trembling when he pulled back, smirking, sweat shining over the dragon tattoo curling down his skin.

Your fiancé. Your Draken. Making the room lose their minds with a lap dance you’d never forget.

**Takemichi: Crybaby Hero**

“TA-KE-MI-CHI!”

The poor baby turned crimson instantly, shaking his head, but they shoved him in anyway. He gave a nervous shuffle, laugh breaking high, until—suddenly—he grabbed a chair, straddled it backwards, and ground forward.

Awkward. Clumsy. Somehow devastating.

By the time he bucked his hips, denim pulled tight over his lap, the bridesmaids were howling. The innocence cracking open into something filthy was hotter than anyone expected—Takemichi included.

**Mitsuya: The Refusal**

“I don’t dance.” Mitsuya stayed leaned against the bar, arms crossed, smirk knowing.

That refusal made it worse. The women stared, imagining.

One bridesmaid tried to slip a bill into his pocket; he caught her wrist, leaned in close.

“I said ... I don’t dance,” he murmured, low, smooth. “But find me later.”

She nearly dropped her drink.

**Baji: The Hurricane**

And then came the storm.

Baji ripped his shirt off completely, chest gleaming, hair wild as he leapt onto a table. He ground down so hard a glass tipped, hand shoved against his cock through his jeans.

“Who’s ready?” he growled, dragging a chair forward and caging a bridesmaid beneath him. His hips slammed, tongue out, sweat dripping, and she moaned loud enough to drown out the music.

Money everywhere—bills plastered to his chest, sliding down his abs. He fed on it, feral, wild, every thrust reckless. When he dropped into splits and rolled his hips again, the thick outline of his cock bulged shamelessly against black pants, the crowd screaming his name like he was a rockstar.

By the time the song ended, he stood on the table arms wide, drenched in sweat and glory, while the room shook apart beneath him.

*The Aftermath*

The suite was wrecked—perfume and booze in the air, lipstick smeared, hair damp with sweat, cash littering the floor.

Mikey smirked from the shadows, predator lazy and smug. Draken leaned back in the chair, you trembling in his lap, veil crooked, thighs pressed tight. Eyes still wide. Takemichi sat dazed, red-faced, gripping the chair like he couldn’t believe himself. Mitsuya sipped his drink, calm and cruel, eyes glittering. And Baji—half-naked, dripping, triumphant—stood shirtless on the table, cock straining, money pouring down like he’d just claimed the world.

And the women? Ruined. But also? Fixed.

@kazutora-kurokawa @prettytanii @southside-otaku @darkstarlight82 @tootiecakes234 @manjirou-sano @fuyusdreaming (I hope it's ok to tag you! I saw you liked the pre-post =) ) @breathofthewind29