oblivious doting husband! Choso x Reader
pt.1
pt.2
...
smut, fluff
...
You were exactly five seconds away from ripping the collar of his robes right down the middle, propriety and the midday sun be damned, when the harsh, echoing strike of a wooden block clattered through the courtyard.
"Lord Sukuna calls for a family assembly!" a retainer announced, bowing low near the edge of the gardens. "Immediate attendance is required in the main hall!"
You froze, your hands still clutching Choso's wrists. Choso, oblivious to the fact that he had just narrowly escaped being devoured, immediately softened his grip and helped you stand, brushing a stray leaf from your yukata.
"We must not keep Uncle waiting" he murmured, pressing a deeply affectionate, entirely chaste kiss to your forehead. "Do not worry, my love. I will ensure you have a comfortable cushion for the meeting. You have had a taxing morning."
Taxing, you thought, letting out a breath that was half-laugh, half-sob. You have no idea.
The atmosphere in the main hall was heavy, oppressive, and thick with the terrifying cursed energy of the clan head. Ryomen Sukuna sat upon the raised dais, resting his chin on his fist, looking utterly bored as various elders droned on about tax collections and border disputes with minor sorcerer families.
You were seated on the mats, directly across from Choso.
You were not paying attention to the taxes. You were paying attention to the way Choso’s broad shoulders filled out his formal robes, and how his dark hair fell perfectly framing those sharp, sleepy eyes.
If he wasn't going to get the hint in private, you were going to make it impossible for him to ignore in public.
You bit your bottom lip, dragging your teeth over the flesh before letting it pop back, slipping your tongue out to wet it.
Choso blinked. His brow furrowed in that beautiful, earnest way. He subtly mouthed across the room, Are you thirsty?
You rolled your eyes to the heavens, letting out a quiet huff. Fine. Time for drastic measures.
Under the cover of the low, wooden table separating the two sides of the room, you slipped your foot out. Extending your leg, your toes found the edge of his hakama pants. You slowly, deliberately dragged your bare foot up his calf, feeling the firm muscle tense beneath the fabric, before hooking your ankle behind his knee and gently stroking the sensitive back of his leg.
Around the room, several clan members suddenly cleared their throats, shifting uncomfortably. Yuji, sitting next to choso, suddenly found the ceiling grain fascinating, his face glowing bright red. Everyone in this room knew exactly what you were doing.
Everyone except your husband.
Choso’s posture straightened, a look of profound, gentle concern washing over his face. He leaned slightly over the table and whispered, his deep voice carrying over an elder's speech about rice yields.
"My love, there must be a draft on your side of the hall. Your foot is freezing. Should I ask the servants for a blanket?"
A suffocating silence descended on the hall. The elder stopped speaking. Yuji choked on his own spit.
From the dais, a long, heavy, and immensely exhausted sigh echoed through the room.
Sukuna slowly dragged his hand down his face, the four ruby red eyes narrowing in absolute irritation. He looked like a man who commanded the forces of hell but could not conquer the sheer stupidity of his nephew's marital life.
"Enough" Sukuna rumbled, his voice shaking the dust from the rafters. He waved a dismissive hand at the stammering elder. "I care not for the rice. If it rot, tell them to eat dirt."
Sukuna shifted his terrifying gaze directly to you. You didn't flinch, you were too busy mentally screaming into a pillow.
"Brat," Sukuna barked.
Yuji looked up at him.
"The worse one." sukuna clarified.
"Yes, Uncle?" you replied, sliding your foot back and offering him a sarcastic smile.
"Thy little… antics give me a migraine" he sneered. He hated you, but he also hated being broke, and your 'black tongue' had doubled the clan's net worth in a month. So, tactical tolerance it was.
"I am going to mount hiei tomorrow to consecrate a new shrine. The last three priests who tried were cursed into piles of ash. Thou art coming with me. Thou shalt look upon the shrine, gaslight it into not collapsing, and that shall be the end of it."
"A mountain retreat?" You perked up. The capital was sweltering, and the mountain air sounded lovely. Plus, getting away from the stifling rules of the estate might be exactly what was needed. "Of course, I’d love nothing more than to play tour guide to your latest murder hut."
Before Sukuna could nod and banish you from his sight, a large, calloused hand shot into the air like an overeager schoolboy.
"Uncle" Choso declared, his voice ringing with absolute, unwavering resolve.
Sukuna’s eyelids twitched violently. "What is it now, brat's husband?"
"I must accompany the expedition" Choso stated, bowing his head a little, but his tone brooked no argument. He turned his dark, adoring eyes toward you. "The mountain paths are steep and treacherous. My wife is a delicate, fragile flower."
sukuna scoffed quietly, though your heart did an involuntary flutter. Delicate?
"The altitude will make her dizzy" Choso continued, entirely serious, listing his reasons on his fingers.
"She will require someone to carry her parasol, her extra layers, and her provisions. Furthermore, the terrain is uneven. I will need to be at her side to hold her and guide her steps so she does not stumble, and to rub her legs when they grow weary from the climb. It is my duty as her husband to bear her burdens."
The imagery of Choso holding your waist from behind on a secluded mountain trail, his large hands rubbing your tired calves... your breath hitched, a fresh wave of heat pooling in your stomach.
Sukuna stared at Choso for a long, agonizing moment. The king of curses looked like he was wondering if he could curse himself out of this conversation.
"Fine" Sukuna grunted. "Thou mayest come. Just keep her mouth shut on the journey up unless she is altering reality. Dismissed."
As the room cleared, Choso immediately crossed the floor, kneeling beside you. He took your hand, pressing a tender kiss to your knuckles.
"Do not fear the mountain climb, my love" he promised, his eyes shining with pure devotion. "I will not let go of you for a single second. I will carry you myself if I must."
You looked at his beautiful, oblivious face, feeling the warmth of his large hands wrapped securely around yours.
Oh, you thought, a wicked, grin spreading across your face. I'm counting on it.
...
The journey to mount hiei began in a massive, enclosed wooden carriage, and within twenty minutes, the atmosphere inside was volatile enough to level a village.
Choso had somehow managed to smuggle eight silk pillows, three flasks of chilled pear juice, and a hand-carved fan into the tight space. He currently had you pulled flush against his chest, one massive arm wrapped securely around your shoulder while his other hand gently fanned your face.
"The rocking of the carriage can bring about the vapors" Choso murmured earnestly, his breath warm against your ear. "Rest your head on my shoulder."
You let out a shaky sigh, pressing your hip firmly against his thigh. He was a solid wall of muscle, and the close quarters were doing agonizing things to your self control. You shot a glance across the carriage.
Sitting directly opposite you was the king of curses himself. Sukuna was crammed into the corner, his top two arms crossed over his chest, his bottom arm pinching the bridge of his nose. The sheer density of his irritation was practically vibrating through the wood.
"If the two of thee cease not this nauseating display," Sukuna rumbled, his voice dropping to a terrifying, gravelly octave, "I shall rip this carriage in twain and force thee to walk through the thorn bushes."
You popped your eyes open, entirely unfazed. "Oh, please, Uncle. If you’re lonely, just say so. I’m sure Yuji would have held your hand if you asked nicely before we left."
Outside the carriage, the head retainer traveling on horseback audibly choked on his own saliva. A guard’s spear clattered loudly against the wheel. Through the thin curtains, you could practically see the entire escort sweating through their armor, silently praying to the gods that they wouldn't get caught in the blast radius when Sukuna inevitably turned you into modern art.
Sukuna’s upper eyes snapped open, glowing a dangerous, bloody crimson. "Watch thy mouth, girl. thy hereditary quirk is the sole reason thy head is yet attached to thy neck."
"And thy complete lack of a social life is why thou art riding in a carriage with thy nephew's horny—uh, delicate wife," you snapped right back, leaning forward out of Choso's grip to glare at him.
"Thou arrogant little parasite" Sukuna snarled, his teeth baring. "I have slaughtered entire generations for lesser insults!"
Choso immediately shifted, placing himself directly between you and Sukuna’s terrifying aura. "Uncle, please do not raise your voice at my wife. The stress will ruin her digestion."
Sukuna looked like he wanted to swallow a sword. He slowly closed all four of his eyes, letting out a long, ragged breath. "Thou art, without a doubt, the worst brat in the history of this lineage."
...
By the time the carriage hit the base of the mountain, the road mercifully ended, forcing the party to ascend on foot. The trail was a steep, jagged nightmare of wet stone and overgrown roots, a wonderful place to die.
Sukuna took the lead, moving up the incline with the terrifying speed of an apex predator, his heavy wooden sandals crushing stones into dust with every step.
"Make haste," he barked back over his shoulder. "The sun setteth, and the curse at the peak is mutating by the minute. I have no time to wait for weaklings."
You were already winded, wiping sweat from your forehead, amused by his language. "Maybe if you didn't walk like a giant spider on a sugar rush, we could keep up!" you yelled up the path.
The retainers behind you actively began reciting their funeral rites. One of them actually fell to his knees, weeping silently for your impending demise.
"What did thou say?" Sukuna stopped dead in his tracks. He turned around slowly, his cursed energy flaring so violently that the surrounding trees began to shed their leaves. The air grew heavy, thick with the scent of ozone and death. He took a predatory step down toward you. "Say it again. I dare thee."
"I said thou art a giant spider!!" you yelled. he'd probably understand if you rephrased it his way, your temper flaring from the heat and the sheer, unadulterated frustration of having a hot husband who wouldn't touch you.
"You think you're so tough because you can slice things up? You know what? I hope you have a wonderful, peaceful walk up this mountain!"
You stepped forward, your black tongue taking hold, your voice carrying that strange echo.
"In fact, I bless thee with the most relaxing trek of thy miserable life! I hope the mountain air is so perfectly crisp and refreshing that you just cannot help but take deep, calming breaths! I hope your shoulders completely lose all their tension, and I hope thou feelest an overwhelming sense of inner tranquility that maketh thee want to skip through the meadows!"
Thoom.
The air pressure shifted instantly. The oppressive, suffocating weight of Sukuna’s cursed energy vanished in a snap.
His four eyes widened in absolute horror as his massive, heavily muscled shoulders forcibly dropped three inches. His chest expanded against his will, drawing in a massive, deep breath of mountain air. A look of profound, serene relaxation washed over his terrifying features.
He tried to lift his arm to cast a cleave, but his hand just flopped uselessly at his side, completely devoid of any violent intent. The sheer weight of mandatory inner peace had paralyzed his malice. He looked like a man who had just spent three weeks at a luxury hot spring, but his eyes were screaming with pure, unadulterated--love?
"What… hast thou done… to me..." Sukuna wheezed, his voice sounding shockingly light and mellow, completely lacking its usual terrifying edge.
"I blessed thee!" you cheered sarcastically, crossing your arms. "Thou lookest great, Uncle. Very demure. Very mindful."
The retainers stared in absolute, dumbfounded silence. The legendary king of curses, the calamity of the age, was currently standing on a dirt path, looking entirely helpless and radiating the aura of a satisfied capybara.
"Thou…" Sukuna muttered, his legs automatically taking a slow, rhythmic, entirely peaceful step up the mountain. He couldn't stop walking, forced by the blessing to enjoy the nature hike. "When this weareth off… I shall..."
"Yeah, yeah, go look at the trees, namaste" you waved him off.
...
With Sukuna successfully lobotomized by mandatory inner peace, Choso immediately turned his attention back to you, his face glowing with the kind of awe usually reserved for religious apparitions.
"Sweetheart," he beamed. "Your heart is just so pure. You saw his wrath and chose to heal his troubled soul."
"Choso, I did it to shut him up," you sighed, rubbing your temples.
"Regardless, you are clearly on the verge of physical collapse," he said firmly. Before you could protest, Choso stepped in close, his large hands sliding under your thighs and behind your back, scooping you up.
Your breath hitched as your chest pressed against his. Because of the steep incline, Choso had to hold you incredibly close to keep his balance, meaning every single step he took sent a highly inconvenient, borderline lethal jolt of electricity straight down your spine. His calloused fingers dug firmly into the fabric of your yukata right at the curve of your thigh, anchoring you against his hip with zero spatial awareness of what this was doing to your sanity.
"Choso," you squeaked, your fingers desperately clutching his collar. "You really don't have to carry me. I have legs. They function."
"I insist," he rumbled, his dark eyes looking down at you with that maddening, sweet devotion. "The terrain is treacherous. If you so much as stub your toe, I shall never forgive myself. Simply hold onto me tightly."
You looked ahead. Twenty paces in front of you, Sukuna was walking with perfect posture, occasionally stopping to take a deep, involuntary sniff of a pine tree, his face twisted in a silent scream of rage because he couldn't stop appreciating nature.
"Dost thou find the flora to thy liking, o mighty king?" you call out to him.
Sukuna didn't even turn around, his voice vibrating with suppressed, tranquil fury. "Hold thy tongue, wench!"
"Aha! Glad to see the therapy is working!" you yelled back.
...
"Drink," Choso insisted, pressing yet another bamboo flask of chilled pear juice to your lips. "You are losing fluids. The mountain sun is relentless."
You choked it down, the sweet liquid doing absolutely nothing to cool the raging fire currently burning in your lower stomach. Between the sweltering mid summer humidity and Choso’s massive, warm hands securely anchoring you against his chest as he carried you up again after you finished drinking, you were genuinely convinced you were going to combust right there on the trail.
A few paces ahead, Sukuna took another deep, involuntary breath of pine-scented air. His four eyes were wide, blinking slowly at a passing bumblebee. The absolute, mandatory serenity you had cursed him with was still going strong, and honestly, it was creeping you out. he looked like he was about to start hugging the trees.
"Alright, this is dynamic is unholy," you muttered, wriggling out of Choso’s grip until he gently set you on your feet. You marched up behind the clan leader. "Hey! Four eyes! Look, a beautiful butterfly. Why don't you write a haiku about it?"
Sukuna’s jaw clenched, his veins bulging as his mandatory peace fought against his rising, organic fury. "If thou dost not…... silence yourself, girl... I will..." He took another deep, relaxing breath against his will. "...I shall admire the scenery at thee!!!!"
"uncle, stop screaming at my wife!" Choso rumbled. "And sweetheart, please, your throat will get sore if you yell so loudly."
Eventually, the path leveled out near a small, mountain clearing where a lone food vendor had set up a stall for travelers. The smell of savory noodles and roasted meat filled the air, making your stomach growl.
"Rest here," Choso said gently, guiding you to a wooden bench under the shade of a large tree. "I will fetch us sustenance. Do not move, the ground is uneven." He shot a quick, warning glare at Sukuna before dashing off toward the vendor.
You slumped against the bench, fanning yourself miserably. Sukuna sat down on the opposite end of the bench, crossing his arms and letting out a heavy, irritated growl. He looked at you, then looked toward the food stall where Choso was eagerly pointing at different ingredients, clearly trying to pick the best ones for you.
Sukuna dragged a hand down his face. "thou art pathetic," he stated bluntly.
"Excuse me?" you scoffed, glaring at him. "I'm not the one who just got sniped by a crow."
"I speak of thy pathetic attempts to crawl into my nephew's breeches." Sukuna sneered, his tone dripping with absolute exhaustion. "The entire estate must endure thy ridiculous pining. Thou dost rub thy bare feet upon his legs during clan assemblies, throwing thyself at him upon the veranda, whilst he possesseth the structural awareness of a brick wall."
You froze, your face flushing bright red. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh, spare me," Sukuna rolled all four of his eyes. "He deemeth thee a fragile doll that shall shatter if he looketh upon thee too hard. If thou wishest for the idiot to finally strip thee of thy garments, cease thy foolish games."
You blinked, utterly stunned. your world's greatest hater was currently giving you relationship advice. "...are you telling me--"
"I am telling thee to make haste so I may endure a single family gathering without thy desperate pheromones suffocating the room,"
Sukuna snapped. "Be direct, brat. Command him. He liveth but to obey his kin. Tell him exactly what to do unto thee, or I swear to the gods, I shall exile both of thee to a different province."
Before you could process the sheer absurdity of Sukuna being your wingman out of pure spite, Choso was back. He practically floated over, carrying two steaming bowls of udon.
"Here you are, my love," Choso beamed, handing you a bowl and sitting down right next to you, his thigh pressing firmly against yours. "I made sure they added extra broth to keep you hydrated." He took his own bowl, looking entirely pleased with himself.
A terrified guard gingerly approached from behind, setting a third bowl down next to Sukuna before sprinting away as if his life depended on it.
You looked over at Sukuna's bowl. Your eyes narrowed.
Sukuna’s udon was practically overflowing. He had thick, juicy slices of roasted pork belly, a perfectly soft-boiled egg cut in half to reveal a rich, gooey golden yolk, and several beautifully patterned fish cakes. Your bowl, on the other hand, well, did have many delicious toppings than usual, mostly veggies and a little meat, no eggs.
"Hold on a minute," you pointed a chopstick at Sukuna's bowl. "Why does he get the premium toppings? We paid for this!"
Sukuna picked up his chopsticks, deliberately lifting a perfectly glazed piece of pork belly and letting the savory juice drip back into the bowl. He caught your eye and smirked, his upper eyes narrowing in pure, smug satisfaction.
"Because I am the head of the clan, brat," Sukuna rumbled, popping the meat into his mouth and chewing slowly. "The world rewardeth power. You get the grass. I get the meat."
"Choso!" you wailed, turning to your husband and shaking his arm. "Look at him! He's flexing his pork belly at me! Tell him his food looks basic!"
Choso, completely missing the competitive tension, looked at your bowl with earnest, doting eyes. "If you desire pork, my love, you do not need to beg from him. As soon as we return to the estate, I will breed a litter of pigs, raise them with the finest grains, and roast them for your dinner."
Before you could react--
Sukuna choked on his noodle, letting out a harsh, disbelieving laugh. "He is to build thee a farm because thou throwest a tantrum over an egg. Incredible. Ye truly deserve each other."
"Shut up and eat your bird soup, Uncle!" you yelled across the bench.
"Watch thy tongue, girl, or I shall bless thy noodles to taste of ash!" Sukuna snapped back, shoving another piece of egg into his mouth just to spite you.
You shoved a clump of noodles into your mouth, glaring daggers at him while Choso gently wiped a stray drop of broth from the corner of your lip.
...
The carriage ride back to the capital was blissfully quiet, mostly because Sukuna spent the entire journey ignoring your existence, and Choso was busy mapping out the exact dimensions of the pig pen he intended to build in the eastern courtyard. the cursed mountain shrine was successfully stabilized, and your sanity was hanging by a single, microscopic thread.
Choso immediately hurried off toward the kitchens, utterly determined to oversee the preparation of a feast to "restore your vital energies" after the grueling trek.
You were left standing alone in the grand, polished corridor of the inner pavilion, leaning against a pillar and stretching your aching back. You were just about to head to your quarters to take a bath when a massive, looming shadow completely blocked out the late afternoon sun.
You looked up. Sukuna was standing there, his top two arms tucked into the sleeves of his dark kimono, looking down at you with a profound, lingering expression of disgust.
"Still breathing, I see," Sukuna rumbled, his voice low.
"Barely," you huffed, crossing your arms. "No thanks to your speednwalking. What do you want?"
Without a word, Sukuna reached into his robes. He didn't pull out a cursed tool or a burst of dismantle energy. Instead, he tossed a small, tightly folded paper packet at your chest. Your reflexes kicked in, and you snatched it out of the air, staring down at the unmarked white parchment.
"What's this?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "Arsenic? If you want to poison me, at least have the decency to put it in a nice pastry."
"It's a powder. A highly potent aphrodisiac," Sukuna stated flatly, his voice utterly devoid of shame, though his expression looked like he was forcing himself to swallow glass. "Mix it into his tea. Slip it into his broth. I care not how thou administrate it."
You froze, your eyes darting from the packet to him. Your jaw practically hit the polished floorboards. "You... you bought me a horn dog potion?"
"I am giving thou what thee need, brat," Sukuna sneered, crossing his lower arms as well. "And more importantly, I secure my own peace of mind. The servants of this estate deem themselves incredibly clever with their coded gossip. They think I hear them not whispering of the 'peacock' and her will to devour her meat."
Your face went entirely nuclear. Peacock. That was the ridiculous code word the maids and guards had been using to refer to you, to spread information amongst themselves.
Sukuna took a step closer, his terrifying aura flaring just enough to make your hair stand on end. He leaned down slightly, his four eyes narrowing in a dangerous, dark glint.
"I expect results," Sukuna warned, his voice a low, gravelly threat. "I hope the peacock shall finally be satisfied with her meat tonight. For if I must endure one more family gathering wherein thou playest footsie beneath the table like a desperate beast, I shall cast both of thee into a well."
Before you could even form a coherent, sarcastic comeback, Sukuna reached out. His massive, clawed hand descended onto the crown of your head. He didn't crush your skull. Instead, he gave you a heavy, rough, thoroughly grudging pat on the head, the kind of gesture a resentful older relative gives a particularly annoying dog, before turning on his heel and sweeping down the hallway, his robes billowing behind him.
You stood there, completely paralyzed by whiplash, clutching a packet of aphrodisiac while staring at the empty corridor.
"My lady! Stand perfectly still! Do not make any sudden movements!"
Suddenly, your personal maiden, who had been waiting to assist you with your bath, practically flew across the tatami mats. Her face was pale with absolute horror. She lunged at you, her hands flying straight to your hair.
"What—hey! Let go!" you yelled as she began frantically parting your hair, tugging at the strands.
"I am checking for poison, my lady!" the maid wailed, her fingers violently inspecting your scalp. "Or acid! Or a delayed onset death curse! The lord just touched your head without immediately decapitating you! There must be a biological agent smeared on your brow! Is your skin melting?! Do you feel a burning sensation?!"
"I'm fine! My skin is intact!" you shouted, swatting her hands away and smoothing down your rumpled hair. "He didn't poison me!"
"But... he patted your head. Affectionately. Like a human being. It is unprecedented, my lady. The elders will think it is an omen of the apocalypse."
"Trust me, it's not an omen," you muttered, looking down at the little paper packet hidden tightly in your fist, a slow, wicked grin beginning to curl the corners of your lips. "It's just an eviction notice from a guy who really, really hates celibacy."
...
That evening, you decided to gamble with your life.
When choso proudly presented a massive dinner spread, complete with a plate of roasted pork belly he had personally ordered from the capital’s finest kitchen just to spite his uncle, you waited until he turned his back to fetch the matching ceramic cups. With a trembling hand, you tore open Sukuna’s packet and dumped every last grain of the powder into Choso’s steaming cup of barley tea. It dissolved instantly, leaving absolutely no scent or color behind.
"For you," you slid the cup across the low table as he sat down.
Choso’s eyes practically melted with affection. "Thank you, sweetheart. You are always thinking of my well being." He picked it up and drained the entire cup in three massive gulps.
You stared at him, holding your breath, waiting for the instantaneous transformation. Maybe his eyes would turn wild?
Instead, Choso just smiled, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and began meticulously picking out the best cuts of pork to place directly onto your rice. "Eat up. You need your strength."
An hour later, you were lying flat on your back on the shared futon, staring blankly at the dark ceiling timbers. Choso was lying right beside you, breathing softly, sleeping like an absolute baby. He had tucked you in, kissed your cheek, and immediately drifted off into peaceful, wholesome slumber.
that fraud, you thought bitterly, rolling onto your side. I probably just fed my husband a tablespoon of powdered sugar.
Defeated and thoroughly exhausted from the day's psychological warfare, you finally closed your eyes and let sleep take you.
You woke up exactly one hour later because you couldn't breathe.
The air in the bedroom was suddenly sweltering, thick with a suffocating, intoxicating heat that had nothing to do with the summer weather. A massive, solid weight was pinning you flush against the tatami mats.
Your eyes snapped open in the dark. Choso was hovering directly over you. He was still half asleep, his eyes heavily lidded and glassy, but his instincts had clearly taken the driver's seat. His large, heavy hands were planted firmly on either side of your head, and his muscular chest was pressing flat against yours, trapping you completely.
Before you could even utter a word, Choso shifted. He let out a low, gravelly groan from the depths of his throat, a sound so raw it sent a violent jolt of lightning straight between your thighs, and began to slowly, deliberately grind his heavy hips directly over yours.
The friction through your thin night yukata was immediate and blinding. You let out a sharp, breathless gasp, your hands flying up to grip his broad shoulders.
"Choso...?" you wheezed, your heart hammering against your ribs.
The sound of your voice seemed to snap whatever cord of restraint he had left. His dark eyes flared, focusing on your face with a terrifying, consuming intensity. The gentle, doting, careful block of wood was entirely gone.
"You're so loud" Choso groaned, his voice dropping into a deep, rasping register that made your knees instantly weak. He didn't sound sweet anymore. He sounded starved. "Every time I look at you. Every time you touch me, you're driving me insane."
"I—"
"Quiet" he commanded, his large hand snapping down to catch both of your wrists, pinning them easily above your head with a single, unyielding grip.
His other hand slid down your body, the calloused palm hot enough to burn right through the silk of your robes. He didn't gently guide your steps or lightly brush your hair this time. His fingers bunched into the fabric of your yukata and yanked, the sound of the stitching tearing echoing loudly in the quiet room as he bared your shoulders and chest to the cool night air.
He leaned down, burying his face directly into the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin right over your pulse point. You let out a loud, pathetic whine, tossing your head back as his hips locked firmly against yours, pinning you down with a heavy, unyielding rhythm that made your brain short circuit.
"So beautiful..." Choso muttered against your skin, his breath scorching as his tongue swiped over your collarbone. He lifted his head just enough to look down at you, his dark eyes absolutely blazing with a hunger that has nothing to do with food.
"How ravishing you are, wife."
...
Choso hovered over you like a man possessed, his broad chest flushed crimson from his neck all the way down to his toned abdomen. His cock, impossibly thick, veined, and leaking, rested heavy and throbbing against your soaked pussy, twitching with every shaky breath he took.
He was fighting it. You could see the internal war in his glassy eyes, the sweet, gentle husband still trying to hold back.
“I… I shouldn’t,” he rasped, voice cracking. His hips gave one involuntary roll, grinding his massive length between your slick folds. The fat head bumped your clit and you both moaned. “You’re too precious… I don’t want to break you—”
You cupped his burning face, pulling him down. “Choso, please. I want you. All of you. I can take it.”
That was the final snap.
A low, sound tore from his throat as something inside him finally broke. His control shattered completely.
“Fuck,” he snarled, and suddenly he was everywhere.
His mouth crashed into yours in a messy, desperate kiss, all tongue and teeth and spit. He kissed you like a starving man, deep and sloppy, devouring every whimper that escaped you. At the same time his hips started humping against you with frantic need. The thick, heavy length of his cock slid repeatedly through your drenched folds, grinding hard against your clit with every desperate roll of his hips.
“Mine” he groaned into your mouth. “My wife. My beautiful, gorgeous little wife. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”
He sucked harsh, bruising marks across your neck, your collarbones, the swell of your breasts, biting down hard enough to make you cry out before soothing each mark with his tongue.
“I love you—fuck, I love you so much,” he panted against your skin, voice loud and raw. “You’re everything. My everything.”
He released your wrists only to grab your hips, yanking you down the futon so he could grind harder. The wet, filthy sound of his thick cock sliding through your pussy lips filled the room as he humped you desperately, the head catching on your entrance with every forward thrust but not pushing in yet.
He takes off his own robes and throws them somewhere in the room.
“I’m going to try,” he breathed, forehead pressed to yours. “Tell me if it’s too much.”
He pushed.
Only the fat head popped inside and you moaned loudly at the burn. He was so thick. Choso’s whole body trembled, flushed, muscles flexing as he fought the urge to slam home.
“Fuck— you’re so tight” he groaned, voice strained.
“Relax for me, good girl. Let me in.”
He kissed you through it, slow, deep, loving kisses that made your head spin while he rocked forward inch by inch. Every time you whimpered he got even slower, petting your hair, whispering praise.
“That’s it… doing so well for your husband. Taking my cock so beautifully. I love you. I love you so much.”
When he finally bottomed out, both of you were panting, sweating, moaning. He was so deep it felt like he was rearranging your insides.
Then he started moving.
Slow, deep thrusts at first, pulling out until just the tip remained, then sliding back in with a wet squelch. The stimulation was overwhelming. His pelvis ground against your clit with every thrust, his cock dragging against that perfect spot inside you.
Your moans grew louder, shameless. He drank them down with more kisses.
Choso folded you, and put your legs over his shoulders, pushing your knees all the way to your chest. His massive body blanketed yours, forehead pressed to forehead, sweat slick skin sliding together as he stayed buried to the hilt inside you. Your hands were intertwined with above your head, fingers locked tightly, his grip strong and possessive, thumbs caressing yours.
“Look at me, my love” he whispered, voice hoarse and trembling with restraint. His long black hair fell around both of you like a curtain, tickling your cheeks.
But the eye contact felt too intense. The overwhelming stretch, the way he filled every inch of you, the raw emotion in his eyes, it made you shy. You turned your head aside, biting your lip as another soft, embarrassed whimper escaped you.
Choso buried himself deep, stopped thursting and made a low, disapproving sound in his throat. He leaned in and kissed your flushed cheek, then bit it gently, nibbling, caressing your cheek with his own before moving down to your neck. His teeth grazed your pulse point, followed by wet, open mouthed kisses that made you squirm around his cock.
“Don’t hide from me, love,” he murmured against your skin, voice deep. “Let me--hah--see those pretty eyes while I fuck you.”
When you still hesitated, he nipped your jaw, then your earlobe, kissing every inch of your face until you finally turned back to him, giving a small thurst as a warning of his waning patience. The moment your dazed, glassy eyes met his, something in him snapped again.
He groaned loudly and started thrusting harder, deep strokes that made you gasp and moan loudly. His hips snapped forward with wet, filthy sounds, driving his thick cock even deeper in this folded position. Every thrust ground his pelvis perfectly against your clit, sending sparks of overwhelming pleasure through your body.
“That’s it… good girl” he panted, forehead still pressed to yours. “Keep looking at me.”
He suddenly leaned back slightly, breaking the forehead contact so he could look down at where you were joined. The sight of his massive cock disappearing into your stretched, dripping pussy made him moan. Then he turned his head sideways, still pounding into you, and started kissing along your leg that was hooked over his shoulder, soft kisses turning into bites on your calf before he reached your ankle, sucking the delicate skin there while his hips never stopped moving.
You moaned loudly, overwhelmed, and bit down hard on your lower lip to try and stay grounded.
Choso noticed immediately.
He released one of his tight grips on your hands only to slide two fingers into your mouth, pressing down gently on your tongue. “Don’t bite yourself, baby,” he rasped, eyes dark with lust.
You moaned around his fingers, sucking on them desperately as he kept fucking you. He pulled them out only to replace them with his tongue, another messy, sloppy kiss that left spit dripping down your chin. His free hand moved to your tits, squeezing and kneading them roughly, pinching and rolling your nipples until you were crying out into his mouth, your one free hand scratching his back.
“You drive me fucking crazy,” he growled against your lips, voice loud and broken, releasing your other hand from his hold to wrap both his arms around your arched back and pull you closer, pressing chest to chest while your now free hand joins the first at scratching his back.
“Every day. Every smile. Every time you look at me like that. I can’t hold back anymore.”
his hips snapped relentlessly, cock dragging against every sensitive spot inside you. The stretch made tears prick at the corners of your eyes.
When your orgasm hit, it crashed through you like a wave. Your walls clenched hard around him, gushing slick down his cock as you moaned his name loud enough for the whole wing of the estate to probably hear. Choso didn’t slow down. He rubbed tight, fast circles on your swollen clit while you came, drawing it out, forcing you to feel every second of it.
He guided your trembling hand to his abs, letting you feel the hard muscles flexing with every thrust. Your fingers traced the ridges as he fucked you through your orgasm.
When the peak finally faded, you reached up and cupped his face with both hands, pulling him back down. Your foreheads met again as you held him close, eyes locked, sharing every panting breath.
“I’m close” he groaned, voice strained and desperate. “Where do you want me, pretty?”
“Inside,” you whimpered immediately. “cum inside me.”
His eyes filled with raw need. “Open your eyes. Look at me. I can only cum when you’re looking at me.”
You forced your hazy, pleasure drunk eyes open and stared straight into his. The eye contact was devastatingly intimate. Choso’s thrusts grew erratic, harder, deeper, slamming into you with wet, loud smacks as he chased his release.
“That’s it… just like that, my pretty wife,” he moaned, forehead pressed to yours again. “I love you— fuck, I love you so much—”
With a loud, broken groan that echoed through the room, Choso buried himself as deep as he could go and came hard. Thick, hot pulses of cum flooded deep inside you, filling you up until you could feel your belly slightly swell with it. He kept grinding through his orgasm, pushing every drop deeper, eyes never leaving yours for a second.
Even after he finished, he stayed buried inside you, panting, kissing you softly between shaky breaths, hands still intertwined.
“My love…” he whispered tenderly, voice hoarse. “I’m never letting you go.”
...
The frantic, desperate heat that had consumed the room finally broke, leaving behind a heavy, profound silence.
Choso lay perfectly still for a long moment, his chest heaving as he stared down at you in the dark. The glassy, haze in his eyes had entirely cleared, replaced by an expression of sharp, overwhelming realization. He looked at your flushed face, your tangled hair, and the torn silk of your yukata, and a look of sheer, panicked guilt flashed across his handsome features.
"Sweetheart," he rasped, his voice rough and cracked. "I... did I hurt you?"
You could barely form words, your body feeling like melted wax against the tatami mats, but you managed a weak, breathless laugh, pulling one of your hands free to rest against his jaw. "I'm more than alive, cho."
He let out a ragged sigh of relief that shuddered through his entire frame. Gently, with an agonizing amount of care that contrasted wildly with how he had just handled you, he lifted his weight off you.
"Stay here. Don't move," he murmured, his voice laced with that familiar, fierce protectiveness.
He slipped out of the room, after putting on his robes in a hurry, returning a minute later with a basin of warm water and a soft, clean cloth. He knelt beside you on the futon, and with slow, meticulous movements, he parted the ruined fabric of your robes. His large, calloused hands were incredibly steady as he began to wipe you down, cleaning away the sweat and the slick, messy aftermath of what you had just done.
Every time you winced slightly from the friction, Choso paused, his brow furrowing with deep concern, leaning down to press a soft, apologetic kiss to your shoulder or the column of your neck.
"I'm sorry," he whispered against your skin. "I will be gentler. I promise."
Once he was satisfied that you were clean and comfortable, he tossed the cloth and his robes aside and slid back into the futon beside you, pulling the heavy quilt over both of your naked bodies. He didn't leave a single inch of space between you. He gathered you up into his arms, tucking your head securely beneath his chin and wrapping his long legs around yours, anchoring you to his chest.
As he shifted one, his back to you to adjust the pillow, the pale moonlight filtering through the paper screens caught the skin of his back. You blinked, reaching out to trace the surface. His back was an absolute disaster, a solid map of raw, angry red scratches where your fingernails had repeatedly dug into his muscles to hold on for dear life.
you ran a thumb over a particular deep mark.
He turns back to you.
"It doesn't hurt," he said instantly, his arms tightening around your waist. "If anything, I deserve it. I lost control."
"I didn't want you to have control," you countered honestly, tilting your head back to look at him.
That was when you noticed the rest of the damage. His collarbones and shoulders were covered in dark, distinct teeth marks, courtesy of you trying to muffle your own voice during the loudest moments.
And when you looked down at yourself, you saw the exact same things blooming across your own skin. Dark, purple red bruises and bite marks where he had practically tried to consume you. By tomorrow morning, those marks would be on full display.
Choso leaned down, his lips finding yours again. This kiss wasn't demanding or starved, it was slow, deep, and incredibly sweet, his tongue sliding lazily against yours as if he were tasting you for the very first time. He pulled back just an inch, his dark eyes searching yours.
"It was your first time..?" he said softly, stating it not as a question, but as a realization that made his chest ache with a strange, fierce emotion.
"Yours too, clearly," you teased lightly, though your voice lacked its usual sharp edge. "For a guy who acts like a seasoned warrior, you were practically vibrating."
A faint, handsome flush crept up Choso’s neck. He rubbed his forehead gently against yours, his gravelly voice dropping into a quiet, vulnerable confession.
"I didn't know what to do. I have spent my entire life learning how to protect my brothers, how to use my blood as a weapon. I never learned how to be a husband. I never learned how to handle someone so precious to me."
He trailed his fingers down your spine, his touch sending a soft, comforting shiver through you.
"I have wanted you," Choso whispered, the honesty in his words raw and heavy. "From the very first day Uncle brought you to the estate and told me i was to marry you, every time you smiled at me, every time you complained about the heat, I wanted to hold you like this. But I was terrified."
"Terrified of what? I'm the one with the scary mouth."
"Terrified of rushing you," he admitted, his eyes holding yours with absolute sincerity. "You were forced into this marriage because of your lineage. I did not want to be another burden forced upon you. I thought... if I pushed you, if I changed the dynamic of what we were building, I would scare you away. I wanted you to trust me first. I wanted to be your sanctuary, not your captor."
Your heart did a strange, violent flip in your chest. All this time, you thought he was just a dense block of wood, but he had been holding himself back out of pure, unadulterated respect for you.
you leaned up and bit his jawline, a sharp, playful little nip that made him let out a low rumble. "I was literally playing footsie with you in front of the entire clan leadership. I wasn't scared. I was desperate."
Choso let out a soft, genuine laugh, the sound vibrating against his chest. He leaned down and bit you right back, a gentle, teasing pressure on your shoulder that made you whine softly. "I know that now. My uncle made it very clear that I was being blind."
"Wait, he actually told you?"
"He said if I did not feed the peacock tonight, he would throw us both into a provincial well," Choso smiled faintly, kissing the spot he had just bitten. "But I did not do this because of him. I did this because I love you. I love you so much it frightens me."
The declaration was so sudden, so entirely earnest, that it left you speechless. Choso didn't wait for a response, he just squeezed you tighter, his massive frame completely enveloping yours, shielding you from the rest of the world.
He slid his muscular arm beneath your head, adjusting the pillow so your neck was perfectly supported. His other hand rested flat against the small of your back, pulling you so close that your hearts beat in a synchronized, heavy rhythm.
"Sleep now, my love," Choso murmured into your hair, his breath slowing down as exhaustion finally caught up to him. "I am right here. I will not let go."
Clutching his marred shoulders, you closed your eyes, completely safe, completely spent, and finally, entirely satisfied within the protective circle of your husband's arms.
...
Waking up the next morning was a heavy, slow motion affair. Every single muscle in your lower body was singing a very specific, deeply achey song, the kind of sweet soreness that let you know exactly what you’d done the night before. You shifted under the quilt, a low groan escaping your lips, and realized you were swallowed whole by Choso’s formal robe. It was massive on you, smelling heavily of cedar, copper, and his skin, the hem pooling around your ankles.
Beside you, the futon rustled.
Choso blinked his large, dark eyes open, looking thoroughly disheveled with his hair pointing in every direction. He took one look at your pinched expression, the way you winced as you tried to roll over, and his instincts instantly kicked into overdrive.
"Don't move," he mumbled, his voice thick and gravelly with sleep.
Before you could ask what he was doing, he crawled over, settling himself directly between your legs. his large, warm hands sliding right under the heavy fabric of his robe to find your hips. Blinking away the last remnants of sleep, he began to firmly, rhythmically massage the aching joints of your pelvis and lower back, his thumbs digging into the precise spots where the tension had pooled.
He was so infuriatingly sweet. He just hovered there, naked from the waist up, his back and shoulders proudly displaying the map of angry red scratches you’d left behind, entirely focused on kneading the soreness out of your muscles.
"Does that help?" he murmured, leaning down to press a soft, sleepy kiss to the inside of your knee.
"Mmmmm... yes," you sighed, burying your face in the pillow. "You're a miracle worker, husband."
Choso’s hands paused. He looked down at the dark purple bruises and bite marks scattered across your neck and collarbone, marks he had personally left there in his frenzy. A look of profound, solemn determination washed over his face.
"We are not doing that again," Choso declared softly but firmly.
Your head snapped up from the pillow. "What? Excuse me?"
"Not for a very long time," he repeated, his brow furrowing with doting worry as he resumed his gentle massaging. "Look at you. You are in pain. You can barely move, and it is entirely my fault... I forget that you are human, my love. I cannot allow myself to cause you such suffering again until you are completely healed and rested. We will practice restraint."
You let out a long, defeated whine, slamming your face back into the pillow. Much to your absolute dismay, the overprotective block of wood was back, and this time, his chivalry was going to be the death of you. You had finally broken the seal, only for him to sentence you to mandatory celibacy out of love.
The rest of the day was an exercise in public embarrassment.
You couldn't walk right. Every time you tried to take a normal step down the polished corridors of the Itadori estate, your hips reminded you of your sins, causing you to limp noticeably.
Choso, naturally, refused to leave your side for a single second. For the entire afternoon, he walked half a step behind you, his massive, calloused hand clamped firmly around your waist. He was physically guiding your every movement, lifting you slightly over the raised door frames and steering you through the courtyard as if you were made of spun glass.
"Choso, people are staring," you muttered out of the corner of your mouth as you crossed the training grounds.
"Let them," Choso rumbled defensively, his grip tightening protectively around your waist. "You need stability. I am your husband. It is my duty to hold you up."
A few yards away, Yuji was sitting on a wooden bench, lazily spinning a training curse in his hand. He looked up as the two of you hobbled past. Instantly, the boy’s face fell into a massive, exaggerated pout.
"Sister-in-law!" Yuji complained, crossing his arms and huffing. "You didn't try to trip me over the gravel today, and you completely ignored the morning playtime with me! You're usually way more fun than this."
You flushed, unable to look your teenage brother-in-law in the eye. "I'm just... having a slow day, Yuji."
...
The Itadori clan had very few rules that everyone actually followed, but the mandatory sunday morning family breakfast was absolute. Sukuna demanded it, mostly because he enjoyed watching his descendants sit in terrified silence while he ate the finest cuts of imported beef, well that was before you came, at least.
Today, however, the silence was broken before anyone even touched their chopsticks.
Choso carried you into the dining hall. Not because you couldn't walk, your limp had actually improved to a slight wobble, but because he had decided the polished wooden floors were "too slick for a recovering body." He lowered you onto your tatami mat with the agonizing slowness of a man handling live explosives, carefully adjusting a stack of three extra plush silk pillows beneath you.
"Is that acceptable, my love?" Choso murmured, smoothing down the collar of your yukata, which you had deliberately pinned high to hide the absolute galaxy of bite marks on your neck. "Does your lower back require another cushion?"
"I'm fine, Choso, thank you," you whispered, your face burning as you felt three distinct gazes lock onto you.
Across the low table, Yuji was staring at your pile of cushions, his face a mix of profound confusion and mild annoyance. "Sister-in-law, did you sprain your hip or something? Why is brother treating you like you're made of glass?"
Beside him, Jin Itadori took a slow, deliberate sip of his green tea. He didn't say a word, but the massive, blindingly proud grin on his face spoke volumes. He looked at Choso, then at you, and gave a slow, respectful nod of fatherly approval.
From the head of the table, a loud, deeply irritated click of the tongue echoed through the room.
Sukuna sat with his top two arms crossed, his lower two hands resting on his knees. His four eyes dragged down to your collarbone, easily spotting a dark purple mark that had slipped past your pins. A slow, deeply smug sneer curled his lips.
"So," Sukuna rumbled, his voice dripping with pure malice. "The peacock finally ceased its squawking and ate its meat. Thou art welcome, brat."
Your eye twitched.
"The minor sorcerer families in the eastern valley are failing their quotas," Sukuna rumbled, his voice shaking the heavy wooden beams of the ceiling. "I shall send a contingent to burn their primary storehouses by the next full moon. A display of absolute dominance is required to remind them of their place."
"By the next full moon?" you chimed in, entirely unfazed by the terrifying aura radiating from the head of the table. You casually reached across the low table to steal a sweet pastry from Choso’s plate. "In the middle of the harvest season? The logistics alone are completely stupid, Uncle. If you burn their storehouses now, you ruin the winter tax yield. Unless you plan on carrying the grain sacks back to the capital yourself with those extra arms."
From the shadows behind Sukuna, Uraume’s eyes narrowed into ice cold slits. Their hands twitched inside their sleeves, radiating a sudden, freezing frost, absolutely losing their mind at your sheer disrespect toward their master.
"Lord Sukuna's strategic judgment is absolute. His wrath requireth no accounting from one who spendeth her mornings complaining of the heat."
"Watch your tone when speaking to my wife," Choso warned, his voice dropping into a dangerous, gravelly register. "Her insight into the clan's prosperity is unmatched. If she says the logistics are flawed, then the plan is flawed. If my uncle requires a display of dominance, I will personally go and collect the taxes myself, but I will not have her intelligence insulted at the breakfast table."
Choso’s sleepy eyes snapping toward the servant. A terrifying gaze locking onto Uraume.
But Uraume didn't back down. Even with Choso’s aura choking the air, they held their ground, the frost creeping further across the floorboards.
"an insolent girl thinks she can dictate—"
"Oh, put the frost away, frosty the snowman" you interrupted, completely cutting them off and rolling your eyes. You leaned around Choso, pointing your chopsticks directly at them.
"Seriously, look at you. Since you're just sitting back there acting like a high end cooler anyway, why don't you make yourself useful and chill my juice? It's lukewarm, and your terrible attitude is already dropping the room temperature. Go on, crisp up my drinks."
Yuji violently choked on his soup, coughing into his sleeve, while Jin rubbed his son's back to keep him from laughing out loud.
Sukuna let out a short, heavy huff at the absolute, unparalleled rudeness of your words. He lifted a lazy upper hand, giving a brief, dismissive wave to signal Uraume to back off.
"Enough," he rumbled quietly.
Uraume, compelled by your tongue, comes to your side to take your glass and chill up your juice. though their eyes still promised your ultimate demise.
choso and they locked into a fierce, unspoken glare off across the tatami mats, entirely ready to tear each other apart while you and Sukuna kept talking.
Sukuna let out a long, heavy sigh, resting his upper chin on his fist while his lower two hands remained crossed over his chest, completely ignoring his servant and his nephew's silent war. He looked at you, looking thoroughly exhausted by your immediate, unshakable confidence.
"Thou art a plague upon this household, brat," Sukuna sneered, though the murderous edge in his voice had morphed into deep, familiar irritation. "Thou questionest every decree, thou critiquest the kitchen staff, and thou treatest me like an inconvenient landlord."
"Because thou actest like one," you add on. "You’re a terrifying monster, sure, we all get it. Very spooky. But you’re also terrible at macroeconomics. Eat your rice and let me look over the valley ledgers later before you accidentally starve half your workforce."
Yuji choked on his tea again.
Sukuna stared at you for a long, quiet moment. The heavy weight of his presence filled the room. you just held his gaze, entirely stubborn, leaning comfortably against your husband's shoulder.
Slowly, the tension in Sukuna's shoulders dissipated. He let out a dry, short huff, a rare, microscopic soften to his sharp features.
"Thou truly hast the biggest mouth in history," Sukuna muttered, turning his gaze back to his food. "A completely insufferable, ungrateful parasite. But… I suppose thou hast grown beneath my skin, brat. This hall would be entirely too quiet if thou didst cease making a nuisance of thyself.."
Uraume sets your drink down and their train of thoughts stop.
A sarcastic retort died right in your throat. You blinked, staring at the terrifying clan leader as the weight of his words settled in. It was the closest thing to an affectionate compliment he was ever capable of giving.
Before you could stop yourself, a soft, involuntary fucking aww slipped past your lips. Your chest swelled with a sudden, ridiculous warmth. "Did... did you just say something nice to me? Snowman, write the date down. Mark it on the calendar. The monster has a heart."
"Do not make me regret it," Sukuna snapped, though he didn't raise his voice, entirely focused on his breakfast.
Choso finally broke his glare with Uraume, his face softening instantly into a blindingly proud smile as he pressed a deep, lingering kiss to the crown of your head. "I knew he would see your worth, my love. Everyone bows to your grace eventually."
Uraume blankly wonders how many chapters they've missed.
From the side of the table, Jin Itadori set his teacup down with a quiet, solid click. He looked around the room, at Yuji’s muffled laughter, at Choso carefully feeding you something, at your completely shameless, bratty self opening wide, at Uraume looking at your face, full of critical thinking, and even at his brother, who was currently eating his breakfast without a single thought of slaughtering the room.
For centuries, the Itadori name had been synonymous with fear, blood, and military dominance. But looking at the chaotic, bickering table in front of him, Jin smiled to himself, a profound sense of peace settling deep into his chest.
Kaori would love to see this when she returns in a few months.
It didn't feel like a regime anymore. It finally, truly, felt like a family.
...
purely self indulgence >>>
...
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