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The air was thick with smoke, stuffy with the smell of alcohol. It was hot and crowded and loud. There were dancers suspended in cages by the walls, bartenders busy mixing drinks, customers receiving lap-dances, groping and kissing sloppily, breathing heavily. Away from all the sweat and heavy lust was Sukuna, seated in the elevated VIP area. It was under-lit in a dim red glow which complimented his bone-white suit. He held a glass of whiskey in one hand and a thick cigar in the other. His hair was slicked back.

Sukuna reclined back against the leather armchair. His he heated gaze was roving over Yuuji’s figure, backlit by the flashing red and purple lights, pulsating with the slow rhythmic music. The boy’s arms were above his head, gripping the pole behind him. He threw his head back, baring his pretty throat and tilting his jaw to the side just so. Sukuna’s eyes followed the arch of Yuuji’s back, the curve of his chest, his flexing thighs. He took a slow drag of his cigar and let out a sultry exhale of smoke. He’d been frequenting this club for a while, but only the pink-haired boy swaying his body before him managed to catch his attention. Yuuji was his favourite.

Clearly that was a sentiment commonly shared among the men practically foaming at the mouth as they watched from the edges of the main stage. They went wild, wolf-whistling and cheering when Yuuji sank onto his knees against the pole, spreading his thighs— clad only in a pair of tight lace panties and thigh high sheer stockings held up by a black lace garter belt. He thrust his pelvis up a few times and ran a hand down his chest, down his stomach, stopping just before his groin. The crowd let out disappointed groans and Yuuji smirked, shaking his index finger: No. Sukuna grinned. Atta boy.

Yuuji leaned forward, crawling on his hands and knees towards the extended arms clutching handfuls of cash. He got up on his knees and stretched his arms over his head, letting the men reach and tuck cash into the waistband of his panties and the seams of his socks and garter. Sukuna felt hot anger flare up in his chest for a second, but settled it quickly. He just had to be patient. Let those lowly dogs have their fun for now. He licked his lips, satisfied with the knowledge that this hot, writhing piece of ass was his.

With a quick hair-flip, Yuuji’s hips were up, feet spread apart, torso towards the floor, hands on his knees. Slowly, he straightened up and strutted to the pole, gripping it with one hand and using the momentum to spin a few times, folding his legs as he got closer to the ground. Once he did, he sat back on his black platform heels. Sukuna got a perfect view of his side-profile and felt a twinge of pride when he caught a glimpse of faint finger-shaped bruises along the side of his throat. Yuuji lowered himself to his stomach and grinded against the stage, then flipped himself over onto his back, grabbing the cash which littered the floor around him and showering it over himself, rubbing the notes all over his chest and neck. He extended his legs, spreading them wide for the audience to see. Holding them up in a perfect ‘V’ while more men threw money at him.

When he got up again, he slipped his thumbs under the thin waistband of his panties, stretched beautifully over his hips, and pulled them down deliberately— unhurried. Sukuna hummed. He’d gotten Yuuji those panties for his birthday. Yuuji slid the seam just past his hipbones before tugging them back up and letting the elastic snap against his creamy skin. He winked at the panting audience, sensually sliding a hand up one of his asscheeks before slapping it. Sukuna chuckled lowly.

After sitting back down on his heels, Yuuji snaked that same hand up his chest, to his throat, tipping his head back. He reached his delicate fingers over his chin, slipping two into his mouth. His other hand groped his pec, teasing a nipple while he gyrated his hips. Sukuna leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, watching Yuuji display himself to these filthy, inferior scum like they deserved to even glimpse at a single inch of him. He growled. Yuuji’s eyes were closed in ecstasy, completely lost in the adoration— the attention. There was a blush high on his cheeks, he was lapping at his fingers a little too shamelessly for Sukuna’s taste. What a performance this was. He could see Yuuji’s chest heave, panting as he sucked on his fingers. This was too damn far and the brat knew it.

After what Sukuna thought was much too long, Yuuji took his fingers out of his mouth and used both hands to push his pecs up, squeezing them briefly before moving on to run his hands through his hair. It sent his soft pink hair up into little spikes. He looked dishevelled. Delicious.

Sukuna was not happy.

Yuuji shook his hair out and smirked. He ran his hands over his shoulders, down his flanks, trailing delicate lines across his hips and thighs. Then, abruptly, he slammed his palms on the floor in front of him and got up gracefully, grabbing a handful of cash in each hand as he did. The men howled and whooped as Yuuji got up, fanning himself with the two handfuls of cash and sashaying off-stage.

Sukuna took a final gulp of his glass of whiskey and snubbed out his cigar. He’d pay his little tiger a visit.