𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐒 ✦ jikook

t h r e e

A/N: Crave for some sweaty Kookie? *insert Lenny face icon*

His shoes click faster on the sidewalk as he hurries back to the Agency. Cold air fans his cheeks and reddens his nose. Jungkook stops a bit and decides to take in some air. He slightly shivers when the cold atmosphere runs down his throat and weaves its way throughout his body, freezing his lungs mercilessly. He quietly mumbles cuss words due to his ignorance of not saving a bit of warm coffee back at Baekhyun's and frustratingly runs a hand through his reven hair. He was in the middle of adjusting his breathing just when his ears catch suspicious noises. His brows crease and he stands still. The streets become calming quiet as Jungkook uses his sharp vision, analyzing the nooks of the area with his doe eyes pairing with his sensitive hearing. He stops when he discovers those noises coming from an alleyway and he tries to hear what those distant noises are...

Voices

Who the hell talks at one a.m in the morning?

One thing Jungkook knows by heart is that this is a suburban area, where swanks of rich blokes flock together to stay here. Furthermore, the only place in town that's noisy until one a.m sharp is the Devil's Curse bar at the end of the street. Jungkook wonders who will be talking at nearly one in the morning and he is debating whether to eavesdrop or neglect because the food is becoming cold in his hands and privacy isn't something he can dwell in and invade it.

Just when he heard something that sounded like drugs.

No he couldn't be mistaken, he heard a high-pitched voice mentioned them in the conversation.

Without any hesitation, he makes quiet and quick dashes towards the dark alleyway and observes calmly, noting down any possibilities that can happen when he eavesdrop the two black figures standing calmly with their backs against the brick wall. He knows that something is wrong and he needs to take action, no more debating. He presses himself onto the wall while gripping onto the recorder of his phone in order to gather evidence in case the suspicions do something bad and deny it.

"Urgently in need." The figure with his back facing Jungkook's direction speaks, low and husky, which sounds much like Taehyung's. Jungkook is guessing that they're in need of the drugs to be delivered.

"Sassy Sue, Gangnam at 2 a.m?" The previous high-pitched voice intervenes, slightly going up due to interrogation. Jungkook thinks of the voice as angelic and pure, smooth as honey running down his throat...

Wait... What the fuck Kooks! Pull yourself together..

Jungkook can't make out who those people are because their faces are hidden behind a black hoodie. He can only see the porcelain shade and sometimes the pink shades that he guesses as the lips of the person who possesses a higher pitch. He quickly thinks of a way to capture the two rebels when his eyes meet a metal ladder next to him. He smirks and grips the metal bar, its coldness begins to sink in his pinkish hands. He coils up his long legs and flings himself up as light as a feather. Once placing his foot on the rear of the building, he keeps his posture down and makes his way to the rear of the alleyway. Jungkook finds it advantageous to catch criminals in the dark. He can blend in perfectly with his back attire and not being noticed while capturing the culprit. With careful measurements and precautions, he sticks out his doe eyes when he reaches the rear that overlooks the alleyway and smiles when the two criminals haven't noticed him spying on them.

This is going to be piece of cake,

Finally, the time has come when he spots the figure with a low voice starts to leave, leaving behind the remaining person lonely in the dark. Jungkook lands on the surface inaudibly and silently steps towards the figure standing in the dark with his cold cuffs shine in the night. Why didn't he leave? Jungkook keeps being bothered by the questions but he then brushes them off and opens the cuffs...

If you are claimed to be a frequent customer coming to Devil's Curse but don't know about Jimin, you are lying.

Because everybody in this club knows who Jimin is and they praise him just to see him or for him to dance before your very eyes.

Jimin is the most favoured pole dancer here at the Devil's Curse club. Every night he is paid double or triple comparing to other dancers for a lap dance or having private times in the dark rooms, which are the rooms where the VIPs usually stop and dirty the crimson sheets. Jimin is treated like a precious treasure, a valuable porcelain doll that is both innocent and bewitching at the same time.

Through his thick fluttery lashes, he opens his eyes to a sea of people gawking at him, like he was some sort of animal doing tricks in a circus. The smoke and sweat filled place was engulfed in a sea of black and lightings, black thongs clinging onto well-built bodies with black heels and dancers grinding down sexually on jet-black poles. Glitter and shades of vibrance have done a great job distracting the customers from noticing the club's flaws, shading up the teared wallpapers and not-yet-scrubbed tiled floors.

Jimin twirls around the pole and uses his free hand to push up his hair laying messily across his seducing eyes. Spotlight burning his biceps and fit torso as he grips the pole and grinds down, matching the beat of the song playing with no emotions. His eyes are blank when he meets crowds of rich men whistling and waving dollar bills, which is a signal for him to come closer. It has been so familiar and the passion for dancing has been drained as time passes by. Jimin sashays towards the stage and wiggles his arse sexually, earning a grip from a random customer. He forced out a moan followed by a smirk before the row of customers pushing each other to slip handfuls of dollar bills into his leather waistband. He grips on the poles again and flings himself up light as a feather and slides down in front of the hungry eyes shining in the dark.

He hears applause as sweat trickles down his forehead, letting out a sigh of relief. Jimin shuffles to the front stage collecting the bills while the customers' hands reach up and caress his smooth skin. After making sure no bills are left, he walks down stage, eyes squinting to make out the path in the sudden darkness engulfing the bar after the lights are off.

"Nice work back there Jiminie!" His boss and also a friend of his, Hoseok, pats his back congratulating him. "You made the whole crowd hard!"

Jimin shakes his head while laughing at him. "Thanks,"

Hoseok glances out the stage, seeing the last dancer is performing his dance and turns his attention to Jimin, who is collecting the crumbled notes tugged around his leather waistband.

"It's near the end of your shift," Hoseok pats his back and ushers Jimin to the dressing room. "You should head home and rest."

"Yes, boss," Jimin answers, being playfully smacked by Hoseok because of the nickname. He walks casually to the shower room and rinse himself with water and washes himself with body wash that smells like strawberries. He washes his face silently to keep himself up for a sensible amount of time. After drying himself up, he paces to his small cabinet and takes out his neatly-folded clothes that smells like mint, He covers his upper exposed body with a black tee clinging on him perfectly and strips off his black thongs followed by his shiny leather belt. Jimin puts on black skinny jeans and shoves his so-called uniform into his backpack, puts on his Timberlands and walks out of the club using the back door in the dressing room. He puts on his black hoodie while strolling down his destination with his mind out of reality...