𝐏𝐓 | ❝𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘴 𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘳❞.
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Your life was never meant to turn out that way.
But the question here is: is anything ever meant to be?
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°•.various x fem!reader.•°
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⚠️𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀:⚠️...
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No, you were not currently gripping a pole dance bar between your fingers; your hips were not moving to the slow rhythm of the music and you so not were making eye contact with a potential criminal at the moment. You weren't, right?
Actually,
Yes, you were.
When Mikey came barging into your room, with a no well-hidden stressed look in his emotionless eyes, the last thing you could think of is that he would ask you to dance for a bunch of men the same way you danced for him a few days ago. The bait, he called you. A mere distraction.
Distraction for what, exactly? Again, you weren't informed. But judging by the looks that the older Haitani brother and Sanzu gave to a group of five men sitting just at your right, a few feet apart from your dancing spot, it had to do something with them.
Turning your body slightly so you were now facing those men, you started dancing specifically for them, your hips swaying smoothly, your delicate hands travelling up and down your body, the pole behind you helping you spin skillfully as if you had been doing that your entire life.
Of the five of them, the one in the middle was the one that caught most of your attention. From his dark eyes, to his alluring smile; his spread legs; his hands on his lap with his fingers intertwined, the veins clear even from the distance that separated you both; his button-up shirt's sleeves were right above his elbows, showing some inked designs; his trousers tight around his thick thighs. He was handsome, that was an understatement.
Was being stupidly handsome some kind of requirement to be part of a criminal organization? You couldn't help the thought crossing your mind while your eyes travelled back to his face, now adorned with a wide shit-eating smile. He caught you checking him out, but it was not like you were trying to hide it in the first place, so you just played along.
Giving a light and last squeeze to the pole beside you, as if to conjure all the mental strength you could muster, you slowly made your way to the man, not sparing a single glance at any of the Bonten's members scattered around the dimly lit room.
It was your moment to shine.
The tight red silk dress you were wearing hugged your curves in the most perfect way; the clicking of your high heels matched the rhythm of the music; your hair moving gracefully with each one of your movements, as if it was a paid actor. Taking a last few steps, you stopped right before his spread legs and, bending over so that your face was close to his you neared your glossy lips to his ear.
