Chapter Text
Human legends speak of a fearsome four-armed fire breathing oni: the horned lord of all evil spirits, the King of Curses. Though mortals treat their myths as cautionary tales, there are some who are wise enough to know that there is truth behind every story.
Even among oni, Ryoumen Sukuna, the King of Curses, is a fearsome name, not one to be uttered without the proper veneration. He is the undisputable strongest, an indomitable force greater than the might of the heavens. Satoru wants nothing more than to prove everyone wrong, and show that even gods can fall.
"I challenge you, Ryoumen Sukuna, for the title of the Strongest," the little oni announces with his head held high, approaching the horned tyrant lounging on his skeletal throne. The handful of slaves attending to the oni king freeze in utter disbelief and fear at the little upstart too foolish to realize that he is condemning himself to a painful death with his unspeakable irreverence.
Through strength and unmerciful brutality, Ryoumen Sukuna had risen to the top as the strongest demon in all of the land.
The title of the strongest often carried the burden of countless challengers seeking to make a name for themselves. It was futile, laughable, and almost boring at this point how they always fell at Sukuna’s hands. He hardly even had to try.
Just like many others, a voice disturbs his peaceful afternoon. As his nameless servant feeds him a bite of a luscious grape, Sukuna turns one of his eyes towards the small creature before him.
He’s but a boy. How amusing.
Sukuna doesn’t grant the supposed opponent a response. Instead, he bites on the grape hovering above his mouth. It’s plump and juicy, and much more interesting than the so-called challenger at his feet.
Satoru scowls at how he’s being blatantly ignored, at the complete disrespect. But he’s announced his intentions so if Sukuna decides not to take him seriously, then that will be his mistake.
While Sukuna’s attention is still foolishly on the grapes, Satoru fires a glowing red ball of pure energy at the tyrant, bathing the room in a blood-red light. The servants in the path of the red beam scream in fear, scrambling to get away. Satoru doesn’t wait for the dust to settle to launch another ball of red light at the oni king.
He doesn’t expect his attack to succeed— even Satoru isn’t foolish enough to believe Ryoumen Sukuna would be so easy to vanquish. But he hopes at the very least Sukuna will respect him as a proper opponent after his reckless display of immense firepower.
The floorboards are charred and there’s a stench of burning wood wafting in the room. The unsuspecting blast was enough to make Sukuna’s servants flee, abandoning their king. They will be punished later, Sukuna thinks idly. After he’s dealt with the little nuisance.
Sukuna endured minor injuries, but is quick to heal the shallow burns, skin replenishing within moments. It almost feels good, to have something reach his hardened skin. It’s rare, like a delicacy, although it was hardly enough to make him flinch.
The dust settles and Sukuna has a smirk on his face as he looks down at the challenger. He appears unscathed as he rests his chin on his hand. His red eyes lock on the vibrant blues of the boy before him. They’re beautiful.
“Hm.” He hums, tone full of amusement.
Satoru smiles back at him, so full of arrogance and youthful folly. Though the wounds did not last long, he still managed to hurt Sukuna. He had drawn the blood of a god.
"Did that hurt, my king?" Satoru says the title with so much disdain that it may as well be an insult. His eyes are glittering with delight, fueled by a fervor that can only be brought out from battle. He may have to look up at Sukuna now, but he'll make the King of Curses kneel before him soon enough and acknowledge him as his superior.
Red eyes narrow as they stare down at the young challenger. How arrogant. How delightful.
“Watch your tone.”
Most who dared use such a tone with the king had their life snuffed out right as the words left their lips. To insult him meant certain death.
However, the kid managed to land a blow on him, something most challengers fail to do. He has potential and the disdain in his eyes has piqued Sukuna’s interest.
In this world, strength reigns supreme. It’s the natural hierarchy, and Sukuna stands alone at the apex. A worthy challenger would be very entertaining.
How he’d relish in squandering the boy’s passion, to watch the fire leave his eyes when he’s faced with true strength.
Although interested, Sukuna doesn’t show it. He maintains his lazy stance, voice flat, almost bored sounding,
“You wish to challenge me, you say?”
“Obviously,” Satoru snorts. “I’m certainly not here to feed you grapes. What’s with that, by the way? Have you grown so complacent with your title that you’re too lazy to feed yourself?” He smirks insolently, not a shred of deference to be found in his demeanor.
While everyone had been raised to fear Ryoumen Sukuna’s name, Satoru had always been above that. Fear is for the weak, and fear itself is also a weakness. Satoru was born different, a cut above the rest. When he ran out of worthy foes who could match his strength, it is only natural that he seeks out even stronger enemies. Climbing up the hierarchy of strength until he reaches the summit, face to face with the King of Curses.
Only one individual can stand at the top, and for Satoru who has never known loss, he will either attain glory the likes of which has never been seen before, or die satisfied, knowing that he’s given his all.
Neither defeat nor death scare him, but he’s too young to fully understand either.
Without granting the boy a response, Sukuna flicks his wrist to unleash an array of slashes. Red stripes bloom on the boy’s pale arms from the unseen onslaught. “Then come at me, make this worth my time.”
The slashes sting but they’re shallow. Almost like a caress. Like Satoru is being teased with a fraction of Sukuna’s strength.
He’ll force Sukuna to give him a full taste of his powers. This time, Satoru’s attack comes with a blue tinge, pulling the contents of the room towards him. Wood comes loose from the foundation, fragments of bone flying off the morbid throne, swirling in the air. Satoru’s teeth clench with effort as he tries to draw Sukuna to him. To force him off his throne.
As the bones are ripped and thrust from his throne, Sukuna feels his own skin being pulled forward from a magnetic-like force. How curious.
“Fuga.”
A deep voice chants, and between his palms a ball of fire is formed. Sukuna plays with it for a moment, watching how Satoru’s power pulls at the flames like wind to a bonfire, threatening to burn everything in its surroundings. Sukuna flicks the ball towards the boy, his own power bringing the danger towards himself. The flames are jettisoned towards Satoru, igniting his yukata on fire with a roar.
Satoru’s eyes widen at the roaring fire careening towards him, but he is prepared for it. Sukuna’s unholy flames is what he is known for, and it would have been stupid if he sought out this fight without having some way to deal with them.
Even then, the heat is intense, like he’s being singed by the rays of the sun. The fire doesn’t reach his skin, which is protected by his impassable cursed technique, but Satoru still feels like he’s being burned alive, as though his flesh will slough off his bones like well-cooked marrow.
As he’s enveloped in the unnatural fire, he must admit that they’re strangely beautiful. Dancing in the air and flickering with warm light. They eat away at his yukata until it’s mere ash, then die off when there’s nothing left to burn, leaving the small oni naked and laid bare before the King.
He survived the fire but at the expense of much of his energy. Satoru gets the feeling that he’s still being toyed with, and for the first time in his short life there is a small trickle of fear in the back of his mind.
“Have you finally decided that I’m worth your time?” Satoru shakes away the fear, replacing it with his usual cockiness.
“Perhaps.” Sukuna says idly as he steps off his throne and saunters towards the boy. At almost 3 meters tall, the oni towers above him, engulfing Satoru in his massive shadow. Red eyes gaze down his naked body, smooth and unscathed by the flames. The cuts on his skin are pretty, and Sukuna wants to paint him with more.
Sukuna places a large hand on the boy’s bare chest and digs his claws into the skin. An intricate woven pattern of slashes rip through him, shredding the boy’s skin under his palm. It’s deeper than before and blood spills like a red stream down his torso.
“The cuts from cleave adjust themselves based on my opponent’s strength. Not bad, kid.” Sukuna says in a condescending tone as he removes his hand to admire the mess on Satoru’s chest.
Fatigued by the effort of keeping the flames at bay, Satoru can't stop Sukuna from cutting into his chest, and he gasps from how his skin is being shred apart. But he's smiling, despite the pain. Or maybe because of it. The blood loss makes him dizzy, light-headed, but in a good way.
"I don't need you telling me that to know I'm strong." He says that, but there's still a rush of pride surging through him from being acknowledged by the King of Curses.
“I can see that you think highly of yourself.” Sukuna hums as he digs a sharp claw into the fresh wound on Satoru’s sternum. The red is brilliant against his smooth, pale white skin. “It’s too bad you won’t make it to adulthood, perhaps if you weren’t so eager you could have been a worthy opponent.” Sukuna brings his blood soaked nail to his lips and licks the blood clean with his long tongue to taste the boy.
"What does it say about you to be bested by a child, then?" There's a mad glint to Satoru's eyes, almost self-destructive. Sukuna had willingly entered his proximity, giving Satoru a perfect opportunity for a point blank attack. Red light gathers at his fingertips, a massive burst of energy directed right at Sukuna's chest. The recoil of which makes Satoru feel like his bones are vibrating in his body.
Sukuna doesn’t dodge the attack and allows the boy to hit him directly in the chest. He’s curious about the strength of his power, how much he can be hurt by the young oni. The impact rattles his shoulder as he’s struck, and there’s a circular red burn mark on his chest. Sukuna grins.
“So you have a death wish after all.”
The king brings his hands in front of his chest, making a hand symbol like a tent with his fingers.
“Domain Expansion: Malevolent Shrine.”
Once the words leave his lips, a large structure resembling a Buddhist shrine rises behind him. The opening is like a giant maw and the roof is lined with horns. It’s decorated with bones, both human and animal in a gruesome and haunting display of might.
Satoru's confidence falters at this demonstration of power. He's never seen anything like this before, the landscape being molded, painted over with a hellish brush. The feat of a god.
"Is this supposed to scare me?" Satoru snorts, acting unfazed despite his pounding heart. The various bleeding cuts on his body. He knows better than to show any weakness. "We went from one shitty shrine to another."
“Such insolence.” Sukuna spits.
There is no way for Satoru to escape the barrage of cuts that rain down upon him. They slice his thin frame indiscriminately, lacerating his flesh in unmerciful strikes.
Arousal blooms within Sukuna as he watches the boy’s naked skin rip apart, spilling blood onto the floor and decorating his shrine. It’s a beautiful sight, and pain suits the arrogant child wonderfully.
It's impossible for Satoru to hold onto his insolence under the onslaught of slashes, cutting through even his cursed technique. He doesn't understand why he's unable to stop any of them, and he can't think through all the pain. All he can do is whimper pathetically, bleeding steadily until his legs give out.
How utterly shameful it is, to be kneeling before Sukuna. Satoru snarls at the humiliation, which stings so much more than any of innumerable cuts on his naked body.
Sukuna’s eyes droop at the sight of the boy kneeling before him in a puddle of his own blood. The lacerations are like a grotesque painting for Sukuna to admire, made even more beautiful by the boy’s pathetic whimpers.
It’s cute how Satoru tries to snarl, despite the futility. Sukuna wonders how much more it would take for the boy to cry and plead for his mercy.
The slashes relent for a moment and Sukuna hovers above Satoru’s tattered body. He grips the boy’s white hair and tilts his face so that their eyes meet.
“Do you still wish to show me how strong you are?”
Glaring back, Satoru spits at Sukuna, the glob landing landing on Sukuna’s cheek was more blood than anything else. The difference in their abilities was so much more insurmountable than he could have imagined, but he refuses to relinquish his pride.
If he’s still breathing he has yet to be defeated. Satoru gathers the last of his energy in a final attack. His swan song. A swirling maelstrom of blue light far greater than any of his previous attacks. As it flies towards Sukuna, Satoru’s vision blurs, the blood loss catching up with him. His body goes limp, held up only by Sukuna’s grip on his hair.
The attack is formidable, Sukuna acknowledges. It almost breaks through malevolent shrine, casting some of the decorative bones surrounding the maw onto the floor where they shatter. It’s destructive, and chaotic. Unfortunately for Satoru, he starts losing consciousness before it can do enough damage to Sukuna and break the domain.
Sukuna feels the boy’s weight grow heavy in his grasp. He clicks his teeth and slaps Satoru across the cheek with the back of his free hand.
“We’re far from finished.”
Satoru's eyelids flutter open from the slap, but his sight is too hazy for him to see anything even with his eyes open. Sukuna is still alive while his body is nearly broken. At least for whatever the wretched King of Curses has planned next, Satoru will be too unresponsive to care. He can't see how much more pain can be inflicted upon him when it already feels like he's been flayed apart, every nerve on fire. The only other thing Sukuna can do at this point is to kill him, and dying at his hands is at least an honorable way to go.
Sukuna drags the boy by his hair towards the shrine. A trail of blood seeps out from his limbs making a mess on the floor for Sukuna’s servants to clean later.
Unceremoniously, Sukuna lays the young oni onto his stomach on the tongue of the maw, facing inside the horrid depths of malevolent shrine. He hopes the cuts sting as he’s bent over the wet muscle, ass presented to Sukuna like an offering.
Satoru moans weakly in pain as he's put on his stomach. He wonders if he will be fed to the shrine, whose gaping maw he has been placed in. The meat of oni is unpleasant and tough, nothing at all like eating a human, but Satoru's still young enough where his flesh would be tender.
He hopes he gives Sukuna indigestion.
Sukuna splays a hand over the small of Satoru’s back as he removes the belt from his kimono. The fabric falls open, revealing black tattoos that run down his chest and a large mouth in his abdomen.
A twin pair of throbbing cocks spring erect, red and angry as they twitch above Satoru’s soft, round cheeks. More frightening still, are the needle-like barbs raised underneath his glistening cockheads.
“As a reward for your display of strength, I’m going to give you my seed.”
Confused, Satoru peeks over his shoulder to look behind him. His eyes widen when he sees that Sukuna has undressed, at the wide mouth on his stomach and his two hard dicks. Satoru has never seen anyone’s penis aside from his own, and there’s something terribly obscene about Sukuna’s, each one so much larger than his.
“What… what are you…?” Though Sukuna looks ravenous, it doesn’t seem like he’s going to eat him. The uncertainty is what scares Satoru; the unknown way in which Sukuna intends to play with him before he dies.
The realization that the kid is a virgin rushes through Sukuna in a euphoric wave. How delightful to debase something so arrogant yet pure and naive.
“I’ll teach you what happens to the weak, little lamb.”
Sukuna’s voice lowers and he grips Satoru’s small hips in his hands. If he presses harder, the bones could shatter under his grasp. The difference in their sizes should make this apparent enough to Satoru, and keep him in place.
Sukuna leans against Satoru’s bare flesh, releasing the tongue on his abdomen to lick between Satoru’s cheeks, smearing saliva on his perfect little hole.
Though he is a prodigy in combat, Satoru’s worldly knowledge is severely lacking as a small oni still so far from reaching adulthood. His face burns as he is licked there, something so humiliating about the act.
His rebuttal about not being weak dies in his throat as a broken whine. Trying to speak only makes his mangled body throb in pain, and he’s frozen in place in mortification. Satoru knows he’s going to be eaten alive, but is it really necessary for Sukuna’s tongue to be where it is? He shuts his eyes as though it’ll help block out his humiliation. He’s not surprised that Sukuna intends to drag out his death, but he can be brave about it until the end.
The boy’s whine is like a melody to the king of curses, and he hopes to orchestrate more, to have him sobbing and begging for mercy underneath him. The tip of Sukuna’s large tongue prods at Satoru’s entrance then pushes past his rim to force him open. The taste is divine as his tongue worms inside, clenched tightly from the resistance. He’ll have to stretch the boy a bit, or else he’ll break his new toy too quickly.
Whatever Sukuna is doing to him feels weird. Wrong. Satoru wants to squirm away, but there’s nowhere for him to move, his one side pressed against the shrine’s tongue, and his other trapped by Sukuna’s tongue inside him.
He doesn’t like this feeling. Satoru’s legs flail in an attempt to get Sukuna to stop. Though his eyes prick with tears from how much it hurts to move at all, he’d rather feel pain than the strange sensations Sukuna is forcing upon him.
Sukuna begins to rock his hips, thrusting his tongue inside to stretch the boy's tight entrance. The grip around him is heavenly as Sukuna licks along his walls to force them to accommodate the girth of his tongue.
“You’re tougher than you look, I’d say you’re even enjoying this. But where’d that bratty mouth of yours go? Don’t be shy, I want to hear how much you like it.”
“You’re disgusting!” Satoru snarls, but it comes out weaker than he’d like it to. “It’s gross, whatever you’re doing to me…” his face is hot as he struggles to find the words for something he doesn’t understand. His head feels fuzzy and his throat dry, and Satoru hates how he can’t do anything but take Sukuna’s large tongue prodding inside him, filling him up.
“What kind of king are you doing something this disgusting?” Satoru demands after too long of a pause when he was only capable of whining and choking on air.
Satoru’s bratty tone is entertaining to Sukuna, and only makes him want to break the kid further. So many fall before his feet in fear and reverence.
Yet this young child is defiant before the might of a god, taking humiliation with pride and resistance. Such arrogance should only be reserved for the truly strong, and Sukuna can’t help but wonder how formidable the young oni might be once he grows.
“I see you haven’t learned to address your king properly, yet.”
Sukuna drags his claws down the kid’s back, creating red stripes on his skin. The blood beads out from the wounds and Sukuna collects it to smear along his hardened cock.
He hisses as he jerks himself with his bloodied fist, “Beg for it, and i’ll consider sparing your worthless life.”
The pain on his back is, at least, familiar to Satoru. He hopes that it means Sukuna will be hurting him in a way that he understands. He doesn’t dare look behind him again, his stomach churning from the slick sounds he can hear. He has no desire to see how Sukuna plans to break him, nor what cruel expressions must be on his face as he brings Satoru to his lowest point.
“As if I’ll beg,” Satoru sneers. He’d die if that means his pride remains intact. He grits his teeth as he endures yet another wave of pain, the newest wound on his back throbbing the hardest. He’s not sure how much longer he’ll be able to stay conscious for, but he won’t give Sukuna the satisfaction of breaking his spirit.
“Suit yourself.”
Sukuna swirls his tongue for a generous lick before removing it. Spit connects from the boy’s slit to the muscle in a sloppy mess before he swallows it all.
Then, without warning, Sukuna breaches into the boy with his bloodied cock, bullying past the resistance to bottom out in one harsh thrust.
He tilts his head back and moans, low and loud as he’s engulfed in the virgin’s tight heat.
Satoru forgets how to breathe as he’s speared onto Sukuna’s cock, his mouth hanging slack. Even though he has been loosened on Sukuna’s tongue, Sukuna took him by surprise, and his every muscle is drawn tight as he’s violated for the first time.
He cries out at the never-ending intrusion, the pain in his backside so unlike any pain he’s endured before. His fingers claw at the shrine’s tongue as he tries to buck away from Sukuna’s hips, but it does nothing to stop him.
“Sukuna!” Satoru sobs in agony as soon as his lungs start working again. “No, stop…!” He only manages to get a few words among his screams of pain and discomfort.
The boy’s sobs and crying of Sukuna’s name only rile him further. He’s so tight like a vice that Sukuna has to force his cock into unwilling walls with a violent thrusting of his hips. The barbs drag along his walls, cutting every time he pulls his cock out. He shows no mercy as he fucks into the boy violently, slapping against his cheeks until they’re red from the impact.
“I thought you were above begging, are you really this easy to break? What a disappointment.” He spits between labored breaths.
It feels like his insides are on fire, and Satoru is still in utter shock, uncomprehending of what’s happening to his body. Everything hurts, and there’s an awful pressure in his stomach that’s curving outwards with each of Sukuna’s movements.
Satoru starts slipping in and out of consciousness, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. His skin growing colder. He wanted to die battling the King of Curses, not like this. Whatever this is, it’s shameful, and it makes Satoru want to curl up into a small ball.
Sukuna seeks his pleasure selfishly, ripping apart the boy’s hole as his oversized cock thrusts in and out of him. Blood seeps from his damaged walls, coating Sukuna in red and making the glide easier for him.
When he realizes that Satoru is losing consciousness, he smacks his hand across his ass cheeks with a loud crack that echoes through the shrine. “Stay with me, enjoy your reward.”
Satoru is bleeding in new places. Places he didn’t know he could bleed from, and which he doesn’t want to think deeper about.
If he still had his senses about him, Satoru would have given some retort about how any of this can ever be considered a reward Instead, he gives a startled moan at the hit.
“What is… what are you—“ he whimpers brokenly, sounding for the first time like the child he truly is. He just wants this to be over already.
“Don’t tell me an arrogant brat like you doesn’t know what this is. What you are to me now.”
Sukuna’s voice is hoarse and strained as the pleasure soars through his veins. His second cock slides between Satoru’s cheeks as he thrusts relentlessly, raised barbs slicing the thin skin of his slit until blood is dripping onto the maw.
“A nameless hole for my pleasure, nothing else.”
Satoru doesn’t like this, how he’s being hurt and degraded in novel ways. He knew that Sukuna enjoyed inflicting pain and suffering onto others, but he didn’t know what it meant to be used for Sukuna’s pleasure until now, and he hates it.
Tears stream down his face as he’s forced to take this relentless assault. His insides are being torn apart on Sukuna’s too-big penis, which is being used as a weapon on his vulnerable flesh.
The sound of the boy’s cries has Sukuna’s climax building towards the edge. Sukuna’s barbs shred the inside of Satoru’s walls like a grater when he rips his cock out from Satoru’s abused hole. With a guttural moan, he spills onto the cuts on his back. Cum seeps into the wounds, decorating his back in red and white.
With Sukuna’s penis no longer inside him, all the cuts in Satoru’s hole throb painfully as they’re left exposed to the cold air. The wounds on his back sting as well from the liquid dripping into them. Satoru feels disgusting, and the space between his legs hurts so much.
He’s still not entirely sure what had happened.
Sukuna wraps his kimono around himself with a dignified energy befitting a king.
“Once you’ve healed, come challenge me again.”
Malevolent shrine disassembles and the boy crumbles onto the charred ground. Sukuna’s servants pick up his mangled body and escort him to another room further in Sukuna’s home.
Satoru is fading into unconsciousness again, his mind overloaded by all his pain. But he still manages to pick out Sukuna’s parting words to him. Words that he’ll never forget.
He’ll get stronger, and challenge Sukuna again, but it won’t be out of misplaced pride. No, it’ll be as payback for the humiliation he suffered today. Hatred is what is burning in his thoughts until he passes out entirely, his body limp and cold as he’s carried away by servants.
Satoru is taken down an elegant hall towards a bath. There, he’s washed and his wounds are tended to by Sukuna’s confused servants. He’s never had them care for one of his opponents before, but they know better than to ask questions of the oni king. Afterwards, Satoru’s limp body is laid down on a futon in the center of a tatami room.
Days pass.
Sukuna carries on with his daily activities: training, fighting, plundering and eating the finest foods of the era. He doesn’t visit the boy, though images of his blue eyes linger in the back of his mind.
Satoru doesn't wake for days, and when he does, he can tell he's still somewhere within Sukuna's shrine. He's resentful of how he's still alive, as though he isn't even worth killing, and he's even more insulted when Sukuna never visits him. Like his existence doesn't matter at all, and all he is to Sukuna is yet another nameless challenger.
He's going to get stronger. Satoru is now aware of the wide gulf in their strength, but he'll make Sukuna regret leaving him alive. The small amount of childish naiveté that he had is gone now, replaced by deep hatred.
He will be the one to kill and eat Ryoumen Sukuna.
Sukuna doesn’t see the boy leave, but is vaguely aware of his missing presence from his home. He idly wonders if he will see the young oni again.